Adam coughed and shook his head. “No, you keep it as a souvenir of our love.” He grew serious. “But if you touch me again like that, Tonto. I will have you arrested. I mean it. I won’t let you knock me around, even if you have a good reason. I won’t deal with your shit when you’re drunk, understand?”
Eagle nodded. “I understand, Kemo, and I won’t blame you.”
Someone cleared their throat behind them. Glenn Gresham looked down at them. “Adam, I brought you a muffin and some juice. You need to eat.” He handed the food to Adam, then looked at Eagle. “Make him eat. He didn’t have breakfast and he’s too skinny.”
To show he didn’t need Eagle’s help, Adam took a bite of the muffin, then washed it down with some juice. He looked up at the older man. “Happy?”
The man grinned, “Only if you finish it.” The man stepped back and reentered the building.
Eagle pushed up from the pavement, “I have to interview a couple of others. Wait for me, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m having a muffin and juice. Can’t drive under the influence of a good blueberry muffin, Tonto.”
Eagle gave into the temptation to stroke Adam’s silky hair, before he headed inside the building.
Eagle removed his sunglasses as he entered the Recovery House’s main hall. He looked around. Several men were sitting off to the side being interviewed by a patrol officer. He looked to his left and the tall, chiseled jawed man who had given Adam that muffin was leaning up against a post watching him. If he’d been looking for a hook up, this guy would’ve fit the bill. He liked his men well-built and it was obvious this light brown eyed stranger knew his way around a gym. You didn’t get arms like that pushing a pencil.
“Glenn Gresham?” He called out to see who would answer. The tall man smiled and waved him over.
“I thought you were Eagle.” The voice, deep and resonant matched the physique.
Woodard frowned, “I’m Detective Woodard.”
“Adam’s husband, right?”
Eagle’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, but how…?”
“Adam’s shared about you a few times. I’m kind of surprised you’re assigned a case you’re husband is involved in.”
“Are you Glenn Gresham?”
“Dr. Glenn Gresham.”
Eagle snickered and pulled his notepad from his back pocket. “Yeah, right. This town’s full of them.”
“I’m not like Adam. I’m an MD. Psychiatrist.”
“Okay, Doc, what did you see?” Eagle looked up at the man.
Gresham’s eyes narrowed as he looked into Eagle’s eyes. His jaw tightened, but he gave Eagle his story. He backed up what Adam had told him to the letter, but with enough variation he knew they hadn’t collaborated. He was confident they were telling the truth. Eagle gave the doctor his card and was about to leave.
“Detective, could I have a word in private. This doesn’t pertain to the case.”
Eagle sighed, “Sure.”
He followed Gresham through a door that led to a dim storage room, but there was plenty of light to see each other.
“I have several questions and some advice.”
Eagle raised both eyebrows. “What?”
Gresham frowned, “Adam shared he’d been routinely sexually abused as a teenager.”
Eagle couldn’t move. What? My Adam?
“He said it went on for years.” Gresham continued, “I know he started drinking when he was thirteen. Was that when the abuse started? Do you know when it ended?”
Hot bile threatened to rise up into this throat. Eagle blinked. Pieces from the past began to fall into place. Things Adam said. Things he did. Memories of the excuses he made for not showing up to parties or missing certain social events when he was a teen came rushing back. The fact that there were times he wouldn’t let anyone see him naked, but other times he seemed uninhibited. Eagle remembered one time when he had accused Adam of hiding something under his clothes. He’d grabbed at this friend and tried to remove his shirt, but Adam had fought him like a madman even punching him to make him let him go. Whatever was under the shirt remained unseen.
The past came flooding back. He remembered how he had noted Adam gingerly sittimg down on a chair one day and had asked him what was wrong. Adam had laughed and made a joke about getting his ass fucked hard the night before. Now, Eagle realized, Adam hadn’t been joking. It all explained so much. The alcohol and the drug abuse. His numerous failed marriages. He never knew why Adam seemed to run from reality, but now it all made sense.
