“You’re telling me.” I made a face as I stared at a pile of gay porn DVDs. “Didn’t anyone ever tell this dude he could watch this stuff for free on the internet?” I joked.
She rolled her eyes and ignored me. Which was good. Because I felt likeIwas devolving.
I moved away from the living room and wandered around, but there was nothing that told me anything about the guy or who would want him killed.
Except that he was gay.
Then I came across his office and on his desk were photographs.
Photos of a man I recognized.
My stomach churned. Thoughts racing, I fled the room. Except, I couldn’t run because that would look suspicious.
It would also look suspicious if anyone found out that I met the victim at a gay club and had danced with him.
And that I had a stalker who chased him away.
A stalker, who I then started dating.
That boyfriend also knew the witness who discovered the last victim of the killer.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I was so fucking screwed for not saying anything sooner.
There had to be a reasonable explanation. I didn’t accept any other possibility.
Needing air, I went out to see if any of the other techs found anything, but they had just started to get to work, so there was nothing yet. I wandered around and let my thoughts drift, which was not a good idea. They kept going back to Nate. But he couldn’t be involved.
Could he?
Had Victoria been right all along and he’d been manipulating me? Using me?
Just as I tried to rein in my thoughts and go back inside, something caught my eye a little farther down the street, nestled perfectly in the crack on the sidewalk.
I glanced around, but no one was paying attention to me, so I made my way down the street and bent down to see if it was anything I should grab a tech about or just more broken concrete. When I got close, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. My heart raced so fast I was sure it would leap right out of my chest.
No. No, no, no. That’s impossible.
With trembling fingers, I reached down and picked up the antique cufflink that had been left behind at the house of the latest victim of the serial killer I’d been hunting for almost a year. My vision swam, and I thought I’d pass out or throw up. Perhaps both.
But I pulled myself together and stared at the tangible proofI couldn’t deny any longer. I’d known something was different from the start about this victim.
Personal.
“Hey, Cooper, you find anything?” one of the techs asked.
I slid the cufflink into my pocket, spun around, and shrugged. “Nah. Nothing but broken concrete here. Thought maybe there’d be some scuff marks or something, but nada.” I looked around. “I’m going to canvas the neighborhood. Let Coleman know, would you, if she starts looking for me?”
He nodded. “Of course, Detective.”
I gave him a nod and was glad I had an excuse to walk around and dispel some of the anxiety and tension that had gripped me after I found the cufflink. There had to be a reasonable explanation.
We need to talk when I get off work. No more ghosting me.
The words made me grimace. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to confront him about it. Maybe I’d be better off being an ostrich with my head stuck in the sand.
Except, that wasn’t a viable option. I was a homicide detective. I was hunting a serial killer. And my boyfriend’s cufflink was at the victim’s house.
