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“Reads the same to me, Minnnka. Since I’ll be standing right behind you while you work.”
“And I’ll be standing beside him,” Fletch adds. “Because he’s my partner. Wright’s in transport right now,” he nods toward the elevator, since soon, that’s where the gurney will roll through. “He’s with your van. Your staff. It’s your case. But we needed to clear that street as quickly as we could and get those uniforms tucked away.”
“He was wearing a vest.” Archer sighs. His words are quieter, and yet, gritty and tired. “He took the warning from his partner’s murder, but not from the things we told him. He knew Mercer’s killer had armor penetrating rounds, but he wore the vest, anyway.”
“Better than nothing, I suppose.” Accepting my new reality, I close the desk drawer and sit back. “Any witnesses to this one?”
“Nada. And it was in the dead of night in the November dark. No one was on the streets at that hour.”
“Except Wright. Why was he out at four in the morning, wearing a vest, walking along a street that presumably doesn’t have CCTV or witnesses?”
“That’s a good question.” Archer bounces his foot. Gentle, rhythmic dips that draw my focus. “Those are the questions we’re asking. The fact that Wright’s dead now, too, changes the direction of our investigation a little.”
“Before,” Fletch picks up the metaphorical ball. “We assumed it was personal. We were gonna follow this to Mercer’s home, his life outside of police work. We were gonna figure out who he’d pissed off. But now thatboth of them are down, we’re surmising it’s work. We’d already put in the paperwork requesting access to their open cases; now we’ll prioritize running through those. We’ll find our shooter in those files.”
“You’re making the assumption that it’s still kinda personal. Mercer and Wright, specifically. You ignore the possibility that the killer simply wants to kill cops.”
“If that were true, then why Wright?” Archer counters. “Our killer searched for him specifically. In the dark. In the cold. He had a target and took the shot. If he wanted any old badge, he could’ve set up camp in any one of the buildings overlooking the station. Using a sniper rifle, it would have been like duck hunting in a tiny pond, and he could’ve taken his pick of the hundreds that pass through the front doors during a standard day.”
“Comforting image,” I rumble low on my breath, hating the fact that the cops I care about are, in this scenario, just two of the ducks. No vest to stop the bullets. No shield to stay alive. And now that they’re the primaries on this case, the killer knows their names.
Their faces.
Their lives.
“What’s the plan from here?” I flatten my lips, for fear they’ll curl into a sneer. Or worse, tremble. “We’re flying out in the morning, Archer. And you’re not?—”
He shakes his head, exhaling and dropping his gaze in the same breath. “I can’t, babe.”
“Wait.” Panic lances through my blood. The idea of going to New York alone is nothing compared to the thought of leaving my husband in a city under siege. “What?”
“I can’t leave Fletch here to run this on his own.”
“I’m gonna excuse myself while you folks figure this out.” Fletch starts across my office while Archer slowly pushes up to stand. Already, he knows where this is going. “I’ll be in the coffee room,” he announces. “Visiting with Aubs, and if I’m lucky, making amends with Fifi.”
“Don’t count on it,” I growl. But the second he passes through the door and the glass slowly drifts shut, I bring my ferocious stare back to my husband. “You’re coming to New York.”
“I can’t come.” He chooses calmness, leaving me with the lion’s share of rage. “I can’t walk away from this while Fletch is left holding the bag.”
“And I can’t get on a plane and cross the country while you stay behind!”
“You have to?—”
“I don’t have a choice but to be in that courthouse on Thursday morning,Archer! I have been summoned, and if I don’t turn up, I could be arrested for contempt of court.”
“Which is why you’re going.” He comes around my desk, stalling at the side and hitching his hip on the edge, so we’re closer. And yet, not touching. “You can’t stay, babe. And I can’t leave. Sometimes, that’s how things are gonna go, because we’ve chosen the careers we have.”
“I’m not leaving you here!” I grab his jaw, his stubble scratching my palm, and his eyes growing wide at my audacity. He’s not mad I’m touching. He’s stunned I’m doing so at work… with glass for walls in every direction. “This isn’t about me wanting a cute little vacation with you, Archer. It’s not that I’m incapable of being alone—I did it for twenty-seven years before you came along, and I assure you, I can do it again now. This isn’t one of those, ‘oh, she’s being stubborn’ things.”
“Minka—”
“I physically cannot get on that plane and leave you behind! I cannot fly six hours in the other direction, while you’re over here, walking the streets at four in the morning, and this prick is roaming around with cop-killing bullets nestled in his gun.”
“So what do you expect me to do?” He grabs my wrist, holding me close and oblivious to the eyes watching us on the other side of the glass. “By law, you have to be in New York.”
“So come with me!”
“And abandon Fletch to work the case alone? How are you gonna feel if we come back to my best friend on your slab? With those bullets in his chest and his life snuffed long before it should have been?”
