The Hands

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  There, that’s for the Mad Max crack, Miles snorted to himself as he straightened. Rufus was twisting around again, trying to jump up and get the hand which Flynn was holding up in the air as if he were feeding dolphins at the aquarium. To the dog this was all a game. “Oh, by the way, did you hear that the sheriff’s department finally got an ID on whose hand the other one was?” Miles took a closer look. “At least it’s the opposite hand so this one may belong to the same person.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. Nobody tells me anything.”

  “Yeah, it was kinda strange. I’d gone in to check up on the other body.” Miles looked up and realized by Flynn’s start of surprise that he hadn’t heard about the other dead man. “Some poor sucker turned up dead as a doornail at Renegade Steel the other night. The undertaker, Henry Vale, was asking Lance about when he could take the remains for burial. Wanted to look at it. He seemed upset when I told him to piss off, he wasn’t getting his mitts on the body until the forensic pathologist from Asher Bay had checked it out.” Flynn had suddenly gone very still, but he seemed to be listening intently. “Geez mate, you’re nearly as pale as Vale was when the ID for the hand came through while we were there.”

  “Vale. I’ve heard that name. So what’s he like?” How did Flynn manage to play it casual when he was dying to know if this asshole, Vale, was working with his father? He was trying, but he was sure he was failing. “Wait - body at the nightclub? What body at the nightclub?”

  “Shit. I probably shouldn’t have told you. They’re trying to keep everything quiet so as not to delay the opening. Samples have been sent away for a toxicology report. There were no outward signs except for some symbol carved into his chest, but that wouldn’t have killed him. My guess is poison, but we need lab-tests to work out which one.” Miles watched in amusement as Flynn turned round and round slowly, trying to keep the hand out of the dog’s reach. He seemed to have forgotten he was holding it, more interested in hearing about the other dead body. Why?

  “Wow. Well, jeeze I guess we do have a serial killer around here.” Flynn was quietly relieved that the guy wasn’t shot. He shouldn’t feel good about that; someone had died. Not only that, but it couldn’t be his shooter, so he didn’t know what to do there. It belatedly occurred to him that this was all happening now that he was in town. Coincidence? “Think there’s a connection?”

  “Hard to tell. If they can find some relationship between the two men, maybe. At least they’ve got one ID’d for sure. The ring had some sort of inscription inside: ‘Haec protegimus’.’”

  “Really? That’s ... weird.” That was the Army motto, wasn’t it? Meant ‘We protect’ or something. Weird motto to have inside a ring. The words gave Flynn a slight shiver up his spine, though. That was a creepy coincidence.

  “Yeah, but the fingerprints come up with a match. Seems like he had been in the Army at some stage. Name of Martin Ashton. Last I heard, they’re still trying to find out more details. Contact the next of kin.”

  Flynn stared at him. There’s no way the Doctor just said what he thought he said. What with his Aiden guilt, and the fact someone had tried to kill him, he was just having a shitty day. There’s no way Mad Max said that name, he was just hallucinating. “Did you just say, Martin Ashton?”

  “Yep.” Miles stared at the young man in surprise. Looked like he was the one in need of treatment for a cardiac arrest. “Know him?”

  “No ... the name’s just familiar, that’s all.” Flynn felt like he’d been punched in the gut, but there was no way in hell he was telling Mad Max who Martin Ashton was. Suddenly he realized he was probably holding Martin’s other hand, and while his first impulse was to drop it, he didn’t.

  Who better to hold his father’s hand than him?

  Haven Falls #86: Giving Some Advice

  Evan Owen, Aiden Parker

  ____________________________________

  Evan was screwed. He had dated before; he wasn’t new to the game. His partners however, had always been one of three things, out of town, out of town and oh yeah, out of town. He knew it could go horribly wrong if he started something with the enigmatic cowboy who he was certain had come on to him at the school. Just being that close, seeing the muscles, and the acres of sun browned skin, and that damn hat. Jeez, it was like Christopher Melky was some kind of walking porn advertisement.

