Fire and Agate

by Andrew Grey

  “It’s a mix. Unfortunately there are too many houses like that one. But there are great people here. Members of the community got together to clean up and build the park a few years ago. There are community garden plots. It’s a real local effort.” Red stood next to him. “The church has been a big part of that lately.”

  Chris turned to the left and headed to the front door of the house between the one Pavle had been held in and a small AME church on the other side. He knocked and waited, Red following behind him.

  “May I help you?” a black man in dark pants and a shirt with a white collar asked when he opened the door. He was maybe thirty, with bright eyes and a smile. “Has there been trouble?”

  “No, Reverend,” Red answered. “I was doing some follow-up on the now-empty house next door. Did you or someone here find the note?”

  The reverend nodded and opened the door farther. “Please come in.” He held the door, and Chris and Red stepped inside the immaculately clean but sparse home, with sturdy furniture that had a lot more function than style. The reverend closed the door and offered them a seat. “I’m Tyrone Watson, and this is my wife, Anika, and my son, Isaac. She found the note.”

  A gorgeous lady with regal bearing and her hair flowing to her shoulders smiled from the doorway, holding a boy of about two by the hand. “I called the police and reported what I found. Were you able to help whoever threw it?” She turned toward the empty house. “We are all trying to improve this neighborhood and the lives of those in it.”

  Chris nodded. “We did, and he’s being cared for and protected. The man’s name is Pavle, and he’d been held for over four years. What you did saved his life and has given him the chance at a future.”

  “Thank goodness,” Reverend Tyrone said softly. “Progress has been slow here, so this is a spot of light for us. Anika and I weren’t sure what to make of the note when we first saw it. We had no idea how it got into Isaac’s bedroom. The letters were strange, but one word stood out. Help. Once we figured out where it came from….” He sighed. “We’re glad we could help.”

  “Pavle understands and speaks some English,” Chris explained. “Would you like to meet him? Apparently Pavle used to watch this house through his only view of the world. He said it was dark for a long time, and then he saw you and your son and decided to take a chance. Pavle threw the note, and prayed. You answered his prayers.”

  Reverend Tyrone clasped his hands together and looked upward. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever been the answer to someone’s prayers.” He smiled widely. “If Pavle would like to meet us, we would be honored to meet him.”

  “Yes, we would.” Anika beamed. “Do you know what will happen to the house?”

  Red cleared his throat. “It has been condemned and will likely be torn down. It isn’t safe, and it’s filled with mold. Please warn people to stay away. It is a crime scene and dangerous.”

  “We will. I’d love nothing more than to have this neighborhood become vibrant again. We’re working on a cleanup drive at the moment.” The reverend sounded energetic and ready to get to work.

  Both Red and Chris smiled. “If we can be of help, be sure to let me know.” Red handed the reverend his card. “Stronger communities make everyone safer.” Red stood, and Chris followed suit.

  “I’ll talk to Pavle and pass along your invite to meet. I think he’d like that. You did an amazing thing.” Chris shook both Anika’s and the reverend’s hand, and then they headed to the door. He stepped outside, feeling lighter than he had in days. “Sometimes I love my job….”

  Red sighed and nodded. “But sometimes we see so much of the bad that when the good happens, we hardly notice it because we’re watching for the next bit of trouble.”

  “Exactly,” Chris agreed. “I hope Pavle will meet with them. I think it could do him some good. He needs to know that there are people who care. But it’s his choice.”

  “Everything go okay?” Carter asked, lowering his window.

  “Yeah,” Chris answered.

  Red stood next to his cruiser, leaning against it. “I think that Pavle has quite a few people who care for him.” The knowing look in Red’s eye unsettled Chris in a way he didn’t expect, as though Red could see into his thoughts. He was supposed to protect Pavle, not perv on him, and while his mind might take him on a journey into fantasy sometimes, he certainly didn’t want others to know about it.

