But I sure as hell didn't believe he'd sneak away like that. He didn't feel safe on his own even for a quick walk around the neighborhood. He'd never have snuck off like that. He wouldn't get any sleep at night without me holding him.
No, he was in danger. He was in trouble, and every hour we lost without a lead meant we had less of a chance of ever finding my Sky alive.
#
"You really should eat something," suggested Laura, looking at me with a sharp gaze that couldn't quite conceal her worry.
"Oh, like you are." I scoffed at the thought. She was almost as worried about Sky. She might never admit it, but she took a personal, proprietary interest in him, like he was a puppy she needed to nurse back to health. I might be responsible for a lot of his day-to-day protection and care, but she always tried to watch over him in whatever ways she could. And there were a lot.
The point was, both of us had failed. It wasn't okay. I didn't see how eating would help.
She scowled at me, crossing her arms. "Eat, or I'll report you," she snapped.
I laughed — a strange, cracked sound scared out of me by surprise. "Eat or you're telling daddy, huh?"
"It isn't funny. You're the one who knows Skyler best and has the best connection with him."
She doesn't mean like that, I told myself.
"You're the one he managed to contact last time. If he gets a chance to again, you have to be on your feet and ready to help, not crapping out on him because you won't take care of yourself. You're endangering police property."
My laugh sounded a little more real this time. "Okay, you've convinced me. Not sure if I'm police property or he is in this version of the world, but whatever."
"Eat and shut up," she snapped, and stalked away, ponytail flipping behind her angrily.
I saluted sarcastically. I managed not to put my head into my hands and cry. Then I ate some of the food that had been brought in by another officer sent out on a food run. Didn't taste a bite of it. I ate enough to satisfy myself I wasn't going to starve to death, then headed out again to patrol the streets. I had to do something. Had to.
Maybe I should go on foot this time. It made sense, if I thought about it. I'd been in a cruiser looking for him earlier, but we still didn't know how he'd been taken from the building. When I didn't know where I was going, walking was just as fast as driving. At any rate, I could try it. Maybe moving would help my brain to work.
I had snatched a couple of hours of rest here and there, but each one was a torment.
I knew he needed me. I knew it, and I was here resting, taking it easy. Each breath was painful knowing he was probably terrified, in pain, or past both fear and hurt. I had no idea it could hurt this much, caring about someone.
Yes, I had been frightened by his previous disappearance, but he wasn't gone long enough for it all to sink in. Also, we hadn't been in love then. And I hadn't known the depths of the danger that faced him.
My mind flashed again to the images of his injuries, snapped for the old police files. I shuddered.
Gruver knew how to hurt him. Even if Sky hadn't been a sensitive empath, Gruver's brutal attacks alternated with the mind-fuck of pretending to love him would've done a number on him.
Maybe that was the problem. Gruver was our only candidate, and we'd gone over the search for him without finding anything.
What if Gruver hadn't snatched him? What if — and I'm not saying the man was sane — but what if he'd skipped the country or something? Or even just holed up somewhere till the furor died down?
He was a clever man, but he would still show up somewhere if he used anything but cash, or had to travel, rent anything, etc. He couldn't do much except hide.
And whoever had snatched Sky had the resources to get into a police station without being seen.
Holy shit, was this an inside job?
It probably goes to show that I'll never make captain if it took me that long to think of, but it did.
I walked faster, moving around the building. The captain had been very tight-lipped, not sharing all the details with everyone in the main room. And he seemed very urgent about the ESRB getting here.
Maybe he didn't trust our guys. I'd been so focused on Gruver, maybe everybody around me had been thinking this and I hadn't. Shit.
Now a lot of things made more sense.
But who would've snatched him — and why would someone from the department be involved?
I tried hard to think of more things, but my brainpower was used up. I completed the walk without finding anything and went wearily back to my desk, trying to think how I'd get the captain alone so I could ask him. I certainly wasn't going to ask about a mole with anyone else in hearing. For so many reasons.
