A Long Way Home

The Long Way Home

WARNING This e-Book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your e-Books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

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Z.A. Maxfield

The Long Way Home

Z.A. Maxfield

Aspen Mountain Press 3

The Long Way Home The Long Way Home Copyright © Z.A. Maxfield This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental. Aspen Mountain Press PO Box 473543 Aurora CO 80047-3543 www.AspenMountainPress.com First published by Aspen Mountain Press, November 2008 www.AspenMountainPress.com

This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. ISBN: 978-1-60168-162-1 Published in the United States of America Editor: Pat Sager Cover artist: Amanda Kelsey

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Dedication This book is for my children. How lucky I am! I get to borrow you, for this little while, from your future. Thank you. May God bless each of you always.

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Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following: Apple, Mac/ Apple Inc. Audi/ Audi AG Bonanza Baileys® Irish Cream/ R. A. Bailey and Co. BMW/ Bayerische Motoren Werke/ Bavarian Motor Works AG Barbie®/ Mattel, Inc. Corona®/ Grupo Modelo S.A.B de C.V. Disneyland/ Disneyland® Resort Ford Mustang/ Ford Motor Company Frank’s® RedHot®/ Frank’s® RedHot® Google/ Google™ Honey Baked Ham Jack Daniels / Brown-Foreman Corporation Joe’s Crab Shack Mercedes/ Mercedes-Benz/ Daimler AG McGruff/ McGruff the Crime Dog® Swiss Army Knives/ Victorinox Swiss Army, Inc. Tabasco®/ McIlhenny Company Van’s®/ Van’s Shoes

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Chapter One It was always an adventure driving the icy Wyoming roads in winter. Kevin tapped the steering wheel nervously in time to the song on the radio. Great. His truck moved slowly, but resolutely, east on the I-90 toward town. Normally, he liked to watch the wisps of fog easing over the mounds of piled up snow, creeping onto the road like ghosts. He enjoyed the pure dead eeriness of it when he had to drive cold nights like these. Back when he was on the job in Seattle it was never this cold. Now Kevin wished he were at home, asleep. He heard the whining yips from the back seat of his crew cab truck and silently cursed. James Wexler, his vet, met him at the door of his home office and took his baby from him. “So, Asia, are you giving this good man grey hairs?” James said gently to the old dog “She’s been having seizures,” said Kevin, tonelessly. He stroked her sweet grey muzzle. “I think… I’m not sure but…” he trailed off. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” Dr. Wexler took Asia past his waiting room and into one of the exam rooms. Asia cried out when he put her down, folding the blanket around her like a soft cocoon. “So Asia, what have you been up to lately?” Wexler made small talk with his patients, as he always did, while taking different vital statistics and checking her out. “Are you thirsty?” he asked her, as though expecting her to answer, “ or hungry?” “She hasn’t been eating much lately, Doc,” said Kevin. “I wondered about that. I was going to call the office on Monday… It’s just that when I came in from the garage 7

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this evening, she was shaking, like she was having a seizure, and since then, she hasn’t been right. Sorry to call you on a Saturday night like this.” “Of course you called, Asia’s special. Aren’t you Asia? Have a seat, Kevin.” He motioned Kevin to one of the two chairs in the cramped room and carefully picked Asia up. He sat in the opposite chair, holding Asia in his lap. “Kevin.” He spoke gently as if he were talking to one of the animals. “I think it’s pretty clear Asia’s had a stroke.” “Oh.” Kevin couldn’t think what that might mean. “I see.” “I’m thinking it’s possible that her brain and parts of her body have been affected. In a younger dog, stroke can be overcome, but I don’t think she’ll be able to drink water, for example, or eat. She can’t seem to walk.

I notice that the arthritis in her hips is

much worse this year, too. Even if I press on her joints lightly, it seems to cause her pain.” “Did I…” Kevin swallowed hard, “have I left it too long? Have I let her suffer because I didn’t want to let her go?” “No, Kev.”

Wexler sighed.

“I’m sure that her quality of life was wonderful.

Knowing you, you’ve even been carrying her around, right?”

Kevin looked

embarrassed, and Doctor Wexler smiled. “But now we have to decide if she can have that quality of life anymore. I suspect if you take her home she’ll starve herself to death.” “Shit.” Kevin blinked. Dr. Wexler nodded. “She’s old, Kevin, she’s twelve. That’s really a long life for a Lab.” Kevin rubbed his hand over the light golden stubble on his chin. “Can I be with her, you know, when you do it?” “Yeah,” said Dr. Wexler. “I’ll bet she’d like that.” Dr. Wexler left Kevin alone to say his goodbyes to Asia, the dog who had been virtually his only companion for years. Some time later Kevin stood by the exam table still stroking the soft grey muzzle of

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his beloved dog. “Kevin,” Dr. Wexler said, “she’s gone.” “I know… I know that.” Kevin didn’t turn. Dr. Wexler handed him a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, you know. I never get used to that,” Wexler said quietly. “You can stay the night, Kev, I’ll respect your privacy,” he touched the other man’s jaw, brushing the too-long blonde hair behind his ear, “or not. It’s up to you. If you want to stay, I’ll put a little Bailey’s in that.” “I think that might be nice.” Kevin tried to remember how long he and Dr. Wexler had been friends with benefits. “I could use the warmth.” Dr. Wexler left to get the bottle of Bailey’s he kept around for coffee drinks. **** The next morning, Kevin was putting his tee shirt over his head when Dr. Wexler, now James, away from his official capacity as Asia’s veterinarian, brought him coffee and a bagel with some kind of cream cheese spread. “Here, breakfast, such as it is. I had hoped to serve it in bed but I see we’re playing hit and run today.” Kevin smiled and ran a hand over James’ kind face. “Not really, I was cold.” He took the bagel and got back on the bed. “We did the right thing, right?” “Yeah,” whispered James, “I swear to you it was her time.” “It just sucks so much. She trusted me, you know?” “I know,” soothed James. “I know.” He sat with his back to the headboard, and picked up a newspaper to read, while Kevin rested with his head across James’ thighs. He stroked Kevin’s blonde hair. “Why do you suppose,” said Kevin, thinking aloud, “that it’s never happened between us.” “You mean, like the coup de foudre?” “What the hell is that?” Kevin knew full well what it was but refused to admit it. “It refers to falling in love romantically in an epic way,” said James. “My mom uses it when she writes her smut novels.”

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“Seriously.” “Really, it’s supposed to be a big deal. Send me a postcard if it ever happens to you,” he teased. “Right back at you.” Kevin stayed just like that for a while, enjoying the feel of hands in his hair. “You know, I’m really grateful for our friendship though, right? I feel lucky as hell to know you.” “That’s only because I make good coffee.” James said absently, finding something interesting in the paper. “Hey, look at this…” but Kevin preempted him by untying the sash to his bathrobe and placing a cold hand on him. “That’s funny.” James put the paper aside. “He never has a second cup at home.” **** Kevin hated the drive back from James Wexler’s office and dreaded the moment when he’d have to enter his home alone. He put his car in the garage and closed the door, crunching in the snow across the path to get to the front entrance. He stood for a long time, the cold burning his ears and his nose, till he put the icy metal key in the lock and walked inside. Looking at the homely living room with its rustic furniture and brick fireplace, Kevin wasn’t sure, to tell the truth, if the look was actually rustic, or if it was just old. As he walked, he casually picked up something here or there that belonged to his lab, Asia. He stacked the toys on the coffee table, and folded the blankets and put them by the front door. He picked up her dog bed, which he had recently been complaining smelled like dog, and breathed in the earthy scent, knowing that it would be in tomorrow’s trash. Eventually, he collected enough things to warrant pulling out a laundry basket to carry them in. He shoved everything into an empty box on the floor of the garage and sealed it. Leaving it there, he returned to the house feeling like an empty box himself. In the kitchen, Kevin stood and glanced around as if seeing it for the first time. He made a plain ham and cheese omelet, foregoing the usual culinary self-gratification of

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fresh herbs and flourishes of kosher salt and cracked black pepper. He slid it onto a plate, and grabbed a six-pack of beer to go with it. It was Sunday, a football day, the day his dog died, and nothing was going to keep him from sleeping on the couch until it was just the hell over. The phone rang, and at first he thought it was ringing in his dream. He rolled off the couch and stumbled to his feet, smacking his knee on the coffee table on the way to pick it up. He answered just as the machine got it. “Hello,” he said, fumbling with the buttons and rubbing his knee, hopping on one foot, “don’t hang up, I’m here.” He finally found the one that turned off the machine, and said, “Quinn.” There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line. “Kevin? Is that you?” asked a familiar voice. “It’s Carl.” “Yes,” said Kevin. “I told you to forget this number.” “I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me, after everything that happened in Colorado. I was damned sorry, and I tried to make sure…” “Save it. It’s Sunday, so make what you have to say brief.” “I see. Well, you’re needed.” “I’ve hung up the going-out-of-business sign at ‘Intuitives R Us’. Say anything you want to say before I hang up.” “Geez,” said Carl. “Did I or did I not give you respect. It wasn’t me that ambushed you, Kevin. It wasn’t me that leaked it to the press. I’m in a different department in a different city, and I swear, it will not be the same. It’s home Kevin.” “What is it?” He asked, hating himself for it, but knowing he couldn’t sit around listening for toenails clicking across the linoleum that weren’t there anymore. “Boys, Kevin,” said Carl. “Somebody’s taking boys. No evidence, no trace, no ransom demands, and no bodies ever show up.

It’s like the rapture happened, and

we’re all left behind.” “Well, we both knew that was going to happen.” “Speak for yourself,” Carl replied. “Please Kevin. We have nothing. They’re being 11

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taken at the rate of about one a month, but last month, there were two.” “Escalating?” “Or copycat. But I don’t think so.” “Fax me.” “What the hell did you just say to me?” shouted Carl through the phone. “I said, FAX me,” said Kevin. “Everything you can, all the particulars, agency and press.” “I misheard,” said Carl, quietly. “You bet you did. It’s cold here, but not that cold.” “Same number?” “Yeah, give me time to set it up. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was out.” “Okay, call me when you’ve read it.” “One thing,” Kevin said. “It goes without saying that I’m a ghost. Nobody sees me; nobody knows I’m there. No press calling me names like outside psychic consultant. It makes me feel like that Brit who talks to dogs. Don’t screw that up or I’ll never, ever speak to you again.” “Even though I’m married to your sister?” “Especially because you’re married to my sister.” “Geez, all right, just look at the Fax, Kev,” said Carl. “Then call me.” Kevin hung up the phone. “You don’t get to call me Kev,” he said peevishly. Why was Carl calling him today of all days? It was only a week till Christmas. It’s not like he was planning to celebrate with anyone, but to start a case just before Christmas? That was like pissing on the goodwill toward men part of the holiday. Turning the sound back up on the game, Kevin went to plug in his fax machine. He loaded it with paper, and tried not to wait for it to hum to life. After about a half an hour, it started to spew pages and pages of information.

Kevin was completely

captivated by the picture of the first boy taken, back in July. He looked at what was probably a school photo, and felt that gnawing ache he always felt for the parents of these missing kids. 12

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It was hopeless to refuse. As soon as he saw one innocent face he knew he would be hopelessly involved in the case until he was successful or kicked to the curb. Both had happened. He dialed the phone. “Lubbock.” Carl, answered the phone. “Get me a ticket, I’m in. Damn it,” Kevin told him. “Merry Christmas, to you as well. I’ll fax a reservation confirmation, and get you a room or something. I’ll assume you don’t want to be part of the festivities at the Quinn household at Christmas?” “Not a chance.” The idea of seeing his father was unbearable. “A room is fine, cheap is good.” “Okay,” said Lubbock. “But I think Himself regrets…” “Not a chance. That’s a deal-breaker. Do you understand?” “Yes,” said Carl, “I’ll be seeing you.” “Bye,” said Kevin. Kevin collected some things from the laundry and got out a pilot case and a carryon. They were dusty with disuse. It had been a long time since he’d ventured away from his home. Except for that disastrous trip to Colorado he had hardly traveled at all. Kevin emailed his latest manuscript to James’ mother, Ana Wexler, to edit and pass on to her publisher, glad that as far as he could tell James was none the wiser. He dreaded the day that James realized it was he, not James’ mother who wrote all those lurid romance novels.

He didn’t think James would let him live it down, even if he

knew that’s how Kevin had been able to pay all those veterinary bills. Pride wasn’t tasty and a man had to eat. Kevin was muttering words like ‘idiot’ and ‘stupid waste of time’ to himself even as he dragged his pilot case out of the airport shuttle. His plane would be making two stops before it even reached John Wayne International, Orange County, California’s only commercial airport. Someone would no doubt be waiting to pick him up, like always, to drive him around and generally babysit. The most fun part of the whole affair, usually,

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was trying to figure out what the poor bastard had done to deserve such a fate. **** Connor Dougal waited patiently for the flight from Cheyenne to land. Apparently, there was a delay during a stopover in Denver, so his charge would be a little late. So far he was running two hours behind. Despite the massive crowds at the airport, despite the intermittent rain, despite the fact that he’d spent fifteen dollars to buy a book he neither needed nor wanted just to have something to read, Connor maintained a dignified and determined amiability. It was just that pleasant personality, he would bet, that landed him this sucky assignment. Sure, he’d raided strip clubs, run down gang-bangers, and been puked on by scared kids and drunk drivers.

He’d even put on the Officer McGruff dog suit and talked to

elementary school kids about crime.

But today, hallelujah, having just gotten his

detective shield, he got the suckiest assignment of them all. Today, he would begin chauffeuring a psychic. As the passengers from Frontier flight 5018 from Cheyenne to Santa Ana arrived to meander around the luggage carousel, Connor began to study them to see which one was his nut job. He’d seen photos but they were grainy newspaper pictures and Kevin Quinn had always worn a baseball hat and sunglasses. Like he was hiding something... Among the people getting off there were three men fitting his description. They were blond, about six feet two inches tall, probably weighed under 200. If Quinn had muscles it could be more than that. In the pictures he seemed to be on the thin side with hair slightly longer than average. His eyes were reported by Lubbock to be blue, the same color as Lubbock’s wife. Dougal knew Lubbock’s wife well and her eyes were an unmistakable Irish violet blue. Quinn was twenty-nine years old, still young. As far as Dougal could tell he had done exactly nothing in law enforcement recently except for that crazy tabloid disaster in Denver. After that, he was completely off the radar. Why Lubbock insisted on calling 14

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him at this point, Dougal didn’t know. Dougal knew when he finally spotted Quinn, not by his looks per se, but his bearing. He had heard from Lubbock that Quinn had been in a terrible car wreck that blinded him in one eye and left him a little awkward. “Quinn?” he asked the man, reaching to take his carry-on. “I’m Dougal.” “Thanks, Dougal, I got it,” said Quinn, slinging the bag over his shoulder and wheeling his pilot case. Dougal looked at Quinn, who had a laptop case slung over his shoulder in addition to the two bags. “Have you been catching up on the case?” “Yeah,” said Quinn. “Grim.” “I was kind of expecting you to know who I am,” said Dougal. Some psychic, he’d practically had to hold up a sign with the guy’s name on it. “This is an airport. There are other plain-clothed cops here.” Quinn looked around. “Don’t I get a demonstration?” Quinn’s eyes narrowed as they looked him over. “Sure, let’s see, you’re a skeptic, you wear nerdy clothes, probably drive a boring car, and read novels by… Ana Wexler.” Quinn read the name off the book Dougal carried under his arm. “How am I doing so far?” Dougal smiled with an equanimity he no longer felt. “What can you tell me about what you don’t see.” Quinn walked past him with a kind of disinterested contempt. “I can tell you that whatever I can’t see interests me not at all,” he said, effectively ending the conversation. Dougal led him to his Chevrolet Malibu, which he opened remotely, allowing Quinn to put his gear in the back seat. He waited patiently for Quinn to settle into the front seat and fasten his seat belt. “I guess you know where to go, cause I don’t,” Quinn said as Dougal pulled out of the parking garage into the gridlocked stop and go traffic leading out of the airport. “Yes, I do.” Dougal, wished to heaven he’d never wanted to be a police officer in the first place.

“Lubbock told me the Prime Directive is to keep you unofficial, and

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therefore, no money was requisitioned for a hotel room. He decided you’re to stay at my place for the time being. I have a two bedroom and I live alone.” He cringed, waiting for a tirade that never came. “Did you say Prime Directive? Are you a Trekkie, Dougal?” Quinn seemed amused. “My new roommate’s a Trekkie. We’ll have to have some kind of signal if you bring home any beautiful alien girls, like a towel on the door or something.” Dougal looked at the man sitting next to him. Towel on the door. Hadn’t he done just that in college? That was a little unnerving. “That’s a parlor trick, Trekkie, pay it no mind. We all put something on the door, you seem like a towel man. I went to a private Catholic boy’s school back east, and we used our ties.” Dougal stomped hard on the brakes at a yellow light. He hadn’t been paying too much attention, and now, he’d just caught up. This man was trying to unnerve him, and was doing a pretty good job of it. “What do I do when I want to bring a boy home?” Quinn was daring him to lose control again. Great. Some sort of test. “Make sure he’s legal and glove up, I guess,” replied Dougal with more confidence than he actually felt. “It’s not in the statutes anymore, I don’t think.” “Well thank you,” Quinn said lazily. “We’ll get along just fine.” Dougal doubted it, really; he doubted it very much.

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Chapter Two

After Dougal showed Quinn the guest room, which had its own bath. He laid down some ground rules about smoking and loud music. Quinn looked tired from his flight, which was good, because Dougal wanted him to fall asleep. A sleeping Quinn was someone he wouldn’t have to deal with until morning. Dougal offered him the use of the kitchen and anything he could find there. “I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll get up early for breakfast,” Kevin told him, pulling a tee shirt and some drawstring pants out of his case. “I’m going for a run.” Dougal started toward his room. “I run along the Back Bay every night. You’re welcome to come too, if you want.” “I can’t run, Trekkie,” said Quinn. “Maybe tomorrow or the next day I’ll find a beach cruiser bike. Something fun and easy to ride. I’d like to get out into the fresh air. I hate to waste this warm weather.” Dougal turned, a question in his eyes. “It’s raining.” “What’s your point?” Dougal shook his head. “Never mind.” He went into his bedroom to change. When Dougal came out in his sweats, Quinn was already walking to the kitchen with his toothbrush in his hand. “Can I get a glass?” “Cupboard right next to the fridge,” said Dougal, stretching. Quinn disappeared back into his room. “Live long and prosper,” he called over his shoulder. 17

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“Back at you,” said Dougal. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Dougal began his run as soon as he got out of his apartment building under rain that was now only coming down in a spitting mist. He ran along Eastbluff Drive, down to the Back Bay, and then along the peaceful water for a couple of miles. He ran back up to Jamboree Road, and circled around to his apartment building, pleasantly exhausted. When he arrived home it was dark and quiet. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He was covered in rain and sweat, still breathing a little erratically. It had been a relaxing run and he’d needed it. He didn’t hear any movement in the guest room. Good. Maybe Quinn was asleep. In the quiet darkness of his living room he let himself remove his carefully constructed amiable personality and looked out the window at the fairly phenomenal view. The Back Bay was spread out before him, the über upscale houses winking and twinkling in their Christmas finery like Disneyland on the hills opposite. This view didn’t come with a cop’s salary.

This view was strictly trust fund money.

Consequently, he never brought his coworkers here. Connor turned from the window intending to take a shower and go to bed. He spotted the book he purchased at the airport, and grabbed it. He would read a little of it to get to sleep. It wasn’t bad, really, a story about some rogue FBI guy and the woman he’s breaking every law to protect. It seemed to him like the procedural issues were authentic. But well, frankly, the story was crap. Still, it was engaging and contained some pretty steamy sex.

He’d had to put it down at the airport to keep from

embarrassing himself. Wexler, he read the jacket, not great, but not the worst. **** Kevin came awake suddenly. Some chaos of thought teased at his consciousness, and he’d gone from a deep and empty sleep to the kind of alertness that had his whole body tense. Someone, he thought, was having a nightmare; the kind where you tap into

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a reservoir of pain and it doesn’t go away when you wake up. Shit. This was what he hated about apartment living. Kevin sat up and brushed his hands over the stubble on his chin. He was trying to decide whether to open up to the images when they became more insistent. Dougal. It had to be Dougal. He got up silently and padded to the door, opening it and stepping out to the other man’s bedroom door, opposite his. He touched it lightly with the tips of his fingers and felt chaos shimmering off of it like electricity. Bingo. The question was, always, what should he do? Dougal wouldn’t thank him for invading his head. A man was entitled to privacy in his dreams, at least, but ever since he’d gotten his gift, the insistence of other people’s dreams had been his constant companion. Gift, right, the gift that keeps on taking. His curiosity aroused, Kevin opened himself up, only a fraction, and the images flashed into his mind. Kevin tried to let them simply flicker past. Dougal, asleep as he was now, was a perfectly transparent window.

Dreams could mean anything or

nothing. He’d never judged a man by his dreams and he hoped he would never be judged for his own. Water. Boat. Friends. Kevin thought that those were probably memories. Sailing…yeah…Dougal was boating; he saw the words Yacht Club on a big concrete sign. Boys sailed in separate boats, and there were some images of a large boat with a crew, working and learning together. Privileged, suntanned boys sailing away their summers in a Yacht Club. No wonder he had this impossible apartment on a cop’s salary. One boy found his way prominently into the forefront of all the images. Tall and thin, he had rich black hair and brown, brooding eyes. When he laughed it was with his dark head thrown back and eyes that crinkled and changed the whole aspect of his face. He was painfully young. Dougal loved him. Well, shit. The dream changed then to darkness, in which Dougal tried to find his friend, but couldn’t. He was frantic with the pain and loss, and something more. Something 19

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sinister. Kevin sighed. Sometimes when people dreamed they told themselves things they didn’t tell themselves when they were conscious. There was more to Dougal’s loss than even he realized on the surface. Dougal was terrified by something, yet at the same time unwilling to accept it. Dougal was dreaming of dark water now, rising high over the deck of a large sailboat in a storm. His friend was touching him intimately, holding him, and then, suddenly, he was swept overboard by a powerful wave that carried him away and sucked him under. Kevin waited and felt the exact moment when Dougal woke up. Dougal was silent, but Kevin knew he’d be sweating, gasping for air. Damn. He ran a hand through his hair and made his way to the kitchen to explore the cupboards for anything he could eat quickly and quietly. He didn’t want to alert his host to the fact that he was awake, but wondered as he raided the fridge and found string cheese and a beer if Dougal had that dream often. He crept back to his room and sat cross-legged on his bed by the light of his laptop. He knew what to look for, and when he found it he wasn’t surprised at all. After a few different Google searches he hit pay dirt when he tried ‘missing persons and Newport Harbor Yacht Club’. Kevin read for a while and grew more interested by the minute. This isn’t your case, he reminded himself. He was here for Carl and his missing boys. Turning off his laptop, he plugged it in to be charged.

He lay back with his arms

folded under his head, trying not to think about the dark boy in Dougal’s dreams. He remembered Dougal’s amiable smile and wondered what it cost him to keep up the façade day in and day out. He’d be willing to bet that dream was a visitor Dougal entertained far more than he liked. Kevin heard Dougal stretch in the living room and then leave to run at five a.m. He was certainly dedicated. A few minutes later he got up to make some coffee and breakfast, if there was anything to cook. Neither he nor Dougal had a good night, and breakfast would go a long way toward making it go away. 20

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Good food built bridges. “What the hell?” Dougal asked as soon as he walked through the door. That was unexpected. “I thought I’d make breakfast, I hope you don’t mind, you said to use the kitchen…” Suddenly, and without warning, Kevin felt out of his depth. “I see.” Dougal stretched his hamstrings a little while he was cooling down. He looked uncertain. “You surprised me, is all. Sure, it’s fine. Thanks, I guess.” Kevin sat down at the table. Dougal followed, taking his own chair. “I used whatever I found, if you want I’ll replace it. I can go shopping later.” “No, it’s great, really, thank you. I don’t think anyone’s ever cooked me breakfast here,” he said. “I have to go shopping later anyway.” “I’ll be happy to help in any way I can,” Kevin told him as he looked at Dougal with new eyes. Dougal ran night and day, and when he slept he was chased by nightmares. “You must be terribly inconvenienced having me here.” “Not really. I don’t spend much time here. I usually just come home to jog and sleep.” “I see.” “What do you see,” said Dougal, in a voice lightly seasoned with sarcasm. “Mr. Psychic Man.” Kevin didn’t take the bait. “I see that if I’m going to be here for very long we need a much bigger coffee maker.” He picked up his plate and rinsed it in the sink before he put it in the dishwasher. “Let me know when it’s time to go anywhere. I assume you have a list of things to show me.” “Yeah, I’ll shower, be ready to head out at seven, okay?”

Dougal seemed

disappointed that he didn’t get a rise out of him. “Seven it is then,” said Kevin, entering his room. He leaned against the door when he closed it behind him. He didn’t ask for this, and he didn’t want it. It was time to go hunting with his mind, looking for lost children and the freaks and perverts who take them, and he was frankly revolted by the very idea. He dressed carefully, making sure to be unremarkable in anyway, and was ready to leave with Dougal at seven on the dot.

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The two men wordlessly left the apartment and rode the elevator down to the parking garage. “Today,” said Dougal finally breaking the silence. “We’re going to look into Troy Lattimer, the first missing boy, who was taken in July.” Kevin steeled himself and got into the car, putting on his sunglasses like a shield. “Ready when you are, Trekkie,” he told Dougal. It was a bald-faced lie. He would never, ever be ready when it came to things like this.

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Chapter Three

“I gotta tell you, Skippy,” said Dougal after three hours of ambling around the suburban elementary school in Newport Beach from which Troy Lattimer went missing, “there just has to be something better I could be doing with my time.” “Patience is a virtue,” said Kevin idly, watching the families come and go to drop off kindergarteners, who apparently only went half days. “Maybe if you just told me how you work, I could at least understand.” “Can’t do that.” Dougal snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s ‘need to know’. I could steal your psychic secrets and blow off this whole trust fund thing I’ve got going and make off with your clients.” Kevin laughed at the man. “I’ll bet that anger never gets out at work.” “I don’t get angry often, no.” Dougal said in a small voice. “You probably should, it feels great. I’m the original angry man. I try to explode at least once a day.” “You don’t seem like that kind of person.” “I’m not easily baited if that’s what you mean. It’s going to take a bigger fish than you to lure me into a fight, Trekkie.”

An area of the playground with a baseball

diamond and backstop preoccupied Kevin. “Still, can’t you explain this thing to me?” Dougal asked. “If I understood it better, I could be more patient with… the process.” 23

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“I see.” Kevin was thoughtful. “I’ll tell you but I don’t think it will help.” He shifted his body on the grass so he could look directly at Dougal. “Take off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes,” Dougal said, “It’s easier to talk that way.” Kevin did as he was asked, shading his eyes with his hand. “I was a cop in Seattle, but I had a terrible car accident off duty that put an end to that.

It was the kind of

accident we see all the time, yeah? Jaws of life, blood everywhere. I was in a coma, and I literally died, but they were able to get me back. When I came back I was different. I don’t know.” “Are you kidding me?” said Dougal laughing. “Like the television show right? Crap, I thought at least I’d be able to buy into part of it.” “I don’t care if you buy it or not,” said Kevin. “That’s how it happened. And I am shitting you not; a day doesn’t go by when I do not wish it hadn’t.” “Okay, I’m sorry, so then what,” Dougal asked. “You started solving all the unsolved crimes?” “Not exactly,” he didn’t like to remember what happened then. “Let’s just say I had difficulty adjusting. Stop and think, Trekkie, there are hundreds, thousands of people everywhere around us. They’re all thinking, dreaming, wondering. If you could hear even a fraction of that, and you couldn’t turn it off, you’d go crazy, right?” “What am I thinking now?” asked Dougal. “I don’t work like that. I can’t invade people. I’m not some mind reader. What I can tell you is that while you don’t believe a word I’m saying, you’re scared it’s true. Worried that I do know what you’re thinking. It makes you nervous; maybe the palms of your hands get clammy. You don’t believe me at all, and yet,” he said quietly. “If I grabbed your hand and said, ‘I see dead people’ you’d piss yourself.” Dougal looked away. “All that tells me is that I don’t want to look at you across a poker table.” “Yeah,” chuckled Kevin, “I’ve always been able to read people. Good cops can, and I was good. But I’m telling you this is more than that. Most of the time it only happens

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when I touch stuff. I can’t explain it. I don’t want it. I don’t know how to use it at all. But I promise you something. I know that you want it to be real, and I’ll prove to you that it is before we’re through, okay?” “You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown,” said Dougal, looking closely for the first time. “Hey,” he frowned. “Noticed, did you?” Kevin chuckled.

“The left eye sustained an injury in the

accident. I still have the eye, but it’s sightless, and the pupil looks blown. The other one still works. Creepy, huh?” “Lubbock said your eyes were the same color as his wife’s,” said Dougal, staring. “They are.” “There’s a good reason for that. Stephanie is my sister.” “I see,” said Dougal. “It’s all in the family. I’ve gotta ask, Quinn, am I being punk’d?” Kevin got up. “Not unless we all are,” he said. “I’m done here. Did Carl send you anything for me to look at?” “Yeah,” said Dougal. “It’s in the car. Some pictures of the family, and some personal items.” “I hate this, Trekkie,” said Kevin. “I wonder if you know how far I’d go to never have to do it again if I weren’t such a coward.” Once in the car, the conversation became strained. “Hey, do you mind if we look those things over after lunch?” said Dougal finally. “I’m hungry.” Kevin looked out the window. “Sure. I’m not hungry yet; I’ll just have some tea.” “Fine.” Connor said. They pulled to a stop near a rustic landmark restaurant on the Balboa Peninsula. Dougal was feeding quarters in the parking meter while Kevin drank in the familiar sights and smells. “Something the matter?” Dougal asked him. “No,” said Kevin, “I haven’t been here in a long time is all.” “You’ve been here before?” asked Dougal.

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“I grew up here, Trekkie, but I’ve been gone a long time.” “You like this place?” Dougal gestured toward The Crab Cooker. “I love it, I can’t go a week without the clam chowder.” “Manhattan clam chowder is anathema to some people, you better not say that too loud.” “I know. I’ve heard it all. Give me the spicy red over the gummy white potato stuff any day. It’s like eating library paste.” “I agree. I had my first bowl of chowder here with my dad when I was about… four.” “Well, let’s celebrate then, I’m buying. At last, we have something in common.” Kevin was smiling as they were seated almost immediately in the front dining room next to the huge charcoal grills where men cooked racks of shrimp, fish, and scallops. Dougal ordered a cup of chowder and some skewers of shrimp and scallops with rice on the side. Kevin ordered iced tea. “Are you kidding? That’s it, tea?” “Look. I’m sorry, I can’t really eat before I…It’s hard to do what I do if I’ve eaten,” said Kevin. “I’ll probably go nuts later wishing I ate. Maybe I’ll take home a couple of quarts of chowder. Do you think we could go to your place and drop it off in the fridge?” “Yeah,” said Connor. “Sure. Lubbock wants you to go over the stuff he gave me anyway. What do you do exactly, feel it with your hands?” “Sort of,” said Quinn, feeling some devil possess him. “I mean, it’s not an exact science, is it? I find that when I touch stuff, I have to… no, you’ll think it’s crazy.” “No, really what do you have to do? I want to know.” Dougal leaned forward in his chair. “Well, first off, I have to have complete quiet, you know?” Kevin smiled. “It has to be absolutely silent. And there can be no obtrusive odors.” “Odors?” “Yeah, you know, like aftershave or garlic or fish. Especially not fish.” He sighed.

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“Oh, I guess this isn’t the best place to have lunch, is it,” said Dougal, looking around. “Well, you can’t be expected to know about that on the first day, can you?” asked Quinn. “Anyway, I like it to be dark, or maybe lit by a candle. I know it’s cliché, but we are what we are, and I find my more instinctive sensibilities are stimulated by fire. But under no circumstances can it be a scented candle.” “Okay, no scented candles.” Dougal still looked interested. “Of course not, it goes without saying, doesn’t it? Ah, here’s your food.” Kevin asked the waitress to add some soup to their bill and accepted his tea with a smile. “Finally, and this is one of the reasons I’ve been reluctant to share my gift, I need to be naked and well—frankly—stroking myself.” “You’re shitting me,” said Dougal, taking some scallops off his skewer and dipping them in tartar sauce. He looked up at Kevin as he popped them in his mouth. He didn’t even chew before he was talking, his mouth full of the juicy grilled bits of shellfish. “How the hell does being naked and stroking yourself help?” Dougal was so caught up in the story that he waved off the shocked gasps of the couple at the table adjacent to theirs. Inwardly, Kevin rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess it has to do with those self-same instincts and sensibilities I spoke of before. I think man is innately animal. We’d all lie around licking our balls all day like dogs if we could reach, right? Sure. I believe that if men had more flexible backs, or perhaps shorter torsos, we would have no civilization to speak of, but we’d all be completely in touch with the ‘other’. I think stroking myself naked just helps me get in touch with the ‘other’, you know?” He was leaning on his hand, looking up at Dougal innocently. Dougal spooned up some clam chowder, nearly missing his mouth. “Ah, the other.” “Of course.” Kevin took a sip of his tea, “For the record, you had me until we were all licking our balls all day,” he looked at his food in disgust. “And that was about three minutes longer than it should have taken.”

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“For the record,” Kevin told him, “You should probably never play poker with anyone.” Kevin slipped the soup into Dougal’s refrigerator. He knew the man wasn’t very happy with him, but Dougal thought he was a not-so-clever-fraud anyway so why should he care?

He braced himself mentally for the task ahead.

He didn’t know

whether it would be better to have Dougal around or not. Kevin was at war with himself.

On the one hand, he felt being alone would be the least painful and

embarrassing way to go about this. On the other, he understood a little of Dougal’s frustration after inadvertently listening in on his dream. The man lost someone precious to him, and maybe he wanted to believe. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that out. Dougal was spreading a number of photographs out on his glass cocktail table. He had a small box with him, things marked as evidence: a hairbrush, a purple baseball cap, and a soft well used catcher’s mitt. Things one usually found abandoned on the way into a family home where kids dropped them. Things a parent got angry about but which became unbearably poignant when a child disappears. Kevin leaned against the counter in the kitchen, willing himself to find the courage to enter that room. He sipped slowly at a bottle of water, using relaxation-breathing techniques to calm his racing heart. “So,” Dougal called from the living room. “Do you want to go over this with me or by yourself? I would ask that you don’t waste my time further with nonsense.” He colored high on his cheeks. “I’m sorry about that, it was pretty…low,” murmured Kevin. “I really don’t know how it works. Psychometry is supposed to be the ability to touch things and learn about people or events. I don’t know if I can do that.” “Forgive me for saying this, but why are you here?” “Really?” Kevin asked. “My dog died last Saturday, and I didn’t want to be alone.” “Geez.” Dougal raked his fingers through his hair. “You’re a basket case.” “Wow, I guess I’m not the only psychic here!” Kevin inched his way into the living 28

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room. Still sipping his water, he sat on the arm of the couch where Dougal was sitting. Dougal had removed his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves. It looked like a typical day at the office to Kevin. He looked at the photos of the first victim. They were the standard photographs of childhood. There were some pictures from school, Little League, and family vacations. He picked up one of a large extended family group at some event or other. The boy stood in front of his folks smiling. The Little League pictures were good, but he could have choked up on the bat a little. Kevin went through each of the pictures, studying them, looking at each face. The names of the subjects were written carefully on the backs. There were many photos, and he took his time with each. Finally, he noticed Dougal sighing, and knew that his patience was wearing thin. “What,” he snapped, after the third time Dougal looked at his watch. “How long is this going to take? I should call Lubbock and tell him what progress we made during the day before he goes home for the night.” “I’d like to be able to tell you that it takes exactly three point six hours for me to find a killer, but it doesn’t work that way,” said Kevin. “I’m trying to remember the names of these people in case I see something, so I’ll know who I’m seeing.” “If you see something.” “Yeah, if. I never said when. Try to remember that you called me. I didn’t insert myself in this case for my own personal gratification.” “Let’s be very clear,” said Dougal. “I didn’t call you. I thought it was a dumb-ass idea from the start. You are either a fraud or an attention-seeking moron. I’m here because they pay my salary whether I’m doing something constructive or not, and I’d like to keep my job.” “Well, don’t mince words, tell me how you really feel,” snapped Kevin. “Okay, I will. I want you to open that damned box, and do that voodoo that you do so well so I can go jogging and you can go back to Wyoming and get yourself another damn dog,” Dougal threw his hands in the air. “Hell, nothing is worth this.” “Okay,” said Kevin, “let’s do this thing.” His hands trembled as he watched Dougal open the box. Inside, he saw some items, bagged as evidence and tagged with dates and 29

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information where they were found. They wouldn’t necessarily be useful in solving the case. They were mainly used for gathering DNA samples for identification purposes. “The hat,” said Kevin. He gingerly reached out to it. To his utter relief, nothing happened. He blew out the breath he’d been holding and felt… nothing. He sat silently grateful, knowing the hat didn’t belong to the boy, although how he knew that he couldn’t say. “That’s a girl’s hat. I don’t understand.” He looked at Dougal and the answer became clear. “Ah. A little test?” Dougal had the grace to blush. “Don’t tell Lubbock. It’s a friend’s hat from her softball team.” “I see,” Kevin gave it back to him to bag up. He wondered if anything in that box was the kid’s. He’d be over-the-moon if all these things belonged to happy, welladjusted children who were home with their mothers doing homework right then. “Okay, what’s next?” “Here, try the brush,” said Dougal. He unzipped the bag and handed it to him. Kevin took it, folding his hands over it. He didn’t feel much of anything. Something was teasing him, but just out of reach. A kind of sentimental feeling, like Sunday mornings, when you’re going to church with your folks because that’s just what you do. “I don’t know,” said Kevin thoughtfully. “I… just don’t know.” “Well.” Dougal unwrapped the catcher’s mitt. It was the last item; time to get it right or go home. “Here,” he said. “Try this.” Kevin took the glove in both his hands and immediately felt a burning, slamming impact as though he were tased. He reeled with shock over the unexpected sensation, drawing in a deep lungful of air and trying to steady himself. He felt his stomach roil, felt the bile rise in his throat. Kevin tried to contain it, to breathe through it, but in the end it got the better of him and he heaved. He yanked the empty box up to the level of his chin and vomited into it. He ran to the bathroom in the guest room, still carrying the box, retching into it and making an awful unearthly noise from his throat as his stomach tried to eject food that was not there.

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Dougal went after him. He chased him into the guest bath, wetting a cloth and placing it on the back of Quinn’s neck, patting him gently. After what seemed like ages of dry heaving, Quinn looked up, wiping his mouth. Tears blurred the vision in his good eye and streamed down his face. Damn, he hated that helpless feeling. He panted, gathering his strength.

He used the toilet to help himself to his feet and brushed

Dougal’s hands away. Dougal left him alone to rinse his mouth and clean himself up. **** Connor had to give credit where credit was due, that was a pretty amazing performance. He shook his head. Too bad for Quinn it was wasted on him. After a few minutes, Quinn returned. “Sorry,” he muttered, a garbage bag in his hand tied off. “I’ll get rid of this… “ “What the hell was that?” said Connor. Quinn looked at the bag. “Puke.” “Not the bag, dumb-ass, the…episode.” “Oh,” said Quinn, who seemed transparent. Deflated. “I don’t know.” “Crap,” said Connor. “What about the kid.” “Oh, he’s dead,” said Quinn, “Quite, quite dead.”

He continued to the door,

carrying the garbage bag with him. He said nothing, just walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Connor followed him. Quinn was talking like a moron, and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if he couldn’t find his way back. He found Quinn holding the bag and looking at the closed dumpster as if he’d never seen one before. “Here,” said Dougal gently. He lifted the lid, and Quinn tossed the bag inside. Quinn followed Connor back to the apartment like a subdued child. Connor helped him sit and got him a blanket. It was crisp out, not cold, but it was almost Christmas. Dougal had him lie down and elevate his feet, while he sat on the coffee table trying to understand what happened. Quinn closed his eyes as Connor reached out and brushed

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the hair back off his face. “Nice,” said Quinn, who seemed to be drifting. “Sorry, Trekkie, Troy’s in the dark water.” Connor’s hand froze. “What did you just say?” “Troy Lassiter’s in the dark water,” Kevin said as he opened his eyes. “With Andrew.” “Shit.” whispered Dougal, his hand still frozen in Quinn’s hair. “Holy shit.”

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Chapter Four

It was dusk before Connor felt he could leave his guest sleeping on the couch and go for a run. He’d been astonished by the afternoon’s events, and concerned for Quinn’s sanity. Quinn had been lying there mumbling like ‘Rain Man’ until he finally drifted off into a deep sleep. What was that all about? Was it even possible he could have done that as an act? Connor didn’t know what to believe. Nothing in his experience had ever prepared him for this, and it should have. It really should have. Andrew. The one name that Connor never, ever expected to come off Quinn’s lips. Connor didn’t doubt he was talking about his Andrew.

Andrew and dark water.

Connor had never told anyone, even his girlfriends who’d seen his nightmares first hand, about his frightening dreams. He deliberately slowed himself down. At the rate he was running he would be out of energy before he made it back. He had to pace himself. Connor began running at a leisurely clip again, trying not to think that possibly Quinn was the real deal. That was impossible. There was no real deal. Andrew’s parents had discovered that, hadn’t they? They’d believed time and again in fakes and con artists who gave them just enough information to keep them coming back for more. Information that anyone with a little time on their hands and good instincts could have come up with on their own. Like his connection to Andrew. Get a grip, Connor told himself. Quinn even said he did parlor tricks. He could have found out about Andrew any number of different ways. He might even be a little intuitive, but psychic? Connor didn’t buy it. 33

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Quinn seemed to really believe it. Connor would bet on that. He wished he didn’t have to babysit the sorry SOB but at this point he didn’t hold it against him. The sun had gone down and the early evening blanket of fog was oozing in when Connor jogged through the parking lot of the grocery store on Eastbluff Drive. He definitely needed to buy something stronger than beer if today was any indication of what his life would be like from now on. Honestly, he didn’t think his heart could take the strain. **** Kevin woke up on the couch in Dougal’s living room in the dark. He threw a hand over his eyes.

Unfortunately, he remembered every second of his experience, and

wondered why the psychics on television got to come out of their trances oblivious. Puking, he thought, and muttering. That was impressive. You never forget a man who puked into a box the first time you had a good, long chat with him. Kevin rolled off the couch, his stomach gnawing at him. He hadn’t eaten all day, anticipating his reaction to the items in that box. Say what you will, his body was predictable, and nobody liked puking up spicy red clam chowder. The kitchen light switch was on the wall and Kevin flipped it, the sudden brightness blinding him for a moment.

He’d had a headache when Dougal left, the kind of

headache that makes you sorry to be alive, but once he slept for a few minutes it went away. He rummaged in the fridge with the idea of making a salad to go with the soup he brought home. Now he could eat it with no fear of losing it later. He wondered if Dougal had Tabasco, or Frank’s Red Hot or something, he really liked to add it to his chowder like his dad taught him to do. When Dougal returned, Kevin was waiting for him. He handed Kevin the bottle he’d purchased and told him, “Let me just wash up.” It took ten minutes before Dougal returned with pajama bottoms and a police academy tee shirt on, still wiping his hair with a small towel. Kevin found he couldn’t

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quite meet Dougal’s eyes, and yet he watched him closely. Dougal took his napkin and put it on his lap, just as if he weren’t having dinner with a man he thought had just had a shocking psychotic episode. “This is really nice, thanks,” Dougal said. “I would have bought some fresh bread if I’d known.” Kevin set out little bags of oyster crackers and a large salad with assorted vegetables on it. “You a chef now or something? Now that you’re not on the job?” “No, I just like to cook,” said Kevin. “Or maybe I like to eat. I went from here to Seattle, which are both foodie towns, to Wyoming. Which is not so much, if you ask me. Besides, I live nowhere and I mean absolutely nowhere, and it’s a long drive to the nearest town.” He thought of the last time he’d made that trip. Absurdly, he wished he could see James Wexler’s face right then. “Thank you, it’s really nice,” said Dougal, looking down at his plate. “You went to all that trouble.” “It’s just a salad, Dougal. Listen,” Kevin said. “Don’t you have about a million questions for me right now?” “Yes,” said Dougal. “And no. I don’t know what to think.” “You still don’t believe me,” said Kevin flatly. “I believe that you believe. I think you really experience something. I just don’t believe in psychic stuff. I’ve been down that road before, man. It’s just for losers and people with money to burn.” “That’s a little harsh. I don’t ask for money. I’ve never taken a dime from anyone, ever.” “Maybe not, but there are a hell of a lot of people out there who do. Maybe they just want attention. They’re lonely, or bored, or hope they have some kind of mind power because they don’t have any other kind. But mostly, Quinn, it’s been my experience that no matter how much they lead people on and suck them dry, not only are more suckers waiting in the wings but there are more frauds out there in line to screw them over.” “Well, shit,” said Kevin sitting back in his chair as though Dougal struck him. You’ve got to call me Kevin. I’m probably the only person in the world you talk to like

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that.” “How the hell would you begin to know that?” Dougal asked. “At the least we’ve established that I’m observant, have we not? Do you ever drop your mask around your co-workers? I’m betting no. I’m betting they all see you as a lovable rookie type, who's playing goofy computer games at night and tries his best and smiles contagiously all the time and goes to Star Trek conventions. I’m betting your girlfriends see that too, and you only date the ones who won’t say out loud that they like a dangerous man. I’m betting they think you’re a nice guy and a gentleman, and someone they could take to church with their mamas.” “I am a nice guy and a gentleman, Quinn,” said Dougal. “Sure you are. Then you spend a couple of hours a day running off your less than civilized anger and frustration, so you can get up and be a nice guy and a gentleman the next day. And I thought I told you to call me Kevin.” Dougal threw down his napkin. “This is so not happening. Whatever you think you observe about me, you don’t know me. Don’t think you can see into my head. I don’t know how you know about Andrew but that’s got nothing to do with you, damn it! And as for my less than civilized instincts and frustrations, you can just forget it. This town’s full of queers. Find someone else, Kevin, that door’s closed forever.” “Hold on, Trekkie.” Kevin leaned over the table, genuinely distressed, shaking his head. “That wasn’t any kind of innuendo, Dougal. Really.” “I see,” said Dougal. “What I meant to say was I think you keep anxiety, anger, and emotional stuff, bottled up, and it’s hard for you. That’s all.” That was all, wasn’t it? “Oh,” Dougal said in a small voice. Kevin tried again. “I get that bottling up thing. With me it’s all about acting in control and shit, when the truth is I haven’t had any control over my brain or my body since the accident. I guess I thought…I mean once you puke in a box in front of a guy the magic’s gone, right? No need to pretend.” Dougal said nothing. 36

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“I thought maybe we could both drop our guard. It would be nice, I think.” He toyed with the last oyster cracker in his soup, and then added more Tabasco. “Maybe you’re right. Kevin,” said Dougal carefully. “Call me Connor.” Kevin looked up and smiled. “I got really creative and made dessert. Hold on. I’m pretty proud of this.” He cleared the dishes off the table and took them into the kitchen, rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher. As he maneuvered around the small, galley-style space he made use of the microwave and spent some time rummaging around the freezer. When he came out of the kitchen he brought coffee first, in cups with saucers like at a restaurant. “How do you take it?” he asked, going back into the kitchen for the rest. “Black,” said Connor. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” “I know. I like it. It takes my mind off things I don’t want to think about.” Kevin returned from the kitchen with two dessert plates. “Voilá.” Connor looked at his plate. “What is it?’ “I found bananas and brown sugar, and you had eggs and flour and milk.

I

thought…bananas foster crepes. I used a tablespoon of your rum.” “I had rum?” “Yeah. A little, in a small bottle sitting on the top shelf.” Kevin felt a little guilty. “You said I could make myself at home in there.” “It’s fine.” Connor, tasted it and closed his eyes. “Really, really fine. I am hereby granting you my kitchen as your fiefdom. You may use it as long as you like, it’s a boon, in return for this fabulous banana…whatever.” Kevin snorted. “I was right on the money with the RPG thing, wasn’t I, Connor?” “Shut up, Kevin,” Connor replied, “I’m eating here.” Long after midnight, Quinn lay on his back in bed, his hands crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room. He was completely unable to sleep, probably because of his intense catnap earlier, and forced himself to replay the images he’d glimpsed when he held the mitt in his hands. That was definitely the worst

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sensation ever. He’d never felt anything quite as powerful, or as nauseating, as that. He allowed his conscious mind to skitter around but learned nothing. He saw dark water and something else, long fingers of something, brushing and trailing and dragging. He saw the catcher’s mitt clearly, the boy and the mitt were connected in some indefinable way, not merely by ownership, but by longing, as if the boy were thinking of the mitt when…. Kevin couldn’t go any further. Tears leaked from his eyes and down into his ears and the hair on the back of his neck. Time for a drink. Kevin got up and made his way to the door of his room. As soon as he walked out into the hall he knew Connor was having another dream.

Shit.

This time, the dream was more vivid, more violent.

Connor wasn’t dreaming of the simpler times and sweet boy he’d known. When Kevin touched the door of Connor’s room he saw the dark water, swirling and rising, enveloping, engulfing, and swallowing boats and buildings and people. Andrew was bobbing in that, like a cork, being swept away by unseen currents; dragged under as if by unseen hands. As he sank, upright under water, down and down, Kevin was not surprised to see something—trailing fingers—dragging and sweeping by him. Suddenly, Andrew’s eyes snapped open and Kevin heard Connor scream. Kevin could tell that Connor had not dreamed that before; that it shocked and sickened him. He moved toward the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and took down that brand new bottle of bourbon. He wondered if Connor bought it because of his crazy behavior that afternoon. He poured a generous amount into two old-fashioned glasses and waited. Sure enough, Connor burst out of his bedroom door moments later looking dazed. Wordlessly, Kevin handed him the drink. “Do you take ice?” Kevin asked, but Connor downed the drink in seconds, handing it back to him.

Kevin raised his

eyebrows. “Hit me again,” said Connor, “I guess you heard the scream.” “Yeah,” said Kevin, pouring. “I was already on my way out here, I couldn’t sleep. Do you want to talk about it?” 38

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“Oh, hell no,” said Connor. “I don’t want to even think about it.” Kevin looked at him for a long time, standing silently as they drank. Connor was a little shorter than he was which had the effect of making him look up at Quinn from under impossibly long eyelashes. He’d kept enough distance between them to keep from noticing that, but now, in the quiet of the kitchen, he found himself looking over the other man’s features. Connor had rich brown hair, and the planes of his face were chiseled and pleasing. He had full lips, and licked them nervously. “What are you thinking?” Connor's voice was slightly louder than it would have been, Kevin knew, if he hadn’t been drinking. The hearing was always the first thing to go. “I’m thinking I’m glad you got booze, Trekkie,” Kevin answered. “I couldn’t sleep, probably because I had a little nap, and it was driving me nuts.” He sipped his drink, leaving the kitchen and Connor, to sit on the living room couch. He took the television control and turned it on, automatically searching for CNN. Connor followed him, sitting heavily a little distance away. “Guess you heard me scream.” Kevin didn’t think he remembered saying it the first time. What a lightweight. “Yeah.

What did you dream about?” he asked again, figuring a more direct

question might get him an answer. “Andrew,” Connor seemed surprised to hear the name on his own lips. It sounded little used and rusty to Kevin. “My friend, Andrew.” “I see,” said Kevin neutrally. He didn’t know if he wanted to be here talking about this with a Connor who was, in Yacht Club parlance, ‘three sheets to the wind’. “He disappeared like our boys, Kevin. The case was never solved, the…body was never found. I guess it’s bringing up bad memories.” His hoarse voice broke. “I guess it would,” Kevin said. “Why’d you say dark water?

Why’d you say Troy was in dark water, like

Andrew?” “I don’t know why I said it.” Kevin was unwilling at this point to let the other man 39

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know he could see his dreams. “Oh. I thought maybe you saw something off that mitt.” Connor was beginning to slur his words. “No.” Kevin sat quietly. He liked the companionship in the middle of the night, but knew it could easily get more complicated than he’d want it to be for a lot of different reasons. “Kevin, in high school, did you have a particular friend?” Oh, here it comes, thought Kevin. The first question on the road to, “You knew I was straight when we did it, didn’t you?” “Look, I’m a little tired, I think….” he looked at Connor’s face, finding it almost hopeful, and blanched. “Dude, I’m going to bed, see you, thanks for the booze.” “Oh.” Connor sounded sleepy and maybe disappointed. “Good night, Kevin. “Good night.” Kevin made it to his bed and threw himself down. His brain had been nagging him to run the hell away as soon as he touched that baseball mitt, but now his body was bugging him too. He looked down at the evidence, which was all too clear. “Guilty as charged, your honor,” he whispered, groaning, and putting a hand on himself to take care of it. It was over quickly with little satisfaction. He cursed into the quiet darkness. Starting the next day, he told himself, he’d make a mental picture of something or someone in this town to jerk off to because he for damn sure wasn’t getting involved here.

