Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (20 page)

Read Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray Online

Authors: Carolyn Gray

Tags: #LGBT Suspense

Colby looked up at him. “You have no idea.” He grinned. “That’s why it would be so

funny.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“I won’t. I don’t want Mom to kill you.” He wrapped his thin arms around Gev. “I don’t

want anyone to, Uncle Gev.”

Innocent words with the power to flatten him. He rubbed Colby’s shoulder, hating that the

little guy had such fears. “I won’t let anyone, buddy. I promise.”

Colby fell silent then except for one small sniffle.
Shit
. Knowing he would regret it, Gev

changed the channel back to the one the kid had wanted. “If you tell your mom, I’ll tell her you

want to take tuba lessons.”

“I won’t,” Colby replied, his voice soft.

As the show came on, Gev let his head fall back, his eyes glaze over. Even dancing two

shows on the same day of travel didn’t exhaust him as much as he was now. His mom peered

into the room; he granted her a small smile, but she pulled away again. Fuck, he hated this. This

entire horrid day.

And yet, he was the one still alive, wasn’t he? Chad, dead. Curtis, dead. He’d seen Lee

again, been with him—something he’d always wanted to happen, never thought would—and

now, he was gone too. Alive, but dead to Gev. Despite what Nina had told him, there was no

doubt in his mind that Lee had no intention of seeing Gev and especially his family ever again.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes, willing the tension in his body to leave. It was nearly ten o’clock, and

Colby yawned, but a quick look showed he was watching the inane nonsense on the screen in

complete rapture, giggling at the funny stuff. Gev tried to watch too, but it was impossible. He

took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, lulled by the little boy’s warmth—why were kids

always such little ovens? He needed to call Lee. But it didn’t look like it would happen tonight.

Maybe just as well.

Gev gave up. Maybe he’d try tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, after the nightmarish

day had settled back a little. He worried briefly he wouldn’t be able to sleep, that the image of

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Chad in the bed, dead, would be plastered on the backs of his eyelids, but it was too much, had

just been too much. His last thought was for his brother and the journal Nina had told him about.

Stefan and Lee. Just kids, too young to really love someone, everyone would say, but that

wasn’t true. He knew—he’d been in love with Lee since he was ten.

90

Carolyn Gray

Chapter Twelve

Things didn’t look better to Lee the next day. As he got ready to leave Dallas for what he

was determined would be the last time ever—though he knew convincing Nick not to return to

Dallas would be impossible—Lee felt a pang of regret. He couldn’t get Gev’s expression out of

his mind, hard as he tried.

He slammed his suitcase shut, then grabbed his phone. He paused, focused on it for a

moment, his thumb caressing the top. Perhaps he should call Gev, see if he was all right. Tell

him—

Tell him what? Nothing he could tell Gev would reassure him, because those were words

he simply didn’t have in him. Stefan was dead; everyone blamed him. Two cold, implacable

facts that were indisputable.

Gev’s roommate and his unlucky lover were dead too. Gev could’ve been, and the story

would be over. The story was over
now
, and Lee knew it would be best for everyone if he left

Dallas, went back to Colorado, got back to his friends, where no one expected him to say much.

As he grabbed the suitcase handle, he checked his cell. A voice mail. Hadn’t heard the

phone ring. He flipped the phone open as he left the room, not really surprised it was from Nick.

The corner of his mouth dared to quirk as he traversed the orange and brown carpet to the

elevator. He snapped the phone shut midmessage. Nick had already begged him to come home,

and that was exactly what he was doing.

He slid the phone into his pocket and punched the Down button for the elevator—which

popped open immediately. He took a step back in surprise as a woman he hadn’t seen in years

stepped off.

“Lee Nelson. Trying to make a quick getaway?”

Lee gulped. “Sergeant Ramirez.”

“That’s
Detective
Ramirez.”

He schooled his expression fast, but his heart raced as she poked him in the chest, her dark

eyes narrowed. He’d forgotten what Nick had told him about the phone call until the moment

she’d shown up. He took a deep breath. He was shaky, and she obviously saw it.

She cocked an eyebrow at him before releasing his gaze. “You’re tense, Nelson. Still make

you nervous?”

He decided the truth would be in order—and she didn’t, he realized, look ready to slam

cuffs around his wrists. He let his breath out. “I’m still a thirteen-year-old boy around you. I’ll

always be afraid of you.”

She touched his arm. “Good. Have that room key still? I want to talk to you.”

“I do, but my plane—”

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“Sorry. This will only take a few minutes. I don’t want you to leave at all, frankly.” Her

voice was soft, urgent. She tugged on him. “Hotel room.”

“Down there, room five-fifty-two.”

She set off before him down the hallway. After a second, he grabbed his suitcase handle

and followed after her. The momentary panic had dissipated—it was ridiculous to fear she was

here to haul him to jail because of Stefan’s disappearance. She stopped at the door, turned, and

waited expectantly. He dared a quick smile as he pulled the keycard out of his pocket. She

snatched it from his fingers.

“This is about Gev, isn’t it?”

She looked around the room, the keycard still in her hand. Her dark eyes surveyed the bed,

the wall, everything—she was taking her time. She hadn’t changed that way. Really, she hadn’t

changed much at all. Older, of course, her dark brown hair pulled into a smooth ponytail. Her

gray skirt and jacket were sensible, like a detective would be expected to wear, though her bright

fuchsia-green-and-white-striped blouse seemed at odds with the serviceable gray. Her no-

nonsense expression as she at last turned to face him kept his damn heart racing. He wanted to

ask, “What’s wrong?” but he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he still felt thirteen around

her.

