Closer by Morning (4 page)

Matt had been too easygoing ever to let work come between them, but Jamie had been so sure he was right that he hadn't been able to let it go.

When he'd asked Matt to move in with him, Matt had known that it could never work.

It had been the beginning of the end.

“We're done for tonight,” Jamie said, returning to the interview room. “We've decided to bail Draper till next week.”

Matt gathered his notes. “You can't charge him. Not on that evidence. You have nothing and his account is tight.”

“There'll be further investigations and we'll take prosecution advice.”

It was standard practice in almost all sexual assault cases. It was such a political hot potato that the police had no option but to take it further.

“Same time next week. We'll have a decision to charge then.”

Matt made a note of the date. It wasn't his case but being Monday night he'd have to deal with the after-hours interview again. That suited him fine. He liked seeing a job through to completion.

Jamie stood awkwardly in the doorway. Uncomfortable, as if they had never been close or intimate. “How, er…have you been?”

“Good. Busy. You too? I haven't seen you around much.” Matt's voice sounded false and overly cheerful. He was almost as bad at this as Jamie was.

“I've been around,” he said sheepishly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Why was this so awkward? Maybe because they were unused to it. After all those college flings, Jamie had been Matt's first proper boyfriend, the first one to mean anything. He'd never had to deal with a break-up or the emotional baggage that came with it. Before Jamie, he had been used to both partners moving on when the novelty wore off.

“Are you seeing anyone new?”

Jamie shrugged. “Not really. There was a man in Durham. We went out a couple of times but it didn't come to anything. How about you?”

For no reason the image of Dale, the guy from boot camp, flashed into his mind, together with the realization that he liked him.
Really liked him
. Enough to ask him out?
What? No way. This is insane.
He was probably straight anyway.

But it was a nice, if unexpected thought.

To Jamie, he said, “No. I'm not looking for anyone right now.”

“So why did you break up with me?” The words rushed out of Jamie's mouth. He looked as shocked to be saying it as Matt was to hear it. “Oh God. I didn't mean to say that.”

“But it's what you were thinking?” Matt said carefully.

“I guess it was. It wouldn't have come out otherwise. An unconscious gesture.”

“Jamie, we've been through it all, God knows how many times. You know the reasons.”

Jamie's dark eyes glistened with unspilled tears. They had moved on, but Matt could see the pain in his eyes. Their break-up was still too raw. The issues of the last six months of their relationship were as unresolved as they'd ever been. Going over it now, in the damn police station, wouldn't help.

Matt stood. “I'd better be going,” he said, injecting some of that false cheerfulness into his voice. “It's been a long day. I'm starving.”

“Of course,” Jamie said, forcing a smile that was too broad, too desperate. “No need for you to hang around. Like I said, we're going to bail Draper to next Monday. I just need to process the paperwork. You don't have to stay for that. He'll be out of here in half an hour.”

“I'll get going then,” Matt said, rushing for the door. He hated himself—handling Jamie 
so
badly—but he'd been granted an exit. He had to take it.

“I miss you,” Jamie said as Matt headed out of the door, just quietly enough for Matt to pretend he hadn't heard.

Chapter Four

Turning up for boot camp on Wednesday was so much easier with a motivating factor—Matt. Dale Zachary had thought about Matt a lot since the first session, which was strange in itself. Dale was too old to be harboring boyish crushes on a stranger. He was thirty-four, for Christ's sake. Even so, Matt had not been far from his thoughts for the last two days and he was looking forward to seeing him again. Leaving the cottage at five-twenty, he was kind of nervous. An excited feeling in his stomach. It was similar to the nerves he experienced before going on stage.

It was a morning like all the others that week—cold, dark and damp—but none if it affected him. He was too busy thinking about Matt, his anticipation building. Afraid to consider the possibility that Matt might not return for the second session.

Matt—the last thing he thought about when he'd turned out the light for bed and the first thing on his mind when the alarm sounded at four-thirty. He had it bad.

In a strange way, it was nice feeling like this—naive and excited. Kind of stupid, but cool just the same.

Some of the shine was knocked off that excitement when he arrived at the assembly point.

Matt was there all right, looking rugged with an unshaven face and unruly bed hair, but he wasn't alone. There was a woman with him. A very pretty, if overly done woman.

Shit.
Those gay vibes he'd felt were a false alarm. What a pity. He'd been so sure Matt was into him.

“Hi,” he said, jogging gently toward Matt and the blonde woman. “You made it back. I'm glad to see that.”

Matt's face split into a grin so wide and charismatic it brightened even this miserably damp morning. “Hey, Dale, glad to see you too. This is my colleague Annabel. A no-show on Monday but she finally made it.”

Dale detected an emphasis on the word
colleague
. Not girlfriend. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. His spirits lifted. “Hi, Annabel,” he said cheerfully.

“Hello,” she replied politely.

