Ford’s voice sounded strained and plaintive, and Nevin scrutinized him. For the first time that night, Nevin managed to get his head out of his ass and think about someone besides himself. What he saw was his brother nearly on the verge of tears, silently pleading for understanding. Nevin took in a deep breath and released it.

  “You’ll make a fucking amazing father,” he said and watched Ford visibly relax. “But are you sure you want this now, with her? It’s not your biological clock rattling your balls?”

  Ford gave a small smile. “No. Katie… she’s amazing. She works at Target now, but she’s really into gardening and would love to become my business partner. She works really hard, and she’s tougher than anyone I know. Even you. But she’s sweet. And when I’m with her, I don’t even care if we’re doing something stupid like watching reality TV or going grocery shopping, ’cause I’m having fun. She feels like home.”

  Nevin couldn’t help it—he remembered sitting on Colin’s couch, petting the cat and listening to Colin sing about being king. Something uncomfortably warm and fuzzy stretched inside him. He stomped on it. But then he managed a grin. “I better be your goddamn best man, asshole.”

  They grasped hands hard over the table until Nevin pulled away and socked Ford on the arm, causing Ford to knock over his Coke and send cold, sticky liquid everywhere. The waitress rushed over with towels in her hand and murder in her eyes. But Ford couldn’t stop laughing, and so Nevin couldn’t either.

  NEVIN HAD barely settled into his office on Monday morning when Frankl appeared. The homicide detective looked more animated than usual, his hound-dog eyes sparkling with excitement. “Got a lead on the Grey case,” he announced, heaving himself into the chair opposite Nevin’s desk.

  For a split second, Nevin imagined Colin in handcuffs, his kind, handsome face transformed into a mask of hatred. Then Nevin shook himself. “Yeah?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Last week some guy in Boring was doing his yard work when he found a human jawbone in the middle of a flower bed.”

  “That must have been a nasty surprise.”

  “Nah. The old codger’s so excited to have something interesting happening, you’d have thought he discovered Jimmy Hoffa.”

  Nevin had met plenty of people like that. “And the jaw was Grey’s?”

  “Yes indeedy.”

  Drumming his fingers on the desk, Nevin thought that over for a moment. He knew pieces of Grey’s body had been missing, which wasn’t that unusual for a corpse left in the open for a couple of months. Animals had a tendency to drag bits away. But the jawbone in Boring was six or seven miles from Sandy, where most of Grey had been found.

  “I take it you don’t make the codger for Grey’s murder,” Nevin said.

  Frankl snorted. “Nah. But that bone didn’t walk itself there. His property adjoins three others, and now we’re checking on the neighbors. One of them’s got priors—beat up his ex-wife a couple times and dabbled in crank.”

  Although Nevin nodded, he didn’t share Frankl’s optimism. Lots of people had skanky neighbors, but this particular one didn’t sound like he had any logical connection to Grey. Still, there had to be some explanation for that bone in Boring, and at least this was something. “Think you’ll get anywhere on this?”

  “Dunno. But it turns out our codger’s got surveillance cameras on his property—somebody keeps breaking into his shed, he says—so we’re watching the footage. It’s gonna take time, though. That jawbone could’ve showed up anytime over the past two months.”

  Nevin was heartily grateful not to be stuck watching eight weeks of footage of a garden in Boring. “Good luck with it,” he said with a smirk.

  Frankl flipped him the bird. “Fuck you very much, Ng.”

  That made Nevin laugh.

  But long after Frankl wandered back to his own office, Nevin sat unmindful of his computer screen and stacks of papers. He was going to blame Roger Grey’s ghost for this, but he couldn’t get Colin Westwood out of his mind.

  By lunchtime Nevin had accomplished almost nothing and was about to go out of his fucking mind. In fact, maybe he had already lost it, because he found himself looking up the address for Westwood Development, which turned out to be less than a mile away, over near Tenth and Morrison. “Fuckwad,” Nevin growled as he grabbed his jacket.

  It wasn’t raining, but the sky was the color of an elephant’s hide and the air smelled faintly of moisture. The city trees hung on to their gaudy leaves, waiting to shed them at the first downpour, and pedestrians who hadn’t yet abandoned their summer clothing scurried through the growing chill.

