Page 20 of Detectives in Love

“Of course, ma’am,” Penelope says, switching off the walkie-talkie.

She leads us along a snow-covered path through a bare garden toward a massive glass building. Two long wings stretch outward, connected by three stacked glass galleries, the whole thing resembling a half-open book with a perforated spine.

Xavier takes a long look at Penelope, frowning, then asks, “What was he like?”

“Henry?” Penelope slips her hands into her pockets. “Brilliant. Talented. The best researcher at Rishetor—and in his field. Three advanced degrees, thirteen years at the center.”

“How did his colleagues treat him?” I ask. “Any enemies?”

She shakes her head, brow furrowing. “No. Why? Wasn’t it just an accident?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I say vaguely. “And who’s this Miss Fairfax we’re meeting? Chief Willand didn’t mention her.”

“Katie Fairfax, head of our cryo-center,” Penelope explains. “She takes over when Mr. Rishetor’s away—handles the press, authorities, all that.”

“Katie Fairfax?” I repeat, the name tugging at something in my memory.

“She’s the one who found Henry’s body in the lab,” Penelope says.

We walk in silence for a minute. I glance at the snow-covered paths and empty benches, my mind drifting.Katie Fairfax.Could she really be my old high school girlfriend? I vaguely remember hearing she became a scientist, but I’m not sure in which field.

A weighty stare pulls me back to the present. Xavier’s watching me, gaze unreadable, like he’s trying to figure something out. The second I turn to look, his blue eyes flick away.

“Miss McKinley, when did you find out about Henry’s death?” Xavier asks as we climb the stone steps to the main entrance.

Penelope blinks, visibly thrown. “Uh… Monday morning, when I got to work. The guys in my department told me,” she says, her voice tight, like the memory still unsettles her.

Xavier watches her for a beat before asking, “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Friday evening,” she says, with the faintest hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Did you know Henry was here over the weekend?”

“Yes, he mentioned he’d be working.”

“But you weren’t here?” Xavier presses.

“No,” she says, shooting an uneasy glance at Xavier. “I don’t work weekends unless I’m needed.”

Xavier quirks an eyebrow, like he doesn’t fully believe her. “Weren’t you his assistant?”

Penelope blushes up to her ears and folds her arms tightly across her chest.

“We have clearance levels,” she says, her voice edged with frustration. “I didn’t have access to some of his projects.

Xavier’s gaze lingers on her face, like he’s searching for cracks. “That’s convenient,” he murmurs.

Penelope stiffens. It’s subtle, but I catch it—the slight hitch in her shoulders.

Xavier doesn’t let up. “Tell me,” he says evenly, “did you have a date planned with him on Sunday night?”

She blinks.

“What?” The word barely leaves her lips, her face draining of color.

“No need to play coy,” Xavier says, his tone calm. “We’ve seen the call logs. You rang him multiple times Sunday night when he didn’t show up.”

She swallows hard, her composure starting to slip. “I just called because I knew he was working late. I wanted to check if everything was okay.”