Throttled

by K. Sterling

“Her mother verified the purse was hers,” Bill replied and Wal shook his head.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said and Bill snorted.

  “None of this would happen, if the world made sense,” Bill replied. “Get over to Wexler’s and take a look,” he said and Wal agreed then ended the call. Wal didn’t like it. His stomach felt like a tight knot when he arrived at Donnie’s shoebox of an apartment over the old pharmacy. His nose tickled at a strong whiff of bleach as he squeezed and scooted past stacks of electronics and plastic crates of knock-off designer handbags. Donnie was a petty thief and sold fake handbags to tourists but he wasn’t a rapist or a murderer and he didn’t deserve what happened to him. Wal found a handful of techs in Donnie’s bedroom and bathroom, gathering DNA and prints from every surface.

  “Where did you find her things?” Wal asked and a young woman in a jumpsuit pointed at the bathroom. Wal made his way through the cramped, cluttered bedroom and the smell of bleach was overwhelming as he leaned into the bathroom. His head pulled back and he gasped.

  “Her jeans, undergarments and what was left of her shirt were in the tub, in six gallons of bleach,” she explained and Wal’s eyes trailed over the bottles. They’d been tossed in the tub as they were hastily emptied. This happened yesterday, after we found him, Wal predicted. Probably while we were processing the scene. “Her purse?” The clothes would be worthless for identification but Ciara’s mother was able to identify the purse.

  “It was on the bed. Her wallet was still inside,” she told him as she lead him out of the bathroom and pointed at the bed. Wal exhaled hard and scanned. He could see Donnie moving around the room. Wal saw him riffling through the pile of dirty laundry by the closet for something clean enough to get him through another day and he watched as Donnie crashed onto the bed with a new box of shoes and his Xbox controller. Donnie would have lost her purse if he’d gone through it then tossed it aside, into the rat’s nest on the floor. Ciara’s purse was too cheap and worn for him to sell, so he wouldn’t have kept it. There was a fast food bag and an empty soda cup on the bedside table from a few days ago but Ciara’s purse sat untouched on his bed for weeks?

  “This doesn’t work,” he said to himself as he turned and looked around the room then leaned toward the bathroom. “Someone staged this but it’s sloppy. Did they make mistakes or were they in a hurry and didn’t care?” He murmured then turned to the tech watching him. “Why are her clothes still in that bleach? They should have been removed hours ago, to stop the oxidation of the fibers. Something might have been salvageable,” he said and she held up her hands.

  “I thought the same thing but someone left orders for us to leave them until you got here,” she said and Wal frowned.

  “But the purse was removed,” Wal pointed out and she shrugged even harder.

  “They bagged it and took it to the station so her mother could see it, they said. But we were told to hang out until you got here.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Wal muttered but he was already heading for the door. He needed to find out who made that call. Someone allowed evidence to deteriorate for hours when it should have been photographed, recorded then taken away for preservation immediately. He was seething as he jogged down the steps in the stairwell then pushed the door open and pulled in a calming, refreshing breath as he stepped out onto the pavement. Donnie’s entire apartment smelled like bleach and the bathroom burned the inside of Wal’s nose but the place was still a filthy, stifling nightmare. He tugged at the front of his coat and shifted his shoulders as visions of a dozen cramped, dusty apartments and homes flooded his brain and the smell of neglected trash and dirty dishes assaulted him. He reflectively raised his arm to cover his nose as he pushed the memories of all the awful foster homes he’d endured away.

  “Wal!” Someone called and he spun then raised a brow suspiciously as T Junior strolled in his direction.

  “I’m in a hurry, Junior,” Wal said as he pushed his hands into his pockets. They were shaking and he didn’t want Junior thinking it had anything to do with him. T Junior was Wavy T’s second-in-command. They were both named Tyrone.

  “I heard about what happened to Donnie and thought I’d swing by and see if you had any leads,” Junior said through a wide, sharklike grin and Wal’s eyes tightened.

  “When did I start giving progress reports and trading notes with you?” He asked and Junior snickered as he stepped into Wal’s personal space. Wal’s head tilted in confusion as he estimated the gap between them. Per societal norms, eighteen inches to four feet is considered “personal space”. Sudden and unwanted violation of a person’s personal space can often trigger an array of involuntary reactions or one’s fight or flight instincts. Junior reduced the conversational space between them to approximately four inches and Wal’s temper flared.

