Page 40 of Sinful Deception

“Because there’s a scientific reason for all the bad?” he questions. It’s almost childlike in the way he clings to what I’m offering. In how he searches for hope in my words. “We’re still holding her accountable. But I can apply reasons to the adult choices she made. Like how she messed around with Fox.”

“Exactly. Instead of remembering it as cheating, consider it a little girl who was begging for a hug.”

In response to my words, Archer wraps his arms securely around me, pulling me back until we touch from head to toe. Because I, too, was a woman begging for a hug just minutes ago.

“The fact she was looking doesn’t mean you did anything wrong,” I add. “Because relationships ebb and flow. Some days are simply too busy for reading someone else’s mind. It was her responsibility, as an adult, to go to you and voice what she needed. Instead, Beau Fox wandered her way and created a chain reaction that led us here. To this kitchen.”

“To discussing a funeral,” Archer circles us back. “I talked to Captain Bower while I was with Fabian earlier and gave them the general details of what’s going on. I didn’t give them anything too specific, though it wasn’t all that difficult for them to connect a few dots. Regardless, they reminded me of the Commissioner’s Fund and told me to assure you it would all be taken care of.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“The Commissioner’s Fund?” Fletch is a detective by trade. His job is to know when someone isn’t being truthful, and evenbeneath the weight of grief and guilt, I know his sensors are pinging somewhere in the back of his mind.

But I also know he’s tired, and more importantly, he trusts his best friend. “What’s that?”

“A fund set up for the spouses of officers,” Archer shrugs. “Obviously, there’s the one for fallen officers, which is when the city picks up the bill for services. But the Commissioner’s Fund is less known, and it’s there for the spouses. Since they obviously served time too, when they allowed their husband or wife to defend the city. That’s bravery, and it’s acknowledged with the fund. Fabian said we just have to make the arrangements, however we want with whichever providers we need, and to give them a certain serial number. That number is how the bills are paid from the city pot. It’s easy enough, and I can do most of it for you. You just need to tell me what arrangements you want.”

“I mean…” His intuition says he smells a lie. Somewhere. Tickling his brain, something wants to be set free. But he’s too tired to find it and too broke not to accept it. So he nods and releases an exhale that shrinks his chest. “Okay. Good to know.”

“Let’s start with funeral homes,” Aubree proposes. “They’ll come and collect Jada’s body, and from there, things will roll out.”

“Do you have suggestions?” Desperately, he looks my way. “This is kind of your job, adjacent, right? Surely you know people.”

“Yeah.” I place my hand over Archer’s and twine our fingers together. But I smile at Fletch and plan to contact Fifi, since she’s the ‘people’ I would consult for this stuff. “I’ll make some calls and get things into place. Then you can begin thinking about the smaller details.”

“Like what she should wear,” Aubree adds. “And if there’s anything special you’d like to bury with her.”

“Like jewelry and stuff?”

“Exactly.” She gives his arm a gentle tug and leads him out of the kitchen. “Like that. Or maybe Mia wants to draw a picture for her. Or maybe a photograph of the three of you, from before, when things were better.” She walks him into the hall and toward the bedroom. “I know things have been rough, and your marriage was over a long time ago, but I bet you kept a box of memories. You’re a romantic, Charlie, so I know you’ve got special notes and pictures and baubles you might like to consider leaving with her.”

“A commissioner’s fund?” I turn in Archer’s arms and wrap myself around him until his eyes are for me only. The sparkling emeralds and his sly side smile, shifting the stubble on his jaw. “Cute backstory.”

“I said what I had to say.” He folds me back and presses a nuzzling, scratchy kiss to my neck. “Fuck, I missed you while I was gone today. Working alone sucks.”

“You missed Fletch,” I snicker. But I extend my neck and allow him room to nibble. “But he’ll be back soon.”

“I miss normalcy. I miss hunting a killer and flirting with you in your office. I miss walking through the George Stanley and knowing your staff are secretly scared of me because I’m married to you.”

I snort.

“Makes me feel powerful. But it’s subtle, so I don’t let anyone know I know.”

“Ego-driven maniac. Your need for affirmation is gross.”

He chuckles. “Only from you. I’m gonna be here for my friend, and I’m not gonna rush him back to work. But inside, I’m counting down the seconds until I can talk to him again without worrying that he’ll fall apart.”

“It’ll come.” I lick my lips and grin when he nips right where my tongue was a moment before. “People always bounce back after they’ve had time to process. He’s already able todiscuss details, even when they make his eyes misty. His greatest concern isn’t his grief at all. It’s Mia’s. As long as she’s doing okay, he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?” He searches my eyes. “And how is she doing? Okay?”

“She’s desperately hopeful that Heaven exists and snow is made of magic. That hope is what will get her through the rest of her life, and better yet, she’ll be able to look up and think about her mom, instead of down while she cries. Hope is what helps us all get through another day.”

“Exceptionally philosophical of you.” He drops another kiss on my lips. “Tragically, people can only speak on the subject when they have personal experience on the matter.”

“Not a topic I wish to discuss.” I pat his chest and slip out of his hold so I can finish the job Aubree and I started almost an hour ago. “Myhope lies in my ability to compartmentalize and dissociate.” I pick up the hand towel but glance over my shoulder. “It’s a superpower, to be honest. You could try it sometime.”

He rolls his eyes and wanders out of the kitchen to lean over the back of the couch and stare down at his sweet little pseudo-niece. She can be wherever she wants while she dreams. Spending time with whoever she chooses. Which means she’ll seek solace there where, perhaps, she’ll be with her mom. Or, as another thought hits me and I set the towel down again, perhaps she’ll be with Seraphina.

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