Was Robert Heath Hall? Things that had happened over the last couple weeks flashed through my mind. The fact that he remembered the truth quote, the fact that he was acting shifty when we were talking about it, the fact that I hadn’t seen him at all at the museum, the fact that he thought I swam too much. Maybe I had ruled him out too soon.

“Just talking to Ms. Lin.”

I looked at his hands for any evidence of paint. “You talked to her about a painting?”

“What? No. My schedule. She’s my mentor. Isn’t she yours too?”

“Oh yeah, right.” A seed of doubt at my theory wedged itself in my mind. “Well, I was going to talk to her about a painting. Remember at the art museum?”

“Right, for that Heath Hall thing.” He didn’t even flinch when he said it. Did that mean he was practiced at pretending it wasn’t him or that it really wasn’t him?

“Yes. Well, I loved the painting he did. I was hoping to buy it.”

He laughed, low at first and then loud.

I crossed my arms. So he was Heath Hall. Why else would he be laughing like this? He knew he had fooled me and now he got to rub it in. My cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“You only want to buy it because you think it’ll help you learn his identity.”

Oh. Or there was that. He knew my true motives. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

His mocking smile softened. “You’re getting closer.”

“So is it one of your friends?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Someone I already know?”

“Sort of.”

I huffed. What did that mean? “For the record, I really do like his painting. It’s amazing.”

His leftover smile fully dropped off his face now, and he reached out and grabbed my hand as I turned to go, jerking me to a halt. He spun me back toward him. “You want to catch a movie Saturday?”

“Saturday? I might’ve, but I’ll be following Heath Hall to Whitestone Bridge and watching him jump. Maybe if you told me who he was we could catch that movie.” That was a bluff. I didn’t want to catch a movie with Robert. Nothing had changed with either of us since our breakup and nothing was going to. My butterflies were completely squashed and I was happy for it.

He tapped my chin with his closed fist like he had suddenly turned into my grandpa or something. “Nice try.”

Nice try. That sounded familiar. Heath Hall had said that to me in our chat online. I narrowed my eyes, shook my head, and walked away.

I hate Robert, I texted Amelia.

Do I need to kill him again?

He’s just frustrating.