  “You should. It might save you a lot of time and keep you out of trouble,” Junior said and Wal’s hand locked around Junior’s throat as he pushed him back and slammed him against the side of a van. “Hey! Calm down, Wal!” Junior laughed but there was a slight tremor to it as Wal reduced the personal space between them until their noses touched.

  “I am calm but you’re going to see what happens when I stop being calm and lose my patience. Don’t threaten me, Junior, and tell Wavy to stay out of my way,” he growled quietly and Junior’s nostrils flared as his eyes drilled into Wal’s. He couldn’t back down but he was scared.

  “You put your hands on me again and I’ll fucking kill you myself, I don’t care if we’re not supposed to touch you,” he said and the second half of the statement floated from Junior’s lips in bright red letters and was filed away as Wal’s forehead swung forward and smashed into Junior’s nose. There was a loud crunch! and Wal’s forehead burned as Junior screamed then fell back against the van.

  “Don’t let me see you coming or you won’t have much of a chance,” Wal said as Junior slid down the side of the van and tried to catch the blood pouring from his lips and chin so it wouldn’t stain his shirt.

  “I’m going to kill you!” Junior roared as Wal stepped back and inspected his suit. Wal winced as he pulled a napkin from his pocket. He wiped Junior’s blood from his face and dabbed at the few drops on his shirt and tie. Wal smiled at the napkin then at Junior as he folded it and slid it back into his pocket.

  “I’ll see you later,” Wal promised as he tapped his brow then turned and headed for the truck. He waited until he was around the corner and sure he wasn’t being followed before he called Bill.

  “How did things go at Wexler’s?” Bill asked when he answered the phone and Wal’s lips pulled into a hard, grim line.

  “Who told them to let that evidence keep soaking in bleach?” He demanded as he sped up and passed a Cadillac that appeared unsure of which turn it was supposed to take.

  “The fuck?” Bill yelled and Wal heard him jump to his feet and storm out of his office. “Who told Crime Scene to leave the evidence at Wexler’s?” He shouted and Wal heard a chorus of muffled denials and disbelief. “No clue but I’ll look into it,” Bill said and Wal’s hand tightened around the wheel.

  “I know Wavy T did this but he’s playing a different game with me this time. I can’t figure out if he’s trying too hard and fucking up or leading me on a goose chase to make this harder,” he said and Bill groaned.

  “You’re probably right but I want you to stay away from Wavy. He’ll never let anything get back to him and I don’t want you to put a bigger target on your back. I’m sick with worry about Ciara Cole but you’re worth a thousand Wexlers to me. Don’t start anything with Wavy over him,” Bill said and Wal’s lip curled slightly.

  “Too late but I think I’m on the right track, if he felt the need to send T Junior to threaten me,” he replied and there was a heavier, weary groan from Bill.

  “You’re not going to like where this goes if you keep pushing with Wavy,” he warned and Wal snorted.

  “At this point, I don’t care. I need this case to
go somewhere, I’m tired of it being stalled then going to shit when we get something,” he replied then ended the call.

  Chapter 8

  “What are you wearing on this date?” Angelica asked as she sat on the hood of the Charger and crossed her legs. Marco’s nose scrunched as he tossed a beer at his sister then sat on the stool at his work table.

  “I don’t know. Maybe jeans and a t-shirt and my jacket,” he said as he scratched the back of his head then shrugged and opened his can. Angelica rolled her eyes and made a suffering sound as she pulled the tab.

  “Your utter lack of interest or concern is not a good sign, Coco,” she said and he nodded as he studied the can’s tab and flicked at it with his thumb.

  “Maybe I’ll get more excited about it if I get my hair cut and shave and wear something nice,” he murmured but she shook her head.

  “You either have chemistry, or you don’t,” she argued and Marco snorted.

  “That’s not true. Sometimes, it takes a while or comes out of nowhere. I didn’t have chemistry with Wal, at first,” he pointed out and she squeezed an eye shut.