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Z.A. Maxfield

Chapter Five

Kevin thought it was a testament to Connor’s fortitude that he got up at the same early time the next morning to run. He heard the man stretching in the living room, the door closing quietly when he left. He’d bet Connor would be doing things quietly for most of the morning. Kevin rose from his bed and used the bathroom, brushing his teeth and trying to do something with his hair. He slipped on a pair of fresh jeans and a soft, lightweight wool sweater, pulling the sleeves up as he went to the kitchen. By the time Connor came back in, sweaty and panting, an hour later, Kevin had pancakes on the table. “Oh, man, pancakes,” Connor smiled. “Thanks Quinn.” “Kevin,” he told him as he sat down. “I thought breakfast would be nice. You really have a well stocked kitchen, which surprises me, because you don’t seem to cook.” Connor blushed “Yeah, the girl I used to date cooked. That’s all her.” “I see, that would explain some of the expiration dates.” “We broke up just before Halloween. It wasn’t working. Since then I mostly eat out.” “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. She cooked?” Kevin seemed to remember him saying no one cooked him breakfast here. “Just not breakfast, though, right?” Connor refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t have girls stay over. You know… the nightmare thing.” He sat down at the table and Kevin poured his coffee. 41

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“That happens often?” asked Kevin, even though he knew it did. “Yeah. Lately almost every night.” “This new case bothering you? It’s like that with me, when I see an accident on the road. It brings mine back and sometimes I have bad dreams.” “Really?” asked Connor. He looked relieved. He got the syrup and started to eat his pancakes, cutting them into neat little wedges, which Kevin found hilarious. “Sure.” Kevin poured syrup on his own pancakes. He cut open and tasted the first velvety bite. They were perfect. “These are awesome,” Connor chewed happily.

“They don’t taste like regular

pancakes.” “They have applesauce and cinnamon in them, my mom used to make them like that.” “It’s so weird thinking of you like that,” Connor continued, eating his pancakes and helping himself to another stack. “Like what?” Kevin thought if Connor said something about him making someone a good wife he’d slap the crap out of him. “You’re Stephanie’s brother. Carl’s brother-in-law. I mean, I see the resemblance, it’s just, you were just never on the radar, you know? Carl and I are friends, sort of. I go over to their house a lot. They set me up with Cheryl.” “I didn’t know you were that close.” “Well, yeah, sort of. Then I think the woman who taught you to make this pancake is Stephanie’s mom and it knocks me out,” he said, “small world. Are you spending Christmas with them?” “Nope.” “Why not, they’re going over to see Himself, your dad, right? I thought that’s part of why you came.” Kevin froze in the act of bringing a slice of pancake to his mouth. “Did Carl tell you that?” “No, I just thought, you being family and all, you’d go there for Christmas. Am I

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missing something?” “My dad and I don’t get along. I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t spend Christmas with the family, not since my mom died.” “I see. Maybe that’s why we never met. I’m going there for Christmas; I have for the past three years.” “You’re kidding me.” Kevin laughed. “I guess you’re the son my dad never had. What a joke.” “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” “Never mind.” Kevin picked up his plate from the table and took it into the kitchen. He put the dishes into the dishwasher, and automatically loaded it with soap. “When you’re done, just put your plate in and turn it on, okay?” “Sure, thank you,” said Connor. He didn’t look like he would be done anytime soon. Kevin made a mental note to double the recipe next time. He stood behind the chair where he had eaten and asked, “What’s on the agenda for today.” Connor didn’t look up. “Are you sure you’re up to it?” “I can handle it.” Kevin squeezed the back of the chair. “Is there any way to, I don’t know, make it easier?” Kevin couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud. “Psychic lube?” “I’m serious,” Connor was blushing. “Nah, it’s fine. It is what it is. Hopefully something will come of it,” he almost laughed again, but thinking about that baseball mitt knocked it right out of him. “Today we’ll go to Edison High where the second boy was taken. He’s a ninthgrader, Ryan Anders. He went missing in August.” “Look, I know I said I don’t need to be in on the investigation. I really don’t want anyone to know I’m even here, but I have to ask. The Feds are involved, right? They’re profiling?” “Yeah,” said Connor. “Okay, Yeah. The Feds have been in since August when Ryan went missing. When I say the guy taking these boys is a ghost, Kevin, I mean he’s

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completely invisible.” “Something will come up; no one’s that clever. You probably don’t need me at all.” “I’m sorry, but I hope we don’t.” “Fair enough. Why don’t you get your shower and get dressed, I’ll take care of this.” He grabbed the plate out from under Connor, and took it to the kitchen. “I’ll put the dishwasher on delay in case hot water’s a problem.” He was gone before Connor had a chance to thank him. **** Connor put his head under the hot water, allowing it to sluice over his shoulders. He was still tense from his dream the night before. He really thought he could run that off, but it hadn’t happened, the tension just subsided while he was running, thinking about something else, but it came back while he was eating with Quinn…Kevin. Connor said it aloud, trying to think of the man by that name so he wouldn’t forget to use it. He liked Kevin. The man made a great pancake. When he’d discovered Kevin in the kitchen the night before, Connor was damned glad to see him. Kevin pressed a glass of bourbon on him before he even knew he needed it. He’d hated the pity in Cheryl’s eyes when he had nightmares. Kevin’s eyes only seemed to say ‘Welcome to another day in Paradise’. Connor let the water run down the length of his back. He rolled his head around and soaped up, trying not to think about the man currently in his living room watching CNN. Connor closed his eyes and rinsed his hair, using his hands to scrape the soap off his chest, when he had an almost visceral memory of taking a shower with Andrew. He covered his face with his hands, but not before the flush crept up his neck and stained his cheeks. He’d showered with Andrew, done more than that, if truth were told, and every night he searched for him in dreams. Connor’s body reacted predictably to the thought of that stolen time. He tried to will his erection away, but he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time and it wasn’t

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going anywhere. He pictured Andrew then, as he had been, wrapping him in strong boyish arms, playing with him, teaching him secrets. He was done in a matter of seconds. Great, he thought, now I have another good reason to hope Kevin’s a total fraud. **** Kevin and Connor sat across from Edison High School. “Did you know I went to this school?” asked Kevin, after a while. He remembered the smell here, the saltiness of it, but he didn’t remember it having so many fences or so much security. Probably it didn’t in his day. He played soccer there, for the Edison Chargers in his first year. He remembered his friends chanting ‘In Quinn, In Quinn’ whenever he took a goal shot. He also remembered finding his first male lover there, getting caught, and being sent to the Mother of Sorrows Academy for Boys in Pennsylvania. Which of course, backfired. It was as though his parents lobbed him, starving, into an all-you-can-eat-buffet. “I thought you said you went to a Catholic school in the east.” Connor remarked. “I did, but after ninth grade here. I got caught with a senior from the basketball team in one of the locker rooms. My parents sent me to private school after that.” “An all boys school?” “Yeah, well. That was when we all still thought priests could straighten you out. I don’t mind telling you a couple almost did it inadvertently, you know? The way they used to look at me,” he gave a delicate shudder. He looked at the athletic field again, as he had with the other school.

“Why do they always plant Oleander here?

It’s

everywhere and it’s deadly poisonous. I can understand the freeway, but here at a school, it’s disturbing almost. It’s like a cautionary tale, pretty white flowers and death.” “Are you feeling a little morbid today?” asked Connor. Then he shook his head. “No, never mind, what a stupid question. No point in putting a good spin on it, this just sucks.” He opened his glove box and took out a package of gum. He offered some to Kevin, who declined. Kevin watched as Connor folded the minty stick and stuck it in his mouth. Connor

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was agitated about something today, more than just bored like yesterday. He’d like to think it was Connor’s behavior last night catching up to him, but he doubted he remembered it. That was just like Connor, he thought, from what little he knew of him. Captain Oblivious. The worst part was that Kevin was beginning to like him. He liked Connor’s crazy determination to present a certain face to the world, and liked even better that he could make him drop that mask if he chose to, just to piss him off. If the truth were told, though, the thing Kevin liked the most about Connor was watching him eat. If that wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d ever thought he didn’t know what was. Kevin had never, not once, had the kind of relationship where he lived with and cooked for another man. None of his romantic entanglements had been quite so domestic as that. The closest he ever came was feeding Dr. Wexler occasionally when he called at the house, or when he stayed over and cooked breakfast at the Vet’s place. Kevin never wanted anything domestic, but watching Connor cut his pancakes in tiny, geometrically perfect triangles was changing that. It rocked his world. He liked Connor’s dedication and his desperation, and had sympathy for his loss. He had to turn his head to see him with his good right eye. Maybe being a passenger all the time kept him from noticing, but he wasn’t a bad looking man either. It was possible, even, to forget that this was the man who would be sitting across the Honey Baked Ham from the Senior Quinn on Saturday, Christmas Eve. Kevin noticed movement on the ball field of the school, and his eye immediately went to it. Someone was standing at the fence, looking over at the students coming onto the field. He opened himself a fraction, but sensed nothing but the usual noise of all the people surrounding him for miles. Friday was the last day of school before Winter Break, and Saturday was Christmas Eve. Next week, if he were still here, he might like to come back and walk around on that field. “I think we can go now. Let’s get to Ryan’s things before lunch,” said Kevin. “Although I can’t guarantee it won’t be a repeat of yesterday.” “I’m really sorry,” said Connor, and for whatever reason, Kevin thought he meant it.

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“I hate to put you through that.” “It’s not like it was your idea,” said Kevin, “it wasn’t, was it?” “Oh, hell no, I’ve made my feelings known all along.” “You think it’s a dumb-ass plan.” Kevin replaced his seat belt. “Yes, I do.” Connor grinned engagingly, “but the food’s good.

I might die of

boredom but not of starvation.” **** They arrived back at Connor’s apartment at almost noon, going into separate rooms to put on more casual clothes. Connor was afraid Kevin would puke on one of his good suits, but since he couldn’t say for sure he wouldn’t puke if the situation were reversed he didn’t hold it against him. They both returned to the coffee table, on which Connor was laying out another handful of pictures of a boy, this one slightly older. This time, the boy’s picture was taken in a soccer uniform, and Connor had an immediate pang of despair. Ryan Anders was so young, and he looked like a thousand, no, a million other boys his age in his uniform, including Connor himself when he was that age. How does the guy pick them, he wondered again, why these boys? There was almost never an answer. Connor watched Kevin as he steeled himself for the grim task at hand, holding his hand out for the first item, a battered hooded sweatshirt with the green and gold Edison High School Chargers shield and lightning bolts on it. Connor watched closely as Kevin held it. He’d actually brought him a trashcan, just in case. “Stop looking at me as though you’re waiting for old faithful to blow,” said Kevin finally. “I’m sorry,” Connor looked at the floor. “Yesterday was damned awful.

I guess

I’m not used to it yet.” “You’re not used to it? Who gets used to it?” “Anything?” 47

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“Nothing yet,” said Kevin. Connor handed him a hairbrush, which he held for a while, shaking his head again. Looking at Kevin, Connor felt worried. Based on what he saw yesterday, the items that belonged directly to the person in question, or that they cherished, were the most troublesome. He held a bag in his hand with a Teddy bear inside, and wondered if he should tell Kevin that it had one of Ryan’s baby teeth sewn into a special pocket. He debated the wisdom of that, yet was still skeptical enough to want Kevin himself to prove he could sense it. He unwrapped the bag and handed the stuffed animal to Kevin. Later, Connor would recall the look of trust on Kevin’s face as he reached out for the bear, the rueful smile in place indicating he was willing to give anything a try, and then the sudden distress on his face as he gasped in a deep, rattling breath. Connor tried, but was unable to catch Kevin as his knees locked, and he dropped to the floor like a stone, hitting his head with a thud that practically stopped Connor’s heart. “Damn, Kevin,” he called, racing for the fallen man, “Kevin! Crap, Kevin!” he shouted, loud enough to wake the dead. Connor dialed 911 on his cell phone and checked Kevin for the ABC’s: airway, breathing, and circulatory, finding Kevin’s pulse, but watching his lips turn blue. He tried to open Kevin’s mouth to check his airway but the man’s jaw was clenched firmly shut. He told the emergency operator that he was alone and put his phone on speaker, talking to him while trying anything he could to help Kevin, who wasn’t breathing and whose face was turning a grim shade of grey. Connor knew what to do; it just wasn’t working. He shouted helplessly at Kevin, who was still holding the bear, and yanked it from his white knuckled hands. Kevin gasped in a great lungful of air, like a man drowning, and then panted so noisily the operator asked Connor what was happening.

Connor was practically

sobbing with relief when the paramedics arrived. Taking no chances, they transported Kevin to the hospital, with Connor following behind. He turned in to the Hoag Hospital parking lot almost as soon as they did, and ran straight to Emergency, where a stable Kevin was sheepishly explaining that he didn’t have seizures, but may have eaten 48

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something funny. Connor was limp with gratitude. He was allowed into the room after showing his badge, and stood while the doctors performed the tests they thought were necessary. It was nine p.m. by the time they let Kevin go, against medical advice, because he simply refused to stay one minute longer.

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Chapter Six Connor was mentally and physically exhausted when he walked Kevin the short distance back to his car. The night was misty, the layer of fog that traditionally coats the California coastline shrouding Hoag Hospital parking lot like a tent roof. After entering the car the two men were silent for a moment before Connor put the key in the ignition. Kevin heaved a tired sigh. “I’m so sorry, Kevin. I don’t blame you if you never speak to me again. I swear, I never imagined what would happen.” Connor’s voice was hoarse. “What are you talking about?” “I gave that bear to you knowing…I purposely didn’t tell you the kid’s tooth was sewn into the bear. I thought of it like another test. Crap,” said Connor putting his head onto his hands on the steering wheel. He looked deliberately out of the driver’s side window so Kevin couldn’t see his face. “So what?” said Kevin irritably. “So you could have died, that’s what. It was as if, the second I handed it to you, you keeled over and turned blue. I tried everything, but you only started breathing again when I snatched the damn thing out of your hands. I’ve thought about it all afternoon. You trusted me and you almost died because I was testing you.” Connor finally looked at him. He had his teeth clenched as if he expected Kevin to hit him. “And, of course, you knew exactly what would happen and didn’t care about the consequences.” “Of course I didn’t know what would happen, but I should have…I don’t know… 50

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warned you or something, shouldn’t I? There was a piece of that kid in there. I knew that would be trouble.” “You’re consummately evil, you know that?” Kevin was almost laughing now. “Would you shut the hell up? The whole thing was stinking awful,” hissed Connor. “Oh, just stop it Connor, you’re giving me a headache,” said Kevin finally. “If I didn’t know what would happen, you certainly couldn’t be expected to. I’m just glad you were there. Actually, you probably saved my life. I’m new at this, and there are bound to be times when crap happens.” Kevin held out his hand, waiting for Connor to shake it. “Thanks, partner.” Connor took it. “Aw, shit,” said Connor, whose eyes got a little shiny again. “Buy me a beer, Trekkie, I was almost the fifth crewman.” Connor put his head on the steering wheel, and laughed and cried in the same breath. He inhaled, and started the engine. “Sure man, I’m hungry too, aren’t you?” “Starved. You almost killed me before we got to eat lunch.” **** Kevin was glad Connor was laughing. As they drove out onto Superior, towards the Balboa Peninsula, Kevin turned his head to watch the man. He was so earnest. It made him seem younger than he probably was. When he took the time to look, Connor had nice eyes. They reminded him of Asia’s eyes a little. I must have been deader than I thought if I’m thinking stuff like that. Connor’s eyes were dark chocolate brown and velvety. The long lashes were currently wet, and a little spiky. He wore his hair short, and all combed down hard, like it had done something wrong. Kevin wanted to mess it up a little. The man held himself together with a rigid discipline that cost him. Kevin got tired of twisting his neck and looked back out the front window. “Like Mexican?” asked Connor. “Real Mexican or California Mexican?” “California, I guess,” he said. He pulled into the parking lot of Avila’s El Ranchito. 51

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“Damn, there’s never any parking here.” They found a place on the street and put some quarters into the parking meter. The two men entered the restaurant and were seated at a corner table in the front part of the L-shaped dining room.

They ordered two Coronas, when the waitress

brought them chips and salsa. The room was festively decorated for Christmas. If it weren’t for the decorations everywhere, Kevin thought, he’d probably just forget it was Christmas altogether. The year was ending on a really crappy note for him. He silently said a toast to Asia, and squeezed the lime through the neck of his bottle, getting ready to drink it. “Hey,” Connor murmured, holding up his beer, “Thank God you made it.” Kevin touched the neck of his bottle to Connor’s, “Thank you, Connor,” he said simply. Connor smiled a genuine smile, wrapping his lips around the neck of the beer bottle. He took a healthy drink. That was trouble. Kevin looked discreetly away to the right until he couldn’t see Connor any more, yet didn’t appear to be trying to avoid his gaze. Never thought being blind in one eye would come in handy. Kevin and Connor made casual conversation through dinner until Connor became subdued and started picking the label off his beer. “What?” Kevin stopped eating. “I hate to ask,” Connor finally said, “But I feel like I have to. Did you…feel anything when you touched that bear?” “You mean besides a king sized electrical shock?” Kevin asked. “Yeah, I think so.” He looked down at his plate suddenly, as though he’d just discovered a hair in his food. “He’s gone, Connor.” “Shit,” said Connor. “Now I’m sorry I asked.” He pushed his plate away. He shook his head later, when the waitress asked him if he wanted to take the rest of his food home. Kevin leaned forward onto the table, his head propped up on one hand, lightly rubbing his temple. “We’d better get home.” Kevin picked up the tab over Connor’s protests, paying by credit card and leaving a 52

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generous tip. They walked back to the car in silence. Connor negotiated into the light traffic, turning south on Pacific Coast Highway to get back to his apartment. Everywhere he looked, Kevin could see holiday lights and decorations. Even the boat dealers were making the most of it. They drove past the Newport Harbor Yacht Club, and Kevin saw the sign he’d seen in Connor’s dream. He thought about a way to broach the subject without letting the other man know he was aware of it. “Oh, so that’s where the Yacht Club is,” he began casually. “Yeah, why?” “Last time I came down, I ate at Joe’s Crab Shack, and watched the kids from the sailing school take their boats out. It looked like they were making them capsize them, then right them for practice.” When had he become such an accomplished liar? “I did that,” Connor laughed. I can still remember the temperature of the water. What a shock.” He looked wistfully at the place as they passed by it. “You sailed?” asked Kevin. “Yeah, I sailed,” said Connor. “I sailed the two-man sailboats with a partner and learned to crew the bigger boats.” “How cool,” said Kevin, “I surfed and Scuba-dived when I lived here, no boats.” “Too bad, you really missed out. There’s nothing in the world like it.” “Do you still do it?” “No, no time.” Connor closed the door on the conversation firmly. Kevin could tell he had more to say by the way a muscle was moving near his temple. Maybe he’d have another opening some time. They drove the rest of the way to Connor’s apartment in silence, and took the elevator. When they arrived back home, the things Kevin had been looking at were still spread out on the coffee table, and the stuffed bear was abandoned where Connor had thrown it during the chaos. Kevin stopped short, looking at it. He had no real memory of the time when he held it, just a vague feeling that it was dangerous for him to touch it. Which was stupid, he thought. He wanted to touch it again.

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“Connor,” he began, “maybe the thing that made me short out earlier was the ambush of it all. Maybe if I sort of…steel myself, you know? Get myself ready, then I’ll be able to….” Just as he was nearing the bear Connor came out of nowhere and slammed into him, pulling him back from the bear as though it were a wild animal ready to strike. “Oh hell no, you are not going near that thing,” said Connor. He was shaking, and Kevin was contrite. “Hey,” he said, putting the other man away from him. “Hey,” he spoke softly to calm Connor down. “Okay, I won't touch it. I’m sorry.” Connor stalked into the kitchen and took out cold beer for both of them. “Honestly Quinn, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.” His hands were still shaking when he handed Kevin the bottle. Connor slid all the photographs together into the pile and put Ryan’s personal items back into their bags and stowed all of this in a box with his name on it. He put the box in the coat closet by the front door, as if he didn’t want to ever see it again. “I’m telling you. You’re going to be the death of me.” They sat on the couch, a comfortable distance apart. Connor put his feet up on the glass table after taking off his shoes, and Kevin did the same. “Tomorrow, I have to be back at work, there’s a meeting with the investigators, a briefing by the Feds, and Carl’s going to want anything I can give him from you privately,” said Connor. “If you drop me off you can take the car and do your own thing for the day. I’ll call you when I need picked up, or I’ll have someone drop me.” “You’d let me drive your car?” asked Kevin. It surprised him a little that the fastidious Connor would share a car. “You have a license don’t you?” “Sure.” “It’s just a car,” said Connor, “but keep it clean please. I just washed it before I picked you up. No puking in it.” “Got it.”

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“I’m all in,” Connor got up and put his empty beer bottle in the recycle trash under the sink in the kitchen. “See you in the morning. I really appreciate the food, but don’t kill yourself if you don’t want to cook. You’re not here to be a domestic. You’re a guest.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Kevin. “I’m going to stay out here a while, but you can turn off the lights, all right?” Connor hit the switch and retreated to his room. Kevin enjoyed the view from where he was sitting. People had gorgeous displays of Christmas lights up and they reflected in the water of the Back Bay. He wanted a little time alone to gather his thoughts, to push on them a little, and see if he could remember anything at all about what happened when he touched Ryan’s bear. Thinking back, he didn’t have time to react. He felt a blinding light blast through him, shorting him out, turning him off like a switch. He imagined it was similar to being struck by lightning, or electrocution without the physical pain and burning flesh. The energy of that blinding light had been like a living thing. It still felt present and palpable inside him, and he tried to reach out, entering the space it occupied. He thought that, if he opened himself up in there, he might find something. It required a conscious effort on Kevin’s part. He listened to his heartbeat as he leaned into it. Kevin didn’t know how long he waited before he found something to look at. Cylinders, he thought, not like in a car, but shapes, from geometry. He knew the cylinder shapes were important; that they represented part of something larger. The bear was sitting on one of them, grinning, its front tooth missing. What the hell? Again he saw the dark water, rough and white-capped against an inky black sky. Kevin wondered how much of that was part of the case, and how much was his proximity to Connor, whose obsession with dark water seemed to be increasing. He felt the long tendrils of something, wisps, slipping and brushing against his skin. Damn, he didn’t like that feeling. It felt creepy and strange to him. Kevin tried to see more, but nothing came to him.

The light and energy were still there, but receding, and he

couldn’t hold on to them.

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Kevin put his head on the back of the couch, which was low, so he had to slouch to get comfortable. The day had been long and trying, leaving him tired and unwilling to move. He dozed like that, like a sigh, every muscle tranquil. The hint of the buzz he got from his second beer was like a boat, and it carried him away someplace where he couldn’t think anymore. It was nearly morning when Connor’s dream began. Technically, Kevin knew this was only a dream. To be precise it was Connor’s dream. He knew even as he entered it, seeing the dream through Connor’s eyes. He took a second to acknowledge that this was new; it never happened that he entered someone else’s dream in real time. In an instant though, he was swept into it as though it were his own Connor was in the water.

He bobbed and scrambled for an overturned boat,

keeping his eyes on the other four figures bobbing with him. The shock of the cold water was just wearing off when something touched Connor’s back. He turned to see the dark eyed boy, Connor’s friend, put a hand on Connor’s shoulder and another to his lips. As Connor took hold of the keel of the boat, rocking it and trying to pull it upright with the help of the others, the dark eyed boy slipped a hand in Connor’s swim trunks. Connor, and now Kevin as well, reacted immediately and appropriately despite the frigid water. He blew out a breath of air, hissing the boy’s name, “Andrew,” in a laugh. The deep voice of someone older, presumably their sailing instructor, called Andrew’s name, “Schilling?

What’s up, you okay?”

He started to leave the little

overturned craft, swimming to where the boys were. They were all wearing life vests. “Cramp, sir,” said Andrew, completely calm, “give me a minute to stretch out my foot. Okay with you, Dougal?” “Sure,” said Connor with a perfectly straight face, though Kevin knew his heart was thundering in his chest. It gave him a new appreciation of Connor as the boy he must have been. “Okay,” said the instructor, going back to the craft. Andrew tugged on Connor's dick, that strong, young hand moving on him, touching his cock and balls under that water as he whispered, “Quickly,” in his ear.

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Connor held onto the hull, rocking it, but was really, just holding on while Andrew stroked him, occasionally licking and nipping his neck when he thought no one could see. The sweetness of the physical sensation, along with the challenge of not getting caught were intoxicating. Connor gave himself up to it and came with a rush just as the boat lifted with a great heave and an enormous splash to an upright and vertical position, swamping him with water. He was panting for breath when a mate helped him scramble back on deck. He turned to put a hand out for Andrew, who was nowhere to be found. He leaned over, starting to panic when Andrew tapped his shoulder again, this time from inside the boat. “I swam under for a minute to get a grip,” Andrew winked. They laughed and took up their positions, helping to bail the remaining water out of the little craft. Watching this, feeling this, gave Kevin a deeply felt sadness for Connor’s loss. Gradually, the scene changed to the one Kevin knew Connor dreaded. Dark water, swirled around him, tendrils brushed and licked at him. Andrew was gone, and Connor was desperate to find him. Only Connor had nowhere to look, not the first idea where he could be. Kevin felt the pain, a raw agony he knew Connor suffered nightly. It made him almost physically ill. They drifted, searching, until a shape in the distance teased at Kevin’s awareness. Cylinders. There were cylinders, drifting and sinking, like glasses in the kitchen sink. Again the upright, drifting figure of Andrew passed, and again, though Kevin was prepared for it, Andrew opened his eyes. He held himself together, motionless at this. Then he saw something in Andrew’s hand, and it hit him with a sudden shock. Andrew was holding Ryan’s teddy bear. Kevin felt a scream build, felt Connor consciously trying to clamp it down and heard it rising from his own throat. Kevin was on his feet in an instant. He doubted he was the only one feeling this sudden agitation. He started walking and heard Connor’s door open, and then the man crashed into him like a rocket. Neither man thought about it, Kevin just wrapped his arms around Connor and held him. Connor put his head on Kevin’s shoulder and clung 57

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to the fabric on the front of his sweater. They stood exactly that way, unmoving, for a long time. Eventually, Connor broke contact, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Shit,” he said shakily. He tried a laugh that came out more like a weak moan. “Dreams, man. What’re you going to do?” “I know,” said Kevin, wiping his hands, for some reason, on his pants. “Drink?” asked Connor moving into the kitchen. He took out the bourbon bottle and poured two healthy glasses, bringing them to Kevin in the living room. No one turned on the lights. The view, still sparkling with some sparse Christmas lights, was pretty. They sat as their bodies calmed, saying nothing for a while. “I have to tell you something,” said Kevin finally, breaking the silence. Connor tried to make a joke, “What, now you’ve touched me you want my ass, right?” “No,” said Kevin. He wanted Connor to settle down and be serious. “This is important.” “More important than my ass?” “Crap, Connor, you hold your alcohol like a third grader.

I’m trying to say

something. Listen to me.” He finally got Connor’s attention. “I think…I think you need to tell Carl, the Feds, whoever, that they need to look into this case and pick up the threads on Andrew’s. Tell them tomorrow. If they haven’t seen a connection, make them look harder.” “What?” said Connor, dazed. “Are you kidding me?” “No, I’m not. The two cases are connected, and I’d bet if you think about it you’ll know it, too.” Kevin leaned forward. “Please, I’m not saying this to upset you, but you need to know. You’re telling yourself this in different ways, every night.” “How the hell would you know that?” Looking at his outraged face, Kevin was afraid Connor already knew the answer to that.

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Chapter Seven

Connor leaned over and put his head in his hands. “Tell me,” he said, bracing himself for what he feared was the worst. “I’m sorry Connor.” Kevin shook his head. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want it to happen. I just think you’re emotions are really…out there, you know?” “This day just keeps getting better and better,” Connor muttered. “No, really, I’m sorry.” Kevin sat helplessly while Connor processed this. “How much do you know? What do you see?” said Connor finally. “I see the dreams. This time, I saw it from your eyes.” The very eyes he was talking about snapped open. “Shit. Everything?” “I guess.”

Kevin automatically pulled his shirt down and Connor caught the

motion. Connor snatched one of the pillows on the couch and pulled it to him, hiding the wet spot that was apparent on his pajama bottoms and soaked into his tee shirt a little. He closed his eyes, breathing as if to gather patience. “So what, did we just…have sex?” “In your dreams,” snorted Kevin, who put his head in his hands when he started to laugh. Connor smacked him hard on the thigh. “What now? I guess nothing’s private anymore.” 59

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“Connor, I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’ll think I’m prying, but please answer them. I promise I have a reason.” “Okay,” said Connor. “I get that you and Andrew… played. How serious were you. How far did you take it?” “What do you have to know that for?” “I told you, I have a reason, please answer.” Kevin felt badly. Connor looked so tired. “I’m not like you.” “I get that. One guy does not a lifestyle make, Trekkie. Captain Kirk didn’t become an alien every time he knocked boots with one, did he?” “Oh will you just shut up?” Connor said tiredly. “Everything, is that what you wanted to know? You name it. I think. Are you some kind of freak or do you just do the usual. We just did the usual. But all of it.” “Were you novices, or did one of you…did Andrew have experience?” Kevin didn’t want to pry; didn’t want to know. Something teased just at the back of his intuition and he had to find out. “Yes. He knew everything. I went along. But if you’re thinking I didn’t want to, that he somehow forced me…” “That’s not what I’m thinking. Would you just let me think my own thoughts? I’m wondering…did you tell anyone? Did you mention it to the investigators?” “No,” said Connor, “Hell no. I didn’t do anything to him! Why the hell would I tell anyone? I was fifteen, imagine how everyone would have reacted!” Connor was looking at him through earnest sparkly eyes. Wet spiky lashes, crap. “Connor, okay, you were fifteen. Now you’re what, ten years older? You have a detective’s shield. Think about it. If you didn’t tell, did anyone? Did anyone, on the job or private, follow that line of investigation? If he had experience, there had to be someone else, right?” Connor was openly crying now. It seemed to Kevin like he’d accidentally pulled 60

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some kind of plug and Connor was draining. He sobbed and hiccupped, and sobbed some more. Finally Kevin couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled him into his lap, allowing him to cry on his shoulder. He patted Connor’s back and made soothing sounds. Not for anything in the world was he going to let it go anywhere, but tonight he could be a friend, maybe an older brother, someone who’d lost things and cried himself out too. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Kevin checked his watch surreptitiously.

Normally Connor would be stretching about now for his run. “How am I going to tell them? How am I going to face Carl with all that? I just can’t walk in there and say oops, I omitted a critical piece of information when I was fifteen and the entire case could have hinged on it and now boys are getting killed because of it.” “Whoa! Slow down! One thing at a time.” Kevin hoped Connor wouldn’t see where it was all going. “First off, you just tell Carl that his psychic lapdog suggested he might look in that area. That’s it. If it comes down to questioning possible witnesses you know they’ll get to you, and you just have to decide then what you’ll do. No pressure now.” Kevin was still rubbing Connor’s back, and Connor was allowing it. He hoped it gave him some sort of peace. “Next, there is someone out there, killing boys. I know there’s no evidence, but I think we both believe they’re dead. That person is not you. Since they never found Andrew, they had no way of knowing if he’d been sexually abused, or how. Even if you told them, I don’t know if they would have found the guy who did it.” “You’re assuming it’s a guy,” said Connor idly. “Or do you know.” “Personal prejudice,” said Kevin. “Profiling is for the feds.” He stroked Connor’s hair, allowing himself the tiniest pleasure of messing it up a little. “For you, it’s just another day in paradise, right? You just tell Carl what I said, the cases are connected and there’s a line of investigation no one pursued in the Schilling case that needs to be looked into.” 61

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“Shit,” said Connor, shaking his head against Kevin’s shoulder. “Now Carl’s going to think you believe I’m gay.” “I’m a homosexual, Sugar,” said Kevin, laughing, “Carl thinks I believe all straight guys are gay. Believe me, you’re still golden for the Honey Baked Ham.” “Oh no you did not just call me ‘Sugar’.” Connor leaned back. “Must be post coital bliss,” said Kevin. He jumped out of the way of a shove and headed to his room, “I’m taking a shower, Trekkie, don’t count on any hot water when it’s your turn.” Connor was a sweaty, gasping mess when he came through the front door from his run. He hit the showers without even saying hello and came out smelling clean and looking as though he’d scrubbed every inch of his skin raw. “Waffles?” he sniffed the air, heading for the table where Kevin was waiting. Kevin noticed Connor looked anywhere but at him. “Yep. I’ll take your car and go shopping if you’re still willing to leave it with me.” “Sure, I’m going to leave at six-fifty. Be ready. These are great.” He cut his waffle into tiny squares with exactly four dents each. Kevin almost lost it, but was afraid Connor would misunderstand. He just kept his eyes on his own waffle, drank his coffee and got through breakfast somehow. “I’ll take care of the dishes,” said Connor, “I’m having another waffle.” He began to precisely incise his new waffle into little squares. Kevin almost didn’t make it. “I, uh, have to go get some stuff ready,” he said, walking quickly to his room. Once there he shut the door and threw himself on his bed, holding the pillow over his face so he could laugh without being heard. By the time he was finished his pillow was wet with tears and spit. Never, in his life, had he seen anyone so completely and irritatingly adorable. He had to keep his hands off or he’d feel like a total jerk. Connor’s driver’s license may say twenty-five, but Kevin guessed inside Connor was still that fifteen-year-old boy whose emotional development was arrested by an affair he wasn’t ready for and a tragic loss. 62

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Shit, he thought, can I pick them or can I pick them? Kevin took Connor’s car keys and drove him to the Newport Beach police station, literally a half-mile away from where he lived, and then he was free to do what he wanted. He drove to Fashion Island and trolled around looking for a parking space for about a half an hour. He thought he might do a little Christmas shopping, or at least, while away some of the day thinking about something else besides dead boys. After a nice latte on the patio of an Italian restaurant, he stopped at Barnes and Noble and bought a barbecue cookbook for Carl and Stephanie.

Everyone liked

barbecue, and it gave him a chance to walk by the romance department. It always gave him a kick to see his novels all lined up neatly on the shelves. He’d almost swallowed his tongue when he’d shown up and Connor was reading his book. After buying some basic clothes Kevin drove back to the apartment, stopping for groceries on the way back. Once back at Connor’s place Kevin decided to use the pool. It was cold, but he was used to cold and found it bracing. He swam lap after lap, doing different strokes, trying to use up some of the energy he had been building up since he arrived. He finished with ten laps of the small pool doing the breast stroke, and emerged feeling like a new man. In new jeans and a button down shirt, he drove to the nearest Target and bought himself a beach cruiser bike. He liked the way his body felt when it was active and he couldn’t go however long just being chauffeured around. He put it on the small balcony of Connor’s place, hoping he wouldn’t get all pissy about it. Tonight when Connor ran, maybe he could go with him. It disturbed him how much he was looking forward to that. Connor finally called Kevin’s cell phone at six-twenty, saying he’d be back about ten. He was having dinner with a coworker, and she’d give him a ride home. He apologized for leaving Kevin on his own.

After they hung up, Kevin apologized to

himself for getting his hopes up. He took the beach cruiser out and went up and down the Back Bay, all the way from where Connor lived to Pacific Coast highway and back. He was flushed and exhausted when he returned. Long before Connor came home he succumbed to the sweet pull of sleep.

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**** When Connor finally got home, he looked around for Kevin. He knew his car was in its garage, so he just assumed Kevin would be there, puttering around the kitchen. It even seemed kind of empty without him. Connor peeked into the spare bedroom, and there was Kevin, lying on the bed. He had no sheet covering him and wore only his drawstring pants. They rode low on his hips, and Connor could see the hollows between his pelvic bones and the line of hair that arrowed down from his belly button. He had a hand tucked into his pants like a child, thumb on the outside. Connor watched him sleep for a long time, finally, guiltily shutting the door. First thing in the morning, as usual, Connor stretched in the living room He hadn’t had the dream last night. A reprieve. He wondered if Kevin noticed he’d slept all the way through, wondered if Kevin had similar luck. “Hey there,” said Connor, when Kevin opened his bedroom door and came out, dressed casually as if for a workout. “I see you got that cruiser.” “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind me putting it on the balcony. I rode along the path by the Back Bay last night. What a blast; I’d forgotten.” “It’s fine with me. When I came back you were totally passed out. I decided I didn’t want to wake you.” Connor was stretching his quads, balancing neatly on one foot. “No nightmare?” Connor smiled, “You’re the psychic, you tell me.” Kevin got the bike from the balcony and followed Connor to the elevator. “How far do you run?” They stepped into the car together. “Are you afraid you can’t keep up?” Connor had a teasing, challenging look that went straight to Kevin’s dick. The elevator hit the ground floor and the door opened for them. Kevin exited while Connor held the door. He put the bike he carried over his

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shoulder down and got on it, taking off with Connor, who began running at a leisurely, warm up pace. “You need a helmet, it’s the law.” “Over my dead body will I wear a helmet cruising along with a jogger. I’ll get helmet hair.” “Seriously, you won't wear one?” Connor seemed shocked by this. “Oh hell no,” said Kevin. “I ride horses, and I don’t wear a helmet then. Horses are way more unpredictable than this bike.” “Will you wear one if there’s traffic? What if kids saw you? What kind of a role model would you be?” Connor persisted. “I’m not a role model, Trekkie, I’m a damned object lesson. Why are we having this discussion, last I checked my mom was dead.” Connor turned back to him, running backwards, checking every so often that he wasn’t going to crash into anyone. “You talk all badass, Quinn, but inside you’re every bit as ‘on the job’ as I am,” he called out, turning back around and running straight ahead again. Kevin processed that, grinning like an idiot. Yeah, Connor was probably right about that. But more than that, it made Kevin’s heart burst with gratitude to hear someone say that to him again.

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Chapter Eight

Kevin and Connor entered the apartment windblown and laughing. Kevin had the bike on his shoulder, and walked it through the living room onto the balcony. Connor grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, stamping and stretching his muscles while he drank it. “You want to take the first shower?” said Connor, finishing, leaning from side to side to stretch his laterals. “Nah, go ahead,” said Kevin, “I got some stuff to make breakfast. I’ll take mine after we eat.” Connor left to enter his bedroom. He really liked having Kevin around, except for that whole invasive gay psychic thing.

He was polite, undemanding, and good

company. Connor really wished he had a roommate like him. Life would be a lot more fun with a companion he could talk to, one who knew about his nightmares and didn’t care. He thought of something, and went back out to where Kevin was starting to fry some sausages. “Hey, Kevin,” Connor came up on Kevin so silently he jumped. “What would you think about going to the boat parade with me tonight. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and some friends of mine will be going. You could come along. It’s usually pretty fun.” “Okay. Sure, that sounds like fun. Thanks.” “Did you bring a jacket? It gets kind of cold.” Kevin laughed at that, and Connor went back to his room, savoring the smell of the pork and spices as it began to sizzle in the pan. 66

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Connor’s ex-girlfriend Cheryl could cook; she did cook most of the time when they were going out. No matter how many times he tried to persuade her to go out to eat, she always demurred, saying she preferred her own cooking to restaurants and they could spend more time together that way. Privately he wondered if she had some sort of phobia about restaurant kitchens or something, but he let her have her way. Cheryl could get all fussy with him if he didn’t say something about what she cooked, and it used to give him performance anxiety. Kevin didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about what he thought, but acted pleased when he ate. When he returned from his shower, it was to find Kevin setting the table. Breakfast was sausage and biscuits, eggs with onions, peppers and cheese, and coffee fresh from the new 12-cup thermal carafe of an electric coffee maker. “You’re kind of a breakfast guy,” said Connor, looking at the food. “This is more than I ate all day yesterday.” “I’m officially a rancher, didn’t I tell you? Well, I live on a ranch, but the only livestock was my Lab, Asia. This is a Bonanza breakfast. That’s man-food. If I had a triangle I could ring it and real men would come and eat.” “A triangle? One of those little metal thingies that make angels get their wings?” asked Connor tucking into a biscuit with milk gravy on it. “Guys respond to that?” “Don’t presume to tell me what men want, I’ve made a ten-plus year study. I assure you, all men really want is food with pork fat in it and something squishy to soak up gravy, like a biscuit.” “I’ve got to hand it to you, you may be right,” said Connor around a mouthful. “Coffee’s better in a French press, though.” “Sure, but manly is all about quantity. You don’t want to have to look your man in the eye and then go get that puny pitcher thing, fill it up with hot water, and then press down on the little plunger while he’s waiting. There’s nothing sexy about that. You want to heft up a huge jug of the hot stuff and keep it coming till he says, ‘no more’. Am I right or am I right.” Kevin demonstrated by hefting the carafe, flexing his biceps. Connor was laughing so hard he put his napkin to his mouth to keep the food from

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spewing out. He couldn’t remember ever having this much fun over breakfast. He helped Kevin clear the table this time, and loaded the dishwasher while Kevin showered and got ready. He didn’t look forward to the day, but held out hope it would be easier for Kevin with practice. He had a box Carl gave him the day before that contained the belongings of the third missing boy. He would be oh-so-vigilant this time, and tell Kevin what he was getting into, so he could brace himself or something. Under no circumstances did he want a repeat of what happened Wednesday. It was impossible for Connor to believe he’d only known Kevin four days. The combination of emotional events and lack of sleep made it seem like they’d known each other forever. It was like being in summer camp, or on a cruise; everything seemed so intense.

Connor didn’t think investigations should be like that.

They should, he

thought, be rational, precise, and organized. Investigating with a psychic, now that he actually allowed himself to acknowledge there might be such a thing, was turning out to be the complete opposite. As Connor finished adding soap to the dishwasher and set it, Kevin returned. Connor turned with a smile. “What’s on the agenda, chief?” asked Kevin. “Well, I don’t know. This boy disappeared at the South Coast Plaza Mall. Do you want to do the location? Or do you want to do your magic act first?” “It isn’t magic,” Kevin said quietly. “I’m sorry… I just…I don’t know what to call it.” “Me neither. Never mind. It’s okay.” Connor looked at his face for a long time. He leaned back against the sink where he’d been working and folded his arms. “Since you know so much about me anyway, I might as well tell you that my family was close to the Schilling family, and we spent a lot of time with them, before and after Andrew went missing.” “I see,” said Kevin. “I just wanted you to know so you would understand that I came by my skepticism honestly. Every single day some so-called psychic or other called Mr. or Mrs. Schilling

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with a piece of information they were sure would lead to finding Andrew. He was dead, he was alive, he was sold, he was in Mexico, he was kidnapped for body parts, and the list went on and on. Most calls were from well-meaning quacks, some were from revolting crime groupies or scam artists. We never found him. To this day he’s never been found. So, no, I don’t believe in psychics, and no, I don’t care who does.” “I see,” said Kevin again. “Still, I believe you believe. And what that means I have no idea, except…I think it’s harder on you than it is on me, and I don’t hold it against you.” “And the night before last?” asked Kevin, interested in Connor’s answer now that he’d had a chance to process it. “That scared the hell out of me,” Connor admitted.

“I’m not ashamed to say it. I

have no idea what that was.” “Fair enough,” said Kevin. “We’ll both keep an open mind then. I think we should do personal items first today, because the mall doesn’t open till ten.” “It’s open earlier because of Christmas, but I think that’s a good idea anyway. If anything dangerous happens, I’d like it to be now, while I’m still fresh. This really does scare me, you know?” “Yeah, I know. To tell you the truth, it scares me too.” “Well then, let’s get it out of the way.” Connor went to the coat closet and took out a box. “I took Ryan’s things back to Carl, and he gave me these. Do me a favor and don’t touch anything while I’m not around, okay? Blue is not your color.” He set the box down on the coffee table and began shuffling around the photographs, laying them out so Kevin could look at them, leaving the personal property in the box. “Okay, what do we have?” Kevin reached out to one of the photographs, a school photo, of a kid in about seventh grade. “Twelve or so?” “Thirteen,” said Connor, “This is Lyle Gutierrez, he went missing in September. His mother dropped him and some friends of his off at South Coast Plaza because they wanted to hang out and do a little shopping. When they picked up the kids, Lyle was gone, and no one knew where he went. By that time, the kids had notified mall security.

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Everyone agrees that he left the mall by himself. They have video footage. He walked out of Sears, toward Sunflower. Then he’s vapor.” “That’s weird,” said Kevin thoughtfully. “There’s three more boys, right?” “Yeah, one in October, two in November,” said Connor. “None this month thank God.” “Hm,” murmured Kevin. “Okay, are they completely sure he belongs with the group?” “Well, he disappeared like smoke. It’s in the time frame; he’s in the right age group. I guess they’re going on that assumption until they find out otherwise. They’re looking at everything. The kid’s computer was clean, no phone records of any kind that were suspicious. He was a good student, not competent in sports, but played in the middle school band.” Connor pointed to a picture of the kid in uniform playing trumpet. “Weird, huh?” said Kevin absently fingering the photographs. “Okay, let’s get to it. What do we have? More killer teddy bears?” Connor made a disgruntled sound. “Of his we have a sweatshirt, toothbrush, and his iPod, which he left at home.” “Let’s do the toothbrush first.” Kevin held out his hand. Connor placed the toothbrush into his hands. He watched Kevin’s face closely for any kind of distress, and when he saw none, he sighed with relief. “Anything?” he asked. “I don’t know. Odd, I don’t think…nope,” he said. “I guess boys don’t really bond with their hair or toothbrushes.” Connor laughed, “I guess not.” “Okay, the sweatshirt,” he took it from Connor “I get...Catholic school? Could that be right? The kid’s bright. He’s really, really bright. Maybe older than his years….” Connor said nothing; he just stared. He was still worried that Kevin would have another episode. About the information, it was right on the money, but nothing Kevin couldn’t have learned from the Internet. He waited with the iPod. “Okay,” said Kevin after a few minutes. “Let’s see the iPod.” He put the sweatshirt

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down and allowed Connor to place the iPod in his hand. He held it between his palms for a few minutes. “I don’t know,” said Kevin. “This isn’t another test is it?” “What? No, I told you I wouldn’t do that again.” “Hmm.” He looked at Connor. “It’s saying, Shall we play a game?” “Excuse me?” Connor asked him, incredulously. “Connor, this isn’t the same. This isn’t part of the deal,” Kevin said. He seemed excited now, breathing as though he were running a race. “This kid’s alive.” “What?” Connor practically shouted. “How do you know? What did you see?” “It’s not like that. I just…. This kid is not one of our missing boys. He’s not like the others. There’s a computer involved, and I think… I really believe he’s alive.” “Shit,” Connor just stared at him, wondering what the hell to do. **** Kevin watched as Connor pulled out his cell phone and went into his bedroom to call someone privately. Kevin didn’t care what Connor’s need for privacy meant. It was enough to touch something that didn’t feel like the icy fingers of death crawling up his spine for a change. In the end, Connor decided they should to go to South Coast Plaza anyway, to see if they could learn anything else.

Connor had a list of stores the boys visited, and

presumably they might learn something by following their path. Kevin thought it probably wouldn’t work that way, but decided in the interest of buying cool clothes and doing a little Christmas shopping, it couldn’t hurt. It took forever to find parking even at that early hour and once inside they abandoned the idea of interviewing sales clerks early on. The crowds were too thick, and the help was often holiday staff that had not been there when the boy actually disappeared. This was fine with Kevin, because he could get his own impressions without outside influences. Still, he was relieved when Connor decided to give up the whole attempt by eleven because the place was packed to capacity with shoppers. 71

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“Do you mind if I go in here?” asked Kevin, referring to one of the many menswear stores. “No,” said Connor, “I’m going to call Carl and tell him it’s hopeless here today. I’ll see if he’s working on anything from that end.” “Okay, meet me back here at, what, one?” said Kevin hopefully. He didn’t know if the precise Connor would allow that kind of an indulgence while he was supposed to be working. “Yeah,” Connor said. “What the hell; it’s Christmas.” While he was shopping, and even as he strolled around enjoying the decorations and the sounds of the season, ‘what the hell it’s Christmas’ seemed to be something he was hearing a lot of people saying.

Kevin stared at the enormous Christmas tree

decorating the two-story jeweled court area. His mother dominated his own childhood memories of Christmas. She’d been the world’s most insipid cook, preferring to drown everything in a slab of Velveeta or a can of cream of mushroom soup and her holiday meals, though she tried, were completely forgettable. But then you looked around the house and forgave her completely.

She had a magpie’s delight in sparkly things and

was a gifted crafter. Every year, more and more of the house was swallowed by the whimsy of her Christmas spirit. She used things that weren’t normally reserved as holiday items, and colors that, at that time, seemed so daring. But most importantly, she tucked the sleepy kids and her cantankerous husband into the car and made them attend midnight mass. The family huddling together in the hard wooden pews, the spiritual trappings of the season, the rapt look on his mother’s face in candlelight was what he remembered most about Christmas. He couldn’t say that Christmas had been all that meaningful to him since those days.

He made his way into a store with an attractive display of what

passed for winter clothing here in Orange County. Kevin bought a light sweater and a sport jacket, some more jeans, and a pair of paisley Van’s tennis shoes that made him feel old.

He’d been so long in Wyoming

doing nothing, buying nothing, that he felt unbearably extravagant purchasing these

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things. On impulse, Kevin purchased some cologne he liked that smelled a little like lemon and herbs.

While he was there he chose a men’s manicure kit made of fine

leather and steel, figuring that anyone who cut waffles the way Connor did would probably enjoy a neatnik gift like that. By one o’clock he was ready, but not for the Connor who practically rushed at him, flushed and excited. “You’ll never guess!” He didn’t wait for Kevin to answer. “They talked to the boys again, the ones who were with the kid here in the mall? They had to put some pressure on but they finally got them to admit the truth. One of them had been letting Gutierrez use a laptop that the family thought was old and put away while their oldest, who bought a new one, was in college. He was too scared to talk before. They’re working on it right now.

They think that maybe the kid was having some kind of on-line

relationship and he went with someone. They’ll let me know the details as they get them. Carl told me to buy you anything you want for lunch, on him.” Kevin felt shock and relief that his hunch hadn’t been a complete non-starter. “Really?” “Yes,” Connor punched his arm. “You were right!” “Really,” Kevin said again, still trying to take it in. “Yes, Kevin.” Connor said gently. “You were right.” Kevin grinned. “In that case, I know exactly where I want to go.”

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Chapter Nine

“So,” Kevin said, bringing his straw to his lips, “there’s a smile that a man has for his mate, there’s a smile that a man has for his dog, and there’s a smile that a man reserves solely for the ’In-N-Out’ double cheeseburger.” “I see,” said Connor. “I have to say that when Carl said you could eat anywhere you wanted, I didn’t think you’d pick this.” “Why not? It’s a legend. The shakes are perfect, so thick you can’t suck them through the straw for an hour after you buy them even if you’re…well…skilled. The fries? There’s a trick to them. They have a half-life of about fifteen minutes in which they’re insanely perfect, after that they’re soggy but still good. But the hamburgers, man, that’s where the artistry comes in. You could get completely bogged down in details, but for the purposes of our discussion, we’re going to use the word ‘incomparable’,” he winked. “You really do have a food kink, don’t you?” “Sure. I admit it. It hasn’t hurt me yet, and I do eat well pretty regularly. I stay at home most of the time. Since I don’t get out much, I tend to eat less healthy when I do.” “What do you do?