He was cloistered with someone, though — wait, many someones. Perhaps half the precinct. They appeared to be raising their voices a lot.
"Hunt — get your ass in there. Didn't you hear? They found his escape route."
Escape route? The hell?
I hurried into the office, managing to squeeze myself past a couple of other officers and find room to stand.
"Hunter!" bellowed Quill, red in the face, practically oozing steam from his ears. "Don't wander off! Did you or did you not show him the back way out of the building?"
I didn't have to think. "No, sir. We always went out the front."
Quill looked at me with eyes so malevolent they could've gone red and wouldn't have looked worse. "The back way," he repeated. "The laundry route."
I blinked. "That's where he went?"
"There's a path out, if you follow a certain route to the entrance the laundry service uses. It's always locked — but it opens from the inside in an emergency. It's outside camera range."
My first thought was, why didn't we have a camera on the laundry exit? But clearly the situation had never come up before. And he was right, I knew the door, had probably passed it a dozen times. It was small, locked, not a big deal. Didn't even seem like a real door anymore.
"I didn't show him, sir. I didn't even think of it. He was always in a hurry to leave when it was time to go. He wouldn't have wanted to take fancy routes." Or anything that made him walk outside the building for longer periods of time. He just wanted to head straight to the car, walking safely next to me, and jump in and head home.
Sometimes he could hardly wait for the end of the day, jittery and hoping to go soon.
He hadn't really run away, had he? But why? I'd promised to talk to the captain if he needed something different, and I had no doubts about us loving each other. We were committed, both to our relationship and to watching each other's backs personally and professionally.
He was my buddy, my partner, my boyfriend — everything. He wouldn't have run. But how could I explain my certainty to a roomful of men and women who were now sure he'd run?
"Sir," I tried. But I was a patrolman. A nobody. I didn't have an amazing record or a reputation as the guy with great ideas. I was just an average Joe cop.
In the end, other theories were floated around, or shouted out, voices rising over one another heatedly. Perhaps he'd gotten a job offer in the private sector. Got fed up and headed out. Had a boyfriend in another state and wanted to go to him.
I was biting my tongue, unsure how to help or even be heard, when the captain finally caught my eye across the room. He jerked his head towards the exit. "Go home, Hunt. You're wasted. Get some sleep."
Even the captain didn't expect more of me right now. I just needed to go and rest, because I clearly wasn't useful for any theories or searches here.
"But what if he was blackmailed?" asked someone. "Forced to leave?"
"Or what?" sneered someone else. "We already know all the dirt on him."
Yes, but nobody knew the dirt on me.
Could that be what had happened? Somebody had found out about me and used me to get to him through a threat? It seemed glaringly unlikely to me, both that someone would show so much insight and finesse, and that he'd go along with
it. Surely he'd know to come to me with any trouble like that.
And he hadn't been lying to me this morning. No, something had happened; he wouldn't have gotten blackmailed into something so quickly, and he'd have come to me first thing. Especially if it was about me. He wasn't an idiot, and he trusted me. He would think I deserved to know.
I hoped I wasn't deluding myself.
"Maybe this is about one of the cases he steered us right on," said Johnston.
"Hunter, go home!" snapped the captain again.
Like a naughty dog, I slunk from the room.
"We'll have to go through all the old case files again," said Officer Ngoimgo. "If this is about a case, there might be a clue."
"But what could he be blackmailed over? We knew he was … ahem … we knew about his history and … er … orientation."
"I don't know," said Quill slowly, but he was watching me closely as I followed his order and started to leave. It made my skin crawl, that thoughtful, hard look on his face.
#
As I pulled up outside home — although it didn't feel like it would be home without Sky — I was so tired I could hardly see straight.
I certainly didn't expect a battered pickup truck to be waiting down the street, and Kenny's battered, familiar face with his farmer's suntan to be waiting for me.
