by J L Aarne
The kitchen was worse. It didn’t look like Jacob had eaten much in the two days Ezekiel had been gone, but there were glasses lined up everywhere on the counter side-by-side with empty beer and whiskey bottles. A bottle lay on its side on the table dripping beer into a little puddle on the floor and Ezekiel set it upright.
“Jake?”
“I’m in here!” Jacob called from the bathroom.
Ezekiel walked down the hallway and looked in to find Jacob sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with his face in his hands. He was wearing jeans that looked like they’d been slept in for a couple of days, his shirt hung unbuttoned and was sporting a yellowish beer stain and a cigarette burn and he hadn’t shaved since Ezekiel had left. Jacob didn’t grow beards well, so the hairs on his face were patchy and sparse. When he lifted his head to look at Ezekiel, his eyes were bloodshot and glassy and Ezekiel wondered if booze was the only thing he was on.
“There you are,” Jacob said.
“Hey,” Ezekiel said. “Ah… You okay, Jakey?”
“Don’t you fucking ‘Jakey’ me,” Jacob muttered. He scrubbed his hands over his face and stood up, swayed but managed not to sit back down and picked up the whiskey bottle Ezekiel had seen him with from the back of the toilet tank. “You here to get some of your stuff, fine, go…” He waved at Ezekiel for him to back out of the bathroom out of his way. “…do that. I’ll stay out of your way, but don’t you… don’t you call me that.”
Ezekiel’s heart skipped in alarm and he stared at Jacob’s back as he walked by him toward the kitchen. “What?”
Jacob drank from his bottle, barely noticing Ezekiel following close behind him. “What what?” he said. “I’m not slurring that much. Yet. And you have excellent hearing. What did I say?”
“I’m here to get my stuff,” Ezekiel prompted.
“Right,” Jacob said. He stopped by the table and plopped down into a chair. “I’m not fucking leaving and you clearly have somewhere else to go, so you can leave.”
Ezekiel did not point out to him that the house was in his name. “I’m not here to get my stuff,” he said.
Jacob blinked at him, frowned and put his bottle aside on the table. “Then why? You’ve been gone for… fuck, I don’t know. Three days?”
“Two.”
“Fine, two days. You left during a fight, so what am I supposed to think? Because I think you were off fucking whoever the hell you’re fucking that isn’t me for two goddamn days. I called you. I called you a lot. You never picked up, you never called back. Tell me what I’m supposed to think. Because I think you’re leaving. Me. Over some bimbo piece of ass. And if you’re not leaving, I think I have no choice but to leave you. That’s what I think.”
“No,” Ezekiel said. He pulled a chair over, placed it in front of Jacob and sat down. Jacob sat hunched over, elbows on his knees and Ezekiel leaned down to be closer to eye level with him. “Jake, look at me.” When he did, Ezekiel emphatically said, “I’m not leaving.”
“Great,” Jacob said tiredly. “Well, I can’t drive right now, so I’m not going anywhere until I’m sober.”
“You’re not leaving either,” Ezekiel said sharply.
Jacob frowned. “You don’t get to tell me what to do right now,” he said, pointing at Ezekiel. “I’m supposed to just take you back and be okay that you’ve been off banging your fucking secretary or something for two fucking days and nights? Does that really sound like me, Zeke?”
“I don’t have a secretary,” Ezekiel said.
Jacob sat up straight with a growl. “Shut up,” he snapped. “Don’t you be sarcastic with me right now. I’m not fucking around.”
Ezekiel held up his hands. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. Just… Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not fucking anyone else. I have told you that and told you that and it would be really nice if you would give me the benefit of the doubt about it for a change. Come on, Jake. This is me. You know me. Why would I ever—”
“How am I supposed to know why?” Jacob demanded. “You know, I didn’t do anything. I’m a fucking broken record at this point, but I have been good to you. No one loves you like I love you and I know—I know—I’m not getting old and fat and ugly and being replaced with a shinier new model. That is not what’s happening here, so it’s not me, it’s you. Whatever the hell is happening, it’s you. And I can’t even talk to anyone about this. I couldn’t go in to therapy with that even if I wanted to. How would that work? ‘Yes, Doctor, I’ve been fucking my twin brother for about a hundred and forty-something years now and recently, we’ve been having some problems.’ Of course not.”
