Page 66 of Sinful Sorrow

“What a mess.” I draw a deep breath and watch as the trio step into the same interview room as Sandy and Patricia. I’m not sure about the legalities of a group chat. But I suppose Heather needs a parent to be present when the police talk to her. The finer details, after that, will be between Archer, Fletch, and whatever judge and jury that’ll eventually convict a killer to prison time. “You’re cutting Kallie loose soon?”

“I thought it was her.” He leans against the wall, looking down into my eyes and dragging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Especially when I caught wind she and Brent had broken up. I was so sure she wanted her poor best friend out of the picture so she could swoop in and have the guy.”

“I suppose you pieced the motive together well enough. It’s not like any of us expected this one to be on the fifteen-year-old still in tenth grade. She was going to be an aunty, Archer. Instead, she chose to end two lives and ruin a third.”

“Yeah, well…” He firms his lips when Mrs. Wallace’s howling pain echoes into the hall. “Mason asked if he could stop by the George Stanley later to visit with Naomi.” He pushes off the wall as Fletch re-opens the interview room door.

They’re ready.

“He wants to see his girls before she’s released to her family and he’s potentially blocked out.” He peers across and meets my eyes, holding my stare and softening when the enormity of what was lost slices through my soul. “He feels like the Wallaces blame him for what happened. No matter that I’ll prove it was Heather; he’s worried once this case is tied up, he’s gonna be locked out and refused access.”

“I’ll clear my schedule and have her prepared for his visit. Tell him to contact me or Aubree. We’ll be ready for him.”

“Thanks.” He nods toward the room we came from and flashes a small smile. “You can watch, if you want. But don’t judge me for being mean to a kid. Sometimes, it’s what has to happen. Even if I don’t like it.”

“She made her choices,” I concede. “Now you need a confession. Go do your job, Detective.”

MINKA

There are some people on this planet who don’t deserve to be here.

I know it’s not up to me to decide who. I know it’s wrong for me to declare my verdict and end a life, no matter the stacks of evidence I gather before making a move. And it sure as hell makes it hypocritical for me to sit on my high horse and condemn someone else for doing the same.

But there’s a difference between ending an evil man’s reign—when his victims are children and his targets are innocent—and killing your big sister, because you want her clothes, her room, her boyfriend, and the life you think came sooooo easily to her.

Siblings fight, of course. It’s natural. And younger sisters often want things they didn’t necessarily earn.

But to kill for it… that’s not helping society. Ending a life and removing a perceived threat… that’s not making anyone safe. It’s not protecting the innocent.

It’s vain and shallow, nothing more.

And now a man, a boy really, stands over his beloved, sobbing until his tears soak her sheets and his eyes swell almost completely shut.

“It’s so tragic,” Aubs sniffles, perching on the edge of a stainless-steel counter and discreetly swiping beneath her nose to rid the evidence of emotion on the job. We rarely cry for our patients. We don’t even get misty eyed when survivors visit those they’ve lost.

But a young mom, killed for no reason except jealousy and spite, and a man whose entire life has been lost… those are reasons to grieve.

“It’s not often you meet your soulmate when you’re six years old,” she whispers. We can’t leave Mason here alone with Naomi and the unnamed fetus, even if privacy should be the least expected under the circumstances. This is still a homicide investigation, after all. The bodies, still evidence in that case.

We can’t leave. But we can stay back. We can be quiet, respectful, and for the most part, out of sight.

“What do you even do with your life when you lose your love at eighteen?” she questions. “Do you just curl into a ball in the corner and cease to exist?”

“Does he have nothing else to live for? Not his sport? Not his family? Not even to create a legacy for his fiancée and daughter?”

“I mean…” She quietly clears her throat. “I don’t know. Eighteen is so young. He still has eighty years ahead of him. So it leads to the assumption he’ll move on. Meet someone new. Maybe have a family with her, someday. But I’m not sure he can see that as a future just yet.” Curious, she plants her hands on the steel counter on either side of her thighs and looks across to meet my eyes. “What if you lost Archer?”

Ouch.

I bring a hand up and gently press it to my heart, soothing the ache she so easily put there with a simple, hypothetical question.

“You and Malone are older than Mason and Naomi, but really, you haven’t had as long as they had. What if, in eleven years, something happens and you lose him? Will you remarry? Move on?”

“No.” Swallowing, I drag my focus back around to a heartbroken teen boy with eighty years of loneliness laid out ahead of him. “I wouldn’t move on. Are you telling me you’ll continue to avoid Tim, even though you love him and he loves you? He’s right there, and your future is waiting to start. But nothing happens until you get on board. If you lose him, in ten years, maybe twenty, will you wish you’d started sooner, so you could absorb as much time as possible?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, her pink streaked blonde hair moving with the shift of her shoulders. “I’ve gotten so used to telling him no, I’m not sure how to change my mind and say something else.”

I snort. It’s almost completely silent, because Mason deserves better. But I lean to the side and bump her shoulder with mine. “Take your clothes off and wait in his bed at the end of shift tonight. I reckon that’s a clear enough message without having to swallow your pride or say anything at all. Then give the guy grace when he blows in his shorts because, ya know, tensions and waiting and dreams coming true and all that mess.”

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