NOT EVEN Nevin had the courage to do the walk of shame naked. His fumbling around in the predawn darkness, looking for his clothes, woke Colin. “They’re in the dryer,” Colin said through a yawn.

  Nevin turned to look at him. “What?”

  “Your clothes. I washed them last night, and now they’re in the dryer. Which is hidden in that closet near the fridge.”

  “Oh.” Nevin ran a hand through his hair. “I was going to sneak out.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “You’re not pissed off?”

  Sighing, Colin sat up and rubbed his face. “I promised you no strings and I meant it. Heck, I was pleasantly surprised when you fell asleep with me.” He’d expected Nevin to clean up, maybe thank him for a nice fuck, and roar off into the night. When he’d collapsed next to Colin instead, his breathing soon turning deep and even, Colin had remained awake for some time, treasuring the unforeseen gift.

  Nevin was silent for a few seconds. “It’s kind of a douchey thing to do—sneaking out at oh-fuck-hundred in the morning, I mean.”

  “Then come back to bed for a couple of hours. Wait until it’s a more human hour and I’ll even make you breakfast before you take off. I have an espresso machine.”

  “Of course you do,” Nevin grumbled, but he climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over them both.

  Neither of them went back to sleep. They breathed in tandem for a while; then Legolas appeared from one of his many napping spots and hopped onto the bed to curl up beside Nevin, which made Colin smile. Nevin stroked the cat for a time—Colin heard the purring—then rolled onto his side to face Colin. A streetlight shone just enough brightness through the window for Colin to see his thoughtful expression.

  “What’s this from?” Nevin asked, running a finger the length of the scar on Colin’s chest.

  Colin turned his head away. “It’s old.”

  After a pause Nevin moved his fingertip lower, dipping it briefly into Colin’s belly button and down his abdomen—still crusty from last night’s activities—pushing the blanket out of the way as he went. Nevin’s touch made him shiver.

  “Cold?” Nevin asked.

  “No.” The loft was still warm.

  When Nevin got to Colin’s soft dick, his finger continued its journey, tracing lightly down the length of the shaft. Then Nevin cradled the entire organ in his hand, hefting it as if assessing its weight. Like the rest of Colin, his cock grew more awake.

  “You could be a porn star with this thing,” said Nevin.

  “It’s nice to know that property developer isn’t my only career option.”

  “I thought you were a real estate tycoon.”

  Colin chuckled. “Nope, that’s my dad. He buys ’em. Nowadays he’s spending a lot of time playing golf, so I do most of the day-to-day operations.”

  “Hmm,” Nevin said and gave Colin’s cock a little squeeze. “Well, even if you’re not going to make a fortune off your schlong, you should post a couple dick pics on your hookup app of choice. The boys will be pounding on your door.”

  “Great.” Colin had no intention of signing up for any hookup apps. He was glad he’d gone to bed with Nevin—the sex had been amazing—but now he found a new little shard in his heart. Another jagged piece of frustrated longing. The night had been worth it, but he didn’t think he could survive any more sharp bits inside him.

  They stopped talking as Nevin’s stroking became more serious. Annoyed with the thrashing and moans, Legolas meowed, hopped off the mattress, and stalked away. Colin wasn’t sure what to do with his hands at first, but then he buried his fingers in Nevin’s hair, which was straight and thick and very soft. There wasn’t enough light for him to discern the mink-brown color of it, so he closed his eyes and let his other senses rule.

  The previous night, Colin had explored much of Nevin’s body. This morning Nevin had apparently concluded that turnabout was fair play. He tickled, fondled, and tweaked, and sometimes he nibbled with sharp teeth. Eventually, though, he focused all his attention on Colin’s cock and balls. When he slid his mouth over the glans, Colin gasped. “I can—”

  Nevin freed his mouth to interrupt. “You just lie back and take it like a man, baby.” Then he went back to work.

