“WilliamAlves was twenty-five years old,” Detective Archer Malone recites fromthe other side of a blood-soaked reclinerchair.Heflipsourvic’statteredleatherwalletopenandreadsfromthelicense.“Heturnedtwenty-fivelast month.”
“Thattracks.”Iknow we’reontherecord.Everywordeachofusspeaksisdocumentedbylaw andstoredawayfor the investigationthathomicidedetectivesMaloneandFletcherconduct
Butthat’snotmyjob.Tocatchakiller,notstrictlymygoal.Instead,asIcounteachwoundontheman’schest,Imakeanote andpreparetoautopsyayoungfatherwhowasstabbedtodeathwhileheloungedonhisrecliner,televisiononandabeerin hishand “Grease-stainedfingers,”Imurmur “Callusedpalms DoctorEmeri,”Iinchtothesideandmakeroomformysecond incharge my best friend, I suppose, though the latter is not relevant on a crime scene to photographWilliam’s hands. “I’mcountingtwenty-nineentrypoints”
“Will they be placed in care in the meantime?” Curious, Aubree glances up, her shoulder-length blonde hair and pink streaksobscuringoneeye.“Wifewastheonlyadultonscene.Wife’shandprintsareonthewall.Wife’shandsarecoveredin blood.Wifecalleditin.”
“Projection.”IpullthethermometerfromWilliam’sbodyandmakeanoteofhistemperatureformyfiles.“Rigorissetting in” ThenIcasta lookatthe clockonthe wall and do a little math, recitingthe details for the record, “It’s Thursday, June thirtieth. The clock reads seven-forty-nine a.m., and I estimate time of death between nine to eleven hours ago. Placing it betweenthehoursof ”
“Nine and eleven-ish.” Archer rocks onto the backs of his heels and digs his hands in his pockets. “Twenty-nine stab wounds,ChiefMayet.NoonewashomebutthefourmembersoftheAlvesfamily,twoofwhicharefiveandsevenyearsold.”
“Idon’twanna be that guy,” Fletchgrits his teethintrepidation, “butbattered womenhave snapped before. Mrs. Alves
Unimpressed, Ilookto my husband, Detective Malone, and fake a cynical smile thathas his brows poppinghighonhis forehead “While I understand women have killed in the past, I assure you, making assumptions about this one would be detrimentaltoyourcase.IintendtobringWilliamintomyfacilitysoIcanrundiagnosticsthatwillaidinyourinvestigation, Detective Myinitialthoughtsleadtowardyourkillerbeingmuchtallerandmuchstrongerthanthewomaninthat,”Ipointto thephotographFletchstillholds,“picture.She’stoosmall.”
“Iwouldn’tleavemyhandprintsaspaintonthewalls”IglancedowntohidemysmileasAubreechokesonherlaughter She continues to snap-snap-snap pictures of our victim, taking particular interest in his face reddened skin and broken capillariesstretchingalonghisnoseandcheeks “Canyoucalltransport,DoctorEmeri?”Schoolingmyexpression,Ibringmy gazeuponcemoreandmeetthoseofthedetectives.“Iexpecttohavemyprelimreportinyourinboxbycloseofbusinessthis afternoon Untilthen ”Iturnmybacktothemenasthoughtodismissthem
Though of course, Detective Archer Malone wouldn’t be the man I married if he was so easily discouraged. “Chief Mayet?”Hisvoiceishard.Deepanddemanding.Bestofall,hisdangeroustimbresendstinglesthroughoutmybodyanddown to the tips of my toes He comes closer to where I stand, though he doesn’t mess with our crime scene He doesn’t touch anythingheshouldn’t,orsmudgethesplatterofbloodalloverthefloor.“CanIspeakwithyouforamoment?”Thenheadds, deeperanddarker,“Inprivate”
“Transport,” she finishes witha smile. “I’monit. Detective Fletcher,” she glances across to the fourthinour group of misfitsandbatsherlashes.“Wouldyouliketohangoutwithme?Inprivate?”
“Ohshut up,” Aubree grumbles. Now that the recorder is off, myteamfalls apart at the seams and devolves into their immatureselves “TimothyMalonedoesnothavemyheart”
“ChiefMayet?” Archer touches myelbow todraw myattention. “Amoment, please.Ihave shitto do anda crime scene coolingoff.”
“Youcouldskipthe‘make sure you eat and be careful’speechandgetstraighttothe finding a killer portionofyourday” But of course, I carefully step away from the worn and old recliner. The fabric that was once a muddy brown, now a concoctionofgrease,sweat,alcohol,nicotine,andbloodthatranblackthemomentthekillerhitthebigarteries Itakecarenot todisruptmyscene,andsteparoundwhenCSIswalkthroughtodotheirjob.
People always come out to rubberneck when police tape wraps around a home. This is something I long ago became accustomedto,andthoughthereportersannoyme,Inevergivethemthesatisfactionofseeingthataggravationonmyface
ButIknow all this already. Iknow everythingimportantthere is to know abouthim, so Ifollow himall the wayto the attachedgarage,therollerdooralreadyopenandCSIsalreadysweepingthroughtodocumenteverynookandcranny.Whenhe comestoastopinside,Islowmystepsandlookdownatmyfeetwhenheannounces,“Giveusthespace Please”
Around of yes, sirs, and yes, detectives ring throughout the concrete roomuntil every person clears out and the door closes,killingeverymorsel ofnatural lightandleavinguswithonlythefluorescenceofthebarsaboveus Butalone-nessis enoughtohaveArcher’ssixfeetandthreeincheszeroinginonme.Hisdarkhair,madelighterbecauseofthefauxillumination thatmakes us bothappear a little jaundiced. He steps forward until the toes ofhis boots touchthe toes ofmine,and thenhe scoopshishandsbeneathmyelbows,pullingmecloseruntilItastehisbreathonmytongue.“You’repale.”
With his tongue creating magic against my skin. His hands, holding me in ways only this man can do. “Ididn’tmind”Icrackasmilethatseekstosoftenthemanwhotreatsmelikeglass “Infact,Iwelcomewakingupthat way.”
