Archer
ARCHER
H ours pass, and nurses come and go. Coffee is provided and consumed. Cups are disposed of and food is delivered. Our crowd of too many is scolded and told to thin out, but too many of us have badges, and none of us care enough to listen to the orders handed down.
But we listen to every word spoken when doctors do their rounds. When nurses come to check on their patient and reports are torn from the machines parked on each side of the bed.
Cerebral edema is muttered between white coats. Basilar skull fracture , too.
And when I pull out my phone to discreetly Google what that means, since it would be impolite to ask in front of Fletch, the first thing that pops up is that the basilar fracture is the worst skull fracture to have .
Fuckin’ awesome.
Minka deserted Fletch’s chair around an hour in, choosing to perch on my lap instead. So when I swipe my phone screen and dig deeper into a world of words I don’t know, she’ll stop my scroll every now and then and wordlessly point at things I guess I should know.
Occipital .
And later, renal failure , when the doctors come to inspect the bag attached to the side of Jada’s bed. It’s supposed to be filling with pee.
It’s not.
“Should I have Mia brought in?” Exhausted, Fletch pulls out of his slumping posture and cracks his back until the pops are audible. “She’ll know something’s up because I wasn’t at the apartment when she woke.”
“She’s used to you running out for a case,” Aubree murmurs. Tim long ago dragged another chair into the room, so he now matches my posture with Aubree held tightly to his lap. “She won’t think anything is out of the ordinary until at least dinner time.”
“Should I bring her here at dinner?” He drags his eyes to hers and blinks. Slowly. Owlishly. “She deserves to see her mom.”
“No.” I clear my throat after hours of silence, swallowing a ball of phlegm and hating the slick slide as it works its way to my belly. “I don’t think you should bring her yet. Not while she’s this beat up, and not until the doctors have a better idea of what’s happening. She’ll have questions, and until we have answers, it wouldn’t be fair to put her through this.”
“Am I supposed to just go home in a few hours and pretend everything is normal?” He searches, desperately, for someone, anyone, to guide him. “Leave Jada here and act like nothing happened?”
“I think you should try not to fret about later,” Minka answers carefully. “You’re twisting yourself up about something that hasn’t arrived yet. Be here now, and deal with later, later.”
“Knock knock.”
I peer to my right and narrow my eyes when a couple of cops step through the door and stop just past the threshold. They’re not in uniform, which means they’re detectives. One recognizes another, even if they don’t recognize the face.
“Which one of you is Charlie Fletcher?”
I shift Minka off my lap and stand, long before Fletch can summon the energy to do the same. Then, I move to the foot of the bed and become the first line of defense and my family’s representative in a world that feels foreign.
“Have you arrested Nathan Booth yet?”
The detective in the front, the younger, more arrogant one, looks me up and down and lands himself on my can’t stand this prick list within a single second. “You’re not Fletcher.”
“No. I’m Detective Malone. Downtown Copeland City PD. Fletch is my partner, my brother, and a man desperately attempting to support the mother of his child right now, so if you want to speak, I could probably help you out. Though, I’d like to think you’ve brought us news, and not questions.”
“Hopes and dreams,” the detective whistles, rocking onto the backs of his heels and adjusting the belt of his jeans. “Hopes and dreams. I’m Detective Balladae.” Then he hooks a thumb over his shoulder and gestures to his partner. “Detective Elen. Midtown. We’re investigating Ms. Watson’s attack and would like to speak with Charlie Fletcher before we move forward.”
“So you have no answers? You’ve got noth?—”
“It’s fine,” Fletch rumbles, lifting his chest, but not standing. They’ll get his bare minimum. “I’m Charlie Fletcher. The sooner you ask your questions, the sooner you can get Nathan Booth off the street.”
“Why do you assume Nathan Booth attacked your ex-wife?” Elen takes out a book and pen, the way we’ve done a million times over the years. “Did he threaten her recently?”
“You mean, apart from the time he put her in the hospital a few months ago?” Aubree’s hackles rise as she pushes up from Tim’s lap and stands on my left. “This is not the first time she’s been hurt, Detectives. But at least last time, she was awake and able to speak about what had happened to her. It boggles the mind that Booth has remained a free man to wander the streets and attack again.”
“We didn’t run the case last time,” Elen smirks. I swear, he wants to finish his sentence with Little Lady . “But we’re here now, and it would be na?ve of us not to investigate every angle for the poor woman lying in that bed.”
“I know you’re not implying Fletch to be one of those angles,” I snap. “Do your job, boys. Use your brain.”
“We are,” Balladae counters. “And our brains and training always point us toward the husband first.”
“Wait.” Minka comes to a stop on my right, so now we create a wall. A shield, blocking Fletch and Jada out. “You think Fletch put her here? Are you stupid?”
“Were you with him all night?” Elen questions, sidestepping her barb and laying down his own trap. “Can anyone in this room confirm, under oath, that they were with Charlie Fletcher at the time of Ms. Watson’s attack?”
“I was alone,” Fletch sighs. He turns only his head, warming the back of my neck as he looks this way. “I was with my daughter, but she was asleep by eight-thirty.”
“He doesn’t need an alibi!” Minka snarls. “You have priors already attached to another man. That other man is a known criminal, a known drug dealer, a known violent offender, he was named by your victim last time he hurt her, and Charlie Fletcher’s body is void of every single marker one would expect of a man who beat someone nearly to death overnight.” She breaks away from my side and surges around to stand by Fletch, and though I know she intends to be gentle, she snatches his hand and presents it to the cops. “I can assure you with my professional opinion as a forensic scientist, this man’s fists did not recently hit anything, or anyone, with the force needed to create Jada’s injuries. His palms,” she turns his hand over, “do not show any such markings, blisters or calluses, that would indicate he has swung any weapon, whether it be made of wood or metal, that would lead to the injuries Jada has sustained.”
