He showed the detective to the door, resisted slamming it shut when the man was outside. Then he hurried upstairs. He had things he needed to get rid of before the police returned with their warrant.
Chapter 9
“You’re awake.”
Gary heard the words, but for a moment they made no sense. Then he opened his eyes and saw Steve standing there. The next thing he was aware of was the fact he wasn’t at home, and that there were tubes attached to something in his arm, just below his elbow. Once he realized that, everything came flooding back. “He didn’t kill me,” he whispered.
“No,” Steve replied, taking Gary’s hand in his. “He tried, but a nice…Okay, that’s maybe the wrong word. A hero, the maintenance man for the building, stopped him. Lloyd’s been arrested.”
“Thank God.” Gary took a deep breath. “How bad? And what day is it?”
“Thursday morning, and nothing that won’t heal,” a nurse said, coming into view beside Steve. She smiled at Gary. “Do you want the list of damages?” Gary nodded so she told him. “As I said, nothing major. Given what the man did to other victims, I think you can count yourself very lucky.”
“Since they’re dead, I agree,” Gary replied a bit caustically. “How long do I have to stay here, hooked up to these?” He tried to point to the intravenous lines with his other hand and realized it was strapped to his body in some kind of weird sling.
“As soon as the doctor okays it, we’ll take them out. The sling to immobilize your shoulder will stay until you’ve seen an orthopedist and he decides it’s safe to remove it.”
“Damn. This sucks,” Gary grumbled, looking at his husband. “Guess you get to play nursemaid for a while.”
Steve chuckled. “There’s the man I married. Trust me; I have no problem nursing you back to health. The sooner the better, because life is going to be pretty dull until that happens.” He winked.
“One track mind.” Gary glanced at the nurse, who was grinning. “Well, it is. Not that I’m complaining, or I wouldn’t be if I was in better shape. Fuck. Damn it.” A memory of the attack, and the accompanying pain—although he knew it was imaginary since he had to be dosed up on painkillers now—sent a wave of fear and panic through him.
“Hey,” Steve said, gently stroking Gary’s forehead. “It’s going to be all right. It’s over. You’re here and you’re safe.”
“I know.” Gary smiled weakly. “Now I have to convince myself I really am.”
“I’ll be beside you when you begin to doubt it.”
Gary nodded then said, finally seeing the lines of exhaustion on his husband’s face, “Have you gotten any sleep?”
“A little. In the waiting room.” Steve glanced at the nurse. “You all need more sofas and fewer chairs.”
“I’ll take it up with management,” she replied as she checked Gary’s vitals. “Okay, you’re where we want you to be,” she told Gary.
“Chained to the bed by tubes and wires?”
She rolled her eyes. “Your vitals are good. I suspect the doctor will agree, and possibly let you leave this afternoon. That’s up to him.”
Gary turned to Steve. “Maybe you can sneak me out of here, now?”
“Nope. We’re stuck here until they release you. Don’t argue. I’m not going anywhere until they do, except maybe home to get you something to wear when you leave.”
“My perfect, dedicated husband.”
“Because I love you. If you’d…If he’d…” Steve shuddered hard before he leaned over to softly kiss Gary.
“But I didn’t, and he didn’t. Now, if things go the way they should, he’s going to spend the rest of his life in prison, regretting what he did to Jim and those other men.”
“Unfortunately,” Steve replied, “the only thing he’ll probably regret is getting caught.”
* * * *
Lloyd stared at the walls of the cell, but he wasn’t seeing them, or the other men around him. In his mind he was reliving what he’d done to his father.
You’ll never hurt anyone the way you hurt me. I’ve made certain of that. You’re dead. Dead and buried and in Hell where you belong.
Something niggled at him. The feeling his job wasn’t complete. He ignored it, envisioning how he had killed the man who had abandoned him.