“Ididn’tknow Catowouldwakeusagainatthree,”hegroans “Iwouldn’thavedisturbedyouthefirsttimeifIknew my brotherwouldmakearacketinthemiddleofthedamnnightandbreakyoursleepsomuch.”
“Youcan’tcontrol the entire world.” Ipress another, gentle kiss to his jaw and steal his rebuttal before he canvoice it. “Norcanyoulockmeawayinatoweranddeprivemeoflivingmylife,allinthenameofprotectingme.”
“Myeyes are fine.” ThoughIclose themand allow us twentyseconds more. Thirty, max, before we go backto the real worldandexistwithintheconstraintsofregularsociety “Ihaven’tevenmetthewoman,andIknow youwouldn’tbeavery gooddetectiveifyoujumpedsuchmassivedistancestotheconclusionyou’vedeemedforegone.”
“Bigwords” He nips a second time and chuckles, his chestvibratingagainstmybackwhenanodd, betrayingwhimper escapesthedepthsofmylungs.“Whyareyousosurethe only other adult inthehouseisn’tguiltyofthiscrime?Isitbecause she’sawoman,andyou’reafeminist?”
He doesn’ttouchme, now thatwe’re exposed again, buthe drops his hands inhis pockets and shrugs, walkingas close besidemeasproprietyallows “Youautomaticallythinkshe’sinnocent?”
“Well… no. But I think it would be foolish to assume, just because she was on the scene. Women are sneakier than handprintsonthewallsandcallingtheirowncrimesin,Detective”
He drops his gaze to his feet to hide his smile fromthe few curious reporters who would rather show us onthe news insteadofthehomicidetheycametoreporton.“You’dknow,”hesmartsquietly.“Wannamakeafriendlybet?” Istoponadimetenfeetfromthefrontdoor “Excuseme?”
Hebrings ahanduptocover his mouth.Itwouldbeill-advisedtoshow uponthesixo’clocknews withasmileonhis face “I’llrunthecase,Chief FletchandIwilldoitright,andwe’llfindourkiller Ijustmeant if ourkillerjustsohappens tobethewife,thenIwin.”
Idon’twanttoaskit Idon’twanttoplayintohis game Andyet “Whatexactlydoyouwin,Detective? Whatdoyou wantfromme?”
“Nochance,”Iscoff “Ihaveworktodo,Detective Abuildingtorun Youhaveabarelylegalmafiosobrotherlivingon our couchwho demands round-the-clocksupervision, or we riskhimburningthe citydown. There’s no waywe cantake a monthaway.”
“Three weeks,” he counters without pause. “An island. Alcohol. Bikinis.” His eyes wrinkle, proving he hides a smile behindhishand.“Youcouldbenakedthewholetime,Idon’tmind.”
“Youcanhave a longweekend” Istraightenmybackandstare downmynose atthe manwe bothknow is attemptingto playme.“FridaytoMondayatbest.”
He grabs myhandandshakes it cameras snap, snap, snapping, because althoughI’maninherentlyprivate woman, the pressstillfindthemselvesinterestedinthemarriageofachiefmedicalexaminerandaformermafioso,turnedhomicidecop. “Ourhoneymoonisyourprizetoo,Chief”Hekeepshisbacktothecameras,sowhenhewinks,I’mtheonlyoneprivytothe action.“Oneweek.Youcanchoosethedestinationifyouwant.Butifyouprefer,Icanorganize ”
“Youplanit” Idrop his hand and place mine onmyhips It’s too hotfor a coatthese days Notevenmyratty, too-thin, poor-excuseforacoatIclingtodespiteitscompleteineffectualnessinthewinter.SoalthoughI’musedtoslippingmyhands intothepocketswhenIneedsomewheretoplacethem,I’mrobbedofthatpleasuretoday.“Sevendays,Archer.Gofindyour killer”
The womanis closer to eightythanshe is to seventy, and as she leans inmydirection, tellingher secrets, lines wrinkle aroundherlipswhereIcouldeasilyguessformedoverhalf-a-centuryormoreofsuckingonacigarette.“Hewasadeadbeat,” shemutters.“Totalasshole.”
Iclamp mylips shutand school the expressiononmyface thatmightshow surprise ata little old bittyspittingoutcuss words
“He was always makingnoise,” she continues. “Up atfive inthe morningfor work. Bangingdishes around. Shoutingat Adriannatocomefetchhimhislunchorwhatever”Shesitsbackinadoily-esquedressandcrosseswrinkledlegs,oneover theother.“Thatpoorgirlwastowaitonhimhandandfoot,andifshedidn’tcomewhenhewantedherto,he’dshoutthewhole streetdown.”
“Punchherintheface?”Sheshakesherheadbeforehersentenceiscomplete “No,Ineversaw that Imean,weknow it happened.Prettyregularly,too.Sinceshewasalwaysgettingaroundwithanewfacialaccessory.Buthewasneversoarrogant astoswingoutandsmackherinfrontofanyoneelse”
Nodding, Fletchglances downat his notebook, old-school note-making, thoughwe know we have the audio to leanon whenwegetbacktothestation.“Didyouever ”
“Sheapologized.”Strictlerreachesintothegapbetweenhercouchcushionandtheframe,tuggingoutapacketofcrumpled cigarettes withanexhale ofvictory She takes one outandplops itbetweenher lips “Adrianna was sayingsomethingabout
losingtrackofthetime.Andshewassorry.Shebeggedhimtostopshoutingbecausethosesweetbabygirlswerecrying.She just…” She flicks her lighter to life and sets the tip ofher cigarette alight. “She wanted peace, Detectives. Idon’tthinkshe killedthatman Buthell,”shedrawsalongdragofhercigarette “Iwould’ve”
“Whoever did itwill have beendrenched inblood,” he agrees “Head to toe Our perp probablyleftDNAbehind, too Theirsweat.Nails.Hair.Something.”
