Page 28 of Red Snow
“Fuck that,” I rebut. “Rock, paper, scissors for it.”
“Seriously? You’re on some childish shit right now, Detective.”
“Oh please, just do it.”
“Fine,” Marcus says, shaking his head. “Ready? Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
“Looks like you’re watching footage,” I brag after winning the game.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, yeah, step on the gas. Anita isn’t going to interview herself.”
“Asshole.”
Marcus puts the car in drive and pulls out of the bar’s parking lot. As soon as we hit the snowy road, he starts up the conversation I don’t want to have.
“Alright, so spill it,” he says. “What happened with Stacey? Y’all getting back together?”
I let out an instantly frustrated sigh.
“No,” I answer, short and sweet.
“Um, okay. So what’d she say? What happened?”
“Nothing, really. Nothing new, anyway.”
“Stop holding out on me, man,” Marcus says, frowning. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well since you’re acting like you don’t know how to speak in complete sentences now.”
“No, it didn’t go well,” I admit, letting my disappointment show. I don’t even want to talk about it, but I know Marcus won’t let it go. It’s a best friend thing. “She looked fucking stunning. I mean, it was crazy how good she looked, and I wanted to kiss her so bad, but she wasn’t having it. You texted me, and she saw it, and as soon as she saw something on my phone about work, she was done. Before she left, she told me to take care of myself like we’re never going to talk again. So, no, it didn’t go well at all. I don’t know what the hell to make out of it. I think she might really be done now.”
“Damn,” Marcus mutters, his voice suddenly solemn. “I’m sorry to hear that, man. I’m sure that shit is tearing you up.”
“I’m just trying not to think about it, for real. So, thanks for ruining that plan,” I quip.
“I guess I did mess it up,” Marcus says with a chuckle. “Sorry, man. I won’t hound you about it anymore. I guess I was holding out hope that you two would get over your shit and get back together.”
“You and me both.”
Marcus pulls up to HQ and stops the cruiser in front of the building.
“Alright, since I lost that stupid game, I’m going to go get started on this,” he says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door.
“Yep, get on that, loser,” I fire back. “Give me a call if you see anything worth getting a second pair of eyes on, and I’ll let you know if Anita gives me any info worth jotting on your notepad.”
“Sounds good. Don’t be an asshole to her.”
“No promises.”
Marcus gets out and walks in front of the cruiser to the entrance of HQ, and I switch from the passenger side to the driver’s seat. Time to ask Anita Akers why she lied to us.
“We spoke with Patrick Cox, and he told us something that we found very interesting.”
Anita Akers has panic written all across her freckled face. She’s actually really pretty with her naturally red hair, but it’s hard to get over the whole lying-to-a-detective thing. She doesn’t say anything when I mention Patrick, which lets me know he was telling the truth. “Why’d you lie to us, Mrs. Akers?”
Anita Akers, a forty-six year-old widow, has tears in her eyes now, but I have no sympathy for her.
“I didn’t want you to be suspicious of me. I’m so sorry,” she says, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
