CHAPTER 5. EX
“I have to admit, we weren’t expecting you, Mr. Ormond,” Penelope McKinley says, her surprise barely masked as she greets us at the gate.
“It was a last-minute decision,” Xavier replies with a polite smile.
Last-minute, sure, I think. You never know when Xavier will decide to steal another case from Willand.
Penelope gives a quick nod to the security guard, then swipes her card against a white sensor, and the gates unlock with a click. She gestures for us to follow her inside.
She’s tall, mid-twenties, with striking red hair and a crisp lab coat.
Xavier and I met her about a week ago at the Hilton morgue—Rishetor sent her to handle the paperwork after Henry Wakefield’s death.
She’d been Wakefield’s assistant for the past year and a half, and from what I gathered, she’d taken his death hard.
“Mr. Rishetor only mentioned Chief Willand’s visit,” Penelope says as she leads the way.
“We’re here on his orders,” Xavier lies smoothly, flashing that signature, charming smile of his. It never ceases to amaze me how easily he shifts personas.
“Will Mr. Rishetor be available to see us?” I ask, keeping my tone polite.
“He’s away at the moment,” Penelope says quickly. “He’s on a business trip for the next two weeks. In the meantime, Miss Fairfax is handling things, so she may meet with you instead. Excuse me.”
She pulls a black walkie-talkie from her pocket and presses a button. The device crackles to life.
“Perfect time for a business trip,” I murmur to Xavier.
He nods.
“Yes?” a soft female voice comes through the walkie-talkie.
“Mr. Ormond and Mr. Doherty are here, ma’am,” Penelope says, turning slightly away from us.
“Who?”
“They’re from Chief Willand’s unit. The police,” Penelope explains.
A brief pause. Then the voice responds:
“Bring them to the lobby. I’ll be down shortly. Thank you, Penny.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Penelope says, switching off the walkie-talkie.
She leads us along a snow-covered path through a bare garden toward a massive glass building. Two long wings stretch outward, connected by three stacked glass galleries, the whole thing resembling a half-open book with a perforated spine.
Xavier takes a long look at Penelope, frowning, then asks, “What was he like?”
“Henry?” Penelope slips her hands into her pockets. “Brilliant. Talented. The best researcher at Rishetor—and in his field. Three advanced degrees, thirteen years at the center.”
“How did his colleagues treat him?” I ask. “Any enemies?”
She shakes her head, brow furrowing. “No. Why? Wasn’t it just an accident?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I say vaguely. “And who’s this Miss Fairfax we’re meeting? Chief Willand didn’t mention her.”
“Katie Fairfax, head of our cryo-center,” Penelope explains. “She takes over when Mr. Rishetor’s away—handles the press, authorities, all that.”
“Katie Fairfax?” I repeat, the name tugging at something in my memory.
“She’s the one who found Henry’s body in the lab,” Penelope says.
We walk in silence for a minute. I glance at the snow-covered paths and empty benches, my mind drifting. Katie Fairfax. Could she really be my old high school girlfriend? I vaguely remember hearing she became a scientist, but I’m not sure in which field.
A weighty stare pulls me back to the present. Xavier’s watching me, gaze unreadable, like he’s trying to figure something out. The second I turn to look, his blue eyes flick away.
“Miss McKinley, when did you find out about Henry’s death?” Xavier asks as we climb the stone steps to the main entrance.
Penelope blinks, visibly thrown. “Uh… Monday morning, when I got to work. The guys in my department told me,” she says, her voice tight, like the memory still unsettles her.
Xavier watches her for a beat before asking, “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Friday evening,” she says, with the faintest hint of hesitation in her voice.
“Did you know Henry was here over the weekend?”
“Yes, he mentioned he’d be working.”
“But you weren’t here?” Xavier presses.
“No,” she says, shooting an uneasy glance at Xavier. “I don’t work weekends unless I’m needed.”
Xavier quirks an eyebrow, like he doesn’t fully believe her. “Weren’t you his assistant?”
Penelope blushes up to her ears and folds her arms tightly across her chest.
“We have clearance levels,” she says, her voice edged with frustration. “I didn’t have access to some of his projects.
Xavier’s gaze lingers on her face, like he’s searching for cracks. “That’s convenient,” he murmurs.
Penelope stiffens. It’s subtle, but I catch it—the slight hitch in her shoulders.
Xavier doesn’t let up. “Tell me,” he says evenly, “did you have a date planned with him on Sunday night?”
She blinks.
“What?” The word barely leaves her lips, her face draining of color.
“No need to play coy,” Xavier says, his tone calm. “We’ve seen the call logs. You rang him multiple times Sunday night when he didn’t show up.”