“CSIsarerunningthescene,thenthelabwillhavetoworkthrougheverythingtheyfind”Idropmyhandstomyhipsand frownbeneaththefuriousheatofthesunasitheadstowardmidday.“Adrianna’sDNAisgonnabeall over thathouse.Hell, it’llbealloverWilliam Hiscouch Hiscarpet Evenhisclothes”
“Whydidn’tshewakeup?”hesighs.We’renottotalassholes.Andwe’renotsoincompetentastoassumeshehackedher husbandupjustbecauseshehadtheopportunityandhepissedheroff.Butshit,theevidencewillpointherway.TheDAwill have a field day with this case unless we find evidence to the contrary “The killer would have been, at the very least, breathingheavily.Panting.Grunting.”Hecomestoastopoutsideforty-three-thirteenandturnstostudymewitheyeswrinkled undertheglareofthesun “Williamhasdefensivewounds,soweknowhetriedtofightback,atleastalittle”
“Maybe she’s a deep sleeper?” He lifts his muscular shoulders, the leather of his gun holster stretching around the movement. “Ifthe marriage is bad alreadyand he’s used to sleepinginthe recliner, thenshe isn’tlikelyto getup and come lookingforhim”
“Only that she needs to see Adrianna Alves, Detective” Lowering her voice, she wanders down the two steps each townhouseboastsandcomestoastopinfrontofus.“ShewantstosupportAdrianna.SayshowAdriannaneedsherrightnow, andhowshe thewife didn’thurtWilliam.Shewantstoknowthatthekidsarebeingcaredfor.Thingslikethat.”
“Yes,Detective”Thewomanstandingatasmallfive-foot-one,andtheoneisbeinggenerous,turnsonherheelstopresent a blue uniformdarkeninginspots fromperspiration. Butshe straightens her backlike a rod and marches up the frontsteps, passinganother uniformas weheadintoNunes’home,movingalongadarkhall,andintoalivingroomnotall thatdifferent fromtheoneintheAlves’home.
These houses were all once partofa communityprogramfor low-income families. Theywere subsidized, and rentwas controlledatjustaportionofwhatitwouldcostforthesameamenitiesanywhereelseinthecity Butsomewherebackinthe seventies,theentirestreetwassoldoffprivately.Eachhome,purchasedbyindividualinvestors.
They’restillhomesforthosewholiveon,orbarelyabove,thepovertyline,butthey’reowned,notrented TheAlves’,the Nunes’,evenMrs.Strictler,areeachnowproudtitle-holdersofasmallsliceofCopelandCityrealestate. It might not be a mansion in the hills. And perhaps, many of these people are mortgaged up to their eyeballs. But it’s something.Andthatsomethingisalot,especiallyforyoungfamiliesliketheoneIspynow.
“Uh, Idon’t ” Icome around the couchand slowlylower, pausingto give her enoughtime to tell me no She has the chancetoaskmetofuckoffoutofherhouse.Butshedoesn’t.SoIsitontheedgeofthesofaandsoftenmyexpressionwhena littlegirl,notahellofalotbiggerthanthesweetMiaFletcher Fletch’sfour-year-olddaughter wanderscloserandpresses thetipofherfingertomyjean-cladknee She’sjustababy Sweetandbrave,andwhenIneitherpullmykneeaway,norfrown atorscoldher,shesmiles.
“It’s okay.” Igrinfor the little girl, before bringingmyattentionbackto the womanwho watches me warily. “Is there a reasonyouthinkMrs Alvesmayloseherchildren,Ms Nunes?”
“Cassidy,” she rasps, bouncingher infantand exhalinganexhausted sigh. “And because you’re all sayingshe k ” She censors herself,glancingateachofher children.Loweringher voice,she leans closer,“You’re sayingshe expired William, DetectiveMalone Andifshedid,thenofcourse,shewouldloseherkids Butthat’snottrue” “That’snottrue?”Irepeatback.“Shedidn’tdoit?”
“Itwasn’tsuperloudoranything Andthey’vehad worse fights in the past. She said something about taking the trash out, and he said,” he looks to his little sister, Coral’s curiositybringinghereyesaroundinanticipation “Um hemadeacommentonMrs Alves’body ”Heclearshisthroat “In anegativeway.Hewasmockingher,kindalike,sayinghewasnotattractedtotheoneshehas.”
“Notmuch Seemsshe’shearditallbefore,yaknow?She’skindadesensitizedtothethingshesays Andsheneverreally hits backwithher ownuglywords, since thatmakes arguments worse. She’s a prettyquietwoman, so whatever she said, it wasjustmumblesbythetimeitgottomyears”
“Alright.”Ilacemyfingerstogetherandconsiderthesmallfamilyforamoment.“Soyouheardthemexchangewordslast night Andyoumaybeheardacaroutside Butmaybenot”
“Becauseshe’dhavetoldmeaboutitfirst.AdriannaAlvesisagentlesoul,DetectiveMalone.Butshehadamouthonher too,whenshefeltsafetouseit Iknewwhatherhusbandwas Iknewwhathedidtoher Becauseshetoldmethesethings” Sheunlatchesherbabyfromthebreastandbringsituptoburp.“AmIsadWilliamAlveshas expired?”Shepats thebaby’s back. “No. Do I think her life will be better without him? Absolutely. And would I cover for her if she suddenly became homicidal?”Shenods,smallbutcertain.“Yes,Iwould.Butthisisn’toneofthosetimes.Ifshe’dtoldmeshewasgonnakill him,I’dhavetalkedtoheraboutdivorceinstead,sinceheronlygoalinthislifeistoraiseherbabygirlsandlivewiththemin acutelittlecottagewithagardenandpicketfence Homicidedoesnotleadtoalifeofpeace”
CassidyNunes is anaverage-sizedwoman.Slightlybroader inthe shoulders,comparedtoOfficer Tisdale,a little taller thanthecopwhostands bythedoor.ButCassidyshows nofear as sheleans forward,her babyshieldingus all fromseeing anythingof her uncovered chest Thenshe looks into myeyes and sneers, “WilliamAlves was deathlyallergic to peanuts, Detective.I’mtalking,ifyouateaPB&Jforlunchyesterday,andyouhappentotalktohimtoday,histhroatisgonnastartto feeltight Thatmanhadamassive‘expiry’button,justsittingthereforafed-upwifetouseatanymoment Shehadawayof dealingwiththemanwithmuchlessblood,andaneasy‘oopsie’excuseshouldsheeverfeellike snapping.Sono.”Shegrins whenthesquirmingbabyreleasesabelchloudenough,ifIdidn’tknow better,I’dassumeitcamefromafull-grownman “I don’tthinkshe expired him.Ithinkshelovesherdaughtersathousandtimesmorethanshehatedherabusivehusband.ClearlyI wasnotinsidethathomelastnight,soIcan’tsaywhatthehellhappened.Butyou’reaskingformyopinion,andI’mgivingitto you Now,” her voice breaks onemotion, “please lether see her daughters Theyneed her, Detective And she needs them Don’tpunishthemforacrimetheynevercommitted.”
