His smile remains, but now his chest bounces, too. “Okay, Doctor Mayet. If you insist.”
“I do. And that little baby, the one who can’t even talk yet? She said her first words last night. They werehe stole. Tabitha told me.”
“Uh-huh.” His dancing eyes mock me. “Are you done?”
“Yes.” I turn on my heels and start toward the door. “I’m heading to Fletch’s in a little while,” I say to Fifi. “Feel free to join us for lunch.”
“You’re insane if you think I can turn up now and integrate myself into their life so soon after Jada’s passing.”
“Bring food, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” I snatch the door open and find it empty, at least. No one is here to listen to my brainless fit of immature rage. “Or bring booze. Either works. The latter will be for me, though.”
“Charming,” she drawls. “His ex-wife died after a long battle with addiction. But you’ll go to his home now and abuse a different mind-altering substance. Clever.”
“You’re being insufferable in how you oversimplify and choose the negative edge of… whatever it was you said before.” But I spin and gift her with a small, friendly smile. “I know yesterday was tough, and I know you probably didn’t sleep a single wink last night. I’m certain you felt alone while your phone remained quiet and our attention was solely on Fletch and Mia. I also know,” I cast a look at the mayor, “you were taken advantage of, and head-hunted, in a moment of vulnerability. He targeted you intentionally while you were down. I don’t blame you for falling into this trap, but I will provide you a job at any point that you decide to come back. Happily, I’ll yeet Callen over here, and then we can all move on like none of this unfortunate nonsense ever happened.”
“Move on, Mayet.” She grabs her coffee again, finally exhaling a noisy breath that allows her chest to deflate. “I like my job. I’m not leaving.”
“And I like you,” I finally add. “You’re my friend, even when we fight most of all. And because of that, I’m not leaving. I mean,” I point out the door, “I’m physically leaving right now because I’m hungry. But I’m in your life, whether you like it or not. Maybe someday you’ll come over for a meal with us. Mia would be thrilled to see you.” But I don’t say it to be cruel anymore. Not to be unkind. I truly mean it. “She’s living the worst days of her little life right now, and she has no clue of the intricacies of grown-up relationships. All she knows is that she misses you, and if you find a chance to come back around, Iknow with my whole heart she would appreciate your presence. It won’t fix everything. But it’ll be another layer in her healing. Every layer matters.” I wave at the mayor, since I doubt staying any longer will lead to anything productive, then I step out of his office and retrace my steps to the elevator.
But I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Archer’s number, since he’s left a rock in my inbox and a missed call on my call log.
“Minnnka?” He answers on the fly, wind whipping through the line and the chatter of cops that never fails to make my stomach jump. “Hey.”
ARCHER
“Hey.” I move toward the crime scene tech van parked on the street just outside the Masters’ home, but I slow my steps, because I want to hear her voice. “How’s it going?”
“I didn’t burn bridges or destroy friendships.” The space around her echoes, so she’s either in an elevator, or the morgue, or possibly even a bathroom. “But I talked to Fifi and the mayor. Got to argue with them both.”
“You argued and burned nothing?” I whistle as I walk. “Successful day. How’s Fifi?”
“She’s doing okay. Hurt, obviously. She saw some pretty horrible stuff yesterday, and she’s not ready to talk about it, but I think she’s starting to crack on her decision to stay away from Mia.”
“So youdidbreak something.” I hand an evidence bag to a tech and sign the sheet when he sets it in front of me. “Thanks.” Then I turn on my heels and meander to the middle of the Masters’ lawn. “Do you think today, of all days, was the best time to crack her armor?”
“Do you think today, of all days, is the best time to deprive Mia of all the people who love her?”
“Well…” I scratch the back of my neck and look up at the house a couple once lived in. “No. But things are certainly tense right now. It’s not surprising that you brought a can of gasoline to an already established bonfire.”
“I didn’t pour it on.” She starts moving after the telltale ding of an elevator. “I merely discussed the possibility of setting grudges aside and reconnecting for the sake of a sweet little girl.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m sure you expressed your thoughts just as calmly and productively as you did just now. Is she gonna go see them?”
“Don’t know. Thank you.” She speaks to someone on her end of the line, entirely too friendly, considering I know who she is beneath the fake sheen. “The receptionist here thinks I’m aggressive and weird,” she explains. “So I’m reprograming her brain to replace what she thinks she knows about me.”
“Also known as gaslighting. Where are you headed now?”
“Probably to Fletch’s unless you want me somewhere else. Are you on a crime scene now?”
“I’m collecting evidence from the Masters’ home. Then I’ll head to the station and pull him out of holding, book him, and file it away for another day.”
“You don’t need a confession?”
“Not considering the poison sitting on his kitchen counter,” I chuckle. “The confession can come later when he wants to try for a deal with the D.A. He’s not the kind of guy that’ll do so well in Gen Pop, so he’ll squirm and want something a little more comfortable. At which point, he’ll sing like a canary and seal the case shut without me lifting a finger.”
“Will you deal?”
“It’s not up to me. I’m just the dope who presents a case to the district attorney. The rest is on them. How are you feeling?”