Page 31 of Sinful Reality

Idid this to us, not Aubree.

Heartache brings tears to my eyes and a spasm to my lungs. What could almost be a sob, if only I allowed such weakness, wracks my chest and leaves me weak. My legs shake and my arms tremble from exhaustion.

And yet, Archer backs up and takes a seat on a fucking stump, like this is all a show, and his rage is the price of admission.

“That looks like five feet to me, Chief.” Fletch speaks with an odd formality I’m not accustomed to, not even when we’re on the record. Inching closer to the taped-off area—though he doesn’t cross it—he folds his arms and glances into the hole I’ve dug myself into. “Looks about right. You can’t see anything yet?”

The ground is almost frozen all the way down here.That’s what I want to say.Therain has created a puddle a foot deep, which means I can’t see the bottom. Nor can I feel my feet.But I don’t say that either.The inmateprobably sold you bogus information in exchange for a break in monotony. But nope. I don’t voice those thoughts either. I merely stab the shovel into the earth and stomp on the top to buy myself another inch or two, then I angle the blade and leverage a chunk of dirt up with it.

My shoulders burn because I’m not just setting the load aside anymore. I’m lifting it to chest height, placing it on the steel grates we’ve set up for sifting, and then shaking it out to ensure diligence. So I twist, like I have a thousand times already, and dump the sticky, sludgy, wood-glue consistency, then I bring trembling hands up, shakily pushing the slosh through tiny steel holes.

Dirt goes down, rocks, sticks, and foreign matter stay on top.

“Wait!” Aubree bounds from Tim’s steely grip, breaking the silence with her shout and stepping over the tape with a bravery Fletch lacks. “Hold up. Chief.” She kneels by the fresh pile and pulls on a pair of gloves, her jacket dripping with rain and her hat long ago soaked through.

We’re all a bunch of drowned rats at this point, and the rain above is the universe punishing us for things I’m not entirely sure of.

Flirting with deliria, I hobble to the edge of the hole and set my arms on the lip, but I swallow and search for whatever she sees that I don’t.

“That’s a bone,” she murmurs, gently brushing mud chunks aside and revealing something that may belong to a human hand. “Metacarpal?” she wonders aloud, gently pinching the small fragment between her thumb and finger and turning to see it better under the spotlights. “Possibly.”

“Maybe.” My chest empties and my lungs ache, but I blink back the tears that force their way forward. I have a damn job to do, and relationship spats are not something I welcome. Not in the past, and certainly not in the future.

I stare past my second and meet Archer’s furious eyes. “We’ve discovered what may be a human bone. We need to pump the water out of here, then uncover the rest of the remains. We’re gonna be here awhile, so feel free to leave. Doctor Emeri and I will need to document, tag, and bag everything we unearth. You may as well call it a day and contact my office tomorrow for an update.”

He stares straight through me, rage burning in his perfect emeraldeyes and dismissal worse than if he’d called me a nasty name. His jaw clicks with anger, and the muscles in his cheek clench and unclench. He has a lot to say but won’t allow a single sliver of vitriol to escape his lips.

Instead, he grits out a single, “No.”

“No?”Pretend like your heart isn’t on fire, Mayet. You’ve done it before. You can do it again. “No, what?”

“No, we’re not leaving.” Slowly, he pushes up to stand, extending his long, powerful legs and broadening his chest. My pillow, usually. My home. But today, it’s a battleground. “Detective Fletcher is welcome to clock out at five, considering he’s on light duties and has a daughter to attend to. But I have no such responsibilities at home. I choose to stay until the dig is complete and evidence is bagged.”

“Suit yourself.”Archer, I’m begging you. Stop staring at me like I shoved your heart through a blender.But I can’t say that out loud, so I look at Aubree instead. “Bring the cameras closer. Assemble the spotlights for better visibility. Then source a pump and have it brought out.”

“Sure.” Stiff, she sets our discovery down and straightens out with a groan she makes damn sure to swallow. “Want me to call for reinforcements? Doctor Kirk is young and fresh. He could help dig.”

“Yep.” Because if I don’t, I fear I’ll collapse from exhaustion long before I’m done. And if I do something stupid like that, then I don’t get to stand up here on my soapbox and finish a job I demanded I would. “Doctor Flynn, too. And you could probably request Doctor Campbell. He can swing a shovel for a couple of hours and bitch at me about it tomorrow.”

“Alright.” She turns on her boots, dragging her phone from her pocket, and dials just as soon as she lifts her legs over the tape. “Hi, Callen. It’s Doctor Emeri. Grab a pen and paper, because I have a few requests I need you to help me with.”

ARCHER

Imove through our apartment door just two feet behind Minka, the clock on the wall reading an ugly number that, no matter which time zone we’re in, is cruel, while outside our window, the city is dark.

Cato turns on the couch, awake when he shouldn’t be, and opens his mouth to speak, but it takes only one look at me, and then another to an almost blue Minka, for his lips to snap closed and his eyes to narrow in thought.

“I’m going for a shower.” Minka doesn’t look my way. She allows her head to droop, and she sure as fuck remained silent for the entire drive home. But she dumps her phone and keys on the kitchen counter before limping away, willpower and straight up obstinacy the only things keeping her on her feet.

And fuck, I just want to hold her. I want to go with her.

With everything in my soul, I want to put her in that warm shower and defrost the body she insisted on freezing.

So why do I hesitate?

“What the hell happened to you two?” Cato mutes the television and frowns when Minka steps into the bathroom, the door shutting with apitiful snick. “You walked in, and it’s like the temperature dropped fifty degrees.”

“She slept with that detective from New York.”

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