Holding Out for a Fairy Tale

by A. J. Thomas

  “Why did you wait until two days ago to call the police?” Elliot asked.

  Dr. Holland glanced at Ray again. “I suppose I thought her friends and family would report it if something was wrong.”

  “Did her boyfriend offer any kind of explanation about her absence? Maybe that she was out sick?”

  The professor shook his head. “I asked, but he said they broke up and that he hadn’t seen her.” He spun in his chair, turned his head toward the computer monitor, and then looked back at them for a moment. “Although, I saw him using her laptop in class a few days ago. His own laptop is covered in stickers and decals, but hers is plain black.”

  Elliot made a note of that and an abbreviated note of the way Dr. Holland kept turning away. Whether he was turning his entire body, his head, or just his eyes, the man was looking anywhere but at the two of them.

  “Is your coffee okay? I swear I made it just twenty minutes ago.”

  Dr. Holland nodded at the cup Elliot had set aside. Elliot tried not to grimace. “I’m sure it’s fine.” He wrapped his fingers around the cup and took several long sips. “It’s perfect. Thank you, again.” Elliot drank the rest quickly and felt like cursing. He was already dealing with an encroaching headache because his blood sugar was low, and the coffee was all it would take to throw him into a full-blown migraine.

  “I think we got everything we need.” He stood and fished a business card out of his pocket. “I just need your full name, address, and a phone number where you can be reached this weekend in case I have to follow up on anything.” Elliot handed the man his own business card and took one of Dr. Holland’s in turn. “And if you think of anything else, anything that might help us track down Miss Munoz, please give me a call.”

  He waited until they were well away from Dr. Holland’s office before he glanced at Ray. He could tell from the scowl on Ray’s face that he’d picked up on Dr. Holland’s body language, too. He waited for Ray to say something, since the shorter man looked like he was going to burst if he didn’t. Despite the nervous energy, Ray kept his mouth shut. As they headed back across campus, past the library, which looked more like homage to the Starship Enterprise than a library, Elliot finally gave in to the silence. “So was your cousin the type who would fool around with her professor, or do you think the professor just has a crush on her?”

  Ray’s silent glare was the only answer Elliot got.

  “Did she ever mention this Luca Garcia to you?”

  “He was lying!”

  “Yes.” Elliot just smiled. “But you said she had a boyfriend. Does Luca Garcia ring a bell?”

  Ray slowed down and kicked at the ornate paving stones at their feet. “Luke. Carmen said Sophie’s boyfriend is named Luke. But she wouldn’t put up with some moron who couldn’t keep up with her intellectually. She wouldn’t.”

  “And the reputation as an airhead?”

  “It’s bullshit. Look, the professor having a crush on her I can understand. Maybe he was throwing her boyfriend’s name out as an easy way to get rid of the kid.”

  “What?”

  “I think he just mentioned her boyfriend because he’s hoping I’ll kill him.”

  Elliot stopped and gaped down at Ray. “What kind of sense does that make? Delgado, her professor thinks she’s dead. He thinks her boyfriend killed her, and he didn’t want to come right out and say it. What the hell is going on in your head?”

  “He became defensive when I told him I was a member of Sophie’s family, you saw it! He leaned back, he crossed his arms and legs, and he tried to put as many barriers as he could between him and me. And he looked at me when he talked about her boyfriend.”

  “And no one can look at you without expecting someone to die?” Elliot laughed. “How is it that your department hasn’t pulled you off duty? You’re reading too much into this.”

  “I am not!” Ray shouted. The volume of his own voice seemed to catch him off guard, and he glanced around as the ever-moving sea of students stopped to stare at them. “I am not. He knows Sophie. She must have told him about her father and brothers, and he thought I was one of them.”

  “Delgado, listen to yourself. Even you have to admit that you sound insane. If you’re going to act all psycho on me, you need to go home.”

  “I do not need to go home. Which professor’s next?”

  “Holland was the last one. I interviewed the others yesterday. Two of them teach in big lecture halls, they don’t keep track of attendance and didn’t have a clue who she is. Her math professor was pissed because she missed two quizzes and a test, but he started ranting about it in what sounded like Farsi, and all I got after that was that she was going to have to retake the class at this point.”