Did you get a huge settlement from your car accident or

something? You don’t work. How do you make ends meet?” “How do you think?” Kevin wanted to know. “International assassin? High priced gay escort? How the hell would I know?” said Connor. “That’s why I asked.” 74

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“Well, it does only take one eye to look through the scope of a sniper rifle,” mused Kevin. “But as for high priced escort, forget it. I live in Wyoming and I’d starve. Only one guy I know would use me, and he doesn’t have to pay, if you know what I mean.” Kevin bit into his burger and rolled his eyes with pleasure. “I almost want to eat the cheese paper, too. They make the best cheese paper.” Connor was silent, and when Kevin looked up he saw two red spots on Connor’s cheeks. He had slowed down, and was holding his burger halfway to his lips. “Too much information?” Connor looked away. “No, well I guess,” he took a bite. “Probably.” “Sorry. I was talking about my friend James. He’s Asia’s… He was my dog’s vet. We put her down on Saturday. He’s a good friend, a good man. We…have a thing that’s uncomplicated.” “Oh, I see,” said Connor. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” “Thank you,” Kevin said quietly, “Asia and I found each other after the accident. She was my best friend through a lot of hard times. I couldn’t live with people. The whole ‘gift’ thing was too new. And it was pretty lonely…” “So then after the accident, you moved from Seattle to Wyoming? Is that why?” Kevin nodded. “I had a friend from college who came from Cheyenne. She said she thought Wyoming might make a good place to escape. She contacted a realtor for me, who found the property where I live now. I owe a lot to some really good friends.” Kevin sipped his shake, which was just starting to budge through his straw. “Was there…” started Connor, “did you have someone special when you had the accident? Was there someone close who was there for you to help you?” “Nah,” said Kevin. “That never happened for me. I guess I was kind of a player back then. There were guys who helped. They came and went, in a manner of speaking. Of course, now I live like a damned hermit. There is divine justice, Trekkie.” Connor laughed, “I guess so.” Connor dropped Kevin off at the apartment at three in the afternoon. He told Kevin he wanted to go to the station to see if Carl had anything more he wanted done and to

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return Gutierrez’s things. Kevin watched him go with the vague unsettling feeling that Connor’s faith and the rest of his life was hanging in the balance. For some reason, that made this hunch feel like the most important one of all. While Connor was gone, Kevin swam for about forty-five minutes and finished up with a half an hour of Yoga. He stretched every sore muscle and worked on relaxing as much as he could. Connor couldn’t possibly know the anxiety he felt when he reached out for each new piece of the missing boys’ personal things. He didn’t want Connor to know. It would feel better to him, even if it were a little unrealistic, for Connor to think he was effortlessly in control. Yeah, right. Kevin took a shower and dressed in his new jeans, with a white tee shirt, a lightweight v-neck sweater and his new wool sport coat. It was kind of a geeky look, especially when he wore his Vans, but he didn’t know how people dressed here anymore. It might be easier, Kevin thought, if he were someplace different, like back east. Here, near his childhood home, the familiarity sometimes caught at him, making him stop and swallow the hard lump in his throat. It compounded the aching sadness he felt at the loss of those missing boys, and made everything just a little harder somehow, like swimming through glue. It didn’t stop him from wearing cologne and putting fresh condoms in his wallet. Which, in a way, made him feel even worse. Connor returned at five on the dot, and Kevin was ready. Even though he told himself over and over it was not, could not be a date, he felt nervous and exited. It was with a deliberately casual attitude that he left his bedroom, closing the door behind him to avoid seeing Connor’s face. “Hey, you look like a college professor,” said Connor. “My college professors were never this cool,” he said, more blithely than he felt. “Do we need to bring anything?” “I have wine and beer in the car. Let me just get changed and then we’ll go, they

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won't expect anything much, they do this every year.” Connor disappeared into his bedroom and Kevin got himself a glass of water while he was waiting. Kevin expected it would be a long time, Connor being Connor, but he was out in less than five minutes wearing jeans, a sweater with a leather jacket over it, and boat shoes. He looked like a magazine cover. To his credit, his hair was slightly mussed, and he too was wearing cologne, of a clean and spicy variety. Connor drove toward the beach on Jamboree until he reached Pacific Coast Highway, turning northward to Superior, then down the peninsula, making the left turn right away leading to Lido Isle. There was a guard gate, and he showed something that allowed him to pass. He parked in the private driveway of a palatial home and walked Kevin up to the front door, ringing the bell. The door was opened by a woman in her late 50’s whose athletic build and streaky brown hair was extraordinarily attractive. She had a sunny smile and a casual attitude that made Kevin feel instantly at home. “Welcome,” she said, “we’re just going out back to shove off, no thanks to you. Where were you that you couldn’t help us light it up this year, young man.” “Hi Mom,” said Connor, “nice to see you too.” Kevin was unprepared for this. Connor came from this? Kevin looked around, dazed. The foyer was grand, but not Versailles grand. There was quality woodwork everywhere, the kind of craftsmanship you don’t see anymore.

Yet there were no

chandeliers dripping crystals, no gilt, and nothing too elaborate. This seemed, first and foremost, to be someone’s home. Two other men entered the room and shook hands with Connor, slapping him on the back, and Kevin wondered if they were older brothers. They treated him to the kind of disrespect he got from Stephanie, who was his senior by two years. Connor’s father came in then, reminding Kevin inexplicably of his own father. There was that certain Irish quality about them, no matter how American they were. It was always there, palpable, in the way they looked and the way they laughed. Connor’s dad was friendly, and looked at his wife from time to time like he still wanted her. He was the kind of man Kevin put in his books, and he wondered how he could use him.

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“All right, men,” the senior Dougal barked. “Shall we get ready?” Connor and Kevin retrieved the beverages from his car, and put them in a cooler. The bell rang again as they were making preparations and putting hors d’oevres in plastic containers when two women came in laughing and talking. Eventually, almost twenty people carried loads of food and coolers full of soft drinks and spirits, and loaded them onto the forty-foot boat. The sail remained furled in its sleeve and tied to the mast. People arranged themselves on the deck in small groups, sitting, some with their feet dangling over the edge. After it roared and snorted to life, the engine spewed a noxious cloud of gasoline vapors. The boat’s festive Christmas lights blazed all at once to everyone’s delight. Even Kevin caught his breath from where he sat, on the bow, his legs crossed and his arms casually resting on his knees. Connor came over and sat beside him, hugging his drawn up knees. Soon Kevin saw other decorated boats drifting by, and he felt the momentum of the craft as it got underway. “This is probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever done,” said Kevin. He liked the unencumbered feel of the slowly drifting sailboat. “Really?” asked Connor. “I would have thought you’d done some pretty awesome things before now.” Kevin laughed. “Yeah, like The Mother of Sorrows School for boys.” “I imagine you gave them a run for your parents’ money.” Connor got up easily and negotiated through the seated groups to return with two beers and a plate of assorted snacks. Kevin noticed Connor was at home here on the rocking deck, and walked as though it were solid earth beneath his feet. “Here,” Kevin took a beer from him. “What happened between you and your family? I’d like the truth; I’ll just listen, whatever you have to say.” “First, tell me why you care,” asked Kevin, knowing this was dangerous territory. Mentally, he kept subtracting ten years from Connor’s age, but looking at him now some of those years tried to creep back. “Well, I like Carl and Stephanie, I guess. And your dad reminds me of mine.

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Sometimes I think when he looks at me he sees you,” Connor shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s Christmas.” He held out his beer for Kevin to touch. “God bless us every one.” “Yes,” Kevin touched his own beer to Connor’s. “Merry Christmas.” “So,” said Connor. “What was it? Was it the gay thing?” “That’s how it started. I know I was to blame, honestly, what was I fourteen, and giving some ball player head in the locker room? That had to be a shock. I told everyone the truth. I told them that’s what I wanted, how I was made. My mom seemed sad but okay. I never felt I lost her love. But Pop…Pop seemed like he would never love me again. In his defense, he just couldn’t. He was the Chief of Police, on top of being an Irish Catholic. He never got over the feeling it was something I chose just to piss him off. When I got out of college I joined the force in Seattle. I was really doing well. I had my detective’s shield, and I was involved in a big case. Then this trucker falls asleep at the wheel, and plows into my car while I’m off duty driving home from snowboarding in Oregon. I was recovering from that when my mom died of a heart attack.” He looked over the rippling water; glad it wasn’t choppy enough to remind Connor of his nightmares. “Oh, damn,” breathed Connor. “I’m so sorry.” Connor put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin almost lost it from the simple comfort of that act. He took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, I came down for the funeral, and I had a guy with me. He was there because he was a good friend and he wanted to help me. I was still on crutches and all messed up. It’s true he was also my lover, but he never showed disrespect to my family by one inappropriate word or act. Still, my dad got wound up anyway, and after the funeral, he tells me it’s my fault my mother died, I’m an abomination, and I have no business being there.” “You’re shitting me!” “I could not make this up,” Kevin took a swallow of his beer. “It was like a Greek tragedy.”

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“Holy shit,” said Connor. All around them people were waving, laughing, and yelling ‘Merry Christmas’ at the top of their lungs. Speakers on the boat played loud Christmas music, and people on the shore on either side lined up, calling and waving. Kevin snapped out of his memories. “But I refuse to let one minute more of that ruin my enjoyment of this perfectly awesome night, Trekkie.” Connor smiled a sad smile and held the plate up for Kevin, who chose some vegetables and began munching them. Connor told him a little about his own family. One of Connor’s brothers was married, and his wife was expecting. The other had just finished medical school and was planning to wed. Kevin had the feeling from the undercurrent in this jovial family that they were waiting for Connor to give up his cop hobby and do something more fitting. There was some teasing from the brothers about him getting a real job. Connor took it all in stride. “Your family is crazy,” said Kevin, “but I like them. Connor, can I ask you a question? You promise you won't get mad?” “How can I know, now,” said Connor. “What?” “What do you think would have happened if Andrew had never disappeared?” Kevin said this so quietly Connor had to lean in to hear it. “What would you have done?” Connor put both his hands through his hair, Kevin noticed, something he did when he wanted time to think. “I’ve always been secretly glad I didn’t have to answer that, does that make me an asshole?” Kevin sighed. “No.” “The truth is… I couldn’t have left him as long as he wanted me, and I’ve spent the balance of my life trying to find him and lay him to rest.” Connor sighed. “I’ve never said that to anyone. Not even myself.” “It’s safe with me Trekkie.” Kevin took another long swallow of beer. “I’m sorry Kevin.” “What for?” “Because I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here,” said Connor, looking

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around almost furtively before going on. “Tonight, one of the boats we’ll be tying up with is the Schilling’s. I invited you to… well… see if you could sense anything.” “I’m working?” asked Kevin, a little sad but not surprised. “Then why do you keep giving me beer?” “It seemed polite,” said Connor. Kevin rolled his eyes. “Do you take a canapé tray to a crime scene in case the investigators would like a little snack?” “Okay, okay. I’m sure you can handle some beer, for heaven’s sake,” Connor said, exasperated. “It’s not just that, in such unfamiliar territory I’m going to be counting on you to keep an eye on me if anything weird happens. You just had your last beer for the evening too.” “Last I checked, my mother was over there,” said Connor, grinning. Kevin couldn’t help grinning back at him. The wind ruffled Connor’s short hair in a really engaging way. When Connor began to complain about the cold, Kevin wished he could hold him in his lap, as Connor’s brother was doing with his wife, her back to his chest and her head on his shoulder. Sometime during the festivities, Connor’s cell phone rang. He got up and went into the cabin where it was quieter to take it. “Kevin,” he heard Connor call from behind him. He turned his head and saw Connor motioning him to come over. He got up none to steadily, embarrassed to sort of stagger over to Connor. Connor took him by the sleeve and tugged him down to the cabin where more food was secured in covered plastic containers inside boxes for the party later. “What?” asked Kevin, finally out of the noise and wind where he could hear himself think. Connor looked flushed, and Kevin couldn’t tell if it was the brisk air or the alcohol. “You were right, you bastard, you did it!” Connor shouted, uncharacteristically giving Kevin a sloppy hug.

“They’ve got him, the Gutierrez kid.

They used the

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computer and caught a couple of breaks, and they got the kid and the perp is in custody.” Connor’s eyes were shining. “You’re a damn hero, man!” “Yeah, that’s great, I’m really glad,” said Kevin. He couldn’t feel as pumped up about it as Connor. “You don’t sound glad,” said Connor, “what’s wrong?” “Nothing, it’s great. It’s just that someone caught a thirteen year old kid and kept him for months, nothing I did can feel like a win, knowing that.” “You have to take the good, Kevin. Don’t be an idiot.” “Sorry,” said Kevin, and he really meant it. He wanted to see things in black and white, but he wasn’t made that way. “Well, the kid’s with his parents and the shrinks. He’ll be given help. He’s not a hostage anymore,” said Connor. “That’s what’s called a happy ending, Kev.” Connor was looking at him and Kevin wondered if he should smile. He tried one and it fell short. Connor stepped forward. Instinctively Kevin stepped away, his back hitting the bulkhead. “I’m cold,” said Connor, still looking at him. Kevin reached out to rub Connor’s arms through his leather jacket. In an instant Connor stepped into Kevin’s outstretched arms, putting his hands in Kevin’s hair and kissing him deeply. Kevin, shocked and unable to move back, put his hands in the air as though he were being robbed. Connor pushed his body into Kevin’s, leaning into it, brushing his erection against Kevin’s so it was unmistakable that they were both aroused. He nudged a knee between Kevin’s, pushing his legs apart. “Oh. Hey,” was all Kevin could manage. “Kevin,” Connor whispered, although he was shaking his head and burying his face in Kevin’s neck, even as he was grinding his impressive cock into Kevin’s hip. Pinned like that, Kevin caught a shuddering breath and thought it might be okay, just this once, to see what Connor felt like in his arms. He lifted his hands to Connor’s, which were still in his hair, and ran his fingers down to his wrists intending to capture them and place them around his neck. He touched something metallic, a watch, and had 82

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an instant of warning before his brain felt a blast of something white and almost hot, when everything went black.

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Chapter Ten

Kevin longed for the isolated years he spent in Wyoming when he woke to find at least seven anxious pairs of eyes on him. Cory, the recent med school graduate was looking grave. “I almost had a heart attack when I opened your left eye to check your pupils,” he said, “Connor had to yank the phone out of my hand before I could dial 911.” “Oh, yeah,” said Kevin, trying to sit up, “I guess that would be a shock.” “Connor said you were in a car accident and that you had a brain injury?” “Yeah.” Kevin felt the back of his head where, he was now certain, he hit it against the bulkhead wall. “Do you have seizures?” asked Cory, who seemed more interested now in the medical facts than the patient. “No, but sometimes if I’m overly tired or over-stimulated I get dizzy spells. I guess that and the rocking motion got to me and I lost my balance. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.” Kevin didn’t look at Connor. He was for damn sure not going to dwell on that crazy game of dueling dicks. “Guys,” said Connor to his family “you’re missing the party, you go up topside, I’ll take care of the landlubber.” “Sure,” said Cory, “There’s still a beer up there with my name on it.” Laughing and relieved, the rest of the group eventually left Connor and Kevin alone. “What was that all about?” asked Connor. 84

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Kevin wanted to ask him the same thing, felt he really should ask him, but left it alone for the moment. “I think it was your watch. I touched your watch, and then… nothing. Zap, like a blast, then everything went all blank.” Connor’s eyes widened and his hand went to his watch, almost caressing it. “Shit,” he said, taking it off in one practiced motion.

He held it, looking at it.

“It was

Andrew’s.” “I see,” said Kevin. He didn’t want to touch it. “The day before he went missing he was in my house. We…he took it off, and accidentally left it. I told his folks, took it over to their house to give it back, but they told me I could keep it, just till Andrew came back. We all believed, back then, that he would.” Looking at Connor, Kevin felt a powerful sorrow for the boy he was. “I’m afraid to touch it,” said Kevin. He felt like a failure. “I’m sorry." “I understand,” said Connor. Kevin snorted. “I do! You didn’t ask for this, and physically, you’re really not up to it. I understand more than you think.” Whatever he was thinking he kept it well hidden. He had the watch in his hand, his fist closed around it. Kevin hoped Connor didn’t see his hand shaking. This really wasn’t easy. He tentatively touched Connor’s hand, feeling nothing bad, and laid his hand, palm flat, on Connor’s closed fist, bracing himself. Immediately saw a hazy image of two boys in a youthful bedroom, tumbling onto the smallish bed with its juvenile linens. He watched what followed, feeling more and more like a voyeur, and what made matters much more uncomfortable for Kevin was the knowledge that it was Connor’s boyish body that he was seeing. He took a chance and tried to see the rest of the environment while the boys groaned and heaved, rocking against each other in their passion. The room itself was large, much larger than the one Kevin had as a kid. Light came from a set of French doors that opened out onto a balcony overlooking the strip of water between the Balboa Peninsula and Lido Island. Soft sheer curtains blew from the open doors. What an ideal place for an afternoon hook-up, thought Kevin, once again aware

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of his own empathy for Connor. The boys, quite satisfied now, were holding one another and murmuring things Kevin felt he shouldn’t overhear. Movement caught him out of the corner of his eye. When he became aware and looked again whatever had moved was gone. The two boys, oblivious to everything except each other, had not noticed they were being observed. Suddenly, the sound of a car coming up the drive sent both boys into a frenzy of dressing and other activities in panic. He tried to close himself down and move away from the scene; it required no histrionics, only a simple shift in focus, like shutting off a television, or powering down a laptop. Kevin opened his eyes and looked around. He took a tentative breath. Connor was watching him closely, and he looked away, embarrassed to have seen such a private and special thing. Kevin noticed his hand still on top of Connor’s where he rested it before his vision. “I’m sorry. The watch…being in your hand…it helped.” He stared at their joined hands reluctant to let Connor go. “I have some things to tell you but I want to get some fresh air first, would that be okay?” “Don’t tell me you’re getting seasick!” “Not a chance. Your mom would make me walk the plank.” Kevin rose and started up the stairs to the deck. The festively colored and brightly lit boats raised his spirits a little. His mother would have loved it. He resumed his seat on the deck, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands clasped in his lap. Connor came up from behind, and sat next to him, handing him a large Styrofoam cup with hot cocoa in it. Kevin looked out on the water, trying to decide how to say what he had to say. “What?” said Connor. “I know there’s something bothering you, tell me, what?” “I know I keep saying this, but bear in mind, I didn’t ask for this, you know?” Kevin told him. “I wish to heaven I didn’t see private things. There are things I know you want to put behind you, things you don’t want to talk about. I know that.” “I see.”

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“So if I say I saw you and Andrew, in a bedroom, you have to know I didn’t look on purpose. That I’m not some kind of voyeur, right?” Connor put a hand over his eyes. “You can’t help what you see.” “Look, there was nothing wrong with what I saw. Just… it was private and I shouldn’t have seen it. I have no excuse, but I just can’t change the channel, you know? Not when I think it’s really important. And it is, Connor. Someone was watching you.” “What the hell?” Connor looked up in surprise. “I saw someone on the balcony, and he was watching you make love. He climbed off on the outside and jumped. He ran away, I think, because someone was coming up the drive.” “That’s so creepy.” Connor shivered. Kevin’s arms literally ached to wind around Connor, but he settled for shifting slightly, touching the other man’s knee with his, and hoping this would bring some small measure of comfort. “It’s disturbing. What you had was beautiful…enviable. Maybe someone envied it enough to try to take it from you.” The thought made him more than faintly sick. “No way.” “I don’t know. I do know we should factor it in,” he noticed it was colder now, here in the more open, wider channel where the four sailboats were anchored, tied together with strong ropes, so partygoers could hop from one to the other, visiting. “Do you want my jacket?” Connor shook his head “Kevin, I want you to know…I….” “Save it,” Kevin put up a hand. “If it’s not about the case, maybe you should save it.” “Okay,” said Connor, looking a little relieved. He pointed out one of the boats on their makeshift flotilla. “That’s the Schilling’s boat, what do you say we go.” “Don’t tell them we’re looking into the case. They’ve probably had enough ups and downs to last their lifetime,” warned Kevin. “Preaching to the choir, Kevin,” Connor agreed.

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The two men got up from the deck, sliding a little on the spray that settled, making it slick. The mist was coming in, a light fog that made sound travel differently as the laughter, music, and the occasional squeal came echoed across the water as boats were rocked and jostled and people had to shift their balance or fall. Connor was light on his feet, leaping gracefully from one craft to another, until they were aboard the Schilling’s boat. It was larger and grander than Connor’s family’s boat, and more decorated in a designer kind of way that, to Kevin, made it look unappealingly commercial. Kevin was a little shocked to see the Schilling’s other son, who was the image of his brother, though older. Kevin thought Connor must have a hard time looking at him; he looked so much like Andrew it had to be painful. Connor introduced Kevin to Mr. Schilling, Andrew’s father, and the two men shook hands. Kevin allowed the older man to show him the boat. Mrs. Schilling came along then, saying she was glad to meet a friend of Connor’s. Kevin was anxious not to touch anything, concerned that at any moment he could be waylaid by images and wouldn’t be able to explain his behavior. Connor seemed to sense this, and didn’t press him or guide him to anything. Kevin took his time and just tried to absorb the situation. Connor was raised to this. This was his world. No doubt, as the son of these people, if Andrew’s kidnapping had not awakened his interest in law enforcement, he’d have an Ivy League education and graduate degrees. Kevin tried to surreptitiously nose around the boat, but since he was afraid of touching anything, he was at a loss.

Connor introduced him to guest after guest,

Schilling friends, cousins, and business associates. Apparently, the Schilling and Dougal families had a wide range of friends in common through school and business. Their interest in boating notwithstanding, they shared many other hobbies and pastimes, so the families played, partied, and even vacationed together. Mrs. Schilling told him some stories about the youthful Connor while she passed a tray of appetizers. When she inquired about him, Kevin merely said he was a former police officer who was visiting the area for the holidays. He deftly avoided any more

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probing questions. At one point, Connor maneuvered Kevin down the stairs and into the galley of the large sailboat. They made a pretense of using the head, and then Connor placed a finger to his lips and pulled an unresisting Kevin into the master cabin. He was just about to protest when Connor pushed Kevin’s hand down, palm flat, on a wooden model sailboat. Kevin understood what Connor wanted. Calmly, he focused on one image and then another, discovering that Andrew made the wooden sailboat as a Father’s Day present for Mr. Schilling. He also learned that Andrew was skilled in woodworking, enjoyed it, and shared that hobby with his father and his grandfather. Andrew felt pride and a sense of accomplishment. Kevin focused on the image of the day Andrew presented the boat to his father. It was clear they shared a loving bond. He filtered through other parts of that same day, and then the evening when his father proudly placed the sailboat here, in this cabin next to his bed. Andrew watched as Mr. Schilling walked up the dock to the house, waving, then suddenly inexplicably, the vision turned grainy and shaky and foul as a hand came out of nowhere, snaking around Andrew’s mouth. Kevin saw enough to know that Andrew experienced an event of degradation, torture, and unimaginable pain. When Kevin’s eyes snapped open, Connor was watching him with such patience. Such faith. Kevin’s heart sank in his chest. He only discovered he was crying when Connor reached a hand up to brush his tears away. Connor led him to a quiet spot on the deck where they were relatively sheltered. Probably everyone thought he was a lousy drunk. Whatever. He no longer cared. Kevin reached out a tentative hand and surreptitiously touched Connor’s ankle, holding it, as it was the least conspicuous place on Connor for him to touch, and touching Connor anchored him and made him feel safe. They were seated, cross-legged, facing each other, and Kevin held onto that tiny piece of Connor until at last they returned to the dock.

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Chapter Eleven

“C’mon Kev,” said Connor, “just a little bit further.” He was pulling Kevin by the hand to the door of his apartment. He had no idea what happened to Kevin aboard the Schilling’s boat, but whatever it was had been bad enough to put him into what appeared to be a state of shock. He started a rumor at the party that his friend had posttraumatic-stress disorder, so no one would think he brought a crackhead to a family outing, giving just the right touch of a rolled eye and an allusion to the World Trade Center attack of September eleventh. He towed Kevin into his apartment and into his own bedroom, not Kevin’s, where the man could take a hot bath. He murmured to him while divesting him of his clothing and ran the water, and Kevin went obediently, like a child. Connor waited on the toilet with the lid down, his head in his hands, occasionally letting out cooler water and running hot again until he felt Kevin must be warm enough. Then he dried Kevin off and put him, not in the guest room but in his own bed, taking the warmest winter bedding he had out of a chest at the foot of the bed and placing it over Kevin, who was drifting off to sleep. “Connor.” Connor looked up from where he was sitting at his computer desk. He thought Kevin might be coming back, ready to communicate again, so he went over and sat on the side of the bed. He leaned over Kevin and found his eyes still unfocused. “Smells like Connor,” said Kevin, rolling over and putting his face in the pillow. “Nice.” Connor eventually turned off the computer, after trying to do some research on 90

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Kevin’s ‘gift’.

He tucked Kevin in solidly and slept on top of the covers.

Kevin

occasionally thrashed, murmuring to himself, and once Connor distinctly heard the words, “hurting me.” The whole thing made perfectly horrible sense.

He alternated

between violently angry and achingly sad, and he knew now, without a doubt, what he had to do. At five in the morning, he was on the phone. “Carl, it’s me, I’m jogging to Noah’s. Meet me there in an hour; we have to talk. Bring Steph, this concerns her too.” Connor was already there drinking coffee and eating a bagel sandwich when Carl and Stephanie, the latter still in her pajama bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt, walked in. They got their own food and came to the table to sit with Connor, who was glad to see the concern in their eyes. “What is it, is it Kevin?” said Stephanie. “Has something happened to Kevin?” “Where to start,” said Connor thoughtfully. “Spit it out, Connor,” said Carl, “She’s been worrying for an hour.” “An hour. Well.” Connor felt bitter. “That’s nice to know.” “What the hell?” said Carl. “You’d better not be saying Stephanie doesn’t care about her brother.” “Do you, either of you, have any clue how bad this is for him?” asked Connor, at last. “What?” asked Stephanie. “I’m going to tell you about his week, and you’re going to listen, because it will be much easier for you to help him if you understand.” Connor began slowly, but warmed to his theme as he told Carl and Stephanie every detail he could remember about Kevin’s behavior during the whole emotional week. Carl was trying to console Stephanie, and drink his coffee, but he was a man of action and not words, and Connor could sense his agitation “Last night, I took him to the boat parade. I had an ulterior motive. It’s funny how you can look at Kevin and see a big man who’s been on the force. You just assume he’s

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capable of taking care of himself. Andrew Schilling, from the case that is probably connected according to Kevin? He was my childhood friend. I knew his parents would be there with their boat and I took Kevin aboard. I knew Kevin was scared; he looked like he didn’t want to touch anything. He tried to tell me, but I guess I was just too into finding the answers, and of course the chance to be on that boat might not come again soon. He followed me around while we pressed the flesh, and then, I….” Connor’s voice broke. “I made him touch something. Something I knew that Andrew cared about a lot. Something Andrew made for his dad. I made Kevin touch it, and then he totally lost it.” “What happened?” asked Stephanie. “He went into shock, Steph,” said Connor quietly, “shaking and sweating, and then… nothing. He said nothing; did nothing, just cried. It was like he went somewhere else. I don’t know, man. I was thinking why did he even come here? Why volunteer for this? If he were an addict we’d stage an intervention. I thought, hell, we should just intervene anyway. He needs someone to say, ‘enough already’.” Connor looked at these two people, Kevin’s family, and said, “If we don’t protect him, who the hell will?” “I didn’t know.” Carl sighed. “I honestly didn’t know. In Denver, he didn’t want anyone with him. He just did what he did and called me on a cell phone. I discovered what he could do by accident, you know? He came by my office once and touched an evidence bag one of the techs dropped. He told me stuff we didn’t know. He was dead on. It was like…some kind of miracle to me. I thought, here at last, the real deal.” Stephanie took her husbands hand. “Connor, we didn’t know. How could we? He hasn’t been around; he won’t talk to us. He hasn’t spoken to Dad since Mom’s funeral. I make Carl call him, even if he doesn’t have a case, just to check up.” “He hides it well,” said Connor, “But it’s obvious because I’ve been around him. I know what he’s like and I’ve only known him for four days. It’s killing him by inches.” Stephanie laughed wetly, “The little snot! He’s worse than he was as a kid. He once walked around with a fractured collar bone for two days before he mentioned it.” “So, are we all on the same page?” asked Connor. “Something has to be done.” “Yeah,” said Carl thoughtfully, “yeah.” 92

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“Damn right,” said Stephanie. “Steph, I have to talk to Carl outside, we won’t be a minute.” “Sure,” said Steph. Carl followed Connor outside. “There’s more?” “More that you have to know,” said Connor grimly. “It’s going to hit the fan, too.” “Shit,” said Carl. “Tell me.” “The Schilling case? I was a material witness and I never stepped up.” “What?” asked Carl. “What do you mean, material witness?” “I was the lover. Andrew was my lover, and when he disappeared, I never told.” He remembered being young and scared and stricken by grief. “Shit,” said Carl. “It’s probably going to come out, as it were, because we have the psychic wonderboy on our team and he already knows. He told me to prevaricate for a while to see what happens, but I didn’t like it when he said it, and now, I like it even less.” “That explains a lot about Cheryl,” said Carl. Connor ignored that. “It looks like Andrew’s case is connected, and everything’s going to come out anyway, it has to. And there’s something else you need to know.” “Geez, what next?” “Kevin doesn’t know this, but he’s mine, too. I’m officially taking over the care and feeding of that dumb son of a bitch until he’s well enough to be mine for real, and if no one else can protect him, then I will. I’d hate to have to tell you how far I’d go to do that, but be warned,” he said dangerously. “Anyway, that makes us family.” Connor put his chin just a little higher as if he were daring Carl to strike it now, to just get it over with. “In that case, I’d say welcome, but it’s kind of an anti-climax. We’ll be at your place at eleven a.m. See if you can get Kevin some restraints, because he isn’t likely to take this lying down.” “No he’s not, but he’s for damn sure going to take it,” said Connor, beginning to jog in place. “I’m off, thanks for meeting me. Thanks for….” Connor wanted to thank him

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for his support, his acceptance, but didn’t know how to say it. “Enough said,” said Carl, turning back to go get his wife. Connor liked Carl and Stephanie a lot, he always had. If there was a battle coming, Stephanie was bound to be first on the field. From the look on her face she already had a plan. For some odd reason, he worried that the happier Stephanie looked, the less Kevin was going to like it. And from the look on her lovely face as Carl opened the passenger door on their Audi? Kevin was not going to like this at all. Connor jogged home. It took him nearly an hour to do it and he hoped by the time he did his heart would stop racing. He probed his feelings for Kevin like he would a sore tooth, trying to figure out exactly what they were and where they came from. It wouldn’t be fair if they were only the same protective instinct that attracted him to law enforcement. He’d expect more from his lover if he really had one. He now knew the feelings he’d had for Cheryl and the other women in his life were just as bad. How could he have forgotten the immense and terrible passion he felt for Andrew? How could he have just frozen that and left it and never taken it out and looked at it again? There had been a moment for Connor on his family’s boat when he remembered perfectly and with a clarity that was stunning why he’d wanted Andrew. He’d felt the familiar rocking motion beneath his feet and caught the smell of the teakwood and when he looked up to see Kevin standing there something inside him just snapped and the dam burst on all the longing he’d closed himself off to for years. Was it for Kevin or Andrew? Did it matter? As he rounded the last turn before his apartment building came into view Connor knew only that he couldn’t hide anymore and didn’t want to. No more going along. No more tepid dates. No more lying to himself and everyone else.

Humming, Connor ran up the stairs of his apartment

building. The first thing Connor noticed when he entered was that, once again, delicious smells emanated from his small and rather unimaginative little kitchen. He didn’t know how Kevin managed to coax such wonderful food out of it. His mouth watered just

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thinking about it. “Hello,” he said carefully to Kevin. He noticed the man didn’t meet his eyes. “Hi. Breakfast is almost ready. You had a long run today.” “It’s Saturday, you know, more time,” he hedged. “Oh,” said Kevin. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. Your parents and friends must think I’m mentally retarded.” “No, they don’t,” said Connor. “I’m afraid I started a rather dashing rumor about you and the World Trade Center and PTSD.” “I guess it couldn’t be helped, but I hate to do that. What if I see them again sometime and they find out it’s not true.” “Oh, we’ll deal with that when the time comes,” said Connor blithely, knowing that when the time really came to tell his parents the truth about Kevin, they’d have a lot more to swallow than that. “What’s that delicious smell?” “Cinnamon rolls. They’re frozen but I made fresh caramel icing. I made some scrambled eggs and ham. There’s juice and coffee. Some fruit.” “It’s like eating at a brunch buffet. I’m totally loving this, you know that, right?” “Yeah, I’m glad you like to eat. I figured just my luck they’d get me a handler who was some anorexic chick or something,” he laughed a shaky laugh, but it was a start. “No chance of that. Carl told me it had to be me,” he remembered thinking what did I do to make him hate me so much. “I’m glad he did. It turns out it was good for the case too.” At the mention of the case Kevin’s face paled. “After breakfast.” “No, Kevin. Let’s wait till Monday, after Christmas, okay? You need a break. I need some time to process. We’ll begin again on Monday, and maybe that will put just a tiny bit of distance on it. Okay?” Kevin sighed with relief. “Okay then,” he said. “Monday.” ****

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The bell rang, and Kevin removed the cinnamon rolls from the oven and iced them. He and Connor ate, not really talking, but not in stony silence either. Connor seemed festive, relaxed, and happy. Kevin put the dishes into the dishwasher and started it, then bummed some wrapping paper and ribbon, going into his own room to wrap the Christmas gifts he’d purchased. Some sadistic part of his brain remembered the sailboat Andrew made for his dad, and the love they shared and it mocked him now. He wondered how Andrew’s dad would have taken his sexual preference, wondered how Connor’s folks would have taken it if the boys had been caught the day they made love instead of hearing the car and scrambling for their clothing. He put it firmly out of his mind. Kevin could hear Connor at work on the computer in his bedroom. To Kevin, it was pure pleasure knowing that someone, some human, was on the other side of the wall. It gave him a sense of well being that he didn’t have at home. At eleven the doorbell rang, and Connor called to Kevin to get it.

Carl and

Stephanie stood on the threshold, and for a moment Kevin panicked. He realized after he got a grip that it was because she was wearing an expression his mother always wore before he heard his entire name, middle name and all, spew out of her mouth in exasperation. Stephanie did not disappoint, slapping a hand on the door to Connor’s apartment seconds before Kevin had a chance to shut it in her face. Connor came out of his bedroom. “Kevin Ardghal Quinn, you unmanageable little shit, why didn’t you give us one tiny hint of the pain you’ve been enduring,” Stephanie said, advancing on him in a kind of queenly Irish fury. “What the hell is this?” said Kevin, who suddenly realized why Connor wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Some psychic you turned out to be,” she replied, “this is an intervention, Kevin, and from this moment forward you will confine your replies to yes ma’am, no ma’am, and thank you ma’am.”

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Chapter Twelve

Kevin tried to swallow around the frozen block of ice that had become his whole body. His beer tasted like slightly brackish sewer water as he looked once again around the table. How had it come, he asked himself, to this? His father was talking quietly to Carl about something that happened recently on the Huntington Beach Police force and he stared pointedly at Connor, who refused to look back. Somehow, he had been talked, tricked, cajoled, bullied, and wheedled back to his childhood home for Christmas Eve dinner, against his wishes and better judgment. The conversation was flowing at glacial speed and was just about as warm. On top of that, just being in this room hurt because it was like a shrine to his mother, whose loss he still felt like acid burning his skin. He picked at the Honey Baked Ham and stirred the scalloped potatoes. “Please pass the chutney,” he heard Connor say, and handed it to him. “So,” said his father, “Kevin’s helping with a case?” “Yes,” answered Carl, “He’s a great investigator, and sometimes it helps to have fresh eyes. He spotted right away that the Gutierrez boy wasn’t necessarily part of the major missing boy case, and he was instrumental in the search for the boy and apprehension of the suspect. Sometimes I need an outsider and I can always count on Kevin.” “Is that so?” said his father, “I’m glad to hear it, I was disappointed when he could no longer work on the force, I knew he was good at it.” 97

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Kevin snorted, and Connor kicked him under the table. Kicked him. What was that about? It’s not like his dad knew how he was helping. Himself would laugh his ass off to know that Kevin was an outside ‘psychic’ brought in to help. “How about you Connor, you doing okay?” asked Himself. Kevin almost snorted again, but his leg still hurt. “I’m doing fine, sir. Kevin’s staying at my place and he cooks like a professional chef. I’ve had to run twice as much since he came here.” “Ah,” said his father. An agonizing silence followed. “So how long has it been since we’ve, uh, all been together at Christmas?” ventured Stephanie, trying to fill in a big hole in the conversation. “Uh,” said Kevin, who moved his leg, “I guess that would be since Dad called me an abomination and told me I was responsible for killing Mom, Sis. Wouldn’t you say that was about right, Dad?” His father muttered, “Geez,” and threw down his napkin. “In that case,” said Connor, wading in, although Kevin didn’t know why. “Since I’m queer, do you suppose I had anything to do with it? Her death I mean.” “Shit,” said Himself, getting up and grabbing Kevin by his ear. “Listen to me, you little snot! When you broke your collar bone and didn’t tell me for two whole days and I called you an idiot, did you believe me?” “Well. I… uh,” said Kevin, being dragged to another room by his dad. “And when you borrowed Mom’s Suburban without permission and wrapped it around a light pole, nearly killing yourself and your sister, and I said you were unfit to ever drive again, and you should buy a bus pass, did you believe it?” Kevin felt the pressure on his ear as his dad dragged him into his study. “So why the hell, when you never listened to a word I said for twenty-five years, did you listen to one unforgivable, rotten thing that came out of my grieving mouth on that day of all days when I’d lost the love of my life?” Kevin saw his dad was panting. He looked like he wanted to tear out tufts of his own hair. “Kevin, I’m not proud of that moment.” His father went on. “It kills me every time I 98

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think of it. We’d had a case just the week before, a hate crime against a young gay man, and it scared your mom and me to death to think of someone doing that to you. You’re far less to blame for your Mom’s death than forty-five years of corned beef and burgers and bad DNA. I knew that at the time. I just lashed out. And for the first and only time in our lives, you took something I said seriously, you little maggot.” The chief was openly crying now, and he scared the hell out of his only son. Kevin swallowed hard and thought about Andrew, and his dad, and the little wooden sailboat, and all the Father’s Days and Christmas Eve dinners they would miss and launched himself at his old man, hugging him tight. Kevin returned to the table with his father an hour later. Stephanie and Carl were sitting with Connor, who was drinking a glass of wine. Stephanie and Carl were sipping eggnog. “Do you want some brandy in that?” Himself asked in a cracked, used kind of voice. “Nope, not good for the wee one,” she said carelessly, smirking at her husband. “What?” asked Connor, the first to pick up on it.

“You’re pregnant?

Congratulations! I’m going to be an unofficial uncle, how cool is that?” Himself had to get a grip, but when he did, he just said, “About damn time!” Kevin watched his family finish Christmas dinner as if from a distance as his ice body thawed a little. They played pool, and opened presents. He’d left Connor’s at home, thinking rightly that Connor hadn’t gotten one for him. At midnight, they all went in the chiefs SUV to St. Andrew’s, the church where Kevin grew up, and attended midnight mass. Kevin hadn’t attended a mass since high school, and he found himself feeling out of place when it came time to take the sacrament. As a body, his family lined up, and as he got closer and closer to the front of the line he tried to decide what to do. Connor, who seemed to read him rather well, nudged him with his shoulder, and then stepped in front of him, kneeling, but refusing the host. He was blessed and moved on and Kevin did the same. On the way back to their pew he felt Connor’s hand graze his, and linger,

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locking the two smallest fingers together for a moment. Their hands broke apart as they seated themselves again.

Kevin heard Connor’s rich voice singing hymns, and

wondered, for the first time, what would happen if he accepted his gift, got help, and tried to live and love like a normal human being again. The ride back to Connor’s apartment was silent. Kevin was still trying to take in what happened to him. His family was whole for the first time in years. He knew he had the man beside him to thank, and he wanted to show his gratitude in a way that would be meaningful for Connor. Kevin thought if he could find Andrew and bring him back alive he’d have done it, willingly, happily, for love of the man sitting next to him. Since he knew that wasn’t possible, he’d try to bring Connor closure, even if it was the last thing he did, regardless of the personal cost. “What’s with the serious face,” Connor asked as they pulled into his garage. “Me?” Kevin smiled slightly, “I was just making my New Year’s resolution.” When they reached the building Kevin was reluctant to go inside. He liked the night, so different than Christmas Eve in his tiny Wyoming home. He felt the cool salty air on his face and wanted to stay up a while, enjoying the quiet and the way the darkness slid over his skin. “I’d like to take a walk, I’ll be back in a while, do you want me to take your keys or will you leave the door unlocked?” he asked Connor. “Can I go with you?” Connor asked him. “I should be tired, but I’m not.” “Okay.” Kevin started walking. He wondered if this was part of the intervention. It would be just like Steph to see to it that he never got a moment alone again. “If you’re just worried, or keeping an eye on me for Steph, don’t be. I feel better than I have in a long time. Hopeful, even.” “No, that’s not it.

I hope you don’t think I’m a spy.

I’m a handler.

Total

difference.” He smiled. “I just don’t want… I want to be with you.” “Okay then.” Kevin began down the street toward the bike trail on the Back Bay where Connor jogged. “I got it into my head to see this at night. I thought it might be

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really cool to watch the sun rise.” “It won’t come up for another four hours or so.” Connor took Kevin’s hand in his. “But I have time.” Kevin looked at their joined hands and said nothing. “I know we said we wouldn’t talk about the case,” began Connor, “but I want you to know how sorry I was to put you through that. You can’t keep….” Kevin shushed him. “You worry too much.” “How can you say that?” asked Connor appalled. “No way, no way do I want to see your face like that again.” “I have to admit,” said Kevin, “I don’t want to go through it again either.” In the eerie, quiet darkness Kevin felt he and Connor were so isolated, both from other humans and from their own daily lives that he could take a chance and express something that had been filling him with dread. “Connor, I know things… certain things about Andrew that I don’t feel I should share. Not with his family, and especially not with you.” “What?” Connor stopped walking and turned to him, the question in his fine brown eyes. “I say I saw things, but Connor, it was like your dream, when I experienced things as well. I felt things. I’ll never forget it, Connor, and I can’t begin to talk about it right now.” “What about to a shrink…for your sanity.” “My sanity’s been an illusion for a long, long time, Connor.” They continued walking slowly along the bike trail. It felt so good, so right to hold Connor’s hand like this and just amble along, talking. He wished the night would never end. “Kevin?” Connor broke the silence. “I’d like to think I’m man enough and friend enough to help you bear your burden, whatever it is.” “I’m sure you are.” Kevin smiled into the darkness. “So please, I want you to think about sharing that with me, not soon, but someday. I want to be there when you can open up. I’m so sorry. It was my selfishness that put

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you through that.” “We need to solve the case. The Schillings deserve that, and you deserve that.” “What about what you deserve?” “What do you mean?” “Well.” Connor walked while he talked.

“You come in, like a ghost.

You go

through all this stuff, get the family closure, in the case of the Gutierrez kid you probably saved a life. What do you get?” “Lately I’ve been getting a lot of one-way trips to exotic bathroom destinations,” laughed Kevin, self-consciously. “Hey, maybe I’ll get lucky and have a case at the Madonna Inn so I can puke there. I hear the bathroom’s really cool.” “Oh Kev.” “And I got to meet you. Hey… Why did you fall on your sword with my dad? You got all up in his face like, ‘I’m a queer, too’. What was that all about? I thought you were waiting for the perfect Cheryl to come along.” “You’re shitting me, right?” Connor asked. “You saw my dreams. How can you say that with a straight, you should pardon the expression, face?” “Come here,” Kevin said, indicating a soft, sandy spot where they could sit in the shadows and watch the moon on the water. Kevin sat, and pulled Connor to sit in front of him, wrapping his arms around the man, his knees up on either side. Connor shivered. “Nice.” “Cold?” he asked, pulling Connor’s back against his chest and chaffing his arms a little. “Mm.” said Connor, dropping his head back on Kevin’s shoulder. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?” “It’s my amazing homo-psychic-jutsu and my mad culinary skills.” Kevin teased. His hands rubbed warmth into Connor’s arms moved to his shoulders, where they could knead his fine muscles, to his chest where Kevin absently smoothed his hands over the fabric of Connor’s shirt.

Eventually, they roamed around, just lightly exploring

Connor’s finely built runner’s body, the smooth pectorals, the ridges of his abs, and then

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they were sliding up under his shirt. Connor sucked in a breath and turned to kiss Kevin hard. “You are so hot, and I want to touch you so badly,” Kevin said. He slid his hands to Connors fly and met the man’s eyes, asking permission. Connor nodded. Kevin began unbuttoning Connor’s fly and slipped his hands into the front of his jeans. As soon as he touched the smooth skin of Connor’s erection Connor dropped his head back on Kevin’s shoulder and moaned out loud. “Okay?” asked Kevin, lightly stroking with one hand, and cupping Connor’s balls with the other. “Oh, hell yes,” said Connor, biting his lip. Kevin ran a thumb over the head of Connor’s cock, causing Connor to moan and push against his hands, stroking himself against Kevin palms. Kevin watched the man he was cradling in his arms. Connor’s cheeks were flushed and his mouth was slightly swollen. He had his head back on Kevin’s shoulder and his eyes closed, the long lashes making shadows on his cheeks in the moonlight. Kevin gave into his desire, wanting to mark Connor, to own him, so he licked down the side of Connor’s tanned neck and bit him hard where the column of his neck joined his shoulder. Connor came in his hands, the warm sticky wetness glistening like sea foam as Kevin took him over the waves of it. “That’s right, baby,” said Kevin, “That’s right, oh, come for me.” Connor jumped and shivered in his arms for a long time, and then finally relaxed, panting. For lack of a better place, Kevin wiped his hands on his white crew socks, but he looked into Connor’s eyes and licked his thumb and index finger anyway, wanting to taste his lover on them. Connor moaned again, moving back harder against Kevin’s chest. “You make me want bad, good things, Kevin Quinn,” said Connor finally. Kevin laughed against his neck. Connor started to turn in Kevin’s arms, but Kevin firmly took his arms and held him, with Connor’s back to his chest, just like before. “Just like this for tonight, okay? Can it be like this?” asked Kevin. “Yes,” sighed Connor, relaxing in his arms. “Of course.” Kevin rested his cheek

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against Connor’s and soon he was dozing, they both were, until a scraping, rolling sound broke the silence and they noticed the first crack of light coming up behind them. They got to their feet, walking hand in hand, when a preteen on a skateboard rounded the corner, almost knocking them over. “Freaking fags,” said the kid, passing them up. Connor took off after him, looking like a happy kid, playing chase. “Oh no you don’t, Peanut,” Connor shouted, catching the kid by the hood of his sweatshirt and yanking him off his board.

Kevin moved ahead and caught his

skateboard, riding it back, accomplishing two or three pretty awkward tricks with it before he came to a stop next to Connor. “That’s Officer Freaking fag to you, Peanut.” Kevin told the kid, kicking the tail of the board and flipping it up into his hand. “Been a while.” He shrugged at Connor. “Junior,” Connor still had the kid by the shirt. “I’m your worst nightmare; I’m a queer with a badge, and you are going to watch your mouth and think twice before you hurl any kind of hate talk again or Officer Freaking Homo here is going to take your board home as a Christmas Gift and I’m going to throw you into the bay.” The kid snorted. Kevin gave him his board back, and he rolled off, but he turned back and shouted, “Merry Christmas,” and the two men called it back to him. “Geez,” said Connor, watching the kid’s back as he fairly flew away from them. “He should be wearing a helmet.” “Yeah,” said Kevin, “and a sign that says, ‘stupid’.” “God bless us, every one,” smiled Connor.

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Chapter Thirteen

Connor and Kevin entered the apartment just as light was making its way through the windows. Connor dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, looking around as if it were the first time he’d seen the place.

“Wow,” he said. “Kind of unimaginative in

here, isn’t it?” He took in the bare white walls, the nondescript furnishings, the vertical blinds, and the muted shades of olive and cream. “What, Sleeping Beauty, now that you’re gay you want to redecorate?” Kevin kissed him from behind. “It’s not that. I just guess I never noticed there’s not very much personality here, is there?” He turned in Kevin’s arms. “It’s like I don’t care too much or something. I was comparing it in my mind to your dad’s place, I guess.” “Well, my dad’s place is all about my mom,” said Kevin. “But I suppose we could go out and get you a cat clock with eyes that move or something.” “Shut up.” Connor sighed against Kevin’s lips. “I can’t decide whether to get something to eat or just hit the showers and go to bed.” “I can get you something while you’re in the shower if you want.” “That’s a great idea.” Connor laughed, taking Kevin by the hand and dragging him toward his bedroom. “I know just what I want.” Connor pulled an unresisting Kevin into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. He turned on the hot water, and began, first, by undressing Kevin. He’d done 105

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that very thing the night before, but the feelings he had then were empathy and caring. Now, he was unwrapping a special Christmas gift to himself. He took his time, loving every inch of the smooth hard body he uncovered. “You are so fine, Kevin,” he said, running a tongue over Kevin’s dented collarbone. “Tell me this isn’t just because I’m the first gay guy you’ve had over,” said Kevin, pulling Connor’s shirt over his head. Connor stopped. “You think it’s just convenience?” “Or mercy,” said Kevin. “But actually, right now that doesn’t sound too bad.” “What an airhead,” said Connor, “I guess I was just too good at playing straight.” Kevin snorted. “Not really, Connor, if you want to know the truth.” “Oh, now you say.” He unbuckled Kevin’s belt and undid his pants. “Off, Kev, get them off.” “Bossy much?” said Kevin, doing as he asked. They hurried until they stood naked, facing each other. “Kevin, you’re a beautiful man.” Connor stepped into him as he had on the boat, nudging his feet apart till the whole length of their bodies touched. Joined like this, they kissed, their tongues thrashing together in their mouths while their bodies rocked. Connor pushed, and Kevin slapped up against the bathroom wall. “Hey.” Kevin groaned. “Want you, Kev,” said Connor, breaking the kiss to say the words then going right back to Kevin’s mouth again. Kevin turned them, maneuvering until Connor’s back was against the wall. He broke their kiss, ending the contact between their bodies, and slipped down to his knees. Connor could only watch him, dazed. “Kevin?” whispered Connor, a second before Kevin took him in his mouth. Connor gasped, taking Kevin’s head into his hands, his fingers threading through the slightly long blonde hair. He held him there, his eyes rolled back and his head braced against the wall. “Oh, Kevin!” he said, as Kevin began a rhythm, taking all of him into his mouth. Kevin’s throat closed around him and he thought he’d lose his mind, but then he felt

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Kevin leave him for a minute, blowing on him a little, the cold air like pain where Kevin’s mouth was pure pleasure. Kevin licked and sucked the two middle fingers on his own hand, and returned to Connor’s cock, stroking it with his tongue and finally taking it back into his mouth. He teased Connor’s ass with his fingers, then entered him, first with one, then with both, until he was moving them inside Connor, making Connor’s knees buckle with every stroke. When Connor came, he fell like a rag doll, shooting down Kevin’s throat and jerking against his hand until he was boneless and brainless with it. He slid to the floor in front of Kevin, who straddled him and kissed him and jerked himself off. Connor felt marked as property and found it didn’t suck. Kevin was drawing lazy circles in the wetness on Connor’s chest as it dried when he finally said, “We’re wasting water, Officer Dougal.” “Oh man,” said Connor, crawling to the shower to turn it off. “Can’t stand up, bed, first, and then shower.” Connor wiped off with a towel and somehow, they made it to the bed. He slid in between the sheets with Kevin behind him, then fit himself into that hard body. He pulled Kevin’s arms around him and, nestling his ass near Kevin’s dick, fell into a floating, dreamless sleep. When Connor awoke, Kevin was there with hot cocoa and a plate of cinnamon rolls. He had a serious look on his face, which made Connor nervous, and was wearing clothes, which disappointed him. Connor sat up in bed and took the cocoa from Kevin, smiling. Kevin did not smile back. Connor braced himself for what Kevin had to say, his heart sinking in case Kevin regretted the night before. Wordlessly Kevin crawled into the bed with him, sitting up against the headboard, and motioning Connor to sit with his back to Kevin’s chest much the same way as they had watching the moon on the Back Bay. They sipped their cocoa, and ate their rolls, and finally, when he was ready, Kevin began to speak. “Connor,” he said quietly, “I know you believe the fact that I have some kind of gift,

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and I need to tell you something that happened to me….” He talked softly, his voice devoid of emotion and even soothing, although what he said was so appalling it was like a terrible joke. Kevin spoke only for a few minutes. Connor tried to take it all in. What he was saying; what he was leaving out. Connor stared at him bleakly. “You’re saying you actually experienced this?” “Yeah.” Kevin admitted. “It…I did.” “My g—” “Don’t Connor, it’s—” Kevin had to think. “It’s not what you think. It wasn’t like what you’d imagine. It’s just that I experienced something, and it changed me, that’s all.” “Kevin.” Connor whispered, reaching his arms out, but Kevin stopped him. “I need to be alone for a while, I’ll be back later. I’m taking the bike.” He left Connor sitting on the side of the bed with his face in his hands. Connor was glad he left. He needed to be alone with his thoughts and his ghost. **** “Hello?” said James Wexler, over the sound of several small dogs whining. “Dr. Wexler’s office.” “It’s me James, I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Don’t tell me you’re working?” Kevin grinned. Of course James was working. “Well, I can’t exactly tell dogs to stop chewing poisonous plants because it’s Christmas, although I wish I could.” “I’m calling because…I thought I should send you a postcard.” James was silent for so long that Kevin though he’d lost the connection. “The infamous coup de foudre?” “I’ve fallen in love.” Kevin waited for James to digest this. “Casting off? Need me to untie the lines from shore?” James said finally. “Yeah.” Kevin didn’t know what else to say. 108

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“Can I say I’m sorry without you feeling all guilty and shit?” asked James. “Probably not,” said Kevin, who did feel all guilty and shit. “Hearts were not exactly on fire, Kev.” “Doesn’t mean I didn’t…don’t love you.” “Get another dog, and we’ll always be together. I’m happy for you, really,” said James. “You know I mean it, right?” “Yeah.” “You bringing this paragon of manly virtue home any time soon?” “I don’t know,” said Kevin. “It’s complicated.” “Well, you know my coffee pot is always on,” he said, “with or without the extras.” “Thank you. Merry Christmas, James.” “Merry Christmas, Kev,” said James. “Good luck.” “You too.” Kevin hung up. It felt better, less tangled somehow. No matter what happened when he got back to that apartment it was time to face facts. He loved Connor and there was no point in going back at all unless he owned that. Connor was in a terrible mood when Kevin returned to the apartment, snapping at him and grabbing his keys. He sailed out the door without so much as a word leaving Kevin stunned and sorry in his wake. Connor returned just as Kevin put the finishing touches on Christmas dinner. Smells great,” said Connor in a small voice. “Thanks,” said Kevin. An alarm beeped and Kevin opened the microwave, “That will be the potatoes.” “You’re always nice to me, even when I kick you like a dog,” said Connor. “I’m saving my revenge for when you least expect it,” Kevin replied, putting the potatoes in the oven so their jackets would get crisp. “Kevin—” Kevin turned and sighed. “Connor, don’t you think I’m smart enough to know what you’re angry about?” Hadn’t he just had the same talk with his dad? He flushed

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at the memory of how he almost let that go on forever. Would have let it go on, if it weren’t for the man standing before him now. “Whether you like it or not, I’m on your side.” He turned back to the food. Kevin plated the steaks, and covered them with a tent of foil. He made a quick pan sauce, igniting the vermouth. When he was done with that, he spooned the sauce over the steaks, added a potato, some asparagus, and walked both plates to the table. He looked back to see Connor still staring, where he’d left him. “What?” Kevin asked. “You’re a real chef, aren’t you?” said Connor, “You nearly lit my kitchen on fire.” “I did no such thing.” Kevin was pleased that Connor was impressed. It was, after all, part of his plan. He wanted to take Connor’s mind off painful things and fill him with warmth and good food. He carried their food to the table. “Merry Christmas,” he said, taking his napkin and folding it in his lap. He was absurdly pleased when Connor noticed his gift and looked up with a sudden sweet delight on his face. “Hey,” Connor held up the poorly wrapped gift. “For me?” Kevin nodded. “I didn’t get you anything.” “No. Hey!” Kevin said, “I just got that as an afterthought while I was shopping; it’s not a big deal or anything.” Connor unwrapped it and unzipped the manicure kit looking at the instruments inside.