This is for the day you left me behind. He remembered his fist pounding into his father’s body and could feel it contact as if it was happening right that second. This is for all the foster homes I had to endure. He kicked his father, hearing bones breaking. This is for the love you denied me. Blood flowed as he beat his father’s face to a pulp. Perhaps now, I can live in peace.
* * * *
Blaine glowered when he opened the front door mid-morning on Thursday and saw Detective Kemp and two other police officers standing there.
The detective handed him the search warrant, waited for Blaine to read through it, then stepped into the house, gesturing for the others to join him.
“Have fun,” Blaine sneered. “And make certain you put everything back exactly the way you found it.”
The police ignored him as they went about their business. Blaine knew they wouldn’t find anything. He’d spent the previous night making certain of that. All the matching suits, slacks, and sports jackets he and Lloyd had, as part of one of them possibly having to be the other’s alibi, were now scattered in dumpsters several miles from the house. He’d been worried the detective might have assigned someone to watch the house, and follow him if he left. As far as he could tell, and Blaine knew what to look for, that hadn’t happened.
The only thing which could incriminate him, the knife he used on the women, was in the same place it always was when he wasn’t using it—behind a brick in the basement wall. It was well wrapped in a soft cloth, both to protect it, and to keep anyone from hearing a hollow sound if they banged on the bricks looking for a hiding space.
While he’d gone through Lloyd’s room, he found the spare set of brass knuckles which his twin had stashed in a shoebox on the top shelf of his closet. He’d debated getting rid of them. But he deserves it if the cops find them, for thinking that’s a good place to keep them. Hell, he deserves them being found because he was stupid enough to go after Gary to begin with—and get caught in the process. So he left them there.
Loyalty between twins, especially the kind they had because of their secret lives, was one thing. Breaking a promise, and in doing so bringing the cops down on them…On me…was quite something else.
“Mr. Ayers.”
Blaine looked up from the book he was pretending to read, glancing at Detective Kemp. “Yes?”
“We’re finished.”
“Good. I’m sure you didn’t find anything worthwhile.”
The detective held up a plastic evidence bag containing the brass knuckles. “Only these. They’ll go to our forensic experts for analyzing.”
“I don’t believe it,” Blaine replied in feigned dismay. “Where, and more to the point, why the hell did he keep them in the house?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. They were in his bedroom. Thank you for not giving us any problems with our search.”
“Why would I? I came to the conclusion, after you left last night, that if he did what he’s being accused of, he deserves whatever the courts give him. Yeah, I wasn’t happy to see you this morning. After all, he is my brother. But still…” Blaine shrugged, looking unhappily at the detective.
The detective told him the prosecuting attorneys would probably be in touch with him, once his brother had been bound over for trial. Then he and his men left.
“They can try,” Blaine said under his breath. “But I won’t be here, or anywhere else where they can find me. It’s time to move on and start over.”
* * * *
“Welcome home,” Steve said as he helped Gary navigate the front steps late Thursday afternoon. Gary protested that he was quite able to walk up them on his own, but Steve wasn’t taking any chances. “The
last thing you need is to stumble and re-injure your shoulder.”
Gary rolled his eyes, and accepted his help, grumbling, “How did I get so lucky?”
“You better mean having me for a husband,” Steve replied as he unlocked the door.
“No, I meant having Nurse Ratched hovering over me,” he muttered before smiling at him. “Of course I meant having you in my life.”
“Good thing, because you’re not getting rid of me.” Steve closed and locked the door once they were inside. He resisted helping Gary to sit down on the sofa, only telling him to be careful. That earned him another eye roll—and another smile. “Are you hungry?” Steve asked.
“Sort of,” Gary replied. “They fed me lunch, and it was pretty decent. But then you know that since you watched me eat before sneaking off to the cafeteria to get something more filling.”
“I didn’t sneak,” Steve protested. “I told you where I was going.”
“And refused to bring anything back for me.”
“Doctor’s orders.”
“Uh-huh. So what are you fixing for dinner?”