  Elliot rubbed his right temple, feeling the ache of the headache kicking into high gear. If he had eaten something to slow down how fast he digested the coffee, he might have been able to buy enough time to get home. The ache inside his head began to throb in time with his heartbeat. Within seconds, splotches of glowing light and darkness began to float across his field of vision.

  He was fucked.

  He knew that within two hours the icepick throb would set in, and then he’d be out of commission until morning at least.

  Ray just wasn’t going to let this go, though. “Are you going to go talk to her boyfriend?”

  “Duh….” Elliot cringed as his own voice pierced the throbbing rhythm. “You can’t even give me credit for being able to manage my own fucking investigation!”

  “That’s not what I meant. I was trying to ask if I could come with you, Special Agent Oblivious.”

  “Are you going to keep acting crazy?”

  “I can be professional.”

  “And if this guy killed your cousin?”

  “It’s your case. You’d arrest him, wouldn’t you?”

  “And if it’s gruesome? If it’s a bloody, horrible mess and we walk in to find him jacking off right in the middle of it?”

  Elliot was impressed by the way Ray adopted a calm smirk rather than throwing a punch at him. Right now, a punch to the head would really hurt. “So you don’t intend to knock? Because most guys will tuck it back into their pants if they have to go answer the door….”

  “Not the point.”

  “I can count on you to flay the bastard alive in lockup, right?” Ray managed to turn his smirk into a pleading, puppy-dog grin.

  “Hell no. Did that look work on Superman?”

  “Superman?”

  “Your old partner.”

  “Always!” Ray cackled.

  Elliot stalked away, but Ray caught up with him. “Who’s the one not giving credit for professionalism now, hmm? I am not going to interfere. I still have every confidence that she’s alive, and if something bad has happened to her, there are a lot scarier people in her life than this Luca Garcia. If I’m wrong, I know you’ll arrest him.”

  “And if I don’t?” Elliot asked. He felt as if he was talking to a child, taking Ray by the hand and guiding him to the obvious conclusion that he was just too damn close to have any part in this investigation.

  Ray shrugged again. “If there’s evidence, and you won’t or can’t arrest him, I will.”

  “You swear? You can look at a suspect, knowing he’s hurt someone you love, and arrest him? If you had already drawn your weapon and were just one fraction of an inch away from making the world a better place? You’d arrest him?”

  Ray’s grin softened for a moment, melting into an expression so severe Elliot wasn’t sure he’d believe the man before him and the grinning asshole were ever the same person. “Yes,” Ray said seriously. “I’ve done it before.”

  Elliot wanted to call that one as bullshit, like almost everything else Ray Delgado said, but something in the man’s expression was too raw, too solid to question.

  “Look, if you’re so convinced I’m going to murder your suspect, then go without me. But at least let me look at the case file after? I just—”

  Ellio
t hissed as his vision darkened around the edges. Having someone to back him up when he was like this was a smart idea, he knew. Most of the Gang Task Force was mobilized already, trying to track down Sophie Munoz’s brother, so it would be hard to get somebody else. Elliot interrupted him. “You can tag along.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you leave your sidearm behind, if you don’t say a fucking word, you can come with me when I interview this Luca Garcia.”

  Elliot was relieved when the stoic expression vanished from Ray’s face and his carefree, million-dollar smile returned. As the warmth of Ray’s eyes sank into him, Elliot turned away fast. There was no chance in hell he was going to start thinking about Ray as anything other than an annoyance this time around.

  Ray knew something was very wrong with Elliot as they walked across the campus parking lot. His long legs and tight muscles just weren’t moving with the same grace and fluid confidence Ray had come to expect. He was taking short, hurried steps. The way Elliot kept brushing his fingertips over his temple was starting to seem less like a nervous tic and more like pain. Every now and then, Elliot slowed down and swayed slightly, rubbed his eyes, and then continued.

  If Ray hadn’t seen Elliot composed and put together just a few minutes ago, Ray would think he was drunk. It got so bad that by the time Elliot fished his keys out of his pocket, dropped them twice, and finally managed to get his silver Honda Civic unlocked, Ray had seen enough.

