Hell and Back

by Dirk Greyson

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see or hear anything when you were out there?”

  “No. I turned on the lights and saw Granger. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. I went to see if I could help him, but he wasn’t moving and was full of holes and his skin was pale.”

  “Did you touch or move him in any way?”

  “I didn’t move him, and I don’t think I touched him.” Forge tried to remember even that short time ago. “No, I didn’t touch him. With all that blood, I hadn’t thought to.” All he’d known was that Granger was gone for good now, and that last nugget of hope that resided down deep inside him had died. It was over for him and Granger—the marriage, the fighting, the love they’d once had. It was gone just like that. Forge leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands.

  “Have you checked everywhere in the house?”

  “Almost. Granger always left a trail of lights. Never turned off a switch in his life. He’d go to bed, close the door, and leave every light in the house turned on. If you wanted to know where he’s been, you just followed the trail of lights.” Forge didn’t even look up. He was miserable, and this…. How did anyone deal with this?

  “I think you need to come with me.” Detective Coleridge stood, and Forge did as well, his legs shaky.

  He followed him through the family room to Granger’s office. The lights hadn’t been on before, but they were now. From the doorway Forge saw the room had been tossed. He took a cautious step inside. Papers littered the floor, and the drawers to Granger’s desk had been pulled out, the contents spilled onto the floor. All of Granger’s books had been added to the pile, stripped off their perfectly neat shelves and thrown haphazardly. Pictures had been yanked off the walls and smashed on top of everything else, the chairs upended and cushions tossed aside.

  “Jesus. They’ve been inside my house. Whoever the hell they are.” Since Granger had been killed outside, it never occurred to him that the killers had been in the house.

  “Do you know what they could be looking for?” Coleridge asked, but Forge shook his head.

  “This was Granger’s office, an extension of his work, and that meant confidentiality. Not that he kept work files in here—those rarely left the office. This was his sanctuary, where he went when he was bothered or wanted alone time.” The sofa that had once been along the wall opposite the front windows was gone. Forge missed that old thing. When they’d first moved in, Granger had put their old living room sofa in his office.

  Suddenly Forge was younger and he’d come into the office to bring Granger a mug of tea. It was winter and cold. Granger had looked up from what he’d been doing, heat in his gaze, and the mug had barely made it to the desk before they’d both toppled onto the sofa, tearing at each other’s clothes….

  “Sir?”

  Forge blinked back to the present. Granger was gone, just like the sofa. There weren’t ever going to be any more afternoons like that. Not that there had been recently. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been in this room in months.”

  “Do you know what they were looking for? Is there a safe?”

  “Yes. But if that’s what they were hoping to find, they were way off. And it didn’t hold anything that would be work-related. We kept personal valuables in it, like wills, deeds, and legal documents for the two of us. It’s buried in the concrete basement floor and certainly isn’t going anywhere short of them blasting it.”

  “Where’s the computer?”

  Forge carefully entered the room and walked around to the other side of the desk. He tugged on the front molding, and it lowered slightly. Then Forge found the lever under the desk on the right and moved it halfway, which shoved out a small block on the underside. Forge removed it and then pushed the molding down the rest of the way, revealing a finished shelf on rollers that slid out with the laptop sitting on top of it. “Granger loved puzzles. The shelves in the living room with the carved boxes?” He waited for Coleridge to nod. “They’re all antique puzzle boxes. You have to know how to move things just right in order to open them. He collected them even as a kid. He loved the idea of a puzzle desk.”

  “Seems like a lot of work to me.”

  He smiled sadly. “Granger could unlock the desk in five seconds, in the pitch dark. He loved it.” Forge stroked the smooth surface before pulling his hand back. “I’m sorry.” He probably shouldn’t touch anything he didn’t need to.

  “Sir, there’s someone here to see Mr. Reynolds. He says he’s his lawyer.”

  “We’re going to need to take the computer,” Coleridge said as Forge walked toward the door of the ransacked room.

  Forge looked over his shoulder. “Of course. But good luck with it. Granger was a nut for electronic security, and if that laptop had anything to do with his work, it will be password protected and encrypted to within an inch of your life.” He left the room and met Vince in the entrance hall. “Thank you for coming.” He didn’t know what else to do and was grateful when Vince wrapped him in a hug.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too. Someone killed Granger, executed him in a hail of bullets it looks like, and they tore apart his office.” Forge shivered hard. The entire evening felt surreal. “They were in the house.” He paused as the coroner arrived and brought a gurney through. Forge shook as it hit him again that Granger was dead.

  Vince pushed Forge toward the living room, then down to the couch, and sat next to him. “I’ll talk to the police, but I doubt they can think you had anything to do with this.”

  “I gave them my alibi information. I was at work and had just come home.” Thank God for building security cameras and the cleaning staff. “But what am I going to do? How can I be safe here?”

  Vince nodded and reached into his bag, then rummaged for a few seconds before finding what he needed. “Call them. They provide security. I usually use them for female clients whose husbands, or sometimes abusers, don’t want to let go.”

