“It’s about us,” I corrected.
“Us,” he echoed in quiet agreement. “What I mean is… I love you. You’ve been my family since the beginning. It’s not….” Calvin stopped. He looked down at my hand again. “I don’t need to feel guilty for their reaction to my coming out.”
“That’s true,” I murmured.
“I am not obligated to extend an olive branch in the form of invitation to an event they’ve openly and viciously criticized in the past. It’s one thing—what they say to or about me—but Iwill notallow that behavior to be directed toward you.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up—”
“No. It’s all right. I do need to decide either way,” Calvin said. He brought my hand up, kissed the ring, and let go. “Give me a bit longer to think it over.”
“One crisis at a time,” I agreed.
“Right.” Calvin checked his watch and swore quietly. “I need to head back. Finish getting dressed, and I’ll drop you off at the hotel.” He moved around the foot of the bed, grabbed the bag that’d been knocked to the floor during our impromptu tangle in the sheets, and headed downstairs with it.
I puffed my cheeks as I let out a deep breath. I’m not sure why I thoughtnowhad been a good time to bring up the estranged family. Sex and bigoted in-laws didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand. Although, replace sex with murder, and yeah… I could see the connection. I figured it had been lingering in the back of my mind since earlier in the day, when I’d honestly tried to do some wedding prep.
I still wasn’t sure how I felt, beyond supportive of Calvin’s decision—no question there. The petty asshole in me wanted the Winters to attend so I could kiss their son in front of the entire world and show them I was the person who made him happier than he’d ever been. When I was more rational about it, of course I was not enthused about the idea of Retired Colonel Dickhead giving me stink eye the entire event.
Catch-22.
“Seb?” Calvin called from the living room.
I hastily buttoned my shirt, bent to yank my loafers back on, and walked to the stairs. “Yeah?” I started down, looking over the railing to the right as Calvin put his weapon on.
“What’s this?” he asked, with his free hand raising the envelope I’d tossed onto the table.
“USPS must have shoved it through the mail slot. I stepped on it when I got home.”
Calvin set it aside and put his suit coat on. He adjusted the collar and gave me a sideways glance as I joined him. “They delivered without postage?”
I grabbed the envelope and looked at it. After stepping on it in my haste to see the delivery guys upstairs, I hadn’t taken notice of the lack of stamps or confirmation it’d been processed through any post office. There didn’t appear to be a return address. I flipped it over—nothing on the back either.
I didn’t want to jump to any paranoid conclusions, although I didn’t think I’d be blamed for doing so. Still holding the envelope, I asked without looking at Calvin, “Do you want me to open it?”
“Wait.” Calvin walked toward the front door, turned left down the hall to the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a small kitchen knife. He carefully cut along the top of the envelope as I held it with the tips of my fingers.
Once Calvin finished, I dumped the contents onto the tabletop. A plastic Ziploc bag with some kind of mush inside fell out, followed by a folded piece of paper. I set the envelope aside, picked up the baggie, and held it up for both of us to examine.
“That’s a human eye,” Calvin stated.
Chapter Four
OR RATHER—itwasa human eye.
After being trampled by two beefy delivery guys lugging a giant pine tree, followed by me and a dog, there wasn’t a lot left to its original form.
“Eye goop,” Neil said before snapping a photo. “Just great.”
Calvin stood a few feet farther into the living room, conversing with Quinn on his cell. Two police in uniform stood in the open doorway of our apartment. Another member of CSU was downstairs with a third officer, investigating the building’s front door and resident mailboxes.
I crossed my arms and studied Neil. No suit. He’d since changed into a long-sleeve sweater and a pair of dark jeans. “For not being the one on the receiving end of some seriously fucked-up, serial-killer, body-part-collector bullshit, you’re in an awfully foul mood this evening.”
Neil shot me a sour look.
I shrugged. “Trying to put life into perspective for you.”
“I’d just gotten off duty. I was in the middle of something.”
