Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  “Dumbass, what’d Davis say?” Frank growled at his partner.

  “Nothing really, asked if I could be at headquarters tomorrow at nine to meet with him and the two of you about the Langford case.” Caleb rubbed the back of his head, scowling at Frank.

  Taylor leaned into him, their shoulders bumping. “Did he divulge anything more to you, Frank?”

  He shook his head, staring at the empty bottle in his hands. “Nope.” The mood went to shit after that, so they called it a night.

  It was the first time in a long time that Frank rode home in the back seat of an Uber sober. The drive also brought back the memory of the last time he’d used the service.…Trevor. He wondered briefly if he should tell Taylor about his part-time lover. He and Trevor hadn’t communicated by phone, email, or text since their last rendezvous and had never been serious. Once they learned what Davis had discovered and had a little more time to settle into their relationship, he’d tell Taylor about the man. For now, all he could do was concentrate on Taylor, though his thoughts were consumed with why Davis wanted to see them. What was so important that he couldn’t talk about it over the phone?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taylor

  Pulling into the parking lot at the Jack Evans Police Headquarters building, Taylor was pleased to find a spot right up front. He climbed out of the jeep and walked around the front to meet Frank, reaching for his hand. “Remember, no matter what happens here today, we’re in this together.” He winked at Frank.

  Neither of them slept well the night before. Taylor woke up pissed off that the Sergeant hadn’t just waited to contact Frank and Caleb in the morning, instead of on their night off. Speak of the devil. Caleb stood leaning against a pillar close to the entrance of the building. Once they were through security, they took the elevator up to the fourth floor for their meeting, all of them still in the dark about why they were there, aside from the obvious.

  “Frank, Caleb, morning,” A man in a tailored suit with a military cut greeted them as soon as the elevator doors slid open. What little hair he had was dark brown and his eyes were almond shaped and as brown as his hair. One of his parents was definitely Asian and it showed in his features. “Taylor, I’m Sergeant Rand Davis, but you can just call me Rand. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face.” He shook the offered hand and then the three of them followed Rand down a long hallway.

  “I have turned over some stones the size of the Rock of Gibraltar since we last talked, Officers,

  and I have a lot to show and tell you guys today. Please, right in here.” Davis pushed a door open, stepping to one side so that Taylor, Frank, and Caleb could go into the room first.

  “Before we begin, allow me to introduce you to Agent Landers. When I started digging around in the case he reached out to me. Apparently, the Bureau has been quietly following the case and your movements for a while.” Davis pointed to a short, skinny guy standing on the other side of the room, facing away from them, looking out the window.

  Taylor felt Frank’s posture stiffen and was immediately on guard. “Frank, what’s wrong?”

  “It can’t be…Trevor?” Frank took a few steps closer to the man by the window, his face awash in disbelief and pain. Skinny Guy bowed his head for a moment before he finally turned and looked at Frank, the same pain Taylor could see on his lover’s face mirrored in the stranger’s features.

  “Say what, now?” Caleb moved closer to Frank. “Trevor? As in the flight-attendant-fuck-buddy-friend-with-benefits, Trevor?”

  “What?” Taylor spoke through clenched teeth. Knowing that Frank had been with other men before they were together was one thing. Standing face-to-face with one of those men made Taylor feel jealous, territorial.

  “Well, for proprieties’ sake, allow me to introduce everyone.” Rand did not look pleased, if Taylor was reading him right. “This is Agent Rory Landers; Trevor is one of his undercover aliases. Agent Landers, this is officer Caleb Knight and Taylor Langford. It would seem that you and Officer Frank Moore are already acquainted—care to tell me how?”

  Taylor watched as Frank’s mood shifted from confusion to clear recognition followed by seething anger. Apparently, Frank was none the wiser to exactly who Trevor or Rory or whatever-the-fuck-his-name is or was. “Can we talk alone for a minute, Frank? Let me explain…”

  Several things happened simultaneously. Tre…Rory took a couple of steps closer to Frank, who took a few steps back. Taylor moved in front of Frank and Caleb’s arm shot out, blocking Rory from coming any closer. “You best start talking,” Caleb advised the agent, voice low and menacing.

  Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, the Agent sighed. “I’ve been working undercover for the past nine years. I was assigned to you, Frank, by the Bureau because you were a part of Taylor’s life and they wanted to keep tabs on him, to make sure he was safe.”

  Frank’s body was trembling, his left hand holding on to Taylor’s shoulder with a tight grip. “You son of a bitch.” Frank’s words held a sharp sting. “So, you used me, to what end, Rory?” Wow, is that what livid sounds like? “Was me fucking you a part of your grand plan as well?” Pushing past Caleb and Taylor, Frank advanced on Agent Landers, and Taylor had to give the scrawny guy credit, he didn’t back away; he stood his ground.

  “Oh, wow. That is a complication.” Rand Davis walked over and put a hand on each man’s chest, pushing them apart. “If you two can act like adults, the three of us will give you a few minutes to talk before we dive into everything I’ve found concerning the Langford murders.”

  Taylor felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. For ten goddamn years, he’d prayed that his parents’ murder would be solved. It had kept him awake at night, knowing that the person who’d killed them for no apparent reason was still out there, free as a bird while his parents were dead and buried. But his focus had shifted the night Frankie said yes to him on the beach. Now, the most important thing in his life was the man he loved. Moving swiftly, he reached for Frank and tugged on his arm. When he turned and looked up at Taylor his heart sank. Taylor had seen the look that was equal parts rage and suffering many times when he looked in the mirror. He knew every emotion Frank was fighting at the moment, each commanding Frank adhere to his instincts. It was confusing and painful and if they weren’t inside Police Headquarters, he’d kick the shit out of Rory Landers for causing his lover so much pain.

  “Caleb, Taylor, let’s wait out in the hall while…”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Taylor said flatly, cutting Davis off, holding Frank’s face in his hands. He heard Caleb mutter something and then the door closed, but the only thing he could focus on at the moment was the man in front of him. Frank took a few deep, calming breaths and Taylor could feel some of the tension in his body receding. “You good?” Frank nodded.

  He led Frank over to the table and pulled out two seats, gesturing with his hand for Landers to do the same, but on the other side of the table. “All right Rory, start talking.”

  “I won’t go into all the details surrounding the case now; we’ll wait until Davis and Knight return to go over all that because everything is linked and I don’t want to waste the few minutes we have on things we’ll only be discussing again.” Landers paused briefly, his eyes drifting from Frank to Taylor, a wall dropping immediately as he focused on Taylor. “I was assigned to your parents’ case about a year after the murders, specifically to shadow Frank.”

  “But why? Why me?” Frank sounded so dejected that Taylor tightened his hold on him.

  Rory turned his attention to Frank. “Because the Bureau believed the killer could likely come after Taylor. And you, Frank, as well as Valerie and Charles Stone, were the three constants in his life. Sleeping with you was not in the job description, it just…happened. But you were never fully present when we were together, were you, Frankie? There was always a part of you that you kept hidden, safely tucked away.”

  And there it
was. The man sitting across from them looking at Frank wistfully had hoped for more than Frank could offer. Taylor could sympathize with him. Suddenly, he felt sorry for Agent Landers, most of his anger dissipating—most, but not all. “First, don’t ever call him Frankie again. Only I get to use that name when referring to him. Second, I can see it in your eyes, Agent, there’s more. So why don’t you spit it out so we can call Caleb and Davis back in here and get this over with.” Taylor spoke with a commanding tone, leaving no room for argument.

  Running his fingers through his long, black hair, Landers sighed heavily. “There are two other Agents—one assigned to the Stones and one assigned to you, Taylor.”

  “Say what, now?” Taylor asked. He couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe it. “Who?”

  “The Stones’ housekeeper, Marta, and your friend Kian.”

