Changes Coming Down

by Kaje Harper

  He took the jock off too, stuffed everything away, grabbed his towel, and headed for the showers. The water cascading over his muscles was sweet relief and he stayed in long enough to get half-parboiled. By the time he came out, almost all the guys were gone. The trainer was locking up his office and he paused to ask Scott, “How’s the knee? Do you need anything?”

  “No. It’s good.” It was. With all the shit piling up, he’d been half expecting that to get messed up too, but with every hit and every line change, he felt it strong and solid as ever. He really was healed.

  The trainer slapped his shoulder in passing. “That’s great. It shows on the ice too. You might be up and out of here soon.”

  Scott didn’t answer and crossed his fingers. He didn’t want to jinx anything. He dressed slowly, waiting as the last guys left. When the room was quiet, he lifted his phone out of its box on the top shelf and looked at it. No messages. No missed calls.

  Was that a good sign? Bad? He went online, looking for election results. It took a while to get to the sheriff’s race results. With twenty percent of the votes counted, they were already predicting a win for Todd Kensington. Ouch. At least they hadn’t called it yet, but that wasn’t good.

  He went out to his car, and started the heater before dialing.

  Will picked up on the first ring. “Yeah?”

  “Are you with him?”

  “Nope. He’s at the station with some of his guys and other supporters.”

  “Have you been watching results?”

  “Too busy.”

  “It doesn’t look promising.”

  “Crap.”

  Scott sighed. “I wish I was there.”

  “Me too. He said he didn’t want me to hang around.”

  “He’s lying. You should go to his place and wait for him.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. I do. He’s going to play it all tough and I-don’t-care, but I think he’s going to be gutted if he loses. When he left the Marines, I think he was really adrift, until he got that job. It was a place to belong, like the Corps. Family and service. He’ll miss the hell out of it.” People were so blind. They’d never get a better sheriff than Casey.

  “It’s a stupid system. Why would you want law enforcement to be a popularity contest?”

  “I know, right? And then you end up with a sheriff who owes his backers something.”

  Will sighed audibly. “How bad is it?”

  “They haven’t declared a winner yet, but he’s behind.”

  “He might actually want to be alone.”

  “If so, I think you should make him kick you out, though, not wait till he invites you over. You know him. He’s a big tough Marine. He’s not going to ask.”

  Back when they were first going out, when he was doing rehab at home, it’d been just him and Casey. He’d fallen for the tough Marine with all that honor and duty and desire to save the world. Casey was a better, more complicated man than Scott had ever dreamed of loving. But he had those rough moments, times when he needed to be teased or talked or fucked out of his darkness.

  That had been okay when Scott wasn’t far away, but then he’d made the jump to the Marlies up in Toronto, and suddenly he saw Casey once a month, instead of once a week. When he called and heard the tightness in Casey’s voice that meant something had fucked him over, Scott couldn’t jump in a car and go find him. He’d come close to quitting the team and heading home once or twice, except Casey would’ve skinned him alive.

  Then somehow, in the middle of a restless night watching porn and failing to get even the slightest bit turned on by it, he’d seen a threesome and had his inspiration. He needed a deputy of his own.

  It hadn’t been easy. He’d battled jealousy for weeks before even suggesting it to Case. Another man would have his hands on Casey. Another man would kiss him. A threesome sounded okay, even hot, as long as Scott was going to be there too, but the goal was to find someone who’d take care of Casey when Scott wasn’t around. He’d had to beat his possessiveness back with a really big stick before making the suggestion. Then it’d taken weeks of nagging to get Casey to even agree to try.

  Then the first few guys had been wrong. Hot in the sack, a couple of them, but not guys they felt likely to trust with the important stuff. Casey had been ready to give it up. Scott had been ready to settle for someone Casey could at least fuck. Then, across a bar, he’d met Will’s eyes, and it had fallen into place. Not just a deputy, but a partner.

  So now he could ask Will to do what he couldn’t manage himself. “He needs you tonight.”