Gresham noted Eagle’s hesitation, “Uh, you did know about the abuse, didn’t you? I mean, you’ve been friends for so long. Hell, you were lovers, husbands. Didn’t you know?”
Eagle glanced away. “He started drinking at twelve, not thirteen. I was with him when we raided his father’s liquor cabinet. As for the abuse, I think it started when he was thirteen, but it ended later, maybe when he was sixteen or seventeen. I remember he seemed broken up about a relationship that ended, but he wouldn’t tell me who it was with. I’d just assumed it was one of the girls at school.”
Gresham nodded. “Sorry to have asked you this. I’m writing a paper about early sexual abuse and coping. I was going to ask Adam today, but he’s not in a very good place right now.”
“Is that all you wanted to know?”
“I just want to say, Adam is really trying hard to stay clean and sober. You should give him a break. He does AA and NA meetings several times a day. I know addicts and I know he’s not using. He’s helping others here. He is making a difference. I truly think he might make it, but he has to stay away from other people who use. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Doctor.”
Gresham frowned. “I’m a recovering opioid addict, Detective. I know what a user looks like. I know what their eyes look like when they’re high. If I were you, Eagle, I’d keep my sunglasses on even when you’re inside. Those pinpoint pupils might get you in trouble. It’s the kind of trouble your husband doesn’t need. I’m assuming he doesn’t know about you, but one of these days he’ll find out and then what will you do.”
Eagle took a step closer, crowding into Gresham’s personal space. “I am not an addict, Gresham, and I’d better not hear any rumors that I am or I’ll know where to come to squash them.”
Gresham smiled, “You really are hooked, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Detective. I’m not going to get between you and your habit. Not my place to tell anyone, but I like Adam. I know he sent you divorce papers. For his sake, sign them.” Gresham paused, “And take this advice. Don’t ever hit Adam again. If you do, cop or no cop, I will make sure you don’t do that to anyone ever again. Understand?”
Gresham pushed past Eagle and left the room. Eagle stared at the wall in front of him. His jaw tight and fist clenched as he played the other man’s words over in his mind. He hadn’t meant to hit Adam so hard. His husband’s swollen, bruised jaw stood as a stark reminder of what he could do when he was drunk. About everything else, Gresham was wrong. He could stop anytime. He would stop. He put his sunglasses in place. A twinge of pain shot up his back causing him to grimace. He reached in his pocket. Two more pills left. He knew if he took them now, so soon after the ones he’d taken after he arrived on the scene, he’d have to go home to get more. He headed for the door. Eagle saw Gresham with two other men across the room. He knew Adam couldn’t drive, not with the state he was in. He approached the group and the other two men hurried away.
“Gresham?”
“Detective?”
“Could you take Adam home? I don’t think it’s safe for him to drive right now. Not with the state he’s in.” Eagle paused, looking out at the man hunched in misery on the sidewalk outside the doors. “And could you get him to eat something, he’s way too thin.”
Gresham nodded. “Come with me. Maybe he will give you his keys. He wouldn’t give them to me earlier.”
They walked out together. When Eagle told Adam
the plan, he didn’t put up much of a protest. It felt as if all the fight had left him and he was barely hanging on. Adam stood up shakily, but before Eagle could react, Gresham’s arm was around Adam’s waist, steadying him and guiding him toward his car. He watched as the other man helped his husband into Gresham’s blue sedan, opening the door and closing it after him. As Gresham moved around the front of the car, he looked at Eagle. That one look told Eagle, that if he wasn’t going to take care of Adam, then Glenn Gresham would.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adam shut the apartment door behind him. All he wanted to do was sleep. At least, in sleep, he could forget everything. He could forget Claire, forget finding Hal’s body, forget Eagle, but then again that was the shining moment in an otherwise horrible roller coaster of emotions. With high highs, receiving his ninety-seven million dollar inheritance and the lowest lows of the death of Hal Willowman and his fourth wife, Claire. He couldn’t imagine it getting any worse. He didn’t get more than three steps before a soft knock sounded behind him. Adam’s shoulders drooped. He turned and headed back to the door. Please, God, I didn’t mean it. I know how much worse it can be.
