“What’s that?” Tuck asked groggily.
Bobby unfolded the note and handed it to him with a few pieces of the gum. “Nathan’s last riddle. The inscription that was to go on the bust he ordered from Odis. We can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Tuck opened the gum and put it in his mouth before reading over the printout.
turn around the sine, fluff the feathers and freshen the nest
treasure Be un-mined, upon our Early Day of the past
“Well, it has something to do with your bedroom, I would guess.”
“How do you get that?” Bobby asked.
“The nest part. It’s usually a metaphor for a place to sleep, like a bedroom.” Tuck peered carefully over it and then chuckled when he spotted something. He handed the note back to Bobby, saying, “Look at the only capital letters.”
Bobby read aloud, “Be Early Day?”
“B-E-D,” Tuck said with a nod. “So, definitely your bed.”
Chuckling, Bobby shook his head. “God, that seems so obvious now. How did Odie and I miss it?”
“Prob’ly ’cause ya were too focused on the meanings of the words. Didn’t actually look at the structure or patterns,” Tuck said with a smile.
“Okay, genius,” Bobby said with a teasing smile, “what about the rest of it?”
“I’m sure those are clues that’ll make sense once we find out whatever it is about the bed. You said this was supposed to go on a bust?”
“Yes. Bastard was gonna have Odie deliver a bust of his own head, with that inscription, in July, for our anniversary.”
Tuck crinkled his lips. “Gods, that’s kinda—creepy.”
“Tell me about it. I’d have been a basket case had it just shown up unannounced.” Bobby folded up the paper and put it back in his duffel. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see. But definitely need to take a close look at that bed when we get there.”
Nodding, Tuck reached over and patted Bobby’s hand. “Then we will.” He glanced over at the closed window shade. “Can you open that?”
Bobby glanced over at the window, then back at Tuck. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Tuck said with a smile. “I’m fine now. I’d like to see.”
“Okay,” Bobby said with a touch of hesitation in his voice as he reached over and raised the shade.
“Wow,” Tuck said as he leaned over and peered out at the crystal-blue sky cluttered with bulbous clouds. “That is so freakin’ beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it,” Bobby agreed as he looked out. He turned back to Tuck. “We’ve still got a ways to go. Why don’t we try and nap for a bit?”
“Sure,” Tuck agreed as he settled back.
Bobby nestled in and closed his eyes, hoping the landing would go as smoothly for Tuck as the takeoff had. They both soon dozed.
Later, they landed without incident. Tuck actually slept through it and didn’t awaken until the plane decelerated on the runway.
Bobby grinned over at Tuck as his grass-green eyes blinked blearily. “Welcome to Boston.”
Chapter 30
TUCK gaped as they approached Bobby’s house. The guarded gate at the entrance to his neighborhood was impressive enough, but seeing the huge house at the end of the long driveway left him speechless.
“It’s not all mine,” Bobby told him. “All this and to the east is a park. My part is just the house and half-circle drive.”
“Still.” Tuck gazed around, wide-eyed. “It’s quite a house. Why such a big one?”
“Nate wanted it. At one point, he had plans for lots of kids.”
“But you never did? Get kids, I mean?”
“No, he suddenly dropped the idea about ten years ago. Guess he saw they weren’t in the future anymore.”
Bobby pulled the Prius into the giant garage. After grabbing their bags, Bobby led Tuck into the house. Tuck tried not to stare at the dirt bikes, two other covered vehicles, and plethora of other items on the way to the door.
As they moved through the hall to the living room, Tuck paused to look at the pictures hanging on the wall. He stopped when he saw a framed photo of Bobby and another man, taken a few years before, from the looks of it. The other man’s reddish-brown hair and taller build made him freeze. “That’s Nathan?” he asked while pointing at the photo.
Bobby backed up and looked at the photo. “Yeah. That was taken right before his dad died.”
“Shit,” Tuck hissed. “That’s the guy who ran into me.”
“What?”
“Yep, sure is,” Tuck said as he took one last look at the photo, then took his bags to the living room.
“When was this? Where did you see him?” Bobby asked as he dropped his bags by the couch and led Tuck into the kitchen.
