
We like to think of life as a story -- complete with a nice, neat beginning, middle, and end. Real life is seldom that orderly. We often forget just how powerful the past can be. After all, it's over and done with, so how can it affect the present? The truth is, while it may be over, it is seldom done, especially in matters not properly dealt with. It has a way of twisting our perception, our feelings, and even our reality. Things we thought long behind us can suddenly be very much before us.
Our past affects every waking minute; it defines who we are today, whether for good or bad. It even has the power to affect the future in ways we can't even begin to understand. Like echoes returning from a great distance or ripples in a pond, it can come back to haunt us; torturing us with might-have-beens, taunting us with unrealized potential, terrorizing us with truths we tried to ignore, tormenting us with losses too great to take in.
In our own ways, we each try to move on from our past. Some try to do so by closing their eyes in the time-honored ostrich approach: if I can't see you, then you can't see me. Others try to outrun it. Some manage to convince themselves it never happened. There are as many methods of avoiding as there are pasts to avoid. In the end, however, if you live long enough, the past will catch up to you. If you aren't careful, you may live just long enough for it to do so...and no longer.
I sat slumped in my chair, eyes on the clock, counting the seconds until I would be released from this class. The professor droned on and on in the background but I'd stopped listening half an hour ago. Lucky for me, he wasn't saying anything of any real importance anyway. This class was a waste of time. I could have just read the book and showed up for the tests, and done just as well, but I was always afraid I'd miss something important if I did that. So far, I had not been rewarded for my diligence. The professor was simply having a love affair with the sound of his own voice and we were all voyeurs.
Finally, the class ended and I was the first person out the door. I was supposed to meet Micah, my boyfriend, on the other side of town. He said he had something he wanted us to talk about; I didn't know what, but that phrase alone is enough to strike fear in my heart. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but I did want it to be over. Then again, maybe I was just overreacting. It didn't have to be anything serious. I checked my watch as I slid into my car. I had twenty minutes to get there. As long as traffic was light, I'd have no problem. I go to school at a small college on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Pemberton University is located in the small city of Salisbury, and while it is home to no less than three colleges, it isn't really a college town.
Fortune smiled upon me and traffic was as light as it gets around here. I actually arrived a bit early at the diner we had agreed to meet at and had to wait for Micah. Micah writes for the local daily newspaper. He isn't originally from the area but he moved here last year when he was hired as a reporter. For a long time he was relegated to puff pieces and jobs everyone else passed over, but his report on a bed and breakfast with a resident ghost (more on that later) had garnered him a little more respect not too long ago. He'd even begun a weekly series on local hauntings.
The bed and breakfast in question was owned by my surrogate father, Adam Connelly and his partner, Steve Redden. By the way, I mean partner in the romantic sense as well as the business sense. Adam had taken me in several years ago when my real father had kicked me out of the house after finding out I was gay. Adam's son Seth, who was also my friend and gay as well, had been killed not long before that and I'd been stabbed in the process. I'd lived with Adam, Steve, and Adam's younger son Kane from that day on.
Steve had bought the house that he and Adam had turned into a bed and breakfast at the beginning of summer, about 5 months ago. It was a pre-civil war era mansion that had needed a lot of work. They managed to get an awful lot done in a short amount of time and they had opened the inn just a month ago. What Steve hadn't known when he bought the house was that it was already inhabited by a woman who had been dead for over 150 years. A family friend, Judy, who is something of a psychic and very familiar with supernatural phenomenon, volunteered to help in an attempt to move the spirit, named Amalie, on her way. In the process, I'd discovered that I have several unwanted psychic Gifts, as Judy refers to them. When I say psychic, don't imagine that woman on TV who exhorts you to call now for your free tarot reading. It's not like that at all. Judy describes it as sensitivity to the spiritual plane. Whatever you call it, it wasn't anything I wanted and I no intention of pursuing it. I'm still wondering where you return this so called gift. Meanwhile, we thought we had found a way to lay Amalie to rest, but an uneasy feeling still made me avoid the house. I'd only been back once since the day we thought we'd said goodbye to her, and that was for the Grand Opening of the newly named Amalie House. When Amalie herself made a surprise guest appearance, no one had really been all that shocked.
Business at Amalie House had been slow thus far, but that was to be expected with a dead woman showing up for the Grand Opening. Besides that, Steve had only just started advertising and construction was still going on nearby where Steve and Adam were building a small house for all of us to live in. It was being built to look like an old guest house that had once stood on the property but had burned down at some point over the last century. While the house was being built, we were still living at the beach house, which was a half hour away. Because of the distance, Adam and Steve took turns staying at the B&B while the other stayed home with Kane.
I'd started college a couple months ago and so far, it had been fairly easy. I'd taken a light course load since I was also working for Novak Investigations. I'd started working there at the beginning of the summer as a secretary type deal. The owner, Shane Novak, a retired cop, had heard of me because of my involvement in the discovery of Seth's killer, which is another story in and of itself. Now I was an investigator for Novak, although not yet licensed. You have a few years experience with a licensed PI before you can get your own license. I was taking courses that Novak had said would be helpful in the business and for the most part I was enjoying them, with the one notable exception mentioned earlier.
If your idea of PI work comes from watching TV then you are most likely very mistaken. For the most part, it's a rather boring, low-key job. We don't even get to carry a gun, although Novak had made me take a self-defense class after I was almost killed while looking into a murder for my ex-boyfriend a couple months back.
Currently we were working on two cases, neither very exciting. We had been hired by a local insurance company to check out a work related injury claim. It seemed they had reason to believe the older woman who had made the claim was not as disabled by her accident as she claimed. Novak was handling that case pretty much by himself and I had been given almost free reign over a case of my very own, my first official one. A woman had come into our office the week before and asked to speak to Novak. I'm still manning the front desk so I asked her what it was concerning.
"I think my rat-bastard of a husband is cheating on me and if so I want to know about it so I can file for divorce and sue him for every penny," she'd replied quite calmly.
I'd been working there long enough by this time to not be too surprised. This was actually our most common type of case. Novak had accepted the case since things were pretty slow at the moment and then assigned it to me. I was still pretty nervous about handling it on my own, but I'd assisted Novak on several similar cases so I pretty much knew the ropes. It involved a lot of following the guy from place to place and sitting around being bored spitless. So far, he'd gone faithfully from work to home and back again each day. His only variations so far had been a stop at the grocery store one night and the liquor store another. Of course, I wasn't watching him every second with classes during the day, but I'd paid off one of the secretaries at his office to let me know if he left or had any suspicious phone calls. There had been nothing of the sort to date.
I was just beginning to get a little concerned that Micah wasn't going to show up when I saw his silver Saturn pull into the lot. I'd met Micah while working that case for my ex. It was all very professional at first; he helped me get some information I'd needed, but he'd asked me out and it turned out we really hit it off. We'd been dating now for a few months, but not too seriously. I referred to him as my boyfriend but we hadn't made any sort of real commitment, much to Micah's chagrin. I liked Micah a lot, but I just wasn't ready for that. My first boyfriend, Asher, and I had moved too quickly into the couple thing and it eventually destroyed our relationship to the point that I wasn't sure if we were even capable of being friends anymore, despite the fact that we still cared very deeply for each other. He'd moved away when school started and there were times when I still wondered if I was really over him.
I watched Micah unfold himself from behind the steering wheel and turn to face the restaurant. He stood by the car for a minute, just staring into the windows almost as if he was posing. I waved, but I was pretty sure he didn't see me. Micah is several years older than I am, in his early twenties, and very handsome. He has straight brown hair which tends to fall into his eyes in the cutest way and huge, dark puppy dog eyes. He's a little taller than I am and in great shape. He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts and moved quickly across the parking lot, where I lost sight of him. He reappeared inside a few seconds later. He scanned the room, spotted me, and headed in my direction.
"Hey Killian," he said, sliding into the booth across from me. We were meeting in a small old-fashioned diner that Micah was particularly fond of, though I didn't really share his enthusiasm. While the atmosphere was cozy and comfortable, the food was only mediocre at best.
"Hey, I was beginning to think you were standing me up," I said with a grin to let him know I was only teasing.
"Yeah, sorry about that," he said distractedly, "I got hung up with the story I'm working on right now. I told you they finally gave me something with some real weight, right?"
"Yeah, the town council thing?" He'd just told me yesterday about being assigned his first big story, the possibility of major corruption and pay offs within the town council. He was as excited as I'd ever seen him about his work. Today he seemed withdrawn and disturbed though and I wondered if something had gone wrong. I hoped the newspaper hadn't taken it away already and given it to their star reporter, a jerk named Walters. "Is everything ok with that?"
"Oh yeah, it's going great. That's why I was late. I was on the phone with the former secretary of the council member we think was up to his eyeballs in grafts and bribes. He made the mistake of firing her last week and she's just dying to blow him out of the water. She's talking so fast I can barely write it down quick enough. Of course, it will all have to be verified."
"Cool," I said. So if he wasn't upset about the story, what was he upset about? I knew he'd tell me in his own time, but I was not known for my patience. "What are you ordering?" I asked to make conversation.
"I think I'll just get a hamburger," he said without even looking at the menu.
A waitress was approaching our table at that moment, a silver ring flashing in her nose, so much black mascara framing her eyes that she looked like a raccoon, and long, greasy looking brown hair.
"Hi, I'm Ellen. I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order or do you need more time?" she asked all in a whoosh without taking a single breath. I was impressed. I would have been more impressed if she'd given the slightest indication that she cared one way or the other.
"I'll have a hamburger - lettuce, tomato and ketchup, no pickle," Micah ordered.
"I'll just have a house salad," I said.
"Drinks?"
"Water is fine with me," Micah said.
"I'll take a root beer."
She made the proper notes on her little pad and moseyed off towards the kitchen.
"So, what's wrong? What did you want to talk about?" I asked after a minute or so of awkward silence. This was not like Micah at all.
"Hmm? Oh, it'll wait until the food gets here."
"Why? You afraid that I'll lose my appetite if you tell me now?" I tried to keep my voice light, but inside I was tensing up like crazy.
"It's not that." He looked away, suddenly entranced by the giant fish tank by the door.
"Micah, what's going on?"
He turned back to face me. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Our relationship, where is it going?"
"I...I don't understand what you're asking."
"Killian, we've been dating now for several months, but I feel like we're not going anywhere. I've tried to be patient but how much can a guy take?"
"Is this about...sex?" I said in a low voice. I was eighteen and, for all intents and purposes, a virgin. Asher and I had never gone all the way and Micah had said from day one that he didn't want our relationship to be about sex, and, to his credit, he had never pushed me.
"No, this isn't about sex," he said with a sigh in his voice. "You know it's not about sex. And you know what this is really about; I need more from you then just companionship, someone to go to dinner with or to the movies or dancing. I want intimacy and I'm not just talking about sexual intimacy. I feel like you are constantly holding me at arms length. I want...no, I need to be closer to you. I want you to let me in."
"Micah...I...wow." I stammered.
"I told you it should have waited."
"No, I...wow. Look, Micah, I don't know what to say. I thought we were doing fine."
"We are. We're doing just fine. But I don't want to just do fine; I want to be great. I want to be completely satisfied in our relationship."
"And you're not."
"No. I'm not. I feel like there's a part of you-a big part-that I've never even seen. I've seen hints and brief glimpses, but I've rarely gotten to see the whole and never for very long. I want to know you completely and totally, Killian, but you have to trust me and let me in."
"I thought I was..."
"Did you?"
Before I could answer, our charming waitress Ellen appeared at the table again with my salad and Micah's burger.
"Enjoy," she said, plopping the platters down in front of us without finesse.
I sat staring at the limp, unappetizing salad and realized that I had actually lost my appetite. Micah was apparently experiencing a similar predicament. I pushed the salad to one side.
"Killian," he started again, "I care about you; I really do. I even...I would even say I love you. I've never known anyone like you. You're so smart and funny. I love being with you and God knows you're never boring. And it doesn't hurt that you're one of the cutest guys I've ever met. But I can't live like this. I can't just keep going on unless I know there's a reason to hope for something more."
"I care about you too," I said softly. "I've loved spending time with you and getting to know you."
"But?"
"There is no but."
"So...what are you saying? You'll let me in?"
"I... I don't know what you mean."
He sighed. "He's still here, between us, just like he'd never left."
"What? Who?"
"Asher. That's what this is all about, isn't it? You can't let go, can't move on."
"Asher? How'd he get into this?"
"He's in everything we do."
"That's not..." I stopped with the word true still on my tongue. He was right and we both knew it. What was the point in denying it? It would just cause more of a rift between us then there already was. "I'm sorry."
"Me too. Sorry won't fix this, though."
"What will?"
"You have to move on, give up whatever you are holding onto with Asher. And you have to be willing to take a risk with me."
"What do you mean by risk?"
"Moving to the next level is going to require a certain amount of risk for both of us. We're risking getting hurt, risking losing what we have. All love involves risk, what you have to decide is if it's worth it. Do the benefits outweigh that risk? I've decided that for me they do, but only if you are willing to commit to this just as much as I am."
"I..."
"You don't have to answer right now. That wouldn't be fair, I'd be putting you on the spot." He pulled out his wallet, opened it, and tossed a twenty on the table. "Take your time and think about it, be sure you know what you want, and then call me. I won't call you. If I don't hear from you in a reasonable amount of time I'll know you decided it wasn't worth the risk and I'll try to understand." He stood up and looked down at me, sitting there with what I'm sure must have been a stupefied expression.
"Micah, wait." I managed.
He smiled. "For what? I want you to have time to think about this, about what I'm asking of you. This is the best way I've come up with to do that, relatively painless for us all. I hope I'll be talking to you soon, but if not, no hard feelings. I'll always love you."
He turned and walked out the door. I watched him out the window as he crossed the lot once more, climbed into his car, and drove away without ever once looking back. I was still sitting there several minutes later when the alluring Ellen appeared back at the table.
"Is everything ok?" she asked disinterestedly, as if our food wasn't still sitting completely untouched on the table and my dinner partner hadn't just walked out on me.
"Yeah, everything is fine," I said, pushing my way out from the booth. "Keep the change."
"Do you want a doggie bag?" she asked my retreating back.
"No thanks," I muttered, whether or not she heard me I didn't know, and didn't particularly care.
\*
I was sitting in my room that night with a book open in front of me on Seth's old desk, ostensibly studying. In reality, I couldn't have begun to tell you the first thing about what the chapter I was supposed to be reading was about. I kept replaying my conversation with Micah over and over in my mind, wondering what I could have said differently, and wondering what I was going to do about what he had said.
I liked Micah, I really did. It was not entirely out the question that I could fall in love with him...if I let myself, which was the problem. Micah was right; I had been holding a part of myself back from him. He was also right about the reason. I was far from being over Asher. I still missed him and it had been months since we were a couple, and we hadn't been happy even before that. Still, he was my first boyfriend and I had loved him. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I had always thought we'd get back together. I had been thrown for a loop when he announced he was moving away.
I wasn't sure I was ready to do what Micah had asked. I had hurt so much when Asher left, more even then when we'd broken up. I'd lost so many people I guess in some ways it was natural that eventually I'd begin to throw up some sort of defenses to keep people away. It wasn't even entirely intentional. I knew it wasn't fair to Micah to expect him to just keep coasting along uncertainly, but I didn't know if I was prepared to take that risk he'd been talking about. I was afraid to let him in for fear I'd lose him, but the ironic part was, it looked like I was about to lose him anyway by keeping him out.
I slammed the book shut and let my head drop onto the desk with a thud. "What am I going to do?" I moaned out loud.
"Why do you always have to make everything so hard?" A familiar voice asked from behind me. I snatched my head up and around so quickly I felt something snap in my neck.
"Ow!" I yelped. "Damn it, Seth. Why'd you have to go and scare me like that?" My deceased friend reclined on the bed, his arms behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles. He wore what I was beginning to think of as his uniform, faded jeans, heavy black shoes and a clingy black shirt. His expression was one of benign amusement.
"What? No hello? No gee, Seth, it's been a long time, how've you been?"
"You're dead. I don't have to ask how you've been. I wish you wouldn't just appear like that. It scares the crap out of me."
"Oh, quit being such a drama queen. For God's sake, you're never happy unless you have some sort of crisis going on."
"That's not true," I said in an injured tone.
"Ok, so maybe that was a little harsh, but you do make mountains out of molehills. Shall I list examples?"
"Please don't."
He shrugged and grinned.
"So where have you been the last few months? I'd pretty much convinced myself that you were just a stress-induced hallucination. When was the last time I saw you? At the barn?"
"Yes, at the barn. I got in a little trouble over that, broke a few rules. I guess you could say I'm on probation."
"Probation? What rules?"
"I've told you there are certain rules I have to obey if I'm to be allowed to come here."
"No, I mean what rules did you break?"
"Oh. Well, that's another rule; I can't tell you what the rules are, remember?"
"You just like being mysterious."
He stuck his tongue out at me. "No, there really are rules. Although, I have to admit, this whole mystical entity thing does appeal to me. Look, we're supposed to help out by dropping enigmatic hints, no direct advice. And we're never supposed to interfere with the Pattern. When I gave you the strength you needed to get out of those ropes I crossed the line."
"You gave me...? The pattern?"
"Pretend I didn't mention that, ok? If I keep this up you'll never see me again. Anyway, I didn't come here to enlighten you about how this all works."
"Why did you come?"
"You need me."
"I do?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"I'm here to help you figure out what to do about Micah."
"It's like having my very own fairy godmother."
"Fairy something anyway. So, as usual you've gotten yourself into a quandary over something that should be simple."
"Simple for you, maybe."
"It could be simple for you. Do you like Micah?"
"Yes, you know..."
"Do you care about Micah?"
"Yes, but..."
"Do you love Micah?"
That one stopped me cold.
"Killian, do you love Micah?"
"I...I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Stop hiding and face what's going on. If you don't stop it you're going to lose him forever."
Hearing his words echo my thoughts so closely caused my stomach to lurch. I didn't want to lose Micah.
"I do love him."
"Then tell him so; and work with him to get past your fears and insecurities. He'll work with you if he knows there's something to work for, but if you don't give him anything, what reason does he have to stay?"
"I don't even know why he'd want to stay with me. I mean, I'm a freaking mess. I'm scared to let someone I care about love me, I'm hung up on my old boyfriend, and I'm sitting in my bedroom talking to a dead guy."
"Hey, let's leave the dead guy out of this. He wants to stay with you because he loves you. You can get past your fears if you try and Asher is a part of your past now. He'll always be a part of you but you have to let that go now."
"What if I can't?"
"Can't what, let Asher go? You can."
"You sound so sure."
"That's because I am sure. I know you, Killian. I know you can do this. And deep down you know you can, too. You're just scared, and it's ok to be scared. Just don't let it control your life."
I sighed. "You're right. I have to stop being an emotional cripple. It's time to move on. I'll call Micah right now."
He grinned. "That's the spirit. Now all you have to do is confront your fears about your Gifts."
I froze with my hand hovering above the phone. "What?"
"Your Gifts? You haven't forgotten them have you?"
"No, despite the fact that I've been valiantly trying."
"Why are you so scared of them, Killer? You have them for a reason."
"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for them."
"You didn't ask to be blonde either. Or have blue eyes. Or to be gay."
"This is different."
"No, it's just another facet of who you are, and the sooner you deal with it, the better."
"I'm doing just fine without them, thanks."
"We'll see."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm going to head off now and let you call Micah." He stood up and stretched, his body twisting in an almost feline manner.
"Wait, when will I see you again?"
He shrugged. "Who knows? When you need me."
"Seth, wait."
"Ta-ta." And he was gone.
If you've never had it happen to you, trust me, it's very disconcerting to have someone simply vanish from in front of you.
Micah wasn't home when I called so I left a message on his machine saying that I wanted to talk to him. I thought about leaving a more informative message but then I decided that news of the sort I had to share would be better off delivered in person.
Micah didn't return my call until the next day when I was at work. I'd tailed Mr. Knox, the allegedly unfaithful husband, to work that morning, checked in with my friend at the receptionist desk, and then came into the office to get in a little paperwork before my first class at 11. Micah agreed to come over that evening so we could talk.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. I barely paid attention in class and I almost forgot to follow Mr. Knox home. All I could think about what talking to Micah. Now that I had made up my mind to make things work with us, I was terrified that it was too late, that I'd already ruined everything. I knew I was just being ridiculous, that if it was really too late then Micah would have said so at the diner. I knew this, but it didn't make the wait any easier.
I changed my clothes twice after I got home while I waited for him to get there. I finally settled on a dark blue, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt that I knew Micah loved because he said it brought out my eyes and a pair of jeans that he always said made my butt look nice.
"You're acting like it's your first date," Kane commented from his place in front of the computer as I gave myself one last once over in the mirror. My honorary little brother was quite the expert on dating. He'd had more girlfriends at 16 than most people had in their entire lives. He'd recently broken up with the girl he'd dated all summer, saying he had to keep his options open now that school was back in session. Attracting girls was not a problem for him. He had bright green eyes and short blonde hair that he wore in a disheveled fashion that seemed to drive the girls wild. His fashion tended towards skater-punk.
"I'm as nervous as if it were," I muttered.
"Why be nervous? Anyone with half a brain can tell that he's crazy about you."
"Is that how you were able to tell?"
"Oh, that hurt."
Being the mature older brother that I am, I stuck my tongue out at him and left to wait downstairs.
Of course, Micah chose to arrive the second I went into the bathroom to pee. The doorbell rang and seconds later, I heard Kane clattering down the stairs.
"I'll get it," I yelled, knowing from experience that if Kane answered it would only lead to embarrassment for all involved, but mostly me.
"From the bathroom? Don't be stupid. I'll get it."
I heard the door open and swore under my breath.
"Hey, Micah," Kane said. "Good thing you got here when you did or Killian would have tried on everything he owns."
"Arg!" I howled from the bathroom. I washed my hands and burst through the door to find Micah still standing in the doorway. He looked fantastic wearing a dark gray ribbed turtleneck sweater and black cargo pants.
"You could have at least invited him in," I growled at Kane.
"Like you gave me time. Anyway, I'm going out. Tell Dad that I'll be home by
"Ok, be careful." For all our bickering, we were actually pretty close and I often caught myself being protective of him. He threw me a look and loped off towards the old truck Adam had bought to use at the B&B. He let Kane use it when they didn't need it.
I turned back to Micah, who was still standing just outside the door.
"Um, come on in?"
He stepped in and we stood awkwardly in the hall for a few seconds, neither of us sure what to say.
"Do you want to go up to my room so we can talk?" I finally asked.
"Sure."
He followed me up the stairs and into the room Kane and I shared. Once there, the uncomfortable silence returned.
"I thought about..." I started at the same time as Micah said, "You said you wanted..."
I giggled and Micah smiled. It was what we had needed to break the tension. I started again.
"I thought about what you said and I realized that you were right. I was holding back part of myself from you and part of the reason for that was because I wasn't completely over Asher. Another part of the reason is because I was afraid of being hurt again. I also thought about what you said about risk." I took a deep breath. "Micah, I love you."
I watched his face intently for his reaction. I saw something flash in his eyes but I couldn't identify it before it was gone.
"What does that mean?" he asked carefully.
"It means that I've decided that I'm willing to take that risk. I want to try to make this work. It means you'll have to work with me if you want to make it work too, but I'm willing to try."
"What about Asher?"
"You mean am I over him? Not completely, not yet anyway. Who knows, maybe I'll never be completely over him, but he's a part of my past now. I have to move on and I'd like to move on with you. I do love you. I realized that last night. I was scared to death at the thought of losing you."
"That scared you more than being hurt?"
I nodded. "I was afraid to let you in because I was afraid I'd lose you and I'd just get hurt again, but then I realized that I was going to lose you by not letting you in, and it would have hurt just as much because I was already in love with you."
"Are you really in love with me, Killian?"
I paused just long enough to see the vulnerability in his eyes. "Yes, I am."
He drew in a shaky breath and slowly released it. "Good, because yesterday when I said I could fall in love with you, that wasn't exactly the truth. The truth is I already have."
I threw myself into his arms and we tumbled backwards onto the bed. I kissed him firmly on the lips and within moments, he was kissing me back. He rolled us over so that he was on top and we kissed for a few more minutes. Then he gently pulled away and lifted himself up onto his elbows so he could look me in the face.
"God, you are so beautiful, Killian. I could just stare at you all night long. You know, this is exactly the way I hoped this would happen, but I was too afraid to actually think it would."
"Oh ye of little faith," I teased.
"It's not going to be an easy road, though. You know that, right?"
"I never thought it would be. You're going to have to be patient with me. I doubt I can drop all the walls at once. I might need your help."
"We'll work on it together. You know you're not the only one with walls though, right?"
"You too?"
He lay down next to me and I cuddled into his side. "I think everybody has them to some degree," he said, "Some are worse than others. From my experience, it seems that gay guys have more walls than most. I guess we have to start building our defenses sooner than some people."
I twisted around so I could see his face better. "You've told me about being abused and how you reacted by having sex with a lot of people, but you've never mentioned falling in love. Am I the first person you've ever loved?"
Micah softly stroked the side of my face. "No, I fell in love once before, when I lived in DC. We lived together for a while."
"Why'd you break up?"
"I moved here, he stayed in DC. Neither of us wanted to do the long distance thing. We made a mutual decision to just call it quits; we both agreed that we'd run our course and there was no sense in waiting until things got ugly to break up. At least this way we could stay friends."
"Did you?"
"For a while, and then the phone calls got farther and farther part. Eventually we just stopped calling, about the same time I met you."
"Are you over him?"
He thought for a moment. "Yes. I never really expected that to be a forever thing."
"What about us? Are we a forever thing?"
He stared into my eyes for several seconds before answering. "I don't know. I guess that remains to be seen. Any other questions, sir?"
"What? You know everything about me; I'm just trying to learn more about you."
"You know everything that's important. You know I love you. You know I want to be with you. What more do you need?"
"Um, how about a written guarantee? Completely satisfied or my money back."
He threw his head back and laughed. "I'll satisfy you, you little twerp," he said as he threw his leg over my lower body and began to tickle me.
I laughed, wiggled, and writhed under him as I gasped for breath. "Stop!" I finally managed to shout. He collapsed on top of me where we both panted and giggled.
"If anyone walked in right now they'd never believe that you were just tickling me," I wheezed.
"We are fully clothed you know," Micah pointed out. He sat up and reached into his pocket.
"I have something for you," he said as he pulled out a small gray jewelry box.
"Oh, is that what I felt? You mean you weren't just happy to be lying on top of me?" I asked without taking my eyes off of the box.
"Oh, I was quite happy to be there. I'm sure what you felt was the real thing. This is just something I bought for you. I was going to give it to you no matter what you decided. If we broke up, it was something to remember me by. If we didn't, then...well, here."
I took the box gingerly and held it in my lap, half afraid to open it. "Always prepared. You'd make a good boy scout."
"Except for the fact that I'm gay. Open it, please."
I looked down apprehensively at the box. What if it was a ring? I wasn't ready for that. With a sigh, I tentatively pried open the lid and felt all my anxiety drain away. Nestled against the silvery gray lining lay a beautiful rainbow pendant on a delicate silver chain. The pendant was in the shape of an inverted triangle outlined in silver with the rainbow colors in the middle.
"I went with silver because you don't seem like the gold type," Micah said softly. "It's a pride necklace."
"I've never seen one so beautiful."
"I hope you like it. I've never seen you wear anything like it, but I saw it in the store and..."
"I love it." I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
"Want me to put it on you?"
"Please?"
He took the box from my hands and freed the necklace. He fiddled with the clasp until it opened, then moved around behind me on the bed and put it around my neck. It lay perfectly in the hollow at the base of my throat.
"Stand up so I can see," he said in my ear.
With a little shiver, I did as he asked.
"You look incredible," he said with a sexy smile.
"So do you."
"It's a shame to let all this go to waste. What do you think about heading over to the Inferno?"
The Inferno was a local gay dance club. It was back in the country in the last place you'd expect to find a club of any sort, let alone a gay one. We'd been a few times and I'd been delighted to discover that I loved to dance and was actually pretty good. While I was technically underage, Micah knew the bouncer, a bulldog of a drag queen named Carmen, and I was allowed entrance without a word. I jumped at the chance to go dancing. I left a note for Adam telling him where Kane and I were so he wouldn't worry, and then we left.
If you didn't know what you were looking for, you would have never suspected that the unassuming two-story cinder-block building surrounded by a few pine trees and acres of field was anything other than a warehouse or something similar. From the outside, it was quite unremarkable, no paint on the walls and no windows to speak of. A small inconspicuous sign above the large black metal door declared this to be the Inferno. The gravel parking lot was full of cars, typical of a Friday night.
Next to the door, under an overhang, a podium had been set up with a high bar stool behind it. On the stool sat Carmen. No one who has ever met Carmen will likely ever forget her. She was very large, for one thing, she easily topped out at six foot six without her heals-which must have added at least another three inches-and she was built like a tank. Her square face would never be described as pretty, or even attractive. She compensated for her lack of looks with an abundance of make-up and hair big enough to have its own zip code. Tonight the wild wig she had chosen to sport was approximately the same shade of pink as Pepto-Bismol. Her silver sequined ankle length dress was a few sizes too small, but it was all pulled together by the pink feather boa draped around her shoulders. Her trademark mirror-ball earrings dangled from her ears. I couldn't see her shoes but I knew from previous trips that I could have used them as skis. While the Eastern Shore wasn't the most liberal part of the state, rednecks and country bumpkins abounded, no one ever feared any trouble with Carmen on duty. I'd heard rumors that she kept a large pistol somewhere on her person and that she knew how to use it. I didn't doubt it for a second.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite boys," she said waving a large red lollipop around.
"You say that to all the boys," Micah said with a grin.
"You know it, honey. So Micah, darling, are you still running around with this baby?"
"He has a name, Carmen."
"I know your name, don't I, Killian baby?" she said waving the lollipop under my nose. I noticed it was shaped like a penis.
"Hi, Carmen."
"The baby speaks. He is a pretty one; I have to give you that. Just be sure you hide him if the big bad police ever happen to show up."
"I promise," Micah responded with a grin. He slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me into the Inferno. The name was fitting. The noise may have been the first thing to hit you as you entered, but the heat was close behind. Once your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and flashing strobes, a cacophony of sight and sound awaited you. Multi-colored light flashed, laser lights sliced through the air like light sabers, fog machines created so much haze that you almost had to feel your way along the dance floor where a multitude of male bodies gyrated, bumped and grinded to the heavy beat of the dance music blasting from every angle. Sweat and glitter sparkling on the dancers' skin created a dizzying and mesmerizing effect.
The décor was simple; it had an industrial look with almost everything being made of shiny black metal. Chimney-like columns were spaced at regular intervals around the room with flames spouting from them, not real flames, but amazingly realistic fire made from a light gauzy material lighted from below and blown upwards by fans. Spiral staircases led to a wide metal grid catwalk that went around the whole room and looked down on the dance floor. Tiny pedestal-like tables sat near the walls, each with four stools bolted down around it.
I was always in awe of this place; it was so foreign to anything I'd ever seen before. Everywhere I looked there were guys kissing, touching, dancing, and laughing. It was a euphoric feeling.
"Ready to dance?" Micah yelled into my ear, the only way I could even possibly hear him over the din.
"Hell yeah!" I responded with a shout.
A few hours later, we slipped out the door into the fresh, cool air outside. The party was still going strong inside, but I was completely exhausted. Dancing is strenuous exercise and don't let anyone ever tell you different.
"With all that heavy breathing you two could at least be naked," Carmen commented lazily.
"Don't you ever want to be inside?" I asked. I think it was the first thing I'd ever said to her besides hello.
"In there? Are you kidding?" she said with a laugh, "Honey, I'm way too old for such foolishness. I'd throw out a hip or something. No, I'm content to just sit here and breathe in the ambiance of youth and beauty."
"Oh come on," Micah scoffed, "We both know you could dance circles around most of those guys in there. You're healthy as a horse."
"And just as big," she said as she produced a cigarette from her cleavage and lit up. "Now you boys run along, it must be past the baby's bedtime."
"Yes, mother," I said with a grin and started for the car.
"Sassy one, isn't he?" Carmen shot after us.
Micah chuckled as he trotted to catch up to me. "Did you sneak one of my drinks again tonight?" he asked, referring to the first time he'd taken me to the Inferno and I'd been so nervous I'd fortified myself with his drink before hitting the dance floor. "I've never seen you so playful with Carmen."
"Nope, all I drank was the bottled water you got me. I just figured if she was going to dish it, she could take it. Hey, remember our first date when you promised me if I went out with you again you'd tell me who Carmen really was?"
"I did?"
"Yeah, you did."
"Well, I lied."
"No fair! You promised!"
"You're the detective, you figure it out."
"I hate when people tell me that."
\*
I was at the office again the next day, plugging away at the stack of paperwork that kept building up on my desk, when Judy swept in as only Judy could. Judy Davis is a slender, attractive woman with deceptively normal appearance. She was a far cry from the person I'd first met several years ago. She'd had long, brilliant red hair and favored a look that could be the most closely described a Morticia Adams chic. I'd found out later that the look had only been affected to intimidate her brother-in-law.
These days, her look was much more low-key. She wore her straight blonde hair cut off bluntly just above her shoulders and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and looked like she'd come from working in her garden, which she probably had. She took a great deal of deserved pride in the tiny, but exquisite flower gardens she had created in just the few short months she and her son Jake had been living in the small house she'd bought after she moved here from California. She had another son named Dash who was currently studying abroad in Australia. To look at her, you would have never guessed she was the mother of two.
"Hi Judy," I greeted her. "Novak is out on his case." Judy and Novak, a widower, had been dating for a few months now and she occasionally dropped in to see him unexpectedly.
"I know. Actually, I'm not here to see Shane; I'm here to see you," she said.
"Me?"
"Yes, you. I need to talk to you about Jake."
For a brief time, way back before Asher and I started dating, Jake and I had almost become boyfriends. I'd ended up choosing Asher and Jake and I ended up as just friends. We were barely even that these days, though, so I couldn't imagine why Judy wanted to talk to me about him.
"What about Jake?"
"Well," Judy grabbed one of the chairs that sat against the walls and dragged it over to my desk. After she settled into it, she went on, "I'm worried about him. I think he may be doing drugs."
"Oh, well, I really wouldn't know. We don't talk that much anymore."
"I didn't expect you to know. That's not why I'm here. I want you to find out."
"Huh?"
"I want to hire you to find out what's going on in Jake's life."
"Hire me?"
"He won't talk to me. I've asked him, he won't say a word. I know things have been hard for him since Tom and Janice died, but we've always been able to talk, at least we could before we moved back here. I'm beginning to think that it was a mistake."
Tom and Janice were the people Jake had grown up thinking were his parents. They'd both died a couple years ago and Jake had gone to live with his birth mother, Judy, in California. They'd moved back to the Shore earlier this year. My mind was still on the fact that Judy wanted to hire me.
"But wait," I interrupted her, "What about Novak, why don't you just hire him?"
"I think that would be make things just a little too awkward. I mean, I'm seeing Shane and there's already enough tension between the two of them as it is. Shane thinks I let Jake get away with too much, but he is almost 17, I can't baby him anymore."
"But you can hire someone to follow him around?"
"Oh don't sound so judgmental, Killian. If he'd talk to me, I wouldn't have to do this. He's my son; I'm worried sick about him. I've been having...feelings-premonitions, whatever you want to call them-that he is in danger. I don't know what sort of danger but I need to know something. Please, will you do this for me? As a favor? Not that I won't pay you."
"I don't know..."
"Please, Killian. It would mean a lot to me."
"I just don't feel comfortable following my friend around. I mean, I'm not even that good at this. I'm still learning."
"Poppycock. Shane says you're a natural, that you're the best he's ever seen even without training. I know you can do this, and I know you'll do it well because you care for Jake too. If he's involved with drugs, or something else illegal, his life could be in danger. If you refused to help me and something happened to him, how would you feel?"
Great, now I get a guilt trip. She was right, though. I knew if anything happened to Jake after I turned her down, I'd never forgive myself. I sighed.
"Ok, I'll do it."
"Thank you, Killian. But there's one more thing."
"What's that?" I said warily.
"I want you to keep this quiet."
"Of course."
"I mean from Shane."
"You don't want me to tell Novak?"
"No. Not yet. Let's see what's going on first."
"It's not good to keep things from the person you're dating," I said stubbornly. I didn't like the idea of trying to hide an investigation from Novak.
"Killian, darling, as much as I appreciate your concern, I don't really need dating advice. I mean that in the kindest possible way. I know you don't like keeping things from Shane but you'll have to trust me that it's best for now."
"Fine," I agreed rather grouchily. At least now I knew why'd she'd come into to talk to me while she knew Novak would be out.
"Please don't be upset with me. You'll understand later."
"Whatever. How do you want me to start? Stalk him?"
She sighed. "He gets out of school at two-thirty. I don't know where he goes after that. He doesn't come home some nights until eight or later. There've been a few nights when he didn't come home at all. When I ask him where he was, he just tells me not to worry about it. If I get angry, he tells me to mind my own business. I grounded him but it didn't faze him in the least."
"Can't you take his car away from him?"
"I could, but I know he'd just find another way and at least this way I know he's the one driving. If he is into drugs, I have to say I've never seen him high or out of control when he gets home."
"So what makes you think drugs? You said earlier that it could be something else illegal. Like what?"
"I don't even know. I just had a feeling it involved drugs. I have no real evidence besides his erratic behavior, which could, I guess, just be teenage rebellion. Although God knows I didn't have any problems like this with Dashel."
"Was Dash the perfect son?"
Judy snorted. "No, Dash wasn't perfect, but we could talk about anything. And he was never openly rebellious, never really into drugs or drinking. He's Gifted too, you know. Very much so, in fact, and quite in control of his Gifts-at least as much as one can control them. Sometimes I think he's in better control than I am. How are you coming with yours?"
"I'm not," I said tersely. "Back to Jake..."
"Killian, you know you really should learn more about your Gifts. I think they are very strong."
"I'm not interested."
"But you simply must! They can be dangerous if left untrained, but they can be a marvelous tool if you know how to use them. You were given them for a reason, you know."
"You sound like Seth," I snapped crossly.
"Is he still coming to see you?"
"I hadn't seen him for a few months but he showed up the other night."
"Relationship problems?"
"Actually, yeah. But he also said I should deal with my Gifts. Like I told him though, I'd doing just fine without them."
"Are you?"
"Yes! I am. Now, is there anything else I need to know about Jake?"
"You know what he drives, right?"
"A dark blue jeep?"
"Yes. That's all I can think of right now." She stood up and pushed the chair back to its original position. "You'll let me know as soon as you know something?"
I looked into her eyes and recognized the pain and fear that she was making an effort to hide. I nodded. "Yeah, I'll let you know as soon as I know something."
She bit her lip in a most un-Judy-like fashion. "Thank you."
I was still feeling uncomfortable with the idea of investigating Jake when I woke up the next morning. I had slept fitfully the night before; my conscience wouldn't allow me a peaceful night's rest. I tumbled out of bed and sleep walked through my morning routine of shower, dressing, and a quick breakfast. I arrived at Mr. Knox's house a little early and settled down behind the wheel of my car across the street and down a little from his house to wait for him to come out. We weren't doing a full-scale surveillance on him for several reasons. His wife was convinced that if he was cheating, then it was during the day while he was at work or on business trips, because he didn't do anything once he got home except sit in front of the TV and fall asleep. Between the wife, his receptionist/secretary, and me we pretty much had all the bases covered and it allowed me to go to school and still have some semblance of a social life. Not a bad set-up in my opinion.
I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I turned on the car radio and tuned into a dance music station but even "It's Raining Men" couldn't keep me awake. At some point, my eyes must have slipped shut because I was awakened suddenly by the sound of a car door slamming. I jerked upright, blinking my eyes in the bright light like a startled owl. For a moment, I couldn't figure out where I was and then I remembered what I was doing. Knox's Ford Ranger roared to life and he began to back out of his driveway. I waited a few seconds for him to get a little ways down the street before I started my car and pulled out after him.
Novak had given me a few lessons in tailing someone, but he said it was mostly common sense. You stayed far enough back that the average Joe would never realize you were following them, but not so far that you could easily lose them. He had suggested I should trade in my brand new black Mustang for something a little more inconspicuous like his beat up old Buick, Bessie. That was about as likely as me getting a sex-change operation, and let's just say I'm a little too attached to a certain something for that to happen.
Usually, Knox took the same route every day directly from his house to the office building he worked in. Knox was a salesman for a large, Shore-based seafood distributor. This morning he surprised me by taking an unexpected turn. In my sleep-deprived state, I almost drove past him in my confusion. At the last second, I swung widely onto the street behind him, going a bit too fast. I could only hope my reckless driving didn't attract his attention. I let a sigh of relief when it became obvious that he was driving on at the same speed, seemingly oblivious.
He turned his left turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot for a small strip mall. I drove past and then turned around at a gas station farther up. When I drove slowly past the strip mall for the second time, I saw him entering one of the storefronts. I pulled into the lot myself and parked at the far end from where he had parked. From my spot, I could watch the door of what I now saw was a travel agency. Were the Knox's planning a trip? She hadn't mentioned anything like that.
He wasn't in there long before he came back out with a large manila envelope in his hand. He climbed back into his car and pulled out with me not far behind. This time he drove right to his office building. I noticed that unless he had stuck the envelope in his briefcase, which was very possible, he didn't have it with him when he went into the building. I parked and waited a few minutes before going in myself.
I made a beeline for the secretary that was helping me keep an eye on Knox. All the way across the room, I tried to remember her name. I was pretty sure it rhymed with Carla. Darla? Marla? Her nameplate sitting on her desk saved me the embarrassment, Sharla Bivens it read in large block letters.
"Sharla," I called softly. She was sitting back to me working on her computer. She swung quickly around and a bright smile lit up her face. She was a young black girl, not much older than I was. She wore her hair in a sort of shag cut with blonde tips and was liberal with her make-up application, although she still had a long way to go if she wanted to catch up with Carmen. Today she was wearing a business-like gray skirt and matching jacket. I noticed she'd added her own flair by hiking the skirt up a few inches and not wearing a blouse under the jacket.
"Hey there, Mr. Detective Boy," she said with a grin. Sharla tended to think of my investigation as a wonderfully fun game, which worked to my advantage most of the time, but occasionally grew a bit grating.
"Shh, it's our secret remember?" I said with a grin of my own. She giggled.
"So what's up? Is this a rendezvous? Do you have a new assignment for me? You want to sneak into his office and look around?"
I laughed. "No, nothing like that, at least not yet. I have a question, though. Mr. Knox stopped at a travel agency on his way to work this morning, do you know anything about that?"
"Oh yeah, he was probably just picking up his plane tickets."
"Plane tickets? To where? And is it business or pleasure?"
"He's flying to DC this weekend for a business trip, but knowing Mr. Knox, he'll mix a little pleasure in too." She giggled again.
"What do you mean?" I asked quickly.
Sharla looked up and down the hall conspiratorially before leaning in and whispering to me, "Mr. Knox has a bit of reputation around here as a...well, ladies man."
Hmm, for the first time I began to think that Mrs. Knox may have some basis for her fear. "Anything you've seen first hand?"
She shook her head, which set her oversized hoop earrings to swinging. "No, I've not been here long enough to see anything, really, but I've heard stories. Nothing blatant, you understand; just rumors and innuendo."
"What about this DC trip? Do you know where he's staying?"
"Hang on," she said as she began to ruffle through a pile of folders. She found the one she was looking for and flipped through it, finally producing a sheet of paper triumphantly. "You should hire me," she said as if finding a paper she's filed herself on her own desk was a major accomplishment.
"Maybe we will," I laughed, thinking that it would actually be a pretty good idea to hire her as our secretary/receptionist since it would free me up a lot. The phone rang just then and she handed me the paper as she went to answer it.
It was a fax from a hotel in Washington DC confirming Knox's reservations for that Friday night through Sunday morning. I pulled out my note pad and quickly wrote down the pertinent information.
Sharla hung up just as I finished. "Thanks," I said, handing the page back to her. "Now if he leaves unexpectedly during the day or if you suspect something fishy, you remember what to do, right?"
She grinned broadly; this was her favorite part. "Sure do. I page you and leave a voice message saying he's left." She made a face. "I still wish you'd let me be a little more creative. Can't I say something like `The chicken has flown the coop'?"
"You watch too much TV," I laughed again. "Let's just keep it simple for now." I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and slid it across the counter. Sharla slid it right back at me.
"Keep it this time," she said. "This is too much fun to get paid for; I feel like one of Charlie's Angels."
I grinned. "Except you're cuter than any of them."
\*
I was leaving my last class of that day later that afternoon, when I remembered that I needed a particular computer program for one of the classes I was taking that I didn't have on my PC at home. I made a side-trip to the campus bookstore to look for the program since they were available to us at a much cheaper price there than in a regular store. I found the disk I needed and headed for the checkout area.
I ended up in the line of a guy who I'd seen around the campus a few times. He was pretty cute, in a quiet, shy sort of way. He had light brown hair that he kept cut short and full, red lips. Behind his small wire-rimmed glasses, his eyes were an indeterminate color. I studied them while he waited on the person in front of me; trying to decide what color they were exactly. I had just decided that they were hazel when I realized he was staring back and he had said something I had missed.
"Huh?" I said as I tried not to blush.
"I said can I help you?" He seemed to be fighting back a smile.
I handed him the disk and gave into the blush.
"I noticed your necklace," he said after he told me my total.
I glanced down at the necklace Micah had given me. I'd forgotten I was even wearing it.
"Haven, the Gay/Straight Alliance here on campus, meets on Thursday nights if you want to come sometime," he continued.
I felt my blush deepen and wondered why. I wasn't ashamed of being gay; I'd been out as far as I was concerned for years now, but then, I guess I'd never really been really open about it. I'd just never bothered to hide it either.
"Um, thanks," I managed to say.
He smiled. "My name's Noah. I'm the vice-president. The meetings are held in the student lounge in Wicomico Hall. They usually start at eight and then we watch Will & Grace together. We usually have between twenty to thirty people show up. We'd love to have you come."
"Thanks, maybe I will," I said, my inexplicable awkwardness was fading now and I found myself a little intrigued. There was nobody waiting behind me so I decided to ask him more about it. "What do you guys do?"
"Well, we're partly a support group, but we also do a lot of educational and awareness stuff on campus. We sponsor Pride events a couple times a year, during Gay and Lesbian History Month and for the National Coming Out Day in October."
"That was last week, right? I really didn't pay much attention because I had some other stuff going on."
"Yeah, that's over for this year." Someone came up behind me and Noah said hi before turning back to me. "Hey, I'd like to talk to you more about this if you are interested." He grabbed a piece of scrap paper, scribbled something on it, and handed it to me. "This is my dorm room and phone number. Call me sometime."
I took the slip with a promise to give him a call and started walking away.
"Oh, hey," he called. I turned around to find him holding out the disk I'd just bought. "You forgot this."
I grinned sheepishly and took it from him. "Thanks."
"Oh, and what's your name?"
"Killian."
He smiled and turning back to his next customer. "You're with Micah," I told myself firmly as I walked away. I chanted it like a mantra all the way to my car.
I was cutting it close getting to Jake's high school before it let out for the day, but I made it just in time. I parked in the visitors' parking lot at an angle with a good view of the student lot. I was still trying to justify following someone who was supposed to be my friend when I spotted his jeep pulling out of the lot. I started my car and quickly pulled out a few cars behind him. I managed to keep at least one car between us at all times since, unlike Knox, Jake did know my car. It was even more important than usual to make sure I was discreet.
I followed Jake to the far side of town to the mall. Maybe Jake was just doing a little shopping. We parked and I followed him inside, making up an excuse as I went just in case he spotted me. That was another lesson from Novak; always have a cover story prepared. Unless you are a pathological liar, most people have trouble coming up with a convincingly innocuous story on the spur of the moment. I decided that if Jake did see me, I was shopping for a new jacket now that it was starting to get cooler.
I followed him around for about an hour, somehow managing to avoid being seen. The only things I learned is that Jake had an affinity for tight clothing, shopped for lotion in Bath & Body and knew practically every kid in the mall. I was just about ready to give up when I noticed a shift in his behavior. He began to look around in a very suspicious manner, throwing quick glances over his shoulder and generally acting extremely guilty. I was staying hidden by ducking into stores and jumping behind racks of clothes, but my spy tactics were drawing attention and making it rather hard to keep a good eye on my quarry. At first, I thought that maybe he had sensed me following him, but I quickly realized that he was up to something.
I slipped behind one of the large potted palm in the middle of the mall and watched him through the fronds as he took one final glance around, then turned suddenly down the hall that led to the bathrooms. I cursed under my breath. There was no way I could follow him in there without him seeing me. I watched from my tropical hiding place while several other guys came and went, all different ages and types, until Jake finally reappeared. All told, he'd been out of sight for about 15 minutes according to my watch. My curiosity raging, I followed Jake as he made directly for the exit. I wanted to take a look around the bathroom, but knew it was probably useless. It seemed more important to follow Jake for now.
Back out on the road, it didn't take me long to realize that he was heading for home. I glanced at my watch and realized that I had to get over to Knox's building soon so I could follow him home as well. What an exciting job I had. I followed Jake until he turned into his driveway. I drove by, hoping and praying he wouldn't glance up at his rearview mirror and see me go by, or if he did, that he wouldn't recognize my car.
I almost missed Knox's exit, he was leaving a little early today, but I got there just in time to fall in behind him. Traffic was light and we made good time back to his house. I parked and watched him walk up to the house. It looked like I would be making a trip to DC this weekend. I'd have to call the missus tomorrow to see what she knew of the business trip and then talk to Novak about making the arrangements. He would have to agree to any trips. I wished I could talk to him about Jake, but I had promised Judy. With a sigh, I started the car and drove home.
\*
"I think you should go," Adam was saying as he washed the dishes from dinner. I was drying and putting them away as he rinsed them off. Adam was in his forties, trim and handsome with graying-reddish hair and blue eyes as calm and cool as a mountain lake.
"I won't even know anyone there," I whined. I was still not completely over my adolescent shyness. We were discussing the gay/straight alliance on campus.
"You'll know that guy Noah," he said as he handed me a plate.
"No, I met him once in the bookstore; that does not equate knowing someone."
"You said he seemed nice."
"He was nice," I conceded.
"Cute?"
"What does that have to do with anything? I'm dating Micah."
"Doesn't mean you're blind. It was just a question, Kill. From your response I take it he was cute though, huh?"
I sighed. "Yes, he was cute. Why do you think I should go? I mean, what's the point?"
"Well, first off, it never hurts to have more friends. Secondly, you probably have something to offer. He said it's a support group; probably some of them are dealing with issues you've already dealt with, like figuring out whether or not you're gay, and coming out. Plus, you know how I like to support these types of things. If they are involved with education on campus and in the community, it's a great cause."
I had to admit he was right. It had been interested when Noah was telling me about it. I just needed a little nudging. I knew I'd probably call Noah later tonight or tomorrow.
We were just finishing up with the dishes when someone rang the doorbell. Kane came clattering down the stairs, making enough noise that he could have been a herd of stampeding buffalo. Adam chuckled.
A few minutes later, Judy appeared in the kitchen door.
"Judy, hello," Adam said warmly.
"Hello Adam, Killian," she said. "I think Kane was a little disappointed to find me on the doorstep. Was he expecting one of his girlfriends, perhaps?"
"Kane's always expecting a girlfriend," I said dryly.
"You want something to drink?" Adam offered. "We just finished dinner, but if you're hungry we can whip out the leftovers. Not much, but..."
"No, no. I'm fine. I had an early dinner with Shane. Actually, I came by to talk to you about Amalie."
"The house or the woman?" Adam asked.
"Both, as they seem to be intertwined quite completely."
"True."
"I'll be upstairs," I interrupted, anxious to leave before I got sucked into the conversation.
"Actually, I'd like for you to stay," Judy said. Damn, I wasn't quick enough.
"Why?" I bleated before I could stop myself.
Judy gave me an appraising look. "Because," she said slowly, "I think you have something to offer, or you would if you'd just quit fighting it."
"Maybe I don't want to," I said. I knew I sounded like a petulant pre-schooler, but I couldn't help myself.
"That much is obvious. Like it or not, you're involved; you are one of the threads of this tapestry. Amalie has shown in the past that for reasons of her own she is drawn to you. I think if we're going to get to the bottom of this, it will take all of us working together."
"The bottom of what? She's dead. And either she hasn't figured it out yet or she just doesn't give a damn. She seems quite content to just haunt the place forever."
"I think you're wrong. I think she's very aware of the fact that she's dead and I think she is very much discontented. Originally, we thought that her discontent had to do with the baby, but now I think that was only a marginal issue, or at least only part of a much larger whole."
"Killian," Adam broke in, "What can it hurt to just sit down and talk with us? As exciting as Steve found all this at first, the thrill has worn off and reality has set in. He's very stressed right now with the possibility that this could all go south quickly and leave him pretty much penniless. He has an awful lot invested in this house. Amalie is not helping things."
"I thought a friendly ghost was a draw," I said.
"Most avid ghost hunters have never seen a ghost and wouldn't know what to do with one if it bit them on the nose. Besides, even people who are interested in ghosts don't necessarily want to spend the night with one. So far, Amalie hasn't chased off any guests, but there haven't been all that many to chase off, and we've made sure to keep them all on the second floor since she seems to favor the third floor. Please, Killian. What could it hurt to just sit down and talk with us about this?"
"Why can't you all just accept that I don't want to do this? I don't care if I have Gifts or not. If they're a gift then I get to decide what to do with them, right? If you give me a butt-ugly sweater, I can choose not to wear it. Well, I choose not to use these so-called Gifts. I'll be up in my room. Don't call if you need me."
I spun around and stormed off.
Kane was in the bedroom when I sailed through the door. He looked up from the computer screen long enough to gauge my mood.
"I take it Judy asked you to help out with Amalie again," he said.
"You knew about that?"
"Yeah, she and Dad have been plotting about the best way to ask you."
"You mean they planned that? I can't believe this."
"Well, you have to admit, you've not exactly been open to the idea."
"I don't see you jumping at the chance to go over there."
"I'm not the one with the Gifts."
I let out a wordless roar that made Kane wince. "I'm so sick and tired of hearing about these damn Gifts," I snarled. "I didn't ask for them and I don't want them. That's my choice and I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone about them."
"Jeez, Kill," he said, "You don't have to bite my head off. I didn't mean anything by it. If you're going to be all bitchy, I'm going to go downstairs and watch TV." He signed off of the internet and pushed away from the desk.
"I'm sorry, Kane," I said with a sigh.
"Whatever."
I watched him leave, a hurt expression on his face. I hadn't taken the time to look at Judy and Adam when I'd left in my little huff, but I imagine they hadn't been all that happy either. Damn it, why couldn't anyone just leave me alone about this? And why was I so scared of it all? I wasn't in the mood for deep self-examination, so I grabbed my backpack and pulled out my books. Time to get lost in studying.
I called Mrs. Knox the next day in between classes and learned that she knew all about the business trip and she wanted me to follow him. An all-expense paid trip to DC sounded great to me, and it was only a three-hour drive. I wondered why Mr. Knox was taking the commuter plane, but I guess if your company is willing to spring for the tickets, it's better than driving. After classes were over for the day, I went to the office after my last class to talk to Novak.
I found him in his office typing away on a report. He stopped when I stuck my head in the door.
"What's up, kiddo?" he asked. Shane Novak, or just Novak as I called him, was a retired police detective. His wife had died soon after he retired and it hadn't taken him long to realize he wasn't cut out for sitting around the house. And that was the beginning of Novak Investigations. You know right away, just by a glance, that he's retired law enforcement or military. He wears his gray hair in a buzz cut and keeps his body fit and lean. His age was hard to guess, but I knew he had to at least be in his late fifties, and it wasn't impossible that he was even older.
"There's a new development in the Knox case," I told him, still in the doorway.
"Sit down and fill me in," he said, swiveling his leather desk chair around to face me. Novak's office was a comfortably eclectic space. The first things you notice when you walk in are the bookcases; they take up one whole wall, all different heights and woods and all overflowing. There are law books, phone books, atlases, maps, and a set of encyclopedias that were easily older than I was. One case was reserved for his collection of hardcover detective novels, many of which were signed and/or first editions.
In the center of the room sits his desk, a huge expanse of scarred golden oak. I always figured the office must have been built around it since there was no way that mother could have fit through the door. Its top was usually completely clear, unless he was working on a case as he was now, and then the top was apt to be quite cluttered with files, papers, photos and more. Behind the oak behemoth was a daunting procession of battleship-gray filing cabinets, each one meticulously labeled and locked. Two large leather armchairs faced his desk.
For the most part, I liked Novak's office. There was one exception, however, and that was the odd, ugly, humpbacked sofa he kept on the wall opposite the bookcases and under the room's lone window. Now I know that furniture is incapable of harboring ill will, but I would swear that the sofa is evil. It seems to crouch malevolently off to one side waiting for some poor unsuspecting individual to make the fatal mistake of sitting on it. In my imagination, which I admit to being somewhat fanciful at times, I see it then moving with a swiftness that belies its ungainly size to devour the hapless soul whole, and then perhaps spitting out a shoe.
I moved quickly to the armchairs while carefully avoiding looking at the sofa. Somehow, I feel that if I can steer clear of eye contact then it will stay peaceably in its place and leave me alone. As usual, it worked and I arrived at the chair unmolested.
I quickly filled Novak in on what little progress I had made on the Knox case thus far and ended by telling him about the proposed DC trip.
"Will it interfere with your school work?" Novak asked when I was finished.
"No, he isn't checking in until late afternoon and his flight time leaves him just enough time to get there. I can finish my classes that day and still have plenty of time to drive up there before he arrives."
"Have you been to DC much?"
"Not really."
"Damn. I would go with you but my case is close to busting wide open and I can't afford to leave. Do you know anyone who is familiar with the city?"
"Micah used to live there," I told him.
"Do you think he'd be willing to go along with you? We can hire him as a consultant if we need to."
I smiled. "I think he'd be willing to go without the monetary incentive."
Novak chuckled. "I would imagine you're right there. Ask him and let me know what he says. If he can't go, I don't want you going. You don't know the city well enough to be running around on your own."
As much as I liked the idea of having Micah along, I felt I had to defend myself. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I didn't say you did, I just think you need a guide along who is familiar with the city. That is, if you think you can work with your boyfriend along and not get too, ahem, shall we say, distracted?"
I blushed. Novak didn't have any problems with the fact that I was gay, in fact, his grandson was gay too, but it still seemed odd to hear him making comments like that. "I think I'm professional enough to not get distracted," I said rather stiffly.
Novak let out a guffaw. "Kid, there's never been a man born yet who was professional enough to not get distracted by sex. Tell you what though, you do your job well enough, and maybe we'll work something out so that you have some free time. Deal?"
"Deal," I mumbled as my face burned.
The next day, Thursday, was uneventful. Mr. Know drove to and from work without deviation from his usual schedule, my classes were boring for the most part, and I was pretty much caught up on paperwork at the office for the moment.
I was sitting in my room later that night, supposedly studying, but Micah had come over unexpectedly and we were talking more than anything. I was sitting at my desk and Micah was sprawled across my bed.
"I'm just not sure this is such a good idea," Micah said uncomfortably. To my surprise, Micah hadn't been all that enthusiastic about going with me to DC. His reaction when I'd asked had been an immediate tensing up, followed quickly by a solid no. I was trying to figure out why he was so set against it now.
"If you think I won't be able to do work with you along..."
"It's not that," he said.
"Then what? You don't want to go with me?"
"Don't be silly, I want to go, it's just..."
"Just what? How can I understand if you don't tell me anything?"
He took a deep breath. "I lived there the whole time I was in college. Let's just say I'm not in a hurry to go back."
"But that's exactly why I asked you, because you've lived there. You know the city. I don't. I've only been there a few times, and I've never been there alone. Besides, the only times I have been there was to go to the zoo or the Smithsonian or somewhere like that. I mean, I can barely figure out the Metro let alone find my way around."
"Look, Kill, not all of my memories from that time are good ones. In fact, I have some pretty unhappy associations with that place. If you were going anywhere else I'd be thrilled that you'd asked me."
"What kind of unhappy associations?" I asked; my curiosity suddenly piqued. I could actually see him close off, as if he were throwing up a wall between us. Obviously, I wasn't the only one with trust issues. "Ok, I can see you aren't going to tell me so I'll withdraw the question and save you the trouble."
"This isn't a courtroom, Killian, and you're not a lawyer," Micah said quietly. "You can't withdraw a question and expect it to be stricken from the record. You're right though, I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. I promise I'll tell you sometime, just...not right now."
"Skeletons in the closet," I whispered, remembering a conversation we'd had when we'd first started dating.
"What?" he asked now, not quite catching my words from across the room.
I shook my head, "Never mind."
He frowned and we fell into an uneasy silence. He glanced down at his watch. "Oh hey," he said suddenly, "Didn't you say something about a meeting you had to go to tonight?"
I drew a blank at first, and then I remembered the gay/straight alliance. I'd mentioned it to Micah yesterday when we'd talked on the phone and he'd thought it was a great idea. It seemed like everyone thought it was a great idea; Micah, Adam, Steve, Novak-everyone I'd mentioned it to, in fact. I was the only one still a little uncertain about it.
"You mean Haven?"
"Is that the gay/straight thing on campus?"
"Yeah."
"Did you ever call that guy?"
I'd told him about meeting Noah, but left out my attraction to him. It was just a physical attraction, after all. No sense in bringing it up. At least that was my justification. "No, I never called him," I said.
"Well, call him now. See if they are meeting tonight."
"You just want to get rid of me so I won't sulk about the fact that you're keeping secrets from me."
"I'm not trying to get rid of you and I'm not keeping secrets. I'm just not ready to talk about it."
"You're not ready or I'm not ready?"
"Does it make a difference?"
"Maybe."
"Oh for...! Are you going to call that guy or not?"
With an exaggerated sigh, I swung around to the desk and rummaged around the cluttered top for the slip of paper Noah had written his number on. I found it under the sticky bottom of a glass mug that held a thin film of something that may have once been hot chocolate. Purposefully keeping my back towards Micah, I picked up the phone and dialed the numbers. Kane and I had our own line in our bedroom so that we wouldn't tie up the main line with the computer. I listened to the phone ring in my ear. I was just about to hang up when I heard someone pick up the phone on the other end.
"Yo," a male voice practically shouted into my ear. Whoever he was, he sounded quite winded.
"Oh, um...is Noah there?" I asked tentatively.
"Yeah, hang on," he panted. I wondered what I had interrupted. I heard the guy's muffled voice calling Noah. "It's for you," he said. "Why didn't you just answer it? I had to run all the way from the shower. I thought you'd left or something." I guess that answered my question.
"Sorry, I was playing my guitar and I had my headphones on," I heard someone, presumably Noah, say. A second later, his voice came on the line. "Hello?"
"Noah? Hi. This is Killian; we met in the bookstore..."
"With the pride necklace, right?"
"Yeah," I said. I couldn't help smiling at the thought that he remembered me.
"You're the cute little blonde. You're calling about Haven?"
I blushed at the cute blonde remark and almost stuttered when I answered. I was suddenly glad I'd kept my back to Micah. "Yeah, are you meeting tonight?"
"Sure are. You thinking about coming?"
"Maybe," I said uncertainly.
"Oh come on, no maybes. Say you'll come. It's a great bunch; I think you'd like them. Are you shy?"
"A little."
"I used to be really shy too, so I understand. How about if I meet you in from of the main doors at Wicomico Hall and we can walk in together. That way I can introduce you."
He wasn't leaving me much room to back out. I gave a mental shrug and gave in. "Ok, what time?"
"The meeting starts at eight, so how about if we meet at like quarter of in front of the doors?"
"Ok."
"Great, see you then, Killian."
"See you then."
We hung up and I took a second to pull myself together before I turned back toward Micah. "I'm supposed to meet him in front of Wicomico Hall at quarter of eight," I told him.
He glanced at his watch again. "Then you'd better get going. It's at least a forty-five minute drive from here."
I nodded and stood up at the same time Micah did. He moved towards me until he was standing so close I could feel his body heat, almost touching, but not quite. I slid my arms around his waist and pulled him against me, my lips finding his. We kissed for a minute, then he slipped gently away.
"I'm sorry about, well, you know," he said softly.
I gave him a half-smile. "You'll tell me when you're ready. Or I'm ready, whichever it is. Don't worry about it. I'll live."
He pulled me in for a tight hug. "I love you, Killian. Don't ever doubt that."
"I love you, too," I responded, my voice muffled by his shoulder.
He pulled back and gave me one more quick kiss before we walked downstairs together.
I stuck my head into the living room where Steve was reading a book. Tonight was his night at home and he was taking full advantage of his time away from the B&B. Steve was about the same age as Adam and was just as handsome, in a darker more solid way. He had been a successful architect, but he'd given up his practice to open Amalie's House. Adam and Steve had been together since Adam and his wife had broken up when he came out to her. I told Steve where I was going and he sent me on my way with a wave and an absent-minded smile. He's been very distracted lately, and it occurred to me that it was possible he really was feeling weighed down by the idea that the B&B might not be a success.
I thought about the whole situation during the drive to school. I knew Steve had sunk a sizable fortune into buying, restoring, and renovating the house, a fortune he had partially inherited and partially saved from his successful business. I also knew that except for a small safety net he'd put into CD's, almost all his money had gone into launching this thing. He was now almost completely depending on the Bed and Breakfast being a success or else he'd find himself pretty much broke. It struck me that he was probably sweating this out a lot more than I had realized.
And of course, there was also Amalie. As Adam had said, she wasn't helping the situation. I sighed deeply and resolved to talk to Steve soon. If he really was as upset about the ghost as Judy and Adam had said, then maybe I'd have to think a little more seriously about going back to the house with Judy. As much as I wanted to avoid doing just that, my family was more important than my fear, and I had to admit, I was afraid.
My further contemplation of the subject was cut short by my arrival at the school campus. In my distracted state, I had apparently been driving quite a bit over the speed limit. I was lucky no cops had been out on the highway. I was now a bit early, but I decided to head to the meeting place anyway.
I made my way to Wicomico Hall by way of the maze of brick walkways that criss-crossed the campus. As I approached the Hall, I noticed several people standing and talking in the illumination of the old fashioned light posts, one of which was Noah. So he'd arrived early too. He looked up and caught my eye as I approached. His face immediately broke into a smile. He said something to the guy he was talking to and broke away, walking towards me.
"Hey, Killian," he said warmly. "I didn't know if you would come or not."
"I came," I said, showing off my amazing talent of stating the obvious.
"Well good," he said without a trace of sarcasm or teasing. "Let me introduce you to a couple people." He led me back to the group of people he had been talking to. There were two guys and a girl. "Everybody, this is Killian," he said and they all turned to face me wearing polite smiles. "This is Peter," he said, indicating the short, pudgy guy he'd been talking to when I'd arrived. He had straight, mousy brown hair, almost no discernable lips, and dull brown eyes. All in all, he was pretty average, probably not someone you'd look at twice in a crowd. "Peter is the co-president of Haven. The other co-president is Val; she'll be here eventually. She's always late." He pointed to the other guy. "This is Ray, he's the secretary, and that's Tanya." Ray and Tanya waved cheerily. Ray looked like a tiny bundle of energy. He hadn't stopped moving since I'd arrived; he was constantly hopping and bouncing from one foot to the other, or dancing to music that only he could hear. He looked Hawaiian or Filipino: small, dark complexion, straight black hair, and huge dark eyes. Tanya was a little on the heavy side with pale blonde hair that she'd cut short with tufts dyed blue, to match her eyes I guess.
"Come on," Noah said, "I'll show you where we meet. See you guys, inside in a few minutes," he said to the others before he set off for the doors, leaving me to trot along beside him.
"I'm never going to remember everyone's names," I said as we stepped inside.
"Don't worry about it. We'll probably do one of those annoying introduction things tonight where everybody says their name, major and what shampoo they use or something like that. Peter seems unusually fond of them, but I guess they serve their purpose. You know, I just assumed from your necklace that you were gay, but I never really asked. Are you?"
"Would I be here if I wasn't?"
He shrugged. "I just figure it's never safe to assume anything. So you are?"
"Yeah."
"And should I assume from the necklace that you're out?"
"Pretty much. I mean, my family and friends all know and I don't make any effort to hide it. For the most part, I came out in high school. I had a boyfriend and practically everyone in the school knew we were a couple, even though we didn't make a big deal out of it."
"That's cool. So when you said you had a boyfriend did you mean that in the past tense, as in you no longer have a boyfriend?"
I glanced over at him and saw him look at me from the corner of his eye. Was his interest merely polite conversation or was there something more behind it? I decided that clearing things up now might save us both trouble. "I dated the guy from high school for about two years, but we broke up at the beginning of last summer. I'm seeing someone else now."
"That's cool," he said casually, but I thought I saw a flash of disappointment. It's just your imagination, I told myself; stop being so vain.
While we were talking, he'd led me down the hall and into a rec room complete with pool tables and other distractions. At the back of the room there was a meeting room sectioned off by a glass wall. Tables, couches, and chairs had been set up inside and a wide-screen TV was set into the wall on one end. A few people were already inside chatting with each other.
"This is where we meet," Noah said, as he swung open the door.
The conversations inside broke off upon our arrival. Two girls sat on one of the sofas, a slim black guy lay sprawled out on the floor, and a burly white guy sat in one of the chairs.
"Hey, Noah," the burly guy called and was echoed by the others.
"Hey guys, this is Killian," Noah introduced me. "That's Olivia and Felicia on the couch, Anthony on the floor and Everett in the chair."
I wasn't sure which of the girls was Olivia and which was Felicia, but they were similar enough in appearance that I doubted I could have told them apart anyway. They were both average-sized, with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and not a hint of make-up. They both wore glasses and shapeless, oversized sweatshirts over faded jeans. They almost looked like twins, but something about the way they were sitting made me think they might be lovers.
"You can call me Tony," Anthony said from his reclined position. He had the thin, lithe body of a dancer and sharp, chiseled features that made him look like an ebony statue come to life. I gave him a wave.
"Ooh, fresh meat," Everett said with a smile that let me know he was only joking. Even sitting down it was easy to see that he was a giant, but a gentle one if my initial impressions were accurate-and they usually are. He dwarfed the chair he was sitting in. He had curly reddish brown hair with a matching goatee and greenish-blue eyes.
"Careful, Ev," Noah chuckled, "he's taken."
"Figures," the big guys snorted, "All the good ones are either taken or straight."
I sat in the center of one of the other couches and Noah sat to one side of me as another group of students made their way across the rec room in our direction. The group I'd met outside had now grown with several additions. More introductions were made, the names no longer really getting connected to faces as more and more people arrived. A few I recognized from a couple of my classes, but I didn't know any of them by name. I was actually kind of surprised to learn that they were gay; but then I remembered that just because they came to these meetings didn't necessarily mean they were gay. It was a gay/straight alliance after all.
Peter called the meeting to order and, as predicted, they played one of those annoying name games. Everyone had to say their name, major and what type of underwear they favored. In case you're wondering, the girls favored bikini style panties and boxers held a slight lead for the guys. As for the guy/girl ratio, it was fairly even. There was one person there who could have given the girls a narrow majority if I could have figured out whether they were male or female.
Peter was just about ready to begin the meeting proper when a very pretty Hispanic girl burst into the meeting room. She was on the short side with long, glossy black hair, beautiful brown eyes, and pouty red lips. She was wearing a tight sweater and even tighter jeans that showed off her shapely figure, a small black leather backpack was slung across her back.
"And Valora makes her grand entrance as always," Ray mumbled under his breath as he made a note in the notebook he held in his lap. He had sat on the other side of me and if I hadn't been sitting next to him, I probably wouldn't have heard him.
"Sorry. I'm late," she said in a lightly accented voice.
"It's ok, Val," Peter said with a grin, "It's not like it's unusual. We were just getting ready to start."
"Cool, then I didn't miss anything?" she asked as she settled gracefully into a spot on the floor next to Tony.
"Well, you missed the introductions. What kind of underwear do you wear?"
Val blinked in surprise for a second. "That question sounds funny coming from you, Petey," she quipped and everyone laughed. "Shall I assume this was part of the introductions?"
"Yep."
"Then, if you must know, I wear a thong," she said with a small smile. There were a couple catcalls before she continued. "If we're having introductions, does that mean we have someone new?" She scanned the group-now about twenty-five or thirty strong-and quickly picked me out. "Ah-ha, I haven't seen you before, have I?"
"Probably not," I said, trying not to blush. "My name's Killian. This is my first time here."
She giggled. "You make it sound like an AA meeting. Hi, my name is Valora and I'm a lesbian." She giggled again. "I'm only teasing; don't turn all red on me. You can call me Val."
"Val is the co-president," Noah reminded me.
"Can I move on now?" Peter asked impatiently. Val arched an eyebrow and leveled an icy glare in his direction that didn't seem to faze him in the least. I decided that Val was the people person while Peter was the administrator for the group. They probably made a good pair.
"God forbid we should get off schedule. Yes, you may get on with your agenda now," Val allowed. Peter stuck his tongue out at her and she reciprocated; then they both broke into wide grins.
"They're always like this," Noah leaned over and whispered. I tried not to shiver as his breath tickled my ear.
The meeting itself was rather unremarkable. I was a little lost for most of it, as they were mainly discussing the success of their National Coming Out Day Celebration. They also talked about plans that they already had in the works, including a Halloween costume dance that didn't appeal to me since I had rather unpleasant memories of the last Halloween costume dance I'd attended a few years ago. At that particular dance, the windows of my car had ended up smashed out, a schoolmate had ended up dead in a creek, and I, as I learned later, had come perilously close to joining him.
The meeting ended promptly at nine, when the TV was turned on and everyone tuned in to Will & Grace. Once the sitcom was over, the group began to break up. A few people stayed and chatted. Noah invited me to stay too and since I figured it was a good way to get to know them, I did. It ended up being about five people who stayed, not counting myself: Noah, Val, Peter, Tony, and Everett. Val moved to the couch next to me in the spot vacated by Ray.
"Well, what did you think of your first meeting?" Val asked me.
I shrugged. "It was ok."
"Only ok?" Noah asked.
"Well, I didn't really know what you were talking about most of the time. It'll be better once I get more involved."
"Then you'll probably be back?" he asked. I thought I detected a note of hope in his voice.
"Probably," I said.
"Can I ask a personal question?" Val interrupted.
"Would saying no even slow you down?" Peter teased.
"Nope," she said with a grin. "So, are you Noah's new boy toy?"
I didn't even realize she was talking to me until Noah said, "He's dating someone, Val."
"Oh, you meant me?" I asked, feeling very dense. "We just met in the bookstore earlier this week. Noah saw my pride necklace and invited me."
"The campus bookstore?" she clarified.
"Yeah."
"You go to Stinky?" she asked with surprise in her voice. Stinky was the affectionate nickname given to Pemberton University due to its initials.
"Yeah, I'm a freshman."
"Damn, I'm sorry. I thought you were like sixteen at the best and Noah was robbing the cradle or something."
I laughed. I was used to being mistaken for a lot younger than I was. Sixteen was actually an old estimate for me. Maybe I was finally starting to mature in my looks. "No, I'm eighteen," I told her.
"Still a baby," she declared.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"And you?" I asked Noah.
"Twenty."
I looked to Peter.
"Twenty-one," he supplied.
"Nineteen," Everett volunteered.
"Twenty," Tony called from the floor, where he was now doing some sort of stretching exercise.
"Oh, I guess I am the baby of the group then," I conceded.
"Just of us here now," Peter amended. "I doubt you're the youngest in the whole group and I know there are other eighteen year olds."
"Besides," Everett said, "You're probably more mature than most of us anyway."
"Speak for yourself," Val shot back quickly.
"I have a question," I said, "How many of the people that attend the meetings are gay?"
"Most of us," Noah said. "There are maybe three or four straight girls; everybody else is at least bi."
"Most straight people are afraid to come because they think their friends are going to think they are gay too," Peter explained.
"And we all know how horrible that would be," Val added sarcastically.
"But that's one of the things we're trying to do," Noah went on. "We're trying to change the way people look at being gay, so it's not such a negative thing."
"It's slow progress," Val said.
"But at least it's progress," Everett pointed out. "Almost everybody knows I'm gay and the vast majority just don't give a shit."
"That's because you're a big ol' white boy," Tony said, unwinding his body from the pretzel in which he'd twisted himself. "They're afraid you'll bash their skulls in if they say anything." Everett opened his mouth to protest but Tony wasn't finished. "Not that you would, and I'm not saying that everybody has a problem with it secretly, but there is definitely still a lot of prejudice and bigotry on this campus. Try being gay and black. That's two strikes against you. And it was even worse back home. In the black community, the women don't have any problem with somebody being gay, but the brothers? Damn. You just might as well be in the Klan."
"The Latino community is probably even worse," Val said. "I grew up in a mostly Puerto Rican neighborhood in Baltimore and I've seen lots of guys get the shit beat out of them just cuz they weren't macho enough. They get called names like faggot and cocksucker and most of the time they aren't even gay. Just think how the poor guys who really are gay feel. They gotta hide it or get out of there. I never let anyone know I liked girls until I got to college, not even my best friend. I dated guys all through school and just pretended I didn't put out cuz I was a really good little Catholic girl." She shrugged. "I'm probably going to hell now. Think I should go to confession?"
"Nah, you're too far gone for help now," Peter teased.
"What about you?" Val asked him. "You had any problems with people knowing you are gay?"
"Outside of my family you mean? Not really. I'm not remarkable enough to draw much attention. No one cares which way I swing."
"Oh stop with the pity party," she snapped, "What problems did you have with your family?"
"Just the usual; Mom flipped out, Dad disowned me, my brother acts like I'm dying of AIDS."
"That's the usual?" Noah asked. "Then I'm glad I'm unusual. My parents were a little shaken at first, but they educated themselves and they're ok with it now. Or, if not ok, then at least they're trying."
"Then you're one of the lucky ones," Peter said. "My parents are better now, though; they've had a few years to deal with it, but it was ugly at first."
"My mom still don't know," Tony said.
"My dad doesn't but I think my mom knows," Val said. "At least she's stopped asking me if I'm dating any nice boys at college."
"I'm another one of the lucky ones, I guess," Everett said. "My whole family had no problem with it at all, but then, we're a pretty liberal bunch and they've assumed I was gay since I was a little kid. What about you, Killian?"
"My family? Well, my real dad freaked out, beat me up, and kicked me out of the house. This was right after a gay friend of mine was murdered and I was stabbed at the same time." I almost laughed at the stunned expressions on everyone's faces. "The dad of the murdered kid took me in and I've lived with him and his partner ever since. My mom ended up divorcing my dad and moving to Pennsylvania. I stayed with Adam and Steve."
"Wow," Noah said when I was done.
"Yeah," Val agreed, "I think you win the hard knock life award."
"Hands down," Tony seconded, and Peter and Everett nodded.
"I didn't know it was a competition," I said, wondering what they'd say if they knew the rest of the details.
"You're right, it's not," Noah said.
"Hey, it's getting late and I still have work to do," Peter said.
"Me too," Everett sighed. "I was just putting it off as long as possible."
"Procrastinator," Val said as everyone stood up and started gathering whatever things they had brought.
"You know it. So, Killian, we'll see next week?" Everett asked.
"I think so," I said. "As long as nothing else comes up at work."
"Where do you work?" Noah asked.
"Uh, well, actually I'm a private investigator," I said hesitantly. This time I had to laugh at the way everyone froze in place and turned to look at me in shock.
"For real?" Tony said.
"Yeah, for real."
"Whoa. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Everett said.
"Well, we hope to see you next week, Mr. Detective-boy," Val said.
Everyone quickly went off in different directions, leaving me alone once again with Noah.
"Walk you to your car?" he asked.
I shrugged. "If you want."
"I do."
We walked out of the building and to my car while making small talk. Once we were at my car, Noah seemed to have something he wanted to say.
"Spit it out," I said.
"Huh?"
"Whatever it is you want to say."
"Oh. Am I that obvious?"
"Yup."
He took a deep breath. "So, uh, how seriously are you dating this guy? Do you see other people?"
"No, we're seeing each other exclusively," I said gently. I felt bad shooting him down, but he seemed to expect my response.
"And I can tell you're not the type to fool around, so let me just say that if anything ever happens and you break up with him, give me a call, ok? In the meantime, friends?" He held out his hand.
I smiled. "Friends," I said taking his hand and shaking it.
He held on a little longer than necessary, then slowly backed away a few steps before turning and jogging away. I watched him go before climbing into my car. If I wasn't with Micah I'd be all over you like white on rice, I thought as I drove away. And it was very good for Micah that I wasn't the type to fool around, because I was actually finding myself sore tempted with Noah.
When I got home, the first thing I noticed as I pulled into the driveway was that Micah's car was still there. Had he ever left? When I'd left he'd been heading for the bathroom and he'd told me to go ahead, he'd let himself out. If he'd been here the whole time I'd been gone, a peek at my watch told me it had been almost three hours, what did that mean? I jumped out of my car with a nervous flutter in my stomach, took the three steps up to the porch level with one leap, and let myself in.
I found Micah in the living room with Steve. They looked up when I appeared in the door and smiled. Good, at least they didn't seem surprised or uncomfortable to find me standing there, like I imagined they would have if they'd been talking about me.
"We were just talking about you," Steve said.
Oh. "Is that good or bad?" I asked carefully.
"Mostly good," Micah said with a grin and a wink.
I went the rest of the way into the room and Micah patted a spot next to him on the sofa. I settled into the spot and looked from him to Steve.
"Were you here the whole time?" I asked Micah.
"Yeah," he said. "I stuck my head in to say bye to Steve and we just got talking; you know what they say about time flying when you're having fun."
"So, what all did you talk about?"
"You want him to recap three hours of conversation?" Steve asked in a teasing voice.
I shrugged. I had a feeling everything wasn't be said.
"Well, the readers digest version is that I've decided to go with you to DC," Micah said.
I felt my eyes light up. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh my gosh! That's great! Oh, thank you so much! I'd better go call Novak! And then I need to pack."
"Whoa, slow down," Micah laughed. "When are we leaving? I still need to make arrangements with work and all."
"Is tomorrow too soon?" I asked, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't.
"I think I can swing it," Micah said. "What time?"
"Late morning would be ok."
"Go call Novak then," he said and I practically flew from the room.
I found out from Novak that he'd had such faith in my abilities to convince Micah to go along that he'd already booked us adjoining rooms in the same hotel as Mr. Knox. Micah and I firmed up our plans and he left to go home and get ready as I headed upstairs to pack. I was extremely excited. Not only was I getting ready to follow my first case on my own into the city, but this would also be Micah and my first weekend away together. I had a feeling it would be a weekend to remember.
\*
"Wow," I said as we stepped into the lobby of the hotel where Novak had secured reservations in my name. It was times like this when I realized that, at heart, I was little more than a country bumpkin. I'd never been in a hotel like this. The floors were highly polished white marble. Huge, white columns rose from the floor to meet a high vaulted ceiling from which enormous crystal chandeliers were suspended. The lower part of the walls were paneled with a rich, dark wood that I thought might be mahogany and the upper parts were hung with expensive looking art that I was willing to bet was the real deal. The furniture arranged around the lobby on thick oriental rugs all looked to be authentic antiques, or if not, then high quality reproductions.
"One things for sure," Micah said looking around, "This guy you're following has expensive tastes."
"At least he doesn't mind spending the company money," I pointed out. I hefted my suitcase and started across the expanse of marble towards the desk.
"Hello," I said to the young woman behind the desk. "I believe two rooms are reserved under the name Kendall."
She flashed me a smile and typed on her computer for a minute, then looked up. "Killian Kendall?" she asked. I nodded. She looked at the screen again and then back to me. "Did you say two rooms?"
"I thought so," I said a little uncertainly. I thought that's what Novak had told me, but I wasn't positive.
"We only have you down for one room, sir," she said.
"Oh...I..." That was unexpected. "Is there an adjoining room available?" I asked, hating the desperate tone that had creeped into my voice. I was glad Micah was wondering around looking at the artwork and not paying attention to my checkin process.
She hit a few more keys on her keyboard and shook her head. "I'm sorry. There's a large conference going on here in our conference hall and all our rooms are pretty much booked up. I hope it won't be a problem."
I took a deep breath. I wanted to argue but at the same time, I didn't want to make a scene. More than anything, I wanted to get out of the lobby before Mr. Knox wandered in. Traffic had been heavier than we'd anticipated on the Beltway and we were running later than I had planned.
Briefly, I wondered if the conference might not be why Knox was staying here in the first place. If so, that would make my job easier. He'd be less likely to leave the hotel all that much. My mind shifted back to the situation at hand and I felt my stomach clench. "No, it won't be a problem," I said through gritted teeth.
She smiled apologetically and clicked away on her keyboard. A few seconds later, a form came rolling out of the printer. "Just sign right here and I'll get your key for you," she said.
I signed the papers and she handed over the keycard and my receipt. It was all being billed to Novak's company credit card and would in turn be billed to Mrs. Knox. If she was wrong about her husband's philandering, she would be looking a large bill for nothing. Then again, maybe it would be worth the peace of mind.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," the woman behind the counter said again, her attention already turning to the wealthy looking couple that was walking up behind me. Somehow, I doubted her sincerity.
