Page 47 of Sinful Sorrow

“There was once a time that, if such a thing was even muttered near our family, that person would soon be dead.”

“Uh huh. But we’re not him, and she’s not disposable.” I lower my coffee and gesture toward the door. “But there’s a whole other apartment, just a few blocks down, where you can stay, free of charge. You might feel safer there?”

“I’m not leaving.” He brings his feet onto the couch and stares at the TV. “A guy could feel a little unloved though, with the number of times you ask him to leave.”

Pursing her lips, Minka pats my chest and picks up her coffee, then crossing the apartment, she walks up behind Cato and sets her hand on his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He tenses and spins, searching her eyes as distrust simmers in his. “What?”

“You annoy the crap out of me. And you were not raised amongst decent civilization. It’s like we’re trying to humanize Tarzan. I never agreed to that kind of responsibility. But the fact that Felix Malone raised you is hardly your own fault.” She brings a hand up and cups his cheek. “I would miss you if you left.”

“Are you…” He looks past her to me. “She serious?”

“As a blood clotting disorder.” She claps his cheek and beams. “And if you tell anyone I was nice to you, I’ll deny it.” Lowering her hand, she turns and moves my way. “I’m heading to work in about twenty minutes. Hopefully Fifi is there, so I can check in with her before we’re on the clock. Then I have morning rounds. I’ll run through my team’s active files and assist, since mine is effectively closed.”

“Closed for you.” I bring my coffee up and ignore the stars in my baby brother’s eyes as he watches the first love of his life move. “Not closed for me. Do you know who planted that knife? Because I’m still coming up empty.”

She snorts and trades her coffee for the creamer. Walking it to the fridge, she deposits it back inside and snags one of the dozen breakfast pouches that somehow, magically appear despite the fact she never shops for them. “Whoever it is, it’s going to feel obvious once you figure it out. Have you checked external security cameras? This person needs to have entered the house at some point prior to the kill zone to leave the knife.”

“Yep. And they only have three inside, all on the five minute looping system. None in the back. And those they have, leave a bunch of blind spots. Whoever swapped the prop for a real knife seems to have known that. Unless, of course, I saw them while I was watching, but they didn’t stand out as a perp.”

She closes the fridge and unscrews the pouch lid. “What do you mean?”

“As in, they lived there. Or they were part of the decorating committee. The owners came in and out a lot, obviously, since when it’s not nighttime in October, it’s just a regular home. The mailman comes earlier in the day. And their daughters, they’ve got two of them, were in and out. It was a regular day and their lives existed within it.”

“Was Friday the opening day of the season?” Cato questions. “The night Naomi died, was that the first night of the haunted house?”

“No. It was the third. Business opened to the public on Wednesday night.”

“So maybe your killer was someone who walked through on one of the previous two nights. They pay their entry fee. Wander in with their friends, or alone. Most chicks are gonna have a purse or a backpack, so it’s not like she had to carry the knife in her hands. She catches the show on the first or second night, to know how it all goes down, then she swaps the prop and walks away. Her presence there appears completely legit.”

“By that theory, your perp had to have come by on Thursday night.” Minka sucks on the end of her pouch and happily swallows protein and vitamins without realizing how healthy her breakfast is. “Can’t have been Wednesday, or Connor would’ve picked it up sooner.”

“Or it could have been earlier Friday night,” Cato counters. “Were Naomi and her group the first through the door that night? If not, that means your perp walked in before them.” He sets his forearms on his knees. “Almost makes me wonder if your killer is literally the person who walked through directly ahead of Naomi’s group.” He rolls his eyes, playing it up for Minka. “Is police work even difficult? He has security footage and a timeline too tight for it to be anyone except whoever was on the screen before his victim.”

“Yeah, Archer.” Smirking, Minka’s cheeks warm as she finishes her meal and tosses the packaging into the trash. “Is police work even hard?” Walking straight to me, she steps on her toes and kisses me with a noisy mwah. Then she turns on her heels and heads toward the hall. “I’m drying my hair and putting on my shoes, then I’m out of here. Stop going to those psych classes, Cato. But definitely go to psych appointments. Your childhood trauma and codependence are showing.”

The playfulness he wore a moment ago turns into a scowl now that she’s back to picking on him. “She’s mean. Do you ever feel secure in her affections for you?”

“No.” I bring my coffee up and grin behind the lip. Because the answer is yes, absolutely, without a doubt yes, because I know she would kill for me. She would step into danger for me. And she would defend my life, no matter the circumstances. But for Cato’s sake, I pretend otherwise. “She takes that ‘treat ‘em mean’ thing to heart. It’s a hard life.”

Minka goes to work, and Cato and I swing by the station to get a car. And though I told him he couldn’t get a ride with me, I still let him sit in the passenger seat as we pull away from the precinct and come to a stop only a few minutes later outside Fletch’s apartment.

My stomach churns at the knowledge Jada is up there right now. The woman I once adored. The one I considered a sister and treated as such because she was Fletch’s, and Fletch is mine.

Then she set that life and those privileges on fire.

Now she’s actively fucking with the lives of those I love. So as I look up at the multistory apartment building, I snag the keys from the ignition and swallow down the annoyance that attempts to move along my throat.

“She’s asking for help.” I slide out of the car and stand, resting my arms on the roof as Cato does the same on his side. “She’s asking for help. So I’m gonna be kind.”

“Are you chanting, like, affirmations or something?” He slams his door and starts toward the front of the car. “Do you need my assistance with that, or…”

“She’s done bad things. But she’s asking for help, and Fletch is saying to trust.” Closing my door, I follow my brother to the front and continue toward the building’s entrance. “She’s made poor choices, but she’s committing to rehab and asking for help.”

“So chanting affirmations, then. Hummm…” He pushes the front door open and watches as I pass. “Hummm…”

“Stop that. It’s annoying.”

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