“Like I said, he ran into me. Literally.”
Bobby retrieved two beers from the refrigerator and motioned for Tuck to sit at the counter bar when he handed one of the bottles to him. “Literally? What do you mean?”
Tuck nodded as he opened his beer. He had to hold the bottle against his chest with the cast and use his free hand to twist the top. The maneuver was almost becoming second nature now. “About… six years ago, I guess.” Tuck took a sip.
“And this was in Texas?”
“Yep,” Tuck said with a nod. “In Jenkins, actually. I’d just gotten a haircut and came out to find a white Mustang parallel parked right in front of me. Barely inches of a gap.”
“Damn,” Bobby spit out. “He drove his own fuckin’ car to Texas? This must have been during the season. I don’t remember him ever taking a trip like that.”
Tuck shrugged. “I got into the SUV and was gonna grab my ticket book. Not that I could have written one—legally, anyway, since it was Jenkins—but I wanted to put a scare into whoever did such a lousy parking job.”
Tuck paused and took another sip. Bobby gazed over at him. “Were you in uniform?”
“Think I was.” Tuck nodded. “I’d just sat down in the SUV when I felt the jolt. I looked up to see that damn Mustang had backed right into my cruiser. I immediately jumped out to confront that idiot driver.”
Bobby chuckled. “And I bet you looked so happy and cheerful too.”
Tuck smirked. “Right. I checked and didn’t see any damage to either vehicle. It was more of just a bump than actually hitting me. And Nathan got out, all apologetic. I remember those hazel eyes of his, almost yellow-green, the way they glowed as he yammered away with that thick Massachusetts accent, trying to talk his way out of a ticket.”
“He could really be a charmer,” Bobby said wistfully.
“And I remember he kept touching me on the right forearm. Which I thought, at the time, was pretty damn ballsy. Most people wouldn’t dare touch a cop in that kind of situation. I can’t think of anybody else ballsy enough to ever touch me like that.”
“Was kind of a thing for him, touching I mean. Always touching everybody. I’m guessing now, that’s part of how his vision worked.” Bobby sighed. “So you let him off?”
Tuck chuckled. “Like I said, couldn’t have written a ticket anyway, but I gave him a thorough what-for over being so damn careless.”
“Then he left?”
“I had to back up first to give him room to maneuver out. But there was something he said before he got back in the Mustang. I’m trying to remember it.”
“Oh.” Bobby smiled crookedly. “Was it one of those half-baked off-the-wall statements that didn’t seem relevant?”
Tuck nodded.
“I got those a lot.” Bobby nodded. “Of course, now I know it was his way of trying to clue me in to something he saw, usually a warning or a nudge of some kind.”
Tuck leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. “What in Valhalla was it?” he asked himself aloud as Bobby fetched two more beers.
“Real estate,” Tuck nearly yelled out as he sat up again. “He said, ‘Take into account all the real estate you’ve forgotten’ as he got in his car.”
Bobby smirked.
“More cryptic bullshit.”
“I guess,” Tuck said as he clutched the new bottle to his chest and opened it. “Speaking of cryptic bullshit, maybe we should go check on that bed.”
“Yeah, sure,” Bobby said. He got up and led the way up the stairs. He paused at the entrance to the master suite, letting Tuck stroll into the room first.
“Wow,” Tuck said as he glanced around at the rich furnishings. “Was he a decorator?”
“No,” Bobby said as he shook his head and stepped in. “Just landscaping. I’m sure he hired one, though.”
Tuck set his beer on the nightstand. “What did that poem say? Something about fluffing the feathers?”
“Shit,” Bobby said with a sigh. “It’s still downstairs in my duffel. I’ll run and get it.”
After Bobby left, Tuck pulled the pillows out of the covering spread and gave them a quick examination. Because he couldn’t grip them with his casted hand, he had to use his mouth to bite the satiny cases and slip them off the pillows so he could check for any hidden writing.
Bobby returned. “Right. It says, ‘fluff the feathers and freshen the nest’.”
