by Jerry Cole
Pushing his way through the throng of nosy journalists, Kyron ducked under the tape and headed up to the house. The place looked rather familiar. But Kyron was struggling to place it. It had been nearly eleven years since he had graduated high school and immediately went off to join the army, refusing to look back. But now he was back on his home turf. Jacksonville was, to him, a million miles away from one of the places that gave him memories that Kyron would rather forget. Whoever said high school were their best days needed their heads examining.
Kyron stood in front of the house and stared up at it. It was a tall building, painted white with a balcony on the second floor and a wide driveway with an expensive luxury car in front of the garage. Someone with money lived here, that was for sure. Raquel had said it was a home invasion. Kyron was expecting to find the occupants dead inside, attacked and beaten to death in a frenzy, their bodies scattered about the house and their valuables missing.
If that was the case, why was the car still here? That would have cost almost as much as the house, and that would certainly be something the killer would take. But it was still parked in the driveway.
Something didn’t add up, and Kyron had barely stepped inside.
“Erm, Kyron?”
Kyron jumped. Raquel was standing on the porch, hunched into her windbreaker and watching him with a frown. Kyron cleared his throat and walked up the path. He hadn’t realized he had stopped in the middle of the lawn.
“Sorry, Raquel. My mind went wandering.”
“Not the best time to do it, Horton.” His boss snorted. “I thought you had turned into an ornate garden gnome.”
Kyron grimaced as he followed Raquel into the house. He didn’t need to be berated in front of everyone right now.
“It’s one in the morning, Raquel.”
“That doesn’t mean you can go to sleep on me.” Raquel pointed out. She stopped in the hallway and turned to him, her ponytail flying about behind her. “You keep yourself switched on or we’re going to be having words.”
Maybe he should have picked up some coffee on the way. Raquel was most certainly not a night owl and she needed coffee to keep her at a decent level of bearable. Kyron took a deep breath.
“Who are the victims?”
Raquel nodded toward the open door at the far end of the hall.
“They’re in the dining room. Adam and Judith Schoenauer, aged fifty-eight and fifty-four, and their children. Richard, twenty-nine, and Ruth, twenty-four. All of them were found tied to chairs and shot in the head, their watches, jewelry and cell phones taken.”
Schoenauer. Kyron felt his stomach drop. Not Eric’s family? He found himself wandering into the living room and staring at the pictures that adorned the walls. He had been here before. Years ago, when he and Eric had gone to each other’s houses for studying and for just hanging out. The two of them had bonded over their love of comics.
And now Eric’s family were dead? It didn’t seem possible. Kyron had to be dreaming.
“Kyron?” Raquel moved up beside him. “You okay? You’ve gone white.”
“I…” Kyron licked his lips as his gaze landed on a family photograph on the mantelpiece. The only one in the room that contained Eric. “I know them. Or rather, I knew them.”
“What?”
“I went to high school with Richard.” Kyron went to the fireplace and took down the photograph. He showed it to Raquel. “He and his twin Eric were in several of my classes. Eric and I were friends.”
Raquel stared at the picture. Then she stared at Kyron.
“Were you friends with Richard?”
“We got along, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. He and Eric were like apples and oranges.” Kyron shrugged. “I prefer oranges to apples.”
“Now is not the time to be funny, Horton.”
“It wasn’t meant to be funny.”
Kyron was feeling flat right now. The air seemed to have been sucked out of him.
“Well, keep it that way for now.” Raquel grunted. She put the picture back. “Eric was the one who found them. Looks like it was someone’s birthday.” She added, indicating the birthday cards dotted around the room.
“It’s Judith’s birthday. She never wanted much but an intimate evening meal with her husband and her children.” Kyron spread his hands at Raquel curious expression. “It’s been that way since I’ve known Eric. I doubt it’s changed anytime soon.”
Raquel grunted.
“Well, Eric arrived late, and he passed out when he found their bodies. One of the neighbors saw him go in and heard the screams, so he called the cops. They also found Richard’s girlfriend, Louise Lakin, unconscious by the back door.”
“Unhurt?”
“Bruised and being treated for a concussion, but she’s going to be fine.”
At least that was something. Kyron was glad the bodies had been taken away already. Even after being in the armed forces and working for the FBI, he still wasn’t used to the dead bodies and the crime scenes. They did stay with him for a while. Unlike Raquel, who seemed to barely bat an eyelid.
Maybe he should get into drinking coffee more, or whatever Raquel put in her coffee. It seemed to make her immune to the gruesome scenes they saw on an almost daily basis.
“What do you remember of the family, Kyron?” Raquel asked. “What was the family members like?”
Kyron moved toward the window, stepping around the forensics team taking samples from the blood in the carpet.
“They were a mish-mash of dysfunction, to say the least.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Adam Schoenauer was a nasty man. Barely a kind word for anyone. Ruled the family with an iron fist. His way or no way, as long as I’ve known the family. Everyone was scared of him, and Adam knew it.” He sighed. “Judith...she was a lovely lady. Made cookies for us every time we visited and treated us like her own kids. Even washed our clothes if we got caught in the rain so we weren’t going to get colds for wearing wet clothes going home.”
