"May I ask what exactly are you doing to find this bastard?"
"We just got the full report back from the medical examiner and we're still waiting for a bunch of other lab results that could put us where we need to be. But until then, you have to be patient. I can understand you're upset right now but I—"
"Of course I'm upset. Wouldn't you be, walking in and finding your father in that state? But I'm also enraged at the killer who could do this to another human being. Have you looked into the fact this guy may have done this to someone else? I mean who just makes their first kill and starts with cutting someone's head off?"
Leo felt like a moron. He hadn't even thought to look into that. He made a mental note not to let his feelings for Jazmon Williams cloud his judgment but it was getting to be a major pain in his ass.
"Of course we're looking into that," he lied. "Like I said, you have to give us a chance to do our work and do it properly."
"I get it. You can't rush this."
He watched the way Anderson walked over to the two-way mirror and stared through it as though he could see beyond it. Leo knew better.
"There's something I need to talk to you about, Anderson."
The dark-skinned Adonis turned and leveled sad eyes on Leo. Any control Leo had then was quickly vanishing. Anderson's beautiful lips pressed into a determined line left his perfectly chiseled features brimming with dark danger. Rubbing his sweat-covered palms against his thighs, he took a breath and rose to stand beside Anderson.
"There's another reason why I have to be careful with this case," Leo explained. "I knew your father."
"What do you mean you knew my father?"
"I mean your father and I had been friends."
"My father isn't gay, detective, so you're going to have to be a little bit more specific with this kind of conversation."
Leo frowned. "That's not what I meant. Your father is the straightest straight man I've met. I never had a father growing up and my mother was very ill. Your father helped her the best he could, whenever he could—made sure I went to school, had enough to eat, saw a doctor, and stayed out of trouble—that kind of thing. So I have a personal stake in this case too."
"Should you even be working this investigation?"
"Yes. As long as I show I am not being blinded by that relationship, I can work it. But they are watching me like a hawk. The thing is, I know this may be upsetting to you, but I have as much to lose as you do. I have a big stake in this case too. So whenever you get the idea to question my loyalty to it and your father, just remember without your father, I could very well be dead."
* * * *
Anderson stared at the detective, trying to rein in his temper by squeezing his thumb into his thigh. After a little bit, he turned away from the detective and faced the wall. He braced his hands against it before pressing his forehead to it. He inhaled deeply and counted to ten silently trying to calm himself down. Anderson then asked his questions again, more calmly this time. "Let's start again. You knew my father?"
"You even said my name sounded familiar."
"Yeah. I still can't remember if he mentioned you. But knowing my father, the only person he would tell would be my mother. He just couldn't keep anything like that away from her. Look, I don't mean to be an asshole"—his voice was low, more like a rumble than speaking—"but the only people my father was 'unfair' to were those who broke the law. He wouldn't have hurt anyone and for this to happen to him—I don't understand it.
"I don't either. I've been a cop since I was twenty and I still don't understand how people can do what they do to each other. I'm sorry, Anderson. But I don't have an answer there either."
Anderson turned and flopped down against the hard chair. He removed the class ring he wore and placed it down against the table. "Harvard," he replied and with a single finger, tilted the ring towards the detective. "He gave me that the day I started working at NYU. That's his class ring—maybe that'll help some. There's an engraving on the inside. I never did know what it meant. He always clammed up when I asked him about it. If you're gonna take it, I need it back."
Anderson watched the way Leo examined the ring. There was something special about Leo, something just so breathtaking. Perhaps it was the brown of his eyes or the way his hair fell into his eyes when he bowed his head. When Leo finally looked up again, Anderson kept eye contact with the detective for a while longer than necessary. "Just promise me you will get this guy."
Leo smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "There's no such thing as a perfect murder, Anderson. Just remember that."
Anderson nodded.
"How are you holding up?"
"My best friend is watching me closely—making sure I'm eating and at least pretending to sleep."
"I used to have a friend like that."
"Oh yeah? What happened?"
"He was your father."
Anderson hung his head then. It seemed he and the detective had something in common. "I will let you get back to your work."
"You never bother me, Anderson," Leo explained. "If you need anything, all you have to do is call."
"Or drop by."
Leo laughed softly. "Or drop by."
"Thanks." Anderson smiled tightly. "Do you know when they'll release my father's body?"
"I'll ask the coroner and let you know. The autopsy is finished, so it's just the formalities now."
"Thank you."
* * * *
It took Anderson a while to get through the hellish New York traffic. When he finally got onto a side street and sped towards a shortcut back home, he decided to stop off and pick up some groceries. Byung would have his ass if he didn't get some food to at least pretend he was eating right. When he finally found a parking spot and hopped from his car, he glanced up at the sky. It looked like rain.
He grabbed a cart from outside of the store and hurried inside. Uselessly, he stood where he entered. Everything felt new to him. Thinking of the impending rain, he willed his legs to move and began packing healthy food into the cart. By the time he was at the front of the store again, he had gotten over three hundred dollars' worth of food. He ate more calories than regular people because of his workout regimen. But even so, he had the sinking feeling most of it would spoil because of what was happening around him. He paid for the groceries, got back into his car, and sped off towards his house.
Anderson was almost home when the rain began falling—lightly at first. But when he pulled up into his parking lot, the heavens really opened up. Water drenched everything unmercifully. He sat in the car long after he turned the engine off, hoping it would be one of those rains that would pour for a couple of minutes then taper off. That wasn't happening and the longer he sat there, the more it began to seep into him the rain wasn't about to stop. Reluctantly he pushed from the vehicle, snapped open the trunk, and rummaged through his bags. He found the ones with meats, milk, and ice-cream—things that needed to be refrigerated. Braving the rain, he walked up to his front door. He juggled the bags slightly, hunched over to shove the key into the lock but when he braced slightly on the door, it pushed open.