“Well, it’s not the pillows,” Tuck said over his shoulder. “Maybe the mattress?”
Going around to the other side, Bobby yanked off the covers and sheets. They didn’t see anything on top of the mattress. Bobby lifted his side as Tuck slid the mattress toward him so they could flip it over.
“Wait,” Bobby said. “Pull it off.”
Tuck grabbed the mattress as best he could with one hand and steered it as Bobby pushed from the other side and forced it to the floor. Tuck could see the plywood square that had caught Bobby’s attention in the center of the bed’s lower platform-style box frame.
Tuck stepped around to Bobby’s side. “What’s that?” Tuck asked. “A trap door?”
“Don’t know.” Bobby kneeled onto the frame and lifted the loose plywood. “Nathan redecorated in here two years ago, while I was on the road,” he said while moving the square of plywood then setting it aside on the floor.
Underneath, they found a firesafe door, one of the old-fashioned kinds with a turn knob for the combination. “Well, that fucker.” Bobby nearly giggled. “I never knew this was here.”
Tuck chuckled. “Now the part about turning makes sense. So the combination must be in the poem too.”
“Right,” Bobby said, nodding as he read over the note again. “Upon our early day of the past,” he read aloud. “Which day?”
Tuck sat on the edge of the box frame and peered over. “You said you were supposed to get this on your anniversary? Try that date.”
“Right,” Bobby said with a nod, and he turned the dial to seven, then four, and ended on the current year. He pulled at the bar, but it didn’t move.
“No,” Tuck cut in. “Early day. The year you actually met.”
“Right!” Bobby said with enthusiasm as he redialed the numbers using the earlier year. He pulled on the bar, and this time it swung across with a click. He lifted open the safe door, holding his breath in anticipation of what “treasure” they might find.
His excitement soon deflated when all they saw was an eight-by-eleven manila envelope sitting on top of a stack of notebooks. Hundreds of notebooks, from the looks of it.
Tuck started laughing aloud, almost guffawing with throaty barks as he pulled out the envelope.
“This isn’t fuckin’ funny,” Bobby nearly spit.
“Don’t you see?” Tuck said as he pulled out the top notebook, with the dates August to October clearly written across the front. “The bust was symbolic. These are his journals. His mind.” Tuck laughed again. “Even in the poem, he used the homonym ‘un-mined’.”
“Fuck you, Nathan,” Bobby growled in frustration.
“Stud,” Tuck said in a soothing voice as he started pulling out notebooks, “you wanted some answers. Here they are. He prob’ly wrote down everything he ever saw and why he did or didn’t do whatever about it.”
Bobby looked at the growing stack of books next to Tuck as he retrieved them from the safe. Nathan’s choice of documentation material seemed very inconsistent. Some of them were simply written on yellow legal-style pads. Others were done in fancier three-ring binders. Deeper into the stack, others were done in spiral-wired notebooks, and he even saw a few of those bright-blue college composition-style notebooks.
Down at the very bottom, Bobby noticed some bright-red covers. He reached in and yanked out two of the Big Chief primer writing notebooks, dated from when Nathan was only five years old. “Holy shit,” Bobby whispered. “He wrote down everything,” he said with a touch of awe in his voice.
“Sure looks like it,” Tuck said with a nod. He held out the manila envelope to Bobby. “This must be his final note.”
Bobby wobbled his head without taking the envelope. “Let’s take it downstairs. I need another beer.”
“Okay,” Tuck said. He clutched the envelope to his chest with the cast and grabbed his bottle from the nightstand before following Bobby out of the room.
They settled back at the kitchen counter. Tuck slid the manila envelope over to Bobby.
“No,” Bobby said as he shook his head. “You read it.”
“But, he left it for you,” Tuck argued. “You should read it.”
“Then read it aloud,” Bobby said firmly.
Tuck sighed, opened the envelope, and slipped out half a dozen printout pages of words. He cleared his throat. “Hey, lover.” Tuck paused and looked up. “You sure you want me to read it?”
“Yes,” Bobby hissed out, still feeling a bit disappointed at the paltry findings in the safe. “Or I’ll throw the fucking thing in the trash.”
