A Few Good Fish

by Amy Lane

  Ellery took a deep breath, like he’d considered this already. “Mackenzie Jacobs, but we’ve only met once. And?”

  “And this becomes a big state thing. And you and me, we become the prime witnesses in the state’s case against a Navy commander. And you know where that gets us?”

  Ellery looked away. “Dead or in protective custody.”

  Jackson nodded. “We gotta do it,” he said after a moment. “That kid, Janie? She didn’t do anything. Her boss, Evander—”

  “Who just woke up from his coma and is in protective custody,” Ellery supplied.

  A tiny knot in Jackson’s chest loosened. “That’s good to know.” He closed his eyes, and the face of the last guy he’d been questioning who knew more than he should flashed behind them. What was left of it after the drive-by, that is. “But he didn’t do anything either. And we’re the people who step up and say that’s not right.” Jackson tilted his head back and looked at the pristine, dustless ceiling. “I’m just… just in a new place. And I’m about to lose whatever freedom I ever had. I mean, from what I hear about protective custody, they might not even let us keep the fucking cat. I’m going for a walk.”

  “I’ll text you when I’m done,” Ellery said quietly. “I’d like to join you.”

  Jackson nodded, out of words about what it would mean, the two of them together under constant watch, constant threat of retribution, or the alternatives that were worse. They’d known, both of them, what this would mean.

  They’d just never talked about it. They’d made love, made a home in Ellery’s house, and continued to do their jobs like it wasn’t all about to get ripped away because they’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest in the summer and it was impossible to kill every pointy-assed bastard that was suddenly swarming around them.

  “I won’t go far,” he said gruffly. He’d dragged Ellery into that first case, the one that cleared Kaden. He’d dragged him into it and then hadn’t had the strength to refuse Ellery’s insistent courtship. Somebody had wanted him, scars, nightmares, flaws, and all.

  And now Ellery was as much the center as he was.

  Jackson spun on his heel then, grabbed the spare key card from the TV stand, and walked out into the late-winter afternoon in San Diego.

  A HALF hour later he’d walked the perimeter of the marina, through the hotel district, into the gaslight district, which featured the nice bistros and good places to eat. The temperature—midsixties—was comfortable, but the bright sunshine didn’t fit his mood.

  He wondered how many people wished for the fogs of June.

  He’d spoken to Crystal, who assured him that Billy Bob was fine—and that no more bugs had shown up in anybody’s houses and that they’d checked for traces on all the electronics and found them to be all clear.

  “I don’t think he’s got a lot of computer resources,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “I mean, we haven’t seen it. He would have hacked into Ellery’s computer if he did—we’ve got security, but we’re hardly military grade.”

  “Yeah. I told Ellery the bugs were old—old technology. If he’s government funded, they’re not writing him a blank check.”

  “I wonder if they’re thinking about stopping payment entirely,” Jackson said thoughtfully, wondering again what Lacey and the crony who’d bribed Anthony had been doing in Sacramento. “That could certainly speed up their agenda.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Crystal promised, apparently reading his mind. “I mean, we don’t have the greatest security—anyone who can’t hack us is someone I can hack.”

  Jackson smiled. “Crystal, darling, you’re a wonder—”

  “How’s AJ?” she asked quietly. Jackson had told her about the young man trying so hard to get clean.

  “Ask Jade for pictures,” Jackson told her, still paranoid about the phones. “He’s having a good week.”

  “I had a bad night last night,” she confessed, so openly, so easily he almost wanted to ask her what her secret was. “And the only thing that kept me from going out and scoring was remembering how hard you’d been working to help him stay clean. ’Cause you’d do the same thing for me—”

  “Course!” Oh Lord—he’d had no idea she’d been on the edge. They’d been friends for years, lovers once even.

  “I know you would. But I don’t need to make you. Thinking about AJ made me remember how far I’ve come. So I needed to remember to thank you for that,” she said softly. “It was just sort of floating around in my mind.”

  Jackson grinned. “Your mind’s a lovely place, sweetheart. Don’t let any of the crap flying around the world convince you different, okay?”

