by Hank Edwards
"We know it's difficult to talk about," Jake assured him. "Take your time and tell us everything you can remember about that night."
Silver nodded and started talking, going through that last evening he'd spent with Dougherty. Nothing unusual stood out, and Pearce asked several more questions in an effort to get something, anything, out of the interview, but it was no use. When Silver dissolved into a long bout of deep coughing, Pearce decided it was time to leave and stood up. Jake followed his lead and stood as well.
"Sounds pretty bad," Jake said.
"Yeah. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon," Silver said.
"Good idea," Pearce said, then added, "Thank you for your time. I hope you get well soon."
"Thanks," Silver said and pushed up out of the recliner. "I hope you catch whoever did this. Tom didn't deserve to die so young, and especially not like this."
Pearce looked away from the deep-seated grief he could see in Grant Silver's eyes. He should be used to the icy sense of guilt that flooded him, but each round of questioning seemed to release another tide of culpability.
"We will," Jake said. He pulled a card from his wallet. "If you think of anything, give us a call."
"Just leave it on the coffee table," Silver said. "I don't want to get too close."
Jake placed his card on the table, and Pearce followed him to the door. After Jake stepped into the hall, Pearce turned and asked, "Was Tom into anything more extreme?"
Silver had stopped a few feet back from Pearce and frowned. "Extreme? Like sports?"
"No, like sex."
"Oh." Silver looked embarrassed. "Um, not that I know of. We didn't really talk about sex, I mean not in a serious or detailed way, you know? We went out and cruised guys and watched strippers, but never talked about what we liked to do in bed." He looked away, and Pearce figured he was hiding something, but couldn't pin down what it might be. "Darnell would probably be able to help you out more in that regard."
"Darnell Langton?" Pearce asked.
"Yeah, they dated for a time," Silver said.
"But you and Tom never dated?" Jake asked.
Silver shook his head. "It just wasn't there for us."
Pearce thought it had been there for Grant Silver, but not for Thomas Dougherty. He made a mental note of it and walked around Silver to place his own business card on top of Jake's. "If you think of anything new, anything at all, feel free to call either one of us."
"Okay, yeah, sure."
Pearce stepped out the door, and Silver closed it behind him. They descended the steps in silence and then left the building.
"What was that gunk he was coughing up?" Jake asked once they got in the car.
"Some kind of toxic sludge?"
Jake shuddered. "I need a major scrub down just from sitting in that place."
"I think we both should drink some hand sanitizer," Pearce said.
"Nice," Jake said with a grin, and then his expression turned serious. "What's your impression?"
"Silver wanted something more than friendship from Dougherty, but the feeling wasn't mutual."
"Yeah, I picked up on that, too." Jake said. "You think he was jealous of Langton?"
"Most likely," Pearce said. "But jealous enough to kill?"
"Love and money," Jake said. "Two of the most popular reasons for murder."
"Been watching a lot of Dateline?" Pearce asked.
"Gotta keep up with my training," Jake said and grinned.
"What about the edgier clubs angle?" Pearce asked.
"None of our vics seem to lean that way," Jake said. "Unless you're seeing something I'm not."
"No, I'm not." Pearce thumped his head against the back of the seat. "We keep hitting walls, and I'm getting tired of it."
"I hear you, brother." Jake pulled out of the apartment parking lot. "So what's next? Talk to Langton?"
"Yeah," Pearce replied. "And I want to go by Manny Bilton's apartment again."
"Erik Hamill's cousin?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, I just want to ask him a few more questions."
Pearce dialed the number he had for Darnell Langton and listened to it ring. Just when he thought the call would go to voice mail, it was picked up.
"This is Darnell."
"Darnell Langton?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"This is Agent Pearce with the FBI."
"FBI?" Langton lowered his voice, sounding nervous.
"That's correct. Myself and my partner would like to speak with you as soon as possible about Thomas Dougherty."
"Tom?" Langton hesitated. "Yeah, sure. Okay. I could do that. When?"
"When are you available?" Pearce asked.
"Oh, um, I'm at work right now…" Langton trailed off.
"We can meet you wherever and whenever you'd like."
"I'm heading out of town tonight for a week," Langton said. "I guess you could come here to work, we could talk downstairs."
"We'll be discreet," Pearce assured him.
"Yeah, okay. Sure."
Langton gave him an address, and Pearce wrote it in his notebook, then repeated it back.
"We'll see you shortly," Pearce said. "I'll send you a text message from this number when we arrive. Will that work?"
"Yeah, sure. That's good."
Pearce disconnected and tapped the address into his map app.
"How'd he sound?" Jake asked.
"Nervous," Pearce replied. "Normal. We need to get on a highway up here."
Fifteen minutes later, Jake pulled into the parking lot of a four-story glass-and-steel building. He found an open space marked with a Visitor Parking sign, and Pearce sent Langton a text. Langton wrote back in less than a minute with instructions to meet him in the lobby.
"Let's go," Pearce said. "Main lobby."
A bored-looking security officer sat behind a long desk near a few turnstiles. He threw them a curious glance, then turned his attention back to the computer monitor before him.
