Unspeakable Words

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 2 Unspeakable Words

IT WAS never a good thing to be called into the boss‟s office. Special Agent Jerry Parker sat down in the chair across from his supervisor and took the news the way he always did. “I‟m being reassigned,” he said flatly. He smothered the sigh of resignation. Of course he was being reassigned. It had been less than two months since they‟d had a break on the Stanley Peterson case. Peterson had pled out on the Tremaine murder charges so as to give evidence on the El Capitan operation. As usual, the bureau deemed Jerry‟s skills to be of better use elsewhere, now that the case was winding up. Just once, he‟d like to be part of the team that made the arrests instead of always part of the informationgathering system. Always the bridesmaid, he thought. Assistant Director Harding cleared his throat, pulling Jerry‟s attention back to the matter at hand. “Look, it‟s a natural fit. You‟re already based here in San Francisco now and Special Agent Flynn is returning because there‟ve been some new developments on one of his cases. You know the one? The Grimm Fairy Tale killer?” Jerry scowled. “Of course I know about it.” “Well, the powers that be have decided that you should help out Flynn. Frankly, I don‟t know why you haven‟t gone into profiling. You‟d be good at it. You and that encyclopedic memory of yours.” Harding passed a manila folder across the desk to Jerry.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 3 He took it from Harding, automatically straightening the small disarray of papers within. “I don‟t like serial killers,” he replied, closing the folder with a sigh. “Who does?” Harding shrugged. “Flynn will be flying in to SFO later this evening. Pick him up, okay?” Jerry mentally added “chauffeur” to his official title and wondered how a special agent could be shunted around so often within the bureau. “I thought the Grimm case was dead in the water.” “New developments,” Harding repeated tersely. “It‟s all there in that folder. The rest of the material is downstairs in evidence. Special Agent Flynn will catch you up when he gets in from Washington. Flight‟s in at six fifteen. Be on time.” “Sure, sure, why not,” Jerry said, this time letting the bitterness leach through. “I‟m like everyone‟s favorite book— you can‟t wait to loan me out to someone else.” Harding sighed. A pained expression crossed his features briefly before they hardened. “You‟re good at your job, Parker. You‟re invaluable to the bureau. Is that what you want to hear? But the truth is you‟re a pain in the ass to work with and your investigative skills are better suited to the computer than the field. So, you give Special Agent Flynn the support he needs, okay?” Did he hear an “or else” there in Harding‟s voice? He did, he was sure of it. Damn it, he‟d just moved to San Francisco less than a year ago. He didn‟t want to relocate again. “Right. Flynn. SFO. Six fifteen. I‟ll be there,” he said, pressing his lips together tightly. It would be at the worst of the evening traffic. Why couldn‟t the guy just get a cab like

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 4 everyone else? He left Harding‟s office, certain that his reluctance was showing and not knowing how to change that fact. He spent the remainder of the afternoon catching up on the Grimm case. Three women murdered over the last six years, all tortured to death and left with odd items that obviously had symbolic meaning for the killer. All of the women had their mouths sewn shut with a heavy black thread in a pattern that had variously been described as a hemstitch or Ford-interlocking pattern, and coins of various denominations had been glued to their eyelids. Jerry googled the descriptions of the pattern. The Ford interlocking was a pattern sometimes used by surgeons, and he made a note to do a criminal background check on surgeons who had graduated in the last ten years. As an afterthought he decided to expand the search to those who‟d flunked out of surgical residency programs too. He saw where the killer had made several suggestive threats last year against one of the lead investigators of the case, a woman detective with the SFPD, Inspector Lauren King. The threats had all been posted directly to the FBI; Flynn had been assigned to the case as a result. Nothing had come of it, and Flynn had eventually returned to Washington. Jerry noted with interest the stonewalling Flynn had done before finally conceding he had nothing further to go on. It had taken him months before he‟d given in. Jerry flicked his gaze over the photograph in the evidence bag: a newspaper clipping of King at the crime scene of the latest victim, the hallmark hemstitch pattern drawn over her mouth with a permanent marker, her eyes blacked out as well.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 5 Jerry didn‟t think it was really meant as a threat against King. She wasn‟t the killer‟s type for one thing—much older than his typical victims, dark when the others were fair, and there was nothing vulnerable about her appearance in the newspaper photo. In Jerry‟s opinion, all the previous victims had a certain innocent look to their faces that the hardened King did not. No, he was betting that the killer was sending some sort of message to King. But what? Reading further, he saw that King thought the same. Well, she would know. As the officer of record, she‟d put an inordinate amount of time in on the case; she had to know what the killer was thinking better than just about anyone else. According to Flynn‟s somewhat illegible writing, King thought that the killer was just trying to get some attention. Hello, don’t forget about me. I’m still here. Why call attention to himself in this fashion? Why not just kill someone else? Jerry made a note to check the list of prime suspects and witnesses against the prison records for that time period. Maybe something would stand out among the inmates. Maybe the system had gotten lucky and the GFT killer was actually doing time for another crime. He amended his note to add hospitals and rehab centers to the list as well. Maybe it wasn‟t even from the GFT killer, but some other criminal who had reasons for threatening King, throwing her off her game perhaps. He e-mailed a query into the SFPD for King to contact him. In the end, the threat had been deemed significant, but not enough to warrant continued observation of Inspector King‟s movements, and Flynn had been recalled back to Quantico.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 6 He also saw that Flynn and King had made a breakthrough in identifying the elements from the various murders as originating in fairy tales, and more specifically, those written by the Brothers Grimm. The media had taken off with that; they‟d had a field day with puns involving the words “Grimm” and “killer”. The red cloak and the blonde wig, the glass shoe and the dead goose. But what did it all mean? Maybe that was the real reason for the “message” to King. Maybe the killer had gotten tired of no one understanding what he was trying to say. Jerry scanned the photograph again, at the harsh black ink marring what was an unusually lovely face. Maybe the killer felt like he couldn’t say something. Why the coins? Paying passage for a trip across the River Styx? That would mean the killer was mixing up Greek mythology with his Grimm‟s fairy tales, and that didn‟t make sense. He made another note on the file. Jerry gave a little shudder as he read Flynn‟s notes. He really hated working on serial killer cases. They required him to get inside the mind of the killer, a nasty place where Jerry had no desire to go. He plugged in the key elements from the murders into Google, added the words “fairy tales,” and came up with the Complete Works of the Brothers Grimm, circa 1825. He began to read.

JERRY spotted John Flynn as he waited by the baggage carousel for his luggage. He doubted he would have identified Flynn as an agent had he not taken a peek at Flynn‟s personnel folder and case histories prior to leaving for the airport.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 7 Well, maybe he would. The light-blue shirt with the rumpled dark suit did sort of scream Federal Agent, but watching Flynn as he swung his bag off the carousel and made his way unerringly toward him, Jerry had to wonder about the rest of it. There was certainly no mistaking him for the usual business-class passenger. There was something about the way he moved that suggested he didn‟t spend his life behind a desk. As he came closer, Jerry noted the late afternoon stubble and the spiky dark hair that was at odds with his otherwise groomed appearance, as though someone had put a collar on a panther and was pretending it was a housecat. What was even more interesting to Jerry was that Flynn seemed to be doing a damned good job of pretending to be the housecat. Most people didn‟t even give him a second glance. Jerry somehow wasn‟t surprised when Flynn stopped in front of him. “John Flynn,” he said by way of introduction. He didn‟t shift his bag to shake hands. “You must be Special Agent Parker.” Flynn had intense, odd-colored eyes that seemed to look right through Jerry, as though he could read Jerry‟s mind. Bet criminals find that unnerving. And women find it fascinating. “That‟s right,” Jerry said in clipped tones. He gestured toward the exit and began to move in that direction. “Have you got a room somewhere? I‟m sure you must want to get some rest and something to eat. Long flight and all that. You can fill me in on your interpretation of these new developments while I take you to your hotel. We can get started first thing in the morning, then.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 8 “Or tonight.” Flynn fell into step beside him, a hint of a drawl to his voice. He sounded like he hailed from Texas, though there was no history of his having lived there in his records. “Or tonight,” Jerry agreed, dodging another exiting passenger with a large rolling suitcase. “Though I personally don‟t see the rush. This case has been pretty quiet for a long time now.” Flynn kept up with him easily, despite the fact that Jerry was in his usual airport-dash mode. The odd thing was that he made it seem like he was just strolling along. A flight attendant in her neat black uniform, a raincoat over one arm, and dragging a small wheeled bag behind her, arrived at the automatic doors at the same time as they did. She shot Jerry a pissed-off look but then smiled and took a step back to let them pass. He glanced over his shoulder. Flynn was smiling at her, and she practically simpered as they walked past. A second later the smile on his face was gone as though it had never existed. It was an interesting little glimpse into Flynn‟s psyche. A real player would have continued the interaction, maybe even come away with her phone number. Flynn obviously wasn‟t interested in her like that. “In fact,” Jerry said, picking up the conversation again as they stepped outside into the orange-yellow light of the setting sun, “I don‟t know why you felt like you had to come out here in person at all. You could‟ve let someone else follow up on this and get back to you later.” “Maybe I just like San Francisco,” Flynn said as they crossed the road and made their way to the short-term parking lot.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 9 More like he didn‟t want anyone horning in on his case. Jerry knew the type, and everything he‟d read in Flynn‟s file supported his theory. Flynn had practically badgered King into assisting with the case when it was clear that King wanted to put it behind her. He had a long list of successful cases to his name and a reputation for impersonal determination and tenacity that Jerry would have admired in anyone else. The perfect FBI agent, Jerry thought sourly. “Nothing against you, Parker,” Flynn said easily, and Jerry got the feeling he probably used that sentence a lot, in situations similar to this one. “Sometimes you need a firsthand impression of a situation in order to put together all the pieces.” “Uh-huh,” Jerry replied, not caring if his disbelief was apparent. Thankfully, once they reached the car, Flynn wasn‟t the talkative type, which also fit in with everything that Jerry had discovered about him. Perversely, that made him resent Flynn even more. If Flynn had been a braggart, boasting about all the cases he‟d successfully cleared or his obvious athletic prowess, it would have been easier to loathe him openly. Instead, Jerry had to seethe secretly inside. Flynn was everything he wanted to be and would never become. Flynn merely sat quietly, staring at nothing as the city skyline rolled by, the sinking sun slanting in through the car window and casting a golden glow on his profile. His eye color seemed lighter now than it had in the airport—more green, less brown. He had an interesting face as well, and Jerry smothered another sigh. Bad enough he was the Super Agent; the guy would have to be incredibly good-looking too.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 10 Jerry had registered that the address he‟d been given wasn‟t in a very good part of town, but he shrugged it off and began the arduous task of getting out of the airport and into the rush-hour traffic. It had taken all his concentration, and he was relieved that Flynn had remained quiet. The silence continued, with only a brief interruption for clarification of address, until they pulled up in front of the hotel. “You can‟t be serious about staying here.” Jerry was aghast when he pulled up alongside the curb at the hotel entrance. “This is really a bad neighborhood. Worse than bad. Dangerous even. You‟re not safe here.” During the drive, dusk had passed from twilight to dark, and the city had begun to light up. The streetlamps now cast a hazy pinkish glow on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Three of the letters in the marquee were dead, and the sign hung a little drunkenly. A pile of clothes (or maybe a body) lay in a heap on a bench in front of the nearby trolley stop. The raucous beat of a hip-hop band spilled out of a nearby building that probably passed for a nightclub this week. “I‟ll be fine,” Flynn said dismissively. Even as he opened the car door, the sound of breaking glass was audible nearby, followed by a scream of laughter and a man‟s loud and prolonged cursing. “You might be fine, but I have no intention of driving down here every day to get you.” “Nobody‟s asking you to,” Flynn said, and for the first time, there was a hint of sharpness to his voice. “You seriously think you can leave a government car here on the street? Look, just shut the goddamned door and

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 11 listen to me a minute, okay? You‟re asking to be a target, half in and half out of the car like that.” There was a moment‟s hesitation, and then Flynn pulled his leg back into the car and shut the door. He turned to face Jerry, one eyebrow raised, silently giving him thirty seconds to make his case. The light from the street caught the interiors of Flynn‟s eyes, lighting them up from within, and highlighting the stubble on his jaw line as well. In the distance, sirens wailed. Flynn‟s serious study of him made Jerry unaccountably nervous, and he plunged hurriedly into his argument. “I don‟t know what your reasoning is for choosing such a seedy dive, but it‟s stupid and detrimental to your case. Whether you like it or not, you‟re my responsibility while you‟re in town, and believe me, heads will roll if something happened to you that could have been prevented simply by better accommodations. It‟s been a long day. We‟re both tired. I can take you to a hotel closer to the field office, or you can come back to my place for the night, and in the morning, we can find you a decent place to stay. We can get something to eat, you can tell me what you think I need to know about the case, and we can get an early start. None of which I can do tonight if I have to come back and forth across town to this hellhole.” The sound of sirens was much closer now. Flynn stared at him for a long moment. He opened his mouth to speak when a car came careening around the corner with a squeal of tires, narrowly missing sliding into them before straightening out of the turn and fishtailing down the street. Two black-and-white patrol cars followed within seconds, and Jerry found himself staring at their

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 12 flashing blue lights as they proceeded at a high rate of speed down the street. He realized that he was gripping the steering wheel tightly and forced himself to relax his hands. When Jerry looked back, Flynn had a little half smirk on his face. “Point taken,” Flynn said simply with a little wave toward the street. “Your place will do for the night. Home it is, James.” “Jerry,” Jerry corrected automatically before he realized Flynn was making a chauffeur joke. He restarted the car and carefully pulled back into the street. “Jerry,” Flynn repeated somewhat thoughtfully. “What‟s that short for, Gerald?” I bet you think before swallowing Jerome. It means Vulgate, the Latin century.”

I look like a Gerald, Jerry thought nastily his anger and answering calmly, “No. „sacred name‟. St. Jerome created the translation of the Bible during the fifth

“Uh-huh,” Flynn said, tipping his head to look in Jerry‟s direction. “You into religion or just facts?” “Facts,” Jerry said succinctly. “Uh-huh,” Flynn said again. “What‟s my name mean? John, that is.” “God is gracious,” Jerry said shortly. And isn’t He just? He flicked a glance over at Flynn. “Popularized as a Christian name because of John the Baptist and John the favored disciple, author of 3:16, probably the most well-known verse in the New Testament.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Flynn is a common Irish surname.” That would certainly fit in with Flynn‟s dark Celtic coloring.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 13 Flynn shot him an enigmatic glance before speaking. “So I take it you don‟t subscribe to Holmes‟s theory of the brain.” He sat up and unbuttoned one of his collar buttons, loosening his tie ever so slightly and sending it askew. Jerry was tempted to reach out and straighten it. It took him a second to catch the reference Flynn had just made. “You mean Sherlock Holmes and his assertion that the brain had a limited capacity for storing knowledge? So when Watson corrected him for not knowing the Earth rotated around the sun, he said that he planned to forget that piece of information because it bore no reference to his daily work? That was a stupid affectation on Conan Doyle‟s part. Knowledge is everything. It‟s how you connect the dots. How can you say what is and isn‟t important to a particular case? This from the man who could identify fifty-one types of cigars and cigarettes based on their ash.” “Today Holmes would be replaced with a computer,” Flynn said, and this time Jerry could distinctly hear the drawl. “So, again, why keep all the bits in your head when there‟s Google at your fingertips?” “You still have to know what to look for,” Jerry snapped. The headlights from the oncoming cars were starting to give him a headache. “So”—Flynn seemed quietly amused—“are you Holmes or Watson?” “Holmes,” Jerry said. Of course he was Holmes. Anyone with half a brain would have to appreciate his talents and skills. “I don‟t think so,” Flynn said. “You want to be Holmes, but you‟re Watson all the way.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 14 Jerry drove in tight-lipped silence the rest of the way to his apartment.

“SHOES off,” Jerry said, toeing off his shoes and leaving them by the door. Flynn followed suit on entering the apartment. “Nice view.” Flynn crossed over to the couch and dropped his bag. “I certainly pay through the nose for it,” Jerry said, sorting his mail as he walked. He headed for a small desk located near the large bay window. The blinds were still open, and the lights of the city reflected out across the water. “Sorry, this place only runs to one bedroom. It‟s a pull-out couch for you.” “No problem.” Flynn looked around in mild curiosity as Jerry slit open his mail. It took him a matter of seconds to weed out the junk mail and place the rest in the wooden sorting box on his desk, a series of thin slots to hold the mail with numbers at the bottom to indicate by which date the bill must be paid. That task done, Jerry pulled the blinds shut and turned to see Flynn continuing his quiet inventory of the room. Jerry wondered what he saw. He glanced around his own apartment, trying to see it with a stranger‟s eyes. Floorto-ceiling bookcases filled with neat, orderly rows of books and CDs. What would stand out more? The impressive collection or the fact that it was arranged in alphabetical order? Would Flynn note his taste in music or the fact that

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 15 his sound system wasn‟t top of the line and was several years old? Jerry continued his self-assessment, wondering if he came off as pretentious. An electronic keyboard over by one wall. The entire room done in neutral colors with blue and white accents. A forty-one-inch-screen television with the TiVo box endlessly recording shows he never had time to watch. A view of the Bay. Laptop on a well-organized desk near the window, another one on the coffee table. Everything clean and tidy. Jerry realized with a start that he could have been looking at a generic hotel room for all the individual impression he‟d left on his apartment. Oliver trotted into the room, took one look at Flynn, and stopped, semi-arching his back like a Halloween cat and puffing his tail. His ears partially flattened against his skull, making the black tabby markings on his brown face look like fierce tribal war paint. “That‟s Oliver,” Jerry said tersely. “He‟s not used to strangers, so you probably won‟t see him much. Don‟t try to pet him. Don‟t let him out of the apartment.” He left Flynn to walk into his bedroom, shrugging out of his jacket and removing his tie as he went. He hung both up in the closet, hesitating a second until he decided to go ahead and change clothes, the way he normally would in the evenings. Oliver followed him into the room, yowling in protest or hunger— with him it was hard to tell. “It‟s just one night, buddy,” Jerry promised. The cat lashed his tail briefly and sat down to stare at Jerry while he changed. When he reentered the living room, he found that Flynn had taken off his coat and tie and was sitting on the couch

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 16 in front of the open laptop, his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the neck. Flynn glanced up at Jerry‟s entrance but dropped his eyes back to the view screen almost immediately. “You can plug in your flash drive to that one.” Jerry paused on his way to the kitchen. “Keep all your sensitive data isolated there.” He indicated the second laptop on the desk. “Use that one for the internet. It‟s got a direct Ethernet connection, and I‟ve placed secure firewalls at the entry points to the network.” Flynn nodded as if this was all a matter of common sense, and for once, Jerry didn‟t feel like a freak for taking reasonable security precautions. He continued into the kitchen, Oliver running ahead of him to rub his face on the edge of the refrigerator. He began to shift his weight on little white paws and vocalized his impatience. Jerry released a little sigh. It only made sense to change clothes when he got home, but it was more than just taking good care of a well-made suit. It was part of leaving the job behind at the end of the day; it was necessary to his wellbeing. A part of him had resisted changing tonight when there was still work to be done, but he wasn‟t about to cook dinner in his best suit. The shirt he‟d chosen was navy blue with thin white stripes; he‟d left it untucked over new darkblue jeans. He‟d hesitated over putting on his house slippers and had chosen to go with thick athletic socks instead. He was comfortable yet didn‟t feel too out of place with Flynn still wearing most of his suit. Oliver stood up on his hind legs and bumped a shoulder into Jerry‟s leg, meowing insistently until Jerry opened a can of food, dumped it into a bowl, and placed it on the mat by

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 17 the fridge. The cat settled down at the bowl, eating messily and purring loudly all the while. Jerry rinsed the can and placed it in the recycling bin. He turned the oven on to preheat and took the salmon he‟d planned for dinner out of the fridge. He‟d previously made a marinade, and the salmon was already in a baking dish, ready to cook. Starting a pot of water to boil, he scrubbed some tiny new potatoes with a wire brush under cold water and cubed them. He‟d blanch them when the water began to boil and then bake them in the oven with some asparagus spears, brushing them both with garlic butter. He worked steadily on prepping the food. When the timer went off, he placed both dishes in the oven. He was opening a bottle of Riesling when Flynn appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Oliver, having finished his dinner, hissed and bolted from the room, scrambling to avoid Flynn‟s legs as he did so. Jerry pulled down two glasses and began to pour the wine. “None for me,” Flynn said in a tone that brooked no discussion. Jerry flicked a glance in his direction and was startled to see something that looked like assessment there. Probably still trying to figure out what to make of me. It caused a little flush of heat to flow over him just the same. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Guys like him just… don’t. “Hope you like fish,” Jerry said somewhat repressively. He continued to pour the Riesling for himself. He opened the

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 18 fridge and took out a pitcher of cold water, filling the other glass from it. “Not really.” Flynn shrugged in the manner of someone who would eat what was placed in front of him if he had no other options. “Well, dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes or so. Shall we?” He indicated the other room with his glass, offering the water to Flynn. “Unless you‟d rather have coffee?” “Water‟s fine.” Flynn took the glass, and they both went back to the main room. Flynn had somehow already converted the coffee table into a small workspace, file folders untidily stacked beside the laptop, photographs threatening to slide out and onto the floor. Jerry automatically picked up a folder, setting down his glass of wine to straighten the contents as he sat on the couch. He paused as the photographs caught his attention. He opened the folder completely and began laying out the photos on the table so that they pieced together the picture from where they were taken. “What‟s this?” he asked. “Some sort of shrine to the killings? I didn‟t realize that you guys had gotten that close to the killer.” Flynn sat down on the couch beside him, setting down his glass of water and looking at the photos as well. “We didn‟t. Lauren King put those together.” Jerry shot him a sharp look, but Flynn seemed to be seeing something else altogether, his expression distant and thoughtful. “King was obsessed with catching the killer. She recreated the murder book at home and then compiled every media reference as well. Every newspaper article, anything and everything that mentioned any aspect of the case. Her

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 19 obsession almost torpedoed her career, and in the end, threatened even her sanity.” “Shit,” Jerry breathed out, laying down the folder like it might be contagious. “It must have been hard on her when that photo turned up.” “She didn‟t want to bring it all up again. She‟d tried to put all that behind her, to move on. I wouldn‟t let her. I made her get involved.” He spoke matter-of-factly. Jerry couldn‟t hear any regret in his voice, though he thought he could detect a flicker of it in his eyes. Flynn blinked and the moment was gone. “For all the good that did us. We‟re still no closer to catching the GFT killer today than we were then.” “New developments notwithstanding?” Flynn gave him a narrow-eyed look. “This person we‟re supposed to interview tomorrow—Emily Marsden—claims that she thinks she knows who the killer might be. After we get her statement, we‟ll go see King and get her take on it.” “Um, I don‟t know if you know, but Inspector King and her partner both are in the hospital at the moment. Gunshot wounds. Touch and go if her partner will even make it.” Flynn raised an eyebrow at him. “So?” Jerry blinked. “So, now might not be the best time to bring up the GFT case again. At least not until we check out the woman‟s story.” And give poor King a few days to come out of ICU. Jerk. Jerry frowned at Flynn, who stared back at him with an impatient expression on his face. The neckline of his collar was open enough so that Jerry could see a thin silver chain and a respectable amount of hair curling at the edges. Damn it, the guy had to be the same age as him, give

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 20 or take a few years. Jerry could make out the faint glint of silver in his sideburns now. Flynn‟s hair was thick and unruly. He‟d probably still have a shock of iron-gray hair when he was an old man. The injustice of this grated along with everything else about Flynn. “What makes you doubt the woman‟s information?” “She waited a long damned time to come forward with it.” Flynn leaned back on the couch, sprawling his arms to encompass the back of the seat. He stared broodingly at the laptop. “So, what do we know about Ms. Marsden?” He sat in silence as he let Flynn fill him in, trying not to look like he was sizing Flynn up any more than he had been this evening. Marsden was a curator at the Weir, one of the many small museums in the Bay Area that offered a variety of art and scientific curiosities. She‟d contacted the bureau earlier in the week, stating she had information regarding the GFT case, yet had seemed very disappointed when neither King nor Flynn was available to take her statement. She‟d also seemed nervous, and it had taken a promise to get Flynn back to interview her personally for her to agree to speak to the bureau. Jerry felt a little petty and small-minded when he realized Flynn had to come all this way because the witness wouldn‟t talk to anyone else. Control of the case had nothing to do with it. Perversely, that annoyed him as well. The timer went off in the kitchen, and Jerry rose to turn the salmon and the asparagus. “Smells good.” Flynn‟s voice startled him, coming from behind unexpectedly, and Jerry almost dropped the pan. He

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 21 hurriedly pushed it back into the oven and set down the tongs. “Why‟d you decide to stay here tonight?” Jerry heard himself ask before he could stop himself. “For that matter, why set yourself up to stay in the worst part of town?” Flynn looked taken aback for the briefest of moments before the blank expression slid over his features again. “You know the daily stipend only goes so far. If I stay someplace cheap, I have more money to use in the investigation where it might do some good. As for staying with you”—Flynn paused and that little half smirk tugged at his mouth again—“you made a couple of interesting statements earlier. That intrigued me.” “Really. Do tell,” Jerry heard himself say, and he wondered just what the fuck was wrong with him. He had to work with this guy, for heaven‟s sake. He could at least try not to piss him off right away. Flynn just nodded. “Back at the airport, you said that I should give you my interpretation of the new developments. And in the car, you said I should tell you what I wanted you to know. Very revealing statements, Agent Parker. Feeling a little unloved and unappreciated perhaps?” Flynn‟s smile was positively wicked before it disappeared. “Oh, and now you‟re going to analyze me, is that it?” Jerry tossed the potholder down on the counter with more force than was strictly necessary. “Oh, go on, this will be good.” As he expected, Flynn took the challenge. “You‟ve reached a point in your career where you think you should be acknowledged for your skills and achievements.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 22 “Is that what they teach you in profiling school? Seriously, what man my age doesn‟t feel that way? You‟ll have to do better than that.” Jerry folded his arms across his chest. “You‟ve been overlooked for promotion time and again because you don‟t have good people skills.” “You‟ve read my file. Newsflash, I‟ve read yours. Next.” He unfolded his arms long enough to flick his fingers in a beckoning gesture toward Flynn. Flynn‟s indescribable eyes narrowed. “You‟re meticulous and thorough to a fault. Your attention to detail is what helps you nail cases, but it pisses off your coworkers because you think anyone who‟s not as detail-oriented as you are is an idiot. You surround yourself with beautiful things in your off time.” He indicated the general direction of the living room. “The classics of literature and music, nice clothes. You‟ve developed an appreciation for good food and the fine things in life, all carefully within your means. You tell yourself that this is to make up for the ugliness in the world, but the truth is you‟re afraid of living and afraid of getting hurt. Life is dirty. If you can‟t control it, you want no part of it. And that‟s why you‟re a sad and lonely man, growing progressively colder and more sterile as you age because you‟ve forgotten how to have fun.” Jerry opened his mouth but then closed it with a snap. He pivoted on his heel and moved to collect Oliver‟s empty bowl, taking it to the sink and scrubbing it out vigorously under the hot water with the “cat” sponge before setting it aside to dry. “If I was as big a control freak as you think, I wouldn‟t have a cat,” he said when he could speak without obvious anger.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 23 “The cat indicates that there‟s hope for you. Though you‟re making him as unsocial as you are.” Jerry felt like he‟d been punched in the gut. All the air went out of him for a moment and then came rushing back with an anger he couldn‟t contain. “Whereas you, on the other hand, are an adrenaline junkie,” he said, making a little face at Flynn. “Champion downhill skier in your youth. An Olympic hopeful until you trashed your knee. Tried to climb all fifty-three of Colorado‟s fourteen-K mountains until an ill-fated trip and an unexpected storm resulted in the death of a friend. Three commendations in your record, which balances out the two formal reprimands for self-endangerment. Do you always push yourself until something breaks?” Flynn looked like he‟d been carved of stone. “So you read my file. You said as much already.” “Yes,” Jerry snapped, just getting started now. “And while it is patently obvious that you went into profiling serial killers because the murderer of your younger sister has never been caught, it doesn‟t say in your records that your current need to place yourself in danger stems from the fact that you believe on some level you deserve to be hurt.” “Do go on,” Flynn said in a tone that Jerry knew all too well meant that he was crossing a line big-time. He couldn‟t help it; he was compelled to finish his assessment. “You‟re good-looking and not above using it to your advantage. You‟re relentless in the pursuit of your cases. You don‟t care who gets hurt along the way, but it‟s not about racking up points in the case-closed column. You have a deep personal need to see each one of these cases solved, the perpetrators behind bars. You don‟t drink, so

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 24 either you have an alcohol problem, or you know someone who does. I‟m guessing your mother, as a result of your sister‟s unsolved murder. Shall I go on?” A muscle twitched in Flynn‟s jaw. He stood with fists clenched, and his head tipped down so that he glowered at Jerry out from under the fringe of his hair. It was such an intense look that Jerry was afraid he was about to get punched in the face. He could feel the tension radiating off Flynn, and it struck him as odd that, in some ways, it was no different from the heat and spark between two potential lovers. He couldn‟t remember ever having to worry about a lover putting him in the hospital, however. They stood facing each other, both of them breathing a little hard. The ticking sound of the kitchen clock seemed inordinately loud. Then just like that, Flynn relaxed. “Not bad,” he drawled, leaning into the doorframe of the kitchen. “Ever think about going into profiling?” “Not really,” Jerry said, unable to let go of the tension quite as easily. Flynn‟s ability to switch it off made him wonder if this whole little scene had been some sort of test in the first place. “The bureau seems to like being able to shift me around to different cases as needed.” “So which am I?” Flynn straightened out of his lean so that the two of them could return to the living room. “John the Baptist or John the Disciple?” “John the Baptist,” Jerry said without hesitation as he replaced the potholders on their hooks above the stove. “A voice in the wilderness. Martyr.” Flynn released a loud, honking laugh that caught Jerry off guard.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 25 “Come on,” Jerry said with a little smile of his own, indicating they should return to the coffee table and the work at hand. “Tell me about the fairy tale connection.”