Annabel had put a considerable amount of effort into her appearance this morning. All of the other girls in attendance were practically dressed and fresh-faced. Not this lady. She must have been up since three constructing her look. She was fully made up—powered with glossy red lips, smoky eyes and false lashes. He'd played on stage against actresses wearing less makeup than this. Her hair was blown and fluffed and swept into a soft ponytail that was supposed to look casual, however was anything but. She wore skintight purple leggings, silver running shoes and a pink hoodie covered in some kind of glitzy message. If this was how she looked to work out, he could only imagine the time it took her to dress for a big event.

“No ill effects from Monday?” he asked, turning his attention back to Matt.

“None. I thought I'd be stiff as a post afterward but I felt amazing. It must be doing me some good already.”

“
Oh please
,” Annabel drawled, looking at Matt but angling her body toward Dale. “Stop trying to sound so macho. No one feels that good after just one session. Tell the truth—you were crippled.”

“Not so.” Matt took her comment in good humor but Dale disliked her tone of voice—sarcastic and bitchy. The kind of girl who put her friends down to make herself feel better. “I felt great afterward. Honestly.”

“I did too. This Clint guy, he pushes us all hard but he knows what he's doing, don't you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Huh.” Annabel sighed, sticking out her chest. “You boys, what are you like? All talk. I want to see some action before I believe either of you.”

Lady,
Dale thought,
I don't know what tree you're barking up here, but mine is sure as shit the wrong one.

Clint Dexter approached with his ever-present notebook. “Welcome back, gentlemen,” he said, ticking them off his list before turning to Annabel. “What happened on Monday? Did you sleep in?”

Matt laughed out loud until she shot him a look. She turned to face Clint directly, all fluttering eyes and jutting tits. “I'm here now,” she preened. “But go easy on me. You don't want to break me on my first day.”

Isn't it a bit early for all this flirting?

She was wasting her time. The instructor was immune. “I don't go easy on anyone. Not ever.” He looked her coldly up and down before walking away.

“Wow.” Matt smiled. “You're working your charm this morning. Looks like you scared him already.”

Annabel tossed her ponytail, unperturbed. “Just need to get these guys warmed up, that's all. They'll come round eventually.”

Dale admired her confidence. However misplaced it was.

Having completed the course once before didn't make it any easier. Clint was a tough taskmaster and put enough variety into the session and the course that it was impossible to predict or be prepared for what he threw at them next. Dale was impressed. This dude was good and he knew his stuff. Some of those stars back in Hollywood would kill for a trainer like this.

For most of the course, Dale kept pace with Matt. There was no chance to talk, Clint worked them too hard for that, but he was happy enough to run beside him, to share his quiet company. A couple of times Dale deliberately hung back so he could take a peek at Matt's bodacious butt as he ran uphill. Sneaky, but he didn't feel bad about it, not when he could look at an ass like that.

At one point, Matt glanced behind and caught him staring. There was a moment of uncertainty and Dale was convinced he'd got it
so
wrong. Then Matt cracked a broad smile and, with a conspiratorial look, kept running. The smile was infectious.

God, he is beautiful. Sexy too.

There could be no doubt now. Not after a look like that. Annabel
was
just a colleague after all. Matt was definitely interested in him.

Wasn't he?

Self-doubt lingered. Dale just didn't have it in him to make the first move. Not under circumstances like this.

Exhausted and elated, they made it to the end of the course. Dale's heart pounded inside his chest. That had been some workout.

Annabel looked far less composed than when she'd started. Her blonde hair had gone to hell, clinging to her face and neck in sweaty strands. Her makeup was a lot more resistant—lips, eyes, powder were all still perfect.

As much as Dale wanted to hang around and talk to Matt, there just wasn't time. He was pushing it even coming here this morning. They needed him on set and in costume by eight.

“Are you going for the triple session?” he asked, as they headed back to their cars. “See you Friday?”

Matt's brown eyes sparkled in the gray light. “We're on a roll. Wouldn't miss it.”

Annabel watched them both with a huge shit-eating grin on her face. Whatever she thought she knew or suspected, he didn't have the time or the interest to find out.

“Got to go,” he said reluctantly. Annabel was spoiling his plans just by being here. Today he'd intended to find out more about Matt, with a little probing, disguised as small talk. No chance of that with her looming over their shoulders, alert to every word.

Dale headed to his car, feeling less euphoric than he had after his first session.
Never mind,
there's always Friday
. Maybe Annabel would fail to drag her ass out of bed again.

As he started the engine there was a tap at the window. It was Matt.

Delighted, Dale opened the window. Matt smiled uncertainly and handed him a business card.
Matt Blyth—Solicitor
it read.

“I wanted to give you this. My contact details are all on there. Office, mobile, email. I thought you might like to stay in touch. I don't know… We could do a training session together. You know, away from the group.”

Dale looked from the card to Matt's lovely face. “A training session?”

“It doesn't have to be.” Suddenly Matt was blushing. “We could go for a run or a drink. If you want to keep in touch that is.”