“I see.” Raquel glanced at the photos lining the walls. “Was Adam ever abusive to his wife.”
“Emotionally, I’m sure he was. I never saw any bruises. Adam would hit everyone else, but I think he drew the line at hitting his wife.”
“Just because you can’t see the bruises doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
Kyron knew that all too well. He had witnessed his father beating his mother over the years. It was why Kyron signed up for the navy as soon as he turned eighteen. The moment he graduated high school, he was gone. No way was he staying listening to his father drink all their money away and his mother excusing his father’s actions even after he had sent her to the hospital. They were welcome to each other, as far as Kyron was concerned.
He hadn’t seen them since he left. They didn’t even come to his various parades. Kyron didn’t care. That said more about them than it did about him.
“What about the children?” Raquel asked. She moved to stand in front of Kyron, peering up at him from her petite height. “Was Adam Schoenauer ever abusive to them?”
“Richard and Ruth, no. They wouldn’t say boo to a goose, never mind stand up to them. They’re his lapdogs, always doing what he wanted.” Kyron sighed. “I remember Ruth saying when she was a teenager that she wanted to be a musician. She played the violin and was already being paid to perform at social gatherings. She was very talented. But Adam wanted her to get involved in the real estate business like he had. Richard was never a bother. He had wanted to be a lawyer, so he was never forced into anything.”
“I see.” Raquel paused. “And Eric?”
Eric. Kyron looked at the family picture. Eric was on the end, his arm around his sister. It looked to be a recent picture as well. Eric had his mother’s complexion and his hair in what looked to be a ponytail. He was stockier than Kyron remembered, a body that looked to be solid muscle and made his t-shirt stretch across his chest. .
Head in the game, Kyron. Drooling over a witness is never a good idea at
the best of times.
“Eric stood up to his dad. He didn’t care if that meant he was beaten or ostracized. He wouldn’t let Adam hurt any of his family and friends, especially his brother and sister. Adam didn’t like having someone say no to him, particularly his own son.”
It got worse after Adam found out his son was gay. Kyron couldn’t begin to count how many times Eric had come into school with a black eye or a broken arm. It was a wonder he managed to graduate high school. Eric had wanted to become an athlete or do something in sports, but Adam wouldn’t pay for college. He refused to pay unless Eric did something like real estate or engineering, something Adam would call worthwhile.
Kyron hadn’t kept in touch—that was more his fault than anyone else’s—but he had heard Eric now wrote and produced songs for a music studio in Tallahassee. That made sense for Eric. He had a love for creating songs and stories.
“Sounds like Eric had a motive for murder, if you ask me,” Raquel commented.
Already, Kyron was shaking his head.
“No. Eric hated his dad, but he wouldn’t harm his twin and sister. And there is no way he would hurt a hair on Judith’s head. He adored his mother.”
“He came in and found the bodies. We do have to consider him viable for this.”
“You can, if you want, but I know Eric. He wouldn’t do this.”
Kyron knew he needed to be objective about this, but everything in him was ready to defend Eric. They were friends, close friends as children, and Kyron wasn’t about to defame Eric of such a horrific crime.
Raquel was watching him like she had never seen Kyron before. Kyron knew how this must look. She had told her team that they must never let their judgement be clouded because they knew the people involved. Trust your gut and your gut only. Kyron had a feeling he wasn’t trusting his gut, but another part of his body.
Whoa, where had that come from?
Finally, Raquel backed down, shaking her head as she turned away.
“Well, you’re going to have to go to the hospital and ask him. Think you can do that?”
Kyron didn’t need to think about that.
“Absolutely.”
“Thought you would.” Raquel muttered. Aloud, she added, “And while you’re there, talk to Louise Lakin. She’s been taken to the same hospital. Sacred Heart in Santa Rosa Beach.”
Great. More driving. Kyron was beginning to hate the inside of his car.
***
Eric wanted to go home, but he was still shaking. The doctors had advised him to spend the night so they can keep an eye on him and then they would discharge him in the morning. Eric didn’t want to take up a bed and waste their time, but they were insistent.
Then again, his head was throbbing like mad. He had caught his head on the doorframe as he collapsed, and there was a cut in the back of his scalp. Eric was feeling sleepy, and that was what also had the doctors concerned. Nobody wanted him falling asleep at the wheel.
All Eric wanted to do was go home. He didn’t want to be there anymore. Even the hospital he had been born in reminded him of his family. Memories of his teen years in Sacred Heart after his father decided beating him was the only way to stop Eric from saying no. It hadn’t worked, and Eric had had to endure the beatings as they increased. Nobody had stepped in to tell Adam he needed to stop. None of the doctors even tried.
Back then, it had felt like Eric was on his own. Now he really felt on his own. Considering the older doctors had to know of Eric’s medical history, as did the younger ones reading his notes, they had to think he killed his father. The news would have reached Santa Rosa by now. Even at such a late hour, news traveled fast along this part of Florida. Eric had never known anything like it.