HE‟D told Flynn to be ready early in the morning, but it annoyed him when he made his way toward the bathroom only to find the door shut and the sound of the shower running. He glanced at his watch and resigned himself to waiting for his turn. He yawned mightily and headed into the living room, where he was pleasantly surprised to find the couch already put away, the blankets and pillow from the night before folded in a neat stack on the arm of the sofa, the files back in the carryall. He pulled the blinds open, scratching the back of his neck as he looked out over the early morning fog. Frowning, he noted that several items on his desk were misplaced. The stapler now sat perpendicular to his desk organizer, when it had been lined up in parallel before. His silver Cross pen was no longer in its case in the drawer, but lying out on the desk in plain sight, which meant that he couldn‟t blame it on Oliver jumping up there again to look out the window. Shrugging it off, he realized that Flynn must have needed something stapled and had borrowed his pen to make a notation as well. It irritated him, however, and he put everything back the way it was. He made a mental note to supply Flynn with some pens of his own. Oliver, he discovered, was over by the front door, smelling a well-worn pair of track shoes and curling his lip. The track shoes hadn‟t been there the night before. Special Agent Profiler must have gone out running this morning.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 26 “You better not piss on those,” Jerry warned the cat. “But feel free to puke in them if you like.” He tightened the belt of his plush red bathrobe around his waist and padded into the kitchen. Oliver followed, plaintive little cries punctuating his fear that Jerry would forget to feed him. Jerry quickly opened a can and placed the food in the clean dish, setting it down on the mat once more. Damn it, he forgot to clean the mat last night. He didn‟t shred the junk mail either. That’s what comes from having visitors over. He started the coffeemaker, noting that since it was just a two-cup model, he wasn‟t likely to get his second cup until they reached the office today. Mechanically, he set about making breakfast, his mind on what to do about Flynn. The simple answer was to take him to headquarters and turn him loose. Flynn was a big boy; he could take care of himself. He‟d sit in on the Marsden interview with Flynn. He‟d run whatever errands Flynn needed him to do. Flynn could find his own place to stay—it was none of Jerry‟s concern. In a few days, this new lead would pan out to nothing as usual, and Flynn would head back to Quantico. Jerry didn‟t need to knock himself out on this one. He broke six eggs into a small glass bowl, dropping the shells in the disposal and stirring the yolks with a fork. He added a quarter cup of milk and some salt and pepper while the skillet warmed on the stove. As the oven preheated to 350 degrees, he cooked four slices of bacon in the skillet. Once they were done, he drained the grease and added a cup of frozen peas to the bacon, jumping back at the spatter when the cold peas hit the pan. He let that heat through for a minute and then poured the eggs in on top. Deftly

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 27 sprinkling the egg mixture with a handful of shredded sharp cheddar, he cooked it until the edges of the eggs began to set. He then transferred the entire pan to the oven and set the timer for twelve minutes. Oliver was washing his face with one white-mittened paw when he suddenly looked up and slunk out of the room. Jerry could hear the sound of movement in the living room. “There‟s coffee in here if you want it,” he called out. He sensed Flynn‟s presence behind him before he heard him speak. “Something smells good in here.” Jerry turned to say something offhand but then completely lost track of what he‟d intended to say. Flynn was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing a towel slung low around his hips so that his hipbones showed. The hair on his chest was not too much, just right in fact, tapering down his long torso until it disappeared beneath the towel. He was drying out one ear with another towel, his hair standing up in startled spikes. On the chain around his neck, he wore a simple, tiny silver cross, the kind that a preteen girl might wear. His left shoulder bore the ugly, puckered mark of a bullet wound, the shiny scarring of skin suggesting that the wound wasn‟t all that old. Jerry knew from his record that Flynn had been shot in the line of duty about six months ago, but the record didn‟t say much more than that. Flynn had shaved, but his jaw still held the suggestion of a beard. It was probably as close as he ever got to being smooth-cheeked. A hint of soap and the smell of clean, damp skin and aftershave wafted in Jerry‟s direction before being lost to the smell of coffee and bacon. The combination of

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 28 odors struck Jerry viscerally with a little bolt of lust that surprised him. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute,” Jerry said tersely, turning away to get a second mug down from the cabinet. “You didn‟t have to go to all this trouble,” Flynn said, slinging the towel in his hand around his neck. Jerry shot him a look. He wondered what kind of game Flynn was playing here. He obviously was aware that Jerry had checked him out; it was evident in the little smile that played around his lips. Was this his way of saying he was so secure in his sexuality that it didn‟t bother him? Jerry suspected that was the case. “Oh. Right. Never mind. This is how you always start the day. What‟s in the oven?” Flynn looked amused, something subtle in his eyes that suggested it was at Jerry‟s expense. He also looked completely comfortable there in his stupid towel with his hairy legs and his bare feet. “Frittatas,” Jerry said crisply. He blamed the heat of the oven for the flushing of his face. “That‟s some egg thingy, right?” Jerry found his gaze drawn to a single bead of water dripping from one of Flynn‟s sideburns, making its way in a crooked line over his collarbone. He swallowed before speaking. “Philistine. Yes, some egg thingy. Best eaten hot. You‟d better get dressed.” He cleared his throat. Flynn gave him a little half smile and left the room. Jerry watched the way the damp, soft terrycloth of the towel clung to his ass as he walked away. He took a sip of coffee and made a face as he realized he‟d forgotten to add cream. Yep. It was going to be a long day.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 29

THINGS didn‟t go much better once they reached the local field office for the bureau on Golden Gate Avenue. Jerry had been immediately pulled into answering questions on various cases in which he‟d been assisting in data collection. Flynn had wandered apparently aimlessly from desk to desk, chatting up personnel and catching up on the local gossip since the last time he‟d been there. Jerry had tried watching him out of the corner of his eye but soon gave up as he‟d been plunged into the intricacies of tracking down suspects and confirming or disproving different statements. “No, no, that‟s not me anymore,” Jerry was saying into the phone when a shadow fell across his desk. He scowled up at Flynn, who was eating almond M&M‟s out of a packet. Flynn looked pointedly at his watch and back at Jerry again. Jerry held up a finger to signal “wait.” “No,” he said again. “I‟ve been reassigned. If you want to talk to someone about El Capitan, you need to talk to Special Agent Fielding here locally or Special Agent Kavanagh. You probably want Kavanagh—he‟s in charge. No, he‟s with the LA bureau. Right. Okay.” He hung up the phone. It rang again before he could speak. Rolling his eyes, he answered it. “Parker here. No, Charles, I told you before I can‟t run the analysis. Look, I got the data for you. It‟s just a matter of plugging in the numbers. Hang on a sec.” Jerry placed his hand over the end of the receiver. “Where‟d you get those?” He asked Flynn suspiciously, indicating the M&M‟s with his nose. “Your desk drawer,” Flynn said, continuing to eat them placidly.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 30 Jerry frowned again, noting it had little effect. “No, goddamn it,” he said into the phone. “What part of „I can‟t do that‟ don‟t you understand? I‟ve got to go. I‟m late for an interview. Oh, very funny. Don‟t give up your day job.” Jerry hung up the phone and turned on Flynn. “Those were mine.” “Yep,” Flynn nodded, crumpling up the little empty bag and tossing it in an exaggerated overhand into a nearby trash can, making a little “he scores” gesture with his fingers when it went into the can. “It would seem that you have a lot of people willing to pay you tribute.” “Tribute?” Jerry said slowly, not sure if Flynn was taking a pot shot at him. “Sure. I‟ve been watching you. Everyone wants your expertise.” Flynn gave him a little smile. “And they‟re willing to bribe you to get your attention first.” “Yeah. My expertise,” Jerry said bitterly. He straightened his tie and stood up, making sure his desk was in order with a quick glance. When he met Flynn‟s gaze, he was startled to see what might have been compassion on Flynn‟s face, but it was gone before he barely registered it. “The museum‟s not all that far. We can walk,” Jerry said as they entered the elevator. “It‟ll be easier than trying to find parking.” “No problem,” Flynn said agreeably. The sky had cleared of fog, and the day was turning sunny and pleasant. Flynn stepped out into the warm sunshine and immediately slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “You guys have your weather backward here,” he said, glancing around at the passersby on the street. It had to be in the upper fifties. People were carrying their coats or

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 31 doing without them. “„The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco.‟” “Mark Twain,” Jerry said, by way of identifying the quotation. No wonder Flynn hadn‟t minded coming to California in January. Flynn just smiled at him, and Jerry felt like he‟d passed some sort of test, which was just stupid. He tried to put Flynn‟s little look of approval out of his mind as they walked. The Black Eyed Peas began to sing “I‟ve Got a Feeling,” and Flynn pulled his cell out of his pocket. They stopped, letting the pedestrian traffic flow around them. Jerry made a questioning face at the ringtone. “Old girlfriend,” Flynn said as he answered the phone. “Never bothered to change it.” Jerry wondered about a person who could listen to a song that should have reminded them of a failed relationship but did nothing about it. And yeah. Girlfriend. “This is Flynn,” he said into the phone. He raised an eyebrow at Jerry. “Ms. Marsden. We were just on our way. I see. This really won‟t take…. Right. Very well. We‟ll be there. Yes. Goodbye.” “She wants to reschedule,” Jerry said. “Yes. She says something has come up with the newest exhibit. She sounded harried, not frightened.” “But it bugs you all the same.” Flynn shrugged, re-pocketing his cell. Jerry noted with a little pang that he didn‟t even have it in a protective case of any kind. “Any time a witness tells me they might be able to identify a killer, and then they delay making a statement, it concerns me.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 32 “So, we just go down there and demand to see her anyway.” “On the basis of what?” Flynn looked both amused and frustrated. “It‟s not like she‟s refusing to talk to us. She‟s just rescheduling, that‟s all. She wants us to come to the museum after closing tonight, around eight p.m.” “So, now what?” Jerry glanced at his watch. He supposed it was back to the office for him, or maybe help Flynn find someplace else to stay. “I want to see Inspector King.” Flynn was decisive in his declaration but then looked immediately at a loss. “What?” Jerry raised an eyebrow of his own. “Well,” Flynn hesitated. “I suppose we should take her something. Flowers seem inappropriate though. And she doesn‟t strike me as a candy sort of woman, always providing she was allowed to have it in the first place.” Jerry felt a grin split his face. “I have just the thing. Come with me.”

IN

SIMPLE letters, the marquee above the door read, “L-

Space.” On the narrow window, a sentence stood out in an ornate font. “A good bookshop is just a genteel black hole that knows how to read.” Flynn gave him the lightning-flash glance of someone who got the joke before they stepped out of the bright sunshine and into the darkened store. It took Jerry‟s eyes a few seconds to adjust. The musty odor of books assailed his nostrils. Paperback novels were stacked haphazardly from floor to ceiling in plain wooden bookcases. The sun

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 33 streaming in through the streaked windows highlighted dust motes roiling in the beams of light. Despite an itching desire to place everything in better order, Jerry breathed in the atmosphere and let out a happy little sigh. Flynn shot him a little sideways glance. The guy at the counter, a thin, student-looking type with glasses and a mop of dirty-blond hair, looked up at their arrival. “Jerry,” he called out. “I was just getting ready to phone you. Your order came in.” “That‟s great, Daniel,” Jerry said as they approached the counter. Flynn had pocketed his sunglasses and was looking around rather bemused. Perhaps he wouldn‟t pay too much attention to Jerry‟s book order. Yeah. Right. “I need to add to it though. We‟re on our way to visit a colleague in the hospital, and I was hoping to bring a copy of The Daughter of Time.” “Oh, good choice,” Daniel said, coming around the counter and giving Flynn an appreciative once-over that Jerry desperately hoped Flynn hadn‟t noticed. “Our best bet would be to check the paperback mystery section.” “You don‟t have your inventory on computer?” Flynn questioned, with that ubiquitous raised eyebrow again. Daniel led the way. “What would be the fun in that?” he asked with an engaging grin over one shoulder. Jerry met Flynn‟s glance with a little shrug, and they followed Daniel as he wound his way through the labyrinth of bookcases to the back of the store. The room opened up there into a small space, with several comfortable chairs on a thick area rug and a table with a coffee urn and mugs nearby. The unpainted wooden shelves were labeled with the

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 34 neat, handwritten tag Mysteries and divided by the letters of the alphabet. “Tey, Tey, Tey,” Daniel was muttering to himself. “Hmm. I have Miss Pym Disposes and Brat Farrar…. I could‟ve sworn…. Here it is!” Daniel was triumphant. He looked like an archeologist that had just made an important discovery. “The Daughter of Time. I knew I had a copy.” “I‟ll take them all,” Jerry said. Who knew how long King would be laid up? He had copies of all of these books at home, but this way King could keep them if she liked. “This friend of yours wouldn‟t by any chance be a cop, would he?” Daniel‟s eyes lit up at the idea, brimming with humor. “As a matter of fact, she is,” Jerry conceded. “Cool.” Daniel grinned and then flushed with embarrassment. “I mean, not cool that your friend is in the hospital, but you know what I mean.” He gave a helpless little shrug, palms up in apology. “Mind letting me in on the joke?” Flynn‟s drawl caught both their attentions. “DOT is about a cop who is laid up in the hospital,” Jerry began, wondering why he sounded like a lecturing professor and how to stop it. “One of his friends, a historian, brings him several famous unsolved cases and asks him to take a crack at solving one from his bed. Of course, this was written back in the fifties, so no internet….” “And the author rather likes her hero more than can be justified thus far,” Daniel added with a grin toward Jerry. Jerry snapped his fingers and pointed at Daniel. “Yes, exactly. But still”—he faced Flynn again—“it‟s a good read.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 35 He chooses to look at Richard the Third and the princes in the tower. What do you think? Will she like it?” Flynn nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Not too chicklit, yet not too much like her day job either. She‟ll probably have fun picking holes in the plot as well.” He flashed a brief smile at Jerry. “Good choice. But you don‟t have to buy them. They‟re on me.” They made their way back to the counter, where Jerry tried not to feel pleased over Flynn‟s remarks. Since when did he need this guy‟s approval, anyway? Flynn flicked a glance over the stack of books that Jerry received from Daniel as they were checking out. “War and Peace?” he asked with a smirk. “Didn‟t Jerry tell you?” Daniel asked cheerfully. “He‟s reading all the classics of literature. The Greeks, Romans, Russians, French, English—oh, that reminds me, I did find a used copy of volume eleven of Durant, and I‟m having it shipped in.” He handed Jerry his change. “I‟ll let you know when it arrives.” “Durant?” Flynn asked as they hit the sidewalk again. He paused to put on his sunglasses one-handed. Jerry felt the comfortable weight of the books in the canvas bag that Daniel had lent him, with the admonishment that he bring it back next time. They began walking back to the field office to pick up the car. “The Story of Civilization. I bought a used set before I realized it was missing the last book, and it‟s hard to find someone who wants to sell just one volume.” “What book are you on?” Flynn asked. Jerry could tell what he was thinking. Flynn probably assumed that Jerry

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 36 was one of those people who filled his shelves with literature that he never read. “Five. The Renaissance. Though to be honest, I thought I‟d never make it through volume four, The Age of Faith. It took me almost a year. I kept falling asleep.” “You‟re an odd duck, Parker,” Flynn said with a smile that made the comment seem friendly, rather than an insult.

“HOW long until dinner?” Flynn‟s voice startled Jerry, and he looked up from his leaning position in front of the open refrigerator to see Flynn standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed for a workout, a faded navy FBI Academy T-shirt over silver nylon track shorts. Jerry closed the fridge, thinking about what he had available for dinner. For someone who seemed to care less about food, Flynn was doing a good job of finishing up the leftovers. Jerry would have normally eaten them this evening; now he was looking at making something new. He glanced at his watch. “About an hour,” he said. That would give them plenty of time to clean up and head back over to the museum to keep their appointment afterward. “I‟m headed downstairs. I see you‟ve got a gym in the building.” “A small one,” Jerry warned. “A treadmill, a Nautilus, and some free weights. That‟s about it. You‟ll need a passkey. I have a second one in the right-hand drawer of the computer desk, all the way at the back. You might as well keep it as long as you‟re here.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 37 “Thanks.” Flynn gave him what Jerry was coming to think of as his customary half smile, the polite one, as opposed to the real one. He suspected that somewhere along the way, Flynn had been told that his genuine smile made him look like a dork and that he‟d probably spent hours perfecting the sexy one in the mirror. Jerry followed him as far as the kitchen door, making sure Flynn found the key card. Flynn laced up his track shoes by the door. “See you in a bit,” Flynn said as he was leaving. Jerry wondered how he could politely find out how much longer Flynn was planning to stay without making it sound like he was ready to kick him out. And whether there was any way to suggest that Flynn contribute to his share of the meals. For someone who was so lean, Flynn certainly had a healthy appetite. Jerry reentered the kitchen, where Oliver came galloping to join him, having reemerged as soon as he heard the outside door close. “It‟s not that bad,” he said to the cat, emptying a rather smelly can of food into his dish and placing it on the mat. “And anyway, he‟ll probably be gone in another day or two.” It seemed unlikely that Flynn would stay much beyond the interview tonight unless, by some miracle, the tip proved worth pursuing. Oliver ignored him, attacking his food as though he were a tiger at the kill, flinging little bits on the mat below. Jerry began opening cabinets, arranging ingredients on the counter. It had been an odd sort of day, he thought as he combined some lemon juice and cream in a bowl and set it aside to make the base for a white sauce. Today was

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 38 normally a gym day for him as well, but because they‟d eaten the leftovers, he was using his gym time to cook something else. Maybe he‟d be able to go down after dinner. Or maybe he‟d get up early and go in the morning, hard as that was to do. He seasoned and floured some boneless chicken breasts and placed them in a skillet to cook on the stovetop. He should have gone to the gym when they‟d come back to the apartment after visiting King, he berated himself. He‟d had time then, but he‟d been certain Flynn was going to suggest finding another place to stay. Somehow the two of them had ended up discussing both the case and Lauren King instead. King had been battered and frail compared to the woman pictured in the newspaper photo. Jerry suspected that being shot was more than just a violation of flesh and bone but one of spirit as well. He could still see the underlying beauty there in the structure of her face and the dark eyes full of pain. She had the kind of beauty that would have created a stir even in Hollywood, and he wondered what would cause a woman with other options to choose the police force. She‟d looked almost haggard as she lay there in the hospital bed, an IV line for fluids and a morphine pump attached to one arm. It was all too easy to picture Flynn there lying in the hospital bed instead, and Jerry wondered again about the circumstances behind his gunshot wound. He added broth to the browned chicken and covered the pan to simmer while he whipped up a brown sugar and orange juice glaze for some baby carrots to bake in the oven. He wondered how long it took someone to heal from the emotional wounds of being shot in the line of duty. Though she‟d looked terrible there in the hospital, they‟d been

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 39 assured that King was going to survive her physical injuries. He wondered if she had anyone on the other side of the waiting room who cared about her and remembered what Flynn had said about the GFT case becoming an obsession for her. Still, someone that pretty… long, dark hair, angled cheekbones, a lean body. Gorgeous by anyone‟s standards. She was too thin, though. Her leanness seemed more a result of disposition than of athleticism. Jerry had thought her remarkably similar to Flynn, as though they were cut from the same cloth. She‟d looked exhausted when they‟d entered her room, with dark circles that were almost bruises under her eyes. Her pale skin had contrasted with her dark coloring to make her look positively anemic. If anything, she‟d paled even further at the sight of Flynn. She‟d had eyes only for him. Jerry supposed he could understand it; after all, seeing Flynn meant something new with the GFT case had occurred. But it had stung just a bit how quickly she‟d dismissed him, as though Flynn were the only one who‟d come to see her, the only one who mattered. It wasn‟t as if she‟d been happy to see Flynn, though. When he‟d realized that, it had sent a little inexplicable curl of satisfaction though him. No, there had been none of the usual feminine, feline appraisal in her dark eyes when she‟d looked at Flynn. He‟d wondered about that and thought about the kinds of cases that Flynn took on. Did he have too much a hint of death about him for King? She‟d been appreciative of the books, taking up the Daughter of Time and thumbing the cover briefly before replacing it on the nightstand, as though that had taken all her strength. Jerry had felt a little spurt of anger when she thanked Flynn for them. He‟d wanted to say, “Hey, they were

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 40 my idea,” but he‟d just remained silent in the background as she and Flynn discussed the case. The room was filled with so many flower arrangements that it resembled a funeral parlor, which had made Jerry uncomfortable. “And your partner?” Flynn had asked as they were getting ready to leave. King had smiled, though it had looked as though she were trying not to cry. “He‟s going to make it,” she‟d said. There‟d been a moment of solidarity between the two of them then, something shared that Jerry did not understand, and he‟d felt shut out once more. Flynn had promised to keep her posted, and they‟d returned to the bureau. Jerry had gone back to his stack of papers and the requests for information in his inbox. He‟d had no idea how Flynn had spent the remainder of the day until he showed up around 5:00 p.m. looking restless and bored. Since they had to come back in a few hours, leaving for some dinner had seemed like a good idea. Jerry removed the chicken from the pan and set it aside while he turned up the heat and reduced the remaining broth to about a quarter cup. He began adding the lemoncream mixture and then the white sauce base and some thawed green peas, whisking it in a little at a time as he thought about Flynn, the case, and the meeting tonight. He replaced the chicken in the pan of sauce and let it simmer through, adding just a touch of tarragon before covering the saucepan. He glanced at his watch again and began to wash up. He was surprised at how much time had passed, but it was one of the main reasons he enjoyed cooking. The focus on the food somehow allowed his mind to wander and process

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 41 the events of the day, letting him set them aside for the evening. Because they were headed out again, he hadn‟t changed clothes when they‟d come home. He‟d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and had been careful not to spill anything on his dress shirt. He‟d foregone his usual glass of wine, so he was pleased at how relaxed he felt. Well, it had been an easy day so far. It had done him good to get out of the building for part of the day. Besides, it was entirely possible that he was getting just a little too set in his ways. He heard the sound of the apartment door opening, and he automatically looked for Oliver, noting that the cat had already disappeared. After he dried his hands on a towel hanging in the cabinet under the sink, he entered the living room to tell Flynn that dinner would be ready soon. He stopped as he saw Flynn leaning over for his bag on the floor, only to wince and press the heel of his hand into his shoulder. The neck of Flynn‟s T-shirt was ringed with sweat, and his hair curled into little damp spikes at his nape. Flynn opened his eyes to see Jerry staring at him, and Jerry met an expression both antagonistic and threatening before it was wiped away by weariness once more. “Dinner‟s almost ready. You‟ve got time for a shower if you don‟t take all day about it,” Jerry said abruptly. He was rewarded with the half smile. It shouldn‟t have felt so good.