  Colin hadn’t had many sex partners, and none of them had been able to take all of him in their mouths. Nevin couldn’t either, although he gave it his best effort and wrapped his fist around the base. He used his other hand to play with Colin’s balls and rub the tender skin behind them, and then he inserted one finger into the passage still slightly slick from last night’s lube.

  That stuff Nevin said about fireworks? Absolutely true, because colored sparks exploded inside Colin’s eyelids. For the first time in ages, he worried about his heart. But then Nevin did something clever with his tongue and Colin decided that if he had to kick the bucket, there was no better way than this.

  “G-gonna come,” he warned.

  Nevin redoubled his efforts and slid a second finger inside, and that was enough. Colin roared.

  And when his skin had become too sensitive for further touching, Colin watched as Nevin knelt upright, gave his own hard cock a few brutal tugs, and spurted all over Colin’s groin and abdomen. It was a little kinky, a little dirty, and it was the sexiest thing Colin had ever seen.

  Nevin collapsed beside him with a noisy oomph. “That was a challenge, Collie.”

  “You seemed up for it.”

  “Maybe with practice I—” Nevin cut himself off abruptly.

  Daylight had begun to seep through the windows, allowing Colin to see Nevin’s thick eyelashes dark against his skin and a tiny divot of a scar above an eyebrow. Stubble dusted his chin and upper lip, and when Colin reached over to stroke the sandpaper and silk of his face, Nevin drew Colin’s thumb into his mouth and lightly sucked.

  “Your mouth should be a registered weapon,” said Colin.

  “I’ve been told that before.”

  Colin believed it. Those lips. That wicked tongue. Those white teeth.

  Heaving a sigh, Colin patted Nevin’s cheek. “Omelet?”

  “Yeah, sure. Can I shower first?”

  “Of course.”

  Colin was the first one out of bed. He peed and washed up, then laughed as Nevin ogled him pulling on clean underwear and a plain blue T-shirt. He put an extra swish in his hips when he left the bedroom to fetch Nevin’s clothes.

  While Nevin was in the shower, Colin fed Legolas, stuck some refrigerated biscuits in the oven, and snipped some herbs from the planter box in one of his windows. He stirred the herbs into the egg mixture, then chopped some mushrooms and grated a bit of cheese.

  “Christ on toast, that smells good,” Nevin announced as he sat on one of the breakfast stools.

  “No Christ, no toast. Eggs and biscuits.” Colin grinned and set a plate in front of Nevin. After walking to the espresso machine, he turned back. “What’s your poison?”

  Nevin eyed the machine, large and sleek and able to produce almost anything with the touch of a few buttons. “Double espresso, straight up.”

  “Done.”

  Nevin downed his coffee in two swallows, not waiting for it to cool. Colin winced a little as he watched, sipping his own decaf cappuccino. He was afraid to make conversation because every topic he could think of was inane—or hinted at a future he and Nevin didn’t share. It was odd to have sex with someone, to sleep with him, to have sex with him again, and then eat eggs together, knowing you’d probably never see each other again.

  “I bet you didn’t want to be a property developer when you were growing up,” Nevin said. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth.

  “I didn’t really think about it that much.”

  “Bullshit. You had a dream tucked away somewhere.”

  Colin looked outside. It was going to be another scorcher, and already joggers and dog-walkers hurried down the sidewalks, trying to get their exercise in before the heat became unbearable. The street was Sunday-morning quiet, though. “I kind of wanted to act,” he admitted quietly.

  Nevin laughed but not meanly. “I should have guessed that. School plays?”

  “Sometimes.” When he was well enough to attend.

  “You sing well. Even if it’s just shit from a cartoon about lions.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So did you ever do anything about this dream?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Nevin persisted as if he were interrogating a suspect.

  “It’s stupid. Unrealistic.” That’s what his parents had said the one time he’d mentioned it. And they were right. Plus, his mother pointed out, the stress and unreliability of an actor’s life would be bad for his health.

  Nevin pointed a fork at him. “That’s why they’re called dreams. So, what? You went to school and majored in boring instead?”

  “Political science.” That was his mother’s suggestion. He winced. “And then I got an MBA.” His father’s idea.

