Page 32 of Detectives in Love
For a split second, there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—gone before I can be sure it meant anything. That’s when I realize I’m still holding his chin.
I let go, fast. My pulse spikes, and I scramble for something to say, anything to drown out the pounding in my ears.
“Who was that guy who attacked us?” I ask, too casually. “James Answorth.”
“No idea.”
“He said he was fromThe Weekend Herald, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s not true. I already checked. No one by that name works there.”
I frown. “How is that possible?”
“That man just doesn’t exist. And I checked another name too.” Xavier reaches across the bed, grabbing something from the nightstand. “Tammy Gardens.”
In the dim light, I notice a rolled-up newspaper in his hand and immediately recognize it as the issue ofThe Weekend HeraldI’d stuffed under my mattress earlier. My stomach twists with embarrassment. I clear my throat.
“She doesn’t work there either?” I ask, trying to sound neutral.
“No. And the article was submitted anonymously,” Xavier says, gaze fixed on the paper. “Or that’s what their editor-in-chief claims.”
“And they just ran it?”
He shrugs. “It’s a tabloid. They’ll print anything that stirs drama.”
“Well, I guess fact-checking’s not really their thing,” I mutter.
Xavier’s eyes flick to mine. There’s something unreadable there. Then he looks away.
I let out a slow breath. “But…what does that actually mean?”
“Someone’s watching us,” he says. “Someone who wanted to cause a stir. Now the city’s buzzing, journalists are crawling all over us, and everyone’s suddenly interested in our lives. But this didn’t just happen. Someone lit the match. The rest are just chasing the fire.”
“But why would anyone do that?” I ask, frowning. “Are they trying to distract us?”
“Maybe,” Xavier says after a pause—though he doesn’t sound convinced.
“So that James Answorth…” I say, the pieces starting to click into place. “If he wasn’t really a journalist, then he was just there to provoke us—get a reaction, make it worse in the press.”
Xavier nods.
I flush, remembering what Answorth said—and how Xavier reacted. The guy made some crude comment about fucking me, and Xavier decked him for it. I shouldn’t like that as much as I do, but yeah. It does something to the butterflies already rioting in my stomach.
“Who would go this far?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around it.
“No idea. But by tomorrow, our faces will be all over Shorewitch’s tabloids again.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Xavier studies me for a beat, then says calmly, “We need to solve the Rishetor case while we still can. Tonight, we’re breaking into the crematorium.”
“The crematorium,” I repeat flatly.
“Yeah. The one where they’re keeping Henry Wakefield.”
I blink at him. “Xavier, that’s illegal.”
“Don’t worry, Hilton Crematorium falls under Willand’s jurisdiction. Worst case, he bails us out. That is, if the guards don’t take us out first. I hear they only hire ex-cons. Supposedly reformed—but who knows.”