  He was dumbfounded, at a loss for words. Kian was one of his best friends, had been since high school. He’d trusted Kian implicitly, as he had the few close friends in his life. Now Taylor understood why Frank was both sad and angry at learning that the man he’d known as Trevor wasn’t who he pretended to be. Seeing that misery in Frank’s eyes, written all over his face was one thing. But feeling it, that was an entirely different level of pain.

  Frank leaned into him, taking Taylor’s hand in his and squeezing tightly, the warmth comforting and familiar, grounding him. There would be time later to deal with the betrayal. Right now, he needed to focus on finding out what Davis had uncovered in relation to his parents’ murder.

  ~

  “Here, Frank.” Davis passed him a folder and Taylor wondered briefly what it held until he read the tab of the folder—Langford Case File CSI—and that question was answered.

  “Use the table and start with the backyard here,” Davis pointed to one end of the table, “front porch here.” He pointed to the other end of the table. “I want to see what the two of you saw that night as you secured the residence.”

  Stunned, Taylor stared at the folder in Frank’s hands like it might bite him. “You okay with this, Taylor?” Frank asked, handing the folder to Caleb and coming over to where he stood with Agent Landers, reaching for Taylor’s hand and pressing it to his heart. “Baby, you don’t have to stay in here for this; it can’t be easy for you. But I’ll be here with you if you do.”

  Lord, but he loved this man. Had they really only been together for a couple of months? But of course, they’d actually been navigating the rough waters of that night by each other’s sides for the last decade. Taylor faltered, but only because he knew he was about to look at the one image he’d avoided for so long: the image of his parents on their bedroom floor, the life sucked out of them, stolen in the night by some psycho for a reason no one knew. “I have to,” he whispered, bending and kissing Frank softly.

  Frank took a stack from the top of the file, handing the rest to Caleb, the two of them telling their version of what happened that night as they gently set each picture on the wood-grained table. The first image was a shot of the front yard he’d played in from the time he was old enough to walk, obviously taken from the street. One by one, the images were laid out like a slowly moving silent movie, telling the story of the worst fucking day of Taylor’s life. It took less than five minutes for the two men to recreate the scene, but there were two pieces of the puzzle missing. “Do it.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth.

  Christ almighty, he didn’t know which was worse—the image of his parents’ bodies on their bedroom floor atop a circle of angry red or the image of him in Frank’s lap in the ambulance, tears streaming down his face, arms outstretched toward the house. “Oh God.” He couldn’t catch his breath and the room started to spin violently. Frank and Caleb were there in an instant, one on either side of him, bookends, pillars of strength.

  “I…need a minute,” He moved to the door, Frank still right beside him, jerking it open and sprinting down the hall to the bathroom. Taylor barely made it into one of the stalls before his breakfast made an unexpected appearance. Ears ringing and heart pounding, he fell backward when there was nothing left in his stomach, the cold, metal wall supporting his weight. Someone spoke but he didn’t know who, couldn’t make out the words. Blinking back the tears filling his eyes, he reached for the person in front of him, knowing it would be Frank.

  Rubbing his back and whispering soothing, calming words, Frank held Taylor while he had a short but satisfying breakdown. When he was seventeen, curiosity had sent Taylor searching for more information on his parents’ death than Frank or the Stones would readily tell him. He hadn’t gotten more than a few paragraphs into the article before he’d had to slam the lid of his laptop closed. Each year he got a little further into the story and eventually, he’d read every article that was ever posted. But hearing Frank and Caleb recount the events from that fateful night, seeing what they saw as they moved through the home, it was too much.

  He didn’t know how long they sat there on the cold, tiled floor before Frank finally stood, hand outstretched toward Taylor. “That was the hard part, Tay, now we go back in there and listen to what Davis has found.”