"Porn?" Jake asked in a low voice.
"Maybe you can suggest some sites?" Pearce asked, and received a glare.
An elevator dinged beyond the turnstiles and a handsome African-American man emerged. He wore a tie over a shirt in a coordinated color and dress pants. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, and when he approached, he held out his hand in greeting. They introduced themselves, and then Langton led them back outside.
"Sorry, I just don't want to talk in there," Langton explained. "Lots of eavesdroppers all around. Do you care if we walk around the building while we talk?"
"Not at all," Jake replied, and they set off along a sidewalk with Langton walking between them.
"I don't know much about the night Tom was killed," Langton said before either of them could ask a question. "I wasn't with him that night."
"You two dated before becoming friends?" Pearce asked.
Langton frowned. "How do you know that?"
"Is it true?" Pearce asked.
"Well, yeah. But, how did you know that?"
"We've been talking to members of his family and some of his other friends."
Langton nodded. "You must have talked with Grant. He had a thing for Tom and was a bit jealous that we had been together before."
Pearce and Jake exchanged a look. That answered their question about Silver being attracted to Dougherty.
"So Grant was attracted to Thomas?" Jake asked.
"Oh yeah, in a major way," Langton said with a tight smile. "He was completely jealous of me, of the thought of Tom and me together. He was so jealous that I finally told Tom I didn't want to hang out with him and Grant any longer. It was just too uncomfortable with all the nasty comments Grant used to say all the time."
"When did you and Mr. Dougherty end your sexual relationship?" Pearce asked.
"About three years ago."
"Why did you end it?" Jake asked.
Langton shrugged. "We just didn't fit anymore."
"You dated a long time," Pearce said. "
Two years is what we've heard."
"Yeah, true. But we both wanted something different."
"Did you find it?" Jake asked.
Langton grinned. "Not yet. Have you?"
Pearce looked away to hide his grin as Jake blushed.
"No. But I was asking to see if there might be any lingering feelings on either of your parts."
"No, we were both in a good place with being friends," Langton replied, but he wouldn't meet either of their gazes, and Pearce wondered about the underlying reason.
"What about when you were together?" Pearce asked. "How were things between you during that time?"
"They were okay. I was Tom's first black boyfriend, so I think it was all new and exciting to him."
"First?" Jake asked. "So he dated other black men after you two broke up?"
"Oh yeah, Tom liked dark meat."
"And you didn't mind?"
Langton shook his head. "No. We had a good run, but we both wanted something new. There were no hard feelings from either of us, and we still met up sometimes just to hang out."
"When was the last time you saw him?" Pearce asked.
"About a week before he died," Langton replied in a soft voice. "I ran into him at a bar, and we hung out the whole night. It was a really good time, actually. I'm glad it happened because it kind of put a cap on our relationship, you know?" He shook his head. "I almost didn't go out that night."
"Did he talk about seeing anyone?" Pearce asked.
"Nope. We were both single."
"So you hung out but didn't hook up?" Pearce asked.
Langton stopped walking and stared out over the parking lot a moment before looking at Pearce. "Well, no, not really. He came home with me that night."
"Really?" Jake asked. "Did he spend the whole night?"
Langton started walking back the way they had come. "Yeah. But we both knew it was a one-time thing. I didn't know how much I'd been missing him, you know?"
"Any calls afterwards Text messages?" Pearce asked.
Langton shook his head. "No. I gave him a Pop-Tart in the morning, kissed him good-bye, and that was the last time I saw or heard from him."
"Was he into anything extreme?" Pearce asked.
"Extreme?"
"BDSM?" Pearce clarified.
"Oh." Langton blinked and furrowed his brow. "No. He was really good at dirty talk, but he didn't get into pain. I'm not into it, either. Guess that makes us both sound a little boring."
"No judgments," Jake said. "Just have to ask."
"How did he seem that night?" Pearce asked. "Was he distracted? Nervous? Unhappy?"
"He was just… Tom, you know? It was a nice bit of closure for us, a good way for us to move on." He stopped, and Pearce realized they were in front of the entrance once again. "I really miss him. Haven't dated anyone since, actually. Just seems a little sad right now."
"Anything else you can think of?" Jake asked. "Anything at all?"
Langton thought a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, nothing."
Pearce and Jake both handed him their cards.
"If you do think of anything, give either of us a call," Pearce said. "Even if you don't think it's important."
"Is it true what they're saying about a serial killer?" Langton asked in a quiet voice. "Somebody strangling gay men?"
"That's what we're looking into," Jake replied. "Just be cautious who you take home."
"Yeah, most definitely," Langton said. "Thanks for keeping this low-key. I just got this job and don't want to risk losing it."
"No problem," Pearce replied. "Thanks for talking with us. We may be in touch again."
They shook hands with Langton and watched him go back into the building.
"What do you think?" Jake asked as they walked back to the car.
"I don't think he's our man," Pearce replied.
"Me neither."
"Nor do I think he knows anything," Pearce said. "But the information about Grant Silver is interesting."
"The jealousy?" Jake asked. "I thought so, too. Think it deserves a second round of questions?"
