Ben put bread in the toaster, since they still had some jam.
“I get it, Dad. I don’t care about the butter. I want you to eat more than just toast. For breakfast, if you’re not that hungry it’s okay, but you need real meals for dinner.” Ben knew his dad was pretty good about sandwiches at lunch. He liked turkey and ham piled with cheese. But dinner he’d blow off totally if he was alone. Lack of appetite came with some of his meds.
“I’m not a baby. It won’t kill me to skip a meal.” He ate.
“Did you take your pills last night?” Ben asked.
“Don’t remember.” Dad shrugged.
Ben shook his head. How could he dream about life with Ross when he had his hands full?
“You crack the case yet, or still playing GI Dick with the fed? FBI doesn’t like that, you know. Hoover kept tabs on everyone,” Dad said.
“That was before your time, Dad. It’s not the same anymore. We’re working the case. I need to get to the station.” Ben finished his breakfast then added a few things to the grocery list to make sure they had extra for sandwiches and soup plus rye bread.
Then he left a note on the table about when to take nighttime meds. He dished out the morning ones and watched Dad swallow them.
“Happy?” Dad asked.
“Are you?” Ben replied.
“Life isn’t always about happy. It’s about paying the bills, catching the bad guy, delivering a truck on time and not walking away. Adulthood is about responsibilities. Childhood is for fun,” he said.
“Funny, you never said that when I was a kid. When Mrs. Blossom gets here, take a shower. I think you skipped a day or two while I’ve been at work.” Ben put away the jam.
“You don’t like me doing it when no one is here, in case I slip,” Dad reminded him.
Ben took a deep breath. “I appreciate that you remembered. Mrs. Blossom is here today, so it’ll be safe. Have a good day.”
“Running off with Ross,” Dad muttered.
There was no point getting into that fight. Not when there was work to be done. First, he had to solve the case, prove he was good at his job. Then he’d have something to show for the extra hours and effort.
On his way to the station, Ben got a call from Charlie. They had the list of the people who’d worked at the bar. It was pretty short, but Ben swung by and picked it up. His squad car had barely pulled up when Charlie bolted out of the front door.
“People aren’t coming much now, Ben,” Charlie confided.
“Word is getting out, but we’re getting closer.” Ben tried to sound reassuring.
“I hope so. Some are still showing up to buy the specials, but they go so fast.” Charlie shook his head.
“Don’t tell me about what you sell,” Ben warned.
“Sorry—oh, and sorry I forgot to list the drag queens with the employees. We don’t pay them so they’re not really employees. They perform for tips, practice and exposure. Free drinks and such. I’m not sure if you want them on your list or not,” Charlie said.
“No worries. We’ll sort it out. Text me their real names if you have them and I can run them all. Just to be safe,” Ben said.
Charlie nodded and cocked his head. “Is that a hickey?”
“Goodbye, Charlie.” Ben put the car in gear.
Finally heading back to the station, where he’d see Ross, Ben hit the siren and sped a bit along the quiet country roads. Eagerness to solve the case and see his old boyfriend again…or were they new boyfriends? Labels didn’t matter, but there was no denying that his heart was mixed up in things again.
* * * *
While cross-referencing lists and running background checks most of the morning, Ross took a certain pride in the hickey he’d planted on Ben’s neck. It seemed a bit like high school, but it was just a hint of what they’d done all night long.
Ross wanted more, but they’d both enjoy it far more when they’d put the bad guy behind bars and were free to indulge and celebrate their success.
While info was being collected and routed through the field office, Ross and Ben headed to Deke’s trailer. His car had been thoroughly searched, but it’d taken overnight for Sheriff Larry to contact his grandmother and get the spare key.
Ben led the way in. “For a trailer, it’s nice. Well-maintained.”
Ross nodded. “I just hope we don’t find any surprises. They should’ve busted in last night.”
“No heat signatures came up on the sensors. Not even a dog. If anything is in here, it’s dead,” Ben said.
They walked inside, gloved up with plenty of evidence bags. “How was your dad this morning?” Ross asked.
“Fine,” Ben replied.
Ross flipped through bills and found a few notebooks. “Looks like he was writing songs.”
“Cheap hobby. Found a guitar back here,” Ben called.
“How was your dad really? Giving you shit about me?”
Ben shot Ross a look. “I can handle him. The bigger problems are he slept in the recliner, had toast for dinner and probably skipped his nighttime meds.”
“And it’s my fault,” Ross said.
“No, not yours. He’s not senile. He can work a microwave and climb into bed even with the oxygen tank. His pills were all set in their container. It’s his choice to be a pain.”
“Sorry. I’m glad he’s not suffering from major dementia, but punishing you for a night out with the guilt is an asshole move. It’s one thing if he needs that level of care. You wonder what has to happen to put someone you love in a nursing home. Like this kid Deke, parents gone. Was it up to him or his grandmother?” Ross asked.
“Level of required care, usually. Doctors and social workers get involved when they send someone home from the hospital. Deke has a job, to keep up with the trailer fees, insurance and other bills—he needs to work. If she needs more than occasional help, it’s an issue of safety. My dad isn’t ready for a nursing home.”
