Devoted Admirer:unless my darling Kit needs anything :) :) :)
Kit:i made like a billion sandwiches
Kit:but they’ll keep lol
Darius:Sorry to miss them. Make me one when I’m back, okay?
The apology muted Kit’s resentment. Next time, the sandwiches would be even better.
But Kit could still be a brat about it.
Kit:you fucking wish
Vaguely uneasy, Kit set some sandwiches aside for Holden, then brought the rest into the office. Kit didn’t like Darius suddenly disappearing. That was how Darius was, though. That didn’t change just because they lived together now.
James’s new home office was still messy, wires not taped down and hidden yet. The mess felt purposeful. Comfortable. As long as nobody tripped.
James devoured most of the sandwiches, while Bishop seemed appreciative but wary of the amount of garlic. Coward. Kit ate two, slowly, trying to figure out how else he could be useful.
Before he could figure it out, his phone buzzed again. Then kept buzzing. A phone call from Devoted Admirer.
“Who’s that?” James asked, instantly suspicious.
Kit answered the question and the call by saying, “Hey, Holden, what’s up?”
“Hello, darling,” Holden said, serene. “I swear I didn’t do it, but there’s a dead guy in this apartment.”
Kit’s first thought was Darius.
But Holden would have used his name. Someone else was dead in Darius’s apartment. It wasn’t like Darius to bring work home.
Pulling the phone from his lips, Kit told the others, “Holden found a body in the apartment. I’m putting him on speaker.”
Tension spiked in a flurry of small sounds. Devices set aside, chairs shifting against the carpet. Kit set his phone on James’s desk as James leaned forward and Bishop stood beside him.
“Is Darius there?” Bishop asked. “Was there a struggle?”
“It’s Terry,” Holden answered instead, and the room fell silent.
That was one mystery solved. Weird, reflexive emotions flicked through Kit’s mind. Annoyance that they spent all night looking for Terry. Guilt for thinking of him as a slutty octopus. Then Kit settled on proper, logical anxiety.
“No sign of Darius,” Holden continued. “Someone killed Terry offsite, then staged him here. He’s been dead for at least a day but spent some of that time on ice. Rate of decomp… God, I love putting my major to use.” His cheerfulness was clear. “I can send pictures. Do you want pictures?”
“If it’s safe, take pictures of the scene,” Bishop said. “Then get the hell out of there.”
James stood, excitement sharp beneath his words. “This is a warning. They know about us.”
Kit met Bishop’s eyes to find a mirror of his own alarm. Excitement was a dangerous reaction.
“Get back to the house,” Bishop said. “Try not to be followed.”
There were footsteps on the other end. “Will do. I just need to squeeze Terry into the fridge somehow, so the neighbors don’t smell it.”
Bishop rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t touch anything. What the hell are they teaching in criminology these days?”
“I’ll take photos first,” Holden assured him. “But if management finds this corpse, that will totally fuck up the sale for D. And probably land all of us in prison.”
“He’s not wrong,” James remarked, fingers tapping.
