“If you want to stuff your head in the freezer, feel welcome to,” Maggie remarked as he followed her into the kitchen.
His brow quirked. “Why… would I do that?”
“Did they fix the elevator?” There was a trace of hope in her tone that was instantly dashed by a regretful shake of Anatoly’s head. “In that case, I’m surprised you’re not hot and thirsty after hiking up the stairs.”
If he could have dripped sweat at that, Anatoly would have done so. As a vampire, he didn’t feel exertion the same way and so the several stories of steps had been nothing to him. Of course, he couldn’t just say that to Maggie. He couldn’t let her know his true nature, at least not yet.
Nervousness squirmed in his belly, and he did the only thing he could: he quickly passed it off. “Oh, I took it as opportunity for prayer and reflection. Hardly noticed climb.”
It wasn’t entirely false, but the words tasted sour on his tongue all the same.
Maggie just shrugged and sat the bag down on the counter. She began to take the plasticware bowl out and then whistled. There was enough soup to last for a few meals so it was a rather big bowl.
“That’s a lot of soup.” She smirked. “Do you want some?” She reached for the cupboard.
“Nyet,” Anatoly raised his hands as if in surrender. “Brought borscht for you, please try some!”
She gave him a curious look, grabbed a single soup bowl from the cabinet and placed it down on the counter. From there, she seemed to focus on serving herself a portion instead of protesting that he had said no, which he appreciated.
As she did so, Anatoly watched her careful motions as she scooped soup from one bowl into another. It was still piping hot as he had come directly here after preparing the meal. At one point, Maggie even hummed a little to herself until she came to the small container of sour cream that he had brought as well.
“What’s this for?” she asked, holding it up to him.
“Add dollop to borscht, is very good,” he advised, unable to keep a warm smile off his face. The more time he spent with her, the more he came to like Maggie.
She did as suggested and when she took her first bite a few seconds later, Anatoly was watching eagerly to see if she enjoyed what he had made.
After a long pause, her eyes went wide and she smiled at him. “You’re a pretty good cook!”
The compliment was said casually enough, but it still sent a warm blossom of heat through Anatoly.
“I assure you, is more mother’s teaching than my talent,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t notice his blush. Thankfully, she was focused on eating and didn’t remark if she did see it.
“What’s your mother like?” she asked instead around another mouthful of borscht.
Anatoly’s smile widened at the memory of his mother. He had loved her deeply and still did, even though she had long since passed away as mortals are fated to. It made the topic bittersweet, but not one he was opposed to having.
“Mother was good, God-fearing woman. She worked hard for children, for community…” The words rolled off his tongue easily enough, but the warm flush from earlier had dissipated, leaving him cold.
Then he felt Maggie’s soft fingers grip his hand and he realized with a start that she had stepped closer to him while he was speaking. Her half empty bowl had been sat down by the sink and he felt her full attention was on him.
“I’m so sorry, Anatoly. I didn’t realize she was gone…” She squeezed gently and his mouth went dry.
Before he could formulate a reply, Maggie’s phone began to ring from the other room. She swore under her breath, then apologized as she scurried off to answer it.
Anatoly was grateful for a chance to collect himself. He tried not to listen, but it was impossible for him not to hear when she was speaking clearly to someone on the other end. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything sensitive or private and after a brief exchange, Maggie returned.
Somehow she was more somber than before the interruption. When she walked back into the kitchen, her brow was heavily furrowed and her dark honey eyes were distant as though she were lost in thought.
“Bad news?” Anatoly didn’t mean to pry, but he couldn’t help but be concerned at the sudden change in her demeanor.
She finally met his gaze, her frown deeper than ever. The hard police detective stood before him now, and as she started to explain, Anatoly couldn’t help but instantly miss what he was beginning to consider the true Maggie.
“That was the coroner. She just finished the autopsy and wanted to give me the rundown before I saw the report.” Maggie hesitated for a moment, but then she added in a rush, “Father Abrams was drugged before he was killed. They found rohypnol in his toxicology report.”
At that news, Anatoly matched her frown. “That does not make sense…”
Maggie agreed with a nod. “And yet, out of all our victims only Father Abrams was roofied. If the murderer has been drugging the victims all along, why haven’t we detected it before now? Why change his pattern now if that’s what this even is?”
