Playing With Fire

by Dirk Greyson

  “Has he ever seemed violent?” Barty asked excitedly. “Have you seen displays of anger, or is he the kind of person who’ll retreat to lick his wounds and let them fester?” It seemed they had finally found the person who fit the profile he had been building in his mind. And it seemed he’d left the party before the shooting. Stewart could very well be their man.

  “I don’t know him very well. But he isn’t an outwardly violent kind of person that I know of. I don’t spend much time around him if I can help it. Stewart isn’t my favorite person.”

  “Why did you shiver?” Barty asked. He’d noticed the small movement.

  “It’s nothing,” Deidre said, and Franklin nudged her shoulder, still holding her hand. The show of support and love was touching and something Barty suddenly realized was very missing from his own life.

  “Just say what’s going on,” Franklin said. “They can’t help if they don’t know.”

  “Stewart made a pass at me a few years ago. He’s slimy, and it wasn’t like I was going to have anything to do with him. But ever since, he’s given me the creeps. I won’t be alone with him, and my assistant knows that when he comes to my office that she is to follow him inside.”

  “How can you have evaluation discussions?” Barty asked. “Those are usually private.”

  “I contact personnel and have someone there with me.”

  “And yet you invited him to the party?” Jim asked.

  “I invited everyone, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him think he can get the better of me. There were a lot of people around, and I didn’t spend time alone with him. It’s best if he thinks that things are as close to normal as possible. It isn’t as though I think he’s going to try anything again. I just don’t want to be one-on-one with him.”

  Jim had been taking notes, and he slid his notebook into his pocket. “Is there anything else you want to say?”

  Deidre nodded. “I’m not dumb. Something started this line of questioning, and I think I have a right to know what it is.”

  Barty stood and walked to where she and Franklin were sitting. He knelt down so he was on the same eye level as they were. “You may have a right, but you don’t want to know. This case is ugly, and you don’t need to add that ugliness to your life or your daughters’ lives. Protect them from it by protecting yourselves.” He turned to Jim and then back to Deidre. “Once this is over, Jim will tell you everything he can.” Barty had seen how the knowledge gathered in the last few hours was weighing on Jim, and he knew it would be worse for her.

  “But….”

  “Trust your brother,” Franklin said, and Deidre finally nodded.

  “Do you need anything to eat?” she asked.

  “No. There isn’t time. What you told us is enough that we need to get moving. Would it be all right if Barty stayed here with you? I have work to do, and I need to know that he’s safe and not alone.”

  “Of course,” Deidre agreed.

  “Jim, I’m going with you,” Barty said.

  “Not this time.” He stood and motioned for Barty to follow him to the hall. “We’re going after a potential killer. I won’t put you in the line of fire. I can’t.” Jim stroked his cheek and then kissed him, hard, possessively. “I won’t lose you or put you in danger.”

  “What about you?”

  “It’s my job, and I need to do it. Deidre has security and people in the house to protect you. I’ll call as soon as I can. I promise.” Jim kissed him one more time and then turned and left the house.

  Barty stared after him, hoping like hell that Jim would be all right and wondering how he was going to get through the next few hours without going crazy.

  “JIM THINKS Mom and Dad don’t accept him,” Deidre said after dinner when it was just the two of them. “They just can’t worry about him day after day.” She sat in the perfect living room, right across from him.

  “Don’t lie to me or make excuses for them,” Barty said. “I saw your mom and dad at the party, remember? The chill was arctic, especially from your father.”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “Why should I?” Barty said with a shrug. “Everyone talks in code and around what they really want to say. Of course, that gives me a field of study, because if we didn’t hide, there would be no need for me. But I can’t abide it. Your mom and dad are nothing to me other than people Jim wishes would try to understand him. He wants something they’ll never give, and I doubt he realizes how badly he wants that approval from them. Since they hurt him, I’ll call any excuses that are made for them.”

  “Okay. I find it hard to worry about him every day and so do you. I can see it in your eyes.” She leaned closer.