“Oh, I do.” Dale beamed. “I really do. How about I call you later?”

“Great. I'll look forward to it.”

****

Annabel came into Matt's office in a flurry of excitement as he prepared his files for court. She looked remarkable, given that less than two hours before she had been gasping her way up and down the hills. She wore a pale gray trouser suit with a cream silk blouse. Her hair had been washed and straightened and her makeup was fresh and businesslike. She was a remarkable woman, never seen looking anything less than her best.

Dramatically, she threw a copy of the local newspaper
The Echo
onto his desk and pulled out a chair. The entire front page was dedicated to the murder of Olly Raymond, the young man pulled from the river on Monday. The story was the main headline on the news again that morning. Police were reluctant to connect the killing to that of Conner Welsh two weeks earlier but social media moved faster than any police conference, and the public had already linked the two.

“I knew there was something familiar about him,” Annabel said.

Matt looked at the front-page photo of the dead boy. Another young man, only twenty-five, tragically taken too soon. He looked a lot like the previous victim, with dark hair and a handsome face. It was no surprise that people were speculating. If one killer was responsible for both deaths, they clearly had a type. “It says this boy was a barista at a coffee shop in town. We must have seen him around. Do you know where he worked?”

“Not the victim.” Annabel grabbed the paper, turned the page and slammed it down in front of him. “
Dale
.”

There was Dale's photograph, right beneath a title that screamed
Death Imitates Fiction: Murder bears similarities to grisly TV show
. Matt stared at the headline and the photograph. The story related the eerie similarities between the recent murders and a TV show currently filming in and around Durham.

“Dale's an actor?”

“Yep. I knew there was something about him when he walked out this morning. At first, I thought we might have met before but couldn't place him right away. It came back to me as I was driving home. There was a feature on
North East Tonight
a couple of weeks ago when they started filming this show. They interviewed Roxanne Maxwell and Dale. Dale Zachary. That's his name.”

Matt looked at the photo again. It showed a smiling Dale, without the sandy beard.
Dale Zachary—American Star
, read the caption.

“I've never heard of him,” Matt said. His knowledge of film and TV shows was pretty sparse. He had a good memory for faces and names but when it came to celebrities and actors, he couldn't retain it. There was too much happening in real life to give much thought to the rich and famous.

Annabel, on the other hand, knew everything. An avid reader of
Heat, Closer
and
Hello!
, she knew all the actors in
EastEnders, Coronation Street, Hollyoaks
and
Emmerdale
and when she wasn't caught up watching soaps, she was immersed in celebrity talent shows—dancing, skiing, roughing it in the jungle, she watched them all.

“Dale Zachary,” she announced, “is rather famous.”

“You didn't recognize him this morning.”

“Not at first but I got there eventually. I think the facial hair threw me. He doesn't usually have a beard.”

“So what would I have seen him in?”

“
An Axe in the Dark
.”

“The horror film?”

“That's the one. You must have seen it. Everyone has.”

Matt nodded. He remembered watching it on TV when he was at university. Late at night, when he was alone in his room, it scared the shit out of him. But he watched so much from behind a pillow, he could hardly remember it. “Dale was in that?”

Annabel made a swinging ax motion. “He got hung up and chopped up. It was awesome.”

Matt thought hard. Yeah, there was a really hot guy in that movie who came to a nasty end. He was the main reason he had kept watching. Once the guy was dead, he'd begun to lose interest in the film.
That was Dale?

“I'll have to look him up,” he said.

“Do it now.” She pointed eagerly at his computer. “We might find some naked pictures. I'm sure I've seen him nude in a movie before.”

Matt laughed. “I'd love to but it will have to wait. I need to get to court.”

“I'll do it,” Annabel said, taking out her phone. “I'll text you if I find anything juicy.”

“Don't you have any work to do?”

“It can wait. Come on, Matt. How often do we meet a gorgeous American celebrity? Don't you want to check out his fine Hollywood arse?”

“His arse, which I'm sure is very lovely, can wait. Unfortunately I can't.”

Matt's case was listed at Bishopgate Magistrates for ten a.m. He arrived with fifteen minutes to spare but his client wasn't there yet. Checking his phone, he found that Annabel, true to her word, had texted a photo of Dale's naked butt.

This is from a film about six years ago
, she wrote,
but, from what I saw this morning, he might have got better with age
.

The picture was a hazy screen grab of Dale stepping into the shower. Only the side of his head could be seen but it was recognizably him, minus his beard. But his ass—oh my God, his ass—was ripe and round. Manly and meaty. A real man's butt. Perfect.

Matt's cock came up hard. A boner was the last thing he wanted to take into court. He pocketed the phone and spoke to one of the clerks.

“I'm going to wait in the solicitor's room. Could you let me know when my client arrives? I'm waiting for Jenna McNab.”

The clerk nodded and made a note on his list.