“Apeanutallergy?”TalkingtoMinkaMayetonthephoneis almost asgoodasspeakingtoherface-to-face.Butsinceshe’s downtown, inside her luxurious, all-glass building, filled to the brimwithbodies some dead, and some alive and I’mstillontheAlves’street,preparingtospeaktoawomanwhosehusband’sbloodstainsherskin,Ihavetosettlefor thephoneandslowmystrollasFletchandIheadinAdriannaAlves’direction
“I’mnot trying to pin her for anything.” Stopping in front of the Alves’home, still an easy thirty feet fromthe cruiser Adrianna leans against,Iglance across andstudythe woman She still wears her nightclothes Little shorts thatfitaskew A stretchedshirtwithsmallholesintheoldfabric.Herhairismessy.Herlightskin,garishinthemiddleofthedaysunlight.“I’m tryingtosolveahomicide,Chief Ihaveonevictim,wholikestobeatonhiswife AndIhavethewife,withmotive,means, andopportunity.Ifitwasher,thenIneedtoclosethecase.Andifitwasn’ther,thenIneedtofigureoutwhothefuckitwas, becauserightnow,they’vecommittedmurderandhavesuccessfullymadeitlooklikesomeoneelseisguilty”
“Can I confirmif he was allergic?” she questions “Or if he died of anaphylaxis? I doubt the second is your COD, consideringallthoseknifewoundswecounted.Twenty-nine,Detective. Plus defensivewounds.That’swhatgothim.”
Shechokesoutasmalllaugh.“I’mjusthavingagoodday.Besides,Icarrynosympathyformenwhobeattheirwivesfor fun.Maybeshedidit.Maybeshedidn’t.ButIassureyou, if WilliamAlveshadadeadlypeanutallergy,andAdriannaAlves decidedtokillhimusingaknife,thenIfindmyselfdisappointedshepassedupsuchaneasyopportunity”
“HeandI,”sheclarifies.“NotyouandI.AubreeisworkingonWilliamAlves’bodyrightnow.Butuh,justsoyouknow,” shereleasesabreath,soinmymind,Iseehersittingatherdeskandtakingaloadoffherfeet,“whenrunningacase,oneofthe firstthingswe,asmedicalexaminers,do,isrequestthepatient’smedicalrecords.”Shepausesforabeat,tosmile.Totaunt.“I alreadyknew ofhis allergies,Archer Iknow he broke his fibula whenhe was a child,andthree knuckles onhis righthand approximatelyseventy-twohourspriortohisdeath.Whichimplies,perhaps,hehitawallinanger?”Sheletshersentencehang for a moment before adding, “As the detective, I suggest that may be something for you to investigate. He didn’t die of anaphylaxis Hediedwhenyourperpetrator’sbladeseveredhiscarotidartery Nowifthat’sall,”thesoundofafoilwrapper makesmystomachjump.“Ihaveameetingtoattend.”
Shescoffs,completelyunbotheredbymyaccusation.“It’shardenoughdatingoneman,Detective.NowayI’mdoublingmy troublesandcausingmyselfmoreheadaches Butseriously,”sheadds, seriously “Ihavetogo Ihavefifteenminutestoeatand meetwithDoctorCampbell,thenIhaveworktodo,sinceyoudo, actually,haveanewcasesittingonbothourdesks.” “Alright.” I love you I miss you I’ll see you in a few hours.“Talksoon,Chief.” “Yep”
“Which only paints more domestic violence,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as we come closer to the woman who watches us “People are quickto tell us how muchofa dickour vic was, butitonlyadds weightto Adrianna’s motive for wantinghimdead.”
“That’swhatI’msaying”Idrawadeepbreathandschoolmyexpression,thenclosingthefinalfifteenfeetbetweenusand the cruiser, ImeetAdrianna Alves’milky-browneyes and feel thatstab ofcompassioninmybelly. Because her lefteye is surroundedbydays-oldbruisingthatwouldhavehadWilliaminacageifthiswentinanyotherdirection.Herlips,thickand sensualtoanyonewhomightbeinterested,aresplitandscabbedover.Herarms,bothofthem,ringedinfinger-shapedbruises thatcorroborateahistoryofacontrollinghusband.“Mrs.Alves.”Iextendmyhandandwaitforhertotakeit.Evenifshe’sa
killer, she’s nota threatto me. Nota threatto mypartner. Or to societyas a whole. If she killed the man, she did itoutof desperation.“Mynameis ”
“Detective Archer Malone” Her voice cracks as she shakes myhand “Iknow who youare” Thenshe releases me and lookstoFletch.“Andyou.Iseeyoubothonthenewssometimes.”
“We’re reallysorryabout your husband,” Fletchmurmurs, noddingto the uniformat her backto stand down She’s not gonnarun.“Youhaveourdeepestcondolences.”
“Do I?” Adrianna folds her arms and closes herself off from the world It could be a power pose Intimidation Assertiveness.ButIconsideritexhaustion.Fear.Uncertainty.“Myfaceisalreadyonthenews,Detectives.You’resayingI’ma suspect.Notabereavedwife.”
“We’resayingnothing”Iopenthecruiserdoorandnod,notbecauseIwanttoforcethewomaninanddriveheraway,but becauseIwanttooffer her somewheretosit.Torestandescapetheglaringsunatopher darkhair.“Thenews oftenreports whatever the hell theywantto report, Mrs Alves” Ihold the door and breathe a little easier whenshe breaks her robotic stance and lowers to the edge ofthe backseat, so her feetremainonthe road, buther bodyrests inthe shade. “Theyrarely reportthetruth Andatthismomentintime,neitherDetectiveFletcher,norI,havemadeastatement”Ilowerintoacrouchand look up into her terrified eyes. Her ochre-colored stare red from crying and puffy from a man’s fists. “What happened, Adrianna?”
