by P. A. Brown
Des blushed. “Okay, not so old. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” He fl ashed his most beguiling smile. “You did promise.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” He glared at Des. “But don’t expect me to dress up. I draw the line at that.”
Chris and Des traded glances. Without another word Des subsided back into his chair, a smug grin on his dark face.
David didn’t look happy at the double-tagged coercion.
Des jumped up again. “Now that that’s settled here’s my surprise.”
Both Chris and David looked where Des was looking with such expectation on his face. A fi gure appeared in the door to the rear of the bungalow.
Chris’s jaw dropped and David gave a grunt of surprise.
Trevor Watson grinned at them both, then slipped up beside Des and took his hand.
“I’m back.”
“Since when?” Chris was outraged. He thought Trevor was long gone from Des’s life. For the better, he thought. The guy was just so wrong for his best friend. He’d always thought Des had let his grief for the loss of Kyle infl uence him into a premature relationship with the admittedly good looking man who had almost been Chris’s lover before David. “You never told me you were coming back.” He realized David was glaring at him. He turned his anger on Des. “You never told me.”
66 P.A. Brown
“I told you it was a surprise. Not much of a surprise if I tell you ahead of time.”
“Good to see you, Trevor,” David said fl atly. “You in town for a while?”
Trevor put his hand on Des’s shoulder and Des looked up at him adoringly. “Maybe permanently.”
“Isn’t it great?”
Both Chris and David nodded grimly. “Yes, great.”
They took their leave soon after. In the car, Chris didn’t have to wait long for the outburst he was expecting.
“Did you know about this?”
“No, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Chris shifted uneasily in his seat. “Do you think it will work out this time?”
“I hope it does,” David growled. When Chris shot him a startled look, he added, “For Des’s sake. I didn’t like seeing him hurt like last time.”
“Maybe I should talk to Trev...” David scowled and Chris reversed himself. “Okay, maybe not a good idea.” He drummed his fi ngers on his leg. “I guess we just wait and see.”
David grumpily agreed.
Neither one of them mentioned Des or Trevor the rest of the evening.
§ § § §
Back home, Chris checked his email to see if any emergencies were brewing. Normally he spent one to two hours taking care of business, but tonight he kept one ear cocked for David in the media room down the hall.
Finally he heard the steady tread on the tile stairs. He made a quick perusal of his emails, making sure nothing needed his immediate attention, then logged out and followed David.
He stripped in the bathroom, pulled a towel around his slim hips and entered the bedroom where David was propped up in bed, reading one of his science fi ction novels. Reading glasses L.A. BYTES 67
perched on his nose, David glanced over them at Chris and his smile tightened on his swarthy face.
“Quitting early?”
Chris let his gaze wander over the furred expanse of David’s chest. He tried not to linger on the puckered white skin on David’s left shoulder where he had been shot saving Chris from the Carpet Killer. The memories were still too painful. He gently covered the scar with his hand. “You could say that.”
Before David could react, Chris removed the book from his hands and set it down on the nightstand. Pulling open the top drawer, Chris drew out the black jeweler’s case he had stashed there earlier. He fl ipped it open and withdrew the chain, draping it over David’s chest.
David looked down at the St. Michael’s medallion. “What’s this for?”
Chris trailed the fi ngers of his left hand over the puckered scar tissue. “It’s for this,” he said and slid his hand down David’s hip, where an assailant had stabbed him with a kitchen knife during an arrest six years ago. “And that.”
David shifted under his touch, his breath catching in his throat. “Chris... ”
“But mostly it’s for this,” Chris smoothed the heel of his hand over David’s chest, where the cool medal lay over his rapidly beating heart. “Because I love you and I will never do anything to hurt you or bring you harm. I don’t ever want you to be jealous of anyone. There’s no one in my heart but you.”
Before David could answer, Chris planted his lips over the same spot his hand had been. He could feel the furious pumping of David’s heart. Chris slid down the length of his body, taking him in his mouth.
David groaned.
David’s hands settled on Chris’s shoulders, surrendering to his desire. Chris brought him to the brink again and again until 68 P.A. Brown
David was nearly mindless with lust. He climaxed with a shout.
They embraced until sleep claimed them both.
After several quiet minutes David started snoring.
CHAPTER NINE
Thursday, 7:50 am, Northeast Community Police Station, San Fernando Road, Los Angeles
The next day David shoved open the door to the detectives’
room and felt half a dozen pairs of eyes follow him in. The rumor mill had never let up since his precipitous outing years ago. His marriage to Chris had put it into an overdrive that had never abated. Sometimes it was like living in the midst of a pack of hyenas, waiting for their blood lust to overcome caution.
Martinez was already at his desk. His phone pinned under his chin, he sucked back station coffee. He waved David over, hanging up before his partner reached his desk.
“We got our warrant,” Martinez said. “You want to head over this morning? Landlord will let us in. He asked us to be there no later than ten.”
“Sure.”
