"I didn't call you here to argue. I heard about the DNA samples and unless you hand it over, I'll have you arrested for tampering with police evidence," Radley says.
"You can't do that!" Art protests.
"I can," Radley says. He's all calm and collected, arms folded over his chest. "I'm the police officer here."
I rise to my feet, pushing at his chest. "I hate you! You're not going to do anything about it. Are you? You're just going to burn the evidence we found and pretend like nothing happened. I know you!"
He smirks, pulling me close to him. He tucks my hair behind my ear, inhaling me. "I like you like this," he whispers into my hair. "So feisty."
I growl, pushing him away from me, shivering in disgust. "Let go of me!"
Art rises to her feet. "What the hell is going on here?"
"It's nothing," I insist, grabbing her wrist. "We should go."
Radley gasps, clutching his chest in mock pain. "I'm offended."
Art frowns, pushing me behind her. "You better tell me what the hell is going on here, Radley."
He stares at me, smirking handsomely. "May I?"
I shake my head. "Please don't. I'll tell her myself."
"Where's the fun in that?" he asks, taking a seat on his desk. He folds his arms over his chest, the muscles protruding attractively. I turn away from him.
"Art, don't listen to him," I beg.
"How about...we trade. The evidence in exchange for your dignity?" Radley says, smirking deviously.
I just stare at him, my eyes bringing with tears. He expects me to withhold the evidence from him. Be expects me to jack up my relationship with Art. Either way, it works in his favor. He can have me arrested for refusing the evidence anyway.
But, I'm different now. As much as I would love to solve this case, I realize that my relationship with Art is important to me
I can't allow work to get in between us anymore.
"You can have it," I say, biting down on my lip. I'm trying not to cry. It's so upsetting knowing that I am surrendering the last lead I had in this case. But, for what it was worth, I would be protecting my relationship with Art. "Erin," Art says. I can tell that's she's confused.
"It's okay," I insist. "We'll just have to find another way."
"But—"
"We should leave," I say quietly. I turn to the door, stopping in the doorway. "I'll have it delivered to you by tomorrow morning. Personally."
Radley nods, smiling handsomely. "I wouldn't mind if your partner couldn't make it," he says, chuckling.
"Don't bet on it."
•••
"I'm assuming I'm not supposed to ask about it?" Arts says, slouching on the couch in the cabin. She nibbles compulsively on a bowl of pretzels with the TV playing softly in the background.
I shrug, chopping carrots and tossing them into a bowl in the kitchen. "Pretty much," I say. I don't mean to sound so...fiesty, but I can't help but feel annoyed. It's all her fault that we lost the evidence. If she didn't turn me into such a ball of romantic mush, I wouldn't have surrendered the only lead we had.
"And how do you expect me to do that?" she asks, an edge to her voice. "You just surrendered the only evidence we had. I thought you wanted to solve this case."
I turn to face her. "You think I don't know that?" I yell.
She rises to her feet, tucking her hair behind her ears. She hugs me to her chest, groaning quietly. "I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't get you so worked up. I'm just upset. I thought you'd be smart enough to notice that I made an extra copy of the file Doctor Rhys gave us..."
"What?" I breathe, feeling my chest flutter hopefully. I thread my hands through her auburn tresses, pulling her closer to me. "What did you say?"
She smiles cheekily, brushing her nose against my cheek. "I made a copy of the DNA profiles."
"We still have our evidence?"
Art nods.
I couldn't breathe, my head swayed. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to be sick. I covered my mouth. "Oh, God!"
Art frowns, brushing my hair out of my face. She touches my forehead. "What's the matter?"
"I don't feel well," I gasp. "I feel nauseous."
"Is it another panic attack?" she asks, already digging through my bag for my prescription.
I shake my head, rushing to the bathroom. "No," I choke, leaning over the toilet. She holds my hair up, rubbing my back soothingly. "I don't think so."
Then, I'm spilling my guts into the toilet, throat burning something awful. I moan helplessly, feeling drained. "What's wrong with me?"
"We should visit Doctor Michaels," Art says. "Just in case. You know?"
I can tell that she's stressed. "Sure," I gasp, clutching my stomach. It burns. I whine, slumping over the toilet.
"We should go now," she insists.
"I don't want to," I whine.
"Come on." Art helps me up, rinsing my mouth, and pushing me into my room to get changed. "I'll wait in the car."
•••
My legs are swaying off the side of my hospital bed, kicking Art's chair. She frowns, slapping my naked feet playfully.
"Don't," she growls, pulling me closer to her. She kisses me sweetly, slipping her tongue between my teeth. Art threads her fingers through my hair. "Did I ever tell you how good you look in a hospital gown?" she breaths.
I punch her shoulder, nipping at her lips. She smirks into the kiss, pulling away to kiss my forehead. "Just saying."
Doctor Michaels enters the room. "Well," he says, flipping through his clipboard. "Your blood work came back from the lab. It's clean. No toxins. So, it's highly unlikely that you have contacted any harmful bacteria or viruses. However, I found high levels of progesterone in your bloodstream."
"What does that mean?" Art asks incredulously. I can tell that she's already caught onto what he means, but she wants him to say it himself. I'm sure.
"Well," he said. "There's a possibility that you may be pregnant, Miss Lorde."
To be continued