PRIVATE
EYE
Rafe and Jeremy
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PRIVATE EYE by S.E. Culpepper
Copyright 2011 S.E. Culpepper
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
For my husband, Chris, who never gives up on me and my dreams. Thanks for letting me research the gay soap opera clips from all over the world and not minding too much that it took away from time with you. I love you.
And to my family…the most awesome of people.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Of course as an author I use creative license while writing, but I wanted this book to come across as an authentic love story, not simply a novel about a gay couple. I’d like to thank those who read the manuscript in full or in bits and pieces and gave me honest feedback.
SIX WEEKS AGO
The sound of the shower cutting off woke Rafe like a slap to the face and as he squinted against the light shining between the curtains, every stupid decision of the night before came rushing back. A chorus line of idiocy hitting all the screeching high notes, starting with his buddy Jack Daniels and ending with his ex-boyfriend, Mark Newland. What had he been thinking?
His brain hadn’t been involved. Obviously.
Rafe hated to be an asshole but he had to get out of there, preferably while Mark was busy in the bathroom. He rolled over, nearly groaning when his head took a few seconds to catch up with the rest of him. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and his neck and head ached so badly he felt like he’d been in a sleeper hold. Shit…maybe he had.
It was too much to hope that waking up in a bed not his own meant he’d only passed out, but he was naked and there was a very hazy memory of some wall-slam kissing… He pushed aside the sheets with disgust and found—surprise!—a condom. He groaned for real this time.
Brian as his best friend should have put a stop to this madness! He had some serious explaining to do. There had to be a damn good explanation why he let Rafe wander off and make a huge mistake out of the smaller mistake he’d only recently gotten over. But, come to think of it, Rafe was alone when the Jack Daniels really started working its magic. Brian had already left by then.
Oh, god. He had no one to blame but himself.
Moving as quickly as he was able, he shuffled around the room, pulling on his jeans and shirt as he found them. He was digging for a shoe under the dresser when the bathroom door opened. His eyes closed in defeat. Too late. There was no getting out without a scene now.
“Running off without a shower, then?” Mark asked, his tone not quite hurt and not quite surprised. Thank god Rafe couldn’t get the guy pregnant; he’d be trapped in a relationship without a doubt.
“I’ve got a lot of stuff going on today,” he finally spoke up, his voice sounding like he’d been sucking on diesel exhaust all night. His breath could probably knock someone unconscious too. “Work doesn’t stop just because…of this.” He waved between them.
Rafe finally got his hands around his shoe and sat back on his heels, refusing to look at his ex.
“And what was this?” Mark growled, crossing the room and crouching in front of him, his towel doing little to cover the strong muscles of his legs.
Rafe wrestled his shoes on and shook his head in disbelief. “This was a mistake, Mark. You know it.”
“You’re such an asshole,” he snapped back and grabbed Rafe by the chin, jerking his face around so quickly he winced. “Everything was fine last night. You were into it. Now you act like I dragged you here against your will.”
Rafe thrust Mark’s hand away and pushed to his feet in a move that had his brain doing a can-can dance to keep up. “It never should’ve happened. You know if I hadn’t been trashed that I wouldn’t have come home with you. I’ve never tried to lead you on. When I said it was over a year ago, I meant it. This never should’ve happened.”
“Well it did, Rafe. You slept with your ex, who also happens to be the man you claimed to love once upon a time. Why can’t you admit that we’re together right now because there’s maybe something between us? Still.”
Yeah. Like bitterness.
“Mark,” Rafe thrust his hands out, cutting him off. “You were my boyfriend because I cared about you, but we were not good together. You know this. We wanted different things and we would’ve been miserable if we stayed together. I was never right for you, never ready to settle down like you.”
“That’s what you said then, but now…we’re here. Together again. What if that means something—like maybe you’re ready to be with me now? It’s not as though you’ve been out in the scene, Rafe. I know you. You don’t skip around from one trick to the next. I haven’t heard about you pulling tricks every night.”
Rafe’s shoulders sagged and he wanted to choke himself out for being dumb enough to end up in this situation, explaining yet again that he couldn’t be with Mark. No matter how bad the day, it was no excuse to get so blasted he’d throw himself into the same situation it took him so long to get out of the first time around. He never cared about Mark the way he really should have, and yeah, he probably stuck around too long in the first place because he didn’t want to hurt him and it was easier to pretend their sex life translated to something deeper. But he couldn’t get dragged into it again. No way.
“Listen,” he sighed and Mark crossed the room to stand in front of him again, his expression telling Rafe how much he was hoping this was their big reunion, the rebirth of their long-term relationship.