Ross caught the tone Ben threw at him. “I never suggested that. I’ve seen some of the nasty investigations into bad ones. It’s horrible. I’d rather move my parents into my house if I could handle it. I get it, Ben.”
“Your parents wouldn’t have called me GI Dick.” Ben shrugged. “They were nice.”
“Is that what your dad called me? Creative, but I was never in the military,” Ross replied.
“Found his cigarettes and matchbooks,” Ben called.
Ross joined him in the bedroom. A small candy jar held no candy, but lots of matchbooks from various bars. All gay.
“Most of these are in the city,” Ross confirmed.
“Maybe Deke preferred to party where his grandmother wouldn’t hear about it?” Ben suggested.
“Let’s take them and see if the other guys went to the same bars? Make the rounds,” Ross said.
* * * *
Back at the station, they sorted through the info and examined the evidence taken from outside the trailer.
“This rose doesn’t look real.” Ross felt it through the bag.
“No, it’s fake. This one is also multicolored. Did they dye roses for Pride? It’s only February,” Ben said.
“It’s not real…feels like plastic with fabric petals. He went from real to fake so they’d last longer? To get the gay rainbow jab in?” Ross pondered aloud.
Ben’s phone pinged. He read the text. “Can we pick this up tomorrow? Mrs. Blossom has to leave and Dad is giving her a hard time about dinner.”
“Sure. You know, this rose thing is probably just to make his life easier. The bad guy wants to look like he’s everywhere and scare people. A rose left out in the heat would wilt pretty quickly, so someone would be able to tell if the bad guy was there recently or if it’d been hours. I’ll start on tracking down who makes these,” Ross said.
“Thanks. Night,” Ben called.
Ross’ hopes of another night of naked fun in his motel room were dashed.
He packed up with a plan. Grab something from the diner for dinner
, take it back to the motel room and start the research. He could put support staff on showing the pics around the gay bars in the city—and it’d be easy to figure out who’d made the flower. Of course, where the bad guy had bought it was trickier.
Walking out to his rental car, Ross froze halfway. He’d spotted something on his car. Ben had just left and not said a word. Who was lurking around? How could they be that close and go unnoticed?
There was a multicolored rose on the windshield of his car. Ross drew his weapon and looked around. Not a soul to be seen. He turned and went back inside. This would require a report, evidence bag and statement.
But first things first. Ross texted Ben to make sure he got home okay.
Chapter Eight
The unmarked car parked not far from Ben’s home was a tip-off that something wasn’t right. When the car remained in place as Ben exited the house, Ben had even more questions. He took a picture of the license plate to be safe then headed to the station.
“Sheriff Larry wants to see you,” said the secretary.
“Okay, thanks.” Ben went straight to the office and tapped on the door.
“Yeah,” Larry called.
Ben entered and closed the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”
“Sure did. Last night, did you see anything on Ross’ car when you left?” Larry asked.
“No. Does this have anything to do with that unmarked car outside my house?” Ben asked.
Larry nodded. “One of those fake Pride roses was found on his rental. We checked the surveillance, and some guy wearing a big black plastic rain poncho snuck it on there right after you left. Kept his back to the cameras and the hood was up. He had gloves on. No help. Right under our noses. Did you see any cars? Anyone?”
“No, sir. Is Ross okay?” Ben forced himself to remain professional and calm despite his internal worry.
“He’s fine. FBI is adding more support. His partner has been redirected to work with us here as well,” Larry said.
“We can handle this. We’re just narrowing it down,” Ben insisted.
“Relax, you’re doing great. I never imagined this case would get so big or complicated. Ross is probably the only reason the Feds haven’t muscled in here and taken the case over completely,” Larry said.
Ben knew he was right. The team approach was best, but this case was getting bigger than a stalker targeting a few gay men.
“We’re going to have a meeting to update everyone. Get some coffee and a donut. The car will stay on your house to make sure no one attacks your property or your dad,” Larry said.
“Thanks.” Ben exited the office and went for the coffee.
Ross walked over.
Ben tensed. “You didn’t call?”
Ross stood up straight. “I texted to make sure that you got home safely. We put the car on your place. I didn’t want to panic you.”
Grabbing a donut, Ben shook his head. “Glad you’re making those decisions for me. Clearly I can’t take care of myself.”
“Ben, don’t. I didn’t want to freak out either. You were safer at home with your dad.” Ross pulled him away from the conference room. “I was shocked when I saw the rose. I don’t fit into this profile, but this guy is onto us. He’s after any gay man in the county. It’s not some personal grudge or a guy who got rejected by a few men.”
“Maybe that’s how it started, but this guy is after us now. The dance is coming up. We have no solid leads.” Ben shook his head and looked up at Ross.
“This guy might have an accomplice. He might have been planning this for months. He could have had schedules and locations staked out far in advance.” Ross sighed. “We need the help.”
“I’m glad for the help, but don’t keep me out of the loop,” Ben warned.
As they walked back to the conference room, Ben’s phone went off.
Ben checked it and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Hey, Charlie, what’s going on?”
“We’re going to need all those guys back out here. And that coroner chick,” Charlie rambled.
