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Although Osgood pulled the stack toward him, he smiled genially. “Why don’t you tell me too?”

“Okay,” Pete agreed. He ran over the details, stopping for the sheriff’s many questions.

“So,” Osgood said after Pete finished. “You’ve lived here how long?”

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“Since Saturday.” Pete had to swallow a laugh. A lot had happened in three days.

“Get to know any of the neighbors?”

“We’ve met most of them—Marsha had a barbeque for us on Sunday,” Pete explained. “Don’t know them well enough to say who’s a killer though.”

The sheriff’s eyebrow cocked again. “You don’t think it’s his wife?”

Pete shook his head. “She was in shock. What happened to Greg would’ve taken some planning. Seems too premeditated to put the killer into shock.”

“Could’ve gone into shock when she saw what she’d done,” Osgood suggested mildly, tapping his pen against his leg.

“In that case, wouldn’t she have gone into shock when she cut off his dick?” Pete asked. “It would’ve shocked me.”

The sheriff coughed as if he were covering a laugh. “Do you like one of the other neighbors for it then?”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Pete considered the question. “They’re a fucking weird bunch, that’s for sure.”

Osgood laughed outright this time.

“Michelle said she thought he was cheating on her—that’s why she drove home from her friend’s last night.”

“Who was the other woman?” the sheriff prodded. “Any idea?”

“None.” Pete shook his head. “All I know is it could’ve been either a woman or a guy. Greg was bi or gay and pretty heavily closeted either way.”

“Yeah?” Osgood tilted his head, looking interested. “How’d you discover this?”

“Total flamer. Plus he hit on Joey.”

“Ah.” Sheriff Osgood paused, glancing over at Trevor’s sleeping form. “And you two are…?”

“Together?” When the sheriff nodded, Pete said, “Yeah.”

“As a cover or are you really together?” Osgood asked.

Good question.
“Not quite as long-term as we’ve been pretending,” Pete told him, figuring the sheriff didn’t want to hear about their relationship issues. “But yeah, we’re really together.” He watched the other man cautiously. This was the first time Pete had outright admitted he was gay to someone else in law enforcement. To his surprise, the sheriff seemed to be fine with it.

“So when Greg hit on Joey,” Osgood asked casually, “did that piss you off?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.”

“Didn’t kill him though.”

Osgood studied him for several seconds. “Yeah. Didn’t really think you did. So give me the weird neighbor rundown. Who had the barbeque?”

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“Marsha. She’s next to us to the left as you face our house. I can’t remember any last names, sorry.”

The sheriff waved that off. “I’ve got witness statements. Everyone who wasn’t woken up by the scream was woken up by you, so I think I have everybody’s names somewhere. Just tell me what you know.”

“Not too much on Marsha. She’s just a little…twitchy. A nervous babbler. When I came out after I heard Michelle scream, Marsha was on her porch,” Pete told him, watching as the sheriff scribbled notes.

“Okay,” Osgood said without looking up. “Next?”

“Iris and Morty—they’re our other neighbors. Older couple, on the smaller side.”

Pete half-smiled. “Can’t imagine they’d have the strength to wrestle Greg down and tie him up. They’d be good ones to talk to as far as possible witnesses though. They’re always watching the neighborhood.”

Osgood nodded, still scribbling.

“Len is next door to Greg and Michelle,” Pete said slowly, trying to sort out his impression of the man in his head. “He’s…odd. Something’s bugging the guy but I have no idea what. Could be he’s just homophobic. His kid is fourteen, I think. His name’s Danny. I suspect he was peeping from a tree in our backyard the first night after we moved in but I don’t have any proof it was him, just that Iris and Morty said he’s a lurker.”

“Lurker,” Osgood repeated as he wrote. “Got it.”

“Abby and Terrance are next.” Pete glanced over at Trevor, tempted to wake him up for this one. He decided to leave him be. If Trevor had anything to add when he woke, he could just call Osgood. “Abby seems sweet, kind of sad. All I know about Terrance is he sweats a lot. Trevor thought he might be an asshole to Abby though.”

The sheriff looked up. “Why’s that?”

Pete shrugged. “She was kind of apologetic about herself. He figured her husband told her she was boring.”

“Hmm.” He made a note.

“Greg and Michelle…you should definitely talk to Joey about them. I came into the conversation late,” Pete told him. “They didn’t seem all that happy to me though.”