“Wait Rafe. Before you get all preachy on me. Don’t you ever think about how it was? I know you felt pressured and that’s my fault, I totally admit it, but it’s not true when you say we didn’t have something good. We’ve had a lot of really great times together.” Mark was earnest as he looked up into his eyes, his voice soft and seductive. “Remember the lake? The trips? The time we went to California?”
The reminders didn’t do anything for Mark’s cause. He really believed what he was saying was reason enough to dive back in, which was exactly the kick Rafe needed to put a stop to it before it got out of hand.
“Last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry it did because it’s dredging the past up all over again. You need to find a guy who can give you what you need. That guy is not me. We’ve had a lot of fun, yes, but nostalgia isn’t going to make us work. I’m sorry.”
Mark bit down hard on his bottom lip and backed away. “Get out of my house, then. I get it now. You’ve turned into a using prick.”
“Don’t pull that shit. Who used who in this situation, Mark? You saw the state I was in. You took advantage of it hoping that we’d end up a couple again, but this isn’t some independent gay film where all the loose ends are tied up because I was too plastered to think clearly and you were there to pick me up on the downhill.”
“I told you to leave.”
“Mark. Stop it. We can be adults about this.” Rafe watched as his ex flexed his jaw, his arms clenched across his chest like he was holding himself together.
His conscience smote him with the reminder of how he’d been about to sneak out like a coward and do the walk of shame right on home. Not exactly the mature thing to do. He really didn’t want things to end like this, and not only because he’d be running into Mark in the future. He hated getting the guy’s hopes up, even if it wasn’t completely his fault.
“Come here.”
Mark’s head snapped around and his lips twisted in a pain-filled scowl for half a second before a choked breath escaped him. “Forget it.”
“Come here,” he held his arms open until Mark finally gave in and moved into his embrace. He rested his hands on Rafe’s waist and gave another shuddering breath. “I really am sorry,” Rafe whispered. “You know you’re better off without me…”
Mark kept quiet, his thumbs moving gently over Rafe’s sides. Even that small amount of contact proved Rafe’s body was a complete traitor. The light brushes made him want to forget the serious stuff and fall back on the mattress, in spite of his raging hangover.
He let himself be held for a few moments longer and after one last squeeze, he moved away, grabbing his jacket and leaving the bedroom. He moved quickly through the house they used to share together and let himself out. That was right about the time he remembered Mark had driven the night before and his own truck was a long walk away.
Awesome. He was supposed to get downtown to talk to some cop about an investigation in an hour. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t still sweating Jack and Coke by then, much less make it on time. He was about to call a cab on his cell when the door opened behind him and Mark came out, pulling a t-shirt on over his head. Rafe actually had to drag his eyes away from the spectacular set of abs before he was caught watching.
“I’ll take you back to your truck,” Mark said quietly. “Let’s go.”
“Thanks,” Rafe murmured.
“Do me one favor?” he asked, half turning towards him with his eyes trained on the ground. Rafe waited. “Don’t talk to me for a while.” He lifted his face and their stares met.
Dammit, Rafe had really screwed things up this time. He only nodded back as Mark put another few steps between them. “Get in the car then.”
CHAPTER ONE
“You’ll be thirty-four years old soon. You need to stop wasting time, that’s all I’m saying. No need to shut me out like I don’t make any sense.”
Rafe didn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes and his mother noticed, shifting into full-on denial mode, her default setting. “I’m thirty-four in six months, mom, and I’m not wasting time. You and dad are the ones giving me everything but the old heave-ho. Don’t try turning that around on me,” he grumbled.
He was used to this, his monthly argument with the ‘rents. Actually, it was more like his mom’s monthly bitch-fest and his dad’s monthly silent treatment. Really made a guy feel welcomed and loved. Neither of them could believe, much less accept, that their son might be doing something so scandalous as liking men. Gasp.
His parents were the poster children of stalwart Catholicism. Nowadays, Rafe had to practically recite the Rosary on the doorstep just to get into their house. Gay wasn’t really a medium they could work with, whether it meant “happy” or “queer.” The only thing that could be worse than their son insisting he’d never be with another woman would be if he suddenly confessed to tossing babies off a cliff every third Tuesday of the month. They’d probably light him on fire.
Hence his mother’s delusions that he only needed to find the right girl, and his father’s cold shoulder until that girl showed up with him some Sunday, preferably with ready-made grandchildren. To them, his being gay wasn’t even a phase, it was a flu-bug, an itchy rash that he shouldn’t even consider scratching; only he’d had this particular rash going on thirteen years. What a rebel.
