Chapter 1 Latent Print #3
I can see the internal war playing out in the clench of his jaw, the way his fingers tap against his desk like he’s already mapping out the minefield he’ll be stepping into if he agrees to this.
“There’s no one better than you to help me with this, Professor Grayson. Please.” I straighten, angling my head. “Or… are you scared?”
I've always had a weakness for seeing what he’ll do when I press the right spot, even when the thing between us stopped being lust and started looking a lot more like opposition.
Teasing him used to lead somewhere else entirely.
Now it’s borderline harsh words and narrowed eyes, but I still can’t stop. Old habits and whatnot.
His eyes snap to mine, narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I just assumed that was the reason you’re saying no,” I say breezily. “You’re afraid to step back into the fire. I mean, I get it. You did crash and burn pretty hard last time.”
His lips press together. “You are infuriating.”
“And you are predictable.” I drop my hands to my hips. “You hate unfinished business, Theo. You want answers just as much as I do. So stop pretending you don’t.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. For a moment, I think he’s going to keep resisting, but then—
“Fine,” he mutters.
It takes a moment to register. “Fine?”
“Yes. But I swear to God, Lila, if I lose my job over this—”
“Oh, relax.” I wave a hand. “It’ll be fun. Like a murder mystery party, but with actual murder.”
Theo closes his eyes, like he’s deeply regretting his choice already.
I try not to look pleased with myself. Probably fail.
Because whether he likes it or not, we’re in this together now.
I gather my things and turn to leave, but he calls after me before I reach the door. “Lila?”
I pause, steeling myself, hoping like hell he hasn’t already changed his mind. I turn back to face him. “Yes, Professor?”
“I know you were invited, but how exactly is it that I’m being toted along without raising suspicion? It’s not like they’ve forgotten who I am just because a few years went by.”
Oh. Valid question.
And, unfortunately, I have a really good answer. One I absolutely did not want to give him yet. But apparently now’s as good a time as any.
“Uh, I may have told her I’m bringing my boyfriend,” I blurt, words tripping over themselves.
Before Theo can so much as blink, I toss out, “Byyyeeee!” and sashay out the door, refusing to look back.
Calla: Lila. Lila. LILA. Answer your goddamn phone.
Serena: Oh, she’s ignoring us. That means she did A Bad Thing?.
Calla: Ugh. She 100% did A Bad Thing?. Again.
Serena: You’d think the girl with a PhD in forensic psychology would have some self-preservation instincts.
Calla: You’d think. But no.
Serena: Neither of us will be shocked when she ends up as a two part special on Casket Case, complete with dramatic reenactments and ominous voiceover.
I talk to Calla and Serena every night, without fail, at the same time. If I’m even three seconds late, they assume the worst—because, let’s be real, it usually is.
We met in an online forensics forum called The Study Room, named after The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death.
Those tiny, eerily detailed dioramas that changed the way crime scenes were investigated.
Obviously we bonded over that. And over our shared admiration for Frances Glessner Lee—Fanny, as we affectionately call her.
She practically invented modern forensics, and without her paving the way, well, let’s just say we’d all be a lot less interesting.
It’s mutually agreed upon that as women in forensics, we owe her everything.
The forum started as a place to discuss case studies and forensic techniques, but for me, it became something else entirely.
When Laurel was dying, my world got small.
Too small.
Talking to people in real life felt impossible. No one knew what to say, and I didn’t have the energy to make them comfortable about it.
But Calla and Serena were just… there. Always. In my inbox. In late-night chats dissecting forensic failures and debating crime scene methodologies. Sending me silly memes about trace evidence when they knew I hadn’t left my apartment all day.
And our friendship was just easy.
Eerily so.
Lila: OH MY GOD I WAS IN A MEETING WITH AN ACTUAL HUMAN GIVE ME A SECOND.
Calla: So it was A Bad Thing?.
Serena: Spill.
Lila: …
Calla: That’s a guilty pause.
Serena: A deeply guilty pause.
Calla: A Bad Thing? pause.
Lila: OKAY. But in my defense, it was a little necessary.
Calla: I’m vibrating with anticipation.
Serena: I’m vibrating with dread.
Lila: So you know how I told you I was going to convince Professor Grayson to help me look into the Mayfair case?
Calla: Oh, we know. We also said it was a terrible idea.
Serena: Specifically, we said, “Lila, maybe don’t harass the broody ex-lawyer who is very much not over the trial that ruined his career.”
Serena: Again.*
Calla: Verbatim.
Lila: Okay, but hear me out.
Serena: No.
Calla: Absolutely not.
Lila: I may have ambushed him in his office.
Calla: YOU DID WHAT.
Serena: You stormed his LAIR?
Calla: Wait, wait, wait. Be honest. How long did it take before he looked like he wanted to stab you in the neck with his fountain pen?
Lila: Three seconds. Maybe four.
Calla: That long?
Serena: He must have been having a good day.
Lila: …ANYWAY, I shared my thoughts with him. And he stared at me like I was a particularly annoying piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe that he didn’t feel much like scraping off.
Calla: That is the energy he radiates.
She says this as if she’s ever met the man in person. Or met me in person, for that matter.
Lila: But then! He started thinking about it.
Serena: Oh no.
Calla: Oh yes.
Lila: I am very persuasive.
Lila: I forgot to mention that I may or may not have told Emily I was bringing my boyfriend.
Serena: I’m sorry. Your what?
Calla: Lila. Sweetheart. What the fuck?
I don’t think I’ve ever told them how much they mean to me. How much levity they bring to the shit show that is my life and mind.
Maybe I should.
Or maybe I’ll just keep doing what we do best.
Acting like emotionally stunted goblins and relentlessly roasting each other instead of actually talking about feelings.
Because if there’s one thing I learned after losing Laurel, it’s that grief doesn’t go away.
But if you’re lucky, you find people who help carry it.
Even if they do spend most of their time bullying you.
Lila: LOOK. IT MADE SENSE IN THE MOMENT.
Calla: For whom? A sitcom writer?
Lila: He agreed to come.
Calla: HE WHAT?!
Serena: You realize you’ve now committed yourself to an entire week of playing house with the human equivalent of a permanent scowl.
Lila: It’s fine.
Lila: SO FINE.
Lila: It’s not like I have to do much to actually convince anyone we’re together. It’s just an excuse to get him in the door.
Calla: Famous last words.
Serena: Before we get to the inevitable disaster this is going to be, tell us everything. Give us the Theo Report.
Calla: Right. What’s he like in person? Does he smolder? I feel like he smolders.
Lila: Calla. He glowers.
Calla: Same thing.
Serena: Does he have that whole I’m-about-to-ruin-your-GPA vibe? Maybe if you spend much time around him it will rub off on you and your students will no longer sense the first-year-professor-I-fear-for-my-life vibe you probably emit.
Serena: OMG IS HE HOT
Lila: First of all, rude. Second of all, yes. It was deeply unprofessional of him to be that unfairly attractive while looking so genuinely annoyed by my presence.
Calla: Amazing.
Serena: I hate that for you.
Calla: No, you don’t.
Serena: Okay, I don’t, but I hate what it means for us, which is that we’re going to have to listen to Lila freak out about this for the foreseeable future and then not take any of the advice we give her because she’s fucking Lila.
Calla: Oh, 100%. She’s already in too deep.
Lila: I AM NOT.
Serena: Sweetie. You fake-dated him before he even agreed to help you.
Calla: If that’s not self confidence, I don’t know what is.