Tallowwood

by N. R. Walker

  “Oh no, don’t you worry about that. You’re a guest of Jake’s.”

  August put a fiver on the bar. “I would much rather it if I paid,” he said quietly. “And I’ll pay for dinner too, when we order. It’s the least I can do.”

  Thankfully, she took the money. Maybe she could read people well enough to know August probably would have died if she’d refused a second time. Making a scene in front of other people was his worst nightmare. He didn’t mind crowds too much, if they left him alone and didn’t pay him any attention. She handed him back his change and noticed what he was wearing. “Oh, Jake has a sweater just like that.”

  Someone up the bar called out to her and August took her distraction as an opportunity to grab his drink and make a dash to his table. There was no way he was having the ‘I’m wearing your son’s clothes’ conversation with her over the bar within earshot of the barflies of Tallowwood. Jesus Christ. He was even wearing the underpants she’d bought Jacob.

  He opened his laptop and remembered he had to book two plane tickets, so he did that first, then put in a request for updated contact details for the two men who were with Perry Ahern on the night he died. That could take any amount of time. Some people moved away, changed numbers, lost contact with everyone they once knew. Some changed names, some simply dropped off the radar altogether. Though Mrs Ahern did say one of them called around to see her every now and then, so if he couldn’t get the information through the proper channels, he could always ask her.

  Finally, he took out his notepad and began going over his case notes where he’d left off earlier. The dates, the locations had to mean something. If the victims were chosen randomly, there had to be other coinciding factors besides their sexuality. They were all gay, yes. But how did the killer know that?

  Perry Ahern had been at a gay bar, and he was wearing a shirt that pretty much gave it away. Police reports had said that David, Mark, and Simon had all left a gay bar before they were killed. So the killer had chosen his victims by watching them. Not studying them for long periods, most likely. More crimes of opportunity. The killer slotted himself into areas well known to gay men and waited.

  Except Christopher. He hadn’t been out at a gay bar, and he wasn’t wearing anything to suggest he was gay; no Pride outfits, no rainbows. And he certainly hadn’t propositioned anyone who might have looked twice.

  So how was he chosen? Had he bumped into some random stranger on the street who asked for directions? Or in the supermarket? Was it completely random? Coincidental? Or was he targeted deliberately?

  Same with Mustafa. He’d been in his own home, just like Christopher.

  August had asked himself these questions a thousand times. He’d tortured himself, pulling at every thread, but without any evidence to support his claims that it wasn’t a suicide, his pleas for further investigation went unheard.

  Well, they heard, but they just didn’t give a fuck.

  A loud burst of chatter and laughter caught August’s attention and he looked over toward the sound. It seemed football training was over because there were now about fifteen guys piling into the front bar of the pub. They were talking over one another and laughing, and Jacob was right there in the middle of them.

  His shirt was now a bit damp and a smear of dirt and grass stained one shoulder, his black hair shone with either sweat or water, August wasn’t sure, but his grin was contagious. He was the very opposite of August. August had hidden himself away from life in general, and Jacob was the life of every room he entered.

  Some guy said something and a few of them cracked up laughing. One tried to touch Jacob’s cheek, but he ducked back out of reach, and he laughed some more. He said something about not touching his money-maker, then someone else said something that must have been rude because some laughed, but the guy who said it then apologised to Mrs Porter, and that made them all laugh some more.

  It was hard not to smile at them.

  Did August miss that social interaction? Did he miss the friendships he’d once had?

  Sometimes.

  But did he miss the questions and the looks of disappointment and the awkward silences? Did he ever want to put himself through the pain of loss again?

  No. No, he did not.

  It didn’t take long for Jacob to look his way, and when he saw August looking at him, Jacob’s smile changed somehow, it got softer or something, before he looked back to his mates. A moment later, he was carrying two drinks over to their table. “I asked Mum to get whatever drink you had before,” he said, putting the schooner of soda in front of him. His looked to be a lemon squash or something similar. He slid into his seat opposite August and groaned as he took a sip.