“Did you forget something, Glenn?”
Instead of finding Glenn Gresham on the other side of the door, Dills Sr. looked up at him. Adam frowned, “Mr. Dills?” Glancing down, he noted the thick white envelope clutched in the old man’s hands. “Did I forget to sign something when I was at your office? You could’ve called, I would’ve been happy to drop by.”
“May I come in, Adam? What I have to say will only take a minute.”
“Of course.” Adam stepped aside to allow the old man to enter. He knew it must be something important. Dills, Sr. had appeared, not some office errand boy. He was a senior partner in his firm. Being a delivery person was no longer in his job description so whatever brought the old man here had to be important.
“Would you like to sit down?” Adam pointed toward the chair at the tiny kitchen table.
Dills, Sr. looked around, then shook his head. “As I said, this will only take a moment.” Worry lines deepened on Adam’s lawyer’s forehead. He seemed to hesitate, uncertain about revealing the reason for his visit, then a look of resolution hardened his features.
“Let me preface this by saying, Adam, I strongly disagreed with your Grandmother’s decision, but you know as well as I do how stubborn she could be.” He glanced away, using his knobby middle finger to push his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and held out the envelope. “She was always a truthful woman. She prided herself on that attribute, so it pained her to keep certain things from you. She promised your Grandfather….” The old man paused, again wavering in his conviction.
Adam frowned, “What is this all about?”
Dills, Sr. sighed, “It’s about the truth. She wanted you to get this envelope when her will was read, but, of course, you were…,” he hesitated, looked for the right word, “indisposed. She knew of your marriage to your childhood friend, Eagle Woodard.
If she hadn’t been in such poor health, I believe she intended to support you and your decision to marry another man on your wedding day. I know she did get to see you after…, well, you know, the attack briefly. You were very ill. It broke her heart to see you in such physical and emotional pain. That woman was a monster. I read in the paper what she did to you and your Grandmother, well, I consoled her. She felt that Eagle was a fine man and that he cared a great deal for you. She approved of your coming out as gay and she approved of your relationship with young Woodard.” Dills, Sr. smiled. “In fact, I have a story to tell you about that, but I digress. Best to get this over with.”
The old man’s eyes saddened. “I am guilty of removing this envelope from her file. It is a letter to be read by you, alone, after her death. I felt it would do more harm than good if you read it. I’ve now realized it isn’t my place to make that arbitrary decision. Your Grandmother entrusted that to me and I cannot break her trust, even after her death.” He held the envelope out and waggled it. Adam took it from his hand, his frown deepening.
“My recommendation, Adam, is that you do not read it. Take this letter over to that stove, set it alight, burn it, destroy it, unread. If you must read it, understand the things your Grandmother tells you there happened a long time ago. Alia iacta est- the die is cast.”
Dills, Sr. turned toward the door and Adam followed, “I want you to remember your Grandmother loved you very much. You were special to her. If you do read it and you have questions, you may call me. Good day, Adam.”
Adam nodded as he opened the door for the older man, “I still don’t understand, but if I read this, I guess I will have questions. Drive safely, Mr. Dills.”
He closed the door. Turning, he took the few steps over to his tiny kitchen table. Adam sat down and stared at the envelope in his hands. He rotated it several times in his hands, pausing each time to look at this Grandmother’s distinctive handwriting. He felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at the words, To be given to Adam Coulter in the event of my death.
Tapping it against his forehead, willing the words to come through to him so he wouldn’t have to open the mysterious envelope, he forced down memories of when he was the child no one else in the Coulter family took any interest in. The only person who would play with him, before Michelle was born, was his Grammie. When he needed someone to confide in as a teen, his Grammie made him feel as if she would not judge him. When he told her that he liked boys and girls, she never batted an eyelash, but warned him against telling Richard.
