Page 24 of Sinful Promise
“My wife’s coming home from rehab in the next week or so.”
Aubree claps her hand to her mouth, while stunned, Seraphina brings her eyes back to Fletch. “Excuse me?”
“Myex-wife,” he amends quickly. “We’re not married anymore. But we used to be. She’s been away for a while now, in this rehab place, because she was sick and needed to get better. She’s coming home, and my daughter is thrilled, but I’m gonna be sick.” Straightening his back and lowering his hand to his stomach, he watches her with, I swear, a green tinge in his cheeks. “Honest to god, Sera, thinking about her coming home makes me wanna puke. But I just…” His head swings from side to side. “She’s myex-wife. In case you were wondering.”
“I—” Desperate, pleading, she looks to Minka, then across to me, before finally going back to Fletch. “I wasn’t.”
“Because I know you’ve heard about her.”Dig. Dig. Dig that hole deeper, Charlie. “And you probably think I’m gross for having a wife while still flirting with you as much as I do.”
“Y-you flirt witheveryone,” she stammers. “Like, every single person with a vagina knows what it’s like to have Charlie Fletcher smile her way.”
“No, I—”
“Your wife and kid and marriage and all that…” She clutches to the hem of her jacket like it’s all that’s keeping her afloat. “It’s your business.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” he charges on. “My wife.”
“Ex-wife,” I fill in helpfully. “She’s his ex.”
“And my daughter’s hopes,” he adds, because he’s not done with this kamikaze mission yet, I suppose. “Her expectations that everything will go back to how it was before Jada got sick. My best friend’s dad just died—andyourmom too.” He searches her eyes, and still, he somehow doesn’t take a fuckin’ hint to stop.
“Everyone’s got some shit going on right now,” he babbles. “It’s Arch’s first day back, and already, we have two cases to run. And one of them was probably committed by the fucking vigilante.”
“Right?” Aubree thrusts to her feet. “That’s what I was saying earlier! Right, Minka? I said how Fentone had it coming, and the vigilante has a certain…flavorto their killing. Things have been quiet for a couple of months, but I swear, the second I heard he was dead, I thought for sure the vigilante was back.”
Minka sets her elbows on her desk and presses her face to her hands. “I have a headache.”
“I have anex-wife,” Fletch swings the conversation back to him. “And she’s coming home. She wants to move in with me and Moo, and Moo would lose her shit if I said yes. Like, good shit, not bad shit. Because she’s three and, well,duh, of course she wants her parents together. But I just…”
“Detective Fletcher…” Warily, Seraphina takes a step back. “I think you should—”
“I have responsibilities, and my life is a fuckin’ mess. Things are about to get worse before they get better. But I flirt with you because I think you’re beautiful.”
“Oh lawd.” Deflated, Aubree sits back down. “Red alert. Red a-freakin-lert, Fletch. Read the room, and stop talking about your ex.”
“No, it’s… We’renotgetting back together,” he exclaims. “I don’t love her anymore. Not like that. And feeling bad for her isn’t enough reason to live in a bad marriage.”
“Well…” Pursing perfect red lips, Seraphina releases the grip on her top and steps closer to my partner. Cold, awkward, she places her hand on his shoulder andpat-pat-pats. “I’m proud of you for knowing what’s best.” Then she spins on her heels so fast, she almost whacks me with her swinging arm. Meeting my eyes for only a fraction of a second, she murmurs, “Detective.”
“Ms. Lewis.” I drop my chin and hide the smile on my lips. Because Fletch is smitten with a woman who won’t have him—and that, I think, is a first for him. “I’ll see you around.”
“Why are you here?” Minka grabs a steel ruler from her desk drawer and pokes Fletch’s leg until he groans and slinks away to flop onto the couch.
He and Aubree huddle close, tending to his wounds, no doubt, as the office door swings closed. So I come around to Minka’s visitor chair and lower myself into it.
“Detective Malone.” She raises a single, inquisitive brow. “What?”
“Jason Patterson. Thirty-eight years old. He’s a glorified delivery man, but he works in the one-percent tax bracket and delivers things to the wealthy and elite. Married, with two children, who are fifteen and nine years old. Jason got hitched to his high school sweetheart back in oh-six. Whitney Patterson is thirty-seven, and as soon as we’re done here, she’ll be getting a visit and notice that her husband is dead.”
“Hit-and-run?” Minka clarifies. “That’s him?”
I nod.
“And you didn’t go to her first. Why?”
“Because we were heading past here to get there anyway, so we dropped in… not only to give you your vic’s name, but to see if you’ve got anything else for us. We’ve pulled the tire tracks from the road and sent them off for analysis, as well as the glass and debris left near the body. But Fletch and I were just theorizing about that rubber.”
“Mm?” Less than eager to chat, Minka sets her chin on her fist and fakes a smile. “What about it?”