Osgood glanced at Trevor and then back at Pete. “Okay if we wake him up?”

“Can we leave after he talks to you?” Pete shot back.

“Sure,” Osgood agreed, glancing over his notes. “I’ll call if there’s anything else.”

Pete got up and walked over to Trevor. Bending over and gripping the sleeping man’s shoulder, Pete gave him a gentle shake. Trevor woke right away, jerking to a sitting position so fast Pete had to pull back quickly to keep from being accidentally headbutted.

Blinking, Trevor focused on Pete’s face. “Hey,” he greeted him in a sleeproughened voice. “What’s up?”

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Instead of releasing his shoulder, Pete kept his hand there, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle against Trevor’s t-shirt. “The sheriff wants to get your opinion of Greg and Michelle—and any other neighbor you’ve talked to.”

“Oh,” Trevor said, losing the word in a huge yawn. “Sure. Greg was an asshole.”

“Specifics?” Osgood requested.

“He got pissed when Michelle said he was a photographer instead of an artist.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Michelle was trying to get pregnant but I got the impression Greg wasn’t all that interested in knocking her up. He followed me into the house when I went in to use the bathroom. Cornered me in the kitchen and tried to feel me up—or down, as it were.”

Even though Greg was dead, Pete still felt a flash of anger.

“I liked Michelle okay,” Trevor went on. “She has kind of a desperation to her though. Like she’s trying so hard to be happy but pretending isn’t cutting it anymore, you know?”

Osgood nodded, setting his pen down. “Thank you, gentlemen. This’ll help. If there’s anything else—”

“You’ll call,” Pete interrupted. “Got it.”

* * * * *

The sun was coming up when a deputy dropped them off at their house. Rhodes and Wash were waiting for them in the camp chairs on the porch. Trevor laughed as they walked toward the pair. “Grandma and Grandpa on the porch. They just need a shotgun and a hound dog to complete the picture.”

“I’m sure Rhodes has a pistol,” Pete said, feeling a little punchy. “Think that counts?”

Ignoring the banter, Rhodes started to speak. “So what—”

He was cut off by Trevor’s upraised hand. “Sleep first. We’ll tell all but we have to get a few hours first.”

Pete and Trevor headed inside and up the stairs, leaving the other two grumbling on the porch. Without saying anything to each other, they both stripped down and climbed into their double sleeping bag. Pete wrapped his arm over Trevor and pulled him in close. Not even the sweet ass tucked against his groin could keep him from sleep.

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Chapter Ten

Pete was in love with Rhodes and Wash.

While he and Trevor had slept tangled together, the other two men had driven to the home-supply store and rented a sander, a buffer and even a shop vacuum. Once they’d woken up, the four of them had made short work of the entire upper floor. By mid-afternoon, the floors were smooth, buffed and vacuumed clean. Overcome with gratitude, Pete cooked an enormous late lunch. Rhodes and Wash had also picked up another pair of camp chairs, so they were all able to sit around the table to eat. Wash couldn’t decide whether to call their mid-afternoon meal “linner” or

“dunch”. He decided he liked the sound of “dunch” better. Rhodes was more interested in the murder. “Spill,” he ordered. Pete spilled, telling all he knew about the case and the neighbors. Trevor interrupted frequently, adding parts Pete had forgotten.

“Have you done background searches on these people yet?” Wash asked. Pete blinked at him. “Since it’s not my case and I don’t have access to any kind of database…no.”

“Can I use your laptop?” Wash was already out of the kitchen and halfway up the stairs.

“Sure,” Pete called after him, “but we don’t have any last names and you don’t have my password and you’re gone and not listening to me anymore.”

Trevor laughed. “He’ll figure it all out. If not, we’ll all hear about it soon enough.”

“Thought about doing some interviews?” Rhodes asked, standing up and starting to clear the dishes.

“Interviews?” Pete repeated, pushing back his own chair and grabbing a couple of dirty plates. “The neighbors, you mean?”

Trevor smirked as he filled the sink with soapy water. “Rhodes is dying to work on this case.”

“Didn’t say
I
should do interviews,” Rhodes grumbled.

“You want to though,” Trevor told him, grinning. “C’mon, just admit it.”

The big man shrugged. “Nothing to admit. Just think it’s interesting.”

“Why don’t you want to do the interviews?” Pete asked.

“I do,” Rhodes admitted, shooting him a small, sideways grin. “You know these people though. You’ll get more information out of them.”