JERRY was just depressing the button on his key ring to lock the car when a noise that sounded suspiciously like a Star

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 42 Trek communicator went off nearby. Flynn pulled out his phone and then stood frowning at it. “Problems?” Jerry asked. Flynn pocketed the phone. “Text from Ms. Marsden. She said to go around to the back entrance. The door will be unlocked. She‟s downstairs working in the catalog room.” Jerry found himself frowning as well. “Not the sort of neighborhood where one leaves a door open at night, especially a public place like a museum.” “Maybe she‟s more trusting than you are.” Flynn shrugged. Jerry was getting to know him well enough by now to know it didn‟t make him happy either. “Then she‟s an idiot,” Jerry grumped as they went past the main entrance and down into the narrow alley alongside the building. It was dark in the alley, and it smelled of cat piss and rotting garbage. “Tell me something, Parker,” Flynn said as they reached the door lit from above by an anemic light bulb in a wire cage. “Have you ever met anyone you didn‟t think was an idiot?” “Once, but I was wrong,” Jerry snapped. He couldn‟t help it; he smiled briefly at Flynn‟s chuckle. Inside the building, the air had that hushed quality that Jerry associated with museums and libraries, as if some gray-haired old woman in glasses was going to jump out any second and scold him for making too much noise. The sound of their footfalls on the tiled floor sounded unnaturally loud to him, and it made him unaccountably uneasy. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed dim, as though they were about to burn out.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 43 “So, where‟s this cataloging room?” Jerry asked as they moved down the corridor toward the stairwell. “Why are you whispering?” Flynn asked, tipping his head back slightly and raising an eyebrow. “I don‟t know. It just feels like we should.” Jerry tried to shrug off the feeling. At least Flynn didn‟t make fun of him, though he did roll his eyes and shake his head. “She didn‟t say, but that sounds like something they‟d keep in the basement, right?” He indicated the down portion of the staircase, and Jerry sighed. Right. Down it was. If anything, it was even darker in the basement. The stairwell dead-ended at a door, which opened up into a huge, warehouse-like space where boxes and crates were haphazardly stacked along large workbenches. Along a few such workstations, there seemed to be some restoration being done. There were desk lamps and magnifying lenses mounted on stands, and the smells of mold and paint and glue were noticeable. A couple of lamps were still on, but the little glow of light they produced hardly made a dent in the dimness of the large room. “Bet you‟re just dying to put this mess into some kind of order,” Flynn said as they made their way toward the far end of the room, a lighted corridor visible just beyond. “I‟m sure they have a system that works for them, buddy.” “Funny,” Jerry said sourly. “But for your information, I worked one summer at a natural history museum when I was in college. Order and method are crucial to the documentation and presentation of artifacts.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 44 “You worked at a museum,” Flynn said, looking back over his shoulder as he spoke. “Why am I not surprised?” “Hey, look out!” Flynn‟s elbow had brushed a pile of speckled composition notebooks hanging off the edge of one of the tables, and the stack shifted perilously. He turned his head sharply at Jerry‟s words and grabbed at the notebooks before they slithered off onto the floor. Jerry had to admire his dexterity; he almost caught them all, but they were unwieldy and starting to slip out of his hands. When Jerry jumped forward to help stabilize them, he ended up bumping Flynn and forcing him backward against the opposite table. A small gray artifact with geometric designs wobbled on a stand and began to tip over. “Shit!” Flynn cursed, dropping the notebooks and making a grab for the more fragile item. He caught it midair as it was falling off the workstation. The artifact lit up with a brilliant blue-green glow that pulsed outward from it in great beams of light. Flynn stood with his mouth open in shock, his hands cradling the piece as some sort of energy wave danced up his arms like wildfire in a dry forest and enveloped him. He jerked backward, arching his neck and back, quivering as though receiving an electrical charge, only to collapse in a heap. The artifact went dark, plunging the room into its former gloom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jerry chanted as he dropped to his knees beside Flynn. Using the edge of a notebook, he flicked the artifact out of Flynn‟s lax hand and knelt beside him.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 45 Flynn was lying on his back, sprawled in an awkward spill on the floor. He wasn‟t moving. Jerry hurriedly reached up for one of the desk lamps, drawing it to the edge of the table so he could see better. For a brief instant, he thought he saw a blue-green flash of energy within Flynn‟s eyes, but then it disappeared, and he assumed that it was a trick of the light. In the glow cast by the lamp, he could see that Flynn‟s eyes were half-open but seemed blank. Jesus. He‟d never actually had to give CPR before, but the information from the certification course came to him automatically, the way it had been drilled into him. First, determine if the patient was capable of responding. Jerry quickly located Flynn‟s breastbone through his shirt, pushing aside his tie. He gave Flynn a nasty noogie with his knuckle and shouted at him at the same time. “Flynn! Can you hear me? Wake up!” Flynn flinched, curling up slightly with a groan. Okay, maybe he‟d tapped him a little hard, but hey, Jerry was oldschool. At least he knew now that Flynn was responsive and that CPR was unnecessary. Pity, his mind suggested drily, before a sudden flare of self-loathing swept over him. This wasn‟t some goddamned Harlequin romance, for crying out loud. CPR wasn‟t a convenient excuse for kissing someone in the real world. Flynn‟s eyelids fluttered, and he moved slightly. “Come on, Flynn. Stay with me here.” He stabilized Flynn‟s head with one hand and patted him on the side of his face. A slight sound caught his attention, and Jerry lifted his head to peer over the desktop. “Hello? Is anyone there?” he called out. “Ms. Marsden?” Silence met his query, and a

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 46 sense of unease crept over him. He felt very vulnerable all of the sudden as he cradled Flynn‟s head in his hands. He looked down again when Flynn licked his lips and swallowed. “Whuh happen?” Flynn slurred his words, filling Jerry with alarm. “You got electrocuted, that‟s what. No, no, you lie there and don‟t move. I‟m calling 911.” Flynn ignored him and began pushing himself up on his elbows. He was frowning as he stared at the little artifact lying on its side. He reached out for it again. “What? No! Are you fucking insane? What part of electrocuted did you miss the first time?” Jerry grabbed at his hand just as he made contact with the device. Nothing happened. “Huh,” Flynn said, closing his eyes and looking woozy. Jerry removed the artifact from his hand. It was about the size of a music box, with raised angular edges. It appeared to be made out of some pewter-gray material that Jerry didn‟t recognize. He replaced it on the table, noting that it didn‟t seem to go with the other items from the same catalog numbers. Below him, Flynn was rolling to his knees and reaching up for the edge of the table to pull himself up. “Stay put,” Jerry scolded but offered a hand at the same time. “Seriously, you need an ambulance.” He pulled Flynn to his feet, where he swayed slightly and stared at Jerry with a look of terrible confusion on his face. He whipped his head around to look behind him, causing him to lose his balance, and Jerry grabbed him by the arm.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 47 “I‟m all right,” Flynn said vehemently, shaking him off. “I just….” He broke off and winced, bringing the heel of his hand up to his forehead and pressing it there. “That‟s it. Game over. You‟re going to the hospital. We can interview this woman tomorrow at a reasonable hour down at the office. You‟re coming with me.” He grabbed Flynn by the lapel and turned him around, pointing him in the direction of the stairs and giving him a little push. Jerry was surprised at how little resistance Flynn gave him as they headed back toward the stairs. In retrospect, he should have called an ambulance and had it meet them at the Weir, but Flynn was ambulatory and reasonably coherent, and Jerry thought it might be faster if he just drove Flynn directly to the hospital himself. He didn‟t think they would ever make it back to the car, though. Flynn sagged against him as they were climbing the stairs, and Jerry had to help him sit down on the landing. Not good. “You wait right there. I‟m calling the rescue squad now.” Jerry was in the process of pulling his own cell phone out of its case when Flynn gripped him painfully by the arm. “We have to go back,” he said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes rather than looking Jerry in the face. “Ms. Marsden—” “Can wait. You, on the other hand, have had a severe shock, and you don‟t look so hot to me.” Flynn opened his eyes wide at Jerry‟s words, looking rather like a deer startled by headlights. He scrambled to his feet, shaking off Jerry‟s offer of a hand up, and after looking around the staircase blankly for a moment, he charged up the stairs.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 48 “Wait! Goddamn it, Flynn!” Jerry called up after him and hurried to chase him down. He burst out of the building to find Flynn standing in the middle of the alley, his head tilted upward as though he were scanning the sky for rain. No, Jerry corrected his impression as he approached, more like someone who was listening to something. He strained to hear whatever it was that Flynn was focused on but heard only the normal sounds of the city at night. Flynn whipped his head around at Jerry‟s approach. “You don‟t hear that?” he asked, a level of anxiety in his voice that Jerry had never heard before. “Um, no. Say, how‟s about we take a little drive down to the hospital now?” “I‟m not crazy,” Flynn snapped, looking decidedly pissed. That’s debatable, Jerry thought, reflecting over Flynn‟s career and his record so far. Flynn shouldered past Jerry on his way back to the building, his expression as grim as if Jerry had spoken his thoughts aloud. He reached the door and tried the handle, only to discover that it was now locked. He pulled at it furiously several times before giving up and smacking the door in disgust. Jerry was relieved that now there was no question about going on to the hospital as planned. “No need to be so happy about it,” Flynn snarled at Jerry‟s approach. “Um, happy?” Jesus, this is getting weird. Jerry needed to get Flynn to the hospital ASAP. What if he had some sort of brain damage?

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 49 “You, happy that the door is locked, and we can‟t get back in.” Flynn was busily pulling out his phone and dialing, presumably Ms. Marsden‟s number. “And I don‟t have brain damage. We need to get back inside. Something‟s wrong here. Shit,” he added vehemently, glaring at Jerry, phone to his ear. “I got her voice mail. Yes,” he said into the phone. “Ms. Marsden, this is Special Agent Flynn. We can‟t get into the building. You need to come let us in.” He pocketed the phone. “You wait here,” he ordered. “I‟m going to check the main entrance. No, it‟s not a waste of time!” He stalked off even as Jerry stood uneasily, watching him go. Something was wrong, all right… with Flynn. When Flynn reached the main sidewalk, he suddenly stopped and staggered, like he‟d been struck a blow. Jerry found himself running toward him. When Jerry reached him, Flynn was hunched over, his arms folded over his abdomen like he hurt. He flinched at Jerry‟s touch, looking wild-eyed as he spun away, blowing hard through his nose, every line in his body poised for the need to fight or run. He looked like a feral cat trapped in a corner and ready to defend itself. “Hey now,” Jerry said soothingly, reaching out a hand in Flynn‟s direction. “Everything‟s going to be all right. We just need to get you to a hospital.” Several pedestrians gave them a wide berth as they skirted by them. Flynn‟s head snapped up, and he seemed to be following their movement as they passed. When he turned back to look at Jerry, he looked so lost and upset that Jerry was instantly filled with compassion for him.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 50 “Okay,” Flynn mumbled, dropping his head to stare at his shoes. “Yeah. Hospital‟s starting to sound like a good idea.” Jesus. He must be fucking dying. Flynn shot him an extremely dirty look for no apparent reason before he suddenly slumped. He followed Jerry reluctantly to the car. The closing of the car doors shut out the sounds of the street outside, and Flynn released a little sound of relief as he settled into his seat. Jerry cast him a glance and started the car, pulling out into the traffic before Flynn could change his mind. Disturbingly, Flynn leaned forward and sat with his head cradled in his hands. Jerry opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Flynn gave an exaggerated sigh and sat up, buckling his seat belt around him. Jerry was oddly grateful that he hadn‟t had to bug Flynn about it. The nearest hospital proved to be Saint Francis Memorial, the one they‟d visited earlier in the day. Jerry took the car into the parking lot at a bit higher rate of speed than was actually necessary and slammed the gearshift into park, jumping out and coming around to the passenger side of the car as Flynn was still unbuckling his seatbelt. “I could go get a wheelchair,” Jerry said uncertainly and then rolled his eyes when Flynn ignored him and got out of the car. Of course he‟d walk into the ER. “With his shield or on it,” according to Plutarch. He tried to imagine the woman who would send her son off to war with that sentiment; obviously the women of Sparta were not the sorts of moms one went to with a boo-boo. “What the hell are you going on about?” Flynn frowned at him as Jerry locked the car.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 51 “What do you mean? I didn‟t say anything.” Jerry frowned back at Flynn, whose mouth tightened into a grim line. Not waiting for him, Flynn spun on his heel and began stalking toward the ER entrance. As they approached the doors, however, Flynn began to falter. When Jerry tried to take him by the arm for support, Flynn snatched it away and moved with determination through the automatic doors, only to come to a grinding halt just inside. Jerry almost ran into him. Flynn had brought both hands, balled tight into fists, up to his eyes, blocking his sight. Jerry cast his glance around the room, trying to determine what was freaking him out. Flynn‟s behavior was really starting to worry him. He‟d never seen the guy be anything but cool and in control. Well, if you discounted that scene in the kitchen the other night, when he thought Flynn might punch him. Was it possible for schizophrenia to occur secondary to an electrical shock? “Will you just shut the fuck up?” Flynn ground out, thumping his fists on his forehead slightly. Oh, this isn’t good. No one paid any attention. Televisions mounted in the corners of the room were quietly showing CNN. Exhaustedlooking people read magazines or looked out into the room with dull expressions; one man was seated on the floor by an electrical outlet so he could plug in his laptop. A woman was curled up asleep on several adjoining chairs, taking up two or three spaces. An old man sat in a wheelchair, coughing moistly into a handkerchief. Somewhere a child started a thin wail of pain that cut right through Jerry‟s chest and made him seriously consider waiting in the car. At the front desk, a woman was angrily demanding to know how much

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 52 longer it would be before she was seen. It felt like there was a sea of people who‟d arrived before them, waiting to be examined. Christ, we’ll be here for hours, Jerry thought. He heard a harsh, gasping sound beside him and looked down when Flynn‟s fingers closed in a white-knuckle grip on his arm. “Hey! Cut it out,” he complained, prying back Flynn‟s middle finger until he let go. Flynn released him, but the look on his face was ghastly. “Get me out of here. For the love of God, Jerry, get me out of here.” He looked so awful that Jerry found himself guiding him back toward the door, shaken by the fact that Flynn had called him by his first name. Before they made it out the exit, Flynn sank to his knees and curled up on his side on the floor, arms coming up to cover his head as though warding off a blow. “Flynn. Flynn!” Jerry tried to get through to him, but Flynn acted as though he couldn‟t hear him. Jerry knelt down and took him by the shoulder. “Come on, you can‟t stay here.” Flynn coiled himself around Jerry‟s leg, his fingers digging into to Jerry‟s ankle. It was deeply disturbing, and Jerry couldn‟t help patting him on the shoulder. “Oh, for heaven‟s sake.” A woman came through the pneumatic doors with a man, his hand wrapped up in a kitchen towel, bleeding heavily and soaking through. “Can‟t you people find a room somewhere?” “Becky…,” the man with her began, a pained expression on his face, but from injury or embarrassment, Jerry couldn‟t tell.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 53 Jerry jerked his head up, and he locked his eyes on the woman, who was looking down at them with sneering disapproval. “For your information, madam,” he snarled, rising to his feet. “This is my partner, who is injured. And I suggest you move along and mind your own business before I make you my business.” He flashed his badge in her face. She dropped her jaw in a shocked little O of surprise and grabbed the man by the arm, hustling him past into the waiting area. When he turned back to Flynn, his eyes were open, and he smiled weakly. “Go get ‟em, Tiger,” he said, so quietly Jerry almost missed it. “Come on,” Jerry said fiercely, hauling Flynn to his feet. There was a long, still moment in which Flynn stared at him with a morass of complicated emotions on his face. Jerry noted that his eyes were a clear, greenish brown with a gray ring around the iris. Hazel, his brain supplied. Flynn‟s arm trembled beneath his hand. Against his better judgment, he decided to take Flynn back to the car. “Let‟s get out of here.” Once they were in the car with the world shut out around them once more, Jerry sat tapping his fingers on the steering wheel a moment before he spoke. “You want to tell me what‟s going on?” he asked quietly when Flynn made no move to speak. Flynn folded his hands into his armpits and rocked back and forth in the seat slightly as though he were cold. Jerry was tempted to reach out and touch his forehead to see if he was feverish, but Flynn jerked as though he‟d been burned, even though Jerry had not moved.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 54 The silence stretched, and then Flynn said, “I can hear people‟s thoughts now.” “Uh-huh,” Jerry said. Uh-oh. “I knew you‟d say that!” Flynn snapped, pointing a finger at Jerry before hunching down in his seat again. “And no, electrocution doesn‟t cause schizophrenia. That device…. When I touched it, I felt this incredible surge of power….” “That would be the electrocution part,” Jerry said. Though the thought of schizophrenia had crossed his mind. “Okay, you know what? I don‟t need this. Never mind.” Flynn unbuckled his seat belt and started to get out of the car. “No, wait, wait, I‟m sorry.” Jerry took a deep breath. He reached out a hand, only to let it fall when Flynn reared back from it. “You have to admit, it‟s a bit far-fetched. Like something out of Star Trek.” “I‟m telling you, it‟s real.” Flynn began to thump his forehead with a fist again, and this time Jerry did reach out to stop him. Headlights of a passing car illuminated the interior of the car briefly, and Jerry could see the genuine distress on Flynn‟s face. Whatever was going on, Flynn certainly believed he was hearing people‟s thoughts. “I can prove it,” Flynn said as Jerry released his fist. “Think of something totally offbeat, and I‟ll tell you what you‟re thinking.” “Okay….” Jerry frowned and then snapped his fingers. “Got it. You tell me….” He leaned back in his seat as Flynn lunged into his space. “I am not,” Flynn said, one hand on the steering

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 55 wheel as he crowded Jerry, his eyes angry and intense, “part elf.” “Oh, fuck me,” Jerry breathed out. “I‟m not doing that either,” Flynn said as he pushed himself back into his seat. He fingered one ear. “They‟re not that pointy, you know.” Jerry numbly put the key in the ignition and started the engine.

TURNING the key in the lock with an armload of groceries wasn‟t easy, and Jerry found himself thinking what good was it to have a telepath living at his place if he couldn‟t be bothered to get his ass off the couch and help a guy out in situations like this? He almost fell into the apartment when the door opened suddenly, and he got an excellent view of Flynn walking back to the couch, clad only in maroon briefs, a threadbare white T-shirt, and athletic socks. Who‟d have thought such a lean guy would have such a sweet, tight ass? The way the muscles bunched and flexed as he moved was mesmerizing. It must be from all those years of downhill skiing. “Stop ogling my ass,” Flynn said as he flopped down on the couch and picked up the remote. He fell back into staring at the television, where several incredibly anorexiclooking women were squealing about receiving Tyra Mail. Jerry toed his shoes off and adjusted his grip on the bags, mentally giving himself a dopeslap as he swung the door shut with his foot.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 56 “Don‟t pretend you never watch this show. I know better,” Flynn said as he reached into a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and grabbed a fistful. He tossed it in his mouth a few pieces at a time, staring at the screen. Jerry felt a moment of gratitude that Flynn had chosen to ignore the ass-admiration thing after just the one comment and reminded himself that he had to watch what he was thinking. He couldn‟t help but shoot a worried look in Flynn‟s direction as he carried the groceries into the kitchen. He looked as though he‟d been on the couch ever since Jerry had left that morning. “I‟m not a Desperate Housewife!” he called out to Jerry‟s retreating back. Jerry took his time putting away the groceries. They‟d had to give up on the idea of Flynn going in to work that morning. Just going down to the street had made him start to hyperventilate. He could handle one or two people at a time, but crowds were almost overwhelming. Until they figured out how to get a handle on what had happened to him, it was best that he called in sick. It had been bad enough last night, with Flynn dropping catty little statements that revealed just how much he could pick up on Jerry‟s thoughts. “You think I like this?” Flynn had snapped at him at one point. “I‟m a freak. No, I do not want to know your deep, dark secrets. I couldn‟t care less that you‟re gay. I‟m not looking to steal information from your head. Christ, I‟m never going to be able to go near anyone ever again!” Before Jerry could stop himself, his brain had insidiously stated, “No, it will become just one more weapon in your little arsenal for manipulating people.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 57 Flynn had stopped speaking to him after that, despite his attempt at an apology. It had been Jerry‟s plan to go to the museum that morning, talk to Ms. Marsden, and get some more information on the artifact, but on his arrival at the office, he‟d been greeted by the news that Ms. Marsden had been found dead in the cataloging room by the morning staff. Posed under a glass display case, like Snow White. Jerry had called Flynn to let him know, and after talking him out of coming down to the Weir, he‟d spent the morning at the museum. The FBI and the SFPD, with the bureau taking lead, were jointly handling the case. Jerry wasn‟t sure how long he could cover for Flynn. They had to come up with a means of finding him some functionality or else explain themselves to Harding, and that was a conversation that Jerry wasn‟t looking forward to having with his superior. In the kitchen he pulled out a large stockpot, added several containers of chicken broth, and placed it on the stove to come to a boil. He took off his jacket and laid it carefully over a chair, rolling up his sleeves so he could chop up the vegetables needed for the soup. Mushrooms, red peppers, and spinach all took their places in small bowls to be added when the time was right. Opening the refrigerator, he took out a small container of precooked rice and a package of chicken as well. He was busy cubing the chicken when Flynn appeared in the doorway. “I‟m telepathic,” he said in a sulky tone. “I don‟t have the fucking flu.” Jerry continued to cut the chicken. “I know that,” he said quietly. “I just don‟t have anything else to offer.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 58 “You don‟t have to hide in the kitchen. You could have changed clothes first. I know you like to do that.” There didn‟t seem to be any answer to that one. Oliver came trotting into the room past Flynn‟s feet, sitting down in front of his mat and giving Flynn a baleful glare. “You told your cat he could puke in my shoes,” Flynn said with some irritation, glaring back at the cat. “You can understand the cat?” Jerry set down the knife and turned to face him. “Oh my God, do you know what that means?” “It means I‟m Dr. Fucking Doolittle,” Flynn spat, shooting daggers with his eyes at the cat. Oliver eyed him with disdain. He yawned, showing sharp white teeth and a curling tongue. It was a “fuck you‟” expression if he‟d ever seen one on a cat, and Jerry had to stifle a snicker. It was no good. A snort forced its way out of Jerry‟s mouth. He turned back to prepping the chicken, trying very hard not to laugh even harder when Flynn shot him an incredulous stare. “Oh, come on,” Jerry said when Flynn continued to glare at him. “You have to admit, it‟s a little funny.” One of those little half smiles quirked at the corner of Flynn‟s mouth before it disappeared. “Yeah, if I can‟t go back to work at my day job, I can always make a fortune as a pet psychic.” “You‟d be a real hit on those late-night infomercials. So, what does Oliver want? Besides food, that is.” Jerry set aside the chicken and washed his hands, leaving the dishtowel over one shoulder as he opened the cabinet for a can of cat food.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 59 “He wishes you would pet him more.” “What?” Jerry said, pausing in the act of forking the can into the dish. He waved the fork at Flynn. “He bites me when I pet him!” Flynn shrugged. “He can‟t help it. He wants to be petted, but he wants to be left alone too.” Not like anyone else I know, Jerry thought and then watched Flynn‟s expression change. Hey, at least it’s not your thoughts hemorrhaging all over the place. It could be worse. Flynn‟s face blanched suddenly. Jerry rinsed the empty can and placed it in the bin, cocking an eyebrow at him in passing. He lifted the lid on the stockpot to see if it had come to a boil yet. After a beat Flynn said, “Do you really equate cooking meals with foreplay? Because if that‟s—” “Okay, you know what?” Jerry snapped, whisking the towel off his shoulder and tossing it down on the counter. “We need to talk about setting some boundaries.” “That works both ways, buddy.” Flynn said. His features were tight, narrow. “Look, you should know by now that I can‟t help what I think. The thoughts are there. They just run through my head all the time, okay? Thinking something is not the same as acting on it.” “Good thing, or you‟d be out of a job by now.” Flynn leaned in the doorway, propped up by one shoulder, socked feet crossed at the ankles. He was unshaven and had the suggestion of bags under his eyes. He looked disheveled and disreputable and distinctly…. Jerry clamped down on that thought. It didn‟t help that his briefs left nothing to the

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 60 imagination. Flynn‟s eyes widened, and he looked suddenly uncomfortable, straightening slowly. Jerry shot him a covert look, wondering why Flynn seemed more ill at ease now than he had when he was nearly naked the other morning, and then it hit him. Flynn was turned on. He was turned on, and he didn‟t know what to do about it. The broth began to boil, and Jerry tipped the cutting board full of chicken over the stockpot, using the rising steam to cover the heat of his own confusion until he realized that he couldn‟t use anything to camouflage his feelings around a psychic. “Look,” he said at last, setting down the board and wiping his hands on the towel. “I‟ve been giving this some thought all day. This could be a good thing, okay? Think about it—a telepathic federal agent? Think of all the cases you could solve.” He took a package of tortellini out of the fridge and slit it open with a knife. “I was doing okay the old-fashioned way. I don‟t want to be a superhero. Oh God, you think this is going to be permanent, don‟t you? Of course you do.” Flynn was still tense, but he latched on to the new safer subject with relief. Jerry said nothing but put the remnants of the vegetables in the trash and wiped the counters. “Okay, you‟re right,” Flynn said with a sigh, relaxing ever so slightly. “We need to figure out how this thing works and how to control it so I can go back on the case. I‟m just glad to know that Emily Marsden was already dead when we arrived last night. I don‟t think I could‟ve forgiven myself if we could have prevented her murder but failed because I was so fucked up.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 61 He held up a hand when Jerry would have spoken. “I know, not my fault, but that doesn‟t make any difference in the end. She‟s still dead.” Don’t think about his sister, don’t think about his sister. Jerry winced when Flynn thinned his lips into a tight line. Sorry, he thought in Flynn‟s direction. Flynn gave him a sort of rueful smile, which he took to mean apology accepted. “I appreciate you covering for me with Harding too. I know you went out on a limb to do that, and…. Well, I know you don‟t normally do that for anyone.” “Well, it occurred to me that we need to be logical about this,” Jerry began as he added the rest of the ingredients to the soup and turned down the heat to let it simmer. “No, really?” Flynn said with a ghost of his usual smile. Bite me, Jerry shot in his direction without heat and smiled when Flynn snorted. “Okay, this is what I mean. We need to determine your limits. I need to work on blocking. We need to know if you can be blocked. We need to decide if we‟re going to tell anyone.” “No.” Flynn was vehement. “I mean, the implications….” He trailed off, an agonized expression on his face. Jerry nodded. He could picture Flynn being forced to spy for the government and the terrible things that could result from the information he gathered in this fashion. Despite the fact that he loved his country, some things were just not fair in love and war as far as Jerry was concerned. Not to mention that Flynn would be seen as a potential threat to almost everyone out there. No doubt a concentrated

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 62 effort would be made by someone to kill him. A vision of the field office imploding on itself from a bomb in the basement leapt to his mind. “Jesus, do you really see everything in worst-case scenarios?” Flynn looked a little pale. Jerry grimaced and shrugged in return. “We have to keep this a secret from everyone while still using it to our advantage.” Jerry chewed on a lip as he thought about the best ways of doing just that. Flynn gave him a funny look. “You really are going with the superhero thing, aren‟t you? Hide the „talent‟ but use it to solve crime. You‟re assuming that I‟ll ever be able to leave your apartment. What if I can‟t cope with it?” An image flashed into his mind of walking into the apartment and finding Flynn‟s body in a pool of blood next to his weapon, and he quashed it thoroughly. But not soon enough. Flynn rocked back a little on his heels, nostrils flaring as he breathed hard through his nose and looked a little sick. “You‟ll be fine. I‟ll help you,” Jerry said with confidence he didn‟t feel. “Now, go on, get out of here and take a shower, get dressed. I want to tell you about….” “You think I was being set up with the Marsden interview? Interesting theory. And you‟re right—if she wasn‟t tortured, then that really doesn‟t fit with the other deaths, but the killer might have been pressed for time if he was trying to silence her before she spoke with us.” Flynn nodded, looking thoughtful. “No, that makes sense. Emily could have just „disappeared‟. Then we….” He broke off, looking embarrassed. “Um, sorry.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 63 “Well, it is customary to let the other person say something on occasion. You‟re going to have to control the impulse to finish everyone‟s thoughts for them. But just think of how impressive your Holmes routine will be now.” “Holmes wouldn‟t tolerate an idiot.” Flynn‟s words seemed to come out of nowhere. “What?” Jerry asked, giving his head a little shake. “Holmes,” Flynn said slowly. “Not the sort of man to tolerate fools gladly. So it only stands to reason that Watson was someone he liked and respected.” “Huh.” Jerry blinked and cleared his throat. “Okay. Well. You‟d better hurry up. Dinner will be ready soon, and the soup‟s best hot.” Flynn gave a little unexplained laugh and walked out of the room.

