Spin Out (21 page)

Read Spin Out Online

Authors: James Buchanan

Tags: #mm, #bdsm, #cop

Alright. I got that I’d twisted his shorts, but it were all things I’d done. “Why you mad at yourself?” That didn’t make no sense.

“Because I trusted you.” His own hands were tucked in under his pits. I got the sense it weren’t for the same reason as me. “And I let myself believe that you were different and that you weren’t going to treat me like a little fuck toy without a brain.” Kabe’s face got all tight and hard. “And then you go and treat me like I can’t handle shit.”

That weren’t at all what it was about. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.” He had to understand. “I could worry enough on my own.” And, Lord, I had. Just there wasn’t no way I could lay that trouble on someone else’s doorstep.

“That’s the point.” Kabe snapped. “You weren’t on your own. You were with me. At least that’s what I thought we had. That you thought of me as…well that we were, you know, kinda equals in this.” His voice cracked in the thin, cold air. “And apparently not, ‘cause you don’t even think I can handle knowing you might lose your fucking job.” He stepped close and hissed, “That you could go to jail for being with me.”

I repeated, “I didn’t want you to worry none.” ‘Cause I didn’t know what else to say to make it right.

I could see the strain on the muscles down his neck from holding himself in check. “Goddammit,” he spat out the curse, “don’t you think I have a right to that fucking information. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me. And I trusted you with a hell of a lot.” Another huff of frozen breath obscured his features. “I’d have let you do damn near anything because I fucking trusted you.” Kabe kicked at a bit of ice on the walk and jammed his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “And now, now I don’t.” With a shrug he added, “So Merry Fucking Christmas, Joe. I’ve got a party to get to.”

And that was it. He walked away. I stood out there, freezing my balls off, and watched him until he got in the truck and drove off. Even after that it weren’t until I heard Nadia calling me that I found the strength to move on back inside.

She caught me up in a big hug as I stepped in. “Sugar, he’s just angry right now.” Somebody closed the door…it might have even been me, but I weren’t thinking too clear on that. “It’ll work out.” Nadia pulled away and tried to smile. “Give him some time.”

My body felt so tense I thought I might snap in two if I moved wrong. Almost as if my lungs had shriveled up into themselves I couldn’t quite take a full breath in. The world didn’t seem like it spun in the right orbit or nothing. Add into that whole mix that I stood in a house full of people who’d just witnessed me getting thrown. I didn’t want to be anywhere near any of them right then.

My coat was right there in the closet next to me. I fumbled that door open and managed to find my old field jacket in among those of other folks. “I think,” I stuttered it, as I shoved my hands through the sleeves, “I’m headed out.”

“Joe, stay.” She touched my cheek with the back of her hand. My momma used to do that to check me for fever. “I’ve got an extra bedroom. Plunk yourself down and we’ll have pie for Christmas breakfast.”

“I…” One look around at the people pretending they weren’t seeing nothing and I knew I couldn’t stomach a whole night of that. “Thanks for the offer, but I ain’t much for company right now.”

“Joe.” Nadia sounded as broke as I felt. “Sugar.”

I kept my voice pretty low. “Nadia, I just cain’t.” I zipped up the jacked and fumbled for my keys in the pocket. “Not with all these people, okay. And I got to work tomorrow.”

Like she understood, Nadia nodded. “Call me when you get in.” She opened the front door for me. “I won’t sleep unless I know you’ve made it home okay.”

The drive back up the mountain weren’t much but darkness. Took me almost half again as long to get home than usual. ‘Least the ice on the road focused my mind onto something other than the slot canyon my life had tumbled into. I pulled into my yard and parked the car up near the porch. Kabe’d once said the place looked like a fancy ski lodge, only in miniature. With the snow clinging to the high pitched roof and wood logs of the wall, I could almost see it. But remembering how he thought on things twisted my chest all tight again.

As I hauled myself out of the truck I texted Fred’s cell asking him to let Nadia know I was home. I didn’t think I could stand to hear another human’s voice right then. But if I didn’t somehow get her word, she’d start ringing me until I answered. Nadia was like that…mothered her
adopted
boys like a grizzly bear.

