“Not many people do. He’s a good friend, but you can see why he has trouble making new ones.”
Zachary’s heart beat staccato as he looked at his drink. “I said I’d try to be his friend,” he confessed, “but I don’t think I can really do that.”
He sensed Randy nodding. “I hear ya, Zachary,” he sighed. “Thomas is complicated. He’s got a lot of issues, and they’re not for me to explain.”
Zachary was annoyed to feel his eyes burn, and he couldn’t help lashing out a bit as he looked up. “After the second time we got together, I hoped I’d hear from him, even knowing about these mysterious issues and rules.” Even after hearing I was a fuck-and-chuck. “What was I going to do, though, when he didn’t call? Stalk him?”
Randy reeled back a bit, clearly surprised at the word. Zachary wasn’t sure why. It was just something people said.
“Anyway I’m seeing someone else now,” he continued. “We’ve been going out for about a month. He actually talks to me.”
“Why haven’t you brought him in yet?” Randy’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Oh. Because of Thomas.”
“Sort of. I didn’t think I could handle watching Thomas leave with a man,” Zachary confessed. “So I wanted to make sure I was in a good space before subjecting myself to that.”
“I hear ya. Anyway, good for you. Who’s the new guy?”
“Sam? He’s an IT consultant, whatever that means. He’s a bit nerdy, like me. He likes Star Wars and superhero movies.”
“Looker?”
“Well, I think so. Here. I have a picture from when we went to see Civil War a few weeks ago.” Zachary pulled out his cell phone and opened up his photo app. He flicked through, paused, and then flicked in the other direction.
“That’s odd.” He frowned. “I remember taking the selfie when we were standing in line, and I showed it to Sam later.”
Randy shrugged. “Technology and I aren’t exactly friends either. Maybe it’s lost in the clouds, whatever the fuck that means.” He turned to serve a customer.
Zachary swiped through his photo album as he muttered, “I admit I’m no techie, but really, this makes no sense. Here’re the pics from the following week, when I ran a bunch of Star Trek movies for kids at the shelter.” He smiled at a pic of Jamayqua and Joe laughing together as they ate popcorn out of a huge bowl. “And here’s an older one….”
The picture he had swiped up was more than a month old. It showed Thomas alone at the bar the night Zachary came in drunk with Howard and ended up back in Thomas’s bed. He had forgotten he had that picture, and he felt like he was betraying Sam to even be looking at it because the image evoked a churn in his gut.
He swiped again a few times, angry at himself, and then came across the pic Randy had taken of Thomas and Zachary together at the bar the very first time Zachary wandered in—the night he went home with Thomas, all excited about possibilities.
The picture was a good one. It showed Thomas’s handsome face, intelligent eyes, and white smile. Zachary admitted privately that he looked pretty cute too with his head tilted toward Thomas. In the background he could see the piano and a bit of Miss Ethel’s shoulder, along with a man with shaggy blond hair who wore what appeared to be wire-framed glasses. The man in the background was looking right at their backs, so the camera flash had reflected off his lenses.
Huh, that was funny.
Zachary swiped back to the pic of Thomas alone at the bar some weeks later. He used his fingers to enlarge the picture slightly, and there it was again—the glint of camera flash off glasses. The same man with blond shaggy hair was standing against the wall, looking directly past Thomas at Zachary’s camera.
“Hey, Randy,” Zachary called out. “Does this strike you as peculiar?”
Randy came back and leaned over the counter as Zachary showed him the two pictures on his phone. “Look, these were taken more than a month apart, but both times this guy happened to be right in the camera sight and looking straight at me. Do you know who he is?”
Randy frowned as he took the phone out of Zachary’s hands. He enlarged each photo as much as the image allowed and squinted his eyes. “It couldn’t be,” Randy muttered to himself. “Could it?” He looked up to see Zachary watching him closely, and he said, “I don’t know who it is, kid. I think I remember him because of that bad haircut. Came in a few times, starting around the time that Gallagher—” He stood straight. “Can you forward those to me, Zachary?”
