The man drew nearer and Matt thought he could smell wealth. He didn’t know jack about men’s fashion—his one suit came from the discount rack at Sears—but he’d bet a year’s salary the dark blue suit this little guy was wearing cost more than everything on the discount rack combined.
Green, that’s the color of his eyes. Like a…like a cactus! God, he had to do better than that. Maybe learn the actual names of different shades, but really, the guy’s coloring—white-blond hair like the spikes on a cactus, lips the color of a cactus apple, those eyes… Yeah, corny or not, the comparison was apt.
The blond frowned as he stopped. Matt had the thought the guy might be as prickly as a damn cactus as well. Those green eyes narrowed as the man swept Matt with his gaze, lingering on the semi erection Matt had hoped like hell wouldn’t be noticed. Lips twitching, which Matt figured was a good thing, certainly better than getting a knee to the ’nads for offending this stranger, the man finally dragged his gaze up to meet Matt’s.
“It seems McKinton’s changed since I was here years ago.”
Despite the heated look and the sweet tenor, the man’s words obliterated every bit of Matt’s lust. Anger replaced it in a heartbeat as a certainty that he knew who this man was filled him.
“Carlin Douglas,” the blond offered as he put his hand out. “And you are?”
The man who’s going to set you straight on how to treat your family. Somehow Matt doubted that’d go over well with Sheriff Stenley, who was, along with Severo, still standing behind him. He took the proffered hand and shook it once, not bothering with the firm grip he usually used.
“Deputy Matt Nixon.”
Whatever admiration he’d seen in the smaller man’s expression died and Carlin morphed into a prickly pear in Matt’s imagination. Not too far from a human version of it in reality, either.
“I see. So you were the one who got to my aunt’s house too late to help her.”
Carlin could have kicked himself. That hadn’t come out like he’d meant it to, though in a way, it was true. He’d let his mouth spew before he’d thought, still rattled and oddly hurt by the way the other man’s appreciative gaze had turned to icy disdain in the blink of an eye. Now he’d gone and fucked up any chance of getting the truth easily from Matt Nixon.
“Still got there a hell of a lot quicker than you did,” Matt growled.
“That’s enough, Deputy Nixon, Mr. Douglas.” The taller man wearing the cowboy hat stepped around the deputy and somehow managed to glare at them both. Judging from the man’s rough good looks and the star on his shirt, this would be the sheriff…who also seemed to have all his teeth.
“There’ll be no accusations from either of you, understand?” the sheriff continued. The man the sheriff had been kissing, a sexy little guy with broad shoulders who was shorter than Carlin, stepped around Deputy Nixon’s other side and linked his arm through Nixon’s.
“Come on, let’s go get some coffee,” Carlin overheard. He resisted the temptation to watch Deputy Nixon’s ass as the man was led away down the sidewalk. Instead he waited for the lecture he could just feel the sheriff vibrating to toss at him.
“Now, Mr. Douglas, first off let me offer my condolences on the loss of your aunt.”
Carlin nodded, keeping his gaze locked with the sheriff’s. “Thank you.”
“I’m Sheriff Laine Stenley, and that cute guy walking with Nixon is my partner, Severo Robledo.”
Carlin got the opportunity to ogle Nixon’s fine butt as he turned with the sheriff to watch the men walking away.
“You’ll find McKinton has changed, but not so much that unjustified accusations are tolerated.” Sheriff Stenley gave him a hard look. “Least not by me, and not to my deputy, who, by the way, cared for your aunt a great deal. That there”—Stenley pointed at Nixon—“Is the one deputy on my force you can be sure didn’t take Mrs. Hawkins’ call lightly. Every time she reported a prowler and Matt was on duty, he hauled it out to Mrs. Hawkins’ place. Some of the other deputies might not have been so dedicated, all things considered. He’s even been taking care of her chickens, gathering eggs and feeding and watering them even though there’s one rooster that goes after him every time Matt checks on them.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” Carlin tried to explain, feeling like a jerk and more than a little curious about the ‘all things considered’ part of the sheriff’s admonishment. Right now, however, he needed to mend the fence he’d bulldozed over and judging by the sheriff’s demeanor, Carlin rather thought honesty was the best policy at this point.
