His First Surrender (Stonewall Investigations Miami Book 3)

by Max Walker

  “Whoa, what the hell,” Hazel said, standing up. Olive stayed sitting, looking around with confusion on her face.

  “My laptop. Where the fuck is it?”

  “Dude, not here, I can tell you that for sure,” I said, feeling more and more nervous.

  Nick did a lap around the living room, while the three of us looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Calling the cops was on my mind, but I was scared that could cause a much bigger ordeal. Maybe he just needed to do a lap, seeing that his computer wasn’t here, and he’d leave our lives for good.

  “Fuck you all, it has to be here.”

  I put myself between Nick and the girls. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Hazel. “If you had left it here before Jesse died, then it’s probably locked up in an evidence closet at the police station.”

  He backed up, hitting the counter behind him. “I left it here. Are you bitches hiding it from me?”

  “Absolutely not,” Hazel said from behind me.

  “Nick, you need to leave.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Now. Or I’m calling the cops and you can check out their evidence room for yourself.”

  He looked at the phone in my hand, as if gauging how real the threat was. I unlocked it and dialed nine. He perked up. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, he huffed and stormed past me.

  “Fuck this shit,” he hissed as he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  The three of us let out a relieved breath in unison.

  “What in the world was that about?” Olive asked.

  “Olive, when you signed the lease…” Hazel ran a hand through her hair, moving some auburn brown strands from her face. “Did they tell you what happened to our last roommate?”

  She cocked her head. “No…”

  Hazel and I both took deep breaths. My phone started ringing then. “Oh shit.” It was Rocky. He was calling to tell me he was downstairs. “Gah, sorry, you guys, Rocky’s here.”

  “Go, go,” Hazel said. “This is going to take a while.”

  Olive, still looking scared and confused, waved me off. “Go, and have a good time. We want to hear all the X-rated details when you get back. I want a full PowerPoint presentation.”

  That got a laugh out of me. “I’ll make sure to use really cool effects.”

  “You better,” Olive said.

  “If Nick comes back, don’t open the door, okay?” I grabbed my keys. “Call the police. That guy’s no good.”

  I left the apartment, feeling bad that I couldn’t be there to help Hazel tell the story of what happened with Jesse, but I knew she could get through it, and I knew Olive would most likely understand. As I walked down the stairs, I tried to shake off the negative cloud Nick had left in his wake. It felt like I was walking through a thick fog. The heavy humidity that clung to my skin sure didn’t help.

  Rocky was waiting for me in his Corvette, the engine purring as I approached. Growing up the way I had, I never really cared much for material things, but there was definitely no denying a certain sexiness about slipping into a car more expensive than all the things I owned put together. Multiplied by a thousand. It was even nicer that Rocky wasn’t very flashy about it. Sure, the Corvette was a bright red and clearly made a statement against the backdrop of Toyotas and Hondas, but Rocky never really flaunted it. He certainly never spoke or bragged about it and was never the kind of douche that makes his car rev at every stoplight. Neither was he ever looking for a race. He drove it because he liked it, and that was that on that, and it made me like him more than I could ever like any kind of car.

  The sun was just beginning to set, splashing the sky in hues of gold and purple. I opened the door and practically melted into the bucket seat. “Hey, babe,” Rocky said. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, placing a hand on his neck and turning the kiss into a steamier version.

  “Whoa, that’s a good hello,” Rocky said, sitting back with a smile on his glossy lips. He looked so handsome in his dark red polo shirt and light jeans.

  “Guess it’s the adrenaline.”

  “Adrenaline? Did you skydive into the parking lot?”

  That got a chuckle out of me. “I feel like I did. No, it was a surprise visitor that’s got me worked up.” I sighed, surprised at how on edge I still felt. “It was Nick. Jesse’s friend.”

  Rocky almost jerked the car to a complete stop. I looked to my left, surprised.

  “Nick? Nick Ricks? He was here?”

  “Yeah, minutes ago.”

