Minka
MINKA
“ W e’ll take you back to your apartment.” I wrap my arm around Fletch’s and carry more of his weight than I would expect of a man so tall, so strong and capable. But he’s more than grieving. More than broken-hearted.
He’s bone-deep exhausted, and it’s barely past seven p.m.
“Mia’s at home with Penny,” I explain while Archer follows up behind us, grabbing things he knows we’ll need. Like my coat. Fletch’s phone. A morsel of sanity, if it can be found.
“She doesn’t know yet.” Rasping, Fletch glances around the ward as we slowly walk toward the elevator. Jada’s body is already in the morgue downstairs. Her organs, unusable even if she had signed on for donation. Her body, battered and broken.
Worse now, after the doctor’s attempts to bring her back.
She died today, just three days short of her thirtieth birthday. Once, a stage-famous dancer, and now… just, nothing. An addict whose habit killed her in the end, and a mom whose daughter will hopefully never remember the lowest, worst days.
“How am I supposed to tell Mia?” His voice crackles. “How am I supposed to tell my baby her mommy died?”
“We don’t have to tell her today.” Archer steps ahead and smacks the elevator call button before turning and looking his friend in the eyes. “I know that sounds kinda unreasonable, but she’s so little, Fletch, and a day or two won’t change anything. Give yourself time to rest.” As soon as the doors open and reveal an empty interior, he backs up and makes room for us to shuffle in. “Give yourself time to process everything, and then you can come up with what needs to be said.”
“I can’t lie to her.” He sniffles and swipes beneath his eyes, though tears don’t fall. I think he’s run out of them. “I can’t lie, Arch. She deserves?—”
“She’s four. It’s not lying if she doesn’t even ask, and there’s no way she’ll ask that question unprompted. We can go home and just…” He reaches around and selects the underground garage, to collect a car he had brought over, and facilitate a ride home that doesn’t include walking the streets. “Go home and try to catch our breath. You’ve been up since the middle of last night. I didn’t see you eat, man. You didn’t rest. You’ve been in fight mode all damn day, and soon, you have to tell your baby something that will rock her for the rest of her life. It’s best you sleep on it, if only for tonight, don’t you think?”
“But you want me to pretend everything is okay?” He drags his arm from my hold. Though it’s gentle. There’s no rejection. Simply… willpower to stand on his own. “Go home and act like my world hasn’t changed forever?”
“We could send her over to our apartment?” I offer. “Let her spend the night with Cato. She’ll like that, and you won’t have to pretend anything. It would?—”
“No.” He digs his hands deep into his pockets and starts out of the elevator as soon as the doors slide open. But then he stops again, because a black SUV pulls up and a driver in a suit slides out. “What?”
“Mr. Malone has instructed you to ride with us today.” He looks past Fletch to me and dips his chin. Time and experience with this family allows me a chance to recognize faces. “Doctor Mayet. Detective Malone.”
“Frank.” I move to the door and hold the handle, but before I slide in, I meet his eyes. “Tim sent you?”
He shakes his head. “Felix, ma’am.”
Fletch’s intake of air is like a shot echoing throughout the garage. “Who told Felix?” He looks to Archer, accusing. “You told him?”
“I didn’t say shit. I haven’t talked to anyone today except Lieutenant Fabian, to explain why we weren’t working, and then Captain Bower, for the same damn reason.” He studies Frank. “Tim told Felix?”
“Ms. Solomon, I believe.” He offers a hand as though I might need it to climb in. But I do so on my own, stepping up into the back seat and bending my back to walk across to my side. “It’s all very discreet,” he assures us. “This is not news being tossed around for fun, Detective.” He meets Fletch’s eyes. “You have my condolences, Detective Fletcher.”
Wordless, Fletch climbs in next and drops down with a thud to sit beside me. Which means Archer will follow third and sandwich our friend in the middle, despite how desperately I wish I could sit beside him myself. To hold his hand and find comfort in his touch. Because we’re here for Fletch today, but hell, my heart aches and my head thuds with pain. I’ve been up since last night, too, and I’m due for my medication. And water. And a meal that contains protein and something more substantial than got this out of a vending machine .
“I’m not sending Mia away for the night.” Fletch lays his head back and closes his eyes as Frank shuts the door after Archer and slides into the front to get us moving. “I’m not being anywhere she’s not until the world stops spinning so fucking fast.”
