Minka
MINKA
M y phone overflows with calls and texts. Emails. Even little find my phone alerts that I think belong to Aubree… perhaps her way of tracking me ? Striding out of the courthouse, my briefcase in one hand and my phone in the other, I look left, then right, before I make a choice and head across the street in search of food.
I have my reply from Archer, proof of life and a reminder to eat, so I leave him in peace for now and instead hit dial on a different name. Bringing the phone to my ear and following my nose, I walk through New York City Streets and let nostalgia wash over me.
“Finally!” Aubree’s voice bursts into my ear, her energy somehow sucking mine away. It’s her superpower, I’m certain. It’s how she remains so loud while the rest of us who surround her—me, Fifi, even Tim—are devout introverts. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning, Chief.”
“I’ve been in court.” I step up onto the opposite side of the street and continue south, where I know for a fact a little bodega serves delicious sandwiches and fresh squeezed juice. “Is there an emergency, Doctor Emeri? Or are you simply feeling a little loud?”
“The second, mostly. Flynn caught a dead cop case that made my heart stutter.”
I come to a screeching stop and catch a shadow doing the same via the windowpanes reflecting back at me. “A third cop has been killed?” I inch my head around, attempting to see behind me without being overtly obvious about it. But I see no one.
Well… I’m in New York. I see countless people. But none that stand out as a threat.
“Do Detectives Malone and Fletcher know about it?”
“Yeah. It’s not one of theirs.”
Moving again, I frown and try, so fricken hard, to make sense of her words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the body is a cop, but the case doesn’t belong to our detectives. This one was simply a tragic accident. Officer ran out into the street chasing a bag snatcher. Got mowed down by a car. Rolled around a couple of times. Made a mess of things. Doctor Flynn sent an email off to Archer, but she has her own investigators on that case, and they’ve deemed it not connected. No guns, no bullets, and the driver stuck around to answer questions and whatnot.”
“Not a third death, then?” At movement in my peripherals, I tilt my head and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear, then stepping off the curb and crossing the street, I glance across to ensure a car won’t mow me down, too. I grab the strap of my briefcase, pulling the leather lengths out so I can wear it instead. Then I straighten again, dipping one hand into the bag and using the other to hold my phone. “Gave me a mini heart attack there, Doctor Emeri. Maybe lead with the fact that it’s not connected to Archer first, please.”
“Sorrrrrrrry.” She stretches the word out, smiling, I’m certain. “Kirk is finishing up a little kid. Drowning victim. Not homicide. And I’ve got a schoolteacher on my slab. Seems she dropped in class in front of her students and never got up again.”
“Sad.” I narrow my eyes and speed my steps when a man in a suit—one of several dozen, considering where we are—matches his steps to mine. I see his hulking form in every window I pass. I hear his steps and feel his energy in the air. I’ve been married to a cop for too damn long not to notice some dude dogging my steps.
But I also know how to play it cool. Don’t scream. Don’t run. Figure out my plan and deal with it when I have the chance.
“Now we have a classroom filled with kids with lifetime trauma and therapy bills they’ll go into debt over.”
“Hopefully their parents do the right thing,” Aubs counters. “Instead of allowing the trauma to bubble over. What are you doing?”
“It’s lunchtime.” I cut right and detour along a street I know well. It’s lined with restaurants and brimming with exotic flavors that make my jittering stomach jump. It’s not as public as the street I left, but it’s not a dingy alleyway, either. And frankly, I’m looking for one of the latter. “I’m heading to this cute bodega to grab something to eat.” Another turn, digging my way deeper into the shadows, colder here where the sun can’t touch. “I’m gonna call you back in a sec, okay?”
“What—”
“Hold on.” I kill my call and snag a scalpel from my briefcase, then, timing my steps, I wait for my pursuer to enter the tiny street. Dropping the phone into my back pocket, I spin with a jerk that has my bag slinging around with the momentum, then I slam the suit against the brick wall, pinning my elbow to his jugular and the tip of my scalpel right beside it.
My heart thunders and my breath races, but I narrow my eyes when the guy lifts his hands in surrender and his lips curl into a smile.
“Who are you? Why are you following me?”
“Harrison.” He bends his hand at the wrist, almost as though offering it to shake. “Theodore Harrison.”
“Why are you following me, Theodore Harrison? What makes you think I would willingly tolerate that behavior?”
“Could you…” he gulps, so the movement of his throat teases the blade of my knife. “Call Mr. Malone.”
“Which Mr. Malone?” I narrow my eyes to dangerous slits. “Archer?”
Slowly, cautiously, he brings his hand down and retrieves a phone from his right pocket, then, making a show of unlocking the screen and hitting dial, he leaves the call on speaker long enough for Micah to answer.
“Harrison?”
I shove back from the dude and snatch his phone instead. Taking it off speaker, I press the device to my ear. “Why is a man tailing me through Manhattan, Micah Malone?”
He breathes out a soft, almost-there snicker that stokes my temper hotter. “I should have known better. You didn’t kill him, did you? I can’t help but worry that you’re calling from his phone.”
“No, I did not kill him! What the hell are you doing?”
“It’s called precaution. You’re in our playground now. For as long as you’re here, you have a security detail. It’s pretty clear from where I’m sitting.”
“It’s called an invasion of privacy! I was on the phone, Micah! Discussing active homicide cases. I was talking to my staff about things not yet released to the public. Not only did you not have permission to assign someone to me, but I specifically said no.”
“Suck it up. I gave you our least conspicuous guy. He’s not seven feet tall, and he doesn’t look like Vin Diesel, so why are you complaining?”