“No way, there’s a nose hair trimmer in there, are you trying to tell me

something?” “Yeah,” said Kevin, but he didn’t say what, and suddenly he thought they both knew. “I—” said Connor, who had no trouble with words usually. “Okay.” Kevin grabbed his beer. “It’s okay.” They ate in protracted silence. Connor toyed absently with his Christmas gift, his fine brown eyes shadowed. Kevin watched him with growing alarm, wondering what this unusually taciturn Connor was thinking.

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“I wonder,” he said, “if you could possibly understand how I feel right now.” He got up and opened the refrigerator to get another two beers, the light throwing crazy shadows on the small kitchen walls and into the dining area. Here it comes, thought Kevin. He watched a muscle jump in Connor’s cheek as he sat waiting to hear what the man had to say. “Andrew disappeared on Father’s Day, I guess you know that right?” “I guessed,” said Kevin. “My old man and I were sailing that day, with the others, the whole family out for the best damn day. It was perfect, blue and shimmering, the sunset like a line when you looked out to the west, leading right from the sun to our house. It was amazing.” Kevin said nothing. He looked at Connor sadly, wondering when those fine brown eyes would own that they could have done nothing, changed nothing, and were responsible only for the grief that Connor felt, not more than that. “I think somewhere in my mind I always knew it had to be something like that. What you experienced is what we see every day, after all. The terror you feel when a kid goes missing. When we find the body it’s awful, when we don’t it’s almost worse. It’s the job. Andrew is why I do it. I knew that and I could always hold onto that.” “And now?” asked Kevin. “Something has changed that?” “No,” said Connor. “I’m right with the job, it’s you.” Kevin kept his face impassive. “It’s me,” he repeated. “I’ve only ever been with two men. Two men, Kevin, and someone found a way to violate both of them. It makes me sick with rage. It’s building and building until I think I’ll die or go postal. I thought I could run it off, or scrub it off, but still, it’s there and it’s eating me alive. Someone has taken and harmed what’s mine and if it’s the last thing I do I’ll tear that bastard apart like fresh bread.” “Are you mad at me?” asked Kevin. He braced himself for the answer. Connor’s anger was like a living thing. “Why the hell would I be mad at you?” Connor asked, as if Kevin were crazy. “I don’t know, bearer of bad tidings? Wrong place wrong time? I don’t know.” 111

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Connor seemed to shake himself. “Is that what you think this is about? That I’m holding something against you? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Kevin shook his head. “Uh, Connor, you’re not making this any easier to understand.” “Like I understand it myself,” he ran a hand through his hair, making it impossibly messy, and Kevin thought he’d die of longing. “I want you, but I’m afraid. How can I touch you so that you don’t feel that… that indignity heaped on you again? How can I erase that nightmare from your mind by doing the same things? I think I’ll die of wanting you, but then I think, if I do, I’m no better…” Kevin shot out of his chair and caught Connor by grabbing a handful of the fabric of his tee shirt. “Oh hell, Connor, when did you turn into such a chick!” he said, slamming him to the floor, grinding against him and kissing him stupid. “Stop thinking, you geek bastard. Stop thinking and make me forget I ever set foot on that dinghy!”

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Chapter Fourteen

Connor pushed Kevin off of him and sat up. “Okay, whoa. Hello,” he said, panting. “Did we or did we not talk about how you’re a changed man and that vision was going to make things hard on you.” “Well, yeah,” said Kevin, “but…” “And did I or did I not,” continued Connor, “run several miles thinking, crap, I’m in love for the first time in ten years and now I’ve gotta be all sensitive and shit.” Kevin laughed out loud. “What are you laughing at?” “I applaud your amazing compassion.” “Screw you,” said Connor. “And you are so unbelievably adorable.” Kevin took Connor into his arms. He lowered his eyes, and said, “I’ll admit, there are some things… I’m not, for instance, ready to be bent over the trunk of your car.” He tried to make it a joke, but failed. Connor caught him fiercely to his chest. “You’re prettier than a girl sometimes.” “Oh, hell no you did not just say that.” Kevin pushed Connor aside. “Let’s just go to bed, and see what comes up, shall we?” “Kevin,” breathed Connor, already scrambling up. He pulled Kevin to his bedroom, where Kevin started to undress. Connor slapped his hands away. “No way, Kevin, this is my Christmas present and I get to unwrap it.” “Okay.” Kevin dropped his hands to his sides. “What’s my Christmas present?” “You’re about to find out.” Connor pulled off Kevin’s shirt, and slipped his hands 113

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into his jeans. He undid the button, and then slid down the zipper, sweeping them down to Kevin’s knees in one motion. Connor pushed Kevin onto the bed and worked on getting his jeans the rest of the way off, taking his socks with them. “There now,” said Connor, pushing him back. “You are one fantastically beautiful son-of-a-bitch, you know that?” He got up and began to shuck off his own clothes. Kevin watched him from the bed, and Connor willed himself to slow down and act normal, not to betray how self-conscious the man’s gaze on him made him feel. “This would probably be better with binocular vision,” said Kevin. “Yeah,” said Connor, “If you’re wondering, I hear things seem smaller when you look at them with just one eye.” Kevin launched a pillow at him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Connor.” Connor walked around to the nightstand and fumbled through it for a minute. He came up with a bottle of massage oil, and poured some in his hands. “Roll over,” “Um, Connor,” said Kevin, seeing what he was doing. “Maybe I could go there, but not, like, right off the bat…” “Just shut the hell up, Kev,” Connor said, pushing him over and spreading the oil on Kevin’s back. He began to massage it into Kevin’s skin, stroking and kneading the muscles. Using his large strong hands to press deeply and release tension wherever they went. “Oh,” moaned Kevin. “Oh that hurts, but don’t stop.” The oil was scented with woodsy smells, cinnamon and clove, things Connor thought of as intimate and robustly sensual, as he applied himself to his task. It heated a little on Kevin’s skin, bringing up a flush. Connor moved to Kevin’s legs, doing one at a time, and then kneaded the firm flesh of Kevin’s glutes, concentrating. He used more oil when he needed it, the scent of it filling the room and creating a cocoon of warmth and sensual smells around them. The heat of their bodies made the fragrance stronger, their slight arousal adding a scent of a different and more elemental nature. Connor was lost in the wonder of the flesh of the man before him. Some woman, probably Cheryl if he thought about it at all, had purchased the oil to add another

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dimension to their relationship, but it had languished in the bedroom drawer due to Connor’s general lack of interest. He didn’t mind getting a massage, or giving one, at the end of a tiring day, but that was nothing like the aching need he had to touch Kevin. With Kevin it was one part love, one part desire, and one part worship. He picked up each foot, rubbing the sole hard with his thumbs and manipulating and pulling on each toe. He didn’t want to miss one inch of flesh; he burned to savor every molecule of the man before him. He coaxed Kevin onto his back, working his way up in the same way with more oil, stroking and manipulating each muscle he found. He liked the way Kevin’s hair grew, blonde and fine, so that he wasn’t so much hairy, as he himself was, but fuzzed, like a peach. He avoided Kevin’s cock just then, and the area around it, concentrating instead on his hipbones, and his abs, and up to his pectorals. He massaged Kevin’s shoulders with a wide round stroke, and came down his arms again, finishing off with his hands. He held and stroked and manipulated each finger.

Finally, as he finished his

ministrations, he took Kevin’s finger into his mouth, sucking it, and sliding off of it, coming back up to kiss Kevin, his whole body length against him, insistent and hard, already glistening. Connor used his thumbs to rub Kevin’s eyebrows and temples. “Connor,” said Kevin. “Need you so bad.” Kevin arched against him, sliding their erections together. “Please.” Connor moved down and placed his hands under Kevin’s thighs to open his legs. “Mm,” he said smiling, “somebody left me a nice, big package this Christmas.” “Trekkie,” muttered Kevin pulling his hair a little. Connor slid his hands around and squeezed Kevin’s glutes hard and took one of his balls into his mouth, his hand playing with the other one. He licked his way up past them onto Kevin’s smooth, hard shaft. With his hand still cupping Kevin’s balls Connor took that cock in his mouth in one long movement, backing off, then sucking and swallowing again until the muscles in Kevin’s thighs trembled under his fingertips. Kevin’s control snapped suddenly, his balls tightened and his cock twitched in Connor’s mouth. He called to Connor, and tried to move him away. Connor stayed where he

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was, taking Kevin over the edge and beyond, until Kevin shuddered to a climax. Connor nuzzled his way up Kevin’s body, quite suddenly and inexplicably shy in his arms. “What?” Kevin asked him. Connor pushed his head into Kevin’s shoulder, burying his face and biting it a little. “Ah, Connor.” Kevin sighed. “I’m probably a bad bargain. I’m damaged goods, and I’ve barely got a toehold on my sanity.” “Well, I’m sane,” Connor growled a little. “So I’ll hold onto you, and you just have faith, okay?” “Okay,” said Kevin. He felt Connor begin to drift off in his arms. After a while he asked, “Connor, don’t you want me to…you know…” “Nah,” said Connor sleepily. “My ship totally launched with yours. I’m good, except we have to change the sheets tomorrow, don’t let me forget.” Kevin laughed then, and gathered Connor closer. Connor drifted off with a sense of peace he hadn’t known for a long, long time. **** At about four in the morning, Kevin’s eyes snapped open. Connor was dreaming again. At this close proximity the intensity of his dream woke Kevin from his own sleep with the force of a grenade going off. He jumped off the bed to put some distance between them and tried to breathe normally. Connor was dreaming of Andrew. Kevin saw quick images of Andrew in the bedroom, Andrew in the water laughing and joking, and Andrew on Father’s Day, the night he went missing. Kevin waited, and the dream evolved into the swirling dark water that he’d seen so many times before. He saw the cylinders fall, as usual, and the upright figure of Andrew whose eyes snapped open, staring. That was always shocking and even though he expected it Kevin felt his heart jump. Then Andrew, in the dream, reached out a clutching hand to something moving with the current, and Kevin saw another man float by, his back turned away from the grim tableau. Andrew grasped the man’s ankle, his grip like iron, even with his pale

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and bony hand.

Backing away from the image, Kevin saw the ankle belonged to

Connor, whose inert body continued to drift, caught in Andrew’s dead yet viselike grasp. Connor glided slowly past with Andrew, and Kevin could only watch in horror as the two of them slipped down to the darkest depths of the sea. Connor moaned and thrashed in the bed. Kevin stood frozen, shocked by what he’d seen. Connor woke and reached out blindly, and Kevin rushed to take his hand. “Kevin,” Connor gasped, “I dreamed. I had the dream again.” “I know, I saw,” said Kevin. “I saw.” He held Connor close to him. “You don’t think I’d let you slip away like that, do you?” “No,” said Connor. “Better not.” There was a taut silence as they tried to return to sleep. Connor drifted off first, and Kevin listened to his rhythmic breathing for a while before he could finally find sleep himself. When Kevin finally woke up, he could hear Connor stretching out in the living room. Connor came to the bedroom briefly to check something on his computer, muttered “Bingo,” to no one in particular, and took off for his morning jog. Kevin was far more curious about breakfast than he was about work, so he showered off quickly and went into the kitchen. He made coffee and busied himself with odds and ends, crafting an omelette and frying some bacon, before Connor returned. “Do I have time for a shower?” asked Connor, cooling down. “Sure,” said Kevin, “take your time.” He had to admit he wasn’t looking forward to starting another workday. This case was harder, more complex and more tangled in his personal life than any he’d worked before. If he were still a cop, he’d have taken himself off long ago, as soon as he found out Connor’s connection to one of the victims. But as a consultant, he was unique. It wasn’t likely that they could just go down the block to the next clairvoyant cop they found and use him. “Today,” Connor announced, “you and I are going on a field trip.” “What? To where?”

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“Surprise,” said Connor. “I hope it’s a good one.” Kevin noticed he didn’t quite meet his eyes. They ate and dressed, Connor insisting on business casual, which had Kevin concerned he’d have to go to the station, and maybe meet the other investigators. When he brought this up, Connor promised he could remain completely anonymous, just as he’d initially agreed with Carl. Kevin sighed with relief, and was bundled into the car, heading southbound on the I-5. When they reached San Clemente, Connor left the freeway, winding around to the ocean, and then up into the housing on the bluffs overlooking the beach. He consulted a Mapquest map several times, cursing under his breath once or twice, and then finally, they stopped at a rather pretty little house with a beautiful garden and a lavender door. Kevin took in the sweet signs and bird feeders, and thought his mom would have been charmed. Connor rang the bell. After a few moments a very tall, very thin silver haired woman in bohemian clothing answered the door, smiling cheerfully at them. She waved them in. “Welcome,” she said, “which one of you is Connor?” “I am,” said Connor, putting out a hand, which she took in both of hers. “I’m Robbie,” she said. “I’m so glad you came, did you find the place okay?” “Sure,” said Connor. “This is Kevin, he’s the one I told you about in my email.” “I see,” she said with a warm smile. “How about we go have a cup of tea and talk for a few minutes, okay?” Kevin had no idea why he was here, but his heart was starting to speed up. He had the same feeling, he knew, that his dog Asia must have had when he took her to the vet that last time. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly. “I called Robbie,” Connor began, but Robbie spoke quickly to interrupt. “Tea first, then talk, it’s a rule around here. Kevin, let me introduce myself to you. I’m Robbie Scheidler, and I have a PhD. in Psychology, as well as an extensive background in parapsychological research.” She handed him a mug that was practically as big as his head filled with some sweet smelling herb tea. “That’s chamomile, I find it

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soothes the nerves.” “Yes, well,” said Kevin, “Um, the thing is, Connor didn’t say anything to me about where we we’re going, so if you’ll fill me in I can catch up.” “I could, but I don’ want us to get ahead of ourselves. Tea first,” she said, and Kevin thought about the book, Alice in Wonderland. “Please don’t be afraid to drink; it’s really only chamomile tea.” “Okay,” said Kevin, “sure.” She had an appealing, if toothy, smile. He sipped his tea and found he liked it. “Now then,” she said, when they were all companionably silent.

“Despite

everything we know about the mind, and here I refer to not just the physical brain, but all of the myriad things that are part of that which make up the mind, which is the ‘I’, we learn that we know far less than we thought.” She sat back and let them chew on that for a while. Kevin stared at her. Finally he spoke. “I’ve missed California so much! I forgot about this, you know?” he said, laughing. “People don’t talk about the ‘I’ or the myriad things that make it up in Wyoming much.” Connor didn’t seem amused. “Kevin, Robbie is a very serious professional, I had to beg to get an appointment… She doesn’t see people on Mondays. Please just hear her out.” “No, don’t worry, Connor” said Robbie.

“I know just how he feels.

It’s all

psychobabble until you pick up a watch or something, and you see someone else’s life or their death or you know something you couldn’t possibly know and then, it hits you. Either you’re crazy or you’ve got to adjust to the mother of all paradigm shifts.” Kevin, without really knowing why he did it, clutched her hand. “See?” she said. “Without understanding at all, you reached out to me, because you know I get it. It’s actually all downhill from here, sweetheart,” she said. She was so kind and so compassionate in that moment Kevin could have wept. “Once you can be safe in a place where everyone is on the same page, then you can get to work. The hardest part is admitting to yourself that you’re not crazy. Isn’t that crazy?” She tilted

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her head and laughed an infectious laugh that made her sound like a bird. “There are things you can do to protect your sanity, and the first one is to admit you still have it. Come with me to my office, Kevin?” “Okay,” said Kevin, willing to follow her anywhere if she would just keep telling him he was going to be all right. He looked back. “Connor?” “I’ll be fine,” Connor said, visibly relieved. “I have some work to do on my laptop. It’s in the car, and I brought along a book to read.” “There’s a very fine Japanese style garden out back, and some shade. Please make yourself at home,” said Robbie, leading Kevin to a room in the back of her house she used as a home office. Once she closed the door behind her, she said, “Now then, nothing I ask you to do will make any sense, but I trust that you’ll follow along because, frankly, you’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

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Chapter Fifteen “So you see,” said Robbie, “Even though images pop into your mind, you still have the same basic control over it that you would if, say, you were to suddenly conjure a pornographic image. You can only focus on one thing at a time, and although it seems harder with clairvoyant visions, you will eventually learn to allow only those images you choose for yourself.” She rubbed his shoulder briskly. Could he believe it? He wanted to, so badly. “I hope so.” “You will,” she reassured. “In the meantime, I hope I’m not being too forward, but are you and Connor a couple?” He thought about how to answer that, and decided to answer only for himself. “I am, if he wants. I think he wants… I don’t know.” “I think so too. He was frantic with worry. I’ve never seen anything like it. He emailed me at all hours of the day and night, even on Christmas. He researched my colleagues, I assume doing the same to them. There aren’t a lot of us. We’re kind of a club. I hope to reassure him too. He was afraid you might harm yourself.” “I was taking a lot of damage. Sometimes things go from bad to worse. It feels like that now. I don’t know if he told you, but he’s connected to one of the victims in the case we’re working on. He probably sees me as his only hope of getting closure. I sometimes think…” “He answered my reply like a drowning man, Kevin. I think he cares very much about your state of mind,” she said. “He brought some things here today, and I’d like to help you look them over. I wonder if you can apply some of the things we talked about 121

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while you’re opening yourself up to the information they may present. It might be a good idea for us to try together.” “Okay,” he said. He felt a sense of dread. “What if I can’t control it again, like on the boat. To be honest, I don’t think I could go through that again.” Robbie took both his hands in hers. “I know you don’t have a handle on all this, but I believe you can and will be able to control what you see today. I will be right here, and I will kick you in the balls if you can’t.” “How reassuring,” he said. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Well, sure, it’s not like you could focus on anything else at all, once I did that, right?” she smiled, and Kevin had the awful feeling she was serious. “Just don’t screw up, okay?” “Yeah, sure.” Kevin held the door for her as they exited her office. The walked through her cheerful family room to the patio doors, outside of which, Kevin could see Connor sitting in the shade reading a book. Robbie opened the door and called to him. “Connor, we’re ready now if you want to bring in the items you’d like Kevin to look at.” Connor picked up his laptop case and the book he was reading and came in. “I’ll just get the box from the car,” he said. Kevin followed him. “What were you reading?” Kevin asked. “Oh, it’s another one of those Ana Wexler books. I thought the last one was just crap at first, but then, I kind of got into it. It had the plot twist to end all plot twists. My mom seemed to have a whole shelf full of her books so I borrowed a couple. Total guilty pleasure read, you know?” “I see,” said Kevin, trying not to laugh. “Aren’t those books all full of sex and stuff?” “Yeah, it’s kind of hot. I’m not even sure why I like it, but I do.” He used his keyless entry to pop the locks on his car. “There was a pretty steamy shower scene between the hero and the heroine. It made me wonder if I’d be strong enough to hold you up against the wall like that.” Kevin had to stop in his tracks; his imagination went into overdrive. “I… uh,” he

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said. His face flamed up. “I mean,” said Connor matter-of-factly, “I’m a pretty strong guy. If you held onto the showerhead…” “Would you just shut up?” said Kevin. “I’m going to have to go in there with a hard-on now.” He tried to think of the quadratic equation, but managed only a perfect vision of himself with his hands wrapped around the showerhead and his legs wrapped around Connor’s waist. “You are a very, very bad man.” Kevin leaned in to get the box from the back seat, and Connor moved forward, his hips against Kevin’s and his erection brushing Kevin’s ass. Kevin jerked as if he’d been shot, his head hitting the ceiling of the car on the way as he backed up to escape. “Shit!” said Kevin. He put his hand to his head and his back to the car door, cursing. Connor was apologetic, “Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry I…” He looked at Kevin, who was white-faced and clenching his teeth. “Kev?” He put his hand out to lightly caress Kevin’s jaw. “Talk to me.” “I’m sorry,” said Kevin. “I was startled, is all. No harm, no foul.” He managed a smile. “Kevin, I promise you, I…” “I said, no harm no foul. Let’s just forget it, okay?” Kevin brushed past Connor carrying the box of items he needed to look at that day. They were labeled ‘Michael Sandoval’ and he already had a bad feeling. On top of that, if he, Kevin Quinn, who had been out since he was fourteen and happily, actively gay, was turning all missish over a brush on the butt from his lover, that was a very, very disturbing thing. “Are you coming?” he asked, turning to look.

Connor stood by his car for a moment then

followed him. “So, what did you bring,” said Robbie, meeting them at the front door. “Let’s go into the kitchen. No point in getting all stressed out.” “Too late,” murmured Connor. Kevin saw him meet Robbie’s eyes and shake his head ever so slightly.

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The three went into the cozy lavender kitchen to inspect the contents of the box Kevin was carrying. The box itself was always so unassuming, thought Kevin, a normal brown cardboard file box of a variety available at any office supply store. This one, labeled Michael Sandoval, was crisp and new looking. Kevin hated these moments. He understood only too well that these boxes were ostensibly all that was left of one family’s hopes and dreams for the future. It pained him, always, to know that in most cases he could only hope to provide closure. Even the so-called successful outcome of the Gutierrez case represented a certain failure on the part of law enforcement, government, and adults in general everywhere to provide a safe world for the children they cherished. “Kevin?” Connor asked quietly, and Kevin realized he’d been standing next to the kitchen table holding the box, staring off into space. “Oh, right, I was just thinking,” he said, and put the box down. He still made no move to open it. “Here,” said Connor, going forward and pulling the lid off.

“Sandoval was

abducted from Mile Square Park in Huntington Beach. He went there to play some basketball with friends. They say he had to go to the bathroom, but when he didn’t come back, they called the family and the police right away. An Amber Alert was issued. We never found him. That was October. We picked up everything at the abduction scene, and we have some personal items. We don’t know what’s garbage and what matters. This guy is killing us. He can’t be that good. He just can’t.” Kevin kept his counsel. He had a feeling that the man perpetrating these crimes was not so much good as he was meticulous and lucky. And local, which made for a smaller window of opportunity to catch him while he transported the victims to his destination. “Okay, Kevin, now remember what we talked about,” said Robbie. “You are like a camera lens, which is no good without a shutter. You can do two things to regulate the light entering a camera. First, you control shutter speed, and second, you control the aperture, or opening. Your conscious mind is the film. Without the shutter and film, the lens is just a piece of glass. Narrow your focus. Let in only a part of the image at any

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one time. Start by building an imaginary wall around yourself, and if you screw up, you know what will happen.” “Huh?” said Connor. “Never mind,” said Robbie, “That’s between Kevin and me.” “Okay,” said Kevin, “what first?” “Well, how about this.” Connor held out a basketball jersey. “Hm,” said Kevin, trying his best to focus his attention and do the exercises that Robbie told him to try. He held the jersey in his hands and rubbed his fingers on the silky fabric. “I get a kid. Ordinary student maybe, but he likes the sciences. Has a sister, and they’re close. They look alike. This has got to be really hard on her.” Kevin allowed whatever images he saw float past him. It wasn’t long before he saw the dark water and the cylinders; felt the brush of something creepy on his skin… “He’s gone, I think.” Kevin put down the jersey. “No… I know he’s gone.” He looked out the patio door at the small bamboo fountain, which dropped water in tiers to a small Koi pond. “That’s amazing,” breathed Connor. “I’ve never seen you so… unaffected.” “You think I’m unaffected?” Kevin’s face was a stony mask. Connor grabbed his hand, “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant, physically, you’re not ill, that’s all. I just meant it didn’t seem to harm you physically.” “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it like that. It was easier this time. Wasn’t it?” “Sometimes,” said Robbie, “it only takes knowing that you can control the image to take away much of the physical discomfort. I think sometimes the discomfort builds from fighting the gift. That’s only my theory though.” “Well,” said Kevin, “it’s not like so many other theories abound.” “Okay,” said Robbie, “Sadly, we’ve learned something. What about the items from the park, the incidental ones.” “Oh yeah. Carl says these need to stay in the plastic bags. Try to see what you can do.” Connor held out a bag with an empty 35mm film container in it. Kevin took it from him, holding it carefully. “Soccer mom,” he said. “I don’t think

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it’s a part of the case.” “How about this,” Connor said, handing over a bag with a beer cap in it. Again, Kevin couldn’t find anything that tied it to the case. This went on for several more items, mostly trash, that had been bagged as evidence at the park. “Don’t you hate littering?” said Robbie idly, “most of this stuff should have just been thrown away.” Connor handed Kevin a small Ziploc bag with a brown leather button in it. It was the kind of button you find on the cuff of a sports jacket. It looked like the ones on the jacket he wore to the boat parade. He took it in his hands. “Oh,” he said. He felt something different this time. Something… satisfied. tried to open his imaginary shutter.

He was silent for a long time.

He

No concrete

information came to him, just a series of jumbled images, like snapshots. In the end, he had a pretty good picture of what had taken place. “Oh, man,” he sighed. “What?” asked Connor. “Did you see something?” “I know how he does it,” said Kevin. “Or at least how he did this one.” “What?” asked Robbie. “How?” “He’s…cunning,” said Kevin. “We don’t know the half of it. I think this button popped off his jacket when it caught in his crutches. I think he uses crutches and a fake broken leg, like Ted Bundy, to make the kids think he needs help. He was carrying something… like a model rocket or a science kit. He dresses like a college professor, and then,” Kevin saw something tumble to the ground. “Then he drops all this stuff, and our kid comes to help him. He mutters and stumbles and gets the kid to the car. Once there at the car he makes his move and it’s too late. He does something that renders the kid unconscious. What could work that fast? The kid is gone; no one has seen anything. Or if they saw him they think it can’t be the nice guy with the model rockets and the cast on his leg.” “Crap,” said Connor. Robbie looked pale. “Can you see inside him? Is there a way to see what he’s thinking while he’s doing this?”

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Kevin tried hard to penetrate the ambiance of satisfied self-interest that surrounded the man on the crutches. Kevin could tell he felt himself superior to the boys he took and the world at large. There was an added dash of experimentation, or something scientific in how he saw the people in the park, as though he were conducting behavioral studies. Kevin tried to comprehend it, but was unable. He had a dreadful moment of apprehension when the man’s hand reached out and shoved the boy, somehow unconscious, into the car, and then he came around to the other side and got in. The man looked at the boy, and in that moment, Kevin knew, he saw not Michael Sandoval, but Andrew Schilling. Kevin gasped. Looking around, he had the absurd urge to protect his nuts in case Robbie made good on her threat. When he saw he was relatively safe he simply said, “He’s replaying the Andrew Schilling murder over and over. That’s his focus. I’m sorry, Connor,” he paused, not sure how much he should say, “but I think it’s all about Andrew.” **** The ride back home to Newport Beach was uneventful and quiet. Each man kept his thoughts to himself. Connor thought for the most part meeting Robbie was a good thing, and he had seen to it that Kevin made another appointment for the following week. Kevin had looked at him with exasperated eyes, but Connor stood his ground. Connor reached over and took Kevin’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. He surprised a smile out of Kevin, who looked away, embarrassed. “Do you want to pick something up on the way home for dinner?” asked Connor, who marveled again that he felt so much like half a couple after so short a time. “Yeah, maybe Chinese?” said Kevin. “I don’t cook Chinese too much, and I like it, so I get it out.” “You mean there’s something you can’t cook?” Connor teased. “Not really, I mean, I don’t cook it. I’m sure I could.” Kevin seemed affronted.

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“There’s just all these different ingredients you need to cook Asian food and if you don’t cook it all the time they go bad.” Connor laughed. “Well, I like Panda Express, even though it’s fast food, that okay?” “Sure, I think I’ve eaten there before.” Kevin said, “We can get it and then eat it later. Are you going to run?” “Yeah,” said Connor. “I could use the time to think.” “Mind company? I’ve started to enjoy riding while you run.” “Not at all, me too…” Connor bit his lip. “You know, I ought to call Carl and tell him everything you told me. Tomorrow I’ll probably go in. I guess we’ll say it’s an anonymous tip about the guy with the cast.

We’ll just say someone remembered

something and phoned it in, but didn’t want to be identified.” “I guess,” said Kevin. “I usually don’t have much to do with how my information gets out.” “I still don’t know how this has anything to do with Andrew.” Connor thought, there, I’ve said it, and I hope he doesn’t take it wrong. Kevin took a while to answer. “I’m sorry Connor, I’m not sure. It’s as if he’s totally obsessed with Andrew, and is reliving that murder. The more I think about it the more I wonder if Andrew’s murder was supposed to happen. I mean, I think maybe that was a mistake, and either he regretted it, and is somehow trying to do it differently to atone, or he liked it, and now it’s a compulsion.” “But that was ten years ago. Those guys don’t just simmer, waiting for ten years and then start offending again. If it’s such a compulsion why wait ten years?” “That’s a good question isn’t it? That would be the first one I’d want answered. Talk to the Feds, that’s a profiling question. There has to be a reason he wasn’t in the game for that long. Maybe he was in jail, maybe in another part of the country. If you were to ask me, I would say he wasn’t offending somewhere else. I think he started again because he’s here where everything reminds him of Andrew. The environment is part of the trigger. It’s just possible that if you can find out why ten years you’ll have a whole lot of answers to other questions too,” said Kevin grimly. “Connor?”

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“What,” Connor was still busy thinking. “When you find this guy, I think… I think you’re going to know him.”

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Chapter Sixteen Sometime in the middle of Connor’s run it began to rain, intermittently at first then turning into a downpour that had both men soaking wet and running up the stairs of the apartment building. Connor was laughing and shaking his wet head and Kevin carried the bicycle over his shoulder as they entered the apartment. Kevin put the bike on the patio under the eaves. When he came in he found Connor waiting for him with a fresh towel. “I didn’t expect the rain,” said Kevin. “You don’t usually have weather here.” “Sometimes it sneaks up.” Connor went to his room to change and Kevin did the same. They were both unaccountably shy when they returned to the hall, both wearing flannel drawstring pants and tee shirts. “I’ll reheat the food,” said Kevin. “Maybe we could eat at the coffee table. Do you have a candle?” “Of course, and it’s unscented too, so you can get naked and stroke yourself to better get in touch with the ‘other’,” said Connor. He took some candles out of a cupboard in the living room, handing them to Kevin, along with a stick lighter he found. “Okay, I apologized for that.” “Never mind, it was pretty funny. Your wit draws me in.” “That’s a nice thing to say.” Kevin smiled. “Do you have chopsticks?” “They should be in the bag with the food,” Connor replied. “Want music?” “Sure,” said Kevin. “Well, I guess that depends, what kind you were thinking.” “Jazz maybe. Why?” 130

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“Great, just no country please. Tell me you’re not into country music.” “Never fear,” said Connor. He turned on a soft jazz radio station. “Hey. I hate to do this, but I’ve got to call Carl, can you wait a few minutes? If I don’t it will just prey on my mind.” “Go ahead,” said Kevin. “I’d like it if we could both relax.” “Are you trying to set up a romantic evening?” Kevin stopped what he was doing and looked over at Connor. “Is there something wrong with that?” “Oh hell no,” said Connor, “I’ll make my call brief.” He walked to his room with his cell phone out. Kevin set the coffee table for two. He put out a couple of cold beers, and arranged spare couch cushions on the floor. He lit the candles Connor gave him and sat down to wait for him. Kevin held his hands out, playing with the flame of a candle, watching it flicker as he moved the air around it.

He wouldn’t second-guess himself, and he

wouldn’t get in his own way. He’d never been in love before, but had prepared himself for the possibility. He’d even imagined the possibility of not being loved in return. Anything could happen. Kevin always felt that if he fell, he wouldn’t go halfway, but would fly into the face of it like Icarus, and if it was too much, or unrequited, or didn’t last, he’d just fall and be damned. Connor came out of the bedroom at last. “I hope you don’t have to reheat the food,” he said. “Nah, it’s still hot enough, see? I kept the lid on it.” He indicated the microwave steam covers. Connor picked up the chopsticks. “This is nice,” he said, “I wonder why it makes me feel so stupid.” “What do you mean,” asked Kevin, “If you don’t like this, we can…” “No,” said Connor, stopping Kevin by putting a hand on his arm. “I mean, I just feel strange to be here with a man, and yet, when… If I ever did this kind of thing with Cheryl, I just felt nothing at all. With you, I think… I just feel out of place.”

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“Oh, I guess you would.” Kevin toyed with his beer. “If you were a kid, then you probably just had moments, right? Kind of snatch and grab? Not a lot of time for courtship.” “No. Too busy trying not to get caught.” “It’s nicer when you can relax.” said Kevin, picking up a piece of orange chicken with his chopsticks and holding it out for Connor to eat. Connor opened his mouth and took the morsel in. After he chewed and swallowed Kevin leaned over and licked his lower lip. “You had some sauce...” “You make me feel so strange.” “Strange like how?” Kevin asked, picking up another tidbit and feeding it to him, finding he liked the way the man opened his mouth and took it tentatively with his tongue. “Strange like nervous, aroused, intoxicated, off balance. Strange like crazy, a little.” Connor sighed. “All that at once?”

Kevin was just enjoying the sight of Connor’s face in the

candlelight. “Where do you keep hungry and thirsty?” “Don’t tease me.” Connor lowered his eyes and took a bite from his own plate. “Never,” Kevin whispered next to Connor’s ear. “Never.” He held out another bite from his plate, waiting patiently for Connor to finish swallowing and take it. He was sitting right next to Connor on the floor, close enough to reach out a hand and slide it inside the back of Connor’s shirt to stroke his back gently. “Mm.” Connor leaned in to the massage. “That feels nice.” “I like touching you.” Kevin grinned. “I’ll bet you knew that,” Connor picked up a piece of chicken from his plate and held it out for Kevin. He tried another, but it slipped off because of the sticky sauce so he reached out with his fingers and picked it up, holding it. Kevin took his hand and ate the chicken, licking the sauce from Connor’s index finger “Um, Kevin, I’m… I’m feeling very…” “Good,” said Kevin, handing him his beer. “Rice?” he asked, using his chopsticks to grab a sticky clump, which he fed to Connor following it up with another tender kiss.

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After they ate the rest of dinner that way, feeding one another with chopsticks and fingers Kevin felt reluctant to waste the candlelight and the mood. “This is nice,” said Connor. “Are we back to that again? Still nervous?” asked Kevin. “I just want to be with you like this. I want to look at your lips and make you shiver and do nothing about it until the pressure builds unbearably.” “Oh, my,” breathed Connor. “Will you dance with me?” “I… well. That’s a little silly, isn’t it?” “Is it?” asked Kevin, getting up and extending his hand. Connor took it slowly, as if he didn’t know why. When they were standing opposite one another, Connor held his hand out and began to put his arm around Kevin’s waist. “Forget what you learned in Cotillion, Trekkie… Dancing is about wanting.” Kevin put Connor’s arms around his neck, and slid his own around Connors waist, up under his shirt where he made little scratchy circles on Connor’s back. “Oh,” said Connor, “I like that.” Kevin leaned in, and Connor put his head down on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin could feel Connor’s breath on his neck. “Me too. I like your skin. It’s warm and cool at the same time.” “You’re talking nonsense.” “I know,” Kevin took out a hand and caressed the back of Connor’s head. Connor licked, then bit at the place where Kevin’s neck joined his shoulder. “That’s one of my favorite places, right there,” Connor said. “I can’t help it, I always want to taste it.” Kevin kissed him deeply, still moving to the music. He maneuvered closer, bringing their bodies into full contact. “I could dance with you like this forever.” “Are we really dancing?” “Maybe,” said Kevin, between kisses.

He slipped his hand down the back of

Connor’s pants, “Connor?”

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“Hm?” “Maybe we’re not dancing anymore.” “Whatever, let’s just stay like this, okay?” Kevin nuzzled and bumped Connor’s face with his, giving in to the desire to just press flesh. He ran his hands lightly up and down Connor’s shoulders, tracing the muscled contours of his biceps and chest. Connor made simple round circles with the palms of his hands on Kevin’s back, his arms, and his ass. Kevin felt Connor’s fingers comb through his hair; felt them tug him, hard, to lower his mouth for a kiss. “Mmmhmm.” Connor hummed when Kevin kissed him like he meant it. Suddenly, Connor stopped what he was doing and stepped back a little. “Where’d you go?” “Back,” Connor answered obliquely. Kevin understood and the corners of his lips rose in a wry smile. “I guess… it’s true that I’m new at this. I’m way out of my depth. What I thought was romance, was just… I don’t know what. I don’t like to think of myself lying to Cheryl and the others, but I must have been.” “Or you were lying to yourself. Or you are now,” said Kevin, giving him an out. “Is it possible that the feelings you had with Andrew were unique to the time and place?” “They were,” said Connor closing his eyes. “Yeah, they were. You can only have that desperate, crazy first love once, right? Kevin felt something fragile in him crackle, but he was man enough to hide it behind a careless sweep of his lashes. “I guess.” He loosened his hold on Connor, who reached over and picked up their beer bottles, intent on continuing the dance. “Here,” said Connor, giving him the beer. He circled his left arm around Kevin’s neck, while his right brought the bottle to his mouth. Kevin put his hands, still holding the beer, behind Connor’s back and just held him, dancing. “You’re doing this because you think I’m inexperienced, right?” “Maybe,” said Kevin. “But maybe I just wanted to slow down and enjoy you.” “Do you usually do that?” asked Connor, “you seem more like the type to break the land speed record getting someone out of their clothes.”

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“How would you know? You keep undressing me,” said Kevin, mildly pissed. “Not unless you’ve been stunned, or wet, or catatonic, or something…” “Or something.” “Well it’s true that if you add up all my experience it doesn’t amount to much.” “And yet, Trekkie, you suck me like the Klingons just decloaked and you need maximum firepower now or the ship is doomed.” Kevin was feeling decidedly less romantic now that he’d heard that Andrew and Cheryl had joined the party. “Excuse me?” said Connor. “Just pick a team, Connor, and folks will line up to scout you.” Connor broke off the dance, still holding his beer to his lips. He took a quick sip, and said, “Okay that was, like, one too many metaphors for me. Back up. What just happened here?” “There are too many people here, Trekkie. When I’m with you I don’t want to hear how Cheryl did or didn’t do it for you and I sure the hell don’t want to hear what Andrew did. I don’t really have a driving need to be Mr. Right, Connor, but it’s always good policy to keep it to yourself if someone is just Mr. Right Now.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “I don’t have any idea.” Kevin looked away. “You’re actually… well,” said Connor, “I can hardly bring myself to say it, but damn.” “Don’t bother.” “Not jealous of Cheryl, couldn’t be, so it’s the dead guy?” “Oh, I like that…” Kevin smacked him a little. “I’ve known he was dead for a long time, Kevin, I came to terms with it before I was even on the force.” “So that’s why you dream of him every night.” “That’s not fair! If you weren’t the psychic wonder I could hide stuff like that, and you wouldn’t have to get all uppity,” Connor smacked Kevin right back. “Connor,” warned Kevin.

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“No, you listen, because I can probably only say this once. There’s kid wanting, right? Insanely sexy exploration and touches and running behind stuff to hide. It’s all about how much is what you want and how much is not getting caught, yeah?” “I guess,” said Kevin. “Then there’s Cheryl wanting, and that inexplicable urge to conform, to just do what everyone else is doing, to swim along, upstream, because there’s nothing else that’s presented itself to prevent you, see? “Yeah,” said Kevin. “And then there’s you.” “Me?” “You,” agreed Connor, gripping him tightly by the ass so there was no mistaking the level of his arousal, “and it’s like some kind of jungle animal, cut it out of the herd and screw it or eat it, I frankly don’t care, wanting. Take it home because it’s mine, wanting. Bury yourself in it and kill it and die with it, wanting.” “Oh.” Kevin sighed “Damn straight,” said Connor. “So, yeah, I look at you and I could suck start a leaf blower, or drill a Kevin-shaped body hole into the wall, like a cartoon.” “Oh,” said Kevin again, this time a little breathlessly. “So you can stop being psychic and I can keep my mouth shut, or you can just accept that you aren’t the first and I’m a little confused, and help me through it.” “The latter… I pick option ‘B’.” “It comes with some baggage and stuff,” Connor took Kevin’s face in his hands. “Not everyone’s first love was kidnapped and murdered and never found.” “I’m so sorry,” said Kevin. “So selfish. I’m actually totally selfish, but I’ve been trying to cut back.” “For me?” “Yeah,” said Kevin. They stared at each other a long time. Etta James’ silky, thickhoney voice was moaning on the radio, Kevin and Connor were leaning-in close, still making a pretense at dancing, but not moving even a little. 136

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“Connor.” Kevin breathed the word, like a sigh, a small noise, because he was thinking of becoming a Kevin-shaped hole in the wall. “Yeah,” said Connor, whose breath came out in small gasps.

His body was

beginning to tremble from the way Kevin was touching him, lightly, everywhere at once. Kevin’s eyes were thick lidded and heavy, his good eye focused on Connor’s mouth. Just as he was about to take that mouth with his, he felt a buzzing sensation that broke the spell and caused him to jump. “Shit,” he stepped back. Connor grimaced and fumbled for his cell phone, which was clipped to the waistband of his flannel pants. “Dougal,” he said, walking away from Kevin, and the radio, so he could hear. He listened intently for a minute, nodding his head, which Kevin thought was pretty funny. “’Kay,” he said, “See you then.” Connor looked dazed for a minute, then back at Kevin. “Damn, Damn, Damn.” He put his hands up when Kevin came to him. “I’ve got to work. There’s another one.” “What?” “Just went missing. From his house no less. They’re working it as if it were part of the missing boy thing, but…” “When did he go missing?” asked Kevin, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Around 7:30 near as anyone can figure,” said Connor. “He said he was going to his room to play video games around 6:00 but then when they checked to see what he was up to later he was just gone.” “Sounds fishy. Our guy doesn’t hunt at night,” said Kevin. “Part of his thing is the satisfaction he gets from taking a kid in broad daylight.” “You know that one hundred percent?” “No…” said Kevin, “but almost.” Connor began the walk toward his bedroom to change. “Well, the kid fits the age and profile so we’ve got to look into it, although I don’t think they’ve issued an Amber alert yet. The MO is different. I think Carl figures the kid made other plans, and his parents are in for a shock. I’ve got to get dressed and go, I’m headed with Carl over to

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the scene.” He turned back, a look of real regret on his face. “I’ll be here,” said Kevin, shrugging his shoulders. Connor came back to the living room and kissed him. It was a starving kiss, a kiss that held all kinds of promise. “You’d better be.” Connor returned to his room to change. Kevin picked up the empty bottles and blew out the candles. He turned off the radio. He had the living room lights on when Connor returned dressed and ready. Connor let himself out the front door, turning back. “Hey, Kevin?” “Yeah?” Kevin was turning on the television, searching as he always did for CNN. “Be in my room when I get back, okay?” Connor smiled. “Okay,” Kevin answered. Like he wasn’t planning that very thing. “That’s a great idea.”

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Chapter Seventeen

Connor let himself in quietly, checking his watch. Just after four. What a damn waste of taxpayer dollars. He’d genuinely felt sorry for the parents when they realized their boy just wanted to show off the Wii he got for Christmas to a friend in a home nearby without informing the friend’s parents that he was there. They’d been frantic, and he was certain that the boy was in for some hard times. Connor was glad the boy was home and safe, even offering a prayer of thanksgiving when all was said and done, but still. The evening with Kevin had been going so well. He’d hated to hit the pause button on that, and was totally unsure of what to do now. He toed his shoes off at the door, padding silently to his room. Kevin was lying in his bed, naked, having thrown the covers off sometime in the night. His body seemed impossibly long, the muscles well defined, the ass so perfect and sharp, Connor thought he could open an imported beer with it. “What are you doing?” came Kevin’s sleepy sounding voice from the bed. “Um,” said Connor, “I’m objectifying you.”

He’d learned all about that in

sensitivity training, but had never actually done it. It felt good. “I see,” murmured Kevin. Connor ditched his clothes as fast as he could, dropping them on the chair at his desk. When he was as naked as Kevin he got on the bed and slid over to him. His cold body met Kevin’s sleep-warmed one and curled around as much of it as he could. “Cold,” said Connor. 139

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Kevin turned to him, “Californians,” he muttered. He reached over and pulled the sheet and blanket over them “The kid?” Kevin asked. “Safe from predators; his parents are going to kill him though.” “Thought so.” He reached around and fondled Kevin’s balls from the back. “Oh.” Connor moaned, his back arching, his head tipping back. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Kevin put his face into Connor’s neck and breathed deeply. “Had to take a shower.” “You smell pretty good,” said Connor. “Lemony.” Connor could feel Kevin’s heat; he was like a blast furnace. Before he knew what was happening he was pressing into Kevin, rocking against him. Breathless. “ I waited for you.” Kevin bit his lip. “Wanted this.” Kevin wrapped his hand around both their cocks, rubbing them together and jerking them off. His hips moved automatically, giving friction. He played with Kevin, pulling and stroking his balls while he found his mouth and plunged right in, licking and sucking his lips until they were swollen and red. Connor had to breathe, breaking the kiss, giving Kevin his neck instead. Kevin’s lips and teeth settled in to the space just above his collarbone. “Kevin,” said Connor. He felt Kevin’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin. “I… oh damn, I…” He jerked in Kevin’s hands, hot and wet. Kevin wasn’t far behind, moaning and humming into Connor’s neck as he came. “Oh, pretty, pretty baby.” Kevin stroked Connor’s face with his non-slick hand. “You make me sticky.” Connor stilled. “You’d better not have just called me a pretty baby.” Connor looked down at him. “Uh, no,” said Kevin. “Course not.” Connor left to get a damp towel and returned, using it to wipe himself and Kevin up. He threw it back toward the bathroom. “You are though,” said Kevin, as Connor slid in to the bed and under the blankets where he could spoon up to that wonderful body he’d been thinking about all night. “What?”

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“Pretty.” Kevin turned Connor to face him. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes. And your lips make me crazy. It’s a wonder I don’t walk into stuff; I’m always looking at you. I almost fell off your boat.” “That was because you were clumsy, landlubber.” “So not true, I’ll have you know I’m known for my catlike grace and agility.” Connor snorted and Kevin glared at him. “Something about you just blows me up inside and I look like a clown whenever I’m around you.” “You really mean that, don’t you?” Connor tried to see his face in the darkness. “Are you kidding?” “Nope. I’m usually pretty smooth. I see I’ll have to get affidavits from others.” “No Kevin, I’m laughing because you have no clue, do you?” Turning, he pulled Kevin’s arms around him and settled his butt right in the middle of the man’s stomach. “You are unbelievably hot, Kev. I go up in flames when you touch me.” Two hours later Connor knew that Kevin woke up happy. He hadn’t moved an inch from his spot, which made Connor wake up happy, too. “Mm,” murmured Connor into the pillow. “Just take the wallet, I’ve got nothing else you want.” Kevin swatted at him. “Au contraire.” Connor reached a hand back to find Kevin’s cock and skim it a little, his thumb grazing the tip and making Kevin shudder. “I see,” said Connor turning. He leaned in for a kiss, “Mind morning breath?” “Yours or some old wino’s?” Kevin didn’t seem to mind Connor kissing him, no matter what time of day or night it was. “How often do you kiss old wino’s in the morning?” “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” “Mm,” Connor stroked little circles on Kevins shoulders. “Kevin, can I feel what you’re like underneath me?” Kevin slid an arm under him and lifted him up, parting his legs to hold Connor between them. “Okay,” he said, “Sure.”

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“Oh I was right, you’re way hotter from this angle.” He was just about to kiss Kevin when a loud banging sound erupted on the front door. “What the…” Connor got up to answer it, grabbing a robe and giving Kevin a wink. “Buzz kill. Back soon.” Connor stalked to the front door, tying the sash on his robe and giving it a yank. What he found there told him he wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon. Carl was just outside, flanked by two FBI agents. Connor dropped his sash, and without saying anything, motioned the three men inside. They all looked around, nervously, Connor thought. “Carl?” Carl rolled his eyes. They met Connor’s and communicated a strong desire to be somewhere, anywhere else. “Detective Connor Dougal?” said the taller of the two feds. “Jameson.” He was a little blonde, a little too neatly trimmed. He looked like he lifted weights. “You know who I am, we’re working on this case together.” Connor sighed. He didn’t like how this was going at all. Two other people, a man and a woman, entered his home. They were putting on gloves and carrying cases. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Connor was still looking at Carl. “I have,” Carl said, “ for the record, voiced my strongest objection to this. I have told these men that I do not believe you had anything to do with the Andrew Schilling disappearance, or any of these new cases.” “Be that as it may,” the smaller agent said, “We have a number of questions to ask you, Detective Dougal, and would like you to accompany…” he broke off, and Connor turned to see what he was staring at so intently. Kevin was sauntering, clad only in boxers, into the kitchen. “Coffee, Connor?” he asked. “Sure,” said Connor, sighing. To the Feds he said, “Do you mind if I change?” The taller of the two agents spoke up. “Oh, I get it now, you went and brought in your psychic fairy godmother.”

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“Have we met?” Kevin asked, standing casually in front of the man. “Back, naked freak, this is official.” Jameson said. “I guess we dated, and I just can’t remember?” Kevin looked amused, which Connor knew from his own limited personal experience was when he was at his most dangerous. “I’m not really surprised.” “I said back,” the man said, and then turned, ignoring him. To the two technicians, he said, “Go over the place, look for hidey holes. I want all the electronics, phones, and computers, whatever. Take all the time you need. Don’t worry about the clean up, I’m sure the little woman here can see to it.” “Now look,” said Carl, “you can’t just…” “But I can, Carl, and I think you know that. I’ve got a warrant, it’s all legal.” He brushed past the outraged man. “And I didn’t even have to get it under the Patriot Act. It’s my lucky day.” “Don’t worry Carl,” said Kevin, “His superiors are going to use him like a little woman when they realize what a bonehead move this is.” Carl, who seemed shocked to see Kevin come half-naked out of Connor’s bedroom, was still staring. Connor left them and came out of his bedroom a few minutes later dressed in khaki slacks and a white oxford, a leather jacket slung over his arm. He was wearing his badge and carrying his gun in its holster. “I assume I can go Friday casual?” he asked. “Comfort is key,” said Kevin. “It’s always best to assume a longer stay than you would like.” “I know,” said Connor, “I hate to spoil our morning.” He touched Kevin’s face. “Don’t make me blush in front of the feds,” said Kevin. “I’ll bake you a cake with a file in it. What flavor?” He handed Connor a travel mug filled with coffee. “Do you have to ask?” “Devil’s Food it is.” With that, Connor left with the two federal agents, leaving Kevin alone with Carl and the two people searching Connor’s house. ****

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Carl followed Kevin to his room, where he retreated to put some clothes on. “What the hell is going on Carl,” said Kevin, after zipping up his jeans. “Ah, geez, you know the feds. I passed on the information about Connor and Andrew, explained that he came to me with it and shared it because he wondered if there was a connection. I didn’t say anything about you, of course, now they know.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Shit.” “I’m visiting my family for the holidays, Carl, what are you talking about?” “And when they’ve got your computer, your phone records? No more lies. It ends now.” He seemed like he was making a decision. “I’m going to suggest they interview you too.” “You saw what they think of me. The tall one, Jameson isn’t it? He was in Denver. This just makes my day.” He plopped onto his bed, jamming his bare feet into his Vans, and finishing the buttons on his shirt. “I looked like an asshole on that one, Carl, you know that.” “They didn’t solve it either, Kevin,” Carl reminded him. “You’re even.” Kevin made a disgusted sound. “Oh, what the hell, how could I fall any lower.” He picked up the messenger bag he’d been using as a laptop case and started with Carl to the door. “I’m sorry sir,” said the tech, apologetically. She frankly appraised him and licked her lips. “That stays here.” She motioned toward his laptop case. “But it’s mine,” said Kevin, confused, “it doesn’t belong to Dougal.” “It’s here, sir, and that makes it mine,” she said, and he could tell she wasn’t comfortable, wouldn’t be happy to push, but she knew what her job was. “Take it,” he said. “Don’t erase my porn. I’ve illegally downloaded only the best stuff.” “Uh.” She took the bag. “Kidding.” Kevin held up his hands. “I’m kidding. It’s your job, I know that, but it’s like an old friend, cause it’s a Mac, you know? Not a PC. So be gentle. It’s only been

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with me.” “Shut up Kevin,” said Carl, pulling him by the arm. “Let’s get going. I think the first thing you should do is phone your dad, and see if he can call in any favors, they’re bound to be better than anything I can draw.” Together they took the elevator to the ground floor. “I’m parked over here.” “That’s rich, ‘Daddy, my boyfriend’s in trouble’.” “Yeah, and he was Connor’s friend and mentor long before you were with Connor.” Carl asked about it, “Are you with Connor? He did say he was gay at Christmas dinner, but I thought that was just some misguided show of solidarity.” Kevin ignored him. “At least Himself doesn’t hate me now.” “You are such a major pain. He never hated you; he’s your dad. My kid’s not even a grainy spot on the ultrasound but already I feel crazy with it.” He used his remote entry to open the locks on his car. “When are you going to learn not to make rash decisions? Someone needs to do a reality check for you every five minutes.” Kevin thought about James Wexler. Come to think of it, he’d said something similar at least once or twice in the past five years. “It’s been said,” Kevin murmured. “Stop looking at things so black and white,” said Carl. “And next time the feds knock on your door, put some clothes on, you shameless bastard.” Carl had to finish laughing before he could start the car and Kevin joined him. By the time he was done both men were in tears. “Jameson’s face, man, ‘back naked freak’, priceless.” “Okay get a grip, what do we have to do to rescue the princess?” **** Connor was feeling rather fatalistic as they led him down another long hallway. It seemed to him that he should have known this was coming. Really, after all, wasn’t that why he hadn’t told the police about his relationship with Andrew in the first place? He thought back to those first long days after Andrew’s disappearance, to the ache in his heart and the despair as the days went by with no answers forthcoming. He should 145

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have told, he knew he should have, but at the time his cowardice was compounded by the desire not to inflict any more pain on Andrew’s grieving parents. Or his own parents, who cared for Andrew like a second son. Now it was all going to come out anyway. . As he was led to an interrogation room, a door to his left suddenly opened and Andrew’s parents walked out, followed by two agents.

