Aslan kept a well-honed poker face.

“We could all use more intimacy,” he said offhandedly, pausing a moment to study a gruesome picture. “With God.”

At the bulging eyes, however, Aslan set the file down. Blinked as Crane dug himself deeper and deeper into a hole of … some sort. Involving God. Or priests.

A priest? Didn’t know Brennan, who would have been his first guess considering. Didn’t like Kemble. Very flustered about Richards’ being there, whatever that implied. Had he ever seen Crane with women? There was that one time with the young redhead. There were a few redheads, actually, weren’t there?

So, he supposed he was keeping an eye out for a redheaded priest.

“It sounds like a complicated place to be … with God,” Aslan said, not without sympathy.

He gave no shits about a lover’s gender. If they could bleed, Nisa could kill them all the same.

“So, how long would you say Brennan has been there?”

Look, as long as he kept him out of Nisa’s reach and put him behind bars afterward, it was fine.