Carlin hadn’t even thought about his aunt’s chickens. Shit. Something else he needed to see to. “I admit I did want to make sure my aunt’s emergency call was acted on quickly, but surely you can understand that? I’d just meant to do it more tactfully. Normally I’m a lot smoother than that, at least I am in the courtroom.”
Sheriff Stenley’s expression hardened, the look in his eyes foreboding. “Your aunt called in false prowler reports over a dozen times a year. I never brought charges against her for it, even when she’d…” Stenley coughed and ruddy strips of color bloomed on his cheeks. “Well, I don’t know what you knew about Mrs. Hawkins, but she had a…a thing for my deputies, and, uh, me.”
Now the man looked flustered and Carlin was intrigued even as his gut twisted with guilt. He’d heard stories before of elderly people calling in false reports just to get a cop out so they’d have some company. Carlin just hadn’t known his aunt was that lonely. “She never said a word about it, about the calls, or—” Carlin swallowed as his throat muscles tightened. His eyes were stinging, warning of another deluge of tears.
“Come on,” Sheriff Stenley said in a voice so laden with compassion Carlin couldn’t stop the flow of moisture that leaked onto his cheeks. He gingerly set his arm over Carlin’s shoulder, then nudged him with his hand. “Let’s take this conversation inside before everyone in McKinton hears it.”
* * * *
“You know, even with that scowl, you’re a handsome man,” Severo said as he stirred his coffee. “I can see why Carlin Douglas was drooling over you.” His pale green eyes crinkled at the outer corners as he grinned. “I mean that in a friendly way, just so we’re clear.”
Matt slumped where he sat in the booth of Virginia’s Café. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he did. Even now that he knew who the gorgeous blond was, just thinking about the way the man had looked him over had Matt’s dick hardening uncomfortably. He quelled the urge to shift, unwilling to give Severo a clue about his body’s reaction.
“Sure you do,” Severo argued. “I might not have been able to see your face, but I didn’t need to. Anyone could pick up on the sexual tension between you and Carlin.”
Matt darted a nervous glance around the café and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one else in the place. His skin prickled as an odd buzzing sounded in his head then vanished. It was as if the restraints he’d kept on his thoughts and emotions had been stripped away. The possibility of talking those things over with someone other than Mrs. Hawkins held an appeal he’d not seen before now. Matt could almost hear Mrs. Hawkins encouraging him to reach out to the man across the table from him.
Maybe he could talk to Severo about all the crap in his head he’d been trying to unknot for months now, ever since Houston PD detective Rich Montoya had showed up in McKinton. The man was gone now, packed up and off to God knew where, but the feelings he’d roused in Matt hadn’t gone with Montoya. No, those were rooted inside Matt and growing stronger every day.
Matt looked at Severo and weighed his options. There weren’t many. Mrs. Hawkins had been the only person Matt had confided in, and he desperately needed to figure this shit out. Severo watched him in return, his expression peaceful, as if promising silently to help Matt and maybe shoulder some of his load.
“All right,” Matt murmured, more to himself than Severo. The door to the café jangled as someone entered and Matt’s heart th
umped heavily in his chest. “Ah, can we maybe talk, in the cruiser, or somewhere less”—Matt waved a hand at the newcomer—“less public?”
Severo didn’t answer him directly, turning instead to wave at the waitress. “Can we get our coffees to go please?” The waiter, some new guy Matt hadn’t seen before, nodded and darted off to toward the kitchen. “Wonder who he is,” Severo mused. “He doesn’t have a name tag, and I’ve never seen him anywhere around town before. He’s a damn sight better looking than Irma was, that’s for sure.”
Matt pulled himself from his chaotic thoughts long enough to study the waiter. Young, that was his first impression, and hungry, probably literally. The kid was so thin it was almost painful to look at him, but he had really big brown eyes and an uncoordinated jerkiness to his movements that bespoke of nervousness. Matt also noticed the waiter kept his gaze averted, as if afraid to look directly at them, and that perception of fear made Matt’s protective instincts kick in.