“Because I said no!” Frustrated, I turn from the man I considered a threat moments ago, giving him my back and confident he won’t hurt me, then I slip my free hand back into my bag and deposit the scalpel where no one will see it unless they tear the lining out. “Send him home, Micah. I let Felix put me somewhere I didn’t want to be. I let him control my transport, though I would have preferred an Uber. I let that douchebag handle damn near everything, because I know it makes Archer feel better when I’m being taken care of. But I’m saying no to this dude.” I spin back and slap the phone into Harrison’s palm. “Don’t follow me anymore.” Then shaking my head, I speedwalk out of the hidden street and re-emerge into the one that smells overwhelmingly of garlic. Butter. Spices that make my stomach tingle and my mouth water.
Grabbing my phone, I redial Aubree’s name and growl when I find that shadow behind me once more. He stays further back, still on the phone with his boss, but he’s there. Not respecting my wishes.
“Hey. You cut me off before?—”
“Yeah, sorry. I had to deal with something. How’s the Fifi and her replacement thing coming along?”
“Callen. She’s doing okay. Fifi’s a good teacher, and she wants her replacement to succeed, so I feel you’re being left in competent hands. I get the impression that, even if Callen shits the bed in a few weeks, Fifi will be available to ride in and save the day. She’s not going far.”
“Have you figured out where her new position is?” I emerge from the street of restaurants and turn right, to continue the journey I began before Theodore Harrison interrupted my day. “This supposed step up, better job, better boss she’s so excited about.”
“You’re taking it personally,” she taunts. “She didn’t say it was a better boss or a better job. Just that it’s one she’s looking forward to and feels it’s a good move for her career.”
“Her career was at the George Stanley! Her career movement affects my career stayment . She’s making my life difficult by leaving.”
“Stayment isn’t a word. And she promises to remain available to us until everything is running smoothly.”
“This is all Fletcher’s fault.” I search for the bodega I was so sure was near here, furrowing my brows and attempting to look further along the street. Then I stop and glance back. Have I passed it ? “Where is it, Aubs?”
“Uh… Fletch? I’m not sure we should be calling him an it . I know you’re mad right now, but eventually this’ll pass and?—”
“No, the bodega.” I turn on my heels and catch Harrison’s shifty, nervous eyes. “There was a bodega here last year. Where is it?”
“I don’t…” Aubs exhales. “I don’t know, Boss. I’m not a New York native, so?—”
“No, not you. You!” I stalk back to Harrison and stop only when we’re three feet apart. “They did the meatball subs like…” I almost groan out loud, but I have the presence of mind to swallow it down and remember who the hell I am. “It was here.”
“?” Aubree tries again. “Who are you?—”
“There’s a place that does good subs about one more block down,” he answers cautiously. “I can walk you there.”
“Who the hell is that? Does Archer know you’re getting lunch with another man? He sounds cute. Is he cute?”
I look into Harrison’s eyes and force a smile. “Timothy Malone’s betrothed is on the phone. She wants to know if you’re cute.”
“Timothy Malone?” he gulps. “Ma’am?”
“The third.” Offering the phone, I wave it around as though to tempt him. “She’s small, blonde, bubbly, educated, and technically exceptionally single. Although, Tim has dibs. Would you like to talk to her about how cute you are?”
He shakes his head, long before the words stumble from his lips. “No, ma’am. That wouldn’t be proper.”
I bring the phone back to my ear and turn on my heels to head toward the sandwich shop. “He’s not interested in being cute for you, Aubs. Sorry.”
“You mentioned Tim,” she growls. “That’s like wrapping me in electrified barbed wire and telling him to hug me. You knew what he would say.”
“Well… if he’s worthy, he’ll hug the wire. And if he’s not, you still get to marry Tim in the end.”
“Goddddddddd. Stop talking about marriage. Stop talking about Tim. He’s a pain in my ass.”
“You wish,” I whisper, only to giggle when her breath comes to a short stop. “Sorry, that was unprofessional. Anything else you need to tell me about the George Stanley before I end this call?”
“No. Everything is fine. How was court? ”
“Boring, mostly. The seats are hard and cold, so my butt hurts after sitting for an hour. The judge seems like a bit of a tool, not one I’ve dealt with before. I’m worried he’s gonna be lenient on our perp… my impression so far puts him in the boys will be boys category. But I’m holding out hope. The good news is, our perp looks like shit. He’s sick, and it gives me a thrill to know the time he has left on earth is gonna suck no matter where he spends it.”
“How was your testimony?”
“Haven’t given it yet. Maybe this afternoon, if I’m lucky.”
“And if you’re not?”
“Then I’ll be forced to tolerate another night with Felix and Micah Malone making my existence hardly worth living.” I glance up when Harrison gently, soooo fucking carefully, grabs my elbow and steers me into a little corner store built into an old brick building. God forbid he gets handsy and loses them when Felix finds out . “I just walked into this place. I’m gonna order food and choke it down as quickly as possible. Have you seen Archer yet today? No more dead bodies rolled through the door?”
“Nope. But the absence of them is always a plus. I’m wrapping up my body today and forwarding the report. Call me when court is out this afternoon?”
“Sure. I’ll talk to you then.” Dragging the phone from my ear and killing our call, I glance up and realize we’re in line, with a half-dozen people waiting ahead of me, but every single one of them looks back at me with mouths open and eyes wide.
“You announced Felix Malone and dead bodies in the same sentence,” Harrison murmurs, disguising it with a faux cough. “Loudly.”
“Sorry!” I wave the crowd off and snag my badge from the depths of my briefcase. “Chief Medical Examiner. Mr. Malone has done nothing wrong.”
“Great,” Harrison snickers. “That fixed it.”