Ezekiel let him talk and waited patiently for him to finish and fall silent. When he did, he said, speaking calmly, “But what if you’re wrong? What if everything you’re thinking—everything you’ve been thinking about me—what if it’s not true? What if I’ve been telling the truth all along? Because you haven’t even considered that, Jake.”
Jacob seemed to deflate a little at that and looked away from him. “Then why have you been acting so funny?”
“Because I’m stressed and overworked, even for me. I don’t involve myself in Bureau politics if I can help it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of them and we didn’t have a fantastic year.” Ezekiel reached out and touched Jacob’s arm. When he didn’t flinch or snatch it away from him, he took his hand. “Everything I do is for you. How can you not know that?”
Jacob’s eyes filled with tears and he angrily dashed them away with his free hand. “But you left,” he said. “You should have stayed and talked to me, but you didn’t, you left and then you didn’t come back and you wouldn’t answer the phone and I—What was I supposed to think, Zeke?”
“That I would never cheat on you. That there was another explanation,” Ezekiel said. “You called me selfish, Jake. That’s the last thing I am and you should know better.”
Jacob shook his head and looked up at him and met his eyes. “Where did you go?”
Ezekiel sighed. “I stayed with a friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Jacob said.
Ezekiel felt bad about that. He hadn’t been cheating when Jacob accused him of it, but he was cheating now and he had gotten Jacob to apologize. He didn’t feel guilty enough to confess the truth though.
“Think about it, Jakey. I moved us here for you, left my job in Virginia for you expecting a demotion at the very least. I took this job where every day I’m under the fucking microscope with people watching every move I make, questioning my every decision, some of them hoping for me to fail. I became this person for you; to find you, save you, then to watch over you and keep you safe.”
Jacob blinked at him with wide, watery eyes. “You never talk about it. You never tell me these things, Zeke. I never know what you’re thinking or feeling half the time.”
Ezekiel didn’t like to talk about it because he didn’t like to think about it. The years he had spent without Jacob, looking for him in every pale face with a dark mop of hair, tracking him across several states by unreliable word of mouth, had been dark ones. He hadn’t slept a lot in those days, afraid to wake up and find that he had missed something important or slept while Jacob slipped farther out of reach. In every way, who he had become went back to who he had been then and what had happened the night Jacob disappeared. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he would talk about it a little bit to smooth things over between them. A little truth to salt the lie and make it palatable.
“I don’t talk about it because I don’t want to upset you,” he said.
“I am not that fragile,” Jacob said.
Ezekiel nodded. “You say that and I know it’s true because I know what you’ve lived through and what’s happened to you, but then you break down and lose it and how can I think you’re strong enough for everything I could say to you?”
“Maybe I’m not, but I can’t stand the way you were being either,” Jacob said. “I can’t trust that person, Zeke, because he hides things from me. So I�
�d rather you just talk to me. Upset me, I don’t care. At least I would understand why.”
“Okay,” Ezekiel said. He took Jacob’s other hand when he hit out at him with it feebly. “Okay, Jake. Okay. I’ll try.”
Jacob took a deep breath, let it out and tried to stand up. With Ezekiel holding his hands, he lost his balance and sat back down. “Okay,” he said. He sounded calmer. “Okay, but you have to let me up now. I think I have to throw up and I don’t want to be late for that.”
Ezekiel helped him up then he let him go. Jacob staggered back toward the bathroom and after a moment Ezekiel went with him. “So, are we okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure. I think so. Don’t do that shit to me ever again.” Jacob pushed the bathroom door open. “And I’m going to need you to hold my hair back.”