The other desks fi lled up as the day shift signed in, phones were answered and keyboards tapped. The smell of bad coffee and too many bodies crammed into a small space fi lled the narrow detectives’ room. Overhead the buzz of a failing fl uorescent light did nothing to improve the color of the pale brown walls. Dirty sunlight leached through the blinds and, just outside the window, the cell tower at the rear of the building cast a thin shadow.
David went around to his own desk. He stared down at the mauve box covered with big-eyed kitten graphics on top of his keyboard and sighed. Another prank. He wondered if it was any more imaginative than the pink plastic tampons he had received last month. Or the invitations to join a gay chat line the month before.
David slipped the lid off the box and found it crammed full of fuchsia colored condoms. He rolled his chair back and 70 P.A. Brown
dumped the box and its contents into the wastebasket. Without a word he turned his monitor on. Unlike Chris, he had never grown comfortable with computers. But his reports wouldn’t write themselves, so he might as well spend the waiting time doing paperwork. Behind him he heard Lieutenant McKee talking on the phone in his offi ce. As usual his door was open.
McKee didn’t believe in shutting himself off from his men. No doubt he would be over soon to check up on him, and make sure his most troublesome detective was really well enough to be back to work.
David opened the blue three-ring binder he’d started on the Scott case. The murder book was distressingly slim. Nearly as empty as the cork-board he shared with Martinez. As the case progressed, it would be covered with the bits and pieces their investigation uncovered.
With any luck their second visit to the woman’s apartment would yield something useful.
“Nothing from the ME?”
Martinez shook his head. He tugged at his dimpled golf ball tie. “What do you think about the kid?”
David shrugged. “I’d like to keep him on our radar. He didn’t convince me he’s grieving.”
David’s phone rang. He scooped it up. It was Chris.
He kept his voice co
ol. “What’s up?”
Chris’s laugh was husky. “I missed you this morning. Why didn’t you wake me?”
To distract himself from his body`s reaction to Chris`s voice, David opened his email program and watched several messages download onto his computer.
Chris sighed. “What time will you be home?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to get back early.” Out of the corner of his eye David saw McKee leave his offi ce. “Did you call about something in particular?”
L.A. BYTES 71
“Well, yeah.” David could hear the rustle of paper as Chris went through his desk. “I got a call that you wanted to talk to me.
Sergeant Sanderson phoned about fi ve minutes ago...”
“Sanderson? I don’t know any Sanderson... you sure that was the name?” A new email popped into David’s inbox. It was from Chris. “What did he say it was about?”
“He didn’t.”
“You emailing me, too?” David clicked on the email, which opened into a web link with the words “Just for you, David.
Check this out—it explains everything.” He still couldn’t think who Sanderson was. David clicked on it.
“I didn’t send you any email—”
David’s web browser opened slowly, as usual. The image that fi lled his screen resolved pixel by pixel, but long before it was done David had seen enough. “Jesus.” The blood left his face.
“What the hell...”
“David?”
“I’ll get back to you,” David muttered as he hung up. He refused to focus on the image that fi lled his monitor even as he moved his mouse to close it. It was clearly a young boy, and he was naked. The web browser ignored his commands to close.
The image changed. The next image was even more explicit.
He tried a trick Chris had taught him—Ctrl-Alt-Delete, but where that normally opened the task manager and let him close rogue applications, this time it did nothing, even when he tried the command several times. A new picture, more pornographically explicit than the last, opened up. This one featured a dark-haired naked adult male and a prepubescent male, a boy even younger than the fi rst two. A fourth image began to resolve.
David’s heart slammed into his rib cage and he felt light-headed. He hit Backspace, he even tried Start-Shutdown, but his computer refused to respond to any of his commands. Somehow he was trapped in this revolving horror.
72 P.A. Brown
His phone rang and he knew it was Chris. He snatched it up.
Chris would know how to stop this.
“Chris—”
“You ready to go, Davey?” Martinez came around his desk.
David looked up in alarm as Martinez reached his side. Too late, David fumbled for the off button on his computer. His heartbeat thundered in his ear a dozen times before the machine responded and went down.
Martinez didn’t make a sound. David couldn’t even hear him breathing. He risked one quick look over his shoulder and the sight of his partner’s gray face told him Martinez had seen more than enough.
The two men stared at each other. Harsh throat clearing directly behind the two partners broke their paralysis. David glanced back to fi nd the Lieutenant staring at him from two desks over. The detective manning the desk was also staring. Without looking at anyone in particular, David realized half the desks in the room faced his monitor. How many had seen the images?
“Davey, what the hell’s going on?” Martinez whispered.
David shook his head. But before he could open his mouth and tell him it was all a mistake, McKee was beside him.
“I’m going to have to ask you to step away from that computer, Detective Laine.” McKee’s gaze drilled into his. “You might want to consider contacting your advocate. You can call him from my offi ce.”
His advocate. Who the hell was his advocate? David’s sluggish brain responded like a drowning swimmer feeling the water close over him one last time. Oh right, Bryan Williams. He had to call Bryan Williams.