Tuck cleared his throat and started again. “Hey, lover. I know you’ve spent the last months utterly pissed at me because of the things I’ve kept from you. And I know it will be at least a year after finding this note before you can appreciate my final gift. Right now, you probably don’t even want to look at them, but eventually you will. New paragraph. I’m not sure when you might see this note. The window of possibility is open from as early as April to as late as August, depending on how things roll out.”
Tuck paused to take a sip of beer and nearly spit it out when he silently read ahead to the next line.
“What?” Bobby asked as Tuck took another sip.
“But if Tuck is the one reading this to you, then even though Tuck may disagree as he rubs his cast”—Tuck scowled as he yanked his left hand away from his right arm, pulling his fingers off the Velcro strap he absently fiddled with—“things really have rolled out by the best scenario.”
“Bastard,” Bobby said.
“New paragraph. I’ve really hated keeping all this secret from you. So many days, I had to fight not to spill my guts about the aneurism or my visions. But Sharon helped keep me on track. Not so much directly, but the memory of how it changed our relationship back when I had that weak moment and spilled everything to her back in high school kept me steady.”
“Stop,” Bobby said as he scowled. “High school? I thought he met her in college. Damn liars, the both of them,” he spit out. “Will these secrets ever fuckin’ stop?”
Tuck reached out and took Bobby’s hand, offering his support. “I think they’re stopping now.” Tuck held up the stack of pages as evidence. “He’s got a lot more to say.”
“Fine,” Bobby said with a tone of defeat. “Read on, then.”
Tuck gazed over at Bobby, then stuck the pages back in the envelope before pulling Bobby over into the crook of his armpit. “We can do this later.”
“Sure,” Bobby agreed as he nestled against Tuck’s chest and rested his head on the man’s shoulder. “Later sounds good.”
Tuck hugged him closer, enjoying the feel of Bobby in his arms. “Later,” he said with a hard sigh.
Bobby rotated around and looked up at Tuck. “Are you upset with me?”
“Why the hell would I be?” Tuck asked. “It must hu
rt like a bitch hearin’ Nate’s words from the grave, so to speak.”
“No.” Bobby shook his head. “Not that.”
“Then what, stud?” Tuck asked in sincere confusion as he gazed down at Bobby.
“I never answered you when you said that on the plane.”
Tuck continued looking down in confusion.
“When you said you love me.”
“Oh. That.” Tuck hugged Bobby with a tighter squeeze briefly. “Not upset at all. I hadn’t even thought about it ’til ya brought it up. I don’t expect ya to feel obligated.”
Bobby nestled against Tuck and bit down on a yawn.
Sitting up, Tuck patted his shoulder. “We should get the bed back together and get our bags upstairs. I think you need a nap.”
“The bed’s fine the way it is. I actually staked out one of the guest bedrooms.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go upstairs,” Tuck said as he leaned Bobby upright and pulled him to his feet.
“Yeah, a nap sounds good,” Bobby agreed as he followed Tuck to the living room. They picked up their bags and took them up the stairs. Bobby led Tuck down the hall to the guest room.
After fishing his phone from the duffel bag, Bobby set it on the charger and put the duffel aside. Tuck set his bags on the other side of the bed and started removing his shirt.
“Curtains,” Bobby said as he moved over to the window. He pulled the heavy drapes closed.
“Doesn’t look like anybody could see in,” Tuck said as he gazed out at the expanse of the vacant grassy park before Bobby closed off the view.
“This window’s on the east. Sun gets kind of blinding in the morning. I kept forgetting to close the curtains before bed.”
Stripped down to nothing but his boxer-briefs, Tuck pulled back the bedcovers and climbed in. As he pulled off his own clothes, Bobby noticed the huge egg-shaped bruise on Tuck’s side looked really nasty now, all yellowy and almost green at the edges. It must be feeling better, though—Tuck wasn’t moving about as gingerly as he had before. Bobby stripped himself to nothing but socks and slid into the sheets, then scooted over to Tuck.
“I thought ya wanted a nap?” Tuck teased as Bobby pushed into him with his naked body.
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