  He really needed to talk to someone--needed to find Aiden, he would understand why he shouldn’t call Chris, why it would be dangerous to contact Chris. He had his reputation to think about, and he had been hurt before. Actually getting together with someone from the same town? What happened when the one night stand turned into avoidance when they met on the street, or when the kids went for the sleepover at the ranch?

  Where the hell was Aiden?

  After a crazy morning of being shot at and staying home from school to talk to Flynn, only to end up on his couch in a very pleasant - and much needed - situation, Aiden was exhausted. The sex definitely helped take his mind off the nastiness of nearly being a murder victim, but once that high ran down he was tired.

  It was later in the afternoon, and school was out for the day. It had been one of few that Aiden had missed all year. He hated calling out, but there was just no way he would have been able to focus on anything after the morning he had. He sure as hell hoped it was a one-time occurrence, though, and that he never experienced anything like that again. But if he stayed around Flynn, who knew what would happen. As he made himself a cup of coffee and stirred in the cream, he wondered what was going to happen on that side of things. With Flynn.

  Evan stood at Aiden’s door, his hand raised to knock. He hesitated only because he knew he would probably sound like a girl when he tried to explain what was in his head. He had looked for Aiden at school, was told he had taken a day off. Maybe he wouldn’t want to talk to Evan, maybe he was ill, or he had something going on that was personal.

  Still, he really was the only person Evan wanted to talk too, and determinedly he knocked on the door.

  Dante let out a small bark at the knock and Aiden set down his cup. Hoping it was Flynn, he made his way to the door and checked through the window. He was not expecting Evan to be there. Opening the door, he gave him a small smile. “Evan, hi.” He opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. Was he checking on him to make sure he was okay? If so, that was a first. The thought made his smile grow a little wider.

  “You weren’t at school today?” Evan stated, raking his eyes up and down his friends body, looking for evidence of illness, “are you okay?”

  “No, I needed um... a mental health day,” he said weakly. “I’m okay, really. Just needed a day to myself. Couldn’t focus.” Aiden fought to keep the flush from his face as his eyes inadvertently shifted over to the couch where he and Flynn had been a few hours before.

  “There was a reason I came over, I’ve got this--thing,” he started, waving his hands expansively, “I need advice, and is it okay if I ask you?”

  Advice? Aiden nodded cautiously. He’d never been the best for giving advice. He was usually the one looking for it. “Sure, I’ll do my best,” he said with a small smile.

  “Christopher Melky, the rancher, he came to the school to organise the trip for the summer schoolers. Thing is,” Evan paused, aware that he really was opening himself up for ridicule with this one, best he got the whole thing out in one go, no sense in delaying what needed to be said. “Thing is, he flirted with me, he came on to me, and jesus he just screwed with my mind, and I was harder than nails just by standing near him, and then he gave me a card, and told me to phone him. Not phone him about the trip, phone him. What the hell do I do now?”

  Aiden stared at Evan. That was perhaps the most he’d heard him say in one time all year, and his small smile grew a little wider. “What the hell do you do? You phone him. He wants you to, right? You want to? So... go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? You said he flirted with you, so he obviously expects you to call. Did you f
lirt back with him?” Christopher Melky... that sounded familiar. He frowned and tilted his head in thought. That’s right! “I met him yesterday at the Falls. I ran into his friend, Jason. Literally. He’s a pretty good looking guy.” Aiden stepped into the kitchen, expecting Evan to follow him. “You want something to drink?”

  “Yeah, coffee would be good if you have it?” He followed Aiden into the kitchen, still uncertain even if Aiden had just said he should phone Chris. “Thing is...he makes me...” his voice tailed off and he could feel the heat rise in his face.

  “I just made a fresh pot.” Aiden pulled down a plain mug and filled it, pulling out the cream and setting out the sugar so he could make it as he liked it. “He makes you what?”

  “He makes me nervous, and jeez...I can’t believe I am telling you this...but my dick was telling me what it wanted in a very big way.”

  Aiden picked up his own cup and smiled behind it. “I know the feeling, actually,” he started, hesitating on whether or not he should tell Evan part of the reason he wasn’t in school. “You remember Flynn? From last night?”

