O nly a few years ago, Royce would’ve approached the situation with Felix a lot differently. Law enforcement agencies and reporters often disagreed about how and when crime should be reported, leading to contentious interactions. Royce had believed journalists only cared about being the first to break the news and make the biggest splash without regard for the victims’ families or the investigation. He’d painted Felix with the same broad stroke as all the others. Sawyer hadn’t been the reporter’s biggest fan either after Felix ran a series of articles exposing the previous Chatham County sheriff’s homophobic views. Sawyer’s very public exit from the sheriff’s department had been a topic in a series of exposés Felix published about CCSD’s hostile work environment under Wheeler’s leadership, and the wording made it seem like Sawyer had been the reporter’s confidential source. Sawyer had taken a lot of heat from his previous colleagues at CCSD and struggled to find acceptance with his new ones at SPD. And by that, Royce meant himself because everyone else had liked Sawyer immediately. Their mutual animosity toward Felix had been something Royce and Sawyer had bonded over in the early days of their professional partnership.
But the intrepid reporter had won their trust and respect over time and had become a valued friend, and Felix proved the feelings were mutual when he tilted his head toward the house to request a private discussion instead of trying to dodge them. Royce could’ve chased him down, thanks to Sawyer’s clean-eating and fitness influence, but he was more than happy to have a simple conversation and reserve his energy. When Rocky and Jonah fell into step behind Felix, Royce realized the news of Dr. Matisse’s death likely had a bigger implication than Commissioner Rigby or Chief Mendoza realized. The trio of trouble were already huddled together in the kitchen for a hushed conversation by the time Royce and Sawyer stepped into the house. Royce hadn’t caught a word they’d said, but their combined shock and frustration forged a frenetic energy palpable enough to have its own heartbeat. Dread wrapped its gnarled fingers around Royce’s heart and squeezed. Dr. Matisse was likely the subject of a Sinister in Savannah podcast investigation, and any hope for a swift resolution died right then. The huddle expanded to include Royce and Sawyer as they approached. The trio wore resigned expressions on their faces, but tension tightened the areas around their eyes and bracketed their mouths. They were going to cooperate, but they didn’t like it.
Royce crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you know as quickly as you can. I need to grab Diego and head over to the good doctor’s house.” Royce had used the “good doctor” phrase to get a reaction from his friends, and they didn’t disappoint him. Jonah snorted, and Rocky rolled his eyes, but Felix had the most visceral response.
“Good doctor, my ass.” Felix practically spat the words, and fire blazed in his gaze. “He was a fucking monster who escaped justice before we could serve it up to him.”
“Unless someone beat us to it,” Rocky added, turning to Royce. “Felix’s source only told him that Dr. Matisse was found dead in his pool. Did he die from natural causes, or did he have help?”
“I know nothing more than Felix does at the moment.” A bitter truth Royce struggled to swallow. Felix’s source either worked for SPD or owned a police scanner. It was completely unacceptable for a reporter to receive the information before the lead detective did. But Royce needed Felix’s cooperation, so finding out why the doctor’s death was important to Felix mattered more than who’d told him. “You’re obviously investigating Dr. Matisse for your podcast. Tell me why someone would want to kill him.” Royce looked at his watch. “And give me the two-minute-trailer version instead of a lengthy synopsis.”
Jonah and Rocky turned to Felix, signaling for him to take the lead. A muscle flexed in the reporter’s clenched jaw as he met Royce’s gaze. Felix quirked a brow with a silent question he didn’t need to ask.
“Yes, you’ll be the first to know details of my investigation once it’s safe to release them.” Royce circled his hand rapidly to urge Felix along.
“The three of us were about to expose fraudulent insemination practices carried out by Jean Claude Matisse over the past four decades,” Felix said. “He’s operated fertility clinics in several states and used his sperm to inseminate patients without their knowledge or consent.”
The words struck Royce like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. Sawyer placed his hand at the small of Royce’s back, and they exchanged a quick glance. Of course he’d land a case involving a fertility doctor the day after their own insemination process. He conjured up an image of Dr. Flores’ kind face and thought about her professional and compassionate demeanor. Nothing about her had triggered alarms for him. But Dr. Matisse’s victims probably felt the same way. Alleged victims. He couldn’t just accept Felix’s statement as fact without more information. Royce pulled air into his lungs and forced himself to focus on the situation at hand instead of making it personal. Which meant he didn’t meet his husband’s eyes when he felt Sawyer’s gaze on him.
“There’s so much to unpack here,” Royce said. “How do you know this?”
“Genealogy testing,” Rocky replied. “People are fascinated by their ancestry. Those kits are popular holiday gifts, and we know of several instances where kids used them for class genealogy projects.”
“And suddenly, you have people matching to unknown half siblings all over the country and not sharing genetic markers with the paternal family members they grew up with,” Jonah said. “There are forty-eight of his children living in Georgia alone.”
“Christ,” Sawyer muttered.