  “Can’t picture you sitting there getting hard over spreadsheets or whatever the fuck it is they talk about in business school.” Nevin slid off the stool, grabbed his plate and Colin’s, and carried them to the sink. He seemed to consider for a moment whether to wash them or put them in the dishwasher, but in the end he just left them on the counter. He bent to pat Leg, who’d found a patch of sunlight on the floor, then sauntered back to Colin.

  “You’re a good guy,” Nevin said, his head slightly cocked and gaze bright. “And I know the good guys from the bad. This thing we did, that was terrific, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it happened because you grew a set and decided to tell the ought-tos to fuck off. You should try that more often, Bow Tie.”

  Colin smiled thinly. “You think I should quit my job and run off to Hollywood?”

  “I think Los Angeles would eat you alive.” He stood for a few seconds before returning to Leg for more scritches behind the ear. “I like cats. They do whatever the fuck they want to.”

  “I like cats too. But I think I’m more of a dog. You know, the faithful hound?”

  Nevin snorted and shook his head. His shoes were by the door, where he’d left them the night before, the unwashed socks still stuffed into them. Nevin put the shoes on his bare feet and balled the socks into one hand. Then he just stood there. Colin didn’t budge from his stool, as if doing so would break some spell. The refrigerator hummed and somewhere a car horn honked once.

  “We had sex twice,” Nevin finally said, not meeting Colin’s eyes. “That’s my limit.”

  “So you told me.”

  Nevin glanced at him and nodded. “Stay out of trouble, Bow Tie.” And then he left.

  Chapter Nine

  September 2015

  THE BITCH was lying through her teeth, but Nevin nodded like he bought every word.

  “She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near the stove,” said Molly Gillett. “She knew that. Told her a thousand times.” She took a long drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out in a glass ashtray somebody had stolen from an Embassy Suites. The house smelled like smoke, and Nevin wondered if he’d be able to get the reek out of his clothes.

  “But she went anyway?” he prompted her.

  “I guess so. I went to use the restroom—wasn’t in there more than a minute before I heard her screaming. I rushed right back out to find her there on the floor, holding her face. But I’ve said this already, Officer. Said the whole thing to those other officers.”

  “Detective. And please tell me again. Sometimes they don’t get the details right.”

  She huffed impatiently and fumbled another cigarette out of the pack. Most mothers under these circumstances would be clamoring to get to the hospital, to the bedside of the daughter with the third-degree burns. But not Molly Gillett, who looked impatient to get back to the talk show blaring on the TV in the next room. Well, just because a woman gave birth didn’t mean she qualified as a mother; Nevin certainly knew that.

  “What were you cooking?” he asked.

  “I was gonna make her macaroni and cheese. That’s just about the only thing she’ll eat. That and SpaghettiOs and bananas. Give her anything else for lunch and she just throws a huge fit, kicking and screaming and carrying on. So I was making her mac and cheese.”

  That was interesting, because there were no boxes waiting on the kitchen counter. It was possible Mrs. Gillett was waiting for the water to boil before taking the box out of the cupboard, but nothing else seemed ready either. Nothing to drain the noodles with after they were cooked, no spoon, no bowl to put the food in. Just a pot on the floor in a puddle of water.

  “So what do you think happened while you were in the bathroom, Mrs. Gillett?”

  “I think Jeanie grabbed the pot handle and splashed hot water all over herself. Even though she wasn’t supposed to be near the stove.”

  The ambulance was long gone, as were most of the gorillas in blue. Nevin had no idea how Jeanie was faring, although one of the responding officers told him she was burned pretty bad. Even if she recovered, she wouldn’t be able to tell them much about what had happened in the kitchen. She was in her twenties but had a severe intellectual disability that made her nearly nonverbal.

  He decided to change his tactics slightly. “Does she do that a lot—disobey the rules?”

  “All the time. She pretends like she’s too dumb to know what I’m talking about, but when she likes what I’m saying, that girl hears me just fine.”

  “It must be exhausting to care for her.”

