Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

“ Y ou’re with me, Rook.” Perry twirled a finger at Tracey as soon as he and Jon exited the elevator the following morning, stopping Tracey in his tracks.

“Where we going?”

“Talking to Wright’s friends and family. Get into his life a little bit more.”

“Good idea.” Jon tipped his coffee cup at them. “I’m looking into Enlightened Covenant Ministries. I need a way in to interview them about their program.”

“Oof. Good luck.” Perry clapped Jon on the shoulder. “Sarena called. She’s at the ME’s office to find more forensics links. Then she’s on the phone with the other jurisdictions.”

Jon gave an “okay” sign over his shoulder.

Perry herded Tracey to the elevator, giving him a once over as the elevator doors closed. “You okay, kid? You look a little worse for wear.”

“You could have let me put my stuff down.”

“No time. One of Wright’s colleagues has to meet us now if we’re going to talk with him at all. We’re late as it is.”

“Then the least you can do is feed me breakfast.” Tracey’s grumble had Perry regarding him solemnly.

“Are you really okay? You’re the sunshine-y one. Aren’t you supposed to be all rainbows and puppies?”

Tracey sighed. “Even sunshine gets covered by clouds now and then, Vaughn.”

“That’s deep, Rookie.”

They were quiet the rest of the way to Perry’s Jeep Grand Cherokee, until Tracey sat in the passenger side and buckled up.

“This is so much easier to get into than Jon’s Honda.”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously. Trying to bend my leg for the low seat is like origami some mornings.”

“Listen, if you want rides sometimes, I don’t mind helping out.”

Tracey studied Perry’s profile as they pulled out of the parking garage and into the morning sun. Perry had donned sunglasses, so Tracey couldn’t see his whole face, but the offer sounded genuine. Sometimes he didn’t know if the team jokester was kidding or not.

“That’d be great.” He was glad Perry had offered. He wanted to elaborate about going back to his townhouse and needing rides, but he should talk to Jon first. This evening, for sure.

“Sure. No problem. Just let me know when.”

They continued to a diner not far from the Hill, where they met with one of Wright’s friends from his university days who worked close by. The man, who introduced himself as Scott, only had time for a quick cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I promised Kelly I would go over Ethan’s financials with her tonight, and to make that happen, I need to not miss much work now.”

“It’s fine. We’ll make this quick.” Perry established Scott’s level of closeness with the Wrights, which was illustrated by Kelly turning to him for help with Ethan’s affairs.

After the preliminaries, Perry dug deeper. “Were you aware of any infidelity on Ethan’s part?” He was delicate about it, but the question still landed hard.

Scott flinched. “What? No! Ethan would never hurt Kelly like that. He was a good church-going man, and his family was the most important thing in his life. He’d never jeopardize that for another woman. He loved Kelly.” Scott’s eyes flashed angrily at the implication.

“So you didn’t know him to text with anyone outside his marriage, or meet with anyone at hotels?”

“No. That’s just not who Ethan was. And if anyone implies otherwise, they’re a damned liar.” Scott’s forefinger turned white from pressing it hard into the tabletop.

“Had Ethan ever given you the impression he knew or associated with anyone related to the LGBTQ community on a regular basis?”

Scott colored almost red, and his mouth opened and closed a few times before words came out. “Are you suggesting he was a faggot or that a faggot killed him?”

Perry didn’t react, keeping his normal, jovial expression and his shoulders relaxed.

Tracey tried to emulate him, managing to shift only a little, as though seeking a more comfortable position rather than becoming agitated. He dropped his hands to his lap so Scott wouldn’t see his fingers curling into fists.

“We’re not implying anything. I’m simply asking if you know whether or not Ethan was acquainted with anyone involved in certain groups outside of the professional organizations in which he worked.” Perry took an unhurried sip of his coffee, but his eyes never left Scott’s face.

Ethan Wright’s background included conversion therapy, and they needed to know if he’d taken Scott into his confidence given their long friendship. If not, there’d be no way he’d have let him into this aspect of his life, and they were wasting their time trying to find Wright’s final hookup this way.

