Zero at the Bone (25 page)

110 | Jane Seville

JACK knew he was alone in bed before he was fully awake. He had expected to be. This morning, though, his solitude didn’t alarm him.

He yawned and rolled onto his back. The other side of the bed was rumpled and slept-in, the covers not tossed aside but carefully folded back; D must have risen gently so as not to disturb him. Jack took a few deep breaths, easing himself bit by bit into waking, scratched his chest and glanced at the clock. It was after nine already. D had probably been up for hours.

Jack had woken just after two a.m. needing to go to the bathroom; when he’d returned, he hadn’t gone right back to sleep but had sat up in bed, momentarily transfixed by the sight of D lying in bed next to him on his stomach, deeply asleep, his arms wrapped around a pillow. The angles and planes of his face were softened in quiet peace, his breathing slow and even.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t waking up with D this morning. He’d slept next to him, and at his side D had slept peacefully, hardly moving all night, and Jack didn’t need to be told that a night’s rest like that was a rare occurrence in D’s life.

He rose, wincing slightly at the ache born of last night’s sex, and put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. The smell of coffee was drawing him out of the bedroom.

D was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper, a cup of coffee at his side. He looked up as Jack entered, one eyebrow cocked. “Well, look who decided ta get outta bed t’day,” he muttered.

“I never claimed to be a morning person, you know. Anyway, it’s only nine.”

“I been up since six-thirty.”

Jack poured coffee. “Hey, where’d you get the paper? You can’t be getting it delivered here.”

“Went out and bought it,” D said, slowly.
Dumbass.

Jack nodded, feeling stupid. “Yeah.”

“Brought back donuts.”

“You… brought me donuts?” Jack blinked.

“Well, I did intend ta eat a couple myself. Ain’t jus’ fer you.” Jack sat down at his side and rummaged in the donut box, coming up with a glazed chocolate. “Anything happening in the world?”

D shrugged, folding up the paper and putting it aside. “Same shit, different day.” He glanced around. “So… this is your brother’s house?”

“Was, yeah.”

“How do you know they won’t find us here? I mean, if they found us at the cabin—” Zero at the Bone | 111

“Was a trail to us from that cabin. Yer ex-wife, her father, his sister. Ain’t no trail leadin’ ta me from this place. I don’t own it. Deed belongs ta one dummy company which is a front fer another which is owned by a shell corporation, and on and on. And even if somebody managed ta get back to a name it wouldn’t be mine, seein’s I don’t even have one.”

“So we’re safe here?”

“Much as we can be, yeah. Providin’ we ain’t been followed.” He held up a hand at Jack’s alarmed expression. “We ain’t been.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ain’t nothin’ ever sure.”

“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”

“You got a better idea?”

“A string of anonymous motels?”

“Too risky. More travel means more exposure.”

“Cave in the woods?”

“The hell you say.”

Jack sighed. “Okay, I give. I’ll defer to your expertise. Oh, and speaking of, let me have a look at your shoulder.”

“It’s fine,” D said.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He got up and leaned over D, pulling the neck of his Tshirt aside to check the wound. It was almost completely closed; they were down to a small bandage. Jack peeled it away and palpated the skin. It appeared pink and healthy; the wound itself was scabbed and receding. He nodded. “Good.” He let his hand linger on D’s shoulder, his thumb sweeping across the skin over his clavicle. D was facing forward, his eyes lowered to the tabletop. All by itself, his hand slid up and over Jack’s hip, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to rest against the small of his back. Jack watched D’s profile but his expression didn’t change. The intimacy of the touch sent warmth radiating from the point of contact, but Jack didn’t try anything. He knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He straightened up and went back to his chair, D’s hand falling away as stealthily as it had come.

“Looks good,” Jack said, deliberately sweeping his eyes up and down D’s chest, but the double meaning was wasted since D wasn’t even looking at him.

“Glad ta hear it,” he said, draining his coffee cup.

“So… now what do we do? Sit here until the trial?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well. Looks like I’ll have plenty of time to clear out my Netflix queue.” He leaned back, resting his foot on the rail of D’s chair. “This probably happens to you all the time, right? Just holed up someplace for weeks and weeks?”

“It happens.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

D shrugged. “Kinda. Like ta read, if I got some books. Or even… go fishin’.”