  “Gorgeous? Tall? Brown eyes? Dark hair? Tight ass?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. He... well he does the same to me. I guess. And this morning I was out for a walk with Dante before school, and I ran into him.” Aiden hesitated, sipping his coffee again and frowned. “He seemed upset, so he came over to talk and, well...” Aiden trailed off.

  “Oh. My. God. You had the day off of work to have sex?”

  “No!” Aiden nearly dropped his cup as he flailed and had to set it down. “No, no! It wasn’t like that. Well, not intentionally. I mean, there was other stuff. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I swear.” He didn’t need a mirror to know his face was flaming scarlet.

  “I knew you were the right person to ask about sex.” Evan nodded emphatically, and sipped at his own coffee. Cautiously he looked over the rim of his mug, he hadn’t decided to give himself up to his sexy cowboy, but hell he could live vicariously through Aiden. “Was it good?”

  “How did you know that? Before today, it had been... at least a year.” Aiden licked his lips and glanced down at the counter. He’d never been one to kiss and tell, but what the hell. “Oh yeah. It was good.”

  “Nice,” Evan said with a grin, leaning back against the counter, “I had kind of forgotten what it was like. The attraction I mean. I get so caught up in the propriety of being a school teacher and not doing anything to cause issue that I forget ‘me’.”

  Aiden nodded sympathetically. “Me too. But after today, I don’t think I’m going to forget ‘me’ as you put it, again. At least I’m going to try not to.”

  “So...I really need to go home and make this phone call. There is one really important thing I have to tell you first though.”

  “Yeah? What’s that? Is everything okay?”

  Evan laughed and touched his own neck, “you really need to put cover up on that hickey.”

  Aiden’s eyes flew open and he brought both hands up to his neck. He hadn’t seen any mark after he took a shower. “You’re kidding me. Oh God.” He cringed. Great, now he probably looked like some of his female students after the weekend. Gross.

  “It’s simple Aiden...he marked you...made you his...I actually think that is kind of hot.”

  “You do?” Put that way, it did sound kind of... nice.

  Evan suddenly felt like he should be back home and on the phone to the first man that had made his blood burn in years, “I’m gonna make a move if that is OK? Are you seeing Flynn tonight?”

  Aiden nodded. “Go for it. Call him.” He thought about the last question and shrugged. “I don’t know... I would like to. But... I just don’t know. I’m not going to push anything. Maybe it was just a one-time thing. God, I hope not.” He bit his lip as he realized he said the last out loud.

  “I know what you mean, I am not someone who enjoys the one night stands. Take your own advice man, phone him and get him over for pizza, or a beer or something.”

  “Only if you promise to tell me how the call goes with Christopher Melky.” Aiden smiled.

  “It’s a deal.” Evan placed his now empty mug down on the counter and pushed himself away to stand, “see you at school tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow.” With make up on, he added silently with an internal cringe.

  Evan let himself out, heading straight back to his house. He had a mission and he meant to succeed.

  Haven Falls #79 and #87: Rescue Me!

  Carter Gillespie, Miles Sutherland

  Mike Armstrong (EMT), Christopher Melky, Major French and Jason Biggs

  _______________________________________

  Gil shied away from saying anything further about his private life to Miles. While he appreciated the Doc’s concern, he had no wish to acquire a father figure in his life. Miles was rather more attractive to him and he would rather, for comfort’s sake, not think of him in that capacity. Mentor, his brain suggested, mentor is safe, mentor has possibilities while allowing Miles that supporting role he obviously wanted to play. Gil ducked out of the cafeteria as soon as he could, citing his lateness and wanting to get back out to the job as soon as possible.

  In truth, Gil was chagrined that he had felt so...vulnerable, that was it, bloody vulnerable. Homesickness was not on his agenda. He didn’t want it, he didn’t appreciate it and he damn sure wasn’t going to let it interfere with his stay here. He had been in Haven Falls a week and it was appealing to him more and more. The place seemed packed to the doors with gorgeous men, which was an unexpected bonus. More than one had already expressed interest in him which, after Simon, boosted his self esteem enormously. Let’s face it, he thought sourly, after Simon anything could boost your self esteem.