“So we’ll stay with you,” Archer responds. “We’ll order something to eat and put a movie on so Mia can feel a little normalcy. We’ll stay with you all night.”
“No.”
“Yes. You won’t leave her? Well, I’m not leaving you,” he growls. “Jesus, Fletch. I know you’re hurting. I know you like to bathe in the fucking torture, but I’m gonna be here with you till this is done.”
“She’s gone.” He sniffs again and turns his head my way. Finally, his eyes flicker open, moist with tears and swollen with exhaustion. “Gone. Just like that.”
“She’s no longer in pain.” I’ve talked to those who grieve a million times over in the course of my career. It’s literally part of my job, so I set my hand on his and show him a gentle, barely there smile. “She was sick, Fletch. And even when she wanted to get better, that sickness kept bringing her pain. But that’s all gone now.”
“…”
“It’s so final,” I choke out. “I know. But if we can see past the grief, we’ll start to acknowledge she’s now free. No more pain, no more addiction, and no more of the choices that led her to worse things. Someday, when this isn’t quite as raw, you may be able to understand she’s in a better place now.”
Enraged, his eyes flicker from sorrow to searing heat. “That’s so fucking convenient for everyone who couldn’t stand her. She was a bitch, a user, and a dirty addict. And now she’s in a better place. Yada yada yada. She’s no longer an inconvenience for anyone else, so while I mourn, you’re all out here celebrating that she’s no longer a problem.”
“No.” I wrap my fingers around his hand and hold on just tight enough to make him feel it. To assure him I won’t let go. “This isn’t about celebrating your emancipation from a woman who brought you a little trouble this past year or two. It’s about saying goodbye to the girl you fell in love with. It’s about longing for the woman you married and the one who carried your daughter in her belly. The one who gave birth, probably in that very hospital we just left. She gave you the greatest gift you’ll ever know. It’s okay to miss her and to be thankful for the good things she did, while also exhaling a breath of relief because she’s no longer in pain.”
“Do you believe in Heaven?” A single tear wells over and dribbles onto his cheek. The wet track left behind, tearing at my heart and leaving behind a pain I’m not sure will ever truly go away. “Even though she did bad things, Heaven forgives, right? So she’d be there right now, probably smiling. And the pain has gone away?”
I don’t know what I believe. I’m not sure if there’s more after death, and I can’t say I’ve given it a great deal of thought. I’ve spent my entire life wrapped up in what happens during death, studying the body and not the spirit.
But I do know saying so brings comfort to those left behind. “Yeah. I believe she was done with that body she had been given because it was no longer good enough for her. It wasn’t healthy. I believe she’s in Heaven, watching you right now. And I think, with the addiction gone, and the bad choices wiped away, she’s that person you loved at the start. I believe that person trusts you to raise the daughter you made together. She trusts you to tell Mia whatever you think is right, to create the least amount of damage to a little girl who won’t quite understand what’s happening to the world around her. That means you can tell her tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, even. And none of those choices are wrong. You can tell her now, while it’s fresh, or you can sleep on it, so you’ve had time to think about what you’ll say, and that would be fine, too. You can tell her in medical terms, or you can talk about Heaven. There’s no wrong answer here, Fletch, because we all trust you to do whatever you think is best. But we want you to allow us to be here for you. While it hurts, while the pain and sorrow are at their very worst, we want you to allow us to help you.”
“I don’t want to keep the secret from her.” His breath catches as he drags his head around and looks out the windshield. It’s dark outside, but Copeland City streets are always lit with streetlamps and too many cars. “I won’t be able to get through the night and keep something like this from her.”
“So then we won’t.”
“She’s going to be heartbroken,” he croaks. “How do I share this with her without destroying her?”
“She’ll cry,” Archer finally inserts. “She’ll be sad. That’s completely normal, and it’s a healthy step as she works through her grief. But she’ll take her cues from you most of all.”
“From me?”
“Yeah. If you’re screaming and throwing things and not okay, then she won’t be either. But if you find a way to tell her calmly, then she’ll accept the new information peacefully. The tears will come either way, but the way we handle this can make it so much worse for her. Or not.”
“Calm.” He swallows and glances out the side window, panicked, as Frank pulls up outside his apartment building. Sweat instantly breaks out on his brow despite the snow beating down to land on the sidewalk, and his lips are pale and thin. But he looks at me, his eyes brimming with fatigue. “She’s going to be devastated.”
