by David Horne
“Are you serious?”
“I am. It’s an accident. People die in bed. Sometimes it happens without them smoking.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m done.” He dropped the transmission into reverse, and the car lurched backward from the parking spot.
Joshua didn’t want to let it go. He felt Lydia was acting like a guilty woman because she was a guilty woman. It was an overt act to cover the fact that she had something to hide, and he was going to find out what happened to her estranged husband.
Chapter Eight
There was a dead man in the kitchen and he was responsible. It was a routine investigation, the follow-through on a homicide. The man wasn’t supposed to be in the house. He was a neighbor, the caller of the crime. Now he was dead, Trevor was responsible; the smoking gun still in his sweaty grip.
Trevor woke to an empty bed again. Daylight didn’t bring any comfort when it came to worry about Joshua. Quickly he dressed, slipped on sandals and immediately went outside. The flutter of cardinals, sparrows, and chickadees from the back yard told Trevor the birdfeeders were full. That meant Joshua detoured before he went exploring again.
The yellow “caution” tape around Stuart’s house flipped in a natural breeze. The sky was a cerulean. Clouds so thin their presence looked like mild whitecaps in the ocean. Experiencing the house during the day didn’t make Trevor any more at ease. It wasn’t that he had a difficult time with the dead. It had to do with feeling the palpable presence of a horrible death as soon as he saw the fire damage to the bedroom. There was never a list of how to die where a fire was on top.
Trevor shook off the ideas and craned his neck through the back door of Stuart’s house. “Josh!” he hissed and waited.
There was no answer, no movement. As quickly as he could, Trevor slipped off the back porch, walked along the side yard where the privacy fence separated Stuart’s property from his property.
“Morning Trevor,” a voice called from the front yard of Stuart’s house.
Turning with a smile, he greeted Jim Hocking, the neighbor who lived across the street and seemed to take a particular interest in everything that Trevor or Joshua did when it came to the acreage.
“Hey, Jim.” He brushed his hands together. There was charcoal on his fingertips from touching the doorjamb. “What’s up this morning?”
“Terrible thing to happen to a man,” he replied, glancing over the front of the house. The statement seemed veiled for something, but Trevor wasn’t interested in Jim’s staunch politics.
“Yeah, I know.” Trevor sounded sorrowful.
“Everything okay back there?” Jim wandered around Trevor to peer down the side yard.
“Oh yeah,” Trevor answered, waving a hand. “I wanted to make sure the back of the house was closed up. I’m worried the raccoons will make their way inside.”
He appeared satisfied with the answer, nodding. “Yup, that’ll happen.” He turned and wandered back to the sidewalk. Trevor followed him. “Wonder how long before they turnaround this place,” he said. He was standing akimbo, looking at the house with mild disapproval. “Stuart let this place go. It needs a new paint job. I see that cement retaining wall is flaking. Don’t want to let that keep happening. Water will get in there.”
“Well, Stuart was sixty-two. I know he might have got around to painting the house eventually.” It was an absurd idea. Trevor saw Jim as a man never satisfied with his life, so he went out of his way to make others uncomfortable. It was innate and wasn’t something he’d turn off now that late in life.
“So, Josh is a hero I see.” It came out with bitterness. He regarded Trevor for a moment before adding, “So are you.”
Trevor felt flushed with embarrassment. He didn’t want to think of himself a hero for rushing blindly into danger because someone he loved dearly was going to die. He hadn’t thought about what he did. He did it because at the time he didn’t see the fire as a threat to his own life, only as something big and scary that threatened to take away the one thing that mattered most to him.
“You two have been spending a lot of time over here the last few days.” Jim’s accusatory tone wasn’t veiled that time.
“Josh was a detective for years. You know that.” Trevor shook his head. Sharing personal feelings with a non-substantive person wasn’t something Trevor did. Jim pulled back layers that had nothing to do with him. He was the kind of neighbor to have across the street, monitoring the neighborhood for criminal activity. Often, he took that to seedier levels and called security on people walking their dogs, or kids riding bikes. In the years Trevor and Joshua lived on that street, they’d never invited Jim to any of their soirees. Maybe that had something to do with the man’s embitterment. “He’s concerned about Stuart’s personal effects. I’m concerned about the wildlife getting into Stuart’s pantry.” He shrugged with open palms. “We work together because we come at the same situation from different angles.”
Jim rubbed his chin, frowning at Trevor. It was too much for the man to think about that morning. “He left early this morning.”
“Oh, yeah.” Trevor felt belittled again. The neighbor knew more about Joshua’s movements around the house than he did. “I think he wanted to get a start on groceries.” He felt like a fool because h hadn't checked the garage for his car before trespassing in the dead neighbor's residence. Trevor looked at his wrist. He didn’t wear a watch. “Listen, Jim. I got some work to do inside. I’ll talk to you later.”
He didn’t wait for a reply or rebuttal, Trevor hurried along the sidewalk, crossed the lawn and darted around the back of the house. He suspected Joshua locked the front door and didn’t want to look like a fool checking the handle.