“So, these people share a father, but how do you know Matisse is the donor?” Royce asked. “Surely he wasn’t stupid enough to submit his DNA to these genealogy sites if he’d fraudulently swapped out the intended donor sperm with his own.”
“These siblings started communicating through email, and a pattern immediately formed,” Felix explained. “Many of them knew their mothers had undergone fertility treatments to get pregnant with them. Other siblings learned the truth after some tough conversations with their families. Dr. Matisse was the fertility specialist who helped them all.”
“And so I legally collected the doctor’s DNA sample when the guy left an empty smoothie cup sitting on a picnic table at the park,” Rocky said. “We paid for the DNA test ourselves and hired an expert to do the DNA comparisons. We wanted irrefutable proof, and we got it. I am one thousand percent sure this man lied to his patients when he claimed he’d used their husband’s or chosen donor’s sperm.”
Royce turned to look at his husband for the first time since the conversation started. They’d been riding an emotional high since leaving the fertility clinic the previous day, even though they knew success wasn’t guaranteed. That same optimism shimmered in Sawyer’s chocolate-brown eyes, but caution tempered it now. Royce wanted the unbridled joy back for both of them. He wanted to assure Sawyer that everything would be okay. Hell, he wanted the guarantee too. But that was a private conversation they’d have later. Royce had pressing work to do, so he forced his attention back to their friends.
“It sounds like you’ve been investigating Dr. Matisse for a while,” Royce said.
“Almost a year,” Felix replied. “The forty-eight local families are just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Sounds like an expensive investigation,” Sawyer said.
Felix nodded. “Very, but we didn’t do this alone. When we realized the scope of the investigation, we sought partnerships with Savannah Morning News and Channel Eleven. In return for their investment, I am publishing an exposé in the Sunday edition. Jude is to follow up with reporting for Channel Eleven on Sunday evening. The podcast will handle the long-form investigation with weekly episode drops, starting on Monday. We will provide occasional updates to our news affiliate partners and provide them with bonus content they could tuck behind paywalls to generate revenue. We recorded most of the episodes already, but it’s still an active investigation.”
“Especially now that Matisse is dead,” Rocky said.
Royce glanced at the time on the microwave and winced. They’d far exceeded the two-minute mark, and he still needed to change his clothes and inform Diego that his party was over. “How’d you become involved with the siblings?”
“Dr. Matisse’s last clinic was in Savannah, and he retired here. His local victims are aware of our podcast and reached out because the doctor’s behavior was downright sinister,” Felix explained.
“Why not pursue legal or civil action?” Sawyer asked.
“Statutes of limitations prevent the victims from legal recourse, but I expect a civil suit is forthcoming. They wanted to focus on exposing his misdeeds first.”
“Does Dr. Matisse know what you’ve uncovered?” Royce asked.
Felix nodded. “It’s unethical for me to run a hit piece without giving him an opportunity to respond to the allegations. I called his home around noon on Friday, and we had a brief conversation. He denied any wrongdoing and refused to comment further. Dr. Matisse referred all future questions to his legal counsel but refused to name a lawyer or provide their contact information when I asked for it.”
Royce heaved a sigh. “That’ll have to be enough for now, but I’m holding you to this agreement.”
“As long as you keep your end of the bargain,” Felix replied.
Royce turned to Sawyer. They both knew the hazards of being law enforcement officers and the toll it took on their private life, so there was no need to apologize. He did it anyway. “I’m sorry this ruined our plans. I’ll get back as fast as I can.”
“I know you will.”
They shared a brief kiss before Royce left him in the kitchen to retrieve his temporary partner. Diego smiled as he approached, but his good humor faded when he clocked Royce’s expression.
“No, man,” Diego groaned. “Come on, Ro.”
“Chief Mendoza has tagged me to work a high-profile case, and I’ve chosen you to be my partner.”
Diego gestured to his board shorts and lifted his discarded T-shirt off the lounger. “You expect me to go to a crime scene dressed like this?”
Levi leaned over and kissed his husband’s cheek. “There’s a go bag for you in the trunk of my car.”
Diego narrowed his eyes, and his lips formed a little pout. “Sounds like you’re eager to get rid of me.”
Levi rolled his eyes and nudged him with his shoulder. There was a significant size difference between the husbands, so Levi’s gesture barely budged Diego. “I just know how these things go.”
“Grab your things and get changed.” Royce gestured to himself. “I’ll do the same, and we’ll meet out front.”
“I’ll be there,” Diego said dryly.
Sawyer was sitting on the bed when Royce reached their room. “The universe isn’t sending me a message, right?” Sawyer had lived another life before meeting Royce. He’d been married and happily in love with Victor Ruiz, and they’d been approved for adoption right before Vic received a terminal cancer diagnosis. The situations were in no way similar, but would Felix’s bombshell trigger fears that Sawyer had hoped to leave in the past? Did he feel like his dreams of fatherhood were on the verge of being yanked away again?
