The Way Things Are (30 page)

“A concerned member of the SPD has reported that you’re having an affair with the parent of one of your kids,” Mary Anne explained in a tone like a razorblade.

Ken took a deep breath and tried to unclench his jaw. Malcolm, of all people, had reported him. He knew he’d been taking a gamble going after Patrick when Jay still had four days left on probation, but he’d never expected his own brother to stab him in the back. “A concerned member of the SPD?” As if keeping his report anonymous would somehow hide what Malcolm had done. “You can’t just say ‘my brother’?”

“Don’t try deflection with me, Atkins. I’ve met ten-year-olds who are better at it than you. Regardless of the source of the report, the child in question was arrested this morning and is significantly distressed. Would you like to come in to discuss this fiasco, or should I schedule a disciplinary hearing instead?”

“What? Jay reoffended?”

“Yes!” Mary Anne snapped. “I presume you won’t have much trouble getting in touch with his father at this point.”

Ken stared across the trashed apartment. He could hear Patrick talking to the man installing his new alarm system in the next room. There was no point lying about it now. “I’m at his place, yeah.”

“It’s a pity you couldn’t keep such close track of the child!”

Ken knew he had to explain himself, and he had to find a way to convince Mary Anne he hadn’t lost sight of his purpose either. Above all else, he knew Mary Anne expected the probation counselors she supervised to put the interests of the children on their caseloads first.

“There have been some really messed-up extenuating circumstances the last couple days. Their home was broken into yesterday afternoon. The father didn’t feel comfortable with the boy staying in the apartment without any way to secure the front door. Jay spent the night with his godfather, where he was supposed to be supervised while the front door was fixed and the locks were rekeyed. His father’s having an alarm system installed right now. I didn’t know Jay’s location, it’s true, but that’s because I’ve been helping his dad sort through the mess and clean up after the break-in. Did the concerned SPD officer mention any of that?”

The long silence was answer enough. Apparently Malcolm hadn’t mentioned anything about the break-in. He probably hadn’t mentioned Patrick’s involvement with his case either. “Did he also happen to mention the reason the father was worried is because the break-in happened just over a week after he stumbled on a dead body down at the docks? Or that the concerned SPD member is hoping it’s linked to his human trafficking case from a couple months ago?”

“How is that relevant?”

“Jay’s father interrupted an assault in progress, and the kid he rescued was one of the stowaways. The man he found dead was one of the suspects Malcolm arrested for the assault. Mary Anne, I know how bad he probably made it sound, but I’d bet a hundred bucks that your concerned SPD officer is really only concerned about being pulled off the case because his little brother is involved with his witness. I promise you, he’s not worried about Jay. He wasn’t worried enough about Jay to help me find him when he was missing after the break-in, or to let Patrick go look for him before giving an official statement.”

“All right,” Mary Anne said, her tone sounded begrudgingly interested. “Deflection might prove to be effective. But you haven’t denied the allegation.”

“I don’t want to deny it,” Ken said quickly. “Yes things happened between me and Patrick. As soon as I realized something might happen, I told you about it. I asked you to take him off my caseload. And, as of last Thursday, he fulfilled the requirements of the intensive supervision program and was released.”

“What day?”

“Thursday. The hearing was in the afternoon, though.”

“And his home was burglarized Sunday?”

“Yeah. If you skim the case notes from New York, you’ll see a lot of references to Jay using graffiti as a coping mechanism. I’m not surprised he reoffended after this. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.” Ken heard her typing in the background. “Mary Anne, Patrick is it, he’s the one,” Ken admitted, hoping he might be able to get some sympathy from his friend to temper the anger from his boss. “I know it’s only been a couple days, but he’s amazing. He’s smart, funny, strong, nice, and he’s… he’s perfect.”

“God, Atkins, didn’t I say to exercise some self-control? I distinctly remember that part of the conversation.”

Ken winced. “I know. Last weekend Pat had just been through hell. Your concerned SPD detective questioned him for hours, took his clothes and DNA swabs, and even took his truck to have forensics go over it. I gave him a ride home.”