I grabbed my suitcase and went to get Micah. When he saw my expression he frowned, but I shook my head.
"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as the elevator doors had slid shut.
"We're sharing a room," I told him. I was so tense now that I wasn't even noticing my lavish surroundings.
Micah looked at me silently for a second. "That's not the end of the world, you know," he said lightly.
"I just...I wasn't ready for that."
"Ready? What do you mean ready?"
"I just mean I wasn't prepared. I thought we had two rooms..." My voice trailed off.
"Killian, I'm not going to jump you as soon as the door closes. Give me a little credit here. I think I can control myself that much."
I blushed but didn't say anything.
"Maybe there're two beds," he said.
There weren't.
"It's not that bad," he tried. I looked dubiously at the lone double bed in the center of the small but beautiful room. "Look, if it would make you feel better I'll get another room."
"They're all booked up," I said stiffly. I was still standing just inside the doorway clutching my suitcase in front of me like a shield.
"Then what do you want? You want me to go find another hotel? I can't go home, we drove up here together."
"I don't know what I want," I said.
"Do you ever?" His question, and its unspoken implications, stung like a slap in the face. "I didn't mean that," he said quickly, "It's just, you're the one that wanted me along so badly."
I sighed. "I do want you along. I'm sorry; I'm being a jerk. It just caught me by surprise."
"Maybe we can get a roll-away bed."
"And put it where? No, we don't need a roll-away bed. I'm being stupid. We can share the bed."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"I promise I'll stay on my side," he said with a teasing leer. "Unless you invite me over to your side, anyway." He waggled his eyebrows at me and I managed a weak smile in return, but it was enough. The worst of the tension was gone, although my stomach was still knotted up in a tight little ball.
"I'd better get back down to the lobby so I can keep an eye out for Mr. Knox," I said. Micah and I had already discussed how this would work. We both knew that this was a business trip, at least for me, and that meant I had to do my job. I was going to watch for Knox to check in and keep an eye on him after that. If he started to leave the hotel, then Micah stepped in as my guide. It wasn't a perfect plan, if Micah took too long to reach the lobby when I called up for him we could lose Knox, but it was the best we could come up with since we were afraid two of us lurking around the lobby would be more suspicious than just me.
I grabbed a book out of my suitcase and rode the elevator back down the ground floor. After ascertaining that Knox hadn't checked in yet, much to my relief, I picked a chair in the lobby that afforded me a clear view of the main door and the front desk while keeping me mostly out of sight behind a large potted plant. I settled in and pretended to read. It was about an hour before Knox entered, towing a luggage cart laden with two small bags behind him. He made directly for the desk. His checkin apparently went much smoother than mine did, because he had the keycard and was heading for the elevators in no time. I made myself wait where I was until the door closed behind him, then went over and pretended to push the up button. While I "waited" for the elevator to arrive, I watched to see which floor Knox's elevator stopped on, the floor above Micah and me as it turned out. As soon as I knew where to go, I pushed the button for real. Almost immediately, the other door opened and I stepped into it. I hit the button for the floor Knox has stopped on and rode up. The elevator moved agonizingly slowly. I was almost frantic by the time the doors opened just in time to see him carrying his second bag into his room. I hesitated for a second, but he never even looked up; he simply shut the door leaving the cart in the hall for the hotel staff to retrieve. I made note of his room number and then cased the hallway looking for a place where I could unobtrusively keep an eye on his room.
I was in luck. About halfway down the hallway, in the opposite direction from the elevators, was a small alcove with two chairs, a small table, and a lamp. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. Chances were fairly good that if Knox came out of his room, he'd head for the elevators and not towards me. As long as none of the other folks on the floor noticed my hanging around and reported me to security, I'd be ok. I settled into one of the chairs and checked my watch. It was a little after four.
Stakeouts have to be one of the most boring things I have ever done. They are definitely the worst part about being a private detective. You can literally spend hour upon hour doing nothing but staring at a door. I had a book with me, one of Mercedes Lackey's most recent, but there was always the danger with me that I'd get so into the story that I'd miss the moment when Knox finally made his move. As a result, I could only give the book half my attention, which was very unsatisfying for someone who likes to read as much as I do.
It was just before six when the door to Knox's room swung open and he stepped out. He'd changed out of his traveling clothes and into a business-like suit. He pulled the door shut and strode off down the hall towards the elevators without so much as a glance in my direction. I remained where I was until the elevator doors closed. I watched the numbers above the door light up in descending order until they settled on the Lobby Floor. I knew I didn't have time to wait for the elevator so I ran for the stairs. The last thing I wanted to do was lose him this early. I took them two at a time and was panting by the time I reached the bottom. Time to hit the gym, I thought ruefully as my chest heaved. I was way out of shape.
I took a deep, calming breath and hoped I had composed myself somewhat as I entered the lobby. I scanned the room as casually as I could and felt my stomach drop. Oh, shit! Knox was nowhere in sight. I crossed the room as quickly as I could without running and stepped outside. I looked both ways; still no sign of him. Shit, shit, shit!
Then I remembered the conference. Maybe he was here for the conference being held in the building itself. Didn't weekend conferences often start on Friday evening?
I quickly let myself back into the hotel and caught a bellboy by the sleeve.
"Excuse me. Can you tell me where the conference rooms are?" I asked the boy. He looked like he was probably around my age but had the misfortune to bear a more than slight simian resemblance. With his uniform, he looked rather like an organ grinder's monkey. I half expected him to jump up and down and point while demanding a quarter. Instead, he gave me a polite smile and gave me directions to the conference hall.
I thanked him and moved off down the hall he'd indicated at a swift clip, not quite a jog but not far from it. I rounded the last corner and came to screeching halt. To my vast relief, Knox was standing not too far from me talking to another man in a business suit. Thankfully, his back was to me and I was able to quickly take in the hallway before slipping back around the corner.
It was going to be harder to keep an eye on him here. There was no convenient alcove set up and people would be coming and going. I didn't want to be too obvious by loitering in the halls. Speaking of being obvious, I realized that I probably looked fairly shifty standing at the edge of the corner with my back pressed against the wall. I forced my body into a more casual stance, as if I were waiting there for someone to come along. What was I going to do about Knox? I looked down the hall behind me; there was no one in sight so I risked a peek around the corner. I watched while Knox and the man he was talking to seemed to finish up their conversation and they both moved towards one of the conference hall doors.
"Can I help you?" a voice asked from behind me causing me to leap at least a foot into the air. I spun around in midair to find someone from the hotel staff looking at me the way one might look at a pile of offending doggie doo that had somehow managed to situate itself under your foot. The man facing me was a little above average height with stiffly gelled dark hair and somewhat beady eyes that glared down his long, thin nose at me.
"Um, yes," I said while I thought furiously, "Is this the, uh, place where the, er, conference is being held?" Weak, but it would have to do.
The man arched an eyebrow. "Yes, indeed it is. Are you a participant in the conference?"
"Oh, um, yes. I'm staying here too," I added just to be safe. I provided our room number which did seem to make a little impression. I could almost read his mind; at least I hadn't crept in from the streets.
"Could I be of assistance to you; show you to the correct conference room, perhaps?" He paused meaningfully and then sprung his trap. "Which conference are you here for?"
Crap! There was more than one? Or was it a trick question? I hadn't even thought to check to see what conference Knox was attending. Had Sharla told me? No, I didn't think so.
"The, uh, one for salesmen," I said lamely.
"Ah, yes, that one," he said. He seemed a little disappointed that I'd come up with an acceptable, if not particularly intelligent, answer. Being thought dim was preferable to being thrown out peremptorily on my rear, however. "It's right this way, follow me."
He walked briskly past me and around the corner. I couldn't very well refuse to follow him, not if I wanted to get out of this with attracting little attention as possible, so I stepped around the corner as well. Knox was nowhere in sight. I decided to risk a question.
"Are there other conferences going on this weekend?"
My guide gave me an irritated look. "No, this is the only one."
So it had been a trick question. I could tell he didn't appreciate having to admit that, but at least now I knew where Knox was. I was ushered through one of the doors and was immediately grateful that it was dim inside, most of the lighting being focused on a man at the front of the room on a raised dais. It was evident that the first meeting had already begun.
"If you haven't registered yet to receive your name badge, please don't forget to do so as soon as our introductory session is over," the man was saying. At least my lack of a name badge wouldn't be too obvious, I thought as I nodded my thanks to the guy who'd led me in and took a seat on the back row.
As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I scanned the room for my quarry. I spotted his sandy blonde hair about halfway towards the front. At least I could keep an eye on him now, even if it did mean sitting through a few boring speeches.
And boring they were. By the time
I stood up and stretched before slipping out into the hall with the last of the stragglers. I found Knox at the registration table picking up his name badge. Registration was a casual affair at this point, most people had already signed in, and the remainder of the badges and conference kits were simply sitting on the table with the names on them. That gave me an idea. I decided a little camouflage couldn't hurt, and as soon as Knox moved away from the table, I sidled by way over and picked up one of the remaining badges and kits at random.
I moved into a corner out of the way and looked to see who I would be for the rest of the evening. Tim Jeffrey. Just what I'd always wanted; two first names. Now I just had to hope that Tim wasn't in attendance and that no one who ran into me knew Mr. Jeffrey. I clipped the tag onto my sweater and stayed out of the way until everyone filed back into the hall. Knox never left my sight.
The rest of the conference offered nothing to recommend. By the time the last speaker finished up, I was approaching a comatose state. I was startled into full alertness by the polite applause he received as he stepped off the platform. He was replaced a moment later by the man who'd been giving directions when I'd first entered.
"That's all for this evening," he said, sounding about as awake as I felt. "We'll see you all back here in the morning at eight-thirty. And don't forget the complimentary continental breakfast."
I groaned inwardly as everyone stood and began to make their way towards the doors. That meant I'd have to be up long before that so I could keep an eye on old Knox. And God only knew when I would be getting to bed tonight.
I watched Knox walk past, waited while a few more people went by, then stood, and followed. I melted into a group of men talking amongst themselves about their plans for the rest of the evening and not paying attention to much else. I waited until Knox had disappeared around the corner before separating myself from their group and trailing after him. He went directly to the elevator, which in turn went directly to his floor. With a resigned sigh, I took the stairs back up and arrived just in time to see his door closing.
I took my post again, sitting in one of the rather uncomfortable chairs in the alcove, and prepared to wait. Two hours later, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Knox was in for the night and I was definitely having trouble staying awake. I decided to risk returning to our room for the remainder of the night. I would just set the alarm clock I'd brought along early enough to be back in place in what I was beginning to think of as my own private alcove long before Knox arose in the morning. While I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of getting up that early, and after so little sleep, but what choice did I have? It was all part of the job.
I rode the elevator down to our floor and let myself into the room as quietly as I could in case Micah was asleep. He was. Once my eyes adjusted to the near darkness, I could make him out in the dim light that was creeping in around the curtains. He was lying in the bed, arms thrown over his head, and the blankets pushed down to his waist. I saw a sliver of the band of his boxers showing and my eyes slowly followed up his chest, silvered by the light so that he looked eerily like a white marble statue, handsome and perfect. I felt my breath catch in my throat. His face was so still and peaceful, I was so struck by his beauty that I felt my throat close up and a tear roll down my cheek. I was supposed to sleep with that?
I felt a hint of panic rising in my chest and fought it down. What was I so scared of? I loved Micah, didn't I? I knew I did. And I knew he loved me. So what was my hang-up? Objectively, I knew that at least part of it was simply the fact that I was a virgin. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, or how to do it. I didn't want to look like an idiot. I wanted it to be perfect and wonderful and just the way it always was in the stories. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that I knew making love to Micah would break down the last of any walls I was managing to keep up between us. Once those walls were gone, I'd be completely vulnerable, something I hadn't thought I'd ever want to be with another person. Suddenly, as I stood there watching him sleep, I wasn't so sure anymore. Being vulnerable with Micah was suddenly starting to sound almost inviting-especially if that involved being naked with him under those sheets...
I pushed that thought quickly out of my head, or tried to anyway. You're working, I reminded myself sharply. You promised Novak that you wouldn't let yourself be distracted by having Micah along.
That was all well and good, but I felt a stirring in my groin just looking at him. I turned quickly and set the alarm clock for an ungodly hour. I slipped out of my clothes and into the sheets, ignoring my erection as best I could. Micah never stirred. Either he was in a very deep sleep or he was still mad at me from earlier. I couldn't blame him if he was. I'd acted like a royal prick.
I raised myself up onto my elbow so I could see his face clearly again. I wanted to reach out and touch his face. I wanted to feel his body next to mine, skin against skin. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to shake him awake and make love to him. I didn't do any of these things though. I just laid there and watched him sleep until my eyes refused to stay open any longer.
\*
All too soon, I was awakened by the rude blaring of the alarm clock. For a few confused seconds I couldn't remember where I was or why my alarm was going off when it was still pitch black. Then I felt Micah stirring beside me and it all came back to me.
I fumbled with the clock, finally managing to get it turned off. I so did not want to get up. I forced myself into a sitting position with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I sat like that while I tried to wake up enough to think clearly.
"What time is it?" Micah asked.
"Too early," I mumbled.
I was trying to summon the energy to stand up when I felt his hand slide across my back, warm and slightly rough. I felt a shiver ripple through me. I suddenly felt very awake.
"I didn't even hear you come in last night," he said.
"I didn't want to wake you."
"I wish you had." I felt him sit up behind me and a second hand joined the first in its exploration of my back.
"I should go. I need to make sure I'm in place before Knox gets up," I said, but I didn't move. I felt paralyzed by the touch of his hands. He slid them up my sides and across my shoulders as another chill went through my body. He leaned in close to me, I could feel the heat from his chest so close to my back as his hands slid over my shoulders and down my chest.
"God, Killian, you're so beautiful," he whispered into my ear, echoing my thoughts about him from just a few hours ago.
He began to kiss my neck and it felt like fire spreading throughout my body. I heard a little whimper and realized it was me. He gently pulled against my shoulders, pulling me against his body. I melted into him, all thoughts of work completely gone now. I was lost in the moment.
I tipped my head so that I could look into his eyes. Even in the darkness, I could see the love there...and the hunger. His lips met mine and I twisted my body so that we could kiss comfortably. The kiss, starting out as a soft pressure, quickly heated up. I felt Micah maneuver himself and slowly lower me to the bed with him on top, where we continued to kiss. I felt something poking me in the side and realized it was Micah and that I was undoubtedly doing some poking of my own. Meanwhile, Micah hands were all over me, sliding up my sides, down my legs, across any skin he could reach. I'd never felt anything like it, I felt electrified. My breath was coming in gasps now.
Micah slowly pulled back and looked down on me.
"I love you," he said softly.
"I love you too," I answered, truthfully and without hesitation.
He leaned in for another kiss, but this one ended quickly as he moved his lips down to my throat and began kissing me there. My body arched underneath him in response, and he slowly moved his lips down my chest and then to my stomach. My mind was whirling among the clouds but it was brought quickly back to earth when I felt Micah's hands slide into the band of my boxers.
"Micah," I gasped, panic in my voice, as I grabbed his wrists.
"What is it Killian?" he asked in a tortured voice. "You know I love you and I know you love me. What's wrong?"
"I...I'm scared," I whispered.
The look in his eyes softened as his hand gently stroked my cheek. "I promise I won't hurt you," he said, his voice so sincere I couldn't doubt him for a minute.
"It's not that, not anymore," I said feeling so stupid, "It's just that I...I don't know what to do."
The sweetest smile spread across his face as he leaned in and kissed me. "Don't worry about a thing, beautiful," he said as he pulled back. "I'll show you everything you need to know."
Wow. That was about the most coherent thought I could muster for a while following what had turned out to be the most amazing experience of my life. Of course, I wasn't particularly trying to be coherent; I was simply basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
Wow, I thought again, except I must have said it out loud that second time since Micah chuckled.
"I wish you would stay that easy to impress," he said with soft teasing. My head was resting in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, his arms wrapped around me, and our legs intertwined.
"Just make me feel like that every time and I'll stay impressed," I murmured into the soft skin at the base of his throat. His hands stroked my back gently, causing goose bumps to rise up...among other things.
Micah laughed. "You can't be ready to go again already," he said in mock exasperation.
"Tell him that," I said, trying not to blush and failing miserably.
"Hey, I'm not complaining but I'm not as young as you are. I need a little time to recover."
"Oh yeah, you're so ancient. You're what, five years older than me?"
"Something like that."
I sat up and looked down into his eyes. He was just as beautiful in the golden early-morning sunlight that was sneaking in around the curtains as he'd been in the moonlight. "Ok, old man, I'll give you time to recover. You get ten whole seconds before I ravage you. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."
"God!" Micah laughed, grabbing me and pulling me down on top of him, "I've created a monster."
"...five, four, three..."
"Is this what our relationship is going to become now?"
"...two...hey, you asked for it, mister...one." I swung my leg over him as I leaned down and cut off his retort with a deeply passionate kiss. His response was almost immediate. "See?" I breathed, "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Micah choked down another laugh. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked.
"Oh, shit!" I yelled, sitting up so suddenly the room actually spun for a second. I frantically searched the room visually for the clock, but couldn't find it at first. Finally, I realized that one of the pillows had been thrown over it at some point. I yanked it off and let out a yelp.
"I'm late!" I squealed as I leapt up and began running aimlessly around the room searching for clothes. Micah sat up in the bed and watched me with a bemused expression.
"Killian, calm down," he said in a maddeningly reasonable voice.
"Calm down?" I screeched. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who probably just blew his whole case."
"You don't know that you've blown anything," Micah pointed out, then with an evil grin he added, "Except me, of course."
I stopped in my tracks long enough to glare at him. Grin still in place, he slipped out of bed, picked up my pants and held them out to me. "You're a great detective, Killian," he said. "If this guy is cheating you'll find out one way or another."
I dressed quickly and started for the door. Micah caught my arm on my way by him and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Good luck, Kill. I love you."
I stopped long enough to give him a real kiss goodbye. "I love you too," I told him as I dashed out of the room.
I took the stairs two at a time and practically burst onto the floor Knox was staying on. The hallway was completely empty. I glanced at my watch. Knox was already in the conference. I couldn't believe how much time had gone by since the alarm went off this morning. How could I have been so careless? And after I'd promised Novak not to get distracted. I was furious with myself.
Suddenly, an idea began to form in my devious little mind. If Knox was busy with the conference until
A careful perusal of the hall showed me to be alone, so I approached Knox's room to get a better look at the door. It pretty much looked tamper-proof, at least to my amateur eyes. I wondered how anyone broke into these types of door these days. They must have some sort of Bond type gadget, a card that deciphers the door code or something. I tried the handle on the off-chance it was open. No such luck.
I pressed my ear against the door, thinking that maybe the cleaning lady was in there and I could convince her this was my room and I'd locked my card inside. To my complete and utter surprise, I felt it swing open as soon as my ear touched the cold surface and I almost stumbled into a woman wearing a white fluffy robe on the other side of the door. I straightened up quickly and tried desperately to think of some excuse. Why didn't I have one ready like Novak had told me?
"Hang on," the brassy blonde barked into the cell phone she had pressed against one ear. "Do you work here?" she demanded in a high-pitched whine.
"Yes," I said, thrilled that she'd saved me the trouble of coming up with a cover story. I took a closer look at her. If she was in a bathrobe, she probably wasn't on the cleaning staff. It looked like this was the proof I needed that Knox was cheating on his wife. I'd met Mrs. Knox and this, quite definitely, was not her. This woman had to be his mistress, but I needed to be sure.
"Well for Christ sake, do something!" she shrilled.
"Um, what exactly do you need?" I said hesitantly while my mind ran ahead full-tilt.
She heaved a monumental sigh meant to express her dissatisfaction with the service. It succeeded in ruffling my hair and alerting me to the fact that she hadn't yet brushed her teeth this morning.
"I told them down at the front desk that the damn toilet was overflowing. Now will you quit standing there like a dolt and do something."
"Um, I'm not the plumber," I said, thinking quickly. "He's been called. They just sent me up to see if I could help with anything. Want me to take a look?"
"I want you to do something!"
I stepped around her and started for the bathroom while she trailed after me grumbling into the phone. "I swear, as nice as this place looks you'd think they'd have better help."
"Did this start after your husband left?" I asked casually.
"Ha!" she snarled into the phone. "He wants to know if it started after my husband left." Then to me, "I don't have a husband."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed that the man who rented the room..." The toilet was indeed overflowing. A small lake had formed on the tiled bathroom floor and had started to seep by the dam of towels she'd piled in the doorway. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now that I was here.
"He's not my husband," she informed me. "And no, it didn't start after the bastard left, it started before. He just left me to deal with it. Now you deal with it." She turned away and continued with her conversation on the phone while I made a show of stepping gingerly into the water and wiggling the handle on the commode. Niagara Falls kept flowing. "I know!" she was saying in response to something the person on the other end of the line had said. "He's married alright, but not to me. Oh no! I don't have the moneybags his missus has, the bitch. You know, I don't know why I'm so stupid. I've been putting up with him for two years now; putting up with his sudden calls asking me to meet him for a weekend, putting up with him sneaking me in and out of his rooms while he's gone, putting up with not seeing him for weeks at a time, knowing that he's with her. But do you think he ever does anything for me? No! I'm just the other woman. I'm just supposed to come running whenever he calls. I'm just supposed to sit around waiting for him to come back. I'm just supposed to deal with the fucking toilet when it overflows while he runs off to his little conference. I can't even have him for one day! Is that too much to ask? Is it?"
There was a pause and then, "You're damn right it's not fair!" she shrieked. "I'm still an attractive woman. I could find someone else, someone who'd marry me. Hey, why aren't you doing anything?"
It took me a second to realize that last bellow was directed at me. "I think we should wait for the plumber," I suggested.
"Then what the fuck are you doing here? What good are you? And why aren't you in uniform?"
She was just noticing that now? Oh well, I'd gotten what I needed, more than I needed actually. I was more than ready to make my exit. "You called so early I didn't have time to get my uniform on," I said glibly. She gave me a confused look as she tried to work that one out. "Why don't I go see if that plumber is here yet?" I said quickly and made a beeline for the door.
The elevator doors were opening just as I passed. I glanced in at a hotel staff member with a plumber in tow. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I realized how close that had been. I trotted down the stairs and arrived at our room feeling flushed with the pleasure of my accomplishment. I let myself into the room to find a rather surprised Micah sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet to his chest, his eyes large and round.
"Killian," he gasped, dropping the sheet to reveal the fact that he was naked as the day he was born. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were the cleaning lady or something and here I am still naked."
"Sorry," I said, although somewhat unconvincingly on account of the giggles.
"You certainly seem to be in a better mood," he observed.
"I should be. I just closed the case!"
"What? That's great!" He jumped up and grabbed me in a huge bear hug. "I told you you're a great detective."
"Actually, it was just dumb luck. I came real close to missing it altogether."
"But you didn't and that's what counts! I'm going to order a celebratory breakfast," he said heading for the phone.
"Let me call Novak first," I said, eager to tell him of my first big success on my own.
"Don't you think it's a little early?"
"Are you kidding? Novak rises before the sun."
"Hmm, if I remember right, he's not the only one," he said with a smirk.
I grinned back as I picked up the phone and dialed out. Novak answered on the second ring.
"Guess what?" I said breathlessly.
"Hello, kid," he said evenly, "You know, most people start their conversations with a salutation of some sort, such as hi, hello, hey, yo, or even wassup."
"Hi, hello, hey, yo, wassup. Now guess what?"
"You closed the case?"
"Oh," I said as I deflated.
"Sorry, I guess you wanted to pop the big news. Let's try that again, shall we? I don't know, Killian, what?"
"It's not the same now," I pouted.
"Well I still don't know the details."
That brightened me a little. "He was cheating on his wife," I told him triumphantly.
"You know that for a fact?"
"I talked to the mistress myself. It's been going on for some time now."
"She told you that?"
"Yes. Well, she thought I was there to fix the john, but..."
"To fix the-never mind. I probably don't want to know. Great job, kid. I knew you had it in you."
"It was dumb luck actually. I didn't even know she was in the room at first. Knox snuck her in while he was in the conference. If I hadn't, er, overslept this morning I probably would have never known she was there. I just happened to be outside the room when she opened the door and I practically fell in."
"Still, you had the presence of mind to act when the opportunity presented itself. A good 75% of our trade is blind luck."
"Well whatever it is, I did it. I'll be home this afternoon I guess. You want me to come in and type up the report tonight or will tomorrow morning be soon enough?"
"Actually, didn't I promise you some free time if you finished up this case quickly?"
"Oh, yeah," I said. I'd almost forgotten in all the excitement.
"Why don't you stay one more night? Have Micah show you the city. I'll even pay for the room. Consider it a little bonus for a job well done."
"Are you serious?"
"Yep. You earned it, and besides, this was your first solo case, you deserve to celebrate its successful closing."
"Oh my gosh! Thanks so much, Novak."
"Don't thank me; just keep up the good work."
"Oh, I will."
"I don't doubt it. Now go have fun. And Killian?"
"Yeah?"
"I hope you get to sleep in tomorrow morning too." I could hear the wink in his voice as the phone hung up. I felt my face burn bright as I carefully hung up the receiver on my end as well.
"What did you get all excited about?" Micah asked, coming out of the bathroom in a robe now. "And why is your face so red?"
I waved off the second question and just answered the first. "Novak said we could stay another night on him, as a reward for finishing up the case so quickly."
Micah's eyebrows flew up. "Really? Wow, that's really nice of him."
"Tell me about it. He said to have you show me the city." He frowned a little and I quickly rushed on. "Oh come on, Micah!" I whined. "I don't want to stay in the hotel room all day and night. Show me stuff I've never seen before."
"I could do that right here in the hotel room," he said forcing a smile.
"Or we could go out and then come back here for that."
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
"Nope."
He sighed. "Fine, I'll give in now and spare us both the bother."
"Woohoo!" I hollered, jumping up and down.
"Don't get too excited. We don't even know what we're doing yet."
"What is there to do?"
He shrugged. "There're museums, shows, clubs..."
"I don't want to go a stuffy old museum, not this time anyway. I want to have fun. I want to celebrate."
"A club then?"
I stuck out my bottom lip. "We can go to a club at home."
Micah laughed. "The clubs here are about as much like Inferno as a kitten is to a full-grown tiger."
My eyes lit up. "Oh really?"
"Really. We have all day to decide what we're going to do. Now what do you want for breakfast?"
I smiled slyly. "You."
\*
"Holy sea of men, Batman," I yelled to Micah as I stood at the rail overlooking more writhing men then I had ever seen in one place in my entire life.
Micah laughed; at least he looked like he was laughing. The noise level was so high any sound he might have made was lost completely. I didn't even know how on earth he'd heard me. The music was pounding so hard the walls actually seemed to vibrate with the bass line. The lighting was low and between that and the smoke machines, the atmosphere was much murkier than the Inferno, which was my only experience with a gay club before tonight. You could have fit four Infernos inside this place and there were easily six times as many people crowded inside. I could already feel a trickle of sweat down the middle of my back.
"Quit gawking," Micah shouted in my ear. "Someone's going to mistake that open mouth for an invitation."
I snapped my jaw shut and took another look around. The club was called Michelangelo and was known as the premier gay club in the DC area. In the center of the dance floor was a huge white statue which looked remarkably like Michelangelo's famous David except for one small change. Or not so small actually. This David was sporting a very impressive erection. Over his head, a huge disco ball hung from the ceiling, which was painted in a parody of the Sistine Chapel. There were still naked folks lounging about on clouds and such, but they were all hard-bodied men in this interpretation, and some were doing more than just lounging.
There were two dance floors-a smaller one and a huge one. We'd entered through a glitzy entryway, showed our ID's and Micah had whisked me off down a hall crowded with guys. He'd led me up a flight of stairs, and now we were overlooking the larger dance floor. I was still in culture shock. I'd never felt like such a hick before.
"It's a little tacky," Micah was saying, "but lots of fun. You ready to dance?"
I looked back down at the mass of men down below me. "As I'll ever be," I yelled back.
He led me back down the stairs and we plunged into the sea of bodies. It was at least an hour later before we broke free for a much needed breather. I'd been groped, grabbed and fondled more in that hour than the rest of my life combined. Micah clutched my wrist and started pulling me back down the hall. I couldn't help but notice that he really seemed to know his way around.
We were moving down the hall when suddenly someone going the other way let out a high-pitched squeal and grabbed Micah's arm.
"Oh my Gawd!" the guy howled. He had a middle-eastern look, olive complexion, dark, almost black eyes under heavy eyebrows, and a hawk-like nose. His black hair hung to his shoulders in soft curls. He was very striking, not someone who would be easily forgotten. "What are you doing back in town? We've been looking for you. Are you here because you heard?" he yelled while gripping Micah's arm as if he thought he might bolt at any second. Actually, judging by the look on Micah's face that was entirely possible. He had the same expression in his eyes as the raccoon we'd found in the garage when I was a kid. Dad had cornered it and shot the poor thing with the same pistol I'd later used to kill a serial killer who was hoping to make me his next victim. I'd cried about that damn raccoon for hours.
"I'm sorry," Micah said trying to shake the guy off his arm. "I think you must have me mistaken for someone else."
The guy hung on like a leech. "No fucking way, honey," he cooed. I decided that he was on something. I didn't know much about drugs but I guessed it was probably ecstasy. "I'd know you anywhere."
"Well I don't know you," Micah growled. He snatched his arm away setting his cling-on stumbling and yanked me off down the hall before the guy could recover his balance. I almost had to run to keep up with Micah. He pulled me into a lounge with plush red chairs and sofas arranged around the room. There were more guys in here; it seemed there was no shortage of male bodies no matter where you went in this place. Most of the guys in here were occupied with at least one other guy, some with more than one, but there were still more than a few sets of hungry eyes following us as we made our way into the room.
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or frightened," I said to Micah. The volume level was a little lower in here so I didn't quite have to scream.
"What do you mean?" he asked me, pushing me gently into a recently vacated chair and straddling my legs.
"All those guys staring at us."
Micah snorted. "They stare at anything with a dick."
"Gee thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel special."
He laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. You would definitely be of special interest to most of the guys in here. You're what's known as a twink."
"Twink?"
"It means you're young, hot, and blonde. The last isn't necessarily a requirement but it helps."
"Hot, huh?"
"Oh definitely. Very, very hot. If you ask me, you're the hottest guy here."
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. "I might have to argue about that," I said.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, because I happen to think that you're the hottest guy here."
"How about if we call it a tie?"
I pretended to think it over. "I suppose I could live with that."
He leaned in and gave me a deep kiss that started a familiar tingle in my crotch.
"Keep that up and I'm going to want breakfast again," I giggled.
"They have a room for that too, you know," he said suggestively.
I felt my eyes grow wide as Micah started laughing. "You were just kidding, right?" I asked naively.
"Actually, no, I'm not. Maybe I'll show you later. Hey, I have to go pee. How about you?"
"No, I'm fine." I said absently. My mind was still on the room Micah had alluded to; I wasn't sure I wanted him to show it to me.
"Ok, then stay right here. I'll be right back." He leaned in a kissed me again, then jumped up and started for the door.
I watched him cross the room and realized I wasn't the only one watching his progress. It made me feel good to be with a guy other people seemed to find as attractive as I did. They could look as long as they didn't touch. I was admiring his tight butt as he vanished from my sight through the door. While I was still looking in the direction of the door, I noticed the guy with the long hair from the hallway slip out behind him. I sat up sharply, debating whether or not I should follow. I was about to go when I felt a presence leaning over me from behind.
I spun around and looked up to find an angel hovering over me. Not really, of course, but that was my initial impression. He was backlit by a bright spotlight, making his halo of reddish-blonde curls seem to glow like fire. His white satiny shirt only enhanced the illusion. As he moved around to stand in front of me, I realized he was quite real and to my surprise, he didn't look a day over 15. He was a little shorter than me, with a pale, creamy complexion and rosy red cheeks that were as smooth as a baby's bottom. He had the biggest pair of blue eyes I'd ever seen and perfect little rosebud lips. His hair hung in ringlets all around his face. In short, he looked like a Renaissance painting come to life.
"You're with the guy who just left, right?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"The guy who just left, the one Razi followed out? Is he your old man?
"My old man?" I glanced back towards the door again; still trying to decide if I should stay put or go after him.
"Your boyfriend. Is he your boyfriend?"
I turned back and focused on him again. "Who is Razi?"
"Man, are you on something? Try to focus here. Razi's the guy who grabbed your boy in the hallway just now. He's sure he knows him. Is he your boyfriend?"
"Yeah." I shook my head. I was having trouble following this conversation. "Who are you?"
"Tad."
"Tad who?"
He made a face. "Tad Young if you must know. I'm with Razi."
I looked him over. "Speaking of tad young, aren't you a tad young to be in here?"
"Like I haven't heard that before," he said, rolling those huge blue eyes. "Why does it matter to you how old I am? Besides, you don't look that much older than me."
"I'm 18."
"Oh, well ok. Anyway, Razi thinks he knows him. What's his name?"
I suddenly wasn't so sure I should say anything more. "Why should I tell you?"
"Is it Micah?" he asked.
I looked up sharply.
"It is, isn't it?" he said with a grin, revealing perfect white teeth. "Razi was right."
"Who is this Razi and how does he know Micah?" I asked, deciding there was no point arguing and wondering why Micah had pretended not to know this Razi guy.
Tad, if that was his real name, shrugged. "He's just some guy. I think they used to work together."
"Where?" I asked, suddenly interested. I knew next to nothing about Micah's life here in the city.
Tad's eyes shifted away and he shrugged again. "I don't know," he said evasively.
"Yes you do."
"Why don't you ask Micah?" he shot back.
"Because I'm asking you," I snapped.
"Sheesh. Excuse me for living. I should have never come over here." He turned and started walking away. I was on my feet in flash. I grabbed his elbow and he turned to face me.
"Hey, I'm sorry," I said quickly. "Let's start over, huh? I'm Killian."
He smiled. "Hi Killian. You've already made fun of my name so we don't need to go there again."
"Sorry about that."
"It's ok. I'm used to it."
"Is that your real name?"
He looked at me suspiciously for a second, then nodded slowly. "It's short for Thaddeus."
"So where did Micah and, uh, Razi work together?"
"Look, I don't know for sure so I probably shouldn't say anything."
I pleaded with him with my eyes. With a sigh, he gave in. "Razi said he used to be in the business."
I frowned. "What business?"
Tad gave me a measuring look. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Will you just..."
"Ok, don't get your knickers in a bunch. The same business Razi is in."
"Which is?"
He looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening, then leaned towards me conspiratorially, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "The escort business," he whispered dramatically.
It felt as if the room retreated from around me. So this was Micah's big secret, the one thing he couldn't trust me with. And now I knew why. Micah used to sell his body for sex. He'd been a prostitute.
Tad yanked his arm back suddenly as if he'd been burned. The crowd came flooding back into focus as he hurried away. I started to call after him but I felt someone slip their arms around my waist from behind. I jerked my head around to find Micah.
"Who was that?" he asked in a falsely bright voice. His eyes staring after Tad were troubled and distant. "Was someone trying to pick you up? I knew I shouldn't have left you alone."
I pulled away from Micah's embrace and turned to face him. "That was Razi's boyfriend," I said, matching his faux-cheerful tone as his eyes flew open wide in surprise and his mouth turned down sharply with dismay. "You remember Razi, don't you? You used to work together after all."
"We need to talk," Micah said softly.
"You think?" I snapped.
"Killian, it's not like it seems."
"Oh, my mistake. Then you weren't lying to me about the fact that you used to be an escort?"
"For God's sake!" he hissed between clenched teeth as he looked around. So far, no one was really paying attention to us, but a few heads were beginning to turn as my voice climbed in volume. "I never once lied to you. I told you there was stuff in my past I wasn't ready to talk to you about; you knew that. Well, here it is. Now you know. Can you see why I wasn't all that eager to trot that little piece of information out on our first date?"
"Our first date maybe, but we've been dating for months now. When were you going to tell me? Never?"
"I was going to tell you this weekend."
"Oh please! You expect me to believe that?"
"I was! Ask Steve."
"Steve? What does he have to do with this? He knew?"
"It's what we were talking about the other night. I told him and he thought that you would be able to handle it, and that I should tell you too. I was planning on telling you while we were here."
"You told Steve before you told me?"
"Will you stop twisting everything I say? I needed someone to talk to about this, someone objective. Can we not talk about this here? I'd rather continue in private."
"Fine, then let's go." I stormed out the door without bothering to see if he was following me. An angry guy fighting tears and crashing through the hallways must not be too unusual for this place since I hardly garnered any attention during my dramatic (so I thought) exit. I arrived in the parking lot chest heaving and unable to hold back the tears any longer. I leaned against a pole and let the sobs come. Micah must have been right behind me the whole time because he was at my side in a second. He placed a hand on my arm but I jerked away from his touch.
"Killian, please," he pleaded, "I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise."
"Just get the car," I choked out. He reluctantly backed away for a few steps before turning and jogging off towards the parking lot.
"Men," a husky, smoke-filled voice said acidly from behind me. I turned to find a tall, rail-thin black man leaning against the wall smoking a long, thin cigarette. While minutiae such as his age and general description were lost thanks to my bleary eyes, I could tell he was rather effeminate by his stance and voice. "What did he do, baby? Did you catch him with another guy?"
I shook my head in confusion.
"He'll explain all right. He'll have an answer for everything. I know his type. They think a handsome face can get them out of anything. Don't stand for it."
"I..."
"Well don't worry your pretty little head about it. A pretty boy like you could have any guy in this place. You remember that. Oh, and also remember that all men are dogs."
"I don't..."
A car pulled up behind me and I heard Micah call out, "Killian?" I was saved from trying to think of a suitable reply and turned almost gratefully to the car.
"Remember!" the guy called as I sucked into the vehicle, "Dogs!"
"What was that about?" Micah asked as I slammed the door shut.
I just turned my head away and stared out the window. I had a lot I wanted to sort out before we got back to the room. I was in control enough to know that a hysterical attack wasn't going to get us anywhere. After a couple more unsuccessful attempts to get me to talk, we lapsed into a tension-filled, uneasy silence that lasted until we were alone in our hotel room.
"Can we please talk now?" Micah asked as soon as the door closed behind him.
"Now you want to talk?" I sneered.
"Killian, you're angry and I can understand that..."
"You're damn right, I'm angry. I can't believe this."
"Why are you so angry? Because I didn't tell you before this or because of the way you found out?"
As angry as I was I had to admit that was a good question. Would I have been this angry if he had told me himself? The answer was obviously no, I was angry because I'd had to find out from some glitter boy at a club. If what he'd said about telling Steve was true, though, and that would be easy enough to verify, then he had intended to tell me this weekend. With rational thought came a sudden deflation. I felt the anger drain out of me as if someone had pulled a plug. I wasn't ready to stop being angry though, damn it. The self-righteous anger served as a sort of shield against the other things I was feeling. Now that the anger was gone, I was left feeling terribly vulnerable. This man that I had given my body to just this morning used to sell his body for money. I was extremely uncomfortable with that knowledge, to say the least.
My thoughts must have been written clearly on my face. "I think I need to explain," he said sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. He patted a spot next to him but I took the one chair in the room instead. I wasn't ready to be that close to him again.
"What's to explain?" I said flatly. "You used to be a...a...hooker."
Micah rubbed his face wearily. "It's not like that, Kill. You don't understand."
"You sold your body for money; how hard is that to understand?"
"It's not like I was standing on a street corner picking up tricks."
I shrugged. "Does it really make a difference?"
"Yes. Yes, it does. There's a big difference. Just let me explain what happened."
"I don't..."
"Just hear me out, ok? Please?"
I started to say no again, the guy's voice from the club echoing in my head about Micah having an answer for everything, but then I decided it couldn't hurt. The situation couldn't get much worse as far as I was concerned and it might possibly help me to understand. "Fine. Go ahead."
He sighed and sat there. It seemed now that I'd given my grudging consent, he didn't know where to begin. He took a few deep breaths and began. "I've told you that my parents were pretty supportive of me when I finally came out to them. I never had problems there, but we didn't have a lot of money, especially after all the legal stuff with the guy who abused me and all my counseling bills. They used almost every dime they had to pay for my first semester of college. I had some scholarships, academic stuff, but they didn't amount to much. I got a part-time job at some pizza joint but it wasn't much and the hours I had to work started interfering with my school work. My grades started to suffer and I was getting really discouraged. I was too proud to ask for help. I'd pretty much decided to drop out when one of the guys I knew at school suddenly started flashing cash around like he'd hit the lottery. He'd been in almost the same boat I was in; putting himself through college, so I knew something was up. I thought he'd gotten into drugs or something.
"I'd managed to be pretty discreet up till then about being gay. Hardly anyone knew and that's the way I wanted it; but towards the end of the semester, when I figured I wouldn't be back for the next one, I just didn't care anymore. Word got around that I was queer and the next thing I knew, the guy with all the cash shows up at my room one night. He says he had an offer I couldn't refuse. I told him I wasn't interested and he goes, `But don't you want to know where all my cash comes from?' By that time, I figured what the hell.
"He told me he'd been recruited for a local escort agency. He said it was a classy set-up. You got paid big bucks to keep lonely gay guys company and you didn't even have to sleep with them if you didn't want to, although you made more in tips if you did. He said they'd work around my school schedule and I'd make more in a single week than I made all month at the pizza place. He said if I was interested he could get me an interview."
He paused and looked up to gauge my reaction. On the inside, my guts were twisted into a knot that I didn't think would ever unravel, but my expression must have been neutral at the least, because he seemed satisfied with what he saw and continued.
"You have to remember that my attitude towards sex then wasn't what it is now. I'd been abused as a kid and I'd still not worked through all that even with all the hours of counseling I'd logged in. I told you all that on our first date. It seemed like the perfect solution to all my problems. I asked him to set up the interview. It was only a few days later before I got my first interview. A week later I was hired."
He stopped and seemed to wait for me to say something. I didn't know what to say and the silence stretched out until Micah began talking again, as much to fill the void as anything.
"It wasn't even that bad. They'd call me with a job. If it fit my schedule, I'd take it. I was taken to dinners at fancy restaurants, the theater, museums, art shows-places I would have never gotten into on my own. And yes, I slept with some of them-most of them. I didn't have to, and I never did anything I didn't feel completely comfortable doing. And the money...the money was unreal. There was no way I could have made that kind of money any other way. It paid for school and left plenty to spend however I wanted. You get used to that kind of lifestyle pretty quickly. Even after I met someone..." His words faltered as his eyes blazed with raw pain for a brief, unguarded second. I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. It was fresh pain I'd seen, not an old ache. He recovered and went on. "Even after I met someone, I stayed in the business. I stayed in it until I graduated."
He seemed to have run out of words now. Whatever hurt it was he'd felt appeared to have knocked the spirit out of him.
"What is it?" I asked, the first words I'd spoken since he'd started his explanation.
"What is what?"
"Something's wrong. I mean besides us. I can see it in your eyes. Especially when you mentioned the person you met."
The reaction was there again this time, but not quite as strong. He looked away.
"Don't keep more secrets from me," I said softly, allowing the pain I still felt to be heard in my voice.
"While I was working for the agency," he began roughly. He cleared his throat and continued. "While I was working for them I met someone. His name is...was Paul." I noted the past tense. "He was another escort. We became friends and then..."
"Lovers?" I finished for him, phrasing it as a question.
He nodded. "We moved in together. I'd dated a few other people but none of them could handle the fact that I was an escort. It was different with Paul. He understood; he was in the business too. We were happy together."
"Did you love him?" I asked even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. In truth, I already knew and I could plainly see that he still loved him.
He nodded.
"What happened?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"Things started falling apart during my last semester. I knew I was going to have to move on soon, find a job, grow up. I wanted to do that with Paul, but he wasn't ready. I started seeing a counselor again. She was good-better than any of the ones I'd had before. She agreed with me that I needed a change, I needed to get away, and more than anything I needed to stop using sex as a tool to get what I wanted. I'd used it when I was younger trying to find love and now I was using it for profit. I already knew that by this time, I think it was the source of my restlessness, but hearing it from someone else made it all clearer.
"When I graduated, I had several job offers. Two in particular were good offers. One was for a weekly in Washington and one was for the paper on the Shore. Paul wanted me to take the job in DC and stay with him, but I wanted out of the city and away from the business. We fought about it, talked about it, cried about it; but in the end, I took the daily job on the Shore. I asked Paul to come with me, but he said no, he wasn't ready to leave the city. Neither of us wanted to pursue a long distance relationship with all its associated baggage. Besides, too much had been said by that time. So we just broke up."
"Do you want to go back to him?"
"What?" he asked with mouth agape, genuinely surprised.
"I can see how much it hurts you to talk about him, how much you obviously still love him. Do you want to go back to him?"
"Killian, I let go of Paul and moved on a long time ago. I'll always care about Paul, he was my first love, but I wouldn't have said I loved you unless I did. I wouldn't have pursued a relationship with you if I didn't think I could give you one-hundred percent."
"Then what was that pain I saw in your eyes?"
His mouth opened and closed a few times silently. I thought he was going to start crying but he somehow managed to pull himself together and attempted a halting answer. "The guy at the club? Not the kid who was talking to you, the other guy, the kid's boyfriend, or whatever he was?"
"Razi?"
A look of distaste flickered across his face. "Yeah, Razi. He used to work at the agency too, but he left to go out on his own. Most guys do eventually. You get all the profits then. But anyway, for some reason Paul always had a soft spot when it came to Razi. I never really cared for him, but Paul insisted there was something more to him than just the slick exterior, something inside worth sticking around for. The news Razi thought I'd heard..." He stopped and gulped a few times before he could go on. "Razi told me that Paul was killed a few days ago."
"Oh," I said dumbly. I was more than a little ashamed at the rush of relief I felt at that revelation. "I'm...I'm sorry," I stuttered, blushing hotly even though there was no way Micah could have read my thoughts and known how callous they had been.
"I don't expect you to feel bad," Micah said, making me feel worse. "It's not like you even knew him."
"Still, he meant something to you," I said lamely.
"But not to you. Look, I imagine you have a lot to think about; I'm going to take a walk and leave you alone."
I started to protest that it wasn't necessary, but I clamped my mouth to when I realized how nice it would be to be alone with my thoughts right now. Instead, I just nodded and he let himself out.
I threw myself down on the bed and allowed myself a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity. In one short night, my new fairytale romance had turned into more of a twisted Brother's Grimm tale, and it seemed grim indeed. My Prince Charming had turned out to be nothing like the man I thought he was. But then the dragon of rational thought once again reared its ugly head and I was forced to admit that nothing had really changed. Micah was still the same guy I'd been dating for the last few months and they same guy I'd given my virginity to just that morning. He hadn't changed. The only thing that had changed was that I knew a little more about him. Still, hissed that nasty little part of me not ready to give up my hurt and anger just yet, he did hide his past from you, even if he didn't outright lie about it.
In all fairness, the reasonable side of me argued, he did tell you that there was a part of his past he hadn't told you about yet. And he was going to tell you this weekend.
The simple fact of the matter was, though, that no matter how good a reason Micah felt he had for becoming an escort, I was still very uncomfortable with it. I knew my attitude was possibly due to the fact that I'd grown up very sheltered in a small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. While Maryland was a pretty liberal state overall, the Shore was still rural and conservative for the most part. It had been pretty much isolated from the rest of the state until halfway through the twentieth century when the bridge connecting the shore to the mainland had been built. In many ways, the people were still isolated and sheltered from the more urban areas on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay, Annapolis, Baltimore, and DC.
Was my discomfort something that could be overcome? I just didn't know, at least not yet. I needed more time to figure things out. Did I still care about Micah? That much at least I was able to answer. Yes, I did. And with that thought, the pain inside me welled up again.
By now, I was physically and mentally wiped out. My rational mind finally gave up and let my emotions take over in a torrent of self-indulgent tears. By the time I'd cried myself out, I was well on the way to slipping into a restless sleep.
I awoke with a start when Micah let himself into the room. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was
"Where've you been?" I asked, my mind still a bit fuzzy from being woken so suddenly.
"In an all-night coffee bar down the street. You weren't the only one who needed to think. Sorry I woke you up."
"S'ok."
He started undressing and despite myself, my heart began to beat just a little faster. "What are you doing?' I asked stupidly.
"Getting ready for bed," he said in a drained voice that didn't leave much room for argument.
I argued anyway. "You're sleeping here?" What can I say? I'm not at my best when I'm awoken in the middle of the night.
"No, Killian, I thought I'd sleep in the hallway. Yes, I'm sleeping here. And don't worry; I won't lay a finger on you." He pulled back the blankets on his side of the bed and slid under the covers before turning his back purposefully to me.
I stared at his back for a while, almost wishing he would lay a finger on me; wanting him and being disgusted at the same time. Finally, my exhaustion overcame my warring emotions and I fell back into that fitful rest.
I woke up to find a morning suitably dreary to match my mood. It wasn't raining, but the sky was leaden and promised rain before the day was out. Micah was gone, but a note left on the desk told me he'd gone for breakfast and he was bringing me something back. I took a shower and was just getting out when Micah returned carrying a small paper sack.
"I got you a bagel with cream cheese," he said. "I hope that's ok."
"It's fine," I told him, turning away to get dressed.
I felt him move up behind me and then felt his hands on my waist. I tensed up under his touch.
"Micah..." My voice trailed off.
His hands fell away.
"So what's going on?" he asked. "Are we breaking up?"
"No," I said quickly, keeping my back to him as I pulled on my clothes. "I mean...I don't know right now. I need more time to figure things out."
"Figure what out, Killian? Do you love me?"
"I...yes."
"And I love you. What's to figure out?"
"It's not that simple and we both know it." I turned to face him. "If it was as simple as that I'd still be with Asher and you'd still be with Paul."
Hurt flashed in his eyes at the mention of Paul's name. At least that was what I thought that was the source of the pain until he spoke. "That's what it always comes back to, isn't it? Asher."
"What? Wait, that's not what I meant."
"What did you mean, then?"
"You said yourself just last night that you would always love Paul, but that you've moved on. That's just how it is for me when it comes to Asher."
He sighed and knuckled his eyes. "Just tell me what to do to make this right."
"I don't know," I wailed, "I don't think there's anything anyone can do. You can't just wave a magic wand and make it right. It's going to take time and I don't even know if it'll be right then."
"What's the problem? That I didn't tell you? I'm sorry, Killian, but at least everything is out in the open now. There're no more secrets. We can rebuild the trust."
"That's not even it. Not really, anyway. I'm still a little hurt at the way I found out, but I know that wasn't really your fault. It was just really shitty timing."
"Now you know why I didn't want to come to DC. But if that's not the problem, what is?"
"I'm just having a lot of trouble with the whole idea of you being an escort."
"But I explained all that to you."
"I still just..."
"It's a part of my past. I can't change what happened, and I wouldn't if I could. I'm not ashamed of what I did, you know. It put me through college and it's all a part of who I am today. I wouldn't be the same person if I hadn't gone through all that. I was good enough for you to fall in love, why aren't I good enough for you to stay in love?"
I was fighting tears again and I was damned if I was going to fall apart in front of him. I pulled myself together and took a deep breath. "We're not going to get anywhere now. I think we should just go home. I need a few days to work through all this on my own."
"Oh great, you're asking for the infamous break. Everybody knows that's the death knoll for a relationship."
"Micah, I'm not breaking up with you. I'm not even asking for a break. I just need a few days to figure out what I do want. This is a lot for me to take in. I mean I'm just a kid from the boonies. Give me a break."
"You sell yourself short, Killian. Just don't sell us short too."
He picked up his suitcase and yanked open the door. "I'll be waiting in the car," he said as he disappeared into the hall.
I sighed and zipped up my bag. I did a cursory look around the room to make sure we weren't leaving anything and then started to follow. I was halfway down the hall before I went back for the bagel. It was going to be a long ride home and I just might need the sustenance.
The drive home was every bit as long as I thought it would be. We barely spoke the entire time, arriving home in late morning. I wanted to talk to Steve, but when we finally pulled into my driveway, only Kane's vehicle was there. He told me both Steve and Adam were at the B&B today since something had happened over the weekend. He didn't say what and I didn't ask. I was in no mood to deal with anyone else's problems when I had my own to worry over.
I was also in no mood to sit around the house doing nothing. I drove into the office only to find it empty as well. Novak was obviously out on his case. I typed up my report, relying heavily on my notes since my mind wasn't exactly at peak performance, but then I was left with nothing to do except fret. Finally, the clock said it was almost time for Jake to be getting out of school. More for something to do than anything, I decided to follow him again.
I drove to the school and parked in almost the exact same spot I'd chosen to wait for him last time. As I sat and waited for the final bell to ring, my mind began to wander. Of course, the first place it went was directly to Micah.
I was still shocked about the whole thing. I couldn't believe that Micah had once been an escort. He'd told me about his troubled childhood, the much older neighbor who had seduced him and kept him quiet with mental abuse. He'd told me how it had affected his self-esteem and his view of sex; and about how he'd slept his way through practically the entire male population of his school. He'd also told me that his views of sex had changed as he'd gotten older and he never wanted his relationships to be based on sex alone again. None of that had prepared for the big news, however. And even after he'd told me that he'd planned to tell me that weekend, I still couldn't help but wonder if he would have if Tad hadn't spilled the beans.
I heard the dismissal bell ring and registered it at the back of my mind.
The question was, now that I knew, how did that affect me, and what was I going to do about it? If I had to be completely honest with myself, I knew it really shouldn't affect me. It was a part of Micah's past. As he'd said, it was part of what made him who he was today. And I had fallen in love with him as he was, hadn't I? Hadn't I? Maybe that was the real question. Did I really love Micah or was I just trying to convince myself that I loved him? Maybe I was just in love with the idea of being in love.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost missed Jake when he came out of the school with a friend and climbed into his car. In fact, I really didn't notice him until he was pulling out of the parking lot. I started my car and pulled into the line of cars waiting their turn to get out of the lot, cursing myself the whole time at my ineptness.
You should have been paying more attention, I scolded myself. Novak always says that you can't let your personal life interfere with your investigation, and that's exactly what I'm doing.
I finally managed to get out onto the street and the chase was on. Jake had a considerable lead on me thanks to an overly cautious teen driver that had been in front of me. Who's ever heard of an overly cautious teen driver? I quickly made up for the lost time, and vented my frustration at the same time, by driving like a maniac until he was in site again. It was just plain luck that he hadn't turned off the main road. If he had, I would have lost him for sure.
Once I had him in my sights, Novak's training took over and my mind was free to go back to worrying at the situation with Micah like a dog with a bone. The question loomed up once again. Was I in love with Micah? I enjoyed being with him. I missed him when we weren't together. I was undeniably attracted to him. Was that love? What was love? I'd loved Asher, and probably always would, but it was so difficult to define. What I felt for Micah felt different from what I'd felt with Asher. Did that mean I loved Micah less or was it different every time? And if I did love Micah, didn't that mean I should be willing to accept him as he was? Why was I having such a hard time with this anyway? It's not as if he was a killer-for-hire or something that actually hurt anyone. While the morality of being an escort could be argued, it all depended on whose code of morality you were using. Being an escort was perfectly legal in some countries and even right here in the US in Nevada. And more importantly, he wasn't an escort now. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to handle dating someone who was still working as an escort. I was too insecure for that.
Maybe that's what this all came down to, insecurity. Was Micah comparing me to all those other guys he'd slept with when we were in bed? If so, I was sure I couldn't even begin to measure up. I didn't even know what I was doing. Why was Micah even interested in me? I was just a dumb kid from nowhere. He was a talented, bright, hunky, sophisticated man. What if he got tired of me one day and just up and left me?
I was so caught up in that train of thought that I didn't even notice when Jake turned off. I just suddenly realized he was no longer in front of me. I had no clue when he'd turned off or where. I let loose with a string of curses as I pounded the steering wheel in anger.
Great, just great, I fumed. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. This was not turning out to be a good day. Maybe I should just drive home and lock myself in my room for the rest of the day, I thought glumly. Jake was definitely gone and I had no idea where he was going. That thought spurred another thought, I might not know where he was going, but I was pretty sure where he wasn't going. We had been driving in the opposite direction of his house. Maybe now would be a good time to search his room, assuming I could manage to stay focused on the job at hand and not allow my thoughts to distract me again.
I turned the car around and drove towards Judy and Jake's house. When I arrived, I was pleased to see that my luck seemed to be changing; Jake's car was nowhere to be seen. Better yet, Judy's van was parked by the house, so that meant she was home. I parked behind the van and Judy had the front door open before I was even completely out of the car.
Judy had never been married and as far as I knew, had not been lucky in love. She'd gotten pregnant as a young teen and moved away to raise the baby, Dashel, by herself. She'd gotten pregnant a second time after her brother-in-law, Jake's father, forced himself on her. That baby was Jake. She'd ended up allowing her sister to adopt Jake and raise him as her own. It turned out that her brother-in-law had not only been a rapist, he was also abusive to his older children. The oldest son, Todd, had snapped and killed Seth, another boy, and his own sister before trying to kill Jake, Asher and me. I'd shot and killed Todd to protect Jake and soon after the people who had raised Jake from birth killed themselves in a double suicide. All that was left of Jake's family he and his little brother, Jamie. Asher's parents had adopted Jamie and Judy had come back for Jake. She'd moved Jake to California where she lived with her older son, Dash.
Now that Dash was studying in Australia, Judy had decided to move back to Maryland to be closer to her only remaining family, Asher's parents. She'd started renting this little house a few months ago. It wasn't big or fancy, but then, they didn't need much space for the two of them. Judy had worked miracles in the yard in the short time she'd been there, though. The yard was a riot of color, even this far into October. She'd planned the gardens to look very natural, so that you could barely tell where the lawn left off and the gardens began.
"The yard is beautiful," I told her as I walked up the flagstone path she's laid through the midst of the flowers.
"Thanks, it relaxes me," she said. "You haven't found anything out." It was a statement, not a question but I answered it anyway.
"Not yet," I was thinking I could search his room while he isn't here."
She nodded silently and held the door open. "I hate doing this," she said as I stepped inside, "but I can't just stand by and do nothing. I know something is wrong; I just don't know what. It's killing me."
The anguish in her voice was so strong it stopped me in my tracks. I turned to face her and found myself hugging her spontaneously. "I'll find out what's going on," I promised her.
"Please do," she said, barely above a whisper.
I pushed the door to Jake's room open with a twinge of guilt. It was one thing to snoop through a complete stranger's personal belongings, it was quite another to be doing it to a friend. I felt like I was violating a trust between us.
The room looked like any typical teenager's room. A few posters were plastered on the wall, one advertising Showtime's Queer As Folk and a couple movie posters. Dirty clothes were scattered about, wherever they'd landed when Jake had removed them. A dirty plate sat on the floor and nearby a glass lay on its side, a dried skim of milk inside it. The room itself was on the small side and most of the floor space was taken up by a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a bookcase, and an entertainment center that held a TV, VCR, DVD and a game cube. I whistled softly at the electronics. That had cost a bundle and I somehow doubted Judy could afford all that, so where had it come from? I made a mental note to ask Judy before I left.
Where to start? I asked myself as I surveyed the room. I chose the desk and started opening drawers and sifting through the contents, trying to leave as little sign that I'd been there as possible. I hadn't done many room searches, but I'd helped Novak a few times. I couldn't help but smile a little as I remembered my first search I'd done last summer. I'd found a stash of illegally filmed videos of certain local officials caught in rather compromising positions at a sleazy motel. The manager had been taping people with hidden cameras for his own pleasure; the fact that it also netted him a lucrative side-business blackmailing the folks on the tapes was just icing on the cake. We'd called in the cops and he was promptly arrested. Last I heard, he was in jail-where he belonged.
So far, my search of Jake's desk was turning up nothing more than a few bad test grades and one marijuana roach all the way at the back of the bottom left-hand drawer. God only knew how long it had been there, and it was hardly the kind of problem I suspected Judy was worried about. Hell, for all I knew, it was Judy's.
The desk out of the way, I moved on to the dresser. There was nothing in any of the drawers except clothes. I'd never realized what a clothes horse Jake was, or how expensive his tastes were. Most of the clothes looked brand new or almost so. How did he afford to shop at these places? I was beginning to understand why Judy was so worried. The more I searched the more questions I had.
I searched the closet-more clothes and a few boxes of outgrown toys and games-and under the bed, mostly dust. I lifted the mattress and looked under it, nothing. Next, I carefully looked through the bookcase, looking behind the books, and feeling along under the shelves. The only thing I learned was that Jake favored science fiction and seldom used the set of encyclopedias on the bottom shelf, the dust was so thick down there it had made me sneeze.
Unless, I had missed something, which was entirely possible, the only place left to look was the entertainment center. I looked it over, there were only a few places that something could be hidden or kept. A small cabinet with doors at the bottom and a carved wooden box he'd placed on one of the shelves. I went to the cabinet first. I opened the doors and a small avalanche of magazines, video tapes, and photographs tumbled out, a motley assortment of XY, Teen People, EW, and gay porn. The magazines and videos I set aside after shaking them upside down to make sure nothing was hidden in the pages. All that fell out were subscription cards, but there were enough of those to paper the walls. I went through the pictures more carefully in case there was a clue in any of them.
Most of them were of people I didn't know and the backgrounds often included palm trees, so I deduced that they had been taken while Jake was living in California. Towards the bottom of the pile, I started recognizing more of the people in the pictures. There were a few from family gatherings, the Davis clan at birthdays and holidays. The pictures of Asher caused a dull ache, but the ones that almost made me forget why I was here were the others. Ones that Jake must have been unable to throw away. One was a wallet-sized family portrait of Jake's old family, all dead now but Jake and Jamie. Another must have been taken while I was briefly dating Jake's sister Gilly; it was supposed to have been a cover, but she'd fallen for me anyway. Gilly and I were in the forefront, my arm tossed casually around her shoulder with Todd glaring from the background. And then there were several pictures taken at the huge Halloween bash Jake and Gilly had thrown the same year the photo of Gilly and me had been taken. One showed Jake, Kane, Asher, and me in costume, mugging for the camera. It wasn't a night I was all that eager to remember.
The last one in the pile was the one that really got to me. I had no idea when it had been taken or who had taken it. It had the look of a photo taken without the subjects being aware it was being taken, even though they were looking directly at the photographer. It was of Seth and me. It had been taken at school, we were walking down the hall, and it looked like we had been talking before something had made us both look up. I didn't remember when it was taken; I hadn't even known there had ever been a picture taken of us together. For a moment, I was terribly tempted to slide the picture into my pocket-for selfish reasons-but I couldn't risk Jake noticing it was gone. I reluctantly returned it to the pile and then, after making sure I hadn't missed anything in the cabinet, shoved everything back in as near as I could get it to the way it had been when I'd opened the door. The way everything had just slid out, though, I wasn't too worried that he'd notice if anything out of place. I shut the cabinet doors on the mess and tried to shut the picture out of my mind as well. If only one was as easy as the other.
I only had the carved wooden box to look through now. I stood up and lifted the lid of the box. As I sifted through the contents, I wondered if I was going to turn up absolutely nothing concrete. The box held nothing more than a few more photos, some discarded movie stubs Jake had kept as keepsakes and a few pieces of jewelry. The photos were of Jake's new family; Judy with her arms around Jake and Dash, Judy with her arms wrapped around Jake's neck, Jake and Dash posing comically for the photographer. All of it about as exciting and incriminating as mud.
Then, for some reason, I took everything out of the box and picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy and a suspicion rose up in my mind. I shook it and heard a shuffling sound despite the fact that it was empty, or at least it appeared to be empty. A second, closer look showed that the outside of the box was a lot deeper than the inside. That could only mean one thing-a false bottom.
I turned the box over in my hands and examined the bottom. It didn't take me long to see that the bottom was rigged to slide out. It was a snug fit, but I was able to move it with my thumbs far enough to get my fingers inside and push it open. When I saw what was inside, I almost dropped it. There was wad of money bigger than I had ever seen, and as I soon learned, made up of all hundreds. Where on earth had Jake gotten this? And more importantly, how had he gotten it? But that wasn't to be the last surprise the box held. There was another ticket in here. At first, I thought it was another stub, another keepsake, but on further inspection, I realized it was actually for an event that hadn't yet taken place. It was for the highly publicized AIDS Benefit Ball, a high-society function that I'd read about in the paper just last week. They were expecting everyone from the governor on down to be in attendance and tickets were starting at $300 each.
Under the ticket was a picture that had been clipped from the newspaper. The grainy image showed an elegant looking man shaking hands with a state senator. The man was strangely familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn't place him. He was obviously some sort of big-wig, but I couldn't figure out who he was or where I had seen him. The bigger question was why did Jake have a picture of him hidden in this secret compartment?
I looked at the picture for a little longer, then slid the bottom back into place, replaced the box's other contents and set it carefully back into the outline that had been left in the light coating of dust on the shelf. When I was finished, you would have never known the box had been touched. I slowly backed out of the room, pausing at the door to see if I had missed anything. I finally decided that if there were any more hidden hiding places I didn't know how to find them and I didn't want to risk leaving evidence of my search. It was entirely possible that there was some sort of innocent explanation for all this, and if so, I didn't want to alienate Jake for no reason. I closed the door and went to find Judy.
I found her in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of hot tea steaming in her hand. Another mug sat steaming in front of her and when I stepped into the room, she pushed it in my direction.
"Sugar?" she asked.
I sat down in the chair next to her and accepted the tea and the sugar. I added sugar until the strong tea was sweet enough for my liking and then we sat and sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.
"You didn't find anything definite but you found some things that concern you," she stated. Judy seldom asked questions unless they were for your benefit. It was eerie at times, but you eventually got used to it.
"I found a joint in one of the drawers," I said, deciding to work my way up to the big stuff. She waved that aside. As I'd suspected, that wasn't high on Judy's list of concerns. "I also saw that he'd bought an awful lot of rather expensive clothes in the last few months."
"In the last month, actually. I'd noticed that too, that's one of the reasons I decided to come to you for help. He didn't get the money for them from me and as far as I know, he doesn't have a job, at least not a legitimate one. When I asked him where the money was coming from, he told me to mind my own business and stormed off."
I nodded. "Did you buy him all the electronic equipment?"
"You mean the TV and all? No. He just showed up with it all one day. He wouldn't say where that came from either."
I took a deep breath. "Do you know the carved wooden box on the entertainment center?"
"I know there's one there; where it came from I have no idea."
"There's more to it than meets the eye. It has a false bottom that slides out. He had some things hidden in there."
Her eyes sharpened. "What kinds of things?"
"A wad of money that probably equals about six months of my salary, if not more, a ticket to the AIDS Benefit Ball, and a newspaper clipping of a photo of a man that I know I should recognize but can't."
Judy frowned. Obviously, it wasn't what she had been expecting. "What in God's name is he doing with a ticket to AIDS Benefit Ball? Those things are harder to come by than plutonium."
I shrugged. I didn't have any clue.
She thought a moment, then asked, "What did the man in the picture look like?"
"Distinguished," I said immediately before realizing it wasn't the most vivid description. I thought a moment. "He had dark hair and was tall and slim." I shook my head in frustration. "He was handsome; beyond that I don't know. He's hard to describe."
"That could almost anyone," she said with a sigh.
I hated to see her look so dispirited. It wasn't how I was used to seeing Judy. "It could all be something completely innocent," I offered.
Her raised eyebrow spoke eloquently and I sighed.
"Trust me," she began. "I've wracked my brain trying to come up with an innocent explanation for all this and I've come up with nada. Where is this money coming from? How can he afford to buy all these clothes and expensive equipment? And now I have even more questions. How did he get a ticket for the Ball and why would he want one? And who the hell is that man in the picture?"
"You hired me to find the answers to those questions and, damn it, I'm going to find them," I said firmly.
She gave me a weak smile. "Finish your tea," she said softly.
Typical Judy, I thought as I drank the last of my tea. I sputtered and picked something off my tongue.
"Tea leaves," Judy explained, taking my mug and peering into it.
"Don't tell me you read tea leaves," I said.
She glanced up at me and smiled a little. "Not often, but I picked it up from a gypsy woman who lived in my neighborhood back in California. She also read tarot and palms. Fascinating woman. I'm not as good as she was; my gifts really lay in other areas, but I'm not bad. Or so she said."
"So what's mine say?"
She studied the bottom of my mug for a while before answering. Her face lost all expression and when she spoke, it was in a voice so low that I had to strain to hear her. "You're fighting battles on many fronts, some are battles within, and some are battles without. Some are battles you shouldn't even be fighting. And whether you know it or not, many of the battles are intertwined. There is even one possible battle on the horizon that you haven't even begun yet, and what you decide about that battle could greatly affect the other battles."
I sat for a moment, not sure what to say. "That's a lot of battles," I said finally, weakly attempting a joke. "You got all that from some tea leaves?"
She looked up and smiled tightly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Most of it," she said simply. And then, after a beat, "I'm worried about you."
"Why? Because of these battles you're talking about?"
She nodded.
"I'll be fine," I said with more bravado than I actually felt. The truth was her predictions had left me feeling very unsettled. I was wondering what the battles could be. The situation with Micah was one that jumped to mind, and that was most likely the internal one she had mentioned. What would the external ones be though? My investigation of Jake? And what was this mysterious future battle? I hated these vague predictions. I never knew what to think of them. One thing I did know, I most certainly did not like all this talk of battles; it sounded awful violent.
Almost as if she was reading my mind, Judy spoke up. "I'm worried because there is a feeling of death running through all your battles."
That was certainly encouraging.
"Not necessarily yours," she added quickly as I felt the blood drain from my face. "Although, it is within the realm of possibility."
I took a deep breath and tried to force a carefree smile. "That's pretty vague, you know. It's not outside the realm of possibility that we could all die tomorrow. I mean, we could die anytime. I could get hit by a drunk driver or lightning could strike me when I walk outside. No one has any guarantees."
"No, but we can increase our chances of dying by acting foolishly."
"Am I acting foolishly?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
"I don't think so."
"One of the battles you are facing is your refusal to acknowledge your Gift. That is foolish."
"Oh great, here we go again. Haven't we been over this enough?"
"Obviously not. You still haven't acknowledged them."
"Isn't that my choice?"
"Sure, and it's also the choice of a natural artist not to draw if they so choose, or someone with a beautiful voice can choose not to sing if they wish, but if they make that choice they are throwing away a beautiful gift that could have been of benefit to others."
"It's not the same."
"Oh, but it is. You were given this Gift for a reason. It's a part of you. You can choose not to use it or to even acknowledge it, but it's still there. By choosing not to use it, you are denying a part of yourself, the same way someone who is gay and refuses to admit it is denying a part of his or herself. But unlike choosing not to sing or draw or admit that you are gay, ignoring this Gift could have dire repercussions."
I felt a chill go down my spine. "What kind of repercussions?" I asked in a small voice.
"What you have is essentially an untrained Gift. Whether you like it or not, you have the ability to see things other people cannot. You have the ability to communicate with those caught between this world and the next. And that's just the Gift we know about. It's very possible that if you have that, you may have others."
"But how can that have dire repercussions. If I choose not to use that...Gift, and I use the term loosely, what could happen?"
"There is some purpose behind your Gift. Something that only you can accomplish with it. And before you ask, I don't know what that purpose is. I sense that it is of great importance, but I don't know more than that."
"Does it involve the battle on the horizon?"
She paused. "No, I don't think so. I think that is a separate issue. I think whatever this purpose is; it still lies in the distant future. Your decisions now, however, will affect it greatly."
"You mean if I decide to ignore the Gift?"
"The path you choose affects your destination."
I frowned. "That sounds like a fortune cookie."
"But it's very true. The decisions you make now will affect when and how you face your purpose."
"How do I know if I'm making the right decisions?"
"You don't. Not until it's too late to change them."
I suddenly felt very small and insignificant. I didn't like the idea that there was some destiny out there with my name on it; that my life was somehow out of my control. Of course, I still had the choice to ignore the Gift, if you call that a choice. Accept it and fulfill my destiny, whatever that may be; ignore it and possibly screw up not only my life but others as well. Then I remembered something Seth had told me a long time ago, before he was killed. He'd told me that I was at a crossroads then, something he felt was significant because my middle name means crossroads. He'd said that the path I chose would affect the rest of my life and that there was only one path that was right for me. I'd thought then that I had chosen the right path and that was the end of it. I was beginning to realize now that life was really a succession of crossroads, and you had to constantly and consciously choose what path you took. There was still only one path that was truly right for me, but it seemed that, for me at least, they all led to the same place eventually. What path I chose would apparently decide how prepared I would be when I got there, or maybe even if I got there. One wrong choice and I could end up dead. Hadn't Judy said that the feeling of death had permeated my fortune? She couldn't be sure it wasn't mine.
I don't know how long I sat there, lost in these thoughts before Judy spoke up again. "You can't let yourself be paralyzed by indecision and fear," she said softly. "You have to keep making decisions and fighting your battles. It's entirely possible that the purpose I sense is only within yourself. That wouldn't make it any less important, you know."
I shook off the dark mood I had been slipping into and gave her a tentative smile. "Obviously I need to give this a lot of thought," I said.
She smiled and her eyes showed relief as her whole body relaxed. "That's a good sign," she said. "At least you are willing to think about it now."
"It doesn't seem like I have much choice."
"You always have a choice, Killian."
"What about you?"
"What about me? I have choices as well."
"No, I mean, what did your tea leaves say?"
Her smile faltered a little and she reached almost reluctantly towards her mug. She examined the dregs and her smile faded away completely. She was so still and quiet I was afraid to move or make a sound for fear of breaking the spell. Finally, she carefully set the mug down and looked up. I couldn't read the expression in her eyes; it was almost as if she had closed shutters behind them, closing off her emotions from view.
"Well?" I asked.
She shook her head slightly. "Don't worry about it."
"But..."
"No, I think that was a message meant for me and me alone. You'd better go before Jake comes home." She stood and briskly began clearing the table of the mugs. She rinsed hers out before I could say another word, almost as if she was trying to wash away whatever it was she had seen at its bottom. I stood slowly and, as I started to turn and go, I was taken by a sudden urge. I spun around and grabbed Judy in a tight hug. She was surprised at first, but quickly returned the hug just as fiercely.
"Go," she said after a moment and gently pushed me away. She turned quickly back to the sink, but not before I saw unshed tears brightening her eyes. What had she seen in that mug that could have caused such a reaction? I wasn't at all sure I wanted to know.
I was sitting in my room that night, alternately brooding about-what else?-Micah and my so-called Gifts. The truth was, I didn't want to deal with either of them. Generally, my defense system can be best described as the Ostrich Syndrome. In short, I stick my head in the sand and hope it goes away. I have to admit that this approach seldom works in any sort of satisfactory manner. Actually, it only serves to allow whatever situation that caused you to bury your head in the first place to bite you on your exposed rump.
I should know; I've been bitten more than once.
Where Micah was concerned, I knew we needed to talk; I just wasn't ready. I was still too hurt and confused. I knew a lot of that was my own doing, but I also knew that I wouldn't be able to have a rational discussion with him about any of this until I had managed to calm myself down. There was no point rushing things and just making the whole situation worse by saying things I would regret later.
As for the Gifts, I knew Judy was right about them. That didn't mean I had to like it. I didn't want to see dead people and I certainly didn't want to talk to them. I didn't want any sort of psychic gifts. I mean, what would be next? Would I start reading tea leaves too? Would I tell fortunes at carnivals? Or maybe I should shoot for the stars and hope for my own infomercial on TV. People could call in and I'd tell them their fortunes for the low price of $2.95 a minute. On the other hand, that might be preferable to dealing with the dearly departed.
Someone knocked on my door causing me to jump a little. "Come in," I called. The door remained closed and no one answered. With a sigh, I heaved myself to my feet and opened the door to find the hallway empty.
"Very funny, Kane," I mumbled as I shut the door and turned back to the bed, only to practically jump out of my skin.
"A bit on edge, aren't we?" Seth asked. He was sprawled across my bed, head propped on one hand, his lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter.
"I suppose that was your idea of a joke?" I asked rather testily.
He shrugged a shoulder. "Well, you said you didn't like it when I just appear unannounced so I knocked this time."
"Admit it, you love scaring me."
"Hey, it's one of the joys of being dead."
"If you weren't already dead..."
"Be nice. I came to talk to you."
"And that's supposed to make me want to be nice?"
Seth rolled his eyes expressively and sat up. "Seriously, Killian. We need to talk."
"About what? If this is about my purported Gifts, I've already had one lecture about them today, I don't need another."
"Oh well, I was going to bring that up, but it's not the main reason I'm here. But while we're on the subject, have you made up your mind yet about them?"
"No, I haven't and I don't intend to be rushed on this either."
"Who's rushing you?"
"You, Judy, Adam..."
"It's only because we care."
"I wish you cared a little less."
He frowned. "You don't mean that."
I sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. "No, I don't. Not really," I admitted. "It just gets a little frustrating sometimes. I feel like I don't even have a choice in the matter."
"Of course you have a choice. We all have choices. Every minute of every day, we make choices. And you even have choices within the choices. Even if you decide to accept your Gifts and learn to use them, what you do with them is still up to you."
"Is it? What about my big purpose Judy was talking about."
His eyes shifted away. "Oh, that."
"Yeah, that." I looked at him closely. "Do you know what it is?"
He shrugged.
"You do, don't you?"
He cleared his throat uneasily. "You know I can't talk about that."
"Oh for God's sake..."
"Exactly."
That stopped me. Rather hard to argue with deity. "Well, can you at least tell me how long I have to get ready?"
He shook his head, still not meeting my eyes.
I fought down my aggravation. It wasn't Seth's fault, and I knew that. It wouldn't be fair to take out all my frustrations on him. Then another thought occurred to me. "Is this mysterious purpose why you started coming to see me?"
He jerked around to look me in the eye. His surprised expression was all the answer I needed. "W-why would you say that?" he stammered.
It was my turn to shrug. "Not too many people get personal visits from their deceased friends. If the rules are being bent for me, then there must be some pretty significant reasons behind it."
Seth opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering. "Not too many people have your Gifts either," he said finally.
"And we're back to that."
"It all comes back to that eventually," he said apologetically.
"You said that wasn't the main reason you came. What was?"
"This thing with Micah..."
"I should have known," I moaned.
"It's not like that," he said defensively.
"Oh really? So you're not going to say don't make snap judgments? You're not going to tell me to talk things out with him? And you're not going to tell me to give him the benefit of the doubt?"
"Ha! You don't know me as well as you think you do. I was also going to tell you that it wouldn't hurt to educate yourself before you made any decisions," he said archly.
I stuck my tongue out at him and then frowned. "Educate myself?"
"Yes. About escorts."
I made a face. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because, before you go pulling some sort of holier-than-thou shtick you may want to know what you are condemning."
"I'm not condemning anything," I protested.
"Aren't you?"
"No, I'm not." A pause, "Am I?"
He gave me a look that clearly said you figure it out for yourself.
"Why is everything always so hard?" I asked plaintively. He opened his mouth to answer and I rushed on, "And please don't say that I make it hard."
His mouth closed with a snap and he grinned at me. "Then I don't have any other answers."
I grabbed a pillow from behind me and threw it at him. I was more than a little surprised when it went right through him.
"Neat trick, huh?" he said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Oh, quit gaping. It's really not attractive."
"You know," I said slowly. "I almost forget sometimes that you aren't really here."
"Oh, I'm here; you just forget that I'm not really alive."
"Why is it that you don't bother me, but Amalie does?"
He thought a minute before responding. "Well, you knew me. We were friends. That may make it easier. Plus, it's really not quite the same thing, you know. Amalie's not really here by choice, like I am. And she can't just leave whenever she wants to and go back to the other side. She's full of pain and anger and you can't help but sense that."
"What do you mean I can't help but sense it? Can anyone sense it?"
"No," he said slowly.
"Is it because I can see her?"
"No," he said again, dragging the word out.
"Is it because I can talk to her?"
"No..."
"Oh great? Is this another Gift?"
"Possibly."
"Possibly? It either is or isn't. So which is it?"
"I shouldn't have said anything," he said sheepishly.
"Well, you did, so explain what you meant."
"Have you ever heard of empathy?"
"It's kind of like sympathy, right?"
"Close, but not exactly. They both have to do with feelings. With sympathy, you might feel sorry for someone because of something that has happened to them, or even relate to them because you've experienced something similar. Empathy goes beyond that to actually feeling the emotions felt by the other person, experiencing them for yourself as if they were your own."
"I have that?"
"To some degree. It's part of what makes you such a good investigator."
"How would that help?"
"It usually makes it very easy for you to read other people, to understand their true intentions and judge what kind of people they are."
"The way I can sometimes just know someone is lying to me without really knowing why?"
"Yeah. Most of the time, it's probably not even something you do consciously, it's just instinct. It's a part of who you are."
"That seems like it could be a useful Gift."
"They're all useful, Kill. They're tools, just like anything else. It can also be a handicap though. Empathy can sometimes cloud your judgment; you get so caught up in someone's pain or loss that they can manipulate you, maybe without even trying to."
"Like with Caleb." I'd known instinctively that there was something wrong about him but I'd let his story of abuse and his pain overshadow that...and almost ended up dead in the process.
"Right. Understanding your Gift, both its strengths and its weaknesses, could help you to avoid similar situations in the future."
"Do I have other Gifts?"
"I don't know." I gave him a skeptical look. "Really, I don't. I only knew about the empathy because it's a pretty obvious one and it's already manifested itself clearly."
"Oh," I said in disappointment.
He grinned.
"What?" I demanded.
"At least I've got you interested now."
"Did you do that on purpose? You manipulated me, didn't you?"
"I honestly didn't."
I had the suspicious feeling that even if Seth hadn't been the one manipulating our conversation, someone somewhere was pulling some strings, and I didn't like the feeling one bit.
Seth stood up. "Well, I've done what I came here to do. I guess I'd better be going."
"Wait," I called, sitting up suddenly.
"What?"
"I still have questions."
"That's what Judy is for."
"Well don't just vanish. Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"
"No," he said with a broad wink, and then he just simply wasn't there anymore.
"Jerk!" I yelled at the thin air.
My bedroom door swung open to reveal a rather startled looking Kane. "What did I do now?" he asked in an injured tone.
"I wasn't..." I started to say that I hadn't been yelling at him, but then realized that would just beg the question who had I been yelling at then. It would be difficult to explain that I had been yelling at his dead brother. I tried to think of an excuse but nothing came quickly enough.
"You know," said Kane, looking very hurt, "you're the one who's been a jerk lately. You're always in a bad mood and I'm really getting sick of it. You're not the only one with problems you know."
"Kane, I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I know I've been selfish and moody and I really am sorry."
He looked somewhat mollified. "You want to talk about it?" I offered tentatively.
"Do you really care?"
"Of course I care. You're my little brother."
With a sigh of relief, he shut the door and came to sit next to me on the bed. "It just seems like everything's been going wrong lately."
"Like what?"
"Jen broke up with me, Jake's been acting weird, and it feels like our family is being torn apart."
"Whoa." I didn't even know where to start. I decided to get what I thought to be the easy one out of the way first. "What happened with you and Jen?"
"I dunno. I thought everything was fine and then suddenly she just dumped me."
"Were you serious about her?"
"No, not really," he admitted grudgingly.
"So, it's just a matter of you not being used to being the dumped instead of the dumper, huh?"
"I guess."
"Is this something that's going to hurt your rep as the school stud?"
He blushed but looked perversely pleased. "Not really," he said with a little smirk.
"Then what's the big deal?"
"It's not really. It just hurt my feelings. I mean, it's not like I even liked her that much. I was probably going to break up with her soon."
"So that's what this is really about. It's not even about being dumped really, you're just mad because she dumped you first."
He grinned. "Ok, yeah. You make me sound so shallow."
I laughed but then quickly turned serious. "So what's this about Jake?" I took a professional interest in this, but tried to keep my voice from betraying more than brotherly concern.
"Well, you know how when he first came back we hung out a little? We weren't best friends or anything, but we did stuff together and we at least talked. Now I hardly ever see him anymore and when I do, he doesn't say a word to me. So I started asking around and all his friends say he's been acting the same way with them. He's either completely ditched them or he avoids them."
I frowned. Things kept looking worse and worse. What had Jake gotten himself into? "Do his friends know what's going on?" I asked hopefully.
Kane shook his head. "Nobody knows anything. A couple of them said it was gradual and some said it happened all at once, but whatever is going on he's done a great job of keeping it secret."
I sighed and decided to bring Kane in on Judy's request. "Judy's worried too," I told him.
Kane's eyes widened. "She doesn't know what's going on either?" he asked. He tended to see Judy as some sort of all-knowing Oracle. His expression clearly said if she didn't know then all hope is lost.
"Kane, how would she know? Jake isn't talking to her either. He hardly even comes home anymore. In fact, she's so worried she hired me to look into it."
"You're investigating Jake?" he asked in slack-jawed surprise.
"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling guilty all over again.
Kane blinked a few times then his expression changed from shocked to thoughtful. "I guess if he isn't telling anyone what's going on he didn't leave a lot of choice to those of us who care about him."
I was a little surprised by his reaction and didn't know quite what to say.
"I mean, it sounds to me like he's gotten involved with something he doesn't want anyone to know about, right?"
I nodded. "Any ideas?"
He thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Sex? Drugs? Rock and roll? Who knows? He's not dropped any clues as far as I can see."
