Fight (14 page)

As their destination became apparent, Carl's guts clenched. He parked further back than he had before, the pickup's higher seat giving him full view of the police station. The guy had turned into the parking lot beside the building, and now he walked from there to the steps, engaging in conversation with yet another group of officers smoking.

Man, next they'll be breaking out the damn doughnuts.

The guy nodded, patted one officer's shoulder as though he knew him well, and realization dawned.
He's a fucking cop!

Paul had to be at Brian's. No other explanation for that cop being there—unless he'd taken Brian's statement. Yeah, that had to be it. Lil would have called the cops about Carl's visit. No way would that freak keep it quiet.

Carl waited until the officers went inside before he drove away, mind awhirl with possible scenarios and how he should deal with them. Adrenaline whipped through him, chasing away any tiredness he'd usually feel in this situation where he'd had no sleep, and he found himself back outside Paul's. Scanning the street once more, he deemed it safe enough to stay. He reclined the seat, grabbed the motel blanket and pillow, and settled back for the long haul.

Fifteen minutes passed. Fifteen minutes of going through his options, working out what to do next. The sky lightened a little, and he glanced at the dashboard clock. Christ, where had the time gone? Daylight would arrive shortly, revealing him to people leaving for work and maybe noticing the pickup parked outside their homes. He doubted being there would seem significant until... No, he'd covered his ass. The police weren't looking for him. That feeling of being hunted returned, though, and he shivered, mind chugging along to figure out an alternative plan. If the cops
were
onto him, did that mean Paul had dropped Carl in the shit?

If he did, it means... Fuck. I can't be without him. Won't be without him. He won't have let me down. He loves me. He just doesn't realize how much, that's all.

Another two hours slipped by, with Carl dozing, resting his eyes but his mind and ears still alert. The sound of car doors slamming brought him fully aware, and he raised the seat, longing for a coffee or cold soda to wash away the fur on his tongue. A bright burst of sunlight glanced off the windshield, and he squinted, eyeing those leaving for work, the street emptying of vehicles until only his pickup and two other cars remained.

Further exposed, Carl pulled his cap peak down some more then glanced in the rearview mirror. Heavy stubble covered his lower face, and he laughed. Even he didn't recognize himself. Rooting inside the glove compartment, he found a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on, the large lenses changing his appearance further. Satisfied, he started the engine, heading out of the street and toward a convenience store a few blocks down. It served hot coffee—albeit from a vending machine—and he bought one plus a bottle of Coke and some snacks. Back in the pickup, he returned to Paul's street but parked further down than before. Close enough to see any comings and goings but far enough away that his identity wouldn't be made out.

While sipping his coffee, he thought about Kevin. That man would be left there for days, he reckoned, body fluids seeping out of every orifice, dripping onto the floor, the stench of that man putrid and too disgusting to breathe in for those who found him. No less than he deserved. And Greg. What about him? Carl guessed he'd be found quickly. A guy like that would have friends, family, people who'd miss him if he didn't show up for work or to a lunch appointment. Carl switched on the radio.
Might even be on the news right now. Guy slain in kinky sex game.
Laughter huffed out of him, the bray of it quickly doused as Carl caught sight of a car drawing up to the curb. A cop car. He lowered in his seat, heart rate picking up, the coffee churning in his belly. Two officers got out and entered the building. If they'd gone to Paul's apartment they were pretty damn lax. He'd made that call hours ago.

A few minutes later they emerged, climbed into their car, and drove away. Carl released a sigh, a stuttered exhalation that bothered him, made him wonder if he was scared without realizing it. Was he? He examined his emotions and came up with the answer that him not knowing what was going on had unsettled him. Just a bit.

Okay, more than a bit, but I've got this shit covered.

He shrugged, telling himself those cops had been there on another call, for some other reason, and he sat on, waiting, knowing Paul or Brian or Lil would arrive soon. If not today then tonight, and if not tonight, then some damn time. Coke and snacks finished throughout the course of the morning, Carl noticed the first signs of fatigue. His body ached, its heaviness preventing him from doing anything but keeping still. Only his eyes moved with each passing car and every person leaving or entering the building. Several minutes passed with him fighting to keep his eyes open, and eventually he gave in and allowed them to close, his body twitching as sleep claimed him, the last sound he registered a breathy snore.