  “Yeah. But you’re better at just walking in and saying, ‘I know you need me.’ I have a hard time with that.”

  “My natural confidence.”

  “Arrogance.”

  “Chutzpah.”

  Will laughed.

  “Listen, tell him I sent you. Tell him I said you had to go hug him for me, or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Yeah, okay, that might work. I could do that. Sorry, I’m just tired, I guess.”

  Scott sighed. Because, right, Will was worn pretty thin now too. Both his guys needed him, and he was stuck here. Hockey was his life, but sometimes it sucked. “How are you?”

  “Okay. Well, not good. There’s all this waiting, y’know. The will’s being read on Thursday when Landon gets here. I expect he’ll go ballistic. I would if my grandparents gave some drifter half a mil of my money.”

  “You’re not a drifter and it was their money, not his. You’re not going to roll over for him?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “The appraiser is coming out tomorrow, so I’ll know how much cash I need to come up with.”

  “I have fifty thou in the condo. I guess that’s my stake.” If he made it up to the Leafs, he’d have more, but not soon enough.

  “That helps. Thanks.”

  “It doesn’t help enough.”

  “Not really. Casey says I should mortgage my half, but I’m not risking that. Half the ranch is still a hell of a lot more than I expected to end up with.”

  Scott thought about asking him to keep Nita on, if he had to fire some of the cowboys. But there’d be time later for that. “Well, tonight’s Casey’s trial by voter. You need to remind him that no matter how it turns out, it’s not a vote about how he did his job, just about how pretty he looked doing it.”

  “Will you call him?”

  “Not now. Later. When you have him alone, you call me and I’ll talk to him. Jesus, I wish I could be there. But call me, however late it may be.”

  “Okay.”

  “Love you, Will, and him too. Remind him.”

  “I will. I’ll call you later.”

  Scott hung up and went back online. Forty-seven percent of the votes counted. Not in Casey’s favor. Crap. He stuck the phone into the cup holder and drove home on autopilot, his thoughts with two men a thousand miles away.

  ***

  Casey unlocked the door to his duplex. The place was dark but he caught the shifting of the air that told him someone else was moving in there. He almost dove to the side and rolled, but then his brain caught up with his instincts. “Will?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing here?” He flicked on the light to reveal Will standing by the recliner, looking sheepish.

  “Scott sent me. He said he’d hurt me if I didn’t give you a hug when you got home.”

  “Ooh, scary.” But a hug sounded good enough that he added, “I wouldn’t want Scott to be mad at you.”

  Will came to him. His arms were strong and he smelled of horses and hay. Casey closed his eyes and leaned into the hug.

  Eventually Will murmured, “How bad was it?”

  “You weren’t watching?”

  “Nope.”

  “He clobbered me. Well, maybe not that but he won by a comfortable margin. Enough that there’s no point in recounting. I’m unem
ployed as of January first.” It was surprisingly easy to say that. He wondered if he didn’t quite believe it yet.

  Will’s grip tightened. “I happen to need another cowboy.”

  “You already have more hands than half a ranch needs.” He regretted saying that when Will sighed unhappily. “Never mind. I’m a little bitter tonight. You know I’ll gladly work for you.”

  “For us. Our ranch.”

  “Okay.” He fisted his hands in the thick flannel of Will’s shirt and hung on to him.

  “Are you hungry, Case? Did you eat anything?”

  “No. But I can’t.” Military wisdom said to always eat when you could get it, but his stomach wasn’t listening. “Maybe a beer.”

  “Or a whiskey?”

  “I could drink whiskey.”

  Will let go and headed for the kitchen. Casey pulled off his jacket, hung it up, stowed his sidearm in the lock box, set his phone in the charger, and went to the window to tug the curtains tighter shut. He didn’t want an audience for tonight, whatever it ended up as. Drunken sob-fest or fuck-fest or whatever.

  He dropped onto the couch. Will came back with a bottle and two glasses. He sat beside Casey and poured the liquor in generous servings. Casey knocked back a swallow and murmured in approval. “Wow. That’s the good stuff.”