Scott, to his credit, calmed himself. “Why’d you pick that group? You could have asked about a church group, or recreational sports, or a bowling league. But you had to ask about the queers.”

Tracey blinked, deliberately relaxing his hands. “We’re asking for a specific reason, but we’re not at liberty to share it as part of an ongoing investigation. Did Mr. Wright, to your knowledge, have any regular contact with anyone related to the local LGBTQ community?”

“No. If he did, he didn’t tell me about it. Look, Ethan believed in the same values he lobbied for. Good family values, not that degenerate bullshit. He didn’t shop at places like Target, where we get gender politics shoved down our throats while buying toys for our kids. Ethan voted the right way, shopped according to his conscience, and he wouldn’t cheat on Kelly. Now if that’s all the questions you have, I need to get back to work.”

“Just one more question.” Tracey held out his hand to halt Scott. “Has Ethan traveled out of the city or state for any reason recently?”

Scott stopped sliding from the booth, considering. “No, I don’t think so. Most of his clients came to D.C. Or he met with them over Zoom.”

“He didn’t visit anyone anywhere else? Not Chicago, or Atlanta? Or any other cities?”

Frowning, Scott shook his head. “No, I don’t recall him talking about that.”

“Okay. Thank you for your time.” Perry pulled out a business card and offered it as the man stood to leave. “If you think of anything more, please call.”

Scott snatched the card and disappeared out the door without another glance.

“Douchebag didn’t even consider paying for his coffee.” Tracey took a big swallow from his cup to avoid saying anything more rude.

“That’s okay. I’m going to order a big breakfast now and gleefully expense it.” Perry signaled for the waiter as he switched sides of the booth. “Can we get two menus, please?”

After they ate, they spent the day meeting with Wright’s friends, acquaintances, and a couple of coworkers. They all said the same things as Scott, with varying degrees of hostility: Ethan Wright was an upstanding man, and there was no way he’d stoop to being anything less than straight, nor would he ever cheat on his wife.

What stopped Tracey from disabusing them of the notion and disclosing the way in which Wright’s body had been found was one, the details of the case needed to stay confidential, and two, Kelly Wright’s distress over his affairs had been genuine. She didn’t deserve to be splashed with her husband’s mess. Her peers were clearly a judgmental sort.

Hearing over and over from these people how despicable the gay community was and how Ethan Wright wouldn’t touch that crowd with a ten-foot pole was demoralizing to say the least.

Which was why Tracey took a few minutes at lunchtime to call his dad, Edward, just to hear a friendly voice. It wasn’t surprising that his father managed to soothe his frazzled nerves. However, Edward always could read his only child well, and he knew something was up from the minute the call connected.

“Are you sure you’re all right, son?”

“Yeah, Dad. It’s just been a tough morning.”

“I’m glad you called, then. You’re doing good work, even if it’s difficult.”

“Thanks.”

“Your mother has been talking about the holidays and us maybe coming to D.C. to see you instead of you coming here. How does that sound?”

“I’d really like that. I’ll have to get my house in shape before you can stay with me though.” He said it reflexively, not thinking about the fact that his dad usually put him on speaker if his mom was in the room.

There was a lengthy pause. “Why isn’t your house already set up? You’ve lived in D.C. for almost two months, Tracey.” His mother sounded sweet, but her confusion held a judgmental edge.

Tracey froze and mouthed fuck to himself. “Ma, I’ve been busy with work, and I haven’t been at home. I told you guys this. I’ve been staying with a coworker while I’m recovering, and he’s my ride to work while I’m not cleared for driving yet.”

His mother seemed to buy that. “Oh, that’s right. But surely, you’re not staying at this coworker’s house forever. Are you sure you wouldn’t like for us to visit sooner and help you unpack? It’s no trouble.”

“I appreciate that, but I’d be much happier if you first see my house when I can be proud to show it off.” That would hit Caroline Smith right where she lived, because she’d feel the same way.

Now, he really needed to come out to them soon. But in the middle of a workday was not the time.

