His gaze moves over me, and he smiles like we’ve met before, but I know better than to trust it. “Are you Brandi Maxwell?”

My throat feels like I’ve just swallowed hot grease. “Yeah.”

He holds out a small, calloused hand. “I’m Detective Bierman. This is Officer Glover.”

I shake his hand, but I’m immediately self-conscious about my grip. I don’t want it to be too strong and come off as aggressive, but don’t want to seem meek, either, like he can just intimidate me, so I struggle to find the balance between the two and pull my hand back before he can feel my sweat.

Glover extends her hand as well, and at first, I am wholly disappointed. Her dark skin and gold badge feel so deeply incongruous, it’s almost surreal. When she shakes my hand, she is not aggressive at all.

“I know it’s early, but I’m hoping you can help us out. We have a warrant to search this apartment,” Bierman says, pulling out a crinkled document and flashing it my way. I barely get a glance before he folds it back up and tucks it into his pocket. “Can we take a look inside and ask you a few questions about your relationship with Simon Van Doren?”

He asks this as if I actually have a choice. Nate steps to the side and they both file in, glancing around the apartment with intense, scrutinizing gazes. I don’t know what they’re looking for, but they inspect the room for a long time, saying nothing to us, exchanging nothing between each other.

Nate speaks up from beside me, following them through the living room. “What is this about?” he asks, his voice calm, respectful.

I walk slightly behind him, trying my best to keep my cool. I still don’t know why they would need to question me. How do they even know I know Simon?

Bierman looks at Nate and smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “You must be the boyfriend. Protective. Cute.” But he sounds as though he doesn’t think it’s cute at all. The way he says the word, it’s more of an insult, and immediately I get a distinct vibe from him that is a little too torches and fire, a little too blood and soil.

“It’s Nate,” he says, unfazed. “And whatever you’re looking for isn’t here.”

Bierman pauses to study him again, his bright eyes hard and unyielding. “How do you know that if you don’t know what we’re looking for?”

“Bierman,” Glover calls, her voice sharp, and a bolt of relief zips up my spine at the interruption. I didn’t want Nate to respond to this asshole, who’s clearly determined to bulldoze him.

Nate responds to him anyway, his voice risen slightly. “Wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier if you’d just tell us?”