Walk a Mile

by Sarah Madison

Jerry straightened, marveling at the ease of that now. There was no pain. There was simply no pain. He snagged Flynn’s arm as he spun on his heel to reenter the bar. “Whoa there, tiger. We need to talk.”

  “What the hell did he do? Are you okay?” Flynn was as angry as Jerry had ever seen him. As angry as when he’d picked up on the thoughts of the kids about to torch Phoenix, after dousing the kitten in gasoline.

  It felt kind of good to know Flynn at least cared about him as much as some random stray cat.

  “I’m fine. Come on.” Jerry headed for the parking lot. “I’ll tell you about it on the way to the police. Paul’s been sexually assaulting the boys on his team, and we’ve got to figure out a way to start an investigation without using the ‘because I said so’ line of evidence.”

  Flynn looked as though he’d much rather go back and pound the shit out of Paul. Hands clenched into fists, he stalked alongside Jerry. “What did he do? What did he say?”

  Jerry realized they had very little to go on. “Not enough, unfortunately. It wasn’t so much what he said as the memories streaming through his mind when he called me, um, you a faggot.”

  Flynn was thunderously silent. The lights on the rental flashed as he used the key fob to unlock the car. Jerry opened his door carefully and squeezed past the van to get into the passenger seat. Buckling his seatbelt, he half turned to face Flynn. “I didn’t say anything to him about us. I think Nancy guesses, though.”

  Flynn’s hand froze on the starter. He was so deep in the soundproof booth, Jerry could hardly make out his features.

  “It was only a matter of time before someone guessed. I mean, we didn’t make a secret of it back in San Francisco.” Anger leapt to the foreground. “I didn’t know we were supposed to be keeping it a secret. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  Can we not talk about this now?

  “Of course, you never want to talk about anything important.” The words rushed out before he could stop them, but he held up a hand as if to halt the torrent. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. This isn’t the right time. Anyway, Paul pushed me into the restroom, accused me of having a relationship with you, and more or less said he needed to give me a lesson. He was working on his belt when I punched him.”

  “Get the fuck out.” Flynn’s disbelief struck Jerry like a physical blow until he added, “Right there in the bar? I mean, he seriously thought he could assault you right there in the bar?” He was going to rape you. That sonofabitch. If I get my hands on him….

  Flynn’s side of the car caught some of the light from the back of the building. Jerry saw his open-mouthed look of shock before he grimly tightened his lips again. “But he didn’t say anything specific we can take to the police, did he?”

  “No. I saw it in his mind, though. He also threatened Nancy.”

  “He did what?” No high-pitched squeal this time. The tenor of his tone was quietly lethal. It made the hair on the back of Jerry’s neck stand up. He’d seen Flynn in this mode before, and it wasn’t pretty. Explosively, Flynn slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. “We have to go back inside.”

  “No.” Jerry was a little surprised he could be coldly calculating in all this. Maybe being in Flynn’s body lent him a great degree of self-control. Who knew? Who the fuck cared? “No, we warn her by text, and we report this guy. We’ve got to get him off the street ASAP. If nothing else, I’ll file a complaint for sexual assault. It will be his word against mine, but mine will probably weigh more. If we do that, we might be able to get the investigation to focus on his students as well.” Jerry hesitated. “Chances are, no one will take his accusations seriously, but we do share an apartment, and everyone knows I’m gay. People will talk. They’ll probably put two and two together in such a way that it will be hard to deny. We’ve been able to keep our relationship low-key until now.”

  “I don’t care. We’ve got to stop him.”

  Jerry nodded. He had to say it, though. “It could affect your future at the FBI. It might permanently fracture your relationships with your friends, too.”

  Flynn turned a bleak expression toward him, and Jerry was suddenly reminded of that disastrous mountaineering trip memory in which he’d seen Flynn arguing with Mitchell. What had they been arguing about, anyway?

  “Paul Cunningham is no friend of mine. Anyone who sides with him isn’t either. If he hurts one more boy—”

  “I know. Okay. Let’s go do this.”

