Chapter 16

After leaving the market, we’d made a pit stop at the Corner Mart. Mr. Park reminded me I hadn’t solved his mystery yet. He was unimpressed by my reminder that it had only been two days. Harlan’s promise to help had mollified him enough that he grudgingly allowed us to buy some coffee.

DT was in his usual spot on top of the desk when we got up to my office. “Got anything?” he asked.

“Maybe. How about you?”

“Maybe.”

I held up the cardboard beverage holder. “Let’s trade notes.” The three of us settled on the loveseat and wing chair to exchange information, Harlan and I with our notebooks and DT with a few sheets of paper. The 8-Ball sat on the low coffee table in front of us.

On the bus back home, Dash and I had written up our reports of the visit without discussing it with each other. Partially because we were in public, and partially so we didn’t influence each other’s interpretations.

I started by filling DT in on everything that had happened at the market. Harlan added his observations and impressions when he felt it was important. I liked the feeling of having a partner. DT and I were in business together, but since we had different strengths as investigators, and most often did our own thing, I wasn’t used to having someone on the ground with me.

“Do you think Gael was telling the truth?” DT asked after the debrief.

“About which part?” Harlan picked up his notebook and scanned what he’d written.

DT shrugged. “All of it. Any of it.”

What I thought about Gael was that he was a pain in my ass and not worth thinking about. As far as the necklace, though, I was leaning toward believing him. “I don’t know if he made it. But he did seem genuinely surprised to see it.”

“I agree with that,” Harlan said. “Also, what he said about it giving the person who wore it what they most desire fits into what we observed with Serena’s actions.” He tossed his notebook on the table. “So, who is Gael? How do you know him?”

DT and I exchanged glances. DT shrugged. “What do you mean? He’s just some guy. He hangs out in the market and from what I’ve heard, some of the homeless encampments. Over the last few years, I’ve run into him a couple of times. It’s pretty much the same every time. He says something cryptic to me and then he leaves.”

“Do you have any more info on him, DT? Where he comes from? What he does? Does he have a last name?”

DT’s brow furrowed and he looked up at the ceiling as if he were digging through his memories. Then he shook his head. “No. I’ve only met him a few times, with Dash. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with him by myself.”

Harlan scrubbed at his chin. “I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. He was interested in Dash and the 8-Ball in a more than casual way.”

“You think?” If Harlan felt that, I’d have to take it seriously. His feelings were as accurate as the 8-Ball’s predictions.

“I do. He didn’t stop asking about it until he saw the necklace. And he mentioned your ‘personal connection to fate.’ He knew my name and that the reason the necklace was in play was because of,” he checked his notes again, “‘the influence of you and I together’. And then he said that you have a way of attracting the attention of fate. With a weird emphasis on way.”

Huh. A way. Wasn’t that an interesting turn of phrase? “Give me a second to think.” I picked up my notebook more to have something to do with my hands than to look at what I’d written.

If the threat to Harlan’s life was all tied up with my ways and fate and the destiny Harlan and I had—the destiny I had yet to mention to him—that would add an entirely new level of difficulty to the situation that I wasn’t ready to contemplate. But as much as I wanted to dismiss Harlan’s intuition, I couldn’t. Not completely.

I needed to stand up and walk to think this through. “Okay, let’s think this through. On one hand, I’m not a big believer in coincidence in an investigation. More often than not, what looks like a coincidence is actually the result of an undiscovered connection. What are your thoughts?”

They both agreed with me. I paced slowly over to the bay window and looked down at the street. It was later in the afternoon by now and the thick traffic moved in fits and starts. Somewhere out in my city, there was a person who wanted to kill my Harlan. Could it be more than simply personal? Was the hand of fate behind it? I laid my hand on the window and then tapped my fingernail against the cool glass. Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the room. DT and Harlan were looking at me.

“Okay. I admit, I don’t like thinking that there’s some big conspiracy here.” I wasn’t going to touch on the topic of fate. “But as I see it, it’s neither here nor there. We need to neutralize the immediate threat to Harlan before delving into the larger forces at work. All the reasons in the world wouldn’t mean anything if he’s dead.”

“Agreed,” DT said immediately.

“Can we—” Harlan tilted his head toward the 8-Ball.

“Can you think of a yes or no question that would help?” I couldn’t at the moment.

DT waved his paper at us. “Let me tell you what I found. It might help focus us.”

Despite the immense amount of sugar he’d had for breakfast, Harlan pulled out the bag of chocolates we’d bought from the market. “Are they safe to eat? I’m not going to pine away from longing for goblin chocolate or something if I eat them, am I?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re from Belgium. So, probably no pining to death. Diabetes, on the other hand…” How did the man stay so trim? If I ate the way he did, I’d be washing myself with a rag on a stick in a year. It was unfair. “Besides, you ate some before we even got on the bus. It’s too late to ask. Do you need a sugar intervention?”

