by Sloan Parker
I stood in the kitchen, staring into a pan of caramel sauce I’d just finished preparing when I heard the front door open. I wasn’t sure if it was Luke or Richard until I caught the scent of his crisp, woodsy cologne as he stepped up behind me, pressing his solid, tall body against mine.
Richard.
He folded his arms across my chest and kissed my cheek. That simple touch sent a wave of contentment through me.
I reached up and laid an open palm at the base of his neck. He tenderly swept his hands down my abs, along the fronts of my thighs, then back up.
Everything between us felt normal, but I couldn’t completely keep the doubts at bay. Did holding me like this come naturally to him? Or did he have to force himself to touch me? Was he so worried about me that he was burying his feelings of uncertainty when it came to physical contact between us so as not to hurt me?
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered against my ear.
“For what? Making dinner?”
“For how strong you’ve been. I know how much you wanted that job.”
“I don’t care about that. I’m just… sad.” I turned and laid my head against his chest.
He stroked a hand up and down my back. “I know.”
“Thank you. For everything, for touching me the way you used to.”
He shifted me backward and bent until he had our foreheads pressed together. “It wasn’t only you who’d been wanting that.”
I heard the front door open, but Richard didn’t move away from me. A moment later Luke sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, watching us. “That sauce is going to burn.”
Richard kept his green-eyed gaze locked on mine as he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t care.” He moistened his lower lip and watched my mouth in return. With the subtle hint of end-of-the-day stubble on his face and that decisive look, he exuded masculinity and strength. I was vibrating, wanting him to kiss me so badly.
The doorbell rang, and he grunted out a curse. “Tell whoever it is to go away.”
Luke laughed as he stood and crossed the room. “On it.”
As if he hadn’t been kidding, Richard leaned in and kissed me, sweetly at first, then deeply, passionately, drawing me against him. I clung to him and kissed him in return.
A moment later, Luke cleared his throat from where he stood in the kitchen doorway. “Matthew, there’s someone here to see you.”
Standing next to Luke was Alex’s son, Tomas. He had a backpack over his shoulders, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of us.
I let go of Richard and shifted back a step. “Hi, Tomas.”
“Hey.” He gave a nod, never letting up with the stunned, almost embarrassed expression like he was still witnessing us kiss. “I was, um… I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute.”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
Richard gestured to the stove with a tilt of his head. “Luke and I’ll keep an eye on dinner.”
“Thanks.” I crossed the room and stopped before Tomas. “I’m very sorry about your dad.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He glanced at the floor and forcibly swallowed. “I got your address from my dad’s files at the center. I wasn’t positive I had your name right, so I called this morning to make sure it was you. Sorry I hung up on you. I thought it’d be better to wait to say anything until I got here.”
“That’s all right. Does your mom know where you are?”
“Yeah. She dropped me off on her way to an appointment here in the city. I told her that you agreed to let me interview you about your vet tech training program for a school paper.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to lie, but I thought she might not let me come if it wasn’t about stuff for school. She’ll be back in two hours to get me. But I uh—” He darted a look around the room, then pointed at the table set for three. “I don’t wanna mess up your dinner.”
“It’s okay. We can go in the other room and talk.” I gestured toward the hall, but he made no move.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” He continued staring at the three sets of plates and silverware. Maybe he needed a minute before he could get to whatever it was he wanted to talk to me about.
I motioned toward the table. “Why don’t you eat with us? We’re having garden salads and enchiladas, and I made a chocolate cheesecake with caramel sauce for dessert. We could talk after.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
He shrugged. “I am kinda starving.”
“Good. Let’s dig in.”
Luke and Richard helped me get the food on the table. We all sat, and Tomas immediately scarfed down several bites. He had a mouthful of enchilada when he finally looked up at where Richard and I sat across from him. He slowed down and swallowed. “Sorry. I didn’t eat much at lunch.”
I shrugged it off. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s real good.” He ducked his head again and had another bite. “My dad’s enchiladas are kinda like this.” He smiled. “But his aren’t as good as yours.”
I wasn’t sure how much I should talk about his dad, but I went with my instincts. “Does he cook for you guys a lot?”
“Yeah. He usually makes dinner most nights. Mom doesn’t really like to cook.” He grew quiet after that and didn’t say much more while we finished eating.
During dessert, Richard told a story about a mix-up at the Harrison Center where a set of football helmets for a local high school were delivered by mistake. Before sending the helmets on to the school, a group of the seniors living at the center started a new hashtag online: #NeverTooOldToRockTheHelmet. They wore the football helmets and shared photos of themselves posed in various states of play like they were in the middle of a game, sometimes in the middle of a tackle. The story held Tomas’s interest, and he seemed grateful for the distraction.
When we were finished with the cheesecake, Luke and Richard cleared the table, and then they headed into the living room so Tomas and I could talk alone. On their way by, I mouthed, thank you.
After they left the room, Tomas gestured behind him. “They’re nice.”
