by LS Sygnet
Unease settled over me. I’m not used to feeling this empathy thing. Dad would certainly not approve of all these new emotional leaves I’ve been turning over of late. My indecision wasn’t the source of the discomfort. It was the sadness in such clear blue eyes that suddenly impaled me while I debated which fork in the road made the most logical sense.
Emotion is utterly divorced from logic. Whether that’s fortunate or not, I don’t know. Yet. I have a feeling that I’ll figure it out if all of this deception ever catches up with me. That siren of the heart beckoned, and I answered the call. This time, my fingers connected, a tender scrape over Johnny’s cheek.
“Of course I care how all of this makes you feel, Johnny. It tears my heart out seeing you struggle with it alone. I don’t know what else to do. Is it right for me to make you feel obligated to something with me when you don’t even remember it? I want to be selfish and demand –”
His hand clasped mine and held it against his face. “It’s not selfish. I know this isn’t easy for you either. Rather than slam doors or fumble through this alone, couldn’t we try to figure it out together?” He turned his head and kissed the heel of my palm softly.
My eyes fluttered shut. The magnetism that had been between us from day one tugged me into a hard lean toward Johnny. “We could try that,” I whispered.
“What about Detective Dreamy in the kitchen?” Johnny’s voice was a soft reprimand more than a reminder that Devlin might well hear every word we said.
Deep breath. “I don’t know what Maya told you, Johnny, or what assumptions you made because I was with Devlin socially tonight, but I’m not ready to forget about you after a week.”
“Will you work this case with me?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m not sure what good I’ll be though. Underwood doesn’t seem to take my questions or authority seriously. Before you arrived, we talked briefly to the members of the band. They weren’t much better than Underwood.”
“Yeah,” Johnny nodded agreement. “That singer guy seemed pretty eager to talk to you. It wasn’t rocket science figuring out why. I was thinking we might use that to our advantage.”
Dev returned with a tray and three cups of coffee. “We were thinking of going back for the encore after party tomorrow night,” he said. “I figured that if Helen and I appeared to be there in a less than official capacity, we might learn something that could help the investigation.”
“What do you think, Johnny?” I asked.
“Objectively, it’s not a bad idea.”
I understood the message loud and clear. I squeezed that hand still holding mine. “Did the victim have an identification on her?”
Johnny shook his head. “Nothing. Winslow was heading over to the morgue when I left to come here. She said she’d call after she rolled the prints.”
“Are Tony and Crevan still taking statements from those with backstage access?” Dev asked while I considered how much of the conversation he had overheard from the kitchen. He seemed like whatever moment we shared before Johnny arrived had evaporated. This was full-on professional mode.
“As best they could, considering the level of chemical impairment flowing through the place,” Johnny said. “Of course word spread as fast as it usually does in Darkwater. The press showed up as I was trying to get out.”
“Great,” I muttered.
“Not just any press, Doc, it was Belle Conall. I swear that woman is a professional nuisance.”
He was using the nickname again. I noticed. How could I not? It made me a little boneless every time Johnny said it. Then the implications of who showed up to report on the bizarre death at a Pan Demon concert seeped into my brain. Belle Conall, the literal blackmailer of my dear friend Crevan’s secret, sniffing around the unexplained death of a victim Maya already suspected was transgendered. Micro nuclear bombs ignited in my brain.
“What?” Orion frowned.
I shook my head.
“You groaned, Doc. Don’t start hiding things now.”
“It’s… I’d rather wait until Maya confirms cause of death.” Among other things. Crevan’s comfort level was about to do a one-eighty. Could he work this case? Instant regret flooded me. This would be moot, had I not lost my temper and let Johnny’s ultimatum push me out of a case that should’ve been mine and Dev’s.
Speaking of Devlin, his frown caught my eye. “Et tu?”
“I guess I’m having a little trouble figuring out why Belle Conall would make you have a thought about the victim’s cause of death. Knowing you, we’re several days behind your deductive reasoning.”
Not so much that as the things I knew about Crevan, about why his marriage to Belle was over, her response to it, the Adam’s apple on our allegedly female victim and how no less than three universes were on a disastrous collision course. I’m pretty sure that the sickly emotion in my chest was conveyed completely by what should’ve been a reassuring smile. “Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Or, the alcohol is doing weird things to me. I’m tired, guys. Dev, would you mind getting one of the rooms upstairs ready?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
I nodded. “I’ll walk Johnny out.” His gaze met mine. “We can set up a time to talk tomorrow about the case and how we plan to proceed when I’m not so fuzzy.”
“I guess I’ll dispose of the coffee we wanted but no longer need,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Leave it. I’ll clean up tomorrow. Really, I’m tired.” I rose. “Johnny?”
He followed me to the foyer and halted at the front door. “Doc, I hate to agree with him, but you’re acting odd.”
“What time do you want to meet tomorrow? Are you planning to work the rest of the night?”
“I’m gonna check in with Crevan and Tony. Are you all right?”
His hands slid up my arms.
“Johnny, have you had a heart to heart with Crevan about his divorce?”