“You are wasting time, Rafe. Do I need to list the ways?” she asked, and dove in like he could use a reminder of their many disappointments. “You went to school for a degree in communications; we were so happy for you. And what do you do then? You become some kind of thug street detective. You could be killed sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re not married. You have no children.”
“None that I’ve told you about,” he mumbled under his breath. And come on? A thug? Really? That was just being nasty.
“Thirty-four years old,” she tsked.
Rafe sighed and considered throwing himself through the kitchen window to make a run for it. “I’m not having this conversation again, mom. It’s a waste of time. I don’t want a reminder about how I’ve failed you, or a rundown of your expectations. You can even do me a favor and stop with the blind dates unless there’s a tall blond guy going to mass—”
“That’s enough!” she snapped. “You will not disrespect me like this in my home. I have tried to be patient with you, Rafe, I really have, but you never think of what your lifestyle does to your father and me.”
“Bullshit,” Rafe growled, throwing the dishtowel he’d been using to dry dishes onto the counter. “You don’t know a damn thing about my lifestyle because I’ve never forced you to accept it. Obviously.”
His mother jumped and did a few reps of crossing herself. “If you can’t control your tongue, you will leave. I won’t have this.” She smoothed the fabric of her skirt and then thrust a dessert plate into his hands. “Take this to your father. Our conversation is over.”
Rafe could think of several more creative ways to end the conversation, but he bit back everything he wanted to say and left the room. Whatever. Same old drama and he only had to deal with it once a month.
Back when he’d first come out, he’d tried to bridge the gap and keep their relationship going, but after being rejected dozens of times, he threw in the towel and decided to make himself scarce. Thank god he had Brian’s family, The Hatchett’s, who welcomed him with open arms and made up for a wealth of the crap his parents dumped on him.
Rafe had seriously dated three guys and not so seriously seen a few more, but he’d never once been able to bring a boyfriend home to his own parents. He took them to the Hatchett’s if the relationship progressed far enough. No, until the day he came to his folks and begged forgiveness for “lying” about wanting men, his parents would be happier with his absence.
Today was actually the first time his mom had brought up a blind date in a long time, but he was well past the point of humoring her. He could tell his father heard some part of their argument based on the ramrod-straight posture while he sat in his ugly green recliner, his body practically vibrating with pent-up rage.
“Dessert’s ready, dad, and I’m going so it oughta go down smooth.” He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and headed toward the door. “I’ll give you guys a call later this week,” he said, not even turning back to see if his dad heard. With his temper so close to the surface, it was better for everybody if Rafe got the hell out of there. It was still early, besides. He could grab a beer and unwind.
He tried not to let it get to him when his dad didn’t speak up and his mom didn’t come out of the kitchen to see him off. It was times like these he remembered the days they talked to him and showed a little interest. Now he was an embarrassment and the thing was, he was unwilling to work for their affection like a dog—to change one part of his behavior and be welcomed back into the fold. No way. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life miserable, married to some woman he couldn’t love, simply to make his parents smile at him again. Screw that.
Rafe unlocked the door of his truck and climbed inside. His foot was itching to slam down on the gas pedal and get him out of the neighborhood as fast as possible, but he kept himself under control. It wouldn’t solve anything to shorten the life of his tires.
Right as he was shifting into gear, his cell phone warbled its ring for an unknown caller. He pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Albuquerque area code. Could be anybody.
He flipped the phone open and took a deep breath. “Rafe Bridges.”
There was a short pause, then a deep voice that perked his ears. “Yeah, hey, this is Jeremy Halliday. I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but I was the arresting officer on that DUI a couple months ago? You were investigating the guy for fraud or something?”
Officer Jeremy Halliday’s vital stats instantly clicked off in Rafe’s mind and he couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face. He wasn’t going to forget someone like that very quickly. Motorcycle cop. Big black boots. Six-two, blond, green-eyed and unfortunately, completely straight. Though, that didn’t keep him from admiring him when his back was turned.
“Oh, right…Ed Phillips, helluva guy. DUI and indictment for fraud. Sure, I remember.”
Officer Halliday chuckled and Rafe waited to hear the real reason he was calling; it certainly wasn’t to ask him out. Shite and double shite.
“This is sort of unorthodox, but I’ve got a situation on my hands that I was hoping you could help me with. I still had your card and some guys I work with recommended you, so…”
“What can I do for you?” Rafe asked. Massage? Date? He smirked to himself. If this was another job, he couldn’t really take it on right now. He was busy, which was great, but too busy to give another case the attention it deserved without putting something else on the backburner.