The afternoon resumed with Wright’s friends and acquaintances continuing in the same vein as the morning, and by the end, Tracey was well and truly in need of a break.

“God, I need to wash the bigotry off me.” Tracey shuddered as yet another person angrily slammed a door at their backs.

“Too bad, kid. We’re not done for hours yet.” At least Perry seemed apologetic as they approached his car, parked at the curb of a quiet residential neighborhood in Arlington.

“What? It’s past five.”

Perry snorted. “Yeah, well, today’s not the day we’re knocking off early. Did you have plans?”

Given the day’s interviews, the bullet he’d dodged with his parents, and the conversation he needed with Jon, Tracey wasn’t sure he had the emotional wherewithal. But work was work, and maybe throwing himself into it would let him block out the other stuff.

He still hadn’t worked out what to say to Jon without sounding like he was ending their relationship. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Then let’s go grab a bite to eat and plan out our strategy for hitting the clubs.”

“‘Clubs?’” Tracey scrunched his nose in confusion.

“Yep. The gayborhood. Have you been yet? It’s basically a triangle between Adam’s Morgan, Dupont Circle, and Logan Circle.” Perry pulled away from the curb and navigated to the nearest cross street. “It’s kinda touristy, so I figure we could head over there, get food, and strategize how we’re going to get a group of people who don’t like cops to talk to us.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Tracey settled in for the ride. “But Ethan Wright met his hookups through Smoldr. Or am I missing something? We heard all day about how he was a ‘nice, straight boy.’ He wouldn’t be caught dead at a gay club.”

“Sure. He picked guys up on Smoldr. We can’t get that warrant yet.”

“Yeah, we need the specific username or they’ll fight the warrant in court.” Wright’s phone had coughed up no such golden evidence.

“Right. Well, Ethan Wright isn’t the only gay dude, closeted or otherwise, on Smoldr. So we go talk to other men that use Smoldr, who might also know Wright. The gay community looks out for one another if they know someone’s shady. Maybe there’s a whisper network about this guy.”

“Okay.” Tracey nodded as they pulled up to a long line of cars waiting to go through a four-way stop. “God, let’s hope it’ll be that easy.”

Perry frowned through the windshield. “Is there an accident ahead or something?”

Tracey craned his neck to see around the truck in front of them. “I can’t tell.” He pulled out his phone and called up his map app. “We’re not that far from Memorial Crossroads Baptist Church, which is Ethan’s parents’ church. Maybe a service just let out and it’s clogging the road.” He zoomed in. “Looks like it’ll clear when we get past this intersection.” They inched along at a glacial pace. Tracey glanced down at himself. “Wait, you want to go to gay bars tonight? I’m not dressed for that.”

Perry snorted. “We’re not going undercover, Rookie. You don’t have to fit in to question a few people and see if they recognize our vic.”

“Maybe we should try to fit in.”

That got a genuine laugh out of the senior agent. “Oh, you think this hot mess will attract attention in the clubs? You’d be right, but for all the wrong reasons. No, sunshine, I’m not running you home so you can get all prettified for the boys, and I’m not pretending I’m there for anything other than questioning potential witnesses.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Tracey pinched his lips together and breathed, frustrated at Perry’s deliberate misunderstanding. “I’m just thinking if we split up, you can ask questions your way, and I can ask them mine. If I blend in a little better and don’t look like a cop, people won’t be as dismissive as you say they will.”

“You might have a point, but something tells me the person you're seeing won’t be too thrilled if you’re all flirty for work.” Perry’s side-eye was mischievous.

“How do you know I’m seeing someone?”

Don’t protest too much. Don’t protest too much. Shit.

“C’mon, kid. I’m a trained behavioral analyst. You’ve been through the wringer in the last several weeks, but now you’re happy all the time. You’re smiling at your phone while simultaneously hiding the screen. Classic signs of seeing someone but not ready to talk about it. Although today, you’ve been pretty subdued. You can talk to me if you need to.” Perry tapped the wheel as they gained another car length of road real estate. “But in the overall scheme of things, I’m genuinely happy for you. I hope it works out. None of mine ever did.”