  Nevin marched, oblivious to traffic sounds and the scents from food carts, and as he entered the building, his jaw was set tightly enough to hurt. After glancing at the directory, he rode the elevator to the twelfth floor. He expected to find a fancy reception area, but instead there was just a glass door painted with the elegant Westwood Development logo and, on the other side, an older lady at a desk in a cubicle. She looked startled to see him. “Can I help you, sir?”

  It suddenly occurred to him that they probably didn’t get walk-in traffic. He put on his blankest cop face. “I’m here to see Colin Westwood.”

  She tapped at her computer, a frown pulling her brows into a V. “Did you have an appointment? I can’t seem to find—”

  “No appointment. Just tell him Detective Ng is here.”

  She widened her eyes. “Detective! Is everything all right?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Of course.” Flustered, she picked up her phone and punched a button. “Colin? There’s a Detective Ng here to see you.” She called him by his first name. Interesting.

  Nevin was still mulling that over—and ignoring the lady’s nervous stare—when Colin came loping out of a hallway. He wore dress slacks, a violet shirt, and a patterned yellow bow tie, and fuck if Nevin’s heart didn’t give a little lurch at the sight of him. Goddamn it.

  “Nevin!” Colin came to a screeching halt close enough for Nevin to smell his spicy cologne.

  “I need….” Nevin stumbled over the next word. He didn’t know what he needed or why he was here. Didn’t even know what he intended to demand from Colin.

  Instead of getting angry or impatient, Colin seemed to calm a little. The corner of his mouth twitched before he turned to the woman. “We have a meeting. Please make sure nobody interrupts us.” Then he faced Nevin. “Right this way, Detective.”

  Photos of buildings lined the hallway walls. Nevin recognized the one where Colin lived as well as several others he’d seen around town. Most seemed to be condos or townhomes. Colin’s office was near the end of the hall. It was a large space with windows commanding a partially obstructed view of the river. The furniture looked expensive and stuffy—not really Colin’s style—but the framed movie posters made Nevin smile.

  Colin closed the door. Then he surged forward without warning, pushed Nevin back against the oversized desk, and cradled his face in his palms. “I certainly hope you’re not here to arrest me.”

  Before Nevin could answer, they were kissing. Not sweetly and softly. Not teasingly. Ferociously and voraciously, lips pressed tight and tongues tangling, breaths coming in desperate little bursts, deep animal sounds crawling from both of their throats. They separated eventually, but only so they could hang on to each other like two men saved from drowning.

  “I’ve been working here since I was a teenager,” Colin said. “And I have never kissed anyone here before.”

  “Not even Trent?”

  “Never.”

  It was stupid to feel triumphant, but Nevin did. He clung more tightly.

  Then Colin choked out a laugh. “In about thirty seconds, we’re going to end up having sex here. Which I’ve also never done. And unfortunately it’s a really bad idea.”

  “No rubbers handy?”

  “And the furniture’s uncomfortable. I’d suggest the floor, but the walls are thin and my father’s office is next door.”

  Bile burned Nevin’s throat and he pulled away. “I need to—”

  Colin grabbed him. “No. Why’d you come here, Nevin?”

  Maybe it was the kisses that messed up his mouth. When Nevin looked for an answer that was brisk and profane, what came out instead was raw truth. “He’s leaving me.”

  Stunned, Colin gaped and released Nevin’s arm. “You have a boyfriend?” he asked in a tiny voice.

  “For fuck’s sake, no!” Sometimes Nevin believed English had too many words and not enough meanings. This was one of those times. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend either, if you want to be thorough. I’m… shit.” He rubbed his face.

  “Never ever?” Colin asked, stepping close again, speaking softly in Nevin’s ear. “Not even, like, a high school crush?”

  Nevin smiled despite the pain. “You had a lot of those, didn’t you?”

  “My first true love was Mark Oshiro, who sat next to me in second grade. He did not share my ardor. But our au pair used to pack me these enormous lunches because—”

  “Au pair? You had a fucking au pair?”

