Blind Spot

by Maggie Kavanagh

  Sam finished his second whiskey and couldn’t hold back his grimace. It didn’t mix well with breakfast. “You’ve been busy.” He believed Nathan was telling the truth about being faithful, but still he said it. “I always admired you for keeping your priorities straight.”

  “You want me to quit my job? I will.”

  “So you can hang that albatross around my neck? No thanks. I won’t make you regret me more than you already do.” Sam eyed the glass in his hand. He couldn’t even look at Nathan.

  “Regret you? Are you serious?” Nathan’s voice was hard.

  He didn’t mean it. He didn’t think it. But he said it because he was an asshole, and he wanted it to hurt. “I’m the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. Admit it.”

  He got up and went for the bottle, but Nathan was already heading for the door.

  ONE HOUR.

  Two hours.

  Three hours, and Nathan still hadn’t returned. He’d left his stuff, which suggested he hadn’t gone forever. Sam latched on to the hope with one hand and his glass in the other.

  He stalled along the way. His drunkenness faded to a slight buzz, and then back to a headache. His anger, on the other hand, had faded instantaneously—as soon as he heard the door click shut behind Nathan.

  The glass was pretty. It was real crystal. Sam turned it around and watched the light hit the detailed facets. Then he threw it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, each of them catching a glint of light on the carpet.

  Sam paced, careful to avoid the glass. It was dark, and Nathan had left his cell behind, so calling him to apologize was useless. He’d also taken the Buick, and Sam didn’t have any idea where he might have gone. He didn’t know the town at all.

  He warred between leaving to find Nathan and staying put, and the indecision resulted in a long night of sitting on the bed, flipping through channels until his eyes glazed over. No sitcom could erase the hollow, achy feeling in the center of his chest, or the knowledge that he’d ruined the one good thing in his life. He wanted to rewind time and take back all the awful things he’d said, but he couldn’t. They would be there between them forever.

  He must have dozed. When he woke, there was a warm body in the bed next to him. His heart leapt. But when he reached out, Nathan stiffened.

  “You’re back,” he said, like a child might. “I was so worried.”

  “Were you?” Nathan smelled like cigarettes. Sam bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

  “I’m so sorry, Sid. I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m so sorry for what I said. I love you.” He moved closer, not daring to touch again, but unable to stay away. “I’m sorry.” He kept saying it because he wasn’t sure he could say it enough. He wasn’t sure what else he could say.

  “How could you say you’re a mistake? That I’m only here because I feel obligated? I want to make sure you’re okay because I love you. I can’t control this, and it tears me up.” Nathan’s voice cracked, and Sam sought him in the darkness. Nathan didn’t flinch. They faced each other, side by side. Sam wished he could see Nathan’s expression, but he could only make out the curve of his cheek, the dark bristle of beard.

  “I know. I didn’t mean it. I was lashing out because I was ashamed. I was afraid of you leaving me. I guess my instinct is to drive people away first.”

  “I know.” Another beat. “How did it happen?”

  “The drinking? Collins bought me a martini when he was thinking of telling me about the evidence.” Sam sighed. “I didn’t even want it, but I drank it. I guess I thought I could handle one drink. You know? But moderation has never been my strong suit.”

  “What do you want to do?” Nathan asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t… want to be like this.”

  “Maybe you should talk to someone.”

  Sam had never been fond of therapy. He prided himself on dealing with his own shit in his own way. But maybe he could find someone he got along with and trusted. “Maybe so,” he said. “It’s just been a lot of things piling up all at once—this case, you being gone on yours, Tim. I know I can’t lean on you for everything. I want to tell you I’ll never drink again and I’ll be fine….”

  Nathan took his hand. “I’m not asking for guarantees. I want to go back to where we were before things went to shit. I want you to let me help you, if I can, and support you if I can’t. I want you to believe what I tell you, even though I know it’s hard. I want us to trust each other.”

  Sam swallowed. After a day filled with high-velocity emotion, he was exhausted. “I want that too. I’m sorry.” Their mouths found each other, and Sam shuddered and held on. The closeness soaked into his skin like water into a parched field. After a moment, Nathan drew back. For that night, it was enough.

  He wanted what Nathan wanted, but he wanted more—so much more. He wanted to be with Nathan forever.

  Chapter Ten

  THE NEXT morning while Nathan was still asleep, Sam slipped out of the hotel room to call Frank Chancellor. It had been a few months since the last time he spoke to his father’s colleague, and he wondered if Frank had been following the Stonebridge news. He also wondered if the old man would remember what he said to Sam about his parent’s accident. It was possible it was simply conjecture. Sam knew he might not learn anything. But he still had to try.

  Though he’d slept well, the vague recollection of a bad dream about the car chase still hung over him. In the dream he hadn’t been able to outmaneuver Silver Sedan. Then the scene changed, morphed into another time and another place. He could still see his father’s bloodied head lolling back against the driver’s seat.

  Frank’s nurse answered the phone. “Hello, Chancellor residence.”

  “This is Sam Flynn. I’d like to speak with Frank, please.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s still sleeping.”

