As he pulled on his street clothes, Rico couldn’t help but think about all the things Jett had said before he left. The knowledge about Trentwood’s double arrival was distant in his thoughts as he tried to wrap his head around what Jett had meant. Worse yet, he thought he knew exactly what Jett had meant, and it scared him more than anything.

As Rico caught a glimpse of his tired expression in the mirror, he finally allowed a thought he had been repressing for too long to surface. It would be all too easy for him to trust Jett’s promises at face value. The arrival of the aura around Jett called him with a siren’s song, threatening to draw Rico in, breaking his walls down and opening his heart. It would be too easy to trust Jett simply because fate said they were soulmates. It would involve ignoring the facts in the case because he had feelings for Jett.

The scariest part weren’t his feelings, but that their bond didn’t necessarily make Jett innocent. Twice in his life, Rico had seen the aura around terrible people. One couple had been a married duo of serial killers, and the other had been another serial killer and his innocent wife. Both couples had carried the aura which signified a bond through their hearts for life despite the horror of their crimes. It was all too possible for Jett to have committed the murder of Oliver Trentwood while also being Rico’s soulmate.

Rico pulled his phone from the bedside table, opening the screen and considering Jett’s number for a moment. After a long while, he tucked the phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t trust his feelings and he certainly couldn’t trust something as deceptive as guilt. It would be a simple matter to fall into the grip of his guilt and reach out to Jett in apology. Rico couldn’t explain his thoughts without looking like an utter madman. Maybe, if Jett was telling the truth, Rico could find him afterward and try to make amends.

Thoughts of Chip bubbled up in his mind, mixing with the guilt he felt toward Jett. Sighing quietly, he pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. Bad enough he was falling for someone else after believing his heart was done, worse yet to do it with someone who could very well be a murderer. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his loneliness was winning out over his common sense.

“I can’t do this, not now,” he told the empty room.

Rico drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he made his next decision. When he finally turned, feeling a little calmer, he looked at the rumpled bedspread. His mind flickered back to Jett’s explanation about a double and frowned. It was a significant piece of information, but Rico knew he would have to follow up with Dutch to corroborate it.

Grabbing the keycard for his room, Rico walked out and made his way to the elevator.

* * *

Dutch’s office turned out to be far more subdued than his apartment. The most ornate object in the room was a large desk, a deep maroon color, looking like it weighed as much as a small car. There were personal pictures hung alongside medals and awards on one wall, the other wall hosting a small bar.

Dutch looked up from behind the desk, looking mildly surprised. “Detective, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Herrington, I apologize for the interruption, but I need to speak with you if you can find a moment,” Rico said, reaching over the desk to shake Dutch’s hand.

Dutch nodded. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

Rico decided to cut right to the chase. “I need you to access your facial recognition software and tell me if anyone besides Jett has used it.”

To the man’s credit, Dutch barely blinked. “Facial recognition software? I’m afraid we don’t have anything of the sort here, Detective.”

Rico resisted the urge to snort. “You don’t have to conceal it from me, Mr. Herrington. Jett has already told me about it. As far as I know, the software isn’t entirely illegal, and even if it was, it’s not my department. All I need to know is, did someone else access the software, and if yes, who.”

“I see Jett has become a little more talkative about private matters than he normally is,” Dutch said evenly.

“I’m not going to take you in for this, Dutch. I’ll be honest, it’s not illegal enough to my knowledge for me to care. However, it’s very important I find out if someone else has used it, and if I have to go out and get a warrant to do so, I will. I don’t want to have to do it. Warrants can be a pain in the ass to get sometimes, especially on the word of a guy who is a possible suspect in a case. It creates a mess for you, for the hotel, for me, for everyone, really. I don’t want to screw with what you have going on here, Dutch, I just need the information,” Rico explained, keeping his eyes steady on Dutch’s.

Dutch sighed, turning to his computer. “You make a persuasive argument, Detective Hernandez. I can pull up if it’s been used and what for, but there’s nothing in it which will tell me who specifically accessed the information. The software was never developed to the point where multiple users would have access.”

“Which is more than enough for me.”

Dutch frowned at the screen. “Well, your instincts were rather astute. It was accessed, and look who it was for…”

Rico waited until Dutch turned the screen to show him and frowned. The original picture used was of the victim, Oliver Trentwood. The software had found a match, with the picture of another man who bore a strong resemblance to the late Trentwood. Below the photo was the name Albert Coltrane, along with an address and a phone number.

“Please tell me the contact information comes from public records,” Rico asked with a wince.

Dutch snorted. “All it takes is a monthly fee to a database for public information. Yes, Detective, all of the contact information was gathered legally.”

Rico noted Dutch had only specified the contact information but left it without comment. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing the number and letting it ring. Albert Coltrane apparently lived in Salem, Oregon, and as the line rung, he was left to calculate what time it was in comparison to Vegas.

Before he could wonder if it was too early or late to make a call, a sharp woman’s voice came over the line. “Coltrane residence.”

Rico blinked, a little surprised it was a landline. “Hello, I’m calling to speak to Albert Coltrane. Would he happen to be around?”

“No, he’s not in at the moment, and if this is a sales call, you can just stop calling,” the woman said with a hint of annoyance.

“Ah, no, ma’am, this is Detective Hernandez with the Las Vegas Police Department, and I was hoping to have a few words with your husband,” Rico explained.

Her tone shifted immediately to confusion. “Are you sure? Albert—well, Albert won an all-expenses paid trip, Detective, to Las Vegas.”

Rico looked at the picture of Albert Coltrane again. “He’s here in Las Vegas?”

“Yes, I didn’t even remember him entering any sort of contest, but he won a trip. Apparently, it was just for him, and of course I couldn’t keep him at home, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, you know. It all happened so quickly, I was barely able to get any information out of him before he had to be off to make his flight,” she finished, sounding nervous now.

“When was the last time you spoke to your husband?” Rico asked.

She sighed. “It’s been—it’s been days. Truth be told, officer, I was starting to become convinced he had left me for another woman. Now I—has something happened to my husband, Detective?”

Rico stared at the picture of Albert, shivering. “Ma’am, I can’t speak for your husband’s whereabouts. I was honestly hoping to catch him at home to ask him a few questions.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked cautiously.

Rico looked away from the screen. “No, ma’am, though if you should speak to your husband again, please have him contact me. I have a few questions I need to ask him, to help with a case I’m working at the moment.”

He could tell she wanted to ask for more, but she cleared her throat. “I’ll do that, Detective.”

Rico thanked her, gave her his phone number, and hung up the phone, glancing at Dutch. “This case is like falling down a rabbit hole.”