She swallows hard, her composure starting to slip. “I just called because I knew he was working late. I wanted to check if everything was okay.”
“A bit late for a work call, don’t you think?” Xavier’s voice takes on a dry edge. “You were supposed to meet Henry that night. He didn’t show. You called—again and again—but he never picked up.”
Penelope doesn’t answer, but her silence says plenty. Her eyes flicker with something close to panic, like she’s only now realizing where this is headed. She glances at me, like she wants me to intervene, but I don’t.
I feel bad for her, caught in Xavier’s crosshairs, but he wouldn’t push this hard if he didn’t know she was hiding something—and we need answers. So I stay quiet, my stomach twisting as I watch her realize she’s on her own.
“We were supposed to meet—but just as friends,” Penelope says at last, her voice low.
“Hmm,” Xavier says, like the word tastes off. “Then why not mention your little rendezvous to the police?”
She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I thought it wasn’t relevant… He didn’t answer, so I figured he forgot or changed his mind. I didn’t think…” Her voice trails off.
Xavier studies her, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe you were worried about how it would look—worried someone might think you knew more than you let on because you were involved with him.”
God, when he gets like this—calm, relentless, completely sure of himself—I’m just glad I’m not the one he’s going after.
Penelope’s breath catches, and for a second, I think she might crack. But she pulls herself together, blinks, and meets Xavier’s gaze, her voice almost wounded. “Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Ormond?”
“Not accusing,” Xavier says smoothly, but there’s an unspoken warning in his tone. “Just observing.”
She blinks, shakes her head, and for a moment, I think she might actually come clean, admit what we already know. But then she chooses the lie instead.
“There was nothing between us.”
Xavier exhales, patience gone. “You’re wasting our time. If you actually want to know what happened to him, tell us everything. And don’t play dumb—we know you were sleeping with him.”
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” she mumbles, pale, thrown off by the blunt accusation.
“You don’t know what I mean?” Xavier arches an eyebrow. “It’s obvious. He had no relatives. Lived alone. So he must’ve been fucking someone.”
“Xavier!” I snap, shooting him a furious look. “That’s enough.”
Penelope just shakes her head, stunned. Tears pool in her eyes, but she wipes them away quickly, straightens, and says, “Let’s go inside. Miss Fairfax is waiting for us.”
Without another word, she hurries to the doors and disappears into the building, not sparing us a single glance. Xavier starts after her, but I grab his elbow, pulling him back.
“What’s with you today?” I ask, frowning at him.
“What?” Xavier echoes, flat.
“It’s obvious she’s not ready to admit it, so why are you pushing? You can see you’re upsetting her!”
“What was I supposed to do? Hold her hand?” he says, completely unfazed. “Maybe I should’ve opened with that joke about sex and math you told me when you came home drunk yesterday…”
“She just lost someone she loves!”
“…but that might’ve been a bit crass.”
“What?”
“What?”
We both fall silent, trying to process what the other just said.
Xavier smirks, almost triumphant. “So you agree.” He gestures toward the building. “She lied. They were fucking.”
“Stop saying fucking!” I snap.
“Isn’t that what it was?”
“Sex has nothing to do with this!”
I don’t realize how loud I sound until the words are already out.
Xavier tilts his head slightly. “Then what does?”
“People can be connected by more than just sex,” I bite out.
“If you say so.” His voice stays flat, his gaze steady on me.
“Xavier, it’s been a week since his death, and her eyes are still red and puffy,” I say, softer now.
“You think that’s proof of ‘true love’?” His lips curl into a joyless smile. “Crying over someone?”
“I don’t know how it works on your planet, Xavier, but here on Earth—yeah, it’s one of the signs,” I shoot back.
Xavier doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns and strides toward the entrance without another word. I sigh and follow.
Inside, the lobby is spacious—marble floors, a high ceiling, the kind of cold, corporate grandeur meant to impress. Penelope McKinley is already waiting, standing beside a tall, dark-haired woman in a white coat.
“Mr. Ormond and Mr. Doherty,” Penelope says, introducing us without meeting our eyes. “This is Katie Fairfax, head of the cryo-center.”
The dark-haired woman shakes Xavier’s hand, but when she turns to me, her eyes widen in surprise. And that’s when it clicks—I was right. She is Katie Fairfax. My high school girlfriend, now a scientist.
“Newt?”
“Katie…”
For a moment, we just stand there, caught in awkward hesitation—then we step forward and hug.
“We’re old friends,” I explain with a small smile, catching Penelope’s puzzled look. Katie smiles too.