Chapter Nine

Declan was leaving school. He stood for a moment watching Rebecca, his only real friend, walk towards the school bus she took home. He never rode the school bus with the other students. He had to walk the one-hour trip home, even if it was snowing or pouring rain. It was his father's rule. It would toughen him up.

As he stared down the road, off in the distance, he saw his mother's car. She pulled in to the school's curved drive. He saw her through the windshield. She was wearing her large sunglasses. He froze. She stepped out of the car just long enough to yell, "Get in," which he did. Strange—he'd never gotten into the car before in the dozens of times he'd had this dream.

There was no seat belt. Odd…he knew her car had seat belts. Odder still was that he noticed it. Mother and son stared at each other for a moment. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator. The car rocketed forward. His gaze was locked on his mother's face, her lips curled into a snarl like a dog ready to attack.

Then her face relaxed, looking almost beatific—like she had found salvation. He turned forward to see the oncoming concrete wall. His mouth opened in a silent scream.

Declan woke in a cold sweat.

* * * *

Charlie'd had a fitful night's sleep. Nightmares of finding dead bodies in car trunks were mixed with dreams of Declan cradling him in his arms as he carried him away from the crime scene. Charlie's eyes drifted open, and his heart was pounding. He could still smell the scent of Declan's body. He wanted to stay in bed forever, not wishing to abandon this feeling, but he had to get to work.

Charlie got up and quickly masturbated in the shower as he fantasised about Declan. He dried off, got dressed and called an Uber, arriving at the office at eight a.m. He thought he could get used to this life of being chauffeured to and from work but he knew that after this morning, it would be back to Calgary Transit or Francine.

He walked into Gwen's shop. The doorbell chimed as he entered.

"Well, hello there, stranger," Gwen called out.

"I'm sorry I didn't poke my head back in yesterday, but things got a little hairy."

"They have a habit of doing that around Declan. So…can I assume that you being back this morning is a good sign?"

Charlie smiled. "I got the job!"

"Well, good for you. Declan'll be lucky to have you."

"I understand that you put in a good word for me."

"I'm surprised he told you. So…what'll it be this morning?"

"A pain au chocolat and a latte, please."

Gwen packaged up the pastry and coffee and handed it to Charlie. "I threw in a bag of cookies for later," she said.

Latte and breakfast in hand, Charlie mounted the stairs to the office and opened the door.

First on his to-do list was to activate the security system, which he'd noticed that Declan had been paying for since it had been connected two years ago. Mrs B had probably been too frightened of accidentally setting it off to complete the installation process. After that, he had to familiarise himself with the bookkeeping.

There was a terrible crash from upstairs. The lights suspended from the ceiling shook.

Charlie raced to Declan's office, then to the door at the bottom of the stairs to his apartment. He hesitated for a moment before opening it. He scanned the office for a weapon as another crash shook the room. Charlie made out an audible "Oof." He looked around and saw a hammer on a side table, picked it up then opened the door quietly and crept up the stairs.

As Charlie reached the third floor, he was greeted by a grunt, followed by a third crash. He leapt into the room, hammer swinging wildly, letting out a terrifying scream.

"Jesus Christ," Declan yelled, dropping his barbell on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?"

Charlie scanned the room, hammer still swinging, ready to defend himself against an attacker. Instead he found himself alone with his boss, who was wearing nothing but trainers, tight shorts and sweat.

Charlie mumbled a quick apology and ran out of the room.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, Declan entered the main office, dressed in jeans and a tailored paisley shirt. Charlie was typing away at the computer, his face still flushed. His lips were pursed so tightly he appeared to have none. He was taking his anger out on the keys. Declan watched, then broke out laughing.

"Oh…my…God, you should have seen your face. You were absolutely wild-eyed!"

"Of course I was. I thought someone was trying to kill you."

"And if there'd been someone, you would have scared the shit out of them. You terrified me!" Declan paused. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. Here—let me get you a peace offering. Latte, right?"

Charlie stared at him for a moment. "Extra foam," he said, before getting back to work. As he listened to the espresso machine hiss, Charlie's pulse slowed, but the embarrassment failed to subside.

"Here you go. One latte—extra foam—for the man who tried to save me." Declan patted him on the shoulder. "I really do appreciate what you did. You put your life on the line to help me."

"Well…"

"I'll be in my office if anything else comes up."

Declan turned to go. Charlie said, "Wait. So, the crooks win then? The ones from yesterday. You give them the evidence and they walk free?"

"Well, technically, they were always free. It never got to the arrest stage of the process."

"That's just semantics."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So what if they come back and kill Mr Attwal anyway, just to keep him quiet?"

