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Robert gave him a small smile. “We’re almost done. You’re doing good, Will. Stay with me a little longer.”
Will nodded.
“Did you know any of his friends? Hang with them at a bar or have them come here?” he asked. They’d already gone through the two years they’d been together, what Will knew of his family, where he was born, grew up, and lived before he moved in with Will.
Will shook his head. “He was a loner. Or at least, that’s what he portrayed to me. Sometimes he’d tell me he was going to have a beer after work with Lou, who he drove with or some of the guys, but the instances were few and far between.”
“Lou have a last name,” Robert inquired his pen poised above his notebook.
“Honestly, I don’t think he ever told me, or if he did, I just don’t remember.” Will scrubbed his forehead. “Of course, I’ve meet Lou. He’d been to the museum many times when they dropped off or picked up art.”
Will felt even worse now about his ability to make decisions than before the interview started. He'd come to realize, among other things, he'd endangered those he loved most by bringing Tristan, a man he didn't know, into his life. He also hadn't just risked his safety, but also his friends and family, especially since Tristan had gone home with him to visit his family.
Robert signed. “Don’t do this to yourself, Will. We’re not even sure if Tristan is our guy.”
"Right. So, you want me to hold off all I'm feeling until you come back and tell me he is a suspect?" Will mouthed off, knowing gut-deep Tristan was their guy. Or at the very least one of many who could be blamed for stealing the priceless works of art from the museums.
Robert cocked a brow in warning. Honestly, right now, Will could give a shit, and he would’ve told Robert that if his phone hadn’t alerted to an email. Without saying a word, Robert placed his pen down before he picked up his phone. He was quiet for a long while as he read, and it wasn’t until he was done that he glanced up at Will.
“What?” he snapped when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“Da Vinci Couriers doesn’t show an employment record for Tristan,” Robert stated.
The knot in his gut grew, making it hard to breathe. "What does that mean?"
“Right now, nothing.” Will snorted and doubted the agent’s words. “Did you ever see a paystub?”
"No." He hated the wobble in his voice, but he also knew Robert wouldn't judge him. "He told me he didn't make a lot of money, and he had a lot of debt from being young and stupid." His laughter was filled with disdain, because of the shit storm his life had become or more importantly had been since he met Tristan. "Truth was, he continued to live high off the hog. I was the stupid one since I watched him spend money like water. When he moved in with me, I paid for everything. Even going as far as giving him a credit card in his name, attached to my account. Which he used often and never paid for, hence the bill I was left with to pay off.”
Now Robert knew all his dirty secrets around his ex. Even the girls and his other friends didn’t know the seven levels of hell he’d gone through with his ex. They’d be disappointed at his naivety.
Robert nodded. “When we’re done, I’m going to need you to log onto your account and have you print off all his charges.”
"Not an issue. I have it all printed out in case, I pressed charges," he stated, wishing he'd had the guts to do so before now. At one point he thought about having a bonfire in the pit in the backyard with the box of shit he'd found of Tristan's when he moved. Now, he'd been glad he kept it. "I also have a small box of his things he left behind."
“I’ll need that also,” Robert mentioned as he continued to make notes.
“What else was in your message from Agent Wilcox?”
Robert stopped writing. “Benjamin ran an NCIC on him.”
“And it took him this long?”
Robert chuckled. “No. It’s Sunday. Lots of businesses are closed and Benjamin had to find the right people to wake up and get their asses to work to get the information for him.”
“Must be nice to have a badge.”
“Particularly when it says Federal Bureau of Investigation. People don’t like to fuck with us, CIA or IRS agents.”
Will smiled. “No doubt.”
The smile was fake though, his gut churned, convinced—even though Robert had assured him he wasn’t—that at any moment Robert’s partner was going to come barreling through his front door. Guns blazing with a warrant in hand to search the place and arrest him.
Robert chuckled and Will realized he had spoken all of his worries out loud. "You watch too many TV shows, beautiful boy." He shifted forward. "First, I'm already in here. Second, my partner knows I always have my gun.Always.” Will didn’t know why, but knowing anytime they were out together, Robert had a gun was hot as hell, and again, his dick twitched to life, even though he willed the bastard to soften so he didn’t look like a pervert. “Third, they wouldn’t come through the door, knowing I’m here, risking my life. Besides, I’ve already told you, you’re not a suspect. So, do me a favor, and just relax.”
Will nodded, knowing it was easier said than done. “Sure. Relax.”
Robert stood then and crossed to Will. “I’ve got all the information I need.” He held out his hand. “How about you and I do something to take our mind off Tristan for a while?”