  “I’m starting to understand that.” He held up a single finger. “But I believe Jim is worth it.”

  “How can you? You’ve known him a week, maybe a little longer. Things don’t happen that quickly.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve studied the full range of human emotion. Romeo and Juliet knew each other for but a few nights before they tumbled off their cliff of tragic love. They died for each other after a few conversations and one night of passion. Yet we read, act out, and talk about their story, and have for hundreds of years. We want to believe that love like that is possible, and therefore, because we believe it, that love becomes possible.” Barty wanted to believe that more than anything. “So yes, I care about Jim because he cares for me.”

  “How do you know?” Deidre asked.

  “Because I’m here. Tonight he’s going to be bringing in a suspect, and he doesn’t want me in harm’s way.”

  “But how do you know it will last?”

  “I don’t. Any more than you do with Franklin. Only time will tell for any of us,” Barty said. “You care for Jim, so I can understand you wanting to make sure I won’t hurt him.”

  “I don’t think you will. What I’m more concerned about is that he’ll hurt you.”

  “Why?” Barty asked.

  “Because being in his life has a cost. You know that.”

  “I do,” Barty said. He was getting tired of this cat-and-mouse conversation. “Just say what you want to say and stop this. It’s tiring and useless. Jim can take care of himself. He’s done it for a long time now, and I know he will continue to do so.”

  Deidre smiled for the first time since their conversation began. “I think you may be just what my brother needs, and he may be what you need.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” He smiled in return. “Is that a ‘welcome to the family’ sort of pronouncement?”

  “In a way.” She turned when the clock over the mantel struck eight, and Barty hoped for the millionth time in a few hours that Jim would hurry back.

  Chapter 7

  JIM RACED into the station and right into the captain’s office. He explained everything as quickly as he could, and Captain Westin had a captain with the Philadelphia PD on the line within minutes.

  “We need to pick this man up and speak with him.” Jim laid out his case as logically and completely as he could. Philadelphia would cooperate, but Jim knew he had to have his ducks in a row. “He is a suspect. If I send over what I have, can you get a warrant?”

  “Yes. Go ahead and send it, but we won’t execute it until we speak with him to make sure we have a solid case.”

  “Agreed,” Jim said. “I’d like to be part of the team that picks him up.”

  “As long as we take the lead in our city, you are welcome. Get over here, and we’ll leave as soon as you arrive.” He hung up, and Jim was already getting ready to leave.

  “Go and get this guy. If he’s guilty, I want him….” There was also the implication that if he wasn’t, this was not going to go down particularly well for Jim. “Make sure he’s treated as gently as possible. If we are wrong, we need to make sure relationships remain strong with our brethren in the city.”

  Jim got the message loud and clear. “I’ll do what I can—you know that.” Jim hurried out of the o
ffice and down to the cars. He took a marked vehicle because it would speed him up, and headed out.

  Jim drove as fast as he could without endangering anyone. He was so close to solving this case—he could feel it. His heart raced, and his senses were hyperaware. He could taste putting this case in the completed file and going on to something else. Jim’s heart raced as he wondered what a solved case would bring for him.

  LESS THAN an hour later, he and three other officers approached the door of the small condo where Hoskins apparently lived. The building itself was older and in need of some common-area maintenance and upkeep. Jim kept his mind on the task at hand as they approached the door.

  The lead officer knocked, and they waited. He banged again. “Police!”

  The door opened, and they swarmed inside. The first officer held Stewart against the wall. He was dressed in a robe, his bare legs showing from the hem to the floor.

  “Why are you here?” Stewart asked as an officer held him still.

  “That’s enough,” Jim said, cutting through the noise. “He opened the door and has cooperated.” He turned to Stewart. “We have some questions, and we’d like you to come with us.”

  “Can I dress?”

  Jim looked to the officer in charge, and he sent one of the officers with him. The others followed as well, but Jim stayed where he was. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  “What if he’s the man you’re after?” the lead officer asked firmly.