  “I promise. Thanks, Jackson. I’ll hack anything you need.”

  She hung up, and Jackson felt the muscles in his back, the ones locked in fight-or-flight since his discussion with Ellery, uncoil. The phone buzzing in his hand hardly made him jump.

  “The Walmart in Barstow,” Ace said shortly. “Just me. Tomorrow at two. Just you.”

  “McDonald’s?” Jackson asked, because soda!

  “You wish. If I’m going to Walmart, I’d better have some fucking ice cream, chips, and assorted kid food with me when I get back. No. We’re going shopping, buddy boy. Bring your cart.”

  Ace hung up sharply, and Jackson took a few steps past a redbrick restaurant with a Lautrec-style cat on the front. He paused at the menu and saw steak, saw seafood, saw pasta, and saw wine—at thirty dollars minimum per plate.

  Definitely Ellery’s kind of place.

  He texted Ellery the address and put his name in for a table for two in half an hour, then circled the block, grateful for the hooded sweatshirt in light of the breeze coming off the ocean. Then he called Jade briefly and got the numbers from Janie’s witnesses from the private school.

  “You guys okay?” she asked as his phone pinged with the info.

  “Yeah. It’s almost like vacation.”

  “Hunh.”

  “That’s not bullshit—I swear!”

  “No, no—I believe you. But you sound like you’re all business, so I think you need to take better vacations.”

  Jackson laughed and hoped it didn’t sound forced. “Maybe I like my job.”

  “Maybe you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not in Sacramento,” she said.

  Jackson grunted. “Kaden wants me to go to church and you want me to take a vacation—so much for twin telepath—”

  “We want you safe,” she said. “We want you happy. What do you want?”

  He let out a noisy sigh. “I want Ellery not to regret knowing me. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

  She sighed back, and before she could start again, he signed off.

  “I love you, honey—text me with any new info, or with any more pictures. Oh! Ask Crystal to dinner tonight if you can?”

  “Why? Is she okay?”

  “No. And I don’t think she’d mind me telling you that because she’s frighteningly well-adjusted.”

  “What’s that look like from afar?” Jade asked—but she sounded wistful too.

  “It looks like a friend asking for help. Which is what I just did.”

  “You’re infuriating, do you know that? No, don’t answer. Just go.”

  Jackson hung up, trying not to gloat because he’d gotten the last word. He paused for a moment, looked around to make sure he wasn’t being followed, and then clicked the number she’d sent him for one of Janie’s witnesses.

  Ms. Tina Paul, divorced, sounded sweet, distracted, and like she had way too many cats. She talked about Janie for five minutes, telling Jackson what a doll she was on the volunteer days and how much fun she had with the children. When Jackson asked her about Janie dropping off the kids on Friday, she actually thought hard about the question, though.

  “Oh yes. Friday? That was the day Mindy Alves was killed. I remember, because about a minute after Janie pulled out, someone else had to stop short because a big sedan came speeding out of nowhere. When we heard about Mirand
a, I was sure that was the car that hit her. I still can’t believe it was poor Janie.”

  Jackson stopped right there on the sidewalk and backed up against an alleyway so the brick of the building he was passing dug into the shoulders.

  “Tina?” He spoke on speaker while frantically texting Jade.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need you to do me a big ol’ favor. I’m going to have Carlyle Langdon, Janie’s lawyer, get in touch with you. She didn’t kill Mindy Alves—we have physical evidence to prove it, but an eyewitness who saw the other car could sure help. Do you remember who the sedan cut off?”

  “Lessee…. Oh yes. Courtney Lester’s dad. Would you like me to tell them that too? Oh, wait—I have another call—”

  “That’s them,” Jackson said, relieved. “Tell them what you told me, the truth as far as you saw it, and tell them anyone else who might have seen it—”

  “Principal Conrad, Eliza Jefferson—”

  “Give them all the names,” Jackson said fervently. “Honey, you might have just saved Janie’s whole future. Answer them now, and have a nice day.”

