Page 13 of Sinful Memory

“IfI’m innocent?IF?” he booms. “I’m ‘acting this way’ because if I walk down to that precinct right now, I’ll end up in a cell! At least out here, I can reach out to my contacts and help this case along. I did not hurt her, Minka. And I’ll be damned if I sit on my hands and do nothing after you tell me some asshole stuffed pills down her throat. Have Malone cast his net wider and figure this out. He’s wasting his time looking at me.”

“Mayor—”

I hear the harsh click of the receiver being hung up, then the grating, incessant drone of the dial tone.

I’m still reeling when, outside my office, the light above the elevator illuminates the number nine, and the silver doors slide open to reveal not only Aubree, returning from the fridges on the second floor, but Archer, Fletch, and little Mia, too.

The adult-trio stalk out, but in my stressed state, I see it in almost slow-motion, so Fletch’s jeans flex and move with each step, and Aubree’s blonde hair swings with her every movement. Mia, perched on her father’s hip, smiles big, while everyone else is deadly serious.

Especially Archer. His eyes burn against mine, his stare holding me captive and refusing to release me.

Together, my chosen family crosses the wide expanse of glistening tile and passes through my doorway, then spreads out through my office the way they’ve done a million times before. Mia slides down from her father’s hold and runs to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, and Aubree flops to the couch lining the glass wall. Fletch paces, far too much energy pulsing in his six-foot frame, and Archer, his total opposite, comes to sit in my visitor chair, his body entirely too still. His adrenaline, under control for now, but explosive when he allows it to be.

I still have my phone in my hand, and my heart and mind are stuck on the mayor. But I set the device on my desk and close my eyes. In exhaustion. In frustration. A million thoughts sprint through my mind, and almost all of them revolve around a man who swears he would never hurt our victim.

My heart says he’s innocent. But the facts…

Things aren’t looking so certain.

“Call him,” Archer rumbles in the quiet. “Call the mayor so I can listen.”

“I already did.” I open my eyes and sigh, while Archer’s brows lift in question. “We already spoke.”

“What did he say?”

“That he didn’t hurt Anna, and that you need to look elsewhere for your perp.”

“Well, hell!” Fletch throws his hand up in exasperation. “If he says so, then I guess that’s that.”

“He said if he allows you to contact him, he’ll be placed in holding. So he chooses freedom, to help Anna. That’s why he’s avoiding you.”

“If he was innocent, he’d allow us to work it properly,” Archer snarls. “Get an alibi, a witness statement.Somethingto clear him during seven and nine last night.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have an alibi,” I hedge.I should’ve asked while I had him on the line.“He admits he was at the house yesterday afternoon, but won’t say why. He said he didn’t hurt her, though, and that it’s important you look elsewhere. In his own way, he’s trying to help—as a free man.”

“We don’t need his help to solve our case,” Fletch sneers. “We need to clear him so he can go back to being the mayor. Give us a reason to cross him off our list.”

“The fact he hasn’t…” Aubree steeples her fingers and rests her chin on top. “Maybe he has no way of proving his innocence. Maybe he…” she draws a heady breath. “Geez. Maybe he’ll ride this down to the line.”

“And if we don’t catch anyone else?” Archer questions. “If there is no one else, who do you think will end up in a cage?”

“Which is why he wants you to keep looking,” I retort. “Can’t prove his innocence until you prove someone else’s guilt.”

“Hell of a position to be in,” Fletch inserts. “If he was anyone else,anyoneelse, he’d already be in custody. But because he’s the mayor, and the chief M.E. is his little buddy in his back pocket, he remains a free man.”

“I’m doing him no favors.” My temper alights at the implication in his words. “I’m doing nothing to bend this in any way but toward the cold hard truth. And neither are you two.”

“But we are!” Fletch argues. “We’re already bending it, because heshouldbe under supervision already, and isn’t. Instead, he’s ignoring our calls, chatting it up with the M.E., and fuc—” he stops himself with a gurgle and looks to his four-year-old, who watches the traffic madness outside.

She’s too innocent, despite the world she exists in. Too pure, despite the family raising her.

“Andsuggestingwe look elsewhere,” Fletch tries instead. “If we listened to every suspect who said that, we’d get nowhere.”

“Daddy, why do you fink that car hit the other car?” Mia is about three feet tall, fifty pounds heavy, has a beautiful wave in her soft brown hair, and eyes the same honeyed gold as her father.

She’s the best of us all. The sweetest. The kindest.

“Sometimes, cars bump into each other, Moo.” Fletch scrubs a hand across his face and schools his expression before turning to his daughter and flashing a smile. “Sometimes, people can be a little careless. Do you wanna go to Uncle Tim’s for dinner?” He checks his watch, prompting my own gaze to flit to the time on my computer screen.

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