  “I hope he is.” But in the back of Jim’s mind was always the niggle that he could have made a mistake, and he wasn’t going to be the one to trample someone’s rights.

  “Does this have to do with the shooting at Deidre’s?” Stewart asked as the officers brought him out to the living room.

  “What do you know about it?” Jim asked. If he wanted to talk, Jim was going to give him a chance.

  “Nothing. I left the party because I wasn’t exactly welcome there. I only went because she’s the new department head and I was hoping to make a decent impression.”

  “Can you account for your movements? Did anyone leave with you?” He was prepared for some made-up story.

  “I left and stopped at the grocery store.” Stewart’s hands shook as he pointed to the counter in the kitchen. “I got some bread, milk, and some fruit. The receipt is….” He tried to move, but the officers stopped him.

  Jim went to the counter and found a small stack. There was one right on top from the day before, and he looked it over. It was from a grocery store five miles or so from Deidre’s house, and the time was roughly the same as the shooting. This was not looking good. Now, it was possible that Stewart had found the receipt and…. Jim glanced to the bottom.

  “Do you have the credit card you used?” Jim asked.

  “My wallet is on the coffee table.”

  Jim snatched it up, opened it, and reviewed the cards until he found the one used. Then he motioned to the officers, and they released him. “I’m sorry, sir.” Jim hated that they—that he’d been wrong.

  Stewart relaxed a little, slowly approached Jim, and took back his wallet and the receipt. He put them both away. “You could have just asked if I’d seen anything….” He glared at the officers as they left the condo.

  “I’m sorry we disturbed you.” At times like these, Jim found that being honest and forthright helped negate some of the shock. “You seemed to have been somewhere else at the time.”

  “Yes, I was, and don’t bother asking me if I saw anything as I left because I didn’t. Not that I want to be particularly helpful at the moment. Deidre is hell-bent on ending my career, and now this….” His eyes were dark, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. They had been right about one thing—Stewart was a bundle of pent-up anger and resentment. That was for certain.

  “We’re sorry to have disturbed you, sir,” the officer in charge said, and Jim followed him out. Once the door was closed, he followed them out to the street.

  “Do you really think he didn’t do it? The guy had guilt written all over him if you ask me.”

  “He’s… I’m not sure.” Jim looked up toward the windows and shook his head. “There’s something about him all right, but we’ll check out the alibi to confirm it. I’m sorry to have bothered all of you.”

  “It’s happened to each of us at one point or another. He may have gotten a fright, but he wasn’t harmed in any way and we didn’t break anything, so he may try to raise a fuss, but it isn’t going to go anywhere.”

  Jim rode back to the station and then drove toward New Cynwood, making phone calls as he went.

  “It wasn’t him?” Captain Westin asked once Jim broke the news. “We’ll run down the alibi to be sure.”

  “Yeah.” Jim was dog-tired and damn frustrated. All that work and he was right back at square one. This had been their best lead, and it hadn’t worked out. “In the morning, we’ll have to go over everything once again. There has to be something we missed.” But at the moment, Jim could barely think straight, and he was starting to second-guess his own judgment. Maybe it was time for him to step back and turn this whole thing over to someone else.

  “Let’s put our heads together in the morning. Go get some rest.”

  Jim agreed and hung up the phone. He dropped the squad car at the station, got his own, and returned to Deidre’s, where he picked up Barty and then went back to his house.

  “Was it him?” Barty asked, and Jim turned. “I guess not.”

  “Nope. He was in a grocery store at the time of the shooting.” His phone rang, and he answered it, listening as Captain Westin explained that the alibi did indeed check out. Jim thanked him and wondered what in the hell he was going to do now. He was running out of ideas, and waiting for yet another shooting was not acceptable.

  ALL JIM wanted was to hide. This happened on cases sometimes. They weren’t all easily solved, but this case… it was getting the better of him, and that kicked his ego right in the nads. He made sure the alarm was set and figured he’d go to bed.