“A guy I work with was sent to start up a missing person report on a girl from my old neighborhood. I got a call from a friend about the same time and turns out it’s his sister that’s missing. I can’t get involved in the investigation, and it doesn’t speak well of what this guy’s family thinks of the department, but he was calling because they aren’t willing to rely on the Missing Persons Unit to take care of this. They wanted to know if I had any recommendations for a private investigator.”
“And you thought of me?” Rafe said, running through the last conversation he’d had with one of his best sources from his old neighborhood, Manuel Abrigo. The guy owned a roach-coach that catered to the lunchtime crowd from a downtown parking lot. “Is this the uh…the Aragon case? Daughter’s been missing since Thursday or something?”
Officer Halliday sounded surprised when he answered. “Thursday night, yeah. You hear about it through contacts in the department?”
Rafe grinned. “Something like that. Now, the guy who called you, he’s an old friend?”
“We grew up together. Carlos Aragon. He works with his dad for the highway department. Obviously they’re all torn up about this; she’s the only other child and she’s a lot younger than Carlos, but their father is going off the deep end and wants more noses to the ground than we can provide. You know, like a friggin’ regiment.”
“So they’re thinking a guy with a license to loiter can pick up all that slack?”
“Pretty much,” Halliday laughed. “Not that I would’ve put it that way.”
“‘Course not,” he answered, digging for the notepad and pen in the center console out of habit and taking down the important bits. “What’s the daughter’s name?”
“Yesenia. She’s seventeen.”
“And the family thinks it’s impossible she ran away?”
“Well, if you talk to Carlos’ father, Hector, he’s certain she’s been kidnapped by her boyfriend. Carlos and his mom aren’t so sure,” he sighed. “Yesenia and her dad have been known to argue now and then.”
“You still keep in close contact with them?” Rafe asked. “How often do you see them?”
“Not that often, really. Unless I’m in the neighborhood visiting my dad and I stop by. I hadn’t heard from Carlos in months before this phone call.”
Rafe nodded to himself and did a little more scribbling. This was definitely going to be a time-intensive case to take on if he decided to, which he hadn’t yet, but as usual he was intrigued. It was probably nothing more than a girl who got pissed at her dad and instead of slamming doors and screaming how much she hated him, she ran off with a guy who was promising to make her life better.
“Listen,” he said after a moment. “I’m not saying I can take the case just yet—I’ve got a lot of jobs I’m trying to tie up right now—but give me tonight to look things over and see if I can move anything around. I don’t want to meet the family, have them tell me their story, then turn around and tell them my schedule’s too full. Know what I mean?”
“Sure,” Halliday replied. “I’d appreciate whatever help you can offer. Give me a call when you know if it will work out for you to take the case. Maybe we can meet in the neighborhood and I’ll introduce you to them. No offense about your charisma or anything, but they’d probably feel more comfortable with someone they know being there as well.”
Rafe agreed and ended the call after a few more moments, pointing his truck in the direction of his one-room office rather than the pub where that beer was waiting for him. He was halfway there before he recognized that instead of running through his caseload and figuring out his timeline, he was already shifting things around to accommodate Yesenia Aragon’s case. So much for tall, blond, handsome and straight having no effect on him. Oh, what his mother would say if she only knew.
***
Jeremy’s dad was standing behind his screen door waiting when he pulled into the driveway. He threw him a wave and glanced around at the other cars in the street. It didn’t look like Bridges has shown up yet. The Aragon family lived four houses down and all looked quiet there, too.
Exhaustion was licking at his muscles as he opened his car door and climbed out. An early morning run and a long shift in the sun had definitely taken its toll. He was wiped.
His dad stepped outside and nodded towards his ’72 Barracuda. “Sounds really good. I can hear you coming three blocks away.”
Jeremy gave a tired smile and looked back over his pride and joy. Last month he’d been able to get her painted—a sweet custom job in candy apple red with two black racing stripes—and the new colors, along with the slot mag wheels, had completed all the exterior work he wanted done. Now he was getting down to a serious interior overhaul. She was the prettiest money pit he could ever want.
“My goal is to rattle the floor boards three blocks away. Let me know when that happens,” he said. “Any sign of the investigator yet?”
“Nah,” he shook his head, “but you’re early. Have time for a beer?”
“I probably shouldn’t, what with going over there to talk about Yesenia. I didn’t want to show up in an official capacity, but I don’t want to get too unofficial, you know? Hector would have an aneurysm if he smelled beer on my breath.” Jeremy leaned against the porch railing and crossed his arms. “I’ll wait out here. This guy’s kind of doing me a favor; he switched around all these cases he’s working on to see if he can help out. We’ve only met once at traffic court and that was months ago, so I’m surprised he said yes.”