"Hunt," he said. "Gotta tell you something. Can we talk quick?" His gaze darted around the street, making him look guilty from miles away.
"Why didn't you call?"
"Don't know how seriously they take security. What if you're bugged?"
"What could you have to tell me that you can't say over the phone line?" I opened the door, fumbling with my keys, and held the door for Kenny. He was about to bust a gut having to actually talk to me out in the open, during daylight.
"Thanks, man," he huffed breathlessly. "I'm … it took a while. Maybe I should've tried to come sooner, but I couldn't get away. Is your buddy okay? I don't see him around."
I gritted my teeth. "You want to chat or you want to tell me what's wrong and get out?" My voice cracked. My buddy wasn't all right. For a moment, I'd thought it was about that: he knew something about Sky. But if he didn't even know Sky was missing—
"Hunt," said Kenny. "There was a guy on Wednesday asking about him. About your … your … Skyler." He forced a smile. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to get you back or anything. He seems like a great guy. Just … this guy was asking kind of creepy questions, like if we'd seen a guy who looked like Skyler, with tattoos on his arms like that, and he seemed to think Skyler was a slut or a whore or whatever, like he thought he was up to all kinds of stuff, and hated him for it. I blew him off, and was trying to signal to Josh that maybe we should get this guy out of here, but Josh, you know his big mouth, the guy talked to him for just a minute and before he gets to the creepy stuff, Josh is all like, 'That sounds like Skyler. He was here with Hunt!' Like, really, dude, don't out somebody." He rolled his eyes. He got very Valley Girl sometimes. "Anyway, the guy was all like, 'I knew it,' and left right away. But I got bad vibes from the whole thing. I wanted to call, but like I said. And then I just couldn't get away from the farm for a while. Hope everything's okay."
His gaze was suddenly piercing. "It's not, is it? You look bad."
I sat down suddenly and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. "He's gone."
"Who? Skyler? He ditched you?"
I shook my head. "He's missing. I'm sure he didn't just leave. Somebody … somebody snatched him. And that guy you're describing…" I jumped up, and began searching. Yes: I still had pictures from the last time we'd needed to ask witnesses if they'd spotted Gruver.
"Was this him?" I showed him the printout of the mug shot. Gruver looked smug even holding a sign and standing next to height lines. He looked sleek and unconcerned, and almost smirky. I hated the son of a bitch.
"Yeah. Holy shit, some criminal is asking about your buddy?"
"He almost killed Sky. More than once. The man is wanted and dangerous. I wish you'd told me sooner."
"I … I wish that, too." He gulped and sat down on a kitchen chair quickly. "Would he have shot up the place if he hadn't gotten what he wanted? Wait, do I have to tell the police about this?" He looked more scared of that than he did of the thought of Gruver shooting up the bar. The color left his face completely, draining away and leaving him looking sickly and ill. "I — I can't, man. I can't."
I swallowed, hard. "I'll tell them it was an anonymous tip. Gruver was spotted in a local gay bar inquiring about Skyler."
"But then they'll want to know what he learned, and … oh, man." He leaned forward, shaking his head, putting his hands up against it. "I can't do this. I gotta leave town for a few days. You do what you gotta, man, but I'm not being outed like this. I'm not talking to the cops. I gotta live, you know."
"Your family wouldn't—"
The door was already open and he was halfway out. For a swaggering farm boy, he could move fast. "You don't know my family. Just don't shit with me. I'll deny everything."
Thanks a fucking lot. Turn on your own like that, do you?
But he was right; I didn't know his situation and, while the captain would want to follow every angle, most of them led to me, and I would just have to stick with the anonymous tip if I didn't want Ken muddying the water more with lies or trying to throw them off his scent. He was running scared now, the coward.
But really, was I any better?
I looked around, feeling hopeless and helpless. Since Wednesday. Gruver had been in the area Wednesday night, bold enough to ask around about Sky, possibly at more than one gay bar, and—
More than one!
