Double Indemnity (12 page)

“There's a lot more to say. You can't keep living like there's no future.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Hey.” Yuri grabbed his arm before he could turn. “I know what it's like to lose someone too. You're afraid to move on with your life, and it's killing you.”

“I'm not afraid. And this isn't about Emma.”

“You think I'm talking about Emma? I'm talking about your brother and your parents. It's the worst thing in the world. It hurts. It's horrible. I know. But that doesn't give you an excuse, not anymore. It's been years, Sam. You're so goddamn smart. You could be doing anything you want. You wanna tell me this life is really what you want? No wonder you drink yourself stupid every night.”

Sam's face burned. “I'm not wasting my life. I do things.”

Yuri scoffed. “Yeah. Getting laid and talking about your blog, which you write in, never.”

“I've been busy.”

“It makes me mad, because it could be something great. You could have a job you actually liked, and you could make enough money to take care of Tim too.”

“It's not that easy. I've tried—”

Yuri cut him off. “You haven't tried. You really haven't tried.”

“You have no idea what you're talking about,” Sam gritted through his teeth.

Yuri didn't seem to care about arguing in the middle of a suburban street with half the neighbors watching, including their customers. His eyes flashed with anger.

“Oh, cut the crap, Sam. You pretend you don't care, but inside you're scared as hell. You're scared as hell.” He started backing away, and the dismissal stung as keenly as his words had. But Sam wasn't going to let go so easily, not with Yuri so clearly spoiling for a fight.

“Don't stop now. Tell me how you really feel.” Sam could barely control the quaver in his voice.

“See? You always have to turn it around. Rachel told me about you and that Walker guy at the Star last night.”

“So now you two are talking behind my back. Wonderful.”

“Do you think it's a good idea to get involved with him?” Yuri asked, quieter now.

“I think you're jealous. I think that's what this is about.”

Yuri frowned. “Believe whatever you want. I don't care. But if I were you, I'd seriously consider straightening out my own life first, before I started worrying about anyone else's.”

 

 

W
HEN
N
ATHAN
called again, Sam almost didn't pick up. Yuri's words still echoed in his mind, circling around and around, little bits of truth breaking off and lodging like daggers in his brain. He hadn't touched a drop of booze in days, and it was starting to make him irritable.

“Sam,” Nathan said when he answered. “I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have left like that.”

“It's all right.”

“No, it's not, and I think I owe you an explanation. Can you come over?”

It was like Nathan's voice had a direct link to Sam's sympathetic nervous system. He started looking around the living room for his shoes. “What's going on?”

“I'll talk to you when you get here.”

Nathan looked better than he had the last time Sam saw him. He'd shaven, and the absence of dark circles indicated he'd gotten some sleep. When he unlatched the door and let him in, Sam immediately noticed other changes too. A stack of large cardboard boxes almost blocked the way to the kitchen. In the living room, the sofa had disappeared, along with the bookshelves that had lined the far wall. Emma's piano had been removed too. Sam spun around, disconcerted.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

Nathan tilted his head and stuck his hands in his pockets while he surveyed the room. “I'm taking an apartment downtown. This house is too big—too many memories.”

“I get it.” Sam swallowed. Unloading his own family home on the nearest paying customer had been one of the most painful, and necessary, things he'd ever done in his life. He'd needed the money, but more importantly, he couldn't imagine ever living in the place again.

“This is all going to Goodwill,” Nathan said. He gestured toward a large flat screen television wedged between two boxes. It was much nicer than Sam's.

“Are you moving or joining the priesthood?”

Nathan scoffed. “Hardly. I never watch TV, though, so it's not really a sacrifice.”

“Still, you might want it someday. And the rest—maybe you should put it all in storage or something instead. Wait awhile before you make a decision. There could be some things in here you end up wanting to keep.” He still had several boxes of family belongings in a small storage unit, including a bunch of Tim's stuff. Just in case.

“I don't think so.”

Most of the plants were still in place near the windows. A few orchids that looked like they had seen better days sat sadly among the boxes. Sam picked one up, recognizing it as Emma's favorite.

“It's dying, like all the others.” Nathan's voice came as a surprise from over Sam's shoulder.

“The soil's too wet.” Sam prodded the plant at the base of the stem. “You've got to let them dry out in between watering.”

“You'd think with all the time she spent with those plants, I would have learned how to take care of them.”

“It was her interest, not yours. And I think they seem more complicated than they are. All they need is light, humidity, and a little bit of temperature modulation.” Sam hesitated, aware of Nathan's proximity behind him. “If you want I can show you—”

“Take it when you go.”

Sam shook his head. “I couldn't—”

Nathan smiled grimly and touched the bloomless plant. “It's just going to die if you leave it with me.”

Sam nodded and set the orchid aside. It seemed right he should take it.

“So, where are you moving to in the city?”

“My agent's still looking for a place. Of course, my mother wants me to move closer to her and my father.” He snorted. “I think she still thinks of me as a child, especially now.” His expression softened in spite of his tone. “I think I'm overdue for a visit home.”

“Where's home?” Sam couldn't help being curious—he'd imagined so many things about Nathan but knew very little about his background.

“I grew up in California, mostly.”

“Ah. You don't want to move back west?” Sam hedged, hoping Nathan would say more.

“No.”

The finality of the word told Sam not to push further. Nathan didn't seem inclined to give details. Maybe he didn't get along with his folks.

“What about you?” Nathan asked. “Do you have any family nearby?”

“My parents died in a pretty bad car accident a few years back.”

Nathan's head shot up like he'd been slapped. “Oh Sam, I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it happened a long time ago.” He hated the inevitable awkwardness of this part. It was best to cut it off at the pass, but before he could, Nathan spoke again.

