Suspicious Behavior

by L. A. Witt

  Before I started the car, I remembered to check my messages. There was only one new one. “Hey, Darren.” I almost dropped the phone. “It’s Melissa. Listen, I know you’re busy, but I was hoping we could connect before I leave.” Her exit couldn’t be soon enough. “Please give me a call. I’d love to . . . You know, Asher, he talks about you all the time, and I. Well. It would just be really nice to see you again. Thanks. Bye for now.”

  I deleted the message. It was probably petty—no, it was definitely petty—but I didn’t care. Melissa was so far down on my list of priorities right now that she didn’t even get a footnote. I threw the phone onto the passenger seat, then started up the car.

  I had a partner to retrieve.

  Darren was late. Only a few minutes but, admittedly, enough to worry me. With anyone else, I’d have been irritated—not many things pissed me off more than someone who was unreliable. But Darren was reliable. He’d just been . . . forgetting things lately. Little things, mostly. Where his keys were. Whether he’d scheduled something for tomorrow or the next day. Where a case file had gone when it was literally in his hand.

  Given the stress he was under and his slow recovery from the stabbing, it was understandable.

  Given what his brother was going through right now, it was also unnerving.

  Blowing out a breath, I glanced at my watch again. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d been meeting with Luanne Garcia, for God’s sake, and I’d even warned him that she’d talk his ear off. If I knew Darren, he was trying to bow out as politely as he could because he hadn’t mastered the art of being an asshole.

  Still, there was a nagging worry in the back of my mind. I had visions of him already at home, dropping in front of the TV with a beer or a painkiller, depending on how he felt tonight, with zero recollection that I was still here.

  No, that wasn’t possible. Even if he had the gene for his brother’s condition, it wouldn’t come on that fast. He might forget to pick me up, but he’d remember once he got back to his place and realized I wasn’t there. I hoped.

  Footsteps on the hard floor caught my attention, and when I turned around, Darren was striding into the conference room.

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “You were right about Luanne. She talked me into staying for a few games.”

  I laughed as I got up, keeping my relief under the surface. Darren would never sleep again if he knew I was as worried as he was about that damn disease. “So did you get anything useful?”

  “Besides this?” He held up his phone, and on the screen was a photo of a dark Lincoln. “This is Luanne’s car, and you’ll never guess who’s driving.”

  I took the phone and looked closer. “I’ll be damned.” Scowling, I handed the phone back. “Still circumstantial. It’s not enough to charge him. And my gut tells me he’s slippery enough that if we don’t get our hands on him sooner than later, we’re going to lose sight of him.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Hmm?”

  Darren fidgeted. “We don’t have enough to charge him, but there’s nothing that says we can’t bring him in for a lineup. Especially since we have someone who saw his face.”

  I mulled it over for a moment. “A lineup would give us a reason to bring him in off the streets. If she IDs him, then . . .” I nodded. “Good idea.”

  “Question is, do we do it before or after the family interviews? You set those up for tomorrow, right?”

  He remembered. Thank God. “Yeah. First is at eight.”

  Darren blinked. “Wait, does that mean we . . . There’s nothing else we can do tonight?”

  “Not unless there’s a new development somewhere, no.”

  “So we could . . . relax for once?”

  Just the suggestion made my whole body ache with the fatigue I’d been ignoring all day. All week, if I was honest. “Yeah. I think we can.”

  He smiled, a faintly suggestive gleam in his eyes. “Maybe we should get the fuck out of here, then.”

  Exhaustion or no, serial killer on the loose or not, there was no way in hell we were passing up a rare night of precious downtime.

  Which meant the second we’d closed Darren’s apartment door behind us, he grabbed me, pinned me up against it, and kissed me. Every bone in my body ached with fatigue, but I wasn’t stopping for anything. Not after this long. He’d been right here in front of me all this time, but . . . out of reach.

  God, I’ve missed you.

  I held him tighter, and he kissed me even harder. If ever there was a moment when I realized with absolute certainty that he’d recovered from his attack, this was it—when he was turned on and that near-violent sexual aggression came out. When his nails dug into my skin through my clothes and his kiss was so demanding it almost hurt. It seemed like eons ago that we’d found ourselves here, in this exact same apartment, making out and hell-bent on getting into bed without being interrupted again, and I’d realized I had a power top on my hands. Yes, please. After four fucking years without being touched? God, yes.

  Our jackets landed somewhere in the hallway. My shirt wasn’t far behind. Somehow, he still had his on when I dragged him down onto the bed on top of me, but that didn’t last long. Finally, I had my hands on his skin—carefully avoiding the tender place that was still healing—and his very hard cock pressed against mine. We still had pants on, but . . . oh fucking well. For once we had a whole night to ourselves, and I intended to use it.

  I ran my fingers through his hair, and he moaned, so I did it again. This time I pulled a little, and was rewarded with a full-body shudder.

  He broke the kiss and leaned down to kiss my neck, and it was my turn to shudder. His five-o’clock shadow burned against my collarbone, and more than once I was sure he was going to bite my neck.

