by Kris Ripper
“Because he said it was. Because he said if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have hurt them. He—he wanted to kill me, not them. They were— They just happened to be there. Because of me.”
This time it was harder. I attempted to maintain some sense of dignity while blowing my nose and damming up a seemingly never-ending supply of tears, but it still took a few minutes before I could pull myself together.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “The things he said were horrible.”
“Tell me more about what he said.”
I repeated everything I could think of, and probably said the same things over and over. Green wanted to know which of the victims Joey had spoken about specifically (he never said they were Joey’s victims, just “the victims”). I told him Joey had seemed fixated on Anderson Philpott, and resented him for fighting back.
We talked about Joey, and his madness, for what felt like an hour. Then, as if in the same flow, Green said, “How do Keith and Josh get along?”
“Really well. Better than most people.”
“Do they ever have problems?”
“What kind of problems?”
He waved his pen. (When did he start writing things down again? I hadn’t noticed.) “Normal problems. They’ve been together . . . I think three or four years, they said. Surely they have problems. Or maybe they keep their problems private.”
“No. I mean, I don’t think they’re putting up a front, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying all couples have problems, Cameron. How do Josh and Keith handle disagreements?”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t. But somehow Joseph Rodriguez got into your apartment. You and Josh Walker have both stated that the inner door was still open because you had just walked in, but that the outer door should have been locked. If you didn’t invite Rodriguez in, maybe Josh did. Maybe it was a surprise for Keith.” His eyebrows went up a little. “Does inviting someone new in sound like the kind of surprise Keith would like, Cameron?”
I could sense the trap, but I couldn’t feel its edges, didn’t know what would spring it. I fell back on the truth, because it was simplest, and because it was what they’d want. Even though I hated to share anything of them with the detective (or anyone else).
“Josh would never surprise Keith by inviting a stranger in. Never.”
“They invited you.”
“We were friends first. And I was friends with both of them. You don’t understand how this works.” I bit my lip. I couldn’t explain this to him, to anyone. I couldn’t find the words to explain how important trust was, how sometimes it was almost tangible in the room, like a ribbon that connected the two of them, with a thin, silken line stretching from them to me.
Green leaned back in his chair. “Hey, I may be old, but I get that you kids live a wilder life than I did at your age.”
“No. That’s not what this is. Listen, everything about this—about having a person with them—everything is about trust. The three of us talked about stuff endlessly, because we had to all be on the same page. You can’t—you can’t do this stuff without that.”
“What stuff, Cameron?”
I shook my head. “Nothing is more important than the two of them. Whatever we do, it begins and ends with them. And Josh wouldn’t have invited anyone in without talking about it with Keith. Not ever. I swear to you, whatever you think, that would have never happened.”
“Okay. All right. I hear that. You said that Rodriguez took out Josh first, with one hit?”
Damn it, this again. I’d already tried as hard as I could to remember anything—a sound, a weapon that wasn’t the gun—but I couldn’t. “I don’t know how he did it. No gunshot, we would have heard that. I don’t remember anything except Josh falling to the floor. He was talking and then he was on the floor. I thought— For a second I thought he was dead and I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t move.”
“And Rodriguez said something about Josh?”
“He said he’d taken out the alpha. The alpha male.” I was chilled remembering his words, his self-congratulatory tone.
“Was Josh the alpha male?”
“I don’t even know what that means, Detective. Do you?”
“Oh, I think I get it a little. Big, swaggering guy, a little bit arrogant, always in control. Does that sound like Josh?”
“Josh lives for two things,” I said, because I couldn’t say Yes, he swaggers, and yes, he can be arrogant, and yes, he’s always in control. “He lives for Keith and he lives for QYP. That’s it. He’s not a bully.”
“Does he have a temper?”
“A temper? No, if one of them has a temper—” I stopped myself.
“So Keith has a temper.”
“Most people do.” I gritted my teeth, feeling that every one of my reactions betrayed them.
“What does Josh do when Keith gets pissed off?”
Ties him up, blindfolds him, and makes him feel until it’s the only thing he can think about.
“He takes care of him. Same as you do for anyone you love, I assume.”
“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of all this.”
“I’ve already told you everything,” I said, somewhat desperately.
“Not everything, I don’t think.” Green held up a hand. “I have a suspect who claims that he was invited upstairs for a sex party and then the three of you attacked him. He managed to get Josh down, in self-defense, because he thought Josh was going to kill him. He said he knows for a fact that Josh hits Keith, and he said he didn’t know how you’d gotten tangled up in all that, but he wanted to help.”
I started to open my mouth, but he shook his head.
“When he was examined at the hospital, Keith showed signs of physical abuse, which he explained as consensual acts between himself, his boyfriend, and you. When I ask you, you don’t mention anything like that. I need to know what really happened, Cameron. Stop hiding things from me and this will be over a lot faster. I have to arrest Josh if I determine he’s assaulted his partner. I don’t have a choice. Keith doesn’t have a choice. You don’t have a choice. Tell me the truth.”
