Page 59 of Sinful Sorrow

Angry, his face turns red and his hands ball into fists. “Never gonna fuckin’ happen. Don’t go there.”

“We’d notice! And if at any point Minka and I find we’re looking to make a family, I guarantee the mayor would notice. That’s what dads do. Give me a sec,” I tap Minka’s name and bring the device to my ear. “Doctors asked me to call.”

“Archer?” My name spills from Minka’s lips on an exhale that indicates she’s walking. Moving. Rushing. “Hey. Catch a killer yet?”

“Not quite. You okay? Where are you?”

“I’m on a crime scene, actually. Midtown has a floater and needed an M.E. down at the bay. Since I’m officially closed on the Wallace case, it would come across as a tad lazy if I denied assisting the other detectives.”

My nose wrinkles immediately. My lips. My entire fucking soul shrivels at the thought of sharing her with other cops.

Though of course, I have to.

She’s not mine… professionally.

I clear my throat and pretend like jealousy doesn’t rear its head and demand I drag her back to the office. “Okay, I guess. You got it handled, or you need help?”

“Not your case, Detective. Floater was only in the water for an hour, as far as I can tell. Bullet wound to the back of his head. Execution. Kinda makes my job easy. The slug blew through the other side, so we can’t send it for ballistics, but I can figure out the size of the rounds that ended his life. Gun powder residue from his skin. Stomach and bowel contents. All before the end of business hours today. How’s your case coming along?”

I wander the remaining steps to our car and rest against the hood. “Decent. We might’ve caught a break. Her economics professor gave us two separate lines to tug.”

“Oh yeah? Over there,” she murmurs to someone else. “Bag his hands and grab samples from beneath his nails. I’m seeing what might be skin. Perhaps a little mud. We’ll pull DNA and hand it over to the detectives.” Then back to me. “Sorry. What two lines did he give you?”

I hate sharing her. And I’m not too proud to pout about it. “He said there was always tension between Kallie and Naomi.”

“Weird, since everyone else says how close they were.”

“Right. Professor says they were often at odds. Which gives me reason to stop and wonder if the pregnancy was creating a divide between friends.”

“Good one. And the other thread?”

“He says a different girl, a little younger, was hanging around a lot. Almost spying on Naomi. He’s gonna swing by the station in about an hour to give a description to Brody. Hopefully that gives us a face. And if all our instincts are right, that face is one we’ll recognize.”

“Spying on her in class isn’t exactly a smoking gun, Detective. Maybe she was getting fashion advice. Or maybe she wasn’t looking at Naomi at all. Perhaps she was looking at Mason. Or Kallie.”

“All possibilities?—”

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Aubree murmurs on the other end of the line. “You see the hemorrhaging, Chief?”

“Yeah, I see it. Makes me wonder if our perp slammed him with the butt of his gun before shooting. Almost seems like overkill. Certainly indicates the guy was angry when he made the kill.”

“Minka?”

“Yeah. I’m back.” She clears her throat and turns, so a soft breeze hits the phone’s mouthpiece. “Sorry. So you’re sending the teacher to the sketch artist in an hour. And it’s possible Kallie was angry with Naomi, for reasons at this moment, unknown. Will you pull her in for a follow up talk?”

“Yep. You sent me a text asking me to call you?”

“I did.” She starts moving again, so the wind changes how it attacks the phone. Her breath comes faster, so in my mind, I see her navigating rocks. Slippery surfaces. She risks falling on her face and creating her own hemorrhage. “I had a little spare time, and I had my own contact to tug. So I did a little digging for you in hopes to aid your investigation.”

“Okay… I’m gonna put you on speaker. Hang on.” I bring my eyes up and catch Fletch’s, then I set the call on speaker, only to have Minka’s laughter hit the air. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Though I probably could do without the audience. The thing I did wasn’t strictly law-abiding.”

Startled, my eyes jump to Fletch’s a second time as he parks his ass on the hood right beside me.

“Are we talking illegal, like that extra-curricular stuff you sometimes do that we don’t talk about?” Fletch questions. “Starts with V, ends with shut the fuck up. Or is it, like…” he shrugs. “Slightly less illegal?”

“Less illegal. Though I imagine it still comes with jail time if I confessed to the cops.”

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