  “I think I’ll take those.” Ray swiped the keys and looped his hand through Elliot’s elbow. He steered Elliot to the passenger door, getting more worried when the stubbornly independent FBI agent didn’t resist at all. “You’re in no shape to drive.”

  “Hmm….”

  “Yeah, eloquent. Get in the car.”

  Ray thought about calling Elliot a cab but decided against it. He was confident Sophie was fine, and he was pretty sure he could find her on his own, but he was curious enough about Elliot’s involvement that he wasn’t willing to let the other man get away from him yet.

  “Where am I going?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

  “Take the I-5 to Highway 52 East. Tierrasanta exit.”

  Ray rolled his eyes. He knew how to get to the regional FBI headquarters, but whatever had hit Elliot on the walk across campus wasn’t something he was going to be able to work through. He was in no shape to head back to the office right now. “You sure going back to work right now is a smart idea?” he asked, in a tone that he hoped said Going back to work right now is not a smart idea.

  “Tierrasanta,” Elliot insisted. “This is a six-year assignment, so I bought a place close to work.”

  “Oh. Tierrasanta it is.”

  There was always traffic in San Diego, but outside of rush hour, the highways rarely ground to a halt, so they made good time getting across the northern half of the city. “Tierrasanta. Which way now?”

  “Left.” The direction was uttered so quietly that Ray thought Elliot might be about to pass out.

  They drove past an ornate sign proclaiming the quiet residential neighborhood’s name and then drove up one hill after another, with Elliot guiding him through a maze of nice stucco homes before finally telling him to pull in to a smaller, single-story house on the edge of a gigantic canyon.

  Ray studied the neighborhood as he pulled in to the driveway. “I never realized there were this many houses up here. I always just thought it was the federal offices across the highway. Well, and the city and county offices, too. Looks like a nice place.”

  “Give me my keys. I’ve got to get inside.”

  Ray obliged and followed the FBI agent past a two-car garage and through the front door. Inside, the house had the same open floor plan that California builders had been recreating in tightly packed suburbs for the last twenty years. The living portion of the open space was designated with lush carpet, and an updated corner kitchen was separated from the rest by a granite-topped kitchen island with a long breakfast bar. Vaulted ceilings and gigantic windows made the normal-sized living space feel huge.

  “Nice place.” Ray watched Elliot for a moment, but Elliot wasn’t paying attention.

  Elliot was bent over a kitchen drawer, pulling out a first aid kit and a mess of white and amber pill bottles. Ray leaned over his shoulder and watched as he fiddled with what looked like an EpiPen.

  “Allergies?”

  “No.” Elliot took the device and two prescription pill bottles and disappeared through a door on the other side of the kitchen.

  Ray stared at the closed door for a moment, then glanced down at the open drawer. He only hesitated because he wasn’t sure how angry Elliot would be if he caught him snooping through his shit. Even if Elliot became furious, Ray figured it would be worthwhile to know what he was dealing with. Inside, he found a dozen more of the devices in a box with a prescription label calling it Imitrex. The amber pill bottles in the drawer ranged from prescription strength ibuprofen, to a full bottle of Vicodin and a full bottle of Percocet. The prescriptions were new, filled by the Naval Medical Center, and Elliot had a hell of a lot of each.

  Ray shoved everything back into the drawer and slipped his phone out of his pocket. After a few minutes of research, he had a basic idea of what the injectable migraine medication Imitrex was. It was a drug intended to constrict blood vessels inside the brain, to relieve the pressure of severe migraines. It was typically used with an additional painkiller, and it worked best if taken at the first signs of a migraine. If the caliber of painkillers Elliot had been prescribed were any indication, the man’s migraines were severe.

  Ray looked up the symptoms of severe migraines, trying to get a better idea of what Elliot was dealing with and how long he was going to be out of commission. The list of symptoms sounded unpleasant, but there was no solid information about how long they could last. He read a dozen different time frames, ranging from two hours to three days. Even two hours meant that there was no way Elliot would be up for tracking down Luca Garcia today. Enough pain medication might be able to dull the migraine, but it would probably also knock Elliot out for the night. Ray pulled the drawer open again, trying to match the shapes and sizes of the prescription bottles to the two Elliot had taken with him. He hoped Elliot had just taken the ibuprofen along with the Imitrex. If he had, they might stand a chance of getting something done tonight.