  “Thank you.” August could see now there was a red mark on his cheekbone where his friend had tried to touch before. “Looks painful.”

  “Head clash. Well, my head against Pawso’s is more like a head-meet-concrete kind of clash. He didn’t feel a thing.” He put his fingers to his cheekbone. “Hopefully it won’t bruise. I don’t wanna go to Sydney looking like I got into a bar fight.”

  August chuckled. “Flight’s at nine tomorrow.”

  “Awesome. I better go check with Dad about feeding Scarlett. Want me to order dinner while I’m out there?”

  “Oh, sure,” August agreed. “Is there a menu?”

  “Steak, salad, and chips sound okay?”

  “Uh, sure. Probably not the chips though. I try not to eat too much fried food.” August didn’t want to admit that his forty-one-year-old body didn’t appreciate fries like it once did.

  Jacob grinned. “How about I order them and just eat yours? That way I get double. I’m starving. Medium rare okay?”

  He barely gave August time to nod before he stood up. He pulled his hoodie back on and turned to leave, and August could see then his back, arse, and the backs of his thighs were smeared in mud. He’d obviously got tackled on the muddy football field. But the sight of Jacob in those footy shorts with the compression tights underneath, all dirty and sweaty, appealed to August in ways he wasn’t accustomed to.

  August wasn’t accustomed to finding anyone attractive. Not in a long time. And if he had, they certainly wouldn’t have been anything like Jacob.

  “Hey, Jake?” one of his mates in the bar yelled out. “How’s the face?”

  Jacob turned at the door to the kitchen. “Still better looking than yours!”

  They laughed and he grinned as he disappeared, and when August saw Mrs Porter behind the bar, he realised she was watching him. Had she seen August check out her son’s arse?

  God, he hoped not.

  He gave her a bit of a smile and she beamed at him.

  Yep. Pretty sure she’d seen.

  August’s mouth ran dry and he needed to take a mouthful of his drink, and he was almost certain he turned beet-red from his hairline to his toes. He hoped by the time Jacob came back, he resembled something other than a salad vegetable. On the plus side, he didn’t feel the cold when his blood ran hot.

  Jacob came back, slid into his seat, and sighed. “Man, I’m feeling that three hours’ sleep last night.” He was still his smiley self though, and given that he’d run five kilometres this morning, had a full-on day of work, then went to footy training, August wasn’t surprised Jacob was tired.

  “Will you be running another 5k before we leave for the airport in the morning?” August asked.

  “I should,” he replied. “But it depends on how much sleep I get tonight.”

  August didn’t know why that sounded like a promise. It wasn’t how Jacob intended it, but August was obviously seeing intent that just wasn’t there. Christ. What was it about this guy?

  “But I’ll pack my running gear for Sydney,” Jacob added, sipping his drink with a smile. “And you can run with me.”

  August winced at the thought. “Uh, yeah, probably not.”

  Porter met his gaze and stared. “And you can run with me.”

  August chuckled despite the insistence or
threat of exercise. Now that August thought about it, Jacob had ordered his lunch and dinner for him, told him what they were doing on the case, and told him he was staying at his house. “You’re quite bossy, aren’t you?”

  Porter grinned. “You’re a fast learner, Detective.”

  There was something in Porter’s eyes when he said that, and something about that comment too. Like he was implying he was the bossy, dominant type. Like he wanted August to know. Like he was testing the water.

  Or was August reading too much into it? Because in all honesty, August was a busted boot compared to Jacob Porter. What on earth would a guy like Porter see in a washed-up, closed-off older man like August? August was kidding himself . . . And not only that, why was August even thinking about this? Did he want Porter to be interested? Would he act on it if Porter offered?

  He just wasn’t sure he could put his heart on the line again. And why, why was August even thinking of his heart and Porter at the same time? Was it because Porter was the only guy he’d spent time with in the last eight years? Or was there something in the way Porter looked at him?

  God. He needed to get out more.

  Just then, a little girl with brown curls and huge, round dark eyes came running over. “Unca Jake!”