  “I’m watching out for him, that’s all.” Fuck it, he should have kept his mouth shut and said nothing. Now Red was going to know exactly where Chris’s mind was from his protest. Shit, that was a real rookie mistake and he’d fallen right into it. Rather than trying to explain further, he climbed into his car and lowered the window. “I appreciate all your help. Maybe you and Terry could come over for dinner tonight if you’re free. I think it’s good that Pavle meet some people in a controlled way so he isn’t as shy around everyone.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Terry and make sure he doesn’t have anything on the calendar.” Red waved as Chris took off, making a call to the station on his way home. Briggs reported that they were no closer to apprehending the man who had held Pavle in town, but apparently the FBI was getting more involved, and the state police wanted to speak with Pavle as well.

  “Apparently his ability to draw the people who came in contact with him is of interest to everyone. They want to test his memory abilities, as well as see just how sharp they are.”

  Chris pulled to a stop at a sign. “What?”

  “Yeah. If they’re going to prosecute them on the basis of his drawings, then Pavle’s memory has to be above reproach. So they want to test him to see how good it really is.”

  Chris sighed as he went through the intersection. “You have to be kidding me. Pavle isn’t someone to push and prod like an animal in a zoo. He’s a person. Not a damn guinea pig.” He made the turn onto Pomfret and pulled around the back to the garage. “Just being able to draw those images shows he has an amazing memory.”

  “True, and the FBI has been able to use facial recognition to identify some of the people, particularly his earlier contacts, as low-level mob worker bees. However, one of them has apparently risen through the ranks and has become a bigger fish.”

  Chris’s mouth went dry. That could be the reason for the leaks and the attempts on Pavle’s life. The guy who had been a front-line soldier four years ago was now a powerful boss, and he was determined not to get sent up the river for something he’d done years ago. “We’ll be careful. But if there is a leak in the department, it isn’t going to be too hard for them to figure out that Pavle is staying with me.”

  “That’s why you are officially on family leave and the only one in the department you’ll communicate with is me. I don’t even want the sheriff to know the details.” The contempt rolled off Brigg’s tongue. “It’s a pain keeping information from him, but it’s for your safety, as well as Pavle’s. I’m working with Social Services to get Pavle reclassified, and we’re leaving a false trail to be followed. We’ll see if they pick it up. Meanwhile, stay low and out of sight as much as possible,” Briggs said gruffly, but Chris figured that was bravado and part of his demeanor.

  “I will. Don’t worry.” He lowered the garage door and got out, listening before carefully making his way to the house, where he could see Nanna and Pavle moving around the kitchen. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. I’ll call when I’m free to talk, unless there’s an emergency.” He ended the call, and Chris continued into the house, which spilled out the enticing scent of Nanna’s cooking, onions and spices, strong and mouthwatering.

  “It wasn’t necessary to cook,” Chris said as he closed the door, then approached Nanna to kiss her on the cheek. “But I’m glad you did.” His phone vibrated with a message from Red that he and Terry would be pleased to join them for dinner. Chris asked Pavle if that was okay, and Pavle agreed with only slight trepidation. Chris told them six thirty. “Are you staying for dinner, Nanna?”


  “No. I need to go home.” She wiped her hands on a towel before heading to the sink to start on the mountain of dishes. It seemed she and Pavle had dirtied almost every pan he had. The dishwasher was already churning away, and yet there were still a ton to clean.

  “It’s okay, Nanna. Some friends are coming to dinner. They want to meet Pavle.” Chris turned as Pavle paled in what Chris thought was fear. He immediately tried to calm him. “They are police like me and really good. Red is one of the men who found you.”

  “Oh,” Pavle said, relaxing a little, but his posture remained straight, as though he were on guard.

  “I should be going,” Nanna said, suddenly in an all-fired hurry.

