Page 8 of Sinful Deception

“Mmhm.” I look down at my hands and flick my thumbnail, purely so I don’t unlock my phone and Google Diane and her case. Again. “That was a long time ago, though, and I figure he’s dead now.”

“Why?”

Confused, I look up again. “Why what?”

“You, of all people, are an extremely literal thinker. You see a dead body, you confirm it’s dead, and only then do you sign a death certificate. So why apply a death status to a man you’ve never seen in a body bag?”

“Because people who do that sort of thing don’t stop unless they’re stopped. So either he’s dead or in prison. And if he’s in prison, it’s for an unrelated crime, since Diane’s case has never been closed. Nor the others who came after her. Sick men like that don’t wake up someday and think, ‘Well, I think I’m done violating little girls now. What time is Jeopardy on?’”

“So you sleep better with the assumption he’s dead?”

“If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t sleep at all.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and try, as hard as I can, to exhale the thoughts of a faceless man I never got to see. A criminal I never got to punish. A psychopath who has, hopefully, paid the ultimate price and left this earth. Then I look down and note the date on my phone.

So close to the eleventh.

So near the night I won’t sleep, and the day I won’t take a decent breath. But once it’s done and we move on to the twelfth, I’ll know another year has passed and that man’s reign of horror has ended. “I don’t want to talk about it. How’s your sex life?”

She bursts out laughing—a tinkling, snorting, unladylike cacophony—the perfect way to dissipate tension bubbling over in a car with its windows up and doors closed.

“It wouldn’t be proper for me to tell you that he blows my mind and makes me beg for more.”

“No.” I chuckle, relaxing again as we exit the garage and head into Copeland City traffic. “That wouldn’t be proper. Does he hurt you?”

She melts into her chair, sighing and smiling. “In all the best ways. He’s still looking for a house to buy. He’s sending me nuts with all the listings he keeps texting.”

“He can have the Waterfalls. Tim is the oldest Malone, after all, and I don’t want to live where Tim II once did.”

“Neither does Tim III. I doubt he’ll ever step foot inside that house if he can help it. But don’t worry,” she teases, glancing across with a side eye, “I can sage it for you. Get the nasties out before you do the nasty in the main bedroom.”

“The things Archer and I do are not nasty.”

“Then you’re missing out.” She snickers. “It’s my new favorite thing to do. And Tim isn’t working the bar as much anymore, so I don’t go to bed alone.”

“His new hobby is working.” I stare through the windshield as we move away from the city and further into suburbia, taking mental notes of the cop cars lining the street. The yellow tape surrounding our scene. The runway, almost, they create to lead us where we need to go. “Yournew hobby is sex. That’s how people get itchy hoo-haas.”

“A side effect I’m safe from, thus far.” Pulling up at the edge of our crime scene, she puts the gear into park and turns the engine off. “I like my new hobby. I’ve been without it for a very long time, confident the payout, eventually, would be worth it.”

“Mmhm. And that payout seems to include the shiny necklace around your throat.” I reach across and gently flick the priceless jewel. “Worth an entire year’s salary, don’t you think?”

“It was a gift.” She covers the gold chain and sparkling emeralds with her hand. “It’s the Malone tradition.”

“Sure. But Tim didn’t buy yours for fifty bucks from a homeless man.” I turn and push out of the car. “I’m not criticizing. Merely observing.Lookslike a necklace.Feelslike a collar.”

“Mind your own damn business.” She slams her door and stomps around to open the trunk. Whipping out our murder bag, she closes it again so the echo rolls all along the street and draws eyes. “And don’t call it a collar.”

“Am I wrong?” I approach the uniform on duty and smile for the sweet Officer Clay, placed at this checkpoint intentionally, I’d bet, by the very detective who steps into view an easy fifty feet away. I duck under the tape he lifts and turn back to wait for Aubree to do the same. Then, we start toward our D.B. “It can be whatever you and Tim want it to be. But I’m just saying… take it off in front of him and see what happens.”

“You feel oddly entitled to an opinion on my private life, Chief Mayet. Seems to be an overreach.”

“Wait… I thought I was your best friend? Remind me, Doctor Emeri, where does friend and sister end, and boss begin? Because if I mentioned the necklace while we’re sitting at the bar, and thus, off duty, I imagine I’d receive the same brusque response.”

“You’re being an ass.” Shoulders back and spine rod-straight, she stares ahead atmyhusband. “It’s not my fault your sex life is dull and you’re jealous of mine.”

I choke out a laugh so loud, Archer’s eyes sear into mine as we approach.

“What?” He stops in front of us and tilts his head to the side, looking from me to Aubree. “Wanna invite me in on the joke?”

“She’s swiping because she can. We’ll discuss the joke later.In bed. Doctor Emeri,” I gesture toward the scene, another twenty feet behind Archer. “Would you like to lead today?”

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