  Looking back, Gil had been barely twenty one when he had met Simon Even though his parents had tried to warn him off the older man, he had been too young, too eager and too bloody-minded to see sense. Still, he had made the mistake, he had to--and did--live with it. Now he was here, older, wiser...and free. Might even stay here, if he could resist the lure of returning to family and friends back home. If he still had any friends. All the friends from the last few years had been Simon’s friends. There was so much that bastard was responsible for....

  “Hey, Gil! Call coming in.” Mike’s voice shook him out of his thoughts and he climbed in, swinging the door shut and buckling himself in. Mike pulled out across the traffic heading up the road towards Bakers.

  “Where we going this time?”

  Mike glanced across at him and pointed to the dashboard. “Hit the sirens, we’re headed for the Bria Cia.”

  ****

  With their patient stable, Gil ducked out and went down to the ambulance. There was no sign of either the ranch owner or his visitor and Gil quickly shut himself in the privacy of the cabin and phoned Miles. He was a little surprised when the Doctor picked up quickly.

  “Hi Doc, can you talk?”

  “Gil? Thought you were on a call out?”

  “I am.”

  The curt reply from his normally chatty paramedic put Miles on high alert. “Do I detect that things are not going smoothly?”

  “You do. Doc, the patient is Jason Biggs, 33 years old, African/American male, 6’5”, 200 pounds plus. We’re treating him for mild to moderate immersion hypothermia, he’s responding well to heat packs and a warm saline IV.”

  “So where’s your problem? Bring him in and we can sort the rest from here.”

  “That’s my problem, Doc.”

  “What? Bringing him in? Why?”

  “The patient is ex-Navy, recently got back from Afghanistan as far as I can make out. His alcohol intake is minimal to moderate, he isn’t on any medication, prescribed or otherwise. Apparently hates drugs. He is conscious, lucid and refusing to let us bring him in. I’m reliably informed that he has a phobia about hospitals. Mr. Melky telephoned someone called Major French and has asked him to come over. He knows them both, he’s a me
dic of some kind. Apparently this happened during Biggs’ time out there, he was a prisoner for a while…” Gil paused, the implications sinking in. Incarceration, torture…

  Don’t remind me. Miles closed his eyes. Although he’d been in Iraq at the time, the military’s increasing involvement in humanitarian efforts had blurred the difference between the two groups, making them as much the enemy in the eye of the insurgents. The situation had been the same in Somalia before he left. The military just didn’t understand that when you’re protected by soldiers that automatically identifies you with one side of the conflict. So much for being neutral and independent. Five of their staff had been killed purely because they were seen as working for American interests, making them, in the eyes of the Taliban, justifiable targets. Yet if the aid agency tried to go into a battlefield zone and help the non-combatants caught up in the conflict they were seen by the field armies as serving the enemies interests. War, he’d had enough experience of the shit caused to both sides to last a lifetime.

  “Army shit.” Miles said succinctly.

  “Pardon?” The abrupt response shook Gil out of his thoughts.

  “I said, army shit.” Miles sighed. “Don’t get me started. Listen Gil, if he won’t come in, you can’t make him, not unless he’s a danger to himself or to others. If he won’t come willingly, they can deal with their own shit.”

  Gil bit back a reply. That sounded rather harsh coming from someone so dedicated to his job. The mystery that was Miles Sutherland just got deeper. “I can’t just leave them, can I?”

  Miles took a deep breath. Post traumatic stress disorder was likely an underlying cause. It was a wonder the man was not already under the care of a Vet Centre already. They had the trained professionals and were experienced in the problem. Heck, it was better in the long run if the man actually dealt with the fears and sensations he’d experienced rather than bottling them up. From the sounds of things though he was another of the jocks who thought just because he was big and strong he was invincible. Heck, Darren at five ten and his frailest had been able to face his approaching death by talking about it, joking about it at times. Miles had been the one to bottle it all up. One thing he’d learnt though is you can’t make a man change; he’s got to want to. He himself was a living, breathing example of that. From the sounds of things, the patient needed expert attention and fast. But unless he was willing to accept help, forcing it on him could do more harm than good.

 

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