by T. M. Smith
“That was taken in Ireland three years after we met.” Dean jumped, not expecting Adam to be out of bed yet. He made his way down the stairs to stand behind Dean, pointing to a picture further down the wall. “This one was taken a few days later when Mom and Dad arrived. They vacationed with us a lot, as did Patrick’s brother and brother-in-law, but I always set us up to arrive a few days before anyone else. So we could have some time together to enjoy wherever we were, alone.”
“How old was he when he died?” Dean asked, making his way down the stairs and toward the kitchen, Adam following. They’d talked about Patrick a few times, but Dean couldn’t remember them ever having this conversation.
“Too damn young—thirty.” Adam sighed.
Dean grabbed the coffee tin, opening it and pouring four large scoops into the coffee machine. Removing the pot, he took the few steps to the sink and filled it with the filtered water for the pot. Once that was done he flipped it on then turned to face Adam. “Can I ask you something?”
Adam nodded. “If we keep moving forward with our relationship, and I really hope we do…” Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the stairs and the walls covered with images of Adam’s dead husband. The question had to be asked. Dean prayed Adam wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “…where will our pictures be hung, Adam?”
“Baby,” Adam whispered and Dean couldn’t remember ever hearing such depth of feeling in one simple word. He rounded the island that separated them and pulled Dean into his arms. “I took all those pictures as a way to immortalize the man I loved, the man I knew I had a limited amount of time with from the first day we met. I’ve kept them with me, surrounding me, so I could continue to remember the way his love for me felt. It was almost like…Pat was gone, but he was still watching me, still with me in a way.”
Dean exhaled and melted into Adam’s embrace, burying his face in the crook of the taller man’s neck. “I’m sorry Adam, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to…”
Adam leaned back and shook his head. “No, you have every right to ask that question. I’ve been so focused on us and spending time with you that I didn’t even consider the implications.” Adam waved his hand in the air. “Honestly, things have been this way for so long that changing them never really crossed my mind. But you see, therein lies the problem.”
Brow furrowed, Dean looked up at him questioningly. “Adam, I’m not asking you to change anything for me.”
Adam silenced him with a kiss. Just a gentle press of lips, nothing extravagant, but it shut him up nonetheless. “I know you aren’t, baby, but you should. My goal is to share this home with you one day, soon I hope, and that means making changes and allowing pieces of you, of us to occupy the space. Not to have Pat watching you walk up and down the stairs.” Adam laughed softly, and the sound was music to Dean’s ears.
A soft ring floated down the stairs; Dean figured it was his cell chirping where he left it on the bedside table. “Why don’t you pour us a couple of cups of joe and meet me in the living room? I’ll go grab your phone and be right back.” Adam kissed him again before turning and heading up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. Dean smiled and sent a silent thank-you up to the heavens that the conversation had gone well. Actually, when he thought about it, why wouldn’t it? They were both grown-ass men—very far removed from the angst of younger lovers that were only starting out. The relationship was new, yes, but between the two of them, they’d lived enough life to know exactly what they wanted.
When Adam joined him a few minutes later, he’d already taken a seat on the couch in the living room and propped his feet up on the coffee table. His lover leaned in for a kiss before sitting beside him and draping his arm across the back of the couch behind Dean’s head. He scooted closer and sighed happily. “What do you want to do today besides pack up some pictures?” Adam asked sincerely.
Dean was about to say he wanted to do absolutely nothing when his phone rang again, reminding him that Adam had initially run upstairs to grab it for him. “Crap, forgot about that.” Adam fished Dean’s phone from the pocket of his robe and handed it to him.
“It’s Dusty,” Dean said as he pushed the green phone icon on his display to answer the call. “Hey son, whoa, whoa, calm down, what’s wrong? What? No. And they didn’t call? Okay, we’ll get dressed and be over as soon as we can.”
“Dean, what’s wrong?” Adam’s voice was laced with concern.
He was on his feet heading for the stairs before he answered. “Maggie and Isaac never made it back to the apartment last night. Dusty was calling to see if maybe they were with us, or if they’d decided to take him up on his offer to check into a hotel for the night.” When they’d picked the happy couple up from the apartment the day before, Dusty offered to keep his little brother all night so that Mom and Dad could have a night to themselves, but they’d declined, laughing it off and saying they’d see him later.
“This isn’t like her, Adam, something’s wrong. I know it. Maggie wouldn’t just not show up and not call, no way.” He was frantically gathering his clothes that were scattered around the bedroom in their haste to get each other naked the night before. Adam grabbed him by the arms, physically turning Dean around to face him. “We have to go, now!” he barked.
