I had no choice but to leave again and explore more. From what I could see, I learned things about Enzo; he preferred Jazz and was interested in instruments. There was no tv in his bedroom like there was in mine, but there were more books. In the closet was a range of expensive suits, but in his dresser were comfortable clothes that were soft to the touch.

I looked under his bed and spotted a shoe box. I dragged it out. Popping off the top, I glanced inside. There were pictures inside. Some of them were normal photos of pets, family, and birthdays long gone by. But as I dug through the box, I froze.

There was Enzo with a man who looked somewhat like me. Same dark hair and bright eyes that were gray instead of blue, but he was smiling so hard at the camera. Enzo looked stoic, but there was something in his eyes that looked like joy.

I continued to shuffle through the photos one by one. They turned from cute and sweet to sexy and wild. I quickly moved past those until the photos fell from my hands.

There, the last photo in the group, was the man from before. His face was bloody, one eye swollen shut as blood dripped from his mouth. There was a pleading look on his face and Enzo’s hand was in frame, holding his chin gently. I would know that ring on his finger anywhere.

My stomach lurched as the truth dawned on me. Bile rose in the back of my throat. I scrambled up and raced for the bathroom. My knees slammed against cold tile, and I tossed the toilet seat up just in time to spew my dinner into it. It came up in chunks, gagging me and making my eyes water.

Enzo had killed his lover.

I spit until the last remnants of sickness were gone before I dragged myself to my feet. Once the toilet was flushed, I shuffled over to the sink and turned on the water. I drank directly from the faucet, water running over my mouth and rinsing out the rancid taste that clung to my tongue. I snatched up the bottle of mouthwash, swishing it around to dispel the grossness that coated my mouth.

Enzo Vitale killed his lover.

I knew it as much as I knew the sky was blue, and I paid too much in fucking taxes. Determination coursed through my veins. I stormed back to the bedroom and spread the photos out until I found the happy ones. I snapped pictures of them all and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

I was going to find out who that man was and confirm what I already knew. A small, niggling part of my brain screamed it wasn’t true. That I would find the guy alive and well in the city. But the realistic part of me knew.

Carefully, I placed everything back in its original spot as best I could before I shoved the shoe box underneath the bed again. I stalked to the office to check the progress. Eighty-seven percent copied. Thirteen more to go.