“I could tell her.” My heart thunders in my chest, pounding against my diaphragm as anxiety washes through my veins. Because I’ve been a child in the past, learning of a parent’s death. Twice. Though I was older than Mia is, and I was far too literal-minded not to understand immediately what was happening. “As a medical examiner, I’ve done this a lot. So I could sit down and talk to her, if you want. I could explain it in a way that might help. Maybe.”
“…” Sitting forward, Archer burns my forehead with a look. “Babe. So soon after Thanksgiving?”
I hold Fletcher’s stare. “I could. I would do my best.”
“Please.” His voice catches, and his chest bounces with a sob he keeps trapped within his body. “Help me.”
“Sure. Come on.” I unsnap my belt and turn to the door, but Frank is too fast, pulling it open and holding an umbrella up to cover my head from the snow floating down. My arms sting from the cold, so I cross them over my chest and rub them to create friction. But of course, Archer slides out quickly and comes around to drop a hoodie over my head. Not my jacket, which would be too stiff and uncomfortable and cold for now. But a hoodie I know belongs to him. Somehow, between the hospital and here, he’s acquired a thick sweater that wraps me up and warms me all over. “Thank you.” I look up into his emerald eyes, the glittering jewels he walks around with daily, but where love and adoration usually sit, worry takes over. So I step onto my toes and press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”
“I could talk to Mia.” He rubs my arms to bring me more warmth. “You’re already not talking about that other stuff from Thanksgiving. There’s no need to add more to your pile right now.”
“I want to.” I turn and wrap my arm around his, so we can walk side by side. “For Fletch. And Mia. I want to.”
“And you’ll tell me if this is all too heavy for you, right? Later, when it’s just me and you, you’ll tell me if you’re struggling?”
We step up onto the sidewalk and stop beside Fletch. Then, all three of us simply stare at the door. The one that will lead to a lobby-like area, and after that, stairs. Just a few flights, and we’ll be with Mia.
And after that… nothing will ever be the same again.
“Mayet?”
“Yeah.” Hesitantly, I start toward the door. Because if I don’t, I’m not sure either of the others would make a move. “I promise. And even if I don’t with my words, you’ll know with my body language.” I yank the door open with a grunt, combatting the wind that whips along the street and smiling a soft smile of thanks for Fletch when he grabs the handle. Then we start in and move up the stairs. “You always know how I’m feeling, Archer. Even when I’m not telling you about it.”
“I don’t want to have to rely on a gut feeling,” he growls. “Not when you need me.”
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” Fletch wavers. Tension grows thick as we make our way up the stairs. “It’s almost bedtime, and she still needs dinner and a bath. So if I tell her now, she probably won’t sleep. And if she doesn’t sleep, she’ll struggle in school tomorrow.”
I glance across to Archer in silence. Fletch is spiraling. And Mia probably isn’t going to school tomorrow, no matter how well she sleeps tonight.
“But not telling her feels wrong,” he rambles. “I can’t go in there and not expect her to feel everything that’s happening. To not tell her, when she’ll know something is up, is lying.”
Archer’s phone rings in his back pocket, but when he reaches back and frees the device, only to see Felix’s name on the screen, I don’t need to read his mind to know why he declines the call.
Way too much to unpack, and not enough stairs or privacy to unpack it.
So he jumps to the text screen and simply types: I’ll call you later.
“Maybe the school will have a counselor on staff,” Fletch continues. “We could let the school tell her. They’re the professionals, and we owe it to her to be told by someone who knows what the hell they’re doing.”
Archer’s phone buzzes again, but this time, with a text response: Call me before I come looking for you. Give Fletch my best, if you think it appropriate . He probably won’t want to hear from me, considering our history, but I’m thinking of him tonight. Even if she was a hoe who never deserved them.
“That’s enough of that,” Archer mumbles, locking the screen and slipping the phone back into his pocket. “He’s not great at keeping inside thoughts, inside.”
I scoff and lower my gaze to the stairs. “I know.”
“But to send her to school without telling her, and having them do it, seems cruel. She would never forgive me. But maybe we could both go to the school. We could do it together.”
“What should we do?” I whisper to Archer. “He’s not ready.”
“Give him two more flights to work it out.” He peers back to make sure Fletch is still following. Still with us and moving. “This is what he does sometimes.”
“I wish I knew a counselor personally. We could bring them here tonight. Best of both worlds, and my baby would have a fighting chance at healing from this.”