  Sam frowned. Getting ahold of Frank was like getting the president on the phone sometimes, his nurse was so vigilant about screening calls. Then again it was only eight. “Oh.”

  “I’ll let him know you called—”

  He heard Frank’s hoarse voice. “Give me the damn phone, woman.” A few seconds later, Frank’s phlegmy cough echoed on the line, a symptom of his emphysema. “Who’s this now?”

  “Hello, Frank. It’s Sam Flynn.”

  “Well, how the hell are you, son? And why are you calling me?”

  Sam chuckled at Frank’s gruff, direct manner. “I’m fine, sir. How are you?”

  “I know you didn’t call to find out how I am. I’ve been watching the news, even though they try to keep me away from doing anything useful. Crazy business down there. I’ve never been so glad we moved away when we did.”

  Frank and his wife Beth had retired to upstate New York more than ten years earlier. They lived there with their three granddaughters, who were orphaned during the arsons. Sam had the good fortune to meet the Chancellors when he and Nathan were on the case, and Frank had provided them with the lead that finally cracked it.

  “Actually I’ve been thinking about what you said about my parents’ accident.”

  “What did I say?” Frank sounded surprised. “You’ll forgive me, but my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  “You said you always thought it was suspicious. Like maybe you thought it was foul play.”

  Frank tsked. “Ah. I never should have run my mouth. And anyway, Beth will have my head if I start putting ideas in yours.”

  Sam turned his back as another hotel guest passed by. He spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard. “Look. I’m not going to tell Beth. Come on, Frank. You know how much this means to me. If there’s anything I don’t know, you need to tell me. I have a right.”

  The older man didn’t say anything for a moment. “Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “So I’ve heard. Unfortunately I’ve never been very good at that.”

  Another pause. “All right. All right. So here it is. You know I was a defense l
awyer, so when I saw your daddy in court, we were always on opposite sides. But we were friendly. He started as lead prosecutor a few years before I retired. Brought some interesting ideas with him too.” Sam nodded as Frank spoke. His father had been politically moderate, but he’d had a more strategic plan for local prosecution. “I got a social call from your daddy’s assistant a couple months after the accident. We’d been living up here for some time,” Frank continued. “Do you remember her? Janice?”

  “Of course.” She’d been his father’s assistant and paralegal for as long as he could remember, but she left town soon after the accident. They hadn’t kept in touch. “What did she say to you?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. It was more what she didn’t say. With a career in defense law as long as I’ve had, you get to know when people are keeping secrets. When I asked her about the accident and how she was holding up, she got real flustered.”

  Sam blanched. “You think Janice might have had something to do with the accident?” They were talking about the Janice who always gave him candy when he visited the office—the Janice who doted on his little brother.

  “I don’t know. But she might know more than she’s letting on. There was one last thing she said to make me think so.”

  Sam braced himself against the door as his heart started to hammer in his chest. “What?”

  “She said she was never coming back to Stonebridge so long as she lived, and me and Beth were smart to get out when we did. She also said to lose her number. After that she got off the phone pretty quick. Left me wondering. I tell you. And then I thought about the accident and what they said about it in the news, and I couldn’t help thinking maybe there was more to it than we were being led to believe. I’m a cynical man, son. You must excuse me. It comes from years of practice.” His voice broke, and Sam knew he must be thinking about the daughter he’d lost to the arsons.

  “I’m sorry to bother you with this, sir. I appreciate you talking to me. It makes me think I might not be crazy after all.”

  Frank cleared his throat. “Oh, you’re not crazy. But be careful out there. You hear?”

  Sam got off the phone with hollow assurances about safety and a promise to visit soon. He reentered the hotel room quietly, so as not to wake Nathan, but with a single-minded focus to locate Janice’s number and call her right away. Instead he found Nathan sitting up in bed. The sheets were tangled around his legs and waist, and he looked like he might want to spring at the door and tackle the intruder to the ground. When he saw Sam, he visibly relaxed.

  “Where were you?” The concern in Nathan’s voice mingled with accusation. After the rough previous day, he probably figured Sam had run off to get drunk. Or maybe left for good.

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you while I called Frank.”

  Sam approached his side of the bed and hesitated. On any other day, he would have leapt on Nathan and straddled him—which would inevitably have led to sex. Even though they shared a tender moment the night before, there was still a residual tension between them. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act.

  “Come here,” said Nathan, opening his arms.

  Sam went. Nathan was still warm and rumpled from sleep, and Sam breathed in his familiar scent as he situated himself.

  “What did you talk to Frank about?” Nathan asked.

  Though he still didn’t have any proof to back it up, the talk with Frank had strengthened his suspicions and piqued his curiosity.

  “So that’s what you were talking about the other night when you mentioned your parents,” Nathan said, once Sam finished relaying the conversation. “Are you sure you want to pursue this?” There were dark lines between his brows, and his lips were slightly downturned.

  Sam couldn’t explain the feeling in his gut to Nathan. He could barely explain it to himself, but he knew he couldn’t let it go. He thought Nathan, of all people, might understand.

  “I know it’s bad timing. But yeah.” He paused, trying to make sense of Nathan’s expression. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “Of course not. I’d feel the same way. I have felt the same way.”

