Doubleback

by Lissa Ford

  Jonni’s hair was crispy from overprocessing, and didn’t move much when she whipped her head around to stare at him. “Travis? Are you a cop?”

  “No.”

  “Friend?”

  “No.”

  “Hookup?”

  Jude didn’t answer.

  “You know he’s dead, right?” Her eyes were challenging but dry.

  “I know.” Jude reached into his wallet for his old deputy sheriff’s ID. “I used to work in law enforcement.”

  He laid it on the bar where she considered it for a long moment. “So you’re like a PI or something?”

  “Something like that.” Jude kept his expression serene. “I want to know who killed Travis.”

  “Well, the cops sure as hell aren’t falling all over themselves to figure it out.” She waved a hand around the mostly empty bar. “What do you want to know?”

  “How well did you know Travis?”

  “How well did anyone know Travis?” she muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  She hesitated, then said, “We dated some.”

  Jude felt his lids widen in surprise.

  “I knew he liked to swing both ways,” Jonni went on, amused at Jude’s reaction. “Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but Travis liked to fuck around and he wasn’t choosy about his hook ups.” She gave Jude a tight smile. “If you get what I’m saying.”

  Ouch. Jude was extra glad he had worn a condom.

  “He and I were casual, though, because there was always some drama in Travis’s life and I didn’t want to get drawn into his toxic bullshit. Guys getting in fistfights over him, wives coming in here bitching him out because he ‘turned’ their husband gay; that sort of shit. No surprise he hooked up with the wrong guy at the wrong time. But he’d always come back to me. Except—”

  “Except?” Jude prompted, when she frowned and fell silent.

  “Except that he’d mentioned that he met someone he actually … liked,” Jonni admitted. “A dude he wanted to fuck more than once, he said.”

  “Oh?” Jude was careful to keep his voice encouraging, even though his nerves jumped.

  “I didn’t believe him. Travis played the field like nuns help the poor. He was dedicated to it. He used to say Eight Ball was the biggest smorgasbord of hot ass in the city. So it stuck in my head when he said he met someone he wanted to see again, because that wasn’t like Travis. At all.”

  “Were you angry about that?”

  She snorted. “Hell no. We used each other strictly for blowing off steam. Plus Travis could test the patience of a saint. Whoever this other dude who captured Travis’s interest was, it wouldn’t last long because Travis would end up driving him away.”

  Jonni’s kohl-ringed eyes went a little distant, remembering. “He didn’t come in for his shift the night he died. I was so pissed at him too, thinking he’d skated off to hook up with that dude. I called him and left a message bitching him out. Now I regret it.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Jude murmured. “What time did you call him?”

  She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled around. “Nine fifteen p.m.”

  Jude didn’t point out that Travis was likely already dead by then. “Did Travis mention a name of this guy he was interested in?”

  She shook her head and pressed her lips together when they trembled.

  Jude opened his mouth to ask another question when the front door opened. They both turned to look at the newcomer, a male figure in a suit silhouetted by the square of light behind him. Then the door swung shut to reveal Rowan Muir standing in the doorway, frowning at the phone in his hand.

  Jude’s pulse skidded and it wasn’t all due to nervousness. Rowan’s white teeth chewed his lower lip thoughtfully before he tapped the screen with his thumb.

  The phone in Jude’s pocket jingled in response.

  Rowan’s head shot up and his eyes widened at the sight of Jude at the bar. “What are you doing here? Damn it, Jude, I thought I told you to stay put!”

  “No, you said I needed to watch my back.”

  “Don’t start with the fucking semantics!”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jonni asked, eyes tracking between the two men. Jude had lifted himself off his stool and faced off with Rowan, who clutched his cell phone like he wanted to clobber Jude upside the head with it.

  The two men at the end of the bar took a hike when Rowan flashed his badge. Jonni stiffened.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m the actual investigator of Travis Gruber’s murder. I’d like to ask you a few questions, Ms. Dormund. On the record.”

  Jonni’s face shuttered. Jude resisted shaking his head. Rowan’s hardass act was going to shut the witness down. “Jonni was telling me that Travis met someone,” Jude interjected. “Someone he liked enough to see twice.”