  “You said you thought he was hot when he first came into the shop but you thought he was like Robocop and straight,” she said and Marco chuckled as he drank.

  “I thought he was asexual, not even straight. We always had too much chemistry, once I realized Wal was capable of interacting with other humans like that,” he stated and she pursed her lips and gave him an extremely pointed look. They could have been twins and she was the closest of his siblings in age and personality. Marco told her everything but she always knew what he was thinking before he opened his mouth.

  “Are you going to get to the solution on your own, or do I need to spell it out for you?” She asked and Marco threw up his hand as he slouched.

  “I tried that once and it didn’t work,” he whined and she pulled a face.

  “And how’s being a hoe and breaking hearts all over town working out for you?” She asked silkily and Marco’s eyes widened as he gasped.

  “That’s not fair and what am I supposed to do, Angie?” He countered. “They want to have sex with me. And I’m a man, I really like sex and sometimes, it’s hard to say no. But I’ve said no a lot more lately. You’d be proud,” he said and she laughed.

  “Ooooh! You’re nearly Prince Charming,” she cooed as she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and Marco gave her a flat look.

  “I want to find a guy so I can grow up and settle down,” he insisted and she humphed loudly.

  “You had him but you gave up because it was too hard,” she accused and Marco shook his head.

  “I gave up because I could see a brick wall. You can’t fix Wal. He’s too inflexible and he doesn’t want to change,” he explained and her lips twisted.

  “But he’s always around now, that’s a pretty big change. Your biggest complaint was that he never stuck around and he always stood you up,” she said and Marco’s eyes flicked upwards.

  “That might be because he liked spending time with me more, once we took the stress and pressure of dating out of the equation. He’s fine and seems really happy when we’re together but he gets so locked up whenever we talk about the past,” he said then winced. “And I’ve flirted a little here and there, to see if he’d take the bait but he just gets quieter or runs away. I think something would have happened, if he was still interested,” Marco stated and she shook her head.

  “You better ask yourself why, when things fizzle out with this new guy,” she said then glared knowingly as she sipped then jumped when there was a honk from the street. “That’s Pete! Text me Sunday morning and tell me how it goes,” she ordered as she scrambled off the hood then dashed to Marco and kissed his cheek and left her beer with him. He waved at her as she took off then reached for his sketchbook. He opened it to his plans for the Charger and his head tilted as he studied the drawing. He didn’t like the iridescent green to blue finish and the wider sweep he’d added to the wheel wells. Marco looked over at the Charger and saw Wal leaning against it as he lectured him about his yo-yo diet. Marco’s lips pulled into a grin before his eyes dropped to the sketch. He shook his head and flipped to a new page so he could start over. Wal drove a bland Honda Civic but Marco always pictured him in something like the ’69 Charger Daytona in his shop. It was a tank and built for speed. It steered like a bullet but Wal didn’t need to drive fast or take corners quickly in the city. But Marco would make it sleek and agile. He’d make it like Wal. A new sketch leapt from his fingers and he already felt early pangs of regret at the thought of selling it. He could see it clearly as he looked at the neglected beast resting on the lift.

  “This one’s going to hurt to let go,” he predicted then shrugged as he went back to the sketch. He was already in love and he wouldn’t be able to stop until it was done. He knew he was dragging his feet with the Charger because the other concept wasn’t right. It might be, with a different car later. But this was it. He made the lines leaner and more chiseled around the edges and Marco’s mind drifted back to the last time he felt Wal’s body in his arms.

  He’d gone to bed heartbroken and angry, ready to tell Wal it was over. They’d made it to six months but Wal canceled dinner because there was a robbery at a convenience store. Marco should have stopped Wal but he woke him up with his mouth and his hands. He did try. Marco told him they needed to talk first but Wal shook his head and continued to finger his ass and greedily swallowed his cock. It was hard for Marco to put his foot down and demand Wal stop when his brain was a swirling pool of grey slime. He sucked and lapped at Marco’s hole until he begged Wal to fuck him. Marco shivered and swore as he scooted to the edge of his stool and spread his thighs wider, to try and ease some of the tightness in his jeans. Wal’s hips pumped in a hard, driving pace that was relentless, like the pistons in a RB 440 and Marco could only hold on and sob ecstatically until Wal wore himself out.