“I was thinking Jell-O and beef broth.”
“You do and I’m divorcing you.” Gary winced as he tried to find a more comfortable position. That was hard, Steve knew, with the immobilizer sling for his shoulder, plus his two fractured ribs.
Steve took the bottle of prescription painkillers they’d picked up at the hospital pharmacy from his pocket, setting it on the side table, and went to get a glass of water..
When he returned, Gary was scowling in frustration. “Why is there a child-proof cap on this damned thing?”
Steve chuckled, taking and opening the bottle. He gave Gary two pills, and when he’d popped them in his mouth, the glass of water—since Gary was working one-handed and would be until the sling came off.
“How do you feel about a thick hamburger steak and mashed potatoes?” Steve asked.
Gary lifted an eyebrow. “You just don’t want to make anything you’ll have to cut up for me so I can eat it.”
Steve grinned. “That thought did cross my mind. And?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Steve made supper, bringing it into the living room when it was ready so that his husband wouldn’t have to move again.
Gary sighed contentedly when the meal was over. “Now if I could stretch out here to sleep, instead of going up stairs…”
“You’d regret it in the morning,” Steve replied.
“Probably. Is there anything worth watching online? I’m sleepy, probably because of the pills, but not tired yet.”
They found a decent movie to stream on the laptop, then another one. Halfway through it, Gary’s head was resting on Steve’s shoulder. By the time it was finished, he was snoring softly.
“Now what do I do with you?” Steve asked. He figured since Gary was asleep it was a rhetorical question.
“Carry me up to bed?” Gary replied, obviously having been awakened by Steve’s words.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, even if I could.” Steve got up, trying to figure out how to help him stand without hurting him. He put one knee on the sofa, telling Gary to put his good arm around his neck, then eased him up, grimacing when Gary sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’m okay,” Gary told him once he was on his feet. Steve didn’t believe him, but kept his peace as he shut off the lights and turned on the security. By the time he’d finished, Gary was partway up the stairs. Steve hurried to join him, putting his arm around his waist.
They made it to the bedroom, and with some maneuvering managed to get Gary undressed, which involved removing the sling to take off the zippered sweatshirt Steve had brought to him at the hospital that afternoon, along with a pair of sweatpants.
They decided that showering wasn’t a good idea, so Steve gave him a sponge bath, which led to a few ribald comments from both of them when he got to Gary’s cock, balls, and ass. That was followed by Gary’s sigh as he said, “I have the feeling sex is out of the question for a while.”
“We’ll figure something out, but not tonight,” Steve told him.
With Steve’s help, Gary put on an old button-down shirt to sleep in, and then the sling.
Thankfully, as far as they were concerned, it was Gary’s left arm that was immobilized so he was able to brush his teeth without too much difficulty. Then he took two more pills.
“Now, I get to figure out how to do this,” Gary said after sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Lots of pillows,” Steve replied. He got the ones from the bed in the guest room, setting them out so Gary would be sleeping semi-reclined, as per the doctor’s orders. After helping him lay back on them, Steve got into bed beside him, leaning on one elbow with his arm protectively over Gary’s waist. “I don’t want you to fall off the pillows,” he said with a laugh when Gary cocked his head in question.
“Mm-hmm,” Gary replied sleepily. He touched Steve’s lips with his fingertips, murmuring, “Too far away.”
Steve got the message, moving closer to kiss him. “Remember,” he said softly, “I’m right here.”
Gary nodded. “In case I have a nightmare?”
“No, because I love you.” He kissed Gary again.
“Love you, too,” Gary whispered as his eyes closed.
For a long time Steve watched him as he slept, thanking his lucky stars that Gary had survived the attack. “I’d be nowhere without you by my side,” he whispered as he finally fell asleep as well.
Chapter 10
The story about the attack was the headline in the newspaper, much to Gary’s dismay.