He picked up the smartphone and dialed a number. After three rings, Trevor ended the call. The phone he called rang in the bedroom. Joshua habitually left the cell phone in the car when he went places. Or, like that morning, on the nightstand beside the bed. Trevor made a second call.
“What’s up?” Nora asked after two rings.
“Well, I feel like I’m worrying too much now, you know?”
“I get it.” There was noise in the background on her end. The sound of people talking around her, she was at work. The police department was always busy. “We worry about him because he doesn’t worry about himself.”
“He’s not here.” He looked at the clock on the microwave. It was a little after seven in the morning. Joshua was an early riser. The levels of events stacked up, between the fire, Stuart’s death, and the MRI, Trevor hadn’t processed a lot of it. Joshua seemed to compartmentalize all of it.
“Maybe he’s at the store.”
“That’s what I thought. Only we went shopping yesterday.”
“And he didn’t take his phone with him, did he?”
“You know him as well as I do. It’s sitting on the nightstand.”
Trevor heard Nora sigh into the receiver. “I don’t know what I can do about it.”
“I know. Listen, I'm probably a worry-wart. It’s just after all this. Lately, he seems more distracted. He’s not sleeping, and he’s barely eating. When he’s with me, he’s somewhere else.”
“We have to take this one day at a time. You know he’s a difficult man. Lord knows how you’ve put up with him all these years.” She chuckled. “If he’s not back in a few hours give me a call.”
“Okay. Thank you, Nora.” Trevor ended the call. He had to occupy his overactive brain until Joshua came home, or the clock ran out.
Chapter Nine
It was after two when Joshua got home. He didn’t drive his car into the garage because Nora had parked the detective vehicle in the driveway. After his mind had been lost in the past last night, Joshua had a crawling feeling that he couldn’t shake.
When he got out of the car, he popped the trunk and collected two cardboard file boxes. He used his elbow to close the trunk and carried the dusty boxes to the front door. It opened as soon as he reached the porch.
“What’s up with you two?” he asked innocently.
“Where have you been?” Trevor demanded.
Joshua moved around the man holding open the front door. He wanted to put down the boxes. Since the boxes had been in storage for a few years, there were layers of grime coating the cardboard. He carried the files to the kitchen and set them on the linoleum floor.
He went to the sink to wash. Toweling off his hands, Joshua faced his inquisitors. “I wanted to check on something.” The bandage on his left hand needed replacing. The blistering of his palm had raw skin, but it wasn’t as sore as it was a few days ago.
“You didn’t take your phone with you.” Trevor glared at him.
“What are you so worked up about?” Joshua asked. He looked at Nora. “Everything okay? You find out anything about Stuart?”
Nora shook her head. “I’m not investigating your neighbor, Dad. I’m here because Trevor was worried about you.”
Joshua felt the weight of life pressing down on him. He’d taken a step back from worrying about medical examinations, blood tests, and a second—more detailed opinion about an MRI. He redirected his focus on something that mattered more to him at the time. It was impossible to explain that to Trevor. Nora, on the other hand, following the career choice, understood how crime through the view of a police officer was different than everyone else.
“I’m fine,” he said automatically, and immediately regretted it.
“You’re ‘fine!’” Trevor shook his head. “You don’t get it. You’re a stubborn ass that doesn’t get how to communicate with people who care about you.” The statement left a void in the area. Nora looked sheepish because the declaration came out of something that went well beyond what they dealt with that day.
“Why are you so worked up?” Joshua crossed Trevor’s path, veering around him. He pulled open the sliding glass door and retrieved the case boxes, carrying them out to the back porch. It was covered, and since there was a minimal and cool breeze, Joshua wanted to go through the boxes outside. Trevor followed him out. Nora stayed back. The screen door closed and she looked through it.
“You’re worrying about something I can’t do anything about.” Joshua had to say it because it did fester in him. He couldn’t function knowing life was going to change whether he liked it or not. “I think I can do something and I’m spending my time the way I want to.”
“What are you doing?” Trevor regarded the two boxes as if they’d suddenly appeared before him. Too focused on Joshua, he’d missed the obvious.
“I went to the storage unit today. I’ve been doing some thinking. I wanted to see if this works out.” He picked up the top box and pulled at the lid. It smelled like old books and mildew. Inside were stacks of manila files. There were several files together. As he began lifting them out of the box, Trevor stepped to the patio table.
“This has something to do with Stuart?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Nora’s interest ignited again. She moved from inside to outside, closing the screen door behind her. “What’s all that?”
“It’s old school stuff. I kept most of the cases that interested me in files.”
“Those are case files from the department?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. They’re all sanctioned. I don’t have anything I’m not supposed to have. You keep files from your arrests, right?”
Nora shrugged. “I have computer files, yeah.”
Joshua pointed at her. “I was around a little before that was fashionable. I like looking at the paperwork.”
Nora stepped closer to the table. She scanned the covers of the manila folders. Many of the files had handwritten notes on them. She recognized her father’s handwriting. “What are you looking for?”
“Are you two kidding me?” Trevor thrust out his hands as if presenting the stale files, dirty boxes, and the immediate fact that Joshua and Nora overlooked his absence. “What the hell? You don’t sleep. You nearly died, and all you got to say is something about storage, and something’s bothering you.”