  Rocky chewed on his lip and scanned the parking lot, which we were just about to exit. “I saw someone running. Shit.”

  “Rocky, what’s going on?”

  Rocky made a sharp turn, heading back into the lot. “Sorry,” he said, “but this could be my chance.”

  “For what?” Confusion started giving way to fear. “What’s going on?”

  “Nick and Jesse were hooking up. I’ve got them on video, and I’ve got Nick here moments before the murder. To top it all off, I found out he lives down the street from Stonewall. I went to his apartment before coming here, but no one answered.”

  Even though Rocky had barely spoke three sentences, it was still information overload. “Wait, wait, wait. He was here before the murder? And they were hooking up? Jesus… but Nick’s super homophobic. He… fucking hell. He did it?”

  “I don’t know. But I want to talk to him. I want to hear whatever paper-thin alibi he gives me for the time of the murder.”

  “Ok. Alright, let’s go.”

  “Let’s go?”

  “Let’s find this guy. He couldn’t have gotten very far. We’ll let the other guys know we’ll be a little late to the date.”

  Rocky looked like he was about to argue but there wasn’t much time. He sent a text message. Angel, being another detective, completely understood and let us know they’d meet us later.

  We circled the block but didn’t spot Nick.

  “Go up that street,” I said, pointing toward a tree-lined street where cars were parked next to blinking green meters.

  Rocky drove slow, both of us keeping our eyes sharp. At one corner, I thought we spotted him, but when the guy turned it was clear I was mistaken.

  “He could be anywhere,” I said, feeling a little deflated. And then, since I was saying whatever was coming to my mind, I asked, “and why would he do it? Why did he kill Jesse? And he tried blaming it on Hazel. Smearing it on her door… why?”

  “Passion makes people do crazy things. Mix that with hardcore drugs, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. I’ve got a feeling they were high off something and started to argue. Maybe Jesse threatened to out their relationship. That could be a huge push for Nick to snap. And we know he doesn’t like Hazel, at all. He may have thought it would be a way to get out of it.”

  I shook my head, feeling a weird mixture of both relief and hopelessness. We felt so close to the answer, but that didn’t erase any of the questions.

  Rocky and I brainstormed some more as we drove up and down the Miami streets, passing by bodegas and barbershops and swimwear stores, all of them potential hiding places for Nick.

  At one point, I called Hazel so I could fill her in on what we thought, but she didn’t pick up her phone, so I called Olive next. I told them both to sleep somewhere else for the night and to not speak to Nick until Rocky or the police do.

  After about another hours of driving, Rocky called it. “Alright, we should head back. The fair’s not far from here.”

  “He can’t hide for long.”

  “No. I’ve got a feeling he won’t be showing up at his house, but at least I’ve got the address. I’ll be staking it out in between looking for him. I’ll find him.”

  I didn’t like knowing that Nick had been so close, especially if he was the one who had murdered Jesse and tried to frame Hazel. My throat felt dry as ash, and my hands were clamming up. Rocky must have sensed it, because he reached out and rubbed my leg reassuringly.

  “It’s
going to be ok,” he said, “This is the lead I’ve been looking for. I have a feeling I can hunt down the murder weapon, too. I don’t think Nick is smart enough to dispose of that without someone finding it. Especially not now that the spotlight’s turning on him,” Rocky said as we drove across the bridge that connected Miami Beach to the rest of Miami. I looked out on the bay, the water seeming so peaceful, reflecting some of the purple and blue lights that lit up along the bridge. There were a couple of boats lazily drifting across the water.

  “I hope so, Rocky. I really do.”

  He grabbed my hand in his, his fingers slipping through mine. Suddenly, the same peacefulness that seemed to rise up from the bay came over me. I held Rocky’s hand tight as he drove, the conversation slowly turning away from Nick and back toward regular topics. There were a couple of times I looked in the rearview mirror and thought I spotted Nick’s beat-up Chevy behind us, but I pushed away the paranoia and focused on the night ahead.