The hint of a smile quivered at the corner of his mouth. “Not that I recall. I remember the estrangement and separation. Is that what’s got you feeling out of sorts? Believe me. Belle writing for the Sentinel on this one isn’t gonna throw Crevan off his game.”
“What time do you want to meet in the morning?”
“Get some sleep. Call me when you wake up. Considering your rank on my speed dial, I assume you’ve got my number too.”
“Will you call me right away if Maya calls with any information about the victim?”
One eyebrow lifted. “You’re making me very suspicious, Helen. I said I was sorry for what happened earlier. I’m not gonna cut you out of the case.”
That wasn’t my main concern. If Maya was right, how would Johnny react to the fact that I failed to share the information with him? I cursed my reticence.
This wasn’t my secret to share, no matter how much I trusted Johnny. Old habits die hard – an old adage with much truth. “Johnny, I can’t explain why I feel this, but there are going to be issues with this case that are going to make it very difficult for us.”
“In what way?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“A little of both. Please trust me. I’m not keeping my mouth shut because I want to. Talk to Crevan about the divorce.”
“All right,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I wasn’t, but managed to nod my way through another successful lie. At least I hoped he bought it.
Chapter 8
The phone rang half an hour after Johnny left.
“Maya?” How did we function before the invention of caller ID?
“I hope I’m interrupting something.”
“Please don’t do this right now.”
“Strictly business then,” she said. The abrupt shift from friend to medical examiner jarred me out of that place where sleep teases but won’t quite come.
“Your suspicion was correct?”
“Yes, our victim is a very thi
n Caucasian male, and I have his identity. Are you sitting down?”
“Lying actually.”
“Victim’s name is Kyle Goddard. He’s nineteen years old, Helen.”
“A baby. Jesus. Is he local?”
“Yes,” Maya said. “His parents live in Bay View if the information from the DMV is correct.”
“Have you called Orion about it yet?”
“No,” a little grin wiggled into her voice. “Have you seen him tonight?”
“You know damn well that I have. Thanks a lot, Maya. He’s going through enough right now without you needling him.”
“He was brooding and needed an excuse to follow you home. Did you talk?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We’re back on the case.”
“Good. That’s it for now. I just wanted to give you a head’s up that I haven’t lost my mind. The dude looks like a lady. Let’s hope that had nothing to do with the motive for his murder.”
“Call me when you’ve finished the autopsy.”
“Will do, cupcake – and yes, I know. Don’t call you cupcake. Get some rest.”
“You too.” I disconnected the call and immediately made another.
“Conall.”
“It’s Helen. I need to see you right away.”
“Seriously? Helen, if you’re upset about what happened with this case tonight –”
“No, it’s about the case, but not what you’re thinking. Can you come over now?”
He blew out a heavy sigh. “We’re still up to our eyeballs in this interview business over at the amphitheater. Maybe we could have a breakfast meeting.”
It wouldn’t wait that long. “I’m heading back over to the amphitheater now. When I get there, we need to talk immediately, Crevan.”
“Should you be driving?”
Reality had sobered me. “I’m fine. See you soon. And Crevan, don’t tell anyone that I’m coming back over there.”
I redressed and slipped out of the house without disturbing Devlin. The drive back to Downey was long enough to allow my fears to percolate. My palms sweated by the time I parked the Expedition. I sent Crevan a text and asked him to meet me outside.
He grinned, joining me outside in the damp foggy night. “Rather cloak and dagger, Helen.”
“Maya called me.”
“Oh? Was this before or after Johnny chased you again?”
“Our victim appears to be transgendered.”
Crevan sobered immediately.
“You see where I’m going with this, Crevan.”
“Belle,” he said slowly.
“Among other things, yes.”
“Is this why Johnny came back and said we needed to have a chat about my divorce?”
“Crevan, I’m worried about how you’re going to handle investigating this case,” I stumbled inside my brain for soft words that did not come easily. “This has nothing to do with you, or how I feel about you. Your partner, on the other hand, wins the award for Neanderthal of the Common Era. He’s going to needle and make inappropriate comments. I worry that he’ll even have issues with the commitment to solving this murder. Who cares what happens to these kind of people, right? They’re nothing but miscreants anyway.”
“Helen, I wish you’d talk to Tony. He doesn’t show his emotions like a normal human being, and I think you’re reading things into that gruff exterior that couldn’t be more off base. He’s pretty torn up over what happened the night Johnny got hurt.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “He thought it was appropriate to keep me away from a man I love with all of my heart.”
“Then the date with Devlin tonight, that wasn’t a sign that you’ve moved past Johnny?”
“Of course not. I can’t just turn it on and off like that. Speaking of unfair assumptions.”
“He’s my friend, Helen. I’ve never seen him this out of sorts before. You’re all my friends, and I hate it that nobody seems to be getting along right now.”
“Johnny and I talked tonight, a little bit anyway. Don’t worry about us. We’ll figure it out. At least we seem to be closer to an amicable whatever.”
“You’re gonna be stubborn about Tony?”
“Are you seriously standing here telling me that you have zero concerns about what kind of can of worms this case could open for you personally and professionally, Crevan? What if Belle decides she’s sick of the closed-mouth policy of the department and starts getting vindictive?”
