Brandon might be right about Sledge, but he didn’t know about the blackmail, either. Jamie intended to keep it that way, at least until he found out about the other half of the money. If Ben had another innocent victim out there, the last thing Jamie wanted to do was put another man through the hell Ash had suffered. Forcing out the words, Jamie said, “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
Brandon’s voice softened, and Jamie felt even guiltier than he already did when Brandon said, “The only thing you have to apologize for is calling me Sheriff. We’re friends, so it’s Brandon or Bran to you. As for wanting to believe Sledge, I understand it. Just talk to me first next time, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good. Stay out of trouble, squirt.”
The minute Jamie heard the click, he disconnected and began to massage his throbbing temples. He had to find out who Ben’s second victim was. He fell asleep at the kitchen table with his head propped on his arms, still wondering how in the hell he was gonna pull that one off.
* * *
Dillon was one of the few guys he knew who actually enjoyed his job, even though it consisted mostly of stocking shelves and cleaning the store. He’d been working for Jim Pembroke, pharmacist and general manager of Savings Central Drugs, since he was fifteen and old enough to get a work permit. Jim was easy to work for, treating his employees like real people and not a bunch of robot workers. He paid even his teenage crew well above minimum wage, making Savings Central one of the most sought after places to work by the high school set.
Still, Dillon was grateful when his shift ended. He’d been distracted all night, worrying about Jamie and his single-minded search for answers regarding Ben’s death. Dillon could strangle Barry Sledge for feeding Jamie that story about Ben having already been dead. Dillon didn’t know what kind of sick game Sledge was playing, but he intended to find out.
He was so caught up in his thinking as he walked out into the lamp-lit parking lot and towards his car, he didn’t see his mother until he all but knocked her down.
“Damn. I’m sorry, buddy.” Realizing who it was, Dillon said, “Uh, sorry, Mom.” He pulled his thick coat tighter to his body, the sudden chill he felt having little to do with the freezing weather. “What are you doing out here?”
Angela Carver was so thickly encompassed by her down jacket and her wool scarf and hat, Dillon could barely see her face, but he heard her voice loud and clear. “I came to talk some sense into you, Dillon. I want you to come back home, son.”
Uh huh. Sure she did. Dillon eyed her with pure suspicion. “Let me guess. All I have to do is give up Jamie and agree to go to that gay-deprogrammer you and Dad want me to see.” Dillon shook his head with disgust and started walking to his car.
Angela was with him, step for step. “It’s not an unreasonable request, Dillon. Your dad and I only want what’s best for you. This depravity will eat away at your soul.” Her voice quivered. Angela was better than anyone Dillon knew at trotting out the tears on command. “I can’t stand to be separated from you, Dillon. I miss you.”
Dillon turned to face his mother at the same time as his hand settled on the Lumina’s door handle. “Being gay is part of who I am, Mother. There’s nothing depraved or perverted about being the way God made me.”
Righteous indignation replaced the tears in Angela’s voice with fiery anger. “Homosexuality is an abomination in the sight of the Lord. Living as you’ve chosen to live, you aren’t fit to call on His name. Don’t you dare bring God into this.”
It was Dillon’s turn to get mad, and he did so with a vengeance. “You’re the one who shouldn’t bring God into this, at least not until you’ve gotten your facts straight. The only place in the Bible that even says that about homosexuality is the Old Testament, back in Leviticus or some place. That same book says you’ll go to Hell for eating pork and shellfish. Remember that the next time you make your famous pork loin roast or cozy up to the all you-can-eat crab leg special at Harry’s House of Seafood.”
Angela stepped back, giving Dillon enough room to open his car door. She may have stepped back, but she wasn’t done, not by a long shot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dillon.”
“The hell I don’t. You know who never said one word against homosexuals, Mom? Jesus. You know who He did warn against?” Not giving her a chance to answer, Dillon said, “Jesus warned against narrow minded bigots who pass judgment on other people, trying to substitute their own narrow-minded bullshit for God’s word. Jesus also said that most of these ‘reformers’ are dirtier than the so-called sinners they’re trying to save. Maybe you need to clean out your own damn closet before you start trying to stuff me back into mine.”
Stunned would be an apt description for Angela at that moment. “You’ve been studying this?”