  She blew out a cloud of smoke. “It is. Like having a baby that won’t never grow up. Except this baby’s as big as I am, so when she’s being naughty I can’t just give her a swat on the behind and carry her up to her room.”

  Maybe Jeanie Gillett never had much hope for a good life. But maybe if she’d been born into a different family, she’d have been mentally fine. Or even if she wasn’t, maybe she’d have been loved and cared for, given every opportunity to do the best she could, and when her caregivers felt overwhelmed, they’d have found somewhere to turn for backup. But she lived here, where the walls and curtains were stained yellow, where he saw no sign of suitable toys or books, where her mother—with badly dyed hair and dead eyes—sat in the kitchen and smoked. Fate was a goddamn cunt.

  “Was Jeanie especially difficult today?” he asked, feigning empathy.

  Mrs. Gillett shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  By the time Nevin left the Gillett home, he had several pages of incriminating statements from Molly Gillett, whom he’d placed under arrest. He drafted one of the officers to haul her to jail in a squad car, while another stayed behind to oversee the evidence techs and wait for Mr. Gillett to make an appearance. But Nevin didn’t feel especially satisfied. Even if the DA threw something heavy at her, this perp would plead it out. And Jeanie would be left with the agony of facial burns, assuming she survived at all.

  A hint of crispness colored the air as he walked down the cracked pavement to Julie. She was a little dusty. He’d get her washed over the weekend. For now, though, he wanted caffeine and a break from the evils of the world. But he couldn’t have either, because hours’ more work awaited him.

  The smell of cigarettes on his clothing overwhelmed him after he got into the car. So before heading to the hospital, he stopped at home to change. As happened every time he’d stepped into his apartment over the past several weeks, he mentally compared it to Colin’s loft. There was nothing wrong with his place, but aside from his stupid drawings, it lacked character and warmth. Maybe he should get a cat.

  He stopped at the hospital, but the nurse told him Jeanie was in surgery. It would be at least a day or two before he could even try to get information from her. “Probably longer,” said the nurse solemnly. “The burns are extensive.”

  “Fuck.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  He was in a foul mood when he arrived at the jail, and his temper worsened when he learned that Mrs. Gillett had already lawyered up. It was probably just as well he wasn’t going to be in a room with her right now, but he would have liked to find more ways for her to put her foot in her mouth.

  A call came in as he was leaving the jail, informing him Mr. Gillett had been contacted and was on his way to the hospital. So Nevin returned there and spent nearly two hours trying to get coherent statements out of a man in the midst of falling apart. Deciding that he could wait until the next day to talk to the EMTs and the hospital staff, Nevin grabbed a drive-through burger, which he took back to his office.

  He was in the middle of a mound of paperwork when Frankl knocked on his open door. Frankl looked tired and old, his hound-dog eyes sagging more than usual. “Rough one?”

  Nevin squinted at him. “Mom poured boiling water over her mentally disabled daughter.”

  It took a lot to shake a homicide cop, but Frankl flinched. “Kid gonna be okay?”

  “She’ll probably live. But she might lose an eye, and she’s looking at months of skin grafts and that kind of shit.” Not to mention a fuckload of pain and no real ability to understand why. And who was going to comfort her? The bitch who hurt her and was now locked up tight? Or the father who looked three seconds from a nervous breakdown?

  “I have news for you, but maybe tonight’s not—”

  “Spill, dickwad.”

  “We found Roger Grey’s body.”

  Nevin had been certain the corpse would turn up eventually, but still, Frankl’s words made his heart sink. His chair squeaked when he leaned back. “Where?”

  “Out near Sandy. Hunters found him near the edge of a field.” Frankl shook his head wryly. It was well-known that a homicide detective’s biggest friends were hunters and dogs, who managed to find bodies ditched in the most remote places.

  “Sure it’s him?”

  “Body’s in bad shape, parts kinda scattered, but his wallet was there. We’re checking dental records now, just to make sure. Mandible’s missing, but we have the rest of the skull.”