"I might have found a few clues today, but I still don't know what they mean," I said and I told him what I had found in the hidden compartment of Jake's box.
"Maybe he's selling drugs," he suggested when I had finished.
"Then what's the deal with the AIDS Ball and who's the guy in the picture?"
"Maybe he's hoping to do business at the ball."
I gave him a doubtful look. "With who? The governor?"
"I don't know how this stuff works. Do I look like a drug dealer?"
"What exactly does a drug dealer look like?"
"Good point."
"And that still doesn't answer the question, who is the guy?"
"Maybe he's Jake's supplier."
"He didn't look like a supplier. He looked like a politician or somebody important."
Kane eyes flew open wide. "You don't think he's been hired to kill that guy, do you?"
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "You think Jake is an assassin?"
Kane smiled sheepishly. "It sounds pretty stupid when you say it."
"Trust me, it sounded just as stupid when you said it."
"Well, if he's not selling drugs and he's not a killer-for-hire, where else could he be getting his money?"
"That's not all he could be selling," I said slowly.
"You mean...?" Kane said with understanding. "You think he's selling his body?"
Micah's story about the ready cash available to escorts came unbidden to my mind. "It's possible," I said. "But we shouldn't jump to any conclusions until we know more. I've barely begun to look into this."
"Too bad you can't get into the AIDS Ball. It would be interesting to know why he is going."
My eyes lit up at his words. "Who says I can't get in?"
"Kill, there's no way you can afford those tickets," Kane said reasonably.
"No, but Novak has contacts coming out the wazoo."
"Sounds painful. Do you really think he can get you in?"
"I don't know, but I'll find out tomorrow. In the meantime, would you do me a favor? Can you keep your eyes and ears open at school? Listen for any gossip or rumors going around about Jake. Sometimes there can be just enough truth in those to set me in the right direction."
"No, problem."
"And Kane, I don't have to tell you to keep quiet about this, right? I mean you can't tell anyone."
"No duh, Killian. I'm not a dumb little kid anymore. I'm not that much younger than you, you know."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I don't believe in you or that I didn't think you were smart. I know you are; you know I'm really proud of you."
"Actually I didn't know that."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. We're not as close as we used to be. None of us are."
"Is that what you meant when you said you felt like the family is falling apart?"
"Yeah. I hardly ever see Steve anymore; he's at the stupid B&B so much. And Dad's almost as bad. And when they are here, they're so busy they don't have time to spend with me. I know I sound like a little kid now, after I just said I was so grown up..."
"No, you don't sound like a little kid. I know what you mean. And I've been just as bad. I've been so busy with school and work and...Micah that I haven't spent any time with you."
He nodded. "I know."
"Well, now that I realize what a jerk I've been we're going to spend more time together. And you should talk to Adam and Steve too."
"They don't need any extra stress right now," he said, suddenly sounding very mature indeed. "Especially not after what happened the other night."
"What did happen anyway?" I asked, suddenly feeling guilty for not asking before this.
"Amalie," he said as if that answered everything.
"What about her?"
"It was the first weekend they've had almost every room full and she decided to make an appearance."
"Oh no! Did everyone see her?"
"No, it was just one couple, but they raised hell. They had everyone in the whole house completely freaked out. Dad was there because it was such a big crowd, so between him and Steve, they managed to calm everyone down for the most part, but several couples still left and demanded their money back."
"Great, just what they needed. Steve has been stressed out enough as it is."
"I know. That's why I don't want to say anything right now. I'll wait until things settle down there."
"What if things don't settle down?"
He shrugged. "Then I suffer in silence," he said as he stood up and started for the door. "I'm a big boy, remember? I can live without my daddy."
I sighed and flopped back onto the bed. Just what I needed; more guilt about not using my Gifts. It seemed like the powers that be were conspiring against me and I was quite certain I wasn't happy about that at all.
\*
My plans to ask Novak about the AIDS Ball were postponed the next morning. As soon as I walked through the door, I knew it was going to be one of those days. The tiny reception area that held my desk and two hideous orange chairs for waiting visitors was filled to overflowing. A woman I had never seen before was perched nervously on the edge of one of the chairs, clutching her purse like a shield. Another woman I recognized as Mrs. Knox, the wife of the philandering Mr. Knox. She was busy yelling at Novak, apparently, from what I could catch, over some of the charges on her bill. This was a common enough occurrence. If you came back with good news, they were only too happy to pay the bill, but come back with bad news... The other occupants in the room were our delivery guy from UPS and someone that I thought might be representing the insurance company that Novak did work for from time to time. If it was him, he'd been in often enough that I should have known him by now, but he was so nondescript that I could never really remember what he looked like from visit to visit. He was the type of guy you forgot as soon as he was out of sight, and maybe even before.
It was about four too many people to fit comfortably into the already claustrophobic space. I dealt with the UPS guy first, signing for the envelope so he could leave. Then I ushered the insurance guy-it turned out to be him after all-into Novak's office to wait for him there. By the time I had done that, Novak had somehow managed to calm Mrs. Knox down and had even gotten a check out of her.
Once she was gone, Novak disappeared into his office and that only left the small birdlike woman on the chair, who was still looking rather frightened. I got the impression that she would have bolted long ago if there hadn't been so many people between her and the door. Even now that it was just her and I, she kept darting little glances in the direction of the door as if she was still debating flight.
"Can I help you?" I asked, causing her to jump a little.
"Um, I, uh, don't know," she said, casting a longing look at the door.
"Are you looking for a private investigator?"
Her pale blue eyes shifted to me for a brief second, but quickly slid away again. "Maybe," she said.
Not the most definite creature I've ever met, I thought. "Would you feel more comfortable talking directly with Mr. Novak? I asked. Sometimes people who had matters of a sensitive nature didn't want to spill their guts to someone they assumed to be the secretary, and who looked like a kid besides.
She nodded timidly.
"What's your name and I'll let him know you are here to see him as soon as he's available." She'd seen him go into the office with the insurance guy so she knew he was busy at the moment.
Her eyes grew large at the seemingly simple request. "I, uh...I'd rather not. Maybe...uh, maybe this wasn't a good idea."
She made a move as if to get up and I quickly smiled soothingly-at least, I hoped it was a soothing smile; she was still looking at me as if she half-expected me to leap across the desk at her.
"If you'd rather not give your name, that's just fine. It happens all the time here."
"Really?" she asked as she lowered her bottom back to the chair, although still staying right at the edge so as to make a sudden getaway easier should the need arise.
"Really," I assured her. She seemed to relax the slightest bit, until the door flew open again and she tensed up as if expecting an attack.
It was Micah.
"Micah," I said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He gave me a funny look that I couldn't quite read. "I came to talk to you," he said simply.
"I..." I glanced towards the woman, who was trying desperately to pretend she wasn't there. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk."
"Relax, Killian," he said with a sigh. "I'm not here to talk about that."
"Then what do you want to talk about?" I asked in confusion.
"I want to hire you," he said to my complete and utter shock.
"W-what?" I stammered, thinking I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?"
"I said," he spoke slowly, over-enunciating each word, "I want to hire you."
"To do what?"
He sent a meaningful look in the direction of the room's other occupant, who was staring at the purse in her lap as if it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.
Before I could come up with a suggestion, Novak's office door swung open and the insurance company representative came out, followed closely by Novak.
"We appreciate your work, Mr. Novak," the insurance guy was saying. "As usual, you completed the assignment ahead of schedule and to your usual standards of excellence. We'll be in touch when we find ourselves in need of your services again."
"Let's hope for your sake that isn't too soon," Novak said genially.
The plain little man let himself out and Novak cast a curious look in the direction of the young woman waiting to see him.
"This lady is waiting to see you privately," I said. She cast me a grateful glance and Novak ushered her into his office.
As soon as his door closed, I turned back to Micah. "Well?" I asked.
"I want you to look into Paul's murder," he said without hesitation.
I sat for a second staring dumbly back at him. "You want me to investigate the murder of your ex-boyfriend?" I asked slowly, making sure I had this right.
"Yes."
"You don't think that's asking a lot?"
"I don't know, is it? If something happened to Asher, wouldn't you want to know the truth? I need to know what happened to Paul; I need to know so I can move on completely."
"I thought you already had."
He shrugged. "This is different. Now it feels like unfinished business."
"What about the police?"
He grimaced. "Apparently they aren't trying real hard."
"What gives you that idea?" I frowned.
"I know people back in the city, people in positions of authority. I called them to verify what Razi had told me. They tell me that the murder of a known escort isn't real high on their list of priorities. There's no family demanding justice, the public couldn't care less. There's enough crime in the city that something like this tends to just get pushed to the back burner at best. Especially if it isn't an open and shut case. They just don't have the manpower on the police force."
"So you want me to find out who killed him?"
He nodded. "I'll hire you just like I was any client."
"I don't know if I'm the right person for this, Micah."
"Why not? You've done this before. More than once, even. Everyone says you're already one of the best."
"That was on my home turf, so to speak. They were all local. I know the area. I don't know anything about the city."
"You might not know the city, but I do. I'll help you."
"What if you don't like what I find?"
"Then I'll deal with it. At least I'll know something."
I shook my head. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
"I do. I know names, friends, people at the agency, places he hung out. I even have a key to his apartment assuming he didn't change the locks after I left."
I was running out of arguments. Despite myself, I was beginning to become interested. Up until the Knox case, everything I'd done had been local. If I was any good as an investigator, I should be able to solve a case anywhere. This would be a good test of my skills. And then there was the part about Micah being able to have closure with this. If I wanted to try and make things work with Micah, which I had to admit that I did, then this might be necessary. I still wasn't sure if we could work things out, but I was pretty sure we wouldn't have a chance if he obsessed with the fate of his ex-boyfriend.
I sighed. "Tell me what you know," I said, knowing full well that this meant I was hooked.
Relief flooded Micah's eyes. "Thank you, Killian," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. He grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it closer to the desk.
"Don't thank me yet," I muttered.
He took a deep breath. "Let's see. I don't know that much, really. I know he was still working for the same agency we were working for when we met. It's a pretty well respected agency as far as they go, known to be reliable and discreet. The owner's name is Neal. I've talked to him on the phone but I never actually met him. He tends to keep a low profile."
As he spoke, I was jotting down notes into the little notebook I kept with me at all times. One of the first things Novak ever taught me was to never trust my memory.
"As far as I know," he continued, "he's not dated anyone seriously since I left. He was friends with that guy we saw at the club, Razi. He was pretty cozy with one of his
neighbors, a really nice girl named Sabrina. He had a few other casual friends but not many. He was kind of shy when he wasn't working. He was a favorite with guys who like the sweet, quiet type."
"He was...Razi found him in his apartment." Micah broke off and his eyes unfocused as he tried to continued. "When no one heard from him for a few days, he went by and... I guess he had a key too. He called the police and they came and took him away. I don't really know the details, just what Razi told me the other night. He'd been strangled. I do know that. And the apartment was a wreck, stuff broken and tossed around."
"Do the police have any theories?" I asked.
He blinked and focused on me, almost as if he'd forgotten I was there. "Um, I don't think so, not really. I think they were thinking he'd walked in on a robbery at first, but I think they kinda dropped that when it looked like nothing was really missing."
"You know, if it turns out to be some botched random breakin I'll never be able to figure out who it was."
"I know."
I took a deep breath. "Tell me more about Paul."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what was he like? Was he secretive? Who would he be most likely to confide in?"
He thought a minute before answering. "He wasn't exactly secretive, but he kept a lot to himself."
"What's the difference?"
"It wasn't like he was intentionally hiding stuff from me; he just wasn't one to open up. He didn't talk about himself much. He was a great listener. You'd just find yourself talking to him, telling him your whole life story, spilling your guts. He'd listen to everything you said and somehow make you feel better. It was only later that I realized he never did the talking, he never spilled his guts to me."
"So he wouldn't confide in anyone?"
He shrugged. "If so, I don't know who. He sure never confided in me."
"I know I asked this before, but I want you to really think about this before you answer; what if I find something you don't like? What if he was involved in something illegal, besides just being an escort? What if he wasn't who you thought he was at all? Are you sure you want me to do this?"
"Yes. I'm sure. No matter what you find, at least I'll know the truth."
I nodded. It was the answer I was looking for. "Then I'll talk to Novak about it."
"Novak?" he asked with a confused expression.
"I work for him. I can't just take a job. I have to talk to him about it."
"Oh. Well, ok. When?"
"When I get the chance, Micah. He's with someone right now."
"Oh yeah. Will you call me as soon as you know?"
"Yeah," I promised wearily, suddenly wondering if I was doing the right thing even thinking about this.
"Thank you, Killian," he said. He stood up and pushed the chair back to its place before turning back to me. "You don't know how much this means to me." He turned and left.
It looked like I was committed now, whether I liked it or not. And the more I thought about it, the less I liked it. Could I really be objective about this? I didn't really know anyone involved except Micah, and his involvement was peripheral at best, or so I hoped. Then again, this was Micah's ex, who he'd once lived with, made love to, been in love with. Even assuming I could be objective, my argument that I didn't know the city was still valid. Someone familiar with city life would have an edge on a country boy like me. Someone who knew something about the escort agency would be even better.
A little voice inside my head argued that I'd have Micah for those things. He lived in the city for years so he knew it as well as anyone, and he definitely knew the escort agency.
No, it wouldn't be that easy. Micah would be crushed if I decided not to take this case. It would probably be the end of any chance we had at anything. I was beginning to feel like a fox cornered by the hounds.
Then the thought occurred to me that Novak might not approve of the idea of me haring off to DC on my own to chase a murderer. In fact, he might even forbid me to go. Maybe there was a way out of this yet.
\*
Novak was in the office with the mysterious woman for what seemed to me to be an unusually long time. When the door opened at last and they appeared, I thought that she looked just as uneasy as she had when they'd gone in. Whatever had taken so long didn't seem to have helped with her nerves.
They moved across the room without speaking and Novak held the door open for her.
"Thank you," she said in a small voice.
"You're welcome, and try not to worry," Novak answered.
She cast him a look that clearly spoke her feelings about the chances of not worrying, and then she turned and hurried off, seeming to draw in on herself as she went.
Novak closed the door and turned to me. "Busy morning," he commented lightly.
"That's an understatement," I said. "Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Sure, we can talk in here."
I followed him into his office and took one of the leather chairs. He closed a case file that was open on his desk and slid it into one of the desk drawers. That struck me as a little odd, since I usually typed the files for him from his handwritten notes.
"Is that lady that just left a new client?" I asked. I knew from experience that there was no point asking about the file straight out.
"Yes, I'll be handling her case."
"I don't have any cases right now," I said, at least none that he knew of.
"This is a rather delicate situation."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid I promised her complete confidentiality."
"Even from me?" I was a little offended.
"Yes, even from you." He stopped and grinned. "And don't go acting like you're the injured party here." He paused dramatically. "How's your investigation of Jake going?"
My mouth fell open. "How'd you know about that?" I blurted out.
Novak laughed. "You think I don't know what's going on under my own nose? What kind of investigator would I be if I didn't know what my own employees were up to?"
"You followed me?"
"No, nothing that dramatic. I knew something was bothering Judy and I knew you were up to something besides your assigned case. I put two and two together and then I asked Judy point blank. She told me everything."
"You aren't mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"That I took the case without talking to you? Or that I took the case at all?"
"I wish you had talked to me first, but I know how persuasive Judy can be. And if you're worrying that I'm bothered that she asked you and not me, don't be. I understand her reasoning and agree one-hundred percent."
"You do?" I asked with no small relief.
"Yes, absolutely. Things are dicey enough between us as it is. If Jake found out that I was following him, things would just go all to hell."
"Not that it'll be much better if he finds out I'm following him," I pointed out.
"Still, better you than me. So what did you want to talk about?"
"Well, there're a couple things actually. Since you know about Jake it'll make the first one that much easier." I told him about my search of Jake's room and my discoveries. When I was finished, he thought for a minute.
"Well," he said after a minute, "what you found could have several different explanations, but I don't like any of them. You still haven't told me what you wanted to talk about, though."
That was Novak, always going right to the point. "The two things that bother me the most are the photo and the AIDS Ball ticket. They don't fit in to the theories that I have. I can't do much about the picture, but I could do something about the Ball."
"And what would that be?"
"I could attend."
Novak cocked an eyebrow. "And just how do you propose to get a ticket at this point?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said with an impish grin.
He pushed back in his chair and for a minute, I thought he was going to tell me that there was no way, but then his expression grew thoughtful. "I might be able to do something," he said slowly. "Let me look into it and I'll let you know."
"Great!"
"Don't get your hopes up. This thing is not easy to get into."
"I know."
"No, you have no idea. Anyway, what were the other things you wanted to talk about? You said you had several things?"
"Well, actually, there's just one more thing," I said carefully.
Something in my tone must have set off Novak's internal alarms. "And what exactly would that one thing be?" he asked, with equal carefulness.
"It has to do with Micah."
"Will you stop beating around the bush and get to the point, kid?"
"Well, Micah's...um, old roommate..." I began.
"Meaning ex-lover," Novak amended.
I tried not to blush. "Right. Ahem. Well, Micah's ex...boyfriend was murdered last week. He lived in DC."
"And what does that have to do with you?"
"Micah wants me to look into the murder."
"No."
"What?" I asked, a little surprised at the firmness in his curt answer, even though I'd been half hoping that would be his response.
"A murder is a matter for the police. You don't need to go sticking your nose into it."
"You didn't mind it when we were looking into the murder of Caleb's dad," I argued. Why was I arguing? He'd given me the answer I'd wanted. Why couldn't I just leave it at that?
"That was a different set of circumstances. The police were at a standstill in their investigation. It even seemed they were chasing the wrong guy. Plus, they welcomed our assistance."
"Maybe the DC police would welcome the assistance too. They're really overworked, and besides, they aren't even trying to solve this case."
"How do you know so much about the police in DC?"
"Micah has contacts. They told him that the murder of a known escort wasn't high on their list of priorities."
Novak nodded as if that made sense. "An escort, huh? And he's Micah's ex?"
I blushed again, but thankfully, he didn't seem to expect an answer.
"Why you? Wouldn't a PI from the city be a better choice?"
"That's what I said, but Micah seems to really want me to do this. I said I didn't know the city but Micah says he does and that he'll help."
"That would make a big difference. How familiar is he with the escort business?"
"Uh, very," I mumbled, trying not to blush yet again.
"That would put you at a distinct advantage." He seemed to be thinking for a minute. "There's only one major problem left."
"What's that?"
"You don't have a license yet; Micah can't hire you."
"Oh." I said in surprise. I hadn't even thought of that.
"There is a way around it," Novak offered.
"What's that?"
"Micah can hire me and I'll assign you the investigation."
"We can do that?"
"It's the same as what we did with the Knox case. You'll just report everything back to me. You'll need someone to hash things out with anyway. And if you get in over your head then I'll step in and help."
"That's pretty much a given," I muttered.
"Don't sell yourself short, kid. You're a good investigator. A little more time and you'll be great."
I flushed with pleasure under his praise.
"So I should tell Micah it's a go?"
"Sure. Just type up the contract and have him sign it. You can start right away."
"Great." I jumped up and started for my desk in the outer room.
"One more thing," he called, stopping me at the door. "I know I said I'd help you if you got in over your head, and I will, but this case I just took could be demanding a lot of my time. Don't plan on using me like a crutch. You'll be on your own for the most part."
I gulped a little, but nodded. "Ok."
Novak smiled. "You can do this, kid. Don't worry."
I left his office flattered at his faith in me, but more than a little miffed at myself. Why had I argued him into this? Of course, it hadn't really taken that much arguing. That made me suddenly suspicious. Was Novak trying to get me out of his hair? And if so, could it have something to do with the mysterious birdlike woman who was now his client?
I decided that fretting about it wouldn't serve any purpose at all, and I could certainly make better use of my time. I started off by calling Micah and getting all the information I could from him; names, addresses, and details he hadn't told me before. While we talked, I realized that having Micah along on the interviews would probably be more of a hindrance than a help. He was definitely too close to this, too emotional. People would be less likely to talk in front of him, to say things about Paul that he might not want to hear. At the same time, I didn't know my way around the city like he did. I had no idea how to find any of the places on my list.
When I posed the question to Micah, he agreed that he probably wouldn't be the best person to have along when I went to talk to people. He didn't have any suggestions for a solution.
Novak unexpectedly provided the answer while I was still talking to Micah.
"Good news, kid," he said as his head popped out of the office door. "I just got off the phone with an old buddy of mine who transferred to the DC department. He confirmed what you said about the police not being overly interested in this case. He also offered to give us a little help in exchange for a few favors."
"What kind of help?" I asked with more than a little suspicion. "And more importantly, what does he want in return?"
"You get more like me everyday." Novak chuckled. "You don't have to worry about his price. It involves a few tins of Fisher's caramel corn and our combined weight in Dolle's salt-water taffy." The caramel corn and salt-water taffy were both world famous treats available from the boardwalk in the nearby resort town of Ocean City, but not in the city where Novak's friend lived. "Those gifts will buy you a personal guide of the city."
"Huh?" I countered wittily.
"My friend, his name is Louis; he has a daughter around your age who is driving him crazy wanting to become a cop. He thinks that partnering her with you for this investigation will cure her of that idea without placing her in any immediate danger."
"How will that cure her?" I asked in confusion. My early experiences playing junior detective had only solidified my desires to become an investigator.
"He thinks that once she sees how boring a routine investigation is, she'll change her mind. Plus, this case had the added bonus of being somewhat unsavory. He said she's been a little sheltered and being exposed to the darker side of the city might scare her off."
"Darker side? He was an escort, not a street prostitute."
"The only difference is how much they get paid," Novak said waving, off my arguments.
"Spoken like a true ex-cop," Micah said into my ear, and I realized that he'd been listening to the whole conversation over the phone.
"Well, what's my escort's name and how soon is she available?" I asked, ignoring Micah for the moment.
"Her name is Christina and Louis has to talk to her first; he's supposed to call me back later this afternoon. He seemed to think that she'd be ready to start when you are."
"I hope so. I would like to get started tomorrow, if possible."
"We'll see what Louis has to say when he calls back."
I finished up my call with Micah, promising to call him as soon as I knew what was going on, and then I finished up my paperwork so I'd be free for the rest of the week. It was mid-afternoon before Novak's friend called back. His daughter was all for the arrangement and was ready to start tomorrow. We agreed that I'd park outside DC at one of the metro stations and meet her in the city. With that settled I called Micah back and told him the plan.
Well, I thought as I hung up, you've committed yourself now. There's no turning back. What had I gotten myself into? A murder investigation in a city I knew nothing about?
I did have a new partner, though-a strong-willed girl from the sound of it. I'd partnered with girls in an investigation twice before, and neither had turned out well, to say the least. The first time had been with Jake's sister, Gilly. She'd pretended to be my girlfriend while I tried to figure out who killed Seth. Except, even though we'd agreed up front that we'd be dating in name only, she'd developed a crush on me which turned to anger and hurt when I couldn't return her feelings. It had complicated things greatly and, in the end, she was just one more victim for a serial killer. The next girl I'd worked with had turned out to be a serial killer. No, I hadn't had much luck with girls in the past. This was going to be an uphill battle all the way.
The thought of a battle made me think of Judy's ominous predictions. Could this be one of the battles Judy had mentioned in our tealeaf reading session? Or was I just being paranoid after all her talk of battles and death? I could only hope I was being paranoid.
Visions of medieval battles filled my dreams that night-horrible scenes of unkempt, empty-eyed men slashing, chopping, and clubbing each other on a bloody battlefield. Needless to say, I awoke the next morning less than refreshed. I rolled out of bed with a groan and stumbled for the bathroom. It was not an auspicious beginning to the first day of my investigation into the death of Micah's ex.
I had been planning on driving up to DC that morning to meet my new partner in crime, Christina. The way I was feeling, though, I was wondering if that was the wisest course of action. I felt as if I had been fighting in the battle myself; and judging by the state of my head, I'd been hit by a flying flail.
I felt a little better after a shower, enough so that I decided to go ahead with the original plan. I forced myself to eat a slice of toast even though I wasn't hungry and set off in my little black mustang that I affectionately called Shadow. The drive up Route 50 could never be described as exciting or even interesting. The land on the Eastern Shore is amazingly flat. The highlight, as usual, was the huge span of bridge that crossed the Chesapeake Bay. I arrived at New Carrolton Station, the Metro station I was parking at, in late morning. I got my fare card and found a seat on the train. It wasn't too crowded yet since this was the first stop.
I let my mind wander while I waited for my stop. I thought about my responsibility to my gifts. I still wasn't all that happy about it, but I knew now that I had to face and accept them the best I could, whatever they may be. I owed that much to Steve and Adam if for no other reason. So I guess that meant I was going to get to meet up with my old pal Amalie again. I could think of a few things I'd rather do, like have all my teeth extracted without painkillers. I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do. Talk to her? How did I do that? Did I ask her to sit down over a cup of coffee? Would it be like it was with Seth? My heart started racing just thinking about it. As the train rumbled into the underground tunnel system of the Metro and the bright sunlight was suddenly cut off, the scene from Ghost when Patrick Swayze is chasing the other dead guy through the cars of the subway suddenly came to mind and I decided to think about something else.
Of course, the first thing my mind went to was Micah. What was I going to do there? I was pretty sure I wanted to make things work with him. He was a great guy. So what if he had a checkered past. I'd known that from the beginning. So why was this still bothering me so much? The bigger question was why the hell was I looking into the murder of his ex-boyfriend? It occurred to me for the first time that maybe I was doing this because I wanted to know more about the guy Micah used to be in love with, and maybe on some level, would always love.
I didn't like the way that was going so I decided to run over my game plan for the day. I wanted to find Razi and talk to him first. He'd given Micah his business card. It was minimalist to say the least, baring only his first name in large, bold letter and his phone number under it. I was planning on calling him, reminding him who I was, and hopefully, I could get him to either meet me or tell me how to find his apartment. After that, I wanted to take a look at Paul's apartment. I had Micah's old key in my pocket and I could only hope it would still fit the lock. If not, I wasn't sure what I would do, but I was sure I could come up with something. I just hoped Christina would be willing to go along with whatever I said and not try to run the show herself.
I was supposed to get off the Metro at the Smithsonian Station and meet her at the base of the Washington Monument. I was supposed to recognize her by the fact that she would be dressed all in black. How cheery. Now all I had to do was hope there wasn't a convention of Goths taking a tour of the city's monuments today.
The train pulled into the station and I joined the throng moving toward the door. I stepped off the Metro and into the cavernous underground station, the arched ceiling honeycombed to muffle the roar of the trains and the crowds. I allowed the flow of the crowd to carry me toward the escalator that led to the street level. Once above ground, I found myself in the center of the Mall. The Capitol building sat at one end and my goal, the Washington Monument, sat at the other. Museums lined the sides, the buildings of the Smithsonian, the National Gallery and many more. I wondered why it had been so long since I'd been here. It really wasn't that far from where I lived. I guess I just took it for granted.
I turned and faced the towering obelisk in the distance and started walking in that direction. The last time I'd actually been up to the monument I'd been in third grade. I made my way to its base and started around its perimeter looking for a girl dressed all in black. It didn't take long to find her. I stopped before she noticed me and looked her over. She was about my height and thin, but wiry looking. She was wearing a loose-fitting, long-sleeved black T-shirt, baggy black cargo pants, and black combat boots. Her black hair was cut short and worn spiked. All that black made her skin look even paler than it really was, and that was pretty pale to start with. It didn't help that she didn't appear to be wearing a scrap of make-up. She looked like one of the dead people with whom I was supposed to be able to talk. She did not inspire confidence.
I sighed a purely mental sigh and approached her. As soon as she saw me moving in her direction she locked a pair of steely gray eyes on me.
"Are you Killian?" she asked as soon as I was close enough to hear her without raising her voice.
I nodded. "You must be Christina," I said.
"You can call me Chris," she said.
"Hi, Chris," I smiled my biggest smile but her sober expression didn't waver. "I'm impressed you recognized me."
"Well your boss said to watch for a pretty little blonde boy. He didn't mention you were gay but if he had it would have made it even easier."
I blinked in surprise. "I'm gay?" I said stupidly.
Her blinked back at me. "You didn't know?"
I fought the urge to let loose with a hysterical giggle. "Um, yeah I knew. I meant how did you know?"
She shrugged. "I have a good sense about people."
"Do I act gay?"
She frowned. "How does one `act gay'?"
We were not getting off to a good start. I gathered my wits about me and started over. "Forget I asked that. I'm glad you're helping me out on this case. I really appreciate it."
"No problem. My dad thinks this will make me change my mind about becoming a cop, among other things."
I wondered at the other things, but thought it best not to ask at that time.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, though," she continued, "and I've wanted to be a cop as long as I can remember." She shrugged again. "How old are you anyway? You look younger than me."
"I'm eighteen," I told her.
"We're the same age then. You in college?"
"Freshmen year."
"Me too. Where at?"
"Pemberton U. You?"
"George Mason."
Thoughts of Asher swept through my mind, that was where he'd ended up going, but I tamped them down quickly. This wasn't the time, and besides, what were the chances that she's know him?
"Ok, enough chit-chat," she announced suddenly, pushing away from the wall of the monument where she'd been leaning. "Time to get to work. You're the boss, what's the plan?"
I gave another mental sigh, this time of relief. At least she was willing to let me keep control of the investigation and follow my lead. I had been worried that she'd be the controlling type.
I need to try this number and see if I can get him to meet with me," I said, producing the card. She looked it over and gave me a look with a raised eyebrow.
"Let me guess. Judging by the lack of specified business, this Razi Akiba must be in the sex-for-hire business."
I was impressed. The girl was sharp. "Escort," I said.
"Close enough," she said flippantly. "And before you get too impressed, Dad told me the case had something to do with a dead prostitute, so it was an obvious deduction. That's pretty much all I know though, so why don't you give me a quick rundown of exactly what you're trying to do?"
I did, giving her a quick history of Micah's involvement with Paul and how he'd found out about his murder, adding everything I knew about Paul from what Micah had told me. I was about to tell her how the police were refusing to do more than a cursory investigation before I remembered that her father was on the police force in the city. I stopped in mid-word as her expression darkened.
"Don't stop," she growled. "Not that it matters, I can figure out the rest. The police don't have any interest in catching whoever killed the fag, right?"
"Something like that," I muttered.
"Figures. That's why I want to be a cop, to stop shit like that from happening. It's disgusting."
I was startled by the vehemence in her voice, but tried not to let it show. I just pulled out the cell phone Novak had given me before I left and punched in Razi's number. I was just about to end the connection when someone finally answered.
"`ullo," someone mumbled, sounding as if I'd woken them up.
"Is this Razi?" I asked.
"No," the voice said.
I waited a beat. "May I speak to him?"
"He's not here."
The voice was vaguely familiar and I realized that it must have been the kid from the club. What was his name? "Is this Tad?" I asked.
A pause. "Who is this?" the voice suddenly sounded more awake, and more than a little startled.
"Do remember last week at Michelangelo's? I was with the guy that Razi knew. You talked to me in the lounge."
"Um...it's a little hazy."
It looked like I was going to have to work for this.
"My name is Killian, my friend's name is Micah."
Another pause and then, "What do you look like?"
"Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little taller than you."
"Still nothing."
I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. "You told me that my boyfriend used to be an escort."
"Oh. Yeah. Now I remember. You were cute."
I bit back a sharp retort and took another deep breath instead. "Thanks," I managed. "Look, it's really important that I talk to Razi. Do you know when he'll be back?"
"Not really. He's on a job. What do you need to talk to him about?"
"It's kind of personal. I'd rather talk to him about it."
"Does it have to do with your boy? What's his name? Mikey?"
"Micah, and no, not exactly."
"Oh. Well, does it have anything to do with Paul?"
"You knew Paul?"
"Kinda. I wasn't around that long before he was killed, but I met him a few times."
Novak always told me being flexible was the most important attribute of a good investigator. It would probably be a useful attribute for an escort also, but that was beside the point. The point was it was time to change my plans slightly.
"Could I talk to you?"
He was quiet for a minute. "I dunno," he said finally.
"I'm not going to cause trouble, I promise. It's really important."
"Why?"
"Micah wants to know what happened to Paul."
"He was killed."
"We know that. He wants to know why and by who."
"I don't know that."
"But you might be able to help me figure it out."
"You? Shouldn't that be up to the-Shit! You're not the cops are you?"
"Me?" I laughed. It was a little forced, but I didn't think it was noticeable, especially to someone who didn't know me. "No way. I'm a private investigator."
"Aren't you a little young?"
"Well, I'm technically still in training, but I've already helped solve three murders." I saw Chris' head snap up at that remark. Her eyes lit up with a new respect for me. "Besides, the cops don't give a damn about Paul. To them, he's just another gay escort and as far as they're concerned, the city's better off without him. If I don't find out who did this, it's possible no one ever will."
There was dead silence on the other end of the line and, for a minute, I thought he'd hung up. Then, finally, he spoke. "Ok. If I give you directions can you find me here?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. I signaled to Chris to get her attention. "I'm going to repeat the address back to you so I'm sure I have it right, ok?" I spoke for both of their benefits. I wanted Chris to pay attention so that she could tell me if she knew where the address was and I wanted Tad to know why I was repeating everything. Chris nodded her understanding. I was beginning to think that we might work well together after all.
"Ok," Tad agreed and rattled off an address that I repeated right back. "Yeah, that's it," he agreed.
Chris nodded. She knew where it was.
"Got it," I said. "You'll be there for a while?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Ok, see you soon then. And thanks."
"Yeah. You might want to hold your thanks until after you talk to me. I told you, I didn't know him that well."
"Every little bit helps."
"We'll see." And he broke the connection.
I turned to Chris as I put the phone away. "And we're off."
"We'll take the Metro," she said, pushing away from the wall of the monument, where she'd been leaning, and stalking off purposefully in the direction I'd come from. I practically had to run to keep up with her. "It's not a great neighborhood," she said when I caught up to her.
"Dangerous?" I asked.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "Everywhere in the city is dangerous, or it can be. Where we're going is only dangerous in a different way. Keep your eyes open and stay near me."
I must have given her a startled look because she smiled the first genuine smile I'd seen. "My dad's a cop. I've had every type of self-defense training you can imagine. I may not look all that dangerous, but trust me, I am."
Something in the tone of her voice made me inclined to believe her.
We got our fare cards figured out and boarded the train. We would have to backtrack to L'Enfant Station and switch from the orange line to the green line. The trip wasn't really that far and we didn't talk much. I was preoccupied, thinking about how Chris had known I was gay right away. Did I really act so stereotypically gay that people knew just by looking at me? I'd never thought about it before, but for some reason that bothered me. For one thing, it made me less effective as an investigator. It made me more memorable if someone happened to notice me.
"Gaydar," Chris said suddenly. I gave her a blank look.
"That's how I knew you were gay when I saw you."
I eyed her warily. I had the eerie feeling she'd been reading my mind.
"I've been sitting here thinking about it," she went on, "and I decided that if we're going to be working together we need to trust each other, right?"
I nodded.
"I'm gay too," she said.
"Oh," I said. I wondered if my gaydar was malfunctioning.
"I don't usually tell people, not that I'm in the closet or anything. I just don't advertise it. That's the other reason I think Dad wanted me to work with you on this. He thinks if I see the dark side of the gay culture, as he puts it, then I'll decide to be straight. I've tried to tell him it doesn't work like that, but he's older, you know? Set in his ways. Besides, it's not like I don't know all about this stuff anyway. You can only be sheltered so much when you grow up gay in the city." With that she hopped up and started towards the door. "This is our stop," she called over her shoulder.
I jumped up and joined her just as the train pulled to a stop. We exited the station and Chris took her bearings.
"Where do we go now?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," she said.
"But I thought..."
"I know it's this general area," she said. "Don't worry, I'll find it." She headed back into the Metro station, leaving me gaping after her. She reappeared a minute later and headed off confidently down the street. I scrambled after her with a feeling I'd be doing a lot of this.
"I got directions," she said when I fell into step next to her.
"Yeah, I figured that," I said dryly.
She walked through the unfamiliar streets as if she knew exactly where she was going, her ground-eating stride causing me to trot along. I felt like I had to take two steps for every one of hers. At that rate, it didn't take too long to find the address Tad had given me. Like most of the buildings in this area, it was rundown and a little shabby. Chris stopped at the door.
"He's on the second floor?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Ok, so what's the plan now? Do I go in with you or do I stand guard?"
I shrugged. I hadn't really thought that far ahead.
"There're advantages to both. If I go in with you, I might pick up on something you would miss, but if I stay outside, then I can get help if something goes wrong."
I didn't even want to think about the sort of things that might go wrong, but I'd been in situations without back-up before and I knew how important it could be. "Maybe you should be back-up," I suggested, a little worried that she wouldn't be happy with that, but she just nodded.
"I'll follow you up to the second floor and stay out of sight until you're in the room, then I'll stay near the door. If anything goes wrong, you just scream like a banshee and I'll get help."
I smiled weakly and hoped like hell that we wouldn't have to put that plan into action. I led the way up the dingy stairwell. According to the plan, Chris stopped just out of sight and I approached the door alone. I knocked on the metal door using the door-knocker and waited for an answer.
"Yeah?" came a muffled response from the other side of the door.
"Tad? It's Killian Kendall, we talked on the phone?" There was a pause long enough to allow him to peer through the peephole and then the sounds of locks unlocking. The door opened a few inches, still attached to the frame by a thick chain.
"Are you alone?" the boy asked. From the two inches of him that were in view, he was bare-chested and tousle-headed.
"Um, yes," I fibbed.
The door shut for a second, followed by the sound of the chain being unhooked, and then reopened just wide enough to allow me to slide in. Tad quickly slid the chain back in place and shot the locks home. I began to feel a little trapped and fought a rising sense of panic. Was he going to do something to me? Would I have time to scream? Would Chris be able to get in here before anything happened? He turned to catch my uncomfortable expression.
"I've lived here less than a month and I've been mugged twice, beat up three times, and almost raped once," he said in a carefully casual voice. "I'm a little concerned with security. I hope you don't mind."
"I, uh, guess I can't blame you," I said. He was wearing only a pair of denim cut-off shorts and I got the impression that he had only pulled those on to be polite. His body was pale, slender, and taunt with just the slightest hint of definition. His reddish-blonde curls were even springier than the last time I'd seen him and the halo effect was even more striking. Once again, I was struck by his ethereal beauty.
"You can sit down," he said, heading towards the couch in the center of the room. He folded himself onto the cushions with a cat-like grace that I envied. I felt like a Neanderthal plodding along after him. I sat self-consciously in an overstuffed leather chair to the right of the couch he had claimed. I tore my attention away from him to look around at the room. It was elegantly sparse with lots of black and chrome. Not much to offer in the knick-knack department. In fact, there was very little real personality to the room. It occurred to me that Razi had either rented or bought the apartment already decorated or he'd hired a decorator and given them free reign. I turned my attention back to Tad to find he was studying me with the same care I'd given him and the room.
"You don't look like a detective," he said.
"I'm a private investigator," I replied, playing the semantics game. "What did you think a detective should look like?"
He grinned. "Fatter, older, and uglier."
I laughed. "Then I guess I should be flattered that I don't look like what you expected."
His eyes sparkled with humor. "Do you go to Michel's very often?"
"Last week was my first time."
"What did you think?"
"It was fun, but it kinda got ruined."
The sparkle faded. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that."
I shrugged. "Well, that's what I'm here to talk about."
"So shoot."
"You said you met Paul?"
"A couple times."
"What was he like?"
Tad thought a moment before answering. "Quiet. He was friends with Razi, but they're really different. Razi is loud and likes to be the center of attention. Paul would rather sit in a corner and just watch everything. You'd forget he was there sometimes. But everybody seemed to like him."
"Somebody didn't," I commented before I could stop myself. He frowned. "Sorry," I apologized. "What did he look like? I never met him." The question wasn't really relevant to anything, but I was curious. It would also help Tad loosen up if I asked questions that were relatively easy to answer to start with.
"Cute. He has blonde hair, blue eyes, real small, and...I dunno...quiet somehow. He was really cute if you took time to look at him, but most of the time, if there were a lot of people around, you just kind of missed him somehow."
I was struck by how much his physical description could have fit me. Apparently, Micah liked a type. "Do you have any pictures of him?" I asked.
"I don't think so."
"Can you tell me anything about him besides that he was quiet? What kind of a person was he?"
"I didn't know him that well. I know Razi thought a lot of him. Razi doesn't have many guy friends. I think he feels threatened by them, like he sees them as competition. He didn't feel that way about Paul." He fell silent and allowed him a minute to think. "He was always really nice to me," he continued. "He was all concerned about me, always asking how I was doing and telling me if I ever needed any place to go I could stay with him. And it wasn't in a creepy sort of way, you know? It wasn't like he was hitting on me. It was like he genuinely cared. I think him and Razi might have even fought about me." He stopped as if he'd said more than he'd intended.
That caught my attention. "Fought about what?"
"Um..." I could tell he was searching for something to tell me, probably a lie. I decided to head him off.
"How do you know Razi? Is he your boyfriend?"
"I guess you could say that."
"What would you say?"
He shrugged. "Razi took me in when I didn't have anywhere else to go. I was living on the street, sick, hungry...He took me to the doctor, fed me and let me stay here."
"He sounds like a saint."
Tad made a face. "Not exactly. In exchange, he gets sex whenever he wants it."
I raised an eyebrow. "You ok with that arrangement?"
"It's better than the streets. And let me tell you, Razi knows what he's doing. So I guess it's not all that bad."
"Are you gay?"
He seemed surprised by the question. "What?"
"Are you even gay?"
"Yeah." I could tell he was still so surprised by the blunt question that he'd answered truthfully.
"How'd you end up on the street?"
He looked away. "Does that matter?"
"Maybe. You never know what will matter."
I didn't think he was going to answer at first, but then he turned back to face me and began to talk in low voice. Once he started, it was like a dam had burst and the words just kept flowing out of him until he'd spilled the whole story. "I grew up in this little dinky town in Virginia. My mom died when I was born so it was always just my dad and me. I think in some ways he always blamed me for her death; we weren't very close. I've known I was gay for a while now, probably since I was 12 or 13. I used to fool around with my best friend whenever he spent the night at my house or I stayed with him. I don't know if he was gay too or if he just liked to fool around; we never really talked about it. That all stopped when we got a little older, but I still liked guys. I met a guy online; he was a little older than I was and lived here in DC. We started dating but I was keeping it all a secret. He would drive to see me while my dad was at work or we'd meet somewhere and spend some time together when my dad thought I was with friends. Then one night my dad came home from work early, I don't even know why, and he caught us...well, you know. It was bad. I thought he was going to kill us. My boyfriend, and I use the term loosely, bolted so fast I barely even saw him go. He left me to face my dad alone and I never saw him again. My dad beat the shit out of me. He never touched me again after that night, but I could tell he hated me. He hardly ever spoke to me and it was horrible living there. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. I left. I stayed a few nights with this girl I was friends with, but her parents said I couldn't stay. I didn't know where else to go, but I knew the guy I had been dating lived here so I hitch-hiked to the city. It was stupid. I didn't even know where to look for him once I was here. I've never been so scared in my life. Every night I thought I was going to be killed and I was half-hoping I would be. And then one night, I was begging for money outside a restaurant over on the Circle, you know, Dupont Circle? There are a lot of gay people around there. Sometimes some of the guys would give me a little money if I did certain things for them, or let them do certain things to me. The next thing I know there's this guy telling me to come on. I figured he thought I was a hustler, which I guess I pretty much was, and he was taking me home for the night. I decided not to argue since a warm place to sleep sounded pretty good about then, no matter what I had to do to get it. It was Razi; he brought me here and told me to sleep on the couch and if anything was missing when he got up, he'd hunt me down and cut off my dick. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't sleep at all that night I was so scared. He got up the next morning, cooked me breakfast, and then took me to the doctor and shopping for clothes. I've been here ever since."
"He just took you in?"
"Yeah. Just like that. For a few days I kept thinking I'd wake up and it would all just be a dream, but then the payments started and I knew it wasn't."
"Did he hurt you?"
Tad blushed. "Not so that I minded."
"Did you feel forced?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "I knew it was what I had to do if I wanted to stay here. He never said so in so many words but I knew. And it's not just sex you know. I also clean the apartment, wash the dishes if there are any, do the laundry, make appointments and some other stuff."
"Did Razi ever try to contact your father?"
"He never even asked me my story."
"What about Paul?"
He seemed suddenly wary. "What about him?"
"Did he ask you for your story?"
He seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to trust me. He made up his mind and nodded. "He's the only other person besides you that I've even told. I don't even know why I told you."
"Is that what Paul and Razi fought about?"
He shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't really know."
Obviously, that was as much as I was going to get out of him at the moment. If Paul was the stand-up guy everyone kept telling me he was, then he had probably disapproved of Razi payment arrangement. He may have even wanted to contact Tad's father. I doubt Razi would have wanted to give up his personal houseboy.
"How old are you again? 15?"
He nodded.
"And how old is Razi?"
His eyes snapped to mine and grew round with fear. "You can't turn him in. Please! You can't do that. I know it's not great, but I'm fine. Really. It's better than living on the street and I don't want to go back to my dad. I know that's what they would do. I can't go back."
"Maybe they'd put you in foster care," I said doubtfully.
He sat up straight, his back rigid. "Like that would be so much better. Look, I'm almost 16. That's the age of consent, right? So in just a few more months, it won't even be illegal technically."
The panic in his voice was wearing me down quickly. I hated to hear him sounding like a terrified little kid.
"Is Young even your real last name?"
His startled look gave me all the answer I needed, but he answered anyway. "What difference does it make? There's no way I'm telling you now. You'd just go to my dad or turn me in. I swear, if I have to go back I'll run away again, and maybe this time there won't be any Razi to take me in. Or...or...I'll kill myself."
"Tad!" I interrupted before he could go into full-scale hysterics. "I won't turn him in, I promise. At least not until I know what's going on. I have to admit I'm not really comfortable with the whole situation though."
"It's not really any of your business," he said stiffly.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. I'd done a great job of ruining any sense of rapport we'd been building. I tried to reverse the damage. "You know, my dad beat me up when he found out I was gay too, and then he threw me out of the house."
Tad relaxed the slightest bit and I could see the curiosity in his eyes. "Where'd you go?"
"I was lucky; I had someone to take me in. He was my friend's dad and he's gay too."
"Your friend or your friend's dad."
"Both actually."
"Oh wow. That's so cool. I wish I'd had somebody like that. It must be really cool living with your friend and all."
"Actually, my friend was murdered. That's kind of why I got into this sort of thing."
"Oh. I'm really sorry."
It was my turn to shrug. "It's been a couple years now. It doesn't hurt quite as much as it used to."
"What about your mom?"
"She left my dad not too long after that. She moved away but let me stay with Adam, that's my friend's dad that took me in."
"You still live with him?"
I nodded. He'd almost relaxed completely now, curling himself back into his feline pose. I was about to ask another question when a loud knock came at the door. Tad apparently was not only like a cat in his movements, but also as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs as the old saying goes. At the sound of the knock, he almost leaped right off the couch.
"Tad? You in there?" a heavily accented voice called from the hallway. "Let me in."
"Shit," Tad hissed, giving me a startled glance. "I thought you'd be gone before he got home."
"Will he be mad that I'm here? After all, I did come to talk to him."
"I don't know," Tad said looking towards the door as another pounding knock sounded.
"Just go let him in," I said. "I won't tell him anything we talked about." The boy cast me a grateful look and headed uncertainly towards the door. In the best case scenario, it was time for the second interview of my new case. In the worst, Chris and I would be testing out our emergency plan very soon.
As Razi blew through the door, I was afraid it was going to be the worst case scenario.
"Damn it, Tad, I don't know why you have to lock this place up like fucking Fort Knox. I feel like I'm in jail. And there's a creepy girl lurking around in the hallway. Do you know what that's about?" His verbal barrage came to a screeching halt when he spotted me standing awkwardly by the chair. Immediately, his expression changed into a semblance of pleasantry. "Hi, I remember you. You're Micah's little friend, right?"
I tried not to bristle at the condescension in his voice. "My name's Killian."
"Like the beer," he said. He was wearing obviously expensive clothing, dark slacks with a high quality white button-down shirt open at the collar. The white shirt set off his dark complexion and his black hair was pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. "So what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked. He spoke English with only the slightest hint of an accent, but his careful pronunciation made me think that it wasn't his native tongue.
"I'm a private investigator," I told him. His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but his polite mask quickly slipped back into place. This guy was an excellent actor; I would have to watch every nuance. "Micah has asked me to look into Paul's murder."
"Paul Flynn?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Is that why you were at Michelangelo's? I thought you were dating Micah."
"I was-I am dating Micah. He didn't even know Paul was dead before he ran into you."
"Oh. Well, what do you want with me?"
"I'd like to talk to you. You knew Paul, you knew what his life was like, you were the one who found him."
"I don't know what I can tell you."
"Can we sit down?"
"Oh yes. Please excuse my horrible manners. Sit down."
I took the chair I'd been sitting in before, and Razi took Tad's place in the couch. When Tad made a move to sit down next to him Razi shot him a look that I couldn't quite interpret but Tad seemed to have no such trouble. He paused for just the slightest second, then cast a quick glance in my direction before leaving the room.
"Now we can talk in private," Razi said, watching Tad leave the room. "I hope you weren't here too long with just him. He's not the most fascinating conversationalist."
I shrugged. "We were fine. I like him, he's a nice kid." His eyes narrowed slightly at the word kid but he didn't comment. "Is he related to you?" I asked innocently, as if I hadn't just received the whole story of how he'd ended up here.
"Do we look related?" Razi asked with an arched eyebrow. I was having a hard time guessing his age. The closest I could get it was in his 20's, but he had the type of hawkish features that make it hard to pin it any closer than that.
I shrugged in answer. "I've known siblings who didn't look anything alike."
"We'd certainly be disparate siblings. No, we're not related. He's a friend. I'm doing him a favor. He needed a place to live; I let him stay here in exchange for cleaning the place and a few other small favors."
"That's really kind of you," I said, hoping I was keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. Something of it must have slipped through because his eyes narrowed again, although the rest of his face remained set in its carefully bland expression.
"I know what it's like to be in his position."
"Really?"
"Yes, but that has nothing to do with the subject at hand. You came to talk about Paul."
It wouldn't be as easy to weasel information out of Razi as it had been with Tad. Tad was younger, naïve and innocent in many ways, and looking for someone to trust and confide in. Razi was older, more experienced, and obviously a lot more suspicious.
"Yes, I did. How well did you know him?"
"He was one of the very few people I called friend."
"What was he like?"
"Nice. Kind. Good." He shrugged. "I know those words sound empty but they describe Paul very well."
"He was an escort?" I didn't mean anything by the question, but I could tell Razi took it wrongly. His body stiffened and his jaw tightened.
"Yes, he was an escort. That doesn't make him any less nice, kind, or good. Paul had his reasons, he had his story."
"What do you mean?"
"We all have stories. Most of us get into it for the money; some of us need it more than others. Paul was a senior in college when he decided to come out to his parents. They were very religious and didn't take it very well. They cut off all his support. He had to finish out the year and one of his friends was in the business so they got him an interview. He was perfect; he has this sort of innocence about him that the clients just loved. He was so successful that he stayed in it even after he graduated. You make more money on your own since there's no middleman, so most guys go solo eventually. They don't usually stay with an agency. Paul did."
"Why?"
"I guess he wasn't the ambitious type. He said he was making plenty of money and he didn't have to do anything but show up for his appointments." He shrugged. "Who can argue with that?"
"What about his family?"
"What about them?"
"You said they didn't approve of his being gay."
"That would be putting it mildly. More like they totally flipped out; told him he was a sinner and going to hell, the whole works. They wouldn't have anything to do with him for a long time. His father died and he had to find out from the newspaper. That was really hard on him. He went to the funeral and no one would even acknowledge him. But then a few weeks later his mother called and he started going to see her every once in a while."
"How was that?"
"I don't really know. Paul didn't talk about it really. He was very reserved. He never really told you how he was feeling. Sometimes it was obvious, like when his father died, but most of the time you never really knew what was going on in his head."
"Do you know if the rest family was still antagonistic?"
"I don't know. For all I know they were still preaching at him every time he went over there. I think he would have put up with it if it meant seeing his mother again."
"Did you ever meet them?"
He let out a short bark of laughter. "You must be joking. No, I was the last person Paul wanted to introduce his family to; his family was rather racist as well as religious zealots."
"So you don't really know if any of them were unbalanced or anything?"
"Are you thinking one of them killed him? I don't think so. It would seem to me as if they would have done it a long time ago if they wanted to kill him."
"How long ago did his dad die? Maybe his showing back up again sent someone over the edge."
"It was a couple months ago, maybe six at the most."
"So it's possible then."
"Perhaps."
"Do you have any other ideas? Did he have any enemies?"
"Paul? No. Everyone loved Paul."
"Everyone keeps saying that, but obviously someone didn't like him."
"Perhaps it was just a random burglary gone wrong."
"I thought the police had pretty much discarded that theory."
"They did, but then they don't really care much either way. As far as I am concerned, it is still as valid a theory as any."
"You found him, right?"
"Yes." His eyes shifted away.
"Can you tell me about that?"
He took a deep breath. "It's hard to talk about," he said slowly.
"Take your time."
"I hadn't heard from him for a few days. That wasn't all that unusual lately but if he didn't call me, I'd usually call him after about three or four days, just to make sure everything was ok. He didn't answer his phone so I started getting worried. Finally, I just decided to go over. I had a key so I could feed his fish when he was going to be gone for a few days; he had this huge fish tank with all kinds of exotic fish. I let myself into his apartment. It was trashed. Completely and totally trashed. All his paintings were off the walls and destroyed, he loved art. His fish tank was shattered. Every table had been tipped over, lamps smashed. It was horrible." His eyes had unfocused and I had the feeling he was seeing it all again. "And in the middle of all the mess was Paul. He was just lying there, as if he was a doll that someone had just thrown away. I knew he was dead as soon as I saw him. I've seen dead people before and he didn't look like he'd had a peaceful death. It wasn't one of those things where they just look like they are sleeping. I don't know if you've ever seen a strangling victim. I hadn't. Not before that. It's horrible. I...I'll never be able to forget it."
I let him sit in silence for a few minutes to collect himself before asking my next question. "Did you notice anything missing?"
"Nothing that anyone could say. He collected coins, some of them quite rare and expensive. The collection was scattered across the floor, but it all there. Paul wasn't a big jewelry person, but what he did have was still in the bedroom. His TV, stereo, computer, everything was still there."
"So that's why the police ruled out burglary?"
"You'd have to ask the police. It's not as if they confide in me."
"If you don't think his family could have done that, who do you think did?"
"I don't have any ideas."
"None at all? What about coworkers? Did he have another job?"
"No, he didn't need another job; he was making more than enough doing what he was doing."
"What about other escorts? Clients?"
He shrugged. "Anything is possible."
"Do you know how I could get in touch with any of them?"
"Sorry."
"Sorry you don't know or sorry you won't help me?"
A shrug.
"What about the guy that owns the agency? Neal, right?"
"I don't know."
"You used to be with the agency, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And you don't know how to get in touch with Neal?"
"We don't exactly send Christmas cards, you know?"
"Why are you avoiding my questions?"
"I'm answering your questions."
"They're non-answers. Don't you even care about finding out what happened to Paul?"
"Paul is dead. Nothing you do is going to bring him back," he said, his voice empty and hollow.
"What if he was killed by a serial killer who preys on escorts? You could be next."
"We lead risky lives. We meet strangers for a living. We all know that every appointment could be our last. We try not to think about it, but we know it. I know it. Paul knew it. You accept the risk and you do your job."
"So that's it? This is just one more risk?"
"Pretty much."
"You have no intention of helping me find out what happened to him, do you? You don't give a damn about Paul."
He looked me square in the face, his black eyes flashing. "The only way you can survive this business is to not give a damn. No one gives a damn about you. Not the police, we're scum to most of them. Not the clients, it's strictly business. And not the agency, if you work for one, you're a replaceable commodity. Nobody gives a damn about Paul."
"Micah does."
He snorted. "How nice. I'm sure Paul would appreciate that if he was still alive, especially since he hadn't heard from Micah since he left. What good does it do Paul now?"
"We can find out what happened to him and make sure he gets justice."
"Justice? What a joke. There is no justice, not for us. Go away, little boy. I can't help you."
I stood up with a sigh, figuring that was all I was going to get out of him for now. I had a feeling he knew more than he was saying, but this wasn't the time to press it. I started towards the door to let myself out. Tad hadn't relocked all the locks after Razi had come home so I didn't really need assistance. I paused by the door as a thought struck me. I turned back to Razi, who was still sitting on the sofa.
"What's your story?" I asked.
He looked up with a slightly surprised expression, as if he hadn't expected me to still be there. "What?"
"Earlier you said that you all had stories. I know Paul's, I know Micah's. What's yours?"
He looked away. "My story is my own. Leave now, please."
I watched him a second more, then let myself out.
Chris waited until I reached the stairwell before falling in beside me. "Well?" She asked.
"I didn't find out much," I told her. "Especially not from Razi."
"Is he the one that went in after you were already inside?"
"Yeah. He knows more than he's saying, but whatever he knows he sure isn't telling me."
"He wouldn't tell you anything?"
"Nothing I didn't already know or couldn't find out from Micah. Well, nothing directly. I did find out that things weren't very good between Paul and his family, but Razi doesn't seem to think they could have had anything to do with Paul's murder, not that his opinion carries that much weight. I want to meet them myself."
"Do you see this Razi guy as a possible suspect?"
"Well, Razi says they were friends, and Micah backs that up. Still, he might have had a motive. He's got a sweet set-up now with Tad. According to Tad, Paul didn't approve of their, for lack of a better word, relationship. He said Razi and Paul had a fight about it."
"What do you mean?"
"Tad's a runaway. He was a street kid on the fast track to becoming a hustler when Razi took him in. It wasn't exactly out of the kindness of his heart. The kid cleans and sleeps with Razi in exchange for a roof over his head and food. If Paul was threatening to find Tad's father, Razi might have tried to stop him."
"You don't sound very convinced."
"That's because I'm not. He's hiding something, but I don't think he did it. Actually, if we're talking suspects, as much as I hate to say it, Tad makes a better one."
"The kid?"
"Yeah. He has a lot more at stake if Paul decided to look up his father. He really doesn't want to go back to him."
"Do you really think he's a killer though?"
I sighed. "I'd hate to think it. I like him. But I've been fooled before."
She looked over at me. "You're going to have to tell me some of these stories some time."
"Sometime before this over," I promised.
"Back to Razi, did you learn anything else from him?"
"Not really. He has some history he doesn't want to talk about-actually, he has a lot of stuff he doesn't want to talk about. If everyone is like him this is not going to be easy."
We came out onto the street and stopped. "Where to now?" she asked.
"I guess we can try and find Paul's apartment and see if the key still fits. I hope they haven't cleared it out yet."
"Probably not that quickly. The police investigation is still open and I doubt they would have released the apartment already. It would look really bad if they had."
"What's the address again?" she asked.
I gave her the address and she nodded. "That's a better part of the city, close to Dupont Circle. It's a really pretty area. He must have been making good money to afford that."
"Apparently money is not an object when you're a successful escort," I said dryly.
"Back to the Metro then," she said and we started back up the road in the direction of the station.
"Killian," a voice called from behind me. I turned around to see Tad running towards us. He'd thrown on a T-shirt and a pair of sandals but still looked completely disheveled.
"Tad?" Chris asked under her breath.
"Yep," I responded as he reached us.
"Razi's in the shower," he said breathlessly, "I only have a minute but I didn't want you to leave without saying bye. He didn't say anything to me after you left but he was in a pretty bad mood. Did he seem mad that I let you in?"
"He's hard to read. Why?" I asked, suddenly concerned, "What would he do if he was mad? Would he hurt you?"
Tad grimaced. "I hope not. I don't really know. He's never really been mad at me before. Annoyed maybe, but not mad. I just don't want him to kick me out."
I felt bad for the poor kid, and even worse that I may have caused even more problems for him. I pulled out my wallet, found one of my cards, and scribbled my cell phone number on the back
"If he hurts you, call me," I said, handing him the card. "I'll come get you personally."
Tad blinked in surprise and for a second I thought he might cry. "Are you serious?" he asked.
"Very. Even if you just decide you want out of your arrangement, call me."
"I owe him," he said with a frown, "He saved my life. And besides, where else would I go? I'm not going back home."
"What if your dad wanted you back? Maybe he's changed his mind since you left. He might have realized how much you meant to him."
"You don't know my dad," he snorted. "I'm not going back. I don't care what anyone says."
"Well, I won't make you do anything," I told him quickly. I didn't want him to not call me if he needed me just because he was afraid I'd make him go back to his father. "Will you call me if you need me?"
He looked back down at the card in his hand and then slipped in his pocket. He looked back up and gave me a lopsided grin. "I dunno. Maybe, maybe not. No promises."
"It doesn't have to be this way, you know."
"It's not that bad, really. Better than the streets. Better than home." He shrugged. "It could be worse."
"Maybe it could be better."
He looked at me for a minute without saying a word, but his expression spoke volumes. It was obvious he was torn between what he felt he owed Razi and wishing things could be different. His eyes shifted to Chris, as if noticing her for the first time.
"I'm his assistant," she said quickly.
"You guys won't turn me in, will you?"
I sighed. "No, I won't turn you in."
He looked to Chris. "Hey, I only do what he tells me to do," she said.
He seemed satisfied and started backing away. "I need to get back up there before he gets out of the shower," he said.
"You'll probably be seeing me again," I told him. "And remember, call me if you need me."
He grinned. "Okey dokey," he said before spinning around and running back into the building.
I stood staring after him even after he was gone.
"Cute kid," Chris said. "Shitty deal." She glanced over at me and noticed my frown. "What are you thinking?"
"I wish there was something I could do for him."
"There's hundreds more where he came from," she said sadly. "I've heard that at least 30% of all teenage runaways are gay kids. At least, he has a roof over his head and food."
"But for what? He's essentially a sex-slave."
"You gave him an option. That's more than he had yesterday. If he decides he wants out bad enough he'll call you."
"He's just a kid. He has a family somewhere who doesn't even know where he is."
"He made it pretty clear that he didn't want to go back to them. Are you going to go back on your word and turn him in?"
"No, I won't do that. I just wish there was something more I could do. I don't even know what his last name is or if Tad is even his real first name."
"I have an idea, but first, let's start moving. We can talk while we walk, unless you're too blonde to handle that."
I laughed, breaking my melancholy mood. "I think I can handle that," I said as we turned once more towards the Metro station and started walking. "What's your idea?"
"How long has he been running?"
"I think he said he'd been in the city for about a month. Why?"
"At the police station, they have a book with pictures of all the kids that have been reported missing. We can look through the most recent ones and maybe find out who he is at least. Then, if you want, you could anonymously check in with his father or something. You'd at least know if he wanted him back or what."
"That's a good idea. We'll have to do that. But first, let's go check out Paul's apartment. I want to get as much done as I can while I'm here."
"Are you going back tonight?"
"That was the plan."
"Well, if you need a place to stay, you can stay at our place."
"Thanks," I said with a pleased smile. I was definitely beginning to genuinely like Chris. She was turning out to be a good partner.
The trip to the Dupont Circle stop took about twenty minutes; and from the station, it took us another twenty minutes to find Paul's address. Just as Chris had said, it was in a very nice neighborhood. Stone and brick faced townhouses lined the street, each with its own tiny patch of lawn, most filled with flowers. Paul's building was actually a brick apartment building tucked between two sections of townhouses. You had to be buzzed in but we just stood nearby and waited for someone to go in or come out. We didn't have to wait long before a woman with two small dogs came out. We slipped in behind her before the door could close and she never even noticed. Paul's apartment was on the third floor. We took the stairs but stopped at the second floor landing to decide how to set up the watch.
"We need to decide how I'm going to warn you if someone heads for the door," Chris said. Last time I didn't know what to do when Razi went in. I was ready to come in if you yelled or something but it was hard not knowing what was going on."
"I don't know what else we can do without you being very conspicuous. As it was, Razi noticed you. If he hadn't gotten distracted by me being there I don't know what he would have done. We don't want someone calling the police."
"Well, if they do I'm pretty sure I can get out of it because of my dad, but still, it would be a pain we don't need."
"Right, so I think we'd better just stick with the plan where you come to the rescue, should I need it."
"Ok, but I don't like it," she agreed reluctantly. "And I'm only going along with this because I don't have a better plan. We have to work out something better before we do something like this again."
I gave her a smile and took the rest of the stairs to the third floor. It was easy to identify Paul's door. It was the only one with police tape across it. I took notice of the other doors opening off the short hallway; there were only four apartments on this floor. The other doors were closed and blank looking. There was no way to know if anyone was behind them or not. I took a deep breath and fished out the key Micah had given me. If it didn't fit, I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. I approached the door and slid the key carefully into the lock. It went in easily. I turned it and my stomach flipped as the lock clicked and released. I pushed the door open slowly until it was wide enough for me to slip inside. I ducked under the tape and quickly shut the door.
It smelled musty inside and it was so dark I couldn't see anything; heavy shades blocked out most of the sunlight at the windows. Only a thin crack of light along the ceiling even showed me where they were. Well, that could work to my advantage. No one could see in either, so I could turn a light on and actually see what I was doing.
I fumbled along the wall for a light switch, but before I could find one, I heard the door handle rattle behind me. I froze in place, praying it was just Chris. The door swung open suddenly and the comparatively bright light from the hallway temporarily blinded me. A dark figure stood in the doorway. "Don't move, I have a gun," a harsh voice ordered. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"
This was definitely not good, I thought as I froze where I was and slowly raised my hands above my head. Getting caught was not part of my plan. Assuming I survived this, Chris and I were definitely going to have to work out a better way for her to warn me. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to get a better look at my assailant. To my great surprise, it turned out to be a woman. A very small, slender woman to be exact, with distinctly Asian features and long, glossy black hair. And in her dainty little hands was a deadly looking pistol, aimed directly at my chest.
"Who are you?" she repeated in a surprisingly deep and husky voice. She didn't sound at all like she looked. "And don't think for a minute that I don't know how to use this thing," she added.
"My name is Killian Kendall," I said as calmly as I could manage while having a gun pointed at me. "Are you a police officer?"
"I'll ask the questions, thank you. What are you doing in Paul's apartment?"
She said Paul's apartment, I noted, so she is most likely not a cop. Didn't Micah say something about a neighbor of Paul's that he was very close to? What was her name? Not for the first time I wished I was better with names. I tried to decide if I should lie and say I was a friend of Paul's, or tell the truth. I decided that, in this case at least, the truth was the best policy.
"I'm a private investigator," I told her. "I'm investigating the murder of Paul Flynn."
"You look a little young to be a private investigator."
"I can't help that."
"Who hired you?"
"Micah Gerber. He asked me to look into Paul's murder since the police don't seem to be taking a great interest in it."
"Micah?" she asked warily, the gun wavering ever so slightly.
"Yes."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Good question. Just then, the name I was searching for surfaced. "Are you Sabrina?" I asked. Her eyes widened. I took that as a yes and went on, "Micah said you were a good friend of Paul's. Maybe you can help me find out who killed him."
The gun dropped a little farther, but I kept my hands in the air. I wasn't about to risk my life with any sudden moves.
"How'd you get in here?" she asked.
"Micah gave me a key."
That seemed to be what she wanted to hear. The gun dropped to her side and she stepped back from the door.
"Will you help me?" I asked, lowering my hands very slowly, but keeping them in her view.
"I'll talk to you, but I think we should go to my apartment. If someone comes along, I don't want to be standing here with Paul's door wide open. It would not look good."
There was no arguing with her logic, so I moved slowly forward, still not willing to risk spooking her as long as she held that gun. I ducked under the police tape, locked the door, and pulled it closed behind me. The door next to Paul's was standing open and Sabrina stepped to one side of it and motioned with the gun as if to say `after you'. She wasn't going to give me the chance to get behind her, a smart move on her part had I been someone dangerous. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris peek around the corner and I motioned surreptitiously for her to remain hidden. I stepped into her apartment and took a quick look around. As you entered the apartment you found yourself in a large open space that served as a living room/dining room. The kitchen opened off of it straight ahead, and to the right of the kitchen was a closed door that I assumed led to a bedroom. It wasn't large, but Sabrina had tastefully decorated her living space with a blend of antique furnishings and Asian art.
"Have a seat," she said casually, as if she entertained guests at gunpoint all the time. Then again, for all I knew, she did.
I sat gingerly on the edge of her scroll-backed Victorian sofa and looked at her expectantly. She sat across from me on an uncomfortable looking carved wooden chair. Seeing her clearly for the first time, I realized how beautiful she was. Her features were delicate and refined, making her look remarkably like a finely-sculpted china doll. And then she spoke and ruined the effect.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked in her strangely hoarse voice.
"Er, uh, no thanks," I managed. It wasn't a question I had expected.
"So Micah asked you to find Paul's killer?" She fiddled with the gun in her lap, making me more than a little nervous.
"Yes. Um, do you think you could set the gun down? It's making me a little uncomfortable. I promise I'm not going to hurt you, but if it makes you feel better you can set it on the table right next to you where you can grab it if you need to."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. She looked down at the gun in surprise, as if she'd forgotten she was holding it. "This?" She aimed the gun at my chest once again and pulled the trigger before I could react. I flinched but nothing happened. "It's not real," she explained. "I bought it at a women's safety conference I went to a few years ago. It's just meant to scare people. I don't like real guns."
I stared at her in disbelief. "What would you have done if I'd attacked you?"
She blinked as if the thought had never occurred to her. "Hit you with it?" she asked hesitantly.
"Do you even know any self-defense?" I pressed.
"Yes. What does any of this have to do with Paul?"
"It doesn't have anything to do with Paul, but if you're going to run around pointing a toy gun at people you'd better be able to defend yourself."
"I don't run around pointing it at people," she said defensively. "Can we get back to the subject at hand?"
"Your right, I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's really none of my business."
"It's ok," she said with hesitant smile. "I sort of made it your business when I pointed it at you, I guess. So anyway, Micah hired you. Do you actually know him, or did he just hire you?"
"I know him. We've been dating for a few months."
Her mouth formed a little "o" of surprise. "So...wait...you're dating Micah, and you're investigating the murder of his ex-lover?"
I gave her a wry grin. "That about sums it up."
"Wow. Either you're a better man that I am, or you guys have a weird relationship."
"The latter most likely."
"Well, how is Micah?"
"He's...good, I guess. He's been shaken up over Paul's murder. I don't think he was completely over him."
She frowned. "Did you know Paul?"
"No, I'm not from around here. Can you tell me about him?"
"Where do I start?" she sighed. "He was a sweetheart. I miss him so much. I keep thinking I'm going to run into him in the hall, I don't think it's really sunk in yet that he's gone."
"Were you good friends?"
"Yes, very good friends. We talked pretty much every day, and I don't just mean in the hallway. He'd come over for a drink in the evening if he wasn't working or I'd go over there. Sometime he'd call me at work just to talk."
"Where do you work?"
"I work at the daycare center in the Pentagon."
It was my turn to look surprised. I was going to have to work on my poker face. "Were you there...?"
"September 11th? Yes. I've never been so scared in my life. Paul was waiting here for me when I got home after what seemed like forever. He just held me while I cried myself to sleep. He was a good person, he didn't deserve to die." She broke off and visibly tried to regain her composure.
"I talked to Razi Akiba earlier today, do you know him?"
Her expression changed to look as if she'd bit into something rotten. "Oh, I know him, alright," she said disdainfully.
"I take it you don't like him?"
"No, I don't."
"Any particular reason or just general dislike?"
She thought a moment before answering. "I'm not really certain," she said finally. "There's just something about him that I don't trust. I always got the impression that he was using Paul, although I couldn't quite explain why. And I know he tried to break Paul and Micah up when they were still dating."
"He did? Did Micah know?"
"Well, I never told him. I talked to Paul about it, but he wasn't concerned. He said they had a solid relationship and it didn't matter what Razi said or did. It was well before Micah started talking about moving."
"Why did he want to break them up? Did he want to date Paul?"
"That's what I thought at the time. But when Micah moved away and Paul was free Razi never made a move that I knew of, which seems strange. If he wanted Paul so badly why didn't he go after him when he was available?"
"Maybe he's the type that only wants what he can't have."
"Well, he does strike me as that type, but still..."
"Or maybe Razi was dating someone else by then."
"That's possible. I certainly don't keep up with his love life. I don't really spend much time in his company. Only if it's one of Paul's rare get-togethers."
"After Micah left, did Paul date anyone else?"
"Not seriously. He always said he was so busy with work that he didn't have the time or energy to date socially. I always thought it might have had something to do with him still being hung up on Micah."
"So there's no angry, jilted ex-boyfriend?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Did he have any enemies that you know of?"
"No. That's what's so scary about all this. It seems so random, and yet, the way he died-it seems more like a murder with a lot of passion behind it."
"Passion?"
"Yes, strong emotion. Somehow, it doesn't feel-what's the word police use? Premeditated? There are so many ways to kill someone if you just want to get rid of them; poison, shooting, a planned accident. Strangling someone seems like a very heat of the moment thing to do. It's a very personal way to kill someone. They're actually in your hands as their life leaves them."
I shuddered at the thought. "You sound like you've given this a lot of thought."
"Oh I have, trust me. I've lain awake almost every night since it happened wondering. Wondering what it was like for poor Paul in those last seconds. Wondering why on earth someone would want to kill him. I just don't understand it."
"And you probably never will. Most murder is senseless. There's no way you can understand it."
"I just wish I could do something."
"You can. You can answer my questions and tell me everything you can remember."
"I'll do my best."
"Great. Were you in a position to know who came to his apartment?"
"Well, it's not like I spied on him, or anything, but yeah. Living next door to him and being friends I saw people come and go."
"Who came?"
"Besides Razi, mostly just his clients. He did in-calls and out-calls."
"Meaning?"
"In-calls are when the clients come to you, out-calls are when you go to them."
"So a lot of clients came here?"
"I don't know about a lot."
"But some came here?"
"Yes."
"Did any come more than once?"
"You mean like regulars?"
"I guess so, yeah."
"I'm sure there were regulars, but I didn't really pay that much attention. It wasn't really any of my business, you know?" She paused thoughtfully. "Although, there was this one guy that I did seem to see fairly often. I assumed he was a client, although I don't really know that for a fact."
"Can you describe him?"
She screwed up her face in concentration. "He's kind of hard to remember. He wasn't strikingly handsome, but he wasn't ugly. He was just kind of ordinary."
I groaned silently. Ordinary people were the hardest to describe. People tended to take less note of them, and what they did notice could apply to just about anyone. Just like the insurance rep that deals with Novak who I can never remember. I made a stab at it anyway.
"What color is his hair?"
She frowned. "Brown? Gray? I'm not really sure."
"Eyes?"
"I have no idea. I'm not being very helpful am I?"
I smiled but didn't answer. "Was he tall or short? Fat or skinny?"
"I can answer those at least. He was average height and weight."
Of course he was. "Did you notice any distinguishing features? Any moles or scars? A particular piece of jewelry?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just didn't pay attention."
"Are you even sure it was the same guy each time?"
"Yes, I noticed that much. It's just hard to describe him."
I gave up and went on to the next question. "Did you ever see anyone else who stood out? Maybe they didn't seem like they belonged or you saw them repeatedly?"
"The only thing I can think of is the last couple weeks Razi's been showing up here with this kid. A pretty boy, curly red hair, big blue eyes. He looks like he's 13 or 14 at the most. I don't know where he got him; probably bought him off some crack whore."
"We've met. His name is Tad. He was a homeless kid that Razi took in."
"At what price?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Razi never does anything without an ulterior motive."
I shrugged. It wasn't my place to go into that with Sabrina. "Did Paul confide in you much?"
"I don't think Paul confided in anyone very much. Still, he probably confided in me more than most."
"A few people I've talked to said he seemed a little different recently, more withdrawn and almost secretive. Did you notice that?"
"Now that you mention it, yes. It didn't really register at the time because I was really busy; my sister was getting married and I was the maid-of-honor. I hadn't thought about it at all, but he didn't invite me over very often and we definitely didn't talk as much."
"Do you have any idea why? Was something bothering him? Do you think he was hiding something?"
"I honestly don't have any idea," she admitted. "I was so caught up in my own life that I didn't even notice anything different. My God, what kind of friend am I? What if Paul was killed because I couldn't even be bothered to notice something was wrong?" Her voice was escalating to the point that I was afraid she'd burst into tears any moment.
"You can't blame yourself for this," I said quickly, and I hoped convincingly. "We don't even know what happened yet, if it even had anything to do with why he was withdrawing. Or for that matter, we don't even know for sure he was withdrawing. Maybe his life got busy at the same time yours did. It could have nothing to do with his murder. We just don't know enough yet to make any kind of educated guess. And even if it was connected in some way to his murder, he could have come to you and I'll bet you would have dropped everything to help him, right?"
She sniffled a bit and nodded. "You're right. I would have."
"See? You don't have any reason to blame yourself for Paul's death. The only person to blame is the person who killed him. And you can help me catch whoever it was."
"I can?"
"Yes. Can you think of anyone, no matter how remote, who might have wanted Paul dead?"
"I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't think of anyone."
"What about Razi?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He's a sleaze ball, but if he was going to kill someone, I don't think it would be as direct as strangling. He'd be more of the type who'd poison someone slowly. Or maybe stab them in the back."
"So you don't have any ideas?"
"No, not really."
I sighed. I was not coming up with an abundance of suspects so far. Or motives either, for that matter. I needed to get back into his apartment.
"You've been in Paul's apartment, right?" I asked, as an inkling of an idea began to form.
"Many times."
"Would you walk through it with me? You can tell me if anything is missing. Razi said he didn't think so, but you would know better than me."
"But we shouldn't be in there; it's a police crime scene."
"The police don't seem very eager to solve this crime. There might be something in there that would help me find Paul's killer. Besides, they're done with it by now."
"What if we get caught?"
"I have a contact on the police force here," I said, hoping that was true.
She was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head and tried to decide what to do. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked into my eyes.
"Fine. Let's do it."
We crept out of her apartment like a couple of cat-burglars after she checked to make sure no one was in sight. I caught a glimpse of movement in the stairwell, so I knew Chris was still on duty, for whatever that was worth. I unlocked the door again and Sabrina quickly slipped in with me close behind. The first thing I noticed was an unpleasant odor that I hadn't smelled the first time. I probably hadn't had time for it to register before Sabrina had charged in. I couldn't quite place it, although it smelled faintly rotten.
Sabrina knew where the lights were so this time there was no fumbling around in the dark. She gasped as the room was revealed. After a quick glance around, I couldn't blame her. It was a disaster scene. I'd never seen anything quite like it. Before the tornado had struck, it must have been a mirror image of Sabrina's apartment. It was laid out the same way. Paul's decorating taste seemed to have had an Asian flare as well, but from what I could piece together in my head, his had a little more Indian influence. Now, though, the room had been deliberately and maliciously demolished, item by item. Razi's description of the chaos didn't even begin to describe it. The beautifully embroidered cushions that had covered the wooden couch had been ripped to shreds, their innards strewn across the floor. Ceramic and glass shards covered the parts of the floor not hidden by the cushion stuffing. Art that had once hung around the room, much of it original oil and watercolor paintings, had been torn off the wall and destroyed. Even the TV sitting on the entertainment center had its screen shattered, its insides exposed and looking strangely vulnerable. A huge fish tank took up most of one wall. Its front had been smashed and its contents must have washed across the floor judging from the mess in front of it, which included a few dead fish. At least now I knew where the rotten smell was coming from.
"Oh my God," Sabrina whispered.
"Is this the first time you've been in here since it happened?" I asked her in a low tone. It seemed somehow inappropriate to speak loudly in here, or to even voice the reason we were here, Paul's murder.
She nodded.
"I don't even know where to begin," I said, hoping I didn't sound as overwhelmed as I felt.
"How did the police find anything? Wouldn't they have to collect all this as evidence or something? They always do on TV."
"I don't know," I confessed. "Maybe they aren't done in here after all. Don't touch anything."
"I already touched the light switch," she hissed, a touch of panic entering her voice. "I should have never agreed to this."
"Calm down. I'll wipe the light switch off." I grabbed a scrap of material off the floor and carefully wiped the light switch clean. "There. If you have to touch something, make sure you put your shirt over your hand or use something like this. And for God's sake, don't take anything."
"I'm not touching anything. I think we should leave."
"We're here now. We might as well look around."
"I'm not moving."
"Can you tell if anything is missing?"
"How could I tell that? How can you tell anything in this mess?"
"What did he have of value?"
She took a deep breath. "His electronic equipment." That was all plainly visible on the entertainment center and amidst the rubble on the floor. "His art collection." Also readily identifiable. "And his coin collection."
Razi had mentioned that, making a point of saying that it had been left. "Where'd he keep that?" I asked her.
"In the bedroom."
I started making my way carefully across the room, glass crackling under my feet. As I passed the kitchen, I saw that the destruction continued in there. All the dishes had been pulled from the cabinets and shattered on the floor. I pitied whoever had to clean this place up.
I made it to the bedroom door and carefully opened it using the scrap of cloth I still held in my hand. I reached in to find the light switch, but before I could find it, my breath caught in my throat and a feeling of complete and total terror overcame me. I couldn't breathe; I tried to scream, tried to gasp, but I couldn't seem to force air into or out of lungs. My chest began to burn and the room started to fade into black. I clawed at my throat and stumbled back from the door. In the background, I vaguely heard Sabrina yelling something, but the words wouldn't penetrate, it was if she was far, far away.
Suddenly, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. I gasped in great gulps of air as I slumped against the door frame.
"What happened?" Sabrina asked fearfully.
"I don't know," I gasped. "I couldn't breathe, it felt like..." I broke off as I realized what it had felt like. It had felt like I was being strangled.
"What? Felt like what?"
"It felt like I was being strangled," I finished shakily.
Her eyes grew wide and she took a step back. "What?"
"I couldn't breathe. It felt like my throat was closed off...exactly like I was being strangled."
She looked through the open door into the dark bedroom, her eyes full of fright. "That's where Paul was killed," her voice was tight with rising panic. I felt my own panic rising right along with hers. "What the hell is going on?" she asked hoarsely. I only wished I knew.
My mind was racing. What had just happened? Had I somehow experienced Paul's death? Or had it just been my imagination? The thought that I might have actually felt Paul dying was terrifying. And what purpose was there in that? We already knew that he's been strangled. Then again, who said there was a purpose in any of this? I only knew that I needed to talk to Judy...and soon.
"I want to leave." Sabrina brought me back to the moment with her frightened whimper.
I looked up; she was slowly backing away from me, keeping a wary eye on me as if I had suddenly sprouted a second head, a tail, and horns. I nodded and started to follow her, but before I had taken two steps, I felt as if I had been lassoed and was being pulled towards the bedroom. It wasn't even so much a physical feeling, but more of a psychic sensation. I stopped in mid-step and slowly turned back towards the doorway. The feeling grew stronger.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I...I have to go in there," I answered distractedly.
"No! You can't!"
"I have to."
"I'm not going in there."
"Fine. Stay here." I took the few steps through the door and stopped again. With my body blocking most of the light from the other room, this room was left in deep gloom. It almost seemed like the shadows were alive, or as if there was something or someone hiding in them. There was a definite feeling of pain and anguish within the room. It stopped me at the door as effectively as a wall; I couldn't make myself take another step. Then, without any thought, I reached out for the light switch and was surprised when my hand went directly to it with the surety of someone who lived there. It was behind the tall armoire that stood by the door, a few inches from the wall. It wasn't the sort of thing you noticed or would know where it was. I spared a fleeting thought to wonder how I had seemed to know right where it was, but as light filled the room, all other thoughts fled, along with the awful feeling of death.
This room was as neat as the front rooms were chaotic. For a moment, I wondered why this room hadn't been trashed like the rest of the apartment, but then I realized that it probably had been and the police had gathered everything as evidence. Yet another hint that they weren't done with the apartment. I hoped we hadn't left any signs of our illicit visit.
Thanks to the lack of mess in here, it didn't take long to see that if the coin collection had been on the floor, it was gone now. I wondered where he had been killed, where his body had lain until Razi had found him. No sooner had the thought fluttered through my head than I had the answer. I staggered a little as the room seemed to shift out of focus and then slowly refocused, except this time it was as if I were looking at a double exposed photograph. Over the image of the room as it appeared now I saw a fainter, ghost image of the room as it must have looked when Razi found Paul. Drawers had been yanked from the dressers and dumped all over the floor; clothes lied strewn about everywhere. The mattress had been shoved off the box spring and the bedside table had been knocked over, shattering the ceramic lamp that had stood on it. Coins preserved in little cardboard squares lay scattered everywhere; and in the midst of it all, lying on the far side of the room, between the bed and what I assumed to be a closet door, was Paul's body.
The effect was quite dizzying. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. When I reopened my eyes, the ghost image was gone; the room was back to normal. I'm going crazy, I thought. I'm losing my freakin' mind. This can't be happening. No one ever mentioned anything like this. It has to be all in my head. Somehow, though, I knew it wasn't. The question now was why had I been drawn to this room? What was I supposed to see? I didn't even want to think about what, or who, had drawn me here.
