by A. J. Norris
He wrestled with his evaluation of Mikey Hardin. There were indicators of his guilt, though nothing definitively pointed to him as a viable suspect. Harry had done some digging into his past. There were extensive family court records regarding custody changes and motions, won and lost on both sides, but mostly involved their lawyers trying to keep them out of court rooms. Nothing he'd read indicated Hardin was doing anything illegal or even slightly deviant anymore. He was a regular volunteer at the Botanical Garden Park every year to help with the spring clean-up.
Harry wound through his subdivision, two lefts and then a right onto his street. When he pulled into his driveway, the only part of the trek he remembered was the stoplight he'd been honked at. The rest was a blur of automatic turns and stops.
Coming home was something he had to do, not something he loved to do. Before his wife had passed away, he'd always wanted to come home. Annie had greeted him with a smile every day, even if hers hadn’t been so great. They had a house rule never to bring work home with them. You left it on the front porch if you had to, but never was it allowed in the sanctuary of their home.
After he parked his car in the garage, he went inside. “Hi, Honey, I'm home,” he said as he passed by the family pictures which covered the wall of the hallway leading to the kitchen. Hung in the middle was a photograph of the two of them Gracie had made them take a year before her mother died. He imagined Annie standing in the lee of the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist. She'd never worn one, but he enjoyed the idea of it. A good cook, she was not. He hadn't married her for her cooking.
Harry turned his head to the right at a noise. He reached under his jacket, unsnapping the holster. The living room was dark. A lamp came on. He squinted at the bright light with his Glock drawn. The bark of a familiar laugh shot through the room.
“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me.” Harry said, putting his gun away.
“I know, wasn't it funny?” Cedric laughed.
“Hilarious. You wouldn’t be laughing if I had put a bullet in your chest. What are you doing lurking in my living room? In the dark, I might add.”
“When I heard you pull in I cut the lights. Thought it'd be funny to spook ya.”
“Doesn't explain why you're in my house.” Harry sat on the floral sofa across from his friend.
“You called me, remember? You didn't say why in your message but I figured it was about those murders.” Cedric was sitting on the matching pattern chair fiddling with his cane, grinding the end into the carpet. The chronic habit required him to replace the rubber on the bottom often. Harry eyed him and he stopped.
Harry hated to admit it, but he was having trouble with the recent killings because the evidence didn't make a lot of sense. Mikey Hardin’s alibi had checked out for the second murder. As far as the first murder, there was no physical evidence linking him to it, only a call from his ex-wife pointing her finger. After checking and finding court records of a nasty divorce, he was back at square one. Then there was Mikey's reaction to the crime scene photos. Harry shook his head.
“Why are you shaking your head?” Cedric asked.
“The evidence doesn't make sense. There were tips regarding the suspect, but one was from his ex-wife and, well…I think the second one was too.”
Cedric leaned his head back. “Second one?”
“Yeah. I dunno. The guy is a good guy as far as I can tell. His reaction to the photos and his alibi were solid. At least on the second.”
“And the first?”
“He was at work. By himself. Stayed late to work on some designs. Tattoo artist.”
“Ah.”
“Hey, you want some coffee?” Harry asked, motioning toward the kitchen.
Cedric stabbed his cane into the floor and rose to his feet. “After you.”
Harry prepared the coffeemaker, his forehead creased too deeply for brewing coffee. With one brow raised, Cedric watched him from his chair at the table. They'd known each other for about thirty years, ever since Harry had been a rookie cop. The circumstances surrounding their eventual friendship always weighed on Harry's mind. As a new police officer, his testimony had helped put Cedric in prison, falsely accused and tried without the use of DNA testing. Admittedly, Cedric was not a stellar citizen, but a murdering rapist he wasn’t.
“What the hell you concentrating so hard on?”
“What?”
“Yeah, what?” Cedric's voice was low and deep. “And don't bullshit me. I’ve known you too long for that.”
Harry sighed as he poured a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter. “I know him.”
The handle of Cedric’s cane slipped off the edge of the table. He leaned over and picked it up with a groan. “Know who?”
“The suspect. Who else? What the hell have we been talking about?”
“We was talking? I just asked what you was thinking about.”
Harry stared at his coffee. “This case. I don't like it, Ced.”
“How you know this suspect of yours?” Cedric looked up at Harry.
“AA.”
“As in A-A?”
“You know of another AA I don't know about? Yeah, fucking AA.”
“Damn, man. I know those twelve steps work for some folks but I could never get past all the Jesus and God stuff.”
“He only comes every once in a while, and not for over a year. He’s shared some. Hey, listen it's anonymous, all right? So don't—”
“Who would I tell? But isn't that a conflict of interest?”
Harry shrugged. “Probably. But I still have a job to do and it doesn't matter whether I know him or not. We're not friends.”
“But you're not sure if knowing him has messed with you.”
