Chapter 16

Sixteen

W alter

The captain hadn't really been that upset. In fact, he'd handled me with kid gloves, which made me even more nervous. Had command just been waiting for me to lose it like my father? Were they sitting around worried I would eventually embarrass them?Or worse?

And now, I had irrefutable proof that my father had actually seen Dane's battered and bloody body, and I couldn't tell anyone in an official capacity. That was probably the worst part.

Dane and Denny climbed into my truck with me, and Ryan and Kal rode in their truck with Gene. I appreciated how my guys had shown up and taken over, taken on the protection duty for not only Dane, but also Ryan and Kal, who were a couple of good Samaritans who didn't deserve to get hurt because they were trying to help a guy out.

I'd been a little skeptical of Dane's talking board when I'd watched him and Ryan use it together the first time, although their explanation had made sense. But when I'd jumped into Dane's second attempt, I hadn't been prepared for the visceral reaction I'd had to what I'd seen. It was horrifying. The man's voice was playful in a Hannibal Lecter way that had my stomach turning and its contents wishing to check out of Motel Walter Muse. It was realer than any nightmare I'd ever had, and the thought that Dane had been through it multiple times already had me worried about the aftereffects this board's power would have on him.

I suppose my interaction with Dee Dee—The Troubadour and his Talking Board—all those years ago had me open to believing what I'd seen. Dad also used psychics when he was looking for missing people. I'd gone with him once when I was in the cadet program. I was probably seventeen years old. He worked with a woman named Charlene who lived in Grand Teton in the Grapevine, a small community in the mountain range that was famous mostly for the necessity to drive through it if you wished to take the quickest route between Southern and Northern California. We drove out to her house one Saturday, and he made me promise not to say a damn word to anyone that he'd taken me.

"This woman knows things she shouldn't, but she knows things that help in my cases sometimes. I don't want her knowing nothing about you , is that understood?"

I'd agreed… but my curiosity got the better of me.

When we got to her house, which wasn't more than a shack amidst high desert brush and the wildflowers brought on by a winter with heavy rains, I forgot myself. She met us at the door and I stuck out my hand. I'd been taught manners, and if Dad didn't want me to use them, he shouldn't have brought me.

"Walter Muse, Junior. Pleased to meet you."

Charlene took my hand in one of hers, ran the other one over the top, and led me to her table. My father cursed under his breath, and I knew this was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. If he really didn't want me to be read by her, he wouldn't have brought me, though. Looking back, I wonder if he was looking for answers about his son as well as his case.

"You are so like your father. You carry a lot on your shoulders," she said. She didn't look like a fortune teller or a witch or anything. She was a tough old woman in a US Army Veteran ball cap, an SF Giants t-shirt, and a pair of gray sweatpants. Her hair was cut short, the way my dad had always worn his since his USMC days.

"Charlene," my father said, more in exasperation than in warning. "He's just a kid."

"A kid who has a big warrior's heart. He's an empath. He's going to be a hunter and protector, just like you."

Dad just exhaled, and I could tell he fought not to roll his eyes."We're not here about him." But was that the truth?

She hadn't let go of my hand, though, so I stayed riveted, waiting to see what else she would say about my future.

"One hunt will take you a particularly long time, but you shall reap rewards both personal and professional. Don't give up. Don't be deterred, no matter the cost."

"Yes, ma'am." She let go of my hand with a pat and I sat back in my chair. When I looked at my father, somewhat apologetically, he didn't seem mad like I thought he'd be. Instead, he had a haunted expression on his face. I knew his work, his search for missing people, including Dane Donovan, really affected him. He spent more hours in his home office by that time, talking less to Mom and me and more to himself. And in a few short years, he'd be gone.

On that drive home, I'd asked him, "Why did you bring me?"

He didn't answer for a long time, just twisted his hand back and forth on the steering wheel, making a squeaking noise that hurt my ears but I refused to say anything.

"Some people say that psychics are a hoax, that they're useless to police. I think the right psychic can help you if you're open to it. It's only part of the investigation, but a valuable one. I've found three missing kids based on tips I've gotten from psychics. You have to be willing to use anything at your disposal, and frankly I'd rather get information from a psychic like Charlene than from a doped-up informant on the street. She knew what I'd seen… she saw what I saw. She believed me when no one else did." Dad couldn't bring himself to talk about what he saw at Dane's kidnapping site, but I knew what he meant. "She's got nothing to gain from helping me. An informant is looking for some quick cash so they can get high again."