I rubbed at my face and forced myself to keep breathing, even though my chest felt tight and my throat hurt. “It’s not abuse. They have . . . whips, paddles, things like that. It’s the furthest thing from abuse that anything could possibly be. And Joey—” How long had he been watching us? How had he known? “I don’t know how he figured that part out, but we didn’t invite him anywhere, and he and I aren’t friends. He was trying to kill me last night. He was trying to kill them because they got in his way.”
“But why wouldn’t he just wait until you were alone?”
“I have no idea. Except I think he thought he’d win. I think he thought it was . . . raising the stakes. Killing Philpott raised the stakes. Killing the three of us raised the stakes. But you have to understand, Keith is telling the truth. Please, you have to—you can’t arrest Josh. Josh is— Josh only does what Keith asks him to do.”
“Cameron, listen to me. I have a young man with obvious signs of physical abuse, and he’s a member of a community that has typically smothered that kind of bad press. Don’t tell me that’s not true, either, because there are statistics and I have them. This young, arguably vulnerable man has an older, bigger, stronger boyfriend, who shows a pattern of inviting other men into their relationship.”
“It’s not men, it’s just me—”
“Both of them said there was another man before you,” he countered, voice hard.
“But they didn’t— That didn’t work out. It was one guy and he took off when they—”
Green waited.
“He didn’t want what they want.”
“Okay. Maybe they came on strong. Maybe it was too much for this other guy. Give me an example. Does Keith hit Josh with this—with whips and paddles and whatever, too?”
“No, that’s not what the
y want.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do they hit you, Cameron? Is that what they like? Do they enjoy hitting other people?”
“No. It’s not like that. We do what they want. What Keith wants. I mean, Josh likes it too, but Keith is the driving force.”
“And the other man they approached didn’t like that force.”
“No. I guess not.”
“But you do.”
“I— Yes. I do. I want whatever Keith wants, for as long as he wants it. You don’t understand how brave they are. You don’t get what it takes to trust people the way they trust each other.”
“Do they trust you?”
I closed my eyes, picturing them, trying to feel them as if they were beside me. “The marks on Keith’s back were made by a tipped single-tail whip he got Josh for their anniversary, Detective. Did you see them?”
“I saw the pictures.”
“Well, I saw it in person, and it was . . . an act of love, of devotion, of beauty.”
“It looked like an act of brutality.”
“It wasn’t. Every time Josh stopped to soothe Keith, Keith’s the one who asked for more. Over and over again.”
“And you just stood there while all this was going on?”
I wanted to keep this part for myself. It might be the last memory I ever had of them and I wanted to keep it for myself, but I couldn’t. Because it might help.
“Keith was in their doorway, holding on to the pull-up bar. Josh was behind him. And I was on my knees. In front of him. Blowing him, Detective, while Josh marked up his back. It wasn’t brutality.”
“They didn’t tell me that part.”
I knew my cheeks were burning. “Because they wouldn’t have wanted to embarrass me, and this does. But I don’t care. You can’t arrest Josh. Josh is all Keith has, and Keith would never forgive himself.” I dashed tears from my eyes again, hating this day, this conversation, and everything that had happened since I left the theater the night before. “And it would be my fault. Because Joey was after me.”
“All right.” Green put his pen down once more. “I think I have what I need. And they released your apartment.”
“Thank you.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Sounds like the Rodriguez kid did a number on your head, Cameron. Don’t believe everything gun-wielding nutjobs say when they’re trying to kill you. None of this was your fault.”
“So you believe me.”
“By your own statement and everyone else’s statements who I’ve talked to, you didn’t do anything illegal. None of the rest of that stuff is my business.”
“And Josh?” I asked warily. “Do you think he did anything illegal?”
“I have a few more people to talk to on that one. I’m gonna need an official statement from you, if you’re willing.” He waved a hand. “We can start with what happened last night. If I need more than that, I’ll call you.”
“An official statement.”
“You can do it now, or we can make an appointment for tomorrow or the next day, but sooner is better.”
The last thing I wanted was to draw this out longer than necessary. Or go home. I checked my phone. I’d already called someone in to take my shift; technically I had the rest of the day off. “Now is fine.”
He nodded. “Can I get you a cup of bad coffee? Or a water?”
“Coffee, please.”
Three hours later I walked out of La Vista PD into a too-bright, too-cold day. Somehow it wasn’t midnight, though according to my body it should have been. My teeth were unbrushed, my stomach was sloshing with coffee, and every time I happened to touch my face I was reminded that it had been well over twenty-four hours since I’d last shaved.
I had absolutely nowhere else to go. I got in the Volvo and drove home.
Nothing about my apartment felt right. I’d cleaned it top to bottom and erased all signs of the night before. I’d have to find a rug to cover the bloodstain on the floor, which I couldn’t completely remove. At least it was finally dark by the time I was done.
I’d told Ed I didn’t want company each time he asked. I was just closing my three remaining candlesticks in a drawer when my phone rang again. The annoyance hit before I looked at the screen, and then the relief.
“Keith?”