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Pete thought for a few moments as he accepted a dripping glass from Trevor and dried it with a dishtowel. “It could be interesting to hear if Iris and Morty saw or heard anything.”

Handing over another glass, Trevor smirked at him. “Sheriff Hotness is so going to kick your ass for interfering.”

With a shrug, Pete concentrated on drying the glass. “Could be fun.” He snuck a glance at Trevor and swallowed a laugh when he saw his sulky expression. Hooking a finger into the waistband of Trevor’s jeans, he gave the other man a tug. Although Trevor held on to his scowl, he allowed Pete to pull him closer.

“I’m teasing,” Pete told him. “I don’t even bother to look at him when you’re in the room.”

“Yeah?” Trevor shot him a look under his lashes. The flash of blue above that stillsulky mouth started a buzz beneath Pete’s skin.

“Yeah,” Pete said, his voice rough and low.

Trevor allowed his hip to bump against Pete’s. “What about when I’m not in the room?”

“Then I’m staring at the door,” Pete answered, “waiting for you to come back.”

That did it. The last trace of Trevor’s pout fell away and he looked Pete full in the face, his expression naked and vulnerable, a rare openness that compressed Pete’s heart. Rhodes cleared his throat. “I’ll go help Wash.”

Both of the other men looked at him in surprise. Pete had forgotten he was there.

“Don’t go on our account…” he started but Rhodes had already escaped the kitchen.

“Tell Wash my password is 9P48D3,” Pete yelled after him. Trevor handed him a plate to dry. As Pete rubbed it with the towel, he considered grabbing Trevor and pressing him up against the sink. He took the next plate and decided against it. Instead, he just enjoyed the moment—Trevor’s hip lightly bumping against his, their upper arms brushing, the easy silence broken by the clank of the silverware against the sink and the soft slosh of the dishwater. Pete marveled as he took a few spoons, his fingers brushing against Trevor’s. He’d actually been honest about how he felt—out loud. Instead of trying to play it casual or keep it business-like, he’d laid it all out there in all its scary messiness and Trevor hadn’t laughed or sneered or thrown it back in his face. Caught in a sweeping rush of happiness, he turned his head and kissed Trevor, a quick smack that landed somewhere around his ear.

“What’s that for?” Trevor asked, looking at him with the beginning of a smile. Pete shrugged and concentrated on the handful of silverware he was drying.

“Dunno. Just felt like it.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully, shooting Pete an amused sideways look. “Dork.”

“You’re the dork,” Pete shot back, smiling as he bumped against Trevor’s side. 105

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Trevor shoved back. “You’re the king of the dorks.”

Tossing his dishtowel on the counter, Pete wrapped his arms around Trevor’s shoulders, holding him in place so he could pepper his face with kisses. “Well, then you’re my dork
queen
.” He laughed as he kissed him until his lips landed on the corner of Trevor’s mouth and he lingered.

“Okay,” Trevor agreed breathlessly.

“Okay what?” Pete pulled back to look at him curiously. Trevor’s cheeks were touched with red, whether from arousal or embarrassment, Pete couldn’t tell. Trevor cleared his throat. “I’ll be your queen.”

Cupping his face in both hands, Pete really kissed him this time, a long, sweet, deep kiss that didn’t stop until he ran out of air.

“Oh Christ.” Wash’s exasperated voice from the doorway brought their heads around. “Do we have to go on another fucking walk so you two can mess around some more? You two are like rabbits—a pair of gay fucking rabbits.”

Rhodes appeared behind him, his lips twitching. “Don’t you mean gay rabbits fucking?”

“Please,” Trevor scoffed, stepping back from Pete. “As if you two aren’t going at it at every opportunity.” He turned to Pete. “I learned to knock before walking into either of their offices
or
the bathroom. They even did it in my own bedroom while I was in the shower.”

“Your bedroom?” Pete raised an eyebrow at the two men, who didn’t look at all embarrassed.

“At your invitation, wee Trev,” Wash reminded him.

Pete shook his head. “I’m not going to ask.”

“If you’re done with the dishes and making out, why not do some neighbor interviews?” Rhodes suggested.

“One-track mind,” Trevor muttered, letting the water out of the sink. “Or two-track, I guess,” he amended, smirking at Rhodes and Wash.

“What’d you find out about the neighbors?” Pete asked Wash, who shook his head.