Pearce shook his head. "No, not yet. Let's let him stew for a day."
"You do know two days from now is Halloween, right?" Jake asked.
"Oh yeah?" Pearce grinned. "Are you telling me because you're planning to wear a costume to work?"
"What does Mark see in you?" Jake asked as he drove back toward the highway.
"So many things," Pearce replied. "Do you mind dropping me off at the hotel? I need to think about things a bit before I go to the bar tonight."
"Early night?" Jake asked.
"For me," Pearce said. "You were going to get in touch with your local media contacts and plaster Morgan's picture all over the news."
"Absolutely, that I can do." Jake nodded. "You're sure you don't need backup at the bar tomorrow night?"
"Pretty sure I can handle myself," Pearce said. "I thought you had plans?"
"Just wanted to make sure I wasn't needed."
They were quiet a moment, then Pearce asked, "What costume are you wearing to the party tonight?"
"I'm dressing like you," Jake replied. "Just going to be a big, walking dick."
"Need any pointers?"
"Nope, I'm a quick study."
Pearce grinned and looked away out the side window as Jake merged with traffic on the highway.
21
Mark lay on his back across the width of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been good to spend time with Calvin earlier, but he had a lot of questions spinning through his brain that he wished he'd asked. Questions relating to the case as well as Calvin's new position at the community center.
The sound of Pearce entering the room brought Mark up to a sitting position and he smiled. "Hi, honey, I'm still home."
Pearce responded with a tired smirk as he walked around the foot of the bed and shrugged out of his suit jacket. "I see that."
"Long day?" Mark asked.
"Longer than most, shorter than some."
Pearce stood at the window with his back to Mark, the suit jacket tossed across the armchair in the corner as he kicked off his shoes. Mark took in his broad shoulders beneath the white dress shirt, then dropped his gaze to the rounded swell of his ass. Pearce looked good in everything he wore, but Mark especially liked to see him in a suit. He watched as Pearce stared out over the city and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
"Anything I can do to help?" Mark asked.
"Stay inside the room," Pearce replied in a low voice.
Mark sighed. "Well, it's a bit too late for that."
Pearce turned, his shirt hanging open and exposing the long length of his torso covered by a white undershirt. "You left the hotel?"
Mark nodded. "I did. I went to lunch with Calvin and then to see the community center where he works. He got a promotion."
"You left the hotel." This time it was a statement, and his voice had a darker tone.
"Look, I couldn't just sit here all day."
"Well then, goddammit, you should have thought about that before you drove here."
Pearce pulled his shirt off and paced the room. Mark listened to the swishing sound of his pants and watched his hands wave in the air as he talked.
"You know who I'm up against here, and you know how dangerous he is. You're coming here just plays right into his game. He murdered that kid Tristan just because I talked to him. If he learns you're here in town, he'd love nothing more than to hurt you to get to me. Do you see that? Do you get just how crazy dangerous this whole situation is?"
"I know, and I'm sorry my coming here has made you so angry," Mark said from his spot on the bed. "But I saw how worn down you looked and just had to come. You shouldn't be working on this alone."
"I'm not alone! For fuck's sake, I'm working with a partner. We're working the case files together."
"You're working with someone you don't know to solve murders committed by someone he's never met," Mark stated as his heart po
unded. He fought the urge to scratch at his left elbow, and when Pearce stopped at the foot of the bed to glare at him, Mark glared right back.
"Jake is an agent of the FBI. He's trained to investigate these kinds of cases."
"And I have some background dealing with Morgan," Mark shot back. "I saved you from him last time, if you'll recall."
Pearce groaned in frustration and shook his fists at the ceiling. "You're so fucking hardheaded."
"Well, if that's not the pot calling the kettle black…"
"This isn't a joke!" Pearce shouted, and Mark fell silent and looked away.
Maybe he had made a mistake coming to Detroit. Maybe his presence was just going to be a distraction to Pearce and keep him from solving the case as quickly as he could have without Mark there. But Mark still felt, deep down, that he'd made the right decision.
He drew in a shaky breath and forced himself to look Pearce in the eye, despite his angry expression.
"I know you're mad—"
"Furious," Pearce corrected.
"Fine. I know you're furious. And I know that me being here has freaked you out. But my driving here was a really big step. You've lived with me these past six months. You know what it's been like."
"Why now?" Pearce asked in a defeated tone. "Why this case?"
"It's full circle," Mark replied. "It's what brought us together in the first place. And we solved that case together, if you'll remember. We figured out the bomb plot, all of it. No other agents were involved."
Pearce sat heavily on the end of the mattress and hung his head, his wrists on his knees and his hands hanging limp between his legs.
He slowly shook his head back and forth as he said, "This is worse than that case, don't you see?"
Mark got up and moved to sit beside him. He ran a hand up and down Pearce's back, the cotton undershirt damp with sweat from his exertions.
"Talk to me. Come on, explain it so I can help."
A sad, quiet laugh followed Mark's statement, then Pearce said, "This is because of me, don't you see? He killed those men just to get my attention, just to get me back here to his home turf. Those men are dead because I didn't finish the job last time."
