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“I would have dealt with them myself.” I grab Archer’s shoulder and drag him around until we’re standing toe-to-toe and his nose almost touches my forehead. Raising my brow, I pierce him with a look. “I don’t need a hero, Malone.”
“I’m gonna be one anyway.” He gently brushes my arm, right where Wright grabbed on. “He hurt you?”
“Annoyed me, mostly. Give me the CliffsNotes of what you’ve found out since we last talked.”
“Little old lady has a crush on Fletch. Turns out itispossible to be ninety-eight years old and only four feet tall. Oh, and she didn’t see shit. But apparently a group of teen thugs were hanging around. So we’ll see if we can find them.”
“They killed our vic?”
He shakes his head and massages my arm so I feel it all the way in my belly. “Not according to her. And not according to anyone else we could talk to. The kiddie thugs are curious. Probably future gangbangers. But they’re not killers.”
“Let’s go.” Fletch comes up on my left and stands almost as close as Archer. “You’re a big, bad, badass, Dimples. Standing up to all those badges by yourself.”
“The badge is hardly a reason to be afraid. I have two of them in my kitchen on a daily basis. Neither gives me reason to worry.”
“I’m scary.” Grinning, he claps Archer’s shoulder and backs up. “Be afraid, Doc.”
“Uh-huh.” I wasn’t invited—I so rarely am—but seeing as Wright walks a path inmyoffice, I follow the detectives and glance back only long enough to catch Aubree’s eyes on the other side of the glass wall. She stands over Mercer’s body, wary, as though she expects the crowd to come back. But I circle my hand in the air, a kind ofpack it upmotion, then I point to the elevator.Put him in the fridge. Finally, I turn back to find Archer holding the door. He waits patiently, allowing me to pass before he follows me in and makes a beeline for my desk.
He doesn’t dare walk to the other side or take my chair. He knows that’s where I intend to sit. Instead, he perches his backside on the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles, and gestures with a single hand to the only visitor chair I possess. “Take a seat, Detective Wright. We’re working fast on this one, trying our best to solve the kind of crime none of us want to see on the job.” He dips his chin when the man does as he’s told, plopping into the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. “First and foremost, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You’d be tearing offices up too if it was your partner out there on a steel table.”
“Yeah. I would. And I remain eternally grateful that I don’t know the pain you’re feeling today.”
“Talk to us about your partner,” Fletch coaches, pressing his back to the glass wall that overlooks our city. “Tell us everything you know we wanna hear. What’s his life like at home?”
“What’s life like on the job?” Archer adds. “What have you been working on?”
“He has a girlfriend.” Sniffling, Wright hurriedly wipes his nose and stares down at his boots. “It’s only been about a year, so they were talking about moving in together. But no rings or vows yet.”
“Kids?” Archer asks.
“No kids. Cops rarely make for good parents, Detective. Lucas wasn’t rushing. His girlfriend owns a bookstore. Quiet little place that keeps food in her belly. Barely. It’s no empire making a fortune. But she pays her bills and seems happy.”
“Parents?” Archer presses. “Siblings? Second cousins constantly in lock up, calling Mercer for a free-pass every second weekend?”
He snorts, letting his head droop and shaking it side-to-side. “Parents; married and retired. Siblings; one of each. Both married and happy. His sister has a couple of kids. His brother doesn’t. Lucas and I work in narcotics. Nine times out of ten, we’re U.C., which means plain clothed. Our shift wasn’t supposed to start till four this afternoon. We’re not active undercover right now, so we’ve got standard shift hours until we are. And there’s no chance he’s giving free passes to his cousins. Ever. He’s a straight shooter and vocal about it.”
“Any idea why Lucas was over on Marigold today?” Fletch waits for Wright to glance across. “He doesn’t live there. And being who you are, I’m certain he knew the area wasn’t the best. Did he tell you why he was heading that way?”
“No.” He clasps his hands together, much the same way Mrs. Morris did. “We’re pretty chatty outside work, ya know? He’s my best friend. But he didn’t say that he was going over there.”
“When was the last time you talked?” I ask, earning a scowl from both ofmycops. “Today? Yesterday?”
“This morning.” Reaching into his pocket, Wright takes out his phone, sniffling again as he unlocks the screen and navigates to the call log. Or perhaps his messages. “He texted me around nine, saying he’d just woken up. He asked if I wanted to hit our favorite cafe for breakfast.” He chuckles, tiny and soft, which only makes the sound all the more pathetic. “Dude hadcaffeine in his veins, not blood. He wanted to get breakfast with me, but I said no.”
Fletch’s brow pinches with curiosity. “Why?”
He drops his hands and dangles them between his knees. “I’ve been seeing this woman. Lena. Lucas and I worked the late shift last night, so by the time I got home and my girl was already waiting in my bed…”
“You didn’t wanna leave it,” Fletch finishes. “Got it. Did he say he wanted to talk about something at breakfast? A current case? Personal stuff? Anything on his mind?”
He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “It wasn’t unusual for us to eat together, especially after a late shift. Lucas was the social type. He liked to make friends. Liked to hang out.” He brings his eyes up. “He’s friendly. So if his girlfriend had already left for work, which, by nine a.m., she would have, then he would have been lonely. He fills his social battery by hanging out with people.”
Un-relatable. I fill mine by being alone.
“But I said no,” he rasps. “It’s cool out today, and I wasn’t ready to get out of bed.”