“Pull him over or something?” his dad asked, sinking into one of the patio chairs he kept on the porch.
“He was investigating a guy I stopped on a DUI. Turned out the dude was guilty of insurance fraud, too. Faked injuries, disability, medical records; the whole nine. Rafe Bridges showed up at traffic court and stopped me in the hall to ask me questions.” He paused when he saw a Nissan truck heading their way. “I think that’s him.”
Sure enough, the truck pulled to a stop and parked in the only available space at the end of the driveway. Bridges rolled down his window and called out, “Alright if I block you in?”
Jeremy waved an okay and watched as he got out of his car and headed up the walk, giving Jeremy’s car a double take as he came. He was one of those guys good looking in a way that it was impossible not to notice—for guys and girls alike. And Bridges probably knew it, too, sauntering around with slick looking sunglasses and the fit guy appeal, making women drool. He had to be Italian with all that black hair. Jeremy had him by about two or three inches, but the detective held himself so well it wasn’t noticeable. It was sort of odd that he had such trouble remembering what Bridges looked like before. The guy was impressive even in jeans and a button up shirt. It was sort of irritating, especially since Jeremy felt sloppy after work with no time for a shower. He didn’t want to come across like he didn’t give a shit.
Bridges got to the bottom of the steps and smiled as he tugged off his sunglasses, throwing a shockingly ice-blue gaze their way and holding out his hand. Jeremy shook it and then watched as his dad stood to do the same. “This is my dad, Peter Halliday. Dad, Rafe Bridges.” His dad nodded and looked back and forth between them.
“I’d offer you something to drink, but Jeremy was thinking you’d be heading right over to the Aragon’s house.”
“That’s probably best,” he agreed with a natural smile. “I’ve got my bag in the truck, so we can go ahead unless there’s anything else you want me to know before we leave. You might have a different perspective on things since you live near them and have seen what’s going on.”
Jeremy’s respect for the investigator went up a peg when the guy included his dad. It was yet another sign that he was asking the right person to help out his old friends. He was oozing professionalism and charisma.
“Well,” his dad cast a worried glance in the direction of the Aragon’s home. “There’s definitely been more traffic in and out, but that’s to be expected. Hector and his daughter fought a lot. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s obvious to his neighbors that he’s overprotective to a fault. It didn’t really surprise most of us in the neighborhood to hear that she wasn’t around anymore. He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen that her boyfriend took her. He’s got the market cornered on that conspiracy theory. Calls Angel a cheating hoodlum.”
“Angel’s the boyfriend?” At his dad’s nod, Bridges said, “Well, is he a cheating hoodlum?”
Jeremy watched with interest the way the detective asked questions. Everything came out so naturally, like the questions and the answers had no bearing on his investigation. He would bet money on the fact that the guy probably interviewed people and had all of his questions answered before they ever realized the interview had begun.
“The kid’s young, that’s all. He runs mostly with his cousins. He’s got a case of machismo, might be a little too big for his britches, but he’s no hoodlum. I think he probably cares for the daughter more than Hector realizes. Problem is, she’s not eighteen and Angel is. Hector thinks he’s taking advantage of her.”
Bridges leaned against the railing at the bottom of the steps, looking thoughtful. “That’s tough,” he said, flicking his eyes back Jeremy’s way. “Any idea how Mrs. Aragon is dealing with it? Does she feel the same way her husband does?”
Jeremy shrugged. “Carlos, their son—I told you about him—tells me she’s just trying to stay quiet. They’ve never seen Hector like this, so they’re stepping lightly. He told me that his mom was the one who kept letting Yesenia go out with this kid. She reminded Hector that her father didn’t like him when they were first together. That pissed him off even more, I guess.” He pushed away from the porch and walked down the steps until they were next to each other. “They’re worried. Grieving.”
Bridges nodded and held out a hand to Jeremy’s dad again. “Mr. Halliday, it was nice to meet you.”
“Call me Peter. Thanks for lending a hand with this. They’re old friends.”
“Not a problem.”
“I’ll come back when we’re done over there,” Jeremy added, leading the way back down the walk and waiting while Bridges grabbed a leather bag from his truck. His dad called from the porch that his sister was stopping by later as well and Jeremy tried not to groan in front of Rafe and bring on the questions. Instead, he nodded resignedly.