Without thinking, Connor

smiled and started to speak, but a red-eyed Mrs. Schilling clutched at her husband’s sleeve and scooted past him without meeting his eyes. One of the agents whispered something to Jameson, and then followed Mr. And Mrs. Schilling out. The way Mrs. Schilling avoided Connor’s eyes caused something to die inside him. His stomach roiled and he felt pale and shaken. Next to him Jameson was smiling. “Well, Detective Dougal, I wonder if we could please have your watch?” He held out an evidence bag for Connor to put it in, which he did. He felt the cold air on the band of skin it usually covered. Jameson nearly licked his lips, saying, “Come with me.”

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Z.A. Maxfield

Chapter Eighteen

Connor answered the same question patiently for the sixth time. “I didn’t speak out about my relationship with Andrew Schilling because I was fifteen, and in the closet, and scared to death.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I realize that was wrong. I was young, and afraid. I didn’t want to add to anyone’s pain.” “So now you’re a cop, yet you still wear Andrew’s watch. Like a trophy,” said Jameson. “Do whatever you can to try to make me the guy,” said Connor. “You’re going to look like a fool in the end.” “Tell me about the watch, Connor,” said Jameson. “I told you, we were at my house, and just so you don’t think I’m hiding anything we were hitting it like bunnies. My mom came up the drive and we scrambled for our clothes. Andrew left his watch on the nightstand. The next day was Father’s Day and that afternoon he went missing. I sailed with my family until sunset. We worked together till long after that, cleaning out the boat and bringing things up from the dock. My dad is crazy for putting things away properly. Everything ‘ship-shape and Bristol fashion’. “The Schilling’s called us several times to see if Andrew was at our place before we were even in the house to get the messages. My mom was talking to Andrew’s mom when I brought in our cooler.

I remember because of the look on her face… like

someone was giving her really bad news.” 147

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The smaller agent, Tran, put a hand on Jameson’s shoulder to halt his reply and asked a question of his own. “So. Kevin Quinn the Psychic Cyclops comes into town, and you just happened to remember you had a gay relationship with an unsolved kidnapping case.” “You know, I’ve tried to be really forthcoming and answer your questions without sarcasm or prevarication of any kind. I’d appreciate at least that much respect in return. I really, really didn’t think my relationship with Andrew had anything to do with his kidnapping. I was young; I was scared shitless. I was ashamed, now that I think about it, but I’m not any more. I loved somebody and he disappeared, and no matter how much you shake me up that won't make me the guy that disappeared him.” “Okay, so honestly, why now, what’s with telling the whole truth now?” asked Tran. “Kevin said,” Jameson made a snorting noise, but Tran squeezed his shoulder again, “that I ought to tell because that area of investigation was never pursued. He pointed out, as only he could, that if Andrew was the more experienced partner he didn’t get that way in a vacuum. There had to have been someone else.” “And you felt he was experienced,” said Jameson. Both Connor and Tran knew he was just asking to make him say it. “He taught me everything I know,” said Connor, to shut him up. He leaned very close to Jameson, “And he was very, very good at it.” Jameson pushed back his chair. He was pissed. “I’m not getting it,” he said. “Let’s go over the timeline once or twice more. So, what, exactly were you doing at your house the day before Father’s Day, for the record? We wouldn’t want to leave anything out, would we?” Oh crap, Connor thought. He wasn’t sorry he’d taunted the man, but he regretted the time it was going to cost. Once he’d realized the timeline would give them problems he wasn’t as worried as he had been. There was no doubt that it could all go terribly wrong, but he doubted even Jameson would try to hold him on the evidence they had so far. For now, he just had to get through this and get back home. He had a vague uneasy

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feeling that Kevin, who was just now coming to understand and make some peace with his gift, might find life without his handler less than satisfactory. **** Kevin puked into the trashcan again. “Geez,” said Carl. “I had no idea it was this bad. When Connor came to me last week to tell me you were in trouble, I didn’t understand.”

He’d given Kevin the

evidence from Mile Square Park again, the boy’s things and the button, in order to see if he could be more specific about the crime. Without Connor, Kevin fell apart completely. Carl went to the door of his office and asked someone to bring a wet gym towel and a cold Seven-UP. Kevin was ashamed. “I don’t usually do this in front of people,” he said. “That’s why I work alone.” Carl looked at him with compassion, like he would a little brother, which essentially, thought Kevin, he was. “Listen Kevin, it’s obvious you shouldn’t do this stuff. I really can’t ask you to. I’m sorry. Really.” “No, Carl. Connor found me a shrink; she works with people like me, and she helped me a lot the other day. She told me I could control it, that I’d be fine and I believed her. I think if I work with her I could be useful again.” Kevin started to retch again, and grabbed the wastebasket in preparation, although nothing came out but air. “Oh man, Kevin.” Carl rubbed his face.

A knock came at the door and Carl

answered it. He took a damp towel and a soda from the officer who brought it. “Here, this might help.” He handed them to Kevin. Kevin ran the towel over his face. Ruefully he said, “Connor’s shrink lady said the force is strong with me,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle, opening the soda and sipping it carefully. “She didn’t see me like this, though.” “You say Connor found her?” “Yeah, apparently he did a lot of internet research while I was sleeping or

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something. Yesterday, he took me down to see her in San Clemente. We were there most of the day.” He drank another small sip of soda and found it helped a little. “I was beginning to regret assigning you to him.” “Why?” “Gee I don’t know, maybe because you came in from out of town and turned him queer, or maybe because he’s being questioned by the feds for a crime he didn’t commit.” Kevin looked at him with very serious, sad eyes. “It is my fault, isn’t it?” he asked. “If I hadn’t told him to tell he wouldn’t be there.” “Of course it’s not your fault,” said Carl. “I think, except for the inconvenience, and the wear and tear on all of us, it’s a good thing to get it all out in the open. Unfortunately that Jameson’s an asshole. He’s like a dog with a bone, and he’s not going to let Connor go without making a nuisance of himself.” Carl tied off the trash bag from his waste paper basket. “And you, my friend, are going to carry this,” he handed it to Kevin, “to the trash. Pray it doesn’t leak.” Kevin took the bag from him and headed out. On his desk, Carl’s phone rang. “Lubbock,” he answered. Kevin walked his trash to the bathroom and placed it in one of the larger bins in there. He washed his face and hands, and returned to Carl’s office. “I just got off the phone with your dad,” said Carl, “Himself says hello.” Kevin smiled, picking up his soda. “Apparently, the feds are most pissed that they didn’t pursue that line of questioning at the time. Certain items in Andrew’s possession might have led them to ask questions, but were overlooked, partly because they were pussyfooting around the very wealthy Schillings and partly because they didn’t turn up anything to lead them in that direction with his friends.” Carl tapped his finger on the week-at-a-glance-calendar on his desk. “The Schillings have cooperated and are understandably upset, however, interestingly enough, a Schilling cousin is a prominent attorney, and is going to bat for Connor. He’s making

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noise even as we speak, and Himself thinks he’ll have Connor home for dinner.” “Really?” “Yeah, although I don’t know, Jameson really has a hard-on to cause trouble. Can you explain that to me?” “I think some toes were stepped on in Denver. By me,” Kevin blushed. “And then there was the whole nearly naked thing this morning.” Carl gave him a hard stare. “Are we on the same page? You will do nothing further to cause Connor pain or embarrassment or I will personally see to it that you are partnered with an ancient crone who has hairy warts?” “Yes sir, I really am sorry about that now,” said Kevin, smothering a laugh, “probably.” “Anyway, clean yourself up, Himself is coming down here to take you to lunch.” “What?” Kevin practically jumped. “Himself is coming down to take you to lunch,” Carl repeated, “He should be up any minute, he was calling from his cell phone.” “Shit.”. “What?” “I guess I’m just not…” a knock came at the door of Carl’s office, but then, Himself being Himself, he barreled right in. “Hey there,” said Carl, rising to shake his hand. “Carl, Kevin,” said Chief Quinn, “Geez, it smells like puke in here.” Kevin looked around stupidly, “Yeah, well.” “So, Kevin,” said the Chief. “Let’s go to lunch, shall we?” Kevin followed the still robust form of his father out into the office area and down the stairs to the parking lot. His dad led him to a Silver BMW and it occurred to Kevin that this was the first time he was seeing his father’s car in years. He hadn’t any idea, up till that moment, what his father drove, or even if his father drove, and that thought made him unbearably sad. “You’ve always been a big man, Dad,” said Kevin, looking down. “I could never

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hope to fill your shoes, but this thing you’re doing now? Making it right between us? That’s the biggest thing ever, and I…I want you to know I’m grateful.” Kevin didn’t know where he found the words; he just said them, and the lump in his throat got bigger and bigger until he was scared he’d throw up again. His father cleared his own throat loudly, and personally opened the passenger door, throwing an arm around Kevin’s shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze. Other than that, he said nothing, just got into the driver’s seat and took off. Kevin didn’t know where they were headed, and he didn’t much care. It had been years since he’d driven up Pacific Coast Highway with his old man, and the sweet familiarity of it stung his eyes. They drove until they reached Superior, and then headed down the Peninsula, his dad surprising him by passing the ‘Crab Cooker’ and heading instead for ‘Charlie’s Chili’ by the Newport Pier.

Kevin’s father parked, and they

walked in, the smell of chili washing over them like fog. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” said Kevin, liking the way his dad’s hand hovered by his elbow. “I love this place.” “Well,” said his dad, “I thought since it was cold out…” “Cold,” laughed Kevin. “I can’t get over you and Connor and how cold you get. I had to drive to my Vet’s a week ago, geez, was that only a week?” He marveled at the way time passed. “Well anyway, I had to drive there and it was about seventeen degrees.” “Icy roads?” said Kevin’s dad, and Kevin could tell he was thinking about the accident, the one Kevin had coming down from Mount Hood where he’d been snowboarding with friends. “Yeah. I didn’t have a choice, my dog, Asia… Well.” “That recently?” he asked. Kevin nodded, “I’m sorry Kev.” “Me too, she was old. I had her for… let me see… six years. She was twelve when she died. I got her when I moved to Wyoming, from a shelter, you know? She was a great dog.” Kevin thanked the waiter for bringing waters, and ordered regular chili with cornbread. His Dad ordered the same with chili fries.

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The older Quinn sighed. “How am I going to find out about all that time,” he said. “It pisses me off. I don’t know anything about you, I haven’t seen you for six years.” Kevin nodded. “Reader’s Digest edition. I live in Wyoming, nowhere, on a ranch with no animals. I write, and along with disability it pays the bills. I had a dog, named Asia, and we were good company for each other. I dated the vet, sometimes, but more like just friends. Other than that, what you see is what you get.” His dad looked so sad all of a sudden that Kevin put a hand out, “What?” “I guess at least I pictured you off partying and what-not. I thought you’d at least be happy. Now I find out you were all alone. Geez,” his dad cleared his throat. “It’s not so bad,” soothed Kevin, “it really isn’t. I’m… well… I haven’t been too happy since the accident. But I have friends, it isn’t so bad.” “Kevin, I’m your father and you’ve got to tell me the truth, what happened in the accident. I know it cost your job on the force, but what’s all this crazy stuff about Denver? The newspapers made it seem like you were pretending to be some psychic consultant or something. I took some ribbing from the guys.” “Oh, man,” said Kevin. “And I thought it was tough to tell you I was gay.” He rubbed his hands through his hair. “Something happened to me in the accident, Chief. Nobody really believes it. It’s okay if they don’t. It makes it easier that way.” He sighed. “You know when people say they’d give their left eye for something? They shouldn’t.” Nathan Quinn sighed a long-suffering and gallant Irish sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Nope,” said Kevin.

“Congratulations. It’s a one-eyed, romance-novel writing,

homosexual, psychic, baby boy Chief Quinn.” “Holy mother of crap,” said the Chief. “On a lighter note, I found something I’m good at that I can do, even disabled, and it will pay for lunch, probably for the rest of our lives.” “Well, that’s good, I guess,” Kevin’s father flagged the waiter down and ordered a shot of bourbon and a pitcher of beer. “I’m thinking I’m going to need a designated

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driver.” **** Jameson and Tran finally came back to the small interview room where they’d left Connor to stew a while. A long while. Connor was just thinking he was glad he had a strong bladder when the door opened. “Good news, princess, you’re going home,” said Jameson. “Ah,” said Connor, not reacting. “Excellent.” “We’ll be in touch, of course,” said Jameson, the statement more like a threat, but falling on deaf, tired ears, as far as Connor was concerned. “I’ll be around,” he said. “Call on me anytime.” “Thank you,” said Tran, who handed Connor his belongings: phone, badge, gun, and wallet. The watch was conspicuously absent. Connor walked down all the long hallways and out of the building, wondering why he’d been let go, and how he would get home. He was looking around about to call Kevin on his cell phone when a voice behind him said, “Connor? Connor Dougal?” Connor turned. “Yes?” A man approached who looked vaguely familiar. “I’m Daniel Schilling, Andrew’s cousin.

I came here at Chief Quinn’s request, and spoke to someone regarding

interviewing you. I told them I represent you, if you don’t mind. I think you should have legal representation. It’s wise at this point.” “Oh,” said Connor, surprised. “I saw the Schillings, they… must be very upset.” “They are,” Schilling agreed, “understandably upset. It will take time for the new information to set in, so to speak. It will be hard on them. I imagine your parents will be… affected as well. Have you had a chance to talk to them?” “Uh, no,” said Connor, whose heart sank. “I haven’t.” Schilling looked at him for a long time, Connor thought. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. “I suggest you do that, Jameson has taken an interest in you for

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some reason. He has been enjoying himself today, and I suspect he’s already called your family for comments and corroboration of your alibi.” “Shit,” said Connor. “Indeed.

Outed by the feds.

A time-honored tradition.

yourself in good company,” said Schilling.

You should consider

“I don’t swing that way myself, but

whatever. If you need a ride somewhere, I can drop you, I’m not due back in the office any time soon.” “Why are you being so nice to me, Andrew’s mom wouldn’t even talk to me,” Connor said, “aren’t you a little afraid I might have done it?” “I don’t think so, I remember you at that age, you know? When you used to hang around Andrew. It would take a lot more to kidnap him and hide him so he’d never be found than you had going for you back then. I mean, that’s almost extraordinary, isn’t it, that he’s never been found? No way some fifteen-year-old kid could do that. Besides. Even back then, I knew you cared about him. More than normal, you know?” “Oh,” said Connor, trying to put a younger face on the man looking at him now. He must, Connor thought, be just about thirty, with tan-blonde hair and dark brown eyes like Andrew’s. He supposed that was a family trait. The shape of his face, square and strong, didn’t have the soft edges Andrew’s did, yet, maybe had Andrew grown to manhood, he’d have looked very much like this. Daniel had the freckles on the bridge of his nose, and also, the squint lines all the Schilling men had from sailing; their skin bronzed except in the creases where they smiled or crinkled their eyes to shield them from the sun.

Connor found Daniel

reminded him of Andrew in that he was biologically similar, but he didn’t have Andrew’s spark, which had seemed to the teenaged Connor to be virtually divine. Daniel smiled, “You’re looking for a resemblance aren’t you. I’m told we were similar as children, however now, it’s hard to tell isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Well,” said Daniel, “follow me, my car’s over this way.” Connor followed him along the street to a metered parking spot where a midnight blue Mercedes sat with a

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ticket on the windshield. “Oh shit, this is going to cost me another favor, I guess.”

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Chapter Nineteen

Kevin had an arm around his old man’s waist, holding him up, as he walked him into his childhood home. He could count on his left hand the number of times he’s seen Himself worse for drink. “Chief, one more step, Buddy.

Have you got the keys?” he took them from his

father’s outstretched hand and used them on the lock. He knew the code to the alarm system; they’d never changed it in all those years. Once in, with the whistling alarm noise stopped, he helped his father toward the living room sofa. “I’ll go make coffee.” “No, you come back here and read my mind or something. I gotta wrap my head around that shit,” said his father, who flailed on the couch and sort of did turtle-on-hisback. “Oh man. Pop, you’re drunk.” “You are psychic!” said his Pop, laughing at his own joke. “Just sit there and let me look at you, Son. Your eye is kind of creepy, did you know that?” “Yeah.” Kevin turned on the light and sat in the armchair opposite the couch. “It looks all blown, doesn’t it?” “Yeah. I’ve seen eyes like that, in car wrecks, you know?” His dad sounded like he was starting to sober up. Kevin hoped he wouldn’t start crying and shit. Kevin sighed. He hated to admit it, but it was good to be home. He’d watched a thousand games in this room. Big screen screaming, cops everywhere, the Notre Dame gold helmets flying over green turf like wasps. “I missed you Pop; missed this.” 157

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“Me too, you little maggot.” His dad sat up a little. “You’re coming on Sunday right? You’re cooking. You said, right?” “You bet, Pop. I can’t wait. It’s going to be nothing but pork fat and cheese and stuff that’s fried in lard.” He thought he’d better take a look at the kitchen to see if he needed anything in the way of appliances or cookware. “Unless you have dietary considerations?” “On New Year’s Day? Oh hell no,” said his Pop. The two men stared at each other in the silence. “Maybe coffee might be nice. Why don’t you call Connor’s cell and see if that weasel Jameson has let him out yet. If he has, tell him to come over here, we can grab dinner.” Kevin pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Pop, we just had lunch.” He began to dial Connor’s number. “Yeah, well, just planning ahead.” The Chief rolled unsteadily to his feet. “I’ve got to pee.” On the third ring, Connor picked up. “Dougal.” “Good, are you sprung?” Kevin smiled into the phone stupidly, just enjoying the sound of Connor’s voice. “Yep, a Schilling cousin appears to have busted me out. He’s driving me home right now.” “I’m at Pop’s, want to come and play pool? Maybe go grab some dinner, watch a game?” “Wow, you sound cheerful,” Dougal laughed in his ear. “I guess you didn’t get grilled by the feds this morning and outed to your parents.” “Oh shit, man, I didn’t think. I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?” “It’s okay, I’m going to go over to the folk’s house, and talk, and then I’ll call, all right?” Connor sounded a little sour, and who could blame him? “Sure, Connor, whatever you need, we’ll be here.” Kevin looked around. It’s not like he was going anywhere anyway; he didn’t have wheels. “I’ll call. I imagine the bar at your dad’s place is going to look pretty good by the

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time I’m done talking to them. Bye.” “Bye.” Kevin wished he could have said more, knowing now wasn’t the time. He snapped his little phone shut and put it back in his pocket. His dad was making his way back down the hallway, holding onto one of the walls a little. He heaved himself back onto the couch. “Son,” said the Chief, “How did you first know that there was anything different after the accident?” His pale blue eyes showed nothing but interest and fatherly concern. “Oh, man.

It was stupid stuff, mostly…

I remember picking up the physical

therapist’s backpack for her one time and knowing she was quitting for another job. I mean, just knowing, you know? And one time I got a letter by mistake for a neighbor, and before I ever gave it to him, before he opened it, I knew everything in it. Sister’s husband is cheating, blah, blah, blah. Somebody had tonsillitis and somebody won the little league championship. At the time I didn’t pay it much attention, but you have to understand brain injuries are kind of like that, you’re such a motor moron and a wreck that nothing stands out. Everything’s screwed up.” “Geez.” The Chief’s his eyes never left Kevin’s face. “I knew the second that Mom died.” Kevin never meant to tell his dad that. He surprised himself by letting it out. “Knew how, knew what she was thinking. I wear that St. Jude medal, you know? That she gave me? The patron saint of desperate cases, she called him.” “Oh Kevin.” “She was thinking, ‘well, crap,’ can you believe it? In her mind were all these images of you and me and Steph, everything we ever did. But in her thoughts, she just said, ‘Well, crap’. I could see how much she loved us, I never imagined.” “Ah, shit. I believe it, Kevin. That sounds just like your Mom.” “I know,” Kevin told him. “I know. I need a beer.” He got up off that cozy armchair and went into the kitchen, searching the fridge for a cold one. He found a couple of longnecks and took them into the living room. “Come on, Pop, you’ve got about four hundred channels and I bet at least one will have some football.”

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**** Connor’s parents were trying to understand how very much everything had changed in their lives in one day. “Baby?” said his mother again, blinking as though she couldn’t quite fathom it. They sat on the large leather reclining sofa together, his mother and dad. Connor sat opposite them on the sturdy coffee table, his back straight and his face impassive. “I’m so sorry, mom. I didn’t tell at the time. I had a lot of reasons that were important then, but aren’t now. I loved Andrew, would have loved him if he lived, I know it. I would have stayed with him, would have come out… After he went missing, I just felt numb.” His dad spoke up. “Now you’re telling because of the investigation? Is there some connection?” “Yeah, I think so. Kevin thinks so.” Connor looked down. “Kevin? What does he have to do with it?” his dad asked. “He’s not a cop, is he?” “He was, before he had the accident, and he still works as a consultant,” that was as far as Connor could go today. “He thought maybe, probably, Andrew’s and my… that line of inquiry should be pursued. But he left it up to me whether I wanted to tell, and I did. I do. I’m not ashamed of loving Andrew. He was a good person. He was special. I want to find whoever took him and see that he pays.” “We always knew that’s why you became a cop,” his mom said. They had all known that, just now, it came with a kind of stunning clarity. “Oh… baby.” Connor swallowed hard, thinking about those people in infomercials who say, ‘but wait, there’s more.’ “There’s something else you have to hear, and it should come from me,” Connor said. “Connor, don’t you think—” said his father, but Connor held up his hand. “The feds are all over my ass and they’re trying to make me look like the guy who

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did this. They… took my watch as evidence, Andrew’s watch.” His voice broke. “I’m not the guy, I swear it, but it could all backfire on me. I withheld critical information in a major investigation… There won’t be any more Cheryls, either. I’m not lying about anything from now on, not to myself, not to anyone.” Connor felt he should get up and leave, just let them digest what he’d said, but one look at his mom’s face told him he wasn’t going anywhere. He thought her hand was going to ball up into a fist and smack him one, but she threw her arms around him and held him tight. His dad stroked his shoulder self-consciously. “I don’t think the Schillings are going to talk to us anymore, either,” Connor murmured into his mother’s hair, remembering with a deep spasm of pain the look on Mrs. Schilling’s face. His mother was gritting her teeth, a sure sign she was holding back saying something she would regret. His father just looked older and more worn out than usual. A long silence developed.

He became worried, wondering what his parents were

thinking. His father finally broke the silence by clearing his throat. “We’re taking the boat out New Year’s Eve, if you want to come.” His eyes never leaving his wife’s face. “Sure,” said Connor. “Yeah, I’d like that, yeah.” “You can bring a friend if you like,” said his mom, giving him an extra squeeze, “but if you bring Kevin, bring extra plastic bags, or a seasick patch. I don’t want him puking on my boat.” Connor left his parents’ home and walked to the Cannery restaurant. He had the idea, somehow, that he’d get a drink or two and find a ride home either from a local cop or a cab. He was on the phone dialing Kevin before he even knew he had it in his hand. “Quinn,” said Kevin, answering over the sound of the television, a football game, in the background. “I’m done here but I have no ride, I had Daniel Schilling drive me to my folk’s place. I wasn’t thinking,” said Connor.

He saw the restaurant in the distance, the lights

shining through the wisps of moist air rolling in from the sea.

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Kevin laughed, “I’m at Pop’s, but I drove him home in his car. I’m stranded too, and he’s too drunk to…” “What the hell are you saying about me?” came the Chief’s voice. “Nothing Pop. It’s Connor, he’s stranded without a car and so am I.” “Kevin, did you say the Chief is drunk?” Connor stopped in his tracks. “Yeah, can you imagine?” Kevin laughed, and it made Connor feel almost good to hear it. “No,” said Connor. “I can’t. Well, I’m heading for the Cannery, and I too am going to drink and make some trouble. Maybe I can get a ride home with one of my brethren in blue.” “I can’t believe I’m going to ask my dad if I can borrow the car.” “Why?” asked Connor. “I’m sure I can get a lift home, and I’ll come get you at the Chief’s as soon as I’m sober enough.” “Connor?” “Yeah?” Connor stopped walking. Something in Kevin’s voice was making him feel a little breathless. “That’s not nearly soon enough.” “Oh. I see.” Connor felt a rush of sensation that went straight to his dick. “The Cannery?” “Uh huh.” “I’ll be there.” Kevin hung up. **** “Dad?” Kevin got up, “I need your car.” “Oh, hell no, Son,” said his Dad, curling back up on the couch. Kevin pulled his phone out to call a cab. “Take your mom’s. It’s good to go; I drive it a couple of times a week. Keys are in the kitchen. Drive safe,” he added, as he had every time anyone took a car during Kevin’s whole life. “See you Sunday.”

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On impulse, Kevin went to the couch and hugged his Pop tight, and kissed him on the cheek. The Chief made a big show of waving him away with his hand, but Kevin knew he was secretly pleased. He went to the kitchen, almost afraid to take the keys hanging there. It was to his mom’s baby, her pride and joy. He felt as though he should light a candle rather than take them down off the hook. But then he came to his senses, took the keys to his mom’s 1965 Mustang convertible, and didn’t look back. Kevin screamed down PCH in his mom’s beauty queen car. That he’d been allowed the privilege helped him shake off the final knots of tension he’d felt from his father. He was happier than he had been in twenty years. He was only sorry his mom hadn’t lived to see it except that, if she had, she’d have killed him before she let him take her baby out of the garage. He felt a little concerned that this caused him no more than a minor twitch in his conscience. Wherever she was, she was probably driving something better, because no one could believe in a heaven without muscle cars. Patchy puffs of fog were covering the areas closest to the water, but not so you couldn’t see to drive. It just hung there, heavy in the air, like a kiss of mist on Kevin’s face, and he kept the top down because he loved the night here, and the car, and the man he was heading out to meet. Kevin wondered how it had gone with Connor’s family, who had to be reeling with shock. He felt for them, and Andrew’s family too, and was once again sorry he’d been instrumental in causing them pain. He hoped that he would be able to find the person who killed Andrew, and thought it might be fine to find his final resting place so that they could bring him home Just hearing Connor’s voice on the phone had been so good, so really, really good. The night air teased at him, and played with his mind and his memory, until he remembered what it was like driving this same street looking to find someone to play with. Kevin had always headed to the artsy community of Laguna Beach, or further south, to maybe find a like-minded Marine in Oceanside, or a sailor in San Diego. He’d practically flown down these streets in the summertime before he was even legal, knowing exactly what he wanted and how to go about getting it. Now Kevin headed down the same road, breathless with anticipation over seeing

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someone, one person, and not just for the night. He couldn’t tell whether it was an Aha moment or a how-the-mighty-have-fallen one. He just knew that he wanted, no, needed to see Connor’s face, needed to hear his voice, needed to know he was all right. Kevin parked at the Cannery, turning once in a full circle to look around. He used to come here a lot, when he was in high school and home during the summer, with a fake I.D. and a guy named Tony who lived on a boat in the Rhine Channel. They played footsie under the table and listened to jazz, and then took the boat out and dropped anchor, screwing under the stars. It seemed so meaningless now. Meaningless, but fun, he thought. Kevin walked up the steps, looking around, going upstairs to the bar. He spotted Connor by himself at a small table, looking a little out of place, in his neat khaki pants and leather jacket. He probably still had his head with the Feds, and was trying to relax. Or maybe it hadn’t gone well with his folks. Kevin was still for a moment, worrying. He knew exactly when Connor saw him, knew that he read relief, and something else, something like welcome in his eyes that stole Kevin’s breath. Kevin’s heart was pounding when he walked the short distance to Connor’s table, and Connor got up, not knowing what to do, what was proper. Kevin settled for a squeeze of his hand, and a kind of buffeting of his shoulder, that let him know that Connor wanted to touch him. Here in this crowded bar, Connor seemed uncertain.

Kevin saw that Connor had finished his drink, maybe more than one from

the slightly breathless and dazed way Connor looked up at him, so he just took Connor by the arm and led him out. “I have something amazing to show you,” he said in Connor’s ear as they walked down the wide staircase together. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe I have an amazing thing or two myself.” Kevin laughed, “I’m sure you do pretty baby, but I’m actually talking about a real thing, you know?” “I am too,” said Connor, “I have real things that are amazing too…” “Just how much did you drink, Connor?” asked Kevin, a little concerned. 164

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“I had a couple. I was owed, man, I had a really shitty day. Screw Herbert Hoover.” He came really close to Kevin and smiled. “You have the longest eyelashes.” “Oh baby, you’re really drunk, didn’t you eat anything?” “Nope, I have my own personal chef, see, and so I didn’t bother to eat, although I maybe had an oyster shooter or two, I can’t remember.” He looked at the sky. “Oh, nice night, Kevin, can we unplug the damn phone and not answer the door any more. I really, really want to get laid.” “Um, sure, good plan.” Kevin thought the night air would do Connor no harm. He stopped next to the Mustang. “Look what I brought.” “Oh, Kevin, it’s a Barbie car!” “Here, get in.” Kevin helped Connor into the passenger seat and found the old fashioned seatbelts, buckling him in. “Want to go for a ride?” “Oh, yeah.” Connor’s head fell heavily onto the top of the vinyl seat. “Something’s missing man, I can still see the sky.” “Nothing’s missing baby, my mom had the sky painted on the ceiling of the car,” Kevin smiled as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Sweet,” said Connor, “what a sweet ride.

It almost looks like the clouds are

moving, you know?” “Connor?” “Yeah, Kev?” “I really, really love you.” Kevin turned on to PCH, knowing that he could probably find a road that would take them all the way to the tip of Argentina, the Pan-American Highway, except, he knew from research for a novel, for one fifty-four mile stretch of rainforest somewhere near Columbia. And at this moment if Connor asked it of him, he would try to cross that with a pocket knife and a sixteen-ounce cup of coffee. He felt like laughing, but didn’t because Connor was still looking at the ‘ceiling’ of his mother’s car. “Hey, was the moon always there?” Connor rolled his head and looked at Kevin, stupid drunk. “Did I hear you say you love me?” “Yeah,” said Kevin, “You’re dumber than dirt sometimes, but I really, really love

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you.” “You know, Kevin,” said Connor, smiling, “you’d look a lot better saying that if you were bare-assed nekkid, and lying on your back.” Kevin performed the most downright awe-inspiring, quick, and illegal u-turn in the history of man, muttering, “Argentina can wait.”

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Chapter Twenty

Everything had been fine, thought Kevin, who still laughed at the image of Connor blowing kisses at passing cars like a prom queen, until Kevin brought him home. “Connor, baby,” said Kevin sweetly, as he stripped that man of his car keys and propped him up by the stairwell. “That’s a 1965 Mustang convertible. I’d take your mom out of the garage and leave her in the rain to protect it. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is.” “My mom? You’d leave my mom out all night just for your car?” Kevin thought he probably ought to just knock Connor out or something. “Yeah, Connor, for this car I’d leave the Pope outside, well, the new one anyway. I’m sorry, man, it’s a 1965 Mustang convertible, what is wrong with you!” Kevin left him and switched the cars, putting Connor’s Malibu in a visitor space. He needn’t have worried; when he returned to Connor, the man seemed to be fascinated by a rather large spider web in the corner of the stairwell. As inexperienced as Connor was, this would be like shooting fish in a barrel. “Did you see the size of that spider web? It’s like, all Charlotte’s Webby and stuff. I didn’t see a message though, did you?” Kevin made him walk up the stairs to the apartment and since he still had Connor’s keys, he opened the door. “Dude, you have keys to my apartment too! I didn’t know that.” “Maybe we should get some food or coffee into you. Something…” He turned on 167

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the lights, looking back to where he’d left Connor in the doorway and caught his breath. Connor was leaning on the door jamb, smiling at him, his intense brown eyes hot and kind of piercing. “Can I come in?” asked Connor, his voice low and throbbing with sex. Kevin looked around behind him. “Uh, sure.” Connor walked in, taking off his blazer, and letting it drop on the floor. “I hope the gun doesn’t bother you, baby.” He lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ll put it away if you like.” “Well. Drunk, armed, and having a psychotic episode is probably one thing too many.” He watched as Connor put the gun into a box in the coat closet, stepping over his jacket, which was still on the floor. Kevin picked up the jacket and hung it up, while Connor appeared to be making himself at home. “I liked dancing with you Kevin,” said Connor, “liked the candles and the Chinese food. I really enjoyed last night.” “Me too.” “Come here, Kevin, you have too many clothes on,” he murmured. It was the first inkling Kevin had that he just might be the fish in that barrel. “Uh,” he said. “You can’t tell me you’re shy,” Connor growled in his ear. “You flashed the Feds this morning.” Connor’s hands were on him, seemingly everywhere at once, like a good magician, directing his attention somewhere while his clothing came off somewhere else… Connor took Kevin’s ass in both hands and squeezed a little, not hard, just enough to get his attention. “You have a yoga butt, did you know that?” he whispered, while he unbuttoned the top of Kevin’s jeans. “So nice.” “Connor.” Kevin tried to put his hands out to unbutton Connor’s shirt but found himself easily thwarted. “I want to get really, really wet in the shower with you. I like water. It will give me the chance to rinse away my encounter with Jameson, that prick.” Connor kissed Kevin

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then, and backed him toward his room. “You smell yummy.” Kevin was still trying to get a handle on the situation; the slippery Connor was evading his hands, yet still seemed to touch him everywhere at once. Connor took Kevin by the hand and led him to the bathroom, where he took out two fluffy towels and turned on the water. Puffs of steam began to fill the small room and he flipped the lid down on the toilet, sitting to remove Kevin’s jeans. “Now then, I think it’s about time for these to go.” Connor swept Kevin’s jeans and underwear to his knees. “Shoes and socks next… Oh,” He halted in surprise. “Someone’s taken your socks, Kevin. I’m a police detective, do you want to report it?” He looked up with a frown on his face. “I think I’ll let it go this time.” “Oh, well, I don’t know what the statute of limitations is on sock theft. Just let me know if you change your mind.” He backed Kevin up, standing, and made quick work of divesting himself of his clothes, something Kevin had been trying to do for a while. Connor pulled Kevin into the shower, the brunt of the warm water hitting his own chest, and splashing around as a result. He placed his arms around Kevin’s neck and started dancing again, turning him in slow circles so the water hit them both. “Water and dancing. Much better than just dancing.” “Except there’s no music.” “Music.” Connor kissed him again, “I can do that.” He started to hum, and at first, Kevin thought it was kind of silly, but hearing Connor’s fine tenor voice right next to his neck like that made him change his mind. Connor’s voice was vibrating, deep and rich and mellow in a thrummy kind of way Kevin liked very much. After a while he recognized the tune as ‘Good King Wenceslas’ and thought he’d never heard a sexier version. He kissed Connor deeply. Kevin’s body tightened up, making him hard and nuzzly. He looked down between himself and Connor and got an eyeful. “En guarde,” he whispered, and Connor looked down too. “Oh,” Connor said, pushing him back against the tiles. “I just want to…”

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“Yeah.” Kevin slipped down a little and opened up his legs for Connor to step in. He felt Connor grab hold of his ass, moving him and pulling him against his body, against his erection, until the friction and the water and the kissing made him grab on to Connor’s hair and just say, “Oh yeah,” to whatever Connor wanted. “You feel so good,” Connor said into Kevin’s mouth.

“Not dancing anymore,

Kevin.” “No. There’s no music.” “No, can’t sing while I’m…” “Uhn,” Kevin felt his balls tighten against his body as Connor rocked him hard against the cold tiles. “Oh, yeah, Connor, I’m…yeah…going to…” “Kevin!” Connor cried against his neck, as Kevin’s hips snapped and Connor’s belly took a blast of warm, sticky wetness. “Oh, Kevin, you… You…Oh.” Connor bit the meaty part of Kevin’s shoulder and found his own release. “Kevin,” he sighed, shuddering and licking where he’d bitten, pulling Kevin closer toward him, slipping a little on the slick surface. Connor rocked softly against him and began to hum again, this time, ‘Hark the Herald Angels, Sing’, and Kevin knew two absolute truths. One, the unarguable fact that Connor, the raging control freak out of bed, would probably follow the same pattern in it. And two, he was going straight to hell every time he heard Christmas Carols for the rest of his life. “Maestro?” Kevin said. “A little showering music please?” Connor’s sweet pure voice hummed with their movements. Kevin helped the water sluice over Connor’s body, rinsing off the soap until he was clean. Together, they undulated under the spray, in a trancelike dance, their bodies slick and warm, their lips finding each other constantly. After what seemed like hours in the steamy little cubicle, they turned the water off. Kevin got out first, handing a towel to Connor so he could stay warm and towel off inside the glass walls. By the time Connor emerged, Kevin was dry except for his hair, standing naked, waiting. He reached for Connor with pruny, wrinkled fingers, pulling him in hard for a kiss.

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“Come with me?” asked Connor, against his mouth. “Will you?” He reached for Kevin’s hand, and pulled him toward the bed to slide between the sheets. Kevin really liked Connor’s linens. They felt cool and rich against his skin, sliding silkily across his back as Connor covered them, finding him with his hands and mouth. In no time Connor was on him, between his legs looking down. “I’ve been imagining this all day.” he stroked Kevin’s hair. Kevin moaned. “I want to be inside you Kevin, will you let me?” he murmured against Kevin’s mouth while he rocked against his body. Kevin stalled, still thinking about his vision of Andrew and the loss of control and pain he’d felt. “Do you have a plan ‘b’?” “Nope.” Connor kissed everything he could reach. “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he lightly nipped at Kevin’s bottom lip. “I’ll make it so good…” “Connor.” “Shh.” Connor reached into the nightstand for a condom and a brand new unopened bottle of lube. “You put your car in my garage…” “What?” Kevin lost his train of thought completely when Connor nudged his knees apart, sitting between them and stroking his balls. “So hot.” Connor tore the shrink-wrap off the lube and threw it onto the floor. “So hot, all mine.” He leaned in to stroked Kevin’s cock with his tongue, licking and sucking, fondling his balls with his free hand. He scooted down and ran his mouth between Kevin’s balls and his tight hole, humming a little tune Kevin was afraid he recognized as ‘Elmo’s World,’ from Sesame Street. Connor’s tongue touched something sensitive and shocking. “Oh!” Kevin jerked a little under his fingers. “ yes.” Connor’s slick fingers played, and Kevin forgot everything. He forgot his reason for hesitation, his fear, even his name. “Connor,” he cried out, the one thing he didn’t forget, couldn’t forget was that this man made him feel oh… so… damn. “Yeah, Kev?” Connor had two fingers in, slipping in a third, touching him in a soft 171

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way that nevertheless hit his sweet spot and made him thrash, wanting more. “I’m going to make you feel me, Kevin.” He rose to his knees, his mouth leaving Kevin’s cock wet, and it got painfully cold for a second while Connor put on a condom, until his weight settled differently, grinding it a bit. “I’m coming in.” Connor held the head of his cock ready; Kevin mentally tried to prepare himself.

Connor slipped past the

tightness, surging into Kevin and holding him still, filling him. “Oh Kev,” he groaned. Kevin experienced the invasion and braced himself for a panic attack that didn’t come. Connor was murmuring against his neck, and holding himself still, waiting, Kevin thought, for him to indicate he was ready to move. He held Connor tightly, enjoying the sensation, being filled and stretched and just a bit overwhelmed by it all. When he was ready, he opened himself more and took handfuls of Connor’s fabulous ass in his fists, pulling him in even further. “Kevin,” Connor’s breath came out in a whoosh. He pushed to his knees, digging his strong runner’s toes into the bedding for traction. “I want to just…uhn… you… so hot,” he moaned, slapping his pelvis against Kevin's ass. “Oh, hey… shit…” said Kevin, who had to put his hands on the headboard to keep from going through it. “Yeah, oh hell yeah.” Connor unerringly found all his secret places, taking them over, planting a flag. Kevin felt his whole body tighten in response as his excitement built. “Mine,” Connor shouted as he threw his head back and slammed into Kevin one last time, so deep and tight Kevin felt that thick cock jerking and fluttering inside him despite the latex. “Mine,” he whispered, holding Kevin right there, still in as far as he could possibly be while he rode the sensations out. He ground against Kevin and bit him, hard. “Uhn…” cried Kevin, whose own climax burst on him like a meteor shower. “Yeah,” he held on to Connor’s ass and rocked himself up as he drenched their bellies with come. “Connor, yeah…oh.” His lips found Connor’s and fastened onto them, giving and taking sweetly. Connor slid his hands between them to remove himself and tie off the condom, returning to Kevin before he could feel the air on his skin. He was

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licking and sucking Kevin’s shoulder and humming something Kevin didn’t recognize. After a while Connor’s stomach growled loudly. So loudly in fact, that he and Kevin jumped. “I could cook if I could walk,” said Kevin. “Even if I could walk, I wouldn’t,” said Connor, “I just want to stay here with you, like this, till they find our leathery desiccated bodies like those Tibetan monks who will themselves to die.” “I’ve got to hand it to you, when you’re right, you’re right,” said Kevin. “I’ll get up in a minute though, Pretty Baby, we’ve got to keep up your strength. I want to feed you grapes by hand or something stupid like that.” “Okay, I admit it,” Connor looked away, “I’m a little disappointed.” “Excuse me?” snapped Kevin, sure he hadn’t heard right. “Well, now that I’m thoroughly and diligently queer, I expected more manly lovetalk, you know? Not like Pretty Baby and feeding you grapes and stuff,” he snorted. “Uh, you mean like, hey you bastard I don’t have a beer and nobody’s sucking my dick, what’s wrong with this picture?” “Oh,” Connor climbed Kevin a little, his cock becoming interested again. “That’s the spirit.” “Like, I’ve got handcuffs and I’m not afraid to use them, that kind of talk?” “Oh, officer, show me your nightstick.” “Now that’s just sick Connor.” Kevin sighed. “I’m not even a cop anymore.” “No but oddly enough, I am.” Connor grinned, holding Kevin’s hands above his head. “And you there, are looking a little guilty.” “Oh man,” Kevin bit his lip. “I just can’t help myself, Officer Dougal. I’ve been such a bad, bad boy.” “Oh, well then, son, I guess you’ll just have to spread ‘em.” He slid down beneath the covers, “This will require some in depth observation, I think.” Kevin’s cock was getting hard again as Connor’s tongue lapped all the way down on it then back up again, teasing the little slit in the top. “Yep, just as I thought, blunt instrument. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me…”

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Chapter Twenty-one

Kevin vaguely noticed that Connor was up stretching to run at five a.m. like always and, somehow, that made him feel inadequate. For his part Kevin could barely move his arms up to pillow his head. He heard the door close and figured he had about forty-five minutes to make a decent first-serious-morning-after breakfast, and since he’d been cooking his best stuff all along, he thought it might be a stretch to really show off. Kevin hummed in the kitchen, making things smell good, and starting coffee. If breakfast couldn’t be spectacular, he reasoned, at least the presentation could be out of the ordinary. He found a couple of zip ties in a toolbox in the coat closet and bided his time. “Mm, something smells out of this world, Kev.” Connor was stupid bubbly, enough to make Kevin’s teeth ache. “You are so good to me.” Kevin followed him to the dining room chair, kissing him tenderly and zip tying his hands behind his back. “Mmn, you taste good.” “What the hell are you doing Kevin?” Connor frowned. Kevin ignored him. He brought their plates and set them next to each other on the same placemat in front of Connor. “Kevin, answer me you little shit.” For an answer, Kevin held out a fork, with a piece of sausage and some gravy on it, stuck through a bite of biscuit. “This is manly after-play Connor. Think of yourself as my culinary hostage.” He slung a leg over Connor’s lap, and straddled him, grinding his hips into Connor’s cock through the fabric of his warm up suit. 174

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blindfolded?” “Oh, hell yes.” Connor grinned. Kevin made an elaborate move out of turning around and reaching for a table napkin, his butt rocking on Connor some more. He tied it over Connor’s eyes, checking to make sure it was secure. “Didn’t I see a movie like this once?” He hummed some quirky porn-jazz soundtrack against Kevin’s lips. “Bite?” Kevin asked, holding the still full fork out for him. Connor took it, curling his tongue around it and sort of slithering it in. He savored it. “You are one hell of a cook.” Kevin alternated with pieces of apple, eggs, and sips of strong coffee. He ate his own meal and licked and nipped at Connor’s mouth when he felt like it; tasting breakfast on his lover’s lips too. He held the last bit of apple between his teeth and was allowing Connor to bite off a piece from it when Connor’s phone rang. Kevin jumped to pick it up from the clip on Connor’s waistband, opening it and holding it to Connor’s ear. “Dougal,” Connor said, turning red. “Yes, Carl, I read the email. Uh, huh.” Kevin pushed a hand under Connors tee shirt and slid it to his nipple. “Oh.” Connor moaned. “No sir, nothing. You were saying? No I can’t look at it right now, sir. I’m tied up with something else.” “How cliché,” Kevin whispered into his ear. “I’ll check in a minute.” Kevin licked a favorite spot on Connor’s neck, low on the left, where he left a mark the night before. “Uhn,” said Connor, “I mean uh huh sure, I’ll jump right on that,” Kevin could feel him glaring through the blindfold. “Sure I’ll be down at eleven and I’ll bring Quinn.” “No he can’t talk right now he’s doing something for me,” Connor said as Kevin slipped down and pulled Connor’s erection out of his track pants. Connor’s head lolled as Kevin took it in one hand to stroke it while still holding the phone to Connor’s ear with the other. “Oh, I will, okay. Bye,” he said, gasping with relief. “You total shit… oh.”

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**** At eleven o’clock Connor and Kevin entered Carl Lubbock’s office together, where Carl, Jameson, and Tran were waiting with another man Connor introduced as Andrew’s cousin, Daniel Schilling, “I thought we might,” said Schilling, looking around, “have an informal discussion about the missing persons case between your agencies, and Connor Dougal, who has come forward with information on a cold case so we’re all on the same page. I will be here as Connor’s legal representation. And you are?” He looked directly at Kevin, who remained silent. This was Carl’s party. “May I introduce you, Mr. Schilling, to Kevin Quinn, who is Carl Lubbock’s brotherin-law, and claims to have some sort of psychic ability,” sneered Tran. Connor started to speak, but Kevin caught his eye and shook his head slightly. “Kevin Quinn is here unofficially, helping me if he can,” said Carl, “as he has before and will continue to do if I request it, because he is my wife’s brother, a former police officer, and an intelligent man.” Kevin sat while everyone seemed to digest this. “Thanks Bro,” he flicked him a little wave. He crossed his feet at the ankles and slouched down in his chair like a petulant teen in the principal’s office. “I’m really very interested… in your work.” Schilling looked right at Kevin. “Well,” Jameson began, “will somebody please tell me what any of this is doing to solve this case?” “Patience,” said Schilling. “Now then Andrew Schilling, who is for the record my cousin… went missing in 1997 on Father’s Day. For some reason, you believe the boys who have gone missing recently are connected to that case. Can you tell me why? Why… now?” Kevin just listened as Connor and the Feds and Carl ground out the details. Nobody

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was giving him up as the reason the cases seemed connected. Carl was sticking to the story that Connor came up with the idea when he realized there might be another avenue they’d never pursued in the Schilling case. Like a lot of the work he’d done, it was just bouncing ideas and brainstorming. Making sure everyone was on the same page. Schilling kept the Feds nice and steered them away from anything personal, and Connor, bless his heart, seemed focused entirely on pulling his crisp white cuffs down to cover the ligature marks on his wrists. What annoyed Kevin the most was Daniel Schilling. First, he was one of those ohso-professional guys who looks at a guy like a piece of meat while pretending to be straight as an airport runway, and second, he had a quirky way of pausing when he talked that made him sound like William Shatner.

Kevin wondered if his Trekkie

noticed, and if so, what effect it had on him. He could just see Schilling trying a case. Ladies and gentlemen… of the…jury. What a dork. “Kevin?” said Carl. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else. What?” “Mr. Schilling asked if you have experienced anything of a psychic nature that pertains to this case.” Carl was looking at him steadily, and he couldn’t tell what the man wanted him to say, if anything. Connor was looking at him too, his very earnest face trying so hard to be blank but failing, as he bit his lip and looked at Carl’s picture of the President. In a way, he thought, in the few seconds it took him to make up his mind, he learned more from looking at this group than he did most anything else. He looked at all the curious faces, and the one that surprised him the most was Daniel Schilling’s. He couldn’t read what was there, but something was. Some psychic. “Not so’s you’d notice,” he finally murmured, taking the easy way out. Jameson exploded like popcorn in his chair, puffing himself up. “Why the hell do we even bother with this lying sack of…” “Jameson!” said Carl and Schilling at the same time. “The key word for the day…” said Schilling, “is civility.” “Obviously we have our doubts that anything of a useful nature can be conjured by 177

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soothsayers,” said Tran. “Nevertheless, we would be grateful if, should any further useful information come along, you not wait ten years to pass it on.” “I’ll bet he had porn,” said Kevin, quietly. “Maybe condoms and lube? Something kid stroke-y like Sports Illustrated or a clothes catalog like International Male under the bed. He was a kid. He probably didn’t hide it well. They just failed to see it.” “Kevin,” said Connor, as a warning, but he was interrupted by Jameson, who puffed up again. “Maybe we should have had a cop like you on the team back then; it takes one to know one.” “Excuse me,” said Schilling. “Has anyone…reexamined the evidence with new eyes to see if maybe they missed something?” Jameson and Tran blinked up at him. “Yes.” Tran said. “He’s right. Things were overlooked. Certain inferences that could have been made weren’t.” “I see,” said Schilling.

“Then perhaps…it’s a very good thing Mr. Quinn and

Detective Dougal are on our side now…Hm?” “Yeesh,” said Connor, when they were finally in his car going home with new a box of items from Carl. “Yeesh?” Kevin laughed. “Seriously, did you just say Yeesh?” “Shut up, Quinn. That was unbearable.” “Yeah, what with the captain of the starship, ‘Litigation’.” Kevin had said a cautious goodbye to Schilling who insisted on getting his cell phone number, saying it was for the case. Privately Quinn doubted that, and hoped Schilling wouldn’t be a nuisance. He was, after all, standing between Connor, the Feds, and an obstruction of justice charge. In a worst-case scenario, something like that could cost Connor his badge. “Have you been working on the things Robbie said to do when you confront evidence?” said Connor, derailing his train of thought. “Not as much as I should. I’ll take a while, maybe before we open the box, to do some yoga and some visualization,” he no longer hid anything from Connor.