“It’s about you, Lee. To be more specific, your shoes.”

“My shoes?” An explanation was on the tip of his tongue. But he waited.
Never volunteer

anything to cops
. He’d learned that much from
Starsky & Hutch.

She grabbed one of the chairs, pointing to the other. “Relax. I’m really not here to throw

you under the bus over a pair of shoes. Sit.”

He sat, then forced himself to acknowledge she was, of course, correct. He wasn’t a child;

she was alone; there weren’t any cuffs dangling from her hand—though he could see she was

carrying. Of course. “What’s going on?” he finally asked. “Why do I have to stay?”

And in the style he immediately remembered, she didn’t answer his question right away.

“Detective Harrison and I spoke at length last night. He caught me up on everything happening. I

have to tell you, hearing your name mentioned took me back quite a few years. Are you still

blank about what happened to you?”

He reminded himself he wasn’t that scared kid anymore, that it was okay for him to answer

as he was about to. “I’ve never remembered anything else, no.”

She sat back in her chair. “I thought not. Surely you would’ve contacted me if you had

remembered something, no matter how small or insignificant.”

If only he could tell her something, but his mind truly was a blank void. “I’m sorry, but

no.”

“I wish you could. I wish, somehow, something had triggered an impression, a moment,

something you hadn’t told us before.”

How many times had he heard this same thing? He didn’t remember. He would never

remember. Frustrated, he stood, walked over to the minifridge, and opened it. “Would you like

something to drink? Water?” He grabbed one, his trembling fingers twisting the top off so hard,

he nearly dropped the bottle.
Fuck
. He took a long drink, then looked at the detective, saw her

watching him intently.

“I’d like something, yes. Sure you don’t mind?”

92

Carolyn Gray

“It’ll only cost ten bucks. I don’t mind.” He handed her a bottle.

“Sit down.” He did so, bracing himself for whatever was to come. She took a long sip of

her water, then capped the bottle and looked at him. “We’ve found your missing shoes.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Nick said something to that effect. Where?”

“Can you tell me again what happened?”

He took a deep breath, sought his patience. It wanted very badly to flit away and leave him.

He wanted the detective to get on with it, tell him why she was there.

But he understood. He remembered well enough, from when this nightmare first started,

how she operated. And now that he was older, he could appreciate her methods. Far better than

the other detective and his brash pushiness.

“It was the night of the ballet.”

“Where you saw Gev for the first time in…how long?”

Lee remembered that instant of recognition between them, the shock that visibly passed

through Gev. And, of course, himself. “Years,” he said, his voice soft. “I hadn’t seen him

since…before Stefan disappeared.”

“You haven’t been back there since?”

“Not until last night. Gev asked me to go with him to tell his parents about Chad and his

friend.”

The detective pulled out a pen and pad and wrote something. He wanted to ask what but

kept quiet.

“Okay. I’ll ask about that later.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I know Gev’s parents. His mother. It had to have been difficult seeing them again.”

He took a drink of his water. “It was.”

“How was it you and Gev decided to talk?

“He sent a note to me to come meet him backstage.”

“Nick and his bodyguard went with you.”

“They were with me the entire time.”

“The entire evening?”

“Yes,” he said. “After we talked, we went to IHOP.”

“How late did you say?”

Lee grimaced. “I already answered these questions twice.”

She leaned forward, her hands on her knees. “Lee, I understand, and I know what you said.

I want to work through in
my
mind what’s happening here.”

“Are you assigned to the case now?”

“Detective Harrison has included me in the investigation because of the connection to

Stefan’s disappearance. I’ll be your primary connection. So you returned to your hotel. How long

before you noticed things had been disturbed?”

He took a deep breath. Damn, he was tired. He ran a hand over his forehead, not stalling,

just…so much to remember, so much he hadn’t thought he’d
need
to remember. The hotel room

was cold; he was tired; he wanted to go to sleep, get to tomorrow, get back to Durango where he

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93

could forget about everything again. Where no one would ask him questions he didn’t want to

answer.

But he respected Detective Ramirez. He liked that she had gone to see Gev perform, that

she cared enough about Gev to do so.

“I noticed within the first few seconds. My suitcase was on the bed. I called for Mutt

immediately.”

“And that’s when you noticed your shoes were missing?”

“Yes. You said they’d been found.”

“They were found close to Gev’s house. In the neighbor’s bushes.”

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. “
What
?” He was incredulous,

not wanting to believe what she was saying. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m afraid not.”

He stood, overcome with a wave of heat, a sick punch to his gut, that horrible unnamed

feeling that comes over a person when frightened. And he realized he was. He didn’t like that

one bit.

“What the fuck?” He began to pace, running one hand over his face before he turned to the

detective. “What the hell is going on here?”

“We don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

He sat back down, still dumbfounded. He racked his mind, trying to comprehend what

could be happening. “I wasn’t there. My shoes—”

“Were taken and planted there. Very obviously,” she said. “A poor attempt at setting you

up. Lee, don’t worry. We know that you weren’t there, that you weren’t the one who did this.”

He snorted, sitting back in his chair. “You seem pretty confident. How do you know? Do

you have proof of my innocence?”

“You watch too many cop shows. Besides, the hotel clerks and several other witnesses at

the hotel where you were staying that night identified you easily. You’ve got fans.”

He tried to relax. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Someone wants to either connect you or make sure you’re involved.”

“Could it be the same person who sent me the tickets?”

“Maybe. It is one possibility. And probably the best.” She stood. “I hate to ask you this,

but I’d like you to stay under our thumb awhile longer.”

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