  He hung up and let out a long breath. Oh thank God—Janie had a witness.

  “Jackson?”

  Ellery had dressed nicely, in black jeans and a black turtleneck. He’d slicked back his hair and shaved, and Jackson felt a little bit grubby, having just run out of the hotel room wearing jeans and a hoodie.

  “Hey!” Jackson smiled at him sunnily, so relieved to have something good to say to him, something real that made what they were doing worth it.

  “Is this the place?” Ellery looked dubiously at the brewery whose alley Jackson had co-opted, and Jackson shook his head, embarrassed.

  “No—I was sneaking in a phone call before you got here—want to hear some good news?”

  Ellery’s face lightened as they walked, his lean mouth parted almost eagerly as he drank in the story, and he looked boyish, a young professional with nothing more serious on his mind than his next car.

  Jackson walked him back around the block to the restaurant he’d picked, which possessed a little raised patio and thick glass doors between the outside tables and the inside, and showed him the menu next to the entrance.

  “This looks great—seriously, though? We’ve got witnesses?”

  “A shit-ton,” Jackson confirmed, nodding at the leggy hostess with the apple cheeks, brown/bronze complexion, and sparkling sepia-colored eyes.

  She smiled, showing off the adorable cheeks, and picked up two menus. “Rivers for two?”

  “Yeah. That’s us.” Jackson let Ellery precede him through the door and put his hand on the small of Ellery’s back as they walked through the restaurant. Something about the way Ellery’s posture—usually ramrod straight—relaxed just a tad told Jackson he liked this maneuver, this tiny bit of public touching.

  Jackson rubbed his thumb surreptitiously along Ellery’s spine and wondered if they could make love again, maybe even twice, before he had to head out for a Walmart in Barstow.

  He remembered what Jade had said about a vacation, what Kaden had said about letting Ellery be thankful for him.

  What Crystal had done, by simply telling a friend she wasn’t okay.

  Maybe it was time for Jackson to set down his burdens, his worry about not being good enough, his many, many fears. Maybe he could take a vacation from his defensiveness and some of his pain.

  He was out with a handsome, intelligent person who wanted to be with him—wanted, in fact, to seize his hand and run into a storm on the horizon that only the two of them could sense—just because it was Jackson’s hand.

  “What?” Ellery said after they were seated in a quiet corner. The interior was done in the same cream-colored wood as the outside front. It didn’t have the intimacy of the redbrick brewery, but it did have a sense of freedom.

  Jackson didn’t bother to ask what Ellery was talking about. For tonight he was done with that game.

  “I dream about you,” he said, frowning. “I mean, I dream about everybody I love. Some nights it’s Kaden and Rhonda and the kids. Some nights it’s Jade and Mike. Some nights it’s the damned cat. But most nights it’s you. And… and the shit going on is always heinous. And it’s always bloody or worse. And I’m always too late. Because I don’t get nice things, right? I don’t get good people in my life. But… but you look really good tonight, Ellery. You look young and happy and excited to be out. And I want to have a good night with you. I want to… to hold your hand back to the hotel and pretend the worst thing we have to worry about is some stupid homophobe that I could drop in a hot second. I want you to not have to look at me like I’ll break into a thousand pieces, because I just told you my damage, and it’s not hurting us tonight. Can we do that?”

  Ellery’s warm brown eyes had gone shiny, and his mouth parted slightly to form a little O.

  “Sure,” he said softly. “You just did a good thing—a thing I wanted to do and was afraid I couldn’t because we came down here. My client has witnesses—not just one, but a lot of them—who back up her story. Arizona got to me before you texted. She said she’s looking into the location of one Navy commander on a certain day this month. She told me that Pentagon allocations are decided upon in two weeks, so he may have had some friends in Sacramento that he wanted to go speak for him in Washington. So you and me, we’re doing our job. And we did it good. And I want to take a night off, because this really hot guy with”—his face went slack—“these amazing green eyes has spotted a restaurant that has my favorite kind of wine.”