“Sure, but why?” Zachary opened a message and typed in the e-mail address Randy gave him.
“I’m probably crazy. I just think I’m going to show these to someone I know. See if—well, never mind.”
Zachary didn’t buy the way Randy tried to brush him off. Something was up, but getting it out of him was beyond Zachary’s abilities.
“Another drink?” Randy asked.
Zachary put away his phone and stood up. “No, thanks. I’d better get home. It’s a work night.”
AS SOON as the bar closed down, Randy went to his office and called up the message Zachary had sent to him with the two pictures attached. He opened the browser on his computer monitor and did what he could to maximize the images and focus on the man in the background. He could tell the glasses had silver-colored frames, but the flash that reflected off the lenses obscured enough of the face that he couldn’t see the features clearly. But what he could see worried him. His instincts told him it was important.
Years in federal law enforcement had produced a certain snobbery about the MPD’s capabilities, but it was Torres’s investigation, and she needed to be told, even if he was completely wrong. It was after two thirty in the morning, though, so when he found her card in his desk drawer, he just fired off a text.
This is Randy Vaughan at Mata Hari. Possible lead I’d like to discuss with you.
His phone rang seconds later and startled him into nearly dropping it. He connected and said, “I didn’t expect to get you tonight, Detective.”
Torres sounded exhausted. “I have a case review with my captain tomorrow. Shit, today. What do you have for me?”
Randy explained about the two photos. “Look, this may be nothing. I do have a lot of regulars, so it’s not that surprising two pictures would show the same person in the background. But in both cases, he was near Thomas, and in both he was looking right at the camera, which tells me he was looking at Thomas.”
“Or at the other customer, this Zachary Hall,” she commented, and Randy’s blood ran cold. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Mr. Vaughan. I get that this may be nothing, but you have more years of experience than I do. I’d like to hear from you.”
“Thank you for making me feel old,” he growled. “Okay. This is crazy, but there’s something about the face in these pictures that reminds me of Charles Rumson.”
Chapter 19
RANDY HEARD heavy silence over the phone. When Torres finally spoke, her voice was flat. “They remind you of Charles Rumson. The Charles Rumson you assured me died two years ago.”
“I stand by our investigation. Every fact we had available at the time showed an open-and-shut suicide. Still there’s something familiar in the face, at least what I can see of it. Maybe a brother?”
“Okay. Forward the photos to me, and I’ll see what we can do. Maybe the forensics team can enhance the image. Anything else, Mr. Vaughan?”
“No, that’s it. I’ll send ’em as soon as we hang up.” He did so, and then he debated whether to mention anything to Thomas. But he didn’t want to stir that particular shit pot unless he had a good reason.
THREE DAYS later Torres took the question of whether to talk to Thomas out of Randy’s hands. She came into the bar at seven thirty on Sunday when Thomas happened to be in. Randy tensed when he saw her approach the bar holding a large envelope.
“Mal, can you cover for fifteen?” he asked his bar back.
“Sure, boss. It’s slow so far,” Malcolm answered.
“Thomas, I have a fee
ling you might want to be part of this,” he said as he nodded in Torres’s direction. He signaled her to come to his office, and Thomas joined them, mystified.
When Randy had closed his office door, he crossed his arms and let Torres speak. “Our forensics people did what they could with the images, but since they were taken with an older model cell phone camera in poor lighting conditions, there wasn’t a lot of enhancement they could bring in. But see if you recognize him,” she instructed as she pulled two eight-by-ten pictures out of the envelope.
“What’s going on, Randy?” Thomas asked. “Who took the pictures?”
As he handled the photos, Randy grunted, “Zachary Hall. These were on his phone, and I asked Detective Torres to see if she could make them clearer.” He looked at the two images, one in each hand, and offered them to Thomas. “Here. See what you think.”
