Chapter 3
MINKA
Soph
Take the meds, Mayet. Tell me when you do, so I can monitor.
I ordered all your new tech today. Cost me an easy six figures, and that money is coming out of my pocket.
Tell me who wants me dead.
Jennifer:
Soph said you’re starting the M&Ms today! That’s super exciting. Keep thorough notes: time you took it, your weight when you took it, how long it’s been since your last Factor infusion, all that sort of stuff.
I LOVE DATA!
Michelle Mancino:
Estefan called me this morning. He told me you took an attitude with him earlier this week. Ballsy move, Mayet. Not sure if you know who’s who in this world, but might I suggest you watch The Godfather?
It’s currently on streaming services. It ought to give you a general idea of what’s up and who you shouldn’t cross. Hint: Cordoza is the really important, really powerful one.
Not that I think he’d whack you, since he kinda likes you—not as much as he likes me—but still. Be chill, Chief. Be chill. He’s getting old and doesn’t need you stressing him out like that.
Soph:
Are you stressing my sister out, Minka Mayet? Stop it!
Jay Bishop:
I’m peeking through the blinds of a meeting room inside the Checkmate Offices, Chief, and I see two Solomon psychos and a Lawrence.
They’ve all got their phones out, all conducting separate conversations, but all of their conversations lead back to you. Should I put you on the payroll yet?
Who wants my wife dead? Is it Jen? If it’s Jen, tell me so I can stand between them. Especially around the middle of the month. That’s when things get extra messy.
“For God’s sake.” I lock my phone and toss the device onto my desk.
Sitting back, I watch through my office windows as the rest of my staff hum and work around me, dead bodies laid out on almost every single autopsy table, medical examiners busily slicing through their DBs while the air conditioning keeps each suite icy cold, and the filtration system allows for the stench of decay to slide straight up through the vents instead of linger and make us retch.
My phone vibrates and dances across my desk, the Checkmate women demanding my attention, though I’d rather sit here and stare at the closed elevator doors. Because Detectives Malone and Fletcher are on their way back here with a dead body, and I… well, I’m a glutton for punishment.
I consider myself a well-educated, reasonably even-tempered academic, and, in this building, a lover of medicine and science. Unfortunately, the heart so rarely allows a woman the privilege of impartiality when she needs it the most.
The lights above the elevator illuminate, flashing a bright P for parking garage, and a moment after that, a number one. Number two.
Bounding up from my chair and snatching up my phone, I tear my office door open and stalk across the sleek white tile, stopping a single foot from the elevator and, while I wait, unlocking my cell.
I ignore Soph’s continued texts. Jen’s. Some dude named Griffin keeps asking questions about the types of computers we need—I don’t know. The kind that work. When the number above the elevator shines nine, I fist my phone in my left hand and stare straight ahead… and half a foot up.
The doors slide open, revealing two cops and one doctor for the dead.
“Argh!” Archer staggers back a step, crashing into Fletch and crushing Doctor Kirk’s foot beneath his heel.
“What the fuck?” Collecting himself and scowling, he slams his hand to the lip of the door and pokes his head through the gap.
He looks left. He looks right. Finally, he brings his eyes back to mine and narrows them.
“Chief Mayet.” His jaw ticks and grinds, a habit I’ve noticed a million times since we first met.
Though typically, he doesn’t direct that shit my way. “Can we help you with something?”
“Nice shirt.” I step forward and smack his chest, open-palmed, right over top of where a bullet hole pierced the fabric of a different shirt. “Do you keep spares in the trunk, Detective?”
“Ow.” He rubs his chest and points his angry glower toward Fletch. “You snitched?”
“He doesn’t need to snitch, you asshole!” I shove my phone in his face, but not before hitting play on Miranda fucking London and her oh-so-helpful reporting from outside Masslin’s derelict home on the outskirts of the city. “You’re on the news, Archer! Guess you forgot to duck today, huh?”
How dare you, you bastard? How fucking dare you stand in front of a gun and allow another man to shoot at you?
Incensed, I cast my furious glare Fletch’s way. “I expect better from both of you.”
“What?” His honeycomb eyes flare wide. “What did I do?”
“Get your DB into your autopsy suite, Doctor Kirk. Work on him, tie it up, and have your paperwork with the police department before the end of the day.” I spare one last pithy look for Archer, then I turn on my heels and move back into my office.
Striding toward my desk, I snatch up my ringing telephone and snap out, “What?”