“How come?”

He shrugged. “Personality clash. Wanted different things. I couldn’t give them enough of my focus. Too emotionally unavailable. I was too intense for a couple of them. It happens. I quit trying after a while, and found fulfillment in other ways. There’s more to life than romance. What thrills and chills I don’t get from my job, I get from my hobbies. Lead a well-rounded life, Tracey, and you’ll want for nothing.”

“Sounds like good advice.”

“Tell your guy I said that, whoever he is.”

“How did you know it’s a guy?” Tracey tried not to gawp.

Perry’s grin was epic. “I didn’t until just now.”

He groaned at his stupidity. Thankfully, Perry’s attention was snagged by the true reason for the traffic jam as the truck in front of them cleared the intersection.

“Balloons.”

“Huh?”

Perry’s window whirred down.

“Sir, take a balloon!”

“You’re slowing traffic to a crawl to give away balloons? Is this for a fundraiser?” Perry absently took the balloon thrust toward him. It had a smiley face on it.

The young man’s blinding smile was so wide, it looked like it hurt. “I’m reminding people to seize the moment and remember your power. Balloons are the fun part.”

“Remember my power, huh?” Perry chuckled. “All right. Thanks.” He raised his window, easing through the intersection, and continued to Arlington Boulevard.

“That was weird.” Tracey turned sideways to watch the intersection recede through the back window. There were people holding huge bouquets of colorful, smiley-faced balloons at each crossroad of the intersection. “There’s no logo. No affiliation or charity, no group or business. It’s not an advertisement.”

“Tracey, where have you heard the phrase, ‘Remember your power?’”

It tickled his brain until the pieces clicked. “Oh. A Zach Wile podcast.”

“Yeah. They’re probably pulling a stunt to get Wile’s attention or a mention on the show. Or tickets to a performance.”

Shaking his head, Tracey stuffed the balloon into the footwell behind him so it wouldn’t float into Perry’s line of sight in the rearview mirror. “Wile’s following is rabid, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

At least they weren’t talking about Tracey’s dating life anymore.

For the rest of the drive, Perry gave Tracey the history of Dupont Circle and the little bit he knew about the gay clubs. Then he switched to waxing lyrical on the restaurants, about which he was much more knowledgeable.

After dinner at a hotel restaurant near Dupont Circle, they began a circuit of nearby clubs. First, they talked to bartenders, mostly because they were the only people available to talk to. Nightlife on a Tuesday, even in a vibrant city like D.C., wasn’t that busy. Many of those they spoke with gave them blank looks and quick head shakes before returning to their duties. At JR’s Bar and Grill, they got a nibble.

Tracey’s impression of the place was that it wouldn’t matter what day of the week it was, this was where people congregated. The crowd seemed older and a little more insular. Which didn’t bode well for opening up to law enforcement, but they were pleasantly surprised.

“I get what you’re looking for.” The bartender wiped the already shiny bar surface. “But that’s not our crowd. You’re looking for the guys at Kiki on U Street by Logan Circle. I think Tuesdays in October, they have costume contests. If you don’t get any hits there, try next door at Dirty Goose.”

Perry slid a few bucks across the bar. “Thank you, kind sir.”

With a laugh, the bartender disappeared the money into his jeans and moved to the pair who’d come up beside Tracey.

They exited to the street and Tracey asked, “We walking or riding?”

Perry gave him a confused look. “If you think you can walk, go for it. I’ll meet you there.”

That stopped Tracey up short. Under normal circumstances, he’d have happily hoofed it a few miles between bars. This evening, working the witnesses and asking the questions—especially in places where he felt both at home and enthralled by the sights and sounds—he’d genuinely forgotten all about his injured leg.

As if to remind him he couldn’t walk the distance, his calf gave a warning twinge. “Fine, let’s get the car.”

As if picking up Tracey’s shift in mood, Perry turned supportive. “You should come back on your own time, maybe with your boyfriend.”

“Maybe I will. For now, we have to find parking again.”