The first time he’d OD’d at the age of nineteen, the paramedics had taken him to the hospital. The only person he called was his Grammie. She’d held him that night when they left the ER. He’d sworn to her he’d never touch drugs again, but the sad look in her eyes told him that she didn’t believe him, and she’d been right.
Over the next 20 years of using he’d enjoyed the hell of expensive rehabs six times. Never staying clean and sober for more than a few months. He’d overdosed four times with the last being the worst in Los Angeles. He had thought about calling his Grammie while he recovered, but he chickened out. Now he was glad he had decided against it. Finding out she had already passed away while once again deep in the throes of his addiction would’ve been too much and he would have gone out and used again. It would have been the last time he got high and he would’ve been dead by now.
Adam stared hard at the letter she had wanted him to have. She wanted him to read it, despite Dills, Sr.’s misgivings. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his finger under a loosened edge of the gummed back flap and carefully tore it open.
Pulling out the contents, he was surprised to find one other sealed envelope as well as a handwritten letter from his Grammie. It was fairly short, barely three pages, but the second item was thicker and heavier. Adam laid aside the second envelope and unfolded his Grammie’s letter. He smiled when he saw her familiar cursive style. It had a beauty and elegance that reminded him of the woman herself. It reminded him of a time when people cared about such things as handwriting instead of texting and the typewritten word. She had always complained about how atrocious his own handwriting was despite the hours of practice he did at her house. He had hated the lessons, but loved the attention and the lemon bars his Grammie heaped on him.
Taking a deep breath, he began to read. The letter was dated before he went to Los Angeles.
Dearest Adam,
If you are reading this I am no longer with you. I hope you are well now. You’ve suffered much in your life and part of that is my fault.
Adam frowned and shook his head, “No, Grammie, you always helped me, never hurt me. I miss you so much. I wish….” He continued reading.
I love you very much, Adam, I hope you know that. Your new husband, Eagle Woodard, has grown from a child in my eyes to a good, strong man who loves you more than you’ll ever know. I am glad you’ve finally consummated the love you’ve always had for one anothe
r since you were boys.
“Sorry, Grammie, I hope you understand, wherever you are that I was the one that drove Eagle away. You’re right, he is a good man and Grammie, I still love him, but I’m not sure what I can do to fix the disaster I created.” Tears threatened to overflow, preventing him from seeing her next words. One hot, tear dropped onto the letter, splashing down on the paper and causing the ink to blur. It smeared the word it hit, but didn’t obliterate it. Wiping his eyes with the heel of his right hand, Adam sniffed and tried again.
Adam, please forgive me.
He shook his head. “What is there to forgive, Grammie? I’m the one who should be asking you to forgive me. He flipped the page.
I will start at the beginning. Richard was not an only child, but he was raised that way. I had two miscarriages after he was born. Your Grandfather, Jonathon, doted on Richard. He spoiled him to the point that I threatened to leave him and take Richard with me. I had money in my own right. The Copeland name carried a certain prestige.
Adam looked away, fixing his gaze on the cheap print on the far living room wall. He remembered that despite his Grandmother’s efforts, his Uncles, Max and Aubrey Copeland, refused to accept him as part of the family. He would make up excuses over the years for their rejection. As he approached adulthood and would see them at various social functions, he would ignore them.
Until one night, he’d been out on one of the family mansion’s patios, smoking when he overheard a loud, not quite argument, between his two Uncles. I’ll never understand why she keeps asking that bastard to her soirees. It’s just not done! I thought at the time they were complaining about my father until Uncle Aubrey made it clear. The boy isn’t to blame, Max, for how he turned out. I agree, he has no place in our circle. The drugs, the alcohol. Which wife is he on now? If his father had taken responsibility all those years ago…. Adam remembered how angry he was that these two old men were judging him. He remembered he’d ground out his cigarette and was about to confront them when his Grandmother grabbed him. She could tell he was furious and had just enough booze in his system to cause a scene.
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