A plain-clothed policeman returned with Lil less than an hour after Vic had shut the door, locking me in with an admonition to “stay the fuck put.” Even had I been inclined, I had no wheels. I was bone tired. I could barely think, let alone traipse about the city.

The cop who brought Lil back was a short, burly man with a pleasant face and a ready smile. Thick black curls covered just about every visible inch of exposed skin.

He held out one olive-skinned hand in greeting as I let them in. “Mr. Miller I'm David Danforth. I'm sorry about...what happened."

"Do you believe that name?” Lil swept into the apartment loaded down with duffle bags and dragging a suitcase. “I brought your bag too, sug.” He dropped my duffle at my feet and clapped his hands together. “Come on, Davey Dan. Let's get this show on the road."

Lil at his finest.

"Show?” I glanced between them.

Danforth was openly gawking at Lil bustling about the apartment tucking his bags into a corner and examining himself in the mirror over the hearth.

"You get used to it,” I assured him.

Danforth sighed. “Quite a she-devil, that one."

"You have no idea.” I wondered what kind of ordeal Lil might have put the poor man through on the ride over, but he seemed solid enough. Likely, he could withstand the fire and brimstone that was Lil at the top of his game.

He shook himself slightly and pulled his attention away from the drama queen. “I have orders, Mr. Miller, to bring the two of you back to the station with me."

"You what? The station?” My feet moved, independently of my will, backing me further into the flat, away from him, the door, putting Lil between us. So much for not hiding behind his petticoats.

"Relax, honey.” Lil patted my shoulder, gave it a little squeeze. “They only need us to answer a few questions about that piece of filth you've been sleeping with."

Ouch
.

"That's all, sir,” Danforth hastily agreed.

"Um...yeah.” I glanced at Lil. “Yeah. Okay. Of course.” I shrugged, realized I was hugging myself, and let my arms fall. “I don't really know what I can tell them they don't already know."

"Even what seems insignificant to you now might be enough to help us find him,” Danforth explained.

"Besides,” Lil picked up my bag and handed it to me, “If I know Vic, and I do, he's going nuts about now not having you safe and sound where he can see you and know that scumbag isn't about to jump your ass."

"Stop calling him names, Lil, please."

Lil lifted one eyebrow, studied me like he might something scraped off the bottom of one of his oh-so-fashionable pumps. He stood there a long time, arms crossed loosely over his abdomen. Finally, he tilted his head, let out a loud sigh. “Yes, Paul, because I can definitely see your dilemma.” He flipped one hand out, palm up in front of himself. “Carl.” He flipped the other hand out. “Vic.” He waggled them both up and down. “Vic, Carl. Carl, Vic."

"Lil—"

He took a step toward me, and for the first time ever, I wanted to not be so close to him. “Grow a set, Paul. For your own good.” He shoved the bag into my arms and pointed one finger over my shoulder toward the bathroom. “March in there and put on your big-boy long pants. It's time to end this."

It was hard to get mad at him for being right. It was hard to get my head around Carl being what he was. I didn't want to believe it and couldn't deny it. And I didn't want Lil to see how much that hurt.

I took the bag and retreated into the haven of Vic's bathroom, where I cowered for a good ten minutes before pulling still-damp jeans from the dryer and struggling into them. Perfect. Clammy denim. Just the thing for the day that had started a decade ago and didn't look to be over any time soon.

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Danforth took a convoluted route back to the station, approaching the building from the back, and spirited us inside through a dingy rear hallway. There wasn't a whole lot more action in the main room when we arrived than there had been when I left. Thankfully, Simpson was nowhere in sight, but the way Vic squared off opposite his own partner stopped me barely inside the room. He looked frantic.

"Please tell me you don't actually expect me to consider this,” he spat.