That caught his attention instantly because he knew he hadn't left that door open. He had gotten especially paranoid about leaving doors open after his father's death. Anderson straightened his body then used the toe of his boot to push the door wider. The bags he held slid from his hand, crashing onto the ground, and Anderson stood in the rain staring into his home. He had paid so much money to have it decorated perfectly—now everything was a mess. From where he stood, there were markings on the wall, clothes on the floor, and broken cups. He stepped in slowly, glancing around him. He swallowed the angry lump in his throat and moved through the house. The kitchen was completely destroyed. The china his mother had left him in her will was all broken to pieces on the ground. Every glass, plate, saucer, and mug was shattered. Kicking a pot, it flipped to reveal a hole in the bottom. The food he had left in the fridge before was now sitting in the sink and the fridge stood open.
"Fucking hell," Anderson yelled out in anger.
He made his way up the stairs and peered into all four rooms. With each room his anger rose higher and higher. Each room was in a sorrier state than the last. Someone had taken a knife to the beds, the furniture, and his mother's chair that sat in the far corner of the blue room. That was her favorite room in his house. Anderson felt as though he was losing her all over again. When he entered his bedroom, he felt a tear slid down his cheek for there, on the ground, broken in tiny pieces was the frame that held the last picture his parents took before his mother died.
Turning on his heels, Anderson ran out the door. He pulled the detective's card from his pocket and dialed the number.
Chapter Four
Leo was already on his feet and taking a final bite of his sandwich. He'd gotten a chance to sit down and eat something before the call came through. Sure he could have sent a uniform but they would just screw up his crime scene and make him angry.
He didn't have time to call Daniel and he wasn't sure he wanted his partner to go with him because of his personal stake in the case. The two were close but if any blame came down over how he was handling things, he really didn't want Daniel losing his badge because of it. He knew if something happened, his partner would cover for him and he didn't want to put his friend in that position. He all but dove into the front seat of his unmarked cruiser, flipped the siren on, and peeled from the diner parking lot. He checked traffic quickly and pulled to the left hand to drive down the emergency lane then cut across traffic going south.
A few cars were slow getting out of his way, so he simply honked at them and went around. He wasn't sure why there seemed to be so much traffic when he was in a rush. He had to drive in the wrong lane a few times but his heart and adrenaline would not let him slow down. He'd loss Jazmon, the only father he'd ever known. He wasn't about to let anything happen to the one connection he had left to Jazmon.
When he finally got there, he parked on the front lawn and rushed over to where Anderson was standing out front. It dawned on him then he had no idea what he had expected when he showed up. But he was glad it wasn't anything gruesome.
"Are you all right?" he questioned.
Anderson nodded. "Fine. There's no one in there. But the house is smashed to fucking smithereens."
"Okay. Give me a chance to go through the house and clear it. Once I do that, I'll come back and get you."
When Anderson nodded again, Leo unclipped the safety strap on his gun and walked into the house. He didn't pull it from the holster. He went through every room slowly. Each room was worse than the next. When he was finished, he took a minute to look at a picture with Jazmon, his wife, and little Anderson. They seemed so happy. Anderson looked like a very mischievous child. He knew then he couldn't really put himself into Anderson's shoes, for Jazmon tucked Anderson into bed at nights. Anderson had his father for everything, whereas Leo only had a chance to borrow the man for some things. Taking a breath, he hurried back outside for Anderson and together they went through the house again.
"Is anything missing?"
"Not that I can see," Anderson replied. "I don't even know what they could be looking for. All the picture frames I had are now smashed. At least they didn't take or destroy the pictures."
"That's something. But this is fucked up. You can't stay here tonight."
"I know. I had no intention of staying here alone."
"Well I could stick around for the night if you'd like—help you clean up this mess after the forensic guys get through it."
"You would do that for me?"
"Of course. It's a matter of your safety."
Anderson bit his lip. "Sure. My safety."
"I'm going to call the forensic crew so they can get through it. You want to have a cup of coffee with me?"
"Sure. I need to call a cleaning company to get this place right for tonight. I really don't feel like doing it."
"I'll ask the guys to let us know when they're done so your people can go through it."
Leo watched Anderson walk off and after he was alone, he took a breath and rubbed his palms on his thighs. He turned and looked around the room again. His cop mind kicking in once more, he stepped over a pile of sofa cushions and walked to the other side of the living room. He peered out the glass. "Who breaks into a luxury home and doesn't take anything?"
Staring out didn't give him his answer, so he turned and began looking around while making his phone calls. He pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket and began inspecting things, being careful not to move anything. In the sitting room, he saw a bit of red powder on the floor and used his camera phone to snap a picture of it. He called the approaching forensics team, told them what he'd found and where it was, and he needed a sample sent to the lab.
"Detective?"
"In the sitting room."
"Did you find anything?"
Leo pointed. "Just some red powder."
Anderson peered where he was pointing and that caused them to be a little too close. Leo held his breath. Inhaling Anderson's scent made his head spin and caused him to tremble in the most lustful way. Shaking it off, he stepped back and pulled the glove from his hands and shoved them into his back pocket.
"Come on. The team is on its way, so we should get out of the scene before I'm tempted to touch something. We'll wait in the car."
It didn't take long for the forensics guys to show up and after a quick exchange between Leo and the leader of the squad, they were on their way. The ride to the diner didn't take long and as Leo sat across from Anderson, he studied the man reading the menu.
"I just don't feel hungry," Anderson pointed out.
"Eat something light."
"Now you're starting to sound like Byung."
"Who?"