  22

  Rocky Hudson

  The Florida State Fair was a massive event that attracted huge crowds almost every night of the week. Tonight was no different, the lines leading up to the ticket booth wrapping around a couple of times. There was the mouthwatering smell of elephant-sized turkey legs and turkey-sized elephant ears wafting through the air. Music was pumping through the speakers hidden inside the hedges that surrounded the main gate. Thankfully, Angel and Peter had already gotten in line, so we found them by the front and apologetically cut in, the dirty looks only lasting a couple of seconds.

  “Y’all are so cute,” Peter said, resting his head on Angel’s shoulder and looking between Sam and me. “Sorry, I know we just met, but I have to say it. Like, the cutest.”

  “Hey, I thought we were ‘the cutest,’” Angel said.

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Peter said with a laugh. I looked to Sam, whose cheeks were turning a rosy pink. “How long have you two been dating? Wait, wait, let me guess. Three years? Four?”

  “About three months,” I said.

  Peter’s face cracked. “Are you—well, fuck me with a buttered-up biscuit and dip me in gravy.”

  That got us all laughing. Even the couple behind us was giggling. Something about Peter, speaking in his Southern drawl, talking about being fucked by buttered biscuits, really drew the laughs.

  We reached the ticket booth. I made sure to buy everyone’s ticket, even though Angel was about to tackle me down when he realized. I waved him off and told him to just buy me an elephant ear and we’d be even.

  Once through the gates, the energy of the fair seemed to explode. There were souvenir stands on either side of the wide path, shifting into big whirling rides that were bound to have guests running toward the conveniently placed garbage cans waiting for them right at the exit of each ride. Excited screams filled the air as the Spin-o-tron did exactly as its name suggested and spun its riders in a wide, open-air circle, making me nauseous even just looking at it. There were tents that promised to have jaw-dropping aerialist shows and magic shows, while another red-and-white-striped tent held the petting zoo, the scent of goats and hay and hand sanitizer drifting out from the flaps. Kids ran past us, and teens clustered in groups were drifting around with their phones aimed toward the perfect shot for their social media.

  “Okay, who’s a rider?” Angel asked.

  Peter shot him a look before saying in a loud theatrical whisper, “Give me a few whiskeys and I’ll answer that question for you, babe.”

  Sam laughed. “I can do the tame rides. But I’m not sure about all that.” Sam pointed to a rickety wooden roller coaster that climbed up about fifty feet before dropping like a stone and disappearing inside a long, dark tunnel.

  Secretly, I was relieved. I would have ridden it for Sam, but I wasn’t exactly a roller coaster fan either.

  “All right, you two can hold my purse, then.” Peter pushed Angel toward us before running off to the single-rider line. We could hear him laughing over the sound of the roller coaster speeding into the tunnel.

  “He’s wild,” Angel said. “I love it.”

  “How long have you two been together?” Sam asked as we moved over to a covered area where there were benches of people waiting for their friends to get off the ride.

  “It’ll be a year this weekend, actually.”

  “Oh, congrats. We’ve got to get a drink to celebrate.”

  “For sure,” Angel said. “I’m glad you invited us out tonight, Rocky. I’ve had some double-date disasters before, but I can already tell us four are going to get along great.”

  “Disasters?” Sam asked, perking up. “Sounds like an interesting-story territory.”

  “Oh it for sure is.” Behind Angel, a group of kids were trying to shoot a basketball into a moving (and most likely way too small) hoop. “The craziest one was a few years back. I was dating this guy back then, who had a few issues, and those issues had come up on the date. He ended up preaching to a table next to us, where two guys were kissing and holding hands, about how they’re destined to go to hell. Two minutes earlier we had been playing footsie under the table. His closet had dead-bolt locks on the doors.”

  Peter came back, and we made Angel repeat the story for him because of how crazy it was. While we talked, we walked, exploring the fair, taking in all the fun stands. The conversation turned to us all trying to decide what fried food we were going to eat later.