“Fishing, huh?” Jack wasn’t surprised. Fishing, with its stillness and patience, seemed suited perfectly to D’s temperament. He sighed. “D.”

“I know. We got more shit ta talk about.”

“Who helped us on the dam? One of your FBI friends?”

“No. Least… don’t think so.”

“Then who?”

D thought for a moment, then met his eyes. “I dunno.” 112 | Jane Seville

“You… don’t know?”

“Well, I know. I jus’ don’t know who they are.”

“You lost me. Way back there.”

“You ’member I told ya once was only one person I trusted?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well….” D cleared his throat and seemed to be weighing his next comment. “First of all, that ain’t true no more,” he said, flushing slightly, flicking his eyes to Jack’s face.

Jack smiled. “But that someone I meant, thing is… I don’t know who they are.”

“You trust them but you don’t know who they are?”

“Only know ’em as X. Don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.” Jack was struck dumb for a moment. “X? Seriously? What, do you meet them in darkened parking garages? Do you have a Bat-Signal or something?”

“Why ya getting all riled up?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… Jesus Christ. When does it end? Just when I think I’m getting down to who you really are there’s another layer of cloak-and-dagger bullshit.”

“Hey! That bullshit kep’ me alive more’n once, so I’ll thank ya not ta comment!” Jack put up his hands. “Okay, okay.”

“Keepin’ who you are a secret’s like breathin’ ta them what lives where I live,” D

said. “And I suspect X has got their own reasons fer not bein’ real forthcomin’.” He folded his arms on the table. “’Bout eight years ago, when I was still kinda green, I started gettin’ the feelin’ that someone was lookin’ out fer me. Stuff kep’ happenin’ that ended up helpin’ me, more’n you’d expect. Folks I knew had it in fer me would end up in jail… or dead. Thought it was jus’ my imagination at first.”

“But it wasn’t?”

D shook his head. “One day I was out doin’ normal stuff, ya know, Laundromat, grocery store, and I come back ta my car ta find it’s unlocked. That put my guard up right off, but when I looked in, I saw somethin’ on the passenger seat. I get in the car and turns out it’s an ignition trigger.”

“A what?”

“S’a little jobbie ya put on someone’s car that detonates an explosive when ya turn the key. Real popular with the family men.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Anyhow, there’d been one on my car, but somebody found out, took it off, and left it fer me there so I’d know ta watch out. Similar shit happened couple more times over the next year. Started ta feel like I had me a guardian angel. Turned out I did.”

“Who?”

“Got a call one day. Voice was masked. Person said they was the one who’d been helpin’ me. Knew they were bein’ straight; they knew stuff ’bout me. Was still kinda pissed, though. I mean… didn’t like the idea a somebody spyin’ on me, watchin’ me, even if it saved my ass now ’n’ again. I asked who the hell they were, but they wouldn’t say. Jus’ said that they owed me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I saved their life.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Still don’t know how or when I did that. I guess I believe

’em, jus’ ’cause it’s hard t’imagine somebody doin’ what they done fer me jus’ fer their health. If I saved anybody’s life, I didn’t know it. But I knew fer damn sure they’d saved mine, so when they asked fer my help this time, I gave it. Been that way ever since.

Zero at the Bone | 113

Kinda watch out fer each other. Well, it’s mostly them doin’ the watchin’…. I cain’t exactly keep an eye on somebody when I don’t know who they are.”

“So when I went missing….”

D nodded. “Yeah, I called X. Said he’d take care of it, that I should jus’ show up ta the exchange and go through the motions, and be ready ta move fast.”

“Do you think they know where you are right now?”

“If it were anybody else I’d say no way, but I’ve learned that X has a damn spooky ability ta know where I am and what I’m doin’. I stopped wonderin’ ’bout it years ago.”

“Could he have you bugged somehow?”

“Don’t see how. I switched vehicles so many times, no way nobody could keep up with it. Don’t keep the same clothes fer long. I ain’t got no kinda device implanted in me; I been X-rayed and gone through plenty a metal detectors.”

“Maybe he’s psychic,” Jack joked.

D wasn’t laughing. “I’m almost ta the point that I’d entertain the notion, weird-ass as it might be.”

“Well… I’m glad you called him,” Jack said.

D sighed. “Didn’t have no choice. I had ta get….” He stopped, cleared his throat, and went on. “Had ta getcha back,” he finished, almost under his breath.

