Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (11 page)

Vaguely Gev wondered if he could ever live there again. Probably not. No, definitely not.

Manny leaned against him, head down. “This is one wholly fucked-up mess, isn’t it?

Burglars, you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gev watched as the ambulance, doors open to await the arrival of its latest

burden, rumbled on the lawn. The grass would be ruined by the tires, he supposed. At that

moment, two paramedics emerged from the house with a gurney. It had taken them forever to get

ready, but the way people moved in and out of the house, some in uniform, some not, made Gev

figure they were being very careful about everything.

Another car pulled up, and a sharply dressed man got out. “Nice suit,” Manny muttered.

Gev didn’t say anything as the suit guy headed straight for the cluster of cops, including

the one who had told him to “wait by the squad car, and don’t move.”

“Ever watch
Criminal Minds
,
CSI
, any of them shows?”

“No, not really. Why?”

Manny gestured to a guy in a blue coverall he’d pulled over street clothes. He had several

cameras slung around his neck and carried a suitcase as he entered the house, two cops making

way for him. “Crime-scene-photo guy. Taking pictures of everything. Analyze the blood splatter,

like Dexter.” He made a wild, flailing motion like he was stabbing someone. The suit guy turned

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toward them, his face unreadable as he watched Manny, his gaze skittering past Gev before he

resumed talking to one of the cops.

Gev closed his eyes, wrapping his arm around himself. “Manny, do you mind?”

“What? Oh, sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to make you sick again. Drink more coffee.”

Gev took a sip. The suit guy headed toward them. Gev straightened, hoping he didn’t look

about to faint.

“Mr. Sinclair?” the man called out as he approached. “Can I speak with you a moment?”

Manny whispered, “Don’t say anything incriminating, hear? They start jacking you

around, tell them you have to talk to your lawyer.”

Gev stiffened. “A lawyer? Why?”

The suit heard him. “He’s not being accused of murder, Mr.…?”

“Manny,” Manny said. “Manny Gutierrez.” He held out his hand. The suit pulled a pad and

pen from inside his jacket and wrote Manny’s name down, ignoring the proffered hand.

“He’s a friend of yours?” the suit said, gesturing at Manny.

“I called him after I called nine-one-one.”

He made a note, then looked up at Gev. “I’m Detective Marc Harrison.” He pulled a card

out of his inside pocket and handed it to Gev. He took it, unsure what to do with it, then stuck it

in his pocket. “I’ll need to ask you a few questions about what happened here today.”

“Okay.”

The detective’s blue eyes held his. Gev swallowed hard, biting back the apology for

interrupting. “Had you spoken to Mr. Gutierrez prior to that phone call?”

Gev shifted. The question made him uncomfortable. For the first time, he realized that who

else but he would be the prime suspect? Great.

“He was in the coffee shop this morning,” Manny said.

Gev wished he would leave.

“From about eight-thirty until—When did you leave?”

Then again, he was glad Manny was still there. “I was there until about nine.”

“How far is your coffee shop from here?”

“It takes me about fifteen, twenty minutes to walk there.”

“You walked?”

“Yes,” Gev said. “Well, ran part of it. I talked to several people there.”

The detective wrote more. He was writing a lot, quick, sharp strokes of his pen. “I’ll need

their names, anyone else you saw on your walk there and back.”

Gev took a deep breath. He didn’t want to look nervous, but he sure as hell was. Nervous,

shaken up, terrified.

But at least alive.

“I was running for a while before I went to get us scones.”

Harrison looked up. “Walk? Run? Which one?”

Gev squeezed his eyes shut. “I went for a run but walked a bit before running.” Hell, he

was making no sense.

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Carolyn Gray

“What time did you leave for your run-walk-run?” The detective’s face was implacable.

Fuck, he was messing this up. Gev took a deep breath, trying to remember. He hadn’t run

as long as usual, only about thirty minutes or so. Guessing would be a mistake, but he wasn’t

sure, either. “Seven-fifteen, I guess.”

“Did you see Mr. Hill before you left?”

