Page 131 of Dancing in the Dark

“Uh huh. And you’re wearing a knockoff Rolex and seem to have forgotten that I bought your suits for you just a few years ago. Still shopping at that factory outlet for designer dupes?” I stroll forward again and pat the misaligned collar of the jacket he tells people cost seven thousand dollars, but actually only cost forty-nine ninety-nine. “No one cares how much you paid for your clothes, Anderson. That’s a you thing. And as an aside, there is no way you could know I slept inside Charlie’s apartment last night unless you were checking up on me. It really bothers you that I would love a man who proudly wears jeans and a badge every day, doesn’t it? It made you feel shitty about yourself back when I was grieving our baby and asked for space, because, let’s face it, you need outside validation far more than I ever did. You convinced yourself my grief was rejection, and when Miranda London offered to stroke your dented ego, you were completely incapable of saying no. Now here we are, you’re still the same poser with low self-esteem and a watch that is only correct twice a day, and I’m dating a single dad whose apartment is kinda small and whose kid thinks pillow forts are the most exciting adventure on the planet. It enrages you to be compared to someone you consider beneath you. And still…” I tap my smiling bottom lip. “You don’t measure up.”

“Oh, give me a damn break! You’re in love with the idea of love, Seraphina. It’s a fairy tale told to little girls who are supposed to grow up eventually and realize it was nothing but a load of horseshit. Do you know what happens after the story ends, babe? When the princess grows bored with her struggling existence with the pauper? She leaves him. She returns to her life of riches and glamor, and he… walks into the river with the rats. Right where he belongs.”

“I would rather drown with the rats than pose alongside you.” I take a single step back and click my tongue. “Personally? You better hope the Malones aren’t the criminals you claim they are, because looking over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life sure sounds exhausting.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Merely an observation. Because if you believed the tripe you spewed up there, you’d have already gone into hiding. Stay away from my apartment. Stay away from Charlie’s, too. The stench of cowardice and knockoff Versace loafers is getting a little too repugnant to tolerate. Oh, and since we’re on the topic?” I fish the phone out of my pocket. “Stop feeding classified information to Miranda London and blaming it on the police department. Just because you like it when she’s pegging you doesn’t mean you owe her breaking news headlines. No is a full sentence, Anderson. You should try it sometime.”

50

ARCHER

Bad energy brews in the air. A storm swirls above our heads as Captain Bower approaches Lieutenant Fabian’s office door, knocks once, and waits a mere second before it opens and they discuss things I have no chance of hearing all the way over here.

I sit hunched over my desk, Carson Slater’s face pulled up on my computer screen, and behind it, my email sitting… refreshing… refreshing… nothing.

“Doesn’t bode well.” Fletch folds his long torso over a mountainous stack of paperwork, his back hunching and his pen moving consistently across the pages. It’s all fake, because we’ve got nothing else to do until Markum stops rotating on his own thumb, but every smart employee knows to look busy when the brass glance their way. “Second time today Bower’s come down here.”

“Mmhm.”

He tosses his pen and crushes the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

My phone chirps on my desk, Detective Asa’s name flashing across the screen. Quick as a rattlesnake, I snatch it up and answer with a swipe of my thumb, then shoving up from my chair, I circle our desks and clap his shoulder. “I gotta take this.” Into my phone, I add, “Hang on a second.”

“Move quickly, Malone. I’ve got some shit to say, and not a hell of a lot of time to say it.”

“Can’t even pretend I’m surprised you’re calling.” I stride past a watchful Bower and Fabian, drop my chin in greeting, then I push through a conference room door and slam it shut at my back. “Am I good to take this inside the station, Ace?”

“Yeah, you’re fine. Is there a reason you’re excluding Detective Fletcher from this phone call? It affects him too.”

“Mmhm. He pissed me off, so now I’m pouting. Figure this has something to do with my superiors and the super-secret meetings they’ve been in today? My ears have been burning.”

“Mmhm. You’ve got a problem, and his name is Anderson Markum.”

I scoff and yank out a chair. “I coulda told you that. What do you know?”

“He’s a jealous wanker inclined to overreact when his feelings are hurt, kinda like your current suspect in that bay case. In Markum’s last-ditch effort to be a general pain in everyone’s asses, he called a meeting with Lawrence, your captain, and his boss. Your name came up a few times.”

Slumping in my chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. “Still not surprised. He’s been fucking us over for weeks, filing complaints every two or three days, claiming misconduct, and crying to the brass about unprofessionalism. He’s leaking information to the media, too.”

“Yep. How’d you figure it out?”

“Fed him bogus intel and waited to see if it would make it to air.”

She snickers. “That’ll do it. Document it, cos it’ll come in handy when this other shit goes down.”

“What other shit? I swear, I told him to shove a cactus up his ass one time and he just won’t let it go.”

She snorts. “He took charge of his little closed-door meeting this morning and essentially declared Malone Mafia is back in town. Apparently you’re the head bitch, and you’re botching this case to screw with Lawrence’s China deal. No China deal means you maintain control of the port.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I drop my head and close my eyes. “Doesn’t he realize I’m too busy to lead a mafia empire? I’m tired, Ace! I barely have time to keep up with my own hobbies.”

“Mayet’s name came up, too.”

And just like that, the Malone blood I work so hard on cooling turns to an inferno. “How so?”

“She’s in cahoots with you, obviously. Chief M.E. becomes your little puppet, which means in addition to controlling port access, you also control the coroner’s office. You have oodles of money to buy up Copeland real estate, and although it wasn’t explicitly stated, it was implied Fifi’s relationship with Fletch, and Mayet’s relationship with Lawrence, leaves you with sticky fingers in the City Hall pie, too. It’s a solid business plan, really.”