“Sure, I haven't even looked at it in a few years. If it helps, but when you're done, I'd like it back if possible. I'm not holding out much hope, Detective, but if you can get me answers, maybe Aiden's body to bury next to his sister's, I'd appreciate it.”

  “No promises, Mary, but I'll do my best.” I stood and reached for the box as she flattened her hand on the top again, giving me a sad smile with more tears threatening to fall.

  “A lot more than what your colleagues did.” I opened my mouth to apologize again. “It was before your time, and you're the first cop to actually come and talk to me. That means something. Do what you can. I've been living with the grief and the unknown for twenty-five years. If you don't get answers, nothing changes. If you do, at least I'll know what happened to my boy and why my daughter had to die. I hate to rush you, but I have to get to my factory job. I have a double tonight.”

  “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “It's fine. I don't sleep all that much anymore.”

  I thanked her again and carried the box to the door with her close on my heels. I turned the handle. “I promise to do what I can. I'll keep you informed as much as possible.”

  She nodded, and I stepped into the hall. I froze as I listened to the hinges creak and the locks click one by one. I held the box on one arm and dug my phone out, hitting the speed dial for Remy as I descended the stairs.

  “Kauffman.”

  “Hey, Remy, do you know what Doc's address is?”

  “He's on Statesville Road, the Warner Funeral Home. It's the massive monstrosity at the very end of the road. You can't miss it. Something wrong?”

  “No. I need his and Vega's help, and I have to make nice with her precious Doc, or I don't get her help.”

  “You learn quick, Stevenson. If he doesn't answer the door, just call him. You have his number?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I disconnected the call as I pushed through the front door and walked down the block to where I’d parked my truck.

  After my conversation with Doc the other day when I walked him to his car, my curiosity about the man had reached obsessive levels. That irritation at the back of my brain kicked into anger-inducing levels. No one had affected me like he did in my life, and I had no idea why. But I was determined to figure out why the tiny man rubbed me the wrong way. First, I was going to find out why he didn't tell me that he knew Mary Barnes.

  6

  Doc

  As soon as I'd pulled up to the house, all the lights in the funeral home were on, and I rolled my eyes. They'd told me they'd hired a new tour guide for the Friday tour. I used my key to unlock the door and found the alarm wasn't engaged. I'd call them the next day. At least it looked like they hadn't made a mess. I wasn't in the mood to clean. I just put my foot on the first step when a knock rattled the front door.

  Turning, I crossed the foyer and saw a familiar shape through the sheer lace curtains and the etched glasses of the door. I grabbed the handle and turned it. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

  “Remy gave me your address. Are you busy? All the lights are on.”

  “No, come on in.” I stepped back. “You can set the box right there.”

  “I'm not interrupting?”

  “No, the historical society hired a new guide for Fridays. I was informed of it last week. I show up, and they left all the lights on and didn't turn on the alarm.”

  “Tours?”

  “Yeah, it's on a tour of about ten properties that date back to the founding of the original town. All the tour guides dress up in period clothing and tell the history. You can follow me while I turn everything off, and I'll give you a free tour.”

  “I've heard about these but never saw a home on one of them.”

  “The house wasn't as grand at the beginning. It's been added on and expanded, but no remodeling was done after the early nineteen hundreds. The foundation and main structure are still in place. The embalming rooms and all are kept as they were. Casket display is through there, and we have two chapels where viewing and services would take place.”

  “You lived here?”

  I laughed as he asked and followed me up the steps to the second floor. The third floor was off-limits as it was for storage and an office. “This was my room.” I pushed open the door and stepped to the side to let him look. “I wasn't here full-time, so nothing was updated for me.”

  “Now, I get you a bit more.”

  I studied his tall frame, he wasn't overly tall, maybe an inch or two over six feet, but he was broad and burly. My mind instantly conjured the image of being cradled in those strong arms on his lap. His blond hair was getting longer than it was the year before. He looked more relaxed than he did when he worked Homicide.

  “Is that good or bad?” I grinned as he glanced at me over his shoulder.

  “Not bad, but you really didn't want to take over?”

  “If I was asked, I would have, but I don't think in the end this would’ve made me happy.”

  He walked past me and out the door. I inhaled the scent of his cologne, it was faded, but it was warm and comforting. A lot of things I craved made me think of safety, and maybe that's what was so broken in me that I couldn't find it in a person—because safety didn't exist. Hadn't I learned that in my profession?

  I turned off the light and closed the door behind me. “This was Cyril and Leonard's bedroom, but if anyone asked, Leonard’s was that one.” I pointed over my shoulder as I turned the switch until it clicked and shut the heavy door.

  “They were never out?”

  I kept closing up the second floor with him beside me. “I think people assumed, but since they never made waves, it was just ignored. Two best friends spent sixty years living together with no wives, no kids? They did have a friend, a widowed lady. There was a story that they asked her to have a child for them. Leonard always chuckled when he told it because neither of them could do it. First Leonard went in and then Cyril, then they tried together. Nerves and maybe a little guilt…neither of them could get it up.” I chuckled, remembering Cyril's face turned almost magenta with embarrassment. “If it worked, one of them was going to marry her.”

