"Did he speak to Amanda specifically?"
"Not that I saw.But I wasn't watching him the whole time."Cross's brow furrowed deeper."Do you think—was that him?The person who..."
"We don't know yet."Isla retrieved the photo and tucked it back into her folder."But if you remember anything else about this man—anything at all—I need you to call me immediately."
She pulled a card from her pocket and placed it on his desk.Cross stared at it like it was a snake coiled to strike.
"Am I a suspect?"he asked quietly."Is that why you're really here?"
Isla considered her answer carefully.The truth was complicated—Cross's connection to both victims made him impossible to ignore, and the accounts from his students about his wandering hands and lingering attention painted a portrait of a man who had difficulty respecting boundaries.But her instincts, honed by years of profiling and a handful of devastating mistakes, were telling her something different.
"You're a person of interest," she said finally."Both victims attended your studio.You had a romantic history with one of them.Those are facts we can't ignore."
"But?"
"But I don't think you killed them."The words came out before she could stop them, and she saw James's eyebrows rise slightly in her peripheral vision."Your reaction at the restaurant—either you're an exceptional actor, or you genuinely didn't know Amanda Pierce was dead until we told you."
Cross let out a breath that seemed to deflate him entirely."I didn't know.I swear to God, I didn't know."
"That said," James interjected, "we're going to need you to stay in town until this investigation is concluded.Don't make any travel plans, don't change your routine dramatically, and if you remember anything else about the man who came asking about classes—"
"I'll call."Cross picked up Isla's card and turned it over in his fingers."Agent Rivers.Agent Sullivan.I'll cooperate fully.Whatever you need."
Isla stood, and James followed suit.At the door to the office, she paused and looked back at Cross.He was still sitting behind his desk, staring at the card in his hands, looking smaller somehow than he had when they'd first spotted him at the restaurant—smaller and older and infinitely more afraid.
"Mr.Cross," she said."The man at your studio.The one asking about classes.Did he seem interested in anyone else?Any other students?"
Cross thought about it, and she watched his face change as a new memory surfaced.
"There was something," he said slowly."After he left—I noticed him in the parking lot.He was standing by his car, just...watching.The Monday evening class was letting out, and he was watching the women leave."His voice dropped."I remember thinking I should say something, but then he drove away and I forgot about it."
"What kind of car?"
"I don't—" Cross stopped, his eyes narrowing in concentration."Gray, I think.Some kind of sedan.I didn't pay attention to the make."
Gray sedan.Just like the one captured on the security footage near Amanda Pierce's yoga studio.Just like Nathan Cross's own Honda, which had seemed so damning an hour ago.
"Thank you," Isla said."We'll be in touch."
She and James walked out through the empty studio, past the reception desk with its crystals and incense holders, past the bulletin board advertising meditation workshops and beginner's packages.The February cold hit them the moment they stepped outside, sharp and clarifying after the sandalwood-scented warmth.
James waited until they were in the car with the doors closed before speaking.
"You told him you don't think he did it."
Isla started the engine and let the heat begin its slow crawl toward comfortable."I know."
"We can't rule him out yet.The connection to both victims, the inappropriate behavior with students—"
"I know."Isla stared through the windshield at the yoga studio's cheerful sign, at the promise of serenity and self-discovery that had curdled into something dark."But his reaction was genuine, James.You saw it.When we told him about Amanda, he nearly fell over."
"He could be a good actor."
"He could be."She pulled out of the parking space and turned toward the main road."But I've been wrong before about rushing to judgment.I'm not going to make that mistake again."
James was quiet for a moment, and she knew he was thinking about Miami, about Alicia Mendez, about the cost of certainty when certainty was wrong.It was one of the things she appreciated about him—his willingness to let her past inform their present without using it as a weapon.
"So what's your read?"he asked finally.
