Page 12 of Sinful Promise
“No reason.” Stuffy. Curt in her replies. And she leaves fire-engine red on the lip of her plastic coffee lid. “Mayor Lawrence has left innumerable messages for you to contact him. He seems mad.”
“Mayor Lawrence is gonna be just fine. What else?”
“Laramie Fentone is dead.” She says it matter-of-factly; it’s just work for her. But she can’t know the way my heart stumbles. The lump that forms in my throat, or the way my palms turn a little clammy. “I’m aware that his victims, Chelsea and Bella, are still on the second floor awaiting release. I expect a little noise from the media today.”
Sensible. Predictable.
She’s not wrong.
“No one from our building will make a statement until the detectives have decided their path of action,” I reply. “They should always be the first to address the media, so we don’t inadvertently damage their case. Detectives Malone and Fletcher are running Fentone, so you know they’ll be in contact. If Detective Franklin stops by to see the girls, we’ll allow him in, considering they’re his cases. But we cannot, and will not, discuss Fentone with him. That’s for Arch and Charlie to navigate.”
“Okay.” Seraphina cups her coffee in her hands, as though to warm her palms. “Doctor Flynn’s working triple time, by the looks of her case notes. Is there a reason she has so much on her plate at once?”
“Luck of the draw. Though I believe she’s cleared most of it out—and pissed off the lab in the process. I’ll monitor the situation and re-allocate files if needed. Anything else?”
“Doctor Kirk’s productivity remains solid,” Aubree adds from the couch. “You didn’t ask, but I know you’ve watched from afar since we fired Kernicke for being a douchebag.”
I’m tempted to smile. To remember that lazy, chauvinistic, narcissistic asshole’s downfall inside this building. But I hold myself together and avoid being seen as unprofessional by my staff.
“Wedidn’t fire Kernicke,” I murmur instead. “I did. And he wasn’t fired for being a douchebag, but for being inept at his job, exercising bias in every case involving women, training the junior staff with a tinted view, and when confronted, he physically assaulted me.”
I still feel the sting on my cheek. The open-handed slap he delivered because his new boss was a woman intolerant of asshole behavior and shitty workmanship.
“I’m glad Doctor Kirk has bounced back and remains solid,” I conclude.
Bringing my attention to a fidgeting Fifi, I frown when I find her picking at a loose thread on her skirt.
Seraphina Lewis is always… perfect. In every way. So seeing her fuss with a loose thread is so unbelievably out of character for her, my mind temporarily releases its thoughts of Kernicke. Even Laramie Fentone is pushed aside for a beat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is there something else you need?”
“No.” She shoves up from her seat and spins with her coffee in hand. “That’s it. Thank you for your time.” She charges toward the door in three-inch kitten heels so the sharp endsclick-click-clickagainst tile. “I’ll get back to my desk and work through the deluge that appeared in my absence. When needed, I’ll contact you.”
“Okay.”
I let her open the door. I even allow her to walk through, and for it to close most of the way. Then, “Oh, Ms. Lewis?”
I sit taller in my chair and feel sympathy for the woman when she twirls on her feet and almost tangles herself up.
From the moment I met her, I’ve known only the flawless Seraphina Lewis. Pressed, pampered, primped, and polished. But now she’s leaving lipstick on her coffee cup, and has loose threads in her skirt. Her heels are several inches shorter than usual, and her hair is… well… still beautiful. But flatter than usual.
“Yeah?” She pokes her head through the door and meets my gaze with anxiety swirling in hers. “Did I forget something?”
“No.” I set my elbows on my desk and lace my fingers together. “I just wanted to reiterate my condolences for your loss, and remind you to ease back into work. It’s your first day in the office since her passing, and we both know that sliding in and expecting everything to be as smooth as it usually is would be unrealistic.”
“Chief, I—”
“So I’d like for you to be kind to yourself. And if someone’s annoying you, you can ask them to wait.”
“Losing a mom is hard.” Compassion drips from Aubree’s every word. “Even if that mom wasn’t good to you. Even if your relationship was fractured. Even then…” Gently, she lifts her shoulders. “It’s hard. So if you need a break, or a friend, or even a shoulder to cry on—”
“Oh, god no.” Pivoting, Seraphina strolls away and lets the door creak shut. But she’s smiling. “Thank you,” she calls back. “I’ll be in contact later today.”
After pulling a deep breath into my chest, I exhale and take a sip of my coffee. “Our sweet Fifi needs a hug.” But then I set my coffee down again and touch my finger to the end of my nose. “Not it.”
Laughing, Aubree climbs off the back of the couch and wanders across my office in her sparkling pink high-tops. Perching her ass on the corner of my desk, she glances over her shoulder and scrunches her nose. “Everyoneknows you’re allergic to hugs. But I like them, so I’ll do it.”
“You risk being stabbed.” I grab the metal ruler from my top drawer and poke her backside until she slinks off my desk and flops into the visitor chair instead. “Alright, let’s work in order of importance. What do I need to see immediately? What’s on fire? What couldn’t you fix while I was gone?”