  “They had you, though.”

  “Yeah. They said I was the closest they were ever going to get. Cyril told me one night when Leonard went out to pick up a body of an elderly lady…he'd wanted a piece of Leonard to live on. Someone so good deserved to have a physical remembrance. They were sickeningly sweet.”

  He followed me downstairs, and the last room I needed to take care of was the parlor. The lights were low, and I froze in the doorway.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, they'd send me off to bed, but I'd hide in the shadows as they turned on an old radio. They used to dance right there, every night before they turned in. They had to spend most of their days pretending to be something they weren't, and when everything was quiet and everyone was gone, it was just them. Leonard would pull Cyril close, tuck his face right into his neck, and Leonard closed his eyes as if nothing else in the world existed besides them. Sappy, I know.” I turned off the lights. “Come on, you can follow me home.”

  “You don't live here.”

  “No, I moved to the groundskeeper's cottage. It's not a long walk, just at the back of the property. Grab your box, and I'll set the alarm. I still own the funeral home and all the property. My parents didn't even come back for the funeral. Cyril passed away after a brief illness. Leonard took an overdose of sleeping pills a few months later. He couldn't imagine life without Cyril.”

  I descended the steps with Stevenson at my side. We walked around the side of the house along the pavers toward my cottage with the flowerbeds lined with solar lights.

  “I'm sorry.”

  I waved it off. “It was a long time ago. Leonard made the choice that was right for him. Everyone has the right to die with dignity on their terms. If he would've asked, I'd have held his hand.”

  We made the rest of the walk in silence, and I unlocked the heavy, old-fashioned lock and entered my cluttered space. It was a single rustic room with a small basic bathroom. My books were piled everywhere. “Sorry, it's clean, I swear. My piles of books don't prove that, though.” I rushed forward to throw the covers over my unmade bed and made sure no toys were embarrassingly left out. I didn't need to add that to the list of stupid things I've done around a man I like.

  “Would you like some coffee or tea? I know I have some bottled water and maybe some sodas.”

  “Water would be great.”

  “So, what brings you out to my home?”

  “Why didn't you tell me you knew Mary Barnes?”

  I spun at the accusing tone of his voice and watched as he slowly lowered the file box to my small kitchen table.

  “Who?”

  “Mary Barnes, Angela and Aiden's mother. She used to come in checking every John Doe that was announced on the news. Don't pretend you don't know her, Doc. You remember everything.”

  “She hasn't checked on a John Doe in fifteen years. We never talked about her case. I let her look at the bodies of young men who she’d hoped were her son. I implied that I knew her. I did mention that she called the old detective. Sandowski was and still is a bastard. Last I heard, he was drinking himself to death while chasing down cheating spouses. Is that her work?” I pointed at the box with one hand while I handed him the bottle of water with the other.

  “She appears to have done a lot better job than seasoned detectives. She mentioned the homeless man, Coltrane.”

  “Not his real name. He got it because he plays the sax in the park for money. His name is Major Adam Grigori, retired Marine. Sweetheart of a guy but loses himself way too much.”

  “Do you know where to find him?”

  “There's a few places, but you're not getting near any of them.”

  He sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his face. “I'm going to need a chaperon?”

  “I could go with you. I've treated Major a few times for infected wounds. He trusts me.”

  “Am I going to owe you another favor?”

  “Tempting, Detective, very tempting.” I forced a smirk as I let my gaze move over him from head to toe. I played a good game when I needed to.

  “If that's what you want, you're not my type. I won't play Daddy for you. Look somewhere else. You can either help me or not, doesn't matter to me.”

  I barely suppressed a flinch. “I may be a pathetic, old man, Detective Stevenson, but I don't need to bribe anyone to be my Daddy. Get Remy to take you or ask Boss where to find Major. I think it's time for you to go.” I turned away as my eyes started to burn and pretended like I was making myself coffee. I resisted the urge to wipe away the tear that slipped down my cheek. I wouldn't give the asshole the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.

  I counted his heavy steps on the wide, plank flooring and how the creaks were muffled beneath the area rugs. As the door slammed, I went to grab my phone from my back pocket to call Vega, but I stopped. It wasn't his fault I'd pushed when he didn't want me. Vega would try to protect me. I finished setting the timer to start the coffee when I awakened the next morning.

  All I wanted was to shower and go to bed. I turned off the kitchen lights and stripped in the dark. By memory, I turned on the water in the small stall. I kicked the clothes aside, not caring where they ended up. I assumed he didn't like me or find me attractive, but to find out he thought I was desperate hurt. Words hurt, but I knew something that hurt a lot worse. I stroked the scars on my belly, tracing the ragged edges that I'd stitched myself. I'd learned what happened when you let the wrong man in. No one knew, not even Vega or Remy. I lived with my lessons. That was the bitch about remembering everything.

  7

  Stevenson

  I walked into Cold Case with my backpack slung over my shoulder and froze as I found Remy seated on the corner of Robert's desk with his husband's arm rested across his thighs. Robert was rubbing soothing circles on Remy's hip.

  “Bad news?”

  “Shh, Doc is sleeping,” Remy whispered, and I glanced to the couch tucked against the wall between two filing cabinets.