They walked in silence for a few moments before the detective stopped him. “I’ll do my best to help them out, but it’s sort of an unofficial policy of mine that I don’t take jobs where the client is constantly interfering in the investigation. If I wanted to be micro-managed, I’d have stuck to my communications job.” As he spoke his eyes were focused like lasers on Jeremy who felt himself fighting to hold the gaze. The guy was not blinking. “I’m not saying this to be dramatic or anything; I know several other investigators that I’d be willing to recommend, but if Hector asks me to do this job and continually interferes because he’s too controlling, it’s not going to work.”
“I hear you. You might even have him pegged, but I don’t know that he’ll be his bulldoggish self with his daughter on the line.”
Bridges got moving again and Jeremy gave a silent sigh of relief that he was no longer under such intense scrutiny. It was really odd.
“In front of the family I’ll call you Officer Halliday even though you’ve known them so long, but otherwise can I call you Jeremy?”
“Jeremy, Jay, Halliday…doesn’t matter to me. Do you prefer Rafe?” Those smiling blue eyes flashed at him and Jeremy wanted to snort in disbelief all over again at how ridiculously handsome the guy was. Standing beside the P.I. covered in sweat and grime only made him feel unprofessional.
“Yeah. Rafe’s good with me.”
At the foot of a short walk that curved through a tiny, but well-manicured lawn, Jeremy pushed open a low chain link gate and held it for Rafe. They were halfway up the walk when Pepper, the family’s German Shepherd started growling and barking the way he had ever since Jeremy first met him. He was used to it, but it took half a second to see that Rafe wasn’t. He’d cursed and done an airborne Heisman step until he was partially hidden behind Jeremy.
“Sorry,” he breathed, “I’m working on it, but most dogs scare the hell out of me.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened. Well, well, well. It looked like Mr. Calm and Collected had some issues after all. “This one is definitely more bark than bite. He’s only excited, trust me.”
“Sure, whatever…” Rafe gave the dog another furtive glance and Jeremy watched in amazement as all signs of discomfort disappeared the second the screen door opened and Hector Aragon appeared. It was impressive as hell. Rafe was on and down to business.
CHAPTER TWO
Hector Aragon wasn’t a tall man, coming up only to Rafe’s shoulder, but he held himself like he was taller than Jeremy. His skin was weathered and darkly tanned, and the hand he offered was rough from work. He watched Rafe with shrewd black eyes and was coming to god only knew what conclusion. Anger and frustration were palpable in the air around him, though he was surprisingly quiet compared to what Rafe expected.
The dog—what was its name? Pepper?—was sniffing his shoes and even though it agitated him more than he wanted to admit it, he had to ignore it. Didn’t instill much confidence when the investigator you were considering hiring started hiding behind hot blond police officers and “shooing” off a dog. He took a lot of subtle deep breaths and exchanged eye contact with Jeremy who, god bless him, had the dog’s collar and was tugging him away. Glorious man.
After a strained introduction and an uncomfortable silence, Hector turned and led them toward a room stuffed to the brim with a sofa, coffee table, and two arm chairs. “Come and sit down. You too, Jeremy,” he said quietly.
Rafe found himself looking into the troubled hazel eyes of a woman who could only be Mrs. Aragon. Hector confirmed it with his introduction and she pointed to an armchair for him to take a seat. Jeremy moved around the coffee table, offering her a hug that she seemed skittish to return. There was a glance Hector’s way that made Rafe wonder, and when she sat beside her husband on the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the tension in her body spoke volumes. She was definitely scared of Hector and unhappy in general.
“My son is working tonight, or he would have been here,” Hector announced in his thick Spanish accent. “He called Jeremy and asked him about getting a detective who can focus on getting my daughter back in this house.”
Rafe leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Officer Halliday gave me a call yesterday and told me a little bit about your circumstances. I’m sorry to hear about your daughter. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Are you licensed?” Hector asked abruptly, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s on prey.
Rafe reached down next to the chair and tugged open the flap on his bag. Pepper made a beeline for his hand and he moved fast to get out of the way, grabbing his proof of licensure and a card to slide across the table. “I’ve been licensed since 1999 and I always bring along reference information if you’d like a copy of that as well.”
Hector didn’t look at any of the information and Rafe sat through a few more seconds of the hairy eyeball before Hector saw something that satisfied him and finally got down to business, with Rafe immediately jumping to start a recording of the conversation.
“My daughter’s been missing since Thursday evening. We have pictures of her for you to use in your investigation.”
Rafe nodded and pulled out a notepad and pen, asking with a look if it was all right for him to take notes. Hector and his wife nodded, so he got busy writing down anything that stood out to him.