“Whatever you decide,” I tell him. “You’ll always make the right choice for her.”
“I don’t know any counselors, though. But I know a doctor who deals with death, so that’s kind of similar. Not the same,” he amends. “But similar. And it’s better than nothing. And you know how to talk about these things without losing your shit.” He searches my eyes when we turn at the next landing. The last one before his front door. “Your ability to be cold and factual and unemotional is a gift, Mayet. Sometimes it pisses me off because I want to see you feel . But in times like this, Mia hearing this news from someone who can deliver it without breaking down, but that same someone loves her, that’s a best of both worlds, right?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“So I guess that’s what we do. We can?—”
“Daddy!” The apartment door flings open, and Mia bounds through kind of how the Kool-Aid man does in the cartoons. She’s all smiles and rosy cheeks. Wild hair after a big day at school, and messy clothes with paint splotches on them.
But man, she’s happy.
“Cato picked me up from school, Daddy!” She waves back through the door till Cato steps to the threshold, not nearly as cheerful as his mini-best friend. “Miss Penny was there, too! But Cato said he could take me, and she tried to call you to make sure, but you didn’t answer. So then she called Uncle Archer, and Felix said he could take me.”
Stunned, Fletch looks at Archer, who only shakes his head. They didn’t call him . But Felix is out here handing out orders like he’s in control of Copeland City, too.
“We got ice cream, Daddy! And we went to the basketball stadium so I could play with the team. The actual team,” she emphasizes. “The one’s on the TV sometimes. Did you know Cato is friends wif them?”
“Yeah, baby. I knew.” Swallowing, he takes a step closer and looks at me, desperately searching for a buoy in stormy seas. “Um… I don’t…”
“I’ll do it.” I press my hand to his arm and gift him a small smile. Then, I look at Mia and allow it to grow a little higher. “Hey there, Moo. Aunty and Uncle Archer are gonna come in and stay for dinner, too.”
“Really?” Her little eyes beam with excitement. “I love when we do that!”
“And then we’d like to talk to you about some stuff. But you don’t have to worry, okay?” I wander to the little girl and lower into a crouch until we’re on the same level. I don’t offer my hands, but she reaches out and grabs them anyway, still thrilled with her visitors and not at all thinking of her mother. “Daddy had a really tough day today. But no matter what, you’re safe, and you’re gonna be okay. Do you trust me?”
“Yes!” Oblivious, she rushes in and wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing tight and choking me in a hug that smooshes our cheeks together and the sweet smell of whatever sugary treat Cato gave her bursts from her lungs. “I always trust you, . You’re always the kindest.” She pulls back with a snigger. “Except when you’re picking on Uncle Archer and Daddy. But that’s funny, so it’s okay.”
“Let’s come inside.” Cato rests his hand on Mia’s shoulder and gently brings her back. “I already got dinner organized, so we don’t have to order and wait. I figured it was best we be prepared.”
I look up at the boy who is forever immature and annoying. Except when he’s not. Because when he has to step up for his family—and Mia is definitely his family—he’s the most loyal, kindest, purest human being I’ve ever met. And I know Archer Malone. “Thanks for holding the fort.”
His lips quirk up to the side. “All good. Malones are experienced in discussing these sorts of matters.”
“Where’s Ms. Aubree?” Mia glances around us, past her father who remains too silent. Too heartbroken. Then she looks at me. “Aubree didn’t want to come to dinner, too?”
“She went home with Uncle Tim to rest for a little while.” I slowly push up to stand, but I fold my back and look into Mia’s perfect, honeyed eyes. “Aubree sends you a massive hug and kisses, though. She told me to give them to you and say they were from her. And she said she would see you tomorrow.”
“Okay!” She turns on her heels and dashes back into her apartment. “Can we watch Bluey while we have dinner? I like to watch Bluey.”
“Let’s get it done.” Archer takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine, but he turns back to Fletch, to ensure he’s coming. “Not telling her is the worst part,” he explains quietly. “Once it’s done, things will begin to heal.”
“Yeah.” Angry again, his moods spiking because of his exhaustion. He passes me and brushes by Cato, then he steps into his apartment and sighs. “Moo? Baby.” Slowly, he meanders toward the couch. “We have something really important to talk to you about, okay? Can you come over here?”
I release Archer’s hand, though he tries to hold on, and move to stand by Fletch’s left.
I’m here to help, even if it means reliving things I’d rather not.