Calvin took a long breath. “We’re not having this argument again. Plant your ass on your father’s couch and stay out of trouble.”
“It seems pretty suspicious to me that one of your cold case suspects was murdered,” I said without regard to Calvin’s statement. “What about someone seeking revenge? The daughter’s father, maybe? A friend? Did the daughter have a boyfriend? Someone who would want to bring closure. Someone who clearly knew the mother was guilty.”
“I know how to do my job,” Calvin retorted.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m just trying to work this out.”
“Sebastian, what’s your degree in?” Calvin interrupted.
“My what?”
“Degree.”
“Uh… fine art.”
“Not criminal justice?”
“I get it,” I stated, crossing my arms.
“No, you don’t,” he said before taking another breath. “Baby, I know you’re smart. I know you’ve got a knack for figuring this shit out. You don’t have to prove it to me.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“This is dangerous. Do you not remember what happened last time?”
All too well, actually. And the guilt hit me like a truck out of control on a freeway. If Calvin ever got hurt again because of my own stupidity, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.
It was painful to swallow. I stared at my shoes. “Sorry,” I whispered.
“I only want you to be safe,” Calvin said after a beat. “If—if your expertise were ever required for me to solve a case, I’d call on them.”
That made me look up. “You would?”
“Yeah.”
“Not that you expect to ever need someone skilled in trinkets from Victorian America to solve a murder.”
“You helped withTamerlane,” Calvin pointed out.
“I guess.”
“Seb, I don’t want anyone questioning your involvement in this. You understand that, right?”
I nodded. I was done arguing. I hated fighting with him. I really did. I loved Calvin too much to bicker, especially when he was right and I was wrong and I knew that from the start.
But the urge to put the mystery to bed myself was still overwhelming. Maybe I did subconsciously crave some sort of way to prove I was smart. That I was clever. Useful, even. That what I did with my life made a difference, like Calvin’s.
Jesus.I needed a hug or something.
“Can I wait at your place tonight?” I asked.
“I’m going to be working—”
“Come home,” I insisted. “Please?”
Someone from behind called my name, and we both turned.
“N-Neil?” I heard myself stutter.