“Ken, come in and we’ll talk about it, okay? Can he accompany you? It would help me get an accurate understanding of the situation if I could ask him a few questions.”

“We’ll be in as soon as we can,” Ken promised. “The office or the detention center?”

“The detention center. Obviously he needs to pick up his son.”

T
HE
SECURITY
consultant walked Patrick through the basic steps for arming and disarming the entrance alarm three times. Each door and window in his apartment was now equipped with a magnetic sensor, and the alarm was monitored twenty-four hours a day. Patrick had been relieved when they let him choose a variety of responses, from a phone call to double-check if the alarm was real, to a full police response. Mostly he wanted a chance to restore some sense of safety to his life and Jay’s—he didn’t want a team of police officers to storm the place if Jay did decide to try sneaking out at night.

Ken had been on the phone with his boss in the kitchen while Patrick went through the alarm setup. When the installation was finished, Ken wandered out, shoving his phone into his pocket. He looked frustrated.

“Trouble at work?” Patrick asked.

“Oh, hell yes. Did Corbin call you?” Ken asked out of nowhere.

Patrick held up his cell phone so Ken could see the blank screen. “I haven’t found my charger, and the other phone is broken. Is he in trouble?”

“Not nearly as much trouble as I’m in.”

“Uh-oh. What’s he done?”

“He painted a female demon in high heels cowering in front of a dragon with black wings. Straddling a bridge.”

Patrick fought back the urge to punch a hole in the wall, but just barely. “A female demon? I thought he was past that shit.” Patrick could imagine the image all too well. “Straddling a bridge? Like
straddling
a bridge?”

“Well, standing on it. Nothing overly sexual. Although he’s at that age, so you never know.”

Patrick stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “You’d think he’d be at that age,” he said, his voice calm. “But I caught him with a copy of
Hustler
once, and you know what he was using it for?”

Ken chuckled. “Do I want to know?”

“He was hiding a book on Renaissance artists inside the porn magazine. I mean, who does that?”

Ken patted his shoulder. “For whatever it’s worth, there are naked people in renaissance art.” Ken headed toward the front door. “All done?”

“Yeah. I wrote down the code for you.” Patrick passed him a scrap of paper. Ken stared at him for a moment, then shoved the code into his pocket. “So are you in trouble because he’s in trouble?”

“Not exactly. Come on, I’ll tell you about it in the car. And I’m pretty sure my phone charger will fit your phone, so we can plug it on the drive over.”

It was well past two when they got to the King County Youth Services Center. A soft mist was settling in, blanketing the city in a quiet that felt wrong given the way his head was spinning. He felt uprooted by the break-in, resigned to the fact that Jay was always going to screw up again, and now he couldn’t stop panicking about this fledgling relationship he and Ken were toying with.

Not that he’d expected it to last. He had optimistically hoped they’d have a few weeks, maybe even a few months, before Jay ended up back in trouble, but he should have known better. It was just his luck the kid hadn’t even made it a week past his status hearing. When Ken explained it was his own brother who filed a complaint with Ken’s boss, Patrick wasn’t sure if he wanted to track the detective down and smack him, or just throw up his hands in defeat.

His own issues would have to take a backseat, however, to making sure Ken’s job didn’t become awkward. “So what do you want me to tell her? How can I make this go as smoothly as possible?”

“Tell her the truth,” Ken said simply. “If I had to guess, I’d say she’ll want to know if I threatened you, coerced you, or offered to do you any favors as Jay’s JPC to get you into bed.”

“I hit on you,” Patrick reminded him.

“And she’ll want to know if you hit on me hoping for favors or special treatment or modification of Jay’s criminal record. Anything, really. It happens. It’s a position of trust, and abusing that trust….”

Patrick gaped at him. “You could lose your job,” he realized. “Well, fuck, now I feel like a selfish bastard. Here I was panicking about where this might leave us, and you’re going to get fired.”

“I could face criminal charges. Anything’s possible. I can’t sleep with you and be Jay’s probation counselor. I just can’t. But we both knew that already. I actually asked Mary Anne to take Jay’s case off my hands a few days after we met, but she’s got too many clients to keep track of as it is.”