Thomas accepted the pictures. In each he could see part of his own face. The images were centered on a man with shaggy blond hair and glasses. Because of the magnification, the man’s face and features were blurry, and the light that reflected off his lenses obscured his eyes. The fact that Torres and Randy were both staring at Thomas clued him in, and his heart began to pound. He looked from the photos up to Randy’s face.
“You think this is Charles Rumson?”
“Question is, what do you think, Thomas?” Randy answered. “I never met the guy. I only saw file photos and blurry videos.”
Thomas looked again and tried to superimpose the hated memory on what he saw printed in his hands. He slowly shook his head, and Torres exhaled heavily. Thomas glanced at her and said, “I see what Randy is talking about, but it just doesn’t seem quite right. The hair is wrong, and I remember Charles with a thinner nose, kind of sharp and pointed. He was sort of, I don’t know, gaunt. This person has a rounder face. It’s been two years, though, so… maybe?”
Randy asked, “Did Charles have a brother?”
“No. He was an only child, like me.”
Torres took the photos back, and her shoulders slumped. “Damn. That was looking to be the first real lead we’ve turned up.”
Randy said to her, “Set aside for a minute whether this is Rumson back from the grave. Something is off about this guy staring at Thomas… or at Zachary.”
“Wait. Do you think this guy was involved with what happened to Brian Gallagher?” Thomas asked, and his jaw dropped at the implications.
“I remember noticing this guy not long before Gallagher was killed. The hair, mainly. From these pictures he was in the bar at least twice after that too.”
“The time-stamp on the second picture is about three weeks before Daniel Owen was killed,” Torres observed. “But you say you don’t recall seeing this man in here since around then?”
Randy nodded.
“I thought there was no connection to me or to Mata Hari,” Thomas directed at Torres.
“No connection we know of besides you and Mr. Krasnopoler having sex with Gallagher,” Torres said. “The second vic has no ties here that we can find. But we don’t have enough information to rule out that the killer started here.”
Randy added, “Or could come back.”
“Do you think Zachary is in danger?” Thomas heard the raw fear in his own voice.
“I don’t see how that could be.” Randy shook his head carefully. “Zachary took the second picture, what? Seven weeks ago? And I haven’t seen this guy around in a long time. Maybe since that night, even.”
“We have to tell him,” Thomas said. “If there’s the slightest chance—shit.”
“Do you have his number? I should interview Mr. Hall,” Torres observed.
Thomas nodded and reached for his phone. As he read the digits to Torres, his hands started to tremble. “Randy, I can’t have another stalker. I just can’t. And Charles is dead.”
“Buddy, I don’t know what to tell ya. The odds are astronomically against it, but my instincts tell me this guy”—Randy tapped the photos—“is wrong. Now it could be a complete coincidence he shows up in two photos of you, weeks apart.”
“Or it could mean something,” Torres finished. “Mr. Scarborough, can you give me anything to work with here? I can arrange for a police escort or a protective detail if you have anything that supports Mr. Vaughan’s concerns.”
Thomas sank into a desk chair. “Honestly nothing. I guess when I heard about Daniel Owen, I convinced myself that it really didn’t have anything to do with me. So maybe I haven’t been as careful or observant as I should be. But I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that’s happened.” He looked up at Randy. “How could it possibly be Charles? I thought the investigation was conclusive.”
Randy frowned. “We reviewed all available evidence at the time, and the case was neat. It’s just that seeing these images put a funny thought in my head—that maybe it was too neat. Detective, you said you’ve read the Rumson file from Seattle PD, right? Did anything strike you as odd?”
Torres shrugged. “I reviewed it, and I assume it was the same file you saw.” She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a thick folder. “Since you mentioned Rumson when we talked, I brought this along. My captain would have my ass, but if I get it back tomorrow, he doesn’t need to know, does he?”
Randy took the file. “That’s good, Detective. I’ll review this tonight and see if I spot anything that could be useful. I can return it in the morning.”