  “I don’t know who it was,” Jonni added quickly.

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he sized them both up. Jude hoped his expression looked benign and helpful. “Okay. Anderson, debrief me on this line later.” Jude successfully concealed a jerk of surprise as Rowan continued. “Ms. Dormund, word is Gruber had a little side gig going to make some extra cash. Weed, coke, oxy. You know anything about that?”

  Jonni promptly answered, “Nope.”

  Yeah, right.

  “We can do this here or I can take you downtown,” Rowan said.

  Jonni spun her cell phone nervously on top of the bar for a few heartbeats, obviously thinking hard before she muttered, “Okay okay. Travis was the go-to guy if anyone wanted to enhance their buzz. Nothing too hardcore, just uppers, maybe a little X or boomers to get the party started. I’d make him go offsite if he needed to conduct business. I don’t want trouble in my place.” The last was directed at Rowan.

  “You catch a name of his supplier?” Rowan asked.

  “The less I know about that shit, the better I sleep at night.”

  Rowan kept at it, and Jonni reluctantly offered that Travis may have mentioned someone named A.J. or E.J. but she wasn’t sure; it was at the tail end of a furtive phone call made in the stockroom and Jonni only heard the name because she’d tracked Travis down to yell at him to get back to work.

  “You sure about the name?”

  “I can’t be sure about anything. But that’s what I thought I heard.”

  Rowan handed Jonni a business card. “If you remember anything else—”

  “Sure.” Jonni wilted a little when Rowan added that he’d probably be back for more questioning.

  Rowan nudged Jude’s shoulder. The slight contact moved through Jude’s body like heated lightning. He resisted rubbing the spot while Rowan slid off the stool and said, “Let’s go,” clearly indicating he wanted Jude to follow him. Too surprised to do anything else, Jude flipped a couple of ones on the bar for the Coke and trailed after him.

  Outside, the wind coming off Onondaga Lake was bitter but it had chased away the clouds. Jude turned up the collar of his canvas jacket, stuck his hands in his pocket, and waited. Rowan was pointedly ignoring Jude now, tapping notes into his phone. Jude shrugged and took a step toward his truck but Rowan’s hand shot out to grip Jude’s forearm. “Don’t think you’re getting out of me chewing you out for interfering in an investigation.”

  “Since you’re not my dad, I’ll pass, thanks.”

  Rowan’s hand tightened as he lifted the phone to his ear, and Jude didn’t think about why he just didn’t shake him off and leave. Instead he listened to Rowan saying, “Natsios, yeah. Witness independently confirmed Eddie Joe, aka E.J. Tully, made contact with victim recently.”

  Jude blinked stupidly, trying to control his response to Rowan’s hand on his arm at the same moment Rowan confirmed that a Tully connection for Travis’s murder did exist.

  While he was processing, a four-by-four truck with a light bar mounted on the cab and the decal of a deer covering the back window swung into the parking lot. Jude eyed the driver behind the wheel. He nudged Rowan’s shoul
der. “Rowan.”

  Rowan ignored him. “You got time to pick him up? He usually hangs at Hollabacks’s on Route 80 near the Best Western.”

  Jude impatiently shook Rowan’s hand off his arm. “Rowan, look!”

  “Well, what the shit?” Rowan murmured, telling Natsios he’d call him back as the truck pulled up beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a good-looking but coarse-featured guy, trucker hat pulled low and a sneer curling a scarred lip.

  E.J. Tully said, “I hear you’ve been looking for me, Muir.”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed and his feet settled. Ready for a fight. Rowan was always ready to defend something, Jude suddenly realized. “You heard right.”

  “I had nothing to do with Gruber’s death.”

  “Then you won’t mind coming in to answer some questions.”

  “Yeah, I do mind. Either get a warrant or fuck off.”

  “I can get the warrant.”

  “Do that. But remember: you come for me, Muir, you better have a rock solid case. I can make your life hell.”

  “Threats sound an awful lot like panic, Tully. I thought you were smarter than that. Besides, I do have better than probable cause. I’ve got more than one witness that says you’ve been in contact with Gruber recently.”