Dillon slid into the driver’s seat of his car, turning his face up to his mother. “Studying? You have no idea how much I’ve studied, how much I’ve read. I didn’t choose to be gay, but I do choose to know as much about it as I can.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “A guy never knows when some half-crazed homophobe is gonna try to convert him. Anybody who would give up a tenure teaching job just because the principal she works for refuses to help have her son committed to a mental institution has gotta be some kind of nut.”
Angela’s face hardened. “Call me whatever you like, but until Dan Morgan changes his policies, I refuse to even try to go back to that school. I can see that we aren’t going to get anywhere like this. Just remember that I tried to help you, son. Whatever happens next, you brought it on yourself.”
Dillon slammed his door shut and drove off, having no idea what his mom was talking about. All Dillon knew was the he was scared to death to find out.
* * *
By Friday afternoon, Dillon had reached his limit. As if worrying about what his parents were planning to do to him wasn’t enough, Jamie’s crusade to find answers about Ben had him scared to death Jamie was gonna do something crazy. Visiting Sledge in jail was bad enough, but there was just no telling how far Jamie would go to find out where the rest of that money came from and to decipher what Ben was doing out on Tully Road that night. At least Mr. Barnes had taken back the twenty-thousand dollars he’d given to Ben. That one act had eased Jamie’s mind a little, but it did nothing to stop his self-appointed quest. Dillon was tempted to call in sick for work just so he could keep an eye on him, but Jamie wouldn’t have it.
They were standing in the hall, just after the last bell. “You don’t have to baby-sit me, Dillon. I’m not planning on doing anything tonight except sitting at home with my aunt.”
That was the point. Jamie wasn’t planning on doing anything, but ninety-percent of the insane things people did were unplanned. A plan. That’s what Dillon needed. When his mind finally settled on a course of action, Dillon breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie might not like it, but once Dillon made the necessary arrangements, he’d at least be able to go to work without worrying. For the first time that day, Dillon actually smiled.
* * *
Jamie wasn’t surprised to see Megan standing on his doorstep at four o’clock that afternoon. He might not be surprised, but he didn’t have to like it, either. “Damn it, he called you to play watchdog, didn’t he?”
If Megan was put off by Jamie’s burst of temper, she didn’t show it. “If by he you mean Dillon, then yes, he did.” Jamie started huffing again, and Megan had the nerve to laugh. “Oh goody, a real live gay snit. Get over yourself, Jamie. You and I are gonna have a nice long visit until Dillon gets off work, and then, since it’s Friday night, he’ll probably come over here and the two of you can suck face and various other body parts.”
That part sounded okay, but it rankled that Dillon thought Jamie needed a keeper. Still, he had to admit, it was nice to have some company. Aunt Sadie wouldn’t be home from the library for another couple of hours, and Jamie was sort of lonesome by himself. Not that he would tell any of that to Dillon the next time he saw him. Nope, Dillon was destined to catch at least a little bit of hell.
Giving in, Jamie said, “You hungry?”
“Depends on what you’ve got in there.”
Jamie grinned. “Leftover lasagna okay?”
“Now you’re speaking my language. Lead the way, oh kind and gracious host.”
Jamie led Megan into the kitchen and instructed her to sit down while he pulled the lasagna out of the fridge. Putting a huge pile of the stuff on a plate, Jamie slid it into the microwave. Before long the heavenly smell of pasta, marinara sauce, and melted cheese filled the kitchen.
Megan sighed in rapture. “There ought to be a law against anything smelling so good. I feel sorry for Dillon and Heath, eating out of cans and boxes all the time.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Megan propped her size five feet on an empty chair. “You can ask me anything you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it, but you can always ask.”
“You know Heath’s got a thing for you, right?”
Megan snorted. “Sure he does. That’s why he avoids me like the black plague.”
Jamie was shocked. “Heath does that?”
“Yep. When he did Fireman’s Week at The Boys and Girls Club, Heath and I were actually working towards a friendship. At least I thought we were, anyway. Even when Dillon moved in with him, he and I were able to talk, you know, kid around. We got along great. Then I kissed him and all that went up in flames.”
The microwave dinged, but Jamie couldn’t tear his eyes away from Megan long enough to take the lasagna out. “You kissed him? When?”
Megan actually blushed. “The day after Ben’s memorial service. Heath came over to thank Mom and me for cleaning his apartment. As he was leaving, I walked him out to his truck, and he gave me a hug. I looked up, he looked down, and before I knew it, total lip-lock.”
