Page 26 of Sinful Sorrow

“I’m set on it.” His eyes dance with mirth. “Your refusal to let anyone care about you must surely irritate Detective Malone.”

“Like he didn’t already bitch to you about it,” I grumble, earning a scowl from the mayor-pleasing Fifi. God forbid I frown in the presence of her beloved leader. “I have no doubt you and Detective Malone secret away time to hold your meetings about how to most efficiently and effectively bother me.”

Lawrence scoffs. But he doesn’t outright call my assumption foolish. “We could probably make logos. Sweaters.” His square jaw flexes with restrained humor. “It might even be time to open membership to Doctor Emeri and Ms. Lewis, since they, too, enjoy bothering you.”

I firm my lips and ignore my audience. Because if I tell them to fuck off on company hours, it’s possible I’ll be accused of meanness.

“Tell me about your current case, Chief Mayet.” Lawrence fixes the pleat on his pants and straightens his face. “Don’t give me the party line about confidentiality or active cases. You know I don’t gossip.”

“Except with Archer,” I interrupt.

“Except with Archer,” he amends with a grin. “She was young, wasn’t she? Barely out of high school.”

“She was eighteen,” I sigh, backing up to the glass windows and leaning on the cold pane. “Naomi Wallace was stabbed to death with a crowd watching and security cameras filming the entire ordeal. Objectively, it should be open and close, an easy case to solve, considering the detectives get to see the whole thing in high definition and with time stamps in the corner.”

“But it’s not easy. Because it was callous and cruel.”

“My job is done. I autopsied her. I’ve written my report and sent it to the lead detectives. She’s been pended, like so many are, as we await toxicology results. But the fact is, every case is a puzzle for me to solve, but this?—”

“This puzzle is already complete,” he guesses. “You’re no longer needed, and it bothers you that you become redundant once the report is written?”

“No. It bothers me that I had to autopsy an eighteen-year-old woman—a girl, really—and her unborn child. It bothers me that someone hated her so much that they set up a scene that borders on theatrical, ensuring she was not only murdered in cold blood, but it was done when her adrenaline was high and her last hour alive was spent in a state of fear. She doesn’t like scary things, Justin. She doesn’t enjoy her annual trip to the haunted house. But she goes, because her pals like it. That makes her a good friend. It makes her selfless. The fact that she was there was bad enough. But to die there, the way she did, was harsh and unnecessary.”

“Are you caught up on the details of her death? On the brutality?”

“Yes. And whoever wanted her to die, I think we’ll find was because he or she felt slighted. They were jealous and mean. This wasn’t a righteous murder, Mayor. This was petty and cruel.”

Surprised, his brows pop high on his barely wrinkled brow, despite his age. “You believe there’s such a thing as righteous murder? Like the vigilante?” he ponders. And just as quickly, my stomach tightens.

“The vigilante?” I swallow and pray he doesn’t hear the tremor in my voice. “Hmm?”

“Those deaths began before I was in office,” he continues. Calmly. Slowly. There’s no accusation in his tone, despite what the adrenaline in my veins would attempt to convince me. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t inherit that information once I arrived. The media have touted the killer a hero because of their targets.”

“Pedophiles.” I clear my throat and hope I don’t sound as guilty as I feel. “They killed predators and rapists.”

“And once word spread, the media labeled them a vigilante. Righteous murder. Does that mean you believe in the possibility of honorable killing, Chief?”

“I don’t…” I look over his head, stunned when I find Archer and Fletch stepping off the elevator. They exit with smiles. Archer’s turns higher when he spots the trio plastered to my glass wall. He looks past them to the mayor, still grinning. But then, like the flip of a switch, he catches my eyes and his smile vanishes.

“Chief Mayet?”

I drag my focus back to Lawrence and ignore the message screaming from Archer’s close-lipped expression. What the fuck is going on in there? “I-I don’t know how to answer that question,” I stammer, searching the mayor’s friendly gaze. “My job, literally, is to seek justice for those who’ve been hurt. I work closely with the homicide division to sweep killers off our streets. Morally, it’s my duty to denounce anyone who wishes to take the law unto themselves.”

“Morally…” He brings his hand up and scratches his stubbled jaw. “Professionally. But in reality?”

“I’m not sad that we have fewer pedophiles on our streets. Whoever ended their lives may have behaved unethically, according to the law. But personally, I’d prefer to autopsy a rapist’s body over the one that would have become his next victim. The second is never acceptable. The first…”

“Righteous,” he concludes thoughtfully. “Probably not the opinion you’re supposed to have while holding the position you do in our city.”

“Then I suppose it’s lucky I’m talking to the dude who wants to pretend he’s my dad right now, and not the mayor of Copeland City.” I clear my throat and force a grin onto my lips. “Justin.”

He chuckles, then he turns in his seat when Archer pushes through the door and the air changes once more.

Archer’s eyes are all for me. Intense. Protective. But he fakes a smile for Lawrence and folds his arms. “Everything okay in here?”

“Of course.” Taking this as his cue to leave, Justin pushes up to stand and re-buttons his coat. Striding to Archer, he extends his hand and shakes when palms collide. “Detective Malone. It’s been a pleasure spending a few minutes with our Chief Mayet. I assume she routinely takes your calls?”

Looking over at me, Archer cautiously answers, “Most of the time, yes.”

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