  Tully snorted. “So? He’s an acquaintance. We hit Tioga Downs sometimes. Play the slots, the ponies—”

  “Sell some junk to lowlifes hanging around the track…”

  Tully grinned nastily. “Always throwing shit around, seeing if it’ll stick. If you’re looking for criminal intent, look no further than the dude standing next to you. The guy who killed Katelyn and her baby.” Tully jerked his chin at Jude and gave him a hate-filled glare. Jude suppressed a shiver. E.J.’s eyes were exactly like Billy Tully’s at the moment of death: cold and devoid of life. “I’d say you were compromising the integrity of the investigation by hanging out with a baby killer.”

  Jude, used to the insult, was surprised when Rowan growled, “And I’d say watch your mouth, Tully.”

  Tully gave a brutal laugh. “Or what? Arrest me? Go ahead. Maybe under questioning I’d blurt out my suspicion that Detective Muir likes to dip his wick in a guy’s asscrack on occasion. See how that taints the investigation.”

  Rowan’s eyes were glinting dangerously, and his mouth hardened into a thin line. “Is that a threat?”

  “You know Gruber’s last whereabouts?” Jude interjected, before Rowan did or said something he’d regret. “Anyone he might have hung out with the night he was killed?”

  “The dude liked to fuck around. He could have been with any number of people.”

  “Any people in particular?”

  “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

  “And where were you the night of the murder?” Rowan was quivering with suppressed anger, but so far kept his cool, Jude was relieved to note.

  “Home. All night. I have alibis up the wazoo,” he said over Rowan’s derisive laugh. “Feel free to corroborate every single one.”

  “And we will. Every single one. Because I think, no, I know you’re not telling us everything, Tully. You know more about this crime than you’re letting on. I, for example, find it interesting that the night Travis died was the anniversary of Billy’s birthday.”

  “You asshole.” Tully’s eyes narrowed in genuine rage. “Dragging Billy into the muck so you can pin a murder rap on me.”

  “Billy’s last known address was also the same address as Eddie Joe Tully. They were living with you, weren’t they?”

  “So? Billy was doing the right thing by Katelyn when her folks threw her out for getting knocked up. What was I supposed to do, let them live on the streets?”

  “You must have a lot of leftover anger about the shooting.”

  “I do, but I’m not an idiot. If you think there’s probable cause, haul me in for questioning. You won’t find anything.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Deputy Anderson here deserves to burn in the fires of hell for what happened to Billy and Katelyn. But I didn’t kill Travis Gruber to dump him on this asshole’s front porch. Maybe Anderson did it all by his lonesome.” Tully took the truck out of park before he added, “How come he’s not in the slammer? You worried that a cocksucker like him would take to being somebody’s bitch right quick?”

  Rowan took a step toward Tully, hand jerking into a fist, but the truck lurched forward in a V-8 roar, taking Tully with it.

  “That son of a bitch knows more than he’s letting on,” Rowan snarled. “I can feel it.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Jude’s heart was pounding hard. Tully’s accusations would be easy for a jury to believe. So far the investigation hadn’t swung to Jude, but sooner or later, it would. He had a feeling Rowan was keeping that line of investigation away from him. For now. “But why would Tully show up here? Why now?”

  “Because he’s an asshole.” Rowan was jabbing a shortcut on his cellphone again. “Natsios! Forget about going to Hollaback’s. Run Tully’s rap sheet and issue a warrant. We need to bring him in.”

  It was a clear dismissal. Jude turned toward his own truck when Rowan’s hand shot out, and for the second time in as many minutes, clamped possessively around Jude’s forearm. It stayed there while Rowan continued working the case with Natsios.

  During that time, Jude studied Rowan. The wind ruffled his dark hair, leaving it in disarray. The angry flush coloring his complexion was seeping away; the rage that had sparkled in his eyes fading. Rowan was back in control, efficiently marshalling resources, tracking leads, tying the loose ends together. If not for the hand on his arm, Jude wondered if Rowan even knew he was there.

  Finally the call ended. The hand dropped away.

