Page 80 of Paternal Instincts
The room was so quiet Travolta’s steady typing on his computer reached us. “What do we know about sociopaths?” I asked randomly. “Who fits the bill?”
“We know they’re good at not appearing like sociopaths,” Costa said.
“Not helpful.” I snapped my fingers. “Come on. List things.”
“Money issues,” Aslan said. “They’re impulsive spenders. They tend to struggle with financial responsibility. They steal. Often have a history of criminal behavior.”
“Jude,” Jordyn and I both said at the same time.
“They’re compulsive liars,” Aslan added, “and they will often want to be in the center of any chaos they cause.”
Silence descended on us again.
We spent the following two hours discussing how to proceed. Unless we had a warrant or consent, we couldn’t exactly go around collecting everyone’s DNA. Considering the tempers we’d witnessed at the Davises’, Jordyn and I agreed that writing up warrants was the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, warrants required firm reasoning, and of the six men we’d met while working the case, we could roughly justify three of our demands. Nixon was obvious. Jude was the only person on camera at the Soccerplex, so he was explainable. For some reason, Benedict was paying Imogen an exorbitant amount of money, and it wasn’t hard to believe it was hush money.
It gave me goose bumps when I considered that he may have had an affair with his daughter-in-law. It could explain Diane’s hostility and the way she protected her daughter. Maybe she knew the truth. I made a mental note to bring this up when we spoke with her.
Flynn and Robert were family—a strong argument on its own considering the circumstances—but apart from that, we had no outside reason to request warrants for DNA. We did it anyway, not wanting to leave any stone unturned. I put my faith in Aslan and sent him off to deal with Judge Madison.
Before he snuck away, I dragged him around the corner and planted a bruising kiss on his mouth, issuing a warning. “You’re a married man, Aslan Ronan Doyle. Don’t you forget it.”
He chuckled. “Are you worried, hot stuff?”
“No. Not anymore, but I want these warrants signed. Just… don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“You’re a worse flirt than I am.”
“No I’m not.”
More laughing. He looped an arm around my waist and dragged me closer. Our bodies fit together perfectly. Aslan leaned his forehead against mine. “You’re all I want, Quaid. You know that.”
“I do. Don’t take too long.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Unfortunately, it was after eight on a Sunday night. Even if the judge had a soft spot for Aslan, even if we were dealing with a missing child, Madison might refuse to see him until morning. We’d been harassing her all weekend. Aslan might have to hunt down another willing judge. Getting warrants signed after hours on a weekend wasn’t always easy or doable.
Once Aslan left, Jordyn announced she was going to write up some of the paperwork for our case, so we were on top of it. “The second we solve this, I know you’ll jump ship and swim for the horizon, and I’ll be left to close it.”
She was right since I wasn’t supposed to be there to begin with. On that thought, I tugged my phone from my pocket to ensure Bryn hadn’t messaged or called. Nothing.
I followed Costa to the dungeon. Part of me wanted to urge him to head home since he was dragging his feet. He’d given up his weekend and abandoned his wife and kids because I couldn’t say no to a case, and he couldn’t say no to me. Who knew it would turn out like this? Another part of me wanted to hover over my best friend’s shoulder as he poked into Benedict Davis’s finances, which was exactly what I did.
It was rare that I understood what Costa did on the computer. I wasn’t tech-savvy, and he worked too fast for me to follow, often multitasking and flipping between screens as he went. He no longer protested when I dragged my chair too close or lingered in his personal bubble. The man might object if we had an audience, but not when it was the two of us.
When we were alone, he teased. “I can feel your breath on my neck.”
“Does it turn you on?”
“No, but if I go home smelling like your cologne again, Tia’s gonna wonder if I switched teams.”
I chuckled and gave him space. “You’re such a liar. You’ve never gone home smelling like me.”
Costa’s cocky grin told me I was right.
I let him work, staying out of his way so he could think. “How’s your cousin?”
“Tallus? Good. He’s… happy. Mostly staying out of trouble, and considering he’s hanging around with Krause full-time, that’s saying something. I haven’t gotten a phone call to bail his ass out of trouble lately.” He held up crossed fingers, and I smiled.