  Bring it. Leave all the marks you want. I want to still feel this next week.

  I reached between us and fumbled with his belt. He lifted his hips just enough to let me unbuckle it, and then out of nowhere, his hand slid over the front of my pants, and I forgot how belt buckles worked. Fuck it. I left it half undone and went back to running my fingers through his hair. A groan vibrated against my neck. Jesus, I couldn’t wait to feel that again when he was balls-deep in me. Forget taking our time. I needed him right—

  Darren froze.

  So did I. “What?”

  Then I heard it—a muffled ringtone. One I’d come to recognize all too well.

  He exhaled hard. My heart sank.

  Cursing under his breath, he pushed himself up. “Shit.”

  “You should take that,” I whispered, drawing back a little to give him some room.

  If it had been any other ringtone, he probably would’ve at least held out for a few more seconds, but he just swore again and took the phone from his pocket. “Hey, Mom. What’s—” His eyes lost focus. Her voice sounded frantic, and every syllable added more tension to his stiffening body. I swore that whenever one of these calls came, I could watch him slowly tense up like he was turning to stone.

  He wiped a hand over his face and exhaled. “They can’t give him something to— Okay, okay. But they’ve—” The stone-like tension gave way to something much worse—slow, heavy resignation pushing down on his shoulders and his spine. “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I’d known it was coming, and it was still a kick in the balls. He couldn’t catch a break. Hell, we couldn’t.

  He hung up his phone and slid it into his pocket. As he fixed his belt, he said, “It’s my brother. He’s freaking out and asking for me, and the only way he’ll calm down is—”

  “Darren.”

  He met my gaze.

  “Go.” I kissed him lightly. “This can wait.”

  He swallowed. “But for how long?”

  Oh, now wasn’t that a good question?

  “Long as it needs to.” I handed him his shirt. “Go.”

  He hesitated, but then kissed me and rolled to his feet. As he put on his shirt, he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.
This could . . . this could take a while.”

  “I know.” I rose and put a hand on his waist. “He obviously needs you right now, though.”

  Our eyes met.

  Yes, I need you right now too.

  But we both know the clock is ticking fast with Asher.

  Go.

  One more kiss, and he was gone.

  The front door closed behind him, and I sat on the edge of the bed. Well . . . now what? I had an evening to myself, and no idea what to do with it.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. Well, at least there was one mess I could try to clean up tonight.

  I was halfway through a cup of coffee when my daughter walked into the diner.

  “Hey.” She slid into the booth across from me.

  “Hey.” I tapped my fingers on the saucer. “I hope this isn’t too late for you.”

  “No. It’s fine.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know you’re busy.”

  I winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to blow you off and—”

  “Dad.” She put up a hand. “I get it. I work where you do—I see it. It’s okay.”

  I wanted to argue that it wasn’t. She was in town for the first time in a long time, and I’d barely seen her. And I’d only seen my youngest daughter once—briefly—in the last month and a half. I FaceTimed with my boys sometimes but, with a twist of guilt in my chest, realized I couldn’t remember the last time. Definitely needed to chat with them soon.

  The first conversation I’d had with my field training officer, the man who took me out on my very first patrols twenty years and some change ago, echoed in my ears:

  “You’re married, eh?”

  “Yeah. Got a baby on the way.”

  “Well, good luck. Because let me tell you something about cops, Andreas.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You can be a good cop, or you can be a good father and husband.” He’d shaken his head sadly. “Aren’t many people who can be both.”

  If a heart attack hadn’t dropped him ten years ago—six months after he’d retired—I’d have bought him a beer just so I could tell him how right he was.

  The waitress brought Erin some coffee and refilled mine. After she took our orders and left, I sat back and looked my daughter in the eye. “So now that we’re here—what did you want to talk about?”

  “Well, everything, I guess. It’s . . .” She cradled her coffee cup between her hands. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in. It was weird enough when Emily was born because . . .” She laughed softly. “You don’t really think of your dad dating, you know?”

  “Your mother dated.”

  “Yeah, but I was there and met her boyfriends. I knew John for two years before they got married. But with you I thought you were just, like, married to your job. Then suddenly you’ve got a girlfriend who’s having a baby.” She sighed, setting the coffee cup down. “And now I find out you’ve got HIV and a boyfriend and . . .” Erin rubbed her eyes, looking about as exhausted as I felt. “It’s hard to put all of that together with my dad, you know?”

  Guilt turned my stomach. “I know. And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you kids sooner, especially that I was positive, but I . . .” I scratched the back of my neck and exhaled. “Even after almost five years, it’s a tough thing to admit to myself.”

  She held her coffee cup tighter. “You’ve been treated, though, right?”

  I nodded. “Like I said, my viral load is undetectable. Has been for a while.”

  “So, you’re not sick.”

  “No. To be honest, the only problems I’ve had have been from the medications. Just a few side effects here and there.” My forearm itched, as if to remind me of the place I’d cut open on a fence after the damn drugs had made me black out. “Still get kind of dizzy once in a while, but it’s better.”

