Page 121 of Detectives in Love
Xavier doesn’t rise to it. He just exhales like he couldn’t care less. “What’s this about?”
Willand doesn’t even get a chance to answer—Rishetor cuts in first.
“This is about me and my center pressing charges against you, Mr. Ormond,” he says, clearly enjoying himself, though the edge in his voice gives him away. Honestly, he and Crowley should take their routine on the road. “For trespassing.”
Xavier doesn’t flinch. “Might want to hold off on that,” he says, voice hoarse. “Because if I was there, then what I saw is real. And what I saw,” he adds, his gaze resting coldly on Rishetor, “makes trespassing look like a parking ticket.”
Rishetor stares at him for a moment, caught off guard, then rallies. “I don’t know what you think you saw, Mr. Ormond, but if you plan to make accusations, be prepared to defend them in court.”
Xavier opens his mouth, but Willand cuts him off with a look.
“Let’s keep this civil,” he says evenly. Though there’s the faintest gleam in his eye. He’s not exactly neutral here.
“I’m just saying,” Xavier says, his smile anything but innocent, “I doubt Mr. Rishetor wants me testifying after what I found out.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think the flush in his cheeks was triumph, not fever. “Namely, that he’s been covering up the real reason Wakefield died.”
“What are you talking about?” Rishetor snaps—but there’s a flicker in his eyes that says he already knows.
“You lied about how he died,” Xavier says, sounding more annoyed than anything.
Katie finally looks at him, skipping right over me. Her expression doesn’t shift—still that paper-thin mask of disdain.
“Henry Wakefield’s death was an accident, Mr. Ormond. And unless you have admissible evidence to the contrary, I’d suggest you keep quiet.”
Xavier shrugs. “Sure. Maybe you didn’t kill him—but you hid the real cause of death. Which, in case you forgot, is still a crime.” Then, before anyone can cut him off: “And let’s be real—he probably wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t been working overnight on your little secret project.”
That hits. Rishetor turns sharply to Willand, face flushed with anger.
“Are you really going to let him say this, Chief?”
Willand doesn’t flinch. “I have to be neutral here, Mr. Rishetor. But if the police were kept in the dark about what actually happened…” He lets the rest hang in the air.
Rishetor doesn’t respond—just grits his teeth and looks away.
Willand turns to Xavier. “What secret project?”
Xavier raises his brows and shoots Rishetor a look. “Want to say it yourself, or should I?”
When Rishetor stays silent, Xavier just says it. “You’re storing viruses, bacteria, and other biological agents at cryogenic temperatures. For private pharmaceutical and military clients.”
The room goes still.
I try to look like I already knew that—but truthfully, it takes conscious effort not to let my eyebrows shoot up. In my defense, I was a little distracted by Xavier being sick. And, let’s be honest, by Xavier being half-naked and moaning under my hands—not exactly the ideal moment for a debrief. So no,I didn’t get around to asking what he’d found. Real stellar detective work on my part, I know.
“Biological agents?” Willand repeats, clearly thrown. “At Rishetor?”
“These are baseless accusations,” Rishetor scoffs—but there’s a flicker of panic behind the bluster. “It’s absurd.”
“Well, I certainly hope so, Mr. Rishetor,” Willand replies coolly. “Because I’m sure you’re aware that kind of work is strictly prohibited in densely populated areas.”
“Of course,” Rishetor snaps. “All of that is complete nonsense. And I demand this man’s immediate arrest.”
“On what grounds, exactly?” I cut in, folding my arms. “Can you even prove Mr. Ormond was there?”
“We have security footage,” Katie says, shooting me a daring glance—only to realize, a second too late, what she’s just admitted. Rishetor turns to her with a look that could cut glass. If the police get their hands on that footage, they’ll end up seeing exactly what he’s trying to bury: Xavier walking into the underground lab.
“I’d be happy to review it immediately,” Willand says, a trace of amusement slipping into his voice.
Rishetor pushes up from his chair, eyes locked on Xavier like he’s deciding whether to lunge across the table. I stand too, stepping in to block his path—just in case he gets any ideas.