“Er… Ch-chief?” Callen stammers all the way from a different floor inside this building. “I have Mayor Lawrence on line three.”
“Fine.” I’m so fucking exhausted. So weary.
My soul aches, and my husband, that rat bastard, was shot at today.
Multiple times. And I got to hear about it on the news, like a commoner.
I press down on the button for line three, ending my call with one person and accepting another, then I circle my desk, stretch the phone cord, and plop into my seat. “This is Chief Mayet.”
“Chief.” Lawrence’s voice, just one single word, comes out with the ringing addition of worry. Anxiety. A tinge of fear. “Hi.”
“What’s wrong?” I cross my legs and look to my left, though God knows I try not to, because my poor impulse control is rewarded with Archer’s hard stare.
His cruel bitterness. His uncharacteristic glare, as opposed to the complete and intense adoration he normally wears when looking into my eyes.
“You sound concerned, Justin, and I’m at the end of my rope.
I’d appreciate it if you could cut to the chase. ”
“I’ve been informed of a gunfight between the police and a suspect they wished to arrest. It was Seraphina who told me,” he murmurs. “She said Detectives Malone and Fletcher are—”
“Completely fine.” I grit my jaw and gulp as Archer steps away from Fletch and Doctor Kirk. Instead, he comes in my direction, sweeping through my office door the way he has a million times in the past. Harden up, Minka. Harden the fuck up. “In fact, both detectives are in my building right now.”
“Both of them?”
“Mmm.” I peel my eyes away from Archer’s lifting brows and down to a line of dried mud on his jeans. “I’m literally looking at them both. Detective Malone even had the foresight to change clothes rather than walk around in a bullet-riddled shirt. It’s the polite thing to do, honestly.”
“Oh… well…” While Archer drops onto the chair in front of mine, Lawrence works on collecting his thoughts. “That’s good, then. You sound… okay.”
“As okay as I’ll ever be.” It was Seraphina who told me…
My heart twists as I think of the woman who left us, the woman who loves, but can’t truly say so out loud.
“Is Fifi okay? I know she and Detective Fletcher aren’t together.
Like…” I hesitate. “Ya know, officially. But they care for one another. Did the thing on the news scare her a lot?”
“She’s barking out orders and chewing her nails.”
Chewing her nails? Yikes. “She’s really worried. Let her know Fletch is currently about twenty feet from where I’m sitting. He’s fine. Of the two of them, only one got shot today. It wasn’t him.”
“I will,” he sighs. “Thanks. I’ll let her know.”
“Is that the only reason you called, Justin?”
“I never thought I’d end up here, you know? I fathered two really beautiful, really amazing daughters, and fortunately for me, they each married normal, sensible, safe guys with normal, sensible, safe jobs.”
Safe? Corey Rosa?
“I felt a satisfaction in knowing I would never have to watch the news and hope for the best. But now you and Seraphina each have a vested interest in two of this city’s highest-profile police detectives.
Where one goes, the other follows. It wasn’t until today that I realized, even if my daughters married safe, you and Ms. Lewis went in a completely different direction. It’s worrisome.”
“Yeah? Well, the good news is you don’t have to worry about me. But Tabby married a veterinarian, didn’t she? Statistically, did you know a person is far more likely to be attacked by a cow than they are a shark?”
Archer settles back in his chair, his nose twitching, and, from between the buttons of his shirt, a nasty red and purple bruise blooms just as surely as flowers in the spring.
“Ah, well…” Justin clears his throat. “Care to cite your sources, Chief?”
“Sure. I read it in one of those 1001 Cool Kids books Mia was carting around recently. It’s true. The book says so.”
Impatient, Archer leans forward and places his finger over the button on my phone. Threat? Warning? Wrap it up. “I’m sorry, Chief Mayet.” His voice is husky and rough. Aching and hard. “I have a few questions regarding my case. Do you have a moment?”
“Sounds like you need to go,” Justin rushes out. “I appreciate you taking my call, Chief, and I’m relieved the detectives are okay. Captain Bower will be in my office in the next hour or two. He understands my vested interest in situations such as these.”
“You shouldn’t have a vested interest,” I mumble, my heart thrumming much too fast in my chest. “But I understand your concern. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’d like to have you in my home for dinner shortly, Chief. My Jen texted me a little earlier and said she’d be in Copeland sometime next week for work. I’ll touch base with your assistant just as soon as I have the details ironed out.”
“I don’t know that I—”
“Find a slot in your schedule, Chief. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”