Chad
. “Yes, I did, actually. We talked a little while. I didn’t know the other guy. I don’t

know his name.” He opted not to mention the “biker boy” part.

“Tell me about the vehicles.”

“The Focus is mine. Chad’s is—was—” He paused for a moment. “The Mazda was

Chad’s.”

“The motorcycle?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “The—Chad’s friend’s.”

“He’s been identified as Curtis Chapman. Had he been here before?”

“No. I’ve lived with Chad for about nine months. He—” Gev cleared his throat. Harrison

didn’t appear homophobic. If anything, he was terribly cut-and-dried, disturbingly businesslike.

Maybe Gev should’ve been reassured by that, but he wasn’t. “Chad picked him up last night.”

“Where?” Harrison asked, making a note.

“Zippers.”

“Is that the only place he went last night?”

“I don’t know. He goes lots of different places.”

The detective looked up. “I’d appreciate a list.”

“I know a couple of them, but I’ll have to ask around. I don’t go clubbing much.”

Manny leaned closer. “Shouldn’t he be at the station for these questions?”

Harrison glared at Manny. “The sooner we find these people, Mr.—” He looked at his

notes, though Gev doubted he’d forgotten Manny’s name.

“Gutierrez,” Manny supplied helpfully.

The detective pressed his lips together. “Mr. Gutierrez, the sooner I get through these

questions, the faster we’ll have information to work with so we can find who did this. Right

now—and I think you probably watch television—he’s the one who found the bodies. Therefore,

he must be looked at first. He lives here. And he wasn’t here during the murders, so he claims.”

“I told you he was at the coffee shop!”

“We don’t have the times of death yet, and until that is verified, it doesn’t matter where he

was or when. Just that he is accounted for somewhere. Understood?”

Manny nodded reluctantly. Gev wished he would shut up, though Gev wasn’t sure he got

the detective’s logic. He understood what he meant well enough, though.

The detective frowned, staring at his notes. “Lovers?”

Gev glared at Manny. “No. Friends.”

“All right.” Harrison looked at Gev expectantly. Gev shifted, nervous, forcing himself not

to look at Manny. “Is there anyone else that you would like to contact regarding your

whereabouts last night and through this morning? Friends, relatives, what have you. That sort of

thing.”

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49

Gev grimaced. He really felt uncomfortable now, but he understood only too well how

important it was to get all the facts up front, as soon as possible. He’d only been a little kid when

his brother had been taken, but he remembered the endless rounds of questions his parents had

gone through. They’d even questioned him, made him go down to the police station and talk to a

cop there, Consuela Ramirez. He wished she was the detective assigned to this case—she still

kept in touch with him, as his brother’s case had never been closed.

“Last night I was at a performance.”

“What do you do?”

“Ballet dancer with the North Texas Ballet.”

“Okay, then, I’ll get the names of everyone from the director. What’s the name?”

“Margot Walsh.”

“Phone number?” Gev gave it to him. “Anyone else?” He gestured with his hand. “Anyone

who can verify your whereabouts last night.”

Gev hesitated. He really hated to drag Lee and especially Mutt and definitely especially

Nick Kilmain into this, but he didn’t really have a choice.

“Nick Kilmain, Lee Nelson, and Nick’s bodyguard. I only know his first name—Mutt.”

The detective hesitated, clearly thrown off. “Nick Kilmain.
The
Nick Kilmain, of Dream?”

“Yes, he knows them,” Manny said.

“Hush, Manny,” Gev said. “Yes, I know them.”

“How?” the detective said, his voice interested, his expression suddenly more relaxed.

“I’ve known Lee since we were kids. Haven’t seen him for a while, until last night. He

plays bass for Nick. Mutt is the bodyguard.”

“Fantastic,” the detective said, scrawling more on his notepad. “What did you do with

them?”

“Uh, we went to eat pancakes.”

The detective looked amused. “Pancakes.”

“IHOP, the one on Mockingbird. Can I call my parents? And my sister?”