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“What do you visualize?” Connor asked. “I’m supposed to find a way to build a mental barrier between myself and the visions. Robbie used guided meditation and it worked well at her house. I wonder how I’ll do in the real world? Anyway, I like to see myself in kind of a transparent icy igloo, looking at the vision from someplace frozen. I don’t know why—” “Did you know Tran refers to you as the psychic Cyclops?” Connor appeared happier now that he was farther away from the office. “I’m thinking of having that tattooed on my ass. I’m glad that’s over. I have to go over some of the lists of evidence from Andrew’s case, and you can yoga up, and then we’ll check out the new pile. Promise me you won’t try to tackle it alone, okay?” “Of course.” Kevin was surprisingly grateful to have someone worried about him. Kevin was in his room alone, using his yoga mat and working out when Connor wandered in. He was on one foot, balanced, with his right arm forward and his right leg straight and his left arm holding his left leg over his head. Sort of. It wasn’t easy to get into that position and he hoped Connor wouldn’t do or say anything too shocking because it wasn’t easy to get out of either. “You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever, Kevin. You are one flexible piece of work.” “I’m trying not to laugh, Connor, if I let go I’ll probably shoot through a wormhole in space or something.” He gently controlled his foot on the way down, doing the other side. He had a fine sheen of sweat covering him and wore nothing but skintight shorts that looked like bike shorts but were so thin and unpadded they left nothing to the imagination at all. “How often do you do this?” “Every morning at home. I guess I’ve done maybe five or ten minutes worth most days while I make breakfast, but I’ve really let it slide. Robbie made me promise I’d do it every day without fail, so…” Kevin contorted himself into yet another pose. “This is like porn for me, you know?” said Connor. “You have the most exquisite

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ass.” “Did you want something Connor,” puffed Kevin, whose muscles were screaming from the lack of recent use. “Other than to gawk?” “Spoilsport.” Connor pouted. “I wanted to let you know I’m officially done, so whenever you’re ready, I have the stuff laid out.” “Thank you.” Kevin gritted his teeth. “You know, that looks a lot harder than I thought. I always thought yoga was for, you know, chicks.” “Get down here and try this and say that to my face,” said Kevin, “if you can find it.” “Yeah,” Connor teased, “currently it sort of looks like it’s up your ass doesn’t it?” He closed the door in time to hear a thud followed by some solid cursing. “Oh but it’s a luscious ass, Kev,” he called through the door. Kevin walked to the living room after a quick shower. He’d taken the time to begin visualizing building a wall between himself and his visions, ice brick by ice brick. He held an image of Robbie in his mind, and had no trouble imagining her there, threatening to kick his balls if he failed. He almost told Connor about that, almost, but at the last minute held back, because Connor, being the earnest sort of person he was, would really kick him hard. “Oh Kev, how am I going to get any work done with you looking like that.” Kevin looked down. He was just wearing cargo shorts and a tee shirt that was, maybe, a little tight. “You’re high,” he said, sitting down next to Connor, who was still dressed for work in khakis and a crisp white shirt. “You, on the other hand, look very fine indeed.” He threw an arm around him a hugged him briefly. “So,” he looked over the pictures Connor laid out. “What do we have?” “November, Kev, there were two, remember?” said Connor, pointing to the photographs. “The first was Benjamin Scott, he was taken on the fourth, around four in 180

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the afternoon from the same area as the Lattimer kid, but not from the school. He was going to a friend’s house, and he never got there. The second, is this guy here, Devon Marston,” he held up another photograph. “This kid was taken from that grassy area on the beach where the Studio Café used to be, by the pier. It was one of those super sunny days, unusual in November, when people crowd the beach, skating and biking. The kid was boarding with friends, and just disappeared. As usual, no one saw anything. That was Thanksgiving weekend, on the Saturday. He was the last one.” Kevin heard the unspoken ‘so far’. He didn’t have the heart to say it, but he was thinking about it, and working his hardest to prevent it. It was this thought that made Kevin put his last ice brick in place mentally. “Let’s get this son-of-a-bitch.” Connor squeezed his hand, tight. “Let’s.” “What have we got?” Connor opened the Scott box first, retrieving a tee shirt, a comb, and a pocketknife. “Let’s see the shirt and the knife,” said Kevin, “boys and combs don’t seem to go together somehow.” He took the shirt in his hands, and got… not much. He had a sense of flying, kind of, maybe skateboarding and getting big air. He’d done some boarding himself, and thought at the time it felt like flying. Other than that, it didn’t speak to him much. He braced himself and reached out for the knife. He ran his hand over it, the knife itself seemingly identical to all the Swiss Army knives on the planet. It was a less elaborate model, the kind a kid would carry for camp or Scouts, or summer vacations with the family. He got a strong picture of recreational vehicles, fast boats, and jet skis. Wet suits. He picked up the knife and held it, until it spoke to him, behind his ice wall, and told him about the cylinders in the water, the tickly brushy feeling and the fact that Benjamin wouldn’t be coming home again. “Kev?” said Connor. Kevin let the knife go, dropped it on the table. He sat, taking deep breaths, and feeling so sad it broke his heart. “He’s gone too,” Kevin bit his lip. He could see that the nausea, the vomiting, the fainting, all the physical fighting he’d done was to avoid the feeling he had lodged deep

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in his heart at that moment. The exquisite nerve shattering pain of loss, of grief so deep it filled him up with sorrow like black tar, sucking him down. “Oh geez, Connor, it hurts so much when I can feel they’re gone.” He leaned over and put his head in Connor’s hands, trusting him to stroke his hair and touch him until the grief passed. “Robbie was right. It hurts me physically if I fight what I know, but it hurts hard in my soul to know it.” “Damn, Kevin,” said Connor taking him into his arms. “I will always respect your strength. You have enough for all of us, baby.”

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Chapter Twenty-two

Connor sipped his beer thoughtfully. He was currently engaged in his new favorite spectator sport, watching Kevin do yoga, after having gone for a long run. It boggled his mind. Both the November boys were gone; Kevin had no doubt. Connor had jogged for miles alongside a silent, brooding Kevin, who accompanied him on his bike. Connor felt a grim determination to put a stop to the kidnappings, but no matter how much information Kevin could tell anyone about the missing boys, the fact still remained that until they had some sort of idea of how the victims were chosen, or when they were likely to go missing, it was still too little to set up any kind of positive plan for going forward. The seemingly random quality of the choice of victims and lack of substantial evidence made Connor and everyone in law enforcement in all the surrounding communities crazy. Security had been heightened around schools and parks, especially in the beach towns, yet still they were no closer to answers than they had been since July. Except for what Kevin gave them. Privately he had spoken with Carl about Kevin’s thought that their guy was using the ruse of having a broken leg. That he probably looked like a teacher and was carrying an interesting thing, like a rocket or a science kit. Kevin was currently upside down with his forearms braced on the ground, one of his legs in an impossible backwards position, the ankle in between his hands, and the other sticking straight up in the air. It made him look like a half note, or an open golf club. Every muscle Connor could see was straining and there was a fine sheen of sweat 183

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on his skin. His gorgeous ass was bunching like it was spring-loaded. Connor smiled, and muttered, “It is good to be me.” Kevin’s phone rang, and Connor walked it over to him, opening it, and holding it to his ear. “Quinn,” said Kevin. “I’m doing yoga.” He looked at Connor and smiled. “When,” he gritted his teeth as he finished up by pushing his legs to the sides and leaning over to the ground. “Okay, I’ll be there.” “Trouble?” Connor hung up the phone. He was walking his empty into the kitchen to put it in the trash. “Probably,” said Kevin. “That was Schilling.” “That was quick. I figured he’d wait a day or two.” “Me too,” Kevin bit his lip. “Maybe it’s business after all.” “I doubt that, he was looking at you like you were the last cupcake at a party,” Connor, drew Kevin to his feet and pulled his slick body into an embrace. “I was too, that’s how I know.” “I’m seriously grungy here.” “Hell yes.” Connor rubbed his face in Kevin’s neck. “Yoga porn with Odorama. Good times.” “I stink.” “Not to me, Kev, you smell sexy… I’ll tell you what, you do the downward facing dog and we’ll play obedience school.” He started to turn Kevin around, pushing him over a little. “Connor, you’ve only been gay for what, fifteen minutes, slow down dude, you’re going to break something.” Kevin pushed him aside, walking to his room. He turned back, “But if you were to get into the shower with me… and maybe hum a little tune?” Connor didn’t need to hear that twice. He followed, singing ‘The Carol of the Bells’ out loud. ****

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Kevin entered the bar part of McCormick and Schmick’s on rubbery legs, looking around for Daniel Schilling. He was a little late, for a reason that still made the blood rush to his skin to think about, and when he didn’t see Schilling right away he was relieved. “Quinn,” said a voice beside his ear that made him jump, “I’m glad you could make it.” Kevin turned and looked at Schilling, who didn’t look glad, but rather slightly annoyed. “Sorry I’m late. It couldn’t be helped.” Schilling motioned him to a table, where he had a drink and a briefcase. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt either,” he remarked, dryly. “Mm,” Kevin murmured. The waitress came over and he ordered a Corona. “Did you eat yet?” “No, Connor and I are going to grab something later.” “I’ll bet.” “Look, did you invite me here just to turn everything I say into an innuendo? I can do that by myself at home,” said Kevin. “I thought you had something you wanted to talk about.” “I did. I do.” Schilling bit his lip and seemed to be coming to some sort of a decision. “I am wondering, Quinn, how psychic you are.” Kevin hesitated. The waitress came over and he took his beer and paid her, giving her a generous tip. He returned to face Schilling’s penetrating gaze. “Well, ask around. Nobody thinks much of me in law enforcement except Carl, and he’s family.” “But, how did you get it about Connor and Andrew. Did he tell you? Or did you know. Can you know? That’s what I need to understand.” Schilling looked at him as if he were preparing for Kevin to attack him. “How old were you?” asked Kevin. When Schilling didn’t answer he said, “That’s a little creepy, Schilling.” “Shit,” the other man exploded, drinking his drink in one swallow. Kevin laughed. “Neither you nor Connor have the poker gene. I don’t have to be

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psychic to know what’s on your mind. It’s written all over your face.” Schilling rubbed his temple. “Andrew was hot,” he said simply. “And aggressive, even though he was years younger.” He looked at Kevin, starting to sweat. “His age and mine at the time could be real trouble for me. I don’t need to be outed. I don’t want to be investigated. What do I have to do to shut you up?” “Hey, I never said a word, you just did all that by yourself. Get a grip. As far as being outed, you’re going to do that. Even Connor noticed it, and you have to sort of spell things out for him. You keep checking out guys’ asses the way you did mine this morning, and you won’t have to say anything. As for Andrew, that’s not my call to make. Connor told of his own free will. You have to decide what you think is best. If it’s an inevitable part of the investigation, it’ll come out anyway.” “You didn’t answer my question,” said Schilling. “Which one, I thought I covered them all.” Kevin hoped he wouldn’t go back to the psychic thing. How could he respond to that without sounding like one of those people who sleep with tinfoil on their heads? “How psychic are you?” said Schilling again, and for the first time in the conversation, Kevin saw the lawyer surface. “That question. I asked you how psychic you are. Please just answer.” “If I were really good, I would have won the lottery and retired to a private island by now,” he said. “I guess I’m not very good at all. Unless I’m looking for them, your secrets are probably safe from me.” Schilling looked at him for a long time, the expression on his face changing several times, a myriad of emotions flickering there briefly, finally to be replaced by something that looked like resignation. “Fair enough,” he said simply. “Connor could be in a lot of trouble couldn’t he?” “Maybe. I doubt it though. What he did was pretty understandable. Most kids his age wouldn’t have told. I knew about him and Andrew. Well, I guessed, and I didn’t say anything.” “How did you know?” asked Kevin, alert now, although he couldn’t put his finger

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on exactly why. “When Andrew wanted someone, it was, well… he made it pretty obvious.” Schilling flagged the waitress down and ordered another. “I hope you’re not driving.” “Nah, I’ll head back to the office, I have some work I could catch up on. I feel like I need to unwind.” “Scary stuff, imagining someone can invade your mind,” said Kevin, who knew first hand that people with secrets usually didn’t want him around. “I’ll say. Connor sure must have balls.” “I really don’t want to know people’s secrets, Schilling.” Kevin was feeling a little tired. “I don’t pry. You wouldn’t either; most people’s secrets are either dead boring or just plain disturbing.” Schilling laughed. “Call me Daniel.” He bit his lip and leaned over. “I wanted to ask you something else…” “What, Daniel,” he tried the name out. “Do I have any kind of chance here?” Daniel licked his lips and Kevin had to admit he was a very attractive man. “Because if I do, I’d like you to know I’m interested. Very, very interested.” “Sorry.” Kevin tried to make it a joke. “I’m owned, man. First time in my life I’ve ever been in love. If it doesn’t work out, I’m going back to Wyoming like a whipped dog and I’m never going to try again.” Once more, a whole lot crossed Schilling’s face in a short time, and Kevin found it impossible to read. Then he said simply, “Fair enough,” and let it go at that. They said their goodbyes in the parking lot, and Kevin got back in his mom’s Mustang and took off toward Jamboree and Connor. What he’d told Daniel was true. He was owned. It was so new it was a little frightening, but it also made him want to shout, or laugh, or do something asinine like get Connor’s name inked on his ass. After years of isolation and the pain of losing the one companion he had in his sweet Asia, Kevin wanted more, and he was willing to risk everything to get it.

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Kevin stopped by the apartment just long enough to get Connor and then they were making their way to the ocean. “I love this car,” said Connor, “it seems to automatically find it’s way to the beach.” “Yeah well, I can’t actually believe my dad just gave me the keys like that, but who was I to question it, you know?” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “How much do you know about Daniel Schilling?” “I don’t know much, he’s about your age, and hung around the Schilling house. He came along for the boat parades and the big family stuff.” He looked over at Kevin. “Why?” “He implied… I mean I inferred…. That he was seeing rather as much of Andrew as you were.” Kevin wondered if he should have said that. “Really? No way.” Connor shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Andrew was…” He stopped himself. “I can’t imagine. No way.” “He seemed to be worried I could read minds. Maybe he thought I could ferret out his secrets.” “Doesn’t it seem like his secrets would just be… ick?” “Well, now that you mention it the ‘ick’ factor had crossed my mind.” Kevin laughed. “Which is weird, because he’s kind of attractive. Reminds me of what I think when I think of Andrew, you know?” Connor stiffened a little. “What do you think when you think of Andrew?” “Well, I don’t think of Andrew really, except when I see him in your…” “My what?” “Look, I’m sorry, that came out badly. We’ve established that I’ve seen Andrew when you dream, yeah?” Kevin said, trying to save the moment. “Yes,” said Connor tightly.

“And we’ve established that those dreams have a

remarkable effect on you.” “Then,” Kevin, ignored him. “Can I say Daniel Schilling bears a strong family resemblance? That’s what I meant. That’s all I meant.” Shit, thought Kevin, and Daniel thought Connor had to have balls to be with him.

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“I get it,” Connor said. “I guess they do have a resemblance, but unless I really try hard I can’t see it… Andrew was just so alive. Daniel’s kind of a, what’s the word…” “A stiff.” “Yeah, but from what I hear he’s fearsome in a courtroom. I hope I don’t have to find that out from the defendant’s table.” “Oh Connor. Are you still worried? You’ll be fine; I really believe that. How about I buy you a burger and shake at Ruby’s and we take a walk. Would you like that?” “Yeah.” Connor smiled. “No point in worrying. I just wish they’d give me my stuff back. That Jameson is such a shit heel.” “You want I should grab his watch and find out something we can blackmail him with?” asked Kevin, going for mob enforcer. “You could do that?” Connor looked so hopeful. “Theoretically,” Kevin frowned. “But Connor, aren’t we supposed to be the good guys?” “Okay, only as a last resort. You know, if the end justifies the means,” Connor had a kind of concentrating look on his face. Kevin thought he was serious. “Uh. I’m really not sure I could do that.” Disappointment etched new lines in Connor’s face. “Oh.” “I could try, I guess, if I get the chance,” Kevin wanted to see him smile. “Well, that would be nice.” He couldn’t believe Connor was serious. Was he? “But you know, the ‘ick’ factor in Jameson’s secrets is probably going to cost me some sleepless nights. What do you suppose he could be hiding?” “I tremble to imagine,” said Connor as they parked. He and Kevin turned to walk along the boardwalk towards the Balboa Pier. “Can you imagine? I wonder if he and Tran…” “Oh, don’t even go there.” Kevin grimaced. “We are about to eat.” They continued walking to the end of the pier. Even at this hour it was populated by an assortment of people out in the crisp air. Some were fishing and some young couples walked arm in arm. There were one or two families out watching the waves. 189

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The usual surf noises both intensified Kevin’s senses and calmed him, as they always had. He felt a kind of purity of focus on the beach, especially at night. He buffeted Connor with his shoulder. “I love being here with you like this.” “Me too, Kev.” Connor nudged him back. “Anywhere.” They stopped for a while to watch the men and women fishing. The smell of bait was both elemental and off-putting. Kevin had good memories of fishing right here with his dad. Nowadays, you wouldn’t want to eat the fish you caught, but he was sure that was probably true back then too, he just hadn’t known it. He couldn’t remember ever catching anything anyway. He watched a man bait and cast his hook. “Thank you again Connor. If it weren’t for you I’d have probably been stupid enough to stay away from my old man forever. You gave me that. I can never thank you enough.” Connor swallowed, looking out beyond him a long way. “You’re pretty articulate when you want to be.” “I know how to say what needs to be said. I hope. Life takes some pretty weird turns, Connor. I’m really happy right now. Because of…” his attention was attracted by a kid on a skateboard who lost control, the board shooting out and hitting one of the big trashcans with a loud metallic bang. Connor grabbed the kid, setting him back on his feet and asking if he was okay. The kid took his board and ran. When Connor turned back to Kevin, he was staring at the trash as though he’d never seen anything like it in his life. “Kev?” “Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue… I know, Connor. I know!” he practically shouted. “Kev?” said Connor. “You don’t look—” “He’s putting them in metal drums, Connor, and dropping them into the water. He drills holes so they sink, so that when the body decomposes, so it can… so it doesn’t float back to the surface, the way they do, you know? From the gasses. He weights them down, and drops them off, in the same place every time. He’s…” Kevin looked stricken. “Oh, Connor.” He looked out at the vast, impossible dark ocean. “How will

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we ever find them to bring them home.”

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Chapter Twenty-three

Kevin sat in the booth at Ruby’s and waited for Connor to return. He was outside, using his cell phone to call Carl, to tell him of the latest hunch Kevin had. Suddenly all those cylinders in Kevin’s mind, dropping like glasses to the bottom of the water in the kitchen sink made perfect, horrible sense. He had gotten the idea, somehow, that they were fifty gallon blue metal drums, like oil drums, or the kind people store water in for emergencies. Their guy had to be getting them from somewhere, storing them somewhere, transporting them somehow. He had to have a boat, and make regular trips out to sea. Someone had to have seen something. It was a good place to start. He looked around again feeling nervous, tapping his foot against the pedestal that held the table up, badly, its legs bent so the table rocked a little. When Connor returned, Kevin was stacking the sweetener and sugar packets and arranging the salt and pepper shakers for the third time. “What’s up, you’re kind of tense and fidgety-looking.” Kevin smiled up at him as he seated himself. “If I tell you, you will lose all respect for me.” “No, really. What?” “This is the place where everything usually goes all to hell,” he said. “You know, in an investigation. I come up with something, and then, it’s like… I don’t know… it all goes down the drain.” 192

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“I don’t understand. You haven’t done this kind of thing that much right? Carl said he sometimes sent you things. Other departments do that too, right? But you have only been on scene at an investigation, what, twice?” “The first time was in Dallas, and I did have something that broke the case open. Carl told a friend of his about me, and I went to see what I could do. That wasn’t so bad, except that the cops knew why I was there, and they treated me like warmed over shit.” He still remembered the way people wouldn’t shake his hand. His body hadn’t fully recovered, his emotions were all over the place, and no one would even look him in the eyes. It was a lesson in loneliness and the true life of a pariah that even being openly gay in a straight world hadn’t prepared him for. “Oh, man.” Connor said. “That must have sucked.” “Yeah, then in Denver. What a nightmare… Carl tried to keep me at a distance but some smart-ass reporter got wind that he was using a psychic and the whole thing went from the news to the tabloids to my ass in about five minutes. There wasn’t enough time to duck and cover. I was pretty much hounded out of town in disgrace.” He looked as though he wanted to say something more but changed his mind. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.” Connor said it so quietly that Kevin almost had to lean forward to hear him. “Not just about the case, Kevin, even though I know how hard it is on you. Your heart is pure, and none of us are capable, or even worthy to walk in your shoes. I didn’t understand, but I do now “Thank you,” Kevin watched Connor’s hand slide toward his and hesitate. “What do you mean by it all goes down the drain, though?” “You know as well as I do that all information has to come from somewhere. Later, the whole case has to be documented, procedure checked and double-checked. Guys like Schilling make a living out of eating our work for breakfast. ‘So, Officer Lubbock… you got this information…. from your brother-in-law, the psychic.’ Picture it Connor, laugh and the world laughs with you, Scry and you scry alone.” “Huh?” “Psychic pun,” Kevin waived his hand. “It doesn’t matter if the information came

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from the lowest, most out of touch crack whore, it’s better than what I can get. And then there’s the fact that the cylinder thing should have been obvious, in retrospect, but wasn’t. It took me a while to realize what I was seeing. So we have an unreliable informant, me, and information that even I don’t understand until sometimes weeks, even months later.” “I see,” said Connor thoughtfully. “None of which will matter if we catch this son of a bitch.” “Well, of course it will. We have to put him behind bars, and to do that… Wait. Connor you aren’t going to go all vigilante. That’s not why we’re doing this.” “Let’s just get him. Find him and stop him. I don’t want to think any further than that right now.” The waitress arrived with their Rubymelts, shakes, and a plate heaped with chili fries. Connor looked at the food with almost carnal heat in his eyes. “I still can’t decide whether you are good for my heart or trying to kill me.” “I’ll tone it down at home, okay?” said Kevin, thinking how weird that sounded even to him. Home. “Just don’t blame me when the tofu hits the frying pan and you’ve been spoiled by all my juicy, beefy, holiday excesses.” “I’ll bet you make even tofu taste fabulous,” Connor said. Kevin nudged his foot again. “What?” “Thanks for believing in me,” said Kevin, “I hope I never let you down.” The truth of that statement went well beyond dining, well beyond this case. Kevin hoped Connor never had a reason to look at him any other way than the way he was looking at him right then. Connor licked a piece of caramelized onion off his lip and it went straight to Kevin’s groin. “These calories… we can burn them off somehow, I think.” Connor shifted in his seat blushing, Kevin thought, adorably. “Carl wants to see us both tomorrow in his office. Oh, and before I forget, we’re going to spend New Year’s on the Mary Liz…” “Wait, back up… Carl wants to see me at the office? Again? Crap, that can only mean one thing.” He sighed, knowing it was the beginning of the end for him. Carl would have him brief the investigators and he’d be mocked and ridiculed, “What’s the 194

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Mary Liz?” “My dad’s boat. You know, you’re not very observant. It’s written right there on the stern. We’re going to spend New Year’s Eve in the harbor, and probably hook up with other like-minded water enthusiasts and party.” He got the cheesiest chili fry seconds before Kevin grabbed it. “I’ll have you know I was on that boat, not looking at it from behind,” he said, slapping Connor's hand when he went for the next one Kevin wanted. “I thought you had the all-seeing eye, though, Kev.” Connor smirked. “You’re trying to distract me from the sure and certain knowledge that I’m going to be the main course at the unbeliever’s buffet tomorrow.” “You don’t know that for a fact. Anyway,” Connor slid his now shoeless foot up Kevin’s bare ankle. “Is it working?” “Not yet,” said Kevin, “but I’ll bet you’ll escalate if I resist, so I’m resisting with every fiber of my being.” “Ooh, then let the games begin.” Connor smiled a wolfish smile and took a large bite of his burger. The man did have lips, Kevin thought, that were to die for. Connor licked them as if he heard Kevin’s thought out loud. “You live here, let’s go dancing,” Kevin said suddenly. “What?” Connor asked around the straw in his shake. “Let’s go dancing, someplace we can touch in public and get all hot and bothered. You know anyplace? I haven’t lived here in a while.” He watched the flush creep up on Connor’s cheeks. “Do I get to drive your car?” “What?” said Kevin. “My car?” “Well, you know, I do know of some places… but I’d only take you if you let me drive your car.” “Well, you are a sworn officer of the law.” “And, I have two eyes, which almost makes it seem like I could drive better, doesn’t it?”

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“I am going to let that go… if you don’t let me go for the rest of the night,” he finished up the last of his shake. “What will happen to my career, I wonder, when my brethren in blue see me with you, tomorrow, blushing like a schoolboy.” He dropped a napkin by his plate. “Connor, I’m so sorry,” Kevin said, “I didn’t think. Maybe we should just call it a night, huh?” “And miss the coolest ride in town? And an opportunity to drive your car?” He picked up the tab, leaving money and a nice tip. “Not a chance.” Lights flickered and the boom-boom of the dance music blasted away all conversation in the Club Zigazig when Connor and Kevin entered. The cover was light on a Thursday, which was good, but apparently since it was the winter break at most schools and universities, the place was crowded with college age boys and more than a few half-dressed young women.

Zigazig had more of an ordinary city club vibe than

the kind of bars Kevin went to, if he went at all. He had to admit, he hadn’t gone dancing in years. Outside, the place had looked nice enough, and inside, the bar was well appointed and decorated in rich vibrant colors, the dance floor large enough that people didn’t have to drip sweat on each other if they didn’t want to. The furniture was nice, Kevin noticed, unlike any bar he’d been in near his home in Wyoming which all looked like they’d been decorated from yard sales and thrown away cable spools. Connor, he noticed, appeared breathless and uncertain, so Kevin muscled his way to the bar for two Coronas, and handed him one. It wasn’t like he could reassure him with words, he couldn’t hear himself think, so he took him to one of the tall tables, and just stood by him, brushing him with his body lightly in time to the music while they drank and checked the place out. It didn’t take long watching the other couples dance for Kevin to realize that they weren’t doing the Texas two-step. Not long after that, his body was reacting, asking him to jump into the pile of people rubbing each other and playing in the throbbing, shifting, 196

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and anonymous crowd. He took his time finishing his beer, and let Connor watch the dancers, wondering if the eroticism of their movements was having an effect on him too. He was standing behind Connor a little to one side, when he lightly slipped an arm around his chest and moved in to sway behind him. Connor put an arm up over his shoulder to cup Kevin’s head and moved with him, rocking back against him to the beat. Kevin pulled him to the dance floor and they continued their dance there. Kevin held Connor close to his body, noticing the minute changes in his breathing, the rapid heart rate, the hint of a flush that was stealing over his cheeks. He was sensitive to touch, to the heat radiating off of him in waves, as he circled them slowly together. Kevin liked the taste of Connor’s skin, the way his hair smelled, and the way he sighed and leaned in, presenting his neck. Kevin could see the pulse ticking on the long column of Connor’s throat, and wished he could mark him there. He suppressed the urge, wondering how long it took for something like that to heal, and when Connor next had a little time off. He found himself thinking about taking Connor to Wyoming, and digging in for a part of the cold winter with nothing but the two of them and his big featherbed, and some flannel sheets and perhaps a little Jack. Maybe a dog, and a big screen television. He felt greedy for dreaming stupid dreams, but holding Connor was real, and he’d be glad for this at least. “Mmm,” Connor moaned as Kevin grasped his hand, interlacing their fingers. They left the dance floor and found a small table away from the speakers where they could almost hear each other. “You dance even better than you cook,” said Connor, accepting another beer. “It’s been forever since I danced in a club.” “Me too, people didn’t always dance this nasty did they?” he asked, earning a double take from Connor. “Where’ve you been?” “I don’t know, I used to think of these places as more of a means to an end, you know? I spent more time out in the parking lot. I guess that’s bad, huh” “Well, not good, really.”

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“If it’s any consolation, I’ve spent the last five years playing ball with my dog. Tonight I just wanted to go somewhere with you where I could look at you and want you. Someplace we could flirt.” “So you brought me to this den of iniquity?” asked Connor. “With all these dryhumping barely post-pubescent hotties?” “Um, as I recall, you brought me here,” Kevin reminded him. “Right. I forgot. Well, be that as it may, Kevin,” Connor looked stern, “this may backfire on you.” “Why?” Kevin was almost afraid to find out the answer. He took a sip of Connor’s beer, just to wet his lips. He hadn’t ordered a second so he could drive. “Because I don’t want to be arrested for sucking you off in an open car,” Connor informed him, and Kevin did a classic spit-take. “My car has a top,” he said. “It does. Have a top.” Connor laughed at him, and pulled him back on the dance floor, “You, I’m afraid, aren’t going anywhere soon,” He wrapped both of Kevin’s arms around him. “You have mad skills, and I am only discovering what they are now. We are here to dance until one of us caves and throws the other against an alley wall.” Kevin practically had to shout for Connor to hear him.

“Are you issuing a

challenge?” Connor nodded. “Sucks to be you tonight, little man.” Kevin tossed his jacket onto a chair next to the bar. He didn’t care if he ever saw it again. His man wanted to understand the power of dance, and it was well within his ability to show him. “Just don’t blame me if you can’t walk out of here, and know up front, that I don’t do bathroom stalls.”

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Chapter Twenty-four Kevin and Connor entered the room wearing sunglasses carrying twenty-eight ounce coffee cups.

Kevin knew it didn’t look like they’d gotten any sleep, or for that

matter, practiced much in the way of grooming that morning. Connor’s shirt, while not misbuttoned, nevertheless had an air of the casually thrown on that his normal fastidious personality would find contemptible, and he himself just looked rode hard and put away wet. He remembered with a kind of shameless detachment the way he and Connor had raced to the apartment at about two-thirty in the morning after dancing until the club closed. First they tumbled in the door and landed in a pile on the floor about two feet in, and then they kicked the door shut and tore each other’s clothes off in a kind of frenzy. “Kevin you teasing bastard, I need skin now.” Connor, pulled and tore at his jeans, his jacket and shirt forgotten somewhere in the club or the car. “I’m no tease, Connor, I’m fully prepared to give it up right here,” groaned Kevin, trying to dislodge Connor’s lace up shoe with his foot, and managing to slide his sock down with a hook of his toe. “Shoes off, Connor, I want your pants off…” “Kevin,” said Connor, freeing his erection and gliding it, already wet at the tip across Kevin’s hip, “Oh, yoga butt,” he sighed, grabbing handfuls of Kevin’s ass in his large square hands. “Let me feel you.” “Oh.” Kevin sighed when he finally managed to get Connor down to nothing but skin. “Here,” he pushed Connor’s legs apart and lined up their cocks while climbing on top. He was already wet and rocking, his tongue moving against Connor’s along with 199

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the rhythm of his hips. “So good, Connor. Pretty baby,” he whispered, “so good.” Connor gasped and rolled them, until he was on top, pushing himself between Kevin’s legs. “When are you going to get that I’m not your pretty baby, Kev,” he growled, emphasizing certain words with a powerful thrust of his hips against Kevin’s cock each time. Kevin’s control snapped and he came right then, the growl going straight to his heart and his dick at the same moment, as he shot heat all over Connor’s body. “Yeah? Cool, I won’t have to go to the bedroom for lube,” he said, using Kevin’s own wetness to slide a finger into him. “Come on Kev, open for me,” he pushed in, and curved his finger up, deep. Kevin jerked up off the floor under him. “Shit,” said Kevin panting, “who the hell are you? I was just here with a guy named Connor, who was kind of a geek…” Connor slipped another finger inside him, going for his gland again, and hitting it, time after time, until Kevin was hard again and thrashing and dazed. “Never assume… oh crap…I need a condom,” he sighed, almost taking his fingers out. “Pants…” huffed Kevin, “wallet…condoms…lubricated…” he jerked again when Connor stroked him. “Baby.” Connor pushed hard against him, getting the condom with his free hand.

He

opened it with his teeth and handed it to Kevin, “Put it on me.” “Well, aren’t you just a little bossy.” “Put it on me, Kevin,” warned Connor, licking his neck and biting him where it joined his shoulder. “I want in.” Kevin never took his gaze from Connor’s as he rolled the slick latex onto the man’s erection. He lifted his hand and cupped the back of Connor’s head for a deep, searching kiss, and then opened himself a little more, his flexible body yielding completely. Connor lined himself up and pushed carefully into Kevin’s tight heat. “So hot,” he murmured against Kevin’s mouth. “Okay?” “Mm,” said Kevin, “oh, yeah.” “More?” “Go.” Kevin held Connor by his shoulders. 200

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“Oh, Kevin, want this, want you…” He pushed in until his hips were flush against Kevin’s thighs. “Oh hey… more baby,” said Kevin, knowing it bugged Connor, wanting to see what he’d do.

Connor immediately snapped his hips hard, brushing Kevin’s gland and

sending his head back against the hardwood floor, which was covered only by a thin oriental carpet. “Like that?” “More,” Kevin groaned. It hadn’t been like this, ever. Not ever. Not needing and wanting and crazy for one man in particular. But this man was his. This was Connor. “More, Connor.” “ You’re mine,” said Connor, snapping his hips again and again, rocking. Every thrust shoved Kevin further across the floor. “Mine Kevin, say it.” “Yes, yours.” Kevin sighed.

Connor filled him then with heat inside the latex,

shoving hard into him, jumping and jerking. He felt everything right through the long waves of it. “Yes.” He clutched Connor’s back when he finally collapsed against him, making slow circles with his nails. “Shit, Kevin,” said Connor, reaching up to kiss him and take his hand, “You make me want so much. So bad… so good.” “So good.” Kevin echoed. He actually might have dozed for a minute, on the cold floor under Connor, and that could have been the end of it, except that a few minutes later Connor suggested they shower, which led to hot water and sucking, and bed and groping, and the kitchen counter and food play, and the dining room chairs and almost going over backwards and breaking their necks. All of which led to sitting in Carl’s office afraid to take off their sunglasses and sucking down the second of two twentyeight ounce coffees, black. As a punishment for their sins. **** Connor kicked out at Kevin’s foot, which was tapping loudly in the silence. Kevin 201

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looked back at him and mouthed, “Bossy much?” Carl could hardly contain his lack of enthusiasm for their behavior. “Do I need to separate you two?” he asked. Kevin and Connor sat up straighter in their chairs. There were seven people in the room, Tran and Jameson from the FBI, Connor, Kevin and Carl and the two detectives who worked in the lead on the missing boy case. Their names were Johnson and Craig, and so far, Kevin hadn’t paid much attention to which name went with which. Johnson, Kevin determined, was a petite woman in her mid thirties who had been relatively quiet up until that point. She began by asking, “May I inquire why we are here today?” She clearly had better things to do, and saw the unusual behavior of Kevin and Connor as rather bad etiquette. “Certainly,” said Carl, “although I don’t think any one of us in this room will welcome what I have to say. Jameson let out a hissing sound, like a kettle, and then snorted. “Carl if you got us down here to tell us your boy came up with some psychic garbage, you had better be prepared to pay me for my time.” Carl gave him a look he reserved for people who really, really piss him off. “You are being paid for your time, Jameson, and you will listen to what I have to say. Unless you have something you just found out from an eyewitness to follow up? Or our guy wrote you a little note? No? Then we will proceed. Kevin, it’s time you told everyone in this room what you’ve been telling Connor.” “Leave out the pillow talk, Quinn,” said Tran, “And stick to the subject.” Connor moved to say something but a flick of Kevin’s hand on his wrist stopped him. “Here’s the deal. You don’t have to believe me,” Tran snorted like that wouldn’t be a problem, but Kevin went on. “I have some images, and I’m going to share them, and if you don’t like it, you can kiss my ass.” “Quinn,” warned Carl, “You’re family but so help me…” “Oh alright already. I sense our guy is a self-satisfied kind of predator who uses ruses like a fake broken leg and crutches and carries some sort of scientific toy,” Kevin

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huffed out a sigh and related the things he had seen. He described each vision in the minutest detail. He told the others what made sense to him and identified parts of the images he didn’t understand. He told them his feeling that the case was related to Andrew Schilling’s disappearance, and why, and also about believing someone watched Andrew and Connor make love. Connor, for his part, sat stoically, even removing his sunglasses when Carl asked him to. “So you’re saying, this guy took Schilling,” said Johnson, “and then waited around twiddling his thumbs for ten years to begin offending again? Why?” Scott Craig, the other detective, nodded his head, “That’s a really good question.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “If we take everyone in the Schilling investigation, and look at them over the last ten years, we should be able to find a guy or two who might make sense just from the timing.” “Craig, why don’t you start on that,” said Carl, “Get the files and see what you can find.

Maybe someone who wasn’t in town, or someone who was a friend of the

Schilling’s then, but has just popped back up to renew acquaintances. If Kevin is right, then Schilling’s the trigger. Damn I wish we had more.” “Carl,” said Kevin, “Those boys are out there, in blue metal drums. Someone has a boat. What if someone talks to the local harbormasters and finds out which boats came and went from the local pleasure craft docks on the dates around the kidnappings. See if any familiar names come up. It’s not likely this guy rents his boat. It would be crazy to charter one, how could you explain dropping a metal drum over the side to the crew. Connor would know more about that than I would. Also, where do the containers come from, how do you get them, has anyone sold any to someone we might have talked to in the Schilling case? Someone could follow up on that.” “Yeah, and maybe someone’s been checking tide and current information on the web, so when and if we get a suspect we can check his computer, see what he’s been accessing, like they did with Scott Peterson up north.” “All this assumes he,” Tran pointed to Kevin, “isn’t a complete and total fraud.” Kevin tilted his head, and considered Tran for a minute. Pointedly, he reached out

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and took Tran’s wrist, touching his watch. He didn’t open himself up. He didn’t want to know anything. Kevin just held Tran’s wrist, and then dropped it casually, gazing at the man with his good eye. Then he smiled, and Tran started to sweat and stammer. “I mean, he doesn’t…he’s not…” He looked back at Kevin and swallowed. “What the hell did you do that for, you smug bastard?” “Don’t worry, Tran, your secrets are safe with me.” Kevin smiled a wide, hungry sort of smile, and Tran smacked him across the jaw, so hard his head snapped around. Connor had Tran on the ground with his hands behind his back in a nano-second. “You will not TOUCH Quinn,” he growled in his ear, “ever again.” “Stop!” roared Carl. “I can’t believe you people. You are completely out of control. Tran, get up and stand over by Jameson, and don’t even try to tell me why you assaulted my brother-in-law. Connor, get a grip. Kevin, sit up straight.” Somehow Kevin felt he got the benefit of the doubt. “You’ve proved your point, Kevin. While they are unlikely to admit it…” he glared at Tran and Jameson, “It seems they believe you have some sort of gift.” Tran made to protest, but Jameson gave him a disgusted grunt, and glared at him to shut him up. “Tran, that ship sailed, you idiot. Can’t you see he’s got nothing? He’s playing you.” Tran muttered under his breath, and Kevin thought he actually saw the man stamp his foot. “Sorry,” Tran muttered. “Lost it.” “Sometimes people who don’t think they believe are still afraid it’s true. Sometimes it’s obvious. I stayed out of your head. I’m not… I don’t pry.” Kevin thought he might have earned a point or two in that room. He couldn’t have cared less. “Are we over it?” said Carl. “Unless anyone has any other ideas, Johnson, maybe you could follow up with witnesses on the scene of the kidnappings to see if anyone remembers a guy with a cast, or crutches… Maybe he does different things in different situations. Ask about any professor type with educational or interesting toys, rockets, weather balloons…” “Kites,” said Kevin vaguely. “Things that fly… or radio controlled boats.”

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“You creep me out totally,” said Johnson, finally. “It’s the eye, and the psychic thing. Don’t get me wrong, Quinn. I’m trying to work through it here, but I think I speak for all of us when I say… Ew.” Kevin laughed. “You know, Johnson… that just might be the nicest thing anyone in law enforcement has ever said to me.” He continued to laugh, even making Johnson smile. She got up and walked to him, holding her hand out, “Call me Patsy.” Kevin took her hand, rising to his feet, “Call me Kevin. I’m glad to know you. I like honest people.” Craig came up then, “I’m Scott. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t believe in any of this shit. I just figure I’ve got no better leads today. If you’re for real I’ll be the first to admit it.” “Fair enough.” Kevin shook his hand. Tran and Jameson were about to march out the door when Carl stopped them. “You two,” he called and they stopped, turning back. “I won’t be telling anyone where Quinn got his bruise, but you know you were out of line, and I expect you to see to it that you don’t repeat that kind of behavior ever again. You don’t belong to me, or I’d have your badges for a while.” “I understand, sir,” said Tran. “I was out of line, it won’t happen again.” “Yes, sir,” said Jameson. “I’ll have to report the incident to our superiors,” he looked at Tran. “That was totally messed up, Tran.” He walked him out the door. “He didn’t grab you, Jameson, talk to me when it’s you…” Kevin heard Tran say as they walked to the elevator. “It’s too creepy. It’s like he’s all up in your head or something.” Kevin couldn’t help laughing. “I so totally rock!” he said, sitting back down in the chair and putting his feet on Carl’s desk over that man’s appalled protests. “I didn’t know I could do that. That was so worth it!” He looked around, “I wonder who I should touch next?” Johnson and Craig seemed to discover they had stuff to do that couldn’t wait.

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When Carl, Connor, and Kevin were alone, Kevin sighed with relief. He touched his lip with his tongue where he could feel it beginning to swell. “I’ll get some ice for that.” Connor got up and left the room. “I see you’re beginning to learn how to handle these situations,” said Carl. “That’s good.” Connor returned with the ice, and gently placed it on Kevin’s jaw, stroking the other man’s cheek with a finger idly. “Hurt?” Carl could see the concern in his eyes. “No,” Kevin told him, “I’ve been in worse fights with junior high school cheerleaders.” “I guess that story will have to wait for another time.” Connor moved the ice a little. “That’s going to leave a mark,” Connor’s face was a breath away from Kevin’s. “You always say that,” Kevin leaned in automatically. Carl cleared his throat. “Guys. Don’t you have better things to do?” They looked at him, and gathered their belongings, leaving without a word. Connor raced Kevin to the Mustang, and got to the driver’s seat first, jumping in over the door. He held his hand out for the key. “My win, my ride.” “You are one über controlling, bossy little thing aren’t you?” said Kevin, tossing the keys and getting into the passenger seat. Someone going into the building caught his eye, and he noticed something vaguely familiar about him, but didn’t pay much attention. “Was that Schilling?” he asked, turning back to look, but the man was gone. “How should I know? Where do you want to eat lunch, Kevin? Someplace far away so I can drive this baby a while.” “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Kevin grinned. “I’m sure my father has sobered up by now, and wants this little beauty back.” “Maybe he’ll give it to you. Maybe he’s been waiting all this time for you to come home.” Kevin wasn’t prepared for the longing that made him feel in his heart. “Nah, it’s not a Wyoming car. It wouldn’t be fair to take it so far from the beach, it would pine.” “Well, then you’ll just have to live here.” Connor moved out into the noontime

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traffic on Jamboree. “I’m sure you could think of a few reasons to relocate.” “I’m sure I could,” echoed Kevin, turning his head enough to look at Connor’s chiseled profile. “I’m sure I could.”

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Chapter Twenty-five

“I’m serious Connor, it’s bad enough that your parents think I’m a lousy drunk. Now they think I have PTSD and I get seasick. I’m not touching anything or anyone on that boat tonight.” Kevin said this with a finality that Connor had to respect. “Except me,” Connor lightened the mood. “Well, I guess so.” “Hey, why is it that when you touched my watch your mojo kicked in, but when you touched me, it didn’t happen, except when I was holding the watch in my hand.” Connor blinked up at Kevin, buttoning the last button of his shirt. He clipped on his cell phone and grabbed his wallet and keys. “I keep telling you, I don’t really know how it works. I guess… I mean if I had to guess… I’m making some sort of decision unconsciously about what I receive and what I don’t.” Kevin slid his pullover sweater over his head, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know why I can see your dreams but not read your mind. I must be doing something, right? Sometimes I can decide to let one particular thing in or keep another out. Sometimes it’s completely out of my control.” He picked up the jacket that he’d found shoved in the back seat of his Mustang after clubbing. “Do you think you’ll be warm enough?” he asked. Connor just had a light leather jacket on over his button down shirt. “There are blankets aboard the Mary Liz. Don’t be nervous. You’ve already met them. They know about me… us… I guess. They took it rather better than I hoped.” 208

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“They were still in shock. Just wait,” said Kevin grimly. “I never get tired of your optimism,” Connor laughed and pushed him out the door. The night, the water, and the gentle rocking motion of the Dougal’s lovely boat, Mary Liz, reminded Kevin of just how privileged a background Connor had. Not many people Kevin knew could exit their house and in a hundred meters or so board their yacht for a New Year’s Eve celebration on the water. Well, no one Kevin knew could do that except Connor. The small boat motored around to The Cannery Restaurant’s large dock, where the family patiently waited for catered food to be brought down by an excellent staff, which would be busy all night doing the same thing for other party going vessels.

Kevin tried to make himself useful by helping in the kitchen. Mrs. Dougal,

Mary Liz herself, held out a hand to stop him. “You know,” she said “you really don’t have to spend your time doing this, it isn’t like the food needs to be prepared. That makes it easy, I can handle it if you just want to go have some fun.” “I like this, actually.” Kevin told her. “I’m generally a hand in the kitchen anyway, and I don’t mind helping you. Thank you for inviting me, it’s been a tremendous pleasure to enjoy these evenings aboard your boat.” She looked at him like he was crazy. “All I saw you do was faint and puke and cry,” she said, and he loved her for it. It was easy to see where Connor got his honesty. “Tell me you have a seasick patch on you somewhere.” “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I never have motion sickness.” “Well. I’ve been Connor’s mom for twenty-five years, and I know that story about the post traumatic stress syndrome was just that, a story. I’m sure to find out the truth sooner or later. I’ll be disappointed if I find out it’s some stupid romantic entanglement thing.” She started up the stairs to the deck with a tray of shrimp and cocktail sauce. “What else could it be?” “I don’t know.

You see dead people?” she said over her shoulder as she

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Irish family could claim on the psychic front themselves. He felt Connor move up behind him for a quick nudge; could smell his spicy cologne. “You smell rich and wonderful in the foodie sense, Connor.” Kevin turned for a kiss. “A quick nuzzle then, since I know you can’t resist food.” He brushed Kevin’s lips, lifting a full sized cheese and fruit tray, which required both men and more than a little coordination of effort before it could be placed where Mary Liz wanted it. “Grab the dessert tray next guys, I think that’s it,” said Mary Liz, holding out a glass for Kevin to fill with champagne. “From what Connor tells me you could be a caterer yourself, Kevin, what made you interested in cooking?” “Eating,” he replied, and walked with her to the bow where she could wave to her neighbors. “You’re pretty low key, but I wonder if you can imagine how many questions are running through my mind right now.

Which, by the way, is spinning with the

newfound knowledge that my son believes he’s gay.” She looked him right in the eye. “I hope he’s right, I’ve never been in love before, and I’d hate it if he second guessed himself and kicked me to the curb over a little thing like sexual orientation.” Air escaped from Mary Liz’s nose in an unladylike snort. “I have the horrible feeling that I’m going to like you.” “Yeah, well, prolonged exposure is sure to cure it.” Kevin offered her a refill, as he was still holding the champagne bottle. “In the meantime, know that I won’t ever lie to you, though Connor might, I’m still mad about that PTSD thing, and I’m not the type to… recruit, if you know what I mean.” “Oh, I do. I heard all about Andrew. Connor was… is… what he is. We love who we love.” She looked at her husband. “We Dougals are good at it too, for the long haul. Don’t screw up. I want that for him.” “I’ll try my best,” said Kevin, a sense of the unreal enveloping him again. “Do you ever just look around you and think, ‘can any of this be real’, Mary Liz?” She laughed, a lovely gentle laugh that sounded like the water lapping against the side of the boat only happier. “Oh, all the time Kevin, all the time.” She meandered off

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to mingle. “Quinn,” said a familiar voice at his elbow, “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” “Oh, Schilling,” Kevin recognized Daniel. Instead of shaking his hand, Kevin held up the champagne in an offer to fill the glass he carried. Schilling nodded, and Kevin topped him off. “A meet and greet with the family?” Daniel asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. “Connor must have been treated rather well when he was outed by our friends from the FBI.” “His parents are rather special. They haven’t made up their minds yet what to feel. My sense is that they’re trying to get through the holidays so they can regroup. They’re tight knit and loving. He’s lucky to come from such a good family.” He looked at Daniel. “Are any of your family here?” “Nope, the rest of my family is on the Schilling boat. Andrew’s family’s boat that is, my parents don’t have one.” Something about the way he said that seemed odd to Kevin, who thought he heard the bitterness of growing up on the fringe of this kind of abundance. “Neither did mine, Daniel. This is wild, I look at Connor and I think he doesn’t even get how different this is from how everyone else lives. I guess it’s partly because Mary Liz and Calvin are such normal people. Not a hint of arrogance.” “Yeah, I like Connor’s family, I always have. They invited me because I’m the hero of the Inquisition as far as they’re concerned. I didn’t do anything magical really,” he seemed to have more to say, but Connor came up and took Kevin by the arm. Kevin shrugged, and waved as he was hauled to meet some Dougal cousins. Connor introduced him simply as a friend. It wasn’t any kind of slight. Connor still treated him with the kind of respect he’d show a date and Kevin didn’t care what Connor called him. Later Connor brought the subject up himself. “You don’t think I’m trying to hide that you’re with me do you?” he asked. “I don’t want to be in people’s faces, and I thought I’d give my parents time… but it doesn’t mean that I’m ashamed of you or

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anything. You know that, right?” “You’ve got to make yourself comfortable. I’ve done this a lot longer than you have; I know you’re not ashamed to be with me,” Kevin told him. “Even if you were, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I’ve known men who loved each other with their whole hearts, and still wished they didn’t have to say they were gay. It’s not shame really, it’s just the ‘otherness’ of it all.” “Well you should know your other better than most,” teased Connor.

“Up in

Wyoming just playing with your dog for five years.” “In the interest of honesty, I should say I was playing with the Veterinarian too, but that’s over now.” Something flickered across Connor’s face but left it a second later. “How cool. I’m capable of jealousy. Never felt that before.” “Don’t bother,” said Kevin. “Just get rid of it. You’ll never need it. Not with me.” “You’re sweet,” grinned Connor. “Probably.” “The hell I am. I just…like you. More than anyone else, I think.” “I see. That’s nice to know.” Connor led him to the bow where they sat during the Christmas parade. “I’ll get a plate of food and some beer,” he said, “wait here.” Kevin sat down and crossed his legs. He loved looking at the lights on the water. Connor returned with a large plate of assorted nibbles and two longnecks. “Here.” he sat down next to Kevin, closer than he had the last time. He held up a shrimp dripping in cocktail sauce for Kevin to take a bite from, and then finished it up himself. “I’m thinking it’s high time they saw me with a date who makes me hot. Though now it makes me feel bad for the girls I dated.” “You tried, didn’t you? It wasn’t exactly fraud, was it?” “Well, no. I tried. But not hard, really,” he looked away. “Lots of straight guys don’t try hard, Connor, I’m sure you were a good guy, and did your best. I wouldn’t beat myself up if I were you.” He looked across to the lights on shore. “Look, are you sure you want this? I mean, the whole out to the family thing. You don’t have to do it. I can do straight guy friend. You don’t have to burn any

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bridges for me.” “I’m sure.” Connor, leaned in to kiss him deeply and ignored the fact that they were pretty much in public. “I feel like… if Andrew hadn’t disappeared I would have done this years ago.” He took hold of Kevin’s hand then. Kevin felt oddly disturbed. He couldn’t really say why, except for the fact that Andrew was always with them, would always be with them, and that was a fact of life. “Something the matter?” asked Connor, twisting the top off his beer. “Nah. It’s a gorgeous night. I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be,” “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with,” said Connor. But Kevin was afraid he could think of someone, and it made him a little sad. After a while, Kevin found that the only thing he didn’t like about a New Year’s Eve party on a boat was the fact that he wouldn’t be able to leave until it docked. He was tired, and overwhelmed by the people all around him. Like the Christmas party, this one ended in the middle of the water with four other boats. The flotilla of partygoers, which included a jazz trio and makeshift dancing, rocked and bobbed, the inky black water like a mirror as its shiny backdrop. Kevin and Connor tacitly agreed that dancing might be an unwise thing; their recent night of clubbing was still a fresh memory. Kevin caught Connor looking at him with hungry eyes. “What?” he asked. “I was thinking about all the reasons I shouldn’t dance with you here,” Connor answered. “Yeah.” Kevin sighed. “It’s a little too new for your parents. Let them get a handle on this… There’s time enough to shock them later.” “That’s not what I meant.” Connor moved to sit between Kevin’s legs with his back supported by Kevin’s chest. “You dance like liquid sex.” “Really? Me?” “Oh yeah, and we’re stuck on this boat till it docks. Didn’t you say you don’t do bathroom stalls?” “Oh, yeah, well. It’s a little crowded.” “But I wish we were dancing, and it was just us. You make me burn when we

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dance.” Connor leaned into Kevin and pulled his arms around. “Like this it’s a little cold.” “You want my sweater?” Kevin offered. “I don’t get cold easily.” “Yeah, okay,” Connor replied, “yeah.” Kevin pulled his jacket off, then the sweater underneath it, and then gave that to Connor. He still had on a shirt and put his jacket back on. Connor did the whole process in reverse. “Oh, it’s warm from your body…I think that’s…hot.” “Connor.” “And it smells like you too, your cologne. Lemony, and something that’s just you.” He found Kevin’s hand again. “It’s making me hard wearing your sweater Kev.” “Connor will you shut up?” “Do you think I have a wool fetish?” “Hm, wool? That’s cashmere,” Kevin told him. “It’s from goats.” “Oh, goats? l was thinking of sheep.” “That’s just weird.” Kevin smiled. “Warmer?” He chafed Connor’s upper arms with his hands. “Yeah, thank you. This is probably one of those perfect moments isn’t it?” “Maybe.” Kevin looked into Connor’s eyes, brightly illuminated by the lights on the boat and the reflection in the water. “Probably.” Kevin took a small pastry square and broke it in half automatically feeding half to Connor and letting it melt on his own tongue. Both men drifted mentally, hands grazing together, listening to the excitement build on the boat as midnight drew nearer. “I’ve never liked New Year’s Eve that much,” Kevin told him. “I always felt duty bound to have a much better time than I actually ever do. The last few years I’ve either ignored it completely or I’ve just taken the dog out to pee.” “I know what you mean; like it’s some sort of contract you have with God that you’ll have an amazing memorable experience that never lives up to your expectations.” He let his head drop back on Kevin’s shoulder. “I think this is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had.”

