by Nya Rawlyns
Calhoun had listened to what Josh knew, nodding and taking notes, but not believing a word. Josh couldn’t blame him. He had trouble believing it himself. Kit was no innocent, Josh was sure about that. But in the matter of guilt, of assigning his actions to specific roles in the crimes that had been committed, that was where Josh drew a line in the sand. But Calhoun didn’t. The detective had judged and found the teen wanting.
Because Calhoun was aware he was going to lose Dee and the Goggles brothers to an imperfect system, he saw Kit as a sure thing, a slam dunk. Bird in hand.
Eagle in hand...
Josh hadn’t been aware of drifting to sleep, but the pounding on the door, hard enough to rattle the house, had him choking back a half snore. Marcus groaned and rolled out of bed, saying “I’ll get it.”
Josh barked, “Wait, help me up.”
Marcus was still half asleep, but he came to Josh’s side of the bed and maneuvered him to a standing position. Josh reached into the night stand and pulled out his Glock, chambered a round and nodded for Marcus to stay back.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not even light yet. Becca’s got a key. It’s not her.”
Limping toward the door, Josh stayed out of sight, backing against the wall, his gun at the ready. Marcus gave him the... are you serious... stare, then called out, “Who is it?”
“Calhoun.”
Marcus switched on the porch light and fingered the gauze curtain aside. He nodded to Josh and slowly opened the door to reveal the cop holding up his badge.
Josh growled, “I take it this isn’t a social visit.” He held the gun up, then backed away and set it on an end table. Calhoun followed the movement with flat cop eyes.
Marcus said, “If you’re coming in, I’ll make some coffee.” Without waiting for a reply he made his way toward the kitchen, turning on lights as he went, Josh and Calhoun following.
After they got themselves seated, Josh asked, “What brings you all the way out here at the ass crack of dawn?”
Calhoun glanced around the kitchen, taking his time. Finally he said, “I heard you two have taken the Goggles girl under your wing.”
Setting the carafe onto the coffee maker, Marcus turned and asked, “What’s this about, Det. Calhoun? Everybody in Centurion knows she’s here and why. Including Rev. Allen for Christ’s sake.”
Without taking his eyes off the cop, Josh said to Marcus, “It’s okay. The detective’s just doing his job.” He shifted in his seat, gut churning. He hated not knowing what the hell was going on. Echoing his words to Marcus, Josh spit out, “Isn’t that right, Calhoun, you’re just doing your job?”
The cop ignored the jab. “You say the girl’s here?” Josh nodded, his stomach sinking. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “Mind if I look?”
Josh stood up, knocking his stool back, and growled, “Yeah, I mind. You want to look, then you fucking come back with a warrant. You do that and you can search to your heart’s content.”
“Don’t do this, Foxglove. It’s not worth it, and you know it.”
“I don’t know fuck all, Calhoun. How about you fill me in.”
Taking a deep breath, Calhoun held his hands up, palms out. “Sit down, Josh. Please.”
Marcus muttered, “Josh...”
Easing onto the cushion, Josh nodded to Calhoun. “I’m listening.”
“The hospital called, said you’d spoken to the night duty nurse around nine o’clock. Asked about Kit Giniw.”
Josh nodded yes since there was no reason not to admit to what was a documented call. He added, “I’m just now getting back on my feet, otherwise I’d have checked in earlier. Why?”
“Because sometime between eleven and four, Kit walked out of the hospital and vanished into thin air.” The tendons in his neck bulged as he said, “I’m thinking that’s not a co-incidence.”
Marcus blurted, “You can’t think Josh had anything to do with that. He was here with me all night, damn it.” He moved around the table and placed his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “I changed the dressing on his leg.”
Josh gave the detective a calculated stare, then said, “You think he had help.”
“I’m sure of it.” His eyes flicked to the truck keys hanging on the wall by the back door and asked again, “Where’s the girl?”
Squeezing Josh’s shoulders so hard he winced, Marcus replied to the detective’s question with a steady voice. “She’s in the guest cabin.”
“You won’t mind if I look, will you?” He glared at Josh. “Or do I still need to get a warrant?”
Josh clamped his lips shut while he debated the issue. Marcus spoke softly. “I think we need to know if she’s there, Josh. I’ll take Det. Calhoun down. You stay here.”
Marcus padded to a row of drawers and pulled out a flashlight. “If you’re ready, we can go look.”
As Marcus turned to lead the detective outside, the door knob turned, stopping them all dead in their tracks. Petilune peered around the door jamb. “Am I late for breakfast?”
Recovering first, Marcus exchanged a look with Josh, then said, “No, sweety. We were just making coffee for Det. Calhoun. He stopped by to say hello and see how you were doing.”
Petilune shuffled in, set her backpack on the floor by the door, and primly smoothed a few stray tendrils of hair behind her ear. Josh said, “You’ll be the prettiest girl in school today. Is that a new dress?”
“Polly took me shopping.”
Josh glanced at Marcus. They’d both finally cottoned onto the girl’s uncanny ability to respond to a question without actually answering it.