Adam refused to release him, instead pulling Dean into a tight embrace. “Listen to me, Dean, we’re going to get dressed and then drive over to the apartment. But first, you need to calm down, baby.” Anger rushed through him, immediate and intense, his lover telling him to calm down when Maggie and Isaac were God-only-knew-where infuriated him. Adam seemed to sense the shift in Dean’s mood and held on to him tighter, speaking softly, calmly in Dean’s ear. “Baby, I know you’re worried and you have every right to be, but freaking out won’t tell you where they are.”
As much as Dean wanted to shove the man away and possibly kick him in the shins at that moment, rationally, he realized Adam was right. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, he pulled back and Adam released his hold on him. The smile he awarded Dean with was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for them to both be dressed, in the car and pulling out of the driveway. The ride to the apartment seemed to take forever, minutes stretching on and on until Dean thought he might go insane. Something was wrong—he could feel it, but what exactly was anybody’s guess.
Lord, please let them be okay…
~ Chapter 16 | The Weight of It All ~
If Adam thought Dean had been upset after getting the call from his son, he didn’t know what to call the mood Dusty was in when they entered the apartment. The young man that encapsulated the best of both his parents’ genes was pacing a line into the carpet in the living room. He didn’t even stop when they came in, merely started throwing questions at his father like grenades into a war zone.
“Where’d you go last night? What did you do? Where did you leave them? What time was it when you left them?” On and on until Dean closed the few scant feet between them and grabbed his son in much the same way Adam had grabbed him not an hour ago.
“Stop and breathe, son; did you call the cops yet to report them missing?” Dean asked and Adam immediately wanted to kick himself. Why the hell hadn’t they done that on the drive over? The cops could already be there.
“Yes,” Dusty muttered. “Wait, no, I called Jon and Kory.”
“Same thing,” Dean said softly, probably trying to defuse the situation.
“Obviously you tried to call them, but let me ask, did their phones go straight to voicemail like they were off or dead? Or did it ring first?” Adam asked. Both Anderson men turned and looked at him like he was a prize idiot.
Sarcasm dripping from every word, Dusty asked him why in the hell that would matter. “Because if the phones are still ringing, they can likely be traced.”
Posture relaxing, Dusty apologized. “Sorry Adam, I…I didn’t even think about that, thanks. When Jon gets here we can ask him about that.”
Dus
ty jerked when the apartment door flew open, Kory not even bothering to knock. Adam’s heart broke a little as he watched the hope in Dusty’s eyes quickly become anguish in the second between hearing the doorknob jostle and Kory stepping into the apartment. “Well, anything?” Kory asked.
Dusty fell into his dad’s arms, shaking his head. Dean led him over to the couch, sitting down beside him and reaching for Adam’s hand. Kory pulled out his phone, pushing a couple of buttons before bringing it up to his ear. “Hey, they aren’t here and they haven’t called. Yes, you have the picture I texted you? Okay, let me know as soon as you hear anything Jon, I mean it. Love you too.”
He hung up and slid the phone back into his jeans pocket. “Jon is at the station; he’s going to put out an APB with the picture I took at the cookout of your mom with Isaac and the baby. We’ll find them D, we’ll find them.”
Kory’s phone dinged and he pulled it back out, fingers sliding across the screen. “Jon is asking who saw them last and where.”
Adam waited to see if Dean would answer the question, but he didn’t. He and Dusty both looked shell-shocked and more than a little out of it, so Adam responded. “Dean and I were with them all day yesterday sight-seeing. We left them in Central Park at the Carousel at dusk, I’d say around seven or so.”
Kory’s fingers flew over the phone, pausing until the damned thing dinged again. “Okay, he wants to know what they were wearing and if they had anything with them like a purse or shopping bags.”
Again, Adam waited, wanting to give Dean the opportunity to respond to questions he knew the answers to, but he didn’t. He and Dusty were no longer listening, Adam presumed, and who could blame them? There was no way in hell this wasn’t going to end badly. The only question now was just how bad. When he looked up Kory was staring at him expectantly, his thumbs hovering over the phone screen impatiently. “Sorry, ummm, Maggie was wearing jeans, black boots, and a cream-colored coat. Isaac was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. I can’t remember what was on his feet, sorry.”
“No, that’s good.” Kory’s fingers were already flying again.
Standing, Adam headed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and collect himself. He could feel the flush in his cheeks, his hands shaking slightly as he filled the pot with water. Hoping and praying that the missing pair were okay, that they’d checked into a hotel and calling or texting Dusty had simply slipped their mind. Highly unlikely. He had a very bad feeling, foreboding and unwelcome. Once the coffee finished, he poured three cups and went back to his perch on the arm of the couch beside Dean, two cups sitting on the table untouched while they continued to wait for news.
Moments became hours as the clock crept from one minute to the next. Kory tried to call Jon, but it went to voicemail and when he texted, there was no response. That can’t be good, Adam thought, knowing that if he voiced his concern, Dean and Dusty would only get that much more upset. As it was, David had to take Xander and go into the other room with him; the little guy was picking up on the tension radiating off the two men in waves and crying hysterically.