“So, how was it?”
The dreamy look on her face would have been sappy on anyone else, but on Megan it just looked cute. “It was perfect. Talk about fireworks. That boy has the softest lips. Incredible doesn’t even cover it.” She scrunched her brows together. “At least it was until he freaked out on me. One minute he had his tongue down my throat and the next minute he was hollering about how I’m too young for him and how he’s not ready to make a commitment. It was one kiss, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like I asked him to father my children.”
Jamie nodded in sympathy as he took the plate out of the microwave. “Sorry, Megan. Wish I could help, but I’m not exactly batting a thousand in the romance department myself.”
It was Megan’s turn to be shocked. “I thought you and Dillon were doing great.”
“We are but . . . we, um, fooled around a little bit, that night we went to Chicago to the theater.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah, but the thing is, he hasn’t touched me since then. Well, not really anyway. I mean we kiss and stuff, which is great, but I thought sure he’d want to, well--”
“Fuck you till your eyes crossed?”
“Megan! God, do you have to be so blunt?”
Megan wasn’t even close to being remorseful. “Yep. My Grandmother says, ‘Life is short. Why waste time beating around the bush? Say what you gotta say and get it over with.’” Megan smiled as Jamie brought the lasagna plate and two forks to the table. He went back to fetch a couple of Cokes from the fridge, ignoring Megan’s offers of help. She waited until Jamie was seated, then stuck her fork into the warm, gooey dish and brought it to her lips, savoring it like a last meal. Washing her food down with a healthy swig of coke, Megan said, “Since you’re feeding me, I’m gonna give you some inside information, but if you tell Dillon I told you, I’ll deny every word. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Jamie, Dillon told me what happened at the theater.”
Jamie turned bright red, but Megan laughed it away. “He and I are friends. He tells me the stuff he can’t talk to you about. Anyway, he loved every minute of it, but now he’s afraid.”
Jamie couldn’t believe it. “Of me?”
“No, not of you. Not really, anyway. He’s afraid if he rushes you into sex, you’ll think he’s just using you again.”
“Doesn’t he know that I trust him?”
“Knowing in his head and believing it in his heart are two different things. No, if you want to get Dillon out of those tight drawers of his, you’re gonna have to make the first move.” Megan grinned. “Don’t look so nervous. I’ve actually got something out in my car that might help you along a little bit. I was gonna give it to Dillon, but since it looks like you’re gonna have to get things started between you two, I’ll give it to you instead. Just remind me to give it to you before I leave.”
Jamie poked around the lasagna with his fork. It made sense, but Jamie wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He’d never even thought about seducing anyone. In the past, Dillon had always made the first move. Knowing he was gonna have to do it scared the heck out of Jamie, not to mention the fact that he was worried as hell about what Megan might have in her car. Meggie was a sweet girl, but some of her ideas were a bit, um . . . warped. Rather than think about the situation with Dillon, Jamie changed the subject. “Dillon and I went to see Ash yesterday.”
“Poor guy. He’s lucky you and Dillon found him when you did.” Megan scooped up another forkful of pasta. “I gather the rumors are true, then. He really did try to kill himself because he was having an affair with Ben Lewis. I’m assuming you guys went over there to give him Ben’s letter?”
Uh oh. “Yep.”
“What did it say?”
Jamie adored Megan, and he hated keeping secrets from him, but this was Ash’s secret, not his. Keeping his voice neutral, Jamie shrugged. “You know. The usual stuff.” Usual when your boyfriend was blackmailing your father, that is. Damn. The blackmail. Megan didn’t know about that either. Damn, damn, damn.
Megan swallowed another mouthful of food. “Poor Ash must have really been in love with Ben to want to kill himself over the guy. Especially with Ben’s past.”
Ben’s past. That was it. For the second time in as many weeks, Jamie had one of those instant zaps of understanding. If Burke Carpenter, Ben’s former foster father/pimp, taught Ben everything he knew, Burke might be able to tell him something--anything--that would help Jamie ferret out the identity of Ben’s second victim. Not that he probably would. Burke was just as likely to tell Jamie to go to hell, but as with Sledge, Jamie figured he had nothing to lose by trying. He got up from the table so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. “Megan, I have to go.”
Megan pointed to the half-f plate. “Now? You’re not even done eating yet.”
“I . . . uh, something’s come up. I have to catch a cab to Chicago.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “This has something to do with that Sledge guy saying Ben was already dead, doesn’t it?”