  Chris walked her to the door and helped her out to her car, looking up and down the street, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He knew he was being watched, but he couldn’t figure out from where. “Be careful and call me when you get home.” He worried about Nanna driving. She shouldn’t be on the road, and definitely not after dark. His plan had been to get her to stay for dinner and then spend the night, but she had her own wishes, and Chris knew better than to push.

  “Bah,” she said as she slowly bent to get in the car. “Give your nanna a kiss goodbye.”

  He did as she instructed and watched as she made her way toward home.

  Back inside, Chris locked the door and went right to the kitchen to figure out what he was going to serve with what Nanna and Pavle had made. Chris figured Pavle had gone outside the way he normally did, so he started prepping vegetables and pulled steaks out of the freezer, placing them on the thawing tray. Pavle usually liked to help in the kitchen, so when he didn’t eventually come in, Chris set his knife down on the cutting board to go look for him.

  Pavle wasn’t outside and he wasn’t in the living room. In a moment of fear, Chris wondered if he had left. He took a deep breath and went upstairs, where he found Pavle in his room, lying on the bed in a fetal position.

  “What is it?” he asked as gently as he could. Sometimes he thought he might be starting to understand some of what Pavle was feeling. And then again, there were times when he was completely confused. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

  “They will know…,” Pavle whispered.

  Chris’s fingers itched to comfort, but he didn’t know if Pavle wanted that. To Chris, comfort meant touch, and there had been times when Pavle had leaned into him. And he had even comforted Pavle on occasion, but he was never really sure if his instincts were right and the comfort would be welcome or if it would turn into a minefield and blow up in his face.

  “I know that bothers you, but what did Nanna say?” The two of them seemed to have bonded, at least in some way.

  “She say that I good. Not shame.” Pavle’s voice seemed so childlike in that moment, like his heart was shattering.

  “Then believe her… and me. Red is like me. He is a police officer. We see plenty of people who are hurt, and we do not blame them.”

  “But I shame,” Pavle whispered. He kept going back to that, and Chris wondered how he could help him understand that there was no shame in being a victim. That he had been hurt and that people had done things to him and taken away his right to choose… then compounded hurt on top of it by making him think it was all his fault. The entire situation made Chris mad in part because he wanted to be able to fix it. And this probably wasn’t something he could fix. Pavle had to work through it on his own. Chris made a mental note to check on Pavle’s next therapy appointment.

  “I can call and tell them not to come. It will be okay, I promise.” Dammit, Chris might have pushed too far.

  “No. I come down.” Pavle slowly straightened his legs and rolled over, wiping his eyes. “I want to.”

  Relief washed through Chris. “Do you want to help in the kitchen?” Chris asked, thinking that doing something normal for them would be good. Pavle nodded, and Chris returned downstairs, letting Pavle compose himself.

  When Pavle joined Chris in the kitchen, they finished the preparation of dinner together and seasoned the steaks. They had everything ready just as Terry and Red arrived. Chris met them at the door, letting them in and through to the back. Pavle stood behind him, half peering around him.

  “Pavle, this is Red. He is a police officer here in Carlisle. And this is his husband, Terry.” He kept his voice gentle, hoping they weren’t frightening Pavle.

  Red slowly extended his hand as Pavle looked at Red and then turned to Chris, tilting his head slightly as though he were trying to make sure he either heard or understood him right. It was a strange moment, and for an instant, Chris thought everything was going to go south at any second. Maybe he’d pushed too far too fast and Pavle’s earlier fear around men was going to make an appearance.

  “It nice to meet you,” Pavle said formally and shyly, shaking their hands because they were offered, looking at Chris most of the time, probably for reassurance, then pulling his hand right back.

  “Are you doing well?” Terry asked.

  Pavle nodded. “I good.” He smiled at Chris, who did the same in return.

  “He helped me make dinner,” Chris said, then paused because he didn’t want to talk for Pavle.

  “I like helping in the kitchen, and I plant lots of flowers.” Pavle offering that information was a good sign.

  “How chilly is it out? I thought we could eat outside, but I’m not sure if it’s warm enough.” Late spring evenings could cool off quickly.