I walked into a cold, dark house. Only the tiny Christmas tree shed any light into my living room…one small strand of multi-colored mini-bulbs and a “stained glass” star at the top glowed. Kabe and I’d bought them the same day we trekked up the mountain to cut the tree. Beyond the lights, the tree weren’t more than a bunch of pinecones hung on with ribbons that Nadia’d made up. I’d stuck the Christmas cards from my family in among the branches just to fill it out. Other than that, it was an odd little jumble of a few actual ornaments mixed up with bits of law enforcement junk people felt compelled to give me—star key chains, a rubber duck wearing a sheriff’s hat and those sorts of things—as well as some tiny pride flags and buttons Kabe’d dug up outta his stuff.

The packages I’d wrapped up waited for him under the tree; a chalkbag with chalk and tape and other stuff he’d need for his free solo climbs come summer, and a flannel shirt in greens and browns to match the colors in his hazel eyes and keep him warm right now. I hadn’t put them up. Maybe I’d hoped he’d come ‘round by now. But he hadn’t, and I was starting to think on that he never would.

A night I should have spent wrapped up with my boy and laughing with friends…not necessarily in that order…and I faced a cold living room and an empty bed. All of it, my own damned fault. As I dragged myself up the stairs to my room, I figured there weren’t much to do except go back to how I’d been before I met him. I had my job and I’d just content myself with that…at least until it got taken away too.

I kicked off my boots, crawled under the covers in my clothes and tried to lose my thoughts in sleep.

[Back to Table of Contents]

 

Chapter 17

Woke up Christmas morning feeling like a dog left out in the snow. Had to wonder if this was how folks who drank felt after a night of tying one on. Not that I physically suffered…but mentally, I crawled as low as a snake. Couldn’t even really drown myself in my job. Even if I was on shift, the first part of it meant driving around all by my lonesome with nothing to fill my head except my own thoughts. There ain’t no place as quiet as the middle of Utah on Christmas morning.

I’d been an idiot…and done it in front of a boat load of people I didn’t hardly know. There I was last night acting like some moon-eyed kid all messed up ‘cause Kabe got his balls in a twist about me not telling him my problems. Like he had any say in how I lived my life. Let it get to me enough to ruin my whole night. And that just weren’t right. I knew better. Christmas is for kids and those that got kids. For me it’s just another day. Getting worked up and misty because of some pretty lights didn’t do me no good at all.

If Kabe wanted to be done with me, that was okay by me. I didn’t need him messing in my life, no how. I’d done right fine up ‘til now being on my own.

Nadia’d already rang my line five or six times and it weren’t even noon yet. Let the calls go to voice mail since I weren’t up to dealing with her.

Instead, I drove ‘round through Escalante. Went by Alex’s house behind a diner on the main drag of Highway 12. I’d talked to Trey and I’d talked to Cooper, and since that time I’d been hunting for Alex. He hadn’t been at school the couple days before Christmas break. Figured if there was a day he’d be about, well, Christmas morning would likely be it.

The diner his folks owned was locked up tight. I halfway expected that. In a small town they wouldn’t get much business at all. Didn’t expect it of the house though. Drifts of snow hadn’t been cleared off the walk or the drive. Not that there’d been a heavy fall, but we’d had enough flurries I would have seen the evidence of traffic going up to the door. The only footprints, as far as I could tell, were mine from a couple days back. Found my card still wedged in the frame of the door.

I really wanted to talk with Alex. Cooper and Trey, those two put together didn’t exactly set my mind at ease. I knew Alex were younger than both, not so tough as it were. He might give me clues the other boys didn’t drop. But, not much I could do except head back to the station at that point.

Wrote a couple tickets for speeding on my way back. Then I did a welfare check on an older lady who lived on her own outside of Tropic and hadn’t made it ‘round to the post office in a while. Turned out she’d just had the flu. By the time I got ‘round back to the station, having finished my early patrol, Noreen had dumped the previous three days worth of mail on my desk.

Most of it was junk: training fliers, tactical catalogs and the like. One envelope caught my attention. The OME report. I figured that’s what it held since Noreen had clipped a fax copy of the thing on the outside. Looked like that’d come in the day I’d been down at the POST hearing, and two days later the hard copy’d caught up with it.

Decided, since I had two copies, I’d put the original in the file. Then I took the fax on with me to the place I usually ate in Panguitch. They were open for the few tourists who might be around. I settled into my usual booth and Jane brought me out a plate of ham and eggs with a slice of pumpkin bread. I grinned up at her, “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

“Not if I want to pay the bills,” she teased back. “Just make sure you tip me nice so I can afford the batteries for my boys’ new toys.”