His eyes clouded, the vibrant green muting to something dull and tired. “I guess we’ll have to deal with it if it happens.”
“Crevan,” I gripped his hands in mine. “I love you like no one else in this god forsaken city.” Silently, I pled with him to understand what could happen if my automatic protective instincts kicked into high gear. Belle might end up at the bottom of Darkwater’s bay with cement Jimmy Choo’s. “I’m not sure I can stand idly by and do nothing if she hurts you.”
“I’m afraid that damage is already done,” he said.
My fingers tightened, ground the bones in his hands together. “She told someone?”
Crevan winced and tugged one hand free. It took a glancing swipe through his chestnut hair. “That’s not what I meant, Helen. Some of our fights before we separated were… traumatic.”
“I’m so sorry. Can you work this case? It won’t be easy, Crevan. I have little doubt that Belle will have a field day with this when news breaks about Kyle Goddard’s identity and how he was found.”
“You don’t have to protect me.”
“How many ways do I have to say this before you finally start believing me? I adore you, Crevan. I don’t know why I felt such an instant kinship with you. It’s like how things were between me and David Levine when I was still with the bureau.”
A shadow fell over Crevan’s face simultaneously with the same oppressive sixth sense that always accompanied Johnny’s approach when he was unhappy.
Before either one of us could explain our clandestine conversation, he started snarling. “Is this why you’ve been so goddamned weird around me, Crevan? You’ve got a thing for Helen, and were pissed that she was with me –”
“Johnny,” I tried to intervene.
“And you,” he spat. “Seems like I was pretty blinded by whatever. Maybe a little amnesia was the cure. It sure as hell has opened my eyes to how many men you’ve got vying for your attention.”
“Johnny,” Crevan pulled his other hand free from my grasp, “shut up and listen to me. If I’ve seemed strange this past week, it isn’t because of you or Helen. I told my parents about the divorce on Christmas day. Suffice it to say that Dad was not pleased.”
I groaned softly. “Crevan, are you all right?” We’d talked enough for me to know that his father was one of the few people in Darkwater Bay that wasn’t Catholic. No, the Conall family’s variety of religion was far less forgiving, a fundamentalist offshoot of the Baptist faith. Divorce was a sin. Hell, just about everything was a sin.
Johnny scowled. “I thought you said that your final hearing was coming up in a couple of weeks. You put off telling Aidan until it was about to become a matter of public record? Why would you do that?”
I bit into the fleshy center of my lower lip. If divorce was a no-no, the rest of Crevan’s secret would certainly be unacceptable to his father. My gut twisted with unease.
“It’s complicated, Johnny.”
He glanced at me. “Yeah, I’ll just bet it is.”
“This has nothing to do with Helen,” Crevan spoke softly, weary words that hit with a sort of flat resignation that nothing would ever be simple again.
“Oh? So I didn’t hear her tell you how much she adores you?”
“Crevan, maybe you should tell him the rest.”
Johnny’s arms banded over his chest. “Yes, perhaps you should come clean with me, both of you, since it’s become very clear that you’ve got some big secret the rest of us don’t know.”
“This isn�
�t easy for me to say. We’ve been friends for a lot of years, Johnny.”
“And now you love her.”
Crevan’s breath blasted from his nostrils. “I said it wasn’t like that. She’s a friend, Johnny, one of the few people astute enough to see what’s been right in front of you all this time.”
He snarled a curse. “I knew it.”
“You know nothing, but you should’ve,” Crevan said. “This isn’t about Helen. It’s me, all right?”
“What about you?”
My fingers caressed Crevan’s arm in a gentle gesture of soothing, support even.
“Johnny, I’m ...”
“What? Dying?”
Crevan laughed softly. “God, wouldn’t that be simpler than the truth?” Tortured eyes turned on me. “I can’t do this, Helen. I can’t say the words.”
“You can. I’m here for you, and I promise that nothing will ever change that.”
Johnny’s ire turned on a dime. His brow furrowed. “What the hell is going on here?”
“I’m gay,” Crevan rasped.
The wrinkled forehead smoothed in surprise before Johnny’s eyebrows met over his nose. “Then ... ah, shit,” he hissed and took a quick step backward. “Is this about me?”
I wanted to slug him in the enormously obtuse head. “Of course it’s not about you, Johnny.”
“Then he hasn’t been weird because of some kind of –”
“You’re not my type,” Crevan’s grin turned sly. “Relax already.”
“Then what’s the big deal?”
“Do you really need me to connect the dots here?” my patience was beyond thin. “His parents are freaked out over the divorce from a woman who full well knows why their marriage failed and has used that fact to basically blackmail Crevan into giving her exactly what she wants, no matter how unfair or if she’s entitled to it as marital assets or not. On top of that, our dead girl tonight wasn’t a dead girl. She was a pretty dead boy with great makeup.”
Johnny’s eyes bulged. “Shit.”
“This city isn’t known for being a wildly liberal place, Johnny. You don’t remember the conversation we had about why Chief Don Weber has seen fit to resign his position with the police department, but let me tell you, he and Crevan have a couple of things in common.”
