I'm a criminal profiler by profession, an expert lie detector, and an amateur at romance.
When I was twenty-six, I made myself a rule: never date a coworker.
At twenty-seven, I broke that rule. My boyfriend is the captain of the criminal investigation team. He walks right under my nose every day, and I managed to keep our relationship secret for two whole years.
I thought that was the biggest secret of my career.
Until early this morning, when a woman's body was pulled from the riverbank south of the city. The victim was a college senior I hadn't seen in ten years, and she was clutching a badge engraved with my name.
I crouched beside the body and studied it for three minutes.
Then I realized four things:
First, my current boyfriend had been in the same club as me ten years ago. He'd never mentioned it.
Second, my ex, a forensic pathologist, transferred to the Municipal Public Security Bureau two years ago without ever telling me why.
Third, whenever my therapist guides me through memory regression, he suddenly stops at a certain point, saying it's "necessary for treatment."
Fourth, my blind date, who writes mystery novels, published a new book three months ago. The serial killer's methods in it are exactly like those used on the body found this morning.
Every one of them seems to be on my side.
Every one of them is hiding something, too.
I was sitting in my office when Nian Gao walked across my keyboard, and a line of text popped up on the screen:
"Who will you investigate first?"
I chose Gu Yiyan.
Because he's my boyfriend. Because his voice was unusually low when he called me this morning.
Because at 3:17 a.m., before I arrived at the riverbank, he'd already been at the scene for at least forty minutes.
He told me it was "routine patrol."
He stopped doing patrols three years ago.
I'm a profiler.
I don't believe in coincidences.