Dad had no tolerance for drug users, but I felt sorry for most of them. We argued about a lot of things in law enforcement, and while we didn't see eye-to-eye on many of them, I valued every bit of guidance he'd given me. It had made me a good cop.

His DNA, however, had me petrified, looking around corners, second-guessing myself at times, always afraid that the madness that plagued him would come calling. His official diagnosis had been psychosis brought on by PTSD, but his doctors hadn't ruled out schizophrenia. He'd refused to be treated further, refused medication because he thought it would lead down the road to addiction, so he suffered in silence… until he'd opted for permanent silence.

If I were to believe Charlene, though, perhaps she saw that I would eventually find Dane. Her prediction had been vague, but I think in my subconscious I always believed she was right, that I would eventually solve the case. I just had no idea it would end up like this, with Dane alive and breathing, sitting next to me… everything I'd ever dreamed he'd be and so much more.

I needed to stop thinking about Dad and focus on the man sitting next to me.

I'd about fallen over when he'd come out of the bedroom with Ryan, dressed like a skater or like he'd just stepped out of Feedback Magazine . I also thought the choice of Slipknot was interesting. Wait 'til Dane actually heard the hard rock and heavy metal music that was popular with kids who dressed like he was now. I desperately wanted to close this case and move on to things like playing music for him, talking to him about his past, about current trends. Watch movies with him. Travel. Together?

What a group we made, with him and Ryan dressed like rock stars, Gene still in his suit, and Denny in a USMC t-shirt and faded Levi's. I'd gone with a black crew-neck sweater over a white button down and jeans, which was what my kids called my leftover '80s preppy look.

My kids. I needed to give them a call. It had been too long. I usually talked to them at least once a week. Stacia was in her last year at UC Santa Barbara majoring in Psychology and Steffan was a year behind her at UC San Diego majoring in Biology, with a desire to go into medicine. He'd needed an extra year of community college before transferring due to some health issues he'd been plagued with, since they'd been born a bit premature.

We'd been lucky with the twins; though they had a bumpy start, they hadn't suffered like so many twins born premature. They were becoming their own people, but I was glad we were still close. When Lisa had gone to graduate school, it allowed me to get closer to them, as she wasn't on call for them all the time anymore. I became the Dad Uber, I coached their swim team, and I even drove them to prom and college visits. I'd cherished that time with them.

"You okay over there?"

I turned to look at Dane, and my heart skipped around a bit in my chest. His shy smile warmed me, reminded me that I, too, was my own person. That was something I forgot a lot. Usually, I was Stacia and Stef's dad, or Detective Muse. Tonight, I wanted to be Walter, a guy who was falling into something special with a miracle man.

I almost forgot Denny was in the backseat. I wanted to lean over and kiss Dane like he was mine, but that was out of character for me and would definitely earn me a ration of shit from Denny. Instead, I gave his thigh a squeeze before putting the truck in gear.

"Yeah. I'm good."

I followed Ryan down the hill on Laurel Canyon Boulevard from the house to Sunset Boulevard, while Denny got serious.

"I have some really important questions, Dane."

"Of course. What do you need to know?"

I knew from Denny's tone that there was about to be an interrogation, but of the fun kind.

"You're telling me that you met The Beatles. That you actually knew Mick Jagger and Keith Richards?"

Dane's posture relaxed, and he turned around to face Denny. "I did. The Beatles were fun. Good guys. They were only here for a while, and they only came by Tess's occasionally, but yeah, they were around. Ringo eventually moved into Cass's house. I guess he had a bad fire. We were on tour when it happened, but we heard about it, it was all over the news. I talked to Keith and Mick a few times, when they weren't too messed up, but I didn't know them well."

"And Eric Clapton?"

"Yeah, I met him. He hung out at Joni's. I went over there a few times."

"And did you ever play with Gram Parsons?"

"Denny, I didn't know you were such a Laurel Canyon aficionado." This side of Denny cracked me up.

"Fuck off, Junior. I watched the documentaries."

Dane laughed, and it sounded so light and joyful. It was probably the first time he hadn't sounded like a victim of trauma who was trying to get a grasp on his life once more.

"Gram," he said with a sigh. "Not onstage, but he taught me a few songs on the piano, and when I played on Tess's album in the studio, he was there as a producer."

"Was he as knowledgeable about music as everyone says?"