"What?" I said out loud in a low croak that I barely recognized as my own voice. "What am I supposed to see? Why did you want me to come in here?"
As if in answer, a muffled thump came from the door that I had thought to be the closet, causing me to almost jump out of my skin. As much as I really didn't want to go any further into the room, I needed to know what was behind that door. I started edging my way around the edge of the room, carefully avoiding the place where Paul had lain. I reached the door and, covering my hand with my shirttail, tried the handle. It was locked. Now what?
That was one skill Novak hadn't taught me yet, how to pick a lock. I made my way back to the door to the rest of the apartment to find Sabrina huddling by the front door, her arms wrapped tightly around her thin body.
"I don't suppose you know how to pick a lock?" I asked her. She stared back at me blankly.
"Didn't think so. You wouldn't happen to know where Paul kept the key to his closet door, would you?"
That seemed to surprise her. "Paul's closet door has a lock? Mine doesn't."
I shrugged. "Maybe he wanted a little extra security."
"But how did he get a lock?"
"He could have changed the handle. That's not the point. The point is, I need to get in there but it's locked."
"He gave me a key to his front door, but that was all. I don't know where he kept spare keys."
"And apparently neither did his killer."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it seems pretty obvious that whoever trashed this place was looking for something, and taking out their frustration as they went. Maybe it was the key to the closet that they were looking for."
"Maybe they found the key, got into the closet, took what they wanted and left. For that matter, how do you know they weren't looking for something else?"
"I don't. Not really. That's just a guess. But I do think that if they found what they were looking for, they wouldn't have kept on trashing everything. I can't imagine they would have wanted to spend more time in here than necessary."
"Who knows how a murderer thinks?"
"True, but right now I'm more concerned with how Paul thought. Where would he have kept the key to the closet? It must not have been on his key ring or the killer would have found it right away, that's the most obvious place to look."
"I really don't have any idea."
With a sigh, I returned to the bedroom.
"Ok, Paul...or whoever you are," I whispered. "You gotta help me out here. I can't get into the closet unless you tell me where the key is."
Nothing happened. I was just about ready to decide that I had really and truly lost my marbles when I heard the slightest hint of a sound behind me. It sounded like the soft rustle of material against material. I turned to face the antique armoire by the door. It was an enormous piece of furniture, almost reaching the ceiling and with a set of double door on the front. It must have been a bear to move in. I wasn't at all sure that the sound was any sort of clue, but what did I have to lose? I approached it carefully and reached out to open the doors. It was completely empty. I frowned. So I really was going crazy.
Then the sound came again, but now that I was closer, I realized it was coming from the top of the wardrobe. I looked around for something to step up on so I could see the top, but there was nothing in the room. Back out into the living room I went in search of a suitable item.
"What are you doing now?" Sabrina asked.
"Looking for the key. Is there anything I can stand on?"
She looked at me for a second, then shook her head slightly. "I have a stepping stool in my apartment," she said in a weary voice.
"Do you think I could use it?"
"Why not? Anything to get this over with faster." She cautiously slipped out the door and returned a minute later carrying a small folding stepladder.
"That's perfect," I said, taking it from her and heading back into the bedroom.
The first thing I thought when the top of the armoire came into view was that Paul must have been a meticulous housekeeper. There was no sign of the thick dust and cobwebs that one would expect to find in an out of the way place such as this. The next thing that occurred to me was that there was no key in sight. The top of the piece of furniture was slightly inset with a rim of about two inches around the edge. A small block of wood about three inches by one inch was attached on each side of the top. Almost like handles, I thought. It was as if a light bulb lit up over my head. Back when Steve and Adam were buying antiques for the bed and breakfast, I remembered Steve talking about how some of the old pieces had hidden compartments built into them; desks often had hidden drawers, chests had false bottoms...and most important for me, armoires had false tops.
I grabbed the blocks of wood, a task made more difficult by the fact that I only had about six inches of space to work in, and lifted up. Slowly but surely the top began to slide upwards. Soon I had the false top off and I was staring down into a four-inch deep cavity, well camouflaged from a cursory examination by the clever way in which it had been built. No one would ever notice the difference in height inside the cabinet and out unless they knew what to look for. I would have never noticed if I hadn't seen the blocks of wood. All the hiding space held was a single envelope. It must have been pretty important to go to all that trouble to hide it. I picked up the envelope and discovered that it hadn't been sealed, just tucked into itself. I lifted the flap and pulled out the single slip of paper inside. As I did, a key fell out and bounced on the carpet below. I quickly climbed down and retrieved the key before reading the note.
It was handwritten and dated about a month ago. It read, "I never thought when I bought this armoire that I'd have any use for the secret compartment on top, and up to a few weeks ago I didn't. If you've found this, then one of two things has happened. Either you were looking for it, in which case, congratulations; or something has happened to me and you are probably the new owner of this beautiful piece of furniture. If it's the latter, feel free to throw this away. It's no longer of any use to me. If it's the former, then you've got what you wanted. I hope you are happy. Sincerely, Paul Flynn."
I was more confused than ever. It seemed as if Paul had felt his life was in danger, but from whom? He'd gone to a lot of trouble to hide this key, what was so important to keep safe? It was time to find out.
I once again made my way carefully to the closet door. The key slid easily into the lock and the handle turned with a satisfying click. I pulled the door open to find a small closet. A row of shirts and jackets hung neatly from the clothes rod. A shelf above that held a few designer shirt boxes. What caught my attention though was the small fireproof safe sitting on the floor next to several pairs of shoes lined up in a neat row.
I was sure that was what Paul had been trying to keep safe. Just to be on the safe side I quickly went through the boxes, which held nothing but tissue paper, and the pockets of the jackets. I came up with a matchbook, a couple pieces of sugar-free candy, a box of Tic-Tacs, and a condom thankfully still in its package. That done, I turned my attention back to the safe. It had a combination lock. I growled in irritation. There was no way I was going to figure the combination out, and if Sabrina hadn't even known Paul had put a lock on his closet door, I seriously doubted she would know his combination.
Now what was I supposed to do? I'd found what I was meant to find, but now what did I do with it? I couldn't very well tuck it under my arm and waltz out with it while Sabrina waited for me, but I couldn't very well leave it here either. What if the killer came back? He or she would be more prepared this time, and a simple lock wouldn't keep them out of the closet. It was probably only fear of the police that had kept him or her away this long.
"Killian," Sabrina called from the other room, "I think we've been here too long. We have to go."
She was right; we had been here for a while. With a sigh of frustration, I stood up and shut the closet door after making sure it was locked. "Coming," I called back. "Let me put things back."
I quickly slid the letter back into the envelope. After a moment's hesitation, the closet key went into my pocket. I replaced the envelope in its hiding place and slid the top back into place. Once again using my shirt and a cleaning cloth I carefully wiped the armoire clean of my fingerprints-or so I hoped. Then, grabbing the stepladder, I went to meet Sabrina.
"Did you find the key?" she asked.
I paused for a second, then shook my head no. "No luck," I said.
"You were in there a long time, what were you doing?"
"Looking for the key. I thought you were ready to get out of here."
"I am. It gives me the creeps. Come on." She cracked open the door and peeked out. Apparently, the coast was clear, because she slid out with me right behind her. She locked and shut the door and then opened her own door. I carried the ladder in, set it down, and turned to face her.
"I appreciate your help," I told her. "I know it wasn't easy for you."
"What...what happened in there?" she asked haltingly, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb.
"When you said you felt like you were being strangled. What happened?"
I shrugged, hoping I seemed more nonchalant than I felt. I had avoided thinking too much about it while I searched for the key, and I wasn't quite ready to think about it yet either.
"Are you some sort of psychic?" she asked.
"What?" I snapped sharply, causing her to flinch slightly. "Why would you think that?"
"It just seemed like the only explanation."
"Maybe I just have an overactive imagination."
"I saw you; you didn't look like you were imagining anything. You looked...you looked like you were being strangled, except there was no one else there."
A shiver raced its way up my spine. "I don't know what happened in there, and I'm telling you the truth. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I don't understand it any more than you do. Now, I really appreciate your help, but I have to be going."
"Can I at least have your card? In case something else turns up?" she asked as I turned away.
I reluctantly fished out a card and handed it to her. I knew it was unprofessional of me, but I wanted to put as much distance between me and that whole experience as possible. And then I thought of the safe sitting in the closet. I did not want to go back in there, but I knew I was going to anyway. With a deep sigh, I turned and let myself out of Sabrina's apartment without another word.
I found Chris sitting on the stairwell, head propped on her hands looking eminently bored. She glanced up as I appeared at the top of the stairs, relief written plainly on her face. I expected to hear recriminations about taking so long, but before I could say a word, she bounced to her feet.
"We have to come up with a better communication system," she said firmly.
"Agreed," I said.
"Good, I have an idea. But first, how'd it go? Did you find out anything useful?"
"Yes and no."
"Explain, please?"
"I found something, a safe, but there was no way for me to open it. It was locked in a closet and I'm pretty sure that's what the killer was after. They place was torn to pieces, it was pretty obvious that they were looking for something. I think they were looking for the key to the door."
"And you found it?"
"Yes."
"But they couldn't?"
"It was very well hidden."
"Where was it?"
"In a hidden compartment in the top of an armoire."
"A what?"
"It's a big piece of furniture, like a wardrobe. People kept their clothes in them before they started building in closets."
"How in the world did you know to look in there?"
"I, uh, had a little help," I said quickly before rushing on. "But the point is, I couldn't open it and I couldn't very well carry it out with Sabrina standing right there."
"That would have been a bad idea anyway. You don't want to remove evidence from the scene of the crime. Being in there in the first place is bad enough; taking stuff would be more than I could even away with. And who is Sabrina? Was she the chick with the gun?"
"Yeah, she was a friend of Paul's."
"That scared the hell out of me. I didn't know what to do."
"It wasn't even a real gun."
"I didn't know that."
"Well, it's over now. What was your idea?"
"My idea?"
"For our new communication system?"
"Oh yeah. Well, it's logical really, especially being the daughter of a cop. We need a pair of walkie-talkies."
I blinked. Why hadn't I thought of that? It seemed painfully obvious now that she's mentioned it. Then again, it did have its drawbacks. They were loud. Even if I turned it way down, if I could hear it, which I'd have to be able to do if it was to be useful, then someone could possibly hear it; and in a dangerous situation, that could be fatal. It would also be difficult to hide and when I'm trying to get someone who is already nervous to talk to me, a big official looking radio on my side might not inspire confidence, especially from the type of people I'd probably be talking to before this case was over. And then I had an even more brilliant idea.
"My cell phone!" I exclaimed.
"Huh?"
"We can use cell phones! I already have one, we just to get you one. You could call and warn me if anything happened and it wouldn't even ring. I can just put it on vibrate. You can even put me on speed dial!"
"I already have a cell phone, but it's at home."
I frowned. "I really wanted to go back in and get the safe tonight."
"Hello?" she said leaning over and knocking lightly on my forehead. "Is anyone home in there? Didn't you hear me say that you shouldn't be taking anything out of the apartment? It would be suicide. Why don't we just call the police and let them handle it?"
"And say what? Oh, by the way, I just happened to be snooping around Paul Flynn's pad today and you won't believe what I found in the closet!"
"It doesn't have to be like that. We could make an anonymous tip."
"And say what?"
"You know, just say that we're a concerned friend and we know that Paul kept a safe in his closet. We can say we think there might be evidence in it. Or we could just tell my dad and let him handle it."
"Then I'll never know what was in it."
"We can find out. My dad knows people."
I hated to admit it, but I was beginning to think that she might be right. "Only one problem," I said out loud.
"And what's that?"
I reached into my pocket and produced the key.
"Please tell me that's not the key to the closet."
"Afraid so."
"Killian! You didn't!"
"I did. I can go put it back though."
She shook her head and sighed. "Too risky. It doesn't really matter. If they don't know about the key, they won't know that it's missing. And they aren't too likely to go looking for a hidden compartment in the armoire thingy; especially since they won't have the help you had." She gave me a meaningful look, letting me know full well that subject wasn't yet closed. "They have ways of getting in that door without using a key."
"So what do we do? Anonymous call or tell your dad?"
"Well, this isn't his precinct, but my dad knows some of the guys here. They're old buddies. I think he would know the best way to handle it."
"Won't he be mad that I went in there?"
"He would be if I told him, which I don't plan on doing. I'll just tell him you discovered that the safe is there in the course of your investigation and that you suspect it might hold important evidence, which has the added bonus of being 100% true. You don't even have to lie."
"Except as far as not telling the whole truth is still considered lying by some people."
"Semantics," she said waving her hand dismissively.
"Ok, Clinton," I laughed. "So we're telling your dad?"
"I think so."
"Fine. Are you going to handle it on your own?"
"Actually, if we're done for the day, why don't you come back with me? He wanted to meet you anyway."
"I guess we're pretty much done. Until I can find out how to get in touch with Paul's family or the guy that owns the escort agency Paul worked for, I don't really have anywhere else to go."
"So we're off to see my daddy?"
"Um, sure." I was a little nervous. Chris' father sounded a little authoritarian and authority figures tended to make me a little uncomfortable. A psychiatrist would probably say that was leftover baggage from my father. I would say they are probably right.
"Don't worry," she said, reading me like a book. "Dad's a big teddy bear, really."
"Teddy bear. Right."
"Really!"
She looped her arm through mine and started dragging me down the stairs. We let ourselves out of the building and headed for the Metro station. From there it was short trip to the neighborhood where she and her dad lived with her 12 year-old brother. Her mom had passed away a few years ago from cancer, she told me on the ride.
They lived in a two story brownstone townhouse, like the ones I'd seen in Paul's old neighborhood, but not quite as nice. Still, it was well-kept and very welcoming.
Chris let us in. "Dad?" she yelled at the top of her lungs.
I took in the entry way while we waited for an answer. It was paneled with wood on the bottom part of the wall, old dark wood that held a patina that only comes from years of polishing. Above the paneling, the walls were painted white. A mirror hung over a small table by the door and an old-fashioned brass coat tree stood in the corner, bearing an assortment of outerwear, including a police uniform jacket. A carpet runner went down the hallway that ran next to the staircase leading up to the second floor. Doors opened up on the right and left here at the front of the hall and again farther down.
"In here," a man called back from the room to our left.
She stuck her head in. "I have Killian with me," she told him.
"Well, don't make him stand in the hall! Come on in and have a seat."
"I didn't want to interrupt if you were busy," she said, walking into the room and motioning me to follow.
The room we entered was a cozy den-like room. A ratty old sofa sat facing a big screen TV with an equally beat-up looking recliner off to one side. Against the front wall, under the window overlooking the street, a large wooden desk had been set up and that was where Chris' father sat now. He was a big man, tall and broad shouldered with the beginnings of a beer belly. His short dark hair was beginning to gray and his pale blue eyes seemed tired, but kind. He pushed away a stack of papers he'd been working on and smiled a warm greeting in my direction.
"I welcome the interruption. The problem with police work is there's too much damn paperwork. You must be Killian."
I shook his outstretched hand and smiled in return. "Yes sir. And trust me, Mr. Silver, there's plenty of paperwork in the private investigator business, too."
He laughed. "I don't doubt it. And none of this Mr. Silver business. Call me Louis. Have a seat."
I took a seat next to Chris on the sofa.
"So how'd the first day on the case go, Christina?"
"It went ok I guess. Mostly I stood around waiting."
"I told you most investigative work is hurry up and wait," he said with a smile.
I almost laughed at how much he sounded like Novak when he said that.
"Still, we did manage to find out something that I think you might be able to help us with."
He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Killian found out that Paul Flynn supposedly kept a safe in his bedroom closet and that may be what the killer was looking for when they ransacked the apartment."
"Really? Do the investigating officers know about this safe?"
"I don't know. That's where we were hoping you'd help out. You can tell whoever is in charge of the case that you've heard about this safe. If they already know about it, no harm done, but if not then maybe you've given them a big clue."
"And in this job we just love when an officer from another precinct tells us how to conduct a case on our own turf."
"Oh come on, Dad. You aren't a bunch of street gangs in a turf war. Isn't the point to solve the crimes?"
"I supposed I could pass this information along. And I suppose you want to know what's in the safe once they open it?"
Chris beamed. "That would be wonderful."
He chuckled. "Just like you're mother. Consider it done, but remember, I can't guarantee anything."
"We understand, sir...er, I mean Louis," I said.
He turned his attention back to me. "So how is old Shane Novak these days?"
"He's good."
"Is he keeping busy?"
"Busier than he'd like, according to him, but really I don't think he'd have it any other way."
"You're right about that!" he laughed. "He was one hell of a cop, I can tell you that. You've got a good teacher when it comes to learning the investigative process."
"You don't have to tell me."
"How about the home front? Has he moved on after his wife's death?"
"You're one to talk, Dad," Chris interjected.
"Hush," he said, but his eyes were warm. "That's my business. I'm prying into Shane's right now."
I laughed. "I don't think he'd mind. He's been dating someone for a little while now. Her name is Judy."
"Have you met her?"
"Oh, yes. I introduced them."
"She a good woman?"
"The best."
"Good for him. He deserves it."
"If the inquisition is over," Chris spoke up, "I'd better get Killian back to his car so he can head home."
"You're welcome to stay here tonight," Louis offered.
"Thank you, but I'd really like to get home," I replied.
"The offer stands anytime you need it. Shane says you're a fine young man, and that's all the recommendation I need."
I blushed at the compliment and nodded awkwardly. Chris saved me from further embarrassment by grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door.
"It was nice to meet you," I called out at the last minute as I remembered my manners.
"You too, Killian," he called back.
Just as we were heading out the door a skinny kid with dark hair and eyes just like Chris' came down the hall.
"Hey, Chris," he said, eying me over.
Chris stopped with a small sigh. "Hello, Kevin," she said. "I don't have time to talk right now. We have to go."
"You aren't even going to introduce me?"
"Kevin, Killian, Killian, Kevin," she said from behind clenched teeth.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Kevin asked in that annoying sing-song voice kids use. "What happened? Decide to switch teams?"
Chris merely shut the door firmly and started towards the Metro station.
"That was my twerpy little brother," she said in an aggrieved tone.
"Hey, I have one too," I told her. "I can't tell you how many times he's embarrassed me in front of people. And it's usually at the front door too."
She laughed. "He's not so bad, really. It was hard on him when Mom died."
"That would be hard on anyone."
She shrugged. "I was prepared. Or at least as prepared as you can be for something like that. She'd suffered a long time. At least she's not suffering now."
I nodded and we walked the rest of the way to station in silence. Once there I turned and prepared to say goodbye. To my surprise, Chris was inserting money into the fare card dispenser.
"What are you doing?" I asked. "I can get back fine on my own now; you don't have to go with me."
"I know I don't have to. I want to. I have a few questions for you."
"What kind of questions?" I asked warily, although I had a sinking feeling that I already knew what the answer to that.
She finished getting her fare card before she answered, turning to face me with a look of resolve. "Earlier today we both agreed that we couldn't be partners unless we were honest with each other. You avoided the issue when I asked, but now I want to know about this help you got finding the key and you're going to tell me the whole story if you want my help from now on."
I had plenty of time to think about my conversation with Chris on the long drive home alone. I was surprised when she asked for the whole story, but after thinking about it for a few minutes while she waited patiently, I decided that it was best if I told her everything. If she was going to be my partner in this investigation, and I really hoped she would be since it looked as if we would work well together, then she needed to know. What if I had another one of my `psychic friends' moments? She needed to be prepared. I decided that if she couldn't handle it, or chose not to believe it, then that was her choice, but at least she'd know what was going on.
So I told her. I started by telling her about Seth and his murder, and how he had started coming to see me. Then I told her about Amalie and everything that Judy had told me about the Gifts, how I had been reluctant to use them. I finished up by telling her everything that had happened in Paul's apartment. To my surprise-and relief-when I had finished the whole story she just nodded and said, "Ok."
"Ok?" I had responded, not sure what she meant.
"Yeah. It's no biggie."
"No biggie? Dead people talk to me, or at least they communicate with me, and all you have to say is no biggie? Don't you care?"
She gave me a withering look. "Why should I care? A good investigator uses whatever tools he has available. I can't even pretend to understand this...gift that you have. I do know I'm very glad I don't have it. But as long as you do, you should use it. I mean, hell, the results speak for themselves. You found that key and there's no way you would have ever found it otherwise, right?"
I nodded.
"Then what's the big deal. You have an ability most people don't have. I don't envy you for it, but it could definitely have its uses. My advice, unsolicited as it is, would be to get all the training for it that you can. Maybe you'll be able to control the, er, attacks like the one you had in the apartment, when you felt like you were being strangled. At any rate, the better you understand it all, the more helpful and the less scary it all will be."
"You know, that's pretty much what Judy and Seth have been saying all along, but hearing it from you seems to makes more sense."
She laughed. "Well, at least something makes sense."
The Metro pulled into New Carrolton station just about then and we said our goodbyes.
Our conversation had given me a lot to think about as I drove. It was the first time I'd laid everything out like that for someone else, and she was only the second person I'd ever told about Seth. I'd never even told Micah, and I wasn't at all sure I ever would. There was just something about Chris that I trusted instinctively. She had a down-to-earth quality about her, a certain practicality that I found comforting.
More importantly, however, I realized that I had made up my mind to do what Judy had been bugging me to do for months now, get training for my Gifts. It was a scary thought because it meant I had to face them to do that, and I still wasn't entirely sure I wanted to do that. As much as I didn't want to, though, I knew I had to. Things seemed to be escalating and I didn't like it. Had all my Gifts manifested themselves or did I have more surprises to come? I wasn't at all sure I could handle any more surprises.
I arrived home around eight to find an empty house. The way things had been going lately I somehow wasn't surprised. I debated whom I should call first, Novak or Judy. Novak could wait for morning, I decided; Judy I needed to talk to now.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered on the third ring.
"Are you busy right now?" I asked.
"Not really," she answered after a slight hesitation.
"I need to talk to you."
"Is it about...?" Her voice was filled with tension.
"Jake? No, this is personal."
"You want to talk now?"
"Yes, please, if it isn't too much trouble."
"No, I don't suppose it is. Do you want to come here or would you rather I came there?"
"I'd rather you came here, but it doesn't really matter."
"I'll be over shortly," she said and hung up. I had the feeling that I was interrupting something but she was too polite to say so.
True to her word, Judy was knocking on the front door in no time.
"Thank you for coming over," I said as I let her in.
"You're welcome. Now, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"
"Something happened today and I needed to talk to you about it."
"In DC?"
"Yeah," I said slowly. "How did you know I was in DC? Oh...your gift?"
She laughed. "Shane told me, you goof. Look, before we get started, can I make some tea?"
"Sure, I'll show where everything is," I said while blushing furiously.
We went into kitchen where Judy went to work heating up a kettle of water on the stove.
"I don't think we have any tea leaves," I said with my head in the cabinet. "Just Lipton tea bags."
Judy leaned against the counter with a bemused expression. "That's fine. I wasn't planning on doing any readings. I just want tea. Now tell me what happened today in DC."
I sat down at the table and took a deep breath. "I'm investigating a murder," I started out. "I don't know how much Novak told you..."
"Just that you were in DC on a case. No details."
"The boy who was murdered, well man really, he was strangled in his apartment. I was in there looking around and when I opened the door to the room where he was killed, something happened."
"Wait, do I need any background information?"
"Um, I don't think so. Except, the police don't seem to be too interested in solving this case. The man killed was an escort. You know what an escort is, right?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Sweetie, I wasn't born yesterday. I would hope I know what an escort is. My question is how did you stumble on this case? It's in DC, as far as I know you don't frequent escorts, and for that matter, how'd you get in his apartment?"
"Ok, so maybe you do need a little background," I said with a sigh. "The man killed, his name is Paul. He was a...friend of Micah's." I knew my pause told her more than I'd intended so I rushed on. "That's how I got involved and that's why I had a key to his apartment."
"Ok, got it. So you were in his apartment. You opened the door to the room where he was murdered and something happened. What happened?"
"I...I don't even know how to describe except...I think I experienced his murder."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean...I felt like I was being strangled. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't scream, it felt like someone was choking me."
She stared at me in silence, her eyes wide, until the kettle began to whistle causing us both to jump. She pulled the kettle off the burner, turned off the stove and poured the hot water into a mug she'd set out on the counter. I handed her the box of tea bags. She nodded her thanks, dropped one into the mug, and sat down at the table across from me.
"And that's not all," I said.
"There's more?"
I nodded. "The person I was with, his neighbor and friend wanted to leave, but I felt really drawn into the bedroom. She wouldn't go in with me so I went in by myself. The room had been cleaned by the police, but I saw some sort of double image of what it had looked like right after the murder. Or maybe that was just my imagination, but I don't really think so. And then...I don't know why I did it, but I asked...I asked Paul to show me what he wanted me to find."
Judy calmly pulled the tea bag out of the cup and squeezed it out. She added a spoonful of sugar and took a sip. "And did he?"
"Sort of. There was a noise from the closet. Or maybe it was just a coincidence."
"But you don't think so."
"No, as much as I'd like to, I don't. And then..."
"There's more?"
"And then the closet door was locked so I asked him to help me find the key. There was a noise from behind me in the armoire. That's where the key was."
"What was in the closet?"
"A safe."
"What was in the safe?"
"I don't know," I said in exasperation. "That's not the point."
"I know, I know. I was just caught up in the story. The point is you're exhibiting new aspects of you Gift and it's scaring you."
"You're damn right it's scaring me. I felt like I was being strangled."
"But no physical harm came to you, right?"
"Not unless you want to count being scared half to death."
"I don't. This is very interesting."
"Interesting? Is that all you can say? It's not interesting; it's terrifying. I don't want this Gift. It's not even a gift! A gift is a nice sweater or a good book. This is a curse."
"Gift or curse, you have it. Now what are you going to do about it?"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, although God knows Judy was calm enough for the both of us. "That's what I called you about. Chris made me realize today that I really do need to get training for this...whatever. Or at the very least I need to understand it better."
"It's about time you came to that conclusion. Good for Chris. Who is he?"
"She, not he. Novak lined her up to help me out in DC since I don't know the city. She said that I look at this as just another tool to use in my line of work and to do that I need to understand it better."
"I like this Chris. Although, you probably shouldn't think of this as a tool really. It's not exactly something you actually control. There's no on and off switch. But she is right in that if you understand it you'll be able to make better use of what it tells you."
"So will you help me?"
"I can't."
"What?" I asked, thinking that I must have misunderstood her.
"I can't."
Well, I hadn't misunderstood her. "Why not?" I asked, completely flabbergasted.
"This isn't my gift. I struggle to even sense Amalie, for you it's natural. My strongest Gifts lie in the future and sometimes in the present. Your Gifts are obviously tied to the past, that's why it's so easy for you to sense the dead."
"Lucky me."
She shrugged.
"So you can't help me at all?"
"I didn't say that," she said.
"Then you can?"
"Not me exactly, but I might know someone who can."
"Who?" I bit off, struggling to keep my patience.
"Well, now, don't get your hopes up. He's not here right now."
"Who?"
"It all depends on if I can talk him to coming here, and that won't be easy."
"Who is it?"
"And the soonest he could really come would probably be this summer. Unless I can convince him it's an emergency, which I suppose it could be."
"Judy, if you don't tell me who you're talking about right now there will be an emergency."
She laughed and pushed her cup of tea towards me. "I think you need this more than me. If you have chamomile that would be even better."
"Judy," I said warningly.
"Dashel."
I blinked. "Dash?"
"Yes."
"But...what...how?"
"His Gifts are closer to yours, I think."
"His Gifts? I didn't even know Dash had Gifts."
"Of course he does. He's my son isn't he?"
"Does Jake?"
Her smile faltered for a second. "I don't know," she admitted. "If he does, he's never mentioned it. But," she added briskly. "Dashel definitely does."
"But he's only a year older than me. How can he teach me?"
"He might be only a year older, but you're just recognizing your Gifts. He's been fully aware of his for years now. Plus, he's been studying with a Maori shaman since he's been in Australia."
I shook my head, trying to make everything fall into place. Could my life get any more bizarre? Don't answer that. "You said their closer to mine? Does that mean they're not exactly the same?"
"No, not exactly. His are more closely related to the spirit world. I'll ask him when I talk to him next if he thinks he'll be able to help you."
"Isn't what I'm dealing with the spirit world?"
"Not exactly, at least not in the sense that I meant. The spirits Dashel senses and communicated with are not now, nor have they ever been human. They are not deceased people. There's a whole spirit world out there that most people never know exist."
This was all a little much for me. "You mean like angels and stuff?" I asked feeling slightly shell-shocked.
"Among other things."
"I don't even want to know," I said emphatically.
She smiled and reached over to pat my hand. "It's really not all that bad, sweetie. You'll get used to it all eventually."
"I don't want to get used to it."
She shrugged. "What choice do you have?"
I sighed. "I don't guess I have any choice, do I? I tried to ignore it, it wouldn't go away."
She stood up and came around the table to give me a hug. "It'll be ok, Killian," she whispered as she gave me a tight hug. "I promise."
She straightened up and ruffled my hair playfully. "I only have one question."
"What's that?" I asked glumly.
"While you were chatting with Paul, why didn't you just ask who had killed him?"
My mouth flew open and for a second nothing would come out while several thoughts ran through my mind in rapid fire. Then everything tried to tumble out at one time. "We didn't...I didn't...he...could I have done that?"
Judy threw her head back and laughed heartily at my expense. When she'd pulled herself together, she patted my cheek. "I was just kidding, kiddo," she said wiping a tear from her eye. "Even if you had thought to ask him he probably couldn't have told you. It's never that easy."
"Why not?"
She shrugged again. "Who knows? It just doesn't work like that. Now, I'd better go. Will you be ok?" I nodded and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I started to rise to go with her to the door but she waved me back down. "I can let myself out. Stay put; drink that tea. Don't let it go to waste."
I nodded, only half-listening. My mind was already picking at her statement about how it didn't work like that. I thought about how Seth said he had rules about what he could and couldn't say and do. Was it the same with all ghosts? I'd gotten the impression that Seth was some sort of special category in the echelon of the dearly departed, but what did I know?
I absently picked up the mug of tea and took a sip.
"It's about time you came to your senses," someone said and I almost spit my mouthful of tea across the table.
"I hate it when you do that," I complained.
"I know," Seth said smugly as he leaned his chair back on two legs and propped his feet on the table. I started to protest, but then it occurred to me that it was just a little silly to care whether or not an insubstantial being had his feet on the table. "Just for the record," he continued, "you were never in any real danger today, at least not from ghosts. Snooping around a sealed crime scene is a danger of another type entirely."
I sat up excitedly. "Was what I felt Paul?"
"I don't know, I wasn't there," he said.
"Then how do you know I wasn't in any danger?"
"I was listening to what you told Judy..."
"You were eavesdropping!"
"No, I just hadn't made myself known yet."
"You were eavesdropping."
"The point is, from what you told Judy; if whoever or whatever was guiding you had wanted to hurt you they had plenty of opportunity."
"What do you mean whoever or whatever?" I asked uneasily.
"Just what I said. You heard Judy; there are other things in the spirit world besides what you call ghosts."
"Are any of them unfriendly?"
"You bet your sweet bootie."
"Great."
"Don't worry. If I had to make a guess as to what was guiding you in the apartment I would say it was Paul, or at least some essence of Paul."
"Huh?"
"It doesn't necessarily have to be Paul himself. Our personalities leave an imprint of themselves on any place where you spend a great deal of time. That impression isn't exactly sentient but if you have a strong enough Gift it can respond to direct questions."
"But what about feeling like I was being strangled? And that feeling that I was being drawn to the bedroom?"
"Both of those could just be aspects of your gift, sensitivity to strong emotional imprints. Death is a pretty strong imprint, at least a violent death is. I'm not surprised you picked up on that. And if you were going to be drawn anywhere it would the bedroom, where the strongest impression was."
"So you don't think that Paul's ghost is really in the apartment? It's just this impression?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. He could be. I'm just throwing out some other options."
"You're not a big help, you know that?"
"Hey, I can stop coming."
"No, don't."
"Then quit your whining."
I stuck my tongue out at him. He quickly returned the favor then vanished into thin air.
"You always have to have the last word, don't you?" I grumbled at the now empty room.
\*
I had classes the next morning, but when I arrived at the office that afternoon I found Novak sitting at my desk.
"I've got good news," he said before I was even all the way through the door.
"What has happened to manners in this society?" I lamented. "Doesn't anyone say hello anymore?"
"I thought you'd be more interested in my news."
"I am," I admitted. "Still, it would have been nice to get some sort of greeting. I have news for you too. Actually, I just want to fill you in on my day yesterday."
"And I want to hear it. Which do you want to do first?"
"You're news of course."
"I got you in to the AIDS Ball."
"Yes!" I shouted. "You're a miracle worker, Novak!"
"I don't know about that. I just happened to know someone who had a few extra tickets."
"A few?"
"Well, two to be exact."
"Are you going with me?"
"No, you're going with Micah."
That brought me up short. "What? Why?"
"I want someone along with you and I don't think I'm the best choice. You're bound to run into Jake while you're there and I would have no reason to be there. You and Micah, on the other hand, could conceivably be there; Micah in his roll as reporter and you as his date."
"But..." I started to argue. I wasn't sure I was ready to go on a date with Micah just yet, even a work date.
"No buts. Either you go with Micah or not at all." I was almost beginning to think Novak was playing a bit of the matchmaker here.
"When is it?" I asked sullenly.
"Next Friday, Halloween night. It's a masquerade ball."
"Great. So now I have to find a costume too."
"If you don't want to stand out like a sore thumb, yes. And you might want to let Micah know too, so he can come up with something. By the way, this isn't your average costume party; you can't go dressed as a mummy. It's a formal masquerade ball, tuxedos with masks are the normal attire."
"You're kidding," I choked out.
"I assure you, I'm not."
"But how are we supposed to know who anyone is if everyone is wearing masks?"
"People seldom leave the masks on the whole time at soirees like this. The whole purpose in going in the first place is to see and be seen."
I sighed. "Nothing is ever simple, is it?"
"What would be the fun in that? Now tell me about your day yesterday. How did the first day of your investigation go?"
I gave him a brief rundown, emitting the more supernatural elements of the adventure. He was quiet for a minute when I had finished, then said, "That was a good report; now give me your impressions so far. What you actually feel rather than a blow-by-blow of what happened."
"Well," I began slowly. "I don't like Razi. I instinctively don't trust him, but somehow I don't really think he's the killer."
"But you know by now not to go on instinct alone. You didn't think Caleb Cohen was a killer either."
"I know. I think a lot of my dislike for him might be based on the situation with Tad. I don't feel at all comfortable with that."
"Nor do I, but it's a side issue right now. You should just turn it over to the police, but whatever you decide to do, don't let it distract you from your real case. Once the case is over, if nothing has changed, you can revisit the situation if you want. Anything else?"
"Everyone I've talked to mentions his secretive behavior the last few weeks or months. I think that might be connected somehow."
"Good thinking. What's your next step?"
"I think I need to talk to his family and the guy who owns the agency."
He smiled. "You're doing great, Kid. That's exactly what I would have suggested. The only thing I would add is that I think the agency needs to be your higher priority. Find this Neal person and talk to him. To do that, I think you need to talk to Micah."
There he went pushing me towards Micah again. Or was I just being overly sensitive? I sighed, but I knew he was right.
"I'll call him now," I said unenthusiastically. "As soon as you let me have my desk back anyway."
Novak stood up and moved towards his office, then stopped in the door as I took the seat he had just vacated. "I know this is none of my business, but whatever is going on with you and Micah, you should work it out before it's too late."
I looked up sharply. "What do you mean, before it's too late?"
"Life is unpredictable, Kiddo. You never know what tomorrow might hold. Let go of the unimportant things, hang on to the things that matter." And with that, he pulled into his office and shut the door with a quiet click.
I sat for a minute, thinking about what he had said, trying to separate the important from the unimportant. It's often hard to tell the difference when you are in the thick of it, but I knew one thing for certain, even if my heart wasn't quite ready to admit it. I took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Micah's cell phone number.
I sat alone at Micah's favorite diner, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. I'd managed to snag a corner booth so at least we'd have some measure of privacy when we had the conversation I'd been rehearsing over and over in my head. I was early; we'd agreed to meet here at five, but I'd been such a nervous wreck that I'd left work well before the appointed time.
I waited, playing out what I planned to say, while mutilating sugar packet after sugar packet. Novak's advice had set me off on a path of self-examination that had ended up at some very clear decisions on my part, but I was worried about how Micah would react. I don't know why I'd chosen the diner for our meeting since we didn't have the best memories of this place. The last time we'd been here Micah had broken up with me.
I destroyed the last sugar packet and was about to move on to the Sweet-n-Low when Micah slid into the seat across from me.
"Hey," he said easily. He was wearing a dark blue collared pullover with jeans. He looked a bit rumpled, his hair was mussed up a little, but he somehow looked better than ever.
"Hi," I answered softly.
"How did things go yesterday?" he asked.
"Ok," I said, "but I need to talk to you about something else first, if that's ok."
Something flickered through his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for me to read. I fought a sigh as I wondered what the point in having all these Gifts was if it didn't help me out when I really needed to know what was going on right across the table from me. Before I could say a word, a waitress appeared at the table. I tried not to grit my teeth. We placed orders although I wasn't at all sure I'd be able to eat, and she left us alone.
"Novak said something this morning that really got me thinking about us," I began. "He told me to let go of the unimportant things and hold on to the things that matter." I took a deep breath. "I realized as I thought about that, that you matter to me and I don't want to lose you."
Micah opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him. "Please, just let me finish," I said quickly. "I've been rehearsing this all afternoon and if I don't say everything now I might never say it." He nodded and I continued. "I know I reacted very badly when I found out about your past. I could make a lot of excuses-it caught me by surprise, I found out in a rotten way-but the truth is I overreacted. Who am I to judge your past? I have no right to do that. Even if it isn't what I would have chosen, it's just not my place. I've never even been in the same situation so I don't know what I would have done. The important thing is that I love you. I love who you are, and who you are is a direct result of your past, so how can I have a problem with it? I've loved being with you these last few months, and that morning in DC when we made love, I've never been so happy or felt so right. I don't want to lose you. I...I guess what I'm saying is that I hope you can forgive me for how I've acted and we can start over. I would understand if..."
"Can I talk yet?" Micah interrupted, catching me by surprise.
I nodded mutely.
"There's nothing to forgive," he said gently. "The way you found out was crappy. I should have told you sooner. You needed time to process everything and you got it. Now you're ready to move on and that's just what we'll do, move on...together. There's no need to start over. So we both come with baggage, doesn't everyone these days? The important thing is that we love each other and we want to be together."
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and felt a grin slowly spread across my face. An answering grin lit up Micah's face. "I was afraid you were going to tell me to go jump in a lake," he said.
"Not a chance, Mr. Gerber," I said. "You're stuck with me."
"Suits me just fine, Mr. Kendall. So now that we've got that settled, what happened yesterday?"
I quickly took him through my conversations with Tad, Razi, and Sabrina, and my search of Paul's apartment. "So now what we need to know is how to get in touch with his family and with Neal," I finished up. "Can you help me?"
"I can maybe help you get in touch with Neal," he said thoughtfully, "but I have no idea how to find his family. I never met them and he rarely talked about them. The safe confuses me. He never had one when I lived with him. There wasn't a lock on the closet door either."
"He had plenty of time to buy one after you left," I pointed out. "In fact, it looked to me as if he'd added the lock recently. If I had to make a guess I'd say he added it within the last couple months, probably whenever he started becoming secretive with Razi and Sabrina."
"I wish we knew what was in it."
"We'll know soon enough. Chris' dad is going to get the police to take it and open it and then he'll find out what's in it."
"How convenient."
"Tell me about it. It makes everything so much easier."
"Ok, so now you need to know how to find Neal."
"Right."
The waitress brought us our sandwiches at that moment and we took a minute to take a bite. "I don't think I have his number any more," Micah said after he swallowed. "I didn't save much of the stuff from my life then, I wanted to make a fresh start here."
I must have looked disappointed because he smiled and went on, "I didn't say I couldn't get it though."
"How?"
"Well, it might take another trip to Michelangelo's."
My mouth was full, but I raised an eyebrow in query.
"I didn't stay in touch with anyone who worked for Neal, but if they're still in the DC area the best place to run into them would be Michelangelo's."
"Razi said most guys don't stay with an agency for very long, that Paul was an exception to the rule."
"He was right about that at least, but even if they don't work for Neal anymore, they might know how to get in touch with him. That's the best I can come up with right now. I never knew his last name and I never even met him in person."
"How soon can we go?"
"Well, I can't go right away, I have to get my story finished pronto, or my editor is going to start giving birth to cattle. There's always a big crowd at the club on Halloween weekend, we could go that night."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I'd almost forgotten. I have tickets to the AIDS Benefit Ball for Halloween night."
"You what?"
"I have tickets for the Ball."
"How in God's name did you get them? Those things are almost impossible to get a hold of."
"Novak got them for me. It's for another case I'm working on."
"Another case?"
I realized that I'd never told him I was investigating Jake for Judy. I explained to him about Judy's request and how I'd found his ticket to the ball in his room. "So, you wanna go to the ball with me? You can be my Prince Charming."
"Does that make you Cinderella?" I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed. "Of course I'll go. You think I'd pass up the chance to see you in a ball gown?"
"You're too funny. Actually, we do have to dress up though. Novak said tuxedos and a mask."
"Let me take care of it. I might be able to get the paper to swing for the tux rentals. They ought to be thrilled to death that one of their reporters is actually attending this thing."
"They don't have anyone attending?" I asked in surprise.
"Not that I know of, which gives me another leg up on old Walters," he said with a smirk.
Walters was one of the older reporters at the paper Micah worked for. He'd been with the paper forever and he resented the younger reporters like Micah. They'd been at each other's throats for some time now and Micah relished every chance he got to up-stage the older man.
"So when can we go to the club?"
"Um, how about this weekend?"
I thought a moment, but couldn't think of anything that would interfere with that plan. "Sounds good to me," I told him. "The sooner I can talk to Neal the better. Can you tell me anything about the agency itself?"
"Like what?"
"Well, like how does it work? And how long have they been around? Isn't this kind of thing illegal?"
"Technically it is illegal, but they operate pretty much underground. I don't know how Neil works everything, but imagine there's some sort of cover business that he uses to launder the money. The way it worked for me is I was approached by someone who worked for the agency. They call it recruitment. He thought I might be interested so he took a risk and mentioned it. Like I said, I never met Neil personally. I don't know if anyone else has or not. I would only talk to him on the phone. When he had a job for me, I would usually get a call or a page from Neil. I mailed him the payment minus my share if it was cash, and he mailed me my share if it was charged."
"You took credit cards?" I asked incredulously. For some reason that simply amazed me.
"Yeah. Anyway, the agency has been around for about five years I guess, but it has a good reputation as a safe and reliable service."
"It's like another world," I said.
"It is in a way."
"How many guys work for the agency?"
"When I worked there he had a bout eight guys most of the time. Sometimes a couple more but never less."
"What was Neal like?"
"He seemed nice enough on the phone. He never got mad if you couldn't make an appointment as long as you had a valid excuse. He was a little controlling, maybe. He wanted to be able to contact you at all times. You were never supposed to turn your pager off and you had to call him back within half an hour of his page."
"Or what?"
"I don't think he ever did anything physical. The first time you'd get yelled at. The second time he'd dock your pay. If it happened too often, he'd stop using you altogether."
"Couldn't they just go out on their own?"
"Yeah, and like Razi said, most guys do eventually anyway if they intend to stay in the business."
"How did Neal get into the business in the first place? I can't imagine it's the kind of thing you grow up wanting to do. What do you want to be when you grow up, little boy? I want to be a pimp!"
Micah laughed. "He's not exactly a pimp. Well, I guess he is in a way, but sex isn't necessarily the only thing people want from an escort. But to answer your question, if what I was told is true, Neil retired from a very successful dot.com business just before everything went bust. He made out like a champ while his former colleagues took the dive with the rest of the Internet. I guess he got bored with retirement and voila, he decided to open an agency."
"Just like that?"
"I think he used an agency and thought he could do a better job running one, or something like that. Maybe he worked for one when he was younger."
"How old is he?"
"I don't really know. I just meant younger in general."
We ate in silence while I thought about all that. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked after a few minutes.
He made a face. "I have to work. The story."
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Wish I could. Besides, I figured you'd be going to the gay/straight thing on campus."
"Another thing I'd forgotten all about," I said. "I seem to be forgetting everything lately. I'd better start writing things down."
"Get one of those electronic organizers."
"I'm not that busy. I think I will go to Haven though, now that you mention it. I enjoyed it last week. Was it just last week? So much has happened since then."
"I'm glad you're going. I think it's good for you to have more friends."
I gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"
"Just that I think you tend to get a little caught up in your work sometimes and maybe you need to spend more time just hanging out."
"You really think I get too caught up in my job?"
"You are only 18, Killian. You should be partying and having fun, not spending all your time following cheating husbands."
"I have fun!" I protested. "We go dancing and..." I couldn't think of anything else that I did just for fun. "I have fun," I finished lamely. "I'm really not a party person."
Micah tried not to smile but his twitching lips gave him away. "Well, all I'm saying is it never hurts to have more friends."
I shrugged. "They seemed nice."
"Then why are you arguing with me?"
"I wasn't."
He grinned.
"Ok, maybe I was a little. I think I'm just getting a little tired of everyone always telling me what to do with my life, even when they're right."
"Who else is telling you what to do?"
"Just about every living person I know, plus a few who aren't."
"Huh?"
"Long story."
Micah glanced at his watch. "I have another half hour before I really need to go. What's going on?"
I tried to decide where to start. Micah knew about Amalie, he'd been present for most of what happened with her that last time, so he knew I had what Judy called Gifts. We'd even talked about me being sensitive to supernatural things. Still, we'd never gone into much detail and I wasn't sure how he'd take it all.
I decided that it was better to just get it all out in the open now. I'd learned my lesson about keeping secrets in a relationship. I quickly filled him in on everything that had been happening and my decision to seek some sort of training, if there was such a thing.
Micah sat quietly for a minute after I had finished. My stomach knotted up as I waited for him to say something.
"I think it's good that you're getting some sort of training," he said at last. "You need to at least understand what's going on so you aren't so freaked out."
"You mean you aren't freaked out?"
"Not really. I mean I was there for Amalie, remember?"
"Yeah, but..."
"If seeing dead people didn't freak me out, why would this? Give me a little credit."
I sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that I've had such a hard time dealing with all this, I just figure everyone else will too."
"Not everyone has as hard a time accepting new things as you do, Kill."
"You think I have a hard time accepting new things?" I was a little offended. His only answer was a raised eyebrow. "Do I?" I asked again, almost to myself.
He smiled and patted my hand. The waitress brought the check over and Micah grabbed it before I could.
"This'll be on me," he said as he pulled out his wallet. He left the money with the check and stood up. "I have to get back to work now, but I'll call you tonight, ok?"
I nodded and smiled up at him. I was glad things were back to normal between us, or at least as normal as anything ever got with me. He smiled back and then suddenly leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I felt my eyes fly open wide and I looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching us. It was the first time he'd ever kissed me in a public place. A waitress at the counter was smiling in our direction. When her eye caught mine, she winked and turned away. I felt a blush creep up my face.
I looked back to Micah to find him grinning down at me. "You going to survive that?" he asked playfully.
I nodded and giggled a little.
"Good. Get used to it. I'm tired of sneaking around like we're doing something dirty." With that, he turned and walked briskly out of the diner.
I giggled again, feeling like a school girl on her first date. I pulled myself together and started to follow him out.
"You've got a cute one there, Hun," the waitress said with another wink as I passed her. "Better hang on to him."
I blushed all the way to my car.
\*
The Haven meeting was uneventful that night. The meeting went pretty much like the first one I had attended and the same bunch stayed after again. We chatted for a while and then the group broke up and everyone went their separate ways. Noah didn't ignore me, but he didn't go out of his way to talk to me either. I wasn't sure of I was relieved about that or disappointed. Even though I had patched things up with Micah, there was no denying that I was still attracted to Noah.
I came home once again to an empty house. I was beginning to think everyone else had moved out and forgotten to tell me. It had been a couple days since I'd even seen Adam or Steve. Micah called me later that night as he'd promised and we talked about nothing in general. It was a nice change of pace. I was still on the phone with him when I heard someone knocking at the front door. I said goodbye to Micah and hurried down the stairs. I peeked through the side window at was surprised to see Judy standing in the yellow glow cast by the bug light on the porch.
I opened the door. "Judy, what are you doing here?"
"I came to get you."
My heart leaped into my throat. "What's wrong?" I demanded.
"Don't panic. Nothing is seriously wrong, at least nothing that hasn't been going on for some time now. Steve called me a little while ago; Amalie is on the prowl again. This time apparently she woke up a couple who was staying there. Their screaming brought the whole place running and all but one couple checked out."
"Oh, my God. Wait, why are you here for me?" I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly why she was here for me.
"It's time to start your training," she said.
"What? Now?" I felt my body tense up.
"No time like the present."
"But I don't know anything yet."
"Haven't you ever heard of learning by doing? Besides, what do you need to know how to do? You've seen Amalie before, you've even talked to her."
"She didn't answer back."
"Not verbally, but she did take us to the basement where we found her baby."
"I'm not ready for this."
"Yes, you are. And more importantly, Steve needs you. So does Adam. She's been getting worse and worse, they've hardly slept the last two nights."
I sighed and my body slowly released some of the tension as I gave in. "What will I have to do?"
"Talk to her again. Try to find out what's wrong. We have to get her to stop."
"Why can't you just have an exorcism?"
"Steve doesn't want to; he wants to lay her to rest somehow."
"What if we can't?"
"Then we'll deal with it some other way. Are you coming or are you going to stand there and argue all night?"
"I'm coming, but I don't like this at all."
"I'm not asking you to like it."
We drove to the bed and breakfast in almost complete silence. As Judy pulled into the drive, her headlights washed across the beautifully painted sign that Adam had surprised Steve with just before the grand opening. It was hand-carved and painted; a large oval about three feet across with a picture of the house on one side with the creek running across the bottom and the name Amalie's House above that. It occurred to me how appropriate that name was. Even though she'd been dead for almost a century and a half, it was still without a doubt her house.
Judy parked in front of the front door since guests weren't exactly an issue at this point. Steve and Adam looked surprised when I reluctantly followed Judy through the front door.
"Killian!" Steve exclaimed.
"I'm glad you came," Adam said with a tired smile.
They both looked much older than they had ever looked before. They were haggard and worn with dark circles under their eyes. Suddenly I realized how selfish I was being by not wanting to come. After all that Adam had done for me, how could I not do this for him? I felt deeply ashamed and almost burst into tears.
"What do you want me to do?" I said, turning to Judy. I read approval in her eyes.
"We're going to try and contact her," she said.
"And do what?" Adam asked.
"I want Killian to ask her why she is here now that the baby is gone. I'm hoping she'll communicate in some way."
"And if she doesn't?" Steve asked.
"Are you still opposed to an exorcism?"
He sighed. "Not as opposed as I was before tonight, but if we can find some other way..."
"I'll try," I said, sounding more confident than I felt. "How are we going to do this? In the cupola like before?"
"It's as good a place as any," Judy responded.
"Can we come?" someone asked from the stairs, causing us all to jump and turn towards the voice. A man and a woman stood on the stairs. They looked to be in their early to mid-thirties, fit and lean. They looked enough alike that they could have been siblings, but the way she had her hand resting on his shoulder seemed more intimate than a sister and brother. They both had short brown hair and dark eyes, and I thought they were roughly the same height, although it was a little hard to tell since she was standing on a higher step than he was.
"I'd forgotten you were still here," Adam said in a surprised voice.
"We're Alan and Carla Moss," he said as they walked down the rest of the stairs to join our little group in the foyer. "I guess you could call us ghost hunters. A friend of ours had heard that the house was haunted and we came as soon as we could both get off work. We were really excited when we heard about the sighting tonight, but disappointed it wasn't us that the entity appeared to."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Were these people for real? I looked around at everyone else and judging by Adam and Steve's expressions, they at least must have been having the same thoughts.
"Well, I guess that explains why you didn't join the exodus when the others left," Adam said dryly.
"I appreciate your interest," Judy said, "but I don't think it would be a good idea for you to come with us."
"Why not?" the man asked, disappointment written clearly on his face.
"First off, you might not be sensitives; have you ever seen a ghost?"
The couple looked at each other. "Well, no," the woman admitted after a moment.
"Amalie is unpredictable. She might not want to perform for an audience and we really need to make contact with her right away."
"Why the rush," the man said with a frown. "You're not going to get rid of her are you?"
"She's not exactly good for business," Adam drawled.
"Hey, we're here," the wife said.
"But no one else is."
"I'm sorry, but it would be best if you just returned to your room. Maybe she'll feel like dropping by for a visit later tonight."
The couple didn't look happy, but they turned and went back upstairs.
"Weirdoes," Adam muttered under his breath.
"Are you ready?" Judy asked me.
"As I'll ever be," I responded.
"Then let's go."
"You're doing this for Adam and Steve. You're doing this for Adam and Steve. You're doing this..." I chanted to myself as I trailed along behind her as she started up the stairs. I was not looking forward to a reunion with Amalie.
It had been a few months since I'd walked up the narrow steps to the cupola on the roof of the bed and breakfast. The house was old by American standards, pre-civil war in fact. It had been built by a wealthy sea captain who married late in life. Its style was hard to categorize since the architect seemed to have blended several together to form a rather unique result. It was three stories, with a flat roof, lots of intricate trim, and a wrap around porch. Perched in the middle of the roof was a small room that the Captain had built so that his young bride, Amalie Marnien, could watch for his return. The young woman was left alone in the house for months at a time while he was out to sea. Now she was apparently haunting this same house.
Our resident ghost might have gone unnamed had I not found a portrait of her stored in one of the rooms when Steve bought the house. I'd let Judy talk me into talking to Amalie once before, during the renovations. That time she had led us to the basement. Judy and I had both had strange dreams while sleeping in the house. They had involved a baby that we thought was Amalie's and her burying the baby in the basement. The dirt floor of the basement had been excavated and sure enough, a tiny skeleton had been found with a silver brooch that Amalie had worn in her portrait. We had moved the baby out to the small private cemetery on the ground, buried it next to its mother, but for whatever reason, Amalie had not been laid to rest.
I climbed the stairs feeling the same sense of loss and despair that I had felt every other time. We believed that the baby may have died when Amalie fell down these very stairs. I followed Judy up the stairs, trying not to think about the way every hair on my body was standing on edge. When I reached the top step, a small scuffing sound came from behind me. I spun around but didn't see anything, or anyone.
"Killian?" Judy asked from behind me.
I started to turn towards her, but just then, a strange feeling washed over me, a feeling more defined than the vague sense of horror I had felt before on the staircase. My vision flickered and the already ill-lit room seemed to dim even more. The stairs darkened until you could no longer see the bottom step. The steps directly in front of me were lit by a flickering light reminiscent of candle light. My feet were rooted in place, yet at the same time, I felt a terrible, almost overpowering, fear. I wanted to run away, I wanted to throw myself headlong down the stairs, but I couldn't. I felt as if I had been frozen in time. I somehow knew without being told, that I was Amalie, and just as assuredly, I knew I clutched a small baby to my chest. There was someone or something behind me, someone I was afraid of, someone I was trying to escape. Suddenly, I was shoved violently from behind. For a few seconds, I felt as if I was suspended in mid-air, but then I was falling, falling into the inky blackness of the stairwell.
\*
"Should I call an ambulance?" I heard someone ask in a tense, strained voice. It sounded like Adam.
"I don't know. Wait, I think he's coming to," another voice, this one Judy, answered.
I opened my eyes to find myself in the hall floor at the bottom of the stairs. Steve, Judy, Adam, and that strange ghost-hunting couple were standing around me in a football huddle. Everyone looked a little fuzzy.
"Killian, are you ok?" Adam asked anxiously.
"I was pushed," I said.
"What?" Steve, Judy, and Adam demanded in chorus. Steve and Adam turned disbelieving looks on Judy. Judy looked stunned and a little afraid. I'd never seen that expression on her face before, and I found it more than a little disconcerting.
"There was no one up there except me and Killian," she said quickly.
"The ghost pushed him?" Carla of the ghost-hunters asked in a slightly excited voice.
"No," I said as things began to come into focus and my thoughts cleared along with my vision. "Amalie was pushed. Not me. I think I fell."
Everyone looked down at me as if I had lost my mind. Maybe I had, but the excitement of the scenario that was forming in my head overcame any thoughts of insanity. I struggled to sit up but Steve quickly pushed me back down.
"Lay still, Killian. You might have a concussion."
"I'm fine," I insisted. I pushed him aside and sat up. My head spun for a moment, but quickly settled into its proper place. "Don't you see? Amalie didn't fall with the baby, she was pushed."
"Baby?" The couple asked in union. Adam and Steve seemed to remember they were there and turned twin glares in their direction. They took the hint and quickly excused themselves, leaving us alone.
"Are you sure she was pushed?" Judy asked as soon as they were gone.
"Yes. It was like..." I broke off and glanced at Steve and Adam, who were both looking confused. "It was like what happened with Paul in DC," I finished and I saw realization light up Judy's eyes.
"You experienced it yourself?" she asked. I was surprised by the intensity in her voice.
I threw a meaningful glance in the direction of Adam and Steve but it was too late.
"What do you mean?" Adam demanded.
"Like an out of body experience?" Steve asked, excitement coloring his words.
I paused and then sighed. "It seems as if one of my other so-called Gifts is experiencing the...emotions and well, experiences of another person as if it were actually happening to me."
"I don't understand," Adam said.
"It has to be in the past," Judy began explaining. "From what I can tell, Killian's strongest Gifts all pertain to the past. Somehow, he can feel and experience things that have happened to other people in the past. I would say the things he experiences will almost always be connected to either death or some sort of very strong emotion. They would leave the strongest imprints for him to pick up on."
"So you're saying he felt Amalie being pushed down the stairs with her baby?"
"No, I felt like I was Amalie being pushed down the stairs. I knew I was Amalie. I can't tell you how I knew, but I knew. And I knew I was holding the baby, even though I couldn't see it. It was like I was actually there, inside her body or something. I couldn't move, I was frozen, but I knew there was someone else in the cupola with me; someone I was afraid of. And then it felt like someone shoved me from behind and I was falling. The next thing I knew I was down here with all of you standing over me."
Adam turned his attention to Judy. "You never said these gifts could be dangerous," he said accusingly.
"As far I as I know, they aren't. If he had been on solid ground he probably would have never fallen."
"Well he wasn't on solid ground; he was standing at the top of a very steep staircase. He could have been killed. And what do you mean, as far as you know? Are you saying that you don't really know how dangerous this stuff is? And you've been encouraging Killian to pursue it?"
"Adam, calm down," Steve said, laying his hand on Adam's arm. Adam shook it off angrily.
Judy was all business again. "Nobody knows everything about the Gifts, and anyone who tells you otherwise is either a liar or a fool, and probably both. Every person's experience is unique to them. No one can say that this or that will definitely happen, or that this is the way this works for sure. The Gifts come in varying strengths and in different combinations; not to mention God only knows how many variations. I'm not an expert and I've never pretended to be."
"She's right, Adam," I said as I stood up shakily. I felt like those newborn giraffes you see on TV, all wobbly and unsteady, not quite sure where to put their feet. Steve moved quickly to support me and I leaned against him gratefully. "She never promised me anything and it's not like she gave me the Gifts. I already had them. All she's ever done is try to help me understand them and encourage me to understand them better. If I have them and didn't understand them, that would be truly dangerous. I'm sure many people have driven themselves insane because they didn't understand what their Gifts were. I've wondered more than once if I was losing my mind, and I knew what was happening-for the most part."
Adam shook his head as the rush of adrenaline slowly drained away. "It's just that I've never thought about all this as really being dangerous," he said tiredly.
"We still don't know if it is," Judy insisted. "It happened to be that particular time because of where Killian was standing when it happened. We don't know that his...experience was the direct cause of his fall."
"I think I was just disoriented and lost my balance," I said, but I don't think I was too convincing since I wasn't all that sure that was what had happened. It was preferable to think that than to think that something pushed me, however.
Apparently Judy was satisfied with that explanation, even if Adam wasn't, because she began to question me about the experience. "What exactly did you see?" she asked me.
"I didn't exactly see much of anything, really. I thought I heard a noise behind me on the stairs, so I turned around, but there was nothing there. And then, just as I was about to turn around, it was like time stopped or something. I couldn't move or talk, the stairs got darker and darker until the only light came from behind me and looked like it came from a candle. Somehow, I just knew that I was Amalie and that I was holding my baby. And somehow, I also knew that I was in danger and there was someone behind me that I was trying to get away from, but I don't know who it was."
"You didn't know, or Amalie didn't know?" Judy interrupted.
I shrugged. "I don't know. I think I was thinking separately from Amalie. The thoughts were my own, but I just knew certain things, like in a dream. You know how you don't have to have things explained, you just know somehow?" Everyone nodded. "All I know is that I wanted to get away so bad, but I couldn't move. And then all of a sudden I was shoved really roughly and that seemed to break the spell, because the next thing I knew I was falling."
"It sounds like you were pushed to me," Adam said.
"I might have just been dizzy. Actually, I was dizzy after the last time it happened too."
"The last time?" Adam yelped. "It's happened before?"
"Once," I said sheepishly.
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't really have a chance. I haven't seen you since it happened."
Adam flushed and looked a little ashamed. A phone rang somewhere downstairs and Steve reluctantly left to answer it. Judy excused herself as well, giving us a little time alone.
"I wasn't saying that to make you feel bad," I said softly. "I know you've been busy here with Steve."
"It doesn't change the fact that I haven't been home in three days," Adam said wearily. He sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. "I haven't seen Kane since Tuesday and here it is Thursday. I just assumed that since I hadn't heard anything from you boys that everything was fine."
"Everything is fine," I assured him. I moved to sit next to him on the step. "We're making out ok. It won't be like this forever."
"Is everything really fine? You're having these...these experiences. What happened with the other one?"
"It had to do with a case I'm working," I said simply. The less Adam knew about my cases the less he worried.
He shook his head. "Honestly, how is Kane holding up through all this?"
"He'll be ok. He was upset the other night; he said he felt like the family was falling apart. We agreed to try and spend more time together and that seemed to cheer him up. He's a good kid; don't worry about him too much."
"I'm a dad. That's what I do; I worry. I worry about you too."
"I'm going to get training for these Gifts. Once I understand them..."
"The Gifts are only part of the reason I worry about you."
"What else is there to worry about?"
"I worry that you're working too hard. You juggle school, a job that is hazardous by nature, and a serious relationship. I worry that you're going to get hurt. I worry that you don't get out enough. I worry that you're not happy..."
"Ok, ok. I get the picture. You worry. I'm a big boy now, Adam. I can take care of myself."
"I know you think that," he said with a sigh, "and that worries me."
"Micah is good to me," I said gently. "He would never hurt me."
"Not on purpose maybe..."
"Listen to me. Please. We just came through a rough patch that could have been the end of us, but instead I think we've come through it stronger. I love Micah and he loves me. We both come with baggage and we realize that now.
"As for school, I'm doing fine. As far as I know anyway. I don't really like it, but I think I'm doing ok. My job is my job. I don't think it's really any more hazardous than any other job. Most of the time it's pretty boring really. It could be worse; I could have been a cop. Or it could have been much worse; I could have been..." I dropped my voice to my best Vincent Prince imitation, "...a lawyer."
That at least brought a smile to his face. "You said that Kane is a good kid, but actually I have two good-no, great kids."
I leaned in and hugged him. "And we have a great dad."
He pulled me tight into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around me. It had been a long time since he'd held me like this. "I'm beginning to think that this whole thing was a bad idea," he said with a sigh.
"What whole thing?" I asked as I pulled away gently.
"This..." he said with an expansive gesture that took in his surroundings. "The bed and breakfast."
"But it was Steve's dream," I said.
"Maybe some dreams aren't meant to be realized."
"Do you really believe that?" I asked.
"I don't know anymore. I do know that it's not worth losing my family over."
"You've not lost anyone."
"Yet. It's causing a lot of strain on my relationship with Steve too."
I looked at him closely. "How much strain? You're not going to break up are you?"
"It's not that bad yet, but it seems like all we do is fight these days. He so stressed out that I'm beginning to worry that he's going to have a breakdown."
"If Amalie was gone that would relieve a lot of the stress, right?"
"It would help. It wouldn't be a magical cure, but it would go a long way."
"Then I just have to get her to go away."
"How? We don't even know why she's still here. We found the baby and moved it out next to her grave and she's still here. And now it looks like someone pushed her down the stairs. What does she want? Does she want justice from the person who killed her baby?"
"I don't know what she wants," I said. "But I intend to find out."
"Just don't do anything stupid."
"I promise."
"I'm going to go see who was on the phone and if it wasn't Kane I think I'll drive home and see him. With only the Munster's staying here, Steve doesn't really need me. You want to ride back with me?"
"Um, actually, I think I'll stay here and see if I can find out anything else."
I could tell he didn't like that idea. He seemed to struggle inwardly for a few moments, then he stood up and dropped a hand to my shoulder. "Be careful, son."
I smiled up at him. "I will, Dad." I saw a tear form in his eye before he turned and walked quickly away. I rarely called Adam dad, and whenever I did, he had a pretty emotional reaction.
I slowly pulled myself to my feet using the doorframe as leverage. I had several very sore spots that I had a feeling would be bruises if I were to check. I decided to take stock of my injuries later. I turned to face the stairs to the cupola and tried to summon the courage to go up there alone. Taking a deep breath, I started up, leaving the light off because it somehow seemed appropriate. I took one step at a time, waiting for the sense of horror to hit me, but it never did. The feeling of old pain and death still lingered, but the overwhelming horror was gone. Now that I knew what had happened there, had it faded?
I reached the top of the stairs without incident and looked around the small room. It was lined with windows on every side. During the day, it looked out on a spectacular view of the surrounding woodlands and the creek that wound its way along the side of the property. All I could see now was the thick blackness that lay over the house like a blanket. I walked around the small room, which didn't take long since you could only take a few steps in any direction before bumping into the windows.
"What do you want, Amalie?" I whispered.
I heard a creak from the hall downstairs and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. The soft brush of a footfall on the stairs followed and I found myself backing away from the opening that led down. Now that I was faced with actually confronting Amalie, I wasn't at all sure I wanted to. A figure began to come into view, looking eerily as if they were rising directly from the floor. My breath caught in my throat and I fought the urge to scream. Why had I done this alone?
"Killian?" the figure asked in Judy's voice.
"Judy?" I asked as I released my pent up fear in a whoosh of relief.
"What are you doing up here in the dark? I didn't know if you were up here or not."
"You scared the hell out of me," I exclaimed, panting slightly.
"Sorry," she chuckled. "Adam said you were still up here and I thought I'd come check on you."
"Did you notice anything as you were coming up the stairs?" I asked as I gathered my scattered wits.
"I wasn't paying...wait."
"No horrible feeling?"
"It was never as strong for me as it was for you so I didn't really notice, but you're right. What do you think it means?"
"Maybe we're done with this room now that we know what happened here."
"Where do we go now?"
"If you don't know, I'm sure I don't."
I looked over to the stairs and remembered the feeling of fear that I had felt just before falling. "Who do you think pushed her?" I asked.
"I've been thinking about that. Do we have any proof that the story that real estate agent told Steve was true?"
"What kind of proof? And what part do you think might not be true."
"I don't know exactly, it's just a feeling I have. Maybe some research is in order."
"Research?"
"I'd like to know if all the dates of death add up."
"What are you thinking?"
"Remember your dream, the man you saw running from the creek towards the house? We never knew who he was. I'd like to be able to rule out the Captain."
"But I thought he was lost at sea."
"That's where the veracity of the real estate agent's story comes into play. What if she didn't have all the facts straight, or what if she was telling the version of the story she had heard, but facts have a way of getting changed over time."
"How would you do the research? This all happened so long ago."
"I'll try the library; they have an extensive genealogy and local history research room. They have all the old tax records, vital statistics records, censuses, and so on. Hopefully I'll be able to find something about the Marniens. The Captain must have been a fairly prominent citizen of the area so I may be able to find something in the old newspapers too. I think they have most of those on microfilm."
"Have you done this sort of thing before?"
"A friend of mine back in California was a genealogist and sometimes she'd get me to help her with research. It's not like it's all that hard, it just takes a lot of patience."
"Sounds like detective work."
"It's the same thing really. Well, it doesn't look like Amalie is going to make an appearance tonight. Why don't you go on home?"
"Well, since they have a few spare rooms at the moment, I think I'll stay here. That way I'll be on hand in case she decides to show up again. Besides, I'm closer to work and school here anyway."
"What about clothes?"
"I'll just wear these again tomorrow. I'm not that dirty. I'll run home tomorrow night and get enough clothes to last me a few days at least."
"You're really serious about getting to the bottom of this, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am. I've been really selfish about all this. After everything Adam has done for me, this is the least I can do. For that matter, Steve's probably done just as much. It would be wrong for me to be able to do something and not do it."
"I was a little worried for a while, but you're turning out alright. You're an amazing kid, Killian Kendall. Adam should be proud to have a son like you."
I blushed, but her comments made me think about Jake. It was too dark to really make out her expression, but I couldn't help but wonder if she was feeling as lucky. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to do more about Jake lately."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I know you haven't forgotten and you've had enough other things going on."
"But I made a commitment to you..."
"And I have no doubt that you'll live up to it. Shane told me he somehow managed to get you tickets to the AIDS Ball. That's good. Maybe you'll be able to figure out what Jake is doing there."
"I hope so. I still feel really lost on this one. I have no idea what is going on."
"You'll figure it out. Come on. Let's go downstairs. I'll help you make up a bed before I leave. Steve should just get to bed and get what little rest he can before he has to get up and start breakfast."
"Steve cooks the breakfast?" I asked in surprise. That was news to me.
"No, I meant he has to get things ready and be there when the guests come down. Both of them. He has a cook who comes in to prepare a light breakfast every morning. Nothing fancy."
We found Steve downstairs sitting on the settee in the foyer, half asleep. He told me I could sleep in one of the rooms that hadn't been occupied so the sheets were clean. He gave me the key and gratefully dragged himself off to bed. I saw Judy out and locked the door behind her before going to find what would be my room for the next few nights.
The room was beautiful, just like every other room in the house. Adam and Steve had furnished the entire place with antiques from the civil war period. This particular room was done in shades of blue with white accents. Very soothing. Rich, heavy blue velvet curtains hung at the window over sheer white drapes. The large, comfy looking chair with carved wooden arms and legs had been upholstered in the same material. A tall mahogany dresser stood against one wall with an oil lamp and silver-framed mirror on its top. Framed watercolors hung on the wall and a beautiful hand-painted glass shade covered the overhead light bulb.
Despite the beautiful decor, there was only one piece of furniture that I was interested in at that particular moment: the bed. It was a mahogany frame bed with carved spindle posts with a mattress that was almost as high as my waist. I barely registered any of that, however, as exhaustion suddenly overtook me. It had been a stressful night and it was beginning to take its toll. I turned off the light, pulled my clothes off, and climbed into the bed. As I drifted into the dream world, I wondered again if it was just simply too late to help Amalie. I could only hope it wasn't too late to help Adam and Steve.
I have to admit that I was relieved when I awoke the next morning without having been wakened during the night by anyone, alive or otherwise. Despite my determination to see this through, I still wasn't looking forward to seeing Amalie again.
I took a break from my cases on Friday; I just went to class and caught up on routine stuff at the office. It was a nice change of pace. That night, Micah took me out to dinner and again. We avoided discussing the case while we ate. Afterwards, we took a walk along the river that ran along next to the restaurant where we had eaten. I couldn't resist bringing up the case any longer. I had been thinking of a plan to find Neal and I had a question that I needed the answer to in order to implement my plan.
"What is the name of the agency that you and Paul worked for?" I asked him.
He looked at me as if gauging my feelings on the subject. "Are you sure you want to talk about this?"
I shrugged. "I'm doing better with it now. I'm trying not to be so judgmental."
He gave me a lopsided smile. "I thought I'd given you the name already, not that it will help much. They're not exactly listed in the yellow pages. It's called Top to Bottom."
I blinked for a second, thinking he must be joking. When I realized that he was serious, I couldn't help but burst into laughter. "No," I sputtered, "You definitely had not told me the name before. I would not have forgotten that."
Micah waited for the giggles to wear off before asking, "Why did you want to know? Are we still on for Michelangelo's tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, we're still on. I was just curious. It occurred to me that if the club doesn't pan out, it would be hard to find something that you don't even know what it's called. Actually, I have an idea. If it works, it might mean that we can just have fun at the club and not worry about business. Our last trip there didn't turn out so well; I wouldn't mind exorcizing those memories."
"True," he said with a grimace. "I'd ask you what your plan is, but the fact of the matter is, I don't want to talk business right now."
"Oh?" I asked, giving him a coy look through my lashes. "And what do you want to talk about?"
He stopped and caught my arm, swinging me around into his embrace. "I don't want to talk about anything," he said in a husky voice before kissing me tenderly on the lips. I melted into his arms, slipping one arm around his waist and running my other hand through his hair. It didn't take long for kiss to heat up. We came up for air a few minutes later, both of us breathing heavily.
"I've missed you," he breathed as he held me tightly to his chest.
"I've missed you too."
"Do you want to come back to my place tonight?"
I knew what he was asking and I did want it; I was surprised at how desperately I wanted it. "I want to, but I need to stay at the bed and breakfast. I'm on Amalie watch."
Micah pulled back wearing a startled expression. "Since when?"
"Since last night. It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I'm trying not to be so selfish. Steve and Adam need me to do this and I'm going to do my best."
"To get rid of Amalie?"
"Something like that."
"I'm proud of you."
"Don't be. I'm still scared spitless."
"What does that have to do with anything? Who wouldn't be scared? The important thing is that you're doing it anyway. How about if I stay over with you then? You have your own room, right?"
"You'd be willing to do that?" I asked in surprise.
"Do what? Would I be willing to sleep with you? That's a silly question," he teased.
"I meant sleep in that house, silly."
"It wouldn't be the first time, remember? Besides, I'm not sensitive like you are. She could show up and do a Mexican Hat Dance in the middle of the bed and I doubt I'd notice."
I snorted at that mental image. "Oh, you'd notice alright. She can make herself known to just about anyone, sensitive or not, if she wants to. If you're serious about staying with me tonight, I'd like that."
"I'm very serious." He pulled me close again and showed me just how serious he was.
I'd gone by and picked up some clothes and toiletries from home earlier that day, and now we ran by Micah's apartment so he could do the same. We almost got sidetracked there, but we finally made it out the door. We'd left my car there when we went out to eat, so I drove from there with Micah driving behind me.
Steve gave me a surprised look when I showed up with Micah and we both went upstairs with duffle bags, but he didn't comment. Micah was still feeling quite amorous, but I tried to convince him that we should restrain ourselves for now and go back down and be social. He agreed only after I promised him we wouldn't stay long. When the ballroom on the first floor wasn't being used for parties, Steve and Adam had arranged a comfortable sitting area around the large fireplace. It wasn't quite chilly enough yet to need a fire, but Steve had lit one anyway, for purely aesthetic reasons. Then again, there is something comforting and inviting about a crackling fire, so maybe there was more to it than I first thought. Steve served drinks from the wet bar in the corner every night and often the guests would gather and socialize with one another and their host.
We arrived back downstairs to find that the ghost-hunting couple was still the only other people staying there, although another couple was scheduled to come in the next day. Conversation with Alan and Carla, the couple with the ghost fetish, was awkward at best. All they wanted to talk about was supernatural phenomenon in general, and ghosts in particular. As hard as we tried to steer the conversation to other topics, they always managed to turn it back to Amalie. They tried especially hard to grill me about my experiences. My reticence only seemed to inflame their curiosity all the more. They were beginning to give me a headache when I guess Micah realized how much they were getting to me.
"We'd better go soon," he said suddenly, cutting Alan's diatribe on the importance of understanding the living impaired off in mid-sentence. "I have to get up early in the morning and get that story finished. They want it for Sunday's edition."
The couple blinked at Micah in surprise. I couldn't tell if they had simply forgotten that he was there or if they were caught off guard at the implication that we were retiring to bed together. I took advantage of their moment of silence to quickly jump to my feet and offer a quick polite good night.
"Killian," Steve called just as we made it to the doorway. "Can I talk to you a second?"
"Sure," I said as he started across the room.
"I'll meet you upstairs," Micah said and trotted up the stairs, thoughtfully giving Steve and me privacy to talk.
Steve stared after him as he reached my side. "Killian," he said sounding slightly uncomfortable. I suddenly grew a little uneasy. "I don't know if this is my place or not. I mean, I'm not your father..."
"What is it, Steve?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. "And you may not be my father, but for all intents and purposes you've been like a second father to me. Or maybe that would be a third father. I don't really count my dad, though." I was babbling and I knew it. I had a feeling that I knew what it was that Steve wanted to talk to me about and I would rather have avoided it if at all possible.
"It's just that...well...I guess I didn't realize that your relationship with Micah had progressed to that point. I know I haven't been around much the last couple months; I've been so busy with this place that I probably wouldn't have noticed if you'd suddenly gone straight and started dating girls."
"I think we're all safe on that score," I said with a grin.
Steve chuckled, but sobered quickly. "I just want you to be safe on every score," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You're 18 so you can make your own choices. Adam and I both respect that. But I know that if he were here he'd want to tell you to be careful."
"I've done a lot of thinking about Micah and me," I told him. "I'm sure that this is right for us."
"That's not quite what I meant," Steve said with a slight blush. My blush was more than slight as I realized what he was talking about.
"You mean..."
"Are you having safe sex?" he asked bluntly.
At that moment, I would have been perfectly happy if the earth had opened up and swallowed me whole. I would have actually welcomed a visit from Amalie, but of course, there's never a ghost around when you need one. I felt as if my face would burst into flame at any moment.
"I...we...I mean...we've only...I..." I stammered. I took a deep breath and managed to get a coherent answer out. "Yes!"
Steve looked eminently relieved. "That's all I needed to know." He pulled me into a sudden hug that caught me by surprise. "I'm sorry that was so...ghastly," he said as he released me. "I've never had kids and I don't really know what I'm doing. It really shows at times like this."
"If you ask me, you've done a great job," I said sincerely.
"Liar," he said with a grin. He ruffled my hair and gave me a gentle shove towards the stairs. "Now get on up to your man before he falls asleep without you."
"Not much chance of that," I said with a wicked grin. "He's been promised something and he isn't likely to forget it." With that bit of payback, I left a blushing Steve and took the stairs two at a time. Revenge is sweet.
\*
After all my assertions to the opposite, had Amalie decided to show up and do that Mexican Hat Dance in the middle of our bed like Micah had suggested, I think I just might have slept through it. I was so exhausted after I fulfilled my promise that I slept like a log, although I'm still stumped as to how a log sleeps exactly.
It was a very nice feeling to wake up in Micah's arms and to feel his body pressed up close against mine. It was a feeling I thought I could get used to quickly. I just lay there for a while reveling in the unfamiliar comfort. When he started to nuzzle my neck, I realized he was awake as well. I rolled over to face him, tossing a leg casually across his body as I did.
"Good morning, love," he said with a warm smile.
"A very good morning," I agreed. "I wish I could wake up like this every morning."
Micah studied me for a minute, his eyes searching mine, before he broke into a wide smile. "If you think this is good, then you're just going to love what comes next," he said with a twinkle in his eye. With that, he ducked under the sheet.
By the time we showered, which took a lot longer than usual, and finally came downstairs, I was just about ready to go back to sleep. Steve was checking in the new couple, two women in their mid-forties, as we came down. He gave me a knowing smile before turning his attention back to his guests.
"What was that about?" Micah asked me. As usual, his sharp reporter's instinct hadn't missed a thing.
"Nothing," I said as I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
He accepted my evasion and moved on. "So, I'm going to go finish up this story and make sure my editor gets it. Do you want me to pick you up at the office or here?"
"Call the office; you can just pick me up there if that's where I am. Otherwise, pick me up here."
"Ok. You're still not going to tell me this plan of yours?"
"If it works, I'll tell you all about it. If not, you'll never know."
He laughed and gave me a quick kiss before heading out the door. I nabbed a leftover blueberry muffin and headed out the door to try out my plan. It wasn't anything elaborate. The only reason I was avoiding Micah's questions was because it was a little embarrassing to admit I even knew about these sources. I was planning on going into the AOL M4M chat rooms in the DC area and asking if anyone knew how to get in touch with the Top to Bottom Escort Agency. The rooms were nothing more than pick-up joints, a place for freelance escorts and dirty old men to try and pick up guys. I went to the rooms a few times when Asher and I were having problems, thinking I might be able to meet someone nice, but each time I'd just ended up leaving feeling slightly dirty.
Once in the office, I logged onto my AOL account. I answered my email and then pulled up the list of available chat rooms. There weren't many people in the first one, and those that were there weren't interested in answering my questions. After being ignored for a few minutes, I moved on to the next one that looked promising. This one had more people and they were a little chattier. When I asked about the agency, however, all I got were a few lewd and suggestive comments along the lines of, "Why pay for it, sweetie, when I can give it to you for free?" I was about to give up when an IM window popped up on my screen.
"Why are you looking for Top to Bottom?" someone with the screen name DCEscortBoi asked me.
I tried to decide how to play it. Should I pretend to be someone looking for an escort, which is what everyone in the chat room had assumed, or just be honest? It seemed that most escorts were a little wary so I decided I was in the market for an escort.
"Someone recommended them to me," I typed.
"So you're looking for an escort?" they clarified.
"Yes."
"I work for T2B," they said. "My name is Brady."
"Hi Brady," I typed. I wondered what the protocol for something like this was. Did you make small talk or get right to the details?
"What's your name?" he asked after an awkward pause.
"Travers," I said, giving him my middle name. For some reason, I was hesitant to give my real name.
"Have you ever been with an escort before?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. It was a partial truth.
"So you know the drill. What do you like?"
Uh oh. I was getting in over my head. "The usual." I tried to bluff my way out of it.
"You'll have to be more specific than that. Do you like smooth or hairy? Younger or older? Top or bottom? Do you like it rough? Are you into dungeons?"
Dungeons? I shuddered at the thought. "I'm definitely not into dungeons," I typed. "Just nice normal..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. "Just nice and normal," I finished up.
"Vanilla," he said.
That sounded safe so I agreed. You can't go wrong with vanilla, right?
"Top or bottom?" he asked again.
"It doesn't matter." This was getting a little more involved than I had planned.
"Versatile, huh? I think I'd be a good match for you."
"Great," I said jumping at the chance to get out of the question and answer portion of our program. "How do I make an appointment?"
"You have to make one with the person who does the schedule. His name is Neal. You can ask for me."
I was relieved that after all that I was at least going to get what I was after.
"How do I get in touch with Neal?" I asked.
"I can give you an email address or a phone number."
"Both?" I asked hopefully.
"No problem." He provided me with the information. I jotted both down in my trusty notepad, thanked Brady, and closed the IM window. I wrote Neal a quick email, telling him who I was and requesting an appointment to talk to him about Paul. I didn't have much confidence that I'd get an answer, but thought I'd try that first and hold the number to use as Plan B.
Micah showed up at the office much earlier than I had expected.
"I have a surprise for you before we head for DC," he said with an anticipatory grin.
"What?" I asked suspiciously.
"I'm not telling you. Come on and you'll see."
"No, I want to know," I insisted. I didn't really like surprises; I preferred to know what I was doing and what was expected of me. If I know there is a surprise, predictably, I obsess over it until I know what is going on. Blame it on my insatiable curiosity. That's why I'm an investigator.
"If you just cooperate you'll find out a lot quicker," he reasoned.
"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on," I said obstinately.
"Fine, we'll do it the hard way." He was grinning as he said this so I knew he was enjoying every second of it. He walked calmly around my desk and before I knew what he was doing, he grabbed me around the waist and tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Have I mentioned lately that Micah is a lot stronger than he looks? I struggled, but it was cursory at best. He carried me through the door just as Novak was coming in.
"I won't even ask," he said as he squeezed by and went into the office without even looking back.
"It's nice to know I can count on you if I'm ever in trouble," I yelled after him, mustering as much dignity as one can muster while hanging over someone's shoulder with their rump in the air.
"I didn't ask to be included in your sexual peccadilloes," I heard him call back.
"What?" I gasped. "What did he say?"
Micah just laughed and carried me outside.
"Now," he said, setting me down in the parking lot next to his car, "We can either do this the easy way, namely you get in the car and quit being a pain, or I stuff you in the trunk."
I had a feeling he would do it too. I made a show of smoothing my clothes, then turned coolly towards the car and climbed in. I was buckling my seatbelt as Micah slid into the driver's seat.
"There now, that wasn't so bad was it?" he asked.
"Just drive," I said. He chuckled and started the car.
He drove a short distance to one of those small strip malls that are scattered prevalently around any good-sized community. The one boasted a Chinese restaurant, a sporting goods store, a Kenpo studio, a framing gallery, and a bridal wear shop. An eclectic assortment and one that told me nothing about why we were here.
"So, are we here to take self-defense classes or have some moo goo gai pan?" I asked.