“What’s your name?” Matt asked as the waiter began pouring Severo’s coffee into a Styrofoam cup. The kid startled and sloshed coffee over his hand—and continued with his task without so much as a gasp. That coffee had about singed the skin off Matt’s tongue seconds earlier when he’d taken a sip. Spilling it on his hand would have made him yelp and cuss.
Severo reached for the younger man’s hand before Matt could, and only then did the waiter make a sound, whimpering as he jerked his hand free of Severo’s loose hold.
“I’m sorry, I was only going to check—” Severo began, his voice rough with an emotion Matt could only guess was guilt, or maybe concern, but it didn’t matter. Severo was talking to air. The waiter had run to the kitchen as soon as he’d freed his hand. “Shit!”
Matt heartily agreed. “Shit, all right. Someone hurt that kid, spooked him something fierce.” Matt pulled out his wallet and started to fish out a twenty only to have Severo stop him.
“Not too much, he might get the wrong idea.”
“God.” Matt stuffed the twenty back in his wallet and pulled out a ten, giving Severo a questioning look. He got a nod of approval and tossed the money on the table. “Still up to listening for a little while? As long as I don’t have to go out on any calls?”
“Yeah, anything I can do to help.” Severo slid out of the booth and Matt did too, walking beside him to the register where Virginia was waiting.
“Coffee’s free for you two,” Virginia said as Matt reached for his wallet again. She eyed them both for a long moment then tipped her chin toward the kitchen. “I don’t know what scared the hell out of Darren, but I don’t think either of you meant to do it.”
Severo grunted and glanced at the kitchen door. “He spilled coffee on his hand. All I wanted to do was take a look at it and make sure he hadn’t burnt himself. He freaked when I touched him and ran off before I could apologize or explain.”
Virginia harrumphed but reached out and patted Severo’s arm. “I don’t know what happened to him. I just kind of found him looking lost and hungry, hitching a ride on the highway toward town. I don’t normally stop for hitchers, but…” She shrugged. “You seen him. He just looks hurt, and like he hasn’t seen much kindness in this world.”
Matt picked up the pen and pulled a piece of register tape from the cash register. He jotted down his phone number and handed the paper to Virginia. “I don’t know how you can do it without making him more afraid of me, but if you can find a way, give him that and tell him I’ll help him if he needs me to, or wants me to. And make sure he knows I don’t mean anything, you know, more than that, please.”
Virginia tucked the paper into her apron pocket and smiled. “I’ll do that, Matt. You’re just a nice man. Gonna make someone real happy one of these days.”
The fact Virginia didn’t specify the sex of that someone wasn’t lost on Matt, but he wasn’t sure what to say so he settled on a ‘thank you’ and left the café with Severo on his heels.
Outside in the Texas sunlight, Matt paused to give his eyes time to adjust. Virginia’s Café wasn’t exactly dim, but it was still like stepping from a dark room into one lit wall to wall by hundred-watt bulbs.
“Nice haircut. Meant to tell you that earlier but I got distracted with our waiter freaking out on us.”
Matt glanced at Severo just to make sure the man was being sincere. His honest, open expression reassured Matt more than any words could have. “Thanks. I don’t know why I did it. Lord knows it was a thick, unruly mess, but, I dunno, something came over me and I just had to clip it down to next to nothing.”
“Oh shit,” Severo hissed as he grabbed Matt’s forearm. “When you say something came over you, what do you mean, exactly?”
Matt frowned and rubbed a hand over his head, liking the way the soft strands felt against his palm. He tried to think of how to describe the impulse that had made him want to take the clippers to his hair, but his memory of it was kind of fuzzy.
Which was weird, because he had been totally sober by then. While he couldn’t remember clearly what had happened, he could remember other things that had occurred over the past few days and he feared he knew where Severo might be going with this. Having a friend who could speak to the dead was disconcerting at times like this.