“How old were you?”

Sam toed the Persian carpet he'd often admired and wondered if Nathan would get rid of it too. “Twenty-one.”

“That's not so long ago. I don't suppose you ever get over losing someone close.” Sam's attention drifted from the soft curl of Nathan's hair to the full line of his mouth, which appeared alternately severe and sensuous, depending on his mood. Nathan's eyes caught and held Sam's. They were dark and focused. Sympathetic, but not pitying.

“I guess not,” Sam said.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah. I have a younger brother.”

“And he…?” Nathan trailed off, leaving the question hanging gently in the air.

“He's been in a coma ever since. Or I guess a vegetative state, technically. But yeah.”

Nathan reached out and squeezed his arm. The warm solidity of Nathan's hand was comforting in a way Sam couldn't name. He swallowed and leaned into the touch for a moment before it fell away.

Nathan cleared his throat. “I shouldn't have pried. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. Sometimes it feels good to talk about it.”

“And there's nothing they can do for him?”

“Only wait. But it's been so long, they don't think he'll wake up.” He swiped the pad of his thumb under his eye and pretended to examine one of the paintings on the wall. Then he shrugged and forced a smile. “I don't think you called me to listen to my sob story.”

“I didn't know you had one. But I don't mind.”

“Listen. Before you tell me why you did call me over, I've been thinking. I'm not sure I can help you with this case.”

“What? Why?” The surprise in his voice caught Sam off guard.

“To be honest, I think I'd be more of a liability to you than anything else. I'm not… dependable.”

“You're the one who came up with the lead in the first place.”

“I'm sorry.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, feeling awkward. He probably should have told Nathan over the phone and skipped the visit. But somewhere along the line, he'd started thinking of Nathan as a friend.

“Come with me.”

With slight reluctance, Sam followed Nathan to the kitchen, the only room in the downstairs area still relatively untouched by the imminent move. Nathan snagged two bottles out of the fridge—water, Sam realized with a twinge of disappointment. They sat down at the kitchen island, and Sam remembered another day, an almost-identical situation. His throat tightened.

Nathan perched on his stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. “I'm about to tell you something that's considered classified information. I need your word it will stay between us.”

“Of course.”

“I told you before I was a consultant, but that's not entirely true.” He looked slightly contrite. “I work for the government.”

“I knew it. Fucking CIA.”

“Close, but no.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “FBI, then. Jesus, I'm sitting in the kitchen with a James Bond wannabe.”

Nathan smirked. “It didn't start out like that. After I graduated Yale, I worked as a member of a think tank—mostly domestic criminal policy, strategy and execution, that sort of thing. It was fine for a while, but I wasn't happy. After I met Emma, she encouraged me to change careers.”

Sam nodded, afraid if he said anything, Nathan wouldn't continue. He had a feeling whatever he was about to hear wouldn't be pretty.

“I have to omit certain details, you understand. The case I've been involved in is still in progress. But the long and short of it is, I'm part of a human trafficking task force that deals mainly with sweatshops, sexual slavery, and prostitution. About a year ago, I was called in to investigate a sex ring in the Midwest. There's an underground club that caters to all sorts of tastes. Very discreet, very elite.” He paused, as if to gauge Sam's response. “There were rumors of children.”

“Shit.”

“As you can imagine, there's a lot of money involved. Lots of high-profile people. Everyone in the place is required to wear a mask to maintain anonymity. But even so, even with all of the privacy, it's not until you get in really deep that the worst… illegalities are an option.”

Nathan took a long drink of water, which made his Adam's apple bob. Meanwhile, Sam's brain raced to catch up with what he'd heard so far and what he suspected was coming.

“Did Emma know what the case was about?”

The question went right to the heart of the matter. Nathan sighed. “She knew the general area in which I worked. This case was different than what I'd done before, though. She wasn't particularly thrilled about it, but she trusted me. They gave me a partner for the job, an insider. He had connections with some of the club's clients. We went in under deep cover as a bored couple looking to branch out and experiment with other people. Share, if you will.”

Sam wondered if his brain might explode. “You posed as a couple.”

“Yes. My boss felt going in alone would be too dangerous, especially since I was a novice. I'd had some training with my partner, of course.”

Training. As a gay couple.

“Huh.” Sam eyed the glass cabinets, looking for bottles. He had the feeling he was going to need something stronger than water. “Did you… um….”

“You're asking if I fucked him?”

“Yeah.” Sam's pants felt uncomfortably tight. He shifted in his seat.

“In order to be convincing, we were affectionate with each other. But no, we didn't have sex at the club.”

Sam noticed the evasion but didn't comment. “Okay. So what happened?”

“I always thought I'd be able to get away with being an observer. Some people just like to watch. But after a while, management started to get suspicious. My partner fucked other people, but I never did, and we were no closer to finding the kids. I realized that if I didn't start participating, I might ruin the case and get us both killed while I was at it.”

“So you started participating.” Participating. Fucking. That's what participation meant in this situation. Sam wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I justified it to myself because I knew there were children being abused, somewhere, and I could never help them if I blew my cover.” Guilt and regret mingled with arousal in Nathan's voice as he recounted his story.

“You had to, for the case.” Sam's own speech sounded breathy, and it shamed him.

“Yes, but I liked it. I liked it with the women… but I liked it with the men too. I've always known I found men as attractive as women, but I'd never—I loved Emma.”

If Nathan wanted reassurance, Sam had no idea how to give it to him. The words he'd spoken only seconds before still hadn't quite sunk in. In fact, Sam wasn't entirely sure he'd heard right. He didn't know whether he should be outraged for Emma's sake, sympathetic to Nathan, or turned on. While his mind was deciding on the first two options, his body had settled on the third.