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“No reason,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him. He puts the menu down.

“She’s a lovely girl, but I think you might be putting her on a pedestal, man,” Alaric says. “Everyone is flawed in one way or another.”

“She’s a perfect angel,” I say.

He drops his head in his hands. “This is hopeless.”

“What are you trying to say, Alaric?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to say something.

Before he can speak, the waitress appears to take our order.

He orders enough food to feed a small family. It’s not unusual for him to eat this much after a workout. Elysium has a fitness center, where he does theseextensive workouts that include two hours of weight lifting followed by an hour of swimming.

But having known Alaric for a long time, I also know that he’s an emotional eater. He eats to bury his feelings.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask.

“My workout was brutal today,” he says. “I’m hungry.”

“I still don’t understand why you come here for your workouts when you have a home gym,” I say.

“It’s more motivating when other people are around,” he says.

“Can’t relate,” I mutter.

The appetizers are served. It’s clear that he’s avoiding having a conversation, but I let him eat in peace. He demolishes the breadsticks and French onion soup at record speed.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” he asks between bites.

“I already had dinner,” I reply.

A few minutes later, the main course is served.

His eyes flick to mine. He flinches when he sees me looking at him.

“Okay, tell me what’s going on,” I say.

“I have good news and bad news,” he says, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “The good news is that we found information on Emma’s stalker. The bad news is that he’s much more dangerous than we thought.”

I sit straighter in my seat.

“What did you find?” I ask.

“Do you remember our trip to New Orleans?” he asks. “You kept telling me that you had a feeling we were being followed.”

“The red pickup truck,” I say. “You said it belonged to a cop.”

“An ex-cop, yeah,” he replies, stabbing the pasta with his fork. “It turns out that you were right to be suspicious. He was a corrupt cop who was fired when they found him stealing smuggled drugs from the evidence room. He did shadier things too, like falsifying reports and planting evidence, but there was never any proof of it. So they let him go. After losing his job, this man searched for other distractions. He hung out on online forums pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He used a VPN to cover his tracks, but my team uncovered his identity.”

“Adam,” I say.Emma’s stalker.

Alaric nods. “Yes.”

“What was he doing in New Orleans?” I ask.