Neil shoved me on his way by just then, looking over his shoulder while hiking up the stairs to the temple.
And then there was that guy. Not that I suspected Neil of killing people. Because I hadnotdated a psychopath for four years.
He was just pissed.
Instead of getting away from me after a bad breakup, he had not only Calvin—but me as well—shoved in his face. I could see why anyone would be upset from that.
Except….
The completely insane, illogical, I-must-be-drunk-or-something part of my mind said: it’s possible.
It wasn’t.
No. It absolutelywas notpossible.
But the facts were still the same as they were in December. Neil knew where I lived. He knew where I worked, how to get around the cameras—and as a forensic detective, he for sure must have known a way to bypass security systems. And even more than Luther, Neil knewme. He knew my habits and tendencies.
If I were playing into the killer’s hands and getting myself involved in something I didn’t quite understand yet, they knew the way to keep me active in the game. They knew to keep me curious—just like P.T. Barnum had done with his crowds of museum patrons.
Neil knows I’m a curious shit.
What if Luther wasn’t making up that crap about a cop threatening him?
I mean…. Neil was a cop.
I shook my head and balled my hands into fists to hold them against my temple. I wasn’t being smart about this. I was taking the evidence and suspects I had and forcing them to fit.
Right?
Because this was nuts.
Neil wasn’t handling a breakup well. That didn’t mean he lost his fucking mind and turned into a murderer.
“Hey.”
I looked up so fast, I nearly got whiplash. Calvin was staring at me, those pretty and intense gray eyes burning a hole right through me. “What?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Something wrong?”
I swallowed and looked over Calvin’s shoulder, watching Neil go into the temple. “No. I don’t think so.”
He turned briefly in the direction I was looking before meeting my gaze again.
Was… Calvin having the same thoughts I was?
“Come here,” he said with a nod of his head toward the pool.
I followed close behind him, resisting the desire to grab his hand and let his strength ground me. I took a deep breath and peered at the waterlogged body before us. “So he was killed in the temple?”
Calvin looked at me curiously.
“Well, Neil wouldn’t be collecting evidence in the temple otherwise.”
Calvin didn’t have a response.
I looked back down at the dead guy. His face and hands were kind of bloated. He’d probably been dead since at least yesterday for rigor to set in, but also enough time in the water for his skin to be reacting like that. I didn’t want to say he was familiar—because in life he’d have certainly been less gross-looking—but the nagging feeling that I had met him before persisted.
“Sebastian?” Calvin asked quietly.