  “Shut up. I’m sharing here. Her name was Anna and she was Italian. And I was underweight, so she sent me to school with enough lunch to feed an army. Mark’s parents were into weird macrobiotic foods or something. I let him gorge on my sliced ham and cake, and he let me tell everyone we were boyfriends.”

  “Mark Oshiro was easy,” Nevin said with a chuckle.

  “Yep. And a cheat. During recess one day I caught him doing one of those paper fortune-teller things with Jennifer Blaylock. He broke my heart.” Colin clapped a dramatic hand to his chest, but his eyes flashed with real hurt.

  “I could look him up for you,” Nevin offered. “See if he’s got any outstanding warrants and needs a trip to jail.”

  “Not him. Cheating aside, he was a goody-goody. I’ll bet he doesn’t even jaywalk.”

  “Could have traffic follow him around for a while. Fucking everyone does something we can cite ’em for.”

  Colin grinned and gave Nevin’s cheek a gentle kiss. “That’s gallant of you, but we can let him be. I’ve moved on.”

  “Right. You had Trust Fund Trent.”

  “I’ve moved on since him too.” Colin shook his head. “But we were talking about you. Who left you?”

  Now Nevin felt silly for putting it that way. “Nobody,” he muttered.

  “See, unlike you, I’m unskilled in the third degree. So I’m going to just keep repeating the question. Does that make me the bad cop? Who left you, Nevin?”

  Instead of answering, Nevin detached himself from Colin and walked to the window. He could make out the steely glint of the Willamette River, which nearly matched the color of the sky today. He watched the boats working their way upstream and the crawl of traffic across the bridges.

  Colin came up behind him. And although Colin didn’t say anything, Nevin heard him breathing, felt the warmth of the body just behind him. He had the impression that if he leaned back a little, Colin would wrap his arms around Nevin’s middle and hold him tightly. But Nevin moved a few inches closer to the cold window glass instead.

  “My brother is getting married,” Nevin said to the city of Portland. “He’s not really my brother but close enough, and the only fucking family I have. He’s always been there, right? If I needed a place to crash or a ride home when I was wasted. If I needed a wingman when I was picking up girls. But now he’s got a fiancée and he’s all… besotted. Pretty soon it’ll be all about mortgages and college funds, and I’ll be just….” He groaned. “Fuck. I’ll be just a whiny-ass bitch.”

  It was so fucked-up. On the one hand—and it was a goddamn big hand—he was mortified to be that whiny-ass bitch, ashamed that he was anything less than celebratory over his brother’s good news, perplexed about why he was spilling his guts to some guy in a bow tie. Yet there was that other hand, and damn if it wasn’t open rather than clenched into a fist. On that hand, admitting the truth of his feelings to Colin felt… like relief. As if he’d been carrying around a shit-ton of rocks and someone had finally told him he could set that burden down, at least for a minute. Or maybe that someone was helping him hoist the load.

  “I’m so fucked,” Nevin muttered, and he wasn’t just talking about Ford’s engagement.

  Colin set a light hand on Nevin’s shoulder. “Come with me, okay?”

  Nevin didn’t like to take orders—a characteristic that had caused grief within the bureau more than once—but now he followed Colin obediently to the door and waited while he slipped on an overcoat. The coat was dove-colored lightweight wool, and Colin looked delicious. It probably would have cost Nevin a month’s rent.

  Colin paused with his hand on the doorknob. He used his free hand to gently cup Nevin’s cheek. “Come with me,” he repeated.

  And fuck it all if Nevin didn’t do just as he was told.

  Chapter Thirteen

  COLIN THOUGHT Nevin was going to bolt. He would have held his hand as they walked down the hallway, but Nevin was stronger and could have simply pulled away. But when Colin’s father emerged from his office, probably in search of lunch, Colin placed himself smack in the middle of the corridor, blocking Nevin’s escape. Nevin’s eyes widened, and for a moment Colin honestly thought he was going to get run over—or heck, maybe Nevin would just pull out his gun—but then Nevin squared his shoulders and erased all expression from his face.