Chapter 41
Ezekiel’s schedule became routine again after he fixed things with Jacob. He had convinced Jacob that there was no one else and he had done such a good job of it that Jacob felt bad about ever suspecting him of infidelity. He apologized for the accusation in little, but very telling ways. He put cheese on Ezekiel’s sandwiches, he smiled more than was his habit, he didn’t try so much to pull Ezekiel away from his work when he brought it home on the weekend, and he didn’t ask him about it when Ezekiel returned home later than usual and he did that more and more often. It made folding Rainer into his life surprisingly easy. Sometimes when Ezekiel got home late, he really was at the office, but at least twice a week, he wasn’t.
Saturday morning, Ezekiel was supposed to be home, but he was in his office. He hesitated to admit it, but Jacob’s overly congenial behavior was starting to annoy him. Jacob was not that person and it demonstrated how much Ezekiel had scared him by staying away a couple of days that he had changed so much in his presence. It wouldn’t last because it didn’t come naturally to Jacob, but Ezekiel did his work in his office that weekend.
He was finishing up a written profile for a sheriff’s department in Idaho when his phone rang. Without looking, he picked up the receiver and answered it.
“Hello? Am I speaking with SSA Ezekiel Herod?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“I’m glad I caught you. This is Detective Jared Doyle with the LAPD.”
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“I’m working a missing person’s case, a young woman named Eden Raines. She disappeared in early October. We recently spoke with someone who gave us some new information and I thought you might be able to give me your opinion.”
Ezekiel stopped what he was doing and sat back in his chair, his attention shifting on the phone conversation. “She went missing almost five months ago?” he asked. “All right, what information are we talking about?”
“According to this witness, a man named Rainer Bryssengur would be the last person who saw Miss Raines alive,” Doyle said. “Another friend of hers came forward right away about Miss Raines meeting someone for dinner the night she went missing, said he had a funny name but she couldn’t remember it.”
“Is she dead?” Ezekiel asked. “Do you have a body?”
“No, she’s still missing, but you know how it is. We don’t say so, but we expect she’s not among the living anymore.”
“What exactly do you think I can do for you, Detective?” Ezekiel asked. “Have you spoken with Mr. Bryssengur?”
“Not yet. The reason I’m calling is that when I was looking into the man, your name came up. You interviewed him not too long before Miss Raines went missing in relation to some murders a couple years ago?”
“Yes, I remember. We were asked to re-interview persons of interest in the hope of helping the LAPD come up with new information. One of the victims was a student at the university where Mr. Bryssengur works as a teacher when he was himself still a student there.”
“And?” the detective said.
“And nothing,” Ezekiel said. “He was a person of interest because he has a background in medicine, which coincided with the medical examiner’s opinion that the killer had some surgical knowledge or training, but Mr. Bryssengur is not a doctor. He never completed medical school. He was pre-med only. I doubt he even had the opportunity to study a cadaver before he quit the program. He also wrote on the subject of Jack the Ripper in his dissertation, but the focus was literary. The connection was circumstantial at best and not based on any real evidence. In the end, I crossed him off the list. I don’t see how any of this helps you in your current case though, Detective.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Doyle said. “You know one of his neighbors got murdered not too long ago? Oh yeah, was on the news and everything. Guy was beat to death. With a baseball bat, they’re thinking. Maybe Mr. Bryssengur’s just an unlucky guy who surrounds himself with people who have even worse luck than he does. But thing is, my gut tells me that’s not so. You’re some kind of psychologist, right?”
“I’m a doctor of forensic psychology, among other things,” Ezekiel confirmed.
“You talked to him. What did you think?”
“I think there’s nothing to connect him to the murders.”
“That’s not what I mean. That’s what you have to say, that’s what’s on the record. Off the record, what did you think?”
Ezekiel considered it for a minute. Detective Doyle was smart and his instincts were good. He hadn’t called to ask Ezekiel or his team to help him out on his case because he believed he already had his man. Ezekiel wasn’t going to change his mind, his mind was made up, but he wanted something a little stronger to go on than his gut feeling. That was what he was really asking for.