THEY practiced for another whole day. As it was Friday afternoon, unless a new lead broke in the Marsden case, they could reasonably expect to have the weekend off and let SFPD work the evidence. Jerry thought it would be best if they went slow, took a few trial runs out of the apartment, and saw how Flynn did before taking him back to the office. With a fresh murder case on their hands, Jerry had been forced to be creative about Flynn‟s continued absence, so they were running out of time. They were going to have to put Flynn‟s ability to control his telepathic abilities to the test, the sooner, the better. Word had gotten out that Flynn was crashing on Jerry‟s couch, and Tom Fielding, the agent who‟d replaced Jerry on the El Capitan case, had suggested

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 64 that Jerry must have made him sick with his cooking. Several of the other agents had thought this was a riot, and it burned Jerry up inside that his culinary habits were just another gay joke around the office. He‟d worked the case himself, touching base with Flynn frequently by phone, but he knew they‟d need to get the witnesses in again for Flynn to interview them himself. He took the precaution of setting the witnesses up with the warning that they‟d be asked in again for further questions, hoping to avoid the accusation of harassment. He‟d been down to King‟s precinct and found that, because he‟d gone to visit her in the hospital, he was welcomed with rather more warmth than the average FBI guy could expect. A very pretty, chic redhead named Jennifer Kelly from the DA‟s office had stopped him in the hallway and tried to wrangle Flynn‟s location out of him, though for herself or for King, Jerry couldn‟t tell. They‟d worked on having Flynn focus on a single person‟s thoughts, weeding out one voice among the many. They‟d taken short field trips down to the laundry room and out onto the street when Jerry got home from work. Whenever Jerry could see that Flynn was getting overwhelmed, he‟d snap his fingers and tell him to focus, whereupon Flynn accused him of treating him like a dog. However, it seemed to work. Flynn still watched a lot of television. Jerry suspected him of using it as a shield. Flynn had found his DVD collection, and Jerry had entered the living room more than once to discover Flynn sitting in the dark, watching Jerry‟s entire collection of The Closer in some sort of weird marathon.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 65 Jerry had walked in on a bizarre conversation at one point. He‟d gone down to the lobby for the mail, and on his return, Flynn was leaning in the open door of the apartment, talking to the woman from down the hall. She‟d had a little Chihuahua on a leash at her feet, and Flynn had looked relaxed and was oozing charm. “I‟m just saying,” he‟d drawled, flicking a negligent finger in the direction of the dog. “Look at the way you dress him.” Jerry had glanced down at the dog. The dog had looked up at him, blinking with watery brown eyes. He‟d been dressed in a little pink hoodie and was wearing a glittery rhinestone collar. His toenails had been painted an aggressive blood red. “He wets on everything because he doesn‟t look like a dog. He‟s afraid that another dog will mistake him for a squeaky toy instead.” “But he‟s so cute in his little clothes.” The woman had pouted. “Now, come on, Amy.” The wickedly handsome smile made an appearance again. “He‟s a dog, not a baby. If you want him to stop peeing on everything you own, you‟ve gotta treat him like a dog.” Jerry had reflected on the fact that he‟d been living in this building for over six months and he‟d never learned Amy‟s name, even though he saw her and the dog in the corridor all the time. “Try it my way for a couple of weeks. Lose the clothes and the bling. You‟ll see. He‟ll stop peeing in the apartment. Oh, and another thing.” Flynn had winced. “He doesn‟t want to be called Precious. He really hates it.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 66 “And what do you suggest I call him?” Amy had asked with a trace of tartness. “Spike.” Flynn had looked down at the dog in a conspiratorial fashion, and the Chihuahua had wagged his tail vigorously, giving a sharp bark. “See?” “I hope you charged her for that,” Jerry had said drily as Amy and Precious/Spike had moved on toward the elevator. “Don‟t you know?” Flynn had raised an eyebrow at him in apparent seriousness. “The first reading is always for free. That‟s how you reel them in.” Jerry had gaped at him until Flynn had begun to laugh. It was the first time Jerry had heard the donkey laugh since the transformation had occurred, and it was oddly reassuring. “I do not sound like a donkey,” Flynn had said crossly, poking him in the arm. They‟d also worked on having Jerry block him out, which frankly was a relief when he figured out he could. He‟d pictured himself in a soundproof booth and watched as Flynn‟s expression became puzzled and then relieved as well. “I can pick you up the easiest though,” Flynn had confessed at one point. “I don‟t know if that‟s because I‟ve spent more time with you or because you‟re so loud. Oh, I know,” he held up a hand, stopping Jerry before he could speak. “You think of yourself as a quiet kind of guy, not the sort that says much, but in here?” Flynn tapped the side of his head. “You‟ve got a filibuster going on.” Jerry had thrown a sock at him for that one, but it made sense after that for Jerry to send his focus commands silently.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 67 He‟d also taken a photo of the artifact with his cell and spent some spare time looking up more information online and asking questions at the museum. The new curator suggested that the artifact didn‟t really belong with the other pieces in the collection. It had been part of a donation to the Weir on the death of a patron. Unfortunately, the person to ask about its origins was Emily Marsden. No one else seemed to have any problems handling it. In fact, the staff at the Weir had looked at him funny when he‟d asked if it had any sort of power source. Online, he could only find some vague references to items with similar geometric designs. Many of the links were no longer functional. The plan this morning was coffee and bagels at a nearby deli. There would be a comfortable Saturday morning crowd but still smaller than on a typical workday. It was within walking distance, and Jerry felt reasonably sure he could get Flynn back to the apartment quickly if there were problems. He‟d rehearsed the plan over again in his head. It was solid, and Flynn had professed confidence in his ability to do it. Flynn had long since run out of clothes and had told Jerry that he‟d intended to have his things sent out if it had looked like he‟d be in town for longer than a few days. Jerry had sent his suit to be dry-cleaned and loaned him some casual clothes, tossing Flynn‟s things in with his own when he went down to do laundry. Though he was a bit taller and thinner than Jerry, the borrowed sweats and jeans had worked okay on him, despite his refusal to wear a belt and his frequent need to hitch up his pants at the waist. His shirttail often hung out of his jeans, and there was a tantalizing gap of skin at the small of his back when he bent over. A flash of hipbone as he slouched on the couch made

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 68 Jerry wonder if his body just naturally wanted to shrug his clothing off. It also occurred to him that Flynn had to have gone commando that day, as there was no evidence of any briefs in sight. The soundproof booth had come into play a lot. “You ready to go?” Jerry asked as he knelt to put on a pair of track shoes. “As I‟ll ever be.” Flynn looked cool and laid back, the typical San Franciscan headed out for his morning coffee. He was wearing a red-and-black flannel shirt over jeans so faded they appeared nearly white in places. Sporting a twoday beard and with his thumbs hooked into his pockets, he had Jerry‟s morning paper folded under one arm. Only because Jerry knew him pretty well by now, could he tell that Flynn was not as sanguine as he was pretending. The tightness around the corners of his eyes gave him away. “Now, who‟s playing Holmes?” Flynn asked, giving him a friendly-but-firm punch on the shoulder. “Oh, it didn‟t hurt that much, you big baby,” he added. In the elevator down, Flynn said, “So, I think we should go to the Weir this afternoon, and I should try touching that gizmo again.” Jerry freely let the Are you insane? thought roll through his head before speaking. “You already touched it a second time. That didn‟t reverse anything.” “Maybe it was recharging,” Flynn said as the elevator doors opened, and they crossed the lobby for the exit. “Maybe if I touch it this time, I‟ll get another zap, and I‟ll be back to normal.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 69 “Remind me to start carrying a pocket defibrillator whenever I go anywhere with you,” Jerry said sourly. Flynn rolled his eyes at him. The day was sunny and pleasant again. Flynn quickly fished out sunglasses from his hip pocket and put them on, and Jerry suppressed all thoughts as to how cool he looked. “You know,” Flynn said, pausing to look over the brim of the glasses at him, “when you start shouting „soundproof booth!‟ I can pretty much tell you‟re thinking about me.” “As long as the „what‟ remains a mystery, I‟ll die a happy man,” Jerry said. Flynn snorted. A trio of young, pretty women came out of a shop onto the street, chattering and fluttering like a colorful flock of birds. Jerry noted that the brunette in the middle gave Flynn an appreciative once-over and then a sultry smile as they passed. Jerry glanced back over his shoulder and saw the women looking back at them and giggling. “What was that about?” he asked when the women were out of earshot. Flynn stared at him with a raised eyebrow and leaned in for a closer appraisal. “Huh,” Flynn said, peering at him a moment before straightening again. “You really do have amazing blue eyes.” He dropped his glance and craned his head around to look at Jerry from behind. “And a nice ass too.” “What?” Jerry whipped his head around to look first at his ass and then at the departing women. “And apparently it‟s a pity that we‟re both gay,” Flynn added drily. “But then what do you expect in San Francisco?

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 70 All the good-looking guys are gay.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Sorry about that.” Jerry winced. On the inside, though, he couldn‟t help a little thrill of pride. Someone thought he was attractive. And attractive enough to be with someone as hot as— “Soundproof,” Flynn said in a singsong voice. Jerry smacked him on the arm with the back of his hand. Flynn smacked him back with the folded newspaper. Things were about to disintegrate into a slapping match when suddenly Flynn‟s head popped up like a hunting dog on a scent, and he started to charge forward toward the bus stop about twenty feet ahead, where a small group of people were waiting for the next Muni bus. Jerry grabbed Flynn by the arm. “Whoa, where do you think you‟re going?” The look Flynn turned on him was unnerving. Though his eyes were shaded behind the glasses, his smile was tight and brittle. A little frisson of unease rippled through Jerry. It was not a nice smile. “I‟m going over there to tell that guy if he ever hits his wife again, I will hunt him down and kill him.” He indicated a tall man in a gray turtleneck, checking messages on his phone. Jerry didn‟t let go. “Okay, look,” he spoke rapidly. “Think this through. What did we say about situations like this? You have no proof. If you go barreling up to him with an accusation like that, what‟s he going to think? He’s going to think his wife told you. You don‟t want that, right? You don‟t want to make things worse for her.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 71 The hand gripping the newspaper began to crumple it up. “I can‟t just do nothing, Jerry.” “Of course not. We know he lives around here. We‟ll figure out who he is. I‟ve got a friend at one of the women‟s shelters. We‟ll get information to the right people. You know I‟m right. This is the way we‟ve got to do it.” “What if she won‟t leave him?” Flynn looked determined to go over to the bus stop anyway. Jerry sighed. “Look, we‟ll do the best we can, okay? But you‟re just going to have to accept the fact that not everyone‟s going to want your help.” Flynn slowly nodded and then frowned. “How are we going to get his name?” “Simple,” Jerry said. “Wait here.” He walked up to the crowd, flashing his badge. “FBI. Let me see some ID.” Startled, the group of people automatically began reaching for billfolds and wallets. “What‟s this all about?” said the man in the turtleneck, full of self-importance. He showed Jerry his ID anyway. Jerry studied his face and memorized the address on the driver‟s license. “A matter of national security,” Jerry said abruptly. He lingered over the man‟s ID and then looked up at his face again. “Hmmm,” he murmured speculatively. The small group of people began to edge away from the guy. “What?” the man said, starting to turn red. “I wouldn‟t do anything to call attention to myself if I were you,” Jerry warned. He held up a hand when the man began to splutter. “We‟ll be watching you,” he said with a squint. He turned sharply on his heel and marched away.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 72 “Oh, that was good,” Flynn said sotto voce as Jerry returned. “Why, Special Agent Parker, who knew you had it in you?” Flynn sounded remarkably Southern, his voice higher pitched than usual. It took Jerry a second to realize Flynn was imitating Kyra Sedgwick as Brenda Leigh Johnson. It had been a decent imitation, and Jerry couldn‟t help but laugh when Flynn added in a lilting tone, “Thank you, thank you all so much.” “If you call me Lt. Provenza, I will hurt you.” Jerry snorted as he held open the door to the café. “I think you‟ve been watching way too much television, you know.”

THEY‟D taken a break and gone back to the apartment after breakfast. Flynn had become more withdrawn the longer they‟d spent out, and he looked exhausted. “People are really sick bastards,” he said as they reentered the apartment. He flopped down on the couch, tossing his sunglasses onto the coffee table. Oliver lifted his head for a long stare but didn‟t move from his position on the end of the sofa. “You‟ve been an agent for what? Ten? Twelve years? And you‟re just figuring this out now?” “I didn‟t know it then. Not like I do now.” There didn‟t seem to be anything to say to that. Jerry sat down at his desk and opened the online laptop, waking it up and settling in for another session of “find the artifact.” He made a mental note to check on Monday to see if the man from the queue had a record of

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 73 domestic violence and to e-mail his friend Deidre at the shelter for advice. Within a few minutes, Flynn was hanging over his shoulder. “What did you find?” he asked, pulling up a chair and turning it around to straddle it while sitting down next to Jerry. He rested his forearms along the back of the chair as he leaned in to look at the screen. “Another restricted website.” Jerry frowned. “I suppose we could see about getting clearance….” “Then someone might start asking why we‟re so interested. Why not take a different approach? What about the patron who donated the thing in the first place? Where‟d it come from?” “I already did that.” Jerry pulled up the obituary notice. A photo of a bouffant-haired woman, circa 1960, appeared on the screen. “Caroline DeVille was an amateur archeologist and collector of antiquities. Unfortunately, she was also a shoddy bookkeeper. The piece in question is described as a trinket box, of unknown origin or design, brought back from a trip to Egypt in 1952. There‟s no other information listed. The entire collection was passed down to her grandson on her death. He in turn donated it to the Weir last week. I asked him about it. He‟d never seen any of the collection except during visits to her home, and he really seemed put out that a bunch of moldy artifacts was all he inherited.” “Trinket box, my ass,” Flynn said with derision. “I wonder if this was the exhibit that was giving Marsden trouble?” “I also asked about that. Seems that there was some question on the part of the board as to whether the collection should even be accepted, given the provenance of so many

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 74 pieces couldn‟t be proved. However, the Weir is not so big that it can afford to toss out bequests.” “None of which is likely to have any bearing on Marsden‟s death.” They sat in silence for a moment. Jerry knew that he and Flynn both were mentally reviewing the evidence so far. The text they‟d received had been sent after Marsden was already dead; the cell had been wiped of prints. The door had been set to automatically lock behind them once they‟d exited the building. Marsden had been strangled from behind and posed under the glass case hurriedly by someone wearing gloves. A nearby display had been stripped of artificial flowers in order to spread them over her body. It had all the marks of a hastily composed copycat scene. The killer may or may not have been in the building while they were there. “I need to talk to the people in her life. Somewhere in the background was a person she was afraid of,” Flynn said. “But not necessarily the GFT killer. Is there anyone who‟d have a vested interest in you coming back to this area?” Flynn sighed and stood up, abandoning the chair. “I don‟t think this is aimed at me. I think Marsden wanted to speak with me or King directly but only because she knew we were associated with the case. Someone was scaring her, and she thought this person was a killer. She was right, just not the killer she thought it was. I think whoever murdered her wants us to think it‟s the GFT killer, because they themselves have an alibi for those murders, and it would send us off in a totally harmless direction. No, there was something else that Marsden had uncovered, only she didn‟t

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 75 know it yet. And that person didn‟t want us to get too close to them.” “Murder isn‟t a very subtle way of deflecting attention.” Jerry raised an eyebrow at Flynn, who was pacing around the room. “No, in this case, it‟s either an act of desperation or arrogance. One or the other. It‟s up to us to figure out which.” “You want to go to the museum.” Jerry made it a statement, not a question. “What are you, a mind reader?” Flynn grinned.

“STOP the car! Stop the car!” Flynn pounded on the dash and unbuckled the seatbelt even as Jerry screeched to a halt. The car behind them honked angrily as Flynn vaulted out of the car and ran back down the sidewalk, leaving the passenger door open. Jerry looked back over his shoulder, grimaced, and pulled up onto the sidewalk. He sprang out of the car, flashing his badge at an open-mouthed couple, gawking at him. “Federal agents,” he barked. “This is an emergency!” He rounded the front of the car, slamming the door shut, and pressed the automatic lock on his key ring as he ran after Flynn. He reached the narrow alleyway in which he‟d seen Flynn disappear and cursed as he saw Flynn running farther ahead. He followed in hot pursuit, heaving himself up the chain-link fence at the end of the alley and

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 76 scrabbling over the top. He felt the catch and tear of denim as he dropped, and he cursed again. When he caught up with Flynn, the scene in front of him took his breath away. The small dirt lot was littered with broken bottles, empty foam cups, and cigarette butts. A young kid was cringing on the ground, tears streaking down his face. Flynn was holding another child by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall. The smell of gasoline was sharp in the air. At Jerry‟s approach, the boy on the ground got up and ran, fists and legs pumping like a pinwheel as he scrambled out of the lot. The boy dangling in Flynn‟s grip was pale; wide, dark eyes stared back at Flynn in fear. “Jesus, Flynn, let him go,” Jerry breathed, afraid for Flynn‟s sanity. “They were going to fucking torch a cat,” Flynn snarled, never taking his eyes off the kid. “You think that‟s cool?” he said to the kid, his expression one of smiling disdain. It was the scariest thing that Jerry had ever seen. “John, please.” “I know who you are,” Flynn said in a silky tone, almost too low for Jerry to hear. “I know what you‟re afraid of. You hurt another animal or person, and I will find you.” He dropped the kid, who landed in the dirt on his hands and knees. Jerry thought the boy might actually puke. He looked up at Flynn and fell back on his rump, scooting away until he had room to get to his feet and run. Flynn stood watching him as though he could bore holes into him with his eyes.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 77 “Oh jeez.” Jerry now saw the sodden little body behind the trashcan, the orange-striped fur soaked gasoline. He took off his jacket and wrapped the kitten “Do you think it‟s still alive?” he asked, standing cradling the kitten when Flynn approached.

lying with in it. and

“Of course,” Flynn said bitterly. “What‟s the fun in torching it if it‟s dead?” Jerry looked up at Flynn, and the expression on his face was painful to see. “Come on, we need to find a vet.” It seemed to take a lot longer to reach the car on the way back. For one thing, there was the difficulty of negotiating the fence with the kitten. Jerry could feel Flynn‟s thundering silence, and he chose to ignore it, concentrating on the weak rise and fall of breath in the little body he held. Back at the car, Flynn only spoke the one time. “Kids who torture animals often grow up to be serial killers.” Jerry didn‟t say anything. He didn‟t have to. He handed the jacketful of kitten to Flynn. He drove to the nearest animal emergency clinic, knowing that Oliver‟s vet was already closed for the day. Flynn fished Jerry‟s cell out of the jacket pocket, finding the number for the vet clinic, and phoned ahead to warn them they were on the way. Jerry kept glancing at the kitten as he drove. It continued to lie on its side, its eyes closed. The staff at the animal ER couldn‟t have been nicer. Jerry pulled out his charge card and told them to spare no expense. The tech whisked the kitten away, murmuring over it when she heard under what circumstances it had been found. They waited until a woman who looked too young to be a vet came to speak with them.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 78 She was blonde, with baby-fine, straight hair and lightblue glasses. “Okay, we‟ve bathed your kitten in Dawn to remove the gasoline and started an IV and supplemental oxygen. Petroleum products are fairly toxic to cats. Hopefully we got it off before too much was absorbed. Also, we can‟t tell just yet if there‟s been any neurological damage. We‟ll need to do some radiographs once the kitten is a bit more stable.” “Damage?” Jerry echoed. “The kitten has probably been beaten,” she said gently. “They must have done something to subdue her.” “Her.” Jerry blinked, exchanging an agonized look with Flynn. Such a small little creature, yet she had already wrapped herself around his heart. “Will she make it?” “I‟m not sure yet,” the vet said briskly, in the manner of someone who would like to get back to work. “Leave her with me. We‟ll see what we can do. You can call to check on her later, but right now, no news is good news.” They rode in silence back to the apartment. When they entered, Flynn went straight to the couch and sat down, head in his hands. Jerry toed off his shoes at the door and took a seat by the window. It was starting to cloud up; a storm was coming in. Oliver came trotting into the room and jumped up on the couch. He came within a foot of Flynn, sat down, and stared at him. God, Jerry thought, I could really use a drink. Flynn looked up. “You ruined your clothing over that kitten.” Jerry fingered the hole in his new jeans and shrugged. “They‟re just clothes.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 79 He could tell by Flynn‟s expression that he wasn‟t buying it. I’m not a clothes horse, he thought with a frown. Flynn, however, wasn‟t done. “The vet thinks we‟re a couple.” “Sorry,” Jerry said. Hadn‟t he apologized for this once already today? “Don‟t be. Apparently, according to her, gay couples make the best pet owners, and she was really happy we intervened on the kitten‟s behalf. She‟s planning to give you a huge discount on your bill, despite the fact that she works off commission.” “See,” Jerry said, knowing his smile must be pretty anemic. “Not everyone is evil.” “I wanted to kill that kid.” Flynn turned his head so he could see Jerry, could see his expression, though why he felt this was necessary, Jerry wasn‟t sure. He appreciated it just the same. “I wanted it so bad. I could almost convince myself it was the right thing to do.” John. He didn‟t even know what he was feeling himself; he only hoped Flynn could make sense of it. “I don‟t know that I can do this, Jerry.” His voice was quiet, almost broken. Jerry stood up. “You just need a break. You need to rest. This morning has been… well, overwhelming. How is it that you could pick up that kid from so far away anyway?” “I dunno,” Flynn said wearily. “I guess strong emotions travel farther.” Jerry just nodded. Made sense to him, always providing he‟d decided to believe in telepathy in the first place. “Get some rest,” he suggested. “Take a nap. I am.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 80 He walked back into his bedroom, deliberately leaving Flynn alone.