  “Hi, Dad.” Colin would have given everything he owned for the ability to communicate telepathically with his father right then. He tried, staring hard while projecting his thoughts as forcefully as he could: Be cool. Don’t spook him.

  Harold Westwood wasn’t psychic, but maybe Colin’s body language was strong enough to get through. Harold smiled mildly. “Hi, Col. Heading out?”

  “Yeah. Dad, this is Detective Nevin Ng. Detective, this is my father, Harold Westwood.”

  Nevin shot Colin a look that might have been grateful before shaking Harold’s hand.

  “Is this about Mr. Grey’s murder?” asked Harold.

  Now it was Nevin’s turn for nonverbal communication. It looked as if he was both pleading with Colin to lie for him and apologizing for it. Colin nodded at both of them. “Yeah. He has some more questions. I figured we might as well deal with it over decent coffee.”

  “Don’t blame you. I hope you’re able to make some headway in the case, Detective. It’s a terrible thing.”

  “Thanks,” Nevin said.

  “Colin told me the family wouldn’t have anything to do with Mr. Grey because he was gay.”

  “Yeah. Fucking asswipes.”

  Nevin briefly looked like he regretted the words, but then Harold nodded vigorously. “Couldn’t agree more. A family’s duty is to love and support one another. I can’t think of a more important job.”

  Crap. Colin was going to get misty-eyed if this kept up. “Well, I guess we should—”

  “What about you?” Nevin interrupted. “You don’t care that your only son is a great big fairy?”

  Harold gave Colin a long look, maybe to assess whether Colin was angry over the question or the terminology. But when Colin smiled, Harold simply shrugged. “I think he’s more of an elf. His ears are a little pointy.”

  “Dad!”

  Then Harold faced Nevin and deepened his voice. “I love my son. Unconditionally. I care that he’s gay, but only because it’s a part of him, like his ability to sing or his heart con—”

  “Dad!”

  Harold sighed. “It’s who he is. He’s an amazing kid—no, an amazing man. I sure as hell don’t wish he was someone different.”

  After a long pause—unreadable emotions flashing across his face—Nevin nodded curtly. “Good.”

  The hallway was too small for all the churning emotions, and Colin had used up his store of nonverbal communication. “See you later, Dad!” he announced, then turned and marched away. He was grateful when Nevin followed closely.

  Nevin didn’t say a word as they left the office suite, and he remained silent in the elevator. He didn’t even protest when Colin led them to the BMW.

  “I’m sorry,” Colin said as he started the engine.

  “For what?”

  “I, uh… my dad. Sorry you got….” Well, he wasn’t sure of the right terminology. Sorry you got involuntarily subjected to a parent?

  Nevin made an impatient little growl. “I didn’t spontaneously combust, Collie. Anyway, I like him. He’s not an asshole.”

  Figuring that was high praise, Colin grinned and shifted the car into reverse.

  THE FIRST thing Colin did was head to a favorite sandwich place in Northwest. He was hungry, and although he didn’t know whether Nevin had eaten lunch yet, Nevin looked like he could use a decent meal. But after Colin had circled the block for the third time, Nevin growled again. “Just fucking park the thing.”

  “There aren’t any spots.”

  “Right there.” Nevin pointed.

  “Fire hydrant. And this isn’t your car—they’ll tow me.”

  Nevin made another noise, and Colin had to suppress a laugh. He liked seeing Nevin all prickly and annoyed. It was much better than earlier, when he looked as if his world was falling apart. Other people could look like that but not Detective Nevin Ng, the man who was usually ready to take on the world.

  “Just go somewhere else, then,” Nevin groused. “Before you make us both fucking dizzy going around and around.”

  “We’re not going to eat inside. I just want to grab stuff to go.”

  “Then park your ass in the goddamn red zone. I’ll stay here and protect your precious piece of German crap from the big, nasty tow-truck men.”

  That time Colin did laugh. And he followed orders too, even though he felt as if he might get struck by lightning as he pulled to the red-painted curb. He kept the keys in the ignition and didn’t ask what Nevin wanted before bounding out of the car.

  “You’re gonna get towed,” said the lushly bearded guy behind the counter.