  “I think I’m going for the fried Oreo stack,” Sam said.

  “A fried Snickers sounds good,” Angel chimed in.

  Peter waved his hands in the air. “I love that journey for y’all, but I’m ordering about a dozen fried pickles and no one can tell me otherwise.”

  “Fried pickle?” I said, lips pursed but considering it. “Hmm, maybe I might have that, too.”

  “Oh, honey, you’ll forever be changed if you’ve never had a fried pickle from the fair.”

  I laughed, feeling a sense of connection between us four. There were moments when my instincts would flare up and I’d feel myself wanting to raise the walls again, but I fought that urge, instead staying as open as I could, allowing myself to enjoy the connection. It felt like we’d all been friends for years now, even though I had just met Peter hours ago and had never hung out with Angel outside of our breakroom. I had almost forgotten what that word even entailed: “friend.” I’d forgotten about the endless laughs and the easy conversations. It had been easy for me to lose myself in the all-consuming darkness that had come from the deaths of the people I loved the most. It was a darkness that seemed impenetrable. Hell, it was impenetrable for some time.

  But then Sam came along, his smile as bright as a star, lighting up the shadows and pushing them all away, throwing everything into stark light.

  I couldn’t help but reach for his hand. He didn’t even miss a beat, continuing his story about the time he was stranded at Disney World with his mom and dad. Our fingers locked together perfectly, and from the touch came a warmth that spread through me, pulling at my lips and giving me a grin I didn’t even think about wearing. It just happened.

  We walked past the sweet-smelling cotton candy booth, its top shaped like a fluffy pink cloud of cotton candy. Angel asked to stop for some. He came back to the group with two buckets of mountainous cotton candy. Sam and I thanked him as we munched on the sweet puffs, continuing our stroll through the fair, stopping at different booths to play games or look at interesting art or catch a glimpse of a fun-looking show. The night was young, and the fair did not look like it had any plans to sleep.

  We reached the petting zoo tent, most of our cotton candy now gone. Sam was the one to lead us toward the entrance, the scent of goats replacing the candy scent as we tossed out our buckets and replaced them for handfuls of petting zoo pellets. I didn’t really love petting zoos, but Sam seemed too excited for me to say anything otherwise. He went over to the cutest-looking pot-bellied pig and crouched down, giving the pig some belly scratches as it flipped over like a happy do
g.

  “This one looks like it loves you,” I said, crouching next to Sam so I could get some belly scratches in. A jealous-looking goat hopped over with its big yellow eyes locked on the pellets in my hand.

  “And that one looks like it wants to mug you.” Sam pointed at the goat with his chin, laughing as we stood up.

  I looked around, scanning the petting zoo, feeling more than happy in the moment. Across the way, there was a pen holding two sheep that looked as fluffy as the cotton candy we had just eaten. I started toward them, wanting to feel how soft they were, when I stopped cold in my tracks.

  Past the sheep pen, by a pretzel stand on the other side of the path, I thought I saw a face I recognized. One that had been set in my memory since seeing Anya’s security tape.

  Nick. It looked just like him. The man had long, greasy hair and the same skinny build, but he was wearing a cap that concealed most of his face. The passing crowd grew thick, and before I could verify anything, the man had disappeared.

  I’m getting paranoid. That’s all.

  Sam came up behind me. “Look at those two little walking clouds. Let’s go pet them.” He grabbed my hand and started me toward the sheep.

  Angel was standing by the wooden fence. He had been bending over and petting one of the sheep but was now looking out to the thickening crowd, all walking toward a big tent where an aerial show was supposed to start. Peter was next to him, his fingers lost underneath the wool as he cooed over how soft the sheep felt.

  “That’s weird…” Angel said, loudly enough for me to hear even though he seemed to be talking more to himself.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just weird how I was talking about that crazy date I had, and now I think I just saw the guy. But there’s no way.”