  Emma. Sam traced Nathan’s tightly clenched jaw with his fingers. “I hate feeling like this whole time I’ve been duped. I need to know what really happened, and maybe Janice can help.”

  “Okay.” Nathan nodded, seemingly resigned to the new development. “Let’s see if we can track her down while we wait to hear from Tony.”

  Nathan made a couple of calls, and Sam tried to find a number or address for Janice. He hadn’t spoken to her since his parent’s funeral. He was so messed up those days that he hadn’t given much thought to her getting another job and leaving town. Still, looking back, it seemed peculiar she hadn’t kept in touch. The last he heard, she’d moved to New York, but he couldn’t find any listing for Janice Wilkins in the online directory. He found several women with different last names. Out of those, surprisingly few stood out to him in the correct age range. He googled them one by one and had no luck until he reached Janice W. Davis, age 43. A quick scan of her resume confirmed he finally had the right woman. She’d been single when he knew her, so it was very possible she’d married since her move.

  “Any luck?” Nathan asked once he was off the phone.

  Sam gestured to the computer screen. “Looks like she’s been living in Westchester these past few years. I’ve got an address to try, but no phone number. Was that Rivera?”

  “Yeah. Seems like the e-mail address leads to a dummy account. He traced the IP to a public computer in DC.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing. You feel like taking a drive?” Sam stretched and yawned, and his shirt rucked up over his belly. He rubbed at it, but Nathan didn’t take the bait.

  “I can get her number,” Nathan suggested.

  Sam slumped back in his chair. He was hoping they could make love before they left the hotel, but that didn’t seem to be on the agenda. Sex was the one thing he could do without messing up.

  “Well?” Nathan’s question brought him back to himself.

  “Something tells me I should show up in person. I’m afraid if I call, and she doesn’t want to talk to me, I’ll lose my chance to hear the truth. Better to catch her off guard. See her reaction firsthand.”

  There would be time later for love, Sam told himself. He just had to get through the day.

  SAM FELT positively itchy as they crossed the state border into New York. The I-95 corridor was backed up, so it would take them several hours to get to Janice’s house. It was Saturday, so he hoped they’d find her at home, but there was no guarantee. He drummed his fingers on the passenger armrest and earned a look of irritation from Nathan.

  “Sorry.” He stopped, only to realize his leg was jumping too. With some effort he managed to control his limbs and take a deep, cleansing breath. “Maybe I should take up yoga or something.” What he really wanted was a shot of JD, but he tamped down the urge. Nathan was intently focused on the road, though the traffic was bumper to bumper, which hardly merited deep concentration.

  “Being on the run isn’t as glamorous as it is in the movies,” Sam went on. “I mean if this were a Bond flick, we’d be speeding down the highway in an Aston Martin with a couple of hot chicks in the backseat. Not a Buick.” Still nothing. “Or maybe a chick for you and a hot dude for me.” Nada. Nathan was obviously brooding. Sam was tempted to react in kind, but he knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere. He’d done enough damage the day before.

  “We’re not okay yet. Are we?” Sam asked.

  Nathan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be weighing his response. “We’re getting there. But I can’t pretend yesterday didn’t happen.”

  It hurt to be reminded when he couldn’t stop reminding himself, but Sam understood. “That’s fair.”

  “And when we visit Janice, I hope you won’t be disappointed if she doesn’t have any info. And if she does, well….” Sam could hear the end of the sentence.

&nb
sp; “You think I’ll do something stupid? You think I’ll go on a bender?” Of course, with his recent behavior, he couldn’t exactly blame Nathan for the thought. He winced internally at the realization he’d harmed Nathan’s perception of him—maybe forever.

  Nathan gripped the wheel with both hands. “That’s not what I was going to say. I know you want closure. I want it for you. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past couple of years, it’s that closure comes from inside. I hope, whatever happens, you get what you need.”

  A stadium rock anthem came on the radio, and Sam leaned forward and switched the channel to something lighter. Nathan brought new perspective. Sam had learned to live with his parents’ deaths and Tim’s condition, but he never experienced the kind of closure Nathan described. And what if whatever he learned in his search made it worse? What if he learned nothing?

  He’d have to let go. What if he couldn’t?

  There was obviously something else on Nathan’s mind. He kept sneaking looks across the seat. “I also wanted to tell you….” Sam steeled himself for the worst. He had no idea what to expect from the length of the pause. Nathan let out a long exhale. “I really am sorry about how distant I’ve been. We’ve had a little trouble with the case, and I’ve been questioning whether I want to continue doing this kind of work.”

  “What do you mean? What happened?” When Nathan said he would quit his job, Sam hadn’t taken him seriously. Maybe he had been.

  “To be frank I’m not sure anything illegal is going on in Jersey, aside from some recreational drug use. I’ve spent some time with the local cops. Some good people, but the chief down there is a real homophobe, and so are some of the detectives. They’re not exactly respectful of the subculture either. You should have seen them look down their noses at Eric. And one of the guys we met at the club is an outspoken critic of the cops down there. He’s got a following too. It reeks of entrapment to me.”

  “Shit,” said Sam. “So you think they’re looking for any reason to arrest this guy?”