HE

AWOKE abruptly, startled into wakefulness by the

sensation of a heavy weight on his chest, suffocating him. He held his breath for a second, until he realized Oliver was sitting on his chest, staring at him. “Shove off,” he said to the cat. “Jeez, you‟re heavier than you look. It‟s nowhere near dinnertime, beast.” Oliver stared at him so intently that Jerry felt like he should get up. When he began to move, the cat jumped off the bed and ran into the other room. Uneasily, Jerry got to his feet and followed. “Hey, just in time!” Flynn said as Jerry walked into the living room. “Snitch,” he said to the cat, who flicked his tail a few times. “What‟s going on?” Jerry took in the open bag on the floor, the bottle of Crown Royal on the coffee table, the way that Flynn was tossing clothes in the bag. Rain lashed at the big bay window, the whole world outside watery and gray. The atmosphere in the room felt very similar to the storm outside. “What does it look like? I‟m outta here. I‟m headed back to Washington.” He threw his track shoes into the bag with unnecessary force and picked up a heavy tumbler from the table, taking a long pull at the amber liquid. Oh shit. “Flynn…,” he began. “Don‟t „Flynn‟ me,” Flynn snapped.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 81 “John,” Jerry said sharply, adding a stern focus automatically before he‟d had time to think about it. “Why are you headed back to Washington? And just how do you plan to get there?” He tried to envision Flynn sitting on a commuter plane for hours without having a meltdown and failed miserably. “I don‟t need your protection!” Flynn set the tumbler down with a thump. He rubbed his forehead briefly. “I‟m beginning to understand why a person would choose the oblivion of alcohol. Not that it‟s working. If anything, it‟s making it worse. Too much bleed-through. Like there‟re bees in the walls.” He paused and then shot Jerry an incredibly sexy glance up from underneath a fringe of hair. A slow smile stole across his face. “Soundproof.” His voice was taunting. “What do you plan to do in Washington? Did something come up?” Save your shit for someone who can be manipulated a little more easily. “Did something come up?” Flynn raised both eyebrows incredulously. “I became telepathic. That‟s what came up. I‟ve got a cold case to go look at.” Oh no. “John, you can‟t, you‟re not ready. You need to stay here and see this one through first. You need to master this skill, learn to control it. You need to know that you can go after a conviction and make it stick before you try to use this gift or whatever you call it to find your sister‟s killer.” “Who said anything about a conviction?” Flynn‟s voice was shuttered and dark, like his face. “Maybe I don‟t need a conviction. Maybe I don‟t want a conviction.” He spat the word.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 82 Yes. Yes, you do. I know you. This isn’t you. You’re the man who needs to bring criminals to justice. Fine. I’ll help you. But we do this within the law because I know, deep down, that’s the way you want it too. Flynn‟s face crumpled, and he sat down heavily on the couch. Jerry cautiously went over to sit down beside him, tucking one leg underneath him so that Jerry could face him. Flynn said nothing for a long while, staring sightlessly at the television screen until he finally reached slowly for the remote and turned it on. A repeat of CSI: Miami was on. Jerry waited until they‟d been watching about five minutes, and then he began to make fun of Horatio Caine in his head. Wait for it, wait for it…. Okay, now he whips off the sunglasses. Now he makes the really pithy one-liner…. Flynn reached out and pushed at his shoulder. Jerry snickered. Oliver jumped up on the couch and grumpily turned in a circle, stomping down the pillow in between them until he settled on it. Jerry wondered how he‟d feel about a kitten. “So, what‟s it like, being gay and in the FBI?” Flynn asked during one of the commercial breaks. “And why men? I mean, what‟s the point?” He sounded genuinely curious, if a little bit buzzed. He looked at the bottle on the table and back at Jerry‟s face. “I really haven‟t had all that much.” Just enough to make you chatty. Jerry thought about Flynn‟s question. “The bureau wasn‟t very receptive to gays prior to the early 1990s,” he said slowly. “A discrimination lawsuit forced the FBI to revamp its stated policy toward homosexuals. We‟re no longer deemed a security threat.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 83 Jerry knew his smile was bitter. “That doesn‟t mean that we‟re treated the same. It is a big boys‟ club after all.” “And girls really don‟t do it for you?” Flynn looked puzzled. He probably got turned on by the sight of a woman‟s breasts, taut nipples peaking at his admiration, the soft curve from waist to her hip, the feel of smooth, silky legs against his skin. Jerry shrugged. How could he explain? He could admire those characteristics in a pretty woman, and yet feel none of the desire for her that the sight of a well-developed bicep could do for him. There was something in the hard planes of another man‟s body, the way the hair tapered down from chest to belly and groin. The strength of male muscles and the way they moved and felt beneath his hands. The scent of masculine skin, the rasp of stubble against his jaw and throat, the way the smooth head of a cock fit perfectly into his mouth. How it felt to fold over a lover‟s back, pushing up against him, lining up his cock with his other hand placed on a strong hip, feeling the perfect tightness as he pushed within…. Flynn dropped his jaw. He‟d been sitting slack on the couch, legs spread open wide. “Okay, TMI, Jer.” He cleared his throat and shifted subtly, hand automatically dropping to his crotch before redirecting to rest on his thigh. His eyes appeared black in the lamplight, and his nostrils flared again. If Jerry wasn‟t mistaken, that was a fairly impressive erection couched in his jeans as well. Something palpable hung in the room between them, and a heated flush appeared across Flynn‟s cheekbones. His fingers flexed slightly on his thigh.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 84 “You asked,” Jerry said, conscious of the little note of smugness in his voice. Though it had been a while since he‟d felt that way about anyone. Well, not counting present company. He wasn‟t the clubbing type; he lived quietly. He just didn‟t meet all that many people outside work, and most of the people he met there were having the worst day of their life by virtue of the fact that he was present. “I see women as victims,” Flynn volunteered suddenly, twitching his shoulders as though forcibly changing the subject. He nodded when Jerry shot a look at him. “Sucks, I know, but I can‟t help it. The vast majority of victims of serial killers are women. I know too much. I see every woman I date as someone at risk. I‟ve been told I‟m… smothering.” “Is that what King meant by that crack about you following her in your car?” Jerry grinned, suddenly picturing how the inspector must have reacted to that. “She was being stupid,” Flynn said with a frown. “She was still taking homicide calls and working like nothing had happened. We had reason to believe that the GFT killer was targeting her, and she was refusing to take it seriously.” Jerry bit back a smile. Flynn leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the glass of whiskey on the table. “I was supposed to be watching her. My sister. The day she disappeared.” Aw, shit. “What happened?” A part of him wanted to reach out and pat him comfortingly on the shoulder, but he knew how well that would be received. “We‟d gone over to a friend‟s house. He had a new Nintendo. She was bored and wanted to go home. I wasn‟t

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 85 ready to leave, and she left without me.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, where he steepled his fingers, tapping his thumbs together several times. “It was three blocks. It was our own neighborhood. We should have been safe. I couldn‟t have been more than ten minutes behind her.” “How old were you?” Jerry asked quietly. “Thirteen.” Flynn shrugged it off. “They searched for seventy-two hours until they found her body in a drainage ditch. We never did get any answers.” “We will,” Jerry promised, feeling a little like Horatio Caine. He smiled when Flynn snorted and flashed him a look of appreciation. “You‟ve got a nice grin,” Flynn said, obviously changing the subject again. He slowly got to his feet, collecting the glass and bottle to take them back to the kitchen. He indicated Jerry‟s face with a wave of the glass. “A little crooked, but nice. You should show it more often.”

IT RAINED all afternoon. Jerry gave up on the idea of cooking anything and ordered delivery pizza for dinner. Flynn had seemed pleased at the idea, which Jerry couldn‟t help resenting just a bit, but Flynn had quickly explained. “Don‟t get me wrong—you‟re a really good cook. But sometimes a guy‟s just gotta have pizza.” He then persisted in giving Oliver little bits of meat off his slices, knowing that it was really pissing Jerry off. He couldn‟t even pretend that he didn‟t know. “You know where to puke,” Jerry said to the cat, indicating Flynn‟s shoes by the door.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 86 Flynn just gave him a cheeky grin. “So, where‟d you learn to cook anyway?” Jerry shrugged. “Mostly by trial and error. Read some books, watched the Food Network, went online. It started out as a means of self-preservation, but then I began to enjoy it.” “And food is like sex, huh?” Flynn said with a sly smile, deliberately rattling the hornet‟s nest again, it would seem. “I think so,” Jerry said thoughtfully, pretending not to see the gloat. “For instance, I‟m a picky eater.” Flynn waggled his eyebrows. Jerry ignored him and spoke with exaggerated patience. “So, when I first started cooking, I left out the ingredients I didn‟t like, and I wondered why nothing tasted right or had any flavor.” Flynn‟s eyes narrowed slightly. Jerry continued, hiding his smirk unsuccessfully. “Then I decided I would try every recipe the way it was written just once. If I didn‟t like it, no big deal. I didn‟t have to try it again. But I discovered that there were some flavors that combined in unexpected ways to produce a really… powerful… result. It‟s all about food chemistry.” “Uh-huh,” Flynn said, sucking the pepperoni grease off his fingers slowly. Jerry was about to put his reaction to this gesture into the soundproof booth when he noted that Flynn was watching him. Caught, Flynn burst out laughing. “Gotcha.” He grinned. You’re playing with fire. You know that, don’t you? The flush that crept up Flynn‟s neck and face suggested that he did, but he couldn‟t resist, just the same. They hung out on the couch and watched football, Flynn professing consternation that Jerry hadn‟t even

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 87 realized that it was the NFL playoff weekend. When it was over, Jerry called the emergency vet clinic. The vet couldn‟t come to the phone, but the tech had a few words of encouragement. “Well, she‟s come around a bit, but she‟s still pretty subdued. Too soon yet to tell how she‟s going to do. You should call back in the morning. What are you going to call her?” Jerry blanked on what to name the kitten; he hadn‟t thought that far ahead. “Call her Phoenix,” Flynn said abruptly from his side of the couch. “Oh, man, that‟s perfect. Phoenix,” he told the tech with delight. “Her name is Phoenix.” The tech seemed to like it as well. Flynn seemed restless and edgy after that. Jerry thought briefly of the sorts of things he‟d do on a Saturday evening if he were alone, but none of them had any great appeal with Flynn in the apartment. He couldn‟t see himself practicing the Chopin sonata or doing Sudoku. “You play?” Flynn said, wandering over to the piano at his thought, which was really annoying. “Sorry.” He shrugged when he sat down at the keyboard, glancing at the sheet music. “No, I just keep the keyboard because I‟m a pretentious bastard,” Jerry said, nettled. Oh, yeah, right, like you play. He couldn‟t help the feeling of superiority, and he wasn‟t very much inclined to hide it either. Flynn raised an eyebrow at him from over the keyboard and began to play a laborious version of Heart and Soul. Ha,

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 88 he knew it. It was marginally better than Chopsticks. Flynn smiled wickedly without looking up and suddenly segued into Schroeder‟s song from A Charlie Brown Christmas. Jerry sat up straighter on the couch, looking over the back of it toward the piano. Flynn was getting into it, his hands moving authoritatively over the keyboard as he entered the dramatic riff and then settling back down playfully to the opening cords again. Jerry had a momentary flash of picturing those hands on his body, moving with the same confidence and assurance, and there was suddenly a discordant sound as Flynn‟s fingers fumbled. Flynn broke down with a laugh that quickly turned into a cough. When he looked up, his eyes were bright with merriment but something else as well, a spark of something warmer. His mouth twitched, and his amusement died down as though someone had thrown a bucket of water on it. Jerry thought he looked suddenly embarrassed. Flynn stood up abruptly and indicated the piano. “Why don‟t you play something?” Jerry recognized the challenge for what it was. He moved over to the keyboard, sliding onto the bench still warm from where Flynn had been sitting a moment before. What to play? He reached for the keyboard, the song coming to him without further hesitation. Soft and sweet, the opening bars of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini filled the room. He lost himself in the music, letting it rise to its loving climax and then drift hauntingly into the opening refrain again. Flynn was standing by the window as Jerry lifted his hands from the keyboard. His eyes were dark, his expression hooded. “That was nice,” he said abruptly.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 89 Rhapsody was a lot of things, but “nice” wasn‟t the word that came to mind. “I thought you‟d like it,” he said in a superior tone. “It‟s short.” “Oh, good one, Watson,” Flynn said in a hopelessly bad English accent. Jerry stuck out his tongue. Flynn looked back out the window at the rain-drenched streets again, a small smile playing at his lips. Sensing somehow that the show was over, Jerry yawned exaggeratedly and went over to the bookshelf to select a novel, intent on reading for a while to give the two of them a break from each other. Even that option seemed like a land mine of choices until Flynn finally turned from the window and snapped, “For chrissakes, just pick something. I need to work on screening you out anyway.” Touchy, touchy, Jerry thought at Flynn, tossing one hand up so that it appeared he was avoiding contact with something. He settled into the big easy chair with his book. “Are you trying to be funny?” Flynn glared at him, pointing out the book he‟d chosen. Jerry looked down at the battered copy of Smokescreen by Dick Francis and laughed. “No, not intentionally anyway.” Mollified, Flynn poked around through Jerry‟s shelves until he pulled down a copy of The Hobbit and retired to the couch. Dick Francis suited Jerry‟s mood, and he greeted the novel like the old friend that it was. People might complain that the protagonist‟s voice was the same from book to book, but Jerry liked that voice, and he didn‟t mind. Each story contained a cleverly worked out con that the protagonist had

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 90 to uncover and defeat. It usually ended with a scene of heroic physical fortitude that Jerry admired, in the manner of someone who would never have to do anything like that. “Can we do without the book review?” Flynn asked irritably from the couch. Jerry mentally flipped him the bird. Soon he was deep within the world of movie-making and South African gold mines and the mystery of the racehorses that were not performing as well as their pedigrees indicated they should. The book was so familiar, however, that when the words began to swim on the page, he was unable to stay awake. When Jerry woke from his doze, he saw that Flynn had fallen asleep on the couch as well. Oliver was curled up next to him; The Hobbit had dropped to the floor. He thought about waking him and opening up the couch properly into the bed, but then settled for just covering him with a blanket. It was after midnight by his watch, and it had been a long day. Best to let him sleep. Jerry unfolded the spare blanket that Flynn had been using and draped it across him as he slept. As he did so, he was struck by the realization that Flynn was quite simply one of the most beautiful people he‟d ever seen. And not beautiful in the pretty-boy gay scene of San Francisco, where its members dieted and worked out in the gym obsessively all week long so as to be hot tickets on the club scene every weekend. Jerry had never felt like he‟d fit in with that lifestyle and had dropped it once he joined the bureau. No, Flynn was gorgeous, all right, but his was a lived-in sort of beauty that seemed somehow all the more real for the fact. No one looking at Flynn could deny his masculinity. It was there in the shadow of a beard along his mouth and jaw,

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 91 no matter how recently he‟d shaved, and in the lines of his face and the prominence of his Adam‟s apple. His jaw was strong, with none of the signs of softening that came with middle age. His profile was the very essence of everything male, but it was strangely beautiful all the same. His lips were unexpected, though. He had a full lower lip that was astonishingly generous for a man, the kind that would rapidly become swollen with kissing, the kind that begged to be sucked on. Flynn twitched in his sleep, making a face and brushing at his nose as though waving away a fly. Jerry sighed and tucked the blanket around his shoulder.

WHEN Jerry entered the living room the following morning, Flynn was gone. He had a bad moment when he thought maybe Flynn had packed and attempted to go back to Washington after all, but a glance at the foot of the couch revealed that his bag was still there. It took just a matter of seconds to realize that he‟d gone out running. His initial reaction was one of anger and concern. How like Flynn, he thought, to decide to test his ability to deal with the telepathy by himself, without warning Jerry. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it only made sense to make that sort of dry run today, as opposed to tomorrow at the bureau, when Jerry couldn‟t reasonably be expected to babysit him every second of the day. At least, not without giving the show away. To be fair, he probably would have protested. Flynn had to have known this and opted to take the whole thing out of Jerry‟s hands.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 92 On a smaller note, he couldn‟t help but be a tiny bit relieved. He was the sort of person who needed a certain amount of downtime every day. Having Flynn living with him had been wearing enough before he‟d become telepathic. Having to screen his thoughts and block Flynn from the random, meaningless things that ran through his mind was simply exhausting. He started the coffeemaker and checked his cell for messages. Outside, it was still dreary and drizzling. He frowned when he noted that things were out of order on his desk again. This time it was the word-of-the-day calendar that was askew. He was just getting ready to blame Oliver, for sure this time, when he noted that his stamp dispenser was upside down. Flynn. Wise guy. He must think he’s being funny. Jerry quickly rearranged everything to its proper setting, planning in his head the ticking-off he‟d give Flynn on his return. As he was checking to see if anything else was displaced, it occurred to him that this little act of misplaced humor might be Flynn‟s way of trying to show he was still in control of the situation. There had to be a better way of getting back at him than merely yelling at him. He just needed to give his retribution a little more thought. He pulled open the blind, scanning the street below, as though he might see Flynn headed back to the building. When he saw nothing more than the damp, empty sidewalks, he began to hum a sprightly tune as he headed into the shower. It wasn‟t until he entered the bathroom that he realized it was Schroeder‟s song. He‟d washed his hair and was starting to soap his chest when it occurred to him that he hadn‟t had any alone time

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 93 since Flynn had been in the apartment. And there was no telling how long he planned to stay. As a matter of fact, this opportunity right now was the best one he was likely to have in the near future, provided he was quick about it. His dick seemed to like that idea, and he turned so that the spray was pounding his back and shoulders. He poured out a little more of the shower gel into his hands, smoothing one palm slowly over his chest and belly as he took himself in hand with the other, giving himself long, lathery pulls that had him tipping his head back slightly and starting to rock his pelvis forward. God, that was good. He circled and pinched a nipple with soapy fingers, squeezing his cock rhythmically with the other hand, the heat and the steam only heightening the experience. The slide of slick hands over his skin took him back to the last time he‟d had shower sex. Derek used to love shower sex. He quickly shut out the remembrance of just how long ago that had been, concentrating instead on remembering the smooth animal feel of wet muscle beneath his hands and the way Derek had smelled and tasted, there against the shower wall. Derek‟s hands had been plastered on the tile by either side of his head. Jerry remembered biting down on the tendons of his neck, licking up the beads of water there, and smiling when Derek had turned to look at him, the water soaking his lashes, making them dark. Derek had pushed back into Jerry‟s hands, groaning when Jerry had rubbed his cock along Derek‟s crack. Eager, he‟d still been eager then, and Jerry had fingered him as he moaned and begged for it, all the while Jerry pressed up against him and told him exactly what he was planning to do. The spray of the

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 94 shower had dampened his words; he‟d had to put his lips to Derek‟s ear to be heard. Jerry stepped out of the spray to place a hand on the wall for support as he leaned over and got down to business, his soapy hand sliding rapidly up and down his cock. He dropped his head to watch his hand, trying to shut out the memory of how things had ended between them, trying to dredge up phantom Derek for the shower again. His mind betrayed him, taking him to the night when he‟d stopped by the gallery unexpectedly to bring Derek some takeout Thai and had discovered Derek doing one of the local artists over his desk in his office. The sight of Derek snapping his exquisitely tanned hips forward as he pumped himself into the young man, his pants around his ankles, stapler and pencils scattered on the floor, was something that Jerry would never forget. Come on, he told himself, conscious that his orgasm was threatening to slip away from him. He picked up the pace, fisting himself furiously as he felt the tension build in his body without coming forward for release. Come on. His mind suddenly supplied him with the image of Flynn walking back to the couch, dressed only in his underwear, the unexpected perfection of his ass that had been hidden by his clothes before. And, too, the way he‟d looked that first morning right out of the shower, skin still damp, all long lines and angles and wild, dark hair. Jerry remembered the way that he‟d smelled, his scent accentuated by the heat of his damp skin, tangy and sharp, no doubt from some metrosexual cologne, like Aramis. Just like that, he was suddenly coming, his cock pulsing out over his fist as he went with it and let it course through him.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 95 He let the water wash him clean as he stood in the billowing steam. He felt a little light-headed and realized that he‟d feel pretty foolish if he passed out in the shower. Come to think of it, that was one of the main reasons he‟d stopped having shower sex. Some small sound caught his attention, and he wiped the water out of his eyes, pulling the curtain aside to look out. Flynn was standing there, looking back at him. His hair was wet and sitting up in spikes, as if he‟d shaken the water off of him like a dog before entering the apartment. His Tshirt was damp enough that it was clinging to his skin. There was no mistaking the way his package filled out the front of his running shorts. His mouth had fallen open, lips swollen as though he‟d been biting them, his eyes nearly black, his pupils were so large. “Jesus Christ!” Jerry exploded, staggering backward and almost losing his balance. He lunged forward again, hands flailing as he pulled the shower curtain shut with such force that the rings vibrated on the rod. “A little privacy, will ya?” he shouted, his face and neck flushing with embarrassment and not the heat of the shower. “Sorry! Sorry!” he heard Flynn say over the sound of the water. But he didn‟t move. He didn‟t leave. “You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!” Jerry shouted again. Idiot, he thought loudly in Flynn‟s direction. You scared me half to death. I feel like fucking Janet Leigh in the shower scene. Through the curtain he could see Flynn slowly turn and leave the room. Flynn was on the phone when Jerry, now fully clothed, came into the living room. He cast a glance in Jerry‟s

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 96 direction, and from where he stood, Jerry thought his ear tips looked red. It made Jerry mentally pause. At what point had Flynn entered the bathroom? He quickly stuffed the subject into the soundproof booth and headed straight for the coffee. “That was the vet,” Flynn said from the kitchen doorway. “The kitten‟s looking good. She‟s up and eating. They‟re going to discharge her this afternoon.” “Huh,” Jerry said, glancing at Oliver, who sat at Flynn‟s feet, looking up at him adoringly. That meant a second litter box and some kitten food. It looked like a trip to the store was in order. He‟d probably have to isolate her to the bathroom for a few days as well. “Um, I was thinking maybe I should find a place to stay,” Flynn said slowly. “Don‟t be an ass,” Jerry said without thinking. “You‟re not ready yet.” Unless…. Oh. Maybe he had come in when Jerry was picturing…. Jerry felt his face flame. Oh, wow. That would be totally embarrassing. Maybe Flynn was uncomfortable being around him now. Flynn cleared his throat. “I just, you know, don‟t want to cramp your style or anything.” You’re safe with me. It wasn‟t what he‟d been about to say, and he was aware as soon as he thought it, there were all kinds of subtexts to it that hadn‟t really occurred to him before the sentiment had popped into his head, but there it was. “I know that,” Flynn said sharply, frowning. “I just…. Look, Jerry. You‟ve gone out of your way to look out for me here. I appreciate it. And I know you wouldn‟t….” He trailed

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 97 off, looking a little embarrassed. “Look, the point is, I think maybe I‟ve imposed enough, okay? That‟s all.” “You‟re not imposing,” Jerry said. “And as long as you‟re comfortable….” “I am. It‟s fine. There‟s no problem,” Flynn said hastily. “Okay, then. Fine.” “Fine.” There was a pause. “I‟m just going to….” Flynn made a vague motion over his shoulder. “You know. Get a towel. Dry off.” “Okay.” Flynn headed toward the bathroom. “Hey!” His voice drifted back to Jerry. “What‟s for breakfast?” Jerry smiled into his coffee.

THE day passed quietly. They decided that a trip to the store was a good challenge for Flynn, and he accompanied Jerry as he wandered the aisles of the pet store, selecting the things he needed for the kitten. Flynn, looking broodingly handsome in a black turtleneck and jeans, was a little withdrawn but seemed otherwise okay. Jerry caught him smiling inexplicably while they were deciding on what kind of kitten food to buy. When Jerry looked down the aisle, he saw a young couple with a little girl and a black lab puppy on a leash. The girl had paused to lift the puppy up enough to plant a tender kiss on its fuzzy head, though the pup was almost too big for her to handle. He dangled in her arms, wiggling as he tried to lick her face, all big feet and pale,

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 98 round belly. Jerry found himself sharing a goofy smile with Flynn and being fiercely glad that not all his telepathic experiences were bad ones. “Thanks,” Flynn said. “For what?” Jerry replied. We’re guys. We don’t do mushy, he reminded Flynn, eliciting a snort. Jerry had arranged things so that they could go back to the apartment and Flynn could decompress, if needed, before they headed back over to the vet clinic. “You don‟t have to come, you know,” Jerry said when it was time to go pick up Phoenix. Flynn was ensconced on the couch, watching a soccer match. “No, it‟ll be good for me. It‟s not like I can take these kinds of breaks tomorrow.” He switched off the television. “I‟ve been thinking about that.” Jerry went to his desk drawer and pulled out an iPod and ear buds. He handed it them to Flynn. “I thought maybe music would serve to drown out people‟s thoughts. You can‟t wear the iPod all day, but maybe if you needed to take a break? Of course, you can download music that you‟d prefer to listen to. You don‟t need to listen to my stuff.” Flynn fingered the light-green metal casing. “Thanks. That‟s a good idea.” He fixed Jerry with an unreadable look. “I appreciate what you‟ve been doing for me these last couple of days.” Jerry waved him off with a dismissive noise. “Soundproof,” Flynn smirked as he placed the headphones on. He wore them all the way to the vet clinic.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 99 There at the clinic, they were met by the tech, who went over the discharge instructions with Jerry, and he paid his bill. It was significantly less than he‟d been expecting. “I didn‟t know there was such a thing as kitty AIDS,” Flynn said while they were waiting for the tech to return with the kitten. “Yes. That and feline leukemia. They‟re pretty common viruses. Cats get them by fighting and breeding or being born to positive mothers. It‟s a good thing they tested her. Now I can safely introduce her to Oliver at some point.” The tech came back with a cardboard carrier and a plastic bag. “I‟m afraid your jacket is ruined,” she said, handing both items over. Like the pants, Jerry thought with a little sigh and let it go. At least the kitten had made it, though he had doubts about a second cat with Oliver. What if he tried to kill the kitten? And did two cats make him some sort of weird gay caricature? “You worry too much,” Flynn told him as they were leaving the clinic. Inside the car, Flynn opened the carrier. “Don‟t let her out!” Jerry scolded. “She‟s safer in the box.” “I just want to see it,” Flynn said reasonably. “You spent all that money. At the very least you should see what you got for it.” He reached into the box and lifted out the kitten, setting it down on his lap. The little orange-and-white ball of fluff looked up at him and opened her mouth. Nothing came out but a silent meow. Flynn seemed a bit staggered as he stared down at the

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 100 kitten. She suddenly swarmed up his chest and got right up in his face. Jerry could hear her purr from his side of the car. “Oh, wow,” Flynn said quietly and then shot a desperate sort of look at Jerry. “What‟s wrong?” Jerry glanced quickly at the two of them and then back at the road. No longer soaked in gasoline, the little kitten was fluffier than expected, with long tufts of hair coming out of each ear like a miniature bobcat. She stood just below Flynn‟s chin and kneaded his chest briefly, settling down to look up at him with an adoring expression. “She loves me,” Flynn said. He seemed dumbfounded by it. Well, who wouldn’t? He stole a little glance at Flynn and then stuffed his amusement and commiseration down into the soundproof booth. “Looks like you‟ve got yourself a kitten, then,” he said. “I can‟t have a cat,” Flynn said, pushing the kitten down out of his face. She crawled back up again, head bobbing as she sniffed his chin enthusiastically. “I travel too much.” “Yeah, well, good luck with that. Cats don‟t ask your permission first when they choose you.” Flynn looked faintly alarmed. Back at the apartment, Flynn didn‟t want to isolate the kitten to the bathroom as Jerry had planned. “She‟ll be fine,” he said. “Oliver will be cool. You‟ll see.” Jerry bit back his concerns regarding the possibility of Oliver hurting the kitten or the kitten breaking with an upper respiratory infection that she might have picked up at

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 101 the vet clinic and let Flynn deal with his silent disapproval. Well, he‟d learn the hard way what it meant to be a pet owner. Oliver, however, took one look at the kitten and immediately pinned her down, washing her thoroughly. He acted as if he‟d been waiting for a kitten his whole life, and it made Jerry feel guilty. The poor cat was lonely. It made him wonder what would happen when Flynn finally left. That was another topic for the booth, and Jerry was really starting to get tired of having to police his own thoughts. Funny, he‟d never really noticed his thoughts in general before. It was exhausting, trying to keep the random thoughts from embarrassing him. Phoenix accepted Oliver‟s worship as her due and settled in on the couch for a long nap with him. Jerry never would have predicted that behavior from either cat, given the circumstances. Flynn joined them shortly afterward, and Jerry was conscious of the lines of weariness on his face as he slept. He didn‟t nap long, and when he awoke, he wanted to go back out again. “Let‟s go out to eat tonight,” Flynn suggested as Jerry was prowling around in the kitchen, trying to decide what to make for dinner. The plan had appeal, since Jerry didn‟t feel much like cooking, though he bitched about the cost just the same. Maybe Flynn would take the hint and start chipping in toward expenses at the apartment. Besides, he hated paying more for food he could have made just as well, if not better, at home. “I‟m not going to offer to pay for your share,” Flynn said loftily, tapping the side of his skull. “I‟m not going to reward