  Forge took the card.

  When the officers returned, Vince stood and took charge. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  “He lawyered up quickly,” Coleridge observed snidely, making more notes.

  “Actually he hasn’t. I’m a friend, and I was his divorce attorney.” Vince smiled the way a wolf might smile at a deer. “No one has said anything about him not cooperating to speak with you. However, the attitude is history. Once we know time of death, we should be able to prove he was nowhere near the house when Granger was killed, and he wants to help as much as he can so you catch who killed him. So lose the self-important behavior or the only way you’ll be able to speak to him is through me, and that’s the last thing you want during an investigation like this. Especially one that’s going to make every newspaper in the state, by the looks of what’s out front.”

  “Are there news people already?” Forge asked, looking toward the front of the house.

  Vince pulled the curtains on the window. “Yes. They heard the calls on the scanner and scurried over. Just stay inside and don’t talk to anyone. If you have to go out and are asked any questions, just say you have no comment. If they enter the property, call the police for trespassing.”

  Thank God Vince knew what to do about all this, because Forge was lost.

  Coleridge cleared his throat. “I have just a few last things. If you’re staying in the house, please refrain from going into the office. We’re processing the scene now, but access tomorrow would also be good.”

  “Of course.” The last thing Forge wanted was to go back in there.

  “We’ve removed the body, and they’re finishing work in the backyard.”

  “Do you have an approximate time of death?” Vince asked.

  “Approximately six p.m.,” Coleridge answered.

  Forge thought for a minute. “So it’s possible that they were already here when he got home. But then why not kill him in the house if he walked in on them?”

  “It’s fairly clear that he was shot outside. We’ve rec
overed bullets from the surrounding area. My guess is that he was already home, was lured outside, shot, and then the killers had all the time they needed. The lots here are big, so witnesses might be hard to find, and it’s likely they used something to silence the shots. We’ll know once the lab is able to analyze what we’ve found.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Unfortunately it can take a while. We need to send this in and then get in line with all the other cases from all the other jurisdictions. Of course, your friends in the news media have a way of moving things to the front of the line. I’ll let you know what I can.” Coleridge handed Forge a card. “Call me if you think of anything or come across anything.”

  “I will.”

  “The only thing I need to see before I leave is the safe you spoke about.”

  Forge got up and led Coleridge down to the basement. He moved a few boxes out of the corner to expose the top of the safe and worked the combination. Once it was unlocked, he pulled open the door. He reached inside and got out the papers they’d always kept in there. “Our wills.” He was going to need Granger’s, but he let Coleridge see it just to get that off the table.

  Coleridge briefly looked over the documents that Forge withdrew. “You inherit everything.”

  Forge furrowed his brow. “Is that a surprise? We may have been separating, but as his husband, the majority of his assets would transfer to me anyway.” Like the house they’d been fighting over, as well as all the other things Granger had worked to try to hide or transfer. All that hostility and fighting had been for nothing at all… on both their parts.

  “Not at all. Is there anything in the safe that you don’t expect?”

  “No.” He pulled out some of the trinkets and valuables that he and Granger had stored there. Jewelry from their families, and even some things they no longer wore. Envelopes containing a few letters and coins that had been given to him when he was a child. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Okay. Then if they were looking for something, where would he hide it?” Coleridge asked.

  “I don’t know. As I said, Granger loved puzzles, so there might be a place to start on his computer. I just don’t know. If I had an idea of what they wanted, then I might have an idea of what to look for.” It was obvious Detective Coleridge didn’t know what it was either. Forge packed everything back in the safe, closed the door, and locked it once again.

  “Thank you.” They climbed the stairs to join the others, who looked like they were packing up.

  “I’ll call if I think of anything, and I’m sure you’ll be back to see me.” Forge was running out of energy. He hadn’t eaten since noon, and his lack of food and all the excitement was taking a toll.

  Coleridge left with the others, and once the front door closed on the last of the police, Forge was alone with Vince.

  Forge ran a hand over his face as he sat on the couch again. “What am I going to do?” There was no way he could go up to bed as though nothing had happened. What if the people who killed Granger decided to come back? His first thought was to try to find a hotel or something.

  “I already called my friends for you, and they’re sending someone over. I didn’t think being alone was a good idea. I’ve worked with them before, and they provide quality bodyguards. They understand security and how to protect people.”

  “But a stranger?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But then, staying in the house alone wasn’t an option either.

  “The man they’re sending has worked with three of my clients over the years, and they all love him. This isn’t something to worry about. He will understand what you’re going through. He’s former military, like you.” Vince checked his watch. “I hate to leave you, but if I don’t get back home, Carrie is going to rip my arms off.”

  “Your daughter is nine,” Forge commented.

  “True, but she has that tone that can make your spine want to crawl, and I promised her I’d be back before she went to bed.” Vince chuckled. “Just be sure to lock all the doors and keep your phone close.”