  “Does it really?” Jackson asked, taking a sip of his water.

  “Does it really what?”

  “Have your favorite kind of wine?”

  Ellery nodded happily, and Jackson pumped his fist.

  “Score!”

  Ellery’s chuckle warmed his soul, and together they went searching through the wine menu for fermented Kool-Aid, which was Jackson’s wine of choice.

  Dinner conversation revolved around work, of course, but now that they were both relaxing just a tad for Janie’s safety, Jackson felt safe enough to drop in a few details about Tina Paul’s many cats and the six times she’d said “Down, kitty!” as she seemed to be moving about the house.

  He talked about Crystal and her naked admission that she’d had a bad night, and about how he hoped they could get AJ to admit the same thing. Ellery listened attentively, of course, and asked questions.

  And was concerned in the same way Jackson was.

  And laughed at Jackson’s jokes.

  As the waitress approached, Ellery said, “Can I order for you?” He’d been scanning the menu while Jackson talked, and Jackson shrugged.

  Ellery ordered prime rib for Jackson and chicken marsala for himself, and then their wines, and as the waitress walked away, Jackson knew his mouth had twisted sardonically.

  “What?” Ellery dared.

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  Ellery let the lie bounce between them for a moment until Jackson swallowed and looked away.

  “How bad’s the truth?” Ellery asked softly. “As bad as watching you fight with yourself every time we sit down to eat?”

  Jackson let out a breath slowly through his nose. “You stayed with me,” he said quietly. “In the hospital this last time. I mean, by now it drives you batshit, but you stayed with me through my concussion. I puked up shit I haven’t eaten yet, and you stayed. Why?”

  Ellery regarded him warily, like this was a trick question. “You hate it there,” he said. “I mean, after November, you… I’m not even sure you can walk into a morgue anymore, and you’ve got a friend who works down there.”

  Jackson let a smile slip through. “Toe-Tag,” he said fondly, thinking about Toby Tagliare, the almost obscenely cheerful little hobbit of a man who was Jackson’s contact at Med Center’s morgue. “He’d rather see us at dinner at his place, anyway.”

  Ellery inclined his head, admitting this was true, but true to his natur
e, he didn’t let go. “A dinner you don’t eat.”

  Jackson hadn’t been able to put words to this until Thanksgiving at Ellery’s parents’ house, when everything was about eating.

  “When I get too full, it’s… it’s the same weight on my chest,” he said, knowing that was impossible. “It’s the same weight I feel in the hospital. I feel like I have to fight for every breath there now. Like I’m a million breaths overdue, and God or someone’s trying to take every last breath as it’s working in my chest. When I get full, or even satisfied a little… that’s what I feel. Last night, when I woke up and we were on the road, I felt so… so light. I could eat and skate on the feeling. But now….”

  Ellery reached across the table to cover his hand, and for an irrational moment, Jackson wanted to snatch his hand back and tuck them both under his armpits. But he’d promised. For this dinner, for this moment, he would set his burdens down and trust that Ellery could handle them.

  “That’s awful,” Ellery said, voice still pitched low. “I can see why eating would be a burden. Maybe tonight you can pretend, just for a little, that you’re free. You’re so free you can eat a meal in peace. Do you want to see if you can do that?”

  Jackson nodded and, feeling brave, turned his hand so it was palm up. Ellery laced their fingers together and squeezed.

  They didn’t say much for a few moments, until the waitress arrived with their wine and a bread plate. When they separated their hands and tasted their wine and talked about the bread, the moment faded.

  It had done its job, though. Jackson’s shoulders, his chest, felt a little lighter by the time dinner arrived.

  He felt light enough to eat.

  A GENTLE fog was crawling in off the bay as they walked back, and Jackson turned his face to the ocean and tried to see where the water ended and the sky began.

  “’S pretty,” Ellery said, and whoop! There was that innocence again.

  “It’s dangerous,” Jackson corrected gravely, foreboding inching up his spine.

  “You’re both,” Ellery said mildly, and Jackson rolled his eyes.