Page 46 of Sinful Reality

I want to toss a well thought out barb back at them. Something about obsessive and controlling behavior. Mention their helicopter parenting. Touch on how annoying they can be. But my brain isn’t moving at a speed fast enough to formulate anything intelligent. So instead, I reach across to my phone, unlock the screen, and dial for the millionth time today, but this time, with a video call I hope the woman will accept.

My fumbling hands mean the phone falls to the side and hits my desk with an ear-aching slam, so I work to right it, setting it up and clearing my throat just in time for the line to connect and a woman not nearly as old as I expected to pop up on the screen.

Her hair is an ashy blonde, and her eyes, a honeyed gold. Stress lines mark her face, with crow’s feet creating webs of age by her temples, and a deep line marked between her brows. I know the official records have her in her fifties, and truly, she looks every day of those fifty years. But I swear, I was expecting a hunch-backed little old lady.

It’s odd, really, the images we create in our minds.

She studies her screen in silence, looking me up and down as I settle back in my chair and push the hair off my face. But when I’m still too slow tobrain,or even think to introduce myself, she scratches her chin and blinks. “Um… hello?”

“So sorry to bother you, Ms. Donohue.” I clear my throat and mask the agony I feel as razor blades slide along my vocal cords. “A video call is quite presumptuous, I know. But I appreciate that you took my call.”

“You’re a doctor.” Her gaze flickers over the screen to take in the details of my coat. “I’ve been getting calls from all sorts of numbers these past few weeks. Though,” she pauses and reveals a sweet smile, “you seem to be quite a distance away.”

“Yes. Sorry. My name is Minka Mayet. I’m a medical examiner, and though I live in Copeland City now, I come from New York.”

“Oh, well…” Nodding, she settles back in her chair and holds the phone with a slight shake in her hand. “That makes sense, then. Do you have news about the little girl who went missing?”

“No, ma’am. I’m not the police, so technically, I’m not investigating this case at all. But I was the medical examiner on one of the earlier missing girls, and now the current investigating detective has reached out to discuss my involvement in the past.”

“Okay…” Still, she searches for more. More sense. More context. My experience as a medical examiner means, even sick, my brain catalogs the woman’s physical appearance. The yellowing under her eyes, and the off pallor of her skin. Her slightly labored breathing, and the subtle patch of skin on her neck, dry and flaking.

This woman’s kidneys are not healthy. Not at all.

“I guess I wanted to reach out,” I continue, since no one else volunteers to help my sluggish thoughts along. “I’ve talked with others in the last few days. Some who were local to your area from twenty years ago. I heard about Ned’s Diner,” I add when his name passes through my mind. “The cozy little place locals liked to visit.”

Nostalgia does magical things to an aging memory. Proven when Gloria’s lips curl into a beautiful grin. “Ned. He was so kind,” she laughs, “even when he was cranky.”

“And I talked to a woman named Beatrice.”

“Mackenzie? Gosh, I haven’t talked to her in a while. It’s been years since I last saw her. I suppose she must’ve moved away.”

“She did. A few years back. Beatrice speaks highly of you, Ms. Donohue. She said?—”

“Gloria.” With her free hand, she scratches the itchy patch on the side of her neck, but because of the lamp over her shoulder, I’m treated to a view of her palm, too. Her flaking skin. Chipped nails. “Please call me Gloria. I know I appear kind of…” She wrinkles her nose. “Old. I swear my mind is convinced I’m still twenty-five. Though, I’m not sure that’ll help with the purpose of your call. I don’t know what more I can say that I haven’t already.”

“I wanted to talk to you about your former boss, mostly.”

Over the top of the phone, Archer sighs, shaking his head gently side to side and firming his lips.

You’re wrong, Minka. Cut the shit already.

But there’s something there. I know it. I’m just not sure what that thing is.

“Andy?” Gloria’s eyes glitter with grief, still so fresh in her mind. “He was such a good man. Like a father to me, really. To a lot of us.”

“I guess I’m struggling to reconcile what I know about him.” I slip a hand into my pocket and take out a tissue, entirely unprofessional. But then again, so is mucus running from my nose and touching my top lip. “So sorry.” I wipe already raw skin and hide my hiss behind the Kleenex. “I was in the cold all night last night. Now my body is punishing me for it.”

“I hope you take time to heal, Doctor.” She licks her chapped lips and watches me with concerned, motherly eyes. “We must rest when rest is needed, because if we don’t, we may not get a tomorrow. Andy didn’t learn that lesson. And now he’s gone too soon.”

“Please help me understand him, Gloria.” Sniffling, I ball the tissue and toss it into the trash can by my feet. “His records say one thing, but I’ve yet to find a single person willing to speak ill of him.”

“You searching?” Carefully, she turns to her right and shakily picks up a glass of water, moving in slow motion, kind of how my mind moves. But she comes back around, less welcome in her eyes and moreprotection.For Andy. “Is there a reason you insist on finding someone to speak poorly of the dead, Doctor?”

“It’s not so much that I’m searching for someone to say bad things. Mostly, I’m looking for someone to bridge the gap from who he was when he went to prison for abusing his child and ex, to who he was for you and everyone else in your neighborhood.”

“I suppose time must be your bridge, then. Remorse. Lessons learned. You must understand that Andy grew up in this neighborhood, and just like everyone else here, his chances of success in life were…” She shrugs. “Low, at best. His parents were drug addicts who often brought thosetypesto the house. His father beat his mother for sport, and then he beat every other woman who came through to fill the role she vacated. His sisters were brought into this world purely to cook a meal and operate the washer and dryer. Later, Andy met a woman whose life was no different from his, and together, they made a daughter. He didn’t know any different, and though that certainly doesn’t make things okay, it surely adds context and explains why things worked out the way they did.”

“And after? When he was your employer?”

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