"Neither," he answered. "Follow me." He got out of the car and strode purposefully to the bridal shop. I had to give him this; he had succeeded in surprising me. I clambered after him wondering the whole time what the heck was going on.
He held the door open for me and ushered me inside with the grave dignity of an English butler, following close behind. The clerk inside, a small, rather effeminate looking man with a receding hairline and twinkling blue eyes, seemed to be in on what ever Micah had up his sleeves. He was positively beaming at us, which only served to increase my unease.
"Ok, I'm here. Now what's going on?" I demanded. Then a terrifying thought occurred to me. "This better not be another surprise wedding," I yelped. The bewildered expression on both their faces was almost enough to make me laugh. Almost.
"Surprise wedding?" Micah asked in confusion.
"Whoever heard of such a thing?" the clerk asked with a dismissive wave of his limp wrist.
"Will someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?" I interrupted, a little louder than I had intended.
"The ball," Micah said quickly, apparently deciding he had pushed his little game far enough.
"Huh?" I responded cleverly.
"I told you I would take care of the tuxedos for the ball," Micah explained. "We're here to get fitted."
I looked at him blankly. "You mean to tell me all of that was just to get fitted for a tux?"
"Yes."
"That was my surprise?"
"Well, it is a ball. I wanted it to be special and exciting."
"You kidnapped me to take me to a tux fitting." I was struggling to keep a straight face. I wasn't upset, but revenge, as I may have noted before, is sweet.
"I didn't kidnap you. Well, not exactly."
His expression was finally too much for me to take and I burst out laughing. It didn't take him long to realize what I'd been doing and he joined me in the laughter. The clerk just stood by looking even more befuddled.
"If we could?" he asked after a moment. He whipped a tape measure from his pocket and unfurled it with a flourish. I had a feeling that he had practiced the maneuver.
"Sorry," I apologized. I submitted myself to the process of being measured from every possible angle, and after me, Micah. Then we looked through the tuxedos he had on hand and tried several of them on just to get an idea of the style. They would have to be altered to fit, but we finally decided on what we liked.
We actually did end up eating dinner at the Chinese restaurant. For the record, I did not order moo goo gai pan; I like spicier dishes. I order the double cooked sliced pork and Micah had the Hunan chicken. It was excellent.
After dinner, we were off for DC. Micah had planned the whole trip so I didn't even know where we were staying after we went clubbing. I was pretty sure we weren't going to try to drive back that late at night though. Or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it.
During the drive, I told Micah how I'd managed to get Neal's email address and phone number. He gave me a look of respect.
"That was smart thinking," he said. "I don't know if I would have thought of that and I knew about those chat rooms. I used to go there to drum up business when things got slow, too. Well, then tonight is all about us."
That sounded good to me. After being told by several people lately that I was too serious and didn't have enough fun, I was determined to just relax and enjoy myself tonight.
"So what was all that about a surprise wedding?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Oh, nothing," I said. I was a little embarrassed that my mind had gone there straight away.
"It had to come from somewhere," he persisted.
I sighed. It would be easier to just tell him than go through the third degree. "You know Will Keegan?" I asked him.
"Yeah, he's a friend of yours right? He was involved in those murders about a year ago? I think we've met."
"Yeah, well, he was dating my cousin at the time, Aidan."
"The one who...?"
"Yes. They stunned all their friends with a surprise wedding, planned by none other than Adam. None of us had any idea why we were invited over to their house, but when we arrived, everything was all set up and they were married."
"Oh wow, how romantic...and tragic."
"Yeah. It was beautiful though."
"If Adam was in charge, I'm sure it was. And you thought that I was throwing you a surprise wedding?"
"No! I mean...maybe. I didn't..."
He laughed. "There was one big difference you should have seen right away. Aidan and Will wanted to get married. They were just surprising their guests. It would be a different thing all together to surprise on of the grooms!"
I laughed too. "I didn't really think that was what was happening. It just went through my mind and I blurted it out before I could think."
"Well, you can relax. I don't plan on getting married," he paused, and then added, "Yet."
We fell into silence as I thought about that yet and all its implication.
Once in the capitol, Micah drove to a hotel. It wasn't quite as nice as the one we stayed in the last time we were here, but it was clean and it would be more than sufficient for the brief time we would be spending in it. We left our clothes in the room and took the Metro to the Dupont area. We browsed through some of the stores, the HRC headquarters, Lambda Rising Bookstore, and an odd little store that specialized in mystery books, among others. I even bought a Mercedes Lackey book that I hadn't read yet at Lambda. Another short Metro ride and we were at the Mall. We walked around the Washington Monument, the moonlight shimmering beautifully in the reflecting pool. By then it was time to head on over to Michelangelo's.
The club was just as packed as it had been the last time we were there. Bodies writhed and wriggled everywhere you looked, most of them male bodies, but not all. It was just as exhilarating as I remembered. I let the music sink into my body and allowed the beat to take over. We danced until I was completely exhausted, stopping only to drink the bottled water that Micah kept pushing on me.
"I don't want you to dehydrate," he yelled over the din.
We left at three in the morning, tired, relaxed, and happy. We caught a cab back to the hotel, expensive at that time of night but the Metro had stopped running by then. When we got back to the hotel room, we both shed our clothes and collapsed into bed. I hope Micah didn't have any romantic intentions, because I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Hey, it had been a long day! It had been a good day too. It felt good to be back with Micah and it seemed like things were beginning to go right for a change. I should have suspected that it was just the calm before the storm.
I woke up the next morning to find myself in Micah's arms for the second morning in a row. I found it was just as pleasant the second time around. I squirmed around until I was facing him and somehow he slept through my rearrangement. I watched him sleep for a few minutes, marveling that he was mine and that he wanted to be with me. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I leaned forward and began to tickle his ear with my tongue.
He twitched and rubbed his ear, but still didn't wake up, so I leaned in and tried it again. He jerked away and blinked, giving me a confused look for a moment. As his bleary eyes focused on me, I was rewarded with a huge smile.
"Good morning," I purred, pressing my body against his.
"Waking up to you makes it a good morning," he said. He trailed a hand lazily down my side, his fingertips barely grazing my skin, and I felt a chill snake its way deliciously through my body. "Am I mistaken," he asked, "or did someone wake up a bit horny this morning?"
"You must be mistaken," I said with all the innocence I could manage with my obvious state of arousal sticking in his side.
"Really? Then you won't mind if I go take a shower," he said and started to get up. I grabbed and pulled him back down onto the bed.
"You are not going anywhere, mister," I growled.
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. "You fell asleep on me last night," he said teasingly.
"Well, I'm awake now," I shot back. "Make the most of it while you can. If you don't do something soon I might just doze off again."
He flipped me onto my back with a devilish grin, then leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips across my stomach. It did a little somersault and I couldn't hold back a small gasp. "Oh, I think I can keep you awake," he said in a husky voice. I didn't doubt him for a second.
\*
Adam was actually home when I pulled into the driveway later that day. Micah had dropped me off at the office a little earlier and I had decided to drive home for some more clothes before I went back to the bed and breakfast.
"Well, Micah has made the big leagues," Adam greeted me as I walked through the door. "I hope you're ready for the flack that going to come out of this."
"Huh?" I responded.
"His article. Didn't you see it yet?"
"No, we went to DC last night. We just got back."
He made a face. "He may wish he'd stayed there before this is over."
"Why? What's going on?" I asked, concerned at the tone of Adam's voice.
"I think you'd better take a look at the article." He walked into the living room and I trailed behind. He handed me the front-page section of the Sunday paper. "At least he made the front page."
I took the paper and read the main headline. "County Council Corruption," it screamed in large, bold font, and under that, in smaller print, "Payoffs, Bribes, and Cover-ups Abound in County Government." I glanced at the byline and there was Micah's name.
"I knew he was working on this," I said. "Is it a big deal?"
Adam snorted. "You'd better believe this is a big deal. He's stirring up a hornets nest and some of these hornets pack a mean sting. He'd better plan on laying low for the next few days. There are bound to be some people out for blood over this."
"Do you mean that literally or figuratively?" I asked.
"I hope figuratively, but you never know. According to that article, some of these people were involved in illegal deals that are in the millions of dollars. They're not going to be very happy about losing those deals, which is probably the very least of what is about to happen to them. There will be official investigations, fines, and possibly even indictments. And we're talking about influential people in local government. You know better than anyone what happens when you mess with the good old boys club."
He was referring to my real father. He had been the State's Attorney in a neighboring county before an investigation into the mishandling of a murder investigation brought down his own little empire of corruption. In that case, the corruption wasn't as wide-spread as Micah's article made this out to look, and most of the blame landed squarely in my father's lap. He was currently serving a five year prison sentence.
"I'd better go call Micah," I said and ran up the stairs to my room. I dialed Micah's cell phone first, but only got his message service. I tried dialing his desk phone, but that was busy. I called his cell phone back and left a message. While I waited for him to call me back, I signed online to check my email.
The first one was from Noah. He was inviting me to attend the gay/straight Halloween dance that Haven was sponsoring that Thursday night. He said there would be awards for the best costume and I was welcome to bring friends. I'd heard everyone talking about the dance at the last meeting I'd attended, but hadn't really considered going. Now it seemed like it might be a good idea to invite Micah. That would be one place no one would really care about his article. It might give him a chance to relax and get away from all the attention that Adam seemed to think this would bring him.
At the bottom of my inbox, buried beneath a mountain of spam mail, was a response from Neal. I opened it up and read over his brief note.
"I would be willing to speak with you regarding the unfortunate death of Paul Flynn," he wrote. "The nature of my business being what it is, I'm afraid that I will need some sort of verification that you are who you say you are. If I am satisfied of that, we can meet and I will answer your questions. Please call me at my office and we'll see if we can work things out."
Cautious, but accommodating, I thought. Almost as if he was afraid that I might know something. Or maybe he just wants to find out what I know. At the same time, he can't be sure I'm not a cop on the vice squad.
I was reaching for the phone to call him when it rang under my hand. It was Micah returning my call.
"Hey, I saw the paper," I said after we'd exchanged greetings. "Adam seems to think you'll be catching hell."
"Adam would be correct," he said without inflection.
"Is it bad?"
"Not yet, but it looks like it could be. We've already had several very angry phone calls from local bigwigs, all of them outraged that the paper would print something like this and most of them wishing me bodily harm. From some of the people who've called threatening lawsuits, I'm guessing this is going to be a lot bigger than even I expected. These guys are in so many pockets, and then they in turn have guys in their pocket...well, let's just say it looks like this is going to reach far outside the county."
"Let me guess," I said, my voice heavy with irony, "The consensus is you should have let sleeping dogs lie."
"Yes! I can't believe this. They'd rather let these guys get away with everything."
I let out a short bark of humorless laughter. "This is the Eastern Shore, Micah. That's how it works. The good old boys protect each other and everybody has their hand in somebody else's pocket. Lesson number one in backwoods politics."
"That's just it. Maybe the Shore used to be backwoods, but times are changing. We can't let people continue to get away with stuff like this."
"They might be changing but change comes slowly around these parts. These guys play hardball, Micah. You said that some people were wishing you bodily harm; have there been any threats against you? Do you think you're in any danger?"
"I don't know. There haven't been any direct threats; these guys are too smart for that. But they have been making threatening noises, if you know what I mean. I hadn't taken them too seriously before now, though."
"I think you should. You need to be careful. Maybe you should lay low for a little while; keep a low profile."
"No way, I need to be out there doing follow-up articles, interviews..."
"I need you alive!" I interrupted him. "Please, can't you let someone else take it from here? You broke the big story."
"This is huge, Killian. I can't just hand it over to someone else now. This is my job. It's what I do and I love it. I would never ask you to give up an investigation just because it turned dangerous."
"You're right," I admitted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."
"It's ok. I understand. Trust me, I understand. You're scared. Sometimes I'm scared for you too. But I need to do this."
"Just...promise me you'll be careful."
"That I can promise. It's not like I want to get hurt. Tell you what, I'll keep as low a profile as I possibly can and still get the job done. Ok?"
"Ok."
"You do realize that you probably won't be seeing much of me for the next few days, don't you?"
"Well, it's not like I don't have things to do," I started. "Oh, wait. What about Thursday night? Do you think you'd be free to go with me to a Halloween dance at Pemberton?"
"Halloween dance?" he asked doubtfully.
"It's sponsored by Haven."
"Oh, um, yeah. I guess we could do that."
"Come on, you'll need to get away and have some fun by then. Remember what you said to me about working too hard?"
He laughed. "Oh sure, throw my own words back in my face. We are going to a Ball the very next night, you know, but ok, let's plan on going. Do I have to wear a costume?"
"Yes," I said firmly.
"Ok, ok." I heard some voices in the background. "Hang on a sec, Kill." I could hear him talking to someone but he must have put his hand over the phone because I couldn't understand what was being said. A few seconds later, he came back on the line. "Hey, something's come up; I have to go. I'll talk to you later, `k? Love you. Bye"
Before I could answer, he'd hung up.
I stared at the phone for a minute, hoping that I'd get through the next few days without Micah. Just when I was really getting used to waking up to him, I thought wistfully. I must have gotten lost in thought because the next thing I knew, the operator came on and told me to hang up if I wished to make another call, jarring me out of my daydream.
I hung up and then picked it right back up again to dial Neal. I might as well get to work.
He answered on the second ring. "Hello, Top to Bottom Escorts. Neal speaking. How can I be of service?"
"Neal, this is Killian Kendall," I told him. "I sent you an email yesterday regarding Paul Flynn and you sent me a response asking me to call you."
"Yes, I did. I'm sure you understand that before I can meet with you I need to be sure you are who you say you are."
"And not a cop?"
He laughed. His voice was smooth and cultured; he sounded well-educated. "You cut right to the point, don't you, Mr. Kendall?"
"Please, call me Killian. And yes, I do like to come to the point. I'm sure you're a busy man and I don't want to take up any more of your time than I have to."
"I appreciate that. You said in your email that you are a private investigator hired to look into Paul's murder?"
"Yes, sir."
"May I ask who hired you or is that confidential?"
I thought for moment, but didn't see any harm in telling him who had hired me. "Actually, I believe you know my client," I said. "His name is Micah Gerber. He used to work for your agency."
"Micah?" he asked, his surprise came through clearly in his voice. "I thought he and Paul went their separate ways ages ago."
"They did, but Mr. Gerber would still like to know what happened to his old friend." I was trying to sound as professional as possible; I'd decided not to let on that Micah and I were dating.
"Of course, I can understand that, although I'm not sure how you think I can help."
"I'm talking to everyone who had anything to do with Paul, even marginally."
"You realize we never met face to face. All our business was done either on the phone, online, or by mail."
"Mr. Gerber explained to me how the business works," I said.
"Good, then I don't need to go into all those details. Is there any way that I can verify that you are a private investigator? Can I check your license with the state?"
I didn't need him to know that I wasn't licensed yet either. "Would calling my office in the morning and speaking to my associate Shane Novak be sufficient?"
"Could I call him today? If I can verify all this, I'd like to meet with you tomorrow. I'm leaving town on Tuesday for an extended vacation. I'll be gone for the better part of November."
"Florida?" I asked.
"Cancun. So, can I call this...what was his name?"
"Novak, Shane Novak. Why don't I see if I can get in touch with him and have him give you a call?"
"How do I know you aren't just getting someone to call me and pretend to be your associate?"
Good point. "Then how about if I have Mr. Gerber call you? Would that be verification enough?"
"That would be alright, I suppose. I haven't spoken to Micah since he left the agency. He said he was taking a job at a newspaper in the middle of nowhere on the Shore, but I always suspected he was just going out on his own. Is he still in the business?"
I bristled a little at the question, and then realized how silly I was being. "Actually, he's the star reporter on the paper that covers the entire Shore," I said casually. So I embellished a little, I was sure it wouldn't be long before he was the star reporter.
"Really? Well, good for him. Yes, please have Micah call me. I'll work things out with him. If all goes well, which I'm sure it will, meet me at
"That sounds fine. I appreciate your help."
"Don't think it's entirely altruistic, Killian," he said with a dry chuckle. "I think it's in my best interest to meet with you as well. After all, I can't have you making assumptions, or worst yet, going to the police with half-formed ideas. I'll be looking forward to hearing from Micah."
"I'll have him call you as soon as I can," I promised.
We hung up and I called Micah right away. I held my breath while it rang. Please be there, please pick up, I begged.
"Hello?" he answered sounding a little peeved at the interruption.
"Micah," I said. "I'm sorry to interrupt you but I need you to do something for me."
"Is it important?" he said distractedly.
"It's about Paul."
"Paul?" he asked with a little more attention.
"Yeah, I need you to call Neal and verify that I'm a private investigator hired by you to investigate Paul's murder."
"Paranoia is the name of the game when you are doing something illegal," he laughed. "God, I'm glad I don't have to worry about that anymore. Yeah, I'll call him. You'll have to give me his number. When does he want me to call?"
"If you can, call him now, or at least as soon as possible."
"Ok, I'll call him now before I go back to work. What's his number?"
I read the number off to him and he repeated it back to me.
"That's it," I said. "Thanks, Micah. I love you." I was determined to get it in before he hung up this time.
"I love you, too," he said.
As soon as we hung up, I picked up the phone once more. This time to call Chris.
"I was going to call you tonight," she said after I filled her in on my appointment with Neal and she agreed to go with me. "You saved me a call."
"You were going to call me? Why?"
"They opened the safe earlier this week. My dad didn't hear about it until last night though, because he's not really on the case."
"What was in it?"
"Since you're coming tomorrow, why don't I just wait and tell you then?" she said. She sounded serious but I was pretty sure she was just kidding.
"How about if you tell me now," I shot back, just to be on the safe side.
"The contents were pretty interesting. There were a few coins that must have been really rare and valuable since he kept them locked up when all his others ones weren't."
"That's not very interesting. We knew he collected coins."
"I wasn't finished. They also found a bank book for a savings account. Over the last few months, there were regular deposits of a rather large sum of money once a week, but he never made any withdraws."
"What is a large sum of money and was it always the same amount?"
"Dad didn't say. Do you want me to see if I can find out?"
"Please. Anything else?"
"Yeah, he had two tickets to New Zealand that were for this coming weekend."
"Two?"
"Yes, both in his name. But most interesting were the letters." She paused dramatically.
"Letters?"
"Well, I should say copies of letters. There were several but from what I understand they were all similar. They were handwritten and signed by Paul, but none of them were addressed to anyone. They were all apparently very vague, insinuating that Paul knew that whomever the letter was for had done something illegal."
"He didn't say what?"
"No, like I said, they were all very vague. He never came out and said anything directly. It was more like he just wanted the person to know that he knew."
"That could be our missing motive," I said, thinking out loud.
"Do you think he was blackmailing this mystery person?"
"It sounds like it from everything they found in the safe, but it just doesn't fit what everyone has told me about him. He was well off financially so he didn't need the money and everyone goes on and on about what a stand-up guy he was."
"They said he was quiet and kept to himself, right?"
"Yeah."
"That's what they all said about Jeffrey Dahmer too, and the Unibomber, and..."
"Ok, ok. I get the point. I'd like to see these letters. Any chance we can get copies?"
"That'll be hard. They're evidence in a murder investigation. It's not like they hand out copies upon request."
"But you're dad's a cop."
"But he's not on this case."
I sighed. "This is why I wanted to open the safe myself. Well, can you at least check into deposits? Find out if they were always for the same amount and what that amount was?"
"I'll see what I can do."
"Ok. Thanks, Chris."
\*
"Welcome back to the Big City," Chris said as I stepped off the train into the Metro Center and narrowly missed being run over by a boy on a bike.
I snorted. "With all the time I've been spending here lately, maybe I should have the post office just forward my mail. They allow bikes down here?"
"Sort of, but they're supposed to walk them. Come on, we need to get on the red line to go to Union." She set off at a brisk walk and I hurried to keep up with her. As we walked I got a chance to look her over. Today, she was wearing black jeans and a red t-shirt that read, "Warning: Hanging out with me will greatly damage your reputation." Not exactly camouflage, but hopefully she wouldn't stand out too much.
"Were you able to find anything out about the amount of the deposits?" I asked as we dodged through a throng of equally hurried individuals going the opposite direction.
"Right to the point, huh?"
"Well, we're running on a deadline here. I'm supposed to meet Neal in 15 minutes and it takes that long to just get there."
"He'll wait. He can't afford not to."
"I hope you're right. The deposits?"
"I asked Dad and he said he'd check. Hopefully he'll know something when we get done with Neal. By the way, I also asked him if there was any way he could get copies of the letters and he said he doubted it, but he'd see what he could do without sticking his neck out too far."
"That's great! I don't want him to get in trouble on my account."
"Don't worry, he'll be careful."
We boarded the red line train and found seats. Once settled, we chatted for the next few minutes about the case in general, throwing ideas back and forth. We agreed that we really needed to talk to the family and that the two tickets to New Zealand raised some interesting questions.
"He was obviously planning on taking someone with him," Chris pointed out logically. "He must have had a lover, but why was he trying so hard to keep this guy a secret from his friends?"
"He wasn't necessarily keeping it a secret from Sabrina. She admitted that she's been really busy the last few months and hadn't paid much attention to Paul. It could have just been a matter of both of them being too busy with their own lives to catch up."
"What about Razi?"
"Sabrina said Razi was difficult when Paul and Micah were dating, always trying to break them up, but as soon as they broke up, he lost interest. Maybe Paul was trying to avoid a similar situation as long as he could."
"That's reasonable. So how do we find out who this mystery guy is?"
"I don't know," I admitted, "but now we have two mystery guys. Paul's lover and the recipient of those letters."
"The letter recipient isn't necessarily a guy you know."
"True. I don't suppose there would be any chance they're the same person. That would be too simple."
"Why would Paul be involved with someone he knew was doing something illegal?"
"It's happened before. You know what they say; love is blind. Maybe he thought he could change him. This is all just speculation until we know more details."
We through around a few more wild ideas before discarding them as too outlandish before we pulled into Union Station.
Once in the station, we laid out our game plan.
"Do you know where this restaurant is that he was talking about?" I asked.
"Yeah, the Center Café. It's in the middle of the main concourse. You know, this used to be a train station. When it opened, it was the largest train station in the world, and probably the most ornate. The ceiling was actually gold plated."
"You sound like a tour guide."
She flipped me the bird, accompanied by a dirty look. "This is one of my favorite places in the city," she said. "I love to shop here."
I was surprised at that revelation, but then I scolded myself for stereotyping. You should know better, I thought fiercely. Just because Chris doesn't look like your typical mall rat doesn't mean she doesn't like to shop.
"Well, maybe we'll have time for shopping after I talk to Neal," I said in an attempt to atone myself, even though she had no idea what I'd been thinking. I glanced down at my watch. "You can give me the history lesson later. Right now, we need to get moving. I want you to follow me from a discreet distance. I'm supposed to go to the restaurant and ask for Neal; they'll show me to his table. Keep me in sight just in case he does something weird, although I doubt he would in a public place like this."
"Still, it's better to be safe, right?"
"Exactly."
We went up to the main level of the train station cum mall and Chris showed me how to find the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Neal. I took a deep breath and muttered, "Here goes nothing," before striding purposefully across the floor. The restaurant was in the center, as implied by the name, of the large open area that had once been the main concourse. It was two floors with the second floor being open to the large room with a rail going around the edge. I approached the well-dressed young man standing at the greeters' podium.
"I'm here to meet with Neal," I told him.
He looked me over from head to toe. I felt a little like a prize bitch at a dog show. "Are you Killian Kendall?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Follow me."
He led me up the flight of stairs and towards a table set off to itself in one corner. At first, the waiter was in my line of vision so I couldn't see the man I was meeting, but as he shifted to one side, I stopped in mid-step. Sitting at the table waiting for me with a pleasantly bland expression was a man I had seen before. Not in person, mind you, and I'd only seen him once, but I recognized him immediately. The last, and first, time I'd ever seen him was in Jake's room. It was the man from the newspaper clipping. It looked like my cases might be connected.
I stood frozen in shock as my brain tried to make sense of what I was seeing. There was no doubt in my mind that the man in the newspaper clipping from Jake's room and this man smiling genially while he waited for me at the table were one and the same. What the implications were in that, I wasn't sure-and I wasn't sure I even wanted to know-but either way, I was quite sure that now wasn't the time to attempt to puzzle it out.
I forced my body to move forward again and attempted to arrange some sort of pleasant expression on my face. As I approached the table, the man, Neal, stood and held out a hand in greeting.
"Hello, you must be Killian," he said in a cultured and slightly accented voice as we shook hands. I tried to place the accent, but it was so faint that it was unidentifiable. I hadn't even noticed it on the phone.
"Yes, and you must be Neal. Thank you for meeting with me."
"Believe me, it is always my pleasure to share a meal with such an attractive young man."
I smiled in acknowledgment of his compliment; it was a measure of the shock I was still reeling from that I didn't blush. A waiter approached to take my drink order and refill Neal's water glass. I took advantage of the moment to study him. The newspaper photo hadn't done the man justice. He was a strikingly handsome man, darkly tanned with flashing dark eyes, strong, patrician features, and smartly styled dark hair liberally shot with silver. I would have been hard pressed to assign him an age if asked; he could have been anywhere from forty to sixty. He was well dressed in clothes of the latest fashion that eloquently bespoke wealth without being flashy. His jewelry, a gold watch on his wrist, a slim chain at his throat, a ring or two on each hand, were equally understated, but beautifully crafted. He wasn't at all what I had expected.
"I am not what you expected," he stated more than asked. I was startled at the way his words had echoed my thoughts. "The way you took pause when you first saw me," he explained. "You looked surprised, even a little unsettled." He chuckled.
"I'm not sure what I was expecting, sir, but you're right; it wasn't you." I said. He studied me deliberately and I struggled not to squirm under his gaze. I picked up the stemmed glass and took a sip of the ice water, more to give me something to do than because I was actually thirsty.
"I must admit that you are not what I was expecting either," he said after a long, awkward moment. Awkward on my end anyway.
I raised an eyebrow questioningly. "My age?"
"Partially that, and partially your beauty."
This time I did blush.
"When I think of a private investigator I suppose I think of the Philip Marlowe type, but I suppose that is my age telling on me. At any rate, you are nothing like Mr. Marlowe, and I find the reality much more pleasing than my imagination. But on to business. We are both busy men."
"Yes, I want to thank you again for taking the time to meet with me," I said formally, glad to be getting back to something I felt a little more comfortable with.
He gave a little shrug. "To be honest, I did not feel as if you gave me much choice. I am in a rather precarious position and thought it best to do what I could to help you. You are in the rather envious position of being the only person ever to meet me in person who would associate me with the agency."
"You're very careful."
"I do what I must. It was good to talk to Micah again. To be honest, he was always one of my very favorite boys. Such a promising young man. I am glad to hear he has made good on his potential. And after meeting you, however, I have to wonder if your relationship with him is more than just business...?"
I chose to ignore the rather personal question and asked one of my own instead. "What can you tell me about Paul Flynn?"
A tiny smile played around the corners of Neal's lips, as if something I had said amused him in some way. "What would you like for me to tell you about Paul Flynn?" His voice wasn't quite mocking, but closer than I appreciated. It made me want to make him squirm. He'd had control of the situation since I had arrived and it was time I took the control back.
"Let's start with how long he worked for you at the agency."
"A little under three years."
"That's a long time for an escort to work for an agency, isn't it?"
"Perhaps. The arrangement seemed to meet his needs. It was not for me to question."
"What kind of employee was he?"
He cocked his head slightly. "You must understand it's not as if I am the manager of a supermarket and Paul was the bag boy. He was a popular escort. He had a look not unlike yours, blonde hair and blue eyes-young, fresh...pretty. That look is always in demand. Paul was honest, he always gave me what was due and never tried to deceive me. I never had any problems or complaints from the clients. In fact, they always seemed quite satisfied with his services. In all these ways, I would say he was a very good employee. A model employee, really."
"Did you ever meet him personally?"
"No, I make it a point to never meet my escorts in person."
"And you never had any problems with him?"
"None that I can recall."
"Did he seem any different the last few months?"
"Different? No, but then, I am not sure that is something I would notice. We were not close; our contact was minimal and almost always by telephone. The only way I would have known if he had changed would be if his clients noticed a remarkable enough change that they felt compelled to report it to me, which as you can imagine is not very likely."
"You said his clients were, ah, very satisfied by his services," I said, trying not to blush. That wouldn't be very professional.
"Is that a question?"
"No, I was just wondering if he had repeat customers."
He raised an eyebrow. "Paul tried not to encourage repeat clients, at least not clients that came back over a long period of time. They often have a way of forming attachments, which can become rather bothersome."
"But did he have any?"
"I believe he had a few, yes."
"Do you keep records of your clients?"
"Do I keep records of the clients?"
0
"Yes, sir. That's what I asked."
His eyes narrowed slightly. He still wasn't squirming, but I had a feeling this was a man who never squirmed. Slightly peeved might be as close as he got.
"Even if I did, they would be held in the utmost confidence. It would be the only way I could maintain my reputation for discretion."
"So you do."
"I did not say..."
"You're a little too defensive there, Neal. It's a dead give-away. But if it'll make you feel any better, we'll refer to them as the alleged filed for the sake of this conversation. Now, seeing as how I don't plan on making these alleged records public, I don't see where it would be a problem for me to have a look at them. And while we are discussing your filing system, I'd also like to see Paul records."
Neal's face had lost all traces of humor. I got the impression that he was taking me very seriously now.
"I agreed to meet with you as a courtesy, Mr. Kendall," he said icily. His voice had taken on a steely quality that sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept my expression carefully nonchalant. "I do not see how viewing these confidential files could be at all advantageous to you and I have no intention of just handing them over."
I leaned forward over the table with a sudden intensity. "In case you've forgotten, this is not a social visit. This is a murder investigation we're talking about. Someone strangled Paul to death in his own apartment. I intend to find out who that someone is. Whether or not I look like Philip Marlowe, I'm the private investigator here, and I say I need to see those files. Do I need to remind you that you're not exactly in a position to argue with me about this? If I get those files, that's as far as they go. If I have to call in the police to get them, and believe me, I will if I have to, a lot more people get involved. People who may not be so understanding about your particular business venture. Do you see where I'm going with this, Neal?"
"Oh, I see it quite clearly, Mr. Kendall. I also see that I underestimated you, something I do not often make the mistake of doing." He sat back in his chair and studied me as if seeing me for the first time. Suddenly he broke into a beaming smile. I wasn't surprised to see that his teeth were blindingly white and even. "If the situation were not quite so serious I think I would quite enjoy being bested by such a disarmingly beautiful opponent," he said. "If I produce these alleged files, as we have agreed to call them, can you guarantee me that you will make every effort to keep them confidential?"
"I can promise to do what I can."
"You are cautious, an admirable trait. I suppose that will have to do, since as you pointed out, I am not in a position to quibble over details. As I said when we spoke on the phone, I am going out of town indefinitely..."
"I need the records before you leave."
"Of course. I was going to suggest that I send them to you overnight delivery, certified mail. Would that be suitable?"
"That would be ideal. Just be sure that all the files I need are there. If I even suspect that you have held back on me I'll call in the authorities."
"Somehow, I do not doubt that, young friend. Is our business concluded?"
"I have one more question."
"Ask it."
"Do you have any ideas about who might have killed Paul?"
"None," he answered without hesitation. "I've thought much about this and I have not thought of anything or anyone. Paul was a good person, I cannot imagine who would want to hurt him, let alone kill him."
"Then I guess we're finished. Please, don't forget to include Paul's file with the clients'."
"Oh, I wouldn't dare." The slight mocking tone was back as he stood. "You know, Killian, if this private investigator line of work doesn't work out for you, I have a feeling you'd make a fine escort."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be looking for those files."
"You can expect them tomorrow. It was a pleasure." He made a slight bow and turned crisply on his heel before walking away, never once looking back. I sat at the table for a second, collecting my thoughts. I had the feeling that I had just taunted a very powerful and possibly dangerous man. I should probably be glad he had found me amusing, but somehow I was still pissed. And then there was the whole fact that Jake had his picture in his room...
I was still sitting at the table when Chris slid into the seat recently vacated by Neal. "So...how'd it go?" she asked.
"It went..."
"Is this fill in the blank? I couldn't really see you so guys up here, so I had to content myself with loitering around at the bottom of the stairs. They almost escorted me out a few times, but I told them I was waiting for my aunt, Senator Sampson. They left me alone after that."
"Is Senator Sampson really your aunt?" I asked momentarily distracted.
"No, but they didn't know that. So why are you looking so concerned? Did the interview go badly?"
"Not really."
"Did you find out anything interesting?"
"Not really."
"So it was a total waste of time?"
"No..."
"Not really," she finished for me. "Would you care to elaborate on any of this?"
"He didn't really tell me anything useful," I explained. "He's sending me the files I was hoping to get, so it wasn't a total bust or anything. He was very...cautious. He admires caution."
"Does he? Hmm. Well, caution is very admirable. Especially when crossing the street. So is that it? Are we done? I have a class at two and if we get moving now I won't have to miss it."
I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I pushed away from the table and stood up. "Yeah, we're done. Let's go."
As we walked back down to the Metro, Chris was rattling on about something, but I couldn't have told you what if my life depended on it. My thoughts were completely caught up with the questions I had pushed aside earlier. Why did Jake have a newspaper clipping of Neal stashed away in his room? Was there a connection to the wad of cash somehow? I didn't like where that thought took me. Judy would like it even less.
I thought about it all the way back to my car, and then I thought about it some more all the way home. I hadn't come to any conclusions by the time I pulled into the driveway. The only vehicle in the driveway belonged to Kane, which suited my purposes just fine. I couldn't do any more on Paul's case until I received the files from Neal, but I had put off Jake's case long enough. Now that it seemed the two cases might even be connected, it seemed more important than ever that I get back to work on Jake's, and Kane was going to be my first stop.
I found him in the room we shared, typing away at the computer.
"Homework?" I asked as I walked in.
He jumped a little and spun around. "Killian!" he gasped. "I didn't even hear you come in. When did you get home?"
"Just now. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Can I interrupt you for a minute?"
"Please interrupt me. Take as long as you want. I hate Shakespeare."
"How can you hate Shakespeare?" I asked, forgetting for the moment why I had come looking for him.
"Not everyone loves Hamlet, Kill. Besides, it's not even so much Shakespeare as it is having to write a paper about him. Why'd he have to be so damn prolific anyway? But enough about the dead guy, I need a break from him. What's up?"
"Who are Jake's friends at school?"
Kane made a face. "You mean who were his friends. He doesn't have any friends anymore and that seems to be just the way he wants it."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. We weren't exactly in the same circle. I just know that he's pretty much a loner these days; he doesn't really hang out with anyone."
"But he used to?"
"Yeah."
"Who did he hang out with?"
"Um, Danielle and Craig I guess."
"What are their last names?"
"Why?"
"I want to talk to them, see if I can find out if they have any ideas about what's going on with Jake. If they were friends they might have more of an idea than anyone."
Kane shrugged. "You can try, but I get the impression that nobody really knows what's going on with Jake. It's Danielle Lewis and Craig Martin."
"And they were close friends?"
"I don't know how close they were. Danielle was like Jake's fag hag. I think Craig had a crush on him. He always followed Jake around like a puppy dog. Craig's not out or anything but everybody knows he's gay."
I frowned. "How do they know?"
"He's just really obvious, flamey, you know? And you should have seen the way he used to look at Jake."
"That's so stereotypical. Just because someone acts flamey it doesn't necessarily mean he's gay."
"Don't go getting all preachy with me," Kane cut me off before I could work myself into a full self-righteous rant. "You know that I know better than to stereotype people. Don't you think I can recognize a gay guy when I see one? I live with three gay men and my brother was gay. I think I am well qualified. I probably know who's gay in my school before they do, and trust me; Craig is gay, whether he knows it yet or not."
"Ok, ok. Sorry. You're right. You wouldn't happen to have their phone numbers or anything would you?"
"Nope, you'll hafta work for those, Nancy Drew."
"Ha-ha. You're a riot. No, really. Just for that, I won't help you with your homework. I was going to offer to help, but not now."
He grinned. "So when are we going to hang out? You said we were going to spend more time together and I've hardly seen you since."
"I'm sorry, Kane. I've just been so busy with this damn case. Hey, you like to dance, right?"
"Um, I guess so," he said suspiciously. "Why?"
"You want to go to a dance with me?"
"Wouldn't that be a bit weird? I mean you're my brother and all..."
"Oh stop. You're nowhere near as funny as you think you are. I'm going with Micah, but you can come along. It'll be fun. It's a Halloween dance at Pemberton, sponsored by Haven."
"What's Haven?"
"It's the gay/straight alliance on campus."
He looked skeptical. "No offense, but is it going to be like all gay guys and lesbians?"
I laughed. "A lot of straight girls go too. Just think, you'd probably be the only straight guy there. Easy picking."
"Sounds like my kind of dance," he leered.
"Are you dating anyone right now?"
"No," he sighed. "I seem to be going through a dry spell right now. Maybe some a change of pace is just what I need. College women sound about right. So when is this dance?"
"Thursday night. You hafta wear a costume."
"A costume? How...juvenile."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun,"
"What are you going as?"
"I don't know yet. Any ideas?"
"Let me think about it. Remember the last costume party we went to together?"
I did. It had been a huge, elaborate affair at Jake's old house. Kane had just moved in with Adam and me, so he came along. It had been an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, culminating with a shattered windshield, a death threat, and a murder.
"Let's hope this one ends a little differently," I said.
"Let's," Kane agreed.
"Well, I'm going to run to the office and see if there's any messages for me and maybe get a start on finding those phone numbers before I head back to the B&B."
"It's back to old Billy for me," he said as he turned back to the computer. "I'll see ya later, Kill."
"Later, Kane." I started out the door.
"Hey," he called, stopping me. I turned back. "How about making our own costumes? We can come up with ideas and get the stuff we need and then make them one day this week after school."
I was hardly the craftiest person you'll ever meet, I didn't even want to think about what any costume I had to make would turn out to look like, but he looked so hopeful that there was no way I could turn him down. "Sounds great," I said cheerily. "You come up with the idea and call me with a list of stuff you need. Ok?"
"Ok," he said with such a huge smile that I was very glad I'd agreed.
I drove to my office, but there were no messages on my desk. In fact, it didn't even look like Novak had been in today. The mail was still in the box and a yellow post-it note from a delivery service was stuck to the door. They would be back the next day to try again and after that, it was tough luck.
"We need a secretary," I grumbled as I sorted through the mail making two piles, one to give to Novak, and one to toss in the trash. Once that task was finished, I flipped open the phonebook to the M's. At four columns, calling every Martin in the book was a bit more than I wanted to take on. Lewis turned out to take up almost seven columns. It looked like the easy way was out.
Then again, maybe there was an even easier way. I picked up the phone and dialed Judy's number. Luckily, she answered and not Jake.
"Judy, this is Killian," I said.
"Hi, Killian. Has Amalie shown up yet?"
"No, actually I'm calling about Jake."
"Oh, have you found something?"
"I don't know yet," I said carefully. "Maybe. I need to check some things first, before I say anything."
"It sounds serious."
"I don't want to say anything at this point. I don't know enough. I'm hoping you can help me. I'm trying to get phone numbers for Danielle Lewis and Craig Martin; they were friends of Jake's."
"I know Danielle and Craig, Danielle especially, but I don't think I have their phone numbers. Jake might have them somewhere, though. Hang on, I'll go look."
While I waited, I picked up a pencil and doodled absently on the back of an envelope destined for the trash can. It was a few minutes before Judy came back on the line.
"Found them," she said triumphantly. She read off the numbers and I jotted them down on the envelope. "You know," she said, "I don't think he's really friends with them anymore. I talked to them when I first became suspicious and they said they didn't know any more than I did."
"What they might not be willing to tell a mom they might be willing to tell me," I said. "You know that parents are like the enemy at that age. You just don't tell them any..." I glanced down at the envelope and stopped in mid-sentence.
"Killian?" Judy asked. "Are you still there?"
While I had been waiting for Judy, I had drawn words in bubble letters. Looking at them now, I was struck by the words my subconscious had chosen. Escort. Jake. Money. It was the only conclusion I had been able to come up with and the one I had been trying to avoid. Looking at the fact objectively, it was obvious. It would explain where the Jake's cash came from. Micah had even mentioned how much money he had made working as an escort. It would explain why Jake had a picture of Neal, actually, it didn't quite explain it since Neal claimed he never met his escorts, but how did I know he was telling me the truth? Maybe Jake was just too much to resist and he made an exception. Or maybe Jake figured it out somehow. He's a smart guy. It would explain where he kept disappearing to after school until late at night and even occasionally overnight. It would explain the expensive clothes. It would even explain the ticket to the Ball, one of his clients was taking him. It all just fit too perfectly. I didn't like it, but it just made too much sense. Then again, I didn't have to like it. I just had to prove it. All I had now was circumstantial evidence.
"Killian? What's wrong?" Judy asked again. I had forgotten I was still holding the phone.
"Oh, um, nothing's wrong," I said quickly. There was no point getting Judy all upset until I knew for certain what was going on with Jake. "I just realized I'm late meeting Micah," I fibbed.
"Oh, then I'll let you go. Tell him I said he did a great job on that article. It's about time we shook up those fat cats."
"Yeah, thanks. Bye Judy."
I hung up and sat staring at the envelope and those three words. Jake an escort? Was he somehow connected to Paul's death? Could he be in danger? I didn't even want to consider it, but it was too late. I was in too far. I had to know the truth.
I was still brooding over Jake the next day. I had even more trouble than usual paying attention in class since I couldn't keep my brain off of the subject for more than a few minutes at a time. I was especially wondering what I was going to do after I talked to his old friends. I wasn't expecting a lot from them, but it was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Beyond that though, I had no idea where to go. There was the Ball Friday night, so maybe I would just wait for that and see what happened.
When I arrived at work after my classes, I thought I saw Novak's mysterious client slip down the back stairs just as I came up the front ones.
"Was that your client?" I asked him as I came into the office. He was bending over my desk looking at several photographs, which he promptly scooped up as soon as I appeared in the door.
"Yes, it was," he answered casually.
"Why was she sneaking down the back way?"
"She wasn't sneaking anywhere. I told you, she's in a delicate position and needs to be very discreet."
"So she was sneaking."
"She wasn't...ok, yes, she was sneaking."
"What are the pictures of?"
"If that was any of your business I would have shown them to you. Don't you have a couple cases of your own to worry about?" He retreated to his office where he closed the door firmly behind him, just a little shy of slamming.
I laughed. Teasing Novak was so much fun, although I was very curious about the birdlike woman.
I turned on the computer while I sorted through today's mail. It looked like Novak had already gone through and taken his. Most of what was left went directly into the circular file. I set aside all but one large manila envelope. I deal with the rest later. The manila envelope was from Neal. He'd been true to his word. I noticed that the return address was a PO Box with no name. He was cautious as always. I opened the envelope and dumped out the enclosed documents. On top was Paul's file. Under that were the records of Paul's repeat customers. Assuming Neal had sent me all of them, there were only seven. Each one listed the dates that particular client had met with Paul and how they had paid, as well as personal information like their address if Paul had met them there and their phone number.
I decided there was no time like the present to start calling. The first four weren't home. They were probably at work, so I'd have to call back later. The next guy hung up on me as soon as I told him why I was calling. I actually got someone to talk to me on the fourth try.
"Are you Luis Rodriguez?" I asked after I got over my initial shock that someone answered their phone and remained on the line after I identified myself as a private investigator.
"Yes, I am," he said. "May I ask what this is concerning?"
"I'm calling about Paul Flynn."
There was a pause. "Paul who?"
"Flynn. He was an escort. I believe you knew him."
"Oh, Paul. I thought I knew him very well, but he never mentioned his last name," he chuckled. "It's just not something that comes up, you know? Now, other things came up...but not last names."
"When was the last time you met with Paul?"
"It's probably been a month ago. You see, I met someone and I haven't really needed..."
According to the records he had last been with Paul about a month ago, so he was telling the truth there. I wasn't really interested in the details of his personal life, though, so I cut him off. "Did you know that Paul died a few weeks ago?"
"Paul...died? No, I...I didn't know. How? Was it an accident?"
"Actually, he was murdered. In his apartment."
"Wha-what? Murdered? Oh my God."
"You didn't know?"
"No, I didn't know," he snapped. "If I knew I wouldn't have been making sick jokes and prattling on about my love life. How...how was he killed? Wait, was he the guy on the news a few weeks back? The one that they said was killed in an alleged robbery?"
"Probably."
"If he was killed in a robbery, why are you talking to me?"
"I don't believe he was killed in a robbery. I need to ask you some questions. Would you be willing to help me out? You could help me bring Paul's killer to justice." Assuming it's not you, I thought to myself.
"Yes, of course. Anything to help Paul. I may not have known his last name but he was a very special person. He always made me feel so special. He just had a way of making you feel at ease. I can't believe he's gone."
I rolled my eyes and glanced down at his record while he bemoaned his deep loss. The man didn't even know his last name and he paid him for sex. How broken up could he be?
"How long had you been seeing Paul?" I asked when he paused to take a breath. I had the information in front of me, but I wanted to see if his account would agree with the official records.
"Off and on for the last six months," he said after taking a second to shift gears. That jived.
"How many times in that six months?"
"I don't know for sure, maybe five?" The records said six, close enough.
"How did he act?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Well, I want you to compare the way he acted early on and how he acted towards the end. Was he any different?"
He thought a minute. "Not that I could tell. He always made sure that I was relaxed and satisfied. I guess you could say that he was every inch a professional. Um, no pun intended."
"He never seemed scared?"
"Not that I could tell."
"Can you think of any reason someone might want to kill him?"
"No."
"Can you think of anything you feel might be important for me to know?"
"Look, I guess I really didn't know him that well. He didn't talk about himself much; he never revealed anything personal. All I can tell you is that he always made me feel good and special. That's not something I'd felt very often in my life before him. He made me feel good about myself, and let me tell you, it was a lot more fun than therapy."
"Ok, well thanks," I mumbled. "If you think of anything else, please give me a call." I gave him my cell phone number and was about to hang up when he called out.
"Wait, how did you get my number? How did you know I used to see Paul?"
I'd been anticipating that question, and since Paul was gone now it wouldn't hurt to lay the blame on him. "Paul kept a journal," I lied.
"And he mentioned me?" Luis sounded surprised and a little flattered.
"Yes," I said, and after a moment I added, "He seemed fond of you."
The line was quiet for a few seconds, and then he said simply. "Thank you," and hung up.
I hung up on my end too. There was one number left that I hadn't called yet, but I decided to wait and call later when he would be more likely to be home. That call had taken more out of me than I had expected. Somehow, I had never thought of an escort actually performing some sort of valuable service, but it was obvious it had meant a great deal to Luis. I wondered what Luis' life had been like that he had needed the validation of someone so badly. Was he been abused as a child? Told he was unattractive? Did he have a bad relationship that had left scars of the emotional kind? I almost wanted to call him back and ask, but it was really none of my business and certainly had no bearing on the case.
I looked at my watch. It was still too early to call Jake's old friends and no one would be home from work for several more hours. I had some time to kill. I checked my e-mail, but there was nothing of importance. I went through the mail I'd set aside earlier, but that didn't take long either. There was no paperwork waiting to be done, Novak wasn't letting me do touch anything having to do with his secret case. He was doing all his own paperwork, assuming there was any. Maybe he wasn't even leaving a paper trail.
I suddenly found myself bored. It was an unfamiliar feeling these days. It always seemed that I had something waiting that needed doing, either work or school related, and if not, I was doing something with Micah. I'd forgotten what free time was. I figured I had at least two hours to kill and not a single thing to do.
I knocked on Novak's door and he told me to come in. I opened it wide enough to stick my head in.
"You need anything done?" I asked.
He looked up with a surprised expression on his face. "What?"
"Do you need anything done? Any filing, paperwork, typing?"
He blinked disbelievingly. "You're asking me for work? Are you ill? Do you have a fever? Don't tell me you don't have anything to do."
"I have a couple free hours," I admitted sheepishly.
"And you want me to fill them with work? Killian, you're becoming a workaholic. Go get some fresh air. Walk through the zoo, roller blade through the park, do something outside that doesn't require you to think. For goodness sake, take a break."
"I'm not becoming a workaholic," I protested.
"Did it even occur to you to relax when you realized you didn't have anything that needed to be done?"
"That's beside the point."
"No, that's exactly the point. You're working too hard. Go enjoy yourself for a few hours. That's an order."
I snapped up straight and sketched a mock salute. "Yes, sir, Novak, sir."
He gave me a dirty look. "Get the hell out of here. Go have some fun, if you haven't forgotten how."
I gave him a dirty look back and slipped out of his doorway. "I know how to have fun," I grumbled under my breath. I grabbed my keys off the corner of my desk and ran down to my car.
I decided to go to the zoo. In the middle of town, there's a large park that runs along the Wicomico River, part of the park is a charming little zoo. It's won awards as one of the best small zoos in the country. I'd always enjoyed walking through it, but I hadn't been there at all this year. I wandered around looking at jaguars, bears, monkeys, and alligators for a while, doing my best not to think about anything work related. I was a little disturbed to realize that didn't leave me much to think about. Things were good with Micah, better than they'd ever been in fact. I was doing all I could about Amalie until she decided to show up again, and besides, I'd rather not think about that unless I had to. That was more stressful that work any way you measured it. School was just plain boring. I couldn't think of another thing to think about. Had my life been reduced to dead people, work, school, and Micah?
I need a hobby, I thought and then laughed out loud. A little girl nearby, gave me a wary look and sidled up closer to her mother. When would I find time to do a hobby?
I ended up at the playground at one end of the zoo. It was practically deserted this time of day except for a young woman watching her two children play on the slide. I made my way to the swings and sat down on one. I watched the kids play, totally immersed in their fun. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be that carefree. I was still watching them when I felt a presence behind me. Before I could turn around, I felt hands in the small of my back. I yelped as someone gave me a push. I spun around in the swing, letting go of the chains as I did, and in the process lost my balance. Strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground and I looked up into Micah face. His expression was warring between amusement and concern.
"Are you trying to kill me?" I asked accusingly.
Amusement won out and Micah laughed. "Sorry. I wanted to surprise you, not send you to the hospital."
I laughed to as I managed to get my feet under me and stood up. "You almost succeeded in doing both. How did you find me?"
"I went by the office to see you and Novak said he'd sent you out to relax and that I might find you here. I thought it was worth a shot. Sit down and I'll push you."
I sat back down obediently and he gave me a gentle push. "Why were you looking for me?" I asked.
"I just wanted to see you. Do I have to have a reason?"
I smiled. "I guess not. What's going on with your story?"
"Ugh. What's not going on? I think I opened Pandora's Box. There's hate, greed, cruelty, deception-you name it. And it looks like we've only scratched the surface."
"What do you mean?"
"It means it looks like there's a lot more to this than we first thought; that it goes far beyond just the local county commissioners."
"How far beyond?"
"We don't know that yet, but we've definitely uncovered something big."
"You know, I don't even understand what's going on with all this, really. I haven't taken the time to read everything."
"It's a lot to explain and I don't even understand it all," Micah sighed. "It all has to do with the environmental protection laws. It looks like the commissioners and other people in positions of authority were being paid off to allow building in places where there shouldn't have been any development. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. I don't really feel like talking about it now, I need a break. That's why I came to see you. I don't know how much time I'm going to have for the next few days, or longer, and I wanted to see you while I actually had a little free time. I don't want to spend what little time we have talking about work."
"Fair enough," I said, thinking about what Novak had said about me being a workaholic. "Let's walk through the park."
"That sounds nice."
I hopped off the swing and we walked through the park along the river. There weren't too many people around so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. We paused on the little arch bridge over one of the branches and kissed a little.
"I'm sorry I won't be around much for a while," he said resting his forehead against mine.
"Me too," I said softly, "but there's nothing you can do about it. This is your job and it's important to you."
"Thanks for understanding."
He pressed his lips against mine again and I melted into his arms. It didn't take long before I began to get aroused. Micah noticed immediately.
"Have you ever had sex in a public place?" he asked me playfully.
"No," I giggled, "and I don't intend to start now."
"You have no sense of adventure," he teased.
"I just have no desire to get arrested. You're supposed to write the news, not make it."
He laughed. "I miss making love to you."
"It's only been a couple days."
"That's too long. I love you, Killian."
"I love you too."
We stood for a while just holding each other until a dog walker came down the path at a brisk stroll. We pulled apart but she just smiled at us as she passed us with her spaniel.
"I'd better get back to work," Micah said with a sigh.
I checked my watch. "Me too," I grimaced.
He gave me a quick kiss and we walked hand in hand back through the park and zoo to the parking lot where we had both left our cars. One final kiss and we drove off in our separate vehicles. I felt much better for my break from the grind. The fact that Micah had come looking for me certainly didn't hurt either. It made me feel as if I truly mattered to him, which is something I guess I already knew, but there's nothing like having it shown to you in such a tactile way.
When I got back to the office, Novak was gone and the door was locked. I let myself in and found a note on my desk.
"Hope you relaxed with your free time. I'll be gone for a few days. Be back Friday. Novak."
I frowned as I read over it. Why hadn't he at least mentioned that he wouldn't be here when I got back? Had he known or was it a last minute thing? Maybe he had just been trying to avoid the inevitable questions that would have arisen if he'd told me he was going somewhere. Like, where was he going? What was he doing? Did it involve his mystery case? Maybe he was just trying to get rid of me in the first place and that was why he'd suggested I go to the zoo.
I grumbled to myself and tossed the note into the trashcan. My questions would go unanswered for now, and knowing Novak, I might never get any satisfaction.
I stood for a moment trying to decide whether to tackle Craig and Danielle first or call the rest of Paul's former clients. I decided to go for the local kids. I could talk to them in person and I didn't feel like spending a lot of time on the phone. First, though, I had to call and make sure they were at home.
I called Craig first. He was home and, while a little nervous, agreeable to my dropping by right away. Danielle was equally available, so I told her I'd be by in an hour or so, after I finished with Craig.
After locking the office back up, I drove to the address Craig had given me. His house was in a nondescript middle-class neighborhood of the type where all the houses look like carbon copies of one another. The only variance was color and occasionally some wild and crazy person had added an overhang at the front door or a small front porch. The houses were all well-kept with neat lawns, but the area was strangely depressing. The only bright spots came from the pumpkins almost every house had in their front yards. A few families had gone all out with ghosts and witches everywhere and pad cotton strung on tree branches, supposedly to look like cobwebs.
I pulled into Craig's driveway and before I could even get out of the car, the front door, adorned with a jointed cardboard skeleton, was opened by a thin boy who peered out at me with an anxious expression.
I gave him what I hoped was a non-threatening smile and a little wave. "Are you Craig?" I asked as I approached the door.
He nodded. "Are you Killian?"
"Yeah, thanks for agreeing to talk to me." I stopped at the steps and wondered if I was going to have to talk to him through the screen door or if he would invite me in. While I waited for him to decide what to do about me, I studied Jake's former friend and, according to Kane at least, admirer. He was an attractive boy, about five foot ten or eleven with a slim build and a narrow waist. His flawless skin was a little too dark to be Caucasian, but I couldn't quite decide on his race. His eyes were large and dark behind his glasses, his hair slightly curly and light brown. He wore a form-fitting blue shirt and wide-legged cargo khakis. He would have been very attractive with a little more confidence. As it was, he had a way of pulling into himself as if he was afraid of the world outside.
He eyed me for a minute then seemed to decide I was safe. He pushed open the screen door and motioned for me to come in.
"We can talk in here," he said. "My parents aren't home." His voice was soft with a slight lisp on his sibilants.
He led me into the living room, which was decorated tastefully in earth tones. A family portrait hung over the couch, answering my question as to his race. His father was white and his mother was African-American. A much younger Craig sat on his mother's lap in the picture, smiling widely for the photographer.
I turned back to him and watched him fold himself into the couch, tucking his long legs under him and watching me with uncertainty. I understood what Kane had been saying about him now; there was something decidedly feminine about this boy. I took a seat in a chair facing the couch.
"I really appreciate you talking to me," I said again. He nodded an acknowledgement and I hoped I wasn't going to have to drag every word out of him. "I know you don't know me or anything..."
"Actually, I know who you are," he interrupted, catching me by surprise. "Everybody in school knows who you are. You're kind of like a legend around here."
"Me?" I squeaked in a very un-legendlike manner.
"Yeah. I mean everyone knows you caught that murderer a few years ago and killed him yourself. I wasn't even in high school yet and I heard about it. And then you were brave enough to come out and all..." He stopped abruptly and blushed.
I made a face. "Trust me, going after that killer was not the smartest thing I've ever done. That was stupidity not bravery. I almost got myself and people I cared about killed."
"But you saved Jake's life," he insisted.
"Maybe it would have never been in danger in the first place if I'd left things alone."
"But then the killer would have gotten away with it."
I was fighting a losing battle so I moved to his other point. "Well, coming out wasn't all that brave. It was just something I had to do."
"It's more than a lot of people do," he said softly, looking away.
"Maybe that's because they don't have anyone to support them like I had."
He looked up at me and gave me an odd, slightly calculating look. "What did you come to talk to me about?" he asked, shifting the subject to one a little more comfortable.
"Jake," I said simply.
He frowned. "What about Jake? I don't see him much anymore. He's too good for me now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everything was fine and then all of a sudden he stopped calling me to do things and when I'd call him he'd make some lame excuse. And then he stopped hanging out with me and Danielle at school, started avoiding us, not coming to lunch, things like that."
"Do you know why?"
"Why he stopped hanging out with us?" I nodded. "Not really. I guess it was something I did. I don't know what, though, and believe me, I've thought about it a lot." He looked like he could start crying at any moment.
"Do you think Danielle knows?"
He shrugged. "Danielle and I weren't really friends. We were just both friends with Jake; we don't have much in common besides that. We don't talk much now that Jake ignores both of us."
I wasn't getting much from this poor kid, but I felt very sorry for him. It looked like he was victim in all this; Jake's treatment of him just served to reaffirm his lack of worth in his own eyes.
"You know I'm a private investigator now, right?" I asked. He nodded again. "I want you to keep what I'm about to tell you just between you and me, ok?" His eyes widened and he nodded once more. "I think Jake is involved in something illegal. I've been asked to look into it by someone who cares about him very much. They're worried about him. The reason I'm here to talk to you is that I was hoping you'd be able to help me figure out what's going on. Do you have any ideas, no matter how wild, about what Jake is involved with?"
He thought for a minute. "It could be drugs, I guess," he said after a while. "I don't know what else it could be. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," I told him. "It's not your fault. And for the record, I don't think it's your fault that Jake is being a jerk either. I don't think you did anything wrong. I think it's Jake that's doing something wrong."
"Really?" he asked with a vaguely desperate note in his voice, as if he very much needed to believe this.
"Yes. I have to go talk to Danielle now, but I want to say something before I go. Remember what I said earlier about having people to support you?"
He gave me a sharp look and slowly nodded. I dug a business card out of my wallet and handed it to him.
"This is none of my business really, but if you ever need someone to talk to about anything, you can talk to me. Maybe you're parents and friends are all the support you'll need, but just in case..."
I let the offer hang in the air while he studied my card as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. When he finally looked up, I could have sworn his eyes were filled with unshed tears.
"I don't have any friends anymore," he said in a voice so soft I could barely hear him. "And my parents are too busy to be bothered with my stupid problems."
"Your problems aren't stupid," I said gently. "They matter to you and I'll bet they would matter to your parents too."
He shrugged, but looked unconvinced. "They wouldn't understand."
"Maybe I would."
He tucked my card carefully into his pocket and folded his hands in his lap. "Thank you," he whispered.
"You're welcome, Craig. And I meant what I said, if you need to talk to someone, please call me."
He nodded one last time and I stood up. "I'll let myself out," I told him.
"They call me faggot," he said suddenly. I sank back into the chair.
"Who does?" I asked.
"Everybody at school."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me."
"I'm not a jock. I'm not all macho. I'm not tough. I suck at sports. I walk like girl." He stopped his litany of perceived faults and took a ragged breath.
"There's nothing wrong with any of that," I told him.
He snorted. "Try telling that to the guys at my school."
"I remember what it was like," I said. He looked up at me with surprise in his eyes. "I wasn't always a legend," I said dryly. "When I was in high school I was anything but popular. I was awkward and uncoordinated when it came to sports. I was lucky, I didn't really get picked on too much because the people I hung out with were jocks. They weren't really my friends but we'd grown up together and everyone assumed we were friends so they left me alone for the most part. But when I became friends with Seth, he was the gay boy that was murdered, and I started to realize I was gay, the people who everyone thought were my friends turned on me."
"Oh wow, really?"
"Yes, really. They left that part out of the story, huh? That stuff isn't important in the long run. After high school, you'll never even see most of those idiots again. All that matters is what you think about yourself, and you shouldn't let their opinions affect that."
"Easier said than done," he mumbled.
"True. This is why it's important to talk to people who understand. Can I ask you a very personal question?"
His eyes looked everywhere in the room but at me. I didn't think he was going to answer me at first, but he finally nodded his head yes.
"Do you think you are gay?"
He bit his lip and stared at the wall over my head. Again, he didn't answer right away, but then gave a jerky nod. A tear squeezed out one eyes and rolled down his cheek.
"Have you ever told anyone before?" He shook his head no. "Well, it's ok. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone else unless you say it's ok. You can trust me." His eyes slowly lowered to meet mine. "You don't have to be afraid." I told him. You're not alone. You can ask me anything, talk to me about anything."
Suddenly he burst into tears and began to sob in earnest. I moved to the couch next to him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He twisted into my chest so quickly he almost threw me off balance. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his quivering shoulders, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. He calmed a little, but continued to cry for a few more minutes before pulling away and wiping furiously at his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said shakily. "I can't believe I did that."
"Don't be sorry," I said again. "It's ok. I completely understand. There's just so much pressure there that it kind of explodes out, doesn't it? Like a dam that springs a little leak and then the whole thing blows."
He gave a little relieved giggle and nodded. I gave him a moment to pull himself together. He looked at his watch and frowned.
"You should probably go," he said. "My parents will be home soon and I'd rather not have to explain why I'm crying on the couch with some guy they've never seen before."
"Are you ok?" I asked.
He smiled. "Yeah. I'm ok. I feel better than I have in months. It feels really good to tell someone, like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Can I still talk to you?"
"Definitely. You'll probably need to talk now more than ever. My home phone, office, cell phone, and my email address are on the card I gave you, so you can get in touch with me no matter what. You can call me day or night, ok?"
He nodded happily then surprised me by throwing his arms around me in a big hug. "Thank you, Killian," he said as he squeezed me.
"You're very welcome, Craig."
He released me just as suddenly as he had grabbed me and stood up with a little embarrassment. I stood up too and followed him to the front door, where he was unable to stop himself from giving me another spontaneous hug. I laughed and hugged him back. He let me out and stood in the door while I got in my car. He was still standing at the door as I drove away.
Well, I thought to myself as I looked up at him in my rearview mirror, I may not have found much out for the case, but that was definitely not a wasted trip.
I pulled into Danielle's driveway only a little after the time I had told her to expect me. Danielle's neighborhood was a step up from the one Craig lived in. At least the houses here were discernibly different from their neighbors in architectural style. Danielle lived in a light blue, two-story Cape Cod with an attached two-car garage. The garage door was open revealing a matching set of Audi's, one champagne colored and one dark green. In the drive, outside the garage, was a slightly older Saturn, which I assumed to be Danielle's.
Unlike Craig's house, no one greeted me at the door here. I approached the front door and knocked. After a brief wait, it was opened by a middle-aged man with the look of a stereotypical college professor, sweater vest over a button up oxford, brown slacks, and brown loafers. His hairline had long ago sounded the retreat and what remained was rapidly turning from a mousy brown to an equally mousy gray. He peered at me over his half-glasses with a slightly befuddled expression, as if he expected to recognize me but didn't.
"I'm here to see Danielle," I said, hoping I had the right house.
"Oh. Yes. One minute, please," he said as he turned away. His voice was a surprisingly rich baritone.
I stood waiting on the doorstep for about a minute before she appeared. She looked remarkably like her father, except without the receding hairline and a little heavier. Her hair was the same mousy brown, hers hung limply to her shoulders, and she had the same pear-shaped body. She even peered at me over her glasses in much the same way. She was wearing what looked like a man's button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over a pair of Capri pants with no shoes.
"Are you the guy who called and wanted to talk to me?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm Killian Kendall," I said.
She nodded. "I've heard of you. Jake used to talk about you and of course, almost everybody at school knows what you did."
"Of course," I muttered.
"What?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing," I said quickly. She seemed a little sullen and it appeared to be in my best interest to keep her talking while she was still willing. "Can I ask you some questions about Jake?"
She shrugged, so I took that as an affirmative. When she made no move to either come out or let me in, I asked, "Do you think I could come inside or you could come outside so we don't have to talk through the door?"
She made a face and threw open the door with a dramatic sigh. "I'll come out there," she said as if she were making a huge sacrifice for my benefit. "If we go inside my parents will listen."
It didn't seem to me that her father would be able to work up enough interest to be bothered, but I didn't know him and I'd never even met her mother. She led the way across the lawn to a freestanding lawn swing with just enough room for two people to sit next to each other if they didn't mind being a little intimate. I minded, but sat down gingerly anyway, as far to the other side as possible. Danielle gave me an expectant look.
"You're friends with Jake?" I asked.
"Not anymore."
"What happened?"
"Who knows? He never told me."
"What do you think happened?"
"I think he got bored with us and moved on to greener pastures."
"Us meaning you and Craig?"
"Yeah."
"Was it always just the three of you?"
"Pretty much. Every once in a while, some guy would try to get close to Jake if you know what I mean. He'd be around for a few days and then we wouldn't see him much anymore. I think Jake's motto was `Use `em and lose `em.'"
"Do you know for a fact that Jake was sleeping with these guys?"
"Not for a fact, no, but it doesn't take a genius."
"Who were some of these guys?"
"I don't remember their names. They weren't really important, you know?"
I tried not to sigh in frustration. For all I knew, she was making this stuff up as she went along; she seemed like the type. "So you knew that Jake is gay?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Duh. Everyone knows that. He's not exactly in the closet."
"Did that ever bother you?"
"Of course not," she answered quickly, which probably meant that it had. I was beginning to suspect that Danielle had a crush on Jake and had resented the other guys. It made me wonder how she felt about Craig, who had also had a crush on Jake, a crush so obvious that even Kane had noticed it.
"What about Craig?"
"What about him?" she asked obtusely.
"What did you think of him?"
She quirked her mouth to one side. "Craig is a little wimp. He followed Jake around like a puppy dog, mooning at him, simpering at him like some demented Scarlette O'Hara. It was sickening. That's probably why Jake quit hanging out with him in the first place."
I had to bite back a question asking her if that was why he'd quit hanging out with her too. I rather doubted that Jake's sudden change had anything to do with Craig or Danielle; it seemed to me that Jake had enjoyed having his own private fan club. Something else must have come along that made lovesick teenagers seem paltry in comparison. Could that something have been the escort business?
It was obvious that Danielle lived in her own bitter little world. She saw only what she wanted to see. I didn't think I was going to get anything useful out of her. To be honest, I didn't like her and I wanted to get away as quickly as I could. Still, I had a few more questions I needed to ask before I made my escape.
"So you don't really have any idea what's going on with Jake?" I asked.
"I already said no. We don't talk anymore."
I took a deep breath and decided I was done here. I stood up. "Thanks for your time, Danielle..." I began, but she cut me off.
"Wait a minute!" she demanded. "What was that all about? Why were you asking all those questions about Jake?"
She asks that now? I marveled to myself. The logical time to ask that would have been when I was asking the questions, not when I was done and ready to leave. I didn't owe her anything now, but at the same time I had a feeling that if I didn't tell her she's be on the phone to Jake before I was out of the driveway. One the other hand, she seemed like the gossipy type so I couldn't tell her too much.
"You know I'm a private investigator, right?"
"So you said on the phone," she retorted. "What is this so called case anyway? How do I know you're not just hot for Jake's ass like those other guys?"
I gritted my teeth and counted to ten. "The case is classified," I snapped. Her eyes narrowed and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. For all her bluff however, I had a feeling that she was really a coward at heart so I decided to try for a little scare tactic.
"Jake may be involved in something very dangerous," I told her in a tersely, clipping off each word in my annoyance. "Lives may be at stake, including everyone who he is or was close to." Her eyes widened at that. This might work after all, and as far as I knew, I wasn't even lying. "I need you to stay very quiet about our talk or you could put the whole case in jeopardy. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Good. Thanks again for your time." I turned quickly before she could ask anything else and strode across the yard to my car. I jumped in and backed out of their drive before she had even stood up. I hoped I had been convincing enough to keep her quiet. I also hoped I had overstated the case. I was afraid that I may have been all too accurate.
I drove back to the office with the intentions of calling Paul's other clients. Once at the office, though, I found a message waiting for me from Craig, asking me to call him back. I wondered if he was taking me up on my offer to talk already or if he had something to add to what he'd told me earlier.
I called him back and he answered on the second ring, as if he was waiting near the phone.
"Hi, thanks for calling me back," he said, sounding slightly surprised as if he hadn't expected me too.
"No problem," I said. "What's up?"
"After you left I thought I remembered something, but I wasn't sure about it so I looked it up in my journal. Right before Jake started acting weird, he was real excited one day at school. I asked him why he was so happy and he said he couldn't tell me but that he might have met someone really different from the normal boys around here. He was always going on about how much better the guys were in California."
"He didn't tell you anything about this guy he'd met?" I asked.
"No, sorry."
"Craig, you don't have to apologize all the time. It's not your fault, there's nothing to be sorry for. You've just told me something I didn't know before. That's really helpful."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Thank you."
"Um, you're welcome."
"I have another question for you. Danielle said that Jake dated a lot of guys but that they were never around for very long. Is that the way you saw it?"
"I guess. Jake always said the guys here were too boring. I got the impression that he missed living in California."
"But he said this guy that he'd met was different?"
"Yeah."
"Any idea what he meant by that? Even a guess?"
"I don't know."
"Did he have any specific complaints about the guys here other than that they were boring?"
"He said they didn't know how to party. And, um...he sometimes tried to get me to do drugs with him. I never would and I don't know where he got them from, but he said no one here knew how to have fun. He always said that when I'd tell him I didn't want to do drugs."
"What kind of dugs?"
"I don't really know. I don't know that much about drugs. I've never done anything. I don't even drink."
"Was it pills? Powder? Needles?"
"Pills mostly."
"Mostly?"
"That's all I ever saw."
"But you don't know what kind of pills they were?"
"No, sorry. Er...I mean...sorry."
I stifled a giggle. "It's ok. Thanks Craig, you've been a big help."
"I have?"
"Definitely."
"Cool. Um, well, I'll let you get back to work or whatever."
"Ok. Thanks again, Craig."
"Yeah, you're welcome. Oh, and um, thank you. For, uh, talking to me and stuff."
"You're welcome. And don't forget to call me anytime you want or need to talk."
"Ok," he said softly. "Bye."
"Bye, Craig."
I hung up and thought about the difference between him and Danielle. One was sweet and gentle; one had the grace of a bulldozer. Jake couldn't have chosen two hangers-on that were more different. The only thing that they had in common was their fascination with Jake Davis.
I took out my notebook and jotted down the little bit of information that I had managed to glean from Craig and Danielle, most of which had been from Craig. That done, I retrieved the papers Neal had sent me. I pulled out the guy who had hung up on me and Luis, who I had already talked to.
I called the guy on top. He was home but after a brief conversation, it became obvious that he wouldn't have much to add. His visits with Paul had been out-calls, which meant that Paul went to him. He was amazingly unobservant and only remembered Paul's name because he had it written down so he could remember who to ask for when he called.
The next guy I called still wasn't home, or at least there was still no answer. The guy after that said that he didn't know anything about Paul, that Paul never talked about personal things and always kept everything focused on giving as much pleasure as possible. "We never really talked all that much, if you know what I mean," he'd said. I was beginning to think that this was going to be a waste of time. It didn't look like Paul talked to anyone very much. I decided to keep calling though. You never knew when you just might strike gold.
I thought I'd turned up a nugget with my next call, but it turned out to be pyrite, better known as fool's gold. The guy started out talking as if he knew Paul well, but I quickly realized he was only interested in keeping me on the line so he could talk dirty to me. I ended up hanging up on the pervert.
I called the last two guys and struck out with both of them as well. Paul obviously didn't let anyone inside the emotional walls that he'd built up around himself. Maybe it was self-preservation. In this business, you'd have to keep some sort of distance from the clients. You couldn't very well get emotionally involved with all of them, after all. And that's all it was, a business.
I almost didn't call the last number back, but I decided I might as well be thorough. I dialed the number and listened to it ring. I was just about to hang up when a young sounding male voice answered.
"Hello?" they said.
"Oh, hi," I said automatically, caught off guard; I hadn't been expecting an answer. "Is this, um..." I scanned the page in front of me for his name. "...Howard Rich?"
"Are you trying to sell me something?" he asked politely.
"No, I just have a few questions to ask you. I won't take much of your time," I told him.
"So this is like a survey?"
"No, I..."
"Do you want money from me?"
"No!"
"Well, in that case, it's Howie, please. I hate the name Howard."
"Um, ok, Howie. My name is Killian Kendall, I'm a private investigator."
"Really? How interesting. And you want to talk to me?"
"Yes," I said, wondering if he would ever allow me to get more than one sentence out at a time.
"About what?"
An opening! I didn't waste any time taking it. "Paul Flynn. He was an escort that I believe you were familiar with. He was..."
"Murdered," he finished for me sadly.
"You know?"
"I saw it on the news. Actually, can I take this in my office? I'll be able to talk to you more freely there."
"Yes, of course. I'll wait."
I heard him call someone named Eileen to the phone and asked her to hang up after he took it in his office.
While I waited, I glanced down at the page of notes on Howie and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It appeared that Howie had been seeing Paul for much longer than most of the others had.
"Ok, I'm back," he said. "You can hang up now." He waited until Eileen had done as he'd requested before he continued. "Yes, I knew Paul. I was shocked to hear about his death. To be honest, I've been having a hard time dealing with it. He was a good person."
"You'd been seeing Paul for quite a while," I fished. "In fact, quite a bit longer than any of hs other clients." Howie refused to rise to the bait. When the silence had stretched out a little longer than was comfortable, I asked, "How well did you know Paul?"
"How well do you ever know anyone?" he countered.
I wasn't about to get drawn into an existential conversation. "It would be very helpful if you could answer my questions."
"Why? What are you looking for? Who are you working for? Why are you concerned with Paul's death?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you who I'm working for, that's confidential, but I can tell you that I've been hired to look into Paul's death by someone who cared about him. They hired me because the police don't seem to be putting much effort into finding Paul's killer."
"So you're trying to find Paul's killer?"
"Yes."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Possibly."
"What's in it for you?"
"What?"
"What do you get out of it?"
"It's my job."
"Ok, if that's what blows your skirt up, but what does any of that have to do with how well I knew Paul?"
I felt like pounding my head against the desk. First Danielle, then the pervert, and now this. Had I been a bad boy recently? Was I being punished for something? I took a deep breath and tried again.
"I'm trying to get a grasp of what was going on in Paul's life the last few months. His friends have told me that he became distant and secretive, but no one knows why. What little we've managed to find out has only muddied the waters. I'm hoping to find someone that might be able to clear things up for us. If you knew him well, I was hoping you might be able to help. If you didn't know him well, just let me know now and save us both some time."
He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he had hung up.
"Howie?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm here," he answered. "I guess you could say I knew Paul pretty well. We'd become friends. He did see me longer than most of his other clients because he was doing me a favor. Paul's the only man I've ever had sex with. You see, I'm married to a wonderful woman. I was in denial for much of my life and I was married with children before I finally realized that I was gay. I've never told my wife, she's an incredible person and she's the best friend I could ever ask for. I could never leave her and my children, she deserves better than that. But I still had a need to be with men, so I hired Paul. It took care of my needs very well. Paul knew all of this so he agreed to allow me to keep seeing him."
I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. After a moment, Howie went on. "Paul was perhaps the sweetest, most gentle man I have ever met. He gave of himself completely and I don't just mean that sexually. I like to think we became friends, I know I cared for him very deeply."
"Did you...did you ever talk about Paul's personal life?"
"To some degree, yes."
"Did you notice any change in his over the last few months before his death?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what was causing those changes?"
"Yes."
My heart caught in my throat. Could this be the answers to all my questions?
"Let me clarify that," Howie said quickly. "I knew some of what was going on, but not by any means everything. I don't know details, Paul was too much the professional to name names or give too many details, but I know vaguely what was troubling him."
"Can you tell me what you know?"
"Paul and I did a lot more than just have sex. I'd take him to dinner at nice restaurants that we knew were discreet, we'd take walks along the river, we'd talk for hours after sex. It was while we were talking that I learned that he suspected someone he knew of being involved in something illegal, something serious. He didn't specify what and I didn't ask. Those were the unspoken rules of our conversations like this. He asked me what I thought he should do. I told him that it would depend on what this person was to him. If he was just a casual acquaintance then maybe he should just go straight to the authorities. If it was someone he respected or cared about, I suggested that maybe he should go to that person and speak to them directly."
"Did he indicate what he was planning to do?"
"No, like I said that wasn't how it worked. But you know, ever since I heard that he was murdered, I've worried that it might have been my advice that got him killed."
That was a very real possibility, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He already sounded upset as it was. "You have no way of knowing that," I told him truthfully enough. "You don't know if Paul took your advice or not, and even if he did, if it had anything to do with his murder. That's what I'm trying to figure out. He didn't give you any indication as to who this person was?"
"No, none."
"And that was the last time you saw him?"
"Yes."
"Which was about a month ago?"
"About a week before he was killed."
My thoughts went to the letters the police had found in the safe. It sounded like Paul had taken Howie's advice and confronted the person he suspected of illegal activity. Had it ended with his death? It seemed the more I found out, the more questions I had.
"One more thing," I said, thinking about the other contents of the safe. "Do you have any idea who Paul might have been planning on going away with? Maybe on a vacation?"
He was quiet for a second, then said, "No, but I think Paul might have met someone."
"What do you mean by met someone?"
"Just what I said, I think he'd met someone that he really liked. The last couple times I saw him, he was different somehow, happier and more relaxed. This was before he asked for my advice. I asked him what was going on to put that smile on his face and he just smiled all the more and shook his head. I asked him if he'd met someone special and his smile just grew bigger, if possible. I said he must be someone very special indeed to bring about a smile like that. Then I told him that whoever he was, he was a very lucky guy. Paul changed the subject after that, he never really liked talking about personal things, at least not when it was his personal life being discussed. He was perfectly content to act as my confessional, counselor, and adviser."
I fought a sigh. Paul's reticence certainly didn't make investigating him any easier. It would have been so much easier if had just been a little gabbier.
"Well, thank you, Howie. You've been a help," I said, adding I think, silently.
"I'm glad I could help. I hope you catch the bastard that did this. Paul was a...he was a good person."
I hung up and sat back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. I had so many questions about these cases swimming around in my head. I was having trouble making sense of it all. I was rubbing my chin when I realized I was unconsciously imitating Novak. With a snap of chair springs, I yanked my feet off the desk and sat up straight. I chuckled at myself as I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I guess there are worse things than discovering you're becoming like your teacher.
I sat at my desk tapping my pen against my notepad, it went everywhere I went and was full of notes on my cases. I was making a to-do list and I was a stuck on what to do about Jake's case. I had a list finished for Paul. There were only three items but they were important. I flipped back a page and read over that list, hoping for inspiration. Number one, I either had to get back into the apartment to look for an address book or something along those lines, or talk to the detective in charge of the investigation and see if he had found anything like that. It could give me the lead I needed for the next two items on my list, which were, find out who Paul was dating, and get in touch with his estranged family.
I flipped back to Jake's list and stared at the blank page. I found myself completely stumped as to where to go next. My best idea so far was to just show up at the Ball Friday night and hope for the best. Not exactly an aggressive attack, but maybe simple observation would serve me well in this case.
Thinking about the AIDS Ball reminded me of Haven's Halloween dance scheduled for tomorrow night and my promise to Kane to work on our costumes together. I made a mental note to be at the house when Kane got home from school today so I could live up to my promise.
I picked up the phone and dialed Chris' cell phone number. I got her voice mail and left a message asking her to see if she could make an appointment for me to talk to the officer in charge of Paul's murder investigation.
That done, I forced myself to contemplate Jake's empty page once again. Why was this so hard for me? Was it because I was afraid of what I'd find out? Despite the distance that had grown between us, I still cared about him. I'd had strong feelings for him once upon a time, or at least I thought I had. I'd even risked my life to save his. There was some part of me that wanted that experience to be worth something. I didn't want to think that I had only saved him to become some sort of criminal. But of course, that was unbelievably selfish of me. It was Jake's life and it was his to do with as he pleased.
And who said being an escort was all that bad to begin with? After all, Micah had been an escort. So had Paul, and by all accounts, he was a stand-up guy, loved by all, a model friend and lover.
Lover. Micah's lover. Former lover, I reminded myself. I couldn't let that begin to cloud my judgment now. So far, I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job at keeping things on a purely professional level. Besides, that was a long time ago. They had both moved on. Paul had apparently found a new lover and Micah was with me now. And let's face it; Paul wasn't exactly a threat at this point.
I realized how my thoughts on one case kept leading naturally back to the other case. They had so many similarities that they almost seemed intertwined. I kept finding myself wondering if there was more of a connection that just the fact that Jake had a picture of Neal in his bedroom. I suspected Jake of being an escort, and I knew Paul had been one. Paul worked for Neal, who did Jake work for, if anyone? Did he work for Neal too? And if so, that seemed a little far away from the base of operation for the Top to Bottom Agency. Maybe it was a satellite business. Did they have those for escort agencies? Maybe Neal was going franchise. I giggled at the thought. He could have branches all over the country, over one million served.
I finally had something to write on Jake's to-do list. Number one; find out who Jake is working for. The money has to be coming from somewhere; I just had to find out where.
Of course, if I found that out, I still had to find some way to tell Judy. I was not looking forward to breaking that news. "Well, Judy, it seems your little boy is selling his body to buy electronics and clothes." Then again, knowing Judy she'd probably say something like, "Oh, thank God, I was afraid he was doing something awful like selling used cars." She was pretty free-spirited when it came to things like drugs and sex. Some people would probably call her a leftover hippie, but she really wasn't. She was just very open-minded.
Just having one item on Jake's to-do list gave me a feeling of accomplishment, so I flipped the notebook closed and slid it into my pocket. My work was done here for today. I stood up and took a quick look around the office. It had been very quiet around here since Novak disappeared. I had no idea when he would be back, but my curiosity about his mystery case was killing me. I decided to slip into his office and see if he'd left anything on top of his desk. After all, I reasoned, if he left it in plain sight, it can't be confidential, right?
I pushed open his door and slithered inside. I eyed the humpbacked couch warily. I was convinced that one of these days it was going to pounce on me and gobble me up. How a piece of inanimate furniture, however truly hideous it was, was going to accomplish that, I didn't know and didn't care, but I was quite certain it was true.
I approached the desk while keeping an eye on the couch. I knew it was extremely unlikely that Novak had left anything on his desk. It would have been very much out of character for him. He was meticulously neat with his desk, and just as scrupulous about the facts of his case. I wasn't surprised to find the top completely clear except for his computer; he'd even put the phone away in the top drawer.
Well, since I'm here, it wouldn't hurt to look in the drawers, I thought. After all, he wouldn't leave something confidential in a drawer that was unlocked, would he?
It's just amazing what you can convince yourself of. The middle drawer contained the usually assortment of pens, paper clips, rubber bands, and other assorted office paraphernalia. Perhaps Novak's was a little more organized than most desks, but it was all here. The top right-hand drawer held the phone and a ream of paper. To my disappointment, the rest were securely locked.
I know where the key is... I stopped myself at that thought. Even I knew that would be going too far. Whatever he was working on would have to stay a secret until he chose to tell me.
In the meantime, though, I really missed our chats. I could have used one today. I sat down in Novak's chair and propped my feet up on the desk.
"So kid," I said to the empty room, "what are you going to do about this case with Jake? Are you going to tell Judy what you find out?"
I swung my feet down with a sigh and sat up. "What choice do I have? She deserves to know the truth."
I rubbed off the scuffmark my shoes had left on the desk and let myself out of the office, shutting the door behind me.
\*
I was waiting at home when Kane got home from school that afternoon. His face lit up when he saw me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Did you forget about the costume party tomorrow night?"
"No, but I figured you would."
"Well, I didn't. Do you have any ideas for costumes? We'd better get working on them if we want them to be any good."
"Well, Micah's going, right?"
"As far as I know, although with all this stuff going on with the paper, I should probably check with him just to be sure."
"Well, if he is, I was thinking that maybe we could go as some famous trio, like the Three Musketeers or...well, I can't think of any others."
"What about the Three Stooges, or the three little pigs, or Huey, Dewey, and Louie?" I suggested. He made a face. "You don't like my ideas?" I asked.
"If you think it's a good idea just say so," he pouted.
"No, I think it's great. I was just kidding around. I'd rather not wear tights though, I did that once before and I didn't care for it."
"Well, so much for the Three Musketeers. I have to admit, I wasn't really looking forward to tights either."
