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“Did she spend the night here?” Fletch asks.
“Yuh. She slept here, we fucked again a couple times more. She was the instigator every single time, but I wasn’t complaining. I woke up around two when I realized she wasn’t in bed anymore. Got up, found her in here.” He nods toward a shelf filled with photographs. “She had a glass of water in her hand. Said she was thirsty, so she was in here buck-ass naked, drinking her water, and perusing my wall. I scooped her up, took her back to bed, woke to her sucking my cock a little while later.” He shrugs and allows a long smirk to cross his lips. “That’s seriously the end of it. I woke again around nine and she was gone. We haven’t exchanged messages since. Haven’t heard from her or seen her since. Now here you are,” he flicks the picture with the tip of his fingers, “telling me she’s dead.”
“What if I told you she was between eight and nine months pregnant when she died?”
Instantly, his face drains white. His eyes bulge, and his lips turn flat as he presses them together. “She… Melissa was…” He shakes his head in denial. “Pregnant?”
I nod and remain silent.
“Are you saying that’s… that’s my kid? Is that what this is?”
“No. I’m quite certain the child is not yours. In fact, I believe she knew she was pregnant, even when you slept together.”
His nose wrinkles. “You’re saying I fucked a pregnant chick? Where’s the father?” Then he shoves to his feet. “The father killed her?”
“Yes. I believe so. I just have to prove it first.” Pushing to my feet, I take out a card and offer it to the guy who looks ready to tear a man’s head straight from his body. “If you think of anything that could help us, or if you happen to come across information, give us a call, okay?”
I drop my hand when he accepts the card. “We believe the baby is somewhere out there right now. Alive, days old, and being withheld from its rightful family. Which means we’re on the clock here.”
“The baby’s alive?” he breathes out. “She had the baby before she died?”
“Within minutes,” I confirm. “Her killer helped bring the child into this world. Then he ended Melissa’s life, dumped her body, and walked away with an infant. So if you think of anything—”
“I’ll call you.” He nods and turns toward the door. He’s shuffling us along. He’s going to find his own evidence to solve a crime.
“Oh, and one last question before we go.” I turn back and stop moving so the seven-foot-tall tree has to skid to a stop. “Are you a diabetic, Mr. Cohen?”
“N-no.” Like I’m asking a trick question, he looks from me to Fletch. “Should I be?”
“Nope. And your blood type? Do you know?”
“Er… O positive, I think.”
“Alright. Stay in town, okay? And call me if anything tickles your memory.” My phone chirps in my pocket, so I take it out and head toward the door. “Thanks for speaking with us, Carlton.”
Bringing the phone up, I answer, “This is Detective Archer Malone.”
“Hey, Detective, this is Officer Clay outta midtown. Seems I’m working under your command today.”
“Yes. Great.” I look back for one last glance at Carlton as we move off his porch and onto the grass at the front of his place.
He’s pissed—not at us, but at the idea someone has hurt a sweet woman he once knew. Despite her sexual proclivities and apparent aggressiveness.
“Officer Clay,” I turn back and head toward the car, “I need you to search for Stanley Mathouson.” I rattle off his address and pertinent details. “Consider him armed and dangerous. Follow him and report back to me, but don’t approach. I strongly believe he’ll lead us directly to an abducted infant, at which point, we need to be fast to save the child from injury.”
“Crap,” he breathes out, “Okay, Detective. I’ll get started and keep you updated. What if he spots me?”
I snort and slide into the passenger side of the car. “Don’tbe seen, Officer. That’s literally your job right now. Stay in contact. I’ll come find you in a little bit.”
“Copy that.”
Cutting the call, I look to Fletch. “Take us toward the station.”
Then I dial Minka’s number and wait only seconds for her to answer.
“This is Mayet.” Wind whips through our call. Car engines. “What do you need, Archer?”
“Where are you?” Setting aside my reason for calling, I narrow my eyes. “I told you to stay at the George Stanley.”