“I didn’t kill myhusband” Her voice breaks, her steelycountenance meltingawayto expose a womanterrified to her bones.“IswearIdidn’t.Wehadafightlastnight,butwehavethoseallthetime.”Tearsspillfromhereyesandtrackoverher cheeks “Kiera’s beensleepingpoorlylately Lots ofnightterrors andanxietyaroundbedtime,soIgotthegirls down,andI wenttobedrightaftersoIcouldtrytocatchup.”
“He’dbeendrinking,”shewhimpers,glancingupandacceptingtissueswhenthefemaleofficerassignedtoheroffersthem. “Thankyou” Sniffling, she brings the lot to her nose and hunches her back “He wasn’t always this mean, Detectives But alcoholchangespeople.Aging,”shesighs,“changespeople.”
“Butwe’vebeentogether sinceeighthgrade,”shecounters shakily.“Wewerejustchildren.Small town,bigplans.”She snifflesagainandwipeshernose.“Katie…myoldestdaughter,”sheglancesaround,asthoughtomakesurethegirlcan’thear, “clearlywas unplanned But it happened anyway We went ahead withthe pregnancy We were married before I was even legallyold enoughto sayIwanted it. Butour parents pushed for it. To legitimize teenage pregnancy. NextthingIknow, I’m twenty-fourwithanotherchild Williamwastwenty-five,wishinghewasstillseventeenandlifewaseasy Soyes,”shelooks toFletch,hereyeshardeningwithdetermination.“ageandalcoholchangespeople.Theychangedmyhusbandtothepointthat themanweknowtoday,”sheshakesherhead,“isnotthesameasthemanIwasforceddowntheaisletosay I do to.Neither wereideal,”sherasps “Butatleasttheboy,theyoungerversionofhim,waskind Andfun Sweet,ifnotalittleentitled” “Isthatwhyyoukilledhim?”Istudyherreactions.Everytinymovementofherbody.Hereyes.Herhands.Eventheflare ofhernostrilsashergazeswingsbackuptome “Becausehewasanalcoholic,entitled,asshole?”
“Hehityou,Adrianna Hehadajob,butthat’s all hedidinaday Wenttowork Broughthomeenoughmoneytopaythe billsandbuybeer.Hedidn’thelpraisethegirls.Didn’tcontributetorunningthehousehold.Hedidnothingbutparkhisasson thecouchandexpectyoutopickuparoundhim.”
“Andthat’sexactlywhatIdid,”shegritsout “Ipickedupafterhim Becausethatwas my job Istayedhome,andIgotto bethebestdamnmotherIcouldbe.AndevenifIdidn’tlikehisattitude,Istillcookedhismeals,washedhisclothes,anddid ashewanted”
“Youwere a slave,” Fletchargues. “He didn’ttreatyouwithrespect. He abused you!And youwanna sithere withhis bloodonyourhandsandpretendyouwouldn’twantthatabusetogoaway?”Heshakeshishead Disappointed “Don’tinsult ourintelligence,Adrianna.Bestraightwithus,andwe’llgotobatforyouwiththeDA.”
“Youwannacutmeadeal?”Shescoffs.Sheactuallylaughs,sothecopassignedtowatchherwidenshereyes.“Youwant me to admitto murder inthe first Withinfive minutes ofmeetingme And inexchange, we candiscuss a wayto reduce my sentencefrom,what?Twenty-fivetolife,downto,maybefifteen?”
IslideWilliamAlves’bodybackinsidethesub-zero-temperaturefridgeandturnawayasAubreeshutsandsecuresthedoor Hunger rumbles inmystomach, and anadditional twenty-four hours withoutFactor beingadded to myblood makes me tired
Myeyesburnwithexhaustion,andmyhandsshake,thoughIhidethelatterbyslippingthemintomycoatpockets.“Chief Medical Examiner, Minka Mayet,” I announce for the record. “And Doctor Aubree Emeri. WilliamAlves’body has been securedinfridge3-2-5.Itis,”IpauseasAubreeturnsawayfromthefridge,andglanceupattheclockonthewall.“Eighteenoh-eight.We’llpickthisupagaintomorrow.Shuttherecorderoff,please,Aubs.”
“Sure”Aubreeisyoungerthanme Springier WhereIwalkfrompointAtopointBlikeanormal,measuredhumanbeing, the loud and bubblyAubree Emeri bounces. Her smile never abates, and her enthusiasm, somehow, endless, evenwiththe workweeklimpingtowardsFriday Shesnatchesupthesmall recordingdevicewecarteverywherewego,flicksitoff,and dropsitintoherwhitelabcoatpocket.“Youwannagetburgersatthebar?”
Istrolloutofthemassivefridge it’sawholeroom,literally,offridgesinsideafridge andmovetothecheck-indesk, where anold computer perches, a sentrysecuritycenter thatruns slow and mayneed to be the nextline iteminour facility budget. Typing in my passcodes and signing William’s body back into his fridge, I enter my digital signature and take full responsibilityforthedeadmanwho’llstaythenightandwaitforAubsandmetogetbacktoworkagaintomorrow
ThoughIdon’tdance throughoutmybuildingthe wayAubree does and flauntour success. Instead, Ireturnhead nods as technicianspass,andIstepintotheelevatorandturnbacktofacethefrontwhileshehitsthebuttonfortheninthfloor
“Maybe Archer does know I have a thing for his brother,” I tease, watching Aubree in my peripherals as the elevator ascends and she grabs myarmagain. “He’s tall. He’s muscular.” Iworkto keep mylips flatas Aubree’s grip grows tighter aroundmine “He’ssingleandavailable AndArchercanbekindofannoyingsometimes”
“He’s possessive.” She grabs her phone and starts toward the elevator now that we’re ready to leave. “He thinks it’s appropriatetokickmydatesoutofabar.”
