Page 126 of To All the Guys I Killed Before

“I dunno, he knocked out that shrink, and apparently he figured out how to keep his bitch in line for good. I kinda admire a man who holds the line like that. The examined life, ya know?”

Shrink.

Hugo.

The other voice gives a noncommittal response as my phone slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers. I wince at the clatter, then move to the sink to turn on the water as if I’m washing my hands.

Fixing a professionally neutral expression on my face, I push the door open, step into the hallway, and come face to face with Officer Lester Timms, deep in conversation with an older uniformed cop I don’t recognize.

A smile oozes across Timms’s face when he spots me.

“Well, hey there, firebird,” he says, elbowing the guy next to him in a “check her out” motion as he runs his eyes down my body in a possessive sweep.

“Officer Timms.” I ignore the hint of bile that climbs my throat at having to stand here, pretending I don’t know exactly what he’s implying with that nickname.

Not implying. He’s all but shouting it and daring me to ask, the motherfucker.

“Betcha love this one, Bellamy.” Timms gestures toward the body. “Nice and cozy in a kitchen, and you didn’t even have to make any sandwiches.”

He turns to the other cop, clearly expecting approval. Instead the older man looks at him with distaste. He makes his quick escape when Timms gets back to eye-fucking me despite my shapeless jumpsuit.

Interesting. Ol’ Les is always in the middle of a circle of back-slapping cops when I see him on scenes. Maybe even his buddies are getting tired of his macho bullshit. I definitely am, but I’m trapped in the narrow hallway when he steps into my path, tucking his thumbs into his utility belt as he asks, “Any luck finding my stepbrother, or you been too busy with the pedo?”

Ugh, this man.

“No,” I say shortly. Is he really going to interrogate me while my brain’s busy chanting “Ray Overton” on a loop? Hugo refused to give me details, but I know the man’s name now, and my heart’s thrumming with that knowledge.

“Shit.” He smooths an agitated hand over his mustache. “I haven’t even been able to find his dog, and that little rodent’s microchipped.”

Not anymore he’s not, and I’ll cut this man’s tongue out if he refers to Cosmo as a rodent again.

“Any word from your boyfriend?” he asks, his flat, brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, why is he still on me about this?

“Greg is my ex-boyfriend.” There. I used present tense. Nobody’s dead here. “And like I told you, I haven’t heard from him since we broke up.”

“You haven’t, huh?” He’s smiling as he says it, but it’s brittle. “Not a single breakup fuck for Miz Rue Bellamy?”

“Not appropriate work conversation,” I say crisply.

“Ohhh, better call the police.” He looks left, then right, then down at the budget on his chest, guffawing at his own joke.

“Didn’t I hear that Greg’s replacement in the state’s attorney’s office is taking another look at your ex-wife’s case?” I ask sweetly. “Gosh, I wonder what she’ll find!” I shouldn’t be provoking him, but fuck Lester Timms for throwing his good-ol’-boy network in my face.

“Diversity hire bullshit.” His face twists, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, although not before I catch a slight tremble.

I look at him more closely. His mustache is shaggier than when he stopped by my desk the other week, and an even more aggressive minty smell clings to him, likely to hide the hint of last night’s brown liquor. His uniform shirt gaps at the neck, and his gun belt is loose enough that he’ll need to go in another notch soon if he keeps losing weight. Looks like the stress of the Paul Franklin case reopening might be getting to him.

Timms’s nostrils flare when he catches me studying him.

“Get a drink with me tonight, firebird. We can complain about our exes, maybe see what else we have in common.”

It’s a command, not a question, and my lip curls at the mere thought of it.

“No.”

Timms laughs, but his right eye twitches. “You sure about that? It occurs to me that some of Greg’s exes might have a bit of a grudge against him. And some of them might have the professional tools to do something about it.”