  “I figured we’d either be celebrating or drowning our sorrows, and either one was worth doing right.”

  “Smart man.” Casey took another long drink. The whiskey had a smooth burn going down. “I gave a concession speech.”

  Will tilted his head. “Have fun with the meth-heads, you douchecanoe?”

  Casey almost choked on his drink. He finished it instead and held his glass out for a refill. “No. I was polite.”

  “Pity.”

  “The deputies aren’t happy. They’re the ones who’ll be on the line when he’s in charge.” Casey drank morosely. He’d failed his people by losing. Maybe he’d failed them by not fighting for the job with every resource he had. It was an aspect he hadn’t given enough thought to, until it happened.

  Will said, “You’d think the fact that most of the actual deputies loudly endorsed you would have been some kind of indication to voters.”

  “Todd has a prettier smile.”

  “If you like crocodiles.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” He finished his glass, feeling a numbing warmth begin to take hold. Not enough. “Hit me again.”

  Will poured half a glass, but he kept the tumbler held out insistently until Will filled it the rest of the way.

  “Tonight I’m going to get drunk.”

  “I think that ship’s already sailed.”

  “More drunk.” Casey liked this stuff. It didn’t even burn anymore. Maybe his throat was getting numb. “It’ll probably be ugly, somewhere along the way.”

  “You’ve handled my ugly, a time or two.”

  Casey licked the rim of the glass, trying for something seductive. “You’ve never been ugly. You are one gorgeous, gorgeous man.”

  “Jesus, you’re already plastered.”

  “Just getting started. I can hold my liquor.” He’d almost finished the glass when his phone rang.

  Will reached for it.

  “Ignore it. I’m off tonight.”

  “It might be Scott.” Will picked it up.

  “It’s not his ring. Unlike you, I do use personalized ringtones.”

  Will frowned at the screen. “I don’t know this area code.” He held it out.

  Reluctantly, Casey answered it. “Sheriff Barlow.” He even managed to sound normal.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You don’t know me, but I’m Detective Burwood, Denver PD.”

  Casey licked his numb lips and tried to sound alert. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “It’s more like something I can do for you. We picked up a hooker tonight, working a truck stop. She didn’t want to go to jail, so she offered to tell us about this semi-driver she rode with who ran an old gray pickup off the road. I searched the database to see if that had any basis in reality, and I found your hit-and-run.”

  Casey sat up, every muscle tense. “Did she say what color the semi-truck was?”

  “Green, just like in your report.”

  “Damn.”

  “Are you interested?”

  “Hell, yes. Can you hold her for me?”

  “Here’s the thing. We ran this girl through the system, and it turns out she has an outstanding felony warrant in Sacramento. They want her, and we’re going to let them have her. So if you want to talk to her without having to travel to California, you might want to do it tonight.”

  “Tonight.” Casey rubbed his mouth and tried to think. “Yeah. Okay. It’s…” He put his hand over the phone. “How far to Denver, Will? I don’t remember.”

  “Two and a half hours, maybe? As long as it doesn’t snow.”

  Casey looked at his watch. The numbers didn’t want to translate. Nine o’clock? Had it really only taken him two hours to lose an election and get drunk? He said into the phone, “I can be there around eleven-thirty. Wait, ten-thirty your time.”

  “That’ll work. It won’t hurt this girl to cool her heels for a while. Let me give you directions.”

  Casey said, “I’ll have you give them to my, um, deputy.” He handed Will the phone, with a vague scribbling gesture.

  As Will listened and wrote on the back of a scrap from his pocket, Casey hurried to the bathroom. He stuck a finger down his throat. That good whiskey burned a hell of a lot more coming back up than going down. It made him cough, and he spat into the toilet, then rinsed his mouth, first with water and then with mouthwash. He refilled the water glass and drank three glasses in succession.

  From the doorway, Will drawled, “If you’re gonna chug the water, you’d better use the bathroom before we drive, son.”