Sanders shrugged. “You know it will work."

"He's a civilian."

"He's also the only one Carl will approach."

"It's dangerous. Idiotic.” Vic shook his head.

"It'll work,” Sanders insisted.

Vic glared him down. “No."

"The asshole stuck a knife in your partner, Vic. Watched him bleed out in a filthy alley."

I watched tension tighten Vic's muscles, line his expression with steel. He just kept shaking his head.

"You know it's only a matter of time. Right now, he still thinks there's something there. When he finds out Paul even looked in your general direction, how long do you think that will last? You saw what he did to his own father. What do you think he'll do—"

"I won't let him risk his life over this!” Vic slammed a hand down on his desk.

I jumped.

"Find another way, Jim.” Vic's voice went from shouting to eerily calm. “There's always another way."

"And how many more bodies do you want to pull out of alleys while we figure out a safer way to flush him out?"

Vic shook his head. “It's too dangerous."

I had a sinking sensation I knew what they were discussing. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. Sanders saw me first, nodded, and sank into his chair. As soon as Vic turned around, my reluctance to insert myself into his space vanished.

"Hey.” I tried a tiny smile. It bounced off his stony demeanor, and I tried a little harder. “You okay?” I gave in to the desire to touch him, to try and soothe away a little of the frantic energy emanating from him.

"Paul.” He reached, and I did the only thing I could. I let him pull me over into his arms. Even with just the five of us in the room, it was nice having Vic's protectiveness covering me. His tight hold relaxed after a few seconds. The hardness around his mouth and eyes eased.

I looked up at him and tried on my best calm face. “You want to use me as bait for Carl."

"No.” His grip got tight again.

"It'll work."

"You don't know that."

What was he trying to protect me from? Rejection by a psychopath?

"I know him. Whatever he's done, he's different with me."

"If you say he won't hurt you, Paul, forget it. I've seen the bruises.” His voice was as tight as his grip.

"I know.” I could barely get my voice above a whisper. “I know he has to be stopped. I know he's dangerous.” I had to step back a bit to really see Vic, but I didn't get out of range of his touch. “I also know he loves me, however twisted he is about it. I know he'll come back to me if he knows where to find me."

"No."

I squared my shoulders. “Don't pull the alpha shit with me, Vic. You want to keep me safe, figure out a way to make this work, because it's the best chance you have to catch him. As I see it, one of two things is going to happen.” I couldn't quite stop the shudder at what I was about to admit, but I plowed on before Vic could get a word in. “He's going to know I know the minute he sees me. He's going to know things are changed between us. He'll either try to kill me or he'll run. If he thinks he can't get close to me, he'll just run. He'll keep killing, and you will spend a very long time trying to catch him. That isn't how I want to see you spend your life. I want this over.” I reached up, spread my hand over his chest. “I want my life back."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Paul."

"Yes, I do."

They all turned their attention to me, and I stepped away from Vic's embrace. Much as I wanted his comfort, he had to know I was not dependant on it, or him.

Lil eyed me down the bridge of his nose, arms crossed, diva-like, over his chest, his expression stony. If I hoped for support there, it didn't look like I was much likely to get it.

Sanders remained, as always, passive and difficult to read under his beard. Danforth nodded at me when I glanced at him. Strange to find support there, but welcome just the same.

Vic's eyes burned with frustration. “Paul.” He stepped up, quick to close the distance I'd put between us.

"Don't, Vic.” I put my hand out, not to feel his nearness this time, but to hold him off. “Don't try to talk me out of this. I know you want to protect me. You can't. It's already done. He's already destroyed everything I thought I knew.” I took a deep breath and let my hand fall. I needed him to understand. “If I'm going to salvage anything that's even worth getting to know, I have to do this. I have to see it for myself. I have to see him. On his terms, and know what those terms are."

"That's as insane as he is,” Vic snarled.

My faith in his reasons for trying to keep me from helping skidded. “I need to know, Vic."

"What? You need to see the crazy in his eyes up close to believe it?"

"Yes!"

"He's dangerous!"