Chapter 19 Minka
MINKA
“They’re creeping me out.” Kirk side-eyes my guards, careful not to turn his head fully in their direction. God forbid they know he’s talking about them. “They’ve been following you around all day, Chief.”
“Like a bad smell,” Doctor Flynn snickers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you became the First Lady overnight. Has Detective Malone changed career paths, or did you dump him and marry someone else? If it’s the latter, Detective Malone isn’t likely to be pleased.”
“Detective Malone’s status remains as it always has been.
Personally, and professionally.” I perch on the edge of my desk, just like I did this morning.
I face my staff… just like I did this morning.
But I’m more tired now than I was eight hours ago.
I’m irritated and overstimulated, especially when, with every move I make, the stitches in my knee catch on my pants and tug me just a little closer to insanity.
Taunting Cordoza’s men was entertaining for a while, and pushing Number-Two to the point of yacking was the highlight of my day. But, hosting them is exhausting. Being watched by them is jarring. Putting Agosti away and still having those eyes on my back is officially too much.
There’s only so much peopling I can tolerate before I need quiet. Only so much noise I can handle before I want to block my ears, close my eyes, and strip annoying fabrics off my body.
I’m done.
“Ignore Beavis and Butthead.” I set my hands on the desk on either side of my thighs and practice what I preach. Ignore them. “Did everyone finish with their DBs today?”
Kirk’s hand shoots into the air. “Yes, Chief. I racked and reported on my two, and then I caught a hit and run. Patient didn’t make it to the hospital. Trauma to the—”
I shake my head, raising one hand to stop the boy from speaking. “I don’t need the details right now.”
“He… you…” Like a kicked puppy, he shrinks in on himself. “Okay.”
“Do you have the case under control? Do you require assistance?”
“I’ve got it under control, Chief.”
“Great. If you’ve finished with the DB, write the report and have it in my inbox by the morning.
I’ll read it then, and you can present the case at rounds.
” I drop my gaze to my empty visitor chair and sigh.
That’s where Doctor Emeri would normally sit.
“Unless anyone needs anything from me tonight, let’s pack it up and go home.
If it’s not urgent, save it for tomorrow. ”
“You okay, Chief?” Doctor Torres’s dark, dirty-blond hair drops forward to rest across his forehead. “You’re usually a stickler for the details.”
“I’m tired.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a moment to rest. To find peace in the chaos. To know, for the next minute, everything is fine. “I’m okay. But I’m depleted, so unless it’s something I need to know, I’d prefer you save it till tomorrow. I’ll be able to focus better then.”
“Should we be worried?” He tilts his head to the right. To our staring guards. “Anything to tell our families about?”
“No. They’re here for a high-profile John Doe, that’s all. Their job is to watch him and make sure I don’t screw up. They’ll be gone after today.”
Raquel reclines on the sofa, digging her hands into her coat pockets and peeking toward the four who stare back.
“I’m no Secret Service agent, Chief. But if their job is to watch the body, wouldn’t it make more sense for them to be…
ya know, watching the body? On the second floor.
” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth, shrugging. “Looks more like they’re watching you.”
They are. To make sure I don’t throw the case or destroy evidence that might implicate my husband.
“They’re doing whatever it is they’re meant to be doing.
Ignore them.” I move off my desk, only for my pants to catch on my stitches again and send bolts of ickiness to the base of my stomach.
Grinding my teeth, I stalk around to the other side and drop into my chair, then I gesture toward the door.
“You can all go. Pack everything away and get out of here.”
“Early?” Doctor Flynn wonders in surprise. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
“It’s ten to five.” I snatch my desk drawer open and search its dark, disorganized depths.
“Ten minutes isn’t enough time to start—and complete—anything of significance, and I know for a fact you’ve all worked unpaid overtime far exceeding these ten minutes.
You have my blessing. Wait.” I slam my drawer and check the one beneath. “Does anyone have a pair of tweezers?”
“Sounds like something Doctor Emeri would have, Boss.” Raquel drags my heavy glass door open and searches Aubree’s desk, finding what she’s looking for in mere seconds and lifting the tiny silver instrument in victory.
Grinning, she comes back again, crossing my office and slapping the tweezers onto my desk.
“I wasn’t going to say anything about your eyebrows. ”
“What?” I bring my hand up to my left brow.
