Chapter 12 ARCHER
ARCHER
“Thanks for visiting.” Minka opens the front door and callously gestures people through.
When I said this shit was private—family only—she took me at my word and declared our hosting duties over.
She smiles and places a tin-foil wrapped plate in Doctor Raquel’s hand.
“Thanks for coming. So sorry to see you go.”
“Err…” Raquel stumbles backwards. “We weren’t done swimming.”
“Sure you are!” She fixes the bag on Raquel’s shoulder, repositioning the straps so it doesn’t fall. “It was a pleasure to have you, but now it’s time to go.”
“Chief—”
“Maybe you can visit next weekend. Bye, Eliza!” She waves at the younger blonde, slyly side-eyeing my position at the bottom of the staircase. My face in my hands, my stomach in my fuckin’ throat. “It was great to see you again. Good luck at your next… match.”
“Fight.” Eliza juggles her belongings and a half-consumed bottle of soda, all while dripping water onto the tile. “It’s never called a match. Ever.”
“Send us tickets to the next one. Maybe we’ll watch and learn all the rules and stuff. Oh, hi, Fifi.” Minka steps in front of the doorway, blocking the woman’s entry. “Whatcha doing here?”
“Uh…” She pushes to her toes and peeks past Minka into the house. “Doctor Raquel texted and said I was invited for a late lunch.”
Minka glances my way for approval. But Fifi isn’t one of us either. She doesn’t know what the family knows, and she’s not with Fletch, no matter how much he wishes she were. So, I shake my head.
Tsking in the back of her throat, Minka drags the door halfway closed. “Any other time, and I’d welcome you in. But everyone was just leaving and—”
“Fifi!” Mia shouts from the back door, her squeal of delight bouncing across the tile. “You came, Fifi! Did you bring your swimsuit?”
“Here, baby.” Fletch chases his daughter through the hall, his arms outstretched and a towel hanging off his hands. “Wait for Daddy.”
“I’m gonna swim with Fifi!” She pumps her arms and sprints the length of the house, her wet feet slipping on the floor. “It’s so hot outside, Fifi! But it's soooo nice in the pool.”
Smug, Fifi slaps her palm to the door, holding it wide. “Guess I’m coming in, Chief.”
“I can’t swim on my own, Fifi!” Mia crashes into the woman’s legs and climbs her the way a baby monkey climbs a tree.
Wrapping her legs around Fifi’s trim waist and her arms around her neck, Mia glows with excitement.
“I sink all the way to the bottom unless Cato holds me. You can swim, though, right?”
“I sure can. And you already got me all wet, so isn’t that lucky? I get to come in, even when Auntie Minka is being quite rude. But then again, she does that a lot, huh?”
“Everybody’s having a meeting,” Mia grumbles. “That’s why Cato told me I had to get out of the pool. But here you are!”
“And now you’re leaving.” Fletch strides up behind the girls and drapes the towel over Mia’s back. Then he scoops his arm around the pair and herds them through the door. “You don’t mind hanging out with Mia downtown, do you, Sera?”
“Wh—” Fifi’s eyes flare wide. Hurt. Confusion. “I… What?”
“You’re gonna go to Sera’s place for a little while, okay, Moo?”
“Really?” Mia squeaks. “That would be cool, too! Can we paint toes, Fifi? I like it when we paint toes.”
“Charlie—”
“I need to talk to Archer about a case, and Mia shouldn’t hear about that, anyway.”
“Charlie!”
“You’d be doing me a solid, Sera.” He leads them outside, twisting Fifi around and walking with his hand on the small of her back.
“I know you can’t hardly stand my guts, and you’re here for Mia, anyway.
She needs to not be around for this conversation, and you could spend time with her without me watching. It’s a win-win.”
“Jesus,” I groan, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s gonna pay for that.”
Minka releases the door handle and slips her thumbs into the pockets of her denim shorts, sauntering my way with long, almost-olive legs and a handful of black stitches protruding from her knee.
A glistening chain glitters on her ankle, a promise of friendship, the first she’s ever truly known.
Stopping with her belly in line with my eyes, she exhales a soft sigh and cups my face, forcing my gaze upward.
“I don’t like the stress you’re carrying. You need to share the load.”
“Thank you, Sera.” Fletch strides back through the door, turning and closing it most of the way. “Bye, Moo. I love you, baby.”
“Love you too, Daddy!”
“I’ll come find you soon, okay? After Daddy is done working.”
“Come on.” I kiss the pounding pulse in Minka’s wrist, then, moving to my feet, I drape my arm over her shoulders and lead her toward the kitchen.
I wish I could send her to Sera’s for the evening, too.
Get her away from this godforsaken house, the one I hoped would mean safety for her… turns out, it might be the opposite.
