ARC: The Buried Life by Carrie Patel

what to say. I’m sorry, I thought you were a creep.”
    “Glad to have convinced you otherwise.”
    “And to think, not only a champion of the working-class, but you’ve sponsored this poor girl!” The nurse paused, admiring the picture of social conscience and charity before her. She brought her hands together with an audible crack. “You’re a good man, Mr Anders.”
    “Can I quote you on that?”
    The nurse finally turned her attention back to Jane. “OK, there’s not much else we can do for her now, except keep an eye on her. I normally wouldn’t allow this, but under the circumstances, I’ll let her go with you as long as you promise to check in on her regularly.”
    “On my honor.”
    “Every few hours,” she said, shaking a blunt finger at him. “At the first sign of any drowsiness, dizziness, or abnormal behavior, bring her back to us. Understood?”
    “Completely.”
    “Wonderful.” She whipped hear head around in the direction of a contingent of frantic nurses and hollered, “Open bed in 382! Next one in!” With a long-suffering shake of her head, the nurse retreated down the hall. Jane and Fredrick looked at each other.
    “Well, Freddie, at least one of us has some celebrity.”
    “I’d settle for not looking like a creep.”
    Jane patted his arm. “Don’t take that one to heart.”
    The corners of Fredrick’s mouth and eyes twitched up in well-meaning mischief. “Speaking of looks, when are we going to find a nice, non-creepy type for you?”
    Jane exhaled in something between a laugh and a sigh. “Careful, or you’ll really make my head hurt.”
    “Someone like that nice young inspector. He was rather attractive, wasn’t he?”
    A little surprise of a grin tripped over Jane’s lips. “Now that you mention it, he was.”
    “Yes. Too bad he’s sleeping with the older one.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s false.”
    “And just because it’s juicy doesn’t mean it’s true.”
    #
    “All due respect, Malone, but is that your idea of a bedside manner?” Sundar said. Malone looked over at him with the closest thing she had to a casual glance. “You make the killer look friendly by comparison.”
    “She’s fine. We needed answers, and we didn’t have time to waste.”
    The inspectors were on the surface street above the hospital. Sundar leaned against the smooth marble of a veranda. “We did get answers, anyway. She definitely isn’t hiding anything.”
    “No.”
    “What do you think about the door, though?”
    Malone folded her arms and scanned the streets around them. “Witnesses make mistakes like that all the time.”
    “What if the murderer left through that door?”
    “He fled to the surface last time. It would have been safest this time, too.”
    “Lin said the underground streets were empty.”
    “No moon out last night. The Vineyard underground is better lit. Anyway, I think she didn’t shut the door, or at least she didn’t shut it properly.”
    “Maybe the killer broke it on the way in.”
    Malone shook her head. “Every door, every lock was intact.”
    Sundar bit his lip, frowning. “Getting a key to Fitzhugh’s would be even harder than getting a key to Cahill’s.”
    “I know.”
    The young inspector sucked his teeth. “So, we really are assuming this was the same person. That it wasn’t a coincidence that two prosperous citizens were murdered in their homes in or around the Vineyard without any apparent break-in.”
    “I don’t believe in coincidence.”
    Sundar nodded. “For someone with a key, he has a conspicuous way of making an exit. Think about the overturned laundry cart.”
    “It’s interesting.” Malone spent a few moments in silent thought before shrugging. “A stray dog could have done that.”
    “Maybe, but the clothes weren’t torn or dirtied or anything. Just scattered. And quite meticulously, at that.”
    “Drunk partygoers, then.”
    “You think someone would