His family was gone. It had been several hours since Eric had found them, and it was still something he was struggling to grasp onto. No more seeing his mother at snatched opportunities and eating her cookies like he was twelve years old again. No more watching Ruth and Richard tease each other, only to have them quieten whenever Adam walked into the room. And no more Adam berating Eric for his lifestyle and no more being threatened with physical violence. That was probably the only saving grace.
Eric had known Adam was one who wanted things his own way, but to go off the handle after Eric blurted out his confession? That was something else. Not even Eric’s uncles could defend him from Adam once Adam Schoenauer got going.
At least there would be no more of that. But no more of his mother and siblings, either.
Eric squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his hands over his face. He would not cry. He wouldn’t.
“Eric?”
Eric paused. He knew that voice. It had been a long time, but he knew it. Eric lowered his hands. A tall, bald man his age was standing at the end of the bed. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, pale blue shirt and jeans, a gold badge pinned to his shirt and a gun holstered to his waistband.
It had been eleven years and he had had a full head of dark hair, but Eric recognized him. He stared.
“Kyron?”
Kyron Horton grinned. Fuck, that smile hadn’t changed. It was what had drawn Eric to him in the first place. On closer inspection, his head was shaved, his hair barely there but with the distinctive shadow. He was more filled out, more muscular than they had been as teenagers. But he was still as handsome as ever.
Even more so. Eric realized he was wearing a hospital gown and just had a sheet over him. He cleared his throat and sat up, ignoring the pounding pain in his head. Hiding the fact that the mere sight of his former classmate was giving him an erection was more important.
Now is not the time to get aroused.
“Long time no see?” Kyron came around the bed and held out a hand, clasping Eric’s as he reached out. His hand was rough, calloused even. And warm. Very warm. “You look like shit.”
“Always the charmer, weren’t you?”
Eric could see a scar on Kyron’s cheek, just below his eye. It hadn’t been there before. Somehow, that enhanced his sex appeal.
Stop it. Not now.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were stationed in Honolulu.”
Kyron laughed.
“You don’t keep up on Facebook, do you?”
“I don’t have Facebook. Don’t have the time.”
“I left the navy five years ago. Joined the FBI.” Kyron tapped his badge. “I’m a junior agent in my team, stationed over in Jacksonville.”
FBI. Now it made sense. He was investigating the murders. Eric wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. Having someone he knew part of the team looking into the deaths was comforting—Kyron knew him more than anyone else—but it also worried him as to what secrets he might uncover. Eric didn’t know he if wanted Kyron to look further into his family.
“Have you...have you seen the crime scene? My parents?”
Kyron’s expression softened. He sat on the chair beside the bed.
“Your parents had already been taken away. But yes, I have seen the crime scene. From what I heard, you were lucky to miss out.”
Eric shuddered.
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”
He didn’t want to think what would have happened if he had been there on time. Had it been a random attack, an impulse, or had it been planned? It was hurting Eric’s head to try and reason it all.
“Eric?” Kyron sat forward. “I need to take your statement. And I need to ask about your alibi for the murders.”
“What?” Eric shook his head. “Wait, I didn’t kill them. God knows I wish I could have killed Dad for what he’s done, but it wasn’t me.”
He hadn’t realized his voice had been getting louder until someone hissed from across the room to keep the noise down. Then Eric remembered he was in a communal room with three other patients, all of whom were asleep. Kyron reached out and touched his hand. Eric tried not to shiver as tingles went up his arm.
“Whoa, take it easy, Eric. I know you wouldn’t have done this, but yo
u know it’s standard procedure. I have to ask you.”
Eric did know. But, he still didn’t like it. He swallowed and crossed his legs. His erection had abated a little, but it would still be noticeable if Kyron looked closely. He needed to get his head out of the gutter. Now was most certainly the wrong time to be thinking about how gorgeous Kyron looked with a shaved head.
“I was at work until just before six. Then I spent the next two or so hours driving to Santa Monica from Tallahassee.”
“What time were you expected at your parents’ home?”
“Eight. But there was an accident they were still clearing on the way down. Took me a while to get through.” That was when it hit Eric like someone had tipped a bucket of cold water over his head. “Shit. If I’d been there half an hour earlier—”
“Don’t think about that right now.” Kyron cut him off. “Focus on yourself.”
Eric wasn’t sure if he could. Every time he tried to calm himself and think about something else, images of his family popped into his mind. And they seemed to be more gruesome each time. His throat tightened and Eric blinked back the tears. He would not cry. Not in front of Kyron. When he was alone, he could do that, but now when Kyron was there.
“Hey, Eric.” Kyron shifted from the chair to sit on the bed, his hand never leaving Eric’s. “You can cry, you know. I won’t judge you less for it.”
But Eric was thrown by how close Kyron was. Their thighs were touching, and Eric could feel how warm Kyron was through the sheet and his jeans. He was much more solid than Eric remembered. And he smelled different. A new aftershave? Whatever it was, it made Eric want to lean in and take a deep sniff.
He needed to get a grip. Eric swallowed back the hard lump in his throat.
“I’m glad you’re dealing with this, Kyron.”
Kyron gave him a small smile and he squeezed Eric’s hand.
“Same here. Listen, I can take your statement another time.”