  “It’s a little brisk,” Red said.

  “Okay. Dining room it is.” Chris led them all into the living room before excusing himself to set the table. He hoped leaving Pavle alone wasn’t too much for him, but he didn’t want to hover and make Pavle feel like a prisoner again. “You husband?” Pavle asked as Chris went into the next room. He was about to turn around to answer, but Terry spoke.

  “Yes. Red and I are married. We had the ceremony last year.” The smile in Terry’s voice came through clearly.

  “How you do that?” Pavle asked. “Does everybody….” Thankfully, Terry was patient. “Nobody hate you?” Chris set the silverware on the table, ready to rejoin them.

  “Sometimes. But it’s okay here. Our marriage is legal. More and more people understand, and it’s become much more accepted in the past few years,” Terry explained. “Things have changed a lot, and though there is more that needs to happen, we’re happy, and we have many good friends, like Chris.”

  Pavle tilted his head once again. “People know… everyone know?” he asked in what had to be complete disbelief.

  “Yes,” Red answered. “The people I work with know. Some of them are gay as well, and others are not, but they know. The same for Terry. He is open about who he is.” Red put an arm around Terry’s shoulder.

  “Gay?” Pavle asked, as though rolling the word through his mind for the very first time. “What means… gay?” He blinked and turned to Chris.

  “It means men who love other men,” Chris explained. Being gay was so much more than that, at least in today’s society, but going into the bigger picture at this moment probably wasn’t a good idea, so he went for the simple explanation.

  “This is okay?” Pavle asked, fear creeping into his voice. His leg shook and his eyes darted around the room the way a small child’s do when they don’t believe something and desperately need reassurance. He began to shake even more, and Chris wondered if he was okay. He stood as Pavle jumped to his feet and hurried toward the stairs. He raced upward, and Chris watched him go.

  “Excuse me,” he said quietly to Red and Terry.

  “It’s all right,” Terry reassured him. “All of this could be too much for him.” He and Red looked at each other.

  “I’ll be right back.” Chris went up the stairs. Pavle’s room was empty, but the bathroom door was closed. Chris knocked gently, and after a few seconds, the door cracked open, Pavle peeking out.

  “They are like… me?” he said, blinking, his eyes wet, shaking a little. It took C
hris a split second to realize that Pavle had just come out to him.

  God, he wanted to take Pavle in his arms and comfort him so badly. But he didn’t know if he had the right or if Pavle would accept it. Still, he almost ached to do it. “Yes. Being gay is part of us. It is okay. I am gay too, like Red and Terry.” Shit. How stupid could he be? After the situation Pavle had been in, Chris had just assumed that he was gay based upon the situation when he was found. But what if he hadn’t been? Chris should have thought of that before. Given the fact that Pavle’s free will had been stripped away from him, the distinct possibility that Pavle could have been straight should have been considered. He had been used and hurt, and Chris had made an assumption. “Why don’t you come back downstairs and we can get dinner ready.” They could find something else to talk about, and Chris needed to be much more careful about topics of conversation. Pavle was here because he needed protection and help. That was all that Chris was supposed to provide.

  “Gay not joke?” Pavle asked.

  “No, not a joke. It’s all right. We’ll find something else to talk about if you want.” Chris waited for Pavle to come out and go back down the stairs. Then Chris followed, looking anywhere but at Pavle. He needed to keep his mind where it belonged, on his job and not on the stunning example of gentleness that descended the stairs in front of him.

  Pavle sat back down, and Chris introduced the subject of swimming. Terry had won gold in the last Olympics, which Pavle seemed to find fascinating. Chris left Pavle with them briefly to check on dinner, then returned and poured some wine as Terry told him all about the thrill of traveling there, and of course all about the race that won him the medal and a level of fame that still carried on.

  “I have a photo shoot next week. They want me to model bathing suits.”

  Red grumbled a little, and Terry patted his hand.