  Flynn responded by throwing the car in reverse and peeling backward out of the parking space, cutting the wheel tightly in an effort to turn it around in the small lot.

  “Look out!” Jerry warned a fraction of a second too late. There was a thump, followed by a screech of metal as the end of the rental made contact with the van. Jerry winced at the metallic scraping sound, and then the two vehicles were free of each other.

  “Fuck me!” Flynn slammed the driveshaft into park and got out, engine running. He crossed in front of the headlights to the van. Jerry opened his door and looked out.

  “How bad is it?”

  Flynn was using his cell phone as a light source to inspect the vehicles. “It doesn’t look too bad. There’s a black smudge on the rental from the van’s bumper. Looks like I took a little paint off the van, though. Maybe a bit of a ding.” He turned off the flashlight application on the phone and came back to the driver’s seat.

  “You’re going tell Rick you smashed up his van, right?”

  Flynn buckled himself in, this time looking over his shoulder as he backed up the car and pointed it toward road. “Later. It’s nothing more than a scrape. I’ll make good on it if he wants it fixed. Right now, we need to get to the nearest police station.”

  THE PROCESS took hours. Jerry had plenty of time to reflect that most cop shows never depicted the boring parts of the job, or that the boring bits far outweighed the exciting ones. Fortunately, the precinct had decent coffee. Dumping enough sugar into his mug to stave off the shakes, Jerry felt like he could hold out until he got some food.

  He had texted Nancy a warning on the way to the police station. She had replied, saying she would leave the bar with Becky and go to her hotel for the night. When they’d begun the process of reporting Paul for sexual assault, Jerry was met with less than enthusiastic support for his concerns.

  “Are you really going to try and press charges on this one?” The captain of the precinct had intervened at one point, no doubt scenting FBI blood in the water. “Because all we’ve got is a little dust-up at a bar on a Saturday night. That’s how the assistant DA will see it, and I’m not so sure she wouldn’t be right.” Not to mention Cunningham’s high school isn’t even in this district, which means I’ve got some unpleasant phone calls to make. All because some queer couldn’t hold his beer.

  “I haven’t had anything to drink,” Jerry said. “Test me if you like. Coach Cunningham assaulted me physically, made a verbal threat against Ms. Glover, and….” He trailed off.

  “And?” The captain looked skeptical, arms folded with one finger tapping slowly on his bicep.

  Jerry took a deep breath and committed himself. “And he’s done this before. Handed out punishment, I mean. That’s how he saw it, him punishing me for being gay.”

  “Are you?” The tapping finger stilled.

  Jerry spoke clearly. “Yes. This isn’t about his assault on me, though. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the threat to Ms. Glover and my certainty he’s been raping boys on his football team in order to ‘cure’ them from being gay. He said as much.”

  The room around them seemed to hush, as though everyone was listening regardless of their business there.

  “What exactly did he say?”

  Jerry perjured himself without a qualm. It was the only way. “He bragged about how many faggots he’d cured and how he was going to cure me too.” He had, too. If only in his head.

  Unexpectedly, Flynn produced a list. “Here are the names of the boys I would start questioning. I don’t think I
need to remind you that in addition to child molestation and rape, this has the potential to also be considered a hate crime. Also, Mr. Cunningham travels with his team to regional events. If any of these acts of punishment occurred out of state….” He let his words hang delicately in the air.

  The captain took the list, his lip curling with disgust. Jerry could tell it was equal parts anger over the situation being dumped in his lap and the subject matter. Pity the FBI reversed their policy on no gays allowed.

  “Right. We’ll start looking into it from our end and also get social services involved. You boys certainly know how to fuck up a weekend.”

  “Sir.” Flynn sounded almost like a Boy Scout, which was a nice touch when Jerry thought about it. “Agent Flynn and I can assist in the questioning of these boys.”

  The captain shook his head. “Not unless this turns into a federal matter. And especially not Agent Flynn.” His look wasn’t entirely hostile as he glanced at Jerry, but it wasn’t very friendly, either. “He’s too close to the case. The lawyers will scream professional bias. He’ll probably have to come back to testify if this ends up going to court.” The captain leveled a long look at Jerry. “So you’d better be sure of your facts before you open this particular can of worms, Agent Flynn.”