Maybe I could float that possibility, get someone else to…
But no. A few quick questions, which most people apparently hadn't spotted — I knew Paul and Jaivon would've called me if they'd heard about people asking lots of questions. There was every possibility he'd gone to other gay hot spots in town, but not much chance of finding anyone who'd remember him almost a week later.
Shit. I was so screwed.
But this wasn't about me. This was about him — his life. Sky. If he wasn't already dead, he was probably getting closer all the time.
And the precinct was working on the wrong angle now. Gruver wasn't gone. He was here. He'd had almost a week, time to plan, stalk, and maybe even bribe someone on the inside to get Sky out.
Maybe it had even been blackmail. Would Sky have been that stupid? I really didn't think so; he trusted me to protect him. He wouldn't have signed his own death warrant just to protect me from being outed at work. The man had priorities.
Would he have run?
Would he have left the building for someone else, like an accomplice? If Gruver wasn't working alone, but had gotten someone to deliver the message, would Sky have fallen for that?
Shit. He might have.
Then the accomplice could've lured him to a second location, and — goodbye, Sky. Gruver wins.
No. Even if he was dead, I couldn't let this stay hidden another second. Even if it meant outing myself forever, losing the job, basking in the shame of my family's rejection — none of that mattered compared to Sky. I was surprised it ever had, to be honest.
I called the captain. My hands must not have realized I didn't care; they were shaking so hard it took me three tries.
"Quill," he barked, announcing himself. "What is it, Hunter?"
I heard something in his voice. "Um, sir, I received an anonymous tip…"
And it all came pouring out. The captain was furious with me; his voice got lower, rumbly and ominous. The details left my mouth in an increasingly stilted, report-like manner.
"And just when did you plan on telling me any of this?" he growled. "All right." He sighed, sounding both broken and angry. "You were fucking him." His voice held so much distaste for me, I might as well have been a dog that had pooped on his fancy oriental carpet.
"Sir, we engaged in a variety of mutually satisfying an
d consensual—"
"That's enough," he barked. "This … person … who saw Gruver. We'll have to get a statement."
"I've been informed the witness in question will be out of town for the next few days," I said stiffly, and winced.
"Oh, is that so?" His voice got nasty. "Maybe I'll just throw you into holding until you can remember a name to go with that vague witness. Was he a 'boyfriend,' too?"
I stayed silent, not sure how to put it. My heart raced, my hands were clammy and trembling, and I would probably have preferred torture to this scornful outing. I knew it would probably get worse, not better. I'd never really thought I was very brave, but now I knew just how little bravery I held in me.
"Josh Collins," I said quickly. "He's the one who spoke with Gruver. He'll be able to tell you, to confirm… He spoke with the man, will recognize…"
He would also be terrified to be questioned by the police, and I felt like I was throwing him under the bus. But I was already outed now, he'd never been in the closet, and somebody needed to ID Gruver.
If the asshole couldn't keep his mouth shut with Gruver, then he could just talk to the cops now.
I gave his name and address quite calmly. Quill didn't ask how I knew him or his address. He seemed determined not to ask anything that could reveal more sexual partners.
"Right," said Quill. "I'll send officers to confirm the story. And don't think you're getting away with this because you're some kind of sexual special snowflake now. Tomorrow morning, you drive in and turn in your badge and gun. You're suspended until further notice."
A walk of shame indeed. By then everyone would be laughing about my supposed sexcapades, the tawdry double life, the gayness. I winced.
"You withheld crucial evidence," said the captain.
"Sir, I didn't know that Gruver was in the area. I called you as soon as I knew."
"You knew you were having sex with the victim. You knew you were hiding that fact from your commanding officer. Fuck it, Hunter, you lied to me and you know fucking well that the focus of the investigation would've gone a very different way if you'd told the truth."
SAFE (Men of the ESRB Book 1) Page 8