“I can quit anytime,” Harlan said around a mouthful of caramel and chocolate. “Setting aside the problem of Gael, we’re still no closer to figuring out who gave the necklace to Serena Calder than we were before we went.”

“Do you want to know what I found yet?” DT curled his legs underneath him and gave us a pointed look.

“Yes, please.”

He handed us each a piece of paper. It was a rap sheet for a guy by the name of MacArthur Tucker. Nothing jumped out at me.

“There wasn’t much information about the plates. They were only manufactured for about six months, and to my complete shock, they did not prove very popular, despite their careful manufacturing in North Korea.”

“Is it legal to import goods from North Korea?” Harlan asked.

“I had no idea there was any manufacturing in North Korea. Though now that I think about it, there must be.”

DT cleared his throat and waved his sheet of paper. “May I continue?”

“Please, go on,” I said.

“The only mention of the plates that was even remotely interesting was a small item in a police blotter in Wisconsin from December 18, 2019.”

I turned to Harlan. “Were you still in Wisconsin, then?”

He shook his head. “I’d left in July. I know they had to review a bunch of cases after the indictment.”

“If you’ll look closely, you’ll see that Mr. Tucker was an inmate at McNaughton Correctional Center in Wisconsin. He was arrested for a bunch of minor felonies. Drunk and disorderly. Animal neglect. Mail fraud. Sentenced to two years with a possibility of parole, he ended up getting his sentence extended for fighting. None of which would have gotten my attention except that whoever submitted the blotter to the paper I’d found included the tidbit that the fraud charge was related to the selling of counterfeit ‘collectible’ Rocks of Ages plates.”

“Did he actually sell any?” I asked. “The real ones sold for what, twenty bucks? Who would buy them?”

“Apparently no one going by my search results. This guy isn’t the brightest. His counterfeits were plates from the dollar store with photocopies of the real plates glued onto them. It’s not much to go on.”

Harlan sat back and rolled his paper into a tube. “It’s not nothing. He was in Wisconsin while I was.” He tapped the paper tube against his knee.

“Do you recognize the name?”

He shook his head. “Is there a mug shot?”

DT motioned with his finger. “Other side.”

I handed Harlan mine so he didn’t have to unroll his fidget toy. He took it with a nod and studied the paper. With one hand, he reached into the bag for another piece of chocolate.

“The face bringing back any memories?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I feel like I should know him, but nothing’s coming. How ‘bout you?” He handed the rap sheet back to me.

The guy in the mug shot was late twenties, early thirties. The years had been hard on him. He stared dead-eyed into the camera. His long dark hair hung in greasy strands on either side of his thick neck and his dead eyes stared into the camera. I was familiar with the type, but not this specific specimen. “Not particularly. DT, do we have a last known address for this guy?”

DT shook his head. “I only had time for a basic internet search. Nothing came up by that name. I figured we could do a deeper dive. After we asked the ball to see if we were barking up the wrong tree or not.”

“Good idea.” I picked up the ball and gave it a quick shake. “Is MacArthur Tucker the person responsible for the attacks on Harlan?”

Outlook good.

Harlan nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Ask it if he is in San Francisco.”

I did, and he was. “Well, let’s find this guy. Harlan, what resources do you have access to that we don’t?”

He grimaced. “Not much right now. He hasn’t done anything we can prove yet. We don’t even have enough for a warrant.”

SPAM was a combination of a law enforcement organization and a community resource. In the course of a normal investigation, with the evidence to support the suspicion of guilt, Harlan could get warrants to look into Tucker’s financials and phone records.

But this wasn’t a normal investigation. The police wouldn’t touch a powers-based complaint without serious evidence. The rock through the window would barely register. All we had was Serena’s confession, and only Harlan and I knew about that, for now.

DT fidgeted with one of the many rings he wore, spinning it around his finger. “Maybe it’s worth asking the twins?”

“The twins?” Harlan asked.

DT answered for me. “Hide and Seek. Freelance consultants who mostly get called in on kidnap and retrieval cases and search and rescue. Hide can sneak into most places undetected. If they’re within two miles, give or take, of who or what they’re looking for, Seek will find it. They’re technically based in San Francisco, but they work worldwide.”

Calling in the twins was kind of like shooting flies with an elephant gun. In this practically cashless, interconnected world with security cameras on every yahoo’s front door and every street corner, it was hard enough for even smart, motivated people to disappear. Most of us left a trail a mile wide every time we moved. Tucker didn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed. It wouldn’t take much to track him down. On the other hand, he was gunning for Harlan. “Let’s do it.”