Harry didn't respond, merely looked out the window above the sink into the dark night and took a swig of coffee.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grace
“I'm stuffed,” Mikey said, rubbing his stomach. Grace craned her neck over the top of the table with her mouth hanging open, curious about what was underneath his shirt. They both sat back in their chairs at his kitchen table. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Uh huh. Full,” Grace said, looking at the clock on the microwave.
Noticing this, Mikey asked, “Do you have to go or…?”
“No. I was just wondering what time it was.”
He stared at her mouth, the line of her neck, her breasts.
“So, you promised to show me some of your tattoos. I see the ones on your arms.” Grace looked up through her lashes.
“I wore this shirt for the occasion,” he chuckled. “This one here is a bird. Raven, actually.”
She admired the work for a few minutes, turning his arm back and forth. The black ink tattoo depicted a solid raven with its wings, made up of smaller birds, stretched out behind it. “It’s beautiful. Tell me about some of the others.”
He showed her the skin art on his other arm. A black and gray owl nestled between branches with red flowers curled around his whole bicep up to his shoulder and down to the elbow.
“I'm surprised you don't have more on your arms, or…what do they call it when the entire arm is covered?”
“A sleeve. I don't like those. I do a lot of them but I’d rather not cover my forearms. I believe you can have too much.”
“Hmm, I see a pattern here.”
“Birds represent freedom to me. Individuality, in a way. I don't like to be caged in or labeled. I'm just me. I can only be who I am.” He stood up. “Do you wanna see what’s on my back?” Without waiting for her response he shucked his shirt. He turned around and dropped to his knees beside her so she could get a better look.
Grace gasped. “That’s breathtaking.” The first thing Grace noticed was the all the colors; different shades of red, yellow, orange, lilac and pale teal. Then she recognized the image, a phoenix with detailed feathers and flowing, swirling tail plumes. She touched Mikey, and what she felt surprised her. His skin was smooth where she'd
thought it might be raised because of the ink. She moved her palm over the expense of his back and he tensed. Her hand met his rib cage along his side. He arched his spine and she giggled. “Are you ticklish?”
“Yes, very.” He laughed when she lightly touched his side.
“Mmm. I'll have to remember that.”
He gasped. “Please don't. Oh my God…stop.” He jumped to his feet to escape the torture. “Come on. Let’s watch another movie.”
“Do we have to? I was having so much fun,” she mock-whined, but trailed him back to the living room couch, where they sat down.
“You know, there are other ways to have fun that don't include teasing me.” A smile rose and lit up eyes.
Grace licked her lips. “Is that what I was doing? Teasing you?”
“Yep. That’s what I would call it.” His lids dropped to half-mast.
Grace appreciated the respect he showed her by not making the first move. He was letting her control the pace. But God, she wanted him to kiss her again.
“Can I interest you in another flick or do you need to get going?” he asked.
“Why? Are you kicking me out or do you really want to watch another movie?” She smiled.
“Ah no, and no.”
A soft giggle pushed past her lips and she grabbed his side, causing him to grunt. She wouldn't let go and continued to squeeze him. Mikey threw his head back and howled with laughter. “Not fair.”
He caught hold of her wrists and held them over her head. Their eyes met. Heat rolled off their bodies. Breaths caught in their throats. She pressed her lips to his. They were soft like velvet but firm as he kissed her back. When she licked at the crease of his mouth, he opened for her, taking her tongue inside as he pushed his into her. He followed her while she eased back onto the cushion.
They maneuvered their tangle of legs until he was lying between hers. He released her mouth to take a breath. It was then she noticed he still had her hands pinned above her head and what do you know? She liked this. Mikey released her hands but she kept them right where they were.
She arched into him as he ground himself against her core, the hard length of him pressing through his jeans. Reaching between them, he adjusted himself. Grace giggled against his mouth when he groaned from his own touch.
“Sorry, I was uncomfortable.”
“Poor guy,” she said breathlessly. “I know what you mean. My jeans are…sticking…uh…can you…uh…help me?”
Snaking his hand between them again, he unfastened the button of her pants and pulled down the zipper. She reached down and shimmied them out from under her bottom. He helped her get them the rest of the way off. After tossing them aside, he leaned down and pushed the hem of her shirt up past her navel. Along the top of her lacy thong and the hollow between her hips, he kissed her. His hot breath skated over her skin. Grace moaned and drove her hands into his thick hair.
Crawling up her body, Mikey ran a hand over her breasts, giving each side equal attention. She closed her eyes and soaked up the attention. Over the bra and cotton t-shirt wasn’t enough. Needing closer contact, she stripped off her shirt. He was adept at unhooking her bra at the front clasp. Slowly he slid the cups to the sides to reveal her full breasts. He suckled each one, circling his tongue around the tight little buds. She moaned when she angled her hips up and down.
Grace gasped when the tips of his fingers ran under the top of her panties. “Can I take these off?” he breathed into her neck.
“Please.”
He kissed his way down to her flat stomach and planted a raspberry next to her belly button. She quivered with laughter; he yanked off her thong.
“Oh God.” Her sudden and complete nakedness spurred her arousal on more. Once again she put her hands over her head and spread her legs.
