Page 17 of The Paternity Puzzle
Royce looked over at his temporary partner. “Message received.”
“It’ll look like this.” Diego widened his brown eyes and let his mouth go slack. He blinked rapidly and snapped his mouth shut. “Chief, I had no idea. This is the first I’m hearing about the allegations.”
The performance deserved a slow clap, and Royce gave him one before returning his attention to the traffic light. “Mendoza would see through that bullshit in a nanosecond.” The light turned green, and Royce accelerated through the intersection.
“Too much?”
“I think it was the unhinged jaw trick,” Royce told him. “And maybe you were too breathy. Less of a seductress next time. But the anime eyes were pretty good though. I thought I saw tears of betrayal trembling on your ridiculous eyelashes.”
“Hey! My lashes are ridiculously long, but they’renotridiculous.” Diego’s genuine outrage made Royce laugh. “And I’ll have you know that these bad boys get me out of a lot of trouble at home.”
“Yeah, D,” Royce said dryly. “It’s your eyelashes that Levi can’t resist.”
“Well, he likes other things too.”
Diego was a hunk of a man, so there were limitless physical attributes for his husband to admire. But the guy was a genuinely wonderful person, which made him even more attractive. That’s why Royce had loathed him on sight years ago, when he’d been fighting his feelings for Sawyer. Diego had swept in with his swarthy good looks and open admiration for the man Royce had wanted but was afraid to claim. But Diego’s challenge wasn’t the one that had pushed Royce to make hismove. That honor belonged to Levi, who’d actually gone on a date with Sawyer and forced Royce to acknowledge his feelings. In fact, it was Royce’s petty insecurities that made him push Levi in Diego’s path. He’d just wanted to distract both men from their attraction to Sawyer, and they’d ended up falling in love and getting married.
Royce slowed as they approached their destination. “Your dimples, right?”
“Yeah, but which set?”
He glanced over at the passenger seat as he turned into a gated neighborhood. Diego winked and nearly blinded him with his white smile. “That’s a mystery I don’t need to solve.”
A pristine white sign nestled amidst colorful flowers and lush shrubs announced they’d reached the Oaks with pretentious gold lettering. Royce nearly sprained his eyeballs rolling them. He was grateful they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head when the guardhouse came into view. The structure was supposed to look like a miniature version of a grandiose house you’d find behind the gates, but the designer had failed epically. “I get what they were going for,” Royce said, “but that thing looks like an oversized kids’ dollhouse.”
Diego cackled beside him. “It reminds me of my niece’s Little Tikes playhouse.”
Royce forced back a laugh when he pulled to a stop at the shack. Both he and Diego lifted their badges for inspection. The security guard was young and looked visibly shaken. His voice cracked, and it took him two tries to give them directions to the Matisses’ house. “Thank you,” Royce said before accelerating through the open gate. “That was much better than the last time I was in a community like this.” As he navigated the winding roads, he told Diego about the time he and Sawyer got pulled over by a glorified mall cop driving a souped-up golf cart.
“I guess it’s good that they take their jobs so seriously, but they don’t have more authority over us in any situation,” Diego said.
“I set Paul Blart straight that day.”
“That’s a movie I haven’t seen in ages,” Diego said.
They shared a few movie quotes as they navigated through the sprawling community. The estates were built on large lots, probably three- to five-acre tracts because there weren’t many homes on each street.
“Here we go,” Royce said when they reached the Matisses’ mailbox.
Their residence was the last property on a dead-end road. The driveway was so long and the surrounding trees so dense that they didn’t see the emergency vehicles until the house came into view. Pea gravel turned into ornate brick pavers the closer they got to the home. The parking area was enormous enough to accommodate a white Lexus, two SPD patrol cars, an ambulance, the crime scene techs, and the medical examiner’s van. Royce parked behind the Lexus and removed two sets of latex gloves and disposable booties from his glove box before they got out of his SUV.
The back doors of the ambulance were open, and there was a flurry of activity inside. A woman with wet, reddish-blonde hair plastered to her head sat on the gurney with an emergency blanket draped around her shoulders like a cape. Her yellow sundress was soaked and clinging to her trembling body. She wore a white sandal on one pale foot, but the other was bare. Royce figured she’d gone into the pool to give Dr. Matisse aid and lost a shoe at some point. Was she his daughter? His wife? An employee?
The mournful wail of a wounded animal tore from her throat, and the two female EMTs kneeled on either side of the gurney to comfort her. Perla and Lydia were two of the city’s finest firstresponders, and Royce respected them immensely. They were fierce and fearless whenever the situation called for it but always compassionate when dealing with traumatized people like the woman clutching the Mylar blanket with a fist.
“I c-c-can’t believe this,” she stuttered. “He’s the h-h-healthiest person I know. This c-c-can’t be real.”
Lydia looked up when Royce and Diego approached the back of the ambulance. She’d dyed her close-cropped hair a rose-gold color that contrasted prettily with her ebony skin and hazel eyes. Lydia greeted Royce with a sad smile, and he tilted his head to the right, requesting a private conversation. She patted the woman’s knee and told her she’d be right back, which prompted her to lift her head to see where Lydia was going. Bloodshot eyes met his, but it was the icy blue color of her irises that snagged his attention.
Royce had seen the same hue in the photograph of Dr. Matisse on the magazine cover, though their expression couldn’t have been more different. Dr. Matisse had come across as cold and arrogant where this woman, most likely his daughter, was devastated. Little did she know, things were about to get even worse for her. There was no way Felix would pull his punches in the wake of the doctor’s death. The story would break exactly as he’d intended, shoving Royce and Diego into the spotlight too. The pressure to find a swift resolution would be insane, and their every move would be scrutinized to the nth degree. They’d have to toe the line or walk the plank of public scrutiny. And no matter the outcome of their investigation, someone would be angry and very vocal with their dissent. Royce would likely see vastly different expressions in this woman’s eyes over the next coming days, and he’d have to adjust his demeanor accordingly. But right then, she was a heartbroken woman who deserved his compassion.
“Ma’am,” Royce said. “I’m Sergeant Locke, and this is Detective Fuentes. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“Th-th-thank you. I’m Ju-julia Matisse,” she stammered. “Detective?” Her voice sounded raspy, and Julia pressed a delicate hand to her throat and swallowed hard.
“Do you need a drink?” Perla asked.
She nodded. “Please.”