  Noticing that nausea was one of the most prominent symptoms, and that most of the painkillers in the little drawer also tended to be hard on the stomach, Ray shucked his jacket off, tossed it onto the breakfast bar, and began to dig through Elliot’s fridge and cabinets.

  Elliot Belkamp, Ray realized, ate nothing but crap.

  “Pop-Tarts?” Ray groaned. “That’s just sad.” Wedged between five boxes of Pop-Tarts and Hamburger Helper, Ray found a few packets of powdered miso soup mix. He glanced into the fridge in hopes of finding some vegetables or chicken to throw into the soup, but came up empty handed. “Plain miso it is….” Ray muttered.

  He heated the soup in a small pot on the stove, turned the flame down to low, and then went in search of Elliot. He knocked on the door quietly, waited for an answer that never came, and then cracked the door open. There were no lights on beyond the door, and even though the sun was still up, heavy curtains blocked out most of the light from the windows. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then blinked until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Elliot was sitting on the end of a queen-sized bed. His jacket was gone and his button down shirt was rumpled and open to the waist. He was hunched over with his head cradled in both hands.

  “Don’t start.” Elliot hissed, not looking at him. “Not now.”

  Ray wanted to snap over the accusation in those words, but that was precisely what Elliot was asking him not to do. It would only make things worse. “You should eat something.” He made sure to keep his voice low and soothing. “I made some miso soup. Figured it might be easy on your stomach.”

  Elliot glanced up at him but didn’t
move. “You made me soup?”

  “Not much choice. Everything else in your kitchen would probably just upset your stomach. If you don’t like miso, though, it’s your own damn fault for keeping it in your kitchen.”

  “Stomach?”

  Ray shrugged. “Painkiller… Headache… Nausea… Look, do you want the soup or not?”

  Despite the way his features were contorted in pain, Elliot smirked. “You recognized the symptoms?”

  “No. I looked up the medication.”

  Elliot started to shake his head and grimaced. “You’re not even going to make up some kind of excuse? Apologize?”

  “For making you soup? No.”

  “You really are a sociopath, you know that?”

  “No, I am not,” said Ray. “Having some sociopathic tendencies isn’t enough for the diagnosis. You’ve got to nail all of them.”

  “Which criteria don’t you satisfy?”

  “I don’t engage in criminal conduct, and I do not have a personality disorder.”

  “Could have fooled me. You definitely don’t seem to see others as real people, with a basic right to privacy.”

  “I wanted to help. And I wanted to know if I was dealing with a junkie going into withdrawals or something legitimate. So is that a ‘no’ to the soup?”

  Elliot sighed and tipped over, his entire body curling into a ball. “Soup sounds great.”

  Ray felt like shouting, declaring victory. Instead, he sighed too. “Okay. I’ll bring it in. You need anything else?”

  “Water?”

  “Sure.”

  Ray poured the soup into a bowl, grabbed a glass of water, and returned to the room just as Elliot was slipping out of his undershirt. He stopped near the foot of the bed, letting himself stare. He told himself there wasn’t any harm in staring. Since Ray already knew he was gay, the worst that could happen would be making Elliot angry.

  Elliot Belkamp was worth staring at, even if it spiked his temper. With his tightly compacted muscles and smooth skin, he was one of the few men Ray had ever thought of as beautiful. He’d tried to tell himself that was illogical, because no part of him was technically beautiful, even for a man. His features were angular. He had a narrow face that was handsome, but not striking. His body was densely muscled, but he wasn’t stacked like the bodybuilders Ray occasionally ogled at in the gym. But somehow, the slender body, sharp features, and blunt personality clicked some switch deep inside Ray’s head and turned him on every time he looked at him. He didn’t remember if it had been that way from the start, but it had become so ingrained in his mind that he couldn’t even look at Elliot without thinking about sex.