Mikey’s pupils flared. “Grace,” he said hoarsely, “you're beautiful.”
She smiled with heavy lids. “Thank you. So are you. But you have too many clothes on.” She sat up and went for the fly of his jeans. He cupped her cheek with one hand, running a thumb over her bottom lip. The pants easily slipped down his hips. The tip of him peeked out of the waistband of his purple boxer briefs. There was so much to see.
“Holy crap.”
“You want that?” he asked with a lopsided smile.
“Oh God, yes.”
His cock jerked with a surge of blood. He stood to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. He struggled with his socks and shoes.
“You need help?”
Mikey let out a short bursting laugh. “Nope…I can handle it…I think…yeah…got it.”
When he didn't come back to her and wandered down the hallway, she called after him, “Where are you going?”
“Getting a rubber.”
“Great idea. Sorry, I should've thought about that.” She burst out laughing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Grace
Mikey had come back into the living room already wearing a condom. But not any condom; a hot pink one. Grace threw her hands up to her mouth when he strutted into the room, his hands on his hips like a comic strip superhero.
“Ta da!”
“You're insane. Get over here.”
She lay back on the sofa and sighed softly. However, instead of lying on top of her, he gently guided her legs over so her feet touched the floor. He sat down next to her and patted his upper thighs. It took her a moment to understand; he wanted her to straddle his hips. She was a quick learner and got into position. He held himself more upright so she could ease down onto his erection. Sucking in a breath, his eyes closed.
She moved her hips until they were both panting. Mikey helped her by wrapping his hands around her bottom cheeks and supporting her gyrating hips. She threw her head back and cried out. “Mikey! Oh God! Mikey!”
Her inner walls milked him over and over as she came. He shifted her off to the side, making sure the condom stayed on him while he pulled out. Surprise washed over her face, she didn't think he’d finished.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you.” He led her over to the end of the overstuffed couch and asked her to bend over the puffy armrest.
He nudged her legs further apart with a knee, angled his hips, and thrust deeply, past her pink folds. Grace grabbed hold of the seat cushions while he pounded her from behind. He fondled the tight beads of her breasts. Her breath sawed in and out of her. Her heart banged behind her sternum, beating so rapidly she was afraid it would thump right out of her chest.
He ran his wide palms over and around her hips to the front, finding her sweet spot. His nimble fingers massaged the bundle of nerves.
“Oh God!” she screamed and prayed ecstasy didn’t kill her. Although, what a way to go. Death by orgasm. She nearly passed out as another slammed through her body.
Mikey gasped faster and faster. His hot hands retreated and strong fingers dug into her hips. She didn’t care.
* * *
Mikey
“Oh, God!” he shouted. His gasps came short and quick. A steamroller of an orgasm almost leveled him. His weakened lower limbs were no help as he was racked from the inside out. Grace stuck with him as the waves rolled through his body. They stayed joined while he loomed over her with his arms supporting his weight. He panted, every third breath getting caught in the back of his throat.
Grace rested her forehead on the cushion, a smile plastered on her face. “Where’s my phone?”
“What? Why?”
“Because that was like the best sex. Ever. I need to call the paper. Everyone needs to know about this.”
Mikey tilted his head back and laughed. “Are you pimping me out?”
“Oh God no. I want you all to myself.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mikey
With his jaw clenched, Mikey walked up the steps of Cynthia’s house. He wasn't in the mood to see her. Thankfully, Brayden opened the door with a backpack slung over his shoulders.
“Ready?” he asked his son.
&nb
sp; “Yeah, let's go,” Brayden said and padded down the porch steps.
“Wait, aren't you going to say bye to your mother?”
Cynthia had appeared at the doorway when he turned back around. She slammed the door shut, cutting off any thoughts of him speaking to her. Good. He didn't have anything to say anyway. Mikey left the porch to find Brayden already buckled into the front seat of his car. The backpack sat on the floorboards at his feet.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Mikey asked after he started the engine.
“Can we just go?” Brayden sat with his arms crossed and his head hung forward.
“You wanna to tell me what’s going on?”
“Uh uh,” Brayden shook his head. “Let's go, Dad.”
Mikey knew his son was shutting him out. He sighed, put the car into gear and started driving. “I was thinking about going to the zoo today.”
“Really? I love the zoo!”
“I know, kid. I'm glad this meets with your approval.”
During the ride, they chatted about what exhibits they didn't want to miss. Brayden seemed to forget about his mad rush out of his mother’s house. Mikey did not. At the zoo, he tried to put his concerns out of his mind. Whatever was bugging his son could wait. And he should probably discuss any issues with Cynthia rather than their child.
They walked along the route that took them past the animal enclosures. In the amphibian house, Brayden decided to have a competition. At each of the glass fronted cages of the different frogs, lizards and snakes, he kept score for each animal one of them spotted first. They weren't always easy to find. Mikey chuckled each time Brayden scored himself a point.
“I see him, Dad. He’s right there, at the top of the branch,” he said and pointed at the chameleon habitat.