"We all know that they now have Mr Attwal's only copy of the company's books. He was afraid to make a second copy. Two copies are harder to keep track of than one. He said it—his wife said it. I believe it. There's a weird truth in it. It was only a dumb mistake on Mr Attwal's part that made the thugs panic. Mrs Attwal said they were late in paying him for the third time in a row and he made a threat that he shouldn't have."

Declan walked back to Charlie's desk. "I know these guys. They're brutal, but they won't kill unless they're backed into a corner. Now that Mr Attwal knows it, and since they have their books back, he's no threat."

"So, it's just status quo, criminally speaking?"

Declan crossed his arms. "Look—do I care that I'm giving up information that would get this mobster off a money-laundering charge? Yeah, but that's not our concern here. That's a cop's job, and we're not the police. Their job is to uphold the law. We just try not to break it too much while we're trying to save the life of some mobster's accountant. That's the way I work around here and if you don't understand that, maybe this job's not for you."

Declan returned to his office, and closed the door.

Declan tried to make up for things, and I just criticised him, Charlie thought. Stupid, stupid me! He threw back the latte, forgetting that it had just been made, and scalded his throat. He slammed the mug down, knocking it over and spilling the remaining coffee all over the top of the desk.

"Shit shit shit shit," he cried, then fanned his mouth. I am such an asshole.

Charlie ran into the kitchenette to get a cloth, then ran back and mopped up the spill. "You are such an idiot."

"I'm not sure what I did, but I'm sorry." A man stood in the doorway of the office. Charlie stared at him, startled.

"I… That wasn't for you—about you. I don't… Can I help you?"

"It looks like I should be asking you that question," the stranger said, pointing to Charlie's desk.

"Oh, right. I'm fine."

The stranger smiled. "I'd like to talk to Declan Hunt…if he's free."

"Ahh," Charlie said, his head rotating from looking at the stranger to the door of his angry boss. "Sure. I'll see if he's available. Be right back."

Charlie walked to the door. He composed himself and knocked gently. After a two-count, he opened the door just wide enough to stick his head in. Declan was at his desk, looking at his laptop.

"Excuse me, but there's a gentleman to see you. He looks vaguely familiar," Charlie informed him in a near whisper.

Declan looked back at him and, in a voice of equal volume, whispered back, "What does he want?"

Charlie wasn't prepared for this question, so he signalled Wait a minute with an upraised index finger, closed the door and quickly walked back to the stranger. Before he could ask him the purpose of the visit, Declan's door opened.

"Can I help you?" Declan asked. "Oh, it's you. You look different in civvies."

Charlie could see Declan's body language change —his muscles tensed.

"Uniforms do that to a guy," the man replied.

Charlie finally recognised him. He was the younger cop from the wrecking yard.

"Lucas Fraser," he said. "But my friends call me Luke."

"So, Constable Fraser, what can we do for you?" Declan was cool, but professional.

"For starters, you could let me apologise for my partner's behaviour yesterday—to both of you. He's a bit of a—"

"Jerk," Declan interrupted.

"That's one word for it. I could think of several others—asshole, bigot and homophobe might do for starters," Luke offered.

"Well, we agree on something after all," Declan said.

"I just want you to know that we're not all like that."

"Would you like a coffee?" Declan asked.

"Sure," Luke said.

"Charlie, make it two cups."

"Two cups it is," Charlie replied.

"And then join us in my office."

Charlie smiled.

* * * *

Declan took Luke into his office.

"Nice place you've got here," Luke said. "A lot nicer than where I work. Although I probably don't have to tell you that. Things probably haven't changed much since you left the service. District 7, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"That fight of yours is legendary."

"I try to forget it."

"We never will—gay cops, that is. When I found out who you were, I wanted to come and apologise in person."

Declan stared at him.

"Most of us are still flying under the radar," Luke continued. "You're kind of an unspoken hero to us."

"That wasn't my intention," the detective said.

"Sometimes I'd like to fight back like you did."

"Why don't you? It might be the only thing that'll bring about change."

"Too scared to lose my job and pension, I guess. You've got bigger balls than any of us—and the pressure of having your old man in a power position in the force. Jesus, I can't begin to imagine Christmas around your family table."

Declan was happy when Charlie came in with the coffees.

"I hope you don't mind, but I also brought cookies." Charlie placed a plate on the desk, then shot Declan a glance. "Gwen made me! You might be good at saying no to her, but I'm new here."

"These look great," Luke said, helping himself to one. "Now, regarding the incident at the wrecking yard—and this is strictly on the QT—failing anything showing up from fingerprints from the car, the case'll be closed. Everyone's happy to believe it's a case of mistaken identity—one that the accountant would sooner forget. It's also possible that someone higher up the chain has a vested interest in keeping things quiet, but that's above my pay grade."

"Do you know how Mr Attwal is doing?" Charlie asked.

