Page 5 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Hard life, mostly.” He brushes her hands off and rolls his eyes when Fifi detours to the coffee room.Anything to look disinterested. But Minka steps through her office door, curious eyes and a slow study as she looks him up and down. Pensive, she holds the door open and meets my gaze. Because fuck it, I’m here for her.
I start around the other two and head into her office, but instead of leaving her to hold the door, I wrap my hand around the side of her neck and bring her with me, buying us just a few seconds of alone before they follow. “You’ve had way too much caffeine today, Chief.” I walk her all the way to her desk, knowing—and hating—that her office consists of glass walls, which means I don’t get to touch as much as I’d like.
I don’t even get to make out with her, though that’s my God-given right.
It says so on our marriage certificates.Both of them.
“Stress or boredom?”
“Both.” She turns her face into my wrist. Just for a second. Just a single beat of my heart. Her lips press to my skin, her smile settles over the top of my pulse, and then it’s gone, our fleeting moment disintegrating as the door opens and the other two stride in. Circling to buy herself space, Minka wanders to the other side of her desk. But she gestures for me to sit in her visitor chair.
Her manners have improved since the first time she and I stood in this office.
“Do I even want to know why Detective Fletcher is bloodied but uninjured?” She sits forward and searches her coffee mugs for something to drink. “What happened?”
“Obviously, Detective Fuckwit over here had unresolved anger to work through,” Fletch snarls. “He took advantage of our undercover op to exact this unprovoked revenge. I’m seriously considering a formal complaint just as soon as we get back to the station.”
I settle into my chair and bring my left foot up to rest on my right knee. Fuck, it’s so hot outside that my jeans stick to my legs and send me nuts. “That’s why I brought him here first. Give him time to cool off.” And since I remember, I dig my hand into my pocket and pull out the super-secret swab I don’t ever intend to tell the brass about. Placing it on the desk between us, I sit back again. “I’m sending evidence off to the state lab that I think will tie up our current open case.”
Minka’s too smart for her own good. Too measured to even consider reaching out for my offering. Instead, she crosses her legs and sets her hands in her lap.
“Is there a reason you’ve broken the chain of evidence, Detective, and brought that sample to me?”
“No chain of evidence has been broken.”Mostly. “I sealed my evidence on the scene, documented it, and will log it at the station just as soon as we leave here. This sample was neverinmy chain of evidence. Thus, no chain has been broken.”
“So it’snota sample you took from a crime scene?”
“No, it is,” Fletch inserts. And because he’s hadsucha hard day, he flops onto the leather couch, landing with enough force that the legs scrape a half inch along the tile floor. “That’s our suspect’s DNA. He’s cutting corners because he wants answers sooner.”
Unimpressed, Minka firms her lips and meets my eyes.
“I got two samples. This one technically doesn’t even exist.”
“And yet,” Aubree strolls across the office and leans past me to get a closer look. Though she, too, doesn’t touch. “It’s right here, existing.”
“I just mean, no one outside of us knows about it. I took two swabs. One for the real chain, one for me. The real chain will go through the proper channels so it can be used in court. This one is because I was hoping your lab geeks would test it and get me answers quicker.”
“Or,” Minka counters, “you could get your own rapid test from the station and do it yourself. My lab is not your lab, Detective.”
“But we’re married! What’s mine is yours.”
Amused, she glances to the shadow loitering by her door. Theunaffable Miss Fifi. “We can share most things, Malone. I don’t even mind sharing my coffee machine, which is actually the truest symbol of love I possess.” Knowing Fifi isn’t coming in without a stone-etched invitation, Minka pushes to her feet again and circles her desk. “Unfortunately for you, my lab geeks are notourlab geeks. Besides, my lab geeks are already overloaded with work, and I’m losing one of them tomorrow to some weird wedding ritual in the middle of nowhere.” She jerks her door open and snatches the woman’s coffee with viper-fast reflexes. “Fifi. You don’t work here anymore. Did you forget? Or did the mayor piss you off, so now you’ve come back to beg for your job?”
“Ineverbeg, least of all, for a job I don’t want.” She brushes past her favorite ex-boss and stops in the middle of the office. She can’t go to the couch because Fletch is there. And she can’t come to Minka’s desk because there’s only one visitor chair, and my ass is currently using it. “I need to discuss the New York case with you.”
And just like that, all good humor is gone.
Minka releases her door and wanders back to her desk, frowning now instead of smiling. Scowling, instead of playful. “Not funny. That’s old news, and if that’s the best you’ve got to fabricate a reason to come here, I suggest you leave and use your imagination for something better. I’m not playing with that subject.”
“The mayor sent me.” She folds her arms, defensive and, dare I say,sorry. And when I turn in my seat to get a clearer view of her, she chews the inside of her lip and bounces ever so subtly. “We received a call from this group of filmmakers this morning.”
“Filmmakers? You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish. They’ve made their intentions clear: they’re creating a documentary surrounding the Body-In-The…” She stops and swallows. “That case. They say they have proper permission or whatever, and we can’t exactly stop them from coming to Copeland.”
“Lawrence is entertaining this? Are you serious, Seraphina?”
“He’s not entertaining anything! In fact, the whole freakin’ reason I’m here is to give you a head’s up, discuss what we all know to be a sensitive subject, and ultimately, help you formulate a plan where we get you through this unfortunate time unscathed. Mayor Lawrence knew you’d receive this news poorly, and he felt our familiarity and past experience would be a suitable middle ground.”
