“Big cats toy with their prey. Not as an act of sadistic pleasure, but out of self-preservation. And once the prey is too tired to keep fighting, the cat strikes.”

Bosman slowly shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Detective Larkin is playing a verbal back-and-forth with you, and I don’t think you realize he hasn’t struck yet.”

Larkin kept his expression a practiced neutral, but it was difficult. Pride skimmed very close to the surface, like little nips of electricity along his skin. And while he’d have preferred a comparison like Larkin would send Rosencrantz and Guildenstern packing in a game of questions, big cats were king, so it’d do.

“Fine, fine,” Bosman snapped. “Stay here. I’ll grab the keys and some gloves.” He pushed past them and headed out the front door.

Larkin leaned one shoulder against the wall. He was staring straight ahead at the unit labeled 1A as he said, “It’s interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“Outside, I was thinking about big cats.”

Doyle said, “Synchronicity bodes well for the longevity of our relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“I beg to differ, work husband.”

Larkin pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and slid his other into his trouser pocket.

Doyle chuckled and asked, “Big cats?”

“Never mind.”

“You brought it up.”

“I’m unbringing it up.”

“I’ll tell everyone about how you seduced me.”

Larkin dropped his hand and looked up. “I did no such thing.”

“Really? You fed me, complimented me—”

Larkin blurted, if only to get Doyle to stop, “I thought that sometimes, you—you sort of move like a cat.”

Doyle raised an eyebrow.

“It’s because you’re very tall,” Larkin continued, struggling for an air of professionalism. “And lean. Like….”

“A cat.”

“Yes.”

“Is this a roundabout way of saying I’m hot?”

“Jesus Christ.” Larkin’s cell buzzed in his pocket, and he dug it out while Doyle laughed to himself.

Text from Noah Rider.

Stop ignoring me.

Larkin closed the app and tucked his phone away as the main entrance opened from behind, the hubbub of the scene outside following Bosman inside before the door fell shut. Bosman’s tread on tile echoed, growing more pronounced as he rounded the corner. He wore a pair of latex gloves and held extras in one hand, which he offered them both, and a set of keys in the other—taken from Ricky, most likely. Bosman unlocked the apartment, felt along the wall, then flipped a switch. “So what’re you looking for?” he asked, stepping aside and allowing Larkin and Doyle to enter.

“I’ll know when I see it,” Larkin said, then abruptly stopped walking.