Harlan shook his head. “They sound kind of exclusive. And expensive. Think they’ll help on such a small thing?”

I reached for the bag of chocolates.

“If Dash asks Seek nicely, maybe takes him to dinner, he will.” DT batted his eyelashes at me.

“Oh?” Harlan looked at me and dragged the bag of candy away.

I pointed my finger at DT. “You’re fired.” When I turned to face Harlan, he gave me his patented raised eyebrow, suppressed smile look that meant he couldn’t wait to hear my explanation for whatever I’d gotten tangled up in this time. I sighed. “We dated for a couple of months, weeks. It didn’t work out, but we’re still friends. We keep in touch.”

“How much touching? Above the waist or below?” The smile he’d been trying to hold back broke through.

“Very funny.” I held out my hand and wagged my fingers at him. “Give me the chocolate.”

He passed me the bag. “Fine. Call your ex. See if he’ll help.”

I nodded and then turned back to DT. “In the meantime, let’s run him through a couple of the usual sites and see what comes up?” We paid for access to several databases to get background information on people. The time it saved us from having to comb through all the open-source intelligence ourselves was worth every cent of the subscription prices.

“On it, boss.” DT uncurled from the sofa and walked back to his desk.

“I’m not your boss,” I called after him.

“I’m not,” I assured Harlan. “We’re partners.”

Harlan grinned at me. “How’d you guys meet?”

DT opened his laptop. “It’s a funny story. Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“It’s a date.”

I kicked my feet up on the coffee table. “Being your credit card, he’s not a cheap date.”

Harlan chuckled. “Noted. How long before we get some results from the search?”

“I’ll have some information for you in a few minutes. I’ll send it to the printer.”

“What should we do while we’re waiting?” Harlan asked.

“I have a couple of cases I could work on.” Luckily there was nothing urgent, no missing persons, no person waiting for me to help clear them of criminal charges. Not even a missing cat. Just some routine background checks and one possible cheating spouse.

Harlan stretched his arm out over the back of the loveseat to drape a hand over my shoulder like a teenager on a movie date. His warm breath gave me shivers when he whispered in my ear. “Do you think we could have a conversation in your office?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” DT commented. “Been a long time since you’ve had a decent conversation, Dashiell.” He waved us away without taking his eyes off the screen. “Go talk.”

“How many times have I told you to keep your bat-like hearing to yourself?”

Harlan laughed as he stood and then reached out a hand to help me up. I took it.

Still holding my hand, Harlan led the way into my office. As soon as the door closed behind me, he turned around and backed me into it. He rested his hand on the door by my head and leaned in.

He was just enough taller than I was that I had to tilt my head up to see his face, and I did like looking at his pretty blue eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled, and he smoothed the hair off my forehead with one finger.

I slid my arms around his waist. “I’m starting to think you don’t really want to talk to me.”

His finger slid down the side of my face, tracing the line of my jaw. “I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you all day.”

The intensity in his deep voice sent a shiver down my spine. “All day?”

“Since I woke up in your bed.” He curved his hand around the back of my neck.

Oh, he was good, and I was so easy for him. “Then you should kiss me.”

He did. As soon as his mouth touched mine, I groaned and opened for him.

This kiss was even better than the one in the car. This was the hot and heavy kiss fueled by ten years of missing each other that I’d been dreaming of since the second he walked into my office.

Harlan wedged his leg between mine and his hands dropped to my ass. Then he dragged me up his thigh until I was on my toes and grinding against him. I wrapped my arms around him and held on for the ride.

It was his turn to groan. Then he surged forward, forcing me against the door. I felt his erection slip alongside mine. With a hand in my hair, he tipped my head back and ducked to mouth his way down my jaw and suck on the sensitive skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

I slid my hand through his hair, holding him in place. “Fuck, baby.”

The instant that ‘baby’ escaped me, his mouth was back on mine. The grinding and clutching grew more fevered, and I started to seriously contemplate freeing both our dicks from the tyranny of trousers.

I vaguely registered some noise coming from the other room, but ignored it. DT was perfectly capable of handling whatever it was. The only thing I was capable of handling right now was Harlan.

The door jumped under the force of someone’s pounding. “I said I found something. Stop fucking in the office for five minutes and get out here!”

Harlan snorted a laugh against my mouth. I smacked him on the arm. “We’re not fucking!” I yelled back. “We barely made it to second base.”

“Then get out here ASAP. And I do not want to see a tent pitched in anyone’s pants. Do I make myself clear?”