"Well, before we decide, let me call Micah and make sure he's still going."
I went to the phone and dialed Micah's number. He answered on the third ring.
"Yeah? What do you want?" he snapped into the phone.
"Micah?" I asked uncertainly.
"Killian?" His voice softened. "Sorry about that. It's been a bad day."
"What's going on?"
"It's just this story. Things are getting messy, the paper's getting scared, they want me to back off." He growled. "I'll tell you about it later, this isn't a good time. Were you calling for anything in particular or just checking to make sure I was still alive?"
"Well, actually, I was calling about the dance tomorrow night at Haven..."
"Oh, damn! I'd forgotten all about it. Kill, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it. I'm sorry."
"It's ok," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "What about the AIDS Ball?"
"I think I can still make that. It's just that I have an appointment tomorrow night. I'm really sorry, Killian."
"Really, it's ok."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, Kane is going with me. We'll be fine. Work comes first."
He sighed. "No, work shouldn't come first. You should come first; it's just that right now..."
"Work has to come first," I finished. "Micah, I understand. It's just for now, it won't be like this forever, and this story is important to you."
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said.
"That goes both ways, mister," I shot back.
"I love you."
"I love you, too." I hung up and turned to find Kane leaning against the wall.
"So it's just the two of us then?" he said.
"Looks that way," I shrugged.
"So, instead of famous trios we should be thinking famous duos?"
"Sure," I said cheerily, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that had settled over me as soon as Micah had said he couldn't go. We walked upstairs to the bedroom we share, talking as we went. "What are we going for? Funny? Sexy? Clever?"
"Well, I want it to be creative. No pirates or vampires. I think we should go with sexy, don't you? Let's make Micah wish he had been there when he sees the pictures. And besides, I might actually meet somebody there, assuming there are any straight chicks."
I laughed. "I'm sure you won't be the only straight person, and besides, you'd settle for a bi chick, right?"
"Settle? That just might be even better," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "How about Batman and Robin?"
I shuddered as I sat on my bed and Kane flopped down across his. "No thanks. I haven't felt the same about Batman since Jake's Halloween dance that first year you moved here."
"Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot. Well, um...what other superhero duos are there?"
"Do you really want to be a superhero? That's still tights, and besides, who would be the hero and who would be the sidekick?"
"I don't mind being the sidekick. I'm younger so it's only fair. And I know I have the body to pull off spandex. Are you a little worried there, big bro?"
"Not exactly worried, it's just that I don't especially like showing off all my goods for free. Ya know?"
"Wimp."
"Exhibitionist."
We laughed.
"Ok, so no superheroes?" Kane asked.
"If you're really set on it, I guess I can live with it."
"Well, there are other choices. We could be characters from Lord of the Rings."
"Are you trying to say I'm short?"
"No comment. But you would look cute in those pointy ears."
I threw a pillow at him, which he easily dodged.
"We could be hippies."
"That's not very creative."
"Hey, you be creative. I'm the one coming up with all the ideas while you just shoot them down. Are you trying to say you don't want to go?"
"No," I said quickly. "I do want to go. Let's see...well, I could go as a mental patient. I wouldn't even have to wear a costume." Kane shot me a dirty look. "No? Ok, how about gangsters? Or X-Men?"
"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"Tell me about it."
"Oh, wait! I have it!"
"What?"
"This is so perfect! Why didn't I think of it sooner?"
"What is it?"
"Sherlock Holmes and Watson! How perfect is that? You're a detective and everything!"
I blinked. "That's actually a good idea. At least for me. It won't be that great for you. I mean, what did Watson wear? A gray suit? Not exactly sexy."
"Then I'll go as a super hero."
"I thought you wanted to go as a duo."
"I did, but this is getting to be more work that it's worth."
"Well, what about Rage and Zephyr?"
"Who and who?"
"Rage and Zephyr. They're the gay superheroes on Queer As Folk."
"They have gay superheroes on Queer As Folk?"
"Well, Justin and Michael wrote a comic book and the characters are Rage and Zephyr."
"And they're gay superheroes?"
"Yeah."
"With good costumes?"
"I guess. Here, I'll show you." I booted up the computer and signed onto the internet. I went to the QAF website and clicked on the Rage link. "There, what do you think?"
"I like it," he said slowly. "The costumes are sexy, but would you be Rage?"
"Well, you're a little bigger than me, and you're definitely more built, so you should probably be Rage. I don't mind being Zephyr. I kinda like his costume more anyway. It's a lot less...revealing."
Kane grinned. "Sounds like a deal. Now, how do we make these costumes?"
"I was hoping you'd know."
"You don't know how to sew?"
"Not really."
"Boys?" Adam called from downstairs.
"Dad can sew," Kane said. He jumped up and was out of the room before I could even respond. He returned a few minutes later with Adam in tow.
Kane explained to him what we wanted and after studying the pictures for a minute, he nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. But, Kane, are you sure you want to be a gay superhero?"
"Why not?" Kane said with a careless shrug. "As long as the girls know I'm not gay, who cares?"
"You can get them done by tomorrow night?" I asked in surprise.
"No problem. In fact, I can get them done tonight if you just get me the material."
"Can you make a list of what you need?"
"Sure. I'll also have to measure you guys, but it should be a snap, especially if you guys give me a hand."
"Wow, you mean we'd actually be doing something together as a family?" Kane said dryly.
I saw a hurt look flash across Adam's face, but it was gone quickly. "Not quite a family," he said. "Steve won't be here, but yeah, the rest of us will be. I'll cook dinner while you two go get the material."
He quickly measured us and made a list of everything he thought he'd need, then sent us out while he started dinner. That night we worked together to make the costumes, which I thought turned out really well...until I went to put it on the next night. I was having second thoughts as I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom.
"I don't know," I said doubtfully.
"Oh come one, Killian," Kane moaned. "We have to leave in less than half an hour. What do you mean you don't know?"
"It's awfully...tight."
"It's supposed to be tight," Adam said.
"I know. It's just tighter than I expected it to be."
"You look great," Kane said.
I stared at my reflection. At 18, I still looked pretty much the same as I did two years ago, short and slender. The red Zephyr costume was form fitting to say the least, and I wasn't feeling nearly as brave now as I had when Adam was fitting me for it the night before. I turned to look at Kane in his dark blue rage costume, complete with jagged tear across the chest.
"That's easy for you to say, you look fantastic."
"You both look great," Adam said, sounding very fatherly, "and after all the work I put into those costumes, you're damn well going to wear them." He softened his proclamation with a warm smile. "You'll be the two most handsome boys there."
"I feel like I'm on display," I argued weakly, one last time, as I glanced down at my crotch.
"Oh stop," Adam said, handing me my mask. "You'll be having so much fun you won't even think about it."
"I hope so. I just wish Micah was going."
Kane squeezed by me to take one last look at himself now that he had his mask on. "Can we go now?" he asked, never taking his eyes off his image.
"We'll be early," I argued.
"Why don't you go by and see Steve before you go," Adam suggested. "I know it's out of the way, but he would love to see you in your costumes."
"It's not that much out of the way," I said. "And it will allow us to be fashionably late."
"I guess that's ok," Kane said. "At least that way we can make an entrance."
"My thoughts exactly," I said sarcastically. "Are we going to have to pry you away from the mirror?"
"What? I'm not that bad."
"You haven't stopped starting at yourself since you put that costume on."
"So? I look good. And so do you, so don't start. Let's go." He tossed over his shoulder as he started down the stairs.
I gave Adam a long-suffering look and grabbed my wallet. It didn't take long to realize that there was nowhere to stick it in this costume.
"Just leave it in the car," Adam said. "I know you wanted Micah to go, but try to have fun without him. Just not too much fun. Don't forget you're taken."
"As much as I've seen him this week, I might as well be single."
"This is a critical moment in his career. It won't last forever. Things will be back to normal before you know it."
"I can't wait."
"Come on!" Kane called from downstairs.
"You'd better go before the boy wonder wets himself," Adam said with a grin.
I laughed and headed out the door.
"Oh, and Killian?"
I paused.
"Keep an eye on Kane."
\*
Steve got a kick out of our costumes, as did the middle-aged gay couple who had checked in that day. They practically drooled over the two of us before we got out the door. It took longer than we had planned since both Steve and the couple insisted on taking pictures. I'm sure I was as red as my costume and I didn't even want to think about what those guys would be doing with our pictures.
The party was in full swing when we arrived. It was being held in the same building Haven met in, but in a larger room. We found the room by following the thumping sound of the dance music. Everett and the plump blonde girl from the first meeting were sitting at the door selling tickets. Everett was dressed up like someone from Star Wars; although I wasn't sure who, the light saber gave it away. The girl, whose name I couldn't remember, was dressed all in black with huge black wings. She looked like an overgrown crow, but I was pretty sure that wasn't what she was going for.
"Hey, Killian. Wow, you guys look great." Everett said. "You remember, Tanya, right?"
"Of course," I lied. I handed him the money for our tickets and Tanya stamped our hands while Everett eyed Kane.
"Is this your boyfriend?" he asked finally, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Kane choked and I bit back a giggle. "No, this is my little brother, Kane."
"Oh, hi Kane. I'm Everett. Are you gay?"
"Nope, 100% straight, but I'm gay friendly," Kane said with a grin.
"Damn. I knew it would be too much to hope there'd be two guys that hot in the same family who were both gay."
"Actually, I'm the only person in my family who isn't gay, but that's another story. Right now, I just need to know if there are any hot girls here who aren't just into other girls."
Everett laughed a huge booming laugh. "I like this kid. I don't know who's here to be honest with you. I just got here and took over for Tony. I thought he was going to have a heart attack before I got here, he wanted to dance so bad."
"He was dancing out here," Tanya said. "There are several girls here who are straight and quite a few who are bi."
"Thanks," Kane said, flashing her his most dazzling smile.
"It's wasted on her, buddy," Everett said. "She's one of those who's only into girls."
Tanya elbowed him in the side and he laughed again.
"Well, we'll be going in then," I said.
"Wait, let me get a picture," Tanya said, grabbing a camera and hopping up in a flurry of feathers. "Who are you supposed to be?"
"They're Rage and Zephyr from QAF," someone said from behind me. I spun around to find Noah giving me an admiring look. My mouth dropped open when I saw the costume he was wearing, or maybe I should say not wearing. All he had on was a leopard print loincloth, and a white shell necklace with a matching anklet on one ankle.
"You like my costume?" he asked.
"Tarzan?" I somehow managed to say in a normal voice.
"Yup."
"Picture," Tanya reminded me. I posed with Kane while she snapped a couple photos. By the time she was done, Noah had paid and been stamped and he followed us into the room, which was surprisingly full.
They had gotten a DJ and the music was pumped up. The lights were low and a disco ball threw tiny spotlights all over the room.
"Hey guys," Val said as she bounced up in a cheerleader uniform. I had to laugh when I saw the letters FU across her chest. "Nice costumes," she enthused. Then she noticed Kane. "And who is this?"
"This is..." I started but Kane quickly interrupted.
"I'm Kane, Killian's brother. And you are?"
"I'm Valora, you can call me Val."
"Hello, Val."
"Kane is straight," I said rather unnecessarily.
"Well, I hate to disappoint anyone, but I'm not," Val said with a laugh, "but I can introduce you to some girls who are."
"That would be great," Kane jumped on her offer like a starving dog on a bone. He turned to me with a pleading look. "Is that ok?"
"Sure, go have fun. Just be careful, and you'd better not drink anything or Adam will kill me."
"There's no alcohol here," Val said. "At least officially. Come on, Kane. I'll introduce you to everyone."
The two of them went off into the crowd, leaving me alone with Noah.
"You really look great," he said after a moment.
"You look pretty good yourself," I said. I was trying hard not to stare at his body. It was a lot more defined than I had expected, complete with pecs and a lightly defined six-pack.
"Where's your boyfriend?"
"He couldn't come tonight. He was too busy with work."
"That sucks. I have to meet this guy. I'm beginning to wonder if he really exists."
I glanced over to see if he was serious or joking, but it was impossible to read his expression.
"Oh, he's real," I said lightly. An awkward silence fell between us. I spotted the drink table. "I'm going to go get a drink, you want anything?"
"Um, yeah, thanks," he said as if I had interrupted his thoughts. "A Dr. Pepper if they have it."
I crossed over to the table and grabbed two cans of Dr. Pepper out of the ice. I popped them both open, poured them into clear plastic glasses, and carried them back to Noah.
"Thanks," he said as he took one of the glasses from my hand. A chill went up my spine as his finger brushed mine. "It was nice of you to bring your little brother. I hope he doesn't get hit on too bad.
"You think he will?" I asked.
"Probably. He's a cutie, and the guys will be all over a fresh piece of meat like that."
"Kane can take care of himself."
"How about you?"
"What about me?"
"Can you take care of yourself?"
"I like to think so," I said nervously, I wasn't sure what he was getting at. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, you have to know you look really hot in that costume. Every guy here is staring at you."
"They might be staring at you, you know," I said in an attempt to shift the attention off of me. "After all, you're the one who's half-naked."
"It was you they were watching as you walked across the floor."
I looked around and noticed several guys looking over in our direction. It was impossible to tell who they were looking at, although a couple waved when they saw me look their way. I hoped the dim lighting would hide the blush I felt creeping up my cheeks.
"It was nice of you to notice that I'm half-naked, though," he said with a grin. "I was beginning to think I was invisible."
"Oh, I noticed, I'm just trying to behave."
"Behaving is never any fun," he said, shifting a little closer to me. I could feel the body heat from his bare skin.
"I need another drink," I said in a slightly breathless voice.
"You haven't drunk that one yet," he pointed out. I looked down at the almost full cup in my hand.
"Oh," I said brilliantly.
"Come on, let's dance," he said, taking the drink from my hand and setting his and mine on the floor against the wall. He then grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto the dance floor. Now that he'd pointed it out, I noticed more than a few sets of eyes follow us as we made our way to where a group of people had started dancing. The song playing was a sexy remake of Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby." I was very uncomfortable dancing with Noah, he was practically nude and my attraction for him was stronger than ever, but it wasn't too long before the music took over and I loosened up. Before I knew it I had almost forgotten who I was even dancing with, I just moved into my own little zone.
"You dance really well," Noah said into my ear, startling me out of the slightly hypnotized state into which I had slipped.
"Uh, thanks," I mumbled as I realized how intertwined I had become with Noah's body. I tried to pull away unobtrusively, but he pulled my body close again. I gave up. It's just one dance, I told myself.
That one dance turned into two, which turned into three, and before I knew it, it was an hour later and I was still dancing with Noah.
"I need a drink," I told him. "Water, preferably."
"I'll get it," he said. "Wait over there by the door." He pointed in the direction of a metal door on the far wall.
As I made my way towards the door, a few guys asked me to dance and one of them, smelling strongly of alcohol, groped me a little. I pushed him roughly away and finally made it to the door. I was only there a second before Kane was at my side.
"Hey, are you having fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, actually I am. And from the looks of things, so are you?"
"What? I'm just dancing," I said defensively.
Kane cocked an eyebrow at me.
"Oh, put your eyebrow back where it belongs," I snapped. "I'm just dancing. What was I supposed to do, stand against the wall all night?"
"No, but you could dance with a few other guys. You've been with the same one all night. He's hot for you."
"He's just a friend."
"Killian, he's hot for you. I saw the way he was looking at you. He wants you bad."
"Have you met anyone?" I asked, choosing to ignore his observations.
He tried to look stern, but couldn't resist grinning. "Actually, yeah. She's really cool. She's my age and everything. Her name is Lila, she's Val's cousin and she's just as hot as Val."
"And she's straight?"
"Not exactly. She's bi, but she's with me so that's all that matters."
I laughed. "Well, where is she?"
He turned around and scanned the dancers. A tall slender girl with long dark hair standing on the edge of the crowd fluttered her fingers at Kane and he waved her over. She was dressed like an Indian maiden, maybe even Disney's version of Pocahontas. A short buckskin dress revealed long, tan legs. Her shell necklace was the twin to the one Noah was wearing. It seemed to be a popular accessory this evening.
"Lila, this is my brother Killian," Kane introduced us.
"Good looks run in your family," she said flirtatiously.
"The same could be said for your family," I returned the compliment.
She looked a bit confused for a second, but then her face cleared. "You mean, Val? Yeah, she's gorgeous. If she wasn't my cousin..." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and I laughed again.
Kane has his hands full with this one, I thought. Speaking of Kane, he was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, but I had a feeling he was the one about to get eaten.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Noah approaching with the water I'd asked for. Kane followed my gaze and frowned.
"Be careful," he said under his breath. "Don't forget how much you love Micah." Then he turned back to Lila and offered his arm. "Shall we dance?" he asked gallantly.
"Why thank you, yes," she replied with a little curtsy, and they melted back into the dance floor.
"Your little brother met someone?" Noah asked as he handed me my bottle of water.
"Yeah, she's Val's cousin. He seems to like her, but she looks like a handful."
"If that was Val's cousin she is a handful from what I hear."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. It might not even be the same cousin. Is it hot in here or is it just you?"
I groaned. "That was awful. You can do better than that."
He grinned. "Actually, I'm serious. I'm really hot. I could use some fresh air. Come outside with me?"
A little fresh air would be nice. "Sure."
He pushed open the door and we slipped out into the cool night air. A few other couples had the same idea, several of which were busy making out in the shadows.
"The moon is almost full," Noah said.
I glanced up at the bright yellow orb, hanging low in the sky. "A full moon for Halloween? The goblins and ghouls will love that."
"It's beautiful though, don't you think?"
"Yeah, it is."
He moved a little closer to me and I shifted away as nonchalantly as I could.
"You really look great tonight, Killian."
"So you've mentioned a few times," I said teasingly. "You look great too, although you have to be freezing now."
"It is a little chilly." He shifted closer again and I moved away. He nearly had me against the wall now, another foot and I wouldn't have anywhere to move to. "You could keep me warm," he said when I failed to pick up on his hints.
"Or we could go back inside," I said. I liked Noah, and there was no denying my attraction, but things were quickly getting out of hand.
"I'm not ready to go back inside just yet." He turned to look at me and the moonlight reflected off his face making him almost seem to glow. His eyes locked onto mine and his full, red lips parted. He really has amazing lips, I found myself thinking, I wonder what it would be like to kiss them...
He moved in a little closer and my back hit the wall. He lifted his hand and softly stroked my cheek. "I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you," he whispered and quickly leaned in and pressed his lips against mine.
For one shocked, confused moment, I actually returned the kiss. It was as if instinct took over and my lips responded of their own accord. Then my brain caught up and I reacted. I twisted my face away, planted my hands firmly against his chest, and shoved with all my strength. Noah stumbled back, tripped on an uneven paving stone, and sprawled backwards onto the ground, where he lay looking up at me with an expression of disbelief.
"Noah, I have a boyfriend," I said softly. I reached out a hand to help him up. He stared at my hand for a minute, then purposefully ignored it as he stood up without my assistance.
"You know," he said in a low, tense voice as he brushed off his bottom, "I'll admit I'm not blameless here, but let's get one thing very clear; neither are you. You've been sending out mixed signals to me since the day we met. You were staring at me that day in the bookstore, you flirt with me, you've been dancing with me all night, you come out here alone with me, and I know damn well you kissed me back just now."
"You're right and I'm sorry. I have been sending out mixed signals. The truth is I am attracted to you. I can't deny that. I like you. If I wasn't already dating someone then I'd probably want to date you. But I am dating someone; someone I care about very much. I'm sorry if I confused you or hurt you, but I can't do anything to risk losing Micah. He means too much to me."
Noah slumped against the wall and slowly slid down to a crouching position on the ground, his back to the brick. "How much does he mean to you?" he asked.
"Everything," I answered simply.
"What does that mean?"
"It means...I want to be with him. It means I can't stand the thought of losing him. It means I really want to try and make it work. It means...it means I love him." I sank down Indian style to the ground a few feet away facing him. "It's taken a lot to get us to the point we're at now. I don't know if this is a forever thing, but it feels like it could be, and that's all I know right now. Do you understand?"
"Not really. I've wanted that for so long, but I've never experienced anything like it. It seems like most guys aren't looking for that. All they want is a quick screw, or maybe a fuck buddy. I want more. I hoped that maybe I could have that with you. Maybe I'll never have it. Maybe I'm not meant to have it."
"Don't say that. You'll find someone. You have to believe that. You're so young still, how can you give up?"
"I never really knew any other gay people until I got to college. When I got here I got involved with Haven and suddenly I had friends who understood, who were like me. But we're all single most of the time. You're the only person I know in a serious relationship. The longest anyone in Haven has been in a relationship is a couple of months at the most."
"You're in college. How many straight couples do you know who are in serious relationships? And they have more of a selection to choose from! We're what? Ten percent at best? And how many of those are even out of the closet?"
He shrugged. "I guess you're right. Intellectually, I know you're right. Emotionally, I'm just tired of being alone."
"Well, I can't be your boyfriend, but I would like us to be friends, if we can," I said.
He smiled a sad smile. "If I can keep from jumping you, you mean?"
"No! That's not..."
"I was trying to make a joke, Killian. I'd like us to be friend too, and I know I've said that before, but I mean it. Now I know where the boundaries are, and I know I don't have a chance with you as something more than friends. At least not while Micah is in the picture. Not that I'm wishing you would break up or anything," he added quickly.
I laughed. "At least not too much?"
He smiled; a real smile this time. "I still have to meet this guy. He really must be something special to have won your heart so completely. I just hope I can keep from being too jealous."
Just then, the door opened and Kane came out, obviously looking for me, or perhaps I should say checking up on me.
"Over here, Kane," I called softly, so as not to disturb the other amorous couples. He turned and walked over, eying the distance between us with undisguised approval.
"I hadn't seen you in awhile so I thought I'd look for you," he said bluntly.
"You know, I was supposed to be the one keeping an eye on you," I told him.
"Just goes to show that Father doesn't always know best," Kane commented dryly.
I grinned up at him, then turned my attention back to Noah. "You ready to go back in?" I asked.
"Might as well, I'm pretty chilly."
"Maybe if you weren't naked..." Kane muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
I snorted, but turned it quickly into a cough. "You'll warm up quick enough inside," I said.
We stood up and the three of us walked back inside. It seemed like more people had arrived while we were outside.
"It's a really good turnout," I commented. "I have to admit I'm a little surprised this many people would come out for a dance put on by a gay/straight alliance."
"It's not just our school," Noah explained while Kane scanned the crowd, for Lila I assumed. "We went in with the other three schools in this area and the other two large schools on the Shore. Plus, everyone knows gays throw the best parties so everyone shows up to these things. Probably less than half the people here even have gay tendencies."
I laughed. I noticed several guys who definitely had gay tendencies, judging by the way they were eying Noah hungrily. "Well, with this many people here, you shouldn't stay with me the whole night. Mr. Right might be out there while we speak."
"And if not Mr. Right, then at least maybe Mr. Right Now," he said morosely.
"Go have fun." I gave him a little push and he gave me a crooked smile in return.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize. It's over, forgotten."
"I hope it's not forgotten. I'd like to think I'm not that forgettable."
I winked and shooed his away. I moved off to one side and sat on the edge of a bench. Several guys and at least two girls approached to ask me to dance, but I wasn't really in a dancing mood any more. What I really wanted to do was see Micah, but I could see Kane dancing with Lila and it was obvious he wasn't ready to go.
"Why the long face?" Val said, appearing beside me.
"Just missing my man," I said shifting over to let her sit down.
"Did he have to work?"
"Yeah. He's a reporter and he's working on a big story."
"He's not the one who broke the big scandal with the council is he?"
"Actually, yeah. Micah Gerber."
"I saw him on TV. He's pretty hunky."
I giggled. "Yeah, he is."
We sat in silence for a minute, then she cleared her throat. "I know this is probably none of my business," she began, "but I couldn't help but notice you seemed pretty, um, close to Noah tonight."
"It's not..."
"Hey, like I said, it's none of my business. It's just that Noah is a good friend and I'd hate to see him get hurt, so if you're just playing around..."
"Val, really, it's not like that. We talked earlier tonight and everything's fine. We're just friends. Things got a little confusing tonight, but we got it all worked out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I'm glad to hear that. So. You want to go see your boyfriend?"
"Yeah, but Kane's having such a good time with your cousin that I don't want to ask him to leave."
"They do see to be hitting it off, don't they? You're brother seems like a nice kid."
"He is; he's a great kid. I can brag because he's not really my brother. His dad took me in when my dad kicked me out. I've lived with them for the last two years and for all intents and purposes, they're my family. Adam is just like my dad and Kane is like a brother."
"Wow, that's really great that he took you in like that."
"Yeah, Adam is a great guy. There aren't many like him." I paused, then added to be polite, "I only met her for a second but Lila seems nice too."
"Lila...well, Lila's been through a lot," Val said slowly.
When she didn't elaborate, I asked, "Like what?"
"Oh, I don't really want to go into right now. Family stuff, you know? It's just not been easy for her. She came to live with my family this summer. She doesn't really know many people yet and she's bi so I invited her to the dance. I'm glad she met Kane. Look, if you want to leave, why don't you go ahead. I'll keep an eye on the kids and I'll drive Kane home afterwards."
"I don't want you to go to all that trouble," I protested.
"No, really. It's no trouble. I'm going to be here anyway. I have to keep an eye on Lila and it's not like they've been more than a few feet apart all evening. It's no extra work."
"You really don't mind?"
"I really don't mind. Go. See your boyfriend." She smiled and gave me a little push.
"Thanks, Val. I really appreciate it."
She shrugged. "De nada."
I stood up, then bent to give her an impulsive hug that seemed to catch her by surprise. I interrupted Kane and Lila's slow dance long enough to let him know what the new arrangements were. Predictably, he was quite agreeable to the change in plans. I started to say good night to Noah but he seemed pretty busy with a tall redhead dressed like the Cat in the Hat so I left him alone and slipped out of the party.
A short time later, I pulled into the parking lot of the newspaper Micah worked for. Micah's car was there, along with several others. I'd never been here at night before, and now that I was here, I had no idea how to get in. I was pretty sure the doors would be locked and there probably wasn't a receptionist at the desk at this time of night.
I was standing next to my car trying to decide what to do when a side door opened and a black woman in her late thirties stepped out and lit up a cigarette. She hadn't noticed me, and she jumped as I approached. Her eyes grew wide when she took me in, complete in my Zephyr costume. It belatedly occurred to me that it might have been a good idea to change before going out in public. Oh well, it was too late now. I reached up and pulled off the mask in an attempt to reduce the damage.
"Hi, is Micah working?" I asked in as normal a voice as I could manage, as if I always walked around in a skin tight bright red outfit with a Chinese symbol on my shoulder.
"Uh, yeah," she said without taking her eyes off of me. I was beginning to feel like a piece of meat, the way she was blatantly ogling my body.
"Could you please tell him Killian is here to see him?"
She blinked and looked at my face for the first time, her eyes widening even more if that was possible. "You're Killian? As in Micah's boyfriend?"
It was my turn to be surprised. "He talks about me?" I hadn't even known Micah was out at work.
"Not to everyone," she said, taking me in again from head to toe as she sucked in on the cigarette and slowly blew out a stream of smoke. "Damn. Micah said you were cute but he never mentioned that you were Superman."
"It's Zephyr actually," I said, fighting a blush and losing. She looked at me blankly. "The costume. It's Zephyr, not Superman. I just came from a costume party."
"You mean you don't dress like this all the time?" She grinned. "Too bad." She took a final drag from her cigarette and flicked it away with a practiced gesture. "I'll go let him know you're here."
"Sorry for interrupting your smoke break," I called.
She paused in the door way and turned back, giving me one last once over, "Honey, you can interrupt me looking like that any day." With that, she turned and went inside. A few minutes later, the door opened and Micah exited wearing a curious expression. When he saw me, his eyes widened and a grin quickly spread across his face.
"When Tina said a superhero was waiting to talk to me in the parking lot I thought she'd lost her mind," he chuckled. I laughed. "Hold still, I want to take this in." He walked around me in a slow circle, looking at me from every angle. "Wow, you look...wow."
"Micah Gerber at a loss for words?" I joked. "I really must have super powers."
"Right now you're making me feel like Superman when he gets near kryptonite-weak in the knees." He grabbed me and pulled me against him for a tight hug. "Do you have any idea how hot you look?"
"And I don't even have my mask on," I said, although it came out somewhat muffled since my face was mashed against his shoulder.
"I'm serious," he said, pushing me away and holding me at arms length. "I really wish I could have been there tonight."
"Me too," I said sincerely.
For the first time, it seemed to dawn on him that I was here and not at the dance. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. "What are you doing here? It can't be over already."
"No, things were really just getting going when I left. In fact, I left Kane there."
"Then why are you here?"
"I just needed to see you," I said with a shrug.
He pulled me against him again for a much gentler hug this time.
"I'm sorry I'm interrupting your work," I said after a minute of just enjoying being held by him.
"Oh please. I welcome any break, especially if it involves you. So, how about if you tell me why you're really here?"
I pulled back, surprised. "What do you mean?" I asked defensively.
"Easy. I'm not accusing you of anything. It's just that I can tell there's more to the story than you've told me. If you don't want to talk about it, that's cool."
"It's not that I don't...it's just..." I sighed. "You know that guy Noah from Haven?"
"Yeah, the one who invited you to go?"
"Yeah, him." I took a deep breath. "He, um...he kissed me tonight."
Micah's expression didn't change. "Did you kiss him back?" he asked conversationally, as if he was asking how the weather was.
"I don't know," I said miserably. "Maybe for a second. And then I realized what I was doing and told him to stop; that I was dating you."
"And then what happened?"
"We talked about it for a while. I told him that you meant too much to me to risk losing you."
"And that's it?"
"Yeah."
He shrugged and smiled. "Ok."
"Ok?"
"Yeah. Ok. Thanks for telling me."
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad? We've talked about this before. We're going to be attracted to other people-that's inevitable. What's important is how you react to that attraction. You decided that we were more important than your attraction to Noah. How could I be upset about that? I'm just really glad you trusted our relationship enough to tell me."
I rushed into his arms again and choked back a sob. "Damn it," I sniffled. "You just keep getting more and more amazing. I don't know how much more I can take. How did I get so lucky?"
"Hey, I'm the one holding a hot little superhero. Speaking of which, now that we've got that out of the way, how about if you put that mask on? Just for me?"
I giggled as I stepped back and obliged. He let out a wolf-whistle that I was sure they had to hear in the next state.
"Why do I have to go back to work?" he lamented.
I frowned. "How late do you have to work?"
"I don't know. I guess I could leave it for the night. Why? Do you have something else in mind?"
I gave him a slow wink and my most suggestive smile. "I'm sure I could think of something."
He grinned and adjusted himself. "I think I'll just run in and let them know I'm leaving for the night. My place or yours?"
"Yours, I think. Adam wouldn't be happy if I showed up without Kane. I'll deal with that tomorrow."
"Great, I'll be right out."
While I waited, I thought about how blessed I was to have a guy like Micah. That thought returned several more times that night and again when I woke up the next morning.
\*
"Well, it's not that Zephyr costume, but you still look pretty damn hot," Micah said from behind me. I contemplated my reflection in the full-length mirror in Micah's bedroom. I'd never worn a tuxedo before and I still wasn't sure if I really liked it or not.
"I think I look like a penguin," I complained.
"Babe, penguins don't turn me on. You do. `Nuff said."
I laughed. "How come you look so much better in these things than I do?" I asked, turning to admire him. The tuxedos looked pretty much the same, I mean, how different can two all black suits be? The only difference I could really see was that Micah's lapels were satin and mine were embroidered with black silk thread. Somehow thought, he looked a lot better in his. I felt like a little kid playing dress-up. To be honest, I hadn't felt this ridiculous in the superhero costume.
"Oh stop," he chided. "You look fantastic. Put your shoes on."
I did as he said and turned for one last doubtful look at my reflection. "I'm not wearing one of these at our wedding," I mumbled as I followed him from the room. He stopped so suddenly I ran right into him.
He turned slowly around to face me. "What did you say?" he asked in a low voice.
I realized what I had said and blushed furiously.
"We're getting married?" he persisted.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times but nothing came out.
"Are you proposing to me, Killian Kendall?"
"I...I...I..."
He grinned and let me off the hook, "Breathe, Killian. Inhale, exhale. I'm just kidding. I know we're not there yet, I was just teasing you."
My knees buckled a bit as air rushed back into my lungs. As much as I loved Micah, I definitely wasn't ready for that level of commitment.
Micah reached out and straightened my tie. "One day, maybe we'll be there. It's not such a bad thought, is it?"
I shook my head no, slipped my hand into his, and pulled him close for a kiss. He broke away a few minutes later.
"Before we get too carried away and decide to just skip the ball, I have a few more surprises for you," he said.
"More surprises?" I echoed.
He walked over to the breakfast bar and picked up a rectangular white box about twelve inches square and three inches deep. He handed it to me and I was surprised at how light it was.
"Open it," he said.
I sat down on the couch, lifted the lid, and caught my breath. Inside was an exquisite mask. It was covered in hundreds of tiny brilliantly colored glass beads in an intricate pattern.
"Micah, it's beautiful. Where did you get it?"
"I have my sources," he said, positively beaming at my reaction. "I was hoping you'd like it. Each bead was hand sewn onto it."
"It must have cost a fortune!"
"Let's not talk about that. I can say that I couldn't afford two of them, so mine's a little less...unique." He produced a white Phantom of the Opera half-mask from behind the counter somewhere and held it up to his face. It was obviously not one of the cheap plastic ones but it was nothing like the mask on my lap.
"I'm afraid to even wear it," I said. "It's a work of art."
"Of course you're going to wear it and yes, it is a work of art. I didn't spend that much money for something to sit in a box. And after the Ball I'll have it framed or something and you can hang it on the wall."
I stood up and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you," I whispered.
"You're welcome. Now, we have to go or we're going to be late."
I agreed and we started for the door. Usually, we'd want to make a fashionably late entrance, but this time we wanted to be in place before Jake got there so we could observe him, hopefully without his seeing us first. It had the added bonus of being able to see all the "beautiful people" as they arrived. We were at the door before I remembered that Micah had said he had a few more surprises and so far, I'd only seen my mask.
"Hey, what are the other...?" I stopped mid-question as he opened the door and I got my answer.
An obscenely long black limousine was sitting in the parking lot, complete with uniformed driver waiting patiently by the door for us. The drive there was incredible. I couldn't believe Micah had gone to all this trouble.
"I know you're technically working, but I wanted it to be special," he explained. "The AIDS Ball is one of the social events of the year, and attending, even while on a case, should be a big deal."
The Ball was being held in the ballroom of the nicest hotel in the city. I'd never been there before that night, but I'd heard it was a spectacular room. It lived up to its reputation...and then some. It was done in the opulent style of the Golden Age of Hollywood; crystal chandeliers, red carpets, dark wood polished to such a shine you could practically see your reflection. I fully expected to see Bette Davis, Marlene Dietrich, and Cary Grant sipping a martini around every corner.
Not many people were there when we arrived, which is just the way we'd planned it. We were able to position ourselves in a fairly inconspicuous spot where we could observe the people coming in the main doors and the rest of the room at the same time. The crowd began to arrive soon after. It was a veritable who's who of Eastern Shore society. Micah kept up a running commentary for me since I didn't know most of them. There were various local officials and politicians, a congressman, the mayor, the police chief, some of the wealthiest, and therefore influential, residents of the lower Shore-the list went on and on until I eventually lost track of who was who.
I noticed that many of the local officials who wandered by us, seemed to recognize Micah. As they did, their face would take on a rather disgusted expression and they would make a show of turning their backs to him. Some of the looks were downright hostile.
"Does your status as official pariah have anything to do with that article?" I asked him finally.
"Yeah. Try not to let it bother you. Just ignore them."
"You'd think they would be grateful to have the corruption exposed," I fumed.
Micah snorted. "Surely you jest. First off, the ones that were exposed as corrupted were popular. Some of them had been in local politics for decades. That makes me the bad guy. Secondly, corruption has a way of spreading to everyone associated with those involved with the corruption, whether they were actually involved or not. It taints everyone with a certain suspicion. Since this is an election year, that once again makes me the bad guy. Are you seeing a trend here? And finally, I wouldn't be at all surprised if some of these people here were involved in the corruption and they were just better at hiding their involvement. Like I've said, this thing is a lot bigger than we originally thought and I'm just beginning to see how big it is now."
Just then, the mayor approached us. I wondered if he was going to tear into Micah about the article, but his warm smile immediately dispelled that thought. He shook Micah's hand and then mine as Micah introduced us. He made polite noises in my direction, and then turned his attention back to Micah.
"Mr. Gerber," he began.
"Please, Mr. Mayor, call me Micah."
"Only if you'll call me Phil," he said with a wide politician's smile. "Micah, I just wanted to say that you're doing excellent work on this corruption case and you have my full support. I know certain people may be giving you a hard time, but you're doing the right thing."
"Thank you, Mayor...er...Phil. That means a lot," Micah said sincerely.
They shook hands again and the mayor wandered off to glad handle his other voting constituents.
I was just returning my attention to the doors when Micah grabbed my elbow and started to drag me off. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"I want you to meet someone," he said. He steered me towards a distinguished looking gentleman talking to a group of equally distinguished men and women. The man looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place where I had seen him before. The first thing I noticed was that he was very tall. He towered over almost everyone else present. He wasn't, however, one of those tall people shaped like sticks. He was more like a tree, maybe a sequoia. He was just plain huge. His short hair was iron gray and not a hair was out of place. Somehow, though, even with his considerable bulk, or maybe because of it, he carried himself with an effortless grace.
"Dr. Mason," Micah said, and the large man turned and smiled when he saw Micah.
"Micah," he said in a surprisingly soft, cultured voice. He separated himself from the group of people with whom he'd been talking and moved a few feet away with us. "So good to see you." He looked to me and his eyes twinkled. Where had I seen him before? "And who is this?"
"This is my boyfriend, Killian Kendall. Killian, this is Dr. Hiram Mason."
His name clicked into place as I reached out to shake his hand. "You're the president of Pemberton University," I said, quite unnecessarily since I'm sure he knew who he was.
"That would be correct. It's a pleasure to meet you, Killian. Are you a student?"
"Yes, sir. In my first year."
"None of this sir business." His eyes sparkled again and I felt like I was missing out on some great joke. "This is quite a party, isn't it? Although, I have to say I've seen better. The music is a little a dull." He said, tilting his head towards the live jazz band playing at one end of the room.
"You'd rather they played a little techno?" Micah asked. I was surprised at his familiar tone. I hadn't even known Micah knew the president of Pemberton.
"Disco was more my era, Micah," he said with a chuckle. "But I'm afraid my dancing days are over."
"Oh, I believe you could still dance circles around anyone here," Micah said with a grin.
His comment pulled up a memory from a few weeks ago and suddenly my brain made the connection with a jolt like an electric shock. I felt my mouth drop open and my eyes grow wide as I stared rudely at Dr. Mason. Micah leaned over casually and used one finger below my chin to shut my mouth.
Dr. Mason, obviously trying to hide a smile, patted me on the shoulder. "Our little secret, Killian," he said.
I nodded mutely as one of the women from the group of people he'd been with when we approached disengaged herself and took his arm. She looked to be a little younger than he, with dyed blonde hair and slightly too much makeup for her age. Her dress was one size too small for her figure and her jewelry could only be described as ostentatious. They made a decidedly mismatched pair.
"Dear, this is an old friend Micah Gerber and his friend Killian Kendall," Dr. Mason introduced us. "This is my wife, Lenore."
Before Micah or I could say a word, assuming I was yet capable of speech, her face took on a pouty expression. "I'm thirsty, Hi," she whined.
"Then we'll get a drink. Boys, if you'll excuse me..."
"Of course," Micah said.
"It was nice meeting you, Killian," Dr. Mason said, I nodded again and he gave me a surreptitious wink as they moved off.
"Charming lady, isn't she?" Micah asked when they were out of earshot.
"That..."
"Hmm?"
"He..."
"Spit it out, Killian."
"He's married?"
"Yep. Forty-five blissful years, I think it is."
"But..."
"But what?"
I shook my head silently. I'd have to think on that one for a while.
It was turning out to be a night of surprises and I hadn't even found Jake yet. I scanned the room as we started back towards our observation spot. I suddenly froze in my tracks as I received the biggest surprise of the evening. On the far side of the room, I had spotted Jake. That wasn't the surprising part; I'd come specifically to find him, after all. It wasn't even all that surprising that he'd gotten in without us seeing him. He could have easily slipped in either while we were talking to the mayor or Dr. Mason. The surprising part was whose arm he was hanging on.
Micah realized I had stopped and followed my gaze. "Well, I'll be damned," he breathed. "I didn't expect to see him here."
"You know him?" I gasped.
"Not personally, but I know of him. Every reporter in the tri-state area, and possible farther than that, knows who he is. That's Fenton Black."
"No it isn't!" I blurted out. "That's Neal!"
Micah blinked at me in astonishment. He looked at the man I knew as Neal and then back at me. "What did you say?" he asked in confusion, obviously deciding that he had misheard me.
"That's Neal," I hissed, tugging at his arm. I wanted to get out of Neal's line of sight before he or Jake spotted me.
Micah suddenly became a stubborn mule and planted his feet firmly against my pull. "Neal as in...?"
"As in your old boss. As in the guy in the newspaper clipping in Jake's room. As in the guy I was just sitting across the table from in DC earlier this week. Now move before they see us."
He reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled behind a large column. "I don't understand," he whined. "That's Fenton Black. I know it is. I've never met him personally but I've been in his presence before. I know him when I see him."
"Who is Fenton Black?"
"You've never heard of Fenton Black?"
"If I had, would I be asking you who he is?"
"He's probably the richest guy on the Eastern Shore, possible one of the richest in the country. No one knows exactly how much money he has or how he got it in the first place, just that it's an obscene amount. He's originally from Columbia, South America. He's known to be a bit eccentric and if I said there are a lot of rumors about him it would be an understatement."
"What kind of rumors?"
"Well, no one has ever been able to prove anything, but it's whispered that he has pretty much every politician in the area in his pocket and the ones he hasn't bought off are in his debt in some way. Officially, he's in the import/export business; that's pretty vague but it's said that all his imports aren't entirely legal. Drugs, for instance. A few people have suggested that he's the kingpin of some sort of large-scale organized crime society."
"Like a mafia?"
"Something along those lines."
"But nothing can be proved?"
"Not so far. Anyone that ever hints to the authorities that they know facts about him seems to wind up dead of some unfortunate accident. And to be honest, I don't know if catching him is a big priority on anyone's list. The guy's sharp; he gives enormous amounts of money to charity. I think he single handedly sustains several local charities. In some people's minds, his money pays for his sins."
I peeked around the edge of the column. "Well, you can add running an escort agency to his list of sins," I said, "Because that is definitely the man I met on Monday who introduced himself to me as Neal."
"This is just unbelievable," Micah muttered, peering over my shoulder. "Well, at least now I know what Neal looks like."
"You never met him the entire time you worked for him?"
"As far as I know, no one who worked for him ever has."
That gave me just a glimmer of hope that maybe Jake wasn't an escort. Unless he'd changed his policy of never meeting his employees. Of course, if Jake wasn't an escort, that begged the question of how Jake knew him. So many things just weren't making sense right now.
"You have to give him one thing, he's got balls," Micah said almost admiringly.
"What do you mean?" I asked, ducking back behind the column and glaring at my boyfriend.
"I mean meeting you and then showing up here?"
"He wouldn't have any reason to expect me to be here," I said. "Still, his picture could have wound up in the paper again."
"Actually, he's notoriously freakish about having his picture taken. Usually he won't allow it for any reason, and if someone takes one without his permission he'll demand the entire roll of film."
"Well, someone got away with it at least once, Jake has that clipping."
"You know, I remember when that was taken. It was earlier this year. It was at some fundraiser for a children's hospital or something like that. It was taken and published without his knowledge in some small local paper. The paper mysteriously went under a few weeks later. I remember one of the other reporters joked that it was because they published Fenton Black's photo and everyone laughed that uncomfortably like you do when you suspect that the joke might actually be true."
"But the chance is still there that I could see him and recognize him somewhere, somehow. That makes it a risk. He doesn't sound like the kind of guy who takes risks. Why would he meet with me?"
"Probably because he didn't take you seriously. He thought it would be better to meet with you and get you off his back. He never suspected to run into you. Or maybe he's just getting cocky."
"Oh jeez. Something you said just clicked. You're right, I think he underestimated me at first, but I don't think he was making that mistake by the end of our meeting. I could very well be on his hit list now."
Micah paled. "So what do we do now?" he asked. "Somehow, I have a feeling that it would be unhealthy for you to let him see you here."
"I can't leave if that's what you're suggesting," I said immediately.
"Why not?"
"I don't know why Jake is here with him. That's the whole reason I'm here. Remember? Novak pulled a lot of strings to get me these tickets; he'd kick my ass if I wasted this opportunity."
"Not if you don't have an ass to kick. Killian, this guy is dangerous. Deadly dangerous. You're really playing with fire here. I think we should leave."
"Micah," I said calmly. "Think about what you're saying. Didn't we just have this conversation a few days ago? Except it was me worrying about your job. Do you remember what you said to me?"
He grimaced. "Yeah, I remember. I said it was my job and I had to do it."
"Right, and then you said you would never ask me to give up an investigation."
"I'm not asking you to give up on your investigation."
"You might as well be. You're asking me to compromise it. What's the difference? If he's already decided I'm a liability then there isn't much I can do to make it worse, and if he is still underestimating me, it could work to my advantage. And all of that is beside the point, because I don't intend to let him see me."
"How are you going to avoid him seeing you?"
I pulled the mask out of my jacket pocket and slipped it on. Most people weren't wearing their masks, but enough people were that I wouldn't draw any attention if I was. "I've only met him once, he doesn't expect to see me here, and I'm wearing a mask."
He sighed. "Just be careful. Guys in his line of work can't afford to be unobservant."
"I'm always careful. I don't think we should stay together though. Even if you never met him, he most likely knows what you look like and if he sees us together he might put two and two together."
He opened his mouth to argue but then nodded. He wasn't happy about it, but he was willing to admit I was right. "Ok, we'll split up."
"I'll let you know when I'm ready to leave."
He nodded and turned sharply on his heel and started to walk away. He stopped a few feet away and then came back.
"I just remembered another rumor about Mr. Black that might be important."
"What's that?"
"They say he likes young boys."
"He's a pedophile?"
"Maybe not that young. But Jake would probably be just about right."
I looked around the column again. Now that he'd put the idea in my head, it did seem as if Jake was his date. Jake was wearing an expensive looking tux that looked as if it had been made just for him. He wasn't wearing a mask and his expression was easy to read-utter boredom. Fenton/Neal, wearing an equally expensive white tuxedo, was speaking quite earnestly with someone who I knew I had seen before but couldn't place.
"Who's he talking to?"
"Who? Black? That's Ronald Humphrey, one of the other commissioners. One of the ones not implicated in the big scandal."
"Where would I have seen him?"
"On the news possibly. He's been the most outspoken critic of the article I wrote, calling it irresponsible journalism. Chances are he's protesting so loudly because he has something to hide."
"Do you think it means anything that he's talking to Neal-I mean Fenton Black?"
"It might, but it doesn't have to mean anything. Everyone wants to talk to Fenton Black. He's like a celebrity around here. He has a lot of money to throw around."
"I want to get closer."
"How are you going to do that without attracting his attention?"
"Um...maybe you could create some kind of distraction..."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, do something outrageous. Pretend to fall down or choke or something."
"Killian, I have to think about my professional reputation. I might have to interview some of these people and I don't want them to remember me as the klutz at the ball."
"Yeah, ok. You're right. How about if you just walk up to them and start a conversation. You can just pretend to be a reporter asking that Humphrey guy some questions."
"First off, I wouldn't have to pretend to be a reporter; I am one. Secondly, there are certain rules you follow at a bash like this. You don't just walk up to people and start interrogating them. Not unless you want to be thrown out on your keister, and trust me, Humphrey would do it. He dislikes me that much."
"Ok, we don't want that. Forget the distraction. I'll just move around the outside edge of the room and try to work my way up behind them."
"Sounds like a plan. I'll mingle. Good luck."
I stuck my tongue at his retreating back and then slipped through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible. Once I reached the wall, I began to slowly work my way around behind where Black and Jake seemed to have stationed themselves. Black didn't mingle so much as people came to pay homage. While I was attempting to get into position, Humphrey had moved off and already two more people had approached, spoken briefly, and then moved reluctantly off. I could have sworn he was dismissing them like royalty. A third person was speaking to him now and another waited off to one side.
I made it all the way around the room until I was directly behind them. Keeping a careful eye on Jake, who wasn't paying any attention to the people approaching Black and was busy looking around the room, I started easing up closer to where the two of them were standing. Finally, I was close enough to eavesdrop. Or I would have been if not for a small group nearby that seemed to have already imbibed a bit too much and were a little on the loud side. They were laughing with their party laugh. You know the one. Frantic and with a slightly hysterical edge? The one that says I'm going to have fun even if it kills me.
They quieted down for a moment as a short fat guy began to tell a joke. Something about an airplane and a pilot who leaves the intercom on by mistake. I was finally able to hear Black and Jake.
"Again, thank you so much for your generous donation," a woman was finished up whatever conversation she'd been having with Black. She was quite an imposing sight. To say she was top heavy would have been misleading. She was heavy everywhere and still managed to look top heavy. Her bosom was easily large enough to serve tea from. Altogether, she rather resembled a cruise ship.
"You're very welcome," Black said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." The behemoth accepted his dismissal and moved away. "Tiresome woman," he said as soon as she was out of earshot.
"They're all tiresome," Jake said. "I hate these things."
"Jacob, we've been through this."
"Yeah, I know. It's part of the bargain."
I couldn't hear what was said next because the rowdy group burst into raucous laughter as Dumpy delivered the punch line. When I could make out what he was saying again, it sounded like Black was placing a drink order. It only took me a second to remember that the closest bar was directly behind me. Before I could react, Jake nodded and turned around and started in my direction. For a moment, I panicked, but then I remembered that I was wearing a mask and just turned casually (I hoped) to the side, as if I was with the band of merry jokesters.
Stupid, that was way too close, I scolded myself. I had to be more careful. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jake approach the bar and place Black's drink order. He waited while it was mixed, and then carried it back, without once so much as glancing in my direction. I was just about to break cover when he leaned in and whispered something in Black's ear. Black nodded, and then to my stunned horror, Jake turned and walked right up to me.
"Can I have a word with you in the hall, please?" He spoke in a civil enough tone, but his eyes were flashing with anger.
"Of course," I said quickly. What else could I do without causing a scene?
Jake spun on his heel and marched stiffly towards an inconspicuous door behind the bar that I had completely failed to notice earlier. I followed him through the door and into a completely deserted but brightly lit, if sterile, hallway. Jake kindly waited for the door to close before ripping into me.
"What the fuck do you think your doing?" he snarled as soon as the door snicked shut.
"Huh?" I responded brilliantly. No one can ever say I don't think quickly on my feet.
"Damn it, Killian. I know you've been snooping around, talking to my old friends. Danielle called me in a panic and wanted to know what was going on, that you'd told her she was in danger because she knew me or some shit like that." I knew that would come back to bite me in the butt. "What kind of fucked up shit is this, Killian? I thought you were my friend."
"Calm down, Jake," I started, which is, of course, always the worst thing to say to someone who is upset.
"Calm down? You want me to calm down? After I find out you're sneaking around talking to people about me behind my back? And then I catch you following me around here at the AIDS Ball and eavesdropping on my conversation? And you want me to calm down?" His voice had been steadily climbing throughout that whole tirade, but it reached a crescendo on that last question that I thought would bring security running. I decided a judicious fib was in order.
"I'm not following you," I said in what I hoped was a completely believable voice. I pulled off the mask and tried to arrange an expression of righteous indignation on my face but I was feeling so guilty that I'm not sure I pulled it off. "I'm here with Micah."
"Bullshit." I opened my mouth to argue but he cut me off. "Oh, I know you're here with Micah. I saw you both hiding behind that damn column, peeking out at us every few minutes. And then you come creeping up behind us. And I know you've been following me for a while now. I've seen you behind me in traffic and at the mall once. At the time, I just thought it was a coincidence and I wondered why you didn't say anything. Now I know it's because you're...you're...investigating me!" He spat out the last two words as if they tasted nasty, which they probably did. He stomped back and forth a few paces while I tried to decide what to say.
"Jake, listen..." I tried, but he wheeled around and silenced me with an angry slash of his hand.
"So far, Fenton doesn't know you're here; he's too busy playing benevolent king to the greedy peasants." So I wasn't the only one who'd made that comparison. "But all I have to do is make a scene and he'll have your ass in jail so fast you won't know what hit you. I'll say you're harassing me, or that you tried to force yourself on me here in the hall."
"You wouldn't do that to me," I said, aghast.
"I didn't think you'd stoop to sneaking around behind my back either." There was genuine hurt in his eyes and it killed me to see it.
"It's only because we care about you," I said.
"Oh please. Spare me."
"Really. Everyone is worried about you. You stop talking to your friends, you don't come home at night, and then you suddenly start throwing around a huge amount of cash that you won't explain where it came from."
"Mom is behind this, isn't she? God. I should have known. I knew someone had been through my stuff. That settles it. I'm moving out."
"You're only 16!"
"I'm almost 17."
"You're still underage. What are you doing with this Fenton Black guy? He's bad news, Jake."
"What do you know? You don't even know him!"
"We've met."
That stopped him. "You've met?" There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Where? How?"
"Through another case."
He waved it away. "Well, you don't know him. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
"And what decision are you making? To throw away your family and friends? For what?"
"For what? I'll tell you for what. For a life I could never have with my so-called family and friends. Fenton gives me anything I need or want. He takes care of me."
"Does he love you? And what's your end of the bargain?"
"What good is love? What has love ever gotten me? Hurt, that's what. My whole family is dead and my brother killed half of them. And tried to kill me. Before I even have time for that to sink in, I'm yanked away from the only people alive that I still knew and cared about. I go off to live with complete strangers on the other side of the country and everyone expects me to be just fine. And then, just when I start to make friends and enjoy life again, Mommy Dearest decides it will be good for me to move back here where I can be close to family. Good for her is more like it. And my family? Where to start? No one gave a damn about me. No one ever once asked me how I was doing, if I was ok. No one ever cared about me until I start throwing a little money around and then suddenly everyone is so concerned for me. Give me a fucking break. And you! The person I thought was my friend! You're too busy following me around and talking to people about me, you can't even talk to me. If you were so damn concerned for me, why didn't you just walk up to me and ask me what was going on?" He paused to wipe angry tears from his eyes.
I was reeling from his revelations and his accusations. I'd never known he'd felt like this. After everything he'd been through, why hadn't it ever occurred to me that he would be having a hard time dealing with it all? Because I'd been too caught up in my own life to think about anyone else. I'd talked, really talked, to Jake only once since he'd been back. He was right; I'd done a piss poor job of being a friend.
"Jake, I'm..."
"Sorry? Well guess what, Killian? It's too late for that now. Do you know how many nights I've laid awake in bed for hours, wishing you'd just let Todd finish me off? At least that way I wouldn't have to be feeling all this pain. But you know what? I finally found a way to make the pain go away, at least for a little while. So I don't need you, and I don't need Judy, and I don't need my supposed friends who never really cared about me either. The only reason they ever hung out with me is because they wanted something from me. They wanted me, but not for me, but because of what I look like."
I didn't even try to argue with him. I couldn't argue with him. He was right.
"So save your sorry's for someone else, I don't need them. I'm fine now. I have everything I need. You can quit following me around, and you can stop asking questions, and you can tell Mom to fuck off, because I don't need her anymore either."
"Jake, please, just listen to me. Your mom loves you, she really does. She's tried to do what she thought was best for you."
"Like leaving me with that child abusing monster when I was just a defenseless little baby? She didn't want me then, she already had a golden boy. Why does she want me now? To appease her guilt?"
"It's not like that!"
"How would you know? And if she really cared so much about me, wouldn't you think she'd at least ask me if I wanted to move back to Maryland, instead of just springing it on me one day when I come home?"
"Did you ever try to talk to her about it?"
"Why bother? She does what she wants when she wants. She can't even handle this like a normal mother; she has to hire a private detective. I don't know why she didn't just get her boyfriend to do her dirty work for her. Why'd she have to drag you into it? Or maybe you volunteered for the job of snooping on me. You always did seem to like watching me when you thought I wasn't looking." I flinched. "I was good enough to look at, but not good enough to love. Even then, you chose Asher over me. I guess you got tired of him too, huh? Maybe Micah had better watch out."
I knew he was baiting me, that he wanted me to lash out in some way, but even so, I could feel my temper rising. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to tell him that wasn't what happened and he knew it. But I also knew it was exactly what he wanted. A real fight. It's hard to fight with only one person angry. Stay calm, I told myself. If you lose it, it'll just give him more ammunition.
"Jake, I'm sorry I hurt you. I've said it so many times; I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry I've been such a shitty friend since you've been back. You're right; I haven't been there for you. But this isn't the answer. Can't we try to start over?"
All the fight seemed to drain out of him all at once. He almost seemed to collapse in on himself. "No," he said in a soft, broken voice. "No we can't. It's far too late now. Too much has happened. I'm in too deep. I can't start over."
"Too deep into what? It's never too late. I can help."
He laughed a hollow sounding laugh. This new, withered Jake was somehow much scarier than the angry, overblown one from just a few seconds ago. "No one can help. I'm beyond help. Can't you see? Just give up. Go back to your happy little life. It's too late."
"Jake..."
"It's too late," he screamed. "It's too fucking late!" He slumped back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. I rushed over and knelt at his side, but he shoved me away with surprising strength. I landed hard on my butt with an oof of surprise. I was pretty sure I'd have a bruise there in the morning.
"Just go," he said as he began to sob. "Get out before I call security."
"Jake, please let me help."
"I told you, you can't help. Get out. Now."
"But..."
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" he screamed.
The door we'd come through earlier-had it really just been a matter of minutes?-swung open and Fenton Black stepped into the hall. It only took a moment for his gaze to fall on the two of his. His eyes swept over Jake with a look of annoyance. His expression when he took me in was harder to read. There was definitely surprise there, and recognition; the other emotion was less definitive, but I didn't need to know what it was to know it was dangerous.
"Go," Jake hissed.
I didn't need to be told again. I was on my feet and racing down the hall before the word was off his lips. I heard Black yelling angrily behind me, but he wasn't pursuing. It only took a few more seconds for his words to sink in for me to realize he wouldn't need to chase me. He had the entire security staff at his beck and call. I risked a glance back to see him screaming into a small walkie-talkie.
I started looking frantically for an exit. I spotted one up ahead just as a door to my left burst open and a burly security guard blinked at me in surprise. For a guy his size, his reflexes were quick; he made a lunge for me. Luckily, I was quicker. For once, size was on my side. I slipped under his arm and bolted down the hall. Another guard, shorter and thinner than the first guy, came around a corner in front of me, but fortunately, the exit was between him and me. I slammed into the exit door with my full weight and was very gratified to feel it fly open in front of me. Some small part of my brain had been worried that it might be locked. I didn't take the time to breathe a sigh of relief, however. The chase was still on.
I sprinted across the parking lot and ducked behind a car. I tried to control my breathing as the door exploded open again and the guards raced through it. They had been joined by one more. They all three stopped just outside the door and looked around. I stayed very still, trying not to make any sounds.
"Should we look for him?" the shorter one asked.
"He's gone by now," the tall one said. "Why'd we want him anyway? Was he a gate-crasher?"
"I don't know. All I know is that Mr. Black wanted us to catch him," the burly guy responded.
Shorty snorted. "Well I guess we know why Black wanted him, a pretty boy like that."
"Yeah, we shoulda just let him go even if we had caught him," Stretch said with a snicker. "Poor kid. He probably just didn't want to play with Mr. Black."
Burly elbowed him in the side. "Why don't you both shut up?" He lifted his radio to his mouth and reported that they'd lost me. A burst of static mixed with curses was their response. Mr. Black was not happy.
Neither was I. I might have just escaped from an immediate danger, but I knew Black had recognized me. I was still very much at risk. Probably even more so now. I waited until the guards retreated into the building, tails between their legs. I quickly dug out my cell phone and dialed Micah's number.
"Where are you?" he demanded as soon as he answered. "I looked around and you and Jake were both gone, and now I can't find Black anywhere either."
"I'm the parking lot behind the hotel," I said.
"What are you doing there?"
"It's a long story. Go get the car as quickly as you can and come pick me up."
"Killian, what happened?"
"I'll tell you when you pick me up. For now, let's just say I'm in big trouble."
I stayed hidden, crouching behind a bright red Firebird, until I saw Micah's car come around the corner. It was a tense wait, as I expected the security guards to return with reinforcements at any moment. I tried to remember if they carried guns or not. As soon as Micah appeared, I ran to the passenger side, yanked the door open, and leaped in.
"Go," I shouted before the door was even pulled shut.
"Go where? What's going on?" Micah demanded.
"Just drive. I'll tell you when we get away from here."
I slumped down in the seat as he finally drove off. He was silent until we were well away from the hotel, then, "Killian, what the hell is going on?"
"I may have messed things up a bit," I said carefully.
"Messed them up how? You said you were in trouble, what kind of trouble?"
"Ok, well, Jake saw us at the Ball, and apparently he's seen me following him a few times. Apparently, I'm not as good at this whole detective thing as I thought."
"So he saw you? How did that get you into trouble? Did he confront you?"
"Yeah, you could say that, in the hall that runs behind the ballroom. We had a huge argument. He ripped into me, told me I'd been a lousy friend and that I had no right to care about him now when I didn't care about him before."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, and the worst part is, he's right."
"Killian..."
"No, he is. I wasn't there for him as much as I should have been. I even knew he'd been having a hard time back in California. We talked a couple times right after he got back. I knew that and I wasn't there for him. I was too caught up in my own problems. I was a lousy friend."
"Ok, so maybe you could have been a better friend. What's done is done. How did that get you in trouble?"
"Well, it seems Jake is dating Fenton Black, or at least he's Black's kept boy."
"Oh. Oh! So that's where all his money is coming from. And the gifts and clothes. How did he get tangled up with Fenton Black?"
"That I don't know. But while we were arguing, Black came looking for Jake."
"Shit!"
"My thoughts exactly. I didn't know what to do but Jake told me to run so I did. Black called security and they chased me, but I managed to get away from them in the parking lot. Not that they tried that hard once they were out of Black's sight."
"So Black now knows that you know who he is, and he knows that you know Jake, or at least that you were talking with him. To him, that will probably imply that you're investigating him, which makes you a very real threat."
"Like I said, I'm in trouble."
"Trouble? Killian, trouble doesn't begin to cover it. You're in danger, serious danger."
"Yeah, I know. I just need to figure out what to do next. Should I go to the police?"
"Are you listening to me? You're in big-time serious danger!"
"Yeah, I got that, Micah. I don't really need you to tell me."
"Then act like you understand what that means."
"And how is that? How am I supposed to act, scared? Well I am, but I can't let that interfere with the investigation. I feel like I'm right on the edge of figuring this whole thing out."
"You should be scared. This is a very dangerous man. He's killed before and I seriously doubt he'll hesitate to have you killed."
"Then we have to stop him before he gets a chance."
"How are we supposed to do that? You're not superman."
"I never said I was. Do you think I should go to the police?"
"And tell them what? That Fenton Black is a bad, bad man? I'm sure they'll jump right on that."
"I can tell them he runs a prostitution ring."
"Why should they believe you? Just because you say so?"
"I have contacts in the police department." At least I hoped I did. Hank Kaplan had helped out a lot in Caleb Cohen case as few months ago.
"Even then, they'd have to investigate on their own. You could be dead long before they found out anything concrete. This guy is smart. He knows how to hide his tracks. He's gotten away with worse than this in the past."
"So I'll have to think of something else. Just stop yelling at me."
We fell into a heavy, tension-filled silence. I could tell Micah was terrified for me. I could feel the fear rolling off of him like a physical wave. I tried to force my mind to go over everything I had learned tonight, from Micah and from Jake. I knew there was something in there I was missing and that it was important.
"Where are we going?" Micah asked after a few minutes of driving.
I thought about it for a minute. "The bed and breakfast. I'd be safest there, I think. I don't want to go home. It would take him less than five minutes to find out where I live. And I can't go back with you, Jake knows we're dating and he might tell Black. It would take him longer to find out that Steve is Adam's partner and that he owns a B&B, and even if he found out, he wouldn't know what room I was in and he couldn't very well just bust in and start breaking into rooms."
"I don't know if I'd put anything past him, but you're probably right, the bed and breakfast would be the safest place for tonight."
"You should stay there too. You wouldn't be safe at your apartment."
"I think I'll sleep at the office tonight, if I sleep at all. I want to get back to work on this story. It occurred to me earlier tonight that Black quite possibly could be involved with the whole county council scandal. It would be right up his alley and, as I said, he already has most of the officials in his pocket. At the very least, he would have had to know about it, even if he wasn't directly involved."
Several things fell into place in my mind. I fell quiet again as I began to drop the puzzle pieces into place in my head. After a few minutes, I began to talk out my thoughts. "You said that Neal, who we now know is really Fenton Black, never met any of his escorts, but what if he did."
"What do you mean?"
"What if he did meet with one of them? Or maybe that person just found out his identity by mistake?"
"What's your point?"
"What if that someone was Paul?"
It didn't take him long to make the same connection I was making. "And what if he somehow found out about the illegal activity and that was who he was writing the letters to."
"Then Paul would have ended up dead."
"Only one problem."
"What's that?"
"This wasn't a professional hit. It wasn't Black's style at all. Paul was strangled and the apartment was trashed. Whoever killed Paul did it in a fit of anger or panic and then systematically tore the place apart looking for something."
"Or that's what they wanted you to think."
"You think it was just a cover?"
"Maybe. I need to talk to the detective in charge of the investigation."
I dug out my cell phone, looked up and number, and quickly dialed it.
"Who are you calling?" Micah asked.
"Chris."
The phone was answered by a young sounding boy. I tried to remember Chris' little brother's name.
"Kevin," I said as it came to me. "This is Killian Kendall. Is Chris there?"
"Yeah, hang on."
He set the phone down with a clunk and I heard him yell, "Chris, it's your boyfriend."
A few seconds later, Chris was on the line. "Hello?"
"Chris, it's Killian."
"Hey, what's up?"
"A lot, but I'll have to fill you in later. Were you able to get me an appointment with the detective in charge of Paul's murder investigation?"
"Well, yes and no. I talked to him. His name is Owen Evans. My dad says he's a good cop. He said he would be willing to talk to you, but that he was really busy right now with another case."
"Can you call him back in the morning and tell him it's urgent that I speak to him immediately? I may know something that could solve this case for him."
"I doubt he could resist that. What's going on? What did you find out?"
"I can't really go into it now. I'd rather tell you in person."
"Ok, but you're killing me here."
"Poor choice of words. Look, try your best to get me in with him tomorrow afternoon. I'll drive up there in the morning."
"You're pretty confident you'll get in to see him, aren't you?"
"Just determined."
"Ok, then I'll see you tomorrow. And I expect a full briefing."
"I promise."
We hung up and Micah looked over at me. "I wish I could go with you to DC, but I know you'll be safer there than here."
"It's ok. You have your job to do and I have mine."
"I just..." He took a shaky breath. "I couldn't bear to lose you."
I reached over and took his hand. "I'll be ok, Micah. I'm not going anywhere."
"I wish I knew that for sure." He bit down on his lip and stared straight ahead. A few minutes later, we pulled into the circular drive in front of Amalie's House. Micah walked me in and waited while I called Adam and Kane at home and told them I thought it would be better if they came and stayed at the B&B. Of course, Adam demanded to know why. I told him I couldn't go into details, but it was possible they could be in danger at the house because of one of my cases. That sent Steve and Adam in almost identical panic attacks. By the time Adam and Kane arrived, and I got everyone calmed down enough to go to bed-Adam and Steve armed with a small pistol that I didn't even know Steve owned-it was almost 1 AM.
I tossed and turned fitfully in my room. My mind refused to shut off. I was still full of energy, even though I was dead tired. I turned the case over and over in my mind, looking at it from every possible angle I could think of. Once that bone was gnawed on as much as I could gnaw, I moved on to what Jake had said. Once again, I was filled with guilt for the way I had neglected him. And the worse part was he wasn't the only friend I had been neglecting. I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked to Will.
After what seemed like an eternity, but my clock said was only about an hour, I finally fell into an uneasy sleep filled with strange, foreboding dreams about which, upon awakening a short time later, I found I couldn't remember anything. They just left me with a very unsettled feeling.
I was lying awake in the dark when I suddenly felt another presence in the room. I sat up with a jolt to find Seth standing at the foot of my bed.
"My God, you scared the hell out of me," I snapped.
"You're in grave danger," he said with an intensity I'd never heard before in his voice.
"Tell me something I don't know."
"You have to be careful, Killian. I helped once before; I won't be allowed to help again. You're on your own this time."
"Do you know what's going to happen?"
"No, I've told you before, I'm not omniscient. All I know is that you've set certain events into motion; and by doing so, you've put yourself in danger. There are many ways this could go. More than one of those ways ends with you being either hurt or killed. The choices you make from here on out will be crucial to the outcome."
"Isn't that true of everything? Every choice we make has an effect, like a stone being dropped into a pond. No matter how tiny the pebble or how huge the boulder, there is some effect."
"I don't have time to get existential with you. Just be very careful."
"I will. I promise."
"Good. I...I don't want to lose you."
A shiver went down my spine at his words that so eerily echoed Micah's from earlier. "I don't understand."
"You don't understand what?"
"How can you lose me? Won't I be with you no matter what?"
"Oh, Killian. You can't understand and I can't explain. I gave up so much to be able to come back...and all for you."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't explain it. It's against the rules."
"Fuck the rules! What do you mean?"
"I can't, Killian. I can't."
"I don't understand."
"I love you," he said and vanished, leaving his final words echoing behind him.
"Great. Just what I needed," I hissed into the empty room. "One more thing to worry over."
I flopped back onto the bed and tried to will myself back to sleep. That never works. Once again, I gave my mind full reign and allowed it to wander where it wanted. I thought about Seth and our brief friendship while he was still alive. I'd known him longer as a ghost then I had ever known him as a living, breathing person. I'd never really thought about what it meant that he could come speak to me whenever he wanted. He'd talked about the rules before, but always in vague terms, never anything concrete. I knew so little about what made it possible to see and talk to him. I'm sure it must have been made easier by my Gifts. Thinking about my Gifts made me think about Judy's promise to find me a teacher. While I wasn't necessarily eager to deal with all that, in some ways I was looking forward to finally understanding it all a little better. I wondered who my teacher would be.
Eventually, my mind wore itself out and I began to drift back to sleep. I was just at the threshold of slumber when I once again felt that tingly awareness that told me there was another presence in the room.
"Seth," I mumbled with a sigh and a pushed myself into a sitting position. "Aren't you going to let me get any sleep tonight?" But it wasn't Seth this time. Amalie now stood in the exact same spot where I'd last seen him. I felt my mouth drop open as the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
I'd never been able to understand why seeing Seth was so much easier for me that seeing Amalie. Every time I came face to face with her, I felt terror wash over me like ice water. There was just a very different quality about her, a different aura, one of despair and pain.
She looked exactly the same as she had the first time I saw her, all in black, her hair pulled back, with an undeniable air of sadness about her. She stood there staring at me with a pleading expression on her incorporeal face.
"What?" I rasped, responding to her expression. "What do you want?"
For a moment, she seemed almost surprised that I had spoken to her. Then she turned and took a few quick steps towards the door. I noticed there was no sound of footsteps; they weren't needed at the moment. She paused and turned back, motioning me to follow her. Without hesitating, I slid from the bed a followed her. She turned once again and walked through the door...without opening it. Being at something of a disadvantage, with being solid and all, I had to open it to exit the room. She was standing in the hall, waiting expectantly.
As soon as she saw me, she moved silently down the hall to the stairs. I hurried to keep up. On the first floor, she went directly to the cellar door, where she'd led me the last time I'd followed her.
"We've been down there before," I said, coming to a stop. I wasn't keen on going down there alone. It was dark, dirty and spooky, not to mention cold, and I was only wearing the boxers that I sleep in. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that Seth's warning could have applied to anything except my case involving Fenton Black. Suddenly, I wondered if it was possible that he could have been warning me about Amalie instead. He'd warned me about her once before, telling me to be careful because she wasn't like him.
When she realized I was no longer following her, she stopped and turned back to me. She motioned me to follow her again, this time, more emphatically.
I sighed. I'd made a promise to find out what was going on and if that meant going down into the cellar in the middle of the night alone with a ghost, so be it. I'd have to take that risk. I started forward and Amalie melted through the door.
I unlatched the safety lock and opened the door to reveal the pitch black stairwell stretching out before me like the throat of some giant monster waiting to swallow me whole. At least up here there had been enough reflected moonlight as well as a few nightlights that Steve left burning all night that I could see where I was going quite clearly. Down there, there were no windows and no nightlights. There was a light at the bottom of the stairs, but it was the kind with the chain that hangs down and you have to pull it to turn it on. Steve had been intending to change it for some time, but it just wasn't high on his list of priorities. Hardly anyone ever came down here anymore.
I gritted my teeth and started down the wooden steps, carefully feeling my way along and hoping with all my heart that Amalie stayed well ahead of me. I'd never come into contact with her and I was quite sure I didn't want to start now. My progress could best be described as snail's pace. At last, my bare feet felt cold, slightly slimy dirt under them instead of the rough planks of the stairs. I began waving my hands around in the dark, trying to find the chain that turned the light on. I must have looked quite a sight, flailing my arms around like a blind man in a cave full of bats. I was glad it was dark so Amalie couldn't see me, although why I thought she couldn't see perfectly well in the dark or, more importantly, why I cared if she saw me is beyond me.
I found the chain and gave it a tug. I gasped as light flooded the cellar. The bulb was very dim, barely enough to light the small room, but it was enough to temporarily blind me. When I'd blinked away the sunspots, Amalie stood waiting for me over by one of the walls. The cellar was of the old-fashioned root cellar variety. It had a plain dirt floor and brick walls covered with moss and mildew. It stunk of musty rot. Along one wall was a wooden bench-like structure that had once held vegetables and other perishables in the days before refrigeration. Overhead, pipes and wires ran between the rough-hewn beams that supported the floor of the house above.
As soon as she was certain she had my attention, Amalie turned and walked directly into and through the wall.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" I asked no one in particular. Somehow, I knew Amalie was gone. The feeling of her presence left as soon as she went through the wall. "You know," I said to her anyway, "there's no door in that wall. I can't follow you. I'm not a ghost."
Maybe I should have enlisted Seth, I thought. He could have walked through walls if he wanted.
I waited a few minutes, but it soon became obvious that she wasn't returning. Whatever she'd wanted me to see, she'd shown me. I decided it was time to wake Steve up-and put on some more clothes. I realized I was freezing in just my underwear. I slipped back up the stairs, leaving the light on at the bottom, and up to my room where I pulled on some clothes. Then I went and tapped softly on Steve and Adam's bedroom door. They must have been sleeping as lightly as I had been, because the door opened almost immediately.
"What's wrong?" Adam asked in a tight voice.
"I need to talk to Steve," I whispered.
"What's going on?" Steve asked, appearing over Adam's shoulder.
"Amalie came back," I said.
"Should we call Judy?" Adam asked. Once upon a time, he'd been a skeptic when it came to Amalie and things supernatural, but he was a believer these days. Anyone who'd anything to do with Amalie was now a believer.
"It's after
"I think we should call her," I voted. "If we don't, she'll be very unhappy in the morning."
Adam picked up the phone and dialed her number.
"What happened?" Steve asked me while Adam talked to Judy.
"I'll tell everyone at once when Judy gets here," I told him.
Adam hung up. "She's on her way. I don't think I even woke her up. Maybe she knew something was going to happen tonight."
That was possible, or maybe Jake just hadn't come home tonight.
Judy must have broken land speed records driving to the B&B. She was there before Adam and Steve had barely had time to get dressed and meet me downstairs in the lobby. We let her inside and I quickly filled them in on Amalie's appearance and my subsequent adventure in the cellar.
"You went down there alone?" Adam asked in horror.
"I didn't see where I had much of a choice, and besides, she was pretty insistent."
"I'm really proud of you, Killian," Judy said in a soft voice. It was obvious that she was really only half here with us.
"Proud of him for risking him life?"
"How did he risk his life?" Steve asked. "Amalie's never had a history of hurting anyone."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Why don't I show you where she went through the wall," I offered, in an attempt to head off any hysterics. We all went down the stairs to the cellar and I pointed to the wall through which Amalie had made her dramatic exit.
"Why would she walk through a wall?" Steve puzzled. "What could she be trying to tell us?"
"Maybe there wasn't a wall there when she was alive," Judy said, and we all turned to stare at her in surprise.
She walked over to the wall and scraped at the moss growing on the bricks.
"What do you mean there wasn't a wall there?" Steve asked.
"Just what I said. If she walked through this wall, she did it for a reason. There's something on the other side of it that she wants us to know about. Maybe the baby was never the reason for leading us down here in the first place, or at least not the only reason."
"But why would that make you think there wasn't a wall there when she was alive?"
"Just a hunch. Aha! See?"
"See what?" Steve and I asked in unison.
"The outline of a door," Adam answered for her.
"So you see it too?" Judy asked.
"Yes, it was bricked up some time after the wall was built. You can see the brick pattern is different inside the outline than the rest of the wall."
As he said this, I felt something shift inside me, for a moment I felt disoriented, as if the floor had vanished from underneath me, but before I had time to even stumble, everything stabilized. Only, instead of seeing the cellar as it had looked only seconds before I was seeing it as it must have looked in the 1850's. The wall we had all been studying was suddenly partially covered by floor to ceiling shelves, full of preserved vegetables in glass jars. Without being told, I somehow knew that the shelves were a cleverly disguised door and there was an opening behind them. I blinked and the shelves were gone, replaced with the blank brick wall once more.
"It was part of the underground railroad," I said.
It was my turn to have everyone turn and stare at me in surprise. "Did you see that?" Judy asked with a quiet intensity.
I nodded. "Just now."
"See what? How?" Adam demanded.
"It's his Gifts," Judy explained. "Sometimes he can see things from the past."
"There were shelves there," I said. "Almost like a big bookcase. There were canned foods on the shelves, not like we have today, in jars like they used to can food at home."
"I still do it that way," Judy said with a slightly amused smile on her face.
"I don't know how I knew it," I went on, "but I just knew that it was really a door and that behind it was a secret room or something."
"My house?" Steve said almost reverentially. "Part of the underground railroad?"
"It still doesn't tell us why it was bricked up," I pointed out, "Or why Amalie wanted us to know it was there."
Steve walked over and ran his hand over the bricks. "We'll have to open it up."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Adam asked.
"It's a historic landmark," Steve said with a frown.
"Who knows what we'll find in there."
"Amalie knows," Judy pointed out. "And she wants us to know too."
Adam pursed his lips. "Well, we're not going to find out tonight. I say we all go back to bed and try to get some sleep."
Steve nodded. "Adam's right. We can't do anything about this now and a little sleep sounds like a good idea."
I had to agree that sleep would be awful nice right about now. I'd gotten precious little that night. Judy nodded her agreement and we all climbed up the stairs, Steve coming last after he'd turned the light off.
"I need to speak to Killian for a moment," Judy said, once Steve had latched the door. I thought I knew what it was she needed to speak to me about. I agreed to let Judy out and Adam and Steve went upstairs to bed.
As soon as they were gone, Judy turned to me with a concerned expression. "I barely know where to start," she said.
"Let me guess, I'm in danger?"
She raised one eyebrow. "Yes."
"You're only the third person to tell me that tonight, and I knew it already on my own."
"Don't be flippant about this, Killian," she warned.
"I'm not, really. Trust me; I have a healthy amount of fear about all this. I'm just trying to not let it paralyze me."
"It has something to do with your investigations, including the one I asked you to do on Jake." It was a statement, not a question, but I nodded anyway. "Jake is in danger too," she continued. "I can feel it. It terrifies me because there isn't anything I can do about it. He didn't come home tonight."
I held a silent debate in my head about whether or not to tell her what I had discovered that night. I finally decided to just give her a capsulated version. "I saw Jake tonight at the Ball. He was with Fenton Black. Do you know who he is?"
"I've heard of him," she said in a monotone voice. From the look on her face, I thought it safe to assume what she'd heard wasn't good.
"Apparently, Jake's been, for lack of a better word, dating Black." Judy cringed. "It gets worse. He saw me at the Ball and dragged me into a hallway, where he proceeded to tear me limb from limb for investigating him behind his back. It seems I left a trail wide enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through. He figured out that it was you who hired me. He was furious."
She sighed heavily. "I was afraid it was something like that."
"I'm sorry I messed things up so bad."
She patted my cheek. "You didn't mess anything up. I'm the one who hired you. And who knows, maybe something good will come out of this yet." She didn't sound very convincing. She gave me a hug and turned to leave, but then stopped, her back still to me.
"You know," she said slowly, in a tired, worn voice, "there are times when I wish I wasn't Gifted, when I think it would be better to not know certain things. It would be nice to just live my life as ignorantly as everyone else for a change." She turned deliberately and looked me in the eye. "There's death in the air, Killian. I don't know who, but someone is going to die, and soon." With that, she was gone, leaving me alone with the chill that raced through my body at her words.
With everything that had happened, I ended up getting a grand total of two and a half hours of sleep before I woke up at
Considering how I felt and how much sleep I'd had the night before-or didn't have, as the case may be-I thought about not attempting the drive to DC. Intellectually, I knew it wasn't the best idea, but I felt like I was so close I just couldn't sit at home and do nothing. I felt a pressing urgency that I couldn't ignore.
I forced myself to wait until nine, drank a soda high in caffeine, and set out on the road towards Washington DC. My car could just about drive there on autopilot at this point, which was a good thing the way I was feeling. I would be glad when this case was over so I didn't have to drive there so often.
I made good time and arrived at Chris' just before
"Were you able to get me in to see the detective?" I asked before she even had time to say hello.
"It's nice to see you too," she said sarcastically, stepping aside to allow me in. A small black and white dog came barreling down the hallway and came skidding to a halt at my feet, looking up at me with enormous, expressive brown eyes. "Have you met Janie?" Chris asked.
"I don't believe so," I said, momentarily distracted.
"She's a Boston terrier," Chris said with all the pride of a dog owner, an amount usually reserved for parents of newborn children.
"She's beautiful," I said as I knelt down to rub her ears. Janie wriggled with pleasure. "Why'd you name her Janie?" I asked.
Chris blushed slightly. "It's short for Janeway," she said. "As in Captain Janeway."
"I didn't know you were a Trekkie."
"Sort of, I don't like the original series but I like the newer ones, especially Voyager. I had a huge crush on Captain Janeway."
I laughed and played with Janie for a few more seconds before returning back to business. "You never said if you were able to get me an appointment with the detective."
"Ye-e-e-s," she said, dragging the word out to impossible lengths.
I looked up at her suspiciously. "That doesn't sound good," I said warily.
"I managed to get you in; you're appointment is in a little over an hour. His name is Owen Evans."
"I sense a but coming..."
"Well, I may have had to stretch the facts a little to get you in, I mean, it is a Saturday."
"Stretch the facts how?"
"I...uh...I told him you knew who the murderer is and you had proof."
"You what?" I gasped.
"It was the only way I could get him to agree to meet you!"
"But Chris, I don't have any proof! I don't even know for sure that the guy I suspect did anything. What am I supposed to do when I get in there and he expects me to have solid proof? When he finds out I probably know less that he does, he'll be so pissed he won't help me at all."
"Then hold off on telling him that as long as possible."
"Oh great, then he'll lock me up for...for...something."
"For what?"
"Obstructing justice! I don't know. He'll make something up."
"Calm down. You're awful high-strung today."
I sighed. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Long night?"
"You could say that."
"Why don't you fill me in? You promised to tell me what was going on when you got here."
"Ok."
"Can we do it in the living room? I'm getting tired of standing here."
I made a face at her and she helped me up. Janie trotted along beside us as we went into the living room and sat down. I gave her the rundown on everything that had happened since we talked last, and what my suspicions were. She thought for a minute, and then nodded.
"That sounds reasonable," she said.
"Yes, but the problem is, in case you didn't notice, I don't have any proof. That was why I wanted to meet with the detective in the first place. What did you say his name is?"
"Owen Evans."
"What was he like?"
"He sounded busy mostly. The cops here in the city are overworked and underpaid. This isn't his only case, you know."
"I never said it was. It would be nice, however, if he didn't have to be bribed into working on this one."
"I didn't...well, ok, maybe I did. Look, it's just natural that I'm going to side with the cops on this, I mean, my dad is one; but that doesn't mean that I don't see your side of it too."
"I know; I'm just grouchy. You've been a huge help. I couldn't have done this without you."
"Sure you could have, I've just made it easier."
"What time do I have to go see Evans?"
She glanced at her watch. "You'd better leave now if you're taking the Metro."
"You're not coming?"
"No, I have to take Kevin to the orthodontist at two. Assuming he comes home from his friend's before then."
"Oh. Ok." I was disappointed and a little nervous at the prospect of meeting with Evans alone. "You'll at least give me directions, right?"