“Dillon told you about that?” Jamie smacked his forehead. “Wait a minute. Of course he did. Yes, it does, but I can’t tell you what it is.”
To her credit, Megan didn’t push. “I understand. But I promised Dillon I’d do my best to talk you out of doing anything risky.”
“And I won’t. I promise.” Jamie the phone book from the counter and started flipping through the pages, looking for the number to Reed’s only cab company. Standing up and striding across the room with all the grace of a queen, Megan laid her hand across the top of the phone book. “Jamie, tell me who it is you have to see in Chicago.”
At least in this, Jamie could be honest. “Megan, Ben was a hustler before he came to Reed.”
“You mean he was a prostitute?”
“’Fraid so. And like you said, to find out what all I can about Ben, I need to talk to some of the people from his past. Who better to talk to than the guy who, for all intents and purposes, was his pimp?”
“You’re going to Chicago to talk to the guy who whored Ben out?”
Jamie’s voice was gentle but firm. “Yes, I am.”
Megan took the phone book out of Jamie’s hands, closed it, and then placed it back on the counter.
“I mean it, Megan. I’m going.”
“I heard you the first time, Jamie, but there is no way you’re taking a cab to Chicago this evening.” Megan pulled her keys out of the front pocket of her jeans. “If you have to go, I’m gonna drive you.”
* * *
Who’d have thought a pimp would be listed with directory assistance? Jamie had been afraid finding Burke would be a hassle, but all it took was a quick call to four-one-one. Megan wanted to call the number listed, but Jamie refused. No one was he gonna warn Burke they were coming. With any luck, they’d zip through the thirty minute drive to Chicago, have a quick word with “good ole Burke,” as Ben had called him, and then be back in Reed before Dillon ever noticed they were gone.
Yep, it had all sounded so easy when he and Megan planned it out. Jamie should have known better. The minute he saw the yellow crime-scene tape attached to the brick pillars on either side of the driveway of the address the operator had given them, Jamie knew they were in trouble.
Megan double checked the driving directions she’d pulled from the internet. “Maybe this is the wrong house.”
Jamie shook his head. “I don’t think so. Pull over there, by the curb.”
“Why? There’s tape all over the place. We’re not supposed to go in there.”
Jamie did his best not to give her one of those “duh” looks. “We’re not supposed to be in Chicago hunting down a kiddy pimp, either, Meggie. Park the car, and I’ll get out and look around for a sec, then we’ll jet.”
Megan pulled her car to the nearest curb. “I’m going with you.”
“Meggie--”
“Look, Jamie, we’re not supposed to be here. We’ve already established that. Do you really want to waste more time here on an argument you know you aren’t gonna win, anyway?”
The woman did know how to make a point. Jamie got out and leaned against the car, waiting for Megan to come around to his side. While he waited, he took a second to study the house. It was one of those old Victorian Italianate designs. As a would-be-architect, Jamie could appreciate the bold elements of the house--of the entire neighborhood, for that matter. Burke’s neighborhood was one of those luxurious, well-maintained clusters of old homes only the truly wealthy could afford to keep up. Not exactly what Jamie expected. The place--with its elegant box shape and tan brick exterior--might have appealed to Jamie on a design level, but knowing what the house had been used for left him cold. He wanted to talk to Burke and then get the heck out of there.
As soon as Megan joined him on the other side of the car, the two of them made their way around the pillars and tape, walking up into the yard proper. Even in the dying light of late afternoon, Jamie could see how well manicured and tended the grass was. He could almost close his eyes and see Ben or one of Burke’s other boys coming home after a hard day of whoring and mowing the lawn. He thanked God he’d had Aunt Sadie to take him in when his mom ditched him. If not, Jamie could have just as easily become prey to Burke or someone like him.
The main house was dark, and the deep porch’s arched openings were screened off with more of the bright yellow tape. Even in the shadows of the porch, Jamie could see deep red stains on the concrete floor he felt certain had to be blood. He turned to face Megan, and, seeing his own fear reflected on her face said, “I don’t see any sign of Burke Carpenter. Maybe we should go.”
Megan raised her hand to point at something behind Jamie’s back just as a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder. A deep, scratchy voice said. “And you won’t see any sign of him. Burke Carpenter is dead. And, as for leaving, you aren’t going anywhere.”