“I’d like their numbers too, but yes, of course you can. Have them meet you at the station,

though. Unless they aren’t local?”

“They’re local.”

“May I have their numbers, please? The Dream people too.”

“I only have Lee’s.”

“That will do.”

Gev pulled his cell phone out and gave Harrison the names and numbers. When he reached

Lee’s, he felt really awful. The last thing he wanted to do was yank Lee back here to answer

some questions about something he had nothing to do with. He gave him Lee’s number anyway.

Like he had a choice.

Yet the thought of Lee coming back here made his chest squeeze a little.

“Where are these gentlemen now?”

“They left this morning for Durango, Colorado. They probably aren’t there yet.”

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Carolyn Gray

The detective continued making his notes. “All right, Mr. Sinclair. That will be all for now.

You’ll need to come to the statio—”

At that moment another car pulled up. Two people got out, a guy a little older than Gev’s

age and a woman. The new guy headed directly for Detective Harrison, a grim look on his face.

“Excuse me. I need to take care of this,” Harrison said, his voice wry.

Manny elbowed Gev as the detective and the new guy stopped out of earshot. The new guy

was growing angrier-looking by the second. Manny nudged Gev. “Didja notice how his tone

changed the second you said you were buddies with Nick Kilmain?”

Gev started to disagree but changed his mind. “Yeah. I’m not exactly buddies with him. I

just met him. You think it matters?”

“Sure. Maybe,” Manny said, watching the detective. “Probably. Maybe he realizes you’re

not some pretty gay boy dancing at some nightclub for your drug money.”

Now Gev was getting worried. “You think that’s what he thought?”

“Sure he did, but don’t let that worry you. That’s what they see all the time in these

murders, at first. Drug deal gone belly-up, revenge.” He waved his free hand, gesturing wildly.

“Da-da-boom, two dead, kitty missing, innocent guy wasn’t there, targeted first. You’re under

suspicion, baby. Except I don’t think he seriously thinks you did it.”

“You don’t.” He hoped to hell Manny was right about that, but the hot crawl of fear had a

field day over his body.

“No.” Manny put an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him tight. “Dude thinks
you
were

the target. Lucky you left. You’d be dead now too.”

Hell. “You’re so reassuring.”

“What I’m here for. Hey, check that out.”

Gev pushed aside his rapidly multiplying worries. A heated argument had started between

the new guy and Detective Harrison.

Manny whistled. “Man, oh, man.”

“What?”

Manny folded his arms over his chest and bent his head down to Gev. He jerked his chin

toward them. “Those two? Lovers.”

Gev stared at him. “No way.” He looked back at the detectives. Harrison raised his hand to

the new guy’s shoulder, who jerked away and stomped off.

“See?” Manny chuckled. “The other dude’s pissing in his Post Toasties. Makes it all worse

’cause it’s Harrison.
Former
lovers.”

“Shut up, Manny.”

“Bet he was supposed to have this case. His jurisdiction or something.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t think detectives have jurisdictions anyway.”

“Just sayin’. Just sayin’. Man, they don’t show this shit on
Cops
.”

“Shut
up
, Manny.”

They watched Harrison watch the new guy get into his car and leave. The detective didn’t

move until the car was out of sight; then he turned and headed back toward them. Gev’s stomach

lurched. He just wanted this day to be over.

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51

“Is coming with me now a problem, Mr. Sinclair?” Harrison asked as he rejoined them.

Gev wanted to say, “Hell yes, it’s a problem.” Instead he said, “I need to find the cat first.”

The detective raised his eyebrow. “The cat.”

“She ran out when I opened the front door. Which was open when I got home, by the

way.”

“Open how much?”

“An inch or so, barely. Not enough for Screech to get out until I’d opened the door wider.”

“Screech. The cat’s name, I take it. Good name for a cat.”

“She’s a tortoiseshell.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said that.

Manny said, “I’ll find her for you. She loves me.”

Gev was too damn tired and overwhelmed to be amused by Manny’s proclamation.

Screech far from loved Manny. She was more likely to bite his fingers off if he tried to pick her