Page 15 of Sinful Reality

“Then I smashed his fuckin’ face in, broke his hands, perforated his scrotum, stuffed his ass with his own pillow, shattered his teeth, and kept his brain still functional, so when he sits trial for that poor girl’s murder, he can’t get sent over to some low security fuckery and fed pudding for the rest of his days.”

Exhaling, I set my pen down and glance up at the spotted, water-damaged ceiling, following the brown stains and counting the rings of repetition. Not just one leak. Not even two or three.

I think of Tarran’s own version of vigilante justice, too, and consider, for just a minute, leaning across and shaking his hand. But I lower my head instead, and look at Fletch, whose eyes glitter with ‘let’s go get her’ energy. Then I turn to Tarran and push my pen and paper his way. “Can you draw a map that’ll lead us to her?”

“Yeah.” He snatches his supplies and flips to a fresh page. And though he sketches, he dips his chin toward the guard. “Fighting in here means a man is apt to be punished. I’ve been on pretty good behavior since Iarrived, which means I’ve yet to miss my daughter’s weekly visits. But now they’re saying I have to go into the SHU because I hurt that asshole.” His hand stops, and his eyes flicker up to mine. “This information isn’t in exchange for special treatment. You get it free and clear, no matter what. But if you can have a word with the warden about letting me see my baby girl this week, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll talk to him.” I turn and meet Fletch’s gaze. Becausefuck yes, we’ll put in a good word for the guy seeking justice for a brutalized girl. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Thanks.” He goes back to sketching. “I don’t regret what I did, though, and if I miss this week, Janelle will understand. She’ll know what I did was right.”

MINKA

“Chief Mayet?” Aubree stops in front of my desk, pressing her hands to the top and leaning to stare into my eyes. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Hmm?” I blink once. Twice. Three times, and look past her to find my office crowded with white coats. Doctors Kirk and Torres, Flynn, and Catlin. Tox lab techs Campbell and Raquel stare at me from the windows, and the too-polite, too-quiet Callen watches me in stunned disbelief, her phone poised and ready to take notes, or write emails, or do whatever it is she needs to do. But then I look at Aubree and blink. “What?”

“We’re rounding up for the day.” She straightens out, taking up as much space as she can, as though to shield me from my audience. “We’re about done. Should we dismiss everyone?”

I missed the whole fucking meeting. I blanked it because my mind was somewhere else. Everywhere else. Or most specifically, in Bronxville, New York. “Um…” I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yep.” I stand and gesture toward the door. “Good work, everyone. We can revisit this in the morning.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as techs file out. Not even the obnoxiously loud and tormenting Doctor Raquel sticks around to poke at me. She hugs the folders in her arms and follows Doctor Campbell to the elevator.

I free Callen and send her on her way, then I slump back into my chair and groan. “I screwed that up.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Aubree leans at an awkward angle, folding her body to keep Callen in her sights all the way until the woman disappears around the corner. Then she settles back into my visitor chair. “Torres has a couple of frozen homeless males. Kirk is going to trial for the DV case. Catlin’s schnauzer has a vet appointment this afternoon because she has a tummy ache, and Raquel proudly declares her sex life is still, quote-unquote,fanfuckingtastic. She’s got a date tonight and can’t wait to fall asleep post-orgasm.”

“She said all that?” I drop my hand and exhale. My email pings with incoming correspondence, and my phone battery threatens to give out because I’ve spent more time on it today than I have… possibly ever. “She mentioned the sex and orgasms during that meeting? In front of Doctor Kirk?”

“She mentioned her upcoming date during the meeting. She regaled me on the orgasm stuff while we were waiting for the other techs to join us. You’re uh…” Frowning now, she folds one leg over the other and rests her elbow on her upturned knee. “You’re really struggling today.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“I know.” She sets her chin in her hand, hunching over herself. “New York. You’re not talking about it, but you’re notnotthinking about it. It’s affecting your work, Chief, so you probably should get through this and come back to us pretty soon.”

“There’s nothing to get through.” And yet, I snatch up my phone and check my text inbox. Not for Archer’s name—that is almost always at the very top. But for Detective Gilbert’s.

I tap on his picture and open his last message, then I type out a response to his most recent question.‘Cotton fibers and lined paper. Samples stored, no definitive matches made.’I hit send and spy the rock Archer dropped into my inbox, so I open his, too, copy and paste, and then I tap send a second time. Finally, I lock the screen and set the device on my desk, face down. “They’re no closer to solving this case than they were twenty years ago, Aubs. Janiesa’s been taken, but shehasn’t been dumped. It’s the dumped bodies we collect evidence from. So until that point…”

“They can revisit the seventeen before her.” I shouldn’t be surprised she already knows the pertinent details of this case. I’ve never told her of how Diane Philips’ abduction and murder imprinted on my soul, and until recently, I had no clue she was aware of myextracurricularactivities. Yet, she knows what hurts me. “Seventeen little girls, taken and returned, is a story told, Chief. It’s a timeline given, and it’s a sign that January eleventh matters to someone.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“They’re not taking just anyone. They’re replacing the same girl, time and time again. Her looks, her size, her age. They’re not abducting kids for fun. They’re shopping for the exact right one.”

“But for what reason?!” I want to scream. I want to fight. God, I want to tear the skin clean off the face of whoever keeps hurting those babies. “He takes them, keeps them, starves them, beats them, and then gives them back? Why?”

“I don’t know.” She swallows and searches my eyes. “I have no way of knowing until the detectives run the case.”

“What if I took you to New York?” My heart stutters with the first shred of excitement I’ve felt in over twenty-four hours. “I could take you to the park Diane was stolen from. Or I could introduce you to her mother. I could?—”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Sighing, she lowers her hand and rests both arms on her knee. “I’m not a circus freak you get to keep in a cage and wheel around the country.”

“No, I—That’s not what I meant!”

“It’s not a party trick I pull out on a whim, worming my way into every thought or memory or action a person has ever had. I can’t go to a city the size of New York and expect to dial in ononememory from so long ago.”

“I just thought we could try.” I hate that my eyes itch. That my brain works too slowly today, so my words are not as carefully thought out as they could be. “I just thought it could be a new resource the cops haven’t had before. And that doing so would hurt nothing. It would only?—”

“Hurt me,” she counters gently, her lips firming into what I supposeis meant to be a small, reassuring smile. Though I see the pain in her eyes. The disappointment. “Doing that would hurtme. Because you’re asking me to open myself up to a city of more than eight million people, to weed through their pain, and sidestep the evil. To pick through the trauma and set those aside, since clearly,theydon’t qualify for our help this week. You’re asking me to walk into a city where thousands have died in a single day, on more than one occasion, and ignore those begging for help. But to close in on one, very specific, horrifying experience of a five-year-old girl who was raped and tortured and ultimately, murdered and abandoned in a park, naked, starved, and alone.”

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