  “Paul Cunningham assaulted me in a public bar. He had every intention of raping me. He had no fear of being caught—hell, it never even entered his mind. He’s done this before.” Again and again. Jerry shut his eyes briefly.

  “You’re sure he just didn’t intend on roughing you up a little?”

  “No, sir.” Jerry shut his eyes briefly. “He locked the door. He was taking off his belt when I attempted to leave and the altercation began. We can’t let this go on unchallenged.”

  That motherfucking bastard. He’s dead. He is so dead. Flynn’s face went white as it drained of blood, only to return in full force with suppressed anger.

  The captain sighed. “No, I suppose not. Very well. Finish making your statement. Do you believe Ms. Glover to be in immediate danger?”

  Jerry exchanged a glance with Flynn, who was still quietly smoldering. “She’s staying with friends tonight. But unless Cunningham is in custody….”

  The captain nodded. “We don’t have the manpower to watch her indefinitely, but I can have someone detailed to her at least until we officially start proceedings. Cunningham will probably back off once that is underway.”

  “Sir.” Jerry tried to hide his wince. “I’m afraid, um, I might have suggested to Cunningham he was going to be investigated, sir. In the heat of the argument.”

  “Well, that’s just fucking peachy. What do they teach you boys in the Academy?” The captain waved them back to the investigating officer taking Jerry’s report.

  When they finally left the station, Jerry had no choice but to beg. “Please, for the love of God, take me to some all-night diner or something. I’m starving.”

  Flynn took them to a drive-through, where they loaded up on cardiac-inducing cheeseburgers and fries. Jerry ate like a starving college student, slathering his fries with ketchup and licking it off his fingers. He used the back of his hand as a napkin. A fast-food cheeseburger had never tasted so good. The flavor of it burst on his taste buds, and he hummed his satisfaction as he chewed.

  On the other side of the car, Flynn picked limp pickles and onions off his burger with a look of disgust and laid them on the paper the burger had been wrapped in.

  Jerry snorted, then took a long swig from his soda, making slurping noises through the straw. Flynn’s expression would have made a disapproving librarian proud, and Jerry smiled to himself.

  “By the way.” He chuckled aloud. “I fixed your back.”

  “You what?”

  The comical look of confusion on Flynn’s face shouldn’t have been as funny as it was.

  “Fixed. Your back. When I hit Paul.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I went to a massage therapist this afternoon. She worked on me for an hour, and then I sat in a hot tub for a while. Must have loosened something up, because when I gave Paul an upper right hook to the jaw, something cracked.”

  “Cracked.” By the pinkish glow of the streetlights, Flynn looked horrified.

  Jerry nodded gleefully. “Sounded like a rifle shot. Thought sure I’d broken something. And then….” He trailed off suggestively.

  “And then?” Flynn took the bait, like Jerry knew he would.

  “I felt fabulous.” Jerry gave the word the sort of emphasis RuPaul might have. He snapped his fingers for good measure. “Like that! No more pain.”

  “You fixed my back.” Flynn was very quiet.

  “Fixed it.” Jerry spoke in a singsong voice, making his index fingers dance from side to side with each syllable.

  Flynn looked down at his half-eaten burger and wrapped it back up in its paper, stuffing it into the bag. “Look, about this afternoon….” He was unable to finish his sentence.

  Jerry waited patiently. He didn’t even send a feeler in Flynn’s direction to see if Flynn would let him in.

  “Ah, never mind. We can talk about it later. Now what should we do?” Flynn started up the car. He burped loudly, making both of them snicker like teenage boys hearing a fart joke. It felt good to laugh, like nothing was wrong between them. Maybe it wasn’t. Jerry could allow himself to believe that self-lie for a little while, at least.

  “We could go sit outside Becky’s hotel and make sure Nancy is okay.”

  “You don’t really think Nancy is in danger, do you?” Flynn was already turning the car around, though.