Yesenia was only seventeen and her boyfriend, Angel Torres, was eighteen. The pair had been dating for six months. Jeremy’s description about Hector’s over protectiveness wasn’t even a drop in the bucket to the way the man was in person. He barely managed to keep himself from frothing at the mouth when he spoke about the boy, his eyes glittering dangerously under his lowered brows. Most of what he said led back to Angel. Mrs. Aragon was noticeably quiet and wound up tight as a spring as her husband went on and on.
Rafe waited for Hector to run out of steam and tried to get a word into the conversation. “Officer Halliday mentioned to me that you are confident this is not a runaway situation. You believe your daughter was taken against her will? What happened the night she went missing?”
“Yesenia has been a willful child lately; she knows I disapprove of this boy, but she also knows that I love her and would never drive her from the home.” Hector’s reasoning did the opposite of his likely intent: it made Rafe think Yesenia was unhappy enough to run. Hector was full of excuses.
“She never even threatened to leave that way,” Hector continued. “I think her boyfriend was poisoning her mind and she was getting involved with the crowd he runs with—nothing but a bunch of vatos who think they’re something. I went to her room before going to bed at ten to check on her—she snuck out once before and I won’t allow it to happen again, you see—and she wasn’t there. Her window was gaping open like someone took her and didn’t have time to fix it.”
“Did the police find any prints in her room? I’m assuming they dusted?”
Hector nodded, his lips tightening meanly. “They found prints from the family members only. But prints don’t mean everything,” he was quick to add.
“You didn’t hear any odd noises from her room or find any other evidence of a struggle?”
He shook his head bitterly.
“So you firmly believe it was Angel who took her?” Rafe asked, already impatient with the way he had to dig through moralizing speeches to get to the point.
“That boy. Angel. He’s an ese. He probably got together with some of his hoodlum friends, took her, and now he won’t let her leave and be with her family. She’s probably scared and worried wherever she is.”
Rafe nodded and scribbled some gibberish on his pad while flicking glances around the room, not missing that Mrs. Aragon looked like she was chomping at the bit to speak.
“Do you agree with your husband, Mrs. Aragon? You were here at the time your husband discovered Yesenia wasn’t home?” he asked and thought that if Hector’s nostrils flared any wider they’d be shooting out fire. She gave him a sidelong glance, but spoke up anyway.
“I was here,” she murmured hesitantly. “I don’t think she was kidnapped, detective. Yesenia loves her family. She loves her father, but they’ve been fighting so much—”
“Angelina!” Hector interrupted and Rafe leaned back in his armchair, seeing that Jeremy was noticing the same things he was.
“I will tell him my opinion, Hector,” she snapped, hands clenching again as she turned back to Rafe, her eyes beseeching. “It was hard on Yesenia…all the fighting. I work so much and couldn’t be here as a…buffer, I suppose. She cares so much about Angel, and to have the two men she cares for most hating each other, I think… I think maybe she overreacted and ran.”
Hector refused to look his wife’s direction again after that, and Rafe felt the snub on her behalf. It was times like this he was glad to be gay and single—not that domestic abuse didn’t happen on his side of the fence, but seriously, this was ridiculous. So stereotypical. And awkward, let’s not forget that part, he told himself.
“Mr. and Mrs. Aragon, I spoke with a contact in the Missing Person’s Unit today. Officer Halliday,” he looked in Jeremy’s direction for a beat, noticing the way he’d grabbed the dog again, “might also be aware that your daughter’s boyfriend is in town and your daughter isn’t with him. There’s also been a statement that you went to Angel’s house and demanded to see her and found she wasn’t there. If she ran, or if she was taken away,” he added before Hector could jump in, “she’s not with him right now and there’s no evidence that she’s been with him since last Thursday. Have the police updated you about that?”
“I think she has friends helping her. She’s a popular girl, my Yesenia. If her friends thought she needed them, I’m sure they’d help her run away.” Mrs. Aragon avoided answering directly, her face pale, those eyes of hers continually flickering towards her seething husband. “You know how children can be.”
Rafe didn’t answer for a minute since he was mulling that last bit over. He wasn’t too sure Yesenia qualified as a child any longer, and he didn’t have any experience with kids. Running away seemed like a cry for help to him.
Hector couldn’t remain quiet another second, his voice razor sharp as he spoke. “I said this boy is a hoodlum; I didn’t say he was dumb. Of course he’s not going to keep her with him all the time where I could find her and bring her home. He’s smart enough to know that would get him caught and thrown in jail.”
Rafe didn’t bother bringing up the fact that Hector didn’t seem to feel the same way last Thursday night when he rushed over to Angel’s for a beat down session.