“As a bell,” Harlan assured him as he stepped reluctantly away from me. “Just give us a minute.”

I pulled him back in for one more kiss.

“Or two,” Harlan amended.

DT sighed so loudly that I heard him through the heavy wooden door. “Ninety seconds, and I’ll keep my eyes above the waistline.”

“Deal!” I kissed Harlan again and then pushed him away. We were going to need all ninety of those seconds.

Harlan’s eyes were all dilated pupil as he stared at me, breathing heavily. “Tonight?”

I was only human, and we’d been so good together. How much better would our do-over first time be? “Tonight.”

What DT had found with only one search convinced me that Tucker was our guy. Not that I doubted the 8-Ball, but I had a trust-but-verify policy.

It turned out that MacArthur Tucker’s paths had crossed Harlan’s multiple times over the last twenty years. The occurrences followed a definite pattern.

Whenever he and Harlan were in the same location, Tucker wound up being implicated in some peripheral way in whatever Harlan was investigating. By the time he was sentenced, Harlan would be long gone.

The first time they were in the same place at the same time was at INSCOM, United States Army Intelligence and Security Command in Fort Belvoir, Virginia. Harlan and I were stationed there because we were both in signal intelligence. Tucker was in the motor pool. I couldn’t remember anyone by that name, but it turned out he’d had a peripheral role in the parts-stealing ring Harlan had uncovered. That had landed him in the brig for a few years.

In Wisconsin, he’d gotten arrested by the same sheriff’s department Harlan had gotten disbanded. Because of the results of Harlan’s investigation, most of the cases had to be reopened. Some people who had originally walked free had had their cases overturned.

When SPAM had loaned Harlan to a police department in New Jersey, Tucker had gotten picked up in the sweep of Harlan’s investigation.

Finally, he’d spent the last few years in a jail in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

And as if all that wasn’t damning enough, a car registered to him had a handful of traffic violations on record, including a ticket for expired tags that had been issued on Geary two days ago.

Their paths crossing once was unremarkable. Twice could be chalked up to coincidence. Him popping up in the same place as Harlan five times, crossed the line into stalking. “Does this guy have a tracker on you or something? How does he keep finding you?”

Harlan shook his head slowly while shuffling through the printouts. “No idea.”

Besides the rap sheets, there was also a list of past employers, known addresses, and potential family members. The guy had profiles on two gay hookup sites, Grindr and Scruff. It was more than enough for us to start with if Seek wasn’t available to help.

Harlan flicked the papers he held. “We got him.”

Who the fuck was the guy and why was he obsessed with Harlan? “This guy is stalking you. You sure you don’t remember him?”

Harlan shook his head. “Not at all. How about you? You were at INSCOM with him, too.”

I looked at the newer pictures DT had found. “Nope. Doesn’t look familiar.”

DT typed something on his laptop, then shut the lid. “Which parts do you want to take?”

“I’ll start tracing known friends and family. See if I can track down any friends he has in the area. Find out where he’s staying and where he hangs out in the city. Then I’ll start making phone calls and knocking on some doors. I’ll also get in touch with Seek, see if he’s available. DT, can you dig deeper into his socials, and see if anything he’s posted has a geotag?”

He tapped his computer. “Already on it.”

“I know you have to get back to work, but can I call you if I need some backup?”

“Of course. I can take some personal time, too. I’ve got a lot banked.”

There was something else he wanted to say. I could feel it. “What? Do you want to do something different?”

He frowned. “I know you don’t like it, but I think I should get my weapon. I left it at your house this morning. But I’d feel better with it.”

“I agree.” So far, Tucker hadn’t tried a direct attack, but guys like him often escalated when their first attempts didn’t work out. “I’ll go with you to open the safe.” Hell, I might even grab mine while we were there. I hated the thought of using it, but I hated the thought of Harlan dying much more.

DT stood up and pulled his long white hair into a ponytail, securing it with the band he had on his wrist. “I’m going to slide into his DMs and see if I can get him to agree to a hookup at his place.”

“You have a Grindr profile?” Harlan asked.

“Oh yeah, with my actual picture and one of my names. You’d be surprised how often it comes in handy for work.”

“I am not surprised at all that people jump when you text them. You’re gorgeous.” Harlan gave DT a respectful but appreciative once over.

DT grinned, his dimples making a rare appearance. “Why thank you, kind sir. I can never hear that enough.”

“If you two are done flirting, can we move out? Time’s a’wasting.” Now that we had a hard lead, there was no point waiting.

DT nodded. “Go. I’ll hit the apps while I wait for the other reports to come in. Call me if you find anything.”

“Will do. Come on.” I grabbed my 8-Ball and my bag and headed out to catch a stalker.