Page 14 of Hell In A Handbasket
“I was kidding about becoming Mia’s new dad.” He slaps his bag on the conveyor belt and side-eyes the TSA agent. “It was a joke.”
“You took it too far.” Tim follows up behind Cato, dropping his and Aubree’s bags into containers and rolling them onto the conveyor. “Sometimes, your jokes just aren’t fuckin’ funny.”
“You all look ridiculously suspicious, you know that, right?” I study our crowd, the Malones, who are completely incapable ofnotdrawing eyes wherever they go. But worse, they all kind of hunch in on themselves, like their lack of weapons has left them frazzled and weak.
Commercial flights will do that, I suppose.
Cato is loud and pouting, and Aubree is… Aubree. “Did you think wearingevery singlecolor of the rainbow was the right choice today, Doctor Emeri?”
“What?” She looks down at her platform shoes, knee-high socks, a skirt that isn’t quite mini, but it’s getting damn near close to it, and a slouchy sweater shirt thatshouldlook too large and weird and unappealing for her shape but is actually entirely cute when paired with the rest of her outfit. She bends, oblivious to Tim’s subtle blocking movement to ensure her modesty, and unties her laces. She toes her shoes off for scanning. “This is comfortable.” She lobs the pair into another tray. “It’s not too hot. Not too cold. I have layers, and nothing is squeezing my belly.”
“Because you have a sensitive tummy, Doc?” Cato slinks between her and me, smirking and ducking out of the way to avoid her swatting hand. “How odd that someone who deals with death has a sensitive stomach.”
“How odd that a well-educated boy would taunt a woman who suffers travel sickness.” She empties her pockets—phone, gum, whatever other weird things she keeps hidden in the depths of her clothes—and grins. “I promise, my aim is pretty perfect. So if I feel the need to puke, I know which way to look.”
“Please don’t puke.” Archer turns a little green in my peripherals, tossing his phone into a tray, then his wallet and keys right after. “I don’t want to deal with that shit while I’m trying to pay attention to whatever bullshit Soph is sending us toward.”
“It’s not as bad as you think it is.” I step out of my shoes and place them in a tray, then dragging my belt free of my pants, I toss that in, too, before approaching the scanner and smiling for the attendant.
“Step through, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” I play my part and prove I can be nice when the occasion calls for it, and walking through the scanner, I exit the other side without so much as a beep. “Busy today?”
“You traveling withallof them?” The attendant is large, bald, on the other side of fifty, and not entirely interested in small talk. “Six of you?”
“Yes, sir.” I catch my tray when it spits out the other side of the machine and make quick work of sliding my belt back on. “We’re flying on official business. Detective Archer Malone,” I gesture his way as he steps through the scanner. Then I point to Fletch. “Detective Charlie Fletcher. Copeland City P.D.”
“Cops?” Like magic, his demeanor changes, and his intolerance makes way for… slight tolerance. “And you, ma’am?”
“Chief medical examiner, Minka Mayet.” I snatch my badge from the tray and show him, if only to help smooth our way through security. “The colorful one is Medical Examiner Aubree Emeri.”
And because she doesn’t mind attention, she practically dances her way across and presents herself for inspection in front of the man at least three times her width. “You’re doing a great job, sir. Do you need to search me?”
“No, ma’am.” He waves her off and looks at Tim. “Cop?”
“Civilian,” I explain. “Married to Doctor Emeri. We’re flying out for a case, and he didn’t relish the idea of letting her go alone.”
Less trusting now, he nods for Tim to step through, and though the sensors remain silent, the guy still switches his wand-thingy on and ignores Tim’s hardened jaw. “How long will you be gone?”
“It’s open-ended for now.” The irony is not lost on me that, for today, I become our chattiest. Maybe it’s because I’m the only one in our group who knows what it is to travel commerciallywithoutdrawing unwanted attention. “We’ve been assigned to a case where remains have been discovered a couple of hours from here. That’s all we know so far. Once we arrive, we’ll be briefed on the rest.”
“Right.” He waves Tim aside, then he looks at Cato and studies him from top to toe. Jesus, helookslike a spoiled rich boy with three-hundred-dollar high tops and designer jeans that even someone who doesn’t care about labels would recognize. He wears a Copeland Condor’s polo—three dollars wholesale from the sweatshops, but five hundred dollars once branding is added—and up to his, ‘I just woke up like this’ hairstyle.
Cato flashes a smug grin and clicks his tongue. “I look good, I know.”
“Step through, sir.” The guard leans my way. “Cop or doctor?”
“Neither.” Aubree sidles up on his other side. “But I heard him whispering earlier. He said he stuck a condom of cocaine up his butt before getting in line for security.”
“Wait.” From smug to pure panic, Cato’s entire demeanor changes. “Woah. She’s kidding.”
“Security room three.” The agent lifts his hand and alerts his colleagues. “We’re gonna check him over.”
“No! Wait!” Cato stop-signs an agent before they come too close. “She was kidding! Aubree fucking Emeri! You tell these nice people you’re kiddingright now!”
“I mean…” She bends again, sliding her feet into her shoes as Tim steps forward to shield her backside. “Hemight’vesaid he adores the ground I walk on and promisesneverto be annoying again.” She peeks up and smiles. “But since that’s unlikely, I’m sticking with my gut. I’m pretty sure I heardcocaine,and it wouldn’t feel right to ignore my intuition like that. After all, I swore a solemn oath to the city when I took my job as medical examiner.”
“Let’s go, sir.” The agent grabs Cato’s wrist. “Quietly, please.”