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“I guess that’s not saying much, huh.” Kevin swirled the amber bottle of beer in his hand and watching to see the little whirlpool he made. “It’s saying everything Kev, if you’re paying attention.” He kissed Kevin suddenly, deeply. Kevin didn’t have to be asked again. He opened his lips to Connor who slid his tongue along them, tentatively at first, and then with more determination, darting and sweeping and sucking until they were both out of breath. Kevin put his hand to the side of Connor’s face and pressed their foreheads together, savoring the sweet sensation of Connor’s skin on his. They continued kissing dreamily, as if they had all the time in the world, relaxing, tasting, getting to know each other all over again, the crowd around them all but forgotten as they drifted on the dark water. Kevin was aware in some sentient part of himself that Connor was drugging his senses with the heady contact, which stole his thoughts and relaxed his body till he was floating around almost above it. Somewhere the fireworks began, and instead of taking his attention away from Connor it just became one more part of the mystery that was the rightness of being together. He was in that perfect space, aware of everything around him but completely focused on Connor’s body, specifically his lips and hands, and how they made him feel, when he realized he wasn’t in his own head anymore, at all. Kevin could see himself, like in a dream, through someone else’s eyes. Someone dark, and angry, and hurting.

Someone hunting.

It was in that moment, which

completely disrupted his connection with Connor, that he realized that person was here on this flotilla of boats, someplace close.

Right here, right now, Kevin was seeing

everything through the very eyes of the man he and Connor had been searching for. Eyes that watched every move he and Connor made. Kevin added one more implacable fact to his mental dossier on their killer, it was not Andrew Schilling who was the focus of his rage, but Connor, and it had been Connor all along.

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Chapter Twenty-six

The moment Kevin felt the threat singing through his head, through his whole body like blood in his veins, he surged to his feet. He moved instinctively to block any view of Connor, and searched the upturned faces behind him for the face of the man he knew was watching them. But damn, he had no idea what that face looked like. The more he searched the crowded boat behind him, the more he realized he was clutching at straws. The massive fireworks display continued to explode overheard, with pops, cracks, and loud thunderous bangs, disorienting him and overwhelming his senses. He felt Connor begin to rise behind him, but just as he did, a couple who were dancing none to steadily while watching the show in the sky slammed into him, sending him backwards, over Connor, over the bow, and into the icy water below. All Kevin’s breath escaped in a whoosh until everywhere around him he felt the frigid lick of the dirty green seawater against his skin. He seemed incapable of drawing in more air. He bobbed there in frozen limbo until he heard the sound of something hitting the water next to his head. Kevin reached out blindly, grabbing for it and found it to be one of those lifesaver-shaped flotation devices with the name Mary Liz painted on it. Someone flung a rope ladder to him, and several pairs of hands pulled him aboard. Mary Liz herself was at the top waiting with a blanket. “Fainting, puking, crying, and now falling overboard,” she muttered to no one in particular, but Kevin burned with shame to hear it. He wanted to say something but his teeth seemed clenched permanently against the cold wind now biting at him. 216

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“Kevin!” Connor was next to him instantly, trying to rub some warmth back into his frozen hands. “What the hell happened to you? One minute you were there and the next you were in the water.” He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or not. Kevin wished he could answer, he really did, but his teeth were snapping together like castanets. He could only wait until he was warm enough to relax. He was on the deck on his back, wrapped in blankets and watching the fireworks grand finale over his head, when he found he could finally speak again. Kevin pulled Connor down to face him. “He’s here,” he ground out, “He’s on one of the boats somewhere, at least, I think so. He can see us, is looking right at you…” “Crap!” said Connor, looking around, “Do you know which one? Can you tell?” “No, damn it, I was looking when I got shoved. Your mom thinks I’m a total asshole,” he said, resigned. “She does not,” Connor argued. “Well, maybe she does. I’ll set her straight, you know, about your catlike grace and whatever the other thing is.” “Don’t help me out. Do you realize I’ve never been as big a geek as I have been on this boat? It’s like I’m cursed.” Kevin sighed when Connor put his arms around him, hauling him up, wet body, cold blanket and all. “It does seem that way.” Kevin could tell Connor was no longer even trying to hold back his laughter. “This is so not funny.” Kevin told him, even as he started to laugh. A moment later he was all business. “Is there any way to get a list of who is on these boats?” “Oh, man.” Connor bit his lip. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of party hopping. Even if we knew who started on what boat in the beginning of the evening, we have no idea who changed boats, and when. I’ll call tomorrow, and have each family make a guest list to the best of their ability, but anyone could have gotten aboard from another boat, and jumped right off again and there’s no way to tell.” “That water’s pretty foul.” Connor went still and silent above him. “I’m sorry, Connor, I didn’t think for a minute.” “I hate that most of all,” Connor admitted. “Knowing they’re in there somewhere,

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and not having even the first clue where to look.” “I know, Connor. I promise you on my life, we’ll find them… find him.” Kevin held his hand out for Connor, squeezing it extra hard to cement his vow. If it seemed a little strange to be promising Connor that they’d find Andrew during what was arguably the most romantic night of his life thus far, Kevin sighed and put it away for a while. Nothing about Connor came without faith. Connor excused himself and left Kevin for a minute with the lovely face of his mother, Mary Liz, peering down at him. “You’re a piece of work,” Mary Liz grinned. “But I’ve got to hand it to you. You do make things interesting.” “Would you believe me if I told you I’m not usually this… what the hell am I?” He sat up, pushing the blanket off, readying himself to stand so he could walk around and get the feeling back in his legs. “You’re asking the wrong person. I can’t think how one guy could get into so much trouble.” “It finds me.” “Why do you suppose that is?” “I guess it’s because lately I’ve made a habit of looking for it,” Kevin told her ruefully. “And not only so I could ruin your parties.” “It would take a lot more than that to ruin one of my parties. You’re only the first guy to fall off; the night is young.” He noticed her laughter again, which he found so engaging. He climbed to his feet and stamped them a couple of times. Connor came back, with a cup of coffee and an enigmatic smile on his face. “I got us a ride back on a passing motorboat with a nice couple who said they could drop us at our dock.” He kissed his mother, “Can’t take him anyplace, can I?” “It appears not.” She eyed them. “I’ll call you tomorrow, are you doing football at the Chief’s?” “Yep, and Kevin here is cooking. I’m sure they’d love to have you if you and Dad want to come too.” “No, I’m watching at home where I can let my hair down and cheer for whoever has

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the ball. You guys are too serious.” “Okay.” Connor took Kevin’s hand and led him to the waiting boat. “Bye for now.” When they were seated in the smaller, faster boat, he waved. It was a fun, quick ride to the dock, where they bid their rescuers goodbye. Waving at the friendly pair, Kevin thought again how fascinating he found this small community. “It’s like a big family down here,” he remarked to Connor when they were walking up from the dock to the house. “Everyone’s so friendly.” “Yeah, I guess.” Connor opened the passenger door of the Mustang for Kevin, “You just sit tight and I’ll get you home and into a hot shower in no time.” “I know you’re just saying that so you can drive my mom’s car.” “Damn right,” Connor agreed. “I’ll be careful.” “I know.” Kevin sank back against the Mustang’s bucket seat. “I’m tired anyway.” He turned his face away and tried to think clearly, something he hadn’t been able to do since his body hit the water. He wondered first, and most importantly, how much he should tell Connor of what he saw through the eyes of Andrew’s killer, because now he was certain beyond any doubt that was who they were dealing with. The man’s hatred for Connor had burned hot like coals in his heart, a smoldering, living entity. A creature made entirely of the anger and resentment of a man for his rival. It wasn’t going to be easy to tell Connor that. “Kevin?” Connor asked, “Are you all right?” “I’m fine, but I’ll be glad to be warm again.” “I think I kind of like the idea of you all cold and wet.” “Oh right, I’ll be at my best; no visible balls, and a dick that looks like a Chiclet…” “I can fix that,” Connor laughed, and started the engine, which growled to life. He put the car in gear and started moving away from the curb in front of his house. “If it gets too cold, tell me and I’ll help you put the top back up.” “Nah. That would be a sacrilege even if I were cold. I’m going to enjoy this car while my dad lets me, because I’m sure that tomorrow, it turns into a pumpkin.” “Let’s just hope I don’t turn into a mouse.” Connor headed south on Pacific Coast

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Highway for home. “No chance of that,” Kevin murmured, thinking how aggressive Connor had become in bed. “Connor, can I ask you a personal question?” “Sure, shoot,” Connor looked at him briefly then back to the road, “I may not answer.” “Okay. How long were you with Andrew, I mean, I get that you were friends for a long time. How long were you a couple, and how did that happen?” “Well,” Connor thought back, “I’d known him since third grade or so… He was at school with me, and we were in scouts together, but neither of us liked it very much. I think around ninth grade he started looking at me differently, I was about, maybe fourteen then. It didn’t take long for me to realize I liked it, the change in him… in us.” “What was it like,” asked Kevin, “like, fumbling trying to get it right? Like maybe he had an idea but you had to figure it out?” “No way, he was perfect,” Connor answered. “Like a machine. Like he knew everything about my body and it was only a matter of me saying yes and he’d take care of the rest.

Little by little he taught me what to do for him.

This is kind of

embarrassing,” he looked over briefly. “Is it business or personal?” “A little of both I think. I guess that was really something, getting it right the first time out.” Kevin felt a little strange. It certainly hadn’t been like that for him. “Didn’t it hurt and weren’t you frightened. It sounds like one of those made up stories…” “I didn’t make it up!” Connor sounded angry. “I also haven’t completely idealized it, if that’s where you’re going next. He really just seemed to know what he was doing. I’m sure it would have been… awkward, except I guess it never got that far.” Connor seemed to be holding something back. “What?” asked Kevin. “Why?” “I only topped,” he said quietly. “He told me… well never mind, he just… I only topped.”

He pulled into the garage, stopping the car. He seemed to shake off his

mood. “See, got you here in record time. Let’s get you warm.” He came around to the passenger side of the car and helped Kevin out.

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“I get stiff when I’m cold.” Kevin walked slowly. “It usually goes away with a little hot water and Yoga.” “I see.” Connor, pushed the button on the elevator instead of running up the stairs as he usually did. He was silent as they waited. “Connor,” Kevin took his hand. “Yes?” “I’m sorry. I have a feeling that the answers to the questions I’m asking you are important.” “Even if they weren’t for the case it’s okay if you ask. We have that don’t we? That kind of thing?” “Yeah.” Kevin smiled. “We have that kind of thing.” Connor leaned up to kiss Kevin then; sweet and probing, a kiss that continued in the elevator and up to the door of Connor’s apartment. He opened it with his key, and then backed Kevin into his kitchen. **** “You undress, Kev, I’ll go get the water hot.” He looked back. “I—” “Here.” Kevin called him over. “The water can wait.” He pulled Connor to him and together they peeled off their clothing. Connor pressed himself anywhere he could on Kevin to warm him. Kevin melted into his touch like wax, savoring his body heat. They walked to the bathroom pressed as close together as they could be and still move.

Kevin turned on the water, and Connor got out towels. As soon as the water

was warm enough, Kevin got under the spray. Connor joined him, and for a few minutes it was all about getting Kevin warm. Once Connor could feel Kevin’s skin warming up with his hands, Connor reached over into the basket where he kept nylon puffs, shampoo, and soap. Connor slid his hands up under Kevin’s arms to raise them over his head and kissed him deeply, grinding his body against Kevin’s suddenly growing cock, and then zip tied his hands to the showerhead.

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“I’ve been thinking of this since I read that Ana Wexler book; I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind,” Connor said. “Loose enough? It doesn’t cut off circulation?” “No.” Kevin sighed. “My life has become so strange. Get my Van’s,” he kissed Connor, “the older pair, would you?” “Excuse me?” asked Connor. “Your Van’s?” “Yeah, trust me, and get my shoes.” He put his forehead against Connor’s. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” “Okay.” Connor left and returned about two minutes later with Kevin’s older, slipon shoes. He put them on the tiled shower floor, and Kevin worked his feet into them, despite the water beating down on him. Connor just stared. “Well?” asked Kevin. “Have you figured out now what? I feel like an idiot.” “Well, I thought I’d like to touch you.” Connor took up where he left off before the inexplicable shoe request. He cupped Kevin’s ass in his hands, rolling the muscles, loving the smooth feel of that tight butt against his fingers. Kevin moaned. Connor took that as a sign that this was okay for Kevin too. He stroked Kevin’s muscular back, circling it lazily with his hands, his thumbs coming around every so often to his abs, reaching up to brush his nipples. Kevin let out another moan as Connor took one perfect brown nub into his mouth. “Uhn,” grunted Kevin. He dropped his head back and arched forward for Connor’s touch. Connor stroked Kevin’s balls then, rolling them in his hands and reaching with a finger to the smooth skin behind them. He slid along softly from front to back, teasing Kevin’s hole with the tip of his finger and then retreating, to cup his balls again. “Connor,” Kevin warned, hot water dripping down his body and Connor brushing against his cock, “you’re burning me up.” “What do you want?” asked Connor, between shallow breaths. “Tell me.” “I want you in me.” Connor reached over and got lube from the soap shelf, and spread it on his fingers. He teased Kevin’s hole with one finger, sliding it in gently, then curving it and sweeping it around, looking for his sweet spot. Kevin arched against him, his whole body jerking

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like a puppet. “Connor,” panted Kevin, “please.” Connor put on a condom, slicked himself up, and assessed the situation. He lifted one of Kevin’s legs in his hand, pulling it to wrap around his waist, careful to hold Kevin away from the faucet handles. He found the wet, slippery body exciting, but uniquely difficult to control. Kevin surprised him by lifting his foot and placing it against the tile wall opposite where he was tied, and then using it as leverage to get his other foot up, opening his body for Connor. Connor gave him a startled grin, cupping his ass in one hand, and using the other to guide his cock. “You’ve done this before.” Connor pushed at Kevin’s opening, finding it tight, but sliding his cock in almost all the way before taking the other ass cheek in his hands. Kevin shook his head. “I hate to think what will happen,” he sucked in a deep breath, “when my arms give out.” “Kevin, oh damn…” Connor, started slowly, only to end up pounding into him, making wet, sloppy noises that filled the shower along with their grunts. “So good, Kevin.” Gravity pulled Kevin down on Connor’s cock; it wasn’t sweet or soft or gentle. Connor felt like a machine, driving his cock into Kevin and squeezing his ass till it bruised. He felt Kevin’s long legs start shaking and his balls draw up toward his body. He could feel Kevin’s climax began to move through him. “Connor, I think” he panted, “I’m going to… fall when I come…” Connor braced himself and got a good hold on Kevin, wanting to take the weight so that Kevin’s arms wouldn’t have to.

He was vaguely aware that he should have

considered that before, but when Kevin’s tight hole clenched and fluttered around him, waves of pleasure rolled within him and he just shot, slamming Kevin’s shoulders against the shower wall to hold them both up when Kevin’s strong legs gave out. Kevin crossed his ankles behind Connor’s back and held on like a barnacle. Connor’s hoarse shout filled the small room as his heart thundered in his ears. He clung to Kevin’s slick body, trying to crawl inside his skin.

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“Kevin,” he murmured, over and over as he undulated within him.

“Damn,

Kevin… crap…oh… Kevin!” They hung there together, panting, until Connor noticed the whitish tightness around the bands on Kevin’s wrists. Connor cut the zip ties with a sharp pocket knife he had ready on the bathroom shelf, and they sank to the floor together beneath the spray, which had long since turned tepid. Kevin’s numb hands dropped around Connor’s neck as he found his mouth, kissing him like a force of nature. Connor reached up and turned off the water, but they remained quiet, panting, on the shower floor together. Connor nuzzled Kevin gently on the neck, sliding his lips and tongue around sweetly on the wet skin. “You okay?” he asked carefully, figuring that Kevin probably had just wanted to get warm, and he’d ended up a hostage. Kevin draped his head on Connor’s shoulder weakly, his hair dripping down both their backs. He simply sighed, saying nothing. “I guess you can blame Ana Wexler if you have to blame someone. I mean besides me,” Connor admitted. “I can’t wait to read the one my mom gave me tonight. Be afraid, Kevin, be very afraid.” “Oh.” Kevin, laughed weakly into Connor’s damp skin, “I am.”

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Chapter Twenty-seven

Kevin woke early on New Year’s Day, from force of habit, not because he’d gotten enough sleep. He looked over at the sleeping Connor, who in this light looked so much younger than his age. Kevin brushed the hair off Connor’s boyish face, running his thumb along Connor’s cheekbones, to his nose, and brushing along his full lower lip. Even in his sleep Connor reached out a hand, pulling Kevin’s body to him and somehow, as always, with an arm here and a leg there, completely possessed him before returning to satisfied slumber. Kevin settled in, allowing Connor to have that for a few minutes, knowing it was futile to fight it. Connor had taken possession of him the moment he’d met him, truth be told, and he wasn’t going anywhere, even though he didn’t really know why. Mentally he prepared himself for handling the cooking at his father’s house, making lists and timetables in his head, and thinking what he’d need in case he’d forgotten anything. Connor went lax beside him, boneless now, and he rose from the bed and the man’s arms to put on his workout pants and begin his morning Yoga routine. Sadly, falling off boats into icy water and climbing shower walls like Spiderman was hell on his body, and his muscles complained more than usual. He had to grit his teeth for a while until he warmed up, but after that, the stretch and the burn in his muscles just felt good. He heard when Connor padded in and started the coffee machine, but didn’t react much so he could maintain his pose. “Feeling okay this morning?” asked Connor a little shyly. He settled in a chair he 225

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claimed the day before as his ‘Kevin watching’ chair, and curled his legs under him. “Maybe I should have… you know… asked first or something.” Kevin laughed at the now-chastened man. “I can say no in at least seven different languages Connor. I’m not helpless.” “I know, sometimes I get carried away.” “Am I going to need a ‘safe word’?” Kevin wasn’t too serious, but Connor seemed to be considering it as though it were a good idea. “I’m kidding, you aren’t going to hurt me. We Quinns are pretty sturdy stuff.” “Just say the word, Kevin, you know?” “I know. You aren’t going to say you couldn’t tell I liked that are you?” he asked, transitioning to the next, and slightly more difficult pose. “No.” Connor’s cheeks colored faintly. “I’m not saying that…” He sipped his coffee. There was a quiet knock on the door. “Oh, by the way, you left your wallet aboard the Mary Liz last night, Mom called and said she’d drop it by, that’s her now.” “Connor!” Connor had already opened the door to his mother. Kevin could hear her lilting voice as she entered the living room with a cup of coffee. “Well, this explains a lot,” Mary Liz chuckled, and Kevin almost fell out of his pose. “Thank you for returning my wallet, I don’t remember leaving it…” “I think someone took it out of your coat pocket to dry it off. It was probably someone who fell off before and knew how hard it is to get your I.D. out once the leather dries.” She was silent for a while. “Looking at you now it’s hard to believe you’re the same guy who…” “Yeah, I get that a lot.” Kevin grimaced. “Connor can fill you in if he wants. I have no secrets from you.” “You got that right, sweetheart. Not in those pants.” “Yoga is my new favorite sport,” Connor told her. “No kidding. There’s something about it…” “Yoga butt.” Connor grinned. His mother laughed heartily and held her hand up for a high five. Kevin crashed into a sitting position on the mat. 226

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“Have I drowned,” he asked. “And gone to hell?” Connor sighed. “Mom, Kevin is here working in an unofficial capacity on the missing person case because he has a kind of talent.” He hesitated. “He can sense things sometimes, get images. He’s extremely gifted.” There he’d said it. “I see. And you believe him?” “Yes. I’ve seen first hand how he works. I’m afraid I was skeptical at first.” He smiled at this. “I see,” Mary Liz nodded again. Kevin felt an explanation might help to smooth things out. “I didn’t always have this… Sometimes it’s a little too much for me. On the Schilling’s boat, for example, some of the images I saw were terribly disturbing. I’m still sorting them out.” Mary Liz’s eyes widened.

“You’ve sensed something about Andrew’s

disappearance?” “Well,” Kevin hesitated, not knowing how much to say. Something in Connor’s eyes made him go on. “I believe the cases, Andrew’s and the serial kidnap cases, are connected. It’s like a thread I’ve got hold of, and the more I pull, the more I think that it’s the same guy. He was at the party last night, somewhere, watching.” The color drained from Mary Liz’s face. “What?” “He was there last night, I could feel him. See him watching us. Connor, I didn’t want to have to tell you this way but it’s best you know… He harbors a deep animosity towards you. His feelings are so strong they burn. He…” Kevin searched his memory. “To him, Andrew was property. You stole what was his. He blames you; doesn’t take responsibility for any of it. He’s exacting retribution on you and Andrew with every boy he takes.” Connor’s face was as white as his mother’s.

Mary Liz looked furious.

Kevin

supposed she was angry, both at the news and at Kevin for bringing it. “How the hell can you know that?” “If he knows it, he knows it.” Connor told her. Kevin felt ill. The set of Connor’s mouth told him how much pain his words had caused.

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“If you know so much why don’t you know who he is?” asked Mary Liz, obviously concerned for her son. “It doesn’t work that way. Don’t you think if I could snatch a name or a face out of the air I’d have said something by now? Damn, I’d kill him myself and go to jail a happy man. He’s a threat to Connor, and I will not stop until I find out who he is. I’m sure you’re both bubbling over with confidence. Excuse me. I need a shower.” “Kevin.” Connor started to go after him, but his mother held him back. **** “Does Carl know about all this, Connor? The connection? The threat?” “Even I didn’t know of the threat till just now. I’ll tell him this afternoon at the Chief’s.” Connor wanted to reassure her and found no words. “You had better be watching your back,” she told him. “And tell Kevin that I have faith in him too. He won't believe you, but it’s hard not to see the heart on his sleeve.” “Ya think?” Connor looked in the direction of the bedroom where Kevin vanished. “Yeah.” His mother spoke quietly. “If you’re just experimenting then cut him loose. He loves you.” “Thanks for the warning, but he’s going nowhere.” He paused for a long time. “Are you okay with that?” Connor was afraid of the answer, but it was time to ask. “Well. I hardly know what to think. I guess I’m kind of shocked.” She watched him closely, sipping her coffee. He took the time to gather his thoughts. “When Andrew and I… Back then, I thought, this is how I am. I love him, I want him, and that’s all there is to it. I thought, ‘I must be gay’. I didn’t think any further than Andrew. When he went missing, I was lost. I just went along. I never cared enough one way or the other. I know it sounds stupid, but it didn’t matter enough to me to choose sides. I was numb.” “I think I understand numb.” “Kevin’s someone worth taking a stand for. I don’t know if it’s love. I don’t know if 228

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I can love anyone until I get closure…” “Oh baby.” She put her arms around her son. He was so large, comparatively speaking, that she could only hug parts of him at any one time. “I’m sure you’ll work it out. I want you to be happy. Long time happy, like me and your dad.” “Me too, I want that too. I’m sorry I’m not…normal…” “If you say one more word I will kick your ass.” She gave him a warning stare. “We come from a whole family of people for whom gay would be a major improvement. Horse thieves, revolutionaries, gamblers, pirates.

Four or five generation ago you

couldn’t touch a meal that hadn’t largely been stolen. We’re evolving with the wind at our backs, baby.” “Would you be saying that if Todd’s wife weren’t giving you your first grandchild?” She had the grace to blush faintly. “Probably not.” “Then it’s a good thing I’m not an only child,” he teased, as she got her things and headed for the door. “Be extra vigilant, Connor.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “And check in with me frequently, because until they catch…” “I will. You’re not to worry yourself. I don’t go anywhere alone much, and I’ve got the Psychic Cyclops on my team.” She laughed at that, waving over her shoulder as she headed down the stairs. As he was closing the door he heard Kevin return to the room. He must have just rinsed off. He was damp; water droplets clung to his hair. “I’m sorry I told you in front of your mom, Connor. That wasn’t well thought out.” “Well, I didn’t give you much chance to talk last night.” Connor had a sudden memory of Kevin clinging to him in the shower. Oh. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” Connor had to bring his mind back to the case. He sat down in an armchair. “How do you know he was focused on me?” “I guess I don’t really, except that I felt it. He was watching us. I was kind of holding you. We kissed, remember? The fireworks started? I was just…floating on

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that, feeling it, deep inside myself when I realized I was seeing us from the outside. Looking at our bodies from a distance. Even while the fireworks were exploding over our heads all this rage was building around me, inside me. That was when I could tell that it was aimed at you.” “It’s kind of hard to take in.” Kevin sat down on the floor in front of his chair. Connor absently stroked Kevin’s hair with one hand, sipping his coffee with the other. “It’s like…I’m getting them killed.” “Oh, no baby,” Kevin soothed. “No, Connor, you can’t think like that. It isn’t your fault; it’s not rational, not even sane. That kind of hate is bone-deep crazy.” Connor put his coffee down and sighed into Kevin’s arms on the floor, straddling his lap. Tears of grief and guilt began to fall. “I can’t help it. If I’d never been with Andrew, never let him…” “How could that be so wrong? How can you second guess how you felt as a kid?” Kevin pulled Connor into him and cradled him there. “It doesn’t do any good to look back like that. Andrew loved you; he would be the first to say so. He wouldn’t want you to take this on yourself. He knows who harmed him and it sure the hell wasn’t you.” “Oh, shit. All those other boys are paying for something I did when I was fifteen.” “Stop this, Connor. Just stop!” Kevin snapped. “You wouldn’t say that to anyone else in your position, why do you say it to yourself? There is a madman killing kids. He could blame you, or the President, or the damn Easter Bunny but it’s on him. Andrew loved you. He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up like this. Hell, he’d probably want to slap you for talking this way, I know I do.” Connor laughed a small, wet laugh. “He probably would.” “And furthermore,” Kevin told him, framing Connor’s face with his large hands. “Even if he’d known what it would cost him, I’ll bet he’d have loved you anyway, eyes wide open…” Connor pulled Kevin to him and held on, his face buried in Kevin’s shoulder, “No, hell no, I hope not.” 230

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“It’s easy to love you Connor.” “Shit!" Kevin, what if he goes after you next?” “Well, I guess he’ll find I’m a little more feisty than a fifteen-year-old-boy. He won't, Connor, he’s a coward who thinks he’s too smart to be caught. He’s preying on children whom he sees as weak playthings. He won't take on a grown man.” Connor lay spent and still sniffling across Kevin’s lap. “He really did kill Andrew for loving me; to punish him, didn’t he?” “I think that might be the case. I’m so sorry.” Connor sat quietly letting that sink in. “But why the boys, and why now?

That was my first question and it’s still

bothering me. It wasn’t a special day, not an anniversary…” “Wait…” Connor froze. “What?” “Maybe it was. Maybe there was another one. Someone we haven’t attributed to him yet for some reason. Maybe he took one before. I remember a boy going missing sometime in June but he was a habitual runaway, and everyone thought privately that he just took off again. It wasn’t here, but in Los Angeles, downtown. We need to check all missing persons cases again to see if dates match up—” “What? Around Father’s Day?” asked Kevin. “Shit, when are they going to give us our computers back, I can’t look anything up!” “Carl’s looking into that, we can research things from your dad’s though, right?” Connor asked. “He has a computer.

I’ll do some Internet searches while you’re

cooking.” “Okay,” Kevin still held him, and Connor enjoyed the contact of a warm body against his. “Are you going to run this morning?” “What time is it?” “Around ten-thirty, I have to be at Dad’s at one or so. I’ll grab the bike if you want to go. That’s a nice way to celebrate the New Year. There’s something so perfect about watching your very fine ass jog along. Sort of starts the day out right.”

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“Oh, yeah.” Connor blushed, flicking him a little with his hand. “Hey… I forgot. Happy New Year.” “Me too. Happy New Year, Connor.” Kevin kissed him deeply. “I was too busy playing human fly in your shower to tell you last night.” “How the hell did you know you’d need shoes?” asked Connor. “I mean, how often can you have—” “Must be psychic,” Kevin cut him off, laughing.

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Chapter Twenty-eight

Connor sipped his beer thoughtfully and moved the mouse, clicking, and typing as he searched the Internet on the Chief’s Apple desktop for answers. Every so often, even when he wasn’t conscious of it, his eyes strayed to the open kitchen, where he’d find Kevin and could watch him work. Connor knew firsthand of Kevin’s skill in the kitchen, but watching him now was like turning on a cooking show. He was laughing and joking with the people watching football, and giving impromptu cooking lessons to others. He held a huge chef’s knife in his hand, one he brought from Connor’s house because he said he enjoyed it and it fit his hand well. Somehow, seeing him like that, was making Connor hard. Again. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man, and really, in the Chief’s house? That was maybe just a little wrong. He looked up from the knife in Kevin’s hand to find Kevin’s eyes on him. Eye. Connor colored faintly. “Hungry, Connor?” Kevin teased. He turned to a woman Connor thought was called Trish and whispered something. She was by his side a few minutes later with a bowl of chili with all the trimmings, cheese, sour cream, Fritos, onions, the works. “Compliments of the Chef, honey,” she said like a waitress. He smiled and took it from her, loath to tell her that food wasn’t what he wanted from that particular chef. He tasted it though, and had to hand it to Kevin, the man could make chili.

He

wandered to the kitchen unable to stop himself. “Hey, Kevin,” he called, not really knowing where he was going with it. “I’ve never 233

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seen the whole house, how about a tour?” Kevin raised his eyebrows, but excused himself, and led Connor to the stairs. “What would you have done if other people said, ‘that’s a great idea, take us too?” Kevin asked him when he found a quiet corner away from prying eyes to kiss Connor so hard his knees buckled. “Orgy?” sighed Connor against his lips, kissing back. “I want you.” He twined his arms around Kevin’s neck and pressed himself shamelessly against him. “Well, this is awkward,” said the Chief, returning from an upstairs bathroom. Kevin pressed his face into Connor’s shoulder. Connor found his voice first. “Oh man, Chief, I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. Your son wielding a knife is just too hot for me to ignore. I don’t know what came over me. He made me promise to keep my hands to myself but, hey…I only just got turned gay so I have no self-control whatsoever.” “Shut the hell up, Connor.” The Chief.continued walking past them. “And here you thought he was the son you never had,” muttered Kevin. “Don’t tell me what I think, I hate that! I guess Connor’s the daughter-in-law I’ll never have,” he looked back. “You two should just get a room.” “Wait… Chief,” Kevin called when his dad was on the bottom stair. “Call me Dad, son.” The Chief walked away. “What the hell was that all about?” asked Connor. Kevin slumped to the floor, bringing Connor down with him. “I thought if he caught us like that…” “So can we put the orphan Kevin Quinn firmly away now?” Connor touched Kevin’s lower lip with his thumb before placing a gentle kiss there. “Your dad loves you… always loved you. People can get angry and still love you.” “Connor,” Kevin breathed against his mouth. “This is bad.” “What?” “I’m… I can’t go back in there with all those women like this…” Connor reached out a hand to feel Kevin’s cock, rigid under his tight jeans. “I feel like a jr. high school

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kid.” “Oh, crap!” Connor snatched his hand back as if it burned. “You just reminded me… I found one, from around Father’s Day this year, well, I guess it’s last year as of today. I was right; all the agencies thought he was a runaway. Disappeared from downtown L.A. He was on a summer school field trip to the L.A. City Hall, and the police were called in to investigate. He was presumed to be a runaway because of a pattern of behavior established over the previous three years. But there’s more, Kev, and I don’t know about you, but I think I can safely go downstairs to show it to you.” “Just thinking about those boys took care of my problem right away, Connor, I’m okay.” He took Connor by the hand and led him back downstairs. When they arrived in the family room where the Chief kept his computer, Connor sat down and pulled up a large image of the missing boy. “I don’t know how I missed this when I saw his picture before. It’s unmistakable to me now.” He moved aside so that Kevin could look at the screen, and heard the man draw in a surprised breath. “I see,” The boy could have been Andrew’s twin, same basic facial features, same coloring, and he wore an almost identical teasing expression on his face. The look of boys who know more than they should. “Geez.” Kevin shivered, and Connor saw he had goosebumps on his arms that had nothing to do with the temperature. “What if he wasn’t hunting someone, he just ran into a kid that looked like Andrew, and bam, took the chance?” “I wonder.” Kevin thought out loud. “What school district was he from?” “That’s the weird part, he’s from Huntington Beach, but he went missing in L.A.” “Stalked. I’ll bet he was being stalked. We should bat ideas around with Himself. My dad has forgotten more about shit like this than I’ll ever know.” “It’s a missing boy from his city too… maybe he’ll want to take a look.” Connor started to print off pictures of different boys, along with information about each case. It wasn’t much, he didn’t have access to their files, but he could find press information. Once he assembled it into an orderly packet, he looked up to find Kevin staring at him

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thoughtfully. “What?” “You did it again, Connor.” “What did I do?” . “Ran interference for me with my dad. That’s… not necessary, but nice.” Connor reached out to Kevin and pulled him close, “You know I’ve got your back, right? I hate to see you suffer, even if it is largely your own damn fault, you stubborn asshole.” “Yeah,” Kevin kissed him briefly before letting him go. “Back at you, Trekkie.” **** Kevin retreated to the kitchen and left Connor to surf some more. He was in the process of pulling some Jalapeno Poppers out of the fryer when his dad came in. “So,” his dad started, “I guess you and Connor…” “Sorry.” Kevin was unable to help himself. “I guess it’s contagious after all.” “Geez, you’re still a little snot. You always did like to rip off a scab.” Kevin was silent, removing the molten cheese poppers from paper toweling and plating them with a little bowl of Ranch dressing. “Sorry,” he said again, meaning it. “Connor’s a fine cop and a good man,” His dad looked at him. “Think those words can go with ‘and he’s gay’?” “Yeah, sure they can. I had a problem with ‘He’s gay’ going with ‘and he’s my son’, but that’s the facts. Life goes on. The silence is worse… the not knowing… That can’t happen again, Kevin. Don’t go off again like that; I just couldn’t take it.” Kevin went into his dad’s arms and hugged him hard. “Never,” he reassured. “Want to see my ranch?” “I can’t picture it. I never saw you ride so much as a rocking horse.” “I told you, no animals. I’d like to get another dog someday. Look Dad, this thing with Connor, he’s… well, I’m sure he’s sincere but he’s new to all this. And I know he’s still in love with Andrew Schilling, he’s never gotten over that. It may be that I’m Mr.

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Right Now, you know? I’m the first gay man he’s been close to since Andrew, probably his first opportunity to explore that side of himself. I don’t want you to hold it against him if it doesn’t work out. I figure I’ll just go back to…” Kevin saw his Dad’s eyes widen. He was afraid he knew exactly who was standing behind him. Kevin turned to meet a fist connecting squarely with his jaw. It dropped him like a rock onto his dad’s kitchen floor. Next thing he knew his dad was leaning over him holding an ice pack. “I didn’t see that coming.” “Clearly, neither did I.” Kevin sat up, testing his jaw, moving his head from side to side. “Shit, that’s the second time in two days someone’s taken me by surprise.” “He could have at least waited till you were done cooking,” Kevin heard from one of the guests, who stood over him, enjoying a stuffed jalapeno. “I’d better go talk to him,” Kevin started to get up; testing his head and his legs out to make sure they were steady. “Don’t bother, son, he’s gone.” The Chief’s eyes filled with regret. **** Connor left the Chief’s house and drove home with the single-minded determination of a really angry man. He was glad he’d brought his own car, damn it, and that Kevin hadn’t been able to talk him into sharing in case one of them had too much to drink. He waited impatiently at the light on Victoria Avenue where it crossed Newport Boulevard. His hand hurt where he’d hit Kevin and his temples were starting to throb.

He’d assaulted his boyfriend in a room full of police officers. It was pretty

obvious that he needed to work on anger management. He felt ill. He’d heard Kevin say all that nonsense about Mr. Right Now and getting a dog and going back to Wyoming, and it just… hurt. As if he couldn’t know his own heart. As if he were too inexperienced to know love when he felt it. Despite the reservations he’d shared with his mother, he was certain he loved Kevin.

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He knew it, and he wasn’t about to let Kevin walk away. Not without the fight of his life. Unfortunately, the opening salvo in that fight was a stupid mistake Connor wished he could take back. His phone rang and he checked caller I.D. He wasn’t ready to talk to Kevin yet, but it turned out to be Daniel Schilling. “Dougal,” Connor answered, wondering what Schilling could want on New Year’s Day. “Happy New Year. I tried Kevin’s phone but he’s not picking up. No ill effects from yesterday’s little swim, I trust.” “No, he’s fine. How was the rest of the party after we left. I forgot you were there last night.” “That’s right, I’m so memorable I guess,” Schilling sighed audibly. “It was lovely, your mom is a wonderful hostess. Do you have some time this afternoon, by any chance? There’s something I need to run by you about Andrew’s case, and I’m going to be in Court all day tomorrow.” “Yeah, sure…” Connor looked at his wrist, realizing his watch was still evidence. He looked at the clock on his dashboard. “I’m going for a run, then I can meet you at… say… 4:30? That okay?” “Yeah, that will be perfect, where?” “How about El Ranchito?” Connor was just pulling up to his garage. He needed to run, needed to think clearly. “Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll see you at 4:30 then. Have a good run,” Schilling said before hanging up. Connor finished up his run and showered, feeling much more relaxed. He still wasn’t ready to call Kevin. He came down the stairs and into the parking lot, walking toward his garage when he heard a horn honk. He saw Daniel Schilling’s Mercedes pull up. “Hey,” Schilling called out the window. “I was driving by and I thought if you’d

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like to ride with me I’d save you a trip.” “Sure,” said Connor, going towards him. He opened the passenger door and got in, noticing the smooth and attractive leather interior. “Nice ride, I guess I should have been a lawyer instead of a cop.” “Oh but you get so much more job satisfaction.” “Oh, yeah, right.” Connor chuckled. “I forgot about that.” “Avila’s?” asked Schilling. “On the peninsula?” “Yeah, you can’t park there for shit but the food is good and they’ll be showing all the game highlights.” “Sure thing.” Schilling headed down Jamboree. **** Kevin dialed Connor’s number again. He wasn’t sure that Connor was ready to talk yet, but it was awkward, since Kevin’s clothes and everything he had with him were at Connor’s apartment. He got up, and shook his Dad gently. “Hey, go to bed, it’s almost ten-thirty, and you’re snoring.” “What?” asked Himself. “Already?” “Are you hungry? I can make you something…” “Nah, I’m fine. You going back to Connor’s?” “I can’t get a hold of him; he isn’t picking up at home or on his cell.” “Oh… mad,” muttered the chief.

“Let him cool off a little.

He’s probably

embarrassed too… Little weasel hits my boy? … I don’t think so. Do we have to have a talk about domestic violence?” “No.” Kevin shook his head. The Chief rolled over and settled back in. Kevin covered him with one of his mother’s ubiquitous afghans. “Night Pop, I love you, you old fart.” “Me too.” 239

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Kevin walked up the stairs, slowly, trying Connor’s cell again. He really didn’t see Connor as an avoider. That’s why he decked people in the first place. He took out his wallet and located Mary Liz’s phone number, where he’d stashed it on a post-it note. She answered on the third ring. “Hello?” “Mary Liz, this is Kevin.” “Hi Kevin, what’s up?” she asked. “Is Connor there by any chance?” Kevin asked. He sounded like a kid. Connor would pay for this. “No, I haven’t seen him since this morning, weren’t you going to watch football together at the Chief’s?” “Yeah, well, he left a little angry. I’m trying to track him down. He’s not answering his phones. Maybe he’s screening.” “That’s not like him, usually he goes looking for a fight.” “I thought so too,” Kevin raised a hand to his jaw where he knew he’d find a large purple bruise. “Hey Kevin, would you look for him? See if he’s alright?” She sounded worried, and Kevin could have kicked himself for alarming her. “Sure. I’m sure he’s just on one of his famous runs. I’ll have him call you as soon as I find him.” “Thank you.” She hung up. Kevin shook his head. He wrote a quick note for his dad and found his keys. He couldn’t get into Connor’s house, but he could drive along the route Connor usually ran. He left a message on Connor’s cell phone. “Hey, Connor.” He sighed. “I know you’re mad, or whatever… but this isn’t a good time to disappear. Please call me, or at least call your mom. We’re worried about you since you aren’t answering your phones. Probably just paranoia, but hey… check in, okay?” He took his mom’s car and drove into the darkness, cursing his gift. He couldn’t use it at will, it didn’t tell him anything concrete, and now, when he was worried, he imagined all sorts of things and wondered if they could possibly be real.

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Shit, he

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thought, Connor, where are you?

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Chapter Twenty-nine Kevin was making the second loop up the Back Bay where Connor jogged and then down Jamboree, and getting more concerned by the minute. Connor’s car was in its garage, and short of being the world’s biggest asshole, there was no reason Connor wouldn’t answer his door, even if he were angry. His cell phone rang and he almost exploded with relief. “Connor?” “No, Kevin, this is Mary Liz,” she paused. “I was worried after you called so I used my emergency key to get into Connor’s place and he’s not there.” “I know. His car is there, though.” “I’m worried. Really, really worried, Kevin. Can you… I don’t know, psychic him or something?” “I wish I could, Mary Liz,. I don’t really know what to do. If I had something of his… can I come over?” “Sure,” she jumped on the offer. Then she laughed uncertainly. “He’s probably just out with friends and we’re totally overreacting, right?” “Yeah, probably,” Kevin hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. “Totally overreacting. I’ll be there in a few, okay?” “I’ll call the gates,” she told him. Kevin headed his car toward Lido Isle. Mary Liz waited for him on the porch in a tracksuit very much like the ones Connor wore. In fact, in this light, their shared DNA was obvious, the same features that made Connor so attractive taking on a feminine beauty in his mother’s face. 242

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“What?” she asked. “Oh, I was just noticing how much you and Connor look alike. I guess I didn’t see it before. Look, I want you to calm down, okay?” “Sure, okay.” She led him into their kitchen, which seemed almost too bright after the darkness outside. Mr. Dougal was there waiting with a pot of coffee. “You know I’ll do anything I can to find Connor, right? I’m not sure how useful that will be, I’m going to take a few minutes to call my… Robbie. Is there someplace private I can use? I would feel better…” “Go into my office,” Connor’s father said, as he pointed to a door off the main hallway. “Thank you,” Kevin was already dialing his cell phone. He knew he’d break down if he had to talk in front of them. Damn his lack of control. Robbie picked up right away. “Hello?” “Robbie? It’s me, Kevin Quinn.” “Hello Kevin,” she responded calmly. “How can I help?” “It’s Connor, he’s gone missing… My feelings are all twisted up. I’m not reliable. I want to find him. I… I’m useless Robbie, and I’m scared.” He gave in to his fear, knowing that Robbie would understand. “I’m at his parents' house. I want to help them, but… what if I fail? What if it’s too late? What if he’s like the others?” “Stop, Kevin,” Robbie spoke firmly. “Just stop. Remember how I taught you to occupy your mind with something instead of letting it run away with you?” “Yes… but…” “No buts, it sounds idiotic, but just do it.

Say it in your head.

Now,” she

encouraged. Kevin dutifully began to recite the periodic table silently to himself. “Are you doing it? Good. Now, can you put me on the phone with someone else while you do that?” Kevin got up and walked back to the kitchen, “Mary Liz, Robbie would like to speak with you.” He rolled his eyes up into his head, and kept thinking about elements. He was dimly aware of Mary Liz as Robbie explained the facts to her.

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“I see,” Mary Liz spoke into the phone, “I should find something of Connor’s? You mean like something personal, like a toothbrush?” “No,” Kevin interrupted. “Something that means a lot to him. Something he’s attached to. “I’m sorry I’m not better at this.” He went back to the periodic table. “Just wait here.” Mary Liz handed the phone off to her husband, who took it and introduced himself. “This is all going to be for nothing,” Kevin said again, mostly to reassure himself. “I’m totally going insane. He just went out drinking, or dancing or something. He’s on a date. It’s okay, he’s going to be fine.” Calvin Dougal put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I see,” he was saying into the phone when his wife came back with a stuffed bear, a sweatshirt, and the Ana Wexler novel Connor had when Kevin met him at the airport. “Here, this is his bear…” she held it out, “and these he left here recently.” Kevin's hands were shaking. He picked up the sweatshirt and took the phone from Calvin saying, “Okay Robbie, I’m ready.” He listened to her soothing voice as she told him to relax, to feel the images drift through his mind. He was drawing a blank on it, trying too hard, or not hard enough. He felt… nothing when he held the shirt. Next, he picked up the bear, gingerly, testing it a little first. Frankly he thought that would be the one that poured on him like boiling oil. He got… the sea. Everything, and anything related to the sea. He felt the rocking motion; could smell the brackish water. He heard the wind and waves and water lapping at the side of a boat. He didn’t much trust it, as he was only meters away from the dock where the Dougal’s kept the Mary Liz. Everything smelled like the sea here. It was a part of the Dougal’s life, like a member of their family. “I keep getting the sea, Robbie, but everything is about the ocean here. The family, the parties… I’m scared, Robbie, and I’m useless…” “Stop it Kevin. Stop saying that.” Mr. Dougal pulled the phone from his hand and pressed the button so it was on speaker. “Don’t try to interpret, just allow the images into your head as they come, and tell us what they are.”

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“Okay,” he picked up the novel. It was such an odd coincidence he almost laughed. Almost. “Oh,” he said. Things were coming at him. “I get the sea, I really do. A rocking boat. Dark. It’s dark. Something brushy, on my skin, like it’s tickling me, but it’s dark, and I can’t tell what. But it’s a boat…and Connor’s on it…” Mary Liz jumped and Calvin pulled her close. “Connor’s on a boat? So it’s okay, right? Maybe he just wanted to go for a sail with one of our friends.” “But Connor’s… he’s not right…baby head…he can’t hold his head up.” “Kevin, can you hear me?” asked Robbie. “Yeah,” Kevin replied. “Stay with Connor. Talk to him. Can you talk to him?” Kevin tried to talk with his mind. He’d been in other people’s heads before, but had no idea how it happened. In his mind, he tried to imagine shouting in Connor’s ear, calling his name, touching his face, anything. Connor didn’t stir. He felt the boat Connor was on, rocking gently, bobbing, static.

He wondered if it was anchored

somewhere. He tried to look around the boat, but it was all darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight coming in through the portholes. “He’s not responding. I can’t get into his head.” “What about what you can see, Kevin, come on, this is important. Can you see anything?” “Moonlight coming in from the windows, no light other than that. Connor’s on a bunk; maybe tied. Shit, tied…” Mary Liz moaned. “Tied?” Kevin’s heart went out to her. “Look Mary Liz, this may all be bullshit you know? Half the time I just think I’m crazy.” “Kevin,” Robbie snapped, “You are NOT to talk like that. You have a gift. And you will use it right now. I’ve told Calvin just what to do if you screw up.” “Oh, shit,” Kevin fought the urge to cover his balls. “Connor’s tied, the boat is bobbing, but not moving, just bobbing. In the ocean,” Kevin simply knew, although he could not say why, “not the channel.”

He tried again, screaming with his mind,

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practically ripping the book in two, just reaching out to Connor, holding him in his thoughts, thinking about holding him in his arms. He stayed like that, squeezing that book, until the whole thing left him like vapor. “Shit,” Kevin cursed. Shit. “Somebody’s got to call Carl. I…” Kevin looked up into Mary Liz’s strained face. “I may not be able to do this.” **** Connor’s mouth was like sandpaper and his voice raspy when he woke up. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got here but he for damn sure knew who brought him and he wanted answers. “Schilling,” he croaked, his throat seemingly filled with gravel. “Yes, Connor?” someone behind him, sitting in a chair, spoke. “Schilling, what the hell?” “Oh, yes, what. What can I say,” Schilling got up, and moved casually into Connor’s field of vision. “I’m tired of you. That’s what.” He picked a piece of lint off his windbreaker. “Why?” Connor was starting to feel queasy, not because of the water, but because he’d been drugged, damn it. “Because you took what was mine.” “Andrew?” asked Connor, but he knew. Yes, he knew now. Now, when it was probably too damned late. “I took Andrew, you know, when he was ten,” said Schilling, as if that weren’t enough to make a grown man sick. “He was mine. I used him, I trained him, and I owned him. In my own way, I loved him. Can you understand that?” “I loved him,” Connor replied, “but I don’t understand. No.” “Of course you don’t, how could you. He was mine; he was perfect. I had to go to school, but he was always waiting for me when I got back at winter break, spring break. Then I came home for the summer and what do I find?” Connor jumped as Daniel

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Schilling hit him, hard across the ribs, with a cane. His head spun with shock and pain. “That’s right. I find you.” Schilling hit him again, and Connor instinctively rolled, even though he was tied, so his back bore the brunt of the blows. “In his bed, in his heart, in my place.” Connor took a blow for each sentence. The tremendous pain took some of the fear away, and he was grateful for it. He calmly thought how messed up is that? “So you killed him,” Connor spat bitterly. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to train him again, to teach him to be mine, but he fought… then he didn’t fight anymore. I didn’t kill him. I loved him.” “You sick bastard,” shouted Connor, “You don’t know the first thing about love.” “Oh, but does it matter, Connor?” he asked quietly, “Now that I know so much about punishment? Now that I realize that you deserve punishment most of all?” “You shit! Andrew never loved you. You were just some sick pervert to him. You can punish me all you want, but he was never yours, EVER!” Connor screamed as the cane descended on his head and silenced him. **** Mary Liz let Carl and Stephanie in the front door and led them to the kitchen where Kevin was still holding the book, trying to find Connor. He was still on the phone; they all were really, with Robbie, who spoke to him in soothing tones over the speaker. “Kev?” Stephanie put her arms around him. “Kevin, bro, can you talk to me?” Kevin looked up blankly. “Andrew’s in the dark water because he was punished. Connor isn’t there, but he’s being punished now.

Punished, punished, punished.

Robbie, I sound like an idiot, what’s happening to me?” “Shhh, Kevin, just keep talking,” Robbie ordered. “Hold the book and keep talking,” “I’m supposed to shhh and keep talking. Robbie? Am I going crazy?” “No, Kevin, I’m here, we’re all here and we’ll protect you.

Punishment,” she

reminded, starting him up again.

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“He’s punishing them, oh, no… He’s punishing Connor. It was Connor all along. It was Connor who took what was his. Connor who took Andrew. No!” cried Kevin covering his head with an arm, “No… no hitting!” “Connor,” Mary Liz hit the kitchen wall with her back and slid to the floor. “Stephanie?” Carl motioned for her to take Mary Liz to a different room. She poured Mary Liz a cup of coffee and led her out. “Brushing, icky feeling. Like fingers, like something against my skin,,, Brushy icky, tickly,” he said. “Important thing, tickly. Brushy. Tendrils of something… tickly. What the hell can that mean?” “What?” said Calvin Dougal, “Tickle?” “Yes!” cried Kevin, “Tickle, Tickle, Tickle… help me!” “Daniel Schilling has a boat called the “Tickle Me,” said Calvin. “He just bought it in June. I thought it was a dumb-ass name, and I told him he should change it, but he didn’t so far as I know…” “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” shouted Kevin. “It’s him! Damn it! It’s Daniel Schilling. He was on the boat, he was involved in Andrew’s case, and then he inserts himself into this one. It has to be him. Connor’s on his boat.” “Do you know that for sure?” asked Carl. “Trust him,” Robbie’s voice came over the speaker phone. “Do anything you can to find Connor; don’t take a chance.” “All right.” Carl headed to the front door with his phone in his hand. “Kevin?” he turned back. “Don’t you want to come?” Kevin hit the ground running with Connor’s bear and his book still in his hand. “I’m on my way.” He repeated, over and over in his head as though it were a mantra. “I’m on my way,” he thought, trying to will Connor to hear him, to know it, putting his whole heart and soul into those four words. “I’m on my way.” He begged. “Just don’t give up, baby.” **** 248

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Connor was rolling, thrashing in the tiny bunk. His back was on fire, and someone’s hands were on him. He was tied. Daniel roughly yanked Connor onto his back, causing a new wave of pain and nausea to wash over him. His hands were numb. “Get up,” said Schilling, “I’m not done with you yet.” Connor hissed his pain. “Piss off,” he spat, trying to roll back over. Daniel smacked him across the face, hard. He felt his lip split, tasted the blood. “Acting brave won’t change the inevitable. Do you want to know about them? Any of them?” “No, not really, I know everything I need to know about you.” That earned him another blow to the face. He could feel the volume of blood trickling from his lip growing. He knew he really should stop taunting the man, but felt a compulsion to do it, even if it cost him pain, even if it cost him his life. “You’re a loser, Schilling.” Another blow crashed on his head, this one knocking something deep within it loose. He floated for a minute somewhere outside himself, drifting in the darkness between consciousness and oblivion. He thought he heard Kevin’s voice… “I’m on my way.” Kevin’s voice, “Just don’t give up, baby.” Connor’s last thought before oblivion claimed him was, “Where the hell are you, you bastard? And don’t call me BABY!”