  “Go on. I’ll be fine until he arrives.” Forge looked at the card again, then stood and saw Vince to the door. Once he was gone, Forge locked it and hurried through the house, making sure the doors and windows were secured. With that done Forge sat in the family room, turned on the television, and ignored it in favor of trying not to freak the hell out.

  Now that the house was quiet and he was alone with his thoughts, Forge began to shake for a few seconds before calming himself. Granger was gone, murdered. Forge had no idea why all this was happening. But whatever the reason, he hoped they’d found what they wanted and would leave him alone now. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to clear his mind. It didn’t work, as all he kept seeing was Granger dead in the yard.

  The doorbell rang, and Forge jumped half a mile. He was lucky he didn’t put a hole in the ceiling. He went to answer it, but stopped before opening it, standing to the side against the wall. “Who is it?”

  “Livingston Security,” a deep voice answered. “Mr. Reynolds?”

  “Yes.” Forge unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped back to let the huge man inside. Reporters yelled questions at him in the brief moment it took for the man to step inside, but Forge tried to ignore them and the flashing of their cameras. He closed and locked the door once again. “I’m Forge Reynolds—” He turned and stopped dead in his tracks, looking into the deepest brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life. “Oh my God….” Forge couldn’t help staring. He’d never expected to see those eyes or the man they were attached to again. “Gage? Gage Livingston?” Forge could hardly believe his eyes. Instantly he was transported back fifteen—no, seventeen—years to his days in the Army.

  “I knew this had to be you. How many Forge Reynoldses are there in the world?” Gage turned and looked over the house while Forge shivered as a chill settled in the air. “We got a call that you needed some protection.”

  The additional shock nearly sent him to his knees. He hadn’t ever expected to see Gage again, least of all on the worst day of his life. “My husband was killed in the backyard, and whoever did it trashed his office looking for something. I don’t know if they found it, but… what if they didn’t and they decide to come back?”

  Gage nodded slowly. “Why don’t you show me through the house so I can get an idea of what’s where and any areas we’ll need to secure?”

  “Sure.” Forge led the way, explaining what each room was and letting Gage look through them. He pulled out a small pad and made some notes. They only peered into the office, being careful not to disturb the security tape before moving on.

  “Why were they only searching the office? Why not the entire house?” Gage asked. “It seems to me that if they were looking for something, they’d look everywhere.”

  “I have no idea, unless they knew whatever they wanted was in here. They didn’t get his computer. The police have that.” Forge explained about the desk, and Gage nodded. “There was no way they would have known it was in there unless Granger had specifically told them. So I’m not surprised they missed it.”

  “And you think if they didn’t get what they wanted, they’ll be back?”

  “I don’t know. Granger was murdered and his office ransacked. I don’t know what to think.” Forge held his head as a wave of dizziness came over him.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Lunch.”

  Gage nodded. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat and maybe you’ll feel better.” He was all business, and part of Forge was grateful for it, while the other half was dying to ask the question he’d wanted to know for almost seventeen years, since he’d been transferred and Gage was getting ready to be sent home. God, that was so long ago, but Forge had been head over heels in love with Gage, and when he’d gotten settled, he’d written Gage at the address he’d given him. But he’d never gotten an answer. He’d thought Gage had loved him in return—he’d said he did—but there had
never been a response. It broke his heart all those years ago.

  Forge followed him into the kitchen, where Gage opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Forge motioned to where they kept the glasses. Gage opened the cabinet, grabbed one, poured him the juice, and slid the glass toward him on the granite countertop. “Drink that.” He turned away, then pulled out sandwich things and nosed around for plates, making himself at home.

  “How long have you been doing this kind of work?” Forge drank the juice, the sugar hitting him pretty quickly.

  “I left the Army seventeen years ago, as you know. After a year or so of therapy and recovery, I needed something to do. A friend from Milwaukee convinced me to move here, and we started the business. I was looking for a way to be on my own, so I took his idea. I bought him out five years ago, and now I own and run it.” Gage made sandwiches like he was dealing cards, then passed a plate over to Forge before taking a seat on the other side of the island. “What do you do?”

  “I’m an interior designer for high-end clients, as well as corporate offices and work spaces. After I was done in the Army, I used my GI Bill to go to college.” God, Forge remembered how hard that had been to start with. He’d never thought he had what it took to go to college, but a few years of being on his own and growing up had done him a world of good, and he’d been able to thrive. He ate the ham sandwich Gage had made him and felt better as soon as food hit his stomach.

  “How long were you and Granger together?”

  “Twelve and a half years. Ten happy ones, one tough one, followed by the last awful eight months, where we’ve fought over everything from the house to the damn furniture. He and I were in the midst of a split.”

  Gage set his sandwich back down on the plate. “I’m sorry.”

  Forge looked down at the counter, dangling his sandwich over his plate. “Granger cheated on me, but it was more than that. I can see where we’d been growing apart. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all.”