Royce shut the door and inhaled a deep, slow breath. The long exhale acted like a reset button for his brain. Sawyer’s soulful eyes implored Royce to give him promises he had no business making. He crossed the room to stand before Sawyer, who stood up so they were eye to eye. “Dr. Flores is not Dr. Matisse. She is a brilliant, kind doctor who has dedicated her life to making dreams like ours come true.”
“All the mothers who’d visited Dr. Matisse’s clinics probably thought the same thing. You and I both know how heightened emotions interfere with perception and judgment. We weren’t utilizing our specialized training during our interactions at the clinic. We were firing on hopes, dreams, and adrenaline. We were just as vulnerable as anyone else in those moments.”
Royce cupped Sawyer’s face. “I have enough faith for both of us. Our insemination was successful, and we’re going to have a baby. Probably a little girl who will have us wrapped around her finger before she draws her first breath. Anytime doubt tries to wiggle in, just think about that.”
Sawyer wrapped his arms around Royce and held on for dear life. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“Damn right, we are.” And no deviant doctor’s past deeds would ruin this beautiful journey for them.
“That’s fucked-up,” Diego said as they sped toward the Oaks, an exclusive gated community. “And it sounds like there will be a lot of suspects if his death resulted from foul play.”
“And more media coverage than we can imagine.” Royce lifted his left hand off the steering wheel and crossed his fingers. “Please let it be natural causes.”
“Amen,” Diego agreed. “Have you told Mendoza what you learned from Felix and the gang?” Everyone had a different nickname for the trio of trouble. Some sounded like rock bands, others like motorcycle gangs, and one made Royce think of a softball team. Felix was the ringleader in every scenario, and it was a badge of honor he wore proudly.
“Not yet,” Royce replied as he pulled to a stop at a red light. “I wanted to wait until we’ve assessed the situation. Telling Mendoza now would take things from a ten to a hundred.”
“I’ll trust your instincts,” Diego said. “But I won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus if the chief demands to know why we waited to tell him about the fraud allegations.”
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’re not ridiculous.” 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 his move. 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 first responders, 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.”
Perla retrieved a bottle of water from deeper inside the ambulance and uncapped it for her. Julia thanked her and took several drinks before attempting to speak again.
“I thought they only sent detectives to murder scenes,” Julia said.
“We respond to many calls, including unattended deaths,” Royce explained. “I’m here as a personal favor to Commissioner Rigby.” Delicately winged brows arched upward. Royce wasn’t sure if she knew Rigby personally or if she was confused about why a highly ranked police official would get involved. He could find that out later. She was shivering from head to toe in her wet dress.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Royce asked gently.
Julia nodded. “I’m here visiting my family for the holiday weekend. We were all supposed to attend a party at our friends’ house, but Father never showed.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed her fingers against her mouth to stop them. After a few seconds, she lowered her hand and continued speaking. “I called his cell phone and the house line, but he didn’t answer. Our house staff was already gone for the weekend, so there was no one to check on him. I drove back here and found him…found him in the…” She shook her head as sobs racked her body. “I can’t say it. Then it’s real.”
“She’s had quite a shock,” Lydia said gently. “Do you mind if she changes into something warm and dry?”
“Of course not,” Royce replied. “I need to start my preliminary investigation at the pool, so take your time. I’d like to interview you afterward if you’re up to it.”
Julia nodded jerkily. “Of course. I’ll help however I can.”
“Where would you feel most comfortable talking to us?”
Julia told them she preferred to meet in her mother’s salon and gave them directions to find the room when they were ready.
“Thank you,” Royce said. “Can we access the pool by walking around the house, or should we go through it?”
“There is an access gate in the fence, but I don’t know the electric code. The house is unlocked, so you can go straight through to the back.”
“We’ll talk soon.” Royce gestured for Diego to precede him. He’d wanted to talk to Lydia about her observations when she first arrived, but it would have to wait until they could speak privately.
They stopped on the porch and slipped on their booties. A massive set of wood double doors stood open, and they stepped over the threshold. The interior of the Matisse home was as stately as the exterior, with luxurious attention given to every detail. White marble flooring stretched endlessly ahead of them, and intricately carved pillars towered two stories high in the grand foyer. A mural painted on the cathedral ceiling featured curly-haired cherubs peeking over the edge of fluffy white clouds dotting a blue sky. Royce stopped suddenly and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if there was a deeper meaning behind the winged babies depicted in the painting. The cherubs’ expressions ranged from innocent to impish. They each wore a different wreath of flowers on their heads, and the positioning of the crowns matched their expressions. The innocent-looking cherubs wore a straight wreath, where the flower crowns on the mischievous ones sat askew. The details were so lifelike that it gave the appearance that the little darlings were watching them. Royce halfway expected their eyes to follow them once they started moving again.
“This reminds me of the show at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas but without the giant talking statues,” Diego said. “I’m running the hell out of here if the clouds move and the cherubs giggle.”
Royce slapped Diego’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” He darted a glance upward and was relieved to note the cherubs were not tracking their movements.