  “Here’s my favourite girl!” He turned and opened his arms for her. He scooped her up, plonked her on his knee, and fixed her coat. She must have been about two years old and as cute as hell. “Did you come for dinner?”

  “Yep.” She smiled, all cute, her little button nose the same as her Uncle Jake’s. I mean, Jacob’s. Her Uncle Jacob’s. He wasn’t Jake to August. He was Jacob. Or even Senior Constable Porter. August wasn’t sure when he’d even started thinking of him as Jacob . . . “Mum said I could have ice cream.”

  “Pretty sure you’d have to eat all your dinner first,” Jacob said, gently bopping her on the nose. But then he pretended to whisper, “But how ’bout we tell Poppy no veggies with your dinner?”

  The little girl’s eyes went wide, as did her smile. “Jacob Martin Porter,” a woman scolded him as she walked over. August could easily guess it was the little girl’s mother and Jacob’s sister, given they looked so alike. They had the exact same smile. “Stop undoing all my hard work. Veggies are good!”

  “Yes,” Jacob said, tickling the little girl. “Veggies are food for superheroes!” He stood up, kissed the woman on the cheek, and handed the little girl to her. “Hey, sis.”

  “Didn’t know you’d be here,” she said, then looked to August, then back to Jacob. “With someone.”

  “Oh,” Jacob said. “This is August Shaw. August, my sister, Brenna.”

  August stood up and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And this little wiggle worm is Keegan.” Jacob tickled the little girl again, then added, “And Detective Shaw is here helping out with something for work.”

  “Oh, Mum said there’s been cops and vans going through town the last couple of days,” Brenna said.

  “Which is nothing for anyone to worry about,” Jacob said with a touch of authority in his voice. “Actually, I’ll be heading to Sydney with Detective Shaw tomorrow. We’re trading insights.”

  “Mmm,” she said, giving Jacob a little nudge. “Mum also said you were spending time with a new guy from Sydney, that he’s staying at your house. It’s about time.”

  Jacob blushed, rosy pink, and those damn freckles lit up like stars in the Milky Way. “It’s for work, but thanks for not embarrassing me at all. You can tell Mum to mind her own.”

  August cleared his throat and sat back down, and Jacob all but pushed his sister away and took his seat. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  August looked at him and couldn’t help but grin. “No apology necessary. It’s a small town, and you’re a popular guy. People are bound to talk.”

  “It’s a pain in the arse, that’s what it is,” Jacob added. His cheeks were still flushed with the sweetest pink, and coupled with his warm brown skin tones, August was transfixed. Jacob, thankfully, was oblivious. “Still, I’m sorry if that was awkward.”

  And then right on cue, his father came out and slid two plates full of food onto their table. “Oh, wow,” August said. The steak, the salad, even the fries, it all looked amazing.

  “You boys having a good night?” Rick Porter asked, as though they were on a date.

  “Oh God, Dad!” Jacob hissed. “We’re discussing work.”

  Someone laughed near the bar, and when August and Jacob turned, they found a small audience—Jacob’s mum, sister, niece, a few football mates—all watching them. Jacob blushed so hard the tips of his ears went red. “We’re all good, thanks, Dad,” he mumbled. Then he turned back to those watching and yelled, “And you’re all getting parking tickets!”

  They all laughed, and August laughed too. “It is actually kind of funny.”

  Jacob looked up at him with pleading in his eyes. “Can we just pretend this whole thing never happened?”

  August chuckled, and feeling a little bad because Jacob was clearly horrified, he cut into the steak. “This looks so good.”

  “My dad’s a great cook. Comedian, not so much.” He rolled his eyes and took a drink, seemingly recomposing himself. “It’s just clearly been too long since I’ve been out in public with someone. I feel like a sideshow attraction.”

  August laughed. “Please don’t feel bad. Can I be honest with you?”

  Jacob met his gaze and gave the smallest nod.

  “The way they joke with you and fully accept that you could be on a date, like it’s exciting and it makes absolutely no difference whether your date is a guy or a girl, is pretty damn cool.”