Dane grinned. "He was. More, probably."

"Did Gram Parsons write ‘Wild Horses,' or is it true that the Stones already had the song recorded?"

"That I don't know for sure. I know the Burritos' version of it came out first, and a lot of folks said Gram wrote it with Mick and Keith and didn't want any credit on it. He was like that. He wrote a couple of songs with Tess but didn't want to be credited on those either. He told me he'd work with me when I went into the studio. He was gone before then, though."

"Such a loss," Denny said, shaking his head.

I looked at him over my shoulder. "I didn't even know you listened to any of that music."

"Fuck off , Junior. You played it all the time. I had to give you shit about it, but I love that old stuff."

Dane snorted, and I thought, how bizarre for him . He had no idea how much music had changed, come back around, and then changed again since he'd been gone.

"Okay, one more and I swear I'll stop. Did you ever meet Jimi Hendrix?"

"Only a couple times. He'd show up after I'd gone home. That was earlier, when I first started making—Uhhhhh…"

"It's okay, Dane. Denny's quite open to the medicinal properties of plants." It was true. He'd often say he thought about retiring just so he could see if marijuana really did help with his pain and insomnia. Law enforcement personnel still weren't allowed to partake, even of the legal stuff.

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, I made herbal deliveries for my mom. That's why I was over at Tess's place, Joni's and Cass's. I started when I was fifteen. Mom made me stop, though, when I turned eighteen."

"That was smart. You could have ended up in prison for a long time."

I followed Ryan as he turned onto a side street and pulled over to the curb. It was near seven o'clock, so parking was tight on the street, but we managed to park together.

Dane went to open his door, and I laid a hand on his arm.

"Wait for me?" I asked in a low voice.

His smile and subsequent blush were just what I hoped for.

I got out and met Denny on the sidewalk.

"He's something else," he said. "Really. I totally get it. You done good, Junior."

"Thanks," I said with an eye-roll, but Denny knew the truth. I did want his approval. It was nice that he wasn't telling me I was ignorant for taking such chances with my future.

I opened Dane's door, and he slid down from the cab, brushing against me. He smiled up at me, and man, did I want to kiss the hell out of him.

But more than that, I wanted to feed him. He was so thin.

Denny took the lead, followed by Kal, who walked with Ryan at his right rear, and I maneuvered Dane to walk next to Ryan, with me at his side and Gene behind us. To an outside observer, our protective flanking probably called more attention to us. We looked like bodyguards for a couple of celebrities, which wasn't too out of place on Sunset, but exactly what paparazzi would be looking for.

"Keep the sunglasses on 'til we get inside," I said to Dane. "If anyone takes pictures, I don't want them getting your face."

"Okay," he said nervously. He pulled the hood up over his head and I noticed his hands shaking out of the corner of my eye. I put a hand at his lower back, and he took a step closer to me. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're safe," I told him, keeping my hand on him and my eyes on the neighborhood around us.

The restaurant was busy, but we didn't have to wait too long for a table. The hostess recognized Ryan and got her staff to pick up the pace bussing tables, so they could get us seated. Dane's head was on a swivel, his eyes flicking all over from behind the glasses at the people, the photos on the walls, and the general activity. I worried it would be too much for him, but then he turned and grinned at me, and my tension level dropped a tad.

We were led to a booth in the corner, which would thankfully have our backs to the wall and a clear view of the restaurant. Ryan, Kal, and Dane climbed in first, and my friends and I took the outsides of the booth.

"This is the same but different," Dane said. He pulled down the shades and looked at the pictures all up and down the walls. "Deep Purple, Rainbow… Who are Guns and Roses?"

Denny and Gene chuckled, and Ryan smiled.

"They kind of ruled the Strip in the mid-eighties," Denny said. I let him be the elder statesman when it came to music. "Most of the bands that played here were more appearance, less substance, but they were the whole package. Slash is one of the greatest guitar players of all time."

Dane looked closer at the picture. "Which one is he?"

"You might have known his parents, actually," I said. "Ola and Anthony Hudson. Anthony did album covers for?—"

"That's right! I do remember him. He did one of Tess's album covers. Henry Diltz did her second one. Wow. I bet he was one of the kids swimming in Tess's pool. That's great. You'll have to play some of their music on your pocket jukebox."

Denny and Gene cracked up at Dane's terminology, but I loved it.

"Absolutely."