When David didn’t move, McKee snapped, “Now, Laine.”
David reached for his phone. He wasn’t going to be browbeaten by McKee before he had a chance to call Bryan. Like it or not, his boss was going to have to wait.
§ § § §
L.A. BYTES 73
David stood opposite McKee’s desk, staring over the Lieutenant’s head at the wall full of commendations and citations the lieutenant had received over the years he had headed the Detective table at Northeast.
His desk held several pictures of McKee’s wife, a forensic psychologist who often consulted with the department. The pictures included their three children.
“Shut the door, Detective,” McKee said. “And take a seat.”
David barely closed the door when there was a soft knock on it. McKee got up and took a folder from the uniformed offi cer who had knocked. He re-shut the door. Again he signaled David to sit. David did so reluctantly.
McKee fl ipped open the folder, which David realized was his jacket.
“How long have you worked in my department, Detective?”
McKee asked.
“Ten years.”
“And in those ten years have you ever had any disciplinary action?”
“No.”
McKee frowned at him. “Are you forgetting what happened fi ve years ago, then? Or last year when Detective Hernandez was killed?”
“Those matters were investigated and no charges were laid.
My jacket is clean.”
“Until now.”
“My jacket is clean,” David insisted, ignoring the dark look McKee gave him.
“Then help me understand,” McKee said. “While you’re at it, you can explain these, too.”
McKee dumped the box of condoms on the desktop.
“No, I can’t. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to wait for my advocate before I say anything else.”
74 P.A. Brown
“You know our forensics people will go through your computer with a fi ne-toothed comb. What are they going to fi nd, Laine?”
David wondered the same thing. Surely once he shut it down the images would be gone. He hadn’t downloaded anything.
He wished he could talk to Chris. Chris would know what had happened, including how his name had come up as the sender of that email.
“You’re not helping yourself, Laine,” McKee said. “Talk to me, and we can clear this whole thing up.”
David was saved from answering by a second knock at the door. This time it was Bryan Williams, David’s advocate—and the Northeast’s Gay and Lesbian Liaison. Bryan was a lanky man, whose red hair and freckled cheeks gave him the look of a small town bumpkin. The look hid a shrewd, calculating mind. He nodded at David, who managed a nod back. Bryan kept him out of trouble during the whole outing fi asco, when David had been in danger of being charged with conduct unbecoming because of his involvement with Chris. Bryan used his not inconsiderable clout in both the gay community and the city to clear David’s name and keep his record intact.
Without waiting to be invited, Bryan took the only other chair in the offi ce. He glanced at the condoms, then looked away. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Lieutenant? Why has David been dragged in here?”
McKee continued to skim through David’s fi le. He didn’t answer Bryan immediately. When his phone rang he snatched it up. “Yes?”
David listened to the one-sided conversation and knew it wasn’t good. McKee’s face fl attened and he stared down at the fi le folder, taking notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Yes, thank you. Send me the detailed report once you’ve fi nished it.”
He hung up and steepled his fi ngers together over the legal pad. His glance slid from David to Bryan.
L.A. BYTES 75
“Can you explain why forensics found several images of child pornography on your department issued computer, Detective Laine?”
David opened his mouth to explain, but Bryan gripped his arm.
> “Don’t speak, David. Let me handle this.” He turned to McKee. “What are you charging David with?”
“At this point, nothing,” McKee said. “But Standards will be investigating our allegations, they’ll decide if charges will be laid.”
“Allegations of what? What exactly did you fi nd on his computer?”
“Images of underage children engaged in sexual activity.”
“Was David in any of these pictures?”
“Irrelevant. Mere possession—”
“Did he download the images to his hard drive?”
McKee looked puzzled and glanced at the notes he had made. “The technician merely mentions fi nding the images
‘cached,’ whatever that means. The presence of the images is doubly confounded by these.” McKee again held up the box of condoms.
Bryan leaned over and whispered for David’s ears only, “What happened? Give me the short version.”
David told Bryan how he opened the email purporting to be from Chris and found himself locked in an ever-changing web page and how he couldn’t shut it down, no matter what he tried.
He also told him about the harassing “jokes” he had faced back to the time he had come out.
“And you never mentioned any of this?” Bryan asked. “It would have helped things now if you had made a formal complaint.”
“And be labeled a troublemaker?” David said. “How long do you think I’d survive on the street with that kind of rep?”
76 P.A. Brown
“Okay, we’ll talk about that later. For now, are you’re sure Chris didn’t send the email to you?” Bryan was still whispering.
“Of course he didn’t. Neither one of us would ever look at that garbage.”
“I think I’ve heard enough of this,” Bryan said aloud. “I’m going to look into it. In the meanwhile, don’t talk to anyone unless I’m with you.” He glared at McKee. “How long until PSB
gets involved?”
“They’re already involved. They’ll set up a meeting over the next few days. Detective Laine will be told when. In the meantime,” McKee sighed, “I have no choice but to put you on administrative leave, pending the investigation.”