One fucking night spent in my father’s home, and New York has come back to kick my ass.
Fletch closes the front door, the snick of the lock like a cannon blast at dawn. So while he turns and follows, I keep my eyes trained forward, my existential dread under control—ish.
Moving through the kitchen and past Mary as she washes vegetables at the sink, I slow for a beat, knowing Minka will be curious anyway. “Steve?”
“Asleep, Mr. Malone.” She points with her elbow to a tiny device on the counter, one that flashes green and beep-beep-beeps with a constant, steady heartbeat.
“His cardiac nurse encourages rest, so long as he’s up and moving about at other times of the day.
I’ll wake him again shortly for dinner, then I’ll have him tucked away before Mr. Cordoza’s arrival. ”
“Thank you.” I hold Minka close and continue across the room, through the back door, and onto the patio outside. There are no kids swimming in the pool anymore. No splashing. No giggling. No eight-pack-abbed fighter with her feet dipped into the water. No gossiping women lie out on sun loungers.
Now, those who are left behind sit at the table, straight-faced and flat-lipped.
“Someone needs to explain what’s going on.
” Christabelle stares, a single arched brow sitting high on her forehead, her legs crossed, and her hands clasped in her lap.
Dark, silver eyes flicker between me and Minka, then over our shoulders to Fletch.
“Doctor Mayet announced all non-family members must leave, and yet, Detective Fletcher remains behind.”
“As does Federal Agent Hale.” I move to the table and pull out a chair between Micah and Cato. I force Minka to sit where there’s not enough room for me, but plenty of security to hold her down, just in case. I meet Tiia’s eyes and tilt my head toward her brother. “We good with that?”
“That?” Roscoe growls. “I’m right here, Detective.”
“You’re also a fed.” I set my hands on Minka’s shoulders to keep her from bounding up again. “The things we need to discuss today aren’t exactly on the right side of the law.”
“Family first, Detective.” Tiia places her hand on Roscoe’s tense arm. “Work second. Agents have been turning a blind eye to things for eons. Whatever you have to say, if it’s about your family, he can hear about it. I trust him with my life.”
That’ll have to do then, I suppose. I release Minka and walk the length of the table, buying myself time to collect my thoughts. What will I say, and what will I keep locked inside?
“Archer…?” Minka attempts to shove her chair back, but Cato drops his hand to the armrest and keeps her in place. The iron may as well be bolted to the ground. She’s not moving.
“Anthony Agosti turned up dead today,” Felix speaks carefully. No rush. No alarm. And no fucking room for misinterpretation. “It kinda looks like suicide, but Cordoza isn’t buying that it was self-inflicted.”
Micah nibbles on the inside of his cheek, slowly turning his gaze my way. “Cordoza’s ready for heads to roll, and he’s looking at Archer for it.”
“What!?” Minka explodes, throwing Cato’s hand aside and shoving her chair back. “Absolutely not! He thinks he’s coming here, to our home, to discuss a man’s death and, potentially, to punish Archer for a crime he had nothing to do with? Not while I’m breathing.”
“Babe.” I release a tired sigh. “Sit down.”
“Who killed him?” Roscoe questions—the calm to Minka’s fire. “Archer didn’t do it. Do you know who did?”
“No.” Fletch stops on my right and sets his hands on his hips. “But I doubt it’ll take long to figure it out. If Cordoza’s coming here to throw down a hammer, we’ll get in first and convince him otherwise.”
“And what?” Minka snarls. “You’ll run it like a standard case? You’ll investigate the murder of a man you don’t even like? That’s a conflict of interest!”
“We don’t have a choice.” At the slam of a door at the front of the house, I glance toward the back and swallow the dread coiling in my throat. Because footsteps march across tile. It’s a soldier’s staccato I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—mistake for any other.
Cordoza has come to collect—early.
I’m not even surprised.
I shift on my heels and place myself in front of all the others, dragging Fletch behind me and blocking my family from view as best I can, so when Cordoza crosses the threshold and his guards fan out, a dozen of them filling my yard and outnumbering us two guns to one, I know the message they’ve brought with them: if we fight, we die.
“Mr. Cordoza.” I meander forward, faux-relaxed, and place a full eight feet between my back and my family. “You’re early.”
“A savvy businessman knows on time is late, Detective. Early is on time.” With a hard stare and firm jaw, he transfers his cane to his left hand and offers the right. “Shall we skip the pleasantries and move straight to the reason for my visit?”
“I’m confident this visit is friendly, Mr. Cordoza.” Minka’s chair scrapes against the ground behind me.
I eat my groan and drop my head forward, squeezing my eyes shut like I’m six again. If I can’t see it, it’s not happening.