He sighs and steeples his fingers together. “The other night after the acquittal of Mr. Washington, you weren’t home. Where were you?”
I unzip the body bag, trying to act as natural as possible. They hadn’t asked this question, not specifically, of Angel. Maybe they wanted to but knew she’d refuse to discuss me without being present so they didn’t know what story I’d told her—that I’d been out of town to do an autopsy on another body.
It wasn’t technically a lie. I had been working on another body, just not out of town.
“Am I to account for every night or just the one of Mr. Washington’s death?”
“Every night that a victim died would be great,” Sanchez says. I don’t know if she’s serious or sarcastic.
“I’ll look at the calendar and get back to you.” It looks like I’ll have to pay a visit to Chad earlier than I thought. My calendar is not something that I care to share with the two detectives.
“Great. When should we expect it?”
“Tomorrow.” They both look surprised. “It’s on the computer. It won’t be hard to print it out.”
“Right. Sounds great.” Sanchez gets to her feet with enough carelessness that the chair knocks against the desk and the monitor flickers on. She taps her fingers on the wooden top. “Care to print it out now?”
There’s a hint of challenge in her voice, as if she thinks I won’t. I abandon the body and walk to the computer. She watches as I type in my password, which I’ll change when they leave. Lee crowds me from the other side.
“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner before I’m fucked,” I say as I print out my calendar for the last month.
“I’ll bring you a sandwich for lunch.” Sanchez snatches the paper from the printer. “Thanks for this. We’ll get you cleared from our suspect list as soon as possible, Doc.”
“I’ll be on tenterhooks until you do.” I rise and lean against my desk, looking as unconcerned as possible.
The moment the door shuts, I text Angel. Lee and Sanchez have asked me for an alibi for Washington’s death. I printed out my calendar.
Her: Who cares how he died? He was awful. He killed his wife. I can’t believe he got off!
My fingers hover over the screen. Sometimes I think Angel is as bloodthirsty as me. There is a feralness to her, particularly in bed. She wants me to be brutal with her, to face fuck her until her tears come or to jack into her tight pussy until she’s screaming. Enjoying a little spice in the bedroom isn’t the same as sanctioning murder. Academically, she probably does like the idea of justice coming to Washington’s door. On the other hand, she doesn’t want her husband to be dirtying his hands in that mess.
Lee and Sanchez care, I type.
That’s their job. Not mine. Anyway, can I call you?
I dial her immediately. “What is it? Dering?”
“No. No,” she reassures me. “My sister wants me to stay over tonight. I know it’s out of the blue, but she said she’s feeling down and wants some company.”
“If she needs you, you should go but I’ll miss you. I don’t like sleeping alone.”
“I’ll miss you too. I promise to make it up to you tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late, though, okay? I’ll worry about you.”
“I’ll be in bed with my hand on my dick, waiting for your return.”
She laughs. “Okay. I like that thought. It’ll be a nice image tonight.”
“Call me or text me. Anytime.”
“I will. Love you Lucas.”
“I love you, too.” I toss the phone into my pocket. The timing is perfect. Almost too perfect if Angel knew the things I did. But I can’t dwell on it. Tonight will be the night that Chad Dering kills himself…with a little assist from me.
Chapter Twenty
Angel
“I’m thinking about quitting my job.” Gina looks up at me from the kitchen island where she is sitting. Knitting supplies are taking up most of the space, giving me little room to make the triple chocolate cake she requested.
I knew when she called and told me that she was craving it that she must have had a horrible date the night before. My sister has the worst luck with men. She always jokes and says that I used all of it up when I’d met Lucas. Not leaving any behind for her.
I jumped at the chance to come over to spend time with her tonight. Not that I wouldn’t have come whenever she asked, but I pushed to stay the night this time.
My husband is up to something. I can feel it. I have no clue what it is, but I can’t ignore this feeling. I don’t know for sure but I also don’t want him lying to me. Ignorance is often bliss.
When it comes to Lucas, I don’t mind being a bit ignorant because whatever it is that’s going on, I trust in what he’s doing. If he wanted to tell me then he would. If he’s not telling me it’s for good reason and what he thinks is for the best.