Page 32 of Sinful Seduction
“Providence works in mysterious ways.” I glance down at my disaster of a dress and brush my hands over the filthy fabric, like I could somehow wipe away the last few hours of bullshit and repair the tears. Or better yet, conjure my clothes, the outfit I left in the dressing room inside Lori’s shop. “You should go in first, Detective. Me walking in like this is bound to confuse the Freemons.”
“Probably should have gone home to bed,” he grumbles. But at least he steps around Clay and taps his knuckles on the door. “We could have come back tomorrow to do this.”
“The sooner you catch her awake, the sooner you can get a killer off the street.” I meet Clay’s guarded eyes and smirk. “Enjoy your dinner, Officer. Make sure you have a colleague relieve you soon. You must be exhausted.” I snag the loop at the back of Archer’s jeans, and grab the front of my dress to avoid stumbling on the long fabric, then I follow him into the room in silence.
It’s not surprising the Freemons surround their daughter, or that they peek this way. And if I’m being entirely honest, it’s not even unexpected that their eyes swing past Archer and stop on me, wide and wary and not entirely impressed by what was, a few hours ago, a pretty dress. But it’s a stark reminder that I spent a long time in the fiery heat today, sweating through my outfit and melting the skin clean off my knees.
“Sorry to interrupt you again,” Archer murmurs, his movements slow and calm. Non-threatening. And he says nothing of my finger latched to his pants. “Detective M?—”
“Malone,” Mr. Freemon nods. He looks me up and down, a deep line forming between his brows. If nothing, I’ve provided the man a moment of reprieve. A vacation away from his torturous reality. “Should I ask, or…?”
“This is Chief Medical Examiner Minka Mayet.” He gently brings me forward so we stand shoulder to shoulder. “She’s hada day,” he chuckles. “But she’s also the M.E. attached to this case, and she was inside the hospital when I was on my way up here, so?—”
“Medical examiners are for dead people.” Mrs. Freemon hovers closer to her daughter. Protective. Like I’m the reaper himself, come to take her away. “I don’t understand what?—”
“I examined Benjamin Saxon.” I shake my shoulders back and reclaim my professional front, even if, inside, my head pounds and my mood dances between delirium and derision. “I was on scene last night, and I’ll be attached to this case throughout processing and all the way to prosecution. I’m also his wife.” I tilt my head in Archer’s direction. “Which may help explain my presence a little more.”
“Oh…” She releases a heavy breath, puffing her cheeks and shrinking her chest. Then sinking into her chair again, she reaffirms her grip on Molly’s hand. “Okay. Alright.”
“Prosecution, Chief Mayet?” Mr. Freemon leans forward, perching his elbow on the bed and using the tip of his pointer finger to draw lines along his daughter’s arm. “Trial?”
“This is a homicide case,” Archer cuts in. “Benjamin Saxon is dead, and it wasn’t by his own hand. Which means at some point, once my partner and I figure this out, there will be arrests and a shooter will be removed from the streets.” He lifts his chin, gesturing toward Molly. “How is she?”
“Doctors say she’s doing as well as can be expected.” Sniffling, Mrs. Freemon brushes mid-length hair away from her face. “They may have to take her back in for surgery in a day or two, depending on how things go.But so far, she’s responding well and their…” She swallows, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. “All the tests say she’s healing.”
“She’s breathing on her own.” I study Molly’s face, a little swollen from fluid retention, and with a single gash above her brow. But other than that, she remains unmarked. None the worse for wear, despite her run-in with guns and a dead boyfriend. “That’s a good sign.”
“They had the breathing tube in there earlier.” Mrs. Freemon looks up at Archer. “When you were here. But she woke up a little while ago and started choking. She was fighting it, so they took it away.”
“She’s strong.” I offer each parent a smile, small and encouraging. Probing but discreet. “Did she say much when she was awake?”
“She didn’t talk at all.” Mr. Freemon licks his lips, his jaw gritting beneath tight muscle. “She was crying when she woke, choking on the tube. So we called the doctor, and they pulled the stuff out. But then they gave her pain relief, and she nodded off again. Then she woke about an hour later, crying again.”
“We told her she was safe,” Mrs. Freemon murmurs, her voice crackling and weak. “We told her she was in the hospital and everything was okay. I didn’t…” Hesitating, she shakes her head. “I didn’t tell her about Ben yet. She doesn’t need to know.” She swipes fresh tears from her cheeks. “She doesn’t need that extra stress right now.”
“You did the right thing.” I mourn the days of charts hanging at the end of hospital beds. A patient’s history, right there for anyone with a set of eyes to peek. Now, all we get is a whiteboard with her name, her blood type, and her surgeon’s name. But then again… “I see one of Molly’s surgeons was Doctor Cleary.” I angle fractionally to the right and tap my shoulder to Archer’s. His old flame. His former lover.Well, not really. But a mild grudge is hard to forget.“She’s very good. Molly’s in excellent hands.”
“We met her a little while ago.” Mr. Freemon changes his finger lines to circles. “She seemed on top of things. Like she knew what she was talking about.”
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Freemon sits forward again and stares down at my leg. “Are you wearing a bandage?”
I peek down at the split in fabric and the stark white bandage wrapped around my knee. “Uh… yeah.” I breathe out a soft snicker. “I am. There was a car accident and?—”
She gasps. “You were in a car accident?”
“No, Iwitnesseda car accident. Then I tried to help, since it’s my duty. Sort of.”
“She did help,” Archer cuts in. “She saved a little girl’s life, and workedon a man suffering a heart attack for quite a long time until paramedics arrived.”
“But you’re a medical examiner?” the woman presses. “Right?”
“I still attended medical school and did my rounds in general surgery. Some of my peers now work in hospitals, helping the living. I went a different way, because I want to help the dead.”
“It’s nice that you helped those people today.” Mrs. Freemon draws Molly’s hand up, pressing her palm to her face. “They were very lucky to have a doctor around, any kind of doctor, in their time of need. I’m sorry you got hurt, too.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” I brush my hands over my dress and down, though there’s no way of making this mess better, short of burning it. “I didn’t really need a bandage, but the doctor in the ER was being overly cautious.”
“Mom?”