  “Did you eat anything at all?” Barty asked, but Jim wasn’t hungry. Barty went to the refrigerator, opened it, and began pulling things out. Before Jim could say much, Barty was making sandwiches and pressed a plate in his hands. “Eat. I know this case is kicking your butt right now, but something will happen.” Penelope jumped into Jim’s lap, and he set her on the floor, where she prowled for dropped crumbs.

  “Like another shooting.” Jim sat at the kitchen island and ate absently. As soon as the food hit his stomach, he was ravenous and finished it off without thinking. “I can’t let that happen.”

  “Then we’ll look at things again and figure it out. This is only a setback, and I know you. He wasn’t guilty, and you’d never want to punish someone for something they didn’t do.”

  Jim sighed. “This guy is way too clever.”

  Barty sat next to him. “And he knows it.”

  Jim turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Clever people often rely on cleverness. It becomes something they’re proud of, just like supersmart people tend to rely on that rather than common sense. So tomorrow we’ll look for the signs of his cleverness. Just like the bullet casing for redirection, the signs are there. We just have to look for them.” Barty placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Sometimes the simplest way is the best way. But our shooter isn’t going to go for that. He wants demonstrations of his superior intellect. So….”

  “You think he’s done the redirection thing already?”

  “I think he made sure Stewart had left the party before he took his shots. Maybe the shooter knew Stewart harbored resentment against Deidre, and if Stewart had gone straight home, then he wouldn’t have had an alibi and you might have arrested him and taken things further. Instead, you know who it isn’t now.” Barty rubbed gently. “Finish your glass of water and let’s go to bed.” Barty waited until Jim emptied the glass and then put the dishes in the sink.

  “What’s the big deal with the water?”
Jim asked as Barty was finishing the dishes.

  Barty turned off the water and spun around, heat building in his eyes. “I don’t want you to get dehydrated.” He came around the island, took Jim’s hand, and led him up the stairs and down to his bedroom.

  “After the day I had…,” Jim began, but Barty pressed him into the room. Penelope tried to follow, but he closed the door before she could slip by.

  “Last night you made me forget my own name, and now it’s my turn to try to return the favor.” Barty closed the door. Water or not, Jim’s mouth went as dry as the desert as soon as Barty slipped off his shirt. “Is it working?”

  Jim nodded, his eyes glued to Barty’s slim waist as he gyrated his hips slightly. It was uncoordinated as hell and completely amazing. Jim grinned and reached for Barty. He’d begun opening his pants, and they chose that second to fall. When he tugged him closer, Barty fell right into his arms.

  “That wasn’t what I had planned,” Barty said, struggling to stand, but his clothes had other ideas. Jim helped him to the bed and got Barty’s shoes and then his pants off. “So much for smooth.”

  “Honey, you are beautiful,” Jim said, ignoring Barty’s words and trailing his hands up Barty’s smooth chest as he came back to his feet.

  “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.” Barty swallowed hard. “I wanted to treat you to something special to make you forget, and instead I fell on you.”

  Jim took Barty in his arms. “You can fall against me any time you want.” He brought his lips to Barty’s, kissing him hard. Barty had said that he wanted to help Jim forget, and it was already working. Having Barty with him was like a balm for his spirit.

  Barty worked the buttons of Jim’s shirt, then removed it so their chests touched. Jim loved the feeling of Barty’s skin against his, and he ran his hands down Barty’s back to cup his boxers-covered butt. Firm cheeks shifted under his hands, and he clenched his fingers, kneading the flesh as he pressed even closer. He wanted more and wished he’d taken the time to remove his own pants. Barty seemed to have the same thought and began unbuckling Jim’s belt. His hands shook, so Jim put his hands on top of Barty’s to still them. Barty lifted his head, their gazes met, and Jim was lost. Barty’s incredible eyes were a window into his deepest thoughts, and what Jim saw startled him. He’d been afraid of what he’d begun to feel for Barty, but right in front of him, in Barty’s eyes, was the reflection of his own care and worries, mirrored right back at him.