“Unfortunately, yes. I checked his work records and aligned them with the time of the murder. He’s been doing overtime for the last week, and it’s probable he didn’t get a chance to watch the recording before it was wiped.”
“Not very diligent of him.”
“I get the feeling…” Greer trails off, brows drawing together as he stares at his food. “It’s not an obsession thing.”
“Seriously?” Jericho asks. He looks pointedly at the boxes of evidence to the contrary. “What is that, then? A casual hobby?”
I happen to agree with Greer. “Stalker tendencies don’t have to be about obsession.”
Greer nods at me. “Exactly. He’s not obsessed with her; he thinks they’re friends. He’s created this intense relationship in his mind and made it his reality.”
“Reality in the most basic sense of the word,” Jericho mutters, looking like he wants to find the guy in the cell and show him the error of his ways, painfully.
“He doesn’t think he’s violating her privacy,” Greer continues. “He thinks he has arightto it because they’re the best of friends.”
“It’s why he doesn’t have a camera in the most-private areas of her home,” Spencer says, lips parting as the pieces click into place for him. He pushes his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose from where they’re slipping down. The simple move destroys me, and I need him closer.
It only takes one tug to get him up and onto my lap, sitting sideways so I can still see everyone at the table, and so can he. Spencer doesn’t resist the sudden change in position, making himself comfortable without skipping a beat.
“Friends spend time together in the living room, in all the communal parts of the house,” Spencer continues. “But the bathroom is a singular event; so is the bedroom. Usually.”
“Unless you’re fucking,” Jericho points out. “I can’t remember the last time I had bathroom time by myself.” The look on his face makes it clear he’s not talking about getting clean but getting dirty.
“Okay, but when was the last time you and I had a shower together?” Six asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Just say the word, honey.”
Spencer leans back into my touch, where I’m drawing circles on the small of his back. Having him in my arms feels like being complete. He turns and gives me a look. “What are you thinking?” he asks quietly.
“I’m thinking I want to go home,” I admit. I want him alone, and it has nothing at all to do with the case.
“I doubt he’s the killer,” Greer says, ignoring everyone’s bullshit. “And as much as it pisses me off, I don’t think he has any answers as to who is. He’s a dead end.”
“What kind of stalker is he?” Spencer asks disdainfully. “Can’t even work out who else is watching her? The least he could do is make himself useful.”
“How terrible of him not to have a brain like us,” Hunter says with a low laugh. “It’s disappointing that he’s a dead end, but at least you can cross him off the list.”
“You going to charge him with something?” Jericho asks Greer curiously.
“Oh, yeah. There’s plenty to go around, and I’m not about to let him start a new fixation on someone else.”
“We’ll get these boxes transported to the station for you,” I offer. We have no use for them now. And I want them out of my sight. They can be used as evidence for whatever Greer has planned for him. Better him than me.
Chapter fifteen
Spencer
“Are you sexually attractedto me?”
Sebastian blinks at me, the glass of scotch he ordered at the bar halfway to his lips. “Uh…” He puts the drink down and glances around at the busy pub we’d randomly picked. “No.” He leans back, still looking confused. I don’t think that what I said is that confusing. A simple question. “Why, do you think I am?”
“No.”
He studies me for a heartbeat before saying, “Why’d you ask, then?”
“Because I wanted to know.” There doesn’t have to be an ulterior motive for a question. Knowing an answer andgettingthe answer are two different things.
Sebastian lifts a finger from his glass, pointing at me. “Yes, but you already knew.”