  “Oh, my God,” Marco panted as he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom and clutched at his forehead. “I really wish we could have talked first,” he said breathlessly as Wal got up to get dressed and leave again.

  “I’m sorry. I had a bad evening and needed to get that out of my system. I have to get back to the station,” he said as he went to the bathroom and Marco groaned as he sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  “It’s not going to get better,” he warned and Wal snorted as he stood in front of the mirror then bent forward to wash his face.

  “One of my best informants was killed trying to stop a robbery and I had to tell his mother,” Wal said and Marco nodded and his stomach sank as guilt throbbed in his chest. There will never be a good time for this. There’s always going to be another awful crime or another criminal to track down.

  “This isn’t working and I think it’s time we admitted it and did the humane thing here,” Marco said and Wal whipped around.

  “It’s not working?” He said and he sounded baffled. Marco laughed in disbelief.

  “You barely care enough to show up, except when you need to get that out of your system. But I want more, Wal,” he explained and Wal’s eyes dropped to the floor as he frowned. He looked so lost.

  “You think I don’t care?” He asked but it was quiet and distant, as if he was already retreating and leaving the confrontation far behind.

  “You stand me up more often than you show up and I can’t get you to stay unless you’re too exhausted to leave,” Marco said and Wal shook his head faintly as their eyes touched. “I love the time we do get to spend with each other but there just isn’t much left at the end of the day. And look at how you live, Wal! You don’t want to have a life and I’m looking for someone who wants to have a home and a family,” Marco stated gently and Wal looked terrified. Marco wondered if it just occurred to him that the suburbs and kids or dogs might be a possibility.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” Wal said weakly as he gathered his clothes then dropped onto the end of the b
ed. Marco wasn’t sure what Wal was referring to, exactly, but he seemed like he was taking it well-ish. Marco sighed as he went to the foot of the bed and sat next to him.

  “We’re so good together when you are here. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but I knew I’d miss you. I want us to be friends,” he said as he hugged Wal’s arm and kissed his shoulder.

  “Friends?” Wal’s voice cracked but he sounded hopeful. Marco’s lips rubbed against his skin as he nodded and he savored it because he knew it would be the last time. He loved the way his skin tasted and every inch of Wal turned him on but Marco knew he’d just get bitter and eventually end up with a broken heart. But he could never hate Wal and he’d always respect him.

  “I’m not just saying that, the way people always do during breakups,” Marco said and Wal cleared his throat.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he murmured and Marco made a shushing sound as he rested his chin on Wal’s shoulder.

  “Come back as soon as you’re ready and I won’t be weird or pick fights with you about this. I just want us to be friends, like we are when I can keep you here with me long enough to talk or watch a movie or hang out in the shop,” Marco urged. “I think we should have stayed friends and I’m sorry, if I pushed you into this,” he added and Wal shook his head.

  “You didn’t push me into anything,” he said and Marco laughed.

  “I pushed you to ask me out, I pushed you to go to that bed and breakfast at the winery that you hated, I pushed you to go to the play and I pushed you to get Thai food…”

  “I didn’t hate the winery. I hated the woman who owned it and gave us the tour,” Wal muttered and Marco snorted.

  “She was awful but I could go on and on,” he said.

  “I hate almost everything,” Wal pointed out and Marco nodded.

  “I love that about you but I get the feeling you hated being my boyfriend so I’d like to see if you can be my friend again,” he offered and Wal stared at the dresser for several moments before he nodded then reached down to pull on his socks. They didn’t talk much as he dressed. Wal leaned forward for a kiss as he left and they both stared at each other awkwardly for an eternity before Marco rolled his eyes and grabbed him. “One last time,” Marco declared as he pulled Wal’s lips to his. Wal’s eyes widened and watered in shock before he backed Marco into the wall and kissed him so deeply and thoroughly his toes curled and he nearly came again. “What was I thinking?” Marco whispered to himself as he blinked down at his sketchbook. His skin was hot and prickled as the shop closed in around him and the smell of Wal and the sound of his voice faded. Marco whimpered as he rubbed his hand across his eyes and wished his sister wasn’t right about him and Wal.