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 102 you for thinking what you want from me instead of telling me straight-up.” Think this, Jerry directed his thought with a grimace, mentally flipping Flynn the bird. It felt good to hear Flynn laugh, and he joined in with a chuckle as well. They ended up at a cheap little Italian place, fragrant with the smell of warm garlic bread. Flynn pointed out a couple by the window and said that the man planned to propose before the evening was out. He then went out of his way to be charming and delightful to the waitress, explaining to Jerry during her absence that her mother was in the hospital, dying of cancer. Jerry ended up ordering dessert, despite knowing that it would be too much for him to eat. It was a rare indulgence, but the restaurant made a sensuous chocolate torte with a raspberry sorbet that he couldn‟t resist. He asked for two spoons when he placed the order. “I‟m not having any.” Flynn raised an eyebrow at him when the waitress had left. Jerry rolled his eyes. “A couple of spoonfuls won‟t kill you.” Self-denial won’t absolve you of all your sins either. Flynn‟s eyes widened as though he‟d been slapped. Jerry shrugged. When the waitress returned with the dessert, Jerry helped himself to a big spoonful, making sure he got the decadent torte and the sorbet both in the same mouthful. He closed his eyes briefly in bliss as he took in the spoonful and swallowed. He opened his eyes to find Flynn watching him with an odd expression.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 103 “Here,” he said, taking up the other spoon and using it to cut a chunk of torte. “Try this.” Flynn took the spoon into his mouth, and Jerry tried not to think about the way his lips closed over the dessert. A faint flush appeared on Flynn‟s cheekbones, and then he wrinkled his nose. “As I expected. Too rich. Too sweet.” Jerry retrieved the spoon from Flynn‟s hand and doled out another bite, this time adding some sorbet as well. Flynn took it from him with a resigned expression. Jerry watched with satisfaction as Flynn‟s face registered surprise. He nodded as he licked the spoon. “Okay, you‟re right,” Flynn said. “Food chemistry. I get it.” He reached out to take another spoonful. He took his time with it, obviously letting the flavors mingle in his mouth, savoring them before swallowing. Jerry found himself wondering what Flynn would be like in bed. Would he hold back, reluctant to experience everything that could be his for the taking? Or would he let himself go, freely taking in the sensuality of the moment? “I‟ve never had any complaints,” Flynn said, in a voice both slightly smug and annoyed. “For a telepath, you are so missing the point,” Jerry said tartly. Any thoughts of introducing Flynn to the delights of simply allowing someone else to bring physical pleasure to his body were quickly relegated to the soundproof booth. “Unspeakable words,” Flynn said, seemingly out of nowhere, as they were lingering over coffee. Jerry glanced over in his direction, fascinated by the way Flynn‟s long fingers curled around the sturdy white mug.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 104 Flynn flicked his gaze up at Jerry briefly, a tight smile on his face, before staring down into the depths of his coffee mug. “Second Corinthians, verse 12:42. „How that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter.‟ That‟s me, you know.” Flynn‟s gaze was suddenly on him again, bright and piercing. “And the only reason I know the damn quote is because you know it.” Jerry didn‟t know what to say to that. On the way back, Jerry, full of pasta and merlot, suggested taking in a movie, but Flynn opted out, pleading tiredness. Jerry felt momentarily guilty for forgetting that Flynn was still adapting to his newfound talents, but the push on his shoulder told him that Flynn didn‟t mind. They ended up back at the apartment, where Flynn wanted to talk about the plans for the next day and who they‟d interview. They were on the couch, files scattered between them, when Phoenix landed in the middle of the papers and began to bat at them. Flynn scooped her up one-handed as he rescued the files. “Rotten cat,” he said as he set her down on the floor. “No wonder they wanted to torch you.” Jerry reached out and smacked him on the back of the head. “That‟s horrible.” He grinned. Flynn was grinning back when his expression slowly changed. Gone was the easy smile that had been there a moment before. He looked suddenly uncertain, and a small furrow appeared between his eyes as his lips parted. “What is it?” Jerry frowned. “Nothing.” Flynn blinked and cleared his throat. Phoenix bounced back into his lap, and he gave the cat a half smile,

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 105 scratching around her face until she closed her eyes in a blissful purr. “Animals are so simple compared to people. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Mate.” He sighed, shifting abruptly. “It‟s getting late. We‟ve got an early start tomorrow. We should call it a night.” Jerry nodded. It was likely to be an emotionally challenging day for Flynn as well. The least he could do was give Flynn a little breathing room tonight. He collected Smokescreen, said his good-nights, and retired to his bedroom as Flynn slipped the iPod earbuds over his head. Oliver, he noted, stayed behind. The cat wasn‟t the only one who‟d miss the company when he was gone.

FLYNN, unshaven and dressed in a T-shirt and briefs, looked out of his depth when faced with a hungry kitten that had seemingly found her vocal cords overnight. The strength and pitch of her caterwauling was certainly distressing to hear. Jerry took pity on him and helped him feed the cats, even as his helplessness was amusing. “Feed me,” Flynn said in an imperious manner as he watched the cats insinuating themselves in between Jerry‟s legs in the kitchen. He indicated Phoenix, whose meowing had increased sharply. “Feed me now. I‟m starving to death. I might die before you open that can. Don‟t mock me, for I have sharp teeth, and I am very fierce. “You laugh, human,” he continued in a deeper tone, eyes in half-slits. He looked remarkably like Oliver at that

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 106 moment. “We tolerate you in our home merely because you have opposable thumbs and can open the cans.” “And you‟re warm,” he piped up in a smaller voice, stretching out the word “warm” into almost two syllables. “You‟re warm and you‟re fuzzy, and you‟re good to sleep next to.” I’ll just bet you are, Jerry thought and grinned evilly at Flynn when he flushed. Jerry was laughing as he placed the food bowls on the mat. Phoenix launched face first into her dish and began to wolf down her food. Oliver tackled his food with the attitude of someone who thought he‟d better eat his breakfast now before he had to defend it. “She wants to sleep under the covers,” Flynn said as he watched the small kitten eat voraciously. “Is that normal?” “It‟s a bit unusual,” Jerry conceded. “I‟m afraid I‟ll squish her.” He had the look of someone who hadn‟t slept very well the night before. He looks freaking adorable. Jerry slam-dunked the thought into the soundproof booth and hurried to his bedroom to get ready for work. Later, dressed for work in his suit and tie, Flynn projected an air of cool invulnerability that made him almost unrecognizable as the guy who‟d had been hanging out in Jerry‟s apartment all week. As he acknowledged this, Jerry realized that this was probably how Flynn dealt with the stresses of the job, even before the telepathy thing. Flynn shot him a wry little half smile as they made their way to the car.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 107 On the street outside the building, they ran into Amy. The Chihuahua was lifting his leg against a spindly tree along the sidewalk. “Yo, Spike,” Flynn said to the dog, his hand doing a roll and slide as he spoke. “How‟s it hangin‟?” For an answer, the dog barked once and scuffed his rear feet vigorously against the pavement. Amy giggled. “So far, no accidents in the house, though I worry about him getting cold without a sweater.” “Nah.” Flynn reassured her over his shoulder as they continued toward the parking garage. “It‟s mild out, and he‟s tough.” I see you with your own show on the Discovery Channel. Or maybe the Psychic Friends Network. Flynn just rolled his eyes. At the field office, Jerry himself was almost overwhelmed by the noise and bustle as they entered through the glass doors. “Give me a second to check in, and then we can head to the museum.” Remember, if it gets to be too much, either listen for me or put on the iPod. Flynn nodded with more confidence than he could possibly feel. They‟d decided on interviewing the witnesses in their own environments, rather than asking them to come back to the bureau again. Flynn thought they‟d be more likely to let their thoughts stray and give them away. A few minutes turned into twenty before they were able to leave. Jerry had a few requests for information and file transfers he‟d had to process, and Harding had stopped him, wanting to know the current status of the case. Jerry took a

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 108 few minutes as well to start the ball rolling on the man from the queue, placing a call to the police department and firing off an e-mail to the shelter. Flynn, though quiet, seemed to be handling the situation without too much difficulty. Jerry was relieved, though, when they were able to leave without incident. When he went to collect Flynn, he was sitting at Jerry‟s desk, listening to the iPod, reading over the crimescene report and eating macadamia nuts. “Where‟d you get those?” Jerry frowned. Flynn just grinned at him as he turned off the music, pulled off the earbuds, and replaced the jar in Jerry‟s desk. They rode down in the elevator with Fielding, who tried to pick Jerry‟s brain without appearing to do so, and Jerry was amused by his antics. Flynn, however, was smoldering quietly in the corner of the elevator by the time the doors opened. “Oh, come on,” Jerry said as they got into the car. “I know Fielding doesn‟t like me and would like to make me look bad. There‟s nothing new there.” “Fielding doesn‟t simply dislike you,” Flynn said sharply. “Seriously, you watch your back around him. He has a thing about faggots.” The way he said the word, it was clear the emphasis was Fielding‟s, not his. Startled, Jerry shot him a look. Flynn‟s face was grim as he stared out the window of the car. The museum interviews proved to be a bust. They‟d spent most of the morning covering old territory. “Anything?” Jerry asked when they broke for lunch. They were eating sandwiches in the warm sunshine outside a small deli.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 109 “Oh yes,” Flynn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Too much, in fact. The new curator thinks this is her chance to finally put the Weir on the map. The security guard is afraid he‟ll lose his job because we got in through the back door, though he‟s almost certain that he locked it that night. The woman from art restoration thinks someone has been borrowing her things without permission, and the information lady thinks she can get a better job somewhere else where people aren‟t stupid enough to get murdered. And everyone seems to think I‟m gorgeous.” “What?” Jerry choked on his drink at the last bit, narrowly avoiding spraying Flynn. Flynn looked morose. “Yes. Everyone. It was even worse at the bureau. I seem to be everyone‟s favorite fantasy.” Jerry felt his face turn red. “You know,” Flynn said casually as he balled up his sandwich paper and bounced it off the rim of the trashcan for two points, “sometimes the very fact that you‟re thinking „soundproof‟ is a dead giveaway.” Jerry opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. “Oh, relax,” Flynn said, standing up. “It‟s just weird, you know? The idea that people who don‟t even know me are picturing…. Well, you know. Okay. So much for Marsden‟s coworkers. Now, let‟s move on to the family.” After they‟d spoken with Marsden‟s mother and her boyfriend, Flynn looked drained. “Need a break?” Jerry suggested as they returned to the car.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 110 Flynn shook his head slowly. “Though they didn‟t say anything, both Mrs. Marsden and the boyfriend immediately thought of Marsden‟s ex-boyfriend when you asked if there was anyone in her past that she might have had trouble with or was afraid of. I think we should go see this guy. Neither one wanted to bring the ex into it, though. Apparently she stopped seeing him over a year ago.” “Huh,” Jerry said. “Why the heck didn‟t they bring that up before? Did you get a name?” “Michael DeShano. He‟s with a gallery downtown in the art district. Near Geary Street.” “There‟s a lot of galleries near Geary Street,” Jerry said. “Do you know which one?” Flynn shook his head. Great. They could always go back and ask. It would save them time. “And potentially tip our hand,” Flynn vetoed the plan without discussion. “We should be able to locate him without too much difficulty. If not, we can always head back to the bureau and do a search for him.”

“PEOPLE don‟t really buy this kind of shit, do they?” Flynn said as they left the third gallery they tried. The paintings on the walls were the kind of modernist work that Jerry didn‟t really see the value in himself. If someone was going to put all that work into a painting, then he‟d at least like it to look like something recognizable. “Exactly,” Flynn said as though he‟d spoken. “I‟ve seen more impressive works produced by a friend‟s third-grade

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 111 daughter. You seem to know a lot about art and this area, though.” “I used to spend a lot of time down here,” Jerry said repressively. “Okay, I get it,” Flynn said, throwing up his hands as though warding a blow. “Soundproof.” At the fifth gallery, they‟d heard of Michael DeShano. “Oh no, darling,” said a woman dressed in black, with black lipstick and bright-red earrings. “He‟s not with us anymore. You want the Crenshaw gallery.” She gave them directions. “We can walk from here,” Jerry said when they reached the street. “She didn‟t like DeShano either,” Flynn said. “He gave her the creeps.” “He gave Morticia the creeps?” Jerry snorted. “He must be one bad dude.” “Being creepy doesn‟t automatically make you a murderer,” Flynn said. “But I think most women have a better instinct for that sort of thing than they give themselves credit for.” “You think?” Jerry snorted. “Seems to me I‟m always hearing some woman saying, after the fact, how she always knew there was something wrong with that man.” Jerry did his impression of an all-knowing woman, realizing belatedly that he‟d imitated Brenda Leigh. “Yeah, there‟s that,” Flynn agreed with a smirk, acknowledging both the truth of the statement and the source material as well. “But I‟m talking about the woman who instinctively is made uncomfortable by a person or a

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 112 situation, even if she can‟t put her finger on it. And I have to wonder if that isn‟t what happened to Emily Marsden.” “Over a year later?” Jerry let his skepticism show. “Hmm, good point,” Flynn conceded. “Still, maybe she ran into him again and something about the meeting rang alarm bells for her.” “Jerry!” The voice caught him off guard. Jerry broke off from his conversation with Flynn to see Derek standing on the sidewalk in front of him. Jesus. Talk about running into your ex. He was wearing a brown blazer over a tan turtleneck, a brightly colored scarf carelessly thrown around his neck. Jerry had a momentary spurt of irritation for the affectation and then felt his heart sink. There was no way he could avoid speaking to him without looking churlish, and he didn‟t want to give Derek that satisfaction. “What are you doing down here?” Derek was coy as he raised an eyebrow in Flynn‟s direction, giving him the onceover. “Aren‟t you going to introduce me to your friend?” His blond hair was overly long and curling at the collar, and Jerry was secretly amused that it appeared to be getting thin on top. He had creases at the corners of his eyes as well. Too much time in the tanning booth, no doubt. Derek must be having a cow over that, he thought evilly. It must be harder now to catch the attention of some sweet, young ass, unless they were desperate for a sugar daddy. “Derek Collins,” he said smoothly, “my partner, John Flynn. We‟re here on business, Derek.” John, this is the guy that I thought I loved once. Boy, was I an idiot.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 113 “Partner?” Derek said sharply, glancing swiftly at Jerry‟s left hand and then giving a little laugh. “Oh, partner,” he repeated without explanation, shooting a sly smirk at Flynn. Beside him, Flynn seemed rigid with tension, like a dog with his hackles up. Relax. Gayness isn’t catching. Flynn gave him a wounded look, and Jerry felt ashamed when he realized that Flynn was pissed off on his behalf. That was just…. Wow. Warmth suddenly flooded him, and he was both embarrassed and comforted at the same time. Inexplicably, Flynn‟s face relaxed, and a lazy smile appeared. “Yes, partner.” He practically purred as he placed a hand on Jerry‟s arm. “Come on, Jer. We don‟t want to be late for that interview.” “What was that about?” Jerry hissed as Flynn led him away. “That asshole,” Flynn growled. “I can‟t believe he cheated on you with a twinkie.” Jerry stumbled, began to laugh, and quickly glanced back over his shoulder, where he saw Derek looking at the two of them speculatively. He laughed even harder and clapped Flynn on the back. “It‟s „twink‟ if you really want to be cool,” he said. “Asshole,” Flynn repeated for good measure, sounding pissed off again. “I wanted to punch him, but then I realized what would really jerk his chain.” He looked pleased with himself. “You‟re an idiot,” Jerry said with amusement. “A nice one, but an idiot all the same.” It’ll be all over town by this evening that I have a hot boyfriend. He shot a sharp look at

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 114 Flynn to check his reaction, but he merely raised an eyebrow. “Come on,” Jerry sighed, not knowing what to make of the gesture, “we‟ve got work to do.”

THEY managed to track down Michael DeShano to his office in the Crenshaw, part of a larger complex that housed several small art galleries. Jerry noted that it wasn‟t all that far from the Weir by foot, and he and Flynn exchanged a significant glance as they were escorted into the office upstairs. As usual now, Jerry took the lead, freeing Flynn to concentrate on the speaker‟s thoughts. “Mr. DeShano?” he asked by way of introduction when the receptionist had left them. “I‟m Special Agent Parker. This is Special Agent Flynn. We‟d like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Emily Marsden.” “Special agents? My, my, this is an honor. How can I help you gentlemen?” He had the same smarmy don‟t-wantto-look-my-age appearance of Derek. That, coupled with his attitude, made Jerry prepared to dislike him on sight. His hair was unnaturally dark and, like Derek‟s, overly long at the collar. He was wearing an expensive black silk shirt that was thin enough to reveal his nipples, and it delineated muscles that could only be maintained through an aggressive gym workout. His hair was slicked back off his forehead in a fashion reminiscent of Tom Hanks in those da Vinci movies. Flynn looked ten times hotter than he did without trying.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 115 Flynn kicked his shin as they were taking seats in the chairs provided. Oops. He should have soundproofed that one. “As you may well know, Ms. Marsden was murdered last week,” Jerry opened without preamble. DeShano steepled his fingers on top of his desk and looked serious. “Ah, yes. I did see that in the news. Very tragic. She was a lovely woman. How exactly does this concern the FBI? Or, for that matter, me?” Pity you’re so broken up over her death. “We‟re talking to everyone who had a connection, past or present, to Ms. Marsden. Prior to her homicide, she‟d been in contact with the bureau regarding the Grimm Fairy Tale killer case. Are you familiar with that case, Mr. DeShano?” DeShano blew out his breath with pursed lips. “Oh my. I take it you didn‟t get a chance to speak with her about that before her death. That‟s a pity. I think you would have found that Emily spent a great deal of time obsessing about that case. She was overly concerned for her safety, and I can tell you that, during the time we were dating, she thought more than once that someone she knew must have been connected with the case. Really, she wasn‟t quite rational on the subject.” DeShano smiled, making a palms-up kind of gesture that seemed to imply “women.” “And yet,” Flynn said, “she was obviously right to be concerned. She did indeed know a killer.” DeShano blinked and seemed to take in Flynn for the first time. “Ah, well, yes. Put it that way, it‟s very ironic indeed.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 116 “When was the last time you saw Ms. Marsden?” Jerry asked. “You can‟t really believe that I had anything to do with her death, can you?” DeShano asked with gentle disbelief. “Really, we broke up over a year ago.” “That‟s not what he asked,” Flynn said smoothly. There was a little pregnant pause. DeShano sighed. “I‟m not sure when I last ran into her. You know how that goes. We worked in the same district, we moved in the same circles, we still had some of the same friends. I might have run into her at one of the local restaurants or another gallery opening. I don‟t remember exactly.” “Where were you last Wednesday night?” Jerry could sense the tension coming off Flynn. Steady on, buddy. Don’t let him get to you. He watched as Flynn relaxed infinitesimally in his seat. A sly smile broke out over DeShano‟s face. “You didn‟t notice the signs downstairs? We had a new exhibit opening last Wednesday night. Everyone who‟s anyone was there.” “Anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts for the evening?” Jerry smothered his initial disappointment. Flynn sat very alertly, which made Jerry think he was picking up on something. He concentrated on appearing normal, trying not to give anything away and letting Flynn do his thing. DeShano rolled his eyes. “Only half a dozen gallery employees here. I had to meet with the caterers and the press and the artist himself to make sure that everything was set up for the opening and that it would run smoothly. And I had a meeting with several buyers as well. Really, Cynthia could tell you more. She knew my schedule and

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 117 assisted with the buyers‟ meetings. She‟s downstairs. You can talk to her on your way out.” He was dismissive; the meeting was over. “Well?” Jerry asked Flynn on their way back down the stairs to the main floor. Flynn paused on the white and silver staircase, glancing back up the way that they‟d come. “He did it all right,” he said darkly. “But now we have to prove it.” “And break his alibi to boot,” Jerry agreed morosely. “Did he give you anything to go on?” Flynn shook his head in frustration. “Bits and pieces, mostly. But I got a clear image of him putting her in the glass case.” He hesitated, glancing back up the stairs, the memory obviously disturbing to him. “He hadn‟t planned on murdering her. She surprised him. He hadn‟t been expecting her that night. Though what he was doing at the Weir, I don‟t know.” He fell silent. “And?” Jerry prompted, sure there was more. “He didn‟t realize how easy it was to kill someone. It sickened him but excited him too. He‟ll kill again if he thinks it‟s necessary. It flatters his ego.” They began to move down the stairs again. “And there was something with those buyers that was significant,” Flynn added quietly. “Not all of them were buying from the current exhibit. He was pretty smug about that. He was very smug about the opening too. There was something about it I couldn‟t quite pick up, but it amused him. He was just so full of himself and how clever he was. If only he‟d thought a little more precisely about how he was so clever, we might have something to focus on.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 118 “Do you want to go back and ask him some more questions?” Jerry followed Flynn down the staircase, their shoes echoing on the metal treads. “We might trigger a specific memory that we can use.” Flynn shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “He‟ll just lawyer up. No. We‟ll get a statement from Cynthia and a guest list. They‟re bound to have kept a registry. We might not get a telling statement from Mr. DeShano, but someone else he talked to that evening might give themselves away.” Cynthia had been pleased to give Special Agent Flynn a detailed itinerary for DeShano for the evening, providing a list of guests and her personal phone number as well. “In case you have any questions.” She‟d flipped a red-gold lock of hair over her shoulder and smiled at Flynn. Flynn had taken her information and picked up a brochure on the showcased artist too. “Tell me,” Jerry said, shooting Flynn a don’t let me interrupt your flirting thought as he spoke. “What does one of these pieces of artwork run?” Cynthia slid into professional mode seamlessly. She showed them around the gallery, perhaps sensing that Jerry was a man of artistic taste, taking the time to point out the various exhibits. “This piece,” she said, indicating a large wall mural that seemed to be made up of bits of rubbish that somehow created a mosaic when they stood back from it far enough, “went for fifteen thousand.” Both of Flynn‟s eyebrows shot into his hairline, and Jerry had to stifle a laugh. “What‟s this?” Jerry asked curiously of the small room off to one side, rows of chairs facing a blank wall. As he

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 119 looked around the corner into the room, he noted a laptop and a projector. “Ah, that is where we held the viewing of Enrico‟s moving performance art, The Beginning. Very powerful. A short film that reveals the gritty underbelly of the city, exposing all its weakness and flaws, yet manages to redeem it in the end.” She sounded like she was quoting a review. “This movie,” Flynn said slowly. “You showed it Wednesday evening at the opening? How long does it run?” “Yes, it was one of our premiere events.” Cynthia frowned at him. “It‟s about forty-five minutes long. Why do you ask?” “And everyone was here for it? No one stepped out for a few minutes? You know, maybe to smoke cigarette?” Jerry could see where Flynn was going with this, and it excited him. Cynthia looked at Jerry as if he‟d lost his mind. “Of course not. Everyone was seated and remained so during the film.” “Including Mr. DeShano?” Flynn asked. “Especially Mr. DeShano,” she said reprovingly. Hah. Guess you’re no longer her favorite FBI agent. Flynn could barely wait until they got back on the street. “She was sure that he was there, but she couldn‟t remember seeing him after they dimmed the lights, and the very fact that we asked made her start to question if he was really there or not. You realize he could have slipped out during the movie?”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 120 “We have to find someone who can place him elsewhere, though,” Jerry reminded him. “On the street or, better yet, at the Weir.” “Well, we‟ve got a list of people we can interview now. Pity we can‟t just call them up on the phone. This is going to take another full day of making the rounds. At least.” He paused to rub his left shoulder, the one with the bullet wound. He let his hand drop to his side when Jerry wondered again what the story behind that injury was. “We‟ll get him,” he said aloud, pretending not to have noticed Flynn‟s actions. “Someone will give something away that we can use. Though you‟re sure he‟s not the GFT killer?” Flynn shook his head. “No way. He‟s a killer, all right, but he hadn‟t planned on killing Emily. No, something must have happened that forced his hand.” Flynn looked incredibly weary and slightly rumpled, and Jerry remembered that he probably hadn‟t slept well the night before. “Come on,” he said. “We‟ve done enough for one day on this. You‟re getting too tired to focus anymore. Let‟s go back to the office, and I‟ll set up the interviews for tomorrow.” Flynn looked like he wanted to protest, but he acquiesced quietly, confirming Jerry‟s suspicion that he needed a break. They walked companionably back toward the car. “Derek thought you looked good,” Flynn said out of the blue, casting a glance in Jerry‟s direction. “That you‟d lost weight.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 121 Unaccountably, Jerry felt his heart rate pick up. “I took up running,” he said shortly. “After, of course, I passed my stress test.” “Of course.” Flynn bit his lip in an obvious attempt not to smile, and Jerry had to stuff the image of those lush, full, and imminently kissable lips into the soundproof booth. A little frown furrowed Flynn‟s brow. After a beat, he said, “How come you don‟t run with me in the…. Oh, hey, not everything‟s a competition, you know.” “This from the man who was an Olympic hopeful.” Jerry pursed his lips as though tasting something sour. “That was a long time ago. Okay, okay, I get it. Fine. I just thought it would be helpful to run together. You haven‟t been running since I‟ve been here.” “I‟ll think about it,” Jerry sighed. He wondered what else Derek had thought about him but was going to be damned if he asked. Flynn‟s ear tips, he noted, seemed to be red again. A flush worked its way up from his throat, and Flynn rubbed the back of his neck before he spoke. “DeShano knew you. Remembered you from when you used to come to the gallery openings. Back when you were seeing Derek.” Alarm coursed through him. “You don‟t think Derek is involved, do you?” Flynn raised an eyebrow and gave him a funny look. “No. I‟m saying that DeShano finds you memorable.” “Huh,” Jerry snorted. “So,” Flynn added thoughtfully. “You really think DeShano‟s gay? Wouldn‟t Ms. Marsden have picked up on that?”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 122 Jerry sighed. “More like bisexual. I think most people are, you know. Bisexual, that is. If they haven‟t had preconceived notions of gender and sexuality drummed into them. Attraction is attraction. In DeShano‟s case, I think he‟s a gay man who sometimes sleeps with women, rather than the other way around. Surely you could tell, right?” Flynn‟s cheekbones were pink, and he was quite obviously not meeting Jerry‟s gaze. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I wonder why he chose to date Ms. Marsden, then,” he added after a beat. It was a good point, Jerry conceded.