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Chapter Thirty

Carl looked at Kevin again as he drove to the police station. Kevin was slumped, clutching the book to his chest, rocking. He was a damned wreck, and for the first time, Carl really saw what had Connor so alarmed. This man would not stay sane without help. “OH!” cried Kevin, looking up. “Carl, Connor heard me… I know it. He answered me!” “How do you know?” “He’s pissed. He… never mind, I was thinking hard, and he answered me. He’s alive, for now, but I don’t know how long… He’s hurt bad.” “Shit.” Carl cursed. Jameson and Tran were meeting him at the station. Someone was calling the Coast Guard, and helicopters would be looking for Schilling’s boat. All of that took time, damn it. Connor was his friend as well as his detective. “Carl?” Kevin was frightened; Carl could hear it in his voice. “I can’t lose Connor. I just can’t.” Kevin looked out the window. “I know,” Carl understood. He pulled into the parking lot of the Newport Beach police station. Tran and Jameson met them before they got to the building. “The Coast Guard is projecting probable locations on the boat, they’re on the way. Actually it’s a good thing he was on a boat, because it’s narrowed down the places he could be considerably,” said Tran, “makes our job much easier.” Kevin seethed. “Oh well as long as your job is easier.”

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“You? Relax, damn it, we’re on your side. Here,” Tran opened the door of a dark sedan. “You get in, we’re going to take a helicopter ride.” Jameson got in the driver’s seat. He kept looking at Kevin like he was afraid he’d explode. “Quinn, I heard you found Dougal,” he hesitated, “Is he… I mean… do you know if he’s okay?” “Yeah,” After Kevin said it he knew it was true. “He’s not conscious. Schilling hit him, right about… here.” He held his hand up to his left temple. “He has something. A stick. He hits with a stick.” “Shit.” Carl looked at Jameson. “When we find Connor are we over Quinn-bashing for good?” “Yeah,” Jameson replied. “We’re over it now. Let’s just go get our boy.” “Thank you,” whispered Kevin. “I’m not weak, Jameson, I could kick your ass any day. I can’t fight this though, man. It’s inside my head. I wish to fuck it weren’t.” Carl patted his hand. “Everyone here understands now, Kevin. No one thinks you’re weak but you.” Kevin had nothing more to say. **** Connor’s head was killing him. It throbbed with every beat of his heart, the pulsing, pounding feeling made him nauseous. He knew soon he’d throw up the food he’d eaten, and he wasn’t looking forward to being on his back when he did. He rolled to his side. His hands, though numb, could still be moved. He wondered what he could do about

that.

Apparently

Shilling

found

tormenting

an

unconscious

man

counterproductive. He was up topside, doing something. Connor heard the distinct sounds of a drill on metal. He didn’t even want to know what that meant, except, it meant as long as it continued, he was free to explore. “What would Batman do?” he wondered aloud. “He’s just a guy, right, just has toys. No superpowers, we’re even… Batman,” he wanted to get his hands free. “There’s

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always something useful on a boat… what can we…?” A wave of nausea washed over him and he threw up, over the side of the bed, thankfully and not on himself. He tried to roll to a sitting position. More nausea and puking followed. He finally got a grip. Breathing in and out in deep, slow breaths, he looked around, first for anything sharp. Nothing. “Well, what else if not sharp,” he said, feeling all around himself. He found some sort of hook, like a coat hook sticking out from the wall. “What do you use those for here by the bed I wonder? You bastard.” He was afraid he knew all to well. He found he could move his hands toward the hook, and with some careful positioning he could work the knots tying his hands. It was killing his wrists. He could feel them burning, could feel the skin tearing and bleeding. He tried not to think about anything but loosening the ropes. “Andrew man, if you’ve still got any pull here,” he spoke out loud “now would be good.” He didn’t believe in ghosts. But he hadn’t believed in psychics either, had he? He laughed a small quiet laugh. Desperation made men think crazy things. He wasn’t going to forget to pray either, in case God still loved him. **** Kevin had his headphones on, could hear people talking but paid no attention. He was busy searching for Connor with his mind and his heart, and searching the black sea for any sign of a vessel. The Coast Guard Auxiliary was certain they’d found the Tickle Me, in theory, but had yet to physically sight her.

The helicopter was an added

inducement for Schilling to play nice. There was a trained marksman on board, and they were treating this like a hostage situation. The Tickle Me wasn’t responding to radio requests to return to port. . “Carl,” he called, but then waved him off when he turned to look. The noise was prohibitive and it wasn’t anything he wanted everyone to hear. He went back inside his head. 252

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Something was driving him, a desperation born of something he could see or hear that Kevin could not. His hands hurt and his wrists were bound. Kevin sensed Connor’s pain and moaned aloud with it. Carl reached a hand over to steady him. Kevin was talking to Connor in his mind, with no real reason other than it made him feel better. “We’re coming Connor. Just stay focused. Don’t give up. When you come back you can kick my pansy ass for saying all those stupid things to my dad. I’ll let you drive my mother’s car. You can have a set of keys to it, if you want. Hell, I’ll buy you one of your own. I know you hurt, Connor, I know your head hurts, I can feel it all, pretty baby, just don’t give up.” Carl sat up suddenly, gesturing at Kevin to get his attention. Kevin could see a Coast Guard Cutter below them, moving fast, another right in its wake. It wouldn’t be long now before the Tickle Me came into view. What a cornered psycho would do when he sensed the end of his run always gave him the shivers. It could go either way. He didn’t mind praying a little that Schilling’s instinct for self-preservation and his unrelenting narcissism would make him try to brazen it out. On the other hand, his primary goal was to punish Connor. If that were the case… It could be a very bad night indeed. Kevin concentrated fiercely. “Connor, I know you can hear me, I know it. I heard you… I feel you. Protect yourself; find a way to win this thing. The only way to win is to survive, Connor. It’s not about anything but that. Just survive Connor, and know we’re on our way.” Jameson looked back at Kevin. He nudged Tran, motioning with his head and rolling his eyes, but Tran glared at him.

“Keep your focus,” Tran spoke into his

microphone. “I did some checking for Connor this afternoon, off the record. Daniel Schilling represented a missing kid from June twice in court over two years as a favor to another attorney related to the boy. He helped the family out once when the kid stole a car, and once when he was picked up as a runaway. The kid looked exactly like Andrew Schilling, and he was the first to go missing. Local cops thought it was a runaway case but Connor guessed, and I’ll bet he’s right, that the kid was the trigger that started this

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whole damn mess.” “Schilling bought his boat in June, did anyone check whether he did that before or after the kid disappeared? I’ll bet it was before,” Kevin said. “Schilling’s a planner. I’ll bet he stalked the kid for months.” “We can check that,” Tran told him. “And Jameson?” Kevin spoke tightly. “Connor needs his watch back.” **** Connor worked the ropes as best he could, the scraping against his wrists, now raw and bleeding, no longer something he felt. He knew what those drilling sounds were, knew without a doubt that Schilling was making him his very own water coffin out of one of those damn metal drums. It didn’t seem likely that Schilling thought he would get away with kidnapping a police detective, especially if he believed Kevin’s gift was for real. While they had been drinking at Avila’s before Schilling drugged him and started talking crazy, he admitted he believed Kevin’s ability was genuine. Connor figured his chances of getting out of this were pretty slim. He felt his hand slip a little, the blood making his hands slick. The knot loosened a fraction of an inch as he worked it on the hook. Schilling was exacting his revenge at last, and Connor didn’t think he cared one way or the other after he was done. He managed to squeeze a thumb out of the tight ropes, and hallelujah, the rest of his hands came sliding out. He brought them around to the front, almost gagging again. They looked like meat, but they were free. Connor shook them a little as he tried to get the feeling back. They burned like a bitch and would start to jangle soon. He felt an urgency he didn’t understand. It was as if he could hear a clock ticking in his head. Soon the drilling would stop, and Schilling would return. When that happened, Connor had to be prepared or he would die. A brief search of the room turned up little to help him. There was some wood molding he ripped up, thinking to use it to defend himself, and some rope. In the search

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he conducted under the mattress and plywood covering the bed frame he found some boxes of clothing and blankets, as well as a couple of old life jackets. He put one on, thinking if the worst happened he’d throw himself into the water before he’d let Schilling put him into one of those drums. His head was clearing, though still throbbing and he needed a weapon. “Come on, come on,” he muttered as he tossed the contents of the cabin. Any kind of spray, deodorant or cologne, made a pretty good flamethrower if he could get a light. But there was nothing like that. Not even sunscreen. Shit. “Where, where, where?” he asked himself as he looked around. The cabin was really for sleeping only, he knew the radio was on the bridge, and with that, he’d probably find flares. Did he dare try to go up there with Schilling and face him down? He cautiously made his way out of the stateroom into the salon. He tried the cupboards; there was nothing in them at all. Connor briefly mourned the waste of this lovely boat on a man whose sole purpose for owning it was to dispose of bodies. Abruptly the drilling stopped. Connor froze where he stood. As he feared, Daniel loomed in front of him, his cane catching Connor squarely on the neck. Connor lashed out a desperate hand, and caught it, wrapping his arm around it, and surged upward, meeting Daniel head-on with the intent to kill. Daniel reeled from the shock of it, his balance slipping, giving Connor just enough of an edge to use his momentum to get past him, and he ripped the cane from his hand as he did. Connor whirled, determined to smash Daniel over the head with it, but Schilling put up an arm at the last minute, blocking his attack. Connor felt the blow, heard the crunch of bone as it connected with Schilling’s arm and knew he’d broken the man’s radius, or ulna, or both. Schilling cradled his broken forearm, but charged up at Connor anyway, desperately blocking his way to the bridge. Connor was just inches ahead of him when he hit the steps, and his strong legs carried him upward fast, where he needed to go. “Where do you think you’re going?” Schilling rasped. “There’s nothing there, nothing for you but to die, Connor.” Connor could see sweat beading on Schilling’s

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forehead and knew the pain in his arm must be costing him. Connor still had the cane and used it like a sword, to keep him back. “Bullshit,” Connor shouted “I’m no fifteen-year-old kid.” He turned the keys and started the engine, knowing the most he could hope for was to knock Schilling off balance. He throttled up and turned the wheel sharply, and Schilling did just what he’d hoped, he fell, back to the deck, leaving Connor alone for precious seconds to find something to use against him. He was shocked to find nothing there. Nothing at all. “Do you think you can get away? Look around you! You’re on forty feet of fiberglass in the middle of the ocean at night. You have nowhere to run. No weapons. No one even knows you’re here.” “That’s crap and you know it, Kevin knows I’m here. Kevin will find me and he’s not going to come here in a rubber boat all by himself.

You’re shit out of luck,

Schilling,” Connor opened drawers, boxes, and cubbies looking everywhere, but still found nothing he could use as a weapon but the cane he already had. “Did you think I didn’t prepare for this?” asked Schilling quietly as he returned with a gun. “The radio doesn’t work. The tracking device is disabled. The vessel itself is wired; it’s all set to blow on a timer. Even if you kill me, you’re not getting off this boat alive.

The truth is that I don’t care if I survive. The only thing I really care about is

putting you into that container and dropping you down to be with Andrew.” His voice grew softer, lethal,

“Now, isn’t that what you really want, too? What you’ve always

wanted?” “What I’ve wanted since the day you took Andrew is to see you rot in hell.” “You bastard!” shouted Schilling. “I almost had him back, I was this damn close!” Schilling raised the hand that held the gun and fired just as Connor reached back and throttled up, spinning the wheel again. The shot went wild, grazing Connor’s upper arm, burning through the fabric of his shirt. Connor leaped at him, grappling for the gun with one arm, gripping and squeezing the arm he knew was broken with the other in order to cause as much pain as he could. He hadn’t thought he was capable of such cruelty, but faced with the man who killed Andrew he had infinite rage.

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Connor smashed Schilling’s uninjured arm on the metal railing around the bridge, again and again, until finally the man’s grip on the pistol loosened and it dropped into the salon below. Connor shoved his elbow into Schilling’s throat, cutting off his airway, until he turned blue, and went limp in his arms. He dropped Schilling to the deck, and ran down the stairs, wondering if what Schilling said was true and the boat was wired. Connor grabbed up the gun and searched the salon again, looking for anything like emergency flairs. He knew Kevin was coming, and he wanted to make sure he would be found. He heard Schilling then, laughing eerily, the scrape of his injured arm on the deck as he rose, the clump of his feet as he made his way to the stairs. Connor didn’t hesitate. He called out, “I have the gun, Schilling, freeze or I’ll shoot.” The footsteps came closer still. Schilling was relentless in his pursuit of revenge. When Connor saw him, he had a moment of complete calm and the uncanny sense that he could hear Kevin saying, “Just survive, Connor, and know that we’re on our way.” Connor lifted the gun and fired several rounds point blank into Schilling’s chest. He followed the body down controlling the recoil. He kept pulling the trigger, stopping only when the weapon ceased to fire at all. Connor saw Schilling was dead, and the fear he felt melted away. He dropped the gun from his hand and ran up the stairs to the deck. He had to face the real possibility that the ship was rigged to blow. A moment of indecision tore at him. On the one hand, he was not sure that Schilling was telling the truth, and it was an awfully big, dark damn ocean. On the other, he’d won, and he didn’t want Schilling to get his revenge in death. He thought about the consequences only a little longer, then jumped overboard, and swam away. “Kevin,” he thought, “now would be a good time for you to do your thing.” He was only fifty meters away from the Tickle Me when she exploded in a furious ball of scorching flames and flying debris. ****

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Kevin looked out at the dark sea and saw a speck on the water in the distance that made his body cold. The speck was a flaming nightmare. The smoke plume filled the air above it. The chopper’s rotors churned through it, dissipating it. The Tickle Me was on fire, fully engulfed in flames. Kevin fought the urge to scream. “Oh Geez,” Jameson turned to look at Tran. “Is he in the water?” Tran asked, grabbing binoculars. The searchlight from the helicopter weaved back and forth across the water, the blackness of it seeming to absorb the light. Kevin stared, not processing what he was seeing. His heart hurt, twisting and writhing in his chest. He sucked in a breath, and clutched his book, his knuckles white. “Connor you bastard, don’t you dare die on me… Connor please… We’re here… Come on pretty baby; let me find you. We’re right here, man…”

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Chapter Thirty-one

After the initial shock of seeing the tiny vessel in flames, Kevin’s panic subsided to an eerie calm, even while the headphones buzzed with excited chatter. They swept down over the sea, scanning with searchlights for survivors. So far it merely churned the water to choppy white ripples, which made it harder to discern anything anyway. Carl indicated to the pilot that he should keep circling until Kevin told him otherwise. If Kevin knew the depth of Carl’s faith in his intuition he gave no sign, just held on to the book that he felt bound him to Connor and waited, eventually ripping the headphones off his head when he could no longer stand the confusion. “What’s he doing?” asked Jameson. “He’s looking for Connor,” Carl motioned for the pilot to take the chopper up for a minute, which allowed the water below to subside. The ocean itself, though black, was almost glassy it was so calm and there was little moon to speak of illuminating the water. In what seemed like only minutes the Coast Guard Cutter deployed inflatable boats, which buzzed around the wreck like angry bees. Kevin kept the thought in his heart that, until he knew otherwise, Connor was out there in the water waiting to be found. He cleared his mind, which swamped him with images that had nothing to do with Connor and everything to do with fear. He began to talk to Connor, as he had all evening, willing him to hear, begging him to respond. All he could sense was the burning pain in his arms and the stinging cold of the water. Connor was tired and hurt, so tired his eyes were fighting him to close, his body using 259

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up its last molecule of fuel. “He’s alive,” Kevin told them quietly. “How do you…” Jameson started, but Tran smacked his arm hard to shut him up. “Keep looking,” Tran told the pilot, who circled the wreck again with the searchlights. Kevin tried to concentrate, “Come on pretty baby,” he hoped Connor would fly up out of the water to kill him for it. “Come on, Daddy’s here, I’m looking for you… tell me where you are.”

Kevin tried to think of the most degrading things he could say,

knowing if Connor could sense him he’d react. “Here Kitty, Kitty. Tell Daddy which side of the boat you jumped from.” Kevin could feel Connor, could sense him drifting, slipping away into oblivion as the pain and exhaustion began to claim him. He clutched the book tighter and held on to the last thread of hope he’d be able to find Connor in time. **** Connor was dreaming. It was cold, and he was bobbing in the water, which he didn’t understand. He wanted to go to sleep; wanted to just close his eyes and give in to the pain and fatigue, but he could hear Kevin in his head and he had to live long enough to kill him. He tried to move his tired arms, tried to open his eyes. He cracked them and found that he could see lights, and hear loud engine noises. Water sprayed in his face from the wash stirred up by helicopter blades. He looked to his left, and saw what was left of the Tickle Me, and tried to discern from the hulk of it whether the bow was forward or backward from where he floated like a cork.

That, he thought, was

important. If he wanted to kill Kevin, and he did, he had to tell him… something. He could barely make out the shape before him, another pass of the searchlight illuminated it briefly, and he knew he was to the starboard side of the small craft. He tried to use his voice, tried hard to say it. Wanted to scream out loud but no sound came. “I’m on the starboard side of that bastard’s dinghy,” he thought angrily, “and you’d better pick me up.” He used the last ounce of strength he had to hold both arms 260

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up, flipping Kevin off, wherever he was, and waving them around until the blackness came for him. Just before that, he said to himself. “Kevin you bastard, as soon as I’m on dry land you’d better run and keep running because I’m going to kick your tight white ass…” **** Kevin dropped the book he was holding and laughed out loud. “What?” asked Carl. “He’s on the starboard side of the boat, within sight of it. He’s trying to hold his hands up.

He’s got to be there, he can see it from where he’s floating…” Kevin

anxiously looked out the window into the night. The searchlight played over the water again, this time stopping in one place for a long moment. “Got him,” the pilot kept the spot steady on Connor, who looked like nothing so much as a crouton floating in a vast black bowl of soup. The inflatable boats zeroed right in on Connor’s location. “He’s flipping us off, I think.” The pilot looked surprised. “That’s gratitude for you.” Kevin started laughing. He threw his hands over his face and kept laughing until he gave a strangled moan and gagged. “Anybody got a bag? I’m going to puke up a lung.” At that Jameson scrambled and produced a fabric ball, into which Kevin promptly got vilely sick. “Hey, you shit,” Tran said, smacking Jameson hard. “That was my jacket! You are so dead.” “Sorry,” muttered Jameson. Kevin balled up the soiled garment further and wiped his mouth. “Yeah, sorry,” Kevin put his headphones back on. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Jameson pursed his lips “Let’s take this baby back, the Coast Guard’s got him. They’ll bring him in… I imagine he’ll need a hospital. They’ll keep us informed.” “Okay,” Carl, turned to Kevin. “We’ll try to contact them as soon as they have Connor aboard. They’ll need to do some emergency first aid; hypothermia’s a real

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danger. It’s not over yet.” Kevin sighed, “He’s tough, if anyone could come through that, it’ll be Connor.” “Thanks to you,” Carl told him.. “Nah.” Kevin sighed. “Connor got himself out of that one, we’re just getting him a ride home.” “When we get back, beer’s on me, okay?” Carl grinned. “Cheap bastard, I was thinking single malt whiskey and good cigars.” Carl shrugged. “I can do that too, but don’t tell Steph, she’ll kill me.” **** Kevin waited at Hoag Hospital Emergency. Helicopters, it seemed, were much faster than boats. It was a long time before Connor was finally brought by ambulance to the Emergency entrance of the hospital, and hours still before his family and friends could see him. He’d been treated for some of his wounds aboard the Coast Guard Auxiliary vessel, and kept warm. Still, he wasn’t yet considered stable when he’d arrived, and a worried Mary Liz and Calvin Dougal alternately paced, and sat with Kevin, waiting. “Cory’s on his way,” said Mary Liz. “He couldn’t stand the thought of something medical happening without him here to boss everyone around.” She smiled at Kevin. “I always thought it was so cool to have both a doctor and a lawyer in the family. Who knew that a psychic would be even better?” She reached out and hugged Kevin again, as she had many times while they’d been waiting. She gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Finally a staffer came out and indicated that Mary Liz and Calvin could see their son. Kevin waved them off, knowing he would see Connor later. He had just closed his eyes and started drifting off when he felt someone touch his arm. “Come on,” it was Mary Liz, “Connor’s asking for you.” Kevin wondered what that could mean. “Uh,” he was reluctant. “He might be kind

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of…” “Come on,” Mary Liz repeated. Kevin followed her. He walked into the room where Connor waited for him like it was the green mile. “Hey,” Kevin tried not to look shocked at Connor’s appearance.

No doubt

everything would heal, but in the grim fluorescent lighting Connor looked awful. Connor croaked and motioned him over. Kevin wasn’t surprised Connor’s voice was weak. A blow from Schilling’s cane had caught him right on the throat. Kevin could see the terrible bruising already. Connor would need some time before returning to work, let alone the active athletic life he was used to. He moved toward the man, leaning in to hear what Connor had to say. Connor reached out a hand and grabbed Kevin’s balls, squeezing them until his eyes watered. “Who’s your daddy now, you insufferable prick,” he said. “Here kitty, kitty?!!” “I love you too, Trekkie,” Kevin whispered, his mouth coming down on Connor’s gently, “I love you.” Connor’s arm went around his neck then; the pressure on his balls was gone. “Thank you for finding me…” “My pleasure, except when you crushed my balls just now. Sorry about… you know.” Mary Liz cleared her throat. Kevin jumped back. “I’m sure there’s a story here we’ll all laugh about…someday.” Connor was exhausted and drifted into slumber. Kevin excused himself. Now that he’d seen Connor was okay, he needed time to think. That had been such a very near thing. He checked his cell phone. He’d called Robbie last night with the good news that Connor, while injured, was on his way to the hospital. He blushed to think of how effusive she had been in her praise of the control he’d kept over his ‘gift’. The FBI would be looking into Daniel Schilling’s computer records, personal belongings, family, friends, and background to see if there was any way they could locate the bodies of the missing teens. There was hope that if they had a location, the metal containers could be brought to the surface and the families might bury their dead.

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Kevin didn’t want to think about that. There was something so biblically eerie about the sea giving up her dead that even the thought made him shiver. He would be there for Connor when he finally laid Andrew to rest, if Connor should choose it. He would be there for Connor forever, if he could. “Hey,” he heard a voice behind him, and he turned to find Tran. “You look like you could use some coffee.” “Yeah, I was thinking about getting some. Where’s your ugly stepsister.” “I’m off duty, officially,” Tran replied. “I came to see how Connor is. And to apologize to you…” “Nah,” Kevin shook his head. “Not necessary. About me, I mean.” “How is he?” “Okay,” Kevin grinned. “Pissed at me.” “Why? Doesn’t he know you found him?” Tran walked along with him down the hospital corridor. “Well, as to that, let’s just say he didn’t like how I found him. He’ll get over it. Damn, I don’t have a car, and I wanted to go out and get something decent for him to eat when he wakes up.” “I’ll take you, it’s the least I can do.” Tran led him to the exit. “Am I dreaming, or are you being nice to me. Don’t forget I threw up in your jacket.” “That was Jameson’s fault. My car’s right outside. Let’s go get some coffee. I know just the thing to bring Connor. Best bakery in town.” He opened his car remotely and he and Kevin got in. “I still can’t get over how you found him.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m not ashamed to say that I was wrong about you… I hope if it ever comes to that I might be able to ask you for help… You’re the real deal, Quinn.” He handed Kevin a small plastic bag with Connor’s watch in it. “Connor will be glad,” Kevin looked at it, but was unwilling to hold it except by the plastic. “It’s all he had left of Andrew. Connor really loved him. Don’t you want to give it to him?”

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“No, it’s fine, I just wanted to see he got it back.” Tran drove him out of the parking lot and up to the 55 freeway, after which he turned southbound on the I-5 and got off in Irvine.

Kevin was content to let him drive.

It wasn’t a long distance but was

complicated by the morning traffic, just beginning to clear. It was nine a.m., Kevin thought, on the first day he could honestly say he was glad for his gift. “This place is the best, I get pork buns from here all the time.” Kevin got out of the car, and entered the tiny Diho Bakery. “Pork Buns?” asked Kevin. “Diho is a Taiwanese bakery and they make these buns, well, you’ll get the idea. It’s the perfect offering for a guy in the hospital. One who’s not deathly sick or something.” Tran ordered a grocery bag full of hot golden buns and some steamed things that looked like giant dumplings, which appeared to be stuffed with all sorts of meat fillings.” “Trust me,” Tran said, handing Kevin a still-hot steamed bun, which he called a Bao. “After you eat this you will never resent the FBI again.” “That better be a damned spectacular bun, Tran,” Kevin was skeptical. “Well, you know what I mean,” he hesitated. “You know, Jameson’s not a bad guy, but he’s had some tough times. It isn’t anything personal, he’s a shit-heel to everyone equally.” Kevin tasted the soft spongy treat, the steamy bread bland, but hiding an amazing pork and leek filling that made his heart speed up like love. “Oh, this is good,” he moaned. “ But really it’s okay about Jameson. Even I don’t believe in me.” He chewed and sighed. “Good stuff, huh?” “The best,” Kevin agreed, as Tran started the car. “We can drive through for coffee… there’s a place. Kevin, don’t make light of what you have. I think it’s a very lucky thing, especially for Connor. Even with all our resources and manpower we’d never have gotten to him in time.

He’d be dead.

Everyone knows that.” Kevin stopped between bites, alarmed. “Don’t leak it, whatever the hell happens, I

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come and go as a ghost. Carl promised. It’s the only way.” “Understood,” said Tran. “This may come as a surprise to you but no one wants to do anything to jeopardize the chance of getting your help in the future.” “Okay, now I know I should be looking for the hidden cameras.” Tran used the opportunity he had while stopped at the light to stare Kevin down. “Enough,” he insisted. “Get used to respect, because that’s all you’re getting from me from now on.” Kevin shook the large paper bag. “And goodies,” he was grinning. “I love me some pork buns.” “Good,” Tran looked at Kevin like he’d settled something. They got coffee and drove back to the hospital. Tran let him off outside of the front door. “I have to go,” he said, “give my best to Connor. I’ll call as soon as we know anything about the…” he found he couldn’t go further. Kevin nodded tightly. He didn’t want to say it either. They all wanted to find the boys. He thanked Tran again and watched him drive away. **** Kevin carried the bag of baked goods and his coffee and headed for Connor’s room, his feet making little squishing noises on the slick floor that he hated. He’d had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime. He hated the smells, the quiet, the illness, and the hints one saw everywhere of despair and exhaustion. He’d be glad to put it behind him. As soon as Connor possibly could, he’d insist on being let out of here, and then… Kevin slowed his steps and wondered... That’s right, what then? Carl came down the hall toward him, coming from Connor’s room. “Hi, Kev, What have you got there?” “Buns,” Kevin smiled. “Believe it or not, from Tran.” “Connor’s complaining about the food already. parents now.” 266

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At this, Kevin’s heart sped up. He knew the Schillings hadn’t been exactly cordial at their last meeting. “Is it okay? Does he need…?” “Don’t worry,” Carl reassured him, “They’re thanking him for bringing them closure.” “Oh.” Kevin was mildly relieved. “They’d probably like to meet you too,” Carl informed him. “Come on.” Kevin followed his brother-in-law to the room where Connor was talking to Andrew Schilling’s still grieving parents. He could hear them as he walked closer, although he didn’t intend to eavesdrop. “Mr. Schilling, I’m sorry for hiding behind a lie all these years. I’m sorry,” Connor sounded emotional, and Kevin halted in his tracks. “Andrew was the love of my life, and all I can say is that everything I’ve done in the last ten years, every thing I dreamed about, thought about, and worked for, was done in order to bring justice to the person who took him away from us… from me.” Kevin could hear Mrs. Schilling’s soft sobs, and the break in Connor’s hoarse voice that didn’t hide his emotions at all. “Connor, I’m so sorry” she told him. “We didn’t know.” “Well how could you? I was a jerk to hide the truth. I was a coward. I didn’t talk because it was easier for me, when all the while the person I loved most in the world was murdered and dropped into the ocean like garbage,” spat Connor. “I don’t blame you if you never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself.” Kevin felt something on his arm then, Carl’s hand, supportive and soothing. Carl pulled Kevin back from the door so he couldn’t hear the rest of what was being said. Carl enveloped Kevin in a fierce one-armed hug that crushed him without damaging Connor’s baked goods. “Kevin,” Carl tried to soften it. “Connor just…what he’s talking about is in the past.” “I know that, Carl, I’ve always known how much he loved Andrew. It’s all right. There’s always been a part of me that knew I needed him a lot more than he needed me.”

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“You don’t know that, Kevin.” “You heard him, he’s getting over losing the love of his life. He just needs time. We both do.” ”I guess you can’t compete with a ghost.” “I know. Closure for Connor, whether I like it or not, makes me rebound guy,” Kevin shrugged, although it cost him to remain outwardly unemotional. “He just needs a little breathing room. So do I. It’s going to be okay.” “Stephanie is going to kill me if you get your heart broken.” “Yeah, but she’s pregnant, so I’ll bet you can take her,” he smiled, even though he didn’t feel much like it. “What are you going to do?” “I don’t know. Go home for a while, play in the snow, get another dog, and maybe just breathe,” he sighed. “Right now I need to work on controlling my ‘gift’. I need some time.” Kevin looked down at the ground. “I just want to go home for a while.” “You should talk to him. Tell him what you’re feeling. It’s wrong to just bail out on him if he doesn’t know why.” “I’m not bailing, Carl,” he tried explaining, “I just need time and space, and I’m going home for a while, that’s all.” Straightening his shoulders, he entered Connor’s room.

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Chapter Thirty-two

James Wexler sat on the worn leather sofa in his living room, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table as he read the paper in front of the fire. Kevin Quinn rested his head on the man’s lap, his eyes closed. Cadbury, Kevin’s four-month-old chocolate lab puppy was on the floor in front of them intent on destroying anything and everything she could get her sharp puppy teeth into. “Kev,” James inquired. “Can you explain to me again why you’re here with your head in my lap and Connor is in California hunting Easter eggs with your dad and the Cub Scouts of Huntington Beach pack number 325?” “Drop it, James.” “Fortunately for you I am disinclined to do that. When are you going to admit to yourself that you may have been wrong about Connor? Hasn’t he asked you to come home?” “I am home, James,” Kevin answered for the millionth time. “Connor needs time. I need time. Do the math. We were together for just a little more than two really intense weeks. I’m the first adult man he’s ever slept with. He needs to think about this before he just jumps in with both feet. We both do.” “You are such a chicken shit,” James was nothing if not blunt. “That puppy knows more about what it wants than you do. She knows you, even though you’ve only had a couple of months together. She knows your scent, and can sense your moods. She trusts you and believes in you. She comes to you for everything. The only thing she has 269

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that you don’t have is faith that you’re a good guy.” “Right, and what if one day, just for the hell of it or because I get really, really mad I just hauled off and kicked her across the room. What do you think she’d do then?” “She’d wait a while and come back and lick your hand, because she’s a dog. And you will love her all the more for it and it will make you a better person,” James took off his glasses and put down his paper. “Connor doesn’t need time, he needs time with you. You don’t need time; you need to be with the man you love. Then you both take time. The only thing you could do, short of repeated and appalling abuse, to make this dog turn away from you is abandon her.” Kevin was silent. He knew James was right, damn it. He’d felt further and further away from Connor, as if the invisible thread that bound them was stretching way too thin to hold. “I don’t really know what to do, now.” “Scoop him up, Kevin. I enjoy our Sundays together, even without the benefits. But you have places you need to be. You can write your love stories anywhere, it’s time for you to live one.” “You knew about that?” “Mom finally fessed up. She told me she writes under the name K.J. Quinn, what does she write?” he asked, wrinkling his brow.

“The whole thing seems kind of

Byzantine to me.” “It is that. You’ll have to ask Ana what she writes, wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me.” “Hmm.” James frowned. “I guess I could Google the name.” “Beware of cookies. I’m saying nothing more.” “Are you going to think about what I said?” he asked, smoothing the light hair back from Kevin’s forehead. He still wished he could kiss that mouth, but since Kevin came back there’d been a moratorium. “Yeah, I will. Cadbury and I will take it under advisement.” “Good,” James returned to his paper. “Cadbury needs to use the loo, your turn.” Kevin got up, and slogged through the kitchen, where he could put on James’s UGG 270

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boots. He called Cadbury to him, finding a new kind of joy in listening to her toenails slide helplessly on the slick wood floor. “Out you go,” he said, folding his arms and following her as far as the porch. He saw a car he didn’t recognize drive up, and called in through the door for James. “Doc, you’ve got company.” He followed Cadbury to make sure she didn’t find her way under the wheels of the car, and watched her do her business. “Good girl,” he was saying, giving Cadbury one of her favorite treats, dug out of a pajama pocket when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Well,” Connor said. “Who’s your friend?” Kevin turned to face him, surprised in every cell of his body. “Cadbury.” “I was talking to the dog,” Connor remarked dryly. Kevin closed his mouth. He was saved from saying anything further by James, who spoke from the door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?” “Well, yes, as a matter of fact there is,” Connor told him. “I have a large, fully grown male human that doesn’t seem bright enough to find his way home when he’s lost. Do you think you could train him to have a better sense of direction?” “No,” James laughed at Kevin’s discomfort. “But I’ll bet you can.” “At the moment,” Connor informed him. “I’m thinking of just tying him up and teaching him who the alpha is.” “Umm,” said Kevin. “I’d say that would do it, but you might have to, you know, repeat the exercise enough to create a pattern of behavior he understands. And don’t forget to reward him often for any and all attempts to submit.” "I think I can handle that." “Of course stubborn resistance must be met with immediate consequences,” James was having way too damned much fun. “Well yes,” Connor said. “That goes without saying; consistency is key.” “You are so right,” James smiled. “Well, you’ve helped me immensely,” Connor looked at Kevin. “Say goodbye to the

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nice man, Kevin.” Connor didn’t look too happy. It might be because both men were in their pajama bottoms letting the dog out in the pearly gray Wyoming dawn. “Let me just get my things. I have my truck here.” Kevin seemed confused. “How did you find me?” “I looked for the local Veterinarian,” Connor sighed. “Come on Cadbury, you can come in my car, that way, Kevin will have to follow me, won't he? Yes he will.” He turned and gave Kevin one more frosty little stare and left with Cadbury. Good thing Cadbury was empty. “Well,” James came up from behind when Kevin had his clothes on and was picking his keys up off the kitchen counter. “That was awkward.” “I guess,” Kevin agreed. “Do you think it’s possible I could screw this up any more than I have?” “Probably, but I have faith in you.” James hugged him and kissed his forehead. “Go get him tiger.” “Thanks,” Kevin shot a rueful glance back at the man who was his best friend before leaving. James winked, and Kevin smiled, letting himself out the back door. **** Kevin had no idea what to expect from Connor, but drove home just the same. If nothing else, he had to let them in. Connor suffered easily in the cold, and in the glacial mood he was in it wouldn’t take long for him to freeze solid. He saw them as he pulled into his driveway a half-hour later, playing in the snow he hadn’t shoveled off his walk. Connor was tossing snowballs to Cadbury and Cadbury was trying to catch them, only to find they went splat in her mouth and got all over her face. Kevin walked toward them warily, as if Connor’s civility were a thinly and hastily donned disguise he could abandon at any time. “S'up?” Kevin asked stupidly. Connor stared at him.

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Cadbury, tossing them this way and that, waiting, Kevin thought, for heaven knew what, because he sure didn’t. Kevin walked past him and opened the door with his key. Once inside, he called Cadbury to him, and said, “It’s cold out, do you want to come in?” “Sure.” Connor’s strange mood seemed so incomprehensible to Kevin he wondered if the man could be on drugs. “You want to tell me why you’re here?” asked Kevin, finally unable to stand it. “Oh Kevin, when your sister told me you were dumber than dirt, I didn’t actually believe it. I thought to myself, how could it be true?” he sighed. “But alas. It appears that Cadbury got all the brains in this family.” “Would you start making sense?” “Would you know sense if I started making it?” asked Connor. “I don’t suppose you get that it’s bad enough to have to come and get you, but to have to come looking for you at another man’s house and find you in your jammies all domestically letting the dog out to pee in the morning. Shit!” Kevin raked his hand through his hair, “It’s not what you think.” “I know that; don’t you think I know that?” Connor walked straight to the kitchen and filled a bowl with fresh water for Cadbury. “I know you better than you think.” “So, what then?” “So, here I am, stupid! I’m tired of waiting. I want you to come home. Enough with the nonsense already.” “What the hell are you talking about? I am home.” “Oh please,” snorted Connor. “You’re hiding and it’s like you’re looking out at the world from inside a jar with holes punched in the top. Come on Kevin,” Connor begged. “Trust me to love you without damaging you.” “I thought that it would be better to wait and see if you still felt Andrew was the love of your life. I mean…look Connor, it was pretty clear that I needed you a lot more than you needed me….” “What?” 273

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“Well, I mean, look at me. I was a wreck, fainting, sick, crying, falling overboard, not a shred of control over my emotions, not the faintest idea how to survive in a place with a lot of people around.” “That doesn’t mean you need me, that means you need Robbie.” “Without you there would have been no Robbie, no reconciliation, no Christmas dinner with dad, no keys to mom’s car, no faith from anyone, no respect, no trust. Without you I’d still be crazy Kevin the fake, psychic clown, hiding in Wyoming, scared to stick my nose out the door, content to be with my dog.” “Hello, Kevin?” Connor made a sweeping gesture. “Look around.” Kevin widened his eyes. “Shit.” “I didn’t bring those things into your life Kevin. I only stopped you from keeping them out. I’m determined as hell to stop you from keeping me out, too.” Connor walked to Kevin, taking him in his arms. Kevin leaned into Connor’s embrace, fitting himself to the man as though he’d never left. “You know, some people would be far less sanguine than I am about finding you in your pajamas at another man’s house…” “I have no one but you, Connor, I don’t want anyone else.” “Me neither, Kevin. I can’t help how I felt about Andrew. He’s dead. I don’t know what would have happened. There’s no choice to be made here, I only want you.” He stroked the side of Kevin’s face gently. “I hope that’s enough for you, because I don’t have a clue what else I could say.” “It’s enough,” Kevin's voice shook. “When I thought I’d lost you…I couldn’t pray hard enough. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” “I have a pretty dangerous job,” Connor said evenly. “Are you okay with that?” “Are you asking me if I think I can be a policeman’s wife?” Kevin teased. “That’s exactly what I’m asking, Kevin,” Connor’s face was so serious, and suddenly Kevin felt all the blood rush to his head. “Connor—” “Wait,” Connor stopped him, “hear me out. 274

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important. I love you Kevin, and I want to live with you. I want us to find a house together and make it ours. I want us to think of the future as our future. Can you share that with me?” He let his hands slide down Kevin’s back until he was pulling him up against his body. “Can you see yourself with me that way?” “Yeah, I can. I swear to you, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt that way about. It was so quick I had trouble trusting it. I’m so sorry.” “Me too,” said Connor. “Trust it now, though.” “Yes,” Kevin nodded. He leaned in for a kiss, tentatively. Connor licked his lip, lightly, laughing a little. “What?” “Cadbury just peed on your entry rug.” “Crap.” Kevin called out, “Cadbury!” He opened the door, going out with her. He watched as she finished up, and then came into the house to find Connor picking up the mess. “Where do you want this?” Connor held up the rug. “Laundry room,” Kevin pointed, “let me show you.” He led him down the long hallway, Cadbury nipping at his heels. He took the bundle from Connor and put it in the washer, throwing several other things that had Cadbury’s special stamp of approval in with it. He poured soap, and switched it on, turning to find Connor leaning against the wall, watching him. “I love to watch you,” Connor said. “You could just be reading the paper and I feel like the luckiest man in the world.” “That’s kind of nice.” “Where’s the bedroom,” Connor asked hoarsely. “In there,” Kevin pointed to one of the doors. “I didn’t expect company…” “Lead the way.” “Oh sure,” laughed Kevin. “You say that now but in ten minutes I’ll be all tied up and begging you to let me lick you.” “Yeah. Say, you know what I was thinking?” asked Connor, walking along behind

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Kevin a little more closely than he needed to. “I have a virgin ass.” Kevin stopped in his tracks and Connor bumped into him. He turned around and raised his eyebrows. “That something you want to….” “Mmmhmm.” “With me?” Kevin held his breath. “No, with Tran, shut up and lie down.” Connor pushed him the rest of the way to the bed. Kevin didn’t have to be told twice. He’d been dreaming and fantasizing about having Connor here in his house since the day he’d left California. He slipped his hand up inside Connor’s bulky sweater, helping him to take it off. “Let’s get rid of this.”

Connor allowed him to lift the thing over his head.

Underneath he found a flannel shirt, and under that, silk thermals. He laughed so hard he almost cried. “What?” “It’s going to be like banging a Russian nesting doll.” Connor pushed him, “Just shut up will you. I’m….” Kevin slid a hand down Connor’s pants and found his ass and squeezed. Connor sucked in a ragged breath. “Kevin—” he whispered, as Kevin worked on his zipper, freeing his cock. “We’ve got to go back to California,” Kevin said, moving to unlace Connor’s boots and socks so he could get his pants off. “I can’t do this every time I want you.” He was breathing harder now, in short ragged puffs, finally, finally getting Connor naked before him. He looked him over, and everything came back to him with a suddenness that stopped his breath altogether for a few seconds. “You, need to get out of those now.” Connor worked at Kevin’s clothing, removing Kevin’s jeans and single shirt. “Don’t you freeze just wearing that?” “No,” said Kevin. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to keep you warm.” Now that they were both naked, Kevin began with his tongue, trailing down the long column of Connor’s throat, noticing that nothing remained from his fight with Daniel. He took

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Connor’s hands out of curiosity, and looked at those too. They still bore faint scars from the incident. He kissed and licked each until Connor was sighing and pushing against him. “Kevin,” Connor murmured against his lips, “I don’t want to wait anymore.” He was flushed, Kevin could see, and his eyes were dilated. Connor writhed against him, couldn’t get enough contact. “Kev,” he licked his lips, “please.” Kevin reached into the bedside table and retrieved lube and a condom, and slowly nudged Connor’s knees apart with his.

“Shh,” he chuckled, “Shh, pretty baby,”

Connor’s eyes flew open and Kevin kissed him, silencing the protest he knew was about to come. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won't care what I call you.” He squeezed a generous amount of lube in his hand and began working Connor’s tight hole, stroking and massaging until he felt him relax, and then inserting a finger and sliding it in and out. He slid his tongue in and out of Connor’s mouth at the same time, with the same rhythm, filling his senses completely. “Oh,” Connor's face bore the crimson stain of his arousal. “I just…” Kevin slid down his body, firmly taking his cock into his mouth, fingering his balls with one hand, slipping a second finger into his hole, stretching and filling him, angling his fingers up to hit his gland. Connor rocked his hips trying to get more, his whole body jerking off the bed, and he looked at Kevin gasping. “Oh, Kevin, I want you inside of me,” he was panting. “Dreamed about it. I… yours Kev,” he sighed as Kevin added a third finger. “Want you.” Kevin let Connor’s cock go with an audible pop and made his way back up to look at Connor. “It’ll be easier on you if you turn,” he said quietly, removing his fingers. Connor almost cried out with frustration, following Kevin’s hand away with his hips. “No,” said Connor, “I want you, want to see your face… I love your face, Kevin, I get hard just looking at it.” He allowed Kevin to put pillows under his hips, rocking against him. “Kevin baby, now…please.” Kevin handed the condom to Connor, whose fingers shook as he rolled it down

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Kevin’s hard length.

Kevin couldn’t help but moan.

“So good… Connor,” Kevin

slipped a strong arm around Connor’s hips, positioning his cock at Connor’s hole. “Breath for me, baby,” he said, sliding his cock forward slowly.

He held Connor

carefully, tenderly and brushed him with a kiss, “Okay?” he asked. When Connor nodded, he moved in further, hardly daring to believe how good this felt, how right it felt to be in Connor’s body. “I only imagined this,” he pushed himself all the way in, till his balls rested against Connor’s ass crack. Connor bit his lip and pulled Kevin’s face in for a searing kiss. Kevin searched his face. “Okay to move?” Kevin ground out as his control started slipping. Connor nodded. Kevin moved away from Connor, sliding his cock out, then in, changing the angle slightly. He watched different emotions play across Connor’s face until he found one that looked like total bliss. “Stay with me, baby,” Kevin told him, his body moving harder now, not as gentle, “want you to feel me.” “Oh, Kev,” moaned Connor. “Kevin, harder…I feel you….” Kevin was damp with sweat, he could feel Connor’s cock tighten between their bodies, felt his body tense up just before he came, the hot wetness spreading between them as Connor's hole fluttered and gripped him. Kevin slammed into him, his own balls tightening in reaction to Connor’s cries and moans. Connor was still jerking and shuddering in his arms as Kevin filled the latex with his own release. “Mine,” Connor whispered against his neck. “Yes,” Kevin hissed, falling on him, exhausted, when the muscles in his arms gave out.

He lay there stuck to Connor, holding him for a time, saying anything and

everything that came into his head, quietly, against Connor’s skin. Eventually, Kevin moved, not because he wanted to, but because he remembered he had a four-month-old puppy, and it was too quiet. He murmured, “Coming out,” and slipped out of Connor, removing and tying off the condom, to throw it in the trash. “Are you just now remembering Cadbury?” asked Connor. “Yes,” Kevin was concerned. “It seems too quiet.” He got up to look, with Connor following close behind him. They found Cadbury, curled up and sleeping, on the living

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room floor. Kevin caught Connor’s hand and brought it to his lips before pulling him back to the bedroom. “Cadbury’s fine,” he whispered. “Good Boy,” sighed Connor. “Cadbury’s a girl,” Kevin reminded him. “I wasn’t talking to Cadbury.”

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Epilogue

Connor took a few minutes out of his busy Friday afternoon to toss a ball around with Cadbury.

At eight months, she was still all puppy; still frisky, still chewing

everything in sight, and still in need of constant attention from him. Just like her master. He smiled as Kevin slid the glass patio door open and joined them. “Well, that’s the last of it, all the boxes are in the rooms they’re supposed to go in, and all the movers are gone. “And good riddance,” said Connor, “the only ass crack I want to see ever again is yours.” He laughed and tossed the ball to Kevin, who made a triangle of play, driving Cadbury crazy when she couldn’t figure out who would get the ball next. “Speaking of which,” Kevin reminded him. “You can thank Carl and my hugely pregnant sister, because she made a beeline for our room and got our bed linens out and made the bed. She’s a goddess among women.” “Oh, a bed, and a bath?” he asked, impatient to try out the new Jacuzzi tub, large enough to seat two. “You always have the best ideas.” Kevin took Connor by the hand. “I’ve set up a surprise for you.” He led Connor past the kitchen in their new home, a three- bedroom cottage style house in San Clemente so close to Robbie’s that Kevin could walk or ride easily there on his bike. The house was a stunning find, not new, but modern and convenient, with a gorgeously remodeled kitchen and bathrooms that were so beautiful Kevin’s pregnant 280

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sister lost control completely and wept. Carl had to promise her a new tub just to quiet her down to coherent speech. The lot was huge by California standards, not exactly a ranch in Wyoming, but Kevin couldn’t regret selling his ranch property for the down payment. Connor breathed deeply when he entered the bathroom, which Kevin had filled with scented candles and soft music. The bath was full, fragrant, and steaming. Bubbles foamed and churned through it. Even Cadbury had her own space, a cushion set on the far side of the small room, toys to play with and a little dish of water. “You always think of everything. Remember when we danced in my living room?” Connor started to remove his clothes. He regretted he was too tired from the move to make a bigger deal out of this, but threw his clothes into the hamper and slid into the hot water with a sigh. “Mm,” Kevin was busy tossing his own clothes in the hamper and stepping into the tub. He slid down in front of Connor, who cradled him with his legs spread and his arms around his chest. He sighed deeply. “This is so worth everything we did today,” he said. “Except I’m too tired currently to fuck. The spirit’s willing, love, but the flesh is weak and worthless.” “Well I hate to say it, but me too.” Both men had worked the entire week in two different states packing, and re-packing all their belongings into one house worth of things they liked and wanted to keep. Connor never imagined it’d be such a chore. “Thank heavens the Chief and my mom helped or we’d still be taping up boxes.” “This is bliss Trekkie.” “When you’re right you’re right. I’m going to get a job where I can just phone people from this tub all day long.” “You have a job. You need to Protect and Serve,” Kevin insisted. “I’ll stay home and knit dog balls or something.” “You can’t be serious.” “Oh, but I am… I am going to be the perfect Orange County country club wife. I wonder if I should get into gardening or stick with cooking. No offense Cadbury, but it isn’t likely I’m going to start showing dogs.” Cadbury drooled devotedly at him when

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she heard her name. “You’re seriously going to sit around on your very fine yoga ass and do nothing?” asked Connor quietly. “Well, no,” said Kevin.

“There’ll be the cooking of course, and laundry, and

shopping. And I’ll have to have my hair cut,” he teased. “I suppose every so often someone from law enforcement might call me for a jiggle of the little grey cells.” “What, so now you’re Hercules Poirot?” “Hey pretty baby,” teased Kevin, taking a dangerous path, “didn’t you want a trophy wife?” “Yeah, like stuffed and mounted,” Connor reached down to give Kevin’s butt cheeks a hard squeeze. “But damn it, I’m too tired. I give up.” “Me too, if that didn’t get you interested I don’t suppose the waterproof lube will.” “Not even waterproof lube; it’d be like raising the dead. I have one more move left in me, and it’s going to be straight to bed.” Connor kissed his neck. “But I’ll dream of screwing you into the floor, okay?” “I guess it’ll have to do. You’ll have to win at rock, paper, scissors if you want me to take Cadbury out.” Connor lost. “Tomorrow, I’m installing a dog door,” he grumbled, rising from the tub and drying off. “Careful Cadbury, I think he means it,” Kevin said sleepily. He was still in the tub when they came back. They slid between the sheets together naked and were asleep before their heads hit. Cadbury snored on her little pillow next to Connor’s side of the bed. **** Morning came early, but Connor planned to ignore it in favor of snuggling and sex. “Did you sleep well?” He privately hoped that living in a house would be better for Kevin than the apartment.

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“Yes, I didn’t wake up once last night. It’s very peaceful here. Thank you. I notice you don’t dream anymore like you used to.” “Killing the bastard seems to have had some therapeutic value.” Connor gave him a weak smile. “We haven’t talked much about that night…” “I don’t really want to. I shot him, and as they say, he got blowed up. Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Connor looked away. Kevin knew he was seeing someone professional through the department as a result of that night. “You know if you want to talk, I’m here, right?” “Of course,” Connor nodded. “It’s just that I want that chapter closed. This is our chapter, yours and mine. It’s just beginning.” “I like that,” Kevin agreed. “We should write it only with words we love.” “Mm, that’s so—” Connor kissed him deeply.

“Okay, lazybones, I’m going to

stretch and run, you want to come too?” “Sure, my bike is in the garage. The hills here are going to give me fits.” “No they’re not, and since you’re going to be a trophy wife, I’d say the first order of business is going to be keeping that fabulous yoga butt of yours.” He helped himself to some of it and squeezed. “Pull your yoga mat out first thing after we get back, Kev, I’m in the mood for my favorite spectator sport.” “Something else is bothering me, and I’m just going to say it,” Kevin told him seriously, and Connor stopped where he was. “What, love?” “I’m really, really sorry they haven’t found the bodies, Connor, I was so sure that where we found the Tickle Me was where they rested. I don’t know what to say.” “Kev,” Connor sat down beside him on the bed again, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “There’s no telling what the currents or the tides did to those bodies. It’s a big damn ocean. We may never find them. It’s only because of you that we have any peace in our hearts at all. You have nothing to feel sorry about.” “We could buy a boat and some sonar equipment and search.” 283

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“What is this really about, Kevin?” asked Connor, looking deeply into his eyes, even though he knew one was sightless, simply because the color still made his heart skip a beat. “I promised myself…well really…I promised you that I’d find Andrew, for love of you, no matter what it cost me personally. I meant that; I want to see it through. Maybe it will be the only unselfish thing I ever do. And only I can do it—” “Oh, hush.” Connor stopped him, “I don’t need that! I would have liked to find him, sure, out of respect, and for his parents. But you don’t have to take it on like some quest for the Holy Grail. I want to spend my time loving you; being with our families. I don’t want to look for someone who died ten years ago. Let’s really let it go. I was thinking of something symbolic, like taking out the Mary Liz and dropping memorial wreaths. Let’s make that a plan, okay?” “Thank you. Thanks for—” “It’s about us, now. Always, Kevin,” he said firmly. He got up to stretch, and Kevin dressed in cargo shorts and a short sleeved tee shirt over a long sleeved tee. It had become his California uniform during the spring, and due to the cooler beach temperature, he often wore it in the mornings for biking. They went to the kitchen together, where Kevin started a pot of coffee. Connor was stretching his muscles absently and reading the dust cover of an Ana Wexler novel. “What’s that?” “It’s the newest Ana Wexler, hot off the presses. I’m going to read it tonight. Maybe I’ll find new uses for our zip ties.” He stretched his hamstrings and Achilles tendons, first one way, and then the other. “Well, I’ll go get the bike ready, I think it needs air in the tires.” Kevin seemed to shoot out the front door as though he was being chased by killer bees, but Connor hardly paid attention. He was busy thumbing through the pages of Wexler’s book. Connor stared for a moment, blinking, and shouted, “Kevin Quinn, you impossible, sneaky, damned son of a …” as he ran out the door after him. On the floor the book lay open to the dedication page, which read, “To Connor 284

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Dougal, the love of my life, who doesn’t yet know that Ana Wexler does Yoga in his living room every day and sleeps in his arms at night. I love you forever.” The End

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