Calhoun stood and offered her his seat. She smiled sweetly, her expression vacant, but she sat down and carefully smoothed her skirt over her knobby knees. Murmuring, “Thank you,” she folded her hands on the table and watched Marcus watching her.
Josh asked, “Did you sleep okay? Was the cot comfortable?”
He needed to establish Petilune being in the cabin all night, but was clueless how to go about it. The trucks were parked on the opposite side of the house. Sound would be muffled, so it wasn’t impossible for Petilune to have snuck in, grabbed the key to his truck and driven into Laramie. If she had, he was pretty sure the seat would have been moved up significantly as the girl was far too short to reach the pedals. The state of the gas tank might be another clue. She’d also be smart enough not to have used Marcus’ old truck. The engine made enough noise to wake the dead.
Petilune shrugged at the question about the cot, murmuring, “Um, I guess.”
Calhoun jumped on that. “Guess what, sweetheart?” Josh wanted to slap him for the unctuous tone of voice.
Yawning, she chirped, “I was asleep,” and that was the end of that.
Calhoun glared at Josh and muttered, “A word?”
Joining the detective in the living room, Josh hissed, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Calhoun. That child’s not right in the head. We all know that. I don’t think she understands half of what’s happening.” He held up a hand to stay the detective’s objections. “And as far as Kit’s concerned, my guess is he’s gone and won’t be back.”
“He’s bad news, Foxglove. Don’t go making the wrong choice.”
Josh leaned into Calhoun’s space and through gritted teeth said, “The only choice I need to make, Detective, is to protect my family. That includes Marcus, Petilune and my sister. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” Calhoun tugged on his suit lapels, straightening the fabric on his broad shoulders, and opened the door. He left a parting shot, “Be careful, Josh. Some people aren’t worth sacrificing all you’ve worked for.”
Closing the door, Josh murmured, “And what if you’re wrong, Calhoun? What if someone is worth the sacrifice?”
As he re-entered the kitchen, he watched Marcus gently stroking the neat braid that hung down Petilune’s back. The design was intricate, interlaced with tiny wildflowers. He was murmuring softly to the
girl, the words indistinct.
Josh asked, “How about pancakes for breakfast?” They both looked up and smiled, though Marcus’ eyes reflected his anxiety.
He left them to their moment and quickly assembled the meal. As he was plating it, he asked Petilune, “Are you hungry enough to eat these?” He held up a plate with four pancakes. “I made extra, just in case.”
“No thank you, Uncle Josh. Not today.” She poured syrup over her pancakes, the vacant look gone, replaced by an expression Josh couldn’t decipher.
While the girl ate quietly, he and Marcus stared at each other over the table, neither touching their food.
When she’d left with Becca to go to school, Marcus took him aside and said, “I need to know what the hell is going on. Is Petilune in danger?”
“From Kit?”
“Yeah, from him.”
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he loves her.” Josh pulled Marcus into an embrace. “Because he knows we love her.”
His voice muffled, Marcus asked, “Is love going to be enough?”
Josh thought about that, about all they’d been though, about everything they’d be facing in the future—making a new life together, rebuilding the store. About his vow never to leave Marcus alone.
He answered honestly, “I don’t know about anybody else, but for me... Yeah, love’s enough.”
“How will we know if Kit comes back?”
“Don’t braid Pet’s hair.”
Marcus relaxed and ruefully groaned, “Right.” He slapped Josh’s butt and ordered, “Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Shit, you’re a damn tyrant, you know that? Can’t you let the rehab slide for one day?”
“No. Now strip and get in bed.”
Grumbling, Josh did as he was told. Marcus joined him and climbed onto the mattress and straddled Josh’s torso. With a heavy sigh, Josh asked, “All right, what’s on the agenda today?”
Marcus grinned, his eyes gone smoky with lust.
“You ever hear the expression... save a horse, ride a cowboy?”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul.
It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true.
Nya Rawlyns cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedies and historical romances. She found her true calling writing about the wilderness areas she has visited but calls home—in that place that counts the most, the heart.
She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science.
When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
Websites:
Romancing Words: http://www.romancingwords.com
Love’s Last Refuge: http://loveslastrefuge.com/
The Men of Crow Creek: http://the-men-of-crow-creek.weebly.com/
Nya Rawlyns catalog:
The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery)
The Wrong Side of Right: transgressive homoerotica
Good Boy Bad: transgressive homoerotica
Bad Boyfriends: M/M contemporary romance, romantic comedy
Curling Iron
Pumping Iron
Jerking Iron
Bad Boyfriends Box Set
The Crow Creek Series: M/M contemporary erotic western romance
Ash & Oak
Pulling Leather
Strapping Ash
Sorting Will
Flankman
Mending Fences
The Strigoi Chronicles: homoerotic lit, paranormal
The Holiday Toast Duo: M/M romantic comedy
The Christmas Toast
The Valentine Toast
Cole in His Stocking
Acid Jazz Singer (Hunger Hurts)
Skin
Guardians of the Portals
Dance Macabre
Points on a Curve
The 90 Day Rule
