Management thought they were a classy touch and would save detectives from having to leave the interview room mid-interrogation.
Snagging a plastic cup from the stack, he begins filling it so the obnoxiousglug-glug-glugof water bubbles ricochets around the room. “He gave you an out, Gage. He would have let you walk away. So why’d you stay?”
“Because I wanted to.” Although the young man is weak and shaky, he sits taller now and pushes his chin forward. “I wanted to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what needed to be done.”
“Why?” I push. “Why did it need to be done?”
“Because we wanted to kill him.”
“Butwhy?” Fletch snaps. “Why’d you pickthatguy?Thathouse?Thatneighborhood? And why didn’t you leave when Garret gave you the chance?”
“Because.” Dropping his gaze once more, Gage sniffs and takes the cup of water Fletch sets on the table. “Sometimes, the universe doles out karma and takes care of that shit. And other times…” He brings his arctic stare back up. “We have tobekarma.”
* * *
We push and poke and prod for a couple of hours, but Gage isn’t willing to toss his friend under the bus to make things easier for himself. The pair of them are determined to tell their story in achingly slow detail and without skipping to the end, no matter how many ways Fletch and I attempt to circle, so I call an end to our interview for the day and place each guy in a separate cage so they’re not speaking to each other or anyone else.
Neither wants a lawyer. Neither is crying about their rights or the law or wanting to go home. They both ask for fast food for dinner and a comfortable pillow to sleep on. They make their demands with manners I’m not sure anyone I’ve ever had in a cage before has possessed, and once they’re placed away for the night, that is the extent of it.
Tomorrow, we’ll resume and see where we end up.
“Are you heading out to see Jada now?” I snag my coat from the back of my chair and swing it on to fight the chill outside; the snow still drifts down, but the worst of the season has passed. The night shift is already a couple of hours deep into their watch, and no doubt Lieutenant Fabian is gonna bitch at us in the morning about clocking overtime without approval first. “Is it too late to go over there?”
Fletch checks his watch and exhales a defeated sigh when he realizes what I already know. “It’s damn near eight o’clock.” Grabbing his own coat, he drops his phone and wallet into his pockets and starts across the pit without waiting. “You know she’s already gonna be gone. Fuck.”
“So… Tim’s?” I follow him onto the escalator, heading down. “You want burgers and sex on the pool table?”
Amused, he side-eyes me from top to toe. “You’re not my usual type, Arch. This thing with Delicious has you all sorts of turned around, huh?”
Rolling my eyes, I drop my hands into my pockets. “You think you’re a funny fucker. Don’t talk about her.”
“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on with you yet?” He raises a brow and studies me as though he truly expects an answer. “You’re just gonna stay pouty and bitchy for the rest of our lives?”
“I don’t pout, and what happens in my private life is none of your business.”
“Since when?” he exclaims. “I knowallyour shit, Arch. Every damn bit of it. But you’re choosing silence for the first time, and it’s all about Dimples.”
“Can you stop with the fucking nicknames? Jesus. And shut the fuck up in general. My personal business gets locked down tighter when you can’t shut your damn mouth about it. Minka and I are dealing with our own shit in private.”
“So you going to Tim’s now has nothing to do with maybe publicly harassing her and following her to her apartment?”
“No.” I lower my voice when a couple of familiar faces from midtown step onto the escalator at the bottom and laugh while they talk shop. “Now shut the hell up.”
“Detectives.” Beau Fox’s eyes dance with a sly playfulness that sets my own temper alight, but my instincts have me stepping in front of Fletch before my best friend can charge forward and say something stupid.
“Archer Malone,” Fox tries when I block him from my partner. “Good day?”
“Mm.” I fake a grin that my father long ago perfected, and that anyone who knows us would say is the grin of the devil himself. “All days are good days.” I tip my head and watch as Fox and Grayson’s escalator drags them away. “See ya.”
“Why the fuck are they on our side of the city?” The moment they’re no longer within hearing range, Fletch spits out the words that would’ve burned his tongue to keep locked away. “Arrogant cum stains with badges, that’s what they are.”
For the first time since Minka shoved me into her hall and shut the door in my face, a genuine chuckle rolls along my throat. “Tell me how you really feel, Fletch. Are you going to Tim’s or not?”
“Yeah.” He steps off the escalator and heads straight out the front door of the precinct and onto the steps Minka graced earlier today.