Rainer was in trouble no matter what Ezekiel said.
“Off the record, I think Rainer Bryssengur’s a psychopath,” Ezekiel said honestly. “Whether he’s a murderer or not, I couldn’t say. It’s not illegal to be a psychopath though, Detective. You want to keep that in mind.”
“Oh, I’ll keep it mind,” Doyle said. He sounded pleased. “Thank you, Agent Herod.”
“What for?” Ezekiel asked. “I can’t see that I was any help to you.”
“Putting my mind at ease a bit,” Doyle said. “It helps. Believe me, it helps. We might need to consult a psych professional on this one. Can we call you if that turns out to be the case?”
Ezekiel pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and sighed. “Yes, I suppose so. If I’m not available, someone on my team can help you out. I’ll let them know about it.”
“I appreciate that,” Doyle said. “I appreciate your time, too. I know it’s not how you guys do these things most times.”
“It happens occasionally,” Ezekiel said. “I hope you find her.”
“What?”
“The girl. Eden Raines.”
“Oh. Yeah, that would be nice. Give the loved ones some closure if nothing else.”
“But you’re not counting on it, are you?”
“No, sir. We’re not.”
As soon as the call ended, Ezekiel jumped up, grabbed his jacket and left his office. He called Rainer as he headed for the elevators. He didn’t immediately pick up and Ezekiel cursed him and was about to hang up the phone when he finally did answer it.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” Rainer yawned. “And it’s Saturday. You’re calling me early on a Saturday. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m coming by,” Ezekiel said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to talk on the phone. Get dressed. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Rainer instantly sounded more awake. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.”
It was closer to twenty minutes. When Ezekiel arrived at Rainer’s apartment, there was piano music coming from inside. It stopped when he knocked and Rainer got up to answer the door.
He had showered, his hair was still damp, and he had dressed, though his shirt wasn’t buttoned and he hadn’t bothered to put on shoes. Rainer took his Saturdays very seriously; he almost
never did any work on a Saturday and getting dressed was only something he did if he had to, usually under duress.
Rainer kissed Ezekiel inside the door, but it was more dutiful than amorous, then he went back into the living room and sat down on the bench at the piano, took his cigarette out of the ashtray on top of it and resumed playing. It was something quick and playful that Ezekiel recognized but could not name.
“We need to talk,” Ezekiel said. He immediately winced at his choice of words. “Rainer, I’m serious.”
Rainer sighed and the cheerful tune on the piano changed to the more solemn Für Elise, which he played slowly for a minute before turning away from the piano and leaning back against it, his elbow coming down on the keys with a clang. He exhaled smoke at Ezekiel and said, “If you’re breaking up with me—although I don’t know if we’d even call it that at this point—but if that’s what this is, I fail to see the urgency of the situation that inspired your phone call earlier. This most definitely could have been done over the phone.”
“No, that came out wrong,” Ezekiel said. “I’m not… this isn’t a relationship conversation.”
Rainer raised a finger, punctuating the point he was about to make. “And if you’ve had a sudden change of heart and decided to arrest me after all for everything you now know, I have to say, I’m not about to go quietly. Something you might want to consider. In my experience, workaholics such as yourself place a lot of value on their careers.”
Ezekiel’s eyes narrowed at the not so subtle threat, but he did not rise to the bait because Rainer did, in fact, have it all wrong. “No, you ass. I’m not arresting you, I’m warning you.”
Rainer’s lazily out of focus eyes landed on him and grew sharp as ice. “Do not threaten me, Ezekiel.”
“I’m not—Okay.” Ezekiel took a breath and let it out. He took a seat on the sofa and turned toward Rainer. “Okay, look, I got a call right before I called you from a detective. A girl went missing in October and your name came up. You had a date with her? Eden Raines?”
Rainer smiled and his expression relaxed. “Yes, I did. I remember.”