"The doctors are going to try and cosmetically restore his ear, as best they can, but there's nothing to be done about the finger."

The office phone rang. Then a second time.

"Oh… I'll get that," Charlie said, scampering out of the office.

There was an awkward pause as Declan and Luke stared at each other for a moment.

Declan started. "So…that partner of yours…"

"Yeah. Not the easiest to work with."

"He has no idea about you?"

"Not a bit, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't think it'll be hard with McKeckran. The thing about bigots and homophobes, they're not the brightest people out there. For McKeckran to figure it out, I'd have to make an obvious pass at him."

"Or try to kiss him," Declan joked.

"I'm not that desperate. Besides, there are better guys out there to go after," he said, locking eyes with Declan.

Is he flirting?Declan wondered.

Luke shifted in his chair.

"What you're doing—it's a big secret to keep." Declan said. "You up for it?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I? Unless I want to follow your example. You seem to be doing well for yourself since you left the force."

"Left is a polite term for it."

"I was thinking about that. It's funny that Professional Standards never looked into it—the fight, that is."

Declan crossed his arms. "My father had to be good for something."

Luke nodded. "We all just figured that the guy whose chops you busted was too scared of you to press charges."

"Might have been that, too." Declan laughed. "Anyway…things worked out okay for me."

"So, I hear you handle mainly gay clients?" Luke asked.

"Most of the time I help out people who are too afraid to go to the cops. A lot of times they're gay. Sometimes it's parents trying to find a gay kid who's run away and they don't want their neighbours to find out. Most of the time it's pretty routine—collecting evidence for wrongful-dismissal suits, partners dealing with cheating spouses—same as in the straight world."

Luke said, "I'm working on a case like that with McKeckran. Looks like the husband's gone AWOL. The wife filed a missing person's report. McKeckran thinks he's gay and has run off with his boyfriend."

"Based on what?"

"He saw a photo of the guy at the house. Said he looked gay. I asked what made a guy look gay, and he said he could always tell. He claims he has a sixth sense. Obviously, that's not true."

Declan shook his head. "How do you not just lose it?"

"I talk it out," Luke replied.

"With who?"

"With myself, mainly."

"I thought maybe you debriefed with your boyfriend."

"Me? No way." Luke laughed. "I don't think I could put a boyfriend through that. Unless he was a cop, maybe. Civilians and cops don't mix."

"Yeah. It didn't work out well with my folks."

They both sat in silence before Luke broke the deadlock. "Well…I guess I'd better head out and let you get some work done. I just wanted to come and apologise."

Declan rose and shook Luke's hand. "Thanks. I appreciate it. You know, if you ever want to talk about things, I've got a willing ear. No charge."

"I just might take you up on that."

"Good. Here's my number." Declan miraculously pulled a card out of thin air and tossed it to him. "Call me. Any time."

"Thanks," Luke said, then handed Declan his own card. "Don't let that go to waste."

As they went to leave the office, Luke turned to Declan. "We've met before, although you might not remember it."

"Sure. At the wrecking yard."

"Nope. It was out in front of The Greek last Saturday night. We had a dance in the street."

Declan remembered the ghost of a dream…dancing with a good-looking guy… "That was you?"

Luke said, "Jeez, I thought I made a stronger first impression."

* * * *

Charlie sat at his desk, his hand still on the telephone receiver, which he had replaced on the cradle.

Declan and Luke exited the inner office. Declan was smiling.

"You wouldn't happen to be free for lunch tomorrow?" Luke asked.

"Sounds good," Declan replied, then turned to Charlie. "Book me out of the office for tomorrow afternoon."

Charlie nodded.

"See you later, Charlie. It was nice meeting you," Luke said.

Charlie grunted. "Yeah."

"And nice to finally meet you, Declan."

Luke left the office, and Declan stared after him.

"Well, back to work." Declan spun on his heels and headed back to his office with a noticeable bounce in his step.

"Wait," Charlie yelled out a bit too loudly.

Declan turned. "Yes?"

"There was a phone call."

"I heard."

"It was from Mrs Beckerman's daughter."

"Oh?"

"She and Mrs Beckerman were out for a walk yesterday." Charlie's voice began to quaver. "She collapsed."

Declan's face lost all of its colour.

"Her daughter said that it was a heart attack. She's in bad shape but they got her to the hospital and they're taking good care of her. Her daughter said they don't know if she'll make it."

Declan stood in silence for a moment before he passed Luke's business card to Charlie. "Could you call Luke and cancel lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"I'm going to head out for the afternoon. You're in charge ‘til I get back," Declan said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Declan? I'm so sorry."

Declan nodded at him and opened the door to leave. He paused before turning back to Charlie. "I might be needing you for a little longer than three weeks."

"Sure. You can count on me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He nodded, then left, closing the door behind him.