Terrific.

Reilly switched his attention to Leo. “Is there anything you can tell me about Chalice, Mr. Forrester? Anything your son might have mentioned?”

Leo paused—a perfect tell for anyone who knew how to spot them. And Reilly struck me as much brighter than he let on. I considered becoming visible and scaring the shit out of him—an amusing fantasy I had no real inclination to enact. Keeping my cover was more important.

“I never met Chalice,” Leo finally said. “Alex and I … we didn’t talk much. I came to the city hoping to fix things, but I was too late. Missed my chance.”

“But you’re still here.”

“Like I said, I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Reilly nodded, then shifted his attention. “And you were a friend of the deceased, Mr. Truman?”

Wyatt didn’t even blink; he’d probably been rehearsing his story from the moment Reilly walked over. “Alex and I were pals in elementary school. We even liked the same girl on the playground once.”

“Which school was that?”

A deep frown creased Wyatt’s forehead. “It was twenty years ago, halfway across the state,” he said, doing a great job of appearing deep in thought.

“Mancini Elementary, wasn’t it?” Leo asked.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Of course,” Reilly said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Truman, but I didn’t catch your first name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” He said it matter-of-factly, no hint of confrontation or ire. It could have been a joke between friends, and Reilly seemed to take it as such. The man was inscrutable.

“Right. I don’t suppose you can shed any light on this mystery girlfriend, or where I might find her?”

I bit down on my lower lip, mostly to keep in an amused snort. If he only knew how close he stood to the mystery girl, he’d shit his shorts. I hated snooping into a conversation in which I couldn’t participate.