  “Honestly, no. But it wouldn’t hurt to watch her just in case. Between Paul and the artifact thieves, there’s been a little too much interest in her lately, you know?” A terrible thought struck him. “You do still have the artifact, right?”

  Flynn hurriedly grabbed at the pocket of his coat. His small sigh of relief went unmentioned, though not unnoticed. “Yeah. Though, to be honest, it hasn’t exactly been high on my list of priorities for a while.”

  “Where’d you come up with the names on that list you gave the captain?” Jerry yawned through his words. It had been a long day.

  “I wrote down the name of every kid he specifically mentioned at the bar. You know, in the morning, we could probably go find a copy of a current yearbook. You might be able to identify someone from a picture.”

  “Maybe, but where would we find a yearbook on a Sunday? And we still can’t say, ‘Yeah, officer, that’s the boy I saw in my head.’ That would go over well, I’m sure.”

  “We’ve worked through tougher problems. We’ll figure something out.”

  Jerry found the “we” reassuring. Somehow, something had changed, and he and Flynn were almost the same as they’d always been. A team.

  Regardless of its shortcomings, the telepathy still gave them an edge over Paul, though. A place to start poking around. Jerry knew the name of the hotel where Becky was registered, having gleaned the information from her thoughts when she’d mentioned it earlier in the evening. When they arrived, Flynn parked the car in a strategic location, so as to be able to see Nancy’s car and the side of the hotel she was likely staying in. And they waited. More boring bits.

  He wasn’t even aware he’d dozed off until Flynn shook him on the shoulder.

  “Jerry, wake up.”

  His consciousness swam back to the surface sluggishly, the way it always did when he hadn’t been getting enough sleep and had only been asleep a short while. “If you tell me the game’s afoot, I might have to hit you.” He pushed his coat sleeve back. The luminescent dial read 1:37 a. m. “Crap. Sorry I conked out. What is it?”

  Flynn had started the car. “How good is your memory? I mean really, how good is it?”

  An air of excitement hung over Flynn, the sense that he might be onto something. Jerry was reminded of his grandfather’s rabbit dog, and the way he’d latch onto a scent to the exclusion of all other senses. The dog had gotten h
it by a car when Jerry was seven, following a trail across a highway without looking.

  “Earlier tonight with Carlene, you remembered something you’d read about dangerous jungle parasites at some point in your life. That’s a pretty random bit of information, and you remembered both the treatment and the prognosis. I’m thinking there’s your proof right there.” Of course, Jerry couldn’t imagine how Flynn had chanced across such an article, but there you were. Sometimes you had to read weird stuff as an agent.

  “But accessing it is another thing. I mean, you have all these files in your head. How do you find the right piece of information when you want it?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, it just came naturally to me.” Jerry clutched at the “oh shit” handle as the car spun its wheels on the street, making an illegal U-turn and roaring off into the night. “Where are we going?”

  “I saw something important today. I just don’t know what.”

  “So we’re going to, what, retrace our steps?”

  “Something like that. Walk me through this.” Flynn forced the car across several lanes of traffic to take the on ramp to the interstate without signaling. A driver, cut off by Flynn’s actions, laid on the horn. Jerry held his breath until they’d made it safely to the interstate.

  “Okay. Does this have to do with Paul?”

  “No.” Flynn’s voice could have cut glass with its nerve-grating hardness. “My sister.”

  Jerry blew his breath out quietly. Flynn’s terrifying driving aside, the intensity of his thoughts was worse. “The white van.”

  “Yes. I spent the entire morning at the precinct that handled Rachel’s murder, looking for evidence of someone in the neighborhood owning a white van. No one had a van matching that description. But it was white, right? Who normally uses a white van? Delivery guys, that’s who.”

  “Picture the van in your mind. Look at the details in trim and make. Was it new?” Jerry didn’t see how something Flynn saw today could be related to something that happened over twenty years ago, but he knew it might. With Jerry’s capacity for recalling past events, if Flynn thought he saw something connected with his childhood, then he had.