Page 8 of Detectives in Love
“Murder,” says Crowley.
Willand takes a stack of photographs from his desk and holds them out. “On Friday, they found Cormac Bridge’s body in the same alley where he was robbed last week.”
Xavier doesn’t reach for them, like he couldn’t care less. After a moment, I clear my throat and take the photos.
The images are brutal: a man sprawled in a pool of blood, the shots shifting between close-ups and wider angles. Mystomach twists as I flip through them, each photo worse than the last.
I look at Xavier. He throws a brief glance at the photos in my hands but doesn’t give anything away.
“Bridge worked at a real estate company called Farewell Security for eleven years,” Willand says. “He had a wife and two kids. And we’ve got nothing—no leads, no suspects.”
“Farewell Security?” I frown, giving the photos back. “Odd name for a real estate company.”
“Yeah,” Willand says, distracted, then adds, “They’re a real estate company, but they also do smart homes—installing surveillance systems and all that.” He turns to Xavier, a flicker of hope crossing his face. “Will you take the case?”
Xavier hums, weighing it over, but before he can answer, Crowley cuts in.
“Mr. Sex doesn’t bother with small potatoes like that, boss,” she drawls, pure sarcasm in her voice.
I freeze, heat creeping up my neck.
Did she just sayMr. Sex? Or did I mishear? It had to beMr. X…right?
“It sounds boring,” Xavier says, ignoring her completely. “Just a regular murder. I bet even Gordon could handle it.”
Gordon jolts upright, outrage flashing across his face, but Crowley cuts him off before he can speak.
“Since it’s all so simple, please,Mr. Sex, do take the case,” she says, mocking.
A jolt of adrenaline shoots through me. This time, IknowI heard it—Mr. Sex.
I glance around the room, waiting for someone to react. Nothing. No raised eyebrows, no smirks, no laughter. Like it was all in my head.
“Ormond probably doesn’t have time for this,” Gordon says, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Busy schedule with all that popularity…”
“…And other things,” Crowley adds, her eyes cutting to Xavier before settling on me.
The knot in my stomach pulls tighter.
They know.
They’ve seen the article. And if I don’t do something fast, Xavier’s about to find out too.
But Xavier doesn’t pause.
“Dear Fiona,” he says, “it wouldn’t hurt you and your partner to use your brains once in a while—that’s what cases like this are for. And actually,” he adds, voice flat, “you two make a great team. Put your IQs together, you might even hit double digits. Could even help the department’s stats.”
“Xavier,” I warn under my breath.
He doesn’t look at me. His gaze stays locked on Crowley.
“Ah,Mr. Sex,” she says with a sweet, poisonous smile. “Fame’s really gone to your head, huh? Must be hard keeping up—with all the interviews…and all the romance in your life.”
Willand finally snaps. “Enough! What is wrong with all of you today?”
Crowley and Gordon trade a look, their smirks full of contempt. My stomach knots. Xavier exhales through his nose, folding his arms like he’s above it all—and didn’t just wave a red flag at a bull.
“Nothing,” Crowley says with a fake shrug. “Just making an observation.”