  Okay, he could do this. With Frank by his side, he could do anything.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Frank

  Annoyance and confusion had Frank on guard when they walked back into the room. Thankfully, the images were no longer littering the table and were safely tucked away in the file folder, where they’d stay as long as Taylor was in the room. Taylor was in pain; he could feel it radiating off his body in waves. If only he could whisk them away, back to Martha’s Vineyard where everything was comfortable and safe, with no reminders of the past and what Taylor had lost.

  “You okay, Taylor?” Caleb asked, walking over and clapping him on the back. He looked at Frank questioningly and Frank nodded, as did Taylor.

  “Okay.” Davis rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go over what I’ve uncovered since I took on the case.”

  It was then that Frank noticed Rory was gone. “Where’s Landers?”

  “I thought it best that he sit this one out. He’ll still be shadowing you, but from the sidelines as he should have from the start,” Davis told them. He turned to look at Frank, his expression severe. “I can file a formal complaint if you like, Officer Moore.”

  “No, no, I’d rather just move on and let it go. I don’t think he’s a bad guy or that he entered into any kind of a relationship with me with malicious intent.” And he truly didn’t. Seeing the look on Rory’s face when he and Taylor held hands, comforting one another, was almost as shocking as learning every damn thing else he’d told Frank was a lie. Rory would have to live with the consequences of his actions and that was punishment enough as far as Frank was concerned.

  Davis considered that for a moment before agreeing with him, motioning for them to take a seat at the table. There were several boxes Frank hadn’t noticed when they’d first returned from the bathroom sitting on the far end of the table. “These are the files from the homicide detective that worked the original case for two years. As soon as I was approved to reopen the case, I had those files pulled and did a thorough read-through along with the case notes you two gave me copies of.” He tapped the top of one of the boxes.

  Lifting the lid off a different box, Davis pulled out a thick folder and walked over to where they sat and placed a piece of paper in front of each of them, a grainy black and white photo of a woman with a bundle in her arms smiling up at them. Taylor gasped, fingers hovering over the image. “Is that…”

  The woman was younger, her eyes bright, but there was no mistaking it; Taylor was looking at the face of his mother. “It’s Emily and Taylor, right?” Frank asked, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

  “Right you are.” Davis pulled another sheet from the file and handed it to Frank. “I went back and found the original story that ran on the news and in the papers in 1993.”

  The second image was cleaner, crisper, and showed a mu
ch younger Emily, clad in a red dress, holding a baby wrapped in a light blue blanket, smiling at the camera. A man’s arm was draped around her, hand with a gold band resting on her hip, but the rest of his body was cut out of the image. Taylor read the article out loud, his voice wavering.

  Bangor Daily News, February 1993–MISSING–Melissa and George Taylor, missing since December, last seen at Hannaford Supermarket on December 19th. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this young mother and her son, please call…

  Taylor sniffled, looking up at the Sergeant standing beside him. “What…what is this?”

  Davis pulled another piece of paper from his magic file and Frank wanted to clobber him, snatch the folder from his hands, and dump it out on the table. He refrained for the moment. Caleb began reading the names, thank fuck, because Frank couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Taylor. “Mother, Melissa Dawn Cassidy Taylor. Father, Keith Landry Taylor. But Taylor’s name is backward though, it’s Taylor George and not George Taylor.”

  “No, the birth certificate is accurate. I spoke to a lovely woman at the Bangor health department that assured me the child born to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor was, in fact, named George, first name, Taylor was the last name.” Davis pointed out some notes he’d scribbled on the side of the sheet of paper.

  Frank looked up at Davis, not liking the look on the man’s face. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Davis nodded, finally taking a seat at the table and setting the folder that still held god-only-knew-what down beside him. “I ran an image from a family photo of the Langfords through facial rec and got a hit; that’s how I found the article in the Bangor newspaper. So I decided to run a check on the names Emily and Sean Langford, and found death certificates for an Emily Langford and a Sean Langford in November of 1992.”

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell were Taylor’s parents mixed up in?” Caleb sighed. “And why the hell was none of this uncovered in 2005?”