“Necessary evil.” After a couple of minutes of silence, Perry elbowed him. “Knew it was a boyfriend, not a girlfriend.”

“Shut up. You only have to guess that once, and it’s a fifty-fifty shot.”

They drove to U Street. By the time Perry found suitable parking, Tracey really could have walked in the same timeframe, except for his stupid, fucked up leg. He pushed that aside, though. There was work to be done.

The costumed revelers at Kiki were in full swing, and many of them were talkative. Could have something to do with their level of inebriation, which was several levels above what they’d seen at the last bar. Perhaps the bartender had been right.

“What’s your name?”

“Doug.” His neat blond hair was streaked with fake blood, and his tattered t-shirt gave the impression he’d been clawed by an animal, though Tracey suspected it was a thinly veiled excuse to show off a muscled physique. The shirt was barely more than a few strips of cloth.

“Do you know this man?” Perry held Ethan’s photo up.

He scrutinized the shot, squinting against the nearby fog machine launching a fine mist of baby powder. “Maybe? I don’t think I’ve ever fucked him.” Doug shook his head just as another blond guy, this one in a woman’s nurse’s uniform dress and silver sequined platform heels, sashayed past. Doug snagged his elbow. “Hey, Enrique, these guys are looking for someone. Have you seen him?” He showed his friend the photo.

Enrique squinted even harder than Doug had, and draped a cozy arm around his friend. “Oh, God. That guy is a hot mess. Don’t ever go home with him, honey.” He turned to Perry and Tracey, gesturing with a full drink, clearly the latest in a long line of drinks. “He likes some kinky shit.”

Tracey tried to seem like he was all in for the gossip. “Really? What kind of kinky shit?”

“Gurl.” Enrique backed up and thrust his chest out. He wasn’t in full drag, but his makeup was vivid and went well with the costume, which was short, and the V of the dress went to his navel. He eyed Tracey up and down with interest after a quick, dismissive eye-flick over Perry. “He’s not into the parTy, if you know what I mean.” He emphasized the “T,” which Tracey understood as a crystal meth reference. “But you get him going, and he wanted to be slapped around and called names. The meaner the better. I mean, some of us have daddy issues, but that guy.” Enrique made a high-pitched noise while shaking a loose hand at shoulder-height in a gesture that conveyed Ethan Wright was in a league of his own.

“Do you know of anyone he was with who can confirm his preferences?” Perry asked the question amicably, but Enrique’s forthcoming, gossipy demeanor turned chilly.

“Honey, none of them are gonna tell you if they were.” Then he looked Tracey up and down again. “You, on the other hand.” He sidled closer.

Tracey used Enrique’s interest to their advantage. “Listen, the guy in the picture met someone on Smoldr who probably was a little too into his kinks, if you get my meaning. Have either of you heard of anyone like that? Anyone other guys have said to stay away from? Have there been any usernames people avoid because they’re not safe?” Tracey didn’t step back. If flirting a little got them more information—like Brian’s flirting got him more tips—then he’d be okay with that.

Enrique and Doug exchanged glances. Then Enrique linked arms with Tracey. “Come here, honey.”

He pulled him farther into the bar where the lights from the DJ booth cut through the haze of the fog machine, and the others followed. His breath smelled of apple-cinnamon from the drink special Tracey had seen advertised on the flyer by the door.

“You see the guy in the football uniform without the pads?” Enrique pointed.

Tracey followed his finger. “Yeah.”

“He’s got so many toxic masculinity issues, he has to do molly just to admit he’s gay enough to hook up with anyone. And that guy, over there, with the fairy wings.” Another point. “He regularly fucks his sister’s husband’s brother. They met at her wedding, and when she finds out, their whole family is going to implode. ” He and Doug bumped fists and spread their fingers wide while making exploding sounds effects with their mouths.

Then Doug pointed in a different direction. “That guy, he’s pretty well adjusted, but he got kicked out of his parents’ house at fourteen, and he’s seen and done some shit to keep himself alive. He came a long way, but he has triggers and gets oh- blit -erated sometimes. We all watch out for him on those nights, because we don’t want him in a gutter dead somewhere. Sweet guy, needs serious therapy.”