She nodded. “I’m taking a big risk here, but one sick fucker is still out there. I don’t want him to strike again—not if there’s anything we can do to prevent that.”
Thomas asked Randy, “Is there anything I can do?” He clenched his gut and asked, “Should I look at the file too?”
Randy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Let me go through it and see if I have any questions you might be able to help with. Why don’t you focus on talking to Zachary to make sure he keeps his guard up?”
“Good. Yes. Call Zach. I can do that.” Thomas tried to hide his relief at not facing Charles, even on paper, but he knew the other two weren’t fooled.
“I’ve got to get back to the bar. I’ll look this over later,” Randy said, and he slid the folder into his desk and locked it. “Thomas, you can stay in here to call, if you want.” He left to guide Torres back to the front of the house.
Thomas tapped his phone nervously. He hadn’t called Zach since he invited him to the museum, which seemed long ago. He’d fooled himself into thinking they could be friends, but then he fucked up even that by breaking his own rule and bringing Zach home with him a second time. He couldn’t be sorry about it, though.
That night with Zach was one of the most exciting, satisfying experiences of his life. Zach got under his skin like no one else and made Thomas long to set aside the armor and really take a chance on getting to know him. That was probably no longer possible. Zach had moved on, and Thomas had no one but himself to blame.
But reaching out that way, calling him out of the blue… he was afraid of having his words thrown back at him. He was afraid of being rejected.
“Fuck you,” Thomas muttered to himself. “This isn’t about your ego. Be his friend.” He dialed Zach’s number before he could change his mind.
It connected on the third ring. “Hello,” he heard Zach say cautiously.
“Zachary, it’s Thomas Scarborough.” Silence at the other end. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time, but I just need to talk to you for a minute.”
“Umm… this is fine. What can I do for you?” His voice was guarded, a bit distant.
“Look. Randy showed me those two pictures from your phone. This is going to sound odd, and I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but you know about the two gay men who were murdered in the past couple of months? Well, there’s a very small chance that the man in your pictures is involved.”
“What?” Zachary’s shock was palpable, even over the phone. “You think the murderer was in Mata Hari?”
“It’s just
something the police are checking into, okay? I don’t want you to panic or do anything about it. I just want you to be careful.”
Silence again for a beat, and then Zachary asked, “Why do I need to be careful?”
Thomas tapped a finger on the desk. “The guy in your pictures seemed strangely focused on you and me. Remember, this is probably nothing at all. But you should know—the first man who was killed, Brian Gallagher? Well, I brought him home with me about a week before he was killed.” Silence again, and he could just imagine the look on Zachary’s face.
Shit.
“It was before I ever met you. And I didn’t know the second guy at all, I swear. It’s just a coincidence that I met Gallagher, and it was just one time.”
“Well, one and done. That’s the rule, right?” Zachary said in a voice grown rough.
“It was the rule….”
“Don’t you dare,” Zachary barked out. “Don’t you dare say anything about that second night or make a joke out of it.”
“I wasn’t going to. I just wanted you to know I never saw Gallagher before that one night, and it never happened again. I didn’t know Owen, the second victim, at all. There is every reason to think this is just a coincidence and the man in the pictures you took has no connection to any of it. I just thought you deserved to know so you can be vigilant.”
“Vigilant.” Zachary sounded disgusted. “It’s like you’re calling to tell me you might have given me an STD, except that instead of Chlamydia, I may be in the crosshairs of a killer. Because we had sex.”
“Oh my God. That’s not what I meant at all.” But he knew that, as harsh as Zachary’s judgment sounded, that was exactly what he was saying.
“Zach, I’m sorry. I didn’t call to upset you or to make you afraid. I wanted to call you before, so many times. I’d pick up the phone and then just stare at it. I didn’t want to crowd you, and I know you’ve started seeing someone. But you needed to know this. Shit, I should have had Randy call.”
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