“Andyouthinkit’sappropriatetotakeyourdatesto his bar”
“And youliterallyglued his remote to the television, released straycats into his home, and tried to stage a break-into cover your tracks.” Rememberingthe last,mychestbounces withmutedlaughter as Aubree huffs andslaps the elevator call buttonforthefinaltimetoday.“Yourbehaviorwaschildish.”
“He’sthemafia.”
“He’s former mafia.”Istepinsidetheelevatorandmakemywaytotheback,soIhavesomethingtoleanagainstandless chanceofdroppingonmyassfromexhaustion “Hisfatherwasmafia Heleftthatlifetobecomeanormal,functioningmember ofsociety.”
“Minka ”Frustrated,shepressesherbacktothesidewall andgroans “I’mtryingtofall out oflovehere Canyounot makeitsodifficult?”
“Butwhyare youdoingthat?” As soonas the doors slide open, Ipushawayfromthe backwall and stride throughthe GeorgeStanleylobby,pastoursecuritycheckpoint,andthroughlarge,revolvingglassdoors.
Swallowingthe ache inmythroat, and refillingthe oxygeninmylungs, Istartto the rightand lookatAubree as we go “Whyareyoutryingtofall outoflovewithamanwho cherishes the groundyouwalkon? Imarrieda Malone,Aubs.Ican recommendfirsthand:beingtakencareoflikethatisprettynice”
“I’mthis person,Minka.Loudandweirdandobnoxiousandgoofy.Idyemyhairdifferentcolors,dependingontheseason, andImatchmyshoestomyearrings,andmyunderweartomysocks IstilldancetoMTVontheweekends,andImadefriends withafilthypigeonthatfliesinandsitsonmywindowsillatleastonceaday.Ihavetheworld’sbiggestladycrushonmyboss becauseshe’sthecoolestchickIhaveevermet AndIfellinlovewiththeheirofamafiafrickensyndicate Like,he’snoteven the third, or fourthson, like Archer is. He’s TimothyMalone, and the dude before himwas TimothyMalone, too. The other Timothywas theboss ofthefamily Andhewas anawful,awful man This Timis likeadark,darkstormycloud,andI’ma rainbowCareBear.He’sWednesdayAddams,andI’mthatotherchick.Theloudone.”
“You’retotallysecureinwhoyouareasaperson.WhichiswhyyoucanmarrysomeonelikeArcherMalone,andyoucan be happy, and you’re bothstill exactlywho you’re supposed to be. You’re not weakand wafflyand at riskof becominga lumberjack’sfemalecounterpart.”
“Yes!ButIwouldanyway Ibecomethisweird,sniveling, pick-me girlwheneverheandIareinthesameroom Because myheartstupidlywentandfellinlove,andIjustsohappenedtofallinlovewith that guy.”Shebringsustoasharpstop,my feetskiddingontheconcreteandmyeyeswheelingarounduntilIfindTimothyhimself,standingattheopenbardoor Hiseyes, greenjustlikeArcher’s,burnuswherewestand.
We still have an easy thirty feet between where he is and where we are. But his stare is like a physical thing. His commandingpresence,notsomethingtobeignored
Thirty, maybe forty years ago, this was where mob bosses came to talk business and organize crime Now, it’s where policetalkshopanddrinkawayhardwork.
Theironyisn’tlostonme
ButasIsearchthecrowdandsteermyselftowardthebackwall,IfindArcher’sexpectanteyes,hisstrong,six-feet-and-afew-inches,lazingonastool,hiselbow onthebarashewatchesme Heholdsasodainonehand,restingthebottomofthe glass onhis thick, jeaned thigh, while another, second soda waits for me;the carbonated liquid bubblingand poppingwhile condensationrunsalongthesideandtemptsmecloser.
“Thankgod,”Imutter,cuttingapaththroughthecrowdandrelaxingwitheachstepItake MybodycravesArcherMalone the wayalcoholics wanttheir nextdrink. Myheartbeats easier whenhe’s near, the waya junkie’s anxietydissipates when they’vesourcedtheirnexthit
I get what Aubs is saying, really. That fear of giving yourself up for someone else. She thinks I’mtoo strong for such nonsense ToosetinmywaystonotbeexactlywhoI’vealwaysbeen Butshe’swrong BecauseI’vechanged,too ForArcher Mysoulhastransformed,andmyphysiologicalresponsesarenotthesamenowcomparedtowhoIwaspriortomeetinghim. Iusedtocravesolitude.Now,Icravehim.
“Minnnnka.”TheinstantI’mcloseenough,Archerreachesoutwithhisfreearmandhooksitaroundmyhip,draggingme closer until our chests clash and I taste Coke on my tongue. He smells of him. Of home. A woodsy scent. With a little gunpowderandnicotinethrowninforfun.Hetugsmeinuntilthere’snospacebetweenwhereIstartandheends.Butheeasily places his soda onthe bar, relieves me ofthe briefcase Icartaround everyday, thengrabs mychinbetweenhis finger and thumbanddragsmeinuntil our lipsclash.“Imissedtheshitoutofyou.”HebitesmybottomlipandgrinsbecauseIshiver. “You’restarving”
“Youarrestedher?”Recharged,Ishoveupfromhislapandswingaroundtoplopmyassonthesingle,unusedstoolbeside his Isetmyelbowsonthebarandburnmyhusbandwithaglare “Youarrestedthatpoorwoman?Forwhat?”
“Whichis good informationto have,” he taps myhand and grins, “butwe’re notinvestigatingWilliamfor beinga shitty husbandandfather.He’sourvic,andhedidn’tstabhimselftodeath.Whichmeansweneedtoinvestigatethosearoundhim.”
“Maternal grandmother flew inthis afternoon.” He’s too relaxed. Too casual aboutsomethingso world-shatteringto the womanwho broils ina jail cell rightnow “Grandma has arrived And she broughta lawyer withher Adrianna’s claiming innocence.”