When Kory’s phone rang a few minutes later, Dean and Dusty’s heads jerked up. “Thank fuck,” Kory exhaled, answering his phone. “Any news? What? Why? No, I am not…fine!” Kory hung up as he stomped across the living room and jerked the door open. “I’ll be right back,” he said, slamming the door behind him.
“What’s that all about?” Dean asked, staring at Adam as if he had all the answers.
“I don’t know, babe,” Memories of sitting on a couch in the waiting room at the hospital with his father comforting him, much like Dean was doing with his son right then, slammed into Adam. The frustration of waiting, the pain lacing the memory still very vivid three decades later.
Being unattached from this situation in a way, Adam could see and hear things, pick up on little things that Dean and Dusty were missing in their distressed state. Reading between the lines of Kory’s conversation, if he had to guess, he’d say Jon was here but he wanted to talk to Kory first, and that was not a good sign. That suspicion was confirmed ten long, slow, agonizing minutes later when Kory returned to the apartment, face ashen, eyes full of unshed tears, Jon walking in right behind him wearing his badge and a pained expression.
***
Time stopped the moment Jon walked into the apartment and met Dean’s eyes. Of all the guys Dusty worked with and their significant others, Dean had gotten to know Kory and Jon better since Kory was Dusty’s best friend. The hardened detective that dealt with the most despicable people on a daily basis and saw more death than any one person probably ever should, always had a smile on his face and glimmer in his eyes. The man that stared at Dean was not that man. This man looked unnervingly sad and…resigned. And then he pulled the rug out from under Dean and his son.
“I’m so sorry,” was all Jon said. Or perhaps it was all Dean heard. There was a niggle in the back of his mind, some small voice he was trying to disregard telling him to ask questions. Why are you sorry? What happened? But he ignored it because as long as Jon didn’t translate the sadness in his eyes to words, Dean could pretend everything was okay. His son, however, was not so inclined to remain in the dark.
“What are you saying, Jon?” Dusty shouted. Dean reached for him but his son jerked away, taking a few steps closer to Jon.
Ears ringing, heart pounding in his chest, he felt the ground shifting under him, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind and held him up. “I’ve got you baby; lean on me.”
Looking over his shoulder at his partner, Jon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers, obviously struggling with what to say. Sighing, he met Dean’s eyes before he spoke. “The bodies of Margaret Anderson and Isaac Winters were found in Central Park earlier today by a jogger.” It sounded like Jon was gargling water and talking at the same time.
“No!” Dusty shouted. “That’s not possible. I don’t believe you!” Dean watched his son shove Jon, hard, and he reached for him again but his limbs were slow, sluggish.
Kory stepped between Dusty and Jon, grasping his angry friend by the shoulder and squeezing. “It’s true, D.”
Dusty shook his head violently, jerking away from Kory. “No, no, I don’t believe you. How can you be sure it’s them?”
Kory’s face fell. “Jon has a picture, of…them, he…I saw it. It’s them D…it’s Maggie and Isaac.”
The weight of it all seemed to hit Dusty and he fell to his knees, fists slamming the floor. Dean didn’t know which way was up or down but he recognized that his son was in pain and he went to him. Kneeling beside Dusty, he pulled his son into his arms and held him while he cried. He wasn’t sure how long they sat on the floor, each holding on to the other like a life raft to stay afloat. Eventually someone helped them both move from the floor to the couch—probably Adam—and the fog started to clear. The initial shock was wearing off and Dean wanted some answers. But first, as much as he knew it would kill a small piece of him, he had to see for himself.
“Where’s Jon?” he asked Adam, his voice sounding foreign—off, to his own ears.
“Are you sure you want to look at the picture right now?” Adam reached for his hand. He gripped Adam’s hand tightly, nodding only once, knowing that if he opened his mouth the word no might fall out. “I need you to listen to me carefully right now, Dean. Hear what I’m saying to you. I know you and Dusty will need to see for yourselves, but I don’t think you should see that image right now. Your life will never be the same—neither will his; there is no way around that. But, please, trust me and wait. Give yourself and your son some time to process this and then, then you can see.”
He held Adam’s gaze, seeing only love and concern and he knew, he did trust Adam and he was right. His only concern should be Dusty and…”Oh God, the baby, where’s the baby?” Dean choked on a sob, unable to keep the pain balled up inside any longer.
“He’s fine. The pregnant lady is with Xander and David in the bedroom.
David was a little shaken up. I think it freaked him out seeing his usually calm boyfriend having a nervous breakdown. But he seems to be okay now.” Adam reassured him.
Then it hit him. “Wait, Kassie is here?”