“Yeah, they’re great.”
“So you all live here together?”
“Yep.”
He grabbed his glass of soda and stared down at the dark liquid. “When I got here earlier…”
“Yeah?”
“That was some kiss.” He seemed to want to say more, but he remained quiet, taking a long guzzle of the soda instead, then staring into the glass once more.
Again I went with my instincts. “You ever kiss someone? Maybe a special guy at school?”
His head shot up. “You know? About me? That I’m—” He didn’t say the rest. Which I understood. Especially if he’d never said it out loud before. The first time was the hardest.
“Your dad mentioned it to me.”
His jaw dropped. “My dad knows?”
I nodded and leaned forward with my elbows on the table. “Sometimes our parents know before we’re even sure ourselves.”
“What did he say? Was he okay about it?”
“Yeah. He made a point of mentioning you because he wanted me to know that he was a big supporter of gay rights.”
“Oh.” Tomas set his glass on the table. “I wish he was here.”
“Me too. You don’t think he left, do you?”
“He didn’t!” His eyes were filled with fierce determination. “I think he got hurt or something. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. The sheriff needs to look for him again.” Tomas sat forward, leaning his arms on the table in a replica of my pose. “No one will listen to me. I know where he probably was that day. He’s still gotta be out there. He was upset, really upset. He and Mom had a fight the night before, and they never fight. He wanted time alone. Which means he went somewhere he loved.”
“And your dad loves that park.”
“He does. He knows all the best spots. Places far away from the touristy stuff.”
�
��When we drove out to release the falcon, he told me about this one spot with a waterfall that wasn’t as easy to get to as some of the other falls. It sounded amazing.”
As if my words confirmed something for Tomas, he reached for his backpack that hung over the back of his chair. He pulled out a stack of photos and a map and set everything on the table. The map was marked with bold black circles. Each circle had a handwritten number and a notation beside it.
He pointed to the map. “I know he was at one of these places. I just know it. But the stupid sheriff called off the search too early. He said they had proof that my dad left town. Which is bullshit!” He abruptly stopped as if his mom was there and would scold him at any moment for the curse. He sank back in the chair. “I want to go find him myself, but I can’t drive and it’d take me forever to hike out there. I’d have to walk for two or three days to get to a lot of these locations, and I…” He trailed off and shrugged.
“You can’t do that to your mom.”
“Yeah. She’s gonna have the baby soon. She wants to go look for him too, but she can’t go with how big she is now.” He longingly stared at the map and photos he’d laid out between us. “I was hoping that maybe if I showed you everything, that you could… I mean, I could tell my dad really liked you when you were at the center, and you seemed to like him.”
“I did. A lot. I was really looking forward to working with him.”
He sat forward again and rushed to say the rest. “Maybe the sheriff will listen to you. I’m just a kid, and he thinks my mom’s too emotional.”
“Tomas… if your dad was in the park that day and something serious happened to him, then…”
He nodded. “You’re saying he might’ve died. I get why you’d think that’s true. But I know my dad. Even if he was hurt, he’d know how to take care of himself.”
“I’m sure he would.”
“And even if…” Tomas’s voice faltered. “I know it’s gotta seem stupid for me to still want them to find him in the park. I mean if he took off, then for sure he’d be okay. But that would mean…” He lowered his head again.
“He wasn’t the dad you thought he was.”
“I’m not just saying that I wanna believe he loved me and my mom and wouldn’t leave us. I know it.” He held my stare. “My dad is still in that park. And he’s alive.”
I gestured to the map and photos. “Show me what you got, and I’ll talk to the sheriff.”
Tomas smiled and sat taller, relief rolling off him. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. And if he doesn’t do anything or he won’t listen to me…” I paused to make certain he got that I was serious. “I promise you, Tomas, I’ll find out where your dad is and what happened to him.”
Chapter Sixteen
I sat at the kitchen table, reviewing the map of Majestic Falls State Park with its handwritten numbers and black circles in seemingly random locations. I picked up the photos and leafed through them again. Some featured popular areas of the park—the boat launch along the river and another at the lake, as well as several famous rock formations, cliffs, and the various waterfalls for which the park had been named. Others were shots taken along the hiking trails, with hikers in the background. The rest of the images were of more remote locales deep inside the forest.
Each photo was labeled with a number and a date on the back. Tomas said his dad had started writing a new book about the park to raise awareness of land and wildlife conservation efforts. The photos Tomas had given me were ones his dad had left in his home office with his notes for the book. The numbers were probably Alex’s way of keeping track of all the photos he wanted to use, perhaps coinciding with chapters he was writing. Tomas had used sticky notes on the backs of the photos to mark them with their corresponding locations on the map.
I returned the photos to the table before me and reviewed the map again. A few of the locations were not too far from one of the main roads that ran along Windtree River, close to the wildlife center on the west side of the park. The other locations were strewn all across the park. Several were smack dab in the middle of the vast forest. Only a few walking trails even went that far in. I could see why the sheriff’s deputies and park rangers would’ve had a hard time searching for an individual in those areas.