“Oh my god, it’s so good to hear your voice. Oh my god, Cam, I can’t believe—” His voice dissolved into tears and there was fumbling.
“Cam, you okay?”
Josh. I sank into the nearest chair and pressed my fingers to my eyes, trying not to cry. “I’m not the guy who was knocked out. Are you okay?”
“Fine. Concussion. I’ve taken a few hard hits, so I guess I pass out real easily now or something.” Pause. “I don’t know how he got the drop on me. I’m sorry. I should’ve heard him coming.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s been honing his killing-people skills. We didn’t even know we should have been practicing our not-getting-killed skills.”
“Yeah, well, I really wish I hadn’t left you two alone for all that.” His voice moved away from the phone. “Babe, you gotta calm down or they’ll come in here and threaten you with a sedative again.”
I smiled a little. “People are threatening Keith with sedatives?”
“They have good intentions. But Keith’s been lecturing the nursing staff on exactly how healthy his emotional responses are, and how their attempts to muffle him are interfering with his healing. Or something. He’s the reason we have temporary phone privileges right now.”
Keith’s voice in the background rose, and Josh laughed. I pulled my legs up as if I could curl around my heart, protect it from feeling.
“He also gave the police a pretty good lecture on risk-aware consensual kink, which you should have been here for.”
For a moment I’d forgotten. “I told them— I probably said too much, but the conclusions they were drawing were so offensive—”
“Hey, we know. Keith almost blew a gasket when someone suggested he was a victim of domestic violence. No, babe, I don’t think we really need to rehash—”
“Those fucking bastards!” Keith had clearly taken back the phone. “Plus, you don’t get marks like this from any asshole with a whip! Josh is a fucking expert, damn it, how dare they— No, I don’t need a sedative!”
“Keith,” I said. “Keith, talk to me. Calm down and talk to me.”
“Sorry. God, I’m so fucked up in the head right now. Cam, I can’t stop thinking about it, it’s in my head all the time.”
“I know. Me too.”
“How are you functional, like at all? If I didn’t have Josh here basically holding me half the time and letting me freak out the other half, I wouldn’t even be upright.”
“I cleaned my apartment.”
“Aw, you should have waited so we could help.”
I wanted them. I wanted to be with them so much it was beginning to feel like a need. Oxygen. Or human contact. Something no one could live without for long. I curled in harder on myself and bit my lips to keep from begging.
“God, I’m so fucking desperate to get out of here, you have no idea. We’re supposed to leave soon anyway. I think we could have left earlier, but they wanted to observe Josh a little bit longer.” He paused while Josh spoke in the background. “Oh, you’re right. Yeah, that was probably bullshit they made up while they tried to decide if I was a battered spouse. Damn it. Listen, why don’t you come with us to Josh’s folks’ house? Have you eaten? His mom’s probably going to make enough food to feed most of La Vista.”
I needed them, but there was no possible way I could go to Josh’s parents’ house like this, shaking and afraid. I forced myself to say, “No, it’s okay. I have food here.”
“Well, yeah, but you could come anyway. The Walkers are great. They’ll coddle us and stuff us and totally overreact to everything.” He sounded like he was looking forward to it.
“No, it’s okay.” Don
’t cry, don’t cry. If I cried, they would come for me no matter how much I protested, and while part of me ached for them, a far more rational part of me needed them to not see me like this, huddled on my sofa, trembling, all the lights on.
I looked like a madman.
“Josh says it’s no big deal. We can pick you up on our way to his folks’ place.”
“I’ll be fine here.” The words choked me. My throat ached as I said them.
Sounds over the line. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come over, Cam?”
“Absolutely sure,” I repeated. I shoved my fist in my mouth and bit down hard.
“The doctor’s coming in, hopefully to set us free. Promise me you’ll stay inside where you’re safe tonight? I can’t even deal with the thought of you getting hurt.”
I was going to cry. I could feel it rising in me, about to boil over. I mustered one final moment of composure. “Sure. Take care.”
“Love you, Cam. From Josh, too.”
Click.
The exchange rate of grief was unpredictable and extreme. When Keith hung up the phone, his casual Love you, Cam still echoing in my ear, I felt as if my last lifeline to the world had been severed. I cried as I lurched up from the sofa. I cried as I turned out all the lights, then scared myself with thoughts of what might be lurking in the dark and turned them back on.
I wept into my knees in the corner of my shower with the water on as hot as I could stand. When I had to get out, because the water had run cold, I was absolutely convinced that if I left my bathroom, Joey Rodriguez would be standing there with his gun and that huge, terrifying grin on his face, waiting to kill me.
I’d forgotten my pajamas, which under normal circumstances meant that I’d be a little cold as I rooted around in my dresser. But tonight it was unbearable. I stood at the bathroom door for a long, long time, shivering in my towel, trying to convince myself to go out.
He couldn’t be there. He was in jail. And even if he wasn’t in jail, I was behind two locked doors. He couldn’t get in. Except what if he had a key? Had I left my keys anywhere? Could he have copies? Maybe that’s how he’d gotten in last night, maybe he had a copy of the door key—