"What can I get y'all tonight?"

The server was a young guy with all the piercings and tattoos.

I couldn't wait to see how Dane reacted. He was reading the history bit on the menu, and when he looked up, the sunglasses slid off his face and he let them fall in his lap.

"I…"

I squeezed his thigh, and he looked at me.

"I… wow… I haven't even looked at the menu." He was staring but not gawking.

"How about waters all around while we take a minute?" Gene said to the kid with a flirty smile.

The kid gave him a once-over. "Sure thing, Daddy. Anything stronger?"

Denny snorted, Ryan laughed, and Gene rubbed at his goatee with his left hand, flashing his wedding band. "I don't think so, sweetheart, but if you keep our glasses full and any photographers away from the table, there'll be a big tip for you."

The server checked out Ryan and Dane, then his eyes flared when he got a look at Kal, who was staring him down just short of menacingly.

"Sure, no problem. Take your time. I'll be back with waters."

He moved with a quickness away from the table and straight to the bar.

"Now was that necessary?" Denny said to Gene. "You toying with the poor guy's emotions?"

"I let him down easy," Gene said, straightening his tie. "You be sure to let my wife know I behaved."

I shook my head, and Denny groaned.

Dane leaned toward me. "He's… like us, too?"

"He's bi. Like me, but still married to his wife. She's long suffering."

Gene winked at Dane, and I kicked him under the table.

"Watch the shoes, Junior."

"It was odd for me, too. The openness," Kal said to Dane. "Things are much better than they were when I was young. But it's still not perfect."

Denny gave Kal a look, and Ryan reached for Kal's hand. "Kal worked at the carnival too. That's all you need to know."

Denny held his hands up and turned to me. "You been to this carnival?"

"When I was ten years old. With my parents. I saw Dane then."

"No shit!" Gene said. "Your dad go too?"

I nodded and looked down at my hands. "He did. Mom made us leave, they had a fight, and when he went back the next day, the carnival was gone. No trace. No forwarding information. He looked for years to try to find it again."

Dane put his hand on my arm. "I didn't know."

I put my hand over his. "He never stopped looking for you. I vowed I wouldn't either."

His eyes filled and he blew out a breath, then wiped his eyes and put the sunglasses back on.

"Here's some waters for you," the server said as he started setting glasses out. "I brought you a couple of carafes to make sure you don't run out if I get behind." The poor kid seemed nervous as he looked around. "Do we know what we want?"

Gene ordered first, giving me a minute to check with Dane.

"You know what you want?"

"Can you order for me? I'm sorry, I'm, um?—"

"Of course. Anything you don't like?"

"I'm vegetarian, or at least I was."

"How about pasta? Fish okay?"

He nodded and put his shaking hands in his lap.

I ordered for both of us—shrimp fettuccine and spinach tortellini, thinking he could eat whichever meal he preferred. When the server was gone, Dane asked me to let him out to use the restroom. Denny stood, and then I followed. Dane scooted out of the booth.

"I'll go with you," I told him, and he nodded.

"I'm sorry, I just needed a minute," he said as I led him to the back and up the stairs to the restrooms.

"Don't apologize. This is a lot. Let me go in first and check things out, okay?"

He nodded, staying right behind me.

Dane looked around at the walls and smiled, but he was quiet. I opened the door first and then let him in.

"I'll wait out here for you."

"Walter?"

"Yeah?"

He held on to the door with both hands and kind of hid his face inside. "Thank you for bringing me here," he finally said. "It's nice to be around familiar faces."

He smiled at me then shut the door. Did he mean memories? Ghosts? Probably they were similar for him. I'd spent years obsessed with that period of time, read all the articles, watched the documentaries, poured over the memoirs and the music… but these people, these places were real to Dane, and for him they were only a few years past. Us asking him questions could help and hurt him.

I needed to tread carefully. I wanted him to come out of this experience strong enough to endure the rest of his life, not send him into a downward spiral of depression. Not that I had a whole lot of control over that, and no one knew that better than I did.

All I could do was watch him, be there when he asked, and be patient. I prayed he would ask, and I prayed he'd let me hold him, because being with him had been the best thing I'd had in my life in so many years. It reminded me how alone I'd been, how driven I'd been to solve his case, as well as the others that passed my desk. My drive had pushed Lisa and Brady away. If I were to have a shot with Dane, I didn't want to make the same mistakes.

I wanted him to be safe.

I wanted him .