“That’s your medical opinion?” Elen writes his notes. “If we find ourselves in need of an expert witness, should a case proceed against Mr. Fletcher in the future, then I can assure you, we won’t request you. I’d hate to have to call into question your bias, considering your friendship with the man.”
“I have stood in court countless times,” she snarls, “testifying in cases that had the power to lock perpetrators away for life. My credibility stands.”
“Even without formal testing?” Balladae wonders, oh so fucking calmly. “You’re jumping the gun and harming your friend in the process.”
“I’m trying to point out that you’re looking in the wrong direction! You’re?—”
“Mayet.” I reach around Aubree and snag my wife’s hand, yanking her back before she makes things worse. “Stop talking.”
“But he?—”
“I said,” I pull her into my side and stare down into her eyes, “stop talking.”
“You have a job to do,” Fletch murmurs, sitting back in his chair and dropping his legs wide open. “So do it. Then you can follow the leads you already have and arrest the asshole who hurt Jada. I was at home at the time of her attack. I was watching television while my daughter slept in the next room. I’m not seeing anyone right now, so I did not have an adult companion with me, thus, I have no alibi. I will, however, submit to questioning if it helps you cross me off your list.”
“You don’t need to be questioned!” Aubree growls. “You’re the only person on this planet trying to save her. Not in a million years would you hurt her.”
“Be that as it may,” Balladae steps forward, aiming for Fletch, but stopping, because I refuse to move. Then he offers a card, information side up. “We’d like to have you in our station before five, Detective Fletcher. The sooner we ask the questions, the sooner we can move on.” He meets my eyes but speaks as though speaking to Fletch. “We’re certain you understand the importance of staying in the city until this is tied up. Leaving would cast doubt on your innocence.”
I take the card and hold his stare. “We’ll be by when we can get away from here.”
“Questioning other cops is never fun,” he admits, shedding a little of his arrogance and buying back just an inch of my good graces. “But it’s the job. I know you understand the necessity of conducting this investigation thoroughly, especially after the recent arrest of Detective Taylor in the cop-killer case. Our city is fighting a war right now, Detectives. A war Nathan Booth is knees-deep in. Unfortunately, cops aren’t coming out as clean as they should be. Those of us who are on the front line, working to keep not only our streets clean, but our reputations and that of the force, too, need to focus extra hard on crossing those t’s. The last thing any of us want is for the case to come undone in court, because Booth, or whoever is standing on the wrong side of the bench, questions why we never looked into the ex-husband. It’s motive 101, and it would be foolish of us not to look at every angle. It’s best for us all that we’re thorough.” He takes a step back, Elen moving too, until their backs touch the curtain. “We’ll be on the streets most of today, but if you give us a twenty-minute warning when you’re on the way, we can meet you at the station. If you don’t come…”
“You’ll come looking for me,” Fletch finishes. “Yeah, I got it.”
“What if he can’t get away from here?” Aubree questions, taking a single step forward. “Jada’s state is fragile at best. Not to mention his four-year-old daughter who will need his attention. Certainly, his inability to split himself in three won’t count against him in your investigation.”
“Communication helps. If it’s getting on four and you still can’t move, communicate that, and we might find ourselves able to commandeer a room right here in the hospital for a chat. If we hear nothing, we can only assume it’s because you’re hiding something. Let’s go.” He taps Elen’s shoulder and backs out of the room.
“Absolute assholes,” Aubree growls, spinning and plopping onto Tim’s lap like he’s not a human, but rather, an old, beat-up couch. His hands go to her hips, even while her hair whips through the air. “They’re scared of pinning Nathan Booth for this, so they’re looking for the easier target.”
“How do you know?” Minka questions in an almost whisper. “You didn’t even tou?—”
“It doesn’t take a genius to recognize a couple of cowards. They mentioned Taylor, which tells me they think, in the current climate of the city, it’s easier to pin this on a cop than it is on an actual criminal.” She turns on Tim’s lap and taps Fletch’s arm. Because his eyes are on Jada. Always, until he can save her again, this is where his attention goes. “You need to take a lawyer with you into that meeting.”
“I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And the fact you said that ,” she snaps, “proves your inability to attend that meeting without representation. You’re not emotionally or mentally capable of going in there alone. They’ll have you admitting to crimes you never committed, all because you’re too tired to fight back.”
“I could call the mayor.” Fifi takes out her phone, her hands shaking as Fletch’s eyes slowly come across to her. “He won’t be able to represent you. It wouldn’t be proper. But this is his stomping ground, and a little advice from someone with his experience would be helpful.”
“So not only am I being questioned because my ex-wife had the shit beat out of her while I was home looking after our daughter, but now I need a shark lawyer to keep me out of prison?” He lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “I’m so fucking exhausted already.”
“I think they’re decent,” I offer. “Maybe. They came in with bad attitudes, but I think they mean it when they say they wanna be thorough. To drag Booth in front of a jury without even considering you in the matter would be dumb. Booth’s lawyers would tear that apart in seconds.”
“I’ll make the call.” Fifi dials, bringing the phone to her ear and resting her head against the wall. “I need to let him know why I’m not at the office, anyway. Mr. Mayor?” Her spine snaps straight in an instant. “Hello. It’s Seraphina. So sorry to call you like this.”