Page 12 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Rory shook his head, jaw tight. “No.”
I waited for the inevitable snarky comment about wolves dating humans, or some bitter observation about Ezra’s wealth. But Rory remained uncharacteristically silent, his shoulders rigid as we walked.
I kept my tone neutral to comment, “And he hasn’t filed a missing persons report for his own missing boyfriend.”
Rory responded with a grunt that could have meant anything.
“Did you try reaching out to him?”
“Umm…” Rory suddenly found the expensive carpet fascinating. “I think Ezra blocked me on social media.”
Something flashed across his face—guilt, maybe shame. What exactly had Rory done to make Dev’s new boyfriend block him?
I resisted the urge to find out. That way lay madness, and probably a migraine.
As we approached the door, I had a sudden compulsion to suggest Rory wait outside, but it was too late, because he was already knocking.
It swung open to reveal a man in a pink silk dressing gown that probably cost more than my monthly salary. His honey-blond hair was not dissimilar to Rory’s colouring; however, Ezra’s swept back from his forehead in artful waves—the kind of style that took an hour to look effortlessly tousled.
…of course he looks like he stepped out of a fucking magazine…
Beside me, Rory’s face was a picture, and I almost elbowed him.
“Hello?” A perfect smile flashed, teeth gleaming like a toothpaste commercial.
“DI Maxwell.” Displaying my badge, I stepped forward, using my body language to prompt him backward—an old technique that rarely failed. “Can you spare us a second?”
Ezra retreated into his flat, clutching his dressing gown closer. “What’s this about?” His accent dripped with private school privilege, each syllable precisely enunciated.
I gestured toward a cream leather sofa that dominated the living space. Through my peripheral vision, I caught Rory’s head swivelling like an owl’s, taking in every detail of the flat—a crystal decanter caught the morning light, and abstract art pieces dotted the walls.
Ezra did not move. His gaze slid over Rory without a flicker of recognition before returning to me.
“I have a few questions about the whereabouts of Dev Bassi,” I said, sliding my notepad out. “You’re his boyfriend, correct?”
The transformation was instant. Ezra’s carefully cultivated charm vanished, replaced by a scowl that twisted his features into something ugly.
“No,” he seethed. “I am not.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Rory, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.
“I broke up with him just over a week ago. The prick didn’t even have the decency to reply to my text.”
“You broke up with him over text?” Rory blurted.
Whilst Ezra narrowed his eyes, I tried probing gently at his surface thoughts—always useful to gauge if someone was lying—butonly caught fragments. Strong emotions came through clearest. Fear, hatred, desire… those crashed through like alarm bells. But specific facts? Memories? Those required the kind of focus and physical contact that would be completely inappropriate during a police interview.
…oh god, it’s the psycho ex…
Nowthatcame through sharp and clear, coloured with disgust and a spike of anxiety.
“I… I know you. You’re that ex of his. The one who kept leaving laughing face emojis on every single photo we posted of us together.”
I swallowed my groan.Of course.Ignoring that thread of conversation, I prompted, “Ezra, what happened with you and Dev, precisely?”
“He was cheating on me, the bastard.”
“What?Dev wouldn’t cheat!” Rory snapped.