I sighed and sank back in my chair.
A half hour earlier, I had walked Tomas to his mom’s car at the curb with the promise that I’d do my best to help. He’d been adamant about not telling his mom the real reason he’d come to see me because he didn’t want to get her hopes up that I’d be able to figure out what happened to her husband.
I wasn’t sure that I’d actually be able to accomplish anything, but I had to try.
As I was going over the materials from Tomas again, Richard and Luke came into the kitchen and sat opposite me.
“Tomas thinks his dad got hurt in the park and is still out there somewhere.”
Richard gave a nod. “He wants your help to find out for sure?”
“Yeah.”
“So,” Luke said, “what can we do?”
“You want to help?”
“Of course.”
I looked to Richard.
“Absolutely. Do you have any ideas?”
“Tomas thought maybe if I talked to the sheriff, I could convince him to take another look at these locations.” I indicated the map, then told them about Alex’s fight with Natalie. “Tomas said he knows where his dad would’ve gone when he wanted to be alone after something like that.”
“Did Tomas talk to the police?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, he tried to show this map to the sheriff when they first reported Alex missing, but I don’t think the sheriff took him seriously. He told Tomas they were doing the search the way he and the park rangers thought it should be conducted.”
Neither said anything for a beat. Then Luke spoke, his voice low. “So the kid thinks they missed finding his dad, alive or not?”
“Yeah. And the truck he drove and his red backpack. Tomas says Alex takes that pack with him whenever he heads out into the park.”
Richard sat forward. Resting his forearms on the table, he clasped his hands together. “You going to contact the sheriff?”
“I called his office after Tomas left. I tried to be vague and not let on how I knew about the locations from the map, but the sheriff guessed right off that Tomas had talked to me.” I shook my head in defeat. “I didn’t want to lie.”
“Of course not.”
“But maybe I should have. Sheriff Emerson said they’re not spending any more money or resources searching the park for someone who most likely ran out on his family. He said they’d already looked for days. They had teams with search and rescue dogs, and a helicopter doing aerial searches over the areas they didn’t cover on foot. There was no sign of him or his truck. They went through Alex’s computer and personal items at the center and his home. They found evidence that he and Natalie were having financial problems.”
Richard sighed. “Add in their fight, and it probably gave the sheriff more reason to assume Alex took off.”
I nodded. “I believe Tomas. I think Alex was injured somehow.” I was afraid they weren’t going to like the next part, but all I saw from them was genuine support. “I want to go talk to the sheriff in person. Maybe if I put a little more pressure on him, he’ll reconsider.”
Richard tapped his thumbs together, then stopped. “If Alex got hurt the day he first went missing over two weeks ago, chances are good he might’ve died out there.”
“He’s alive. I don’t know how I know that. I just do. He’s still alive.”
Richard studied me for a long moment. “Then why don’t we all go talk to the sheriff? Together.”
“You’d do that? You guys would go with me?”
“You bet,” Richard said with a nod. “How about we head there first thing tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll let the sheriff know that we plan to go to the
press and tell them he ignored evidence from the family. Maybe that’ll get his ass in gear.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sheriff Pat Emerson sat behind his desk, not saying a word, just leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, the pads of his thumbs pressed together, a disapproving glare locked in place.
He was a big guy, burly, but not overweight. More of an athletic build that indicated he didn’t spend all his time behind that desk. His forehead had the hard vertical lines of someone who scowled a lot. I wasn’t sure if he could tell the three of us were gay and in a relationship or if he was trying to determine our intentions as he carefully examined me, then Luke and Richard on either side of me.
I didn’t care what he thought of us. I’d come for his help, and I wasn’t leaving without it.
He sat forward, his hands slapping the surface of the desk. “Let me see if I’ve got this right.” He pointed at me. “You want me to waste more taxpayer dollars looking for a man and his truck when there’s every reason to believe he took off on his own—stealing the truck from his employer, by the way—all based on the word of his kid?”
I went to answer, but Richard beat me to it. “We expect you to do your job.”
That got Richard another hardened glare. Emerson eventually eased up on him. He slid open his top desk drawer, shaking his head, and removed a pack of chewing gum. He unwrapped two pieces and popped them into his mouth.
Despite the youthful nature of that move, Emerson had to be in his late fifties, detectable only by the gray in his hair and the lines on his face. He walked with a poised, assertive stride like he figured he’d have to jump in and break up a brawl at any moment. When we’d first gotten there and the clerk notified him about our arrival, he hadn’t offered a smile or his hand in greeting. He was all about getting down to business, but not in an annoyed way. More like he didn’t want anyone to think he’d missed something on this case. So without a word, he’d led us to his private office, which sat in the corner of a sizable open room filled with metal desks and hordes of computers, printers, and fax machines.