<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">It was strange to see Oliver sitting in her dead boyfriend’s chair. She was so accustomed to walking in and seeing Nathan sitting there on the phone or poring over notes beside his laptop. So when Oliver took his time looking over the pictures that had set off alarm bells in her mind for some reason, Genevieve could feel herself growing fidgety. In hopes to alleviate that sensation and give Oliver whatever time he needed behind Nathan’s desk, Gen crossed over to the bookshelves and silently began sorting through more of the books. She might as well get a little work done while she waited, she figured. She’d just pulled down one of Nathan’s books on the best places in the U.S. to go camping when Oliver cleared his throat.<br/>
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Genevieve’s dark eyes crossed the room to meet Oliver’s paler gaze when he asked if she knew of Ophelia. Nathan hadn’t told her much of the woman that had come before her. After half a year or so of dating, Ophelia had been brought up. Nathan had admitted to her one night that she had been meant to be a rebound; he hadn’t expected to want a relationship with her. Nathan had been hurting so badly from the death of Oliver’s sister and his girlfriend that he hadn’t been looking for anything serious. After that night, Nathan had never mentioned Ophelia again and Genevieve felt their relationship had truly begun. He’d let go of one woman and embraced another. “Nathan told me about her once,” was all Genevieve decided to say to Oliver, unsure of how he felt about Nathan telling her.<br/>
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Oliver stated Ophelia had been murdered and her heart sank. She’d always assumed someone as young as she would have died of an illness or accident of some sort. To know it was more violent than that made Genevieve realize how horrible that had to be for Oliver and his family. She pursed her lips together, offered the man a heartfelt grimace, then nodded to his explanation as to why the pictures were in Nathan’s possession. She could tell there was more that wasn’t said, but figured he wasn’t comfortable sharing such painful memories with her and decided not to pry. It wasn’t her place.<br/>
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Oliver stood and headed toward the door, so Genevieve hastily placed the book in one of the boxes and jogged after him to follow, the fallen curls around her face bouncing in protest. “Yeah, I found different stuff stashed in his drawer,” Genevieve replied as she followed Oliver into the master bedroom. Like the office, it was in disarray. Boxes on the floor and clothes covering the bed. Now that she knew how late it was, Genevieve cast a dismayed look over at the bed. It was covered in clothes she would either have to relocate or put away before bed. She briefly wondered if she could just sleep on one of the sectionals, but knew Dunkin would want to join her and that beast of a creature would need room. Somehow her life had begun to revolve around that dog.<br/>
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Gen went to the dresser immediately, looked down at the items she had to share with Oliver and for some reason, with her back to him and a few seconds before he joined her, the business card was pushed under a few papers atop the dresser. She had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t appreciate her calling that handwritten number, but it had piqued her interest. What Oliver didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, so she instead directed his attention to the remaining items. “Most of this was found stashed in between clothes or in the back corner of the drawer,” Genevieve explained, then turned to hold out the flashdrive to him first, “Found this in a pair of socks. I haven’t looked to see what’s on it yet.” A receipt from a gun store came next, but it wasn’t itemized. It only stated Nathan had spent $712.34 there a month before, “This was crinkled up in the back of another drawer.”<br/>
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Then, the cherry on top that had really troubled her, Genevieve held up the discharged bullet between their faces. She focused on it first, then sent her dark gaze to meet his, “.45 cal, right? As far as I know, the handguns in this house take 9mm.” Nathan had taken her to the range more than a few times; she knew his guns well and knew the police used 9mm. The random caliber had been an instant red flag. She then reached out to place the bullet in the palm of Oliver’s hand, her fingertips brushing against his calloused palm. Genevieve’s brows furrowed at the difference in the textures of their skin, briefly letting her fingers take another quick touch before she looked up at him once more. “This doesn’t seem like much, I know, but…I just have this feeling something is wrong, Oliver. And when I found this stuff, I thought maybe…well, I think it’s trying to lead me toward answers to questions I didn’t know I had.” She really hoped that made sense. She just felt so uncertain…about everything.</span>