Joshua looked up at Trevor. A scholarly, lean, and handsome man in the twenty years since they’d been together matured gracefully, gained wisdom, and somehow became more beautiful with age. Joshua looked at Trevor as if seeing him for the first time in days. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. You want me to curl up and feel sorry for myself?”
“I want you to know there’s someone here, right here, who matters.”
“So, this is all about you, right?” It came out without a filter.
“Fuck you, Josh.” Trevor wasn’t one to use expletives. He turned right around, opened the screen door, went inside and slammed the glass door in its place. Joshua waited to hear if the door locked.
He looked at his daughter. “What’s with him?”
She smiled down at her father. Standing next to him, her eyes scanned the files. It was part of the detective’s mind at work. Seeing her with the hip holster, the detective badge on her leather belt gave Joshua an immense sense of pride. “You need to let people into your life, Dad. I know you two have been together a long time. You and he somehow worked out the fact that you’re a narrow-minded turd, and he’s a flower.”
“I see how you’ve not taken sides on this.” Joshua tried to ignore the headache that began to throb at his temples. “I feel like I’m close to something here and I wanted to work it out before…”
It stopped as quickly as it started. The idea that he may or may not have a life-threatening illness came like a block of ice appearing in his chest. He felt Nora’s hand on his shoulder. She was close but remained at a distance when it came to her views. She was a lot like him because neither of them wanted to face the fact something might be seriously wrong with him.
“Just talk to Trevor.” She picked up a file, looked at the notes scribbled on the face of it and dropped it again. She wiped her hand on her pants.
Nora knew her father still had animosity for his forced retirement from the police department. He was doing his job. Internal Affairs cleared him of wrongdoing when he shot and killed the neighbor who ventured into a crime scene. It was blight on the department. Stafford County settled a wrongful death lawsuit out of court brought against Homicide Detective Dimmick to save face for the department. Her father was a victim of politics. She sympathized with the pain of killing an innocent man. He’d never get over it. It damaged his relationship with Trevor because her father refused to let in those who cared most about him.
Nora knew her father’s failed relationship with her mother had to do with Joshua’s inability to open up. She feared he’d push away Trevor if he didn’t share something with the man; even if it was a shred of his thoughts. Joshua would end up alone and bitter. Now her father was bitter, and needed to let go.
“He’s worried about you. I’m worried about you. I’ll let him do all the worrying for a while. But you have to stop being an ass and let people in.” She moved to the door and slid it open. “I’m going. Talk to him.” She closed the door and left Joshua sitting at the table. While he felt guilty about not talking to Trevor, adding worry to the man when he didn’t have anything to worry about, Joshua was processing things differently. He went back to the files and time slipped away.
Chapter Ten
Hunger pulled Joshua away from the files. When he stepped through the glass door and saw the time, he felt a surge of panic. It was hard to imagine that something happened to his brain. Where had the time gone? Was this what he had to look forward to with an advancing disease? Was he going to have blocks of missing time? It was almost four hours since he went to the porch to organize and research the files. Now he saw daylight escaped him.
In the kitchen the aroma of the simmering pot and chicken in the oven made his stomach growl. Trevor took advance of retirement. He spent six weeks at a local cooking school to make the most out of dinners. He didn’t make a special dinner that night, it was a routine he got into, and Joshua appreciated it no matter what. Watching
Trevor stirring the contents in the cookware made Joshua wonder if he’d ever mentioned that to Trevor.
Without words, he wandered toward the stove. He reached out, slipped his hand around Trevor’s waist. Joshua pressed his torso into Trevor’s back. He felt the tension melt from Trevor’s shoulders and back.
“You know it’s dangerous to stand next to a man with a boiling pot.”
“Only if you intend to pour it over my head,” Joshua pointed out.
“I’m thinking about it.” Trevor went through turning off the burners and oven. Joshua moved back to let the chef work. He watched Trevor’s lean body from behind. He was still attracted to the man. After all those years, he saw Trevor in the same light as he remembered when they first met.
“What are you thinking?” Trevor saw Joshua staring into the middle-distance. There was a frightened look in his eyes.
“I was thinking about you,” he mumbled. Joshua took Trevor’s hand, led him from the kitchen and they wandered into the living room. “I’m sorry.”
The words had a physical effect on Trevor. The man melted, folded in half and dropped into the soft folds of the armchair. He knelt in front of Trevor, pressed his hands against the man’s knees to part them so he could get close while Trevor sat before him.
“Let me see that,” Trevor saw the bandage on Joshua’s hand. It was black from handling old boxes. “You’ll get an infection.”
Joshua pulled his hand away. “Please, I’ll change the bandage later. Right now, right here, I want you to look at me and listen to me.”
He took a breath. It wasn’t something he intended. Confession, admission of responsibility, there was never a good time for opening up the heart. Only, Joshua knew Trevor needed reassurance.
“Remember when we first met?” he started.
Trevor nodded. There were tears close to the surface. Joshua saw them brimming in Trevor’s eyes. “We attended a function at the college. You were there giving a lecture for the criminal justice students that week. I was there because I was bored with art history.”