Not only could Severo speak to spirits of deceased people, but he could hear them, too. It might have sounded like a bunch of hooey to most people, but Severo had been called on by numerous police departments when a case had gone cold. There was documented proof of his successes, and even if there weren’t, Matt had seen Severo’s rather creepy abilities more than once since Severo had moved to McKinton.
In fact, it was Severo’s communication with Conner, Sheriff Stenley’s deceased lover, that had brought Severo to McKinton in the first place. If it weren’t for Severo, Stenley and Matt likely would both be dead, victims of the sadistic stalker who’d killed Conner. As it was, Matt knew he was lucky to have got away with only the deep scar that marred his stomach and the nightmares that still occurred too often.
“Matt?” Severo tugged at his arm. “Look, I’m only asking because I get the feeling something is going on with you. Back in the restaurant, before you asked if we could talk, there was this… Well, it was almost like a current in the air. That’s not what I usually feel when there’s a spirit hanging around, but I’ve learnt I don’t know as much about spirits as I thought I did.”
“You think I’m being haunted?” Matt was officially past creeped out. The strange comforting smells, the sudden need to make sure the elderly in McKinton were being taken care of, the buzz in his head… “Fuck. I am, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Severo said. “But if there is a spirit or two hanging around, I wouldn’t say you were being haunted. Protected in a weird way, or maybe guided? Those are definite possibilities. Have you experienced any strange visions, or heard unexplainable sounds? Caught the whiff of something familiar but not really there? Usually when a spirit wants to talk to me, I hear this buzzing in my head—”
“Fuck,” Matt muttered again because no other word seemed to be applicable. “Yes to several of those. Shit.”
“Huh.” Severo released Matt’s arm then propped his hands on his hips. “Looks like we both have some listening to do.”
* * * *
Carlin leaned back in the chair in front of Sheriff Stenley’s desk and wondered if it was possible for him to have been an even bigger asshole. The sheriff had insisted—not that Carlin had protested too much to the contrary—on playing Aunt Mary’s last call to report a prowler. Hearing his aunt’s voice, which was clearly happy and not tinged with even the least bit of fear, had torn Carlin up inside.
The sheriff had also showed him a log of Aunt Mary’s calls, and frankly, after seeing the number of times she’d made false claims of a prowler, Carlin had been surprised the woman hadn’t been arrested. He was more surprised Deputy Nixon had arrived so quickly as, all things considered, to quote Sheriff Stenley, Aunt Mary had clearly cried wolf doze
ns of times. Yet Deputy Nixon hadn’t hesitated, and had, according to the sheriff and the documented time of the call and the time of Nixon’s arrival, treated the call like the emergency it had ended up being.
Not that it’d made a difference. Aunt Mary had been dead before Nixon arrived, and there was nothing that would change that. According to her autopsy report, Mary had died within seconds, the bottom of her heart basically bursting. Even if someone had been with her, she wouldn’t have survived the massive heart attack.
So Aunt Mary had died alone, and even worse, lonely. The only person who’d bothered to spend time with her had been Deputy Nixon, and Carlin had basically intimated the man hadn’t done his job, had let Aunt Mary die.
“I’m an ass,” Carlin said dully as he rubbed his forehead.
“Just upset,” Stenley argued gently, “and probably feeling a little guilty on top of it?”
A little didn’t begin to cover it. “I have certain obligations that kept me from being able to come to McKinton to visit.”
Sheriff Stenley gave him an arch look. “Yet you’re here now.”
Carlin now knew how his defendant felt during trial. “They only recently changed.”
“But you visited here before?”
“You should have been a goddamned lawyer,” Carling muttered, which made the sheriff’s lips twitch. “I was here for less than twenty-four hours over ten years ago. I’d just figured out I was gay, and one of the town residents was assaulted and frankly it terrified me.”
“That’d have been Zeke Matthers, a friend of mine,” Sheriff Stenley informed him. “His sister was the one who got those men riled up so they would gang up on Zeke. She’s in prison now, since she tried to run him down several months back. Almost killed Zeke.”
All of the Voices Page 3