She laughed. "No, I thought I'd let you find it for yourself. By the way, you're not meeting him at the station. He said, and I quote, `If I have to waste time talking to some amateur sleuth, he can talk while I'm eating lunch.'"
She gave me the directions to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet the detective and I headed off to meet my doom. I decided on the way that it would be in my best interest to tell him up front that I didn't have any proof to back my suspicions. It might just forestall any possible harm to my person.
The restaurant turned out to be a little hole-in-the-wall Irish pub. A neon sign in the window proudly proclaimed that they served-what else?-Killian's Irish Red. I pushed open the door and stepped into a dimly lit room. Round tables sat in the middle of the floor and old-fashioned red pleather-upholstered booths lined the walls. They were doing a brisk business; almost every table was full. It only took one look around to see that I was the youngest person there by at least a couple decades.
A waitress carrying an empty tray stopped near me. "Can I help ya, Sugar?" She asked.
"I'm here to meet with Owen Evans," I said.
She pointed out a man sitting alone in a corner booth at the far back of the restaurant. He was intent on his hamburger and wasn't even looking on our direction. I thanked her and started making my way in his direction. As I walked, I took in the detective. He was on the far side of middle-aged and had to be edging up near retirement, but he looked to be in pretty good physical shape. He was just starting to expand a little in the middle, and meals like that greasy looking burger and that mountain of fries weren't going to help any. He had salt and pepper hair that looked a little shaggy, as if he'd missed a haircut or two. His face was lined, but it didn't make him look old, just interesting. He was wearing a slightly rumpled suit with a fresh ketchup stain on the lapel.
"Detective Evans?" I asked when I reached his table.
He looked up at me with startlingly green eyes. "That's me. You Kendall?"
I nodded and he inclined his head towards the seat across from him. "Have a seat," he grunted.
I sat down and opened my mouth to tell him I didn't have proof of anything when he asked, "So you're a friend of Chrissie Silver, eh?"
"Chrissie..." I had to struggle not to laugh. I wondered how long it had been since he'd seen Chris. She definitely wasn't the Chrissie type. "Yes," I finally managed. "And she may have overstated my case when she talked to you."
He raised an eyebrow questioningly and took a bite of his hamburger.
"I don't really have any proof to back my suspicions; that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."
He finished chewing, swallowed, and chased it down with a gulp of his soda. He eyed me for a moment and then said, "Then why are you still sitting there?"
"Why don't you just let me tell you what I've found out and then you can decide if there's anything to it or not. You're not losing anything; you have to finish eating anyway. If you get done and you still think I'm wasting your time, I'll pay for your lunch and leave you alone."
He took a huge bite of his burger, making half of what was left disappear in one gulp. "Deal," he said. Or at least that's what I think he said. His mouth was a little full at the time. He wasn't leaving me much time to talk, so I didn't waste any time jumping right in.
I outlined my investigation so far as succinctly as possible, leaving out such trivial details and breaking and entering and tampering with evidence. Even without those particulars, it added up nicely, or so I thought. What really mattered however was what the detective thought.
When I had finished my recital, he swallowed the last of his burger and signaled the waitress over. I held my breath as she approached. I was certain he was going to tell her to give me the check and walk out, leaving me with nothing more than I came with, but he surprised me by ordering a chocolate milkshake and a cup of regular coffee.
"You look like a chocolate kind of guy," he said after she'd left. I nodded my agreement, still too surprised to know what to say. "I have to give it to you," he said, "You've done a good job on this investigation. I suspect that you left out a few things, but that's neither here nor there. Unfortunately, you've also left out the most important part. You don't have any evidence. So you suspect this Fenton Black character? So what? What do you want me to do? I can't go after this guy just because you say so."
"I've seen copies of the letters that were in the safe," I told him. He raised an eyebrow but left it alone, much to my relief. "What if Paul was writing them to Black?"
"And what if he was writing them to the Pope? We need proof."
"I know I could get it if I just had more information."
"What kind of information?"
"Do you know who Paul was dating?"
"I didn't know he was dating anyone. Everyone we spoke to said he was single."
"You didn't speak to his clients."
"His clients? You make it sound like he was a dry-cleaner. He was an escort."
The waitress came to pour his coffee, and I waited until she left to continue. "I know what he was, and I really don't see how that makes any difference. Why does it matter what he did for a living? He was a nice guy, a good person. Everyone that knew him loved and respected him."
"Obviously, not everyone."
I was annoyed that I'd walked into that one. I'd made the same point several times myself. "The point is one of his clients told me that Paul was dating someone, but he didn't know who."
"Unfortunately, he didn't leave us an in-case-of-emergency-contact letter."
"What about the address book?"
"What about it?"
I hadn't known for sure that there even was an address book before just now, but Evans had just confirmed it for me. "Can I see it?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not? What if it helped solve the case?"
"It could also help me lose my job. I can't just run around showing key evidence to everybody who asks."
"How is Paul's address book key evidence? Evidence of what?"
"It was taken from the murder scene, that makes it evidence in a homicide investigation."
"Have you at least contacted everyone in it?"
He gasped melodramatically. "Gee golly! You know what? We didn't even think of that! It's a good thing you came along to remind us how to do our job."
I gritted my teeth in frustration. I jumped as the waitress dropped a large glass of chocolate milkshake in front of me with a loud thunk. I hadn't even seen her coming that time.
"You don't have to get all snotty about it," I said when she'd gone. "I was just asking. It didn't lead anywhere?"
"Nobody knew nothin'."
"Can you at least tell me what was in it?"
He sighed. "You don't give up, do you kid?"
"Nope."
"What do you want to know?"
"Can you give me the phone number for Paul's family?"
"No way."
"Come on," I whined.
"We've already talked to them."
"You'd already talked to a lot of people I talked to and I found out much more than you did."
He didn't look too pleased at that reminder, but he couldn't argue with its validity.
"I won't tell them where I got the information from, I promise."
He pressed his lips together and silently whipped out a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket. The notebook was almost identical to the one I carried. I felt a little thrill to realize that a professional police detective used the same notebook I did, then I realized how childish it was to get excited by something like that. I pulled out my pad while he flipped through his pages. I wanted to be ready. I waited with pen poised over paper.
He rattled off a phone number and the notebook vanished back into his pocket. "Now we're done," he growled. He threw back the last of his coffee and signaled the waitress. "He's picking up the check," he told her. He stood up as I gaped at him.
"The deal was I would pick it up if you thought I didn't have anything to offer," I sputtered.
"And you didn't; just some speculation and allegations without anything to back them up. Thanks for lunch." He nodded at the waitress, who was busy keeping a professionally bland smile on her face, and walked out. As soon as he was gone, the waitress' smile fell.
"Don't let him get you, hon," she said softly. "He's a real hard ass. From what I heard, he's just mad because you've done a better job on this case than he has. For a guy who's been at this game for as long as he has, that's a real kick in the gut. The other guys on the force are always giving him a hard time about losing his edge."
"You know him?"
"I ought to, he's my ex."
"You were married?"
"Yep. It wasn't one of those messy divorces, you know? It's just hard being a cop's wife. I just wasn't cut out for it. We're still friends. That's why he eats here all the time."
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll take that check now."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Owen eats on the house. He was just giving you a hard time."
"Can I at least pay for the shake?"
"That one's on me. Think of it as an apology for the hard time he gave you."
I smiled. "Thanks."
"Any time, cutie." She moved off to check on her other customers. I finished my milkshake, left a couple dollars on the table, and slipped out before she noticed the money.
I took the Metro back to Chris', but she and Kevin weren't back yet. I sat on her doorstep until they got back. Kevin was looked cranky and Chris looked frazzled. I stood up and she caught sight of me.
"Hey," she said. "How'd it go?"
"Eh. Not too well. How's the orthodontist appointment go?"
Kevin glowered at me.
"Don't ask," Chris said. She unlocked the door and we all went inside, Kevin immediately disappearing to his room.
"He hates having his braces tightened," she explained. "And I hate being his mother."
"You could always move out," I suggested.
"Nah," she sighed. "Dad needs me. Maybe someday, when Kevin's a little older. So anyway, what happened with Detective Evans?"
"He wasn't very cooperative. I had to do some fast-talking just to get him to listen to me. Still, I did manage to get him to give me Paul's mother's phone number. Can I use your phone to call her?"
"Sure. Where does she live?"
"I'm not sure. Do you recognize the exchange?" I showed her the number.
"Yeah, I think that's Arlington, just outside DC. You can take the Metro there if she lives within walking distance."
"Let me call her first. She might not even agree to meet with me."
Chris showed me the phone and I dialed the number the detective had given me. It rang three times before someone picked up. The woman on the other end had a pleasant, sunny voice.
"Mrs. Flynn?" I asked.
"Yes. May I ask who is calling?"
"My name is Killian Kendall, Mrs. Flynn," I said. "I'd like to talk to you about your son Paul."
"Paul?" she asked, her voice suddenly lost its brightness. "Why do you want to talk to me about Paul? You do know he is dead, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I'm investigating his death; I'm trying to find out who killed him."
There was no response. The silence stretched out to the point that I began to think she'd hung up on me. "Mrs. Flynn?"
"It's very hard to lose a child," she said at last.
"I can't even imagine your pain."
"I lost him twice. I got him back after the first time; nothing can bring him back now."
"You don't think his killer should be brought to justice?"
"Its not that...it's just...My older son, James, he doesn't like me to even talk about Paul. He wouldn't like it if he knew I was talking to you about him. We're a very religious family. My husband and James could never accept-they couldn't understand..."
"That Paul was gay?"
"You know?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"My husband is dead now, but James still won't even speak of Paul."
"Is James there now?"
"No, he's at work. He won't be home until after five."
"Could I come to your house and talk to you before that? He wouldn't have to know."
"I don't like to lie..."
"You wouldn't have to lie."
"I suppose, if it will help to catch Paul's killer, it would be ok."
"Can you give me your address?"
She gave me here street and house number, which I jotted down under her phone number in my notebook.
"I'll be there soon," I told her.
"About half an hour," Chris whispered into my ear. She'd been reading over my shoulder.
"In about half an hour," I amended.
"I'll be looking for you," Mrs. Flynn said.
I hung up and turned to Chris. "Should I drive or take the Metro?"
She pulled two maps out of a drawer, one of the Metro system and one of Arlington. She spent a minute comparing them. "I think you should drive, it's not very close to the Metro stop. Or actually, maybe I should drive. Do you want me to go? You look really tired."
When she that, I realized just how tired I was. I was running on adrenaline and when that ran out, I had a feeling I would drop. Still, that urgency I'd felt earlier was even more intense now. I had to keep going. "I am tired but I'm ok. Besides, what about Kevin? Can you leave him here alone?"
"He's old enough that he doesn't need a babysitter," she said, although she didn't sound too sure.
"I'll be fine. Mrs. Flynn might be uncomfortable if two of us showed up," I said. Chris showed me where Mrs. Flynn lived and how to find it on the map, and I set off to find my way through the confusing maze of DC streets, beltways, and highways.
Somehow, I managed to find Mrs. Flynn's home and it only took me an hour. She lived on an attractive, but crowded street with homes that looked like they'd been built during the post World War 2 boom in the Fifties. Large old tress lined the street and kept everything shaded. The lawns were immaculately groomed and the homes well cared for. I parked on the street in front of the address Mrs. Flynn had given me. Her home was a small cottage sized house, part brick and part white clapboard, with a chimney on each end. Enormous mums exploded with autumn color along the brick path that led to the door and against the foundation. Dark green ivy climbed its way up one chimney. It made an idyllic scene.
I walked up the path, breathing deeply the smell of fall, a pleasingly earthy scent. I knocked on the door and it was quickly answered by a small, plump woman wearing white cotton pants and a blowsy, emerald green top-Mrs. Flynn I presumed. I was surprised to see that she was older than I had expected. She had short curly brown hair, shot liberally with gray. Her round face was relatively smooth, but deep creases cut into the skin at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She looked like a woman who smiled often, but she wasn't smiling at the moment.
"Yes?" she asked cautiously, as if she suspected I was selling something.
"Mrs. Flynn? I'm Killian Kendall; we spoke on the phone?"
Her eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't expect..."
"Someone so young?" I smiled my most winning smile. "I get that a lot."
She smiled tentatively back at me and opened the screen door. "Please, come in," she said.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Flynn," I said as she led me into a comfortable living room, decorated with a comfortable mix of antiques and modern furniture. Knick-knacks covered every available surface, the evidence of a lifetime-photographs and souvenirs only family members knew the meaning behind. The pictures seemed to be of several different children. Over the fireplace, in a place of honor, was a huge portrait of Jesus. He wore a benign smile on his face but I had the creepiest feeling that his eyes were following me as I moved.
I sat down on an oversized arm chair positioned so that it was turned slightly away from the fireplace, that way I didn't have to look Jesus in the eye. Mrs. Flynn sat down on the sofa. I decided to start off with some easy questions to put her at ease.
"How many children do you have, Mrs. Flynn?"
"We had six, three boys and three girls. My husband and I were married for 40 years before he passed away."
"I'm sorry for your loss," I said.
"We had a good life together. He's in a better place now."
I paused a moment at the nonchalance in her voice as she talked about the death of her husband. I couldn't imagine being that blasé about Micah dying and we hadn't been together anywhere near 40 years. "Where did Paul fit in?"
"He was the youngest. I always called him my surprise package. I was 40 when I found out I was expecting for the sixth time. My next youngest was almost 10 at the time. After five children, I knew what was happening as soon as the morning sickness started. I didn't even need to go to the doctor, but of course, I did. They assumed I'd want an abortion. It wasn't safe to have a baby at that age then, not like it is now. Women can have babies at almost any age now. Then, it was dangerous. I wouldn't even hear about an abortion, of course. It was never an option."
"One of your sons lives with you now?"
"Yes, James. He's the youngest one after Paul. He moved in after his father passed away."
"I understand that Paul was estranged from the family for a while, but that he reconciled with you after his father...passed away."
"Yes, when he told us that he was...well, you know, his father said we couldn't accept that. Unless he was willing to get help, we couldn't have anything to do with him. Oh, how it broke my heart, but there was nothing I could do. My husband was the man of the house, he was an elder of the church, it was what he felt was right."
"Did anyone from your family stay in touch with Paul?" I asked, horrified by the matter of fact way she spoke of the way they had turned their back on their own child.
"Not that I know of. As far as I know, my husband's funeral was the first time any of us had seen Paul in years."
"And after the funeral, he began to visit you?"
"Yes. Always while James was at work. It was wonderful to see him again. He'd grown into such a handsome young man." She cocked her head slightly to one side. "He looked a bit like you actually." She stood up, went to the mantle over the fireplace, and picked up a small, silver-framed photograph. She brought it over and handed it to me.
"That's Paul," she said.
It was funny to realize that this was the first time I had seen a photograph of him. I had been poking into his life and investigating his death for weeks now and never seen him. It had been taken years ago, the day of his high school graduation from the looks of it. He was wearing a blue robe and holding his mortarboard hat in his hands, posing in front of the ivy covered chimney. There was a certain surface resemblance between us. He was, as he'd been described, small and blonde. Beyond the superficial likeness, however, we really didn't look all that much alike. His face was shaped differently, his eyes smaller, his nose thinner and longer, and his ears larger. His hair was lighter than mine and straight. He wore glasses, while I wear contacts. He was cute in a quiet, unassuming way.
I handed the photo back to her and she replaced it on the mantle.
"Do you know who would have wanted to harm Paul?" I asked after she'd sat back down.
"No, I have no idea. I really didn't know much about his life. He never spoke much of personal things. I didn't even know what he did for a living until the newspaper articles came out with it. I don't know why they feel they have to smear that sort of thing all over the pages like a trashy novel."
I felt my hopes take a nosedive. "Then you wouldn't know if he was seeing someone romantically?" I asked without much optimism.
"Actually, he was. He brought him to meet me once, a few months ago." My heart sped up at her words. "I asked him if he had someone special in his life and he said yes. At first, it was enough to know that he was happy, but a mother wants to meet the person in their child's life, so I finally asked him to bring him on his next visit."
"Can you tell me about him?"
"He was a very nice young man. He was tall with dark hair. It was very obvious, even to me, that he cared very much about Paul. I've thought of him often since Paul was killed, but I didn't know how to get in touch with him."
"Do you remember his name?"
"Of course, his name is Tom, Tom Jackson."
It was all I could do not to crow in exaltation at those words. This could be the missing piece of the puzzle. I made my goodbyes to Mrs. Flynn, thanking her profusely for taking the time to speak to me. I made a beeline for my car when she let me out. I couldn't wait to call the detective.
I flipped open my cell phone and dialed Chris before I'd even started the car.
"Can you get me Detective Evans's phone number?" I asked as soon as she answered.
"Sure, hang on," she said with no hesitation. I guess the excitement in my voice was obvious enough that she didn't even mention the fact that I had failed to say hello. She was back in a few seconds to give me the number. I thanked her, promised to explain later, and disconnected, only to dial the detective's number as soon as I got a signal.
"Hello?" he answered gruffly. I was pleased that Chris had given me a direct number and I didn't have to waste time with a receptionist.
"Detective Evans? This is Killian Kendall. We talked today about..."
"I know who you are, Kendall. I'm not senile. Can you please tell me why you are calling me on my direct line? Quickly now, before I hang up."
"I just finished talking to Paul's mother and I found something out that I thought you might want to know."
"Of course you did. And what will this information cost me?"
"You're so cynical, Detective."
"I've worked with PI's for too long not to be. So what is it?"
"I need a phone number."
"For who?"
"Paul's boyfriend."
"We don't even know if he had one."
"I do, and I know his name. And I'd be willing to bet his phone number is in that address book you have, and you've probably talked to him."
"Spill."
"Will you give me his number?"
"I don't owe you anything. If you don't tell me I'll have you arrested for obstructing justice."
"You can't deny that I get results."
"It must be your baby face, you inspire confidence."
"Do we have a deal?"
"Deal."
"The name is Tom Jackson."
I heard the sound of paper shuffling and then there were a few seconds of silence.
"There's no Tom Jackson in the address book," he said. I felt my heart drop. "But there is a TJ." More rustling papers. "Damn, you are one lucky son of a bitch. We talked to him. His full name is Thomas Jackson. He claimed he was just an acquaintance of Flynn's and didn't really know him."
"It's not luck. His number?"
The detective reluctantly read it off to me, then said, "We're going to have to question him again. I can't stop you from talking to him, but if you do talk to him before we do, don't spook him or it'll be your head."
"I'll do what I can. Either way, I'll tell you everything I find out."
"You'd better," he said, and hung up.
I quickly dialed Tom Jackson's phone number and held my breath while it rang. It was answered on the fifth ring.
"Hello?" a male voice said.
"Tom Jackson?" I asked.
"Speaking."
"This is Killian Kendall; I'm a private investigator looking into the death of Paul Flynn."
There was a long silence. I allowed it to stretch out, determined not to be the one to break it. "I already told the police I didn't know Paul Flynn that well," he said at last.
"I'm not the police. Mr. Jackson, I know you and Paul were lovers. I spoke to his mother. She said she'd met you." Silence. "I'm trying to find Paul's killer. I think I know who it is but I need your help to catch him." More silence. "Mr. Jackson?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you, face to face. I promise you, I don't mean you any harm."
"Who hired you? Why are you investigating Paul's death?"
"I was hired by a friend of Paul's, his ex-lover."
"Why would he care?"
"He still cared for Paul. He was very hurt when he found out he'd been murdered, and even more so when he found out that the police weren't pursuing this case with the fervor he expected."
Tom Jackson snorted. "They're hardly pursuing it at all."
"That's why he hired me."
"You think you know who did this?"
"I have suspicions."
"And you think I can help?"
"I'm hoping so."
"Ok. I'll meet you. But it has to be somewhere public. For all I know, you could be the killer and you're afraid I know something so you're coming after me too."
"Is that why you didn't talk to the police? You were afraid?"
"Wouldn't you be in my position?"
"I probably would be. Where can we meet?"
"I live in Annapolis. Can you meet me there in about an hour? I can give you directions to a restaurant I know where we can talk privately."
"I don't really know the area that well. I'm in Arlington now; how long would that take me to get to Annapolis?"
"An hour should be plenty of time. You just get on 50 and follow it until you see the exit. It's well marked." He gave me directions to the restaurant and we disconnected. I started the car and set off for Annapolis. I sure was doing a lot of driving around for this case.
The drive was simple if not exactly interesting. While I drove, I tried to keep my mind busy with trivia about the capital of Maryland to keep from falling asleep. Aside from being the capital, I knew it was also the home of the United States Naval Academy and one of the oldest schools in the country, St. John's College. It was even the Capital of the United States briefly. When I ran out of trivia, which didn't take long, I let my mind wander where it wanted. It slithered around various things-Amalie, Jake, Fenton Black, Tom Jackson-before finally settling on Paul. After seeing that picture of him, he'd suddenly become more real to me somehow. It was almost as if before I'd seen it he was just an abstract concept, a puzzle to unravel. He'd been Micah's Ex, the Escort, the Murder Victim. Now, he was simply a person. Someone who had loved and been loved. Someone gone forever. I had a sudden urge to cry, but fought off the tears. It wouldn't do to show up for my meeting with Tom Jackson with red-rimmed eyes and a case of the sniffles. It wouldn't be a very professional image.
I found the restaurant and parked in the tiny parking lot across the street. The restaurant was on the first floor of a small brick building, part of a block long stretch of two story brick edifices that could have easily dated back to the 19th Century. Farther along the street, I saw a couple antique stores, an art supply store, and a few more coffee shops and restaurants. It looked as if the second floors had been converted into apartments and I wondered if that was where Mr. Jackson lived. The wood trim on the buildings had been painted bright cheery colors and I thought it wouldn't be a bad place to live at all. The neighborhood had a bustling, cozy feel to it.
I walked in and looked around for a man sitting alone. It wasn't crowded and most of the people were there in pairs. I spotted one lone man sitting at a table off to one side. He was an attractive light-skinned black man in his early 30's, well-dressed with close-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. I approached his table cautiously, unsure if this was the man I'd come to meet or not.
"Tom Jackson?" I asked in a low voice. He looked up and surprise registered on his face.
"Are you the detective?" he asked.
"Private Investigator. My name is Killian Kendall." I held out a hand for him to shake, which he did somewhat hesitantly.
"I expected-," he began, but cut himself off.
"Someone older?" I finished. "I get that a lot, but I can assure you, Mr. Jackson, I know what I'm doing."
"Call me TJ," he said. He had a soft, lyrical voice that sounded as if it would lend itself well to jazz. "I didn't mean to insult you. I realized as I was saying it that it was a stupid thing to say. I don't even know how old you are."
"I'm almost as young as I look, but that's not important. I appreciate your talking to me."
"It's the least I could do."
"I don't want to take up a lot of your time, so I'm going to jump right in. You and Paul were dating?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"We'd just celebrated our six month anniversary the week before he...before he was..." He stopped and swallowed several times, his eyes blinking rapidly.
His grief was painfully obvious; it rolled off of him like physical waves, washing over me and bringing those earlier tears back to the surface. I wondered why I could feel his pain so clearly and decided it must have just been because I was so tired. Before meeting him, I'd half wondered if my suspicions about Black could be wrong and the boyfriend might not be the killer. Having met him now, I no longer thought that. Every ounce of my intuition said he was innocent and had loved Paul very much. I hated to continue to dredge up these painful memories, but knew I had to.
"How did you meet?"
"We met last year. I teach music at a school in the city."
"DC?"
"Baltimore. The school was holding a benefit concert and Paul was there with a client. He came up to me after the concert to tell me how wonderful he thought the concert was and to congratulate me. He was so sweet. We hit it off right away. We talked for a while, but when he left, that was it. I didn't know his name or anything. A few months later, we ran into each other at a jazz concert on the Mall in DC." I smiled to myself about the jazz reference and my earlier guess. "He wasn't working that time and I was only there with a couple friends who wouldn't miss me at all, so we hung out for the rest of the night. That led to a few more dates and things just went from there."
"You knew he was an escort?"
"Yes, Paul was very up-front about that right from the start."
"And it didn't bother you at all?" I admit this question was more for me than from the standpoint of the case.
"Not really. It was his job; he had it before I met him. Who am I to judge him? He was a good person. I knew that instinctively from the first time I met him. That was all I needed to know."
His words sunk into me like rain into parched ground. I sat quiet for so long TJ finally waved a hand in front of my face. "You still there?" he asked.
"Sorry," I said, blushing. "My mind wandered for a second there. I didn't get much sleep last night." I shook my head to clear it. "Were you planning a vacation with Paul?"
His eyes widened. "How'd you know about that?"
"Plane tickets for two were found in his safe, along with a few other things."
"They were..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "They were for our honeymoon. We were planning to have a commitment ceremony. Paul surprised me with them on our anniversary."
"Why all the secrecy?"
"The school I work for isn't the most liberal institution. It's a private school, religiously backed. They don't know I'm gay. Well, actually, a few people on the faculty know, but they are all very protective of me. The administration doesn't know and if I want to keep my job, I'd better keep it that way. I love my job, Mr. Kendall."
"Call me Killian," I said absently.
"Ok, Killian. You mentioned a few other things in the safe, do you mind if I ask what they were?"
"Not at all. In fact, maybe you can help explain them. There was a bank book with regular deposits but no withdraws and some letters that didn't say who they were to."
"The bank book is easy. We'd started a savings account for the two of us, as a safety net in case I lost my job. We were putting whatever we could spare into it as often as we could afford it. It was only in his name because I was too paranoid to open a joint account."
"And the letters?"
He looked away.
"I think those letters were to Paul's killer," I said softly. "If I'm right, then you could help me catch him. I need you to tell me everything you know about this, TJ. It could be really important."
He drew in a shaky breath. "I told him to just leave it alone, but he couldn't. He was the type of person who couldn't stand to see injustice go unchallenged."
"What was the injustice?"
"He found out some things about someone he knew."
"TJ, you're going to have to be more specific. I already know all this. How about if I make it easier on you. I tell you what I suspect and you tell me if I'm right or wrong?"
He nodded jerkily.
"I suspect that Paul somehow found out that his boss Neal was really Fenton Black."
"He'd known that for a while, after Black made the mistake of showing up at a society dinner that Paul was attending with a client. Black is an arrogant bastard. He walked right up to Paul and introduced himself. Paul recognized his voice right away, although he didn't let Black know."
"Ok. So then, Paul maybe finds out about all the shady dealings Black was involved with and it eats at him. Right?" TJ nodded. "So he starts writing him those letters, trying to get him to...what? Here's where I get lost. What was Paul hoping to accomplish? He doesn't seem like the blackmailing type. What was he trying to do, get Black to do the right thing? Was he really that naïve?"
"He wasn't trying to blackmail him," he snapped, then took a deep breath. "Sorry. In many ways, yes, Paul was that naïve. He was very idealistic. He had this view of the way he thought the world should be and expected everything to fit that way. Even after all he'd been through, with his family abandoning him and his lover leaving."
"What did Black do when he got the letters?" I tried to ignore the reference to his lover leaving.
"He contacted Paul, told him to back off. Paul told him that he had saved copies of all the letters along with a file that described in great detail everything Paul had on him."
"There was nothing like that in the safe. No files, nothing to even hint at who the letters were too."
"That's because it was never in the safe. He kept it somewhere else, as a precaution."
"Where?"
"I...I don't know."
"Black is a ruthless criminal," I said, urgency filling my voice. "You have to tell me what you know. Paul isn't the first person he has killed, but we can make sure he's the last."
TJ sat for a moment, then stood up abruptly and walked out. At first, I thought he'd simply walked out of the interview. I was feeling a little miffed about being stiffed with the check again for the second time that day, even though TJ had only ordered a soda and I hadn't ordered anything, when he walked back in carrying a slim file. He sat back down across from me and slid it across the table.
"I had a feeling you'd be looking for this," he said. "So I brought it. I just didn't know if I would have the courage to give it to you."
"Why wouldn't you have the courage?"
"It makes me involved more than I already was. If Black decides to get revenge, now he has a reason to come after me."
"How would he even know who you are?"
"You found me; if he's half the master criminal Paul and you have made him out to be, he'll be able to find me too."
"If this information accomplishes what I hope it will, he'll be behind bars."
"They have ways of reaching beyond those bars."
"I think you've been watching too much of the Sopranos," I tried to insert a little levity into the conversation. I could tell TJ really was terrified. He was eying the folder as if he was thinking about snatching it away and running. I quickly flipped it open and began to read.
I immediately felt my eyes bulge as I quickly thumbed through the file's contents, amazed and excited by what I saw. If Paul hadn't been murdered, he would have made one hell of an investigator. He had somehow amassed a dossier documenting Black's illegal activities, complete with the much-needed proof. He had managed conclusively to connect Fenton Black to the alias of Neal Parsons, the owner and operator of the Top to Bottom Escort Agency. There were several photographs, each of Black with a different man, all taken outdoors while the men in the pictures were talking. On the back of each one, Paul had carefully printed the date, time, and location of each photo, along with the identity of the men with Fenton Black. I only recognized one of the names, but that was enough to send chills down my spine. He was one of the most wanted drug lords in the US.
It was the last few pages that really caught my attention, however. They were deeds for large plots of lands, all on the Eastern Shore. Each piece of property was originally zoned as protected wetlands, but I happened to know that they had recently been rezoned for development thanks to certain corrupt politicians; the very same ones that Micah has recently exposed. Pieces began to fall into place and I was suddenly more afraid for Micah than ever.
"Have you read this?" I asked TJ, my heart pounding in my chest.
"No," he said so quickly I knew he was lying.
"I need you to go with me to the police, immediately."
He began shaking his head. "No way," he said. "You don't need me, you've got the file. I've done my part."
"I may need you to verify that Paul gathered this data and this is what he was killed for."
"I can't do it. I'm sorry, but I'm just not a brave person."
"Yes, you can do it. You have to. Look, the police know you were Paul's boyfriend. I told them that before I came to talk to you. I'm not flying on my own out there; I'm cooperating with the police. I'm going to tell them exactly where I got this from and everything you told me. If you don't come forward now, it could look like you have something to hide. And you can be guaranteed that they will come looking for you."
He looked absolutely miserable. I only hoped my little speech would convince him to come with me and not spook him, as Evans had warned me not to do. If TJ bolted, Evans would have my neck for sure.
"Fine, I'll go with you," he finally said after several long seconds of tense silence.
"Good. I have to make a couple phone calls. Wait here." I jumped up and practically ran out of the restaurant. I had to call Micah and warn him.
I stayed near the restaurant's front door while I dialed so I'd see TJ if he tried to slip out. Micah answered quickly.
"It's Killian," I said somewhat breathlessly.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"It's been a long day, but I just found out some things that you need to know about. Listen carefully; I don't have a lot of time. I've got a skittish witness waiting inside that I need to get the police pronto."
"Killian, what's going on?"
"I found Paul's boyfriend. The letters Paul wrote were to Fenton Black. Before he was killed, Paul had given his boyfriend a file containing evidence that Black was the same person as Neal Parsons and that he was associated with drug lords."
"That's great! Solid evidence? That's the proof you needed that he had a motive to kill Paul."
"Micah, there's more. Black was also involved in the wetlands scandal there on the Shore. He was the real owner of the properties that had been rezoned."
"What? But his name isn't on any of the deeds."
"Dig back and you'll find them. I have copies of the deeds in my hand right now. He probably sold them to some dummy companies or to fake names, but I'm betting you'll find that he was at the core of the corruption in the council."
"Wow. This is an even bigger story than I ever imagined."
"Weren't you listening? That means you're in as much danger as I am."
"I've been in danger of one sort or another since I broke this story. I'm not worried."
I sighed. "You'll at least be careful?"
"Of course I'll be careful, as long as you promise to be careful too."
"I promise. I have to go. I have to go see the detective and give him this information."
"Ok. Killian, I love you."
"I love you too."
We hung up and I quickly called Detective Evans to tell him I was coming in with an important witness and the evidence he'd been waiting for.
"This had better be good, Kendall. I was supposed to get off in 15 minutes," he growled.
"It'll be worth the overtime, sir," I assured him. "I think you'll be very interested in what I have to show you."
I hung up and rushed back into the restaurant. I was very relieved to find TJ still sitting at the table, although he'd shredded his napkin into confetti.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"No, but I'm as ready as I'm going to get."
I smiled encouragingly and held out my hand. "Let's go stop a killer."
After all his growling about keeping him overtime, Evans kept us cooling in the waiting room forever. Or maybe it only felt like forever because I was trying to keep TJ from bolting. I had to do everything but hog tie him just to keep him there, and the only reason I didn't resort to that was because I don't really have any idea what hog tying is, let alone how to do it.
Finally, Evans seemed to feel he'd made his point. He stuck his head into the cramped sitting area and motioned us back with a jerk of his head. I practically had to drag TJ with me as we followed the detective into his office. I'd never been in a detective's office before, so I took the opportunity to take a quick look around. I'm not sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this impeccably neat shrine to the Baltimore Ravens football team. Not so much as a pencil was out of place on the faux wood-grained top of his standard metal desk. The guest chairs were also standard office issue-hard, upholstered maroon seats with wooden arms and legs. Nothing else in the office was standard issue. It seemed as if every other item in the room was either purple or black. Glass-fronted display cases housed autographed footballs, helmets, photographs, stuffed animals wearing the Ravens uniform, caps with the team logo, even a mini-reproduction of the stadium. A framed shirt with scrawled autographs of the entire Super Bowl winning team hung on the wall over his desk. It was a little overwhelming, kind of like walking into a museum.
"I would have pegged you for a Redskins fan," I said as I sat down.
A look of disgust passed over Evans stoic face. "Please, just because I live in DC? I gave up on the Redskins years ago. But we're not here to talk football. You said on the phone that you had some important news for me. I'm assuming that news has something to do with your friend here?"
"Yes, excuse me for not introducing you. Detective Owen Evans, this is Thomas Jackson, better known as TJ." TJ flinched at his introduction. I plowed on doggedly. "TJ was dating Paul. He knew a lot about what was going on, he knew who Paul was writing the letters to, and he knew about the tickets and the bank book in the safe. But the best part is he has proof."
Evans held up his hand as if to stop traffic. "Ok, we'll get to the proof part, but first I want to know how you know about the tickets and the bank book in the safe. On second thought, I don't want to know. About that proof?"
Slightly flustered, I produced the file TJ had given me and handed it to the detective. He carefully flipped through it, his expression never once changing as he did. When he'd gone all the way through the file, he laid it carefully on the desk and looked up at TJ.
"You had this all along?" he asked in a deadly calm voice. A slight shudder rippled though my body. I'd heard someone else use a voice like that whenever he was furious-my father. I moved quickly to head him off.
"He was scared and grieving. His lover had just been murdered, he was afraid the killer would come after him if he came forward with the information."
"So he was going to let his lover's killer just walk away?"
"He wasn't exactly in a condition to be making solid judgment calls."
"If he'd come to us in the first place the killer would be behind bars and he'd be safe."
"We both know it doesn't always work like that. Good lawyers can get even the guiltiest clients off Scot-free, and Black can afford the best lawyers in the country. Besides, if Black has mob ties, and there is evidence in there that he does, then he could exact revenge even from behind bars."
"Hello?" TJ interrupted. "I'm sitting right here and this isn't exactly making me feel any better about this."
"Feel any better?" Evans snapped. "Why should you feel any better about anything? This isn't about making you feel good; it's about catching a murderer and bringing him to justice."
"So you do believe that Black is the killer now?"
"I at least think he was behind it, although it would be more likely that his type would hire to have it done."
"The crime didn't show any signs of a professional hit. Everyone has said it seemed more like a crime of passion."
"Black is smart," the detective insisted. "After we talked earlier I made a few calls about this guy. He's a very wanted man. They've been trying to get him for years and the man is like Teflon, they can never get anything to stick. He's suspected of being behind no less than six deaths-five murders and one suicide-and that's just in the US alone. It's long been common knowledge that he is involved in the drug trade and rumored that he has mob ties. The man is scum, but they've never been able to prove anything. He's very careful. I doubt he'd be so foolish as to hire a killer who would make this look like a professional hit. They'd want to confuse things as much as possible."
"Or maybe Black went to talk to Paul, maybe to try and scare him off, and it got of hand."
"Why the hell does it matter whether it was a professional or an amateur?" TJ suddenly blurted out. I took a good look at him and realized that this whole ordeal had been harder on him than I had thought. In fact, I hadn't been thinking about him at all; I'd been focused on one things and one thing only, catching Fenton Black. I reached over and took TJ's hand. An expression I had never expected to see flickered through Evans' eyes, compassion.
"You're right, Mr. Jackson. It doesn't matter. We have more than enough reason to bring Fenton Black in for questioning at the very least. It's much more likely that we can do more than that thanks to the contents of that folder you brought in. I have to be honest with you; there's a good chance you'll have to testify at the trial, but there is no reason why your name should ever come up before then. If it would make you feel better, we can place you in protective custody until then, and since I'm sure the FBI will be involved in this before it's over, I can even say it's a safe bet you could be offered the witness protection program."
TJ shook his head. "None of that. Whatever happens will happen. I'd like to stay out of the media as much as possible, to protect my job, but if that can't be done then I guess I'll just have to face the consequences."
"You've certainly changed your tune since you walked in here," Evans remarked thoughtfully.
"Listening to you has made me realize that this is a lot bigger than me. This man has to be stopped."
The detective nodded and turned his attention to me. "Mr. Kendall, on behalf of the police department of Washington D.C., I want to thank you for your part in bringing this evidence to our attention. Now you're part is finished. You've done a fine job. We'll take it from here."
"Hey, you'll get no argument from me," I said quickly. "I'm not some maverick who wants to bring this guy down on his own. As you said, I've done my part; the rest is up to the professionals. I only have one request to make."
Evans rolled his eyes and heaved a monumental sigh. "Here we go," he muttered.
"It's not that big a deal. I just want a little time before you move on this, maybe one day at the most."
He narrowed his eyes. "A little time for what?"
"I'm afraid that's private," I said quietly. I wanted time to get Jake out of there before the SWAT team burst in and arrested him, but I couldn't very well tell Evans that. I didn't know how I was going to contact Jake if he was holed up with Black, but I had to try. I owed him that much at least.
Evans stared at me a while longer, then shrugged. "It's going to take about 12-24 hours to get the warrants in order. You have however long it takes. I can't give you any more time than that and I can't nail it down any more than that. When the team and the warrants are ready, the team will move in. Simple as that."
"It's something," I said.
"It's a damn sight more than you had any reason to expect," Evans replied.
I nodded. When you're right, you're right. The detective stood up and TJ and I quickly followed his lead. We both shook his hand and then we were led out. Standing outside the police station, I turned and gave TJ a careful once-over.
"Are you going to be ok?" I asked.
He gave me a bleak look. "Only time will tell," he said wearily. "I don't really expect them to be able to keep it out of the news forever. Eventually it will come out and so will I, out of the closet that is. And then I'll lose my job and quite possibly my life."
"You could always take them up on their offer of the witness protection program."
"And spend the rest of my life pretending to be someone I'm not? I've done that for the first half of my life, I'd rather not have to do it for the rest of it. No, I'll just take things as they happen."
"Maybe it won't be all bad. Things seldom are, you know. You could find another great job at a more accepting school."
He shrugged. "There's always hope." He held out his hand for me to shake. "Thank you, Killian."
"For what?" I asked, confused.
"For forcing me to take some action. That file had been eating away at me ever since Paul died, but I seemed paralyzed to take that first step. You took the decision away from me and it was actually a relief. Come to think of it, I'm half hoping the papers will get a hold of this and out me. It would save me the trouble." He flashed me a feeble grin and I impulsively reached out and hugged him. He returned the hug, clinging to me for several seconds as if I were a lifeline; then he released me all at once and stepped back as if embarrassed.
"Take care of yourself, TJ," I said.
"I will. And you take care of yourself. You're the one with the dangerous job."
"Really, it's not usually all that dangerous."
"If you say so." He waved and walked away to his car. As soon as he was out of sight, I felt all the remaining energy I had just drain right out of me. My vision blurred and I felt myself swaying a bit. A shook my head and forced my feet to walk to my car. I climbed inside and rested my head against the steering wheel. I'll just close my eyes for a few seconds, I thought.
The next thing I knew someone was tapping on the window. I jumped upright, and for a brief, disoriented moment, I didn't know where I was. Then I focused on Evans' sour mug glaring in through the car window and it all came back to me. I glanced down at my watch as I opened the door. I'd been asleep for almost half an hour.
"I hope you weren't waiting to bug me some more," he growled.
"No, actually I just fell asleep. I haven't been sleeping very much lately."
"If you're that tired are you sure you're ok to drive?" he asked, sounding almost concerned.
"Yeah, I'll be fine after that power nap," I answered with a cheeky grin.
"Then get going," he said with a slap on the roof.
"Yes, sir." I sketched a salute and pulled the door shut as I started the car.
He tapped on the window again, but this time I just rolled it down. "One more thing," he said leaning down to look in at me. "You be careful. You're one of the good guys; it'd be shame to lose an investigator like you. That was some fine detective work you did. I'd be proud to have you on the force."
"Thank you, Detective Evans," I said, sincerely moved. He moved quickly away across the parking lot. I watched him go, and then put the car in reverse and backed out of the space. I started for Chris' house; I owed her an explanation.
When I arrived, Chris' father Louis insisted that I stay for dinner so I could tell them what had happened. So that's what I did; I gave them the whole story while we ate a very homey meal of roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and green beans. Their reactions to my account were all that a storyteller could hope for; Louis was impressed, Chris hung on every word, and Kevin was in awe.
"Man, you're like the Hardy Boys or something," he said when I'd brought them up to date. "Both of them rolled into one."
I laughed. "At least you didn't say Nancy Drew," I joked. "That would have to be Chris; I couldn't have done it without her."
Chris actually blushed a little. "So that's it, then?" she said, in an effort to shift the attention away from her, "The case is closed? Fenton Black killed Paul Flynn?"
"Well, the case won't be officially closed until they arrest Black, but yeah, all the evidence points to Black as the killer."
"But our part is finished?"
"You're part is finished. I still have one more thing I have to do."
"What would that be?"
I shook my head. "It would be better if you didn't know."
"It's not something illegal is it?" Louis asked.
"No, nothing like that."
"Then what did you mean it would be better if I didn't know?" Chris asked.
"Just that if you knew what I had to do you would probably try to talk me out of it and it would be pointless because it's something I have to do."
"So it's something stupid or dangerous," she said darkly.
"Or both," Louis added jokingly.
"Killian..." Chris started.
"Chris, really. You don't even know what I'm going to do, so why try to talk me out of it?"
"Listen to him, Christina," Louis said before things degenerated into an argument. "Sometimes there are things on a case that have to be cleared up that aren't part of the official investigation. The investigators need it for closure. God knows we don't often get it, so if we have the chance, we have to go for it."
I practically glowed under the inclusion implied in his statement. This veteran cop considered me to be an investigator. I was still basking in the warmth his words had given me when Chris sighed.
"Well, at least you're spending the night here," she said.
"What?" I yelped. "I can't spend the night here; I have to get back tonight."
Chris frowned. "Why? What's the rush?"
"I...I just have to get back as quickly as possible."
"Does this have to do with your closure?" She said the last word sarcastically.
"Yes."
"Killian, I'm going to have to side with Chris on this one," Louis said. "It's obvious you're tired. If you hadn't been telling us about the investigation I think you would have been asleep in your plate by now. It's not safe to drive when you're that tired. Whatever it is you have to do will wait until morning."
I shook my head vehemently. "That's just it; it might not. I have a very narrow window if opportunity. I have to take advantage of it now. It could be too late by tomorrow. I have to drive back tonight."
Everyone sat in tense silence for a few seconds while Kevin looked back and forth between the three of us, all equally stubborn and determined. Louis finally broke the deadlock.
"Ok," he said.
"Ok?" Chris demanded.
"Yes, ok. Killian isn't my child. In fact, he isn't a child at all. He can make his own decisions. He knows the risks. If he says he has to drive back tonight, then he has to drive back tonight. I can't stop him."
"Thank you," I said quietly. "I'd better head back soon though, so I'll be that much less tired." He nodded and Chris scowled. "I have a few phone calls to make first though. I'll use my cell phone outside."
"You don't have to go outside unless you need the privacy."
"Well, that and I get better reception. I'll say goodbye before I leave." I excused myself from the table and slipped outside, where I quickly dialed Judy's house. She answered on the first ring, as if she was sitting right next to the phone waiting.
"Judy, it's Killian," I said.
"Oh, hi Killian." Her voice was filled with disappointment, which pretty much answered my reason for calling. "You haven't heard from Jake?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Nothing. Not a word since he left for the AIDS Ball."
"That's what I figured. Well, try not to worry. I think I know where he is and I'm going to try to go get him," I told her.
"Be careful," she said, her voice carrying much more weight than I would have thought those simple words could convey.
"Do I have reason to be?" I asked carefully.
"Yes."
"Does this have anything to do with your...feeling? The one you told me about the other night?"
"Yes. The feeling has gotten stronger."
I took a deep breath as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "I'll be careful," I promised.
I disconnected from her and quickly dialed Micah's number.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Hey, it's me," I said.
"What's going on? How are things going?"
"Very well. I'll tell you everything but you have to be quiet until I'm finished because I need to hurry."
"What's the rush?"
"I'll get to that." I quickly told him everything that had happened since I'd talked to him last. I finished up with, "So Evans told me I only have 12-24 hours before the move to arrest Black. I have to get to Jake before that."
"Considering how badly he's wanted, I'd say you're probably closer to the 12 hour estimate, maybe even less."
"That's what I figured. So what I need from you now is Fenton Black's address."
"Why do you need to know that?"
"I just told you I have to try to get Jake out of there before the police show up."
"You're not going to be able to just waltz in. He lives on a gated estate and I'd be willing to bet he has security guards. You could be walking right into their hands."
"It's a risk I have to take. I can't just leave Jake in there."
"Killian, this is nuts. Do you have a death wish?"
"No," I said between clenched teeth, trying not to think about Judy's premonition. "I do not have a death wish. If you're not going to help me I'll figure it out another way, but I'm doing this with or without your help."
Micah didn't say anything for so long that I began to think he'd hung up on me. Finally, I heard a small sigh. "Ok, fine. I'll help, but only on one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you wait for me."
"Huh?"
"Black's house is only about twenty minutes on this side of the bridge. He's closer to you than to me, so I want you to wait for me."
"You're not coming," I said firmly.
"It's the only way you'll get the address from me."
I stewed and argued for a few minutes, but eventually gave in. Micah gave me the address which I scribbled into my notebook.
"The house is on a back road," he told me. "There aren't any other houses nearby and it sits back from the road itself by quite a bit. A fence runs around the perimeter of the yard and the only way in is the front gate. The whole fence is electrified so don't try to climb it. If you go by the house, the road ends in another half-mile. There's a little cul-de-sac so you can turn around. On the left side of the cul-de-sac is a small dirt lane. I think it was a logging access road but it's mostly grown over now. There should be enough room for you to pull in and hide your car. Pull in as far as you can so I can get in behind you. Wait for me there."
"How do you know all this?" I asked as a funny feeling churned in my stomach.
"I staked out the house this morning."
"Why?"
"Just in case I needed to know. I like to be prepared."
There was a long pause. "When can you leave?" I asked.
"I'm at work so it'll take me a few minutes to get everything squared away. I can't just walk out. It'll take me about an hour and half at least to drive up, so expect me in about two hours. From DC, it should take you about an hour to an hour and a half depending on traffic and how fast you drive."
"I'll wait for you there," I said and hung up, having no intention of doing so.
I let myself back in to find Kevin waiting for me by the door.
"Are you really going to do something dangerous?" he asked eagerly.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Will there be a shoot-out?"
"I hope not. Where is Chris?"
"She went up to her room. Do you have a gun?"
"No. Can you show me to her room?"
"Yeah, follow me." He chattered incessantly all the way up the stairs to Chris' bedroom door, which was closed. I tapped hesitantly on the door.
"Chris? It's me; can we talk?" I called.
She opened it and stood glaring at me. I managed to get a peek around her at the room beyond. It was pretty much what I expected, organized and neat as a pin. A few black and white photographs in simple black frames hung on plain white walls. A state-of-the-art computer center shared the wall I could see with a floor to ceiling bookcase filled to overflowing. The only feminine touch in the entire room was the bed; a pastel abstract print bedspread covered an ornate brass bed.
"I thought you were in a hurry," she said peevishly.
"I sorta am, but I didn't want to leave until we talked."
"What's there to talk about? I thought we were partners and here you go running off to do something stupid and/or dangerous and you won't even tell me what it is."
"Is that what this is really about? That you're not included?"
She frowned. "Maybe," she admitted.
"If I tell you what I'm doing will you ease up on me?"
"Maybe."
"Look, Chris. I meant what I said at dinner. It's true that I could have never done this without you. I've really enjoyed working with you and I'd like to think that we became friends as well as partners in this investigation. It would be great if we could work together again someday, if I have a case that leads me up this way."
"Yeah, I'd like that too," she conceded. "I've learned a lot working with you. You're a good investigator, Killian."
"So are you. Friends?"
"Yeah. Now, what is that you have to do?"
I quickly gave her a rudimentary outline of what I was going to try. She stared at me dubiously when I finished.
"That sounds extremely stupid and dangerous," she said.
I shrugged. "Maybe so, but I have to do it."
"Because this guy Jake used to be a friend of yours?"
"Yeah, and because I feel I let him down as a friend. That's part of the reason he's in this position to begin with. I feel like I owe it to him to at least try to get him out of there before the cops show up. Maybe it will start to make up for being such an awful friend."
"I can't imagine you ever being an awful friend, Killian. It takes two people to make a friendship."
"It's just something I have to do."
"Ok. Just...be careful."
"I will." `Be careful' was soon going to become my motto.
She stepped forward and surprised me by giving me an awkward hug. "Let me know how it turns out," she said after she stepped back and wiped her palms nervously on her baggy corduroy pants.
"Ok."
"Wish I was going," she added with very real wistfulness in her voice.
I raised an eyebrow. "I think that would make you the stupid one here."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to go. It's not that I can't wait to throw myself into harm's way. It's just something I feel I have to do."
She grinned and shrugged. "I'd like a little more excitement in my life. So sue me."
I laughed and turned to let myself out.
"Hey, Killian?" she said. I stopped in the doorway. "You've definitely made things exciting lately. Now I know that I definitely do want to become a cop. Thanks."
"Anytime," I said with a wink. "You'll make a good cop."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
I shut her door behind me, said my goodbyes to Louis and Kevin, and started on the drive to Black's house. I had to make it there well before Micah if my plan was going to work.
My exhaustion caught up with me as soon as I got on Route 50. It was a constant struggle just to keep my eyes open. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead. After a few swerves onto the shoulder, I rolled my window down and let the crisp fall air hit me directly in the face. That worked for a little while, but even that began to wear off before long. I turned on the radio, found an obnoxiously upbeat pop station, and cranked the volume up as loud as I could stand it. It was an exercise in futility.
I began to worry that I'd never make it over the Bay Bridge. I had visions of getting halfway across before falling asleep at the wheel and plunging to my death in the waters below. Maybe that was what Judy's whole feeling of death was foretelling. I'd always felt somewhat uncomfortable around water-I had an irrational fear of dying by drowning-so that thought actually kept me awake all the way across the bridge.
Once on the Eastern Shore side of the bridge, however, the weariness returned with a vengeance. I had to struggle to stay alert enough to follow Micah's directions, which really weren't that difficult. Still, as easy as they were, I almost missed my turn twice and had to backtrack once when I passed the road Black lived on.
When I passed Black's house, I slowed down slightly to get my first look at the place I would have to infiltrate. It was a fortress, and I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that. It was a hulking, gothic structure built of brick and stone with a metal fence surrounding it that stood at least twice as high as I was tall. Security lights were placed at regular intervals around the fence. There was an actual guard booth at the gate, although I didn't see anyone in it as I drove by. The whole place looked like it had been built to withstand an invasion, which come to think of it, maybe it had.
I drove a little further until I came to the cul-de-sac Micah had told me would be there. My headlights swept the wall of trees as I turned around, illuminating the narrow path-calling it a road would be misleading-right where Micah had described. It was just wide enough for me to ease my Mustang into, but tight enough that I had nightmares of scratching my paint job. I pulled in as far as I could get it, although I wasn't sure if it would be enough room for Micah's car or not. As soon as I turned off the car, I popped the trunk and I was slipping out the door. I had to slither sideways out the small opening since a tree was too close to the driver's side door to open it very wide.
I lifted the trunk and quickly rummaged through the assorted junk that had built up in there-roller blades, a sandy blanket from an impromptu beach picnic Micah and I had gone on a few months ago, jumper cables that Adam insisted I have with me at all times, a lightweight doohickey that plugged into the cigarette lighter designed to inflate your tires and flash a warning light at the same time. Somewhere in here, I knew I had a plastic bag containing a black shirt, black pants, gloves, and a black skull cap. Novak called it the cat burglar ensemble. He said every good investigator needed to keep one handy in case of emergencies. He'd never expounded on what constituted an emergency, but I figured this qualified. I quickly changed into the commando outfit, shut the trunk, and started back towards the house. I had no intention of waiting for Micah. I had to do this on my own.
I moved quickly through the shadows, staying just inside the line of trees. It didn't take long to reach the corner of the fence that protected the Black estate. Micah had said it was electrified and I wasn't about to test it. I crossed to the opposite side of the road to stay under the cover of the trees and made my way to the gate. I watched the gate for a few minutes. There was no sign of anyone in the guard booth. I saw at least one camera mounted to the side of the booth, pointed at the drive. I thought I could get closer to the booth and avoid the camera pretty easily, assuming it was the only one, of course.
I darted across the road again, staying as low to the ground as possible, my heart pounding in my chest. With the rush of adrenaline courseing through my system, my earlier fatigue was all but forgotten. I crouched under the window of the guard booth for a few seconds. Surely, if there was anyone inside they would hear my heart beating. It sounded as loud as a bass drum to my ears. I slowly eased up until I could see into the booth. Empty, although the lights were on, clearly showing the controls to open the gate. I wondered if activating the gate caused any alarm in the house. Even if it didn't, how was I going to get into the booth to push the button in the first place? The only entrance was on the wrong side of the fence and the glass I was looking through was undoubtedly bullet proof. It was certainly thick enough to withstand anything except maybe an atomic blast.
I edged my way to the corner of the booth and peered around at the gate. To my surprise, I realized that it wasn't closed all the way. It was open by what looked to be a little less than 12 inches. It wasn't much, but for once being small might be to my advantage. Then again, how was I to know it wasn't a trap of some sort? Maybe Black or his security team had spotted me skulking around and decided to lure the mouse into the trap before killing it. Cats like to play with their prey after all.
I was standing there fretting about what to do when I heard the distant sound of an approaching vehicle. I glanced down at my watch; it was just about time for Micah to be arriving. I had to move quickly, in just a few seconds I would be fully caught in the headlights of the oncoming car. Should I run back to the security of the trees or risk going within the gates? I stood indecisively until the headlights began to light up the trees at the last corner before I would be in plain view of the driver. I made my decision and dove towards the gate. It was a tight fit, and there was a moment of panic when the button of my jeans snagged, but I managed to pop through and throw myself behind a nearby shrub, just as the car zoomed by. I thought it had looked like Micah's car in the brief glimpse I had caught before I hit the ground, but I wasn't positive. If it was, I knew I had to move fast now.
I quickly began to weave my way across the seemingly endless expanse of lawn, moving in a crouched run from tree to bush. It was scanty cover at best, but it made me feel better if nothing else. I finally reached the house and I sat panting for a moment with my back to the cool brick wall. The breathlessness was as much from fear as being winded from the run. I tried to calm myself down. I couldn't afford to make any mistakes now. My life, and possibly Jake's, depended on me having all my wits about me. Unfortunately, they seemed to have scattered.
I finally got my breathing under control and I was on the move again. I had no idea what the best way to get into the house would be. I was sure he must have some sort of security system, an alarm at least, wired to all the windows. I'd never broken into a house before so I wasn't even sure I would know how to get a locked window open without simply breaking it. I had been lucky with the gate, assuming it was luck and not stupidity; I couldn't count on being lucky with an unlocked, unprotected window. I half-crawled, half ran towards the back of the house. I needed a better idea of what I was up against. The front of the house was definitely out of the question. The front door was lit up as if it was broad daylight. I couldn't just march up to the door and knock.
To my relief, the back of the house was not as well lit. Pools of inky darkness collected between security lights spaced too far apart. After a few seconds of study, I decided that the attached garage offered me my best opportunity to gain entrance to the house. People often forgot to lock the door to the garage, or so I reasoned with myself. Getting to the door would involve a race through one of the well-lighted areas, however. I didn't have a choice. With my heart in my throat, I made a mad dash through the light, feeling as if I was in a spotlight. I flattened myself against the wall next to the garage door and wondered if I was being watched this whole time. I could picture the security guards inside watching me on closed-circuit televisions, laughing as I zigged and zagged my way across the property, knowing they could snuff me out whenever the tired of the game. I took a deep breath, grabbed the door knob, and twisted. It opened. I stared dumbly at the open door for a moment, too surprised to walk through. This was too easy. I was becoming uneasy. I inched through the door into the dark interior, the only light was what spilled in from outside. I made out two cars and a space for a third. Both vehicles looked to be brand new, expensive models. I found the door to the house and cautiously made my way to it, being extra careful not to bump into anything in the gloom.
I paused at the door. The way things had been going, I wasn't sure whether I should wish for it be locked or unlocked. If it was locked, I'd have to find another means of entry. Unless, of course, someone had conveniently left a key under the mat. If it was unlocked, I wasn't sure if I could pass that off to incredibly good fortune. Then I realized that I had come too far to chicken out now. If it was a trap, I was well within their reach. If it wasn't, then I was quite simply, the luckiest guy on the face the earth. I would have to follow this investigation with a trip to Atlantic City. I turned the doorknob and I heard the tell-tale click. It was unlocked.
I held the door closed for a few seconds while I collected myself. Assuming that this had all been some sort of amazing coincidence, which I was desperately trying to assume, I was now faced with what could be the trickiest part of the operation. I had to find my way through a strange house that was easily the size of a small hotel, locate Jake, talk to him when he had made it quite clear at our last meeting that he didn't want to talk to me, and get him out of here...all without running into another soul. Easy as pie, I told myself.
I pushed open the door and slipped quickly inside, closing the door behind me. I was immediately struck by the utter stillness of the house. It felt eerily like a tomb. I stood as still as a statue listening for a noise, any noise, but there was only complete and total silence. Of course, as big as this place was, they could be having a party on the third floor complete with live music provided by Metallica and I wouldn't know it. I took stock of my surroundings. The door from the garage had opened into a rather large laundry room that I was pretty certain Fenton Black never used, at least not personally. Another door stood open, leading to what looked like a hallway. There were no lights on anywhere as far as I could see.
I walked slowly down the hall, stopping every few feet to listen. I passed several closed doors, but there was no light showing at the floor and no sounds from within. The hallway ended at a large dining room. Doors opened off of the dining room to the right and the left. I figured the door to the right opened into the kitchen, where a dim light burned. The door to the left, I assumed, led to the rest of the house. I thought it would be wise to check the kitchen before moving on. I crept up to the door and peeked in. I froze as my heart leapt into my throat again. A large man sat at the table with his back to me, backlit by a low-wattage light over the range oven. I was afraid to move for fear he'd hear me and turn around. Suddenly I realized that he was unnaturally still. Was he listening for me to move before spinning around and shooting?
We both remained motionless. It began to remind me of the game we used to play as children where you all try to go the longest without moving or speaking. I hoped the name of the game wouldn't turn out to be a portent-it had been called graveyard. I stayed locked in position until I couldn't stand it any longer. The man at the table still hadn't moved. No one was that good at the game. I took a hesitant step into the room. When he still didn't move, I took another. And then another, until I was within a few feet of the man. My feet stuck unpleasantly to the floor, as if something had been spilled. I moved around beside him and felt the air rush out of me as I began to tremble. A perfect hole the size of a dime punctuated his forehead, a tiny trickle of blood ran down his face. If it was a mob-style hit we were looking for, I had just found it.
My stomach lurched violently as I staggered back in horror. I barely made it to the trashcan before I lost the entire contents of my stomach. He wasn't the first dead body I'd seen, but apparently, it didn't get any easier with repetition. Dead bodies were officially out of my league. I quickly searched for a phone, finally finding it on the counter, and dialed 911 with shaking hands. I carefully kept my back to the dead guy the entire time.
When the dispatcher answered, I quickly told her that there'd been a murder and gave her the address. When she asked for my name, I hung up. I was still holding onto the idea that I might somehow find Jake and get him out of here before the police arrived. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no way of knowing whether the killer was still here in the house or not. A chill ran up my spine as I spun around. The hallway beyond the door was pitch black; anyone could have been hiding in the shadows, aiming the gun, preparing to shoot me right where I stood. With a stifled gasp, I dropped to the floor, getting an up close look at the gore splattered across its surface. The room began to spin and my stomach heaved again as I realized it was blood and brain matter. I fought down the nausea and waited for the dizziness to pass. Then pushed myself into a crouching position.
No one had come into the room and it was only a matter of time before the police arrived. I had to move quickly. I wasn't about to leave the kitchen without a weapon of some sort. I wished desperately that I had a gun, and it occurred to me that the guy at the table might be a security guard and therefore have one, but I wasn't about to get close enough to find out. I remembered seeing a knife block on the counter when I was looking for the phone. I stood up and pulled several out, choosing the largest one and leaving the rest. Still feeling terribly vulnerable, I eased back into the hallway and waited anxiously for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. So far, the house was still deadly quiet. For the first time, I began to truly fear for Jake.
I moved down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible. My ragged breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness. I grew more tense with every second spent searching the first floor. Finally, I ended up at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor. I looked up into the blackness above me and felt as if I was looking into the mouth of some great beast, waiting to swallow me whole. I stood there for what felt like an eternity; I just couldn't seem to bring myself to walk blindly into its gullet. There was a light switch on the wall next to me, but I was afraid to turn it on. I didn't want to alert anyone that I was in the house if they didn't already know. Finally, I worked up enough nerve and slowly began to climb. I took one step at a time, testing it for squeaks before placing my entire weight on it. I managed to keep my assent pretty much silent until I was halfway up when of course, the step squeaked. The sound was like a car alarm in the eerie silence. I stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights until it became obvious no one was going to come running with gun blazing. I took the remaining steps quickly. I felt at a disadvantage as long as I was on them.
At the top, I found myself once again in a hallway. It stretched a short distance both ways. Four doors opened off it, two on one side, and two on the other. One of the doors on my left stood open so I moved cautiously towards it. Better to get that one out of the way first. As I edged up to the door, I noticed a light at the bottom of the door across from it. I stopped and listened, but I didn't hear anything from either room. The room with the open door was brightly lit from the security light outside. A quick glace showed it to be a home office, sparsely furnished with a simple but elegant antique desk and chair. Bookcases lined the walls, holding not just books, but also various exotic and ancient looking artifacts that would have been more at home in a museum. I had a feeling they probably were not obtained by entirely legal means. The room was empty with no place to hide. I turned back to the door with the light showing under it. I moved slowly until I could press my ear against the door-nothing. I touched the knob hesitantly, gripping the knife handle so tightly my fingers ached. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and threw the door open in one sudden movement as I jumped back into the room across the hall.
Nothing happened; no one yelled out. It was just as quiet as it was before. I peeked around the corner. The door now stood open, spilling warm yellow light into the hall. A pair of feet splayed out on the floor were plainly visible through the door. I took a shuddery breath and stepped closer. The feet belonged to another dead body. This one had been shot as well, at least twice in the chest from the looks of things. He'd knocked over a table as he'd fallen. The room appeared to be a sitting room of some sort. There was a fireplace at one end with chairs arranged in conversational groupings. Another door stood partially open on my right.
I edged around the body, trying hard not to look too closely, and approached the door. I kicked it open and brandished my knife, as if it would stop a bullet. There were no lights on in the room, but enough light spilled in from the sitting room that I could see it was a lavishly furnished bedroom, and from the looks of things, someone was in the bed. Something was very wrong. No one could sleep through all this. I fumbled clumsily for the light switch. The room suddenly filled with bright light and I found myself staring at a very naked, very dead Fenton Black sprawled across the bed. Blood splattered across the pure white silk sheets. He too had been shot. I looked quickly away.
I realized that everyone I'd found had looked as if they'd been caught by surprise. It was a big house, but they still should have heard the gunshots. Unless the killer was using a silencer. More importantly, I still hadn't found Jake.
I took a quick look around the spacious room. The king sized bed took up a large part of the floor space. An enormous armoire sat opposite the bed, its front doors open to reveal a large television set. A leather sofa and arm chair sat in front of another fireplace, the back side of the one in the sitting room, I realized. Original oil paintings of what appeared to me to be the Masters hung on the wall. Mirrored sliding glass doors led to what I assumed to be the closet. I was about to leave the room when I noticed a shoe sticking out from behind the sofa. I moved closer, hoping it would just be an empty shoe and I wouldn't find Jake dead as well.
A muffled sob escaped me when I got close enough to see that it was indeed Jake. It took me a few seconds of panic before I realized that there was no blood and that he was breathing. He was alive, but unconscious.
I dropped to his side with another sob, this one of relief. Then I noticed the gun gripped loosely in his hand. I felt the knife slip from my numb fingers as I realized the implications. No, no, no. It can't be true, my brain jabbered as I pushed away. Why not? another part of me argued. After all he's been through, you had to expect him to crack eventually. His brother was a killer. Maybe it runs in the family. He looked so peaceful lying there, as if he were simply taking a nap. But only a few feet away lay a murdered body, and here was Jake holding a gun. Passed out? Except for his shallow breathing, he hadn't moved a muscle since I'd found him. I took a closer look and noticed some bruising on his face and around his mouth.
"Jake?" I said, my voice coming out in a hoarse croak. "Jake?" I shook his foot hesitantly.
"Freeze, don't move," a loud voice suddenly barked from behind me. I screamed and lurched forward, throwing myself behind the couch with Jake.
"This is the police," the voice identified itself. "You're under arrest. Come out with your hands where I can clearly see them. If you make any sudden moves, I will shoot."
"Don't shoot," I said shakily. "I'm the one who called the police. I'm Killian Kendall. I work for Shane Novak. We're private investigators."
"Come out where I can see you," the police officer ordered. "Keep your hands where I can see them."
I edged carefully out from behind the couch, moving slowly and deliberately, keeping my hands in plain sight at all times. The officer was wearing a uniform and pointing a gun right at me. If you've never had the pleasure of such an experience, let me tell you, it's a very unsettling feeling. I wasn't about to make any sudden moves. He looked surprised when he saw me.
"Let's see your license," he said, covering his surprise well. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark hair, a carefully trimmed mustache, and heavy eyebrows over dark eyes.
"I don't have one. I'm still in training."
"Is there anyone else in the room with you?"
"Yes, there's another person behind the couch, but he's unconscious." I decided not to mention the gun just yet. The cop looked a little nervous as it was. "He might need medical help."
"Guys," he said, as he stepped farther into the room, his gun never once wavering. Two more uniformed police officers stepped around him, guns drawn, and approached me carefully.
"Turn around," one of them ordered. I quickly did as he said and I was grabbed roughly from behind, pushed down onto the sofa, and handcuffs were swiftly snapped around my wrists. It all happened so fast I didn't have time to do more than gasp. After patting me down and removing my wallet, they left me on the couch, the first cop still holding the gun on me, while the other two checked Jake.
"He's got a gun," one of them said tightly.
"Is he out?" the first one, who seemed to be in charge, asked.
"Looks like it."
"Get Deacon and have him get some shots before you move him then. We don't want to fuck this one up. This is high profile."
One of the officers stood up and started to leave the room.
"Take the other kid with you," the one in charge snapped.
He hauled me roughly to my feet and shoved me in the direction of the door. He led me downstairs and into the front room, which appeared to have been taken over as headquarters. The place seemed to be crawling with cops. As we passed, I saw flashes coming from the kitchen. Apparently, the crime lab was already getting started. My escort left me sitting awkwardly on a chair; hands still cuffed behind my back, and placed another young cop to watch over me. He wasn't very talkative and I wasn't exactly feeling chatty myself, so we sat in uncomfortable silence while police bustled busily around us. I had plenty of time to study the guy they'd chosen to watch me. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. He was probably fresh out of police academy. He had close-cut light reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. A smattering of freckles across his pug nose made him look even younger. His thin lips were pressed together in a nervous expression and I realized that this was probably his first big case. He looked almost as scared as I felt.
After about half an hour, they wheeled the guy from the kitchen out in a body bag.
Soon after, the officer in charge from upstairs came into the room and spotted me. He frowned and walked over.
He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. "Killian Kendall," he announced in a dark voice. "What do you know about these murders?"
"Less than you do, probably."
His frown deepened. "What were you doing here?"
"Am I still under arrest?"
"Considering I found you at the site of a multiple homicide, yes."
"Then maybe I should wait to talk until I have a lawyer."
"Damn kids. You've watched too many movies. You got something to hide?"
"No, sir. I just think it would be best if I wait to be questioned until I have a lawyer."
He sucked in a deep breath between clenched teeth. "Marshall, take him to the station and lock him up," he growled to my young guard. "And be sure to let him call his damn lawyer first."
The officer nodded sharply. "Yes, sir," he said. So he could speak. He helped me up and led me out the front door and towards the cluster of police cruisers parked on the lawn. I noticed he was being a lot gentler than the guys who'd cuffed me. The whole thing was kind of surreal. I'd never been arrested before. I was pretty shaken, but I would have been a lot more scared if I thought there was any chance of being charged with anything. I knew I hadn't done anything to be charged with though...unless you counted breaking and entering. And possibly interfering with a crime scene. Hmm, maybe I should be a bit worried after all.
"I'm going to switch your cuffs to the front," the cop said, stopping next to one of the cars.
"Thanks," I said, unsure of what else to say to that. I was relieved though. It was very uncomfortable with my arms locked behind my back.
"You're Killian Kendall?" he asked softly as he unlocked one side of the handcuffs. I gratefully dropped my arms to my side, but he quickly pulled my wrists forward and cuffed them again in front. "I've read about you in the paper."
"About me?"
"Yeah, I..."
"Killian!" a familiar voice called from the direction of the street.
I turned and spotted Micah by the front gate behind the police tape. Another officer stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, making sure no one dared cross the line.
"The reporters are here already?" Officer Marshall grumbled. "They're like vultures."
"Actually, he's with me," I said and then I called to Micah, "Find Novak and Judy."
"You shouldn't be talking to him," Marshall said uncertainly.
"Sorry," I said and allowed him to push me gently into the back seat. He buckled me in and then he slid in behind the wheel. A metal grill separated the front seat from the back. We didn't speak again until we were on the road.
"What did you mean you've read about me in the paper?"
"After you solved that ax murder case. I wasn't on the force yet, but there was a big article about you. It said you'd solved another case too, when you were younger."
"Oh, um...I don't know that I solved either of them really."
"The article said you did. Is that what you were doing here?"
"I probably shouldn't say anything..."
"I'm not going to tell anyone. I think it's awesome that you're so young and you're out there solving crimes that the police can't figure out."
"It's not always that they can't," I said, thinking about Seth and Paul. "Sometimes it's because they don't really care."
"What do you mean?"
"Some cases don't seem to get the same priority. Fenton Black was a killer and a criminal and there must be twenty to twenty-five cops crawling around his house, just because he was rich and powerful. I had a friend who was murdered because he was gay and no one cared about finding his killer. The case I'm working on now involves a young guy who was murdered in his own apartment, but because he was a gay escort, nothing happened on his case for over a month."
"So you were on a case. Black was involved?"
I sighed. "I'm not saying anything more about it."
Marshall looked disappointed. He looked at me in the rear view mirror, his eyes catching mine. "I'm gay too," he suddenly blurted out.
I blinked in surprise. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I was sitting handcuffed in the back of a police car while the cop driving came out to me. This day kept getting more and more bizarre.
"I've never told anyone before," he went on.
"Oh." I didn't know what else to say.
"Was that reporter your boyfriend?'
I nodded. "How did you know he was a reporter?"
"You get to know the reporters pretty quick around here. It's not like there's that many, and he's been working on that corruption case." He was quiet for a minute. "I've never had a boyfriend."
He obviously wanted to talk about it. "How long have you known?" I asked.
"That I'm gay? A long time. Since junior high at least."
"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"
"I don't know. I grew up in a small farming town, very rural. All my friends were rednecks. I wasn't like...you know, queer acting, so I fit in. It just seemed easier not to tell anyone. I dated a couple girls in high school but it wasn't serious. I never even kissed one of them. Man, it feels good to be telling all this to someone."
"Um, glad I can help."
"My dad used to be a state trooper, but he was injured in an accident when I was a kid. He always wanted me to become a cop too, so when I graduated high school, I went to community college and went into the police academy as soon as I was old enough. I've never even kissed a guy, but I've thought about it a lot." He looked at me in the rearview mirror again and I got the feeling he was thinking about it right then.
"You should, uh, meet more people. Gay people I mean," I said awkwardly.
"I don't know where," he said, blushing. "And I'd be scared. I don't think the guys in the department would be very happy if they found out." His eyes widened as he thought of something. "You won't tell anyone will you?"
"No, I won't tell anyone," I assured him. "I promise. It's not my place to out anyone else."
He gave me a tentative smile. "Thanks. Maybe I'll come out some day, but not yet."
We arrived at the police station just then, and all conversation about being gay was abruptly dropped. He led me inside, where the officers had apparently been warned of my impending arrival. I was photographed and fingerprinted, just like a real suspect, and then I was allowed to make my phone call. I looked up the phone number for the only lawyer I knew, Ilana Constantino. She was a family lawyer, but she was the only person I could think of to call. I didn't want to panic Adam. Ilana agreed to get there as quickly as possible and said she'd call Adam to let him know what was going on.
I was then led to the holding area. My cuffs were removed and I was locked inside the small featureless cell. My stomach sank as the door swung shut with a loud clang. I sat down on the metal bed built into one wall and suddenly everything caught up to me at once. The lack of sleep, the shock of finding the dead bodies, my fears for Jake, being arrested...whatever had been holding me together completely collapsed and tears began to fall, slowly at first, and then faster as my sobs built. Eventually, I cried myself into an uneasy sleep.
I startled awake as keys jangled outside my cell. I sat up with a jerk to find the officer who had been giving orders back at Black's house. He didn't look any happier than the last time I'd seen him.
"You're lawyer is here now, Kendall," he said as he unlocked the door. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, we'll have that little chat now."
I didn't really follow him; he walked a few careful steps behind me, directing me where to go with terse commands. At least he didn't put the cuffs back on. We arrived at an interrogation room, a small room with a table and a few chairs. Ilana was waiting at the table, looking as calm and self-assured as always. She was the lawyer that handled all the legal proceedings when Mom gave Adam custody of me, and when Adam had fought his ex-wife for custody of Kane. She was a close friend of the family. It was a comfort just to see her.
I sat down at the table and the officer sat down across from me. "I'm Detective Rosen," he told me. "This will all be recorded. Please state your full name."
"Killian Travers Kendall."
"Please tell me what you were doing at the estate of Fenton Black this evening when police responded to an anonymous call that a murder had taken place at that address."
I looked over at Ilana and she nodded. I took a deep breath. "Actually, the anonymous call was me. I was there because I work for Shane Novak; he's a private investigator, retired from the Baltimore City PD." Rosen didn't look impressed. "I'm working on a case involving a murder in Washington DC, a strangled escort. In the course of my investigation I discovered that Fenton Black was actually the murdered escort's...er, employer. Then I discovered evidence linking him to the killing itself. I turned the evidence over to a Detective Owen Evans of the DC this afternoon and they were planning on moving to arrest Black within the next 24 hours."
Rosen was scribbling furiously. He paused when I stopped. "I'm assuming this is the reader's digest version?" he asked dryly.
"Yes, sir."
"You still haven't explained what you were doing at Black's house."
"I was getting to that. The guy that was unconscious behind the couch is a friend of mine. His name is Jake Davis. He used to be Jake Sheridan; maybe you remember the Sheridan murders a few years ago." I could see in his eyes that he did, although he refused to comment. I continued, "I knew he was involved with Black and...well...it's a long story..."
"We've got all the time in world."
I took another deep breath. "I guess I felt I owed him a favor, so I wanted to warn him to get out before the police arrived." I finished up in a small voice.
"Exactly what do you mean by involved."
"I don't know all the details. I've heard that Black was something of a pedophile; he liked his boys young. I think Jake was his...boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he was supplying Jake with drugs."
"So you went to warn him that the police were coming?"
I nodded miserably, sure I was going to be charged with something now. I realized just how stupid it had been.
"What happened when you arrived? I want a detailed step by step account of your movements so we know where you went and what you did."
"I parked up the road at a dead-end turnabout."
"How'd you know it was there?"
"A reporter friend told me." He nodded and I went on. "I walked back and found the gate open. I was trying to decide whether or not to risk going in when a car came along so I went inside to avoid the headlights." He quirked an eyebrow but I ignored it. "Staying hidden as best I could, I made my way to the back of the house and went in through the garage."
"It was all unlocked?"
"Yes."
"And that didn't strike you as odd?"
"Maybe a little. To be honest, I wasn't really thinking very clearly. I was going on a serious lack of sleep; I'd been functioning on adrenaline all day. All I could think about was finding Jake. Anyway, I went inside and it was dark and very quiet. I went down the hall and I saw a light on in the kitchen. I went in and found the guy. He was...dead." I stop and gulped. "I called the police right away."
"But you didn't leave your name and then you stayed."
"I don't know why I didn't leave my name. I guess I didn't want anyone to know I was there. Especially if there was a chance I might still be able to find Jake and leave. I told you, I wasn't thinking clearly."
"What happened next?"
"I searched the rest of the first floor and then went upstairs. The door to the sitting room was closed, but I saw a light on so I opened it. There was one guy in the middle of the floor. He was dead too. The door to the bedroom was open so I went in and turned the lights on. That's when I found Fenton Black. I was about to leave when I saw Jake behind the couch. And that's pretty much when you came in."
"Do you know of any reason why someone might want to kill Fenton Black?"
I almost sighed with relief. Maybe they didn't suspect Jake after all. "I imagine people were lining up for the privilege. He was a drug dealer, he ran an illegal escort agency, he was involved with the mafia, and he was behind the corruption with the land deals here on the Shore."
"Let me be more specific. Do you know of any reason why Jacob Davis would want to kill Fenton Black?" My heart sank again.
"Jake isn't a killer," I protested, but it sounded weak even to me.
Rosen didn't comment, just sat there staring levelly at me.
"I really don't think he did," I repeated softly.
"I'm sure we'll take that into consideration," the detective said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He stood to leave, signally the end of my interview. "Ballistics will be able to tell if the gun in his hand was the same weapon that killed the two bodyguards and Black. If it is, I'm afraid your opinion won't carry as much weight as the evidence."
The mention of the gun brought something to memory. "Did the gun have a silencer on it?" I asked.
"What?" I'd clearly caught him off guard.
"The gun in Jake's hand, did it have a silencer?"
"No, it didn't. May I assume there's a reason behind your seemingly random question?"
"Think about it," I said. "Three people were shot, all in the same house. Two of them were trained bodyguards. They all looked to me as if they'd been caught off guard. The house is huge, but you would still hear the gun shots, unless maybe the sitting room and bedroom were soundproofed. The only other option is that the shooter used a silencer."
Rosin looked down on me with a new respect in his eyes. "I'm going to go check on your story now. If any of it doesn't check out, you're going to be in very deep shit. I'll be back. You can wait in here."
As soon as the door closed, Ilana breathed a deep sigh. "That went a lot better than I had feared," she said.
"Really?" I asked. Not knowing what to expect, I hadn't known if it had gone well or not.
"Definitely. He didn't take you back to the cell, which means he probably believes you're being level with him. You are aren't you?"
"Yes. I told him the truth."
"Good. That was definitely the best move in this situation. You could still be facing some serious charges though Killian. What were you thinking?"
I shrugged helplessly. "I just wanted to help Jake. I've failed him in so many ways as a friend. I felt I owed him this. If I'd been a better friend to start with maybe he wouldn't have even been in this mess."
"Killian, you can't blame yourself for the choices other people make. Maybe you did play a part in all this, but he made the decision to get involved with Fenton Black. You didn't force him to do that."
I sighed. I knew she was right, but I still felt guilty. "So you think I could still get in a lot of trouble?"
"It all depends on how generous Detective Rosen is feeling. That last bit about the silencer might be helpful. If you have any other flashes of brilliance, it wouldn't hurt to share."
"What do we do while I wait for a flash of brilliance?"
"We sit here patiently."
We sat patiently for about an hour, while neither flash of brilliance nor Detective Rosen came. Finally, the door opened again and the detective came back into the room. He didn't look quite a sour as he had before. I took that as a good sign. I stood up to face him.
"Alright, Mr. Kendall. Your story checked out and several good men have vouched for you. I should be charging you on several counts, but since you have a clean record and this isn't usual behavior for you, we're going to let you go. But. If I ever catch you interfering with official police business again, or even hear that you've gotten in the way of an official investigation, you will face serious charges."
"I'm free to go?" I said, barely able to believe my luck.
"You're free to go."
"Thank you, Detective Rosen," I said sincerely, holding out my hand to shake.
"You're welcome, Mr. Kendall," he said shaking my hand. "By all accounts you're a good investigator. Don't ruin your chances by screwing up."
"I won't." He turned to leave but I had one more question. "Sir?"
He turned back.
"Was I right about the silencer?"
He paused for a second and I thought he wasn't going to answer, then he shrugged. "Let's just say the rooms aren't soundproofed."
I hugged Ilana and then she held me by the shoulders at arms length. "Now if you thought that was bad," she said with a smile, "you ain't seen anything yet. The hardest part is yet to come."
"What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.
"Adam, Shane Novak, and Micah are all waiting in the lobby."
I gulped. I knew she was right. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. "Well, it's been a good life. Let's go face the firing squad."
She chuckled and slipped her arm through mine. "Any last requests?" she asked as we walked into the hall.
Adam and Micah leaped to their feet as soon as we came through the door. It was a race to see who could get to me first. Adam won by a hair, enveloping me in a huge hug. He gripped tightly for a long time, then stepped back abruptly and shook me by the arms. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again!"
He let go of me and Micah quickly moved in for a hug. He held me close even longer than Adam had, then whispered fiercely in my ear, "I love you, Killian Kendall, but I swear, if you ever do something like that to me again I will leave you and never look back."
I jerked back to look into his eyes and saw that he was very serious.
"I've never been so scared in my entire life," he said hoarsely as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I couldn't stand to lose you."
"I'm so sorry," I said, wiping away the tear. I felt as if my heart was being ripped out. "It's ok now though. It's all over."
"I'm still furious with you. Why didn't you wait for me?"
"If I had, you would have been arrested with me."
"At least I would have known what was happening. And you lied to me, Killian. You said you'd wait."
"I'm sorry."
"Can we continue this later?" Novak asked, walking up. He gave me an unreadable look. I had a feeling I'd be hearing from him later. "I'd like to get over the hospital to sit with Judy."
"The hospital?" I asked.
"Jake was admitted for a drug overdose," Adam told me.
"Oh my God! Is he ok?"
"He's still not regained consciousness last I heard, but they expect him to be fine," Novak reported.
I turned to look at Adam and Micah. "Can we go over there too?"
They both nodded. "Of course," Micah said.
"Are you going?" I asked Ilana.
"Well, I was really only here as a family friend. I'm not a criminal lawyer, so I won't be much help to Jake, but I can give some advice and if things look bad, I have a colleague who is an excellent criminal lawyer that I can recommend. So, yes, I'll come too."
We all left together, but drove to the hospital separately. Adam, Novak, Ilana, and Micah had all driven their own cars to the police station. I rode with Micah, but the drive over was mostly silent. I could tell Micah was really hurt.
"Micah, I'm really sorry," I tried at one point. "I just felt like this was something I had to do by myself. Promising to wait for you was the only way I could get you to give me the address. I'm sorry I lied to you. I promise I won't ever do it again."
"Not now, Killian," he'd responded and turned on the radio.
At the hospital, we found a Judy I hardly recognized. She looked so lost and alone sitting in the hospital waiting room. I'd never seen her look so defeated and, well, old.
She brightened a bit when she saw us, however. Her eyes caught and held mine, sharing the knowledge of the fulfillment of her vision. I could see the fear in her eyes that Jake would be the final loss.
There wasn't much to say. Nothing had really changed in Jake's condition, but the doctors were still being positive. We sat and waited in an uneasy silence, while sick and injured people came and went around us. I dozed fitfully, snapping awake as images of the dead bodies I'd seen floated up before my eyes over and over. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a doctor approached Judy, whose eyes I hadn't seen shut for the entire time we'd been there.
"Ms. Davis?" he asked.
"Yes," she said snapped to attention, her back straightening.
"Jake is awake now. The police have been in and talked to him and now he's asking to see you. They've said it's ok if you go in."
She was on her feet immediately. "If you'll show me the way," she said.
"Of course. Just follow me." He led her off beyond the doors. The rest of us sat waiting.
"Do you think they'll charge him?" I asked.