  Casey grunted. “I need to get sober. And what’s the ‘we’ part of that?”

  “You’re still too smashed to drive. You need me.”

  “You shouldn’t be anywhere near a possible witness in this case.”

  “I don’t have to be. You can make me wait in the parking lot. But I’m not letting you drive.”

  Casey couldn’t argue with that. “I could ask a deputy.”

  “You want them to see you shit-faced tonight?”

  He wasn’t shit-faced, he just had a little swerve on. But still. “No. Thank you.” He hesitated. “Are you sober?”

  “I had two sips of mine so far. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Ten minutes later they were on the road, in Casey’s truck because he had the radio and his equipment in it. The big tires hummed on the pavement and the dark country rolled past outside the cab. It was lulling. Casey’s head buzzed.

  Will said, “You should call Scott. He’ll be worrying.”

  Casey frowned.

  “Unlike me, he’ll have been watching the returns. Probably even found a way to hear your speech.”

  Casey winced, but dug his phone out and tapped it.

  “Hey there.” Scott’s tones were soft in his ear. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. I’m good.”

  “Is Will there?”

  “Did you really threaten him if he wasn’t?”

  “Would I do that?” The false innocence was clear.

  “Yeah, you would.”

  “Any threats that may have been hinted at were all in Will’s imagination, mostly. But I wish I was there too.”

  “There isn’t exactly here.”

  “Run that by me again. You’re breaking up.”

  “I mean, we’re not home. Not at my place. I got a lead in a case and I’m going to interview them. But Will’s driving because I might not be sober.”

  Scott laughed. “I think I believe that.”

  “I’ll be sober by the time we get there.”

  “Where’s there?”

  “Denver.”

  “What’s
the case?”

  “The hit-and-run. Graham and Annmarie. We might have a witness.”

  Scott was silent for a moment. “And you’re bringing Will along?”

  Casey was hurt. “I wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t let me drive.”

  “Thank all the saints for that. Okay. Well, a distraction might be just the thing. Good luck with it. I hope you sober up fast.” He paused, then added, “I love you, Casey. Sheriff or not, solve the case or not. Okay?”

  “Yeah. I hear you.”

  “Call me tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” He stuck his phone back in his pocket, closed his eyes, and told Will, “I think I’m gonna sleep till I’m sober. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. I like driving at night.”

  “Be careful though.” Casey slumped in his seat, feeling his head vibrating along with the truck. “It’d kill me to lose you. You’re my love too. You ’n’ Scotty.”

  “Go to sleep, Prince Charming. Wake up remembering you said that.”

  Casey took slow, deep breaths, and let the swaying of the truck pull him under.

  ***

  Casey came awake with a jolt two hours later, as he’d planned. Apparently even the remnants of three full tumblers of whiskey weren’t enough to foil his time sense. He had a feeling they would be enough to do in both his head and his stomach later, but right now he was in a workable zone. The drunk part was dispersing and the hung-over part wasn’t yet quite hitting him.

  “Where are we?”

  “About twenty miles out, according to the GPS,” Will said. “D’you have a nice nap?”

  Casey rubbed his face. His mouth still felt numb but he hoped his speech was clear. “It helped. Thank you.”

  He saw Will’s lips curve in the dashboard light. “You’re welcome. Prince Charming.”

  That rang a faint bell and Casey fought through the pea-soup of his memories to You’re my love. He wasn’t one for mushy sentiment but he was kind of glad that had come out. In vino veritas or something like that.

  The stationhouse was quiet when they arrived. The uniform on the desk looked bored. He perked up when Casey approached with his ID. Will headed to a row of plastic chairs along the wall and sat down. He stretched out his long jean-clad legs, crossed booted feet at the ankles, and tipped his Stetson low over his eyes. He folded his arms on his chest, the fleece jacket pulling tight across his shoulders. Casey was hit with a moment of sheer, all-encompassing lust. That cowboy’s mine.