  Jacob sighed. “I know. It’s just . . . embarrassing.” He stabbed some fries with his fork and shoved them in his mouth. He chewed, his brow furrowing, and swallowed. “Your folks didn’t approve?”

  August shook his head. “Being true to myself cost me my family.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. It was a long time ago, and I’ve learned that, as much as it hurt, I’m better off without them. I couldn’t spend my life justifying myself and my own happiness. Like paying a toll for being myself and something I couldn’t change even if I wanted to. They wanted me to pay a toll or a tax, or a tiny part of my soul, every time I saw them.”

  “A toll,” Jacob repeated softly. “That’s a good way of putting it. I mean, it’s a fucked-up currency exchange. But you’re right. I shouldn’t let my parents bother me when so many folks would love to have that kind of acceptance.”

  “Well,” August said, trying to lighten the mood. “It can still be embarrassing, but cool at the same time.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”

  They ate in silence for a while. “Your niece is a cutie,” August said.

  Jacob’s whole face lit up. “She’s the most amazing little human.” Jacob began talking about becoming an uncle and what it meant for his family and how much he adored her. His sister was a preschool teacher, her husband was a tiler, and they’d gone to school together, and Jacob stole fries from August’s plate as he talked, and August could see some of Jacob’s friends and family looking over at them every so often and smiling, but Jacob didn’t seem to notice it at all. Every time he’d laugh, August would catch Jacob’s mum glancing over, and he was struck with how beautiful it all was.

  Not just Jacob, but the life he had in this town. The family, the friends, the close-knit community, his normally low-key police work. It was everything August never knew he wanted.

  But he was also struck with a sadness, melancholy and a sense of longing, that he would never have it. And when this case was all over, August would return to Sydney. He’d leave Jacob in Tallowwood, the tiny town in the misty mountains with the cosy pub and wonderful family, and go back to long and lonely hours, chasing ghosts and hiding himself away.

  “You okay?” Jacob asked. August realised he must have zoned out. “You look like someone s
tole your last piece of chocolate cake.”

  That made August smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking, that’s all.”

  Jacob gave him a kind smile. “You ready to go home?”

  August really liked the way he said that. He knew Jacob didn’t mean anything by it. He knew Jacob would never mean it the way August wanted him to. And when the hell did August begin to want these things? But he mustered up the best smile he could and gave Jacob a nod. “Yeah. I am.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake was excited to go to Sydney. He hadn’t been in years, and sure, the change of pace would be fun for a few days. Much longer than that and he’d probably go crazy. But mostly he was excited to work with August on his cases. Jake felt like he was getting to sit at the grown-ups’ table, which was stupid, but it was how he felt.

  “Have you flown before?” August asked him.

  “Oh, sure,” Jake replied. They’d taken their seats on the plane and were just taxiing out to the runway.

  “Do you not like flying?” August added. “You seem a little nervous, that’s all.”

  “I am. I mean, I’m going to Sydney with you to work on your cases. So yeah, I’m kind of nervous.”

  August stared at him. “What’s there to be nervous about? Have you not been working with me for the last couple of days?”

  “Well, yeah, but this is different. This is at HQ. This is with the big dogs.” Jake wiped his hands on his thighs. “I’m just a small-town hick, and well, you’re you: the Detective August Shaw.”

  “And you’re the Senior Constable Jacob Martin Porter.”

  Jake shot him a look. “How’d you know my middle name?”

  “Your sister full-named you last night.”

  “Oh.” Jake laughed. “Right.” The plane began its take-off run and Jacob sat back in his seat and enjoyed the ride. “It was my uncle’s name. Martin. He was my mum’s older brother. She has a younger one too. But Martin died before I was born.”

  August turned his head against the headrest. “How did it happen?”

  “Car accident. He was driving to school and got hit by a truck on the highway. Mum always said I was his spirit reborn. She says I look just like him, and he liked boys—he admitted that to her a few months before he died—and he wanted to be a cop.” Jake had no idea why he was telling him this. “It’s funny how that works out.”