"They'll probably hold him in custody at least," Ilana said. "Unless they have more than they told us, they won't be able to actually charge him yet. The ballistics tests won't be done today, even with the rush they'll put on it because of who it is. We can probably get him home by tonight assuming they set his bail."
"I can't believe this is happening."
"Believe it," Novak said shortly and we fell back into silence.
It wasn't too long before Judy was back out.
"Killian, he wants to see you."
"Me?" I gasped.
"I told him what happened. He has no memory whatsoever of the killings. He can't tell the police anything. He can't even say for sure he didn't do it."
"Drugs?" Novak asked.
"Possibly," Judy said with a weary shrug. "He could also be blocking the memory. Or maybe he's lying. Who knows anymore?"
"The police said it's ok if he sees me?" I asked after an awkward pause.
"Yes. They're hoping something will trigger his memory. They're recording everything, of course, so be careful what you say."
I nodded and stood up nervously.
"Just go through those doors and a nurse will be waiting to show you the room."
I almost turned around when I saw Jake. He looked so pitiful lying in that big hospital bed, pale and sunken in. There was something black all around his mouth.
"Charcoal," he said in a frail voice.
"Huh?" I said as I drew closer to his side.
"The black stuff. They pumped my stomach and then gave me charcoal just to be safe. It's supposed to soak up any poisons in my stomach or something like that. I think it was just to torture me."
I stopped next to him and reached out a tentative hand. He took it in his, his grip weak.
"You came for me," he said after a moment.
I bit my lip, not sure what to say.
"You risked your life for me...again. After everything I said to you the other night."
"Actually, it was because of everything you said to me the other night. It made me realize what a terrible friend I've been. I wanted...to make it up to you somehow. I wanted to help you." I looked down at him. "What happened Jake?"
"I...I don't know."
"I don't even mean just tonight. I mean...what happened to you? How did you end up with Fenton Black?"
He looked away and a tear rolled down his cheek. "When I first came back," he said in a voice so soft I had to lean in to hear him, "I told you how messed up I was in California. That's part of the reason Mom wanted to move back here. I was having sex with anyone who would supply me."
"Supply you?"
"Drugs. I got into drugs. Mom moved me back here and I guess she thought that would stop it. It did for awhile; even I thought things might be different. But then, it wasn't. I started using again. Small stuff at first, weed, maybe some pills now and then. That stuff is easy to get. You can get it at school. It kept progressing. There was this one guy who supplied me for sex. His name was Julio or something like that, I don't even remember. Isn't that disgusting? He told me he knew someone who would like to meet me. It was Fenton."
"And he offered you drugs for sex?"
"More than just drugs. It was clothes and presents and cash. I felt like a prince. I felt like someone actually cared about me for a change. He didn't of course. All he cared about was the sex, but I could fool myself, lie to myself enough that I didn't think about that."
I squeezed his hand. "Did you kill him?" I asked softly.
His eyes welled up. "I don't know."
"What happened after I left the Ball?"
"He was furious. He screamed at me for talking to you. He said that I had ruined everything, that I was a stupid drug addicted slut, and that I had single-handedly brought down his empire. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, that I hadn't told you anything. He didn't believe me. He took me home and then knocked me around a bit."
"He hit you?"
Jake nodded. "Then he gave me some drugs, I don't even know what. I didn't really care. I think he was hoping that I'd OD and take care of his dirty work for him."
"You almost did."
He looked up at me. "I wish I had."
I bent over him and gathered him up in a hug. "Don't say that, Jake," I said fiercely.
"Why not? It's true."
"Because...do you know what that would have done to me? To your mom? We love you Jake. I know I haven't done a very good job of showing it, but I do. I want to be a better friend for you."
We cried for a few minutes, him clinging to me as if I was a life preserver and he was drowning.
"Jake," I said at last, "I don't think you killed Fenton."
"You don't?"
"No, but I don't know who did. You have to try and remember."
"I can't, Killian. I've been trying. Really I have."
"Ok, what about the case I was working? Did you ever hear Fenton mention someone named Paul Flynn?"
He thought for a minute, "No, not that I can remember."
"He was an escort in Washington DC. He was murdered about a month ago. Paul knew that Fenton was involved in some illegal things and he'd been collecting evidence. I'm not sure what he intended to do with it, turn him in I guess, but he was a nice guy-if a little dumb-so he gave Fenton the chance to turn himself in first. I think Fenton killed him instead."
"I...maybe there was something..."
"What?"
"It was a little over a month ago maybe. Something had been bothering Fenton. He'd been really edgy for a couple weeks. We were in his bedroom one night when someone came to see him. I got the impression Fenton has asked him to come. Fenton always sent me out of the room when he talked business. I went to the sitting room and sat down by the fireplace. There was no fire going so the exhaust fan that pulls the smoke up the chimney wasn't on. I could hear most of what they said. It sounded like Fenton was asking this guy to kill somebody. He didn't come out and say it, but he kept saying things like, `This problem has to be eliminated' and `I want you to take care of this for me'."
"You think he was hiring this guy to kill Paul?"
"He never mentioned any names. It was like the guy knew who he was talking about. And he wasn't hiring him. They never discussed money or payment. It sounded to me more like Fenton had something he was holding over him, like blackmail or something."
"Did you see the guy?"
"Yeah."
"Can you remember what he looked like?"
"No problem. He was kinda small and dark skinned, like he was from the Middle East or something. He had dark eyes, long black hair, and kind of sharp features. He reminded me of a hawk."
I knew someone who fit that description perfectly. My heart began to pound as his name formed on my lips. "Razi!"
"You know him?" Jake asked in surprise.
"We've met," I said sharply, my heart hammering in my chest and my mind racing. I sat down heavily in the single chair next to the bed.
"You think this guy may have had something to do with...what happened?"
"If Fenton coerced Razi into killing Paul, or even hired him, and Razi found out that I was getting close to finding that out, he might have had reason to want Fenton dead."
"I don't understand."
"As far as he knows, with Fenton dead, there's nothing to tie him to the crime. He doesn't know that you overheard his conversation with Fenton, which is probably the only thing that saved your life."
"What do you mean?"
"I think when Razi found you passed-out he decided to try and pin the murders on you. That's why he left the gun in your hand and left you alive. If you'd died of an overdose, it would be all the better. It would look like you killed yourself after you killed everyone else."
"But you don't have any proof of any of that."
"No, but I intend to get it," I said as I stood up.
Jake eyes widened. "How?"
"I'm going to see Razi."
"Killian, no! If he's the killer you could be in danger."
"It's the only way to clear you of the murders."
"Let the police handle it. I'll tell them everything I've told you."
I sighed. I knew he was right, even though part of me wanted to confront Razi, danger or no. "Ok. We'll try the police first, but if that doesn't work, then I'll have to take matters into my own hands."
I left to go find Ilana and a police officer. Ilana went in first for a brief conference with Jake, then she was joined by a police officer who took Jake's statement. I waited tensely in the waiting room with Novak, Micah, and Judy. I seemed to have gotten my second wind-or was on my third or fourth by now?-and my body was aching for action. I was itching to be in on whatever the police decided to do about Razi.
Finally, Ilana came back out. I was on my feet in a flash. "What's going on?" I demanded.
She shrugged. "You know about as much as I do. Jake gave them a statement regarding this Razi character, but I don't think they gave too much credence to it. They seem to be under the impression that he's making it up to throw suspicion from himself. They want to see you now to find out what you know about Razi."
As she finished speaking, Detective Rosen came into the waiting room and spotted me. He signaled me over with a sour expression.
"I didn't think I'd be having another conversation with you this soon," he said as I approached. "We've got Jake Davis' statement and now we need some information from you. He doesn't know what this Razi's last name is but he thought you might."
I pulled out my notebook, which had been returned to me along with my other personal belongings when I was released, and flipped through it until I found Razi's information. "Akiba," I told him. "Razi Akiba."
"What do you know about him?"
"Not much. I interviewed him in my investigation but he wasn't exactly cooperative. I know he used to work for Fenton Black's escort agency and was supposedly a friend of Paul Flynn, the guy who was murdered."
"That it?"
"I have an address for him."
He copied down the address from my notebook.
"Are you going to look into this?" I asked.
Rosen gave me a probing stare. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'll be getting in touch with the DC detective handling the case and we'll compare notes and see where it goes from there."
"Don't you think you should at least have Razi taken into custody? What if he finds out you're on to him and runs?"
"We can't just lock people up for no reason. Right now, we have no evidence that he is involved with these murders in any way. All we have is the word of some drug addled kid who'd probably say anything at this point to save his own skin. Maybe he is telling the truth, but until we have something more to go on, we're assuming that Jake is the killer here."
I opened my mouth to argue but he turned and walked away purposefully.
"Killian, relax," Micah said softly, coming up next to me. I realized that I had clenched my fists at my side and forced myself to let go.
"I have to go back to DC," I said in a low voice.
"What? Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Killian, you haven't had any real sleep in almost 48 hours. You can't turn around and drive back to DC now. The police will handle this."
"Like they handled Paul's case? I've got to do something, Micah. I can't just sit here."
"You're going to do this no matter what I say, aren't you?" he sighed.
I nodded.
"Then I'll drive you."
I looked over at him and he gave me a small, resigned smile. "You'll do that for me?"
"I'll go get the car."
He walked out and I suddenly found Novak at my side. "We need to talk. Let's step outside." His tone of voice implied that this would not a fun conversation.
I followed him out without saying a word. An older man was smoking a cigarette just outside the door, so we moved a few feet away.
"I need to apologize to you, Killian," he said softly. I felt my mouth drop open.
"Apologize to me? For what?"
"I've been very negligent in my training. You came along so quickly, and you're such a good investigator, that I keep forgetting that you're still a kid. I should have never vanished in the middle of your investigation."
"Novak, you don't have to apologize," I interrupted, confused and a little shaken by this sudden turn of events. "It's your job..."
"It's also my job to make sure you are properly trained as an investigator and to help keep you out of trouble. This business at Fenton Black's house, that was reckless and well, let's face it; it was stupid. First of all, if you had a license it probably would have been revoked, or at least it would have been a mark against you. What you did was illegal; it's called breaking and entering. It was also dangerous. If the security force had been in place, you would quite possibly be dead right now. As it was, if the killer had still been on the premises, he probably would have killed you too."
"I know it was stupid. I'm sorry."
He held up a hand. "But...if you hadn't done what you did, Jake would probably be dead right now from the drug overdose. Plus, we now have a jump on the killer that we might not have had if you hadn't gotten there when you did."
"So, wait...Was it a good thing that I broke into Fenton's estate or a bad thing?"
"Both."
"I don't get it."
"It worked out for the best this time and you were given a lot of breaks. You might not be so lucky next time. I overheard you saying you're heading to DC. If you're planning on confronting Razi in some way, I would advise you not to but somehow, I have a feeling I'd be wasting my time." He gave me a look that clearly invited a response of some sort.
"The police could drag this out who knows how long, if they do anything at all. The longer we take the more chance that Razi could bolt. Or he could hurt Tad."
"Tad?"
"The boy who lives with him."
"Do you have any reason to think that Razi will hurt this boy?"
"He's killed at least four people, isn't that reason enough?"
"You've obviously made up your mind about this. I could forbid you to go, but you're an adult and you can make your own choices. I do want you to be prepared, however."
Just then, Micah pulled up in his car, making me remember that I had left my car back at the end of Fenton's road.
"Where's my car?" I asked.
"Probably in impound," Novak said. "You'll have to pick it up."
"It'll have to wait."
"Follow me to my car, I have something to give you," Novak ordered and set out across the parking lot. I jumped into Micah's car.
"Follow Novak," I told him. "He has something for me."
"What?"
"I don't know."
He pulled up behind Novak's beat-up old jalopy and I climbed out. Novak was leaning into the car on the passenger side, rummaging through the glove box.
"Too much crap in here," he grumbled. He pulled out a shiny black gun and laid it on the seat next to him.
"You're giving me a gun?" I gasped.
He carefully drew his head out of the car and gave me a withering glare. "Have you lost your mind? Do you honestly think I'd give you a gun? Do you have any idea how quickly they'd have my license if you ran off and shot somebody with my gun?" He ducked back in and emerged a few seconds later brandishing a black tube-shaped object.
"What's that?"
"Pepper spray."
"Pepper spray?" I asked disbelievingly. This was what he wanted to give me?
"Have you ever been sprayed with it?"
"No."
"I have. We had to when it was issued to the police department. Let me tell you something, it hurts. All you can think about is how much it hurts. It's some of the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. It's a very effective, relatively non-violent weapon. Don't knock it. Put out your hand." I did and he slapped the canister into my open palm. "Stick in your pocket and don't forget it's there. If you need it, don't hesitate to use it. But for God's sake, make sure it's pointed in the right direction before you spray it. We'll talk more when you get back."
I stuck it in my pocket thinking it wasn't very likely I'd be using it. I left Novak returning things to the glove box and rejoined Micah in his car.
"What did he give you?" he asked.
"Pepper spray."
Micah frowned.
"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too," I said. "Let's go."
"Where exactly are we going?" he asked as he pulled away. "Besides DC."
"Razi's apartment."
"Do you think that's safe? Even with your trusty pepper spray?"
"No, I don't think it's safe, but what choice do I have?"
"Maybe you should call your detective friend that you worked with yesterday."
"Evans? I wouldn't exactly call him a friend."
"Still, he knows the history of the case. He might be willing to go out on a limb to help."
"I doubt that," I said, but I pulled out my cell phone anyway, looked up Evans' number, and dialed it.
A voice message answered. "Hi, this is Detective Owen Evans," his recorded voice informed me. "I'm not at my desk right now, but you can leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency or if you would like to speak to someone else, please press zero now." I did so and the phone rang a few times before being answered by gruff male voice.
"I'm trying to reach Detective Evans," I told him.
"Detective Evans isn't on duty right now, would you like to leave a voice mail message or speak to the detective currently on duty?"
"No, that's alright," I said and disconnected. "He's not on duty right now," I told Micah.
"What about Chris' dad?"
"He's not even working on this case."
"Still, he might be able to help."
"I should probably tell Chris what's going on anyway," I conceded. I glanced at my watch; between jail and the hospital, I'd spent another wakeful night. It was now almost eight in the morning. "She should be up, don't you think?" I dialed her number and her little brother Kevin answered after several rings.
"Hey Kevin, this is Killian. Is Chris there?"
"Yeah, hang on," he said. I heard him bellow for Chris followed by their father yelling at Kevin to finish getting ready for school. The phone was set down with a thud and a few seconds later, Chris was on the line.
"Hello?"
"Chris, it's Killian."
"Killian! What the hell is going on? We heard on the news this morning that Fenton Black is dead along with his two bodyguards."
"I know, I'm the one that found them. I was there when the police arrived and I spent most of the night in jail."
"What?"
I quickly gave her the whole story, including how Jake was currently under suspicion for the murders and what he'd told me about Razi. "So we're on our way there now," I finished up. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do when we get there. I guess I'll figure it out as I go along."
"Killian, this is crazy. You can't go in there alone."
"Oh, it's ok. I'm armed with pepper spray."
"Huh?"
"Chris, I have to do something. Tad could be in danger. You've met him. He's just a kid and he's already been through so much."
"You know what, Killian Kendall? You have a savior complex."
"A what?"
"A savior complex. It's common among cops. It means you think you have to save everyone. Well guess what? You can't. You're only human. You can't be there for everyone in trouble."
"I don't think I can save everybody," I said defensively. "But what kind of person would I be if I knew someone was in danger and didn't do anything to help them? Sure, it would be easier, safer, to just let the professionals deal with it. The problem is, they don't always deal with it, and when they do, they're often too late."
"That doesn't mean you can just take the law into your own hands."
"All I'm going to do is try to get Tad out of there. And maybe see what I can get out of Razi."
"I just don't think it's a very good idea."
"Is there anything your dad can do?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know; some kind of back-up?"
"Back-up? You're not a cop; you can't get back-up."
"I just meant maybe some officers could be sent over to Razi's apartment or something."
"That would be back-up. Without evidence, their hands are tied. Right now, there's no evidence linking Razi to either crime except for the testimony of your friend, who isn't the most reliable source. If someone else could corroborate his story..."
"Everyone who could have corroborated his story is dead."
"Which would be convenient if he was lying since that also means that everyone who could disprove his story is dead."
"Except Razi."
"And of course all you have to do is ask him if he killed Paul and the others and he's going to fall all over himself to admit it."
"I didn't say that."
"Then what exactly are you expecting to happen?"
"I don't know," I admitted. What was I expecting? Why was I doing this? I paused a second while I thought about it, and I recognized that underlying feeling of pressure I'd almost grown accustom to do over the last few days. It had been my driving force through all of this. I couldn't identify it except that I felt as if something bad was approaching, as if a storm was building and only I could do something about it. "I just feel...compelled somehow. It's hard to explain, Chris. I just know I have to do something. Look, I'm sorry I called and upset you. I'll handle this myself."
"Killian, don't do anything stupid."
"I won't." I hung up and slumped down in my seat sulkily.
Micah took his eyes off the road long enough to glance over at me. "Why don't you try to get a little sleep?" he suggested. "I'll wake you up when we get there."
I shrugged. It was as good a suggestion as any, but I doubted I'd be able to fall asleep as keyed up as I felt. Somewhat surprisingly, I realized I was drifting off after just a few minutes. I struggled against it for a bit longer, but finally gave in and fell asleep.
I came awake with a start as Micah gently shook my arm. "We're almost to DC," he said. "Where do we go from here?"
I drowsily pulled out my notebook and tried to focus my eyes. I think my little nap had done more harm than good; I was feeling very discombobulated. I found Razi's address and read it off to Micah.
"Oh, I know where that is."
"Have you been there before?" I asked somewhat suspiciously.
"No, but I know the area. I did live here for several years, you know." We drove in silence for a few minutes, then he asked, "So what's the plan once we get there?"
"I don't really have one," I confessed grumpily.
"Well, it might a good idea to have one, don't you think?"
"I work better without a plan."
"Ok, well what about me?"
"What about you?"
"Hey, Killian, can you stop being so hostile here? I'm on your side. Remember? I didn't have to drive you up here."
"You're right. I'm sorry," I said contritely. "I'm just so tired. Not that I'm trying make excuses. It's just..."
"It's ok. I understand. This is something you feel you have to do. I can understand that. I'm not going to try and stop you. I want to help you but I don't know what to do. Do you want me to go in with you? Or do you want me to stay outside and act as your back-up?"
I rubbed my face, wishing I was more alert for this. "I don't know. Which do you think would be better?"
"Neither one is going to be a picnic," he said darkly. "If I go in and something goes wrong I might not be able to call for help. But at least I'd know what the hell was going on. If I stay outside and something goes wrong, I could maybe call for help, but I won't know what's going on. And what if Razi isn't home?"
"Huh?" That possibility hadn't even occurred to me.
"What if Razi isn't even there? He could be out on a job."
"Well, it would make it easier to get Tad out of there at least."
"Have you thought ahead as to what you're going to do with Tad if you do get him out?"
My silence was answer enough.
"You're really doing this on a wing and a prayer, aren't you?"
"He can stay with me until we figure out what to do with him," I said.
"I hope Adam will be ok with that."
"He will be. Besides, he isn't even at the beach house that much these days. He spends most of the time at the B&B."
"And what if Razi is there?"
"Then I'll think of something."
"Kill, I know you think fast on your feet, usually anyway, but you're really tired right now. You're not exactly at your peak performance."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"Not really."
"Alright then. We wing it."
Micah sighed, obviously not happy with that prospect but unable to come up with a better alternative.
We drove the last few minutes to Razi's neighborhood in tense silence. He parked the car and we approached the apartment building on foot. At Razi's door, I hesitated, wondering if maybe we shouldn't form some sort of plan at least. The question was answered for me when the door suddenly swung open and Tad stepped into the hall carrying a large trash bag. He blinked in surprise when he saw us. I quickly put my finger to my lips before he could say anything. He pulled the door shut and looked at me questioningly.
"Is Razi home?" I whispered.
He nodded uncertainly. "I have to take this to the dumpster," he whispered back. "If I take too long he'll be mad. He's been in a really bad mood lately. What are you doing here?"
"Take it to the dumpster. I'll come with you and tell you on the way. Micah, you stay here and watch the door in case Razi comes out."
"And what do I do if he does?"
I shrugged. "You'll think of something."
Tad trotted off down the hall with me matching him step for step.
"Do you know why Razi has been in such a bad mood lately?" I asked him.
He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye and I noticed the fading evidence of a black eye. "No," he answered shortly.
"Was Razi home last night?"
"Yeah, why?"
That stopped me in my tracks for a second. I rushed to catch back up. "He was home?" I asked, the disappointment clear in my voice.
"Why? What's going on?"
"There was a murder last night, several murders in fact, and a friend of mine is being accused of them. I think it's all connected to Paul's murder, and I think Razi is involved up to his eyeballs. But if he was here last night..."
"You think Razi is the killer?"
"Yes, there's a witness who heard Razi being asked to kill Paul."
"But...but Paul was Razi's friend. He wouldn't kill him."
We stopped at a dumpster in an alley next to the apartment building. Tad tossed the bag in and we started back at a slower pace.
"The witness said that it sounded like this guy had something on Razi, something he was holding over his head. Besides, it would be killing two birds with one stone. Didn't you say that Paul had been talking about getting in touch with your father?"
"He wouldn't have killed him," he insisted again, but he didn't sound so convinced this time.
"Look, I know you feel like you owe Razi some sort of loyalty because he took you in, but like I said before, it could be a lot different, better. You can stay with me until we figure something out."
His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, very serious. I don't think it's safe for you to be here anymore." I stopped and grabbed Tad's wrist. "Listen for a minute. If I'm right, then Razi has killed at least four people, one of whom was supposed to be his best friend. Even if I'm wrong about that..." I reached out and gently touched the fading bruise. "He did this, didn't he?"
Tad nodded slightly.
"If he's hitting you, what makes this any better than living with your dad?"
"It's not always like this, only when I do something wrong."
"Nobody deserves to be treated like this, Tad. Get out while you can."
"What about Razi?"
"What about him?"
"What if he comes after me or something?"
"Do you think he would?"
"I don't know. Maybe. He doesn't like to lose things he thinks of as his."
"And you're his?"
He shrugged.
"We'll have to deal with that if and when it happens. Do you have anything inside that you need?"
"I never said I was going with you!"
"Tad, come on. Use your brain. You're essentially Razi's sex slave right now." He winced but didn't argue. "And now you're turning into his punching bag too. Is that what you want?" He shook his head no. "I can give you somewhere safe to stay until we can figure something out. Do you want to go with me?"
He nodded yes, but looked more terrified than ever.
"Good. Now is there anything in the apartment that you need or can we just leave now?"
"The clothes Razi bought me..."
"We can get you new clothes."
"That's all I have."
"Ok. Then you can wait by the car while I go get Micah." I pointed out Micah's car and started back inside to get my boyfriend.
"Killian, wait," Tad called before I reached the door. I turned back.
"I wasn't completely honest with you."
"About what?"
"When you asked me if Razi was home last night."
"He wasn't home?"
"He was but not all night. He got a phone call yesterday afternoon and it seemed to upset him. I don't who it was or what it was about because Razi hardly said a word, but as soon as he hung up, slammed around the apartment for a few minutes, and then left. He didn't come home until after dark and he was in a terrible mood. I did my best to avoid him for the rest of the night."
"So he could be the killer?"
Tad shrugged helplessly.
"This changes everything."
"What do you mean?"
"I need to talk to Razi."
"No! He's going to notice I've been gone too long soon and then he's going to come looking for me. We have to go. Please?"
He was right. Tad was my first priority. The police could handle Razi. "Ok, I'll go get Micah. Wait by the car."
When I arrived back on Razi's floor however, Micah was nowhere to be seen.
I stood uncertainly in the hall, trying to decide what to do next while the second hand on my watch ticked along. I tried to force my tired mind to think logically, although it put up a valiant fight. I'd left Micah here to watch out for Razi. I hadn't specifically told him what to do if Razi came out of his apartment, but I'd hoped he'd know enough to distract him somehow. Micah wouldn't have deserted his post, so if he wasn't here in the hall where I'd left him, it followed that he was most likely in Razi's apartment. I shuddered at the thought.
Now that I had a reasonable assumption as to where he was, what did I do about it? I took a deep breath and walked boldly up to the door and knocked. It was only a few seconds before it swung open to reveal Razi's thin frame and frowning face. His eyes narrowed when he saw who was knocking on his door.
"I should have known," he said sharply.
"Is Micah in here with you?" I asked, as if it seemed perfectly natural that he might be.
"Yes, I opened my door and found him standing in the hall. He didn't mention you were with him."
"Oh, I was parking the car," I lied fluidly.
His frown deepened and I could tell he didn't totally believe me. I wondered frantically what pretext Micah had given him for being here. Until I knew, it would be better to avoid the issue.
"You didn't happen to see Tad while you were out there did you?" he asked suspiciously.
"He's the boy that lives with you?' I asked innocently.
Razi's dark eyes flicked over me. "Yes, that would be him."
"A case of lost boys seems to be sweeping through the city," I said with a smile. Razi gave me a blank stare. "I couldn't find Micah either," I explained. It seemed to remind him that we were still standing at the door. He stepped back and motioned me in, somewhat ungraciously, I thought. He swept the hall with his gaze one last time before shutting the door firmly.
I stepped into the living room and found Micah sitting on the couch, looking somewhat lost and nervous. I was struck again by the impersonality of the room. There was nothing of the person living here at all. It could have been any anonymous showroom apartment anywhere in the country, well furnished and tastefully decorated, but empty of soul.
"I was just telling Razi how relieved we are that this whole mess if over," Micah said a little too loudly. I blinked uncomprehendingly, my brain too exhausted to catch his hint. "You know," he went on, "with Fenton being dead now we can finally put Paul's death behind us."
"Oh yeah," I said, catching on at last. "It's been such a relief."
Razi walked slowly around me and stood facing me across the glass-topped coffee table adorned with several glossy oversized books featuring nude young men. He looked pointedly between Micah and I, then cocked his head to one side.
"Shall we try again?" he said in a soft, deadly calm voice.
"What do you mean?" I asked, the tension clear in my voice, even to me.
"Why are you really here?"
"I told you, now that this is all over we just wanted to see how you were," Micah said. "I mean, you were Paul's closest friend and all..."
Razi cut him off with a razor-sharp glare. He turned his attention back to me. "I know you were the one who found Fenton dead," he said slowly. I shook my head in confusion. How could he know that? I knew it hadn't been released in the news. The media had been told that Fenton and his bodyguards had been found dead in an unrelated police raid on his estate and that was what they were reporting. Razi misinterpreted my headshake. "Don't bother denying it. I have excellent sources."
"Sources?" I asked stupidly. I was dying here. I had to clear my head; it was vitally important to my health and Micah's that I start thinking faster.
"It doesn't matter who they are, let's just say I trust them implicitly. They've never let me down yet."
I sat down next to Micah and I felt his hand on my back, offering comfort. The slight tremble in his touch offered no reassurance however. He was as scared as I was, more so really since I was still a little too flustered to be properly worried.
I shrugged. "Yeah, I found him, but what difference does that make? It's still over. Everything led to him. Paul had something on him, knew about his criminal activity and Fenton knew that he knew. So he had Paul killed."
Razi's eyes snapped to mine. "Had him killed?" he repeated.
"Or killed him himself." I tried to shrug my gaffe off. "Does it matter now? Paul is dead either way and so is Fenton. It's over."
"Is it?" Razi asked with a dangerous edge to his voice. I was beginning to worry about our chances of walking out of here easily.
"Yes, it is. With Fenton dead the case is closed as far as the police are concerned."
"What about Fenton's killer?"
"The police believe they have him custody."
"And what about you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Is it over as far as you are concerned? Do you believe the police have Fenton's killer in custody?" His eyes locked with mine.
"What difference does it make what I think?" I asked in a small voice.
"It makes a big difference...to the killer."
I laughed uneasily. "I think you're giving me too much credit."
"Am I? You pretty much single-handedly unraveled the mystery surrounding Paul's murder when the police couldn't."
"When the police wouldn't," I corrected. "They could have if they had wanted to."
"I'm not so sure. You had contacts they didn't. People would talk to you that wouldn't talk to the police. People like TJ Jackson."
My eyes widened. He did have good sources if he knew TJ's name. "Where is all this going?" I asked, suddenly tiring of this tense game of cat and mouse.
"Going? It's not going anywhere," Razi said, and he suddenly seemed to relax. His shoulders slumped and a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "I'm just killing time until Tad gets back."
"Where'd he go?" I asked, relieved at the break in the tension. I felt Micah relax next to me as well.
"To take out the trash," he answered. He walked over to a long, narrow table against the wall and leaned casually against it. The table was completely barren except for a carved wooden staff lying stretched between a matching set of intricately fashioned brass stands. "He's never taken this long before. I hope he didn't run into trouble." He threw me an unreadable look as he said the last.
"You want us to go look for him?" Micah asked hopefully, no doubt seeing a chance to escape.
"No, that's quite alright. I wouldn't want to impose."
"It wouldn't be an imposition as all," Micah said quickly, too quickly. Razi smiled a little smile that I didn't like at all. I suddenly felt more uneasy with this relaxed Razi than I had when he was so clearly on edge.
He trailed his fingers lazily across the staff. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked conversationally.
"It is," I agreed. And it truly was; magnificently carved with mythical creatures writhing around its entire length.
"It's one of the few things I own from my homeland," he looked up at me, heavy lidded, almost seductive. "I didn't bring it with me of course. I didn't have time. No, I bought it here. I never told you my story, did I?" He was speaking only to me, as if Micah wasn't even in the room.
I shook my head, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.
"I told you the last time you were here that we all have stories. You asked me what mine was but I was rude and didn't tell you. I'll rectify that now, if you'll allow me."
I nodded.
"I was born in the West Bank in a village not far from the Israeli border. My parents were considered freedom fighters by my people, terrorists by Israel and the US. Death was a daily occurrence; killing and fighting were a part of my earliest education. I could handle a gun by the time most American children are learning to tie their shoelaces. I can handle almost any weapon with ease, from a gun to a knife. I can even kill with my bare hands if I have to. It didn't mean I liked killing, just that I was good at it. When I was ten years old, my mother died in a car bombing. Two years later, Israeli soldiers arrested my father and he was never seen again. I was sent to live with my uncle and his wife."
He paused for a moment as I sat in horrified silence. I watched as he gripped one end of the staff and gave it a slight twist. To my surprise, a slender, steel dagger slipped from the staff like a sword from it sheath. The blade was no longer or wider than a large letter opener, but I had no doubt that the glittering edge was plenty lethal. Razi raised his eyes to us and gave a half-smile at the way our eyes were glued to the dagger.
"Beautiful and useful," he observed, sliding the blade back into the handle of the staff and locking it in place. "What good is beauty if it is useless? But back to my story. My uncle was married, but he and his wife had never had children. I soon found out why. My uncle was gay. At least, I know that now. I didn't even know what that meant then. All I knew was that my uncle liked to do things to me at night when everyone else was asleep. He used to tell me that if I told anyone, I would be killed. I accepted it, looking at it as payment for living with them instead of on the street as a beggar. I even became quite good. It got to the point that I even rather enjoyed it. I'm not gay really, but I guess you could say I'm bisexual. It went on for a few years and then one night, his wife caught us. She was quite horrified, as you can imagine. My uncle panicked and killed her, strangled her to death.
"That left us with the question of what to do with her body. I suggested leaving her near the border, to appear as if an Israeli had killed her, but the border area was dangerous and my uncle was never a fighter. Besides, soldiers didn't kill by strangling. My uncle decided that I would take the blame. Who was I to argue? I was barely fifteen. My uncle couldn't stand the idea of me being executed however, so he planned to help me slip out of the country. He would tell the officials that I had run away. I'd be long gone by then. He still knew the people my parents had been friends with, people who could arrange for me to slip past the borders unnoticed. I was passed from one place to another, from person to person, until I reached Jordan. One of those people turned out to be a kind woman who reminded me much of my mother. She took pity on me, a young boy alone and afraid in a strange country. She gave me all the money she had on her and told me to go somewhere safe, a place that I could start a new life. All my life I'd heard about how America is the land of opportunity. I went to the airport and bought a ticket to the United States.
"There I was, fifteen and alone in a country where I didn't speak a word of their language. I managed to find my way to the city, where I quickly learned to use what my uncle had taught me to survive. First as a street hustler, and then later as an escort. I've done pretty well for myself, wouldn't you say?" He gestured around the room with an all-encompassing sweep of his arm. "So there, Killian Kendall, that's my story. Are you satisfied now?"
"Yes," I managed to say.
"Good," he said. And then moving so quickly I barely had time to register what was happening, he suddenly leaped forward, swinging the staff like a club. I slammed myself against the back of the couch while Micah, who I'd almost forgotten was there, threw himself in front of me. The carved cane connected with Micah's head with a sickening thud, the force of the blow actually knocking him off the couch and onto the floor.
I sat stunned by the sudden violence like a rabbit cornered by a fox. My mind was jabbering at me to move, to run, to get out of the way before Razi struck me as well, but I was unable to move. It took a few seconds for my mind to realize that Razi was making no move to hit me. He just stared down contemptuously at Micah.
"How heroic, sacrificing himself to save his beloved. Hero - it's really just another way of saying someone did something stupid," he sneered. He looked up at me with terrifyingly cold eyes. "If only the poor idiot knew he was the target all along. Now that we're alone we can talk...man to man."
"W-what's going on?" I stammered. I desperately wanted to check on Micah but I didn't dare move.
"I told you my story, now it's time for you to tell me a story."
"What?"
"I know why you're really here; we can skip that part of the story. Somehow, you figured out who killed Paul and Fenton and of course, you came running right here. Unfortunate for you, convenient for me. It saves me the time of hunting you down. You were my last obstacle; I knew you wouldn't let go of this that easily. What I really want to know is how you figured it out, and more importantly at the moment, what have you done with Tad?"
"I haven't done anything with Tad," I said, praying the boy would be smart enough to stay with the car and not come looking for us. I had no idea how long we'd been in here; I'd completely lost track of time. "I didn't see him when I came up."
I knew I had to get Micah and me out of here, and fast, but I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that and keep both of us alive, especially with him unconscious. My only chance was to get the pepper spray out without Razi noticing it and hope it was as effective as Novak had said. In order to do that though, I had to stall him, so I kept talking. "I thought it was Fenton who had killed Paul, except everyone kept saying that it wasn't his style, and that he'd probably hired it done. Either way, I knew who was behind it so I went to the police with the evidence I had."
"Considerable evidence," Razi commented off-handedly. I filed that away, I was beginning to suspect that his source was a mole inside the police department.
"They said they were going to raid Fenton's estate, but I had a friend who I knew was with Fenton. I wanted to try and get him out before the raid so I went to the estate and that's when I found the bodies and called the police. I guess you were tipped off and got there ahead of me?"
"You had a friend there?" Razi asked sharply, not answering my question.
"Yes. He's the one you left alive. I spoke to him last night after he came to. He told me how he'd overheard Fenton ordering you to kill Paul. It was fairly simple to put the rest together."
"I should have killed him when I had the chance," he snarled. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. "You're here and not the police. That means they don't believe your little friend, at least not yet. I'll be long gone before they arrive. All they'll find here is two dead bodies."
He swung the staff back. "Wait!" I screamed as I scrambled up onto the sofa, balancing precariously on the cushions. "I have one more question," I pleaded.
His arm stopped in midair. I took the scant opportunity before he could begin the downswing. "Why?" I asked. "Why did you agree to kill Paul?"
The staff swung down. I didn't have time to do more than flinch before it smashed across my face, sending me reeling over the back of the sofa. I hit the floor with a heavy crash, but thankfully, I was still conscious-a little stunned, but aware. I could taste blood in my mouth, metallic and warm, but I didn't have time to assess the damage. I scrambled to my knees as Razi came purposefully around the sofa.
"You want to know why I killed Paul?" he asked as he stalked slowly towards me, speaking in a chillingly calm voice. I shuffled back as well as I could. "I'll tell you why I killed Paul. For the same reason I killed Fenton and his clowns, and for the same reason I'm killing you and your boyfriend now. Because I didn't have a choice."
I spit out a mouthful of blood. "You always have a choice," I managed.
"No!" he snapped, then regained control and continued, "No, I didn't. Not if I wanted to keep my freedom. That's something most of you Americans take for granted. I know the difference."
"What are you talking about?" If I could just keep him talking. I was trying to get my hand in my pocket as surreptitiously as possible. "How could you lose your freedom by refusing to kill someone?"
"When I was working for Fenton as an escort, some rich, fat-cat politician tried to rape me. Apparently, he got off on taking by force what he could have had anyway. I knew how to kill, remember, I'd done it before. So I killed him. It might have been argued that it was self-defense, but it was just as likely that I'd be locked up for murder. After all, he was a respectable public servant and I was just an immigrant prostitute. That's how they'd see it anyway. Who would even believe that he had hired me? Fenton helped cover it up, but what I didn't know at the time was that he carefully saved evidence in case anything was ever traced back to us."
He'd become so caught up in his story that he'd failed to notice my hand slip into my pocket, my fingers curling around the cool, metal cylinder there. It helped that my crouching position partially hid the movements of my hand. His story had caught my attention though. It vaguely rang a bell in my memory. I thought I remembered the mysterious death of a local politician a few years ago. It had made the national news because the police had no leads, just the body of a well-liked family man who had shown up in a fountain in Dupont Circle.
"He used that evidence to blackmail me into killing Paul and stealing the evidence Paul supposedly had against him," he went on. "I didn't want to; I tried to talk Paul into running or at least leaving Fenton alone, but he wouldn't hear of it. He died because he was too damn stubborn." He paused and a tiny, cruel smile played at his lips. "Kind of like you."
He made a sudden lunge towards me and I threw myself backwards, yanking my hand out of my pocket as I did. The staff whipped through the air as I ripped the lid off the pepper spray canister, scrambling away the whole time until my back hit the wall. I didn't have time to aim it; I could only hope I had it pointed in the right direction. I held it out in front of me, but before I could press the button to spray it, Razi caught my hand on the back swing, knocking it out of my grip. I watched helplessly as it skittered across the floor.
I turned my horrified gaze back to Razi, who had crouched down in front of me, his face now so close I could feel his breath. If anything, he was more terrifying now than before. His eyes had taken on a crazed look that sent chills running down my spine. Any perceptible sanity that had been there before was gone, replaced now by pure hate.
"You've caused me so much trouble," he growled in a low voice made rough by hatred. "No one really cared who'd killed Paul until you came along. You just couldn't leave things alone. I'm really going to enjoy killing you." He cocked his head to one side. "I think I'll do it slowly, so that you feel every second of pain."
He twisted the handle of the staff and a soft click sounded unnaturally loud in my heightened alert state. He slowly withdrew dagger from the staff, its razor-sharp edge eerily mirroring the glint in Razi's eyes.
"What do you think? Should I start with your pretty face?" he asked in a breathy voice. He sounded almost turned on by the prospect. "Or maybe I should start somewhere a little more personal." He flicked the blade towards my crotch and I flinched. He chuckled menacingly.
I fought the rising panic in my chest, willing myself to remain still. I was deadly certain that if I tried to move, he would forego the torture and kill me quickly and efficiently. Right now, we were playing a game of cat and mouse and he was enjoying the smell of my fear.
He reached out a steady hand and drew the blade softly across my right cheek. There was no pain but I immediately felt a trickle of blood spill out. I sucked in an involuntary gasp.
"Sharp, isn't it?" he asked seductively.
The cut began to sting and I felt a tear roll down my cheek, more from fear than pain.
"Are you scared now?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Good. I want you to be scared. That makes it more fun."
He reached out to slice my left cheek, but just then, a flash of motion caught both our attentions. Before I could even turn to see what was happening, Razi was swinging around to face this new adversary. With a roar of pure fury, Micah flew into Razi and they tumbled backwards onto the floor. The knife was lost to my sight, but I didn't waste time worrying about it. I crawled madly in the direction I'd last seen the pepper spray rolling. I threw aside an end table while sounds of their struggle came from behind me. I flipped over the recliner and there was the canister. I snatched it up, leapt to me feet, and vaulted over the couch, landing next to Razi and Micah's entwined bodies. Their faces were only inches apart, there was no way I could just spray Razi. I hesitated a second, but then saw the missing dagger emerge from between their bodies, still in the grip of Razi's dark hand.
"I'm sorry, Micah," I whispered, and let loose with a stream of pepper spray. Their reaction was immediate. They broke apart in a howl of feral pain that almost immediately gave way to coughing and gagging. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor as Razi and Micah both began to claw and rub at their streaming eyes, writhing about on the floor in apparent agony. I stood by helplessly, unsure of what to do next.
"Somebody help!" I screamed, finally giving vent to my panic.
Just then, the door exploded inward with a sharp crack that sent me diving to the floor.
"Freeze! Police!" A voice shouted.
I was much more relieved to hear that phrase this time than I had been the last time it had been shouted at me.
\*
It took a while to sort things out, but eventually I learned that after I'd talked to Chris, she'd become worried and talked to her father, Louis. He'd agreed that it sounded dangerous and he'd called Detective Evans. Together, they decided "unofficially" to drive over to Razi's apartment. When they showed up, in uniform, Tad had quickly approached them, concerned because I'd been gone so long. He had no idea they were there looking for us; he just thought they were two cops who happened to be in the neighborhood and acted. So they were forewarned before they went in. When they got to Razi's floor, they heard me scream for help and, of course, being cops, they burst in.
Once they saw what was going on, I tried to explain who was who and what had happened. I'm not sure how coherent I was, but they got the gist of it. They quickly placed Razi under arrest and handcuffed him. Then they left him to cough and thrash on the floor while they attended to Micah. By this time, I was at his side and he was calmer but still in excruciating pain. Evans rushed into the kitchen and came back a minute later with bowl of soapy looking water.
"It's just dish soap and water," he explained, more to me than Micah, whose eyes were still squeezed shut in agony as tears streamed down his cheeks. He began carefully dabbing at Micah's red face. "Can you get me fresh water?" he asked me. "I need it to rinse his eyes and get this soap off his skin."
I ran from the room and filled a clean-looking glass in the draining board with tap water. "Will this stop the pain?" I asked as I handed it to the detective.
"It won't stop it completely, but it'll help ease it some," he said without looking up.
Meanwhile, Louis had called an ambulance, which arrived in what I thought was a surprisingly fast response time. Micah was handed over to the paramedics for treatment for the pepper spray and the blow to the head, which I now noticed was bleeding slightly at his temple. They insisted I go too, since the inside of my mouth was still bleeding and the cut on my cheek looked pretty nasty. Someone suggested I might need stitches. Miraculously, Tad was still around at that point, arriving on the scene with the paramedics when they'd come up. I'd been half afraid he'd run, but he was determined to make sure we were ok. I told the officers that he was with me and insisted that he come to the hospital with us. It was allowed with a minimum of questions.
"So what now?" he asked a few hours later as we sat in the waiting room of the hospital we'd been taken to. Appropriately enough, we were waiting; Micah was still in an examination room. The inside of my cheek hadn't required stitches; something for which I was very grateful, but they had bandaged the outside with some gauze and white surgical tape.
"I guess next I'll have to talk to the police," I said wearily. "I'm sure they didn't get all their questions answered yet. I sure I wasn't very articulate at the apartment."
"That's not what I meant," he said softly. "I mean what happens to me now? But since you brought it up, will I have to talk to the police again?"
I looked over at him. He looked more like a lost little kid than I'd ever seen him.
"What did you tell them before?"
"Well, they were a little busy with everything else so they really weren't paying much attention to me. When they arrived, I just told them I knew you'd gone up to talk to Razi and you hadn't come back. They took off like a light. Later, this guy asked my name and my address and wrote it down and said they'd be in touch with me later."
"Did you tell them?"
"My name and address you mean? Not exactly. I said I was Tad Young and gave them the address of another apartment in the building."
I raised an eyebrow. "Probably not the smartest thing in the world."
He shrugged. "I was scared."
"I'll talk to Detective Evans and straighten it out."
"Will he make me go back to my dad?"
"I don't know. I'll try to get him to let you go home with me."
I watched his eyes skitter towards the door and knew he was thinking about running.
"Don't," I said.
"Don't what?"
"Don't run. I'm not going to abandon you, I promise. No matter what happens, I'll be there with you."
He bit down on his lip and nodded.
"So what's your real name?"
For a several long seconds I thought he would refuse to answer. But then he drew a deep breath and told me. "Tad Yoder. Thaddeus."
I smiled at him and held out my hand. "Nice to meet you, Thaddeus Yoder," I said.
He gave me a small smile back and shook my hand. "Likewise I'm sure," he responded.
"Thank you," I added, knowing how much trust it took for him to tell me that.
He left his hand in mine and we waited a bit longer in companionable silence. Finally, Micah came out from the double doors, followed closely by an attractive woman in a white doctor's coat and a stethoscope around her neck. His face was still red and a little blotchy, his eyes bloodshot, and he wore a small bandage much like my own on his temple, but other than that, he looked little worse for wear.
"They say I'll live," he reported cheerfully. A bit too cheerfully for someone who been thwacked in the head and sprayed with pepper spray just a short time before, I thought.
"Luckily, he has a hard head," his doctor tacked on. She gave us all a warm smile.
"I could have told you that," I said dryly.
Detective Evans walked into the waiting room just then, trailed by another young officer. "Good, I see you're all here," he said to us. He turned to the doctor. "If you're all done with them, I think it's my turn."
"Their all yours," she said and excused herself with a little half-bow.
"Lucky me," he muttered under his breath, and then louder, "Alright kids, we're moving this party down to the station. Officer Barnes here will escort you since your car remains parked at Mr. Akiba's apartment building. I'll meet you there."
"Wait," I said and looked over at Tad. He nodded slightly. "Before we do, you need to know that Tad gave you a false name when he was questioned back at the building."
Evans gave me a surprised look. "Is that true?" he asked Tad.
"Yes sir," Tad answered in a low voice. "My real name is Thaddeus Yoder, not Young."
"Why would you lie about that?"
Tad threw me a desperate look and I stepped in to explain. "His father abused him so he ran away. Razi took him in off the streets but he was abusing him too. He's scared you'll send him back to his father."
Evans frowned. "Well, by law we have to report this to social services. They'll step in and do an investigation to see if there was abuse. Then he'll be placed in foster care."
Tad took on a stricken expression.
"Isn't there any way around that?" I asked. "He can stay with me."
"It's not that easy," he said.
"What if we talk to his dad and he gives permission."
The detective looked at me curiously. "And by-pass social services?"
"Can we do that?" He looked unsure, so I threw in a final plea. "Please? He's already been through so much."
He sighed. "Let me think about it. For now, this will stay between us." He gave Officer Barnes a meaningful look. "Let's go."
Officer Barnes chauffeured us to the police station and then led us to a holding room. One by one, he took us to an interrogation room where Detective Evans sat waiting. I was last. After I gave my statement, which took the better part of an hour with all his questions, the detective shut off the tape recorder.
"Well, Kendall, I have to say, you did a top-notch job with this investigation. Not that you didn't screw up a few times along the way. Your visit to Fenton Black's estate and this mess with Razi Akiba were both dangerous and risky. I hope you learned from your mistakes, but you can't argue with the results."
"So what's going to happen to Razi now?"
He chuckled. "The bastard is going away for a long, long time. He's admitted to everything. Your statements are just icing on the cake."
"He's admitted to it?" I asked in disbelief.
"Singing like a canary. He's hoping it'll make things go easier for him."
"Will it?"
"Not a chance, but nobody's telling him that."
I laughed.
"You've cleared up quite a few loose ends. Not only do we now have all the answers about the deaths of Paul Flynn, Fenton Black and his bodyguards, but we also can close the books on that nasty business from a few years ago. Of course, the man's family won't be notified of all the details, just that his killer was finally caught."
"What about his sources? It sounded to me like there was a leak in the police department."
His face darkened. "We're working on that," was all he would say. I took the hint.
"And Tad? Have you had a chance to think about that?"
His expression lightened some. It was still burdened, but for a different reason now. "Yeah, I have. So far, he's flying under the radar. No one has paid any attention to him. That makes this a lot easier. After all you've done, I'm going to do you a big favor. I've decided to look the other way."
"What?" I gasped.
"I'm taking a risk here, but I don't want to see the kid stuck in foster care. There are some good people out there who open their homes, but it's a rough life for a kid his age. He'll be better off with you. Just...make sure you handle things correctly, ok? Go through the right legal channels. Don't let this come back to bite me in the ass."
"I won't," I promised. "I know a lawyer who specializes in situations like this, she does family law."
He nodded. "The father will need to be contacted."
"I know."
Evans shook his head. "You're a remarkable young man, Mr. Kendall. I said once before that I would be proud to have you on my force. The truth is, I'd be proud to have you as my son." He stood up and held out his hand for me to shake. I jumped to my feet and took his rough hand in mine.
"Take care, Kendall."
"I will. Thank you, Detective Evans. For everything."
He nodded and led me out to the waiting room. Micah and Tad stood up, Tad looking very nervous.
"Let's go," I said brightly.
Tad's eyes darted between the detective and me. "I can go?" he asked hopefully.
"You can go," Evans said.
The smile that slowly spread across Tad's face was like the sun rising over the horizon after a long, harrowing night. I slipped my arm through his and tugged gently.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go home
The drive home from DC was very quiet for the most part. Since Micah had suffered a slight head wound, I was doing the driving. Tad sat in the back seat, silently staring out the window. I kept checking on him in the rear view mirror, just to make sure he was still back there. He dozed off after we'd crossed the bridge back to the Shore.
"He's awful quiet," I commented softly to Micah.
Micah twisted stiffly around to look back at the sleeping boy. He looked even younger in sleep than he did awake. "He's been through a lot," he said.
"I hate it that it has to be like that," I said, emotion thickening my voice.
Micah glanced over at me. "It's hitting close to home, huh?"
I nodded. I tried to speak but my throat was suddenly too tight to force the words though. I took a few deep breaths and tried again. "It could have been me. If Adam hadn't been there for me, it could have been me on the streets like that."
Micah reached over and squeezed my leg. "But it wasn't you."
We rode on a bit longer in silence, Micah's hand resting on my leg, then he spoke up again. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Kill?"
"What do you mean? Is what a good idea?"
"Taking Tad home like this."
I frowned. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"You haven't even talked to Adam and Steve about this."
"There wasn't time. Besides, I'm sure they'll be fine with it."
"I think that's assuming a lot, don't you? I mean you show up with a kid and just expect them to take him in? They don't even know him."
"Adam took me in."
"That was different. He knew you; you were friends with his son. And they have a lot going on right now, with the B&B and trying to work out their living situation. And Kane graduates next year; maybe they won't want to be tied down for a few more years with another kid."
"So what was I supposed to do? Just leave him there to either be taken back to his father so he could abused some more? Or maybe let them throw him into the foster care system? How long do you think he'd last in either one of those situations? You know he'd run away again and just end up right back on the street."
"I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't be expecting Adam and Steve to be overly thrilled about this."
The silence between us now was suddenly filled with tension. After a minute, Micah sighed. "Killian, you can't save everyone."
"Does that mean I should stop trying?" I snapped. "Should I just give up and not try to make a difference?"
He looked over at me, studying me. "No, I don't think you should ever stop trying to make a difference. It's one of the things I love most about you. You care about people; you want to make a difference. That's great, but you need to understand that you can't personally save everyone you come across."
"Maybe I can't save everyone," I said quietly, "but maybe I can save a few." And then under my breath, "Maybe I can save Tad."
The rest of the drive home was tense and not much effort was made at conversation. I found myself becoming more and more nervous about my decision to bring Tad home. Micah was right; I hadn't given any thought to Adam and Steve's reaction. Knowing Adam as well as I did, I couldn't see him turning Tad back out on the street, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
Tad woke up when we turned off the main highway and onto the twisty back roads.
"Where are we?" he asked groggily.
"Almost to Chicone," I told him.
"Is that where you live?"
"Part of the time. Remember how I told you how my friend's dad took me in after my dad threw me out?"
"Yeah."
"His name is Adam. He and his partner Steve bought an old house just outside Chicone and turned it into a bed and breakfast. Adam still has his beach house in Ocean City too though and we kind of go back and forth between them. He has an emotional attachment to the beach house."
"Wow, you guys sound rich."
"Not really. I guess Steve used to be fairly well-off, but he's spent a small fortune on the B&B."
"Where do you live?" he asked Micah.
"I have an apartment in Salisbury, not far from here," he answered.
"You guys are dating, right?"
"Yeah," Micah answered for both of us.
"For how long?"
"A few months now."
Tad watched the scenery for a few minutes before commenting, "It's really flat here. I've never been on the Shore before. Is it all this flat?"
"You've never been on the Shore?" Micah asked in surprise.
"Nope."
"Not even to Ocean City?"
"Going to the beach was never a high priority for my dad," he said acidly.
"To answer your question," I said quickly, "yes, most of the Shore is this flat."
"Have you both always lived here?" Now that he was awake, Tad seemed to be full of questions, but I guess that was pretty natural really. Here he was coming to stay with people who were practically strangers. It was to be expected that he'd be curious about us.
I answered first, "I've lived here all my life. I grew up in a small town near Ocean City."
"I'm from Prince George's County, right outside DC," Micah told him. "I moved here after I graduated from college and got a job with the newspaper."
"What was it like growing up here?" Tad asked me.
"You're from a rural area, right?"
"Yeah."
"Probably not so different than it was for you then. I never knew anyone who was gay growing up. If I had bothered to think about it, I guess everyone I knew seemed to be pretty homophobic. But I never really thought about it at all until Adam's son Seth moved here and started going to my school. He helped me figure out that I was gay."
"He's the one who was killed?"
"Yes."
"Was he your boyfriend?"
"No, I wasn't at that point yet. We were just friends."
"How was he killed?"
I didn't answer for a moment. "I'll tell you some other time, ok?" I said finally. I thought I did a pretty good job of keeping my voice steady.
"I'm sorry," Tad said immediately. "I shouldn't be so nosy. It's none of my damn business."
"No, it's ok. Don't apologize. You're just getting to know us better. You can ask questions if you want...I just might not answer all of them right now."
Just then, I turned into the driveway of the bed and breakfast and all Tad's questions were forgotten as he got his first glimpse of Amalie's House.
"That's it?" he asked in awe.
"That's it," I said with a smile. I looked up at the house and saw it through his eyes, seeing it for the very first time. It was quite grand, a real Southern plantation manor house. Steve had made sure the restoration was meticulously accurate. It looked very different from the first time I'd seen it, looking more like the Addam's family mansion than a country bed and breakfast.
"Are you sure you're not rich?" Tad breathed.
I laughed. "Pretty sure."
I parked the car and Micah and I climbed out. Tad stayed put in the backseat.
"Aren't you getting out?' I asked him, leaning back into the driver's side door.
He tore his eyes away from the house and gave me an anxious look. "Can I talk to you alone first?" he asked in a small voice.
"I'll go on in," Micah said, overhearing Tad's request. "I want to get some Tylenol for my head anyway; I've still got a splitting headache." He leaned into me and whispered, "It'll also give me a chance to warn Adam and Steve."
I waited until he was inside then turned back to Tad. "Come, on. Let's go for a walk."
He climbed hesitantly out of the backseat and we started walking around the house. I tried to wait for him to make the first move, but eventually my inquisitiveness got the better of me. "So what did you want to talk about?" I asked.
"It's just that..." he started, then stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I don't want you to think I was eavesdropping or anything, but I wasn't completely asleep when you and Micah were talking in the car."
"Tad, look..."
"No, let me finish. Let's just forget this whole thing, ok? I don't want to cause trouble for you. You've got a good thing going; I don't want to mess that up."
"You're not messing anything up."
"I mess everything up. That's all I am, a screw up. I screwed things up with my boyfriend so he left me. I screwed things up when I ran away so that I had to become a hustler, and I couldn't even do that right. I screwed things up with Razi so that he hit me."
"Tad, most of those things weren't your fault. It's not your fault your boyfriend wasn't man enough to stick by you when things got rough. It's not your fault your dad is homophobic. It's not your fault Razi abused you. Maybe becoming a hustler wasn't the best decision but you didn't have a lot of choices at that point. You were just trying to survive."
"What about you? Think about it, how did we meet? I told you that Micah used to be an escort. You didn't know before that, I remember the look on your face. I screwed that up too."
"It turned out to be a good thing in the end. It forced us to get a lot of things out in the open where they belong. Hey, we're still together aren't we?"
"I guess. I still think this is a bad idea. I'll screw things up and you'll just end up hating me. Everybody hates me. Even my own dad hates me."
"Tad, I don't hate you."
"You don't even know me."
"Why don't you give me a chance to get to know you?"
Tad looked everywhere but at me. His eyes fell upon the old angel statue among the trees in the back corner of the lawn. He stood staring at the statue for a minute while I stood staring at him. I watched a tear slip from his eye and roll slowly down his cheek. Finally, he spoke, his voice so soft I had to lean forward to hear him.
"Because I'm scared."
I moved without thinking, slipping my arms around him and pulling him against me in a hug. He stood stiffly in my embrace, not hugging me back but not pushing me away either. I realized how much he had lost. I, of all people, should understand what he was going through. Of course, he'd be scared. Scared to open his heart for fear we'd just turn on him and abandon him or let him down like everyone else in his young life.
"I know it's scary," I said, "but give us a chance. Ok?"
"What if they don't want me?"
"Then we'll figure something else out, but I promise I won't leave you. Look, why worry about that yet? You're getting too far ahead of yourself. Let's go talk to Adam and see what he has to say. Maybe none of this will even be an issue."
Tad sniffed a little and nodded as he pulled away and rubbed at his face. He followed me back to the house where we entered through the back door. We ran into Steve in the hallway. He quickly pulled me into a hug.
"You've got to stop almost getting killed," he said gruffly.
"Next time I'll try to get to the job done right," I joked. Steve answered that with a soft smack upside my head.
"How about if there is no next time?" He turned his attention to Tad, who was hanging back uncertainly. "And you must be Tad. I'm Steve." He held out a hand which Tad tentatively shook. "It's nice to meet you."
"Hi," Tad murmured.
Steve gave him a warm smile. "Why don't I show you around this huge hulk of a house?"
I opened my mouth to argue but Steve gave me a look that quickly shut me up. "Killian, why don't you go find Adam?" he suggested lightly, although I could tell there was more to it than just a simple suggestion. Uh oh, I thought darkly.
I left Steve giving Tad a quick history of the house as they began their tour. I found Adam talking to Micah in the front parlor. Adam definitely didn't look happy. I felt my stomach clench. Adam stopped talking abruptly as I appeared in the doorway.
One look at his face and I knew this would be better off as a private conversation. "Micah, why don't you catch up to Steve and Tad? Steve's giving him the grand tour of the house and he might be more comfortable if you're along."
"No problem," he said, giving me an encouraging smile as he left the room. That left Adam and I alone.
"Look Adam," I started, figuring a good offense would be my best defense, but he cut me off quickly.
"I don't know what to be angrier about," he snapped in a voice like a whip. "The fact that you just ran off without even telling me where you were going or what you doing, the fact that you needlessly risked your life yet again with no thought of anyone else, or the fact that you come waltzing back in here with a kid in tow - a kid that I am told you've already invited to live here."
I took an involuntary step back as Adam's anger washed over me, but then my own anger rose up at his unfair accusations. "First off, I didn't know I had to ask you for permission," I snapped back. "I was working and I didn't have time to run around asking if it was ok for me to go play with my friends. I felt it was urgent that I get to Razi quickly. I was acting on instinct and I turned out to be right. By the time the police got around to acting, assuming they ever even got that far, Razi's informants would have tipped him off and he would have run. And maybe even killed Tad. And considering that I solved a crime, caught a killer, and quite possibly saved a kid's life, I wouldn't exactly call that needlessly risking my life.
"As for Tad, I have not invited him to live here; I told him he could stay with me until he figured out what to do. I thought you were the kind of person who would be willing to help a kid in need. His dad abused him, he was living on the streets before Razi, a homicidal prostitute, took him in, and made him his sex-slave, and with Razi arrested, he had nowhere to go but back to the streets. I thought we could be some sort of support for him since he's never had any his entire life."
"We don't even know him."
"You didn't know me either when you took me in."
"That was different."
"How? Because I knew Seth? Why should Tad suffer just because he didn't have the privilege of knowing Seth? He needs help, Adam."
"You can't just drag home every stray you come across, Killian."
My breath caught in my throat and my eyes stung with the tears I was determined to hold back.
"Is that what I was?" I asked, my voice shakily with anger and hurt. "A stray?"
"Killian, no!" Adam said, all anger melting from his expression to be replaced with concern and remorse.
"Why did you take me in, Adam? Was it out of pity? Or maybe it was it just because you were so grief stricken from Seth's death. Is that it? Was I just a replacement for Seth?"
It was Adam's turn to gasp. "Killian!"
"I'm sorry I drug home another stray. And I'm sorry this stray has stuck around for so long, burdening you and ruining your life. You won't have to worry about either of us from now on." I turned sharply on my heel, but before I'd taken two steps, Adam caught me by the wrist.
"Killian, stop. Listen to me. That was a horrible thing I said and I didn't mean it. I was just so worried about you when you left the hospital without a word. I've been frantic ever since. I reacted badly when I saw you, all my fear and worry turned to anger and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, so, so sorry."
I refused to look at him, keeping my back purposefully to him.
"You're not a stray. You were never a stray. You want to know why I took you in? Because I looked at you and saw a broken, scared little boy and my heart broke. You're right; I barely knew you. In that sense, maybe I did take you in out of pity but I very quickly grew to love you. You were never a replacement for Seth. Never. Not then, and not now. You've always been Killian. I love you as if you were my very own son and I've never once regretted asking you to live with me. You've never been a burden and you've only enriched my life."
I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I burst into harsh, ragged sobs as I turned to him and his arms circled me in the comforting hug I'd come to take for granted.
"Doesn't Tad deserve to have that too?" I sobbed into his chest.
"Of course he does. Absolutely. I just don't know if I'm the person to give it to him."
"It could have been me," I cried.
"What?"
"It could have been me on the street, if you hadn't been there to take me in. I feel like I owe it to him to be there for him like you were there for me. I can't just turn my back on him, I can't."
Adam squeezed me tight and was quiet for a moment. "I won't ask you to," he said quietly.
I pulled away, swallowing mid-sob. "What?" I asked, wiping my eyes and sniffling.
"I won't ask you to act against your conscience."
"You'll let him stay here?"
"Temporarily at least."
"Oh, Adam!"
He held up a hand. "I'm not promising anything, Killian. I haven't even met him yet. All I'm saying is that he can stay here while we look at his options."
"You'll help him do that too? Figure out what his options are?"
"Yes, I'll do what I can to help him, within reason."
I ignored the provisos and threw myself into Adam's arms for a hug. He held me tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Killian," he whispered into my hair. "I can't believe I said that."
"I'm sorry I left without telling you where I was going. You were right. I didn't even think about how worried you might be, all I could think about was getting to Razi."
"That's what makes you a good investigator," he said. He held me out at arms length and grinned at me, taking in my tear-streaked face. "You're a mess. Go wash up and then we'll tell Tad the good news."
\*
"You know, I still don't know if I buy this whole ghost thing," Tad said to me. We were standing in the cellar at the B&B, waiting for the contractor Steve had hired to start work on reopening the bricked up doorway I'd seen Amalie pass through just a few weeks before.
Several weeks had passed since Razi's arrest; it was just a few days before Thanksgiving. A lot had happened in that time. Razi had been charged with the murders of Paul Flynn, Fenton Black, and both bodyguards, plus the attempted murder of Micah and me. Tad's involvement had been kept quiet or he'd be facing numerous sexual abuse charges as well. Charges were still pending on the murder of the politician from a few years ago.
All charges against Jake had been dropped on the condition that he immediately enter a drug treatment facility for rehab. Jake had agreed unequivocally. He knew he needed help and he was ready to accept it. I'd been spending as much time as possible with him and our friendship was slowly mending. I'd vowed to be a better friend this time around.
Micah was the new media darling on the Shore. He'd broken the corruption story and it had turned out to have a bigger ending than even he'd imagined. There were still arrests going on. Some of the wetlands were already lost to development but much of it had been saved in time.
Perhaps the biggest surprise had come the week before when we were all at the beach house watching a movie on TV. The movie ended and the news came on. We were all talking and not really paying attention when I thought I recognized someone on the screen.
"Who's that?" I'd asked, snapping to attention.
"Who's who?" Micah had asked.
"Shh!" I shushed him turning up the volume on the TV set.
"After the events of the last few weeks, many of us thought we'd seen it all," the newscaster was saying, "but the latest arrest in the Wetlands Conspiracy has shocked even the most hardened among us."
"A new arrest?" Micah said sitting up.
"Shh!" I hissed again.
"The corruption surrounding the illegal sale and development of protected wetlands has reached all the way to the top," the anchor continued. They flashed a picture of a man I didn't recognize. "State Senator Tom Day was indicted today on charges of conspiracy to commit murder, along with several other less serious charges. Police allege that Senator Day conspired with murdered businessman Fenton Black to kill Henry Gartland, a local environmentalist who'd been protesting the development of the wetlands."
"Who did you see?" Adam asked me.
"Shh!" Micah and I sibilated together.
"Day was indicated early on in the official investigation, but police lacked sufficient evidence to charge him."
"I didn't know that," Micah grumbled under his breath, low enough not to warrant another hushing.
"That needed evidence came from an unlikely source." The picture changed to the one that had caught my attention in the first place. It was the bird-lady, the woman from Novak's mystery case. "Day's own wife hired a private investigator to look into her husband's business dealings. Justine Sterner spoke with the PI earlier this evening."
The flashed to a close-up of an attractive young woman with close-cropped dark hair and huge doe eyes. The reporter stared into the camera for a second before she began speaking. "I'm Justine Sterner and I'm here with local private investigator Shane Novak." My mouth fell open as they camera panned out to show Novak standing stiffly at her side. "Mr. Novak helped police obtain the evidence they needed to bring charges against Senator Day. Mr. Novak, you were hired by Mrs. Day, were you not?"
"Yes, I was," he said simply. Adam chuckled at his terse reply.
"Do you know why Mrs. Day hired you to investigate her own husband?"
"Yes, I do, but wouldn't that be something you'd be better off asking her?"
The young reporter looked a little flustered, but she forged bravely onward. "What can you tell us about your investigation?"
"Very little. I'm afraid that's police business now and they'll have to decide what they want to be public knowledge.
"Is there anything you can tell us about the charges that have been brought against Senator Day?"
"Well, they're very serious charges. If they stick, I would imagine he'll be locked up for a good long time. I'd say Tom Day's political days are over."
"How is Mrs. Day holding up through all this?"
"She's been a trooper."
The reporter waited a moment, and when it became obvious that was all Novak had to say, she turned back to the camera and sent it back to the newsroom. The poor girl looked like a deer caught in headlights. If I hadn't been so shocked over seeing Novak on the news I probably would have been laughing. As it was, Adam was laughing hard enough for both of us.
Later, I found out from Novak that the poor woman had overheard her husband on the phone while he was planning the murder of the environmentalist. She'd gone to Novak because she didn't have any proof other than what she'd heard, or thought she'd heard. She had been afraid for her own life, terrified he'd somehow find out and have her killed as well. That had been the reason for all the cloak and dagger secrecy.
Things with Tad were moving slowly. Adam had taken to him as quickly as I'd thought he would and Steve had liked him from the first. Even Kane got along great with him. But there was still something very reserved about him. I guess it was too soon to expect him to have relaxed completely with us. I was still the person he seemed most comfortable with and I made an effort to spend some amount of time with him every day. Adam had been talking to Ilana about his situation and she's made some overtures to his father, but so far, he's not responded. There's still a very unsettled feel about the whole situation, too much undecided for anyone to feel comfortable enough to commit themselves entirely.
I looked over at him now as he watched the workman changing the blade on a masonry saw. I'd become so fond of him in the last couple weeks. He reminded me a lot of myself just a few years earlier. I didn't know what would happen to him, but I found myself feeling very protective of him. I was trying not to get too attached in case he had to leave, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
He looked over at me expectantly.
"What?" I asked, defensively. I felt guilty, as if he'd heard my thoughts.
He grinned at me. "I said, I'm still not sure if I buy this whole ghost thing," he said with exaggerated patience.
I stuck my tongue out at him. "That because you haven't seen her."
"Are you sure you hadn't been hitting the bottle a little too hard that night?"
"Boys," Adam said with mock weariness, "do we have to go through this again?"
Tad and I had been arguing Amalie's existence since he'd first learned of her a few days after he'd arrived. Steve had announced his plans to tear down the wall and hopefully put her to rest. Amalie had been uncharacteristically quiet, leaving the question in the realm of debate. Now that we were moving towards opening the wall, she seemed to have settled down to wait, or at least that's how my overactive imagination had pictured it.
Before I could respond to Adam, the contractor spoke up. "Ok folks, we're getting ready to get to business here, you might want to step back and watch your eyes. You really should all be wearing safety goggles but I didn't know I was gonna have an audience."
"Just tell us if we're in the way, Bob," Steve said as our small group, made up of Steve, Adam, Judy, Micah, Kane, Tad, and I, obediently moved to the farthest wall away from where he was going to be cutting.
Bob shrugged. "Hey, it's your house. You're not in my way." He started the saw and slowly eased it into the wall. The sharp blade cut through the brick with surprisingly little difficulty. We watched in silence while he cut around the outline of the old doorway. The loud roar of the saw would have drowned out any attempt at conversation, but those of us gathered in the basement suddenly found ourselves so tense that no one would have spoken even if we could have. When he'd finished cutting and the cloud of brick dust settled, he picked up a sledgehammer and swung it up behind him.
"Wait!" I blurted out suddenly; panic squeezing my lungs tight as the heavy hammer started its downswing.
The sledgehammer shuddered to a halt in midair as everyone spun around to look at me.
"What?" Bob asked.
"You...you can't do it like that." Odd, disjointed images were shifting across my vision, confusing me. At first, I thought the lights were flickering, but I quickly realized that it was the small room that was flickering - between the current scene and a much darker version, lit only by a single candle in a sconce on the wall. The darker room was empty except for a few wooden barrels against one wall. Where the bricked-up doorway was in the current room, stood floor-to-ceiling shelves made from rough wooden planks. The shelves were filled with glass jars of canned fruits and vegetables.
Just as suddenly as the strange flickering sensation began, it stopped, leaving me blinking owlishly at the concerned faces looking back at me.
"Killian, are you ok?" Micah asked.
"Did you see something?" Judy asked.
I nodded.
"What did you see?" she asked intensely.
"What does she mean?" I heard Tad ask nervously.
"The room was changing; I think I saw how it used to be. And...I don't know; I just had this feeling..." I turned to look at Bob, who was staring at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Is there some other way to open the wall?" I asked.
"Not really. If I had someone on the other side they could push it out, but since I don't, it's gotta go that way."
"Can you be gentle?"
"Gentle? It's a sledgehammer and bricks - how gentle can you be?"
"Can you just try?" Steve asked politely.
Bob shook his head as he turned back the wall. He changed his grip on the hammer and began to use the end like a battering ram. The first few bricks tumbled down on the other side with the dull thud of brick hitting bare earth. I'm sure it took a longer to do it this way, but the panicky feeling didn't return. It wasn't too long before he had an opening big enough to see through. He shifted one of the lights he'd brought along so that it shined through the hole and stopped suddenly. He leaned in and peered intensely into the inky blackness beyond the opening.
"Do you see something?" Steve asked excitedly.
"Amalie," I muttered under my breath.
Bob jerked away from the wall. "There's a skeleton in there," he said shakily. He looked over at me. "Did you know that was in there?"
"Not before now," I answered, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.
Judy wandered closer to the hole as Steve turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "Is it who I think it is?" he asked.
"It's Amalie," Judy answered with certainty, her voice sounding eerily hollow as she spoke into the aperture.
"What happened? How'd she get in there?" Adam asked in confusion.
Judy turned to me. "Killian?"
I shook my head.
"If we want to know what happened, only you can tell us."
"I...I can't."
"What's going on?" Tad asked with fear in his voice.
"That's what I want to know," Bob said, sounding a little angry now. "If you knew there was a body behind this wall, you should have told me up-front. I would've never agreed to do this."
"Bob," Steve said, "why don't you go ahead and leave. I'll pay you for the time we agreed on."
"You don't have to tell me twice. This is all too weird for me." He grabbed up his saw and a few odd pieces of equipment then paused. "I'll get the rest of my stuff later," he said and made his exit.
"Can we widen the hole enough to get through," Judy asked.
"I'll do it," Micah said quickly. He picked up the sledge hammer and began to carefully knock away more bricks.
"I think I'll go upstairs," Tad declared.
"If I'm not needed here I'll go too," Adam said. No one protested as the two of them climbed the stairs, leaving just four of us in the cellar - five it you counted Amalie. I shiver went up my spine at that thought. All this time she'd been entombed behind that wall instead of the marked grave in the backyard. How had that happened?
"You have to go in there," Judy said.
"I'm scared," I admitted hoarsely.
"It's never hurt you before, has it?" she asked, maddeningly logical.
"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.
"One of Killian's Gifts is his ability to see the past, especially in cases like this, where something very tragic has taken place and it's left a strong emotional imprint."
Steve looked at me with wonder in his eyes. "It's only happened once or twice," I protested weakly. "It might not even happen now."
"Oh, I think it will," Judy insisted. "You have a strong connection to Amalie. This is what she's wanted all along. She wants us to know what happened."
"We thought it was just the baby," Steve said almost to himself. "But there was more, that's why she didn't go away after we buried the baby next to her grave. She wasn't even there. She was here the whole time." He looked up. "But how? What happened?"
"Killian?" Judy urged.
Micah stepped back and dropped the hammer, wiping sweat from his brow. "I think it's big enough now."
I took a deep breath. In my heart, I knew all this arguing was in vain. If I was honest with myself, I knew I wanted to know what had happened all those years ago as much as anyone. Maybe I even needed to know. I took a tentative step towards the enlarged opening. Micah stepped forward to help me.
"I'll be right here, Kill," he whispered. I stepped up to the hole and took my first look at what lay beyond. The light from the lamp showed what looked like the beginning of a tunnel. It extended perhaps ten feet from the wall before it ended in a pile of rubble. The walls looked to be packed earth, shored up with rough hewn timber. About halfway between the collapsed roof and the wall lay a pathetic heap of bones, all that was left of Amalie. I took another deep breath, and climbed over the broken bricks.
\*
The world shifted as my feet touched the ground. Immediately, I knew on some deep level that I was no longer in my own body. I remained aware of myself while at the same time I was fully aware of the feelings and emotions of my new body - Amalie's body. This was a much more intense experience than the time in Paul's apartment. I wasn't just feeling Amalie's emotions; I was in Amalie's body. Terror coursed through me as she/I stumbled forward. I felt a sense of movement behind me and twisted around, crouching down as I did. Pain shot through my side as I moved and I knew somehow that I'd been punched there. There was someone in the doorway, which now stood clear. It was a man, but it was so dark I couldn't make out his features. Again, I somehow knew that this man was Amalie's husband, Captain Marnien.
"You're nothing but a common whore," he snarled. He moved again and candlelight turned his face into a horrifying mask of rage and hatred. Even distorted by the dim lighting, the part of me that remained me recognized him as the man from my long ago vision, the one that had been rushing into the house from the boat.
A rush of foreign memories flooded into my consciousness. I was standing in the cupola and it was night outside the windows. I was cradling a crying infant in my arms. I'd come up here because for some reason, it usually calmed the baby, but not tonight. I was so distracted with my son that I didn't hear the footsteps until they were upon me. I spun around, my heart in my throat.
"Captain," I gasped. He wasn't supposed to be here. I'd been told he was lost at sea. He couldn't be here...but there he stood, water dripping from his graying hair and a look of astonishment on his face as he stared at the babe in my arms. A sense of dread washed over me. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to calculate the months in his head. It wouldn't take him long to realize that the baby I held couldn't be his. I began to speak quickly as his face slowly changed, losing all expression.
"I thought you were dead," I said, pleadingly. "They told me you'd been lost at sea, that your ship was assumed to have gone down in a storm. I mourned you. Look, I'm still wearing black."
"You obviously didn't mourn me for long," he growled, the first words he'd spoken since he appeared.
"I...it's not..."
"Turn to another man for comfort did you? Even if I had been dead, I wouldn't have even been cold in my grave before you took another man to bed."
"Where were you? If you were alive, why didn't you send word to me?"
"Does it matter now?" He took the remained stairs in one huge step. I backed quickly away but he moved menacingly forward. "Let's see the bastard. Does it take after its daddy?"
I pulled the blankets protectively over the baby's face, his cries had settled into a mere whimper. "Please no," I begged. "None of this is the child's fault."
"No, this is all your fault. You, my faithless wife." He spat the last two words, but then his voice chilled. "The child will go."
"No! Please! We can raise him as your own."
"You think I'll have some other man's child raised under my roof?" he bellowed. "You'll have me thought a fool?"
"No one else even knows, except the servants."
"Servants talk. The child goes."
"Then I'll go as well," I shouted defiantly.
His hand shot out so quickly I didn't have time to even try to get out of his way. His fist drove into my side, throwing me back against the windows behind me. My head hit one of the panes of glass, shattering it outward. Cold wind whipped into the room, as I struggled to maintain my grip on the baby, now crying again.
"You're not going anywhere," he said in a frighteningly calm voice. A sudden terror gripped my heart and instinct took over. I had to protect my baby; I had to get away. I dove past him, a move so unexpected that he barely had time to react. I made for the narrow stairs as he lunged after me. His large hand struck my shoulder as I took the first step and I felt myself veer out of control. I stumbled down several steps, crashing into the wall before I caught my balance and started running down the stairs. But he was still right behind me. Suddenly, I was shoved violently from behind. For a few seconds, I felt as if I was suspended in mid-air, but then I was falling, falling into the inky blackness of the stairwell.
\*
For the briefest moment, I was myself again. I was crouching in the dirt of the dank passage, staring blankly at the partially opened doorway. Micah peered anxiously in at me, Judy visible just over his shoulder.
"Killian, are you ok?" Micah asked.
Then they were gone.
\*
I sat up with a start and looked wildly about. I was in the cellar, lying on the dirt floor. The room was lit only by a single candle. I hurt in so many places, but especially my side. The scene in the cupola came back to me in a flash. My baby! Where was my baby?
I spotted the little body lying a few feet away in an undignified heap, still and silent - much too still. I crawled frantically towards him, ignoring my pain, already sobbing, knowing the worst. The baby was dead, his tiny body already growing cold. How long had I been unconscious? Could I have saved him if I'd been awake? A grief like I'd never known before took over me and for some unknown amount of time, I simply held my baby to my chest and rocked back and forth, weeping so deeply I didn't make a sound.
Eventually, I stopped crying. I knew I had to bury him. My husband, the Captain, wouldn't afford him that much dignity. I removed my mourning shawl and wrapped my son carefully in it, laying him tenderly aside. I quickly began to dig into the hard-packed earth floor. I didn't know how long I had, how long the Captain would leave me down here. I dug and dug with only my bare hands until my nails bled and fingers ached with the cold, and still I dug. Finally, I had a hole large enough to bury the little body. It was so small.
I once again began to cry silent tears as I lifted the little bundle and laid him in the hole as gently as possible. I stared down at him for a moment, looking at his beautiful face. I could almost imagine that he was only asleep. He looked so peaceful. I couldn't bring myself to cover him with the dirt, but I knew I had no choice. I fumbled with the brooch at my neck; it had been a wedding present from my parents. Finally, the clasp gave way to my numb fingers and it dropped into my palm. I laid it lovingly on my son's chest. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then quickly swept the small pile of dirt over him, covering him before it was too late.
I cried while I smoothed the dirt over his grave, my tears mixing with the earth to form mud. When I had hidden the evidence of my digging to my satisfaction, I curled up in a ball over the spot and wept bitterly.
I was still crying when I heard the Captain speaking at the top of the stairs. I suddenly hated him with a depth of emotion of which I hadn't known I was capable. I wanted him to suffer the way he'd caused me to suffer. I lurched to my feet and began to look madly around the room for something to use as a weapon. I had never been down here before; the Captain had always said it was no place for the lady of the house. It didn't take long to realize that there was nothing here except a few wooden barrels against one wall and shelves well-stocked with the canned food the women had put up in the fall. A ham hung from the rafters in one corner.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and the Captain descended with ominous purpose. I pressed myself against the far wall. He stood staring at me, his eyes filled with hate and disgust. Neither of us spoke for what felt like an eternity. Then he unexpectedly swung around and grasped the edge of the shelves containing the canned food. Even in my grief-stricken, shocked state, I was surprised to see the shelves slowly swing away from the brick wall to reveal a dark doorway.
The Captain turned back to me, a dark grin on his face. "It's a tunnel," he said simply. "It comes out near the dock. I had it built for business purposes, but if you want to leave so badly, go ahead."
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he actually going to let me go? It seemed to good to be true.
"Go!" he shouted. "Get out and never come back!"
I threw myself away from the wall and dashed towards the door. He pushed me as I passed him and I stumbled into the darkness. I stopped dead when I saw that the passage only went a few feet before stopping in a heap of rubble. A cold laugh came from behind me.
I twisted around, crouching down into a feral position of defense as I did. "You're nothing but a common whore," he snarled. He moved again and candlelight turned his face into a horrifying mask of rage and hatred. "You think I would allow you to leave me? You'll never leave this house. Never! You'll die here like the dog you are, bitch."
He started to close the camouflaged door. Belatedly, I realized that he meant to lock me in the collapsed tunnel, leaving me to die. I threw myself at the door but it was too late. It closed with a sickening thud, shutting out all light. I began to scream and claw at the door, pushing against it with all my weight, but to no avail. I pounded against the wood, screaming for mercy, but my only answer was an unfeeling chuckle and then silence. The utter darkness slowly began to close in around me, until I couldn't breath. I crumpled to the floor, dragging myself away from the door until I collapsed completely to the ground where I began to will myself to die.
\*
"Killian!" a voice shouted.
I opened my eyes and saw light. I wasn't locked in the tunnel, left to die. I moved my hand and realized that I was once again back in my own body. I was lying on my back on the dirt floor of the tunnel.
"Killian, are you ok?" Micah called again. When I didn't answer, he began to scramble through the opening, which while plenty large enough for me, was almost too small for him.
I turned my head slowly to one side and found myself staring into the empty eye sockets of Amalie's skull. One bony arm was stretched out in my direction, almost as if she was reaching for me. I reached out a hand and rested it gingerly on hers.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered.
\*
A couple weeks later, I stood next to Amalie's grave watching my breath puff out into the cold air. The small funeral we'd held as she'd been properly buried had been over for some time now, but I couldn't bring myself to go inside just yet. My visions, my out of body experience, whatever you want to call them, had affected me deeply. I'd been quiet and withdrawn ever since it had happened, leaving my family quite concerned. Experiencing the horribly traumatic events of Amalie's last night had left me very troubled.
I looked over at the angel statue. It was somewhat comforting to think the angel was here to watch over Amalie at last. I thought it ironic that it was Amalie herself who'd had it placed here, in memory of the Captain who she had thought lost at sea. I'd always thought the statue looked so sad with her eyes shut as if in silent prayer. It felt very appropriate at this moment.
"You're going to have to let it go, you know," a voice said from behind me, causing me to jump. I turned to find Judy leaning against a tree watching me with a concerned expression.
"It's not so easy," I said softly.
"No, I don't imagine it is." She walked slowly to my side. "It's the past, Killian. It all happened well over a hundred years ago. There's nothing that can be done to change it now. We've done what we could, and I have to believe it's what Amalie wanted, that she can rest in peace at last."
"I know in my head that it all happened a long time ago, but feeling it, living it the way I did...it's hard to convince my heart that it's ancient history. It hurts just as much as if I'd lost a close friend...again."
She took my hand. "I'm sorry, dear heart. I know so little about this sort of Gift. I wish I could have prepared you better for what happened. I had no idea it would be such a powerful experience. We need to get you trained as quickly as possible. I've talked to Dashel; he'll be coming back in a few weeks."
"Dash?"
"This is closer to his Gift than mine and he's been learning from a shaman. He'll be able to do more for you than I ever could."
"What if I don't want to do anything like that again?"
She shrugged. "Then you still need to understand your Gift so you can control it instead of it controlling you. If you'd been a little better trained, maybe it wouldn't have taken over you so completely." She looked into my eyes. "You have a powerful Gift, Killian. We're still learning just how powerful. It's not something you want to leave unchecked."
I nodded. I knew she was right.
Judy slipped her arm around my waist. "Come on. Let's go inside with everyone else."
"I'll be there in a minute," I said.
"Okay, but don't stay too long." She kissed me softly on the cheek and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.
I stood for another minute and then turned to leave. I'd only taken a few steps before I felt a presence behind me. I turned slowly around to find Amalie standing in the shade of the trees. I felt the hair stand up on my arms but I wasn't afraid. Amalie was an old friend now. She smiled at me, the first time I'd ever seen her smile. She raised her hand and then slowly faded from my view. A sense of peace flowed through me and I knew everything was ok.
"Rest well, Amalie," I whispered and then I returned to the house and to the living, leaving the dead and the past behind me, where they belonged.