Patrick heard the words through a haze. “Criminal charges?”

“And I might be responsible for the she-devil in high heels too. Yesterday Jay told me a bit about his mom.”

Patrick felt his stomach flip. Whether it was turning a somersault or trying to tie itself in a knot, Patrick wasn’t sure. “What? He talked about it?”

“He told me about the attack,” Ken confirmed.

Patrick slumped against the passenger’s seat, stunned. “He actually talked about it? He didn’t just clam up and stare out the window?”

“Yeah, he talked about it. And he needs to talk about it more. Whether she fires me or not, Mary Anne’s not going to let him off the hook with the therapy thing. He needs it, Pat.”

“Therapy is what started the drawing, so forgive me if I don’t share your confidence there. He actually told you about it?” Patrick asked again. “I guess that explains what set him off. That and the apartment. God, I feel freaked out when I’m in that apartment now. He’s got to be a wreck.”

“He paints when he’s stressed? To cope with memories of his mother?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Patrick nodded anyway.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about it. I can’t be the type of probation officer Jay needs anyway. Yesterday drove that home, hard. Listening to him talk, I wanted to find your ex and scream at her. Not just because of what she did to Jay.” Ken turned into the detention center parking lot and drove to the far end. “What she did to Jay was a huge part of it, don’t get me wrong. But I was furious that someone would, and could, make you feel like that.”

Patrick had to hold on to the car door when Ken took a turn way too fast. “Like what? She didn’t hurt me.”

“Really? Because I don’t think you’d be so hesitant talk about it, or to let Jay talk about it, if you didn’t feel like you’re responsible for it.”

“You can’t say I’m not. Everything that happened to him is my fault. She got angry because I lied to her. I didn’t just lie to her, I let her try and build a life and a home around that lie. If I hadn’t cheated on her, she never would have found out. At the time, it didn’t seem like it was a big deal. It was just sex. I mean, there was never any chance I’d leave her and Jay to run off with some trick I fucked behind a bar. I never even thought I was doing something wrong. How fucked-up is that?”

“So you should have spent the rest of your life jacking off alone?”

“Yeah. And it wouldn’t have been that hard. I’ve actually never had much trouble keeping it in my pants until you.”

Ken wrapped his fingers tight around the steering wheel, wearing a huge grin despite the dire conversation.

“Denise and I still would have ended up getting a divorce, but I think we would have just both agreed we were miserable. Afterward, instead of letting Jay go, I kept paying the fucking lawyer so I could still see him. If I had given up, he never would have gotten hurt.”

“Pat, the fact that you weren’t willing to let him go is the reason he only got hurt
once
. If you hadn’t insisted on still seeing him, he’d have been trapped in an abusive home for God knows how long, with very little hope of getting out.”

“But it was my fault he was there to begin with.”

“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t put him in danger, Pat. You did what you had to do to get him out of danger.”

“I tried,” Patrick said quietly. “He needed me. And so long as he was okay, nothing else mattered.”

“He still needs you,” Ken whispered. “It’s going to sound crazy, but I need you too. I’ve always felt like I was sitting on the sidelines watching life happen to other people. I feel alive when I’m with you. I get excited about things when I’m with you.”

“I can’t let you get fired for me. Or go to jail. We could just say it never happened.”

“I don’t ever want to say this didn’t happen. I already admitted it to my boss. If I do get fired, I don’t really care.” Ken pulled into a tight parking spot and killed the engine. “There are other jobs out there.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like that. Not over me.”

“Why not? It’s true, and you’re worth it.”

Patrick stared out the window at the Youth Services Center. “We just met six weeks ago. We fucked each other a couple times, but you don’t know me well enough to say shit like that. I’m not worth throwing away your career over.”

“Yes, you are. But let’s not panic yet, okay? Getting in trouble isn’t the same as getting fired. I’m willing to see this through before I break out a highlighter and the want ads.”

“Yeah, all right.” Patrick glanced sideways at Ken, then grabbed the front of his pea coat and tugged him over the gear shit, crushing his lips against Ken’s. The kiss only lasted a few moments, but it flooded Patrick’s senses and rekindled some of his dwindling energy.