“Butyoudon’tbelieveher”
“Idon’t not believeher.”Hegrabsmyhand,holdingmecaptivewhenmyentirebodyjoltsfromhisrevelation.“Shesaid she’s innocent, and I’minclined to err onthe side ofbelievingher Butthe evidence says somethingelse, and I’mthe idiot whoseasswillbeinaslingifIlethergohometonightandshefleesthecountrybeforethesuncomesup.Herdaughtersare safe withGrandma,childservices are watchingclosely,andwordonthe streetis thattheyhope momis proveninnocentso those babies cango home Excludingher husband’s murder, Adrianna has always and onlyever acted protectivelywhenit comestoherchildren.Hell,ifshemurderedhim,anditwasindefenseofherbabies,thenIcanworkwiththattoo.Butright now, she’s claiminginnocence, whichdirectlyopposes the fact her home was closed and locked all night Onlyone set of footprints leads awayfromthatbloodied recliner, and theybelongto Adrianna. Onlyone setofhandprints marks the walls. Theybelongto ”
“So what have you found, then?” Angling closer, I study his eyes. Playful, despite our morbid topic of conversation. “You’vecanvassedtheneighbors?”
“Yes, Chief.”Helinksourfingerstogetherandbringsmyhandcloser.Icouldpullaway.Icouldbreakourconnectionand forcehimtofocus.Buthepressesakisstomywristandstealsanothersliceofmyheart.“Neighboracoupledoorsupsaysshe heard themarguinglast night. She agrees, had he beenher husband, she’d have killed him, too. Additionally, she believes whoever did this, did Adrianna a favor. Spoke to the Nunes’, too.” Another kiss. Aslide ofhis tongue alongthe blue veins marringmyskin “KalvinNunesheardWilliamandAdriannaarguinglastnight,too EveryoneissosetonpaintingAdriannaas thesweet,innocent,batteredwife.AndnoonehaswastedanopportunitytoconvincemeWilliamisanabusivepieceofshit. But there is no one else, Minnnka” He nips at my skin and glances across as a shadow falls over the side of my face “DetectiveFletcher,”hemurmursingreeting.Thenbacktome,headds,“I’mlookingforakiller.I’mnottossingherawayand losingthekey.Buthell,thislooksbadwhicheverwayyouplayit.”
He pours another beer and slides italongthe bar to a waitingcustomer. “Somethingaboutwantinga minute to herself.” Finally,hestopswhathe’sdoing,leansonhiselbows,andmovescloseruntilournosesareameresixinchesapart “Swearto god,Mayet.Ifshe’smeetingadudeoutthereandthinksshecanbringhimin ”
“Whoa” Fletch chokes on his drink, sets the glass down, and sweeps his child fromArcher’s lap “Are we not even pretendingtocensorourselvesanymore?Wehaveachildtoprotect,Delicious!”
“Isaid words!” Ilaugh, thoughIbreathe a little easier whenIcatchAubree comingthroughthe door sans date “You impliedinnuendo.Four-year-oldchildrendon’tunderstandsubtextunlessprudishadultspointitout.”Ireachacrossandtapthe endofMia’ssweetbuttonnose.Becauseshe’sbeautiful andsmartandsoverypure,whentherestofusdeal withtheworst societyoffersonadailybasis.“Yourdaddyissilly,Moo.”
“He’ssosilly!”sheagrees.“He’smoresillythanever.”
“Ithinksotoo.”ImeetFletch’s eyes andregretnotbringingtheuptightandperfectlyproper SeraphinaLewis withus to dinner.She’smypublicrelationsgurudownattheGeorgeStanley.Butshe’sthebaneofCharlieFletcher’sexistence.“Thirst willmakeevensensiblemenalittlesillysometimes,babygirl Andyourdaddymightbethethirstiestofthemall” Heonlyshakeshishead,disappointmentexpellingwiththeairhebreathesout.“Shameless.”
“I’llgoboxitupnow.”Timisgoodatreadingaroom,too.Heseesme.Theshadowsundermyeyes,andthepallorofmy skin Mostofall,heseeshisbrother’shandwrappedaroundmyhipandthebulgeofhisarmthatsayshe’scarryingmyhundred and thirty-five pounds. “I’ll be two minutes.” But before he leaves, he glances right over the top of my head, his eyes darkening.“Wantadrink,Emeri?”
“Nothinghappened! Myboss is attemptingto be funny The problemis, she has a social disabilityand no clue how to deliverapunchlineappropriately.”
“That’s twice” Iscowl as Timsets Aubree’s soda downand stalks awayto getour dinner “What’s up withthe social disabilitything,huh?NewYorkTimeswordoftheday?”
“Goodnight,baby.”Hekeepsatightholdonmyhip,steeringustowardthedoor,buthewinksforMiaandsmilesaswe exitthe hotbar, onlyto emerge onto the stiflingcitystreetonce more “Iheard it’s gonna be the hottestsummer onrecord” Already tired of it, he leads me to the right just a few feet, before we step through the next doorway and re-enter airconditionedcoolandstartuptheconcretestairs “We’regonnamelttothetarroads,”hegroans “Notme.”Iglancearoundinsearchofmyolderlandlord,Steve,butmaybetheheathashimstickingtohisapartmenttoo, becausethemanwhousuallyhauntsthehallsandkeepswatchofallhislittlelambsisnowheretobeseen “I’llbeinsidemy building,”Itease.“Runningthecity’selectricbilluptostaycool.”
“Liar.You’llbeonthestreetsasmuchasIwillbecauseyou’reasuckerforthevicswhoenduponaslabeverydamnday. Youcould stayinsidetheGeorgeStanley,”heamends,“aschief,youneverhavetoleave ButasMinkaMayet ” “I’mgonna go to the scene.” I watch my feet as we climb. But my lips curl up. “What do you reckon happened with Pastore?”
“You’rehome!”Catoboundstothefourthfloorlandingthewayachildmightjumpoutwhileplayingagameofpeekaboo Liketheother four Malonebrothers,hehasdarkhair,longlimbs,broadshoulders,andasmilethatbeckonsawomantoher death Thesemencomefrommurderousstock,buttheirsecretweaponisthecharismatheyooze It’sdiabolical,really,howutterlycharmingtheyallare.Evenwhenthey’renottryingtobe.