  The thing was too short for anyone to sleep on, but it seemed the perfect size for Doc. He had a blanket wrapped tightly around him like I'd seen Remy and Robert do with Roo. He was naturally pale due to his line of work and mostly being on duty at night, but the dark half-circles under his eyes were stark against his porcelain skin. “What happened?”

  “Seventeen car pile-up on the freeway. He was in the morgue until a few hours ago, taking dental x-rays to identify the deceased. He also had to take impressions of living victims at the hospital. A few were burned so badly they can't be recognized right now. The swelling of the tissue, well, he had a rough night. Vega called to inform us, and Robert went and got him to sleep here with us.”

  “Is he okay?” I eased the strap on my backpack off one shoulder and quietly set it down on my desk.

  “He'll be fine. He just needed to be made to sleep. He was on forty-eight hours without. He attended a double murder scene two nights ago. Our poor Doc just needed some TLC. You should have some lab results in your email. Doc called in some favors for you.”

  The last time I'd seen him, we hadn't left on the best of terms, and I was shocked he'd kept his promise to help me. I still didn't understand why I lashed out at him. It wasn’t in my nature to do that to someone. The flinch he'd tried to hide was as clear as if I smacked him. He hadn't done anything new. He'd flirted, and it had irritated me. I couldn't blame it on lack of sleep or bad news; he became my target, and I insulted him for no reason. For days I'd tried to decide how to apologize, but the few text messages I'd sent were ignored, or I just received an it's fine. It was anything but fine.

  A pitiful little whimper came from the couch, and as I made a move to check on him, Robert was already up and knelt beside the couch. Robert stroked Doc's shoulder-length hair back from his face, and Doc grinned in his sleep.

  “Hey, little man, you ready to wake up?”

  I felt my brows draw together as I frowned. Robert only used that tone with Remy when his husband was stressed. Remy occasionally had panic attacks at work or nightmares, and Robert went into instant caregiver mode. His gruff voice naturally softened.

  “No.” Doc's voice broke, and I shoved my hands in my pockets.

  “I know, you can sleep for longer if you want. I'll tell you another story.”

  “I need to shower. I'm so gross.” Doc struggled to sit up until Robert helped him untangle from the blanket.

  “Well, Mami Vega brought you fresh clothes, and you can shower in the locker room.”

  “I should go home.”

  Robert pinched Doc's chin and made him look at Robert. “Morgan, you will get up, shower here, and then I'll make sure you have a good breakfast. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.” I frowned at the almost sense of instant calm that came over Doc. There was no mania or brattiness, just an overwhelming sense of peace.

  “Good boy, now, come on, I'll take you to our locker room. It's deserted except for us. I'll get you in the shower, and if you're a good boy, I'll even wash your hair. You liked it the last time.”

  I nearly stepped forward as Robert pressed his lips gently and playfully to Doc's several times until Doc giggled. I clenched my fists as Robert helped Doc to stand and took the pile of clothes Remy handed him. I jerked my gaze to Remy as soon as Robert and Doc disappeared.

  “Problem, Stevenson?”

  “How can you let Robert—” I motioned to the empty doorway.

  “Doc needed a Daddy to center him. Robert asked if I would mind, and I said no. Vega normally takes the lead in these things, but she's trapped in a funding meeting and couldn't be here. It's not like my husband is going to get turned on. That isn't what our friend needed. If he had a Daddy of his own, then we would've called, but that's not the case.”

  “But doesn't it bother you?” If I had a man of my own, I don't think I could allow them to kiss another man or cuddle and bathe them. Although, I'd never seen myself as possessive. I hadn't been with my ex-husband. He'd come and gone as he wanted, and I did the same.

  “No, there's something you don't get. You see, Doc is a Little and Submissive. Those things aren't always mutual. You can be a Little and not Submissive. Doc’s like me. He does so much for everyone else that he needs that calming presence a more dominant person can give him to make sure he takes care of his needs without thinking about everyone else. In this case, my husband. That need isn't always sexual, it's comfort and safety, and Doc trusts Robert to give him that. Did it bother you that my husband kissed Doc? Because it isn't the first time. He's bathed him. Cuddled him.”

  “No, I just wouldn't let my boyfriend or husband do that with someone else.”

  “I trust Robert. If he can be a nonsexual caregiver to one of my friends and we're okay with it, then why not? He's the most caring man I've ever been involved with. I don't mind sharing that with someone else who's in need. For someone who’s been around me and Robert, Cash and Vega, you're not very knowledgeable, or does the whole Daddy and Little dynamic make you uncomfortable?”

  “I have work to do.” I sat heavily in my chair and logged into my computer to get to my email.

  “Did something happen between you and Doc? Because he's telling me to give you messages and Doc was never shy with you.”

  “No, nothing happened.”

  “Keep your secrets, but I love Doc, and I won't have him treated with disrespect. So if you fucked up, apologize. He's very forgiving. I won't say the same for Vega or myself.”

  “He flirted, and I was irritated. I told him if he was looking for a Daddy, it wouldn't be me. I tried to apologize. He just keeps messaging me that it's fine.”