HE

COULD have waited for Flynn, he thought in retrospect,

but for crying out loud, they‟d practically been living in each other‟s pockets the last few days, and Fielding‟s words to him a little while ago had stung. There had been no reason why he couldn‟t check out this simple hunch on his own. If it didn‟t pan out, no big deal. If it did pan out…. Well, it never hurt to be the smart, brilliant one for a change. “It has to be here,” Jerry muttered to himself. It was a stupid little discrepancy, but it was going to bug him until he figured it out, and something told him it was important. If he could just link DeShano to the Weir somehow, that might be enough to get a warrant on him. Jerry knew that he could come back with a team of engineers and they could take the place apart, but just once he‟d like to be the one who solved the case. They knew that it was entirely possible for DeShano to have strangled Marsden and staged the scene

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 123 during viewing of the short film at the gallery. No one would have noticed he was gone, and when the film was over, everyone would have assumed he‟d been there the whole time. Jerry wanted to see the look on Flynn‟s face when he showed him the link between DeShano and the Weir, whatever that might be. He might have spent several fruitless hours looking for it, had he not been a man of keen observation and neat habits. There simply was no other explanation for the area of floor wiped clean of dirt. “I‟ve got you now, you bastard,” he said with glee. He knelt to examine the floor, using the powerful LED light on his keychain to illuminate the pattern he saw in the dust. To his left, a large bookcase was flush with the wall, but it looked as though it had been moved there fairly recently. He tried shifting the case, putting his shoulders into it, and found that it moved more easily than he expected. The smell of fresh glue was evident, and the paneling behind the case definitely looked new. A close examination of the wall revealed that there was a thin groove running from floor to ceiling that was deeper than just the sections of paneling. Jerry fished a penknife out from his pocket and began to pry at the crack. He worked his way upward steadily, forcing the seam to give until it suddenly popped open. “A dumbwaiter,” Jerry breathed when he looked inside. Holy cow. A dumbwaiter. It was probably part of the original structure and used as a means of shifting freight from the basement to the upstairs without using the tortuous staircase. His instincts had proven him right—the dimensions of this corner of the basement had not matched

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 124 the cataloging room. He doubted most people knew of its existence, not if it could be boarded up this easily. He bet Ms. Marsden, who‟d loved the Weir, had known. And why wouldn‟t she have shared that information with her thenboyfriend, Michael DeShano? He must have copied Marsden‟s keys at one point. Jerry could picture it now, remembering what Flynn had said about the disturbed art supplies. DeShano was probably using the materials at the museum to recreate forgeries with authentic materials. Maybe even working right there at the restoration station itself. He‟d had no idea at all that Marsden was about to turn him in as the potential GFT killer. She must have surprised him in the basement when she stayed late to meet with them that night, and he‟d acted in haste. Knowing her fears, he‟d mimicked the MO of the serial killer. Flynn had said his actions weren‟t the ones of a smart man but an arrogant one. Yes. That certainly fit DeShano‟s profile. Jerry shone his flashlight into the space behind the paneling and almost missed it at first. The canvas material nearly blended in with the concrete walls. It looked to be about the size of a painting, heavily wrapped in canvas cloth and bound with string. He reached in to grab it, but it was just out of range of his fingertips. He set the flashlight down and grabbed hold of the wall, leaning in as far as he could until his fingers brushed his prize. “Gotcha,” he said triumphantly. He had an impression of someone behind him a split second before something struck him on the back of the head. The first time he regained consciousness, he was aware of being trundled along on some kind of stretcher down a

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 125 dark hallway. The walls were spinning and closing in around him, and his head was pounding terribly. Where was Flynn? Weren‟t they supposed to meet somewhere? He felt like he was going to fall. The cart was too small to be a gurney, and his hands scrabbled to find the edges. Nausea boiled up and over, and he vomited, causing whoever was pushing the cart to stop with a quiet but vehement curse. The second time he awoke, he was in a confined space, too small for him to turn around. There was something over his mouth; his hands were bound. His head felt like it was in a vise and someone was cranking up the pressure. He could feel the thrumming vibration of an engine nearby; it sounded very loud to his ears. He was in a cold, dark, small space, and he couldn‟t remember how he got there. There didn‟t seem to be much point in staying awake, so he didn‟t. The third time he awoke, he moved without thinking. Pain jerked at his consciousness, immediately cueing him into the abnormality of his situation, and he tried to gasp, only to discover he couldn‟t open his mouth. His breathing sounded harsh in the confined space. He held very still, letting the pain die back down, conscious of the fact that he‟d drown if he vomited now. His nose pressed down into some sort of fabric that smelled musty and faintly of oil. He had duct tape over his mouth, and his hands were taped together in front of him. Oh God. He was in the trunk of a car. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. It was sound advice, but all he could think of was the statistics he‟d read somewhere. Twenty-five percent of all people locked in the trunks of cars died.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 126 He bet that statistic was even higher for people who didn‟t get in the trunks voluntarily. Slowly, when he could move without the pounding headache triggering another wave of nausea, he brought his hands to his face and began peeling off the duct tape. Relief swept over him when he got his mouth free. At least now, vomiting wouldn‟t prove terminal. Where was Flynn? He was supposed to meet Flynn somewhere. Flynn will find me. With that comforting thought, he passed out again. The sound of seagulls woke him the next time. Seagulls. That meant he was parked near one of the beaches. Maybe. He‟d noted that seagulls often liked to congregate in places where there were large parking lots, like shopping malls. Beach. Parking lot. Either way, there was a good chance then that his car would get ticketed and eventually towed, so maybe if he kept his ears open, he‟d hear someone approach. Hope died when he realized that he might not even be in the Bay Area anymore. There were a lot of remote beaches where no one might find his car for days. Weeks even. He yelled himself hoarse anyway. Finally, when he couldn‟t yell any more, he brought his hands up to his face again, fumbling in the dark to find the tape that was wrapped tightly around his wrists. His hands felt fat and lifeless, as though they didn‟t belong to him, and he worried that maybe the circulation had already been cut off too long. Flynn will find me. What the fuck had happened to him? How‟d he get in the trunk of the car? What had he been doing before then?

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 127 The fact that he couldn‟t remember was almost as upsetting as realizing he‟d been bound and left in a trunk. Where was Flynn? They were supposed to meet somewhere. Back at the bureau. He latched on to that piece of information like it was a bit of flotsam at sea, and he was the shipwrecked survivor. He wondered how long he‟d been unconscious and whether he had any brain damage as a result. The sneering, insidious part of his mind suggested that worrying about his brain and his hands was immaterial since he wasn‟t going to get out of this situation alive. Fuck you, he said to himself and to whoever had left him here to die, and to everyone else who had sold him short in this world. I’m not quitting just yet. He began to gnaw at the tape on his wrists.

IT

TOOK him a long time to get the tape off. By the time he

was done, his mouth was dry and sticky, and he felt as though there was glue all over his face. It was a relief to get the tape undone, that was, until the blood began pounding back into his hands. He lay on his side and rocked against the pain.

IT

MUST have been DeShano, he thought during one of the

periods of time when he felt a little more lucid. But why? What had he done to provoke such an attack? He must have gotten close to something, but for the life of him, he couldn‟t remember what.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 128 He could clearly remember that morning. He‟d been standing over by the window, sipping coffee and looking out at the dreary, cold day when Flynn had thrown open the bathroom door, stalking out into the living room. “I‟m not primping,” he‟d said. “And I‟ve already fed my cat. She‟s lying.” He‟d given Phoenix, who‟d been shrieking as she‟d clung to the bathroom door handle, a dirty look. Jerry had snorted. “Your cat,” he‟d said. “You just admitted she was your cat.” “You don‟t have to yell. I can hear you just fine.” Flynn had pointed at his head, the stress of the last few days starting to show a bit. He‟d frowned at Jerry‟s assessment of his state of mind and hitched up his towel when it threatened to fall off his waist. “Oh, would you quit with the soundproof thing, already?” He‟d stomped back into the bathroom and shut the door. By the time they‟d left the apartment, Flynn had regained his cool self-control again. They‟d stopped for bagels on their way in to work for the staffers who‟d been helping them lately. Jerry had pulled DeShano‟s financials, and they‟d been over them trying to find something that would allow them grounds for a warrant. They‟d already spent a good bit of time interviewing attendees of the gallery opening, with the exception of a few they‟d yet to reach, and Harding had fielded some complaints. “Find another way to connect this guy with the case or move on,” he‟d warned. “And if you can‟t link it to the GFT case by tomorrow, I‟m going to turn it back to the SFPD anyway.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 129 After lunch, Jerry had begun going over all the witness statements again. Something that someone had said had niggled at the back of his mind, trying to come to the forefront of his attention. He‟d pored over them one by one until he realized that it wasn‟t anything anyone had said, but something someone had thought. Try as he might, though, the exact discrepancy didn‟t come to mind. He‟d needed to talk to Flynn, but he was nowhere to be found, so he pulled out the photos of the crime scene, and then, as an afterthought, the photos he‟d taken of the artifact on his cell. That was something else that was bugging him. The dimensions of the room where they‟d found the artifact didn‟t match that of the catalog room. It seemed smaller, judging by the photos. Of course, he couldn‟t go by them. He‟d need actual blueprints or to revisit the museum. He‟d been startled to realize that it was almost 5:00 p.m. when he‟d looked at his watch. He‟d glanced around the office. Most people had left or were grabbing dinner before settling in for their assignments for the evening. “Say, you seen Flynn?” he‟d asked of Fielding in passing. “I‟m surprised you misplaced him. I was starting to think you two were joined at the hip.” Fielding had been decidedly full of suppressed glee, enjoying being the bearer of bad news. “He got called into Harding‟s office a little while ago. I wouldn‟t hold my breath waiting for him to come out if I were you.” He‟d managed to make the words “come out” have a sneering, double meaning. Jerry‟s face had flamed. He‟d felt horrible, realizing he‟d left Flynn open to that sort of speculation.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 130 It was probably in part why he‟d decided to go down to the Weir and check out the basement before they closed. Without waiting for Flynn. “Tell Flynn I‟ll be back to pick him up later,” he‟d said to Fielding, as the only agent available to pass on the message. He didn‟t remember anything else after that. What had happened to him?

IT

HAD to be DeShano who‟d placed him in the trunk. At

least DeShano hadn‟t taken his watch. It was a big, black, bulky thing. An elegant, streamlined affair would have gone better with his business suits. Not that he hadn‟t coveted a really nice watch before. He just couldn‟t see himself shelling out four hundred dollars for one. That was stupid. The one he had might be ugly, but it had the kinds of multifunctions that he‟d found useful in the past, such as the stopwatch function. Always handy to have the stopwatch function when reenacting a crime or determining if a suspect could have gotten from the Crenshaw to the Weir in the time allotted. Yes. Handy thing to have. Focus, Jerry, focus. It struck him as ironic that he had to tell himself that. He tried to remember where he was going with that. Oh. Right. Watch. With fingers as thick as sausages, it took him several fumbling attempts to push the right button to light the dial. 9:23 p.m. It had been a long, cold night with no way to get warm. The cold bit deep into his very bones, even though he knew it was probably only in the forties outside

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 131 the car. He had no coat, he couldn‟t move freely, and he was shivering. God, he was miserable. Hey, Flynn? You out there? I could really use some help right about now. Surely someone had to have noticed he was missing by now. He never returned to the bureau to pick up Flynn as he said he would. He hoped that Flynn had at least stopped by the apartment to feed the cats at some point, and then he realized that without keys, Flynn wouldn‟t be able to get in. Keys. Wait. The Federal Motor Carrier Safety Association had enacted a federal standard requiring that all cars have a lighted internal trunk release for this very reason. All he had to do was locate the prudently highlighted panel and presto! He was a free man. He could have smacked himself for not remembering that sooner. He peered anxiously in the darkness around him, but the only luminescent glow he observed was the faint readout from his watch. Cursing his useless and partially numb fingers, he tried unsuccessfully to locate the switch on the side panels within his reach. He craned his neck down as far as he could bend it, feeling the pull of muscle and tendon as he pressed his face around and tried to see behind him. If there was a luminescent switch down there, his body was blocking its access. His head continued to pound, and the words “subdural hematoma” played around in his mind. The small confines of the trunk felt like a straightjacket, and part of him wanted to flail and bash himself against the walls. It had to be here. Maybe it was just covered up with something. He remembered the flashlight on his keychain and reached down to feel his pockets. Empty.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 132 Bastard. His brain ticked over, working slowly but steadily, processing the information at hand. He‟d been abducted by a killer and left bound in the trunk of a car. Why was he still alive? It hit him while he was trying to pull one leg forward and reach around behind him to feel the trunk walls. He was the distraction. Once he was officially designated missing, all resources would turn to finding him and not investigating DeShano. DeShano must have some sort of exit plan in place. This was to buy him time to disappear. The question as to why he was still alive niggled at him. DeShano had nothing to lose by killing him outright. He‟d still be missing as far as the FBI was concerned. Maybe it had to do with him being a special agent. DeShano had to know that the FBI would never rest until he was captured if Jerry died as a result of this imprisonment. On the other hand, if Jerry was going to die in this trunk, his last hours were going to be unbelievably unpleasant. On some level, it probably amused DeShano to leave Jerry‟s fate up to chance. A faint glow caught his attention, and he reached for it eagerly. Disappointment plummeted through his chest when he felt the torn plastic and realized someone had taken a screwdriver to the compartment. The switch was hopelessly damaged. Fine. So he couldn‟t get out the easy way. Fine. He began to pull at the carpet with his nails.

SOMETIME near one a.m., he fell asleep, as opposed to passing out again. He took this to be a hopeful sign that

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 133 maybe he wasn‟t going to herniate his brainstem after all. He didn‟t sleep for long, however. He was simply too cold. He assessed his long-term chances brutally. If he survived hypothermia and the head trauma didn‟t kill him, his next biggest concern was dehydration. A person could live without food for several weeks, but water was another story altogether. He‟d finally remembered that he‟d gone back to the Weir. He remembered flashing his badge at the curator while she was on the phone and heading down the stairs, ignoring her as she‟d called out to him. He could see the displeased and puzzled look on her face as she held the phone up to her ear, as though it were a snapshot in front of him. What had she wanted to tell him? Had she been about to let him know that DeShano was already in the basement and that both of them needed to hurry, as it was almost closing time? What had he come back for? The memory returned with sudden visceral force. The wrapped object in the dumbwaiter. DeShano must have run out of time to grab it the night of the murder, because first, Emily had interrupted him, and then he and Flynn had shown up. The wrapped object the size of a painting. The missing art supplies. An art dealer willing to murder to get back his prize. Oh yeah. They had to be dealing with art forgery here. When he realized that this information was entirely useless to him at the moment, a wave of depression swept over him. He was going to die in the trunk of his own car, and no one would ever know what he knew about the crimes that DeShano had committed. Hey, Flynn? Jerry tossed out the thought with no real hope that Flynn could possibly pick up on him. They simply

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 134 hadn‟t practiced any long-distance connections; Jerry didn‟t even know if they were possible. But he couldn‟t help talking to Flynn anyway. It gave him a small measure of comfort. See, this is what I think happened….

THOUGH he‟d been able to pull up the carpet, he‟d not been successful in tearing his way into the interior of the car. The ends of his fingers were raw from the attempt. He imagined they‟d find bloody smears all over the interior of the trunk when they finally found his body. The brutal headache was still there; he probably had a concussion at the very least. He shifted restlessly and felt the crinkle of plastic underneath his elbow. Cautiously he isolated the sound and discovered an evidence bag. Suddenly he remembered the scene in Smokescreen where the actor was handcuffed to the wheel of a sports car and left to die in the African bush, in a macabre reenactment of a scene from his latest movie. Link had used a sandwich bag and a rubber band to collect moisture overnight and use it as a water source. Hah. He didn‟t even need a rubber band—the bag was self-locking. Placing it over his mouth, he breathed out into the bag several times until he could feel it grow warm with vapor, and then he sealed it. It felt like a small balloon in his hands, and he carefully placed it aside on the wheel well, where it would hopefully collect a small amount of condensation by morning. He searched with his hands until he found another bag and grimly stuffed it in his pocket. That would come in handy when he had to pee. He might

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 135 need to drink his urine when all was said and done, and the thought nauseated him. By God, wouldn‟t it be funny if he was saved by a cheap paperback thriller? He laughed, wanting to share that with Flynn, and suddenly his emotions threatened to swamp him. Goddamn it, you will not cry, he threatened himself. Like you can spare the bloody tears. He took a couple of gulping breaths instead. He checked his watch. 1:45 a.m. The coldest part of the night still lay ahead, but it wasn‟t as if he would freeze to death. He could tough it out. By 2:00 a.m. he‟d have been missing for nine hours.

JERRY pressed the button that lit up the face of his watch. Three a.m. The Hour of the Wolf. The hour when most people, the sick and the elderly, die. The hour when you wake from restless dreams because fear and anxiety gnaw at your bones. He was cold, so cold that his teeth were chattering. He rubbed his hands up and down his limbs where he could reach them, but it was no good. The cold and discomfort of not being able to move much was pervasive and prevented him from going back to sleep. He thought of his warm bed and waking in the middle of the night to find Oliver curled up beside him. He thought of Flynn‟s consternation over Phoenix wanting to sleep under the covers and his concern that he‟d accidentally hurt her. He pictured the kind of warmth that he got only when he slept with his arms

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 136 wrapped around someone else, and he felt extremely sorry for himself that he had no such person in his life at the moment. He wondered if Flynn would adopt Oliver. He wished he hadn‟t been so keen on trying to impress everyone down at the bureau. And if he was being honest with himself, Flynn as well. If he‟d just waited, gone in with some back up… but he‟d just been following up on a hunch. DeShano must have been there already, but how was he to have known that? No one could have predicted that. He wasn‟t a bloody mind reader. He grinned in the dark, wanting to share the joke with Flynn, and realized that was the second time he‟d wanted to do that since he‟d been trapped in the car. Sighing, he tried to think about something else, but it was no good. His biggest regret, it seemed, was going to be not kissing Flynn. That was foolish because, though incredibly tolerant of him, Flynn was as straight as they came. Just because Jerry was amazingly comfortable with him and attracted to him and they‟d been thrown together under outrageous circumstances, it didn‟t mean that Flynn was remotely attracted to him in any way. It just seemed unfair that he would never know what it was like to kiss that incredibly generous mouth or feel the heat of his skin or know how he looked during orgasm. Telepathy had to make for some really incredible sex. There was no way he could disappoint a partner. Flynn was one lucky bastard. It only seemed right to allow himself to indulge just a bit in such fantasies. After all, who was to know? Flynn was surely outside of telepathic range.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 137 Are you sure about that? Who knew what Flynn‟s telepathic range really was? It wasn‟t as if the device came with a manual or anything. He‟d picked up on what was happening to Phoenix from inside a car as they were driving by, well outside the ranges they‟d come to expect. What had he said? “Strong emotions carry farther.” He‟d also said he could pick up Jerry better than anyone else. Because he was so loud. You want loud, baby? I’ll give you loud. Come on, Flynn. Focus. Find me, because otherwise this is going to be like your worst nightmare all over again, and I don’t want to be responsible for that, okay? Hey, are you listening to me? I’d really appreciate it if you could get off your ass and find me now. Come on. Oh yeah, and bring me a nice cup of hot coffee while you’re at it. And some of those pull-apart cinnamon buns. You gotta come get me out of here, Flynn. Because I’ve got things I need to say to you, and I need to say them to your face and not hide in the soundproof booth. Or let my thoughts slip in front of you and pretend I’ve said them and leave all the responsibility of deciding whether or not to act on them up to you. That’s not fair. Come on, John. Find me. Find me.

THE sound of a car coming to a sliding stop on the gravel outside woke him, and for a startled instant, he stiffened in panic. His first thought was that DeShano had come back to finish the job. He felt around for the lug wrench he‟d

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 138 uncovered earlier and gripped it tightly, prepared to strike out at whoever opened the trunk of the car. “Jerry!” He heard Flynn‟s hoarse shout, even as hands slammed on the hood of the trunk. He opened his mouth to answer, but it was too dry, and he could only make a croaking noise. He blinked rapidly, trying to see into the darkness, his eyelids gritty and threatening to stick to his corneas. Smash the lock. Just break it. I don’t care about the car; you should see what I’ve done to the interior of the trunk here. For God’s sake, John, open the fucking trunk! “I‟m coming. Hang on. I‟m coming as fast as I can. Watch your face.” The sound of something being inserted into the lock was clearly audible, and then Jerry felt and heard Flynn banging on the lock with something hard. There was the sound of screeching metal, and the trunk popped open. The night was clear and cold. The first pale streaks of dawn were lighting the sky. The moon was an enormous pale disk overhead, thin and insubstantial. Flynn was lit from behind with the headlights from his car. It created a weird sort of nimbus of light around his head, and Jerry watched as the sea air ruffled his heavy forelock of hair. He looked as though he hadn‟t shaved in days, though it had been less than twenty-four hours. His suit was crumpled and worn. His shirt was open at the collar, and his necktie had been loosened. He had bags under his eyes. He looked terrible. He was also the most beautiful thing Jerry had ever seen.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 139 “Yeah, good to see you too,” Flynn said in a voice that had a suggestion of a tremor. “Sorry, no time for sticky buns and coffee. I had to stop and feed the cats.” Jerry gave a laugh that twisted oddly and sounded like a gasp of pain, so he turned it into a cough. Flynn reached into the trunk for him, taking him by the arm, sliding one incredibly warm hand into his cold one, and pulling him up. It took Jerry a second to unfold himself from his cramped position, and then he couldn‟t figure out how to actually get out of the trunk. The rear hatch only opened so far, and he had to somehow get his feet underneath him and over the edge of the opening. It seemed impossible, and Jerry made a noise of frustration as he tried to free his legs without banging his head on the open hatch at the same time. Flynn‟s hand came up to protect the back of his head, and Jerry stilled, taking a moment to regroup and figure out how he was going to do this. “Jer,” Flynn said softly, his left hand sliding down to cup the back of Jerry‟s neck, sending an involuntary shiver down his back. Flynn‟s fingers curled into Jerry‟s hair at his collar. He bent down and gently rested his forehead on Jerry‟s. “I couldn‟t find you,” he whispered. Jerry swallowed hard. “Not right away,” he managed to get out. He briefly closed his eyes, suddenly embarrassed by his emotional broadcasting. Besides, he must be little rank by now. His eyes burned, unable to produce any tears. He shifted a little, pulling away. “But hey, better late than never, right?” Flynn‟s face was serious as he stared down at Jerry, looking as though he didn‟t understand Jerry‟s reaction before his expression cleared. He reached in the trunk and

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 140 grabbed the nearest pants leg, helping Jerry lift first one and then the other leg over the rim of the trunk and then pulling him bodily out of the car. Jerry came out of the trunk abruptly, leaning into Flynn for a long moment when his feet hit the ground, grateful to be out of the car at last. He was grateful, too, for the support of Flynn‟s arms around him, absurdly so. It made his eyes burn again, and he told himself he was just reacting to the relief of being rescued. Flynn pushed him back gently until he was resting against the edge of the trunk. “Wait here,” Flynn said shortly, walking in rapid strides back to the other car, stepping out of the glare of the headlights. Jerry shielded his eyes with his hand, trying to see where Flynn had gone, able to follow his movements only through the crunch of gravel under his feet. He returned with a heavy coat and thermos of coffee. Jerry let him tuck the coat around him, and he gratefully accepted the little plastic cup of coffee, cradling it in his hands. “See, you do love me,” he said, taking a deep, appreciative whiff of the hot liquid before sipping. Flynn looked at him with startled eyes for a second before pulling out his cell and making a call. “It‟s me, Flynn. I found him. Yes, but we need medical assistance. Send a rescue squad out to this location.” He read the address off his GPS. “I don‟t want to hear it. You‟re going to the hospital.” The look on Flynn‟s face was resolute, and Jerry knew it would do no good to protest. He did send a rather pathetic image of himself in his own bed, in his fuzzy bathrobe, eating soup and reading a book.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 141 Flynn‟s eyes narrowed. “Nice try.” He pocketed the phone and then retrieved the cup out of Jerry‟s hands, setting it down on the ground beside the thermos. “You shouldn‟t move,” he said a moment later, a little less certainly, as Jerry began to shift again. “I‟m cold, and I want to sit down,” Jerry said flatly, and relief swept over him when Flynn merely nodded and held out a hand so that Jerry could grab it. He leaned into Flynn‟s support as he hobbled stiffly toward the other car. It felt so good to have his feet on the ground and Flynn‟s arm around him. Together they managed to get him into Flynn‟s car. Without a word, Flynn turned on the engine and cranked the heater, going back for the coat and coffee while Jerry shivered miserably with his hands in front of the heat vent. Flynn opened the passenger door and dropped the coat over Jerry before coming back to the driver‟s side and getting behind the wheel. Jerry huddled into the coat and reached for the thermos again. Flynn shot him a look as if he was going to stop him and then subsided when he realized it was a losing battle. “So how‟d you find me? Do you know what happened? I seem to have a gap in my memory. Did you apprehend DeShano?” “No.” Flynn‟s jaw tightened. He leaned over and gently probed the back of Jerry‟s head. Jerry sat with his eyes closed, cradling his cup of coffee, until Flynn settled back again. “That‟s a helluva crack you took to the back of your skull. Lucky it‟s so thick.” Jerry curled his lip briefly at Flynn‟s lame attempt at humor. He started to squash his “brain-damaged” fears into the soundproof booth but felt like it was too much effort.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 142 With a long, silent look, Flynn reached out and squeezed his arm briefly before continuing. “As a matter of fact, I never got your message until I started asking around to see if anyone had heard from you. I called your cell but got rolled over into voice mail. Of course, I realized right away that Fielding had conveniently „forgotten‟ to give me your message. By the time we got the warrant for DeShano, he was nowhere to be found. I‟ll be honest— I was starting to worry for your safety. I knew what kind of man DeShano was, and by that point, it had occurred to me that he might have gone back for something at the Weir, with you catching him in the process. We both know how that turned out for Ms. Marsden.” “Yeah.” Jerry let the dumbwaiter and the wrapped object within flash into his mind, taking advantage of the verbal shorthand because he was too tired to talk when he didn‟t have to do so. “We put out a BOLO on DeShano. In the meantime we started searching for you. Unfortunately for us, DeShano had dumped your cell somewhere along Highway One.” “Ouch,” Jerry said, taking another sip of coffee with trembling hands. “That‟s a lot of territory to cover. So how‟d you find me?” Flynn reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out several packs of sugar without asking. Jerry smiled as Flynn tore them open and poured them into his coffee. Flynn opened his mouth and then closed it abruptly. He bit at his lower lip, twisting his mouth before he shrugged and tried again. “I, um, concentrated on listening for you. It took a while, but once I could pick you out of the crowd, you were sort of hard to miss.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 143 “And then I just got in the car and followed the signal, like the kids‟ game of hotter, colder.” Hah. I have my own bat signal. Jerry found himself beaming goofily at Flynn. Huh, he thought. Maybe I have brain damage after all. Flynn smiled at him. It touched something deep inside of him and made him feel safe. Which was silly, because why on earth would a grown man want to feel safe, for fuck‟s sake? Flynn‟s smile spread into a grin, and he smiled back. Jerry recalled some of the thoughts that had flashed through his mind over the last twenty-four hours or so, and heat suddenly flamed his face. Flynn‟s expression grew serious. “Once I could hear you, I knew you were all right, you know? I mean, not in a good place and definitely needed help, but I knew you were still okay. But whenever you fell asleep….” He looked out of the car window for a long moment. The sky was growing steadily brighter as the sun crept up over the horizon. He faced Jerry again. “It sucked, Jer. I didn‟t know if you were dead or alive.” Jerry felt warmer already. “So,” Flynn said, suddenly brisk. “We‟ll get you checked out at the hospital and make sure you‟re okay. In the meantime, don‟t worry about the cats. I‟ll take care of them. And the super has a spare key, remember?” He touched Jerry briefly on the arm. “Everything will be there waiting for you when you get home.” “Everything had better include quiche from the corner bakery.” Jerry sniffed. “Hospital food sucks.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 144 The wail of sirens caught his attention, and Jerry could make out the spinning lights of an ambulance bearing down on their location. His heart sank just a little. All he wanted to do was go home. The last thing he wanted was the impersonal and invasive examination of strangers, complete with a long, tedious wait in the ER and, no doubt, an overnight stay for observation. He couldn‟t even ask Flynn to stay with him, knowing what kind of stress that would put Flynn through. He was just going to have to tough it out alone. The story of his life. Flynn reached out and gripped his arm. Jerry looked down, noting the strong fingers on his sleeve, the coarse, dark hair visible on Flynn‟s wrists where his sleeve had been pushed back. Jerry raised his eyes to meet Flynn‟s concerned expression, and somehow he knew that everything would be all right.