Took a few bites as I skimmed through the preliminaries to get to the heart of the matter: cause of death. Gunshot wound to the face with a trajectory of front to back and angling slightly downward. Shoveled another mouthful of scrambled eggs in my maw as I flipped over the preliminaries of organ weights, narratives of the external exam and identifying marks. Knew from the preliminary report that they’d identified Lane through his dental records.

Finally, I hit the good part, what was titled
Evidence of Injury.
Entrance through the upper jaw and back of the upper palate with injury to the brain, apparently the bullet played pinball inside the skull. The ME recovered a deformed, mushroomed slug from the skull along with fragments of copper and white metal from the wound path. The caliber was consistent with a .30-.30 rifle round, most likely one used for game. The softer point hunting loads didn’t tear up meat as much as the ones used for self defense. A variety of good hunting rifles used the round. Just about every male over the age of ten ‘round here had access to one. Heck, a Winchester .30-.30 sat in my gun safe…I’d had it with me the day Kabe stumbled over Lane’s body.

Also, since the slug hadn’t exited the back of Lane’s head, the report questioned whether the round might have been old or a sloppy reload using less powder than standard. Again, lots of folks in these parts knew how to reload ammo. Some shorted the powder loads in rounds they used for target practice. Why waste it when all you needed to do was make sure you hit the pop can.

Given the state of Lane’s body, the ME couldn’t state for certain the range of fire, but opined that it’d likely been close because of some powder on the fragmented front teeth. Also noted was evidence of subcutaneous bruising on the chest, face and hands…at or near the time of death. A lot was ruled defensive, but some of the evidence on the knuckles might have meant Lane didn’t go down easy. We lucked out on how much the cold and snow preserved.

The postmortem broken arm…well, yeah, that was Kabe’s doing.

Based on the bruising and the low angle trajectory of the shot—almost head on—OME ruled Lane’s death a homicide with the notation death at the hands of another. The thoughts were that if he’d shot himself, the angle would have been much steeper and upwards with how he’d have to hold a rifle in his mouth and still be able to pull the trigger. That would have been homicide, self inflicted—suicide in less formal jargon.

Of course, that didn’t add up with the note we’d found in Lane’s pocket. Or maybe it did and Lane had help. We’d seen suicide pacts up here before. Could be that was why Chris went missing. His body might be found not too far away come summer. We’d searched a good bit of the area, but we might have stopped within a foot of his body and not known it. Might have to call in the guy over in Hatch who trained hounds for search and rescue. He had a cadaver dog.

Or, could be, Chris chickened out when he saw what that kinda death really did to someone. That is, if it was Chris. Could have been someone else entirely. I laid odds on whoever it was that shot Lane took the rifle with them and that’s why we didn’t find it.

A hearty, “Morning, Sugar,” broke into my thoughts. Darn it all, Nadia.

I put the report down and glared at her as she walked over. “What?” Guessed she’d caught a Christmas shift too since Nadia wore her ranger’s uniform. Criminals don’t take holidays off so law enforcement don’t neither. “I don’t answer your phone calls so you come looking for me?”

“No, actually.” She slid into the booth opposite me and plunked a travel mug on the table. “I stopped by to get some coffee and it’s either here or the gas station up aways.” Reaching over and breaking off a hunk of the pumpkin bread, she added, “Coffee here is better,” before tossing the bit in her mouth.

Slid the plate with the bread over to her. “Take it, not my favorite.”

Nadia broke off another bite. “Whatcha reading?”

“Here.” I handed it over. “OME report on Lane’s death.” Nadia worked law enforcement for the Parks Service and Lane’s body was found near National Forrest territory—not on it, but pretty darn close. Wouldn’t be out of line for her to read the report.

Nadia skimmed the pages as she nibbled on the bread. While she read, Jane wandered over with the coffee pot, filled up Nadia’s mug and told us she was going to take a break for a few and we should feel free to get whatever we needed. Pretty much left Nadia and I as the only souls in the dining area.

Other books

Hit and Nun by Peg Cochran
Cat and Mouse by Vicary, Tim
Wild Storm by Richard Castle
Halversham by RS Anthony
Sugar Rush by Sawyer Bennett
Betrayal in Death by J. D. Robb
The Hunt by Megan Shepherd
Gatekeepers by Robert Liparulo