“I’m surprised the makeup artist didn’t pluck those caterpillars for the wedding. But whatever, you figured it out.”
“What the hell is wrong with my eyebrows? There’s nothing wrong with my brows!”
“If you say so. Also, I know you were talking to your autopsy techs when you said everyone could leave early, but Doctor Campbell and I heard it too, so we’re outties.
” She heads back to the door. “Toodooloo, Chief. If you don’t come to work tomorrow, I’ll assume the Secret Service put you somewhere far, far away.
If that’s the case, you should know I’ve enjoyed our friendship.
I especially liked that time my little sister beat the crap out of your little brother. ”
Doctor Campbell’s eyes spring wide.
“Brother-in-law,” I counter. “And he deserved to get his ass kicked.”
“Like I said.” Raquel heads through my door and tips her chin for the guards on the other side. “Will Smith. Tommy Lee Jones. Should we expect total occupation soon, or are you keeping the aliens at bay?”
“Doctor Raquel!”
“Oops.” She zips her lips and tosses her fake key away. “Sorry, guys. The boss has spoken.” She drops her hands into her coat pockets and heads toward the elevator.
Frustrated, I take out my phone and flip the camera to selfie mode, then I run a finger along my eyebrows. Smoothing them down. Straightening them out. Measuring them to make sure they’re the same on both sides. “What the hell is she talking about?”
“Chief Mayet.” Number-Two moves through my door and stops on the opposite side of my desk, his hands behind his back and his eyes firmly fixed on my face. His chest is broad, unnaturally so, and his chin is large.
I set my phone down again and study his swollen deltoids, noticeable even under a suit jacket. I think he enjoys more vices than just cigarettes.
“You’re leaving for the day?”
“Soon.” I take the tweezers and roll my chair back, making room so I can fold my pant leg up. “When does Cordoza intend to transport our John Doe away from this facility?”
“You… uh…” Unable to help himself, he drops his robotic stance and wanders closer, tilting at the hips to get a look at what I’m doing. “I’ve not yet received instructions on the matter. What are you doing?”
“Removing my stitches.” I fold my pant leg as high as it’ll go, exposing my knee and the sutures left behind—one has already fallen out.
“What do you mean you don’t have instructions?
The autopsy is complete. I’ve done my job.
” I hold the tweezers in my left hand and use my right to snag a pair of scissors from my drawer.
“There’s no reason for that body to still be here.
If Estefan desires discretion on the matter, he should swing by and collect his DB immediately.
” I pinch the left-most suture with the tweezers, pulling the nylon away from my skin, then I draw my scissors closer and cut the thread with a quick snip.
“My night-shift counterpart will arrive shortly. She’s not the chief, but she’s the acting chief in my absence, and she’s damn good at her job.
Having an unaccounted-for body in the fridge is something she’ll notice. ”
“So call her and tell her not to come to work today.”
I select the next suture with the tweezers and snip. “So you’d have me work that shift, too? Stay on all night, despite having worked all day? I don’t recall agreeing to those conditions when Mr. Cordoza muscled his way into my building.”
“Everyone has a price. If you don’t intend to stay back, and the night shift chief is likely to make a fuss, we have a problem. Either she fills her pocket, or she’ll fill a body bag.”
I get a sick thrill every time I cut a thread and Two’s cheeks turn a darker shade of green. But I don’t tell him so. Instead, I set my scissors on my desk and tap my phone screen instead. “Phone. Call Estefan Cordoza.”
Two gulps uneasily. “What are you doing?”
Calling Estefan Cordoza.
I pick up my scissors again and go back to work, dragging a suture away from my knee, sliding the very tip of the scissors under, then snipping.
“Chief Mayet.” Estefan’s smooth baritone voice carries across the line like we’ve done this a million times in the past. “I didn’t realize you knew my personal number.”
Checkmate.
“I walked out of a meeting to take this call, Chief. Is everything okay?”
“I’m calling to inform you the autopsy is complete and all samples have arrived at the lab. John Doe is ready for transportation.”
“Well…” Cordoza stops walking, stops breathing, even, and considers. “This is good news. I appreciate your fast work.”
“Great. So now you need to move him.”
Pained, Number-Two crushes his eye sockets with his palms.
“Move him, Chief?”
“Yes. You transported him here this morning. Now you need to transport him out again.”
“Why?”