“What happened?” Ben asked.
“Just like Kevin. Another one wrapped in a tarp, so I don’t know who. Hurry, Ben. I don’t like it.”
“It’s fine, Charlie. We’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything. Don’t call anyone else. Just sit tight, make some coffee and wait for us. Okay?” Ben asked.
“Okay. I hate being alone. It’s awful to be alone in an emergency.” Charlie hung up abruptly.
“Another dead body at the bar. Charlie is freaked. We need to go,” Ben said.
He went into the conference room and updated his colleagues about the development. A sudden flurry of activity in all directions made Ben feel alone and overwhelmed. He made it to his car and headed for the bar with lights and sirens. Charlie needed a friend now as much as he needed law enforcement.
The faces of the missing men flashed before Ben’s eyes as he drove.
Who is the dead man?
* * * *
The swarm of people from both county and Feds took the case to a new level for Ross. Ben was pissed and that was fine, but another man was dead and none of the missing men had been located.
“They’ve recovered a lighter and the tarp. The man doesn’t match any of the missing persons,” Ben updated the conference room.
Ross sighed. “Identification?”
“He has it on him. Sheriff Larry is going to inform the family and bring them in to identify the body at the morgue. The man is Jack Fisher, unemployed and known heroin addict. He sold drugs as well as used them. He has an aunt who lives in Frankfort, but his driver’s license and mug shots all line up as far as confirming ID,” Ben said.
A stern-looking woman in a skirt suit and wearing round glasses stood. “Hi, I’m Special Agent Irene Harrows. I’m Ross’ partner and I have an update to add. We’ve tied a Frankfort missing person to this case. A man named Michael ‘Mickey’ Carlton. He frequented several gay bars in the city and the one out here in the back woods. It took a bit for people to realize he was missing. He was on vacation from his job, on a camping trip, when he was taken. A rose was found in his apartment trash can. All signs point to the same guy, but now the range is much wider.”
“Thank you. We’re still looking for a connection that gives one person a motive. If they were simply someone who hates gays, they could set fire to the bar when it’s full. This seems more targeted and personal. Adding in the city resident, that strengthens that theory. It’s too personal to be random,” Ben replied.
“We’re running prints and trying to locate where the lighter was bought. This tarp wasn’t rained on, so the chance of evidence retrieval is better,” Ross updated them.
“We’re going to dive deeper into each guy and try to connect them. Fresh eyes might help—no offense. Something may have been missed and we do have a bigger group of victims now. Everyone has their assignments—we’ll reconvene this afternoon,” Irene said.
“Do we have something?” Ross asked.
Irene smiled slightly. “I’m sorry, but you two are now considered targets. We need to protect you both.”
“We’re off the case? Sheriff Larry didn’t say that,” Ben argued.
She frowned. “He should have. I’m sorry. We’re happy to have you consult and update the new agents on the case, but we need their objectivity.”
Ben stood, completely flustered. “I’ll find the sheriff.”
Ross followed Ben out of the room. “Hey, calm down.”
“Really? You kept stuff from me, and now even more is being taken away? I’m basically off the case. That’s insane,” Ben shouted.
Ross grabbed Ben by the arm and steered him into the men’s room. “Stop. There was a rose on my car. Odds are they know we slept together, so we’re both considered targets.”
“Big Brother is really scary,” Ben said.
“They don’t care about that. Everyone around here knew we were both gay—together or not doesn’t matter to them. I mig
ht get a reprimand for getting personally involved, but it’s not a witness or victim. I’m sleeping with another law enforcement officer, so it’s not that big of a deal. We need to consult and cooperate, or we’ll be removed from the case totally,” Ross warned.
“The sheriff wouldn’t do that,” Ben said.
“You think the FBI can’t pull rank on this case?” Ross folded his arms. “Play nice or they’ll push you and Sheriff Larry to the outside.”
“Fine.” Ben’s phone pinged. “Guess I will have time to take my dad for his tests this afternoon.”
“You’ll still have the tail,” Ross reminded him.
“I can live with it as long as people are honest with me.”
Ross wanted to have it out, but this wasn’t the time or the place. They had a huge case and a lot more help. Focusing on the assignment and working separate areas might help defuse the tension between them.
After Ben left, Ross sat through the dull FBI-only update. They were hitting the same walls as the original group had. The officers tailing Ben radioed in when they went to the clinic and also made contact when they were headed back.
It was about dinner time and Ross knew he wasn’t contributing anything new. He grabbed takeout and headed to Ben’s place. Arriving just as Ben was helping his dad into the house, Ross felt a bit like a stalker.
“What’s he doing here? New guards?” Dad asked Ben.
“I don’t think so. I’m not sure. Let’s get you inside.” Ben helped his dad.
Ross saw the slower pace and heavy breathing. “Was it good news?”
“Nothing is worse so far.” The old man sat at his kitchen table. “You two catch this self-hating queer?”
“Dad.” Ben shook his head.
“Not the worst way to describe this murderer. I just wonder what he’s doing with the others. Storing the bodies? Torturing them?” Ross set the food down. “I figured you didn’t get to make dinner. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and biscuits.”
The Rose Man Page 7