  “Good. That’s good. And Lisa—she’s okay too?”

  “Yeah. Both of our doctors have said there’s a good chance we’ll live normal, long lives and die of something else.” Like a bullet on the job, but I’m not spelling that out to my kid. “This isn’t the 1980s anymore, thank God.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I’ve been, um, reading about it. Since we talked.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “I was scared. I wanted to know what was going to happen.” She released a long breath. “It’s definitely less scary than it was when I was in school.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  The conversation hit a lull, but it wasn’t the awkward, unnerving silence we’d had between us recently, so I couldn’t complain. At least some good had come from this evening, and I hoped like hell things weren’t terrible for Darren, but deep down, I knew they were. The calls from his mom were going to get more urgent. The trips to the home were going to get more stressful. Things were going to get a lot worse, and God help me, I had no idea what to do to help. Or if there was anything I could do.

  I shook myself and picked up my coffee again. Right now, my daughter needed me, and I needed to focus on her, no matter how hard it was not to go over to the home and wait for Darren to come out.

  “Anyway,” I said after a while. “It’s manageable. And managed. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

  “No, but it’s something we need to know about.” She paused. “Are you going to tell Ben and Casey?”

  I winced. “Eventually. I just don’t know if I should throw everything at them at once, or let the part about the HIV sink in before I tell them I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think the boyfriend will bother them all that much. Casey’s best friend has been out for years, and Ben was best man at his friend’s wedding over the summer.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “Huh.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Different generation.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She smiled cautiously. “So, as long as I’m in town, do I get to meet your boyfriend?”

  “Um, well.” I shifted on the bench and cleared my throat. “You, uh . . . you have met him. Several times.”

  Without missing a beat, she said, “Darren?”

  I blinked. “How’d you—”

  “Oh come on, Dad.” Erin rolled her eyes. “You walk around the precinct glaring at everybody, and the second Darren walks in the room, it’s like someone flips a switch in you and you’re suddenly almost a pleasant human being.”

  I chuckled as I brought my cup to my lips. “Better than little hearts floating over my head, I guess?”

  “With you, that’s basically the same thing.”

  I choked on my coffee, nearly spitting it on her.

  Erin giggled. “Don’t act like you don’t know it’s true.”

  I coughed a few times, and when I was sure I could breathe, said, “Fair enough.” I took another sip, which I didn’t choke on this time, and set the cup down. “So when did you figure it out?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was talking to Darren after the last time we talked, and kind of started putting it together.”

  “You sure you don’t want to be a cop? You’re getting good at this.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not if being a cop means spending hours and hours going through lists of grocery store transactions.”

  “Well.” I laughed quietly. “It’s not all exciting and interesting. And sometimes . . .” My humor faded, and I dropped my gaze into my coffee. “Sometimes that’s a good thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the excitement isn’t just catching the bad guys and bringing them to justice.” I looked at her again. “There’s a reason we carry guns. And sometimes we have to use them.”

  Erin studied me. “Have you ever . . .?”

  Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  She shuddered. “Really?”

  “Yeah. And if I never have to do it again, it’ll be too soon.” I forced back the nausea that always burned in my
throat when I thought about this. “I thought that was the worst part of the job. Really did. But it’s not.”

  She sat up a little straighter, eyeing me uneasily. “What is?”

  I took a deep swallow of coffee, both to keep that nausea at bay and to give myself a moment to form an answer that hopefully wouldn’t keep her awake at night like it did me. Setting the cup down with a quiet clink, I said, “There’s a lot of shit I could say is the worst part of the job, and on any given day, it is the worst. You see kids getting hurt. Sometimes the bad guy gets away. You don’t always get in fast enough to save innocent people.” I exhaled. “In recent memory? I’d say the worst thing was when Darren was stabbed.”

  Erin squirmed. “Were you there?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t see it happen because I—” I caught myself. She didn’t need to know the details of me brawling with someone to wrestle away a gun that could have, if things had happened just slightly differently, killed me. “Everything went down pretty fast. And when it was over, there was nothing I could do except hope we got him to the hospital in time.”

  “Which you did.”

  “Thank God,” I breathed. “So, yeah. Sometimes the job is boring as shit. But believe me, when you’ve been at it for a while, the boredom is its own blessing.”

  “No kidding,” she said quietly. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about having this conversation with my kid. It was a relief to find a connection with her, and be able to talk about things, especially after some of our recent discussions. But was this really the best route?

  I cleared my throat again. “Anyway. So that’s . . . kind of the reality of being a cop.”

  “Yeah, no, I think I’ll pass.” She sipped her coffee. “Wow. I guess it’s like everything else—I knew you were a single guy, so it makes sense you’d be dating even though I never thought about it. And you’re a cop, so it makes sense you’d . . . see things. But we’ve been so far apart, it’s kind of a shock, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It’s been tough for me too. Ever since you all moved out of state, I don’t see much of your lives anymore. It was kind of a shock when I heard Ben was moving in with his girlfriend, because I didn’t even know he was dating.”