Jack stared at the top of D’s lowered head, counting the beats as they passed in silence. Abruptly, D stood up and left the kitchen. Jack heard the patio door open and shut again. He sat at the table for a moment, then got up and refilled his coffee cup.

WHEN Jack went outside just before lunchtime, dressed, D was… gardening? No, that wasn’t quite right. “What’re you doing?” Jack said.

“Oh, these trees leave all kinda shit all over the lawn. Fallen branches and them little twirly things. Jus’… tidyin’ up.”

Jack watched him painstakingly gathering seed pods and leaves, depositing them in a garbage bag. “You want me to get out the vacuum cleaner so you can do the job right?” he asked.

D shot him a dirty look over his shoulder. “Jus’ messy, is all.”

“I know.” Jack rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll help you.” They put on gloves and found a chainsaw in the garage. A tree had fallen on the edge of the property, and once the yard was tidied, they moved on to this larger task without discussing it. D ran the saw while Jack hacked smaller branches off the trunk with a long-handled trimmer. They walked back and forth to the ditch by the road, dumping off the pieces and the bundles of branches until the yard was clear, leaving only the raw white flesh of the broken-off tree gleaming wetly in the hard sunshine. D

grumbled when Jack wouldn’t let him lift anything heavier than an armload of branches, but did as he was told.

Jack stretched, taking off his gloves. D came up next to him and nodded. “Good,” he said. He turned and started to head for the house, but hesitated as he drew close to Jack’s shoulder. D’s features tugged inward, like he’d just remembered something. Jack didn’t move. D blinked a few times, and then slowly leaned closer, lowering his face toward the crook of Jack’s shoulder. Brow furrowed, he inhaled. Jack saw his eyes flutter closed and his features smooth out as if he were falling asleep right where he stood, falling into a daydream or a memory.

114 | Jane Seville

“Oh,” he sighed, long and weary, the sigh of sinking into a favorite chair after long hours of standing. “Ya smell like sun,” he murmured. D’s voice was raw, like a man under hypnosis. “Ya know that smell? That toasty-skin smell, like ya get after goin’ ta the beach?” He nodded a little. “I love that smell.” He straightened, eyes lowered to the ground. “Reminds me a workin’ on the ranch, when I was a kid. Ridin’ with my brother, up in the hills, sun beatin’ down turnin’ our necks brown, our hands.” Jack didn’t dare speak, or breathe, or make the tiniest move to disturb the so-rare reverie. This glimpse into D’s secret mind was like having a skittish deer approach him on a wooded trail; one false move and it would dart away into the brush, leaving him with only a flash of white tail before vanishing.

D looked up then, the spell broken. He harrumphed and seemed a little embarrassed. “Anyhow. Gonna get a beer.” He strode off toward the house, darting off into the brush, too late for Jack to take even one step closer with his hand out to gentle him closer still.

JACK used D’s laptop to check the news and the blogs he read, and spy on a few forum conversations in which he could no longer participate. He shut it down, sadness creeping up his spine. Soon there’d be nothing, nothing left of the old. It’d all have to be new. He could carry nothing forward except his memories and his own self, if he could manage to even hold on to that.

His mind barely skirted up to the edge of the thought that D might be a part of that life before skittering away again. Too soon, way too soon for that. And pointless to even consider it, because it was just too… too everything.

He got up and went out to the patio. D was sitting on a bench by the grill, which they’d used to cook hamburgers for supper, staring off toward the valley behind the house. Jack frowned. What was he doing? Staring into space? He did that a lot, and Jack always wondered what was going through his mind.

He came up behind D, who surely knew that he was there but gave no sign. Drawn like wind to a vacuum, he put his hands on D’s shoulders. Encouraged by the lack of withdrawal on D’s part, he began to rub the tense muscles slowly, digging his thumbs into D’s shoulder blades. He could have told himself that he was just being nice, or that he was angling for a return treatment later, but why bother lying? He just wanted to be near him, and touch him again as he’d barely been able to do all day long. Maybe if D

couldn’t see his face, it wouldn’t seem so scarily intimate. Fear of intimacy seemed like it ought to be ridiculous after the night they’d spent, but that had been different, somehow.

Being intimate in a bedroom, in the dark, during and after sex, was one thing. Casual intimacy in daylight, clothed, during ordinary activities was something else. It implied something else, something that had a name, a name no one had spoken or even dared allow to pass through his mind.