“Okay?” Catolaughs,settinghis hands onthe doorframe andgrinninglike a giddyfool.“Doc,she helpedhim!Youheal people, so I guess that’s kinda special too But Lix chose a chick who is the exact right amount of insane to keep him entertained. Imagine that,” he’s younger thanme bya decade, but easilytall enoughto lookover myshoulder and meet his brother’sgaze,“fallinginlovewithakiller.”
“SeemstheMaloneshaveatype.”Andsinceitappearswe’reatapointinourmarriagethatmyless-law-abiding activities canbe joked about, I follow himall the wayto the couchand plop downwhenhe presses his hands to myshoulders and pushes “IwonderwhatkindofwomanMicahwillfallinlovewith?”IsitbackwhenArcherreleasesmeandclosemyeyes ThoughIstillseehiminmymind,crossingourtinyapartmentandtuggingthefridgeopeninsearchofmymeds.
“Christabelle,” he chuckles, audiblyreachingup to the container we keep ontop ofthe fridge. That’s where Istore my tourniquet. Myalcohol wipes. Syringes. “Her name is Christabelle, notDebbie. And Micahisn’tlikelyto fall inlove with anyone.”
“Right.Butthat’snotwhatIasked.”Ilookdownatmydinnerandfindmyburgeralreadyslicedinhalf.Mybrother-in-law isperhapsthesecond-mostconsideratemanI’veevermetinmylife Ileavemyrighthandtorestonthecouchcushions,the creaseofmyelbowexposedandwaitingasArcherslidesthetourniquetupandtightensitaroundmybicep.Usingmylefthand, I pick up the first half of my meal and take a small bite “The evidence says one thing But as an investigator, as a man experiencedinhomicide,doyouthinkAdriannakilledherhusband?”
“Sure,andyouandIknowexactlywhatahealthymarriageshouldlooklike,right?Yourdadwasacapo,andmymomhad anaffair withamanwhowasnotmyfather.”Ireacharoundandcupthebackofhishand,guidinghimforward,knowinghe will never willinglyslidetheneedleintomyskinonhisown “Youstill don’tevenknow theidentityofyour mother,though we’re reasonablycertainshe was murderedandburiedina shallow grave somewhere onyour New Yorkproperty.Andmy fatherstayedmarriedtoawomanwhocheatedonhim Worse,”Ifirmmyholdasthetipoftheneedlehoversjustamillimeter frommyflesh. Archer rejects the thoughtofslidingitin. His hand shakes. His knuckles turnwhite. And his jaw hardens to stoneinmyperipherals.“Worse,”Iforcehishandforward,piercingmyskinandguidinghimtherestofthewayorriskhim pullingaway,“heknewshewassleepingwithsomeoneelse.Andhestayedanyway.”
“Fuckkkkk…” Archer watches myarmlike he thinks Imighttugitawayand scream. He controls everybreathhe takes. Everytime he blinks We’ve administeredmymeds together dozens oftimes now,buthe has never beenthe one holdingthe needle.“Minka…”
“Holditsteady Don’tjerkitaround”Igritmyteethandfakeasmilewhenhedrags his eyes up Becausehis quivering handmeanstheneedlemovesinmyvein,andhell,thatstingslikeabitch.ButIdon’ttell himthat.“Tapeitdown,”Icoach. “Thenbegintheinfusion.”
“Forfuck’ssake”Hetearsalengthoftapefromtheroll andplacesitonmyarm,thenheunclipsthetourniquetuntil the stretchyfabricdroops.Finally,hepicksupthesyringeandslowlybeginspushingFactorintomyveins.“Ididn’tlikethat.” “Idon’tmuchlikeiteither” But it’s done now, and I’m ready for sleep anyway “IwasinsertingmyownneedleswhenI wasasmallchild.”Leaningforward,Itakemyplateandbringitbacktosettleonmylap.BecauseifIdon’teatnow,I’llwake upstarvingintheearlyhoursoftomorrow “TalktomeaboutAdriannaAlves”
“I don’t see how it’s possible” His eyes are all for my arm For the point where steel pierces my skin and his hand controlshow quickly,how painfully,medicationentersmybody.“Forensicsarerunningitdown.Butshit,babe,whoevergot himmadeadamnmess.Andtheonlyfootprintsleavingthescenebelongtoher.”
“Well William’s blood would have soaked your killer Adrianna had his blood onher, sure, butnot‘she’s the killer’ enoughblood.Whichmeansshewouldhavehadtocleanupsomewhere.Herclotheswouldhavebeentossed.”
“Women typically use poison” My eyes drift close But I don’t have a headache, and that’s a pleasant development, consideringI’ve suffered one after almosteverysingle infusionprior to meetingthis man. “This particular vic had a deadly allergy she could have easily capitalized on. The brute strength used to stab Williamtwenty-nine times says, ‘angry male energy’tome”
Hepeelsthetapefrommyarm,thetugofmyskinjuststingingenoughtoregisterinmymind.Thenhepullstheneedlefrom my vein. But I’mpracticed enough to lock my hiss of pain down and say nothing to the man still working on his medical confidence.
I choke out a drowsy, sillylaughI’maware makes me lookdumb. But whenArcher scoops me up fromthe couchand straightenshisback,Irestmycheekonhischestandlistentohisheart “I’lllaythere Youdothework”
“Soonas Ican” He presses a kiss to mycheekand lingers for a beatlongenoughto make myheartache inall the best ways.He’ssosweet.Socaring.Soperfect.“Also,whileyou’reawake,Ijustwantedtoletyouknowweownahouse.” “Hmm?”Sleep.Restful,rejuvenating,wonderfulsleep.“What?”
“Leaveher”Ismackmylipsanddropintosleep,dreamingofwhitefuranddemon-spawncatswhoplotmydemise She wasArcher’sbeforeshewasours.Andnowshe’lleatmycorpsethemomentshegetsthechance.“She’sfluffyandnice.” “Alright.”Hechuckles.“Yougotit,babe.Night.”
However, on the evenings of an infusion, it’s like the world hits pause for us. Work waits. Our friends back off. My brothers become a little less dangerouslyspontaneous, whichmeans theyneed less intervention Everythingslows so Minka cangethermeds,andIcanwatchoverher.