Enrique began pointing quicker. “Daddy issues. Rape kink. Shopping addiction. Kicked puppy. Oh, that guy is a stalker. That one there just needs a fucking hug but won’t let anyone close enough.” He turned back to Tracey and Perry. “Do you see now? We all got our issues. We do what we have to for comfort and love, even if it means getting shitfaced and taking a few risks.” He sipped from his straw, looking coy. “What do you for love, hot stuff?”

“I work. A lot.” Tracey tried to appeal to them a different way. “Look, we’re not out here trying to cramp anyone’s style. We’re genuinely concerned someone is harming men in the gay community. He finds them on Smoldr, often with the promise of chems, and then he kills them. We don’t want more victims.”

Enrique clicked his tongue. “It’s really nice to see a cop actually caring about us. Right?” He turned to Doug with an exaggerated nod.

“It is.” Doug stirred his drink. “Most cops don’t listen even when we’re desperate enough to come to them for help. I think you being here before we ask for help is a first.” He slurped the last of his cocktail.

Perry pointed to their cups. “Another round? Maybe it’ll help jog your memories.”

Both men nodded enthusiastically. While he disappeared, Tracey kept trying. “Can you think of anyone who might’ve met up with Ethan Wright, or maybe you have a Smoldr username of a guy who went too far, or know of something shady that got your attention?”

Enrique crossed his arms over his middle and studied the dance floor, where many club goers reveled in the music and lights. To an outsider, it seemed like a tight-knit group having a blast at Halloween, some of whom were a little too inebriated, but they were among friends. To Tracey, he feared they were easy targets.

“You’re really sweet, but these people aren’t going to stop getting their fix and their rocks off just because someone out there is hurting them. We’ve been getting hurt since we knew what being gay means. For a lot of us, our parents threw the first punch.” Despite his costume, and his wicked smile, Enrique suddenly looked weary. “Officer, we’re a pretty stout group of people, despite the limp wrists and swaying hips.”

Tracey dipped his chin in agreement. “I have no doubt.” Digging out business cards, he passed one over to each man. “If you can think of any information, a name, a username people avoid on any of the apps, or anything suspicious at all, call me.”

They took the cards. Doug shoved it in his pocket, but Enrique actually read his and whipped his head up. “Wait, you’re FBI?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, this is some serious shit, FBI?”

“Yes. This is some serious shit. I wasn’t joking. Watch out for each other. We’re looking for a person preying on the gay community.”

Perry returned drinks. “Here you are.”

They thanked him and slung their arms around each other. “We’ll keep an eye out. We promise.”

“And you’ll call if you hear or see anything?”

“We will.”

Enrique laughed and straightened his nurse’s cap. “I might anyway just to shoot my shot.”

Tracey’s face heated and he was glad for the club’s dark interior. “Tell your friends to be safe.”

There probably weren’t more people who’d be as forthcoming as those two, so they decided to call it.

“Not as helpful as I’d hoped, but it does tell us the perp is sticking to the apps.” Perry led Tracey out of Kiki and into the chilly October air. Around them, the street revelry had picked up.

“We didn’t really learn anything new.” Tracey had hoped for more, especially the chance of gleaning that elusive Smoldr username.

“We learned Ethan wasn’t into the chems, so why was he drugged with the killer? What changed?” They reached Perry’s Jeep, and the lights flashed as he unlocked the doors. “That was a great question, by the way, if they knew the Smoldr username, or anyone being shady. The whisper network in action. If the app won’t cooperate, maybe someone knows who to stay away from, username and all. People talk. If not to us, they do to each other. That question might save someone, Rookie.”

Tracey got in the passenger seat and buckled up, his mind turning from one difficult conversation to the next. Suddenly, he wanted to stay out and keep working. “Thanks. Do you want to hit up another bar?”

Perry was already shaking his head. “I’m beat, kid. We’ve done enough for the day. Jon’s house, right?”

Where once the idea was pleasant, now, it put a pit in Tracey’s stomach. “Yeah. Thanks.”