THEY discharged him after twenty-four hours‟ observation and a clean CAT scan. He‟d woken once during his stay in the hospital to see Flynn sitting in a chair beside his bed. “Go back to sleep,” Flynn had ordered. It had seemed easier to comply than argue. When he next awoke, Flynn was gone. Flynn had been there to take him home, and it had been with relief that he‟d entered the apartment. He‟d gratefully crawled into bed when Flynn had suggested that he go lie down and take a nap. Hospitals really weren‟t conducive to getting much rest.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 145 He‟d woken to see Flynn sitting beside his bed again with a serious expression on his face. “I‟m confused,” Flynn had said by way of preamble when it was obvious that Jerry was awake. That makes two of us, Jerry thought sleepily. Flynn smiled, small and self-conscious. “I‟m not sure how I feel about you. I have this… this connection with you. It‟s deeper than anything I‟ve ever felt before. But I don‟t know what it means. Is it because of the telepathy or spending so much time in your company? Have I been influenced by your thoughts of me, flattering as they may be? I don‟t know.” Jerry held his breath and tried not to think of anything. Flynn looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I‟ve always considered myself a straight sort of guy. You‟re making me rethink that.” “And you don‟t know if that‟s a good thing or not,” Jerry said softly, remembering his promise, that if he ever got out of that trunk, that he‟d tell Flynn how he felt. It was still harder to do in practice than he‟d ever thought it would be. “It‟s a pretty big deal,” Flynn said ruefully, with only a quick glance up before studying his hands again. Not to mention the implications for how others would react to you or for your career advancement from here on out. “Goddamn it!” Flynn snapped. “Do you really think I‟m so shallow that career advancement would be my only concern?” He was so freaking adorable that Jerry couldn‟t help but think it, and then he smiled as Flynn flushed charmingly.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 146 “Damn it, I‟ll show you adorable,” he said, leaning in as though to brush Jerry‟s lips with a kiss. He hesitated, placing a hand on Jerry‟s shoulder. “I don‟t know what I‟m doing,” he confessed. Flynn took his lower lip in his teeth briefly, his uncertainty plainly evident on his face. Jerry tentatively placed a hand on Flynn‟s rib cage, and Flynn dropped his gaze to stare at it, taking in a deep breath. He seemed to gather up his courage and leaned in closer, only to stop within a millimeter of brushing Jerry‟s lips with his own. They hovered that way for a second, and Jerry had to wonder what was holding Flynn back. Was it because of the guy thing, or was it because Jerry was ostensibly recovering from injury? Was Flynn having second thoughts? Flynn made a little noise of frustration and determination and tightened his fingers on Jerry‟s shoulder before making contact. Jerry melted as Flynn‟s lips touched his own. Flynn‟s lips were soft yet strong, hesitant only for a moment before becoming more certain. Certainty gave way to demanding, and Jerry opened his mouth eagerly, wanting Flynn to know how very much he wanted this. Flynn made a sharp inhalation through his nose, the sound and the slick thrust of his tongue into Jerry‟s mouth sending a warm surge of lust straight to Jerry‟s cock. This was the moment he‟d been craving ever since he‟d picked up the stubbled, crazy-haired Flynn from the airport. Ever since the first morning when Flynn had stood, clad only in a towel, in his kitchen doorway. “Okay, you‟ve got to stop that,” Flynn murmured against his lips. “Because that‟s really good for a guy‟s ego.”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 147 He sat back, a little flushed and looking pleased with himself, like a schoolboy who‟d just pulled off a daring feat. Jerry thought of things he could show Flynn that would really flatter his ego and firmly squashed them. No sense in scaring the guy off. As a matter of fact, a little bit of selfsacrifice was called for here. He cleared his throat. “Look,” he said hurriedly before Flynn could interrupt. “I know this is all new for you, and there are reasons why you might doubt that what you‟re feeling is really coming from you. I just want you to know I‟m behind your decision—whatever it may be—one hundred percent. You‟re… you‟re just the most important person in my life, okay? You get me. I don‟t want to lose that.” Even if it means I have to keep my hands and thoughts to myself. Flynn snorted and then brushed the end of his nose, embarrassed. “How about we declare a moratorium on making any major life-changing decisions until you‟ve been out of the hospital for at least twenty-four hours, okay?” Relief swept over him. “Yes. Excellent plan.” “Okay.” Flynn stood. He was wearing a black V-neck sweater that Jerry didn‟t recognize and jeans that actually fit, emphasizing his long, lean form, making Jerry wonder where they‟d come from. “How about some coffee? And scones?” “Scones?” Jerry sat up. “The blueberry kind? From the bakery?” Flynn rolled his eyes. “Where else?”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 148 DESHANO was picked up in Mexico under an assumed identity the very next day, and extradition proceedings were begun. He had in his possession at the time Sargent‟s portrait of Mrs. Carl Meyer and her children, a painting assumed to be in a private collection. Unfortunately, the paint on the portrait that DeShano was carrying was still a bit tacky, and the owners of record confirmed that the painting was still in their possession. It was a boneheaded move, Jerry thought. The sign of a greedy man. He‟d have been better off producing something in the same lines as Sargent but calling it a new finding rather than blatantly copying something already in existence. A part of Jerry thought it sad that DeShano, obviously a talented artist, had chosen to make forgeries rather than try to sell his own work. When Jerry returned to the field office the following day, he was surprised by the presentation of a cake and a Welcome Back banner in the break room at lunch. “What‟s all this?” Jerry was confused and shot a glance at Flynn for explanation. He only shrugged and gave him a decidedly sly grin in return. “The design was his idea,” Beth from accounting said as she passed him a knife to cut the cake. The frosting depicted a car with an open trunk. Jerry laughed and passed out the first slice to the small crowd of people pushing into the room. The cake was far too sweet for his liking, but he ate it anyway. He received several silly cards and some gag gifts as well, including a remote trunk-opening device. He was startled to see that Fielding was sporting an impressive black eye. Fielding seemed embarrassed and as

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 149 though he was avoiding Jerry, but it wasn‟t until he saw Flynn shoot him a look of dark dislike that he realized who Fielding was really avoiding. It shouldn‟t have made him feel so warm to know that Flynn had his back, but it did just the same. Harding stopped by Jerry‟s desk toward the end of the afternoon. “Good work, Parker.” He glanced at Jerry‟s fingertips, several of which were taped over so that he could type. “You could‟ve taken another day off, you know.” Jerry shook his head. “We wanted to get the paperwork on this one done and signed off. I want to turn everything we‟ve got over to Agent Kowalski and her people. Art forgery is her specialty. Her team is the best one to handle the cleanup here. Everything that DeShano sold will have to be tracked down and authenticated. And while this murder might not have been related to GFT, Agent Flynn and I feel that there are some aspects of that case that need to be reviewed, and we‟d like to get on that as soon as possible.” Harding‟s mouth twitched as though he was trying to suppress a laugh. “How does Flynn feel about the implications that he hasn‟t been thorough in his investigation so far?” Jerry opened his mouth to protest that that wasn‟t what he meant, but Harding just smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Just joking, Parker.” He turned to Flynn as he approached. “Ah, there you are, Flynn. I just wanted to let you know your transfer has been approved. If you need some time to go back to DC to move your things, let me know. I assume you‟ll need to find a place to stay here as well?” “I‟m still working on that, sir,” Flynn said with a smile.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 150 That evening, as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage, Flynn said, “See, I told you they liked you.” “You said they respected me—two different things.” Jerry sniffed. “No, not even that. You said they desired my „expertise‟.” He made the appropriate finger quotes. “I‟m not even sure that qualifies as respect.” Flynn reached out to bop him on the back of the head and then stared at him with a chagrined expression when Jerry flinched at the movement. “I‟m sorry,” Flynn said. “That was stupid of me.” Jerry repressed a shudder. “It was just reflexive on my part. It‟s not like I remember getting hit on the head.” Flynn gripped his arm and gave it a squeeze. “It‟s okay. I was jumpy like that for a long time after the shooting. Kept thinking I saw something out of the corner of my eye. And no, I am not giving you permission to ask me about it.” Flynn shot him a rueful expression that was ever so slightly sly as well. Redirection, Jerry thought. It was a wonder the man hadn‟t become a world-class magician. Flynn gave him a little smirk. As they crossed the parking garage to the dark-blue government vehicle Flynn was driving, Jerry wondered when he was going to get his car back and then suddenly realized that Flynn could have been driving himself around San Francisco all this time. He obviously hadn‟t needed Jerry to act as chauffeur at all. “It only made sense for us to ride together,” Flynn said, sounding a little apologetic. “Besides, after the whole telepathy thing, I was in no fit condition to drive myself anywhere.” He gave a little shrug.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 151 But now you don’t need me anymore. There was both regret and relief in the realization. “That‟s a matter of opinion,” Flynn said, his voice dropping in register. “Soundproof,” he said with amusement a second later. As they entered the apartment, the cats greeted them with a chorus of meows, conveying the immediate need to ingest food before dire things happened to anyone. Without words, both men changed clothes, Flynn into shorts and a Tshirt for the gym, Jerry into a faded, powder blue shirt and jeans. The apartment was warm enough that he went barefoot, enjoying the feel of the plush carpet between his toes. Jerry watched Flynn head out the door. He headed into the kitchen, fed the cats, and poked around in the fridge. A frightening amount of leftover takeout had appeared during the last few days, which needed to be eaten soon or thrown away. He‟d suggest it for dinner when Flynn returned. It wouldn‟t take long to heat up. He got out rubber gloves and filled the sink with soapy water, scrubbing the cat mat and dishes when they were done eating. He noted that the designated counter sponge looked suspiciously as though it had been used for another purpose. There were more than a few cat hairs on it, and he tossed it out, taking a clean sponge from a pack under the sink. He wondered if it would help to mark the sponges as to their purpose. At least Flynn knows how to use a sponge, he chided himself. In the living room, he saw the stack of unsorted letters on his desk and noted the sprawling, untidy pile of shoes by the door that seemed to be getting larger every day. He also noted the addition of a big suitcase by the couch that hadn‟t

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 152 been there before and realized that Flynn must have had it sent out from his apartment in DC. He wondered who had sent it and how much longer Flynn was going to sleep on his couch. Not that he wanted Flynn to move out. Just off the couch. He told himself that he needed to be patient and let Flynn decide for himself what he wanted to do. He was kneeling in front of bookcase when Flynn came in from the gym. “Hey.” He glanced up as Flynn came in, noting the sweat-dampened hair and shirt, the hairy legs, the absence of any socks as Flynn toed off his shoes by the door. He flicked his glance back to the bookshelves, not wanting to be caught staring. “Whatcha doing?” Flynn came up to stand behind him. Close. Too close. Jerry could feel the heat coming off his skin where he stood. Jerry concentrated on not turning his head but continuing to scan the shelves. “I‟m looking for a movie I thought we‟d watch tonight after dinner, if you like. But I think I might‟ve….” He broke off midsentence. Damn it. He was pretty sure that was one of the ones that Derek never returned. Bastard. Bad enough that he cheated on him, but then he‟d acted as if Jerry was the one at fault and kept several DVDs that he‟d borrowed. In some ways, the failure to return the DVDs bothered Jerry more than the betrayal. Ah well, Derek had always been a cheapskate. He felt a slight movement near his arm and glanced up to see that Flynn had taken another step closer. From this

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 153 angle, Jerry had a nice view of his package, and it was hard not to stare at the way the thin nylon running shorts outlined everything. Flynn‟s tongue made a brief appearance between his lips, and Jerry found himself mesmerized by the small movement until he remembered his self-promise not to push Flynn in any way. “Derek wasn‟t a very nice guy,” Flynn said slowly. “But he did have an interesting memory of you.” “Oh, really?” Jerry asked. He bit at his lip. He had no idea where this was going. “Yeah.” Flynn‟s voice deepened. “He seemed to think you gave pretty good blowjobs.” Jerry coughed suddenly. When he looked up, Flynn‟s hazel eyes were alight with mischief. As he watched, the sudden dilation of Flynn‟s pupils struck him as the hottest thing he‟d ever seen, sending a bolt of sensation straight to his cock. Jerry carefully placed a hand on Flynn‟s calf, smoothing a thumb over the delightfully hairy skin, letting his hand rest there a moment, feeling the heat between them before slowly getting to his feet. He slid his palm up the inside of Flynn‟s thigh as he rose, pulling his hand away just shy of brushing Flynn‟s balls as he did so. Flynn snagged his hand as Jerry was pulling back. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice as dark as his eyes. “I‟m giving you time to decide if this is what you really want,” Jerry said slowly, watching Flynn‟s face the entire time. He started to move away, but Flynn tightened his grip on Jerry‟s wrist.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 154 “You don‟t need to show me your card. I know you got tested at the hospital. I know you get tested regularly, and yes, I know that‟s part of life as a gay man. Should be part of everyone‟s life, but that‟s neither here nor there. It‟s just….” He made a noise of frustration and let go of Jerry to run his hand through his hair. “How can I know what I want if I don‟t know….” He broke off, taking a step closer, until all either of them had to do was lean, and their lips would be brushing. Jerry could feel the heat coming off of him, almost like steam, moist and shimmering. He could see the chain that Flynn always wore outlined under the cotton T-shirt, could see the scattering of gray hairs in his five-o‟clock shadow. Wide-eyed and serious, Flynn took Jerry‟s hand and placed it over his groin. Jerry gently cupped him, feeling the hard shaft of his erection and sensing more than actually hearing the soft groan that accompanied the movement of his fingers. Flynn gripped him by the arm, as though he was afraid Jerry would leave. Like that’s going to happen. He wasn‟t sure who moved first. One minute Flynn was looking at him with both arousal and uncertainty in his eyes; the next their mouths had met, and their hands were pulling at clothes, desperately seeking skin. Flynn broke off his assault of Jerry‟s mouth to drag his lips across Jerry‟s neck, and the rasp of his stubble against Jerry‟s sensitive skin made him moan, fingers clenching into Flynn‟s skin. “You like that, huh?” Flynn murmured, releasing Jerry from his embrace enough to drop his head. “How about this?”

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 155 He closed his mouth over Jerry‟s nipple through his shirt, sucking at it until the cloth was wet, pulling the small bud in between his lips and teasing it with tongue and teeth. “You like it hard, don‟t you?” he whispered, moving his lips over the damp cloth and nipple. “On the edge of pain. You haven‟t found anyone who could give you what you want, but I know exactly how to light you up.” He gave the small bud a nip, and Jerry felt his cock jerk in response. He threaded his hand into Flynn‟s hair and pulled his head back, kissing him hard. When they parted, Flynn just smiled at him, eyes flashing with heat and excitement. Two can play that game, Jerry thought. I don’t have to be a mind reader. He took Flynn by the arm and led him over to the couch, pushing him down on it. The cats scattered. Oliver shot Jerry a baleful glare and flounced off out of the room, tail flicking. Phoenix pounced on his tail as he went by, causing him to gallop off with her in pursuit. Flynn landed on the couch with a laugh, legs spread apart. Jerry knelt in between his knees and slid his hands up Flynn‟s thighs, causing Flynn to duck his head and push forward slightly with his pelvis. Jerry waited. “Jer,” Flynn said at last. “Come on, I want this. Don‟t be a fucking tease.” In response, Jerry held his gaze for a long moment. There was so much he wanted to give Flynn here, so much of himself he wanted to share. It was important to him to show Flynn how good sex could be between two men, between two people who cared about each other. He knew that the telepathy gave Flynn an unfair advantage, but he suspected that worked both ways, because he didn‟t have to say

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 156 anything here, only think what he was feeling and elicit a response in Flynn. Flynn‟s expression softened, and he reached out to cup the back of Jerry‟s head. Jerry closed his eyes and tipped his head into Flynn‟s touch, sliding his palms up Flynn‟s thighs. When he opened his eyes, Flynn was staring back at him, his eyes slightly narrow, crinkling at the corners, a hint of confusion in their expression. Jerry was determined to wipe away any sense of doubt. He leaned in, nuzzling Flynn‟s cock through his shorts, drinking in the heady scent of him. Flynn released his breath with a little grunt, and Jerry felt Flynn‟s hands in his hair, caressing the back of his head, carefully avoiding the tender lump where he‟d been hit by DeShano. Jerry slid one hand up under the wide, open leg of the running shorts. He paused for a moment when he ran into the mesh support liner within, and Flynn opened his mouth to speak. Jerry raised an eyebrow at him. I’ve got this one covered, Jerry reminded him sarcastically. I’m a guy, remember? Flynn flushed with embarrassment, and Jerry didn‟t bother hiding his smile. Flynn snorted briefly and caught his breath quietly when Jerry slid his hand in and palmed his balls. Jerry mouthed him through the material, and he felt the subtle shift when Flynn spread his knees wider. The hand on the back of his head followed his movement. Flynn tipped his head forward and then rocked gently with Jerry‟s touch. He suddenly inhaled, lifting his hips so that he could remove his shorts. His hands fumbled a bit, and he used them to push himself up, letting Jerry pull the shorts down over his hips

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 157 and to the floor, flinging them aside. Jerry moved back in as soon as the clothes had been shed. Flynn‟s cock jutted upward from a thatch of dark hair, and Jerry thought it was as gorgeous and perfect as the rest of him. Flynn made an embarrassed little noise, and Jerry flashed a look up at his face to see a wry expression there, but he had no time to spare for Flynn‟s attack of selfconsciousness. That cock was simply made for him, and his mouth watered at the anticipation of him closing his lips over the soft head. He took Flynn in hand, lightly brushing a thumb over the end of his cock and feeling the wetness there. He was fascinated by the perfection of the cock in front of him, and he could think of nothing else but how to bring Flynn to the pinnacle of sensation. Smiling, he bent down and took him in. It was better than he‟d even imagined. The taste of precome was sharp and perfect in his mouth, and he found himself wanting more, pushing in, moaning as Flynn‟s cock filled his mouth and Flynn‟s scent filled his senses. He swallowed him down to the point of almost gagging, backed off, and took him in again, reveling in the way his saliva made Flynn slick, in the way that Flynn now arched his head back against the headrest of the couch, the way the muscles in his abdomen tightened and flexed. He held on to Flynn with one hand as he slid his mouth up and down that rigid shaft, moaning in sheer pleasure as he did so, digging into the carpet with his toes as he pushed forward, trying to take in more. He had to refrain from digging into Flynn‟s hip with his fingers, using one hand instead to guide that cock into his mouth, holding on to the couch for stability as he rocked forward and felt the heavy

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 158 ache in his own cock, begging to be released from the confines of his jeans. The press of fabric against it was almost but not quite what he needed, and he began to twist his hips a bit, trying to get leverage against the fabric. That perfect cock became his focal point; nothing else existed as he mouthed it. He sucked it down deeply, cheeks hollowing out. He pulled back until just the head was in his mouth, and he flicked his tongue rapidly over the end. When his jaw got tired, he pulled off entirely, rubbing his lips over the smooth head and smiling at the way it undulated in his hand. Flynn watched him with dark eyes, his lips parted, his tongue sliding out to wet them from time to time. Jerry shot him an anticipatory look and slid his lips down along the shaft until he was nose-deep in Flynn‟s balls. The rich, warm, male scent of him drove him wild, and his free hand began seeking flesh anywhere he could touch it, along Flynn‟s hip bone, his flank, the unexpectedly soft skin of his belly with its scattering of coarse hair. He mouthed Flynn carefully, rolling each ball around gently, sucking on the skin as he released it. Flynn‟s cock was turning dark red in his hand, the veins along the shaft standing out in sharp relief. Not one to ignore a cock for too long, Jerry closed his mouth over the end of it again. Flynn gasped and lifted his pelvis, fingers digging into the sofa cushions. His thighs were rigid with tension. Jerry could feel the beginnings of a tremor there. He was getting close, very close. Flynn knew it, too, and developed a sort of panicky look on his face, opening his mouth as if to speak, suddenly grasping Jerry by the collar.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 159 “Hey,” he said before his head rocked back, and he swallowed hard. Jerry glanced up to see the sheen of sweat on his skin in the soft glow of lamplight and smiled around Flynn‟s cock, humming as he did so. Flynn took in several short, rhythmic breaths and began to thrust his pelvis ever so slightly. Come on, Jerry thought, delighted that he could talk dirty and give a blowjob at the same time. You were made for me. I’m going to suck you down until you give it up for me, and I’m going to take in every drop. Because you’re mine, all mine. Flynn groaned again and began to shudder, and Jerry felt the warm pulse of come in his mouth. Yes! He was triumphant. He sucked and licked at Flynn until he stopped pulsing, and then he sat back on his heels and wiped his chin. Flynn looked wrecked. He was sprawled on the couch with his legs apart, his cock red and wet. He had his eyes closed and his head tipped back; his Adam‟s apple bobbed when he swallowed. The T-shirt was clammy and sticking to his skin. He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at Jerry. “That was just…. Wow.” He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I mean, seriously. If I‟d had any idea….” Jerry felt ridiculously smug. Flynn gave him a little push on his shoulder. “Okay, I get it. Gay man. Lots of practice. You‟re going to give me a complex here.” “How am I going to give you a complex?” Jerry asked seriously, frowning slightly.

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 160 “How can I possibly live up to that?” Flynn raised an eyebrow. “I‟m not… you know… experienced.” He flushed suddenly, a dull red band of color appearing on his cheekbones. “I seem to recall you were doing pretty good before,” Jerry said quietly. “Really good. And we… ah, can go at whatever pace you‟re comfortable with.” Flynn reached out and touched the side of his face. “You really enjoyed doing that. Sucking me off. Didn‟t you?” Jerry closed his hand over Flynn‟s and turned it so that he could kiss and lick the palm. Flynn‟s eyes widened, and his breath quickened. Jerry smiled. “You know I did.” Flynn gave him a slow, sexy grin. Pushing Jerry back gently until he was sitting on his heels, Flynn rose to his feet with an easy grace that Jerry envied. He peeled off his Tshirt, letting it fall to the floor. Then, still smiling, he walked back to Jerry‟s bedroom, completely unselfconscious in all his naked, animal glory. It struck Jerry that he had some catching up to do, and he hurriedly shed clothing as he followed Flynn down the hallway. That fact that he was dropping his clothes all over the apartment bothered him not in the least.

THE next day at work, management gave Flynn a desk, clearing out a space across from Jerry and providing him with a laptop, stapler, and some black pens. His first official act was to make a few phone calls. Flynn tended to fidget while he was on the phone, and his movements kept catching Jerry‟s attention. It was hard not to focus on

Unspeakable Words | Sarah Madison 161 Flynn‟s mouth as he sucked on a pen, which led to thoughts about how those lips had felt against his skin the night before. Or remember how Flynn had looked braced on his forearms above Jerry, the silver cross around his neck swinging with his every movement, the look on his face an odd combination of arousal, hesitation, and satisfaction. Jerry found himself getting hard at the memory and jumped when a balled-up piece of paper bounced off his shoulder. “Do you mind?” Flynn said, palm over the receiver. “I‟m on the phone here.” His face was flushed, but he looked slyly pleased with himself just the same. “King,” he said into the phone, leaning back in his chair. “How are you doing? Good, good, I‟m glad to hear it. Look, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I plan to bring in all the witnesses on the GFT case and interview them again.” There was a pause, during which Jerry could imagine King‟s reaction. “Well, yeah.” Flynn nodded, playing with a pen on his desk. “I‟ve got a new partner now, and I‟m thinking he might have some fresh insights. Anyway, I just thought I‟d let you know. Yeah, it‟s a lot of material to cover. Well, no. I‟ve got a cold case back East that I plan to reopen in the near future, but I‟m based here in San Francisco now.” He caught Jerry‟s eye and winked. Jerry felt a slow grin spread over his face as he dropped his gaze back to the keyboard. He was looking forward to this particular partnership.

About the Author

SARAH MADISON is a veterinarian with a busy practice, a great boyfriend, a large dog, and an even bigger horse. She enjoys hiking along the Appalachian Trail with her German Shepherd and competing her horse in the sport of combined training and eventing. She recently rediscovered her love of writing when she began writing fan fiction several years ago and has won several awards for her fan fiction stories. This gave her the impetus to pursue a lifelong dream of writing original fiction for publication. Writing has become a passion that sometimes take precedence over everything else. As a matter of fact, when she is in the middle of a chapter, she usually relies on the smoke detector to tell her when dinner is ready. You can contact Sarah at [email protected].

Copyright

Unspeakable Words ©Copyright Sarah Madison, 2010 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This 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. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America November 2010 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-688-0