  Jude refused to think about how good the warmth of his touch felt. “Okay, I guess I’ll take off—”

  “You eat yet?” Rowan interrupted brusquely.

  “What?”

  “Eat? You know, that thing people do during the middle of the day?”

  Jude shook his head.

  “Me either, and I’m fucking hungry.” Now Rowan ran the hand he’d had on Jude’s arm through his hair, trying to pat it back into place from the wind playing with it. He succeeded in making his hair messier, which was…adorable. Then he said: “How about you buy me a mixed double at Heid’s? Then you can fill me in on your snooping.”

  “Heid’s?” Jude stalled, thinking furiously around a completely unexpected surge of elation. “I thought you said the nitrates in their Coney hot dogs would cause stomach cancer.”

  The tension vibrating through Rowan melted away and he grinned. “Gotta die of something.”

  And just like that, Jude was taken to the Before Time, when he’d wake up to Rowan Muir’s skin against his, and murder was an occupational hazard instead of wrecking his life, and his leg didn’t fucking ache constantly, and the live coal housed inside his chest didn’t exist. Jude wanted to wail at the sky for the man he once was, and the life he’d once had, gone forever now.

  Instead he swallowed and docilely headed to his truck, indicating he’d meet Rowan for an unhealthy but supremely tasty meal of mustard-draped Coneys, franks and French fries.

  CHAPTER TEN

  At three in the afternoon, Syracuse’s landmark greasyspoon diner, Heid’s of Liverpool, was nearly empty. The scent of grilled, smoked meat thickened the air while Jerry Lee Lewis jangled from the juke box and a group of tourists pondered the difference between the two types of regional hot dogs, Coneys and franks, like they were reading the Rosetta stone. Jude ordered a couple of mixed doubles, fries and Cokes and by mutual consent they went outside to eat under the striped awning, even though the temperature was dropping to this side of uncomfortable.

  Before he sat down, Rowan diddled around, wiping off the bench and table with a wad of napkins. Jude watched the ritual with a cocked head. He’d forgotten that Rowan was kind of a fusspot.

  “What?” Rowan barked, when he caught Jude trying to sup
press a grin.

  “Sure you don’t want to get out the hand sanitizer and squirt the table down? I think I have some in my truck.”

  “Mock all you want but I’m not interested in spending the next 24 hours shitting my lunch because of salmonella poisoning.” Rowan spread a napkin out on the table in front of him as a protective barrier before he took his food off the tray.

  “You need to turn in your man card.” Jude eased his bad leg over the bench before lowering himself down with a sigh.

  “I carry a concealed weapon and can kick your ass in two forms of martial arts. I’m plenty man where it counts.” Rowan ripped open a wet nap and wiped his hands thoroughly before picking up his double.

  Over his steaming Coney, Jude eyed Rowan steadily. “I know you’re all man where it counts.”

  Shit. Why did he say that? It seemed overly flirty. Hell, it was overly flirty. Jude needed to police himself better. Being with Rowan pushed all of Jude’s buttons, including the I find you hot as hell one, and Jude wasn’t in the mood to hear Rowan blow him off.

  But to Jude’s surprise, instead of a cutting retort like dream on, Anderson, or let me prove it to you by punching your lights out, a flush crept over Rowan’s cheeks. With fascination, Jude watched Rowan’s complexion turn from golden to dusky-rose. Like what would happen when Jude had Rowan spread wide open under him, begging for Jude to pound him harder with filthy, eager words. So maybe Rowan was feeling the lingering remnants of attraction, too?

  Jude’s groin tightened at the thought. He reminded himself that he needed to keep Rowan at a safe distance. He reminded himself of why he needed to while he was at it. Jude’s life didn’t need any more complications, but it was getting increasingly hard to ignore how every cell in his body screamed to touch Rowan.

  The pause between them drew out, grew awkward. So Jude put his elbows on the table and hunched over his food. After clearing his throat, Rowan did the same.

  “What did you think about all that with Tully?” Rowan asked.

  Jude sighed. “I think he was telling the truth.”

  “Hmm. I’m not so sure. Dude’s a master liar.”