“It’s not that I mind the calls from friends and reporters, non-stop,” he told Steve Friday morning, after shutting off his phone. “Okay, I do mind the reporters. My fifteen minutes of fame.” He shook his head. “Thank you for dealing with the two who came to the door.” With them living across the street from the Ayers’s house, the reporters were having a field day trying to get interviews with Gary and Lloyd’s brother, Blaine.
Steve smiled, hugging him carefully. “My pleasure. You’d undoubtedly have handled the calls better if you’d been able to get some real sleep last night.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you every damned hour, but…”
“There is nothing to be sorry about. We both knew you’d probably have nightmares. And it was only twice, not every hour.” He chuckled, though it wasn’t really funny. “You scared the hell out of me the first time when you began flailing around. For a man with only one working arm, you pack quite a punch.”
“At least you didn’t fight back,” Gary replied ruefully, touching the bruise on Steve’s cheek.
The doorbell rang, again. With a sigh, Steve went to answer, expecting he’d have to politely tell yet another reporter to get lost. Instead, it was Owen, who stepped inside quickly while fending off a reporter and cameraman a couple of feet behind him.
“I thought you’d like to know,” Owen said, “Lloyd Thomas probably won’t be going to trial.”
“Why not?” Gary asked angrily.
“He’ll be deemed mentally incompetent.”
“You know this already?” Steve said, sitting beside Gary while Owen settled in the armchair opposite them.
“Yes. After he was booked in, with all that entails, he was put in a holding cell. According to one of the officers, he attacked another prisoner, shouting, ‘This is for the day you left me behind.’ Then he tried to kick and punch him. He was restrained by two other prisoners until help arrived, at which point he was moved to a private cell. He sat on the bed, no responding to anyone who talked to him, including the police psychiatrist who was asked to examine him. Instead, he was off in his own world, acting out the attacks, physically and verbally, until he was sedated and put on a seventy-two hour psychiatric hold at Denver Health.”
“What’s the prognosis?” Gary asked.
“It’s too soon to tell, but the police psychiatrist thinks he’s so dee
p into his psychosis he might never come out.” Owen looked at Gary, giving him a brief smile as he added, “Probably because he failed to kill his ‘father’ this time, meaning you.”
“Damn. Not that I feel the least bit guilty. Or sorry for him, as far as that goes. He might not end up in prison, or executed, for his crimes, but he’ll still suffer.”
“Which he should,” Steve said, feeling little compassion for the man. “That he’s crazy is a given. His brother should have had him committed a long time ago.”
“According to Mr. Ayers, he had no idea there was anything wrong with Lloyd until he was arrested,” Owen replied.
“How can you live with someone and not see that there’s something horribly wrong with them?”
“It happens more often than you’d think,” Owen said. “Especially with serial killers. They’re extremely charming, glib, and pathological liars who can easily hide their true feelings.”
“It almost makes me feel sorry for Blaine Ayers,” Gary said. “Finding out he’s been living with a murderer and didn’t even know it.”
“According to him,” Steve replied. He wasn’t convinced it was possible, Owen’s words to the contrary.
“I’ve talked with Mr. Ayers,” Owen said. “Unless he’s a consummate actor, he was horrified when I broke the news to him of his twin’s arrest, and again when our search of the house uncovered a pair of brass knuckles like the ones Lloyd used on his victims hidden in his closet. One of our forensic people examined them and found minute traces of blood, which he’ll try to match to one or more of the victims.”
“So that’s it,” Gary said. “Lloyd will spend the rest of his life locked up in a mental hospital.”
“He will if he really is psychotic,” Owen agreed. “It will take time for the psychiatrists to make a determination one way or the other, but I’m putting my money on his ending up in the state hospital in Pueblo until he dies.” He took out his notebook and a pen, saying apologetically, “I need to get your statement, Gary.”
Gary told him what little he remembered about the attack, including recognizing Lloyd just before he hit him the first time. When he finished, Owen said he’d have an officer bring the printed statement to the house for him to sign later in the afternoon.
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