“Would she find it so easy to leave her boyfriend behind, too, do you think?” he said instead.
“I think she knows the first place everyone would look for her and so she wouldn’t go there, Mr. Bridges. I think she might come home after she has some time away,” Angelina whispered softly.
Well, one of them seemed confident. Angelina was awaiting the return of the prodigal daughter. Guess they’d all see how that worked out. Rafe watched Hector carefully as he brought up a point he was fairly certain the man was overlooking.
“I know that you want someone looking into this who can provide a little more focused attention than the police department would be able to offer right now. That’s understandable. I did want to assure you that the police are working hard on this. The leads they’re following, the interviews they’re conducting…you understand that I’ll be following the same path, asking the same questions. There’s no guarantee that you won’t get the answers you want without hiring me.”
“I want you to find my daughter, Mr. Bridges,” Hector shot back. “I mean no offense to Jeremy who has been willing to help us out by recommending you, but the department gets cases pouring into their office. They’re overworked. There’s no way they can focus on this and bring my Yesenia back before whoever took her makes sure she never comes home. I’ll pay your price. In return, you’ll get to the bottom of this. That boy deserves to be in jail.”
Rafe knew he shouldn’t, but he took a chance and asked Hector his reasons for disliking Angel Torres so completely, and got back an earful, none of which really answered his question. He definitely wasn’t any wiser about why the kid deserved a prison sentence. There was certainly no proof of statutory rape. Hell, his prints weren’t anywhere near Yesenia’s bedroom and she didn’t have enough freedom to go out long enough to accomplish much of anything in that quarter.
Hector Aragon was clear about three things only: He wanted his daughter home, he wanted her single, and he wanted her boyfriend rotting in a cell somewhere—hopefully one crawling with rats, a la the Bastille, that held daily whipping sessions.
Rafe didn’t like what he was seeing. If Hector worked himself up any more, there was a serious risk of violence. He’d have to go to Angel Torres first thing tomorrow and see where it led. He’d also be making frequent trips back to the Aragon’s home—one of his tricks when he wasn’t feeling too confident about the story he was getting from a client. It wasn’t often necessary, but something about the couple was setting off an alarm with him.
The Aragons gave him all the contact information he needed for Yesenia’s friends, family and boyfriend. The picture they provided of her showed a younger version of Angelina. Light brown hair, pretty hazel eyes, dimples and a warm smile. She was really quite pretty and looked younger than her seventeen years. The picture of innocence.
The entire visit and interview took an hour. He left his card and reference information with them and waited on the walk for Jeremy to say his goodbyes and catch up to him. They didn’t talk until they were back in front of Jeremy’s dad’s.
“Bet I can name one phone call you wish you hadn’t answered,” Jeremy gave him a sheepish look.
Rafe smiled as he tossed his bag in the truck, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “That was…an experience alright. There are a lot of things going on under the surface there.” He hesitated to say more, not wanting to offend Jeremy who’d known this family most of his life.
“Don’t hold back on my account,” Jeremy mumbled, leaning tiredly against Rafe’s truck. “I’ve never seen Hector like that. Granted, I haven’t been around all that much for the last few years, but ever since Yesenia got into high school, he’s changed. Everyone is out to get his daughter and do lord knows what with her, he seems to think. Carlos doesn’t even know what to make of it.”
“Angelina isn’t well. It makes me worry, watching them together.”
Jeremy nodded, staring through the dim evening light back at the Aragon’s house. “Very weird. Listen, I’m sorry it’s turning out to be even more to take on than you thought. If Hector starts making your life more difficult, let me know. I might be able to talk him down.”
“I appreciate it,” Rafe laughed, suddenly becoming very aware of the white-hot masculinity Jeremy exuded leaning against his truck the way he was. His long body was perfectly relaxed, and even with the sun already set, his golden tan was still obvious. It was like standing around shooting the shit with the sun god.
Damn, he needed a boyfriend.
In an effort to distract himself he pointed at the car in the driveway and shook his head in wonder. “That yours?”
Jeremy’s answering grin was like sex on a stick, it was so hot, and dude didn’t even know it. Rafe was going to be forever pushing the image of Jeremy behind the wheel out of his mind.
“Yep. That’s my ‘Cuda. Soon as it’s legal, I’m marrying her.”
Rafe choked on his laughter, drowning under a wave of irony. “Your family will be so proud. Send me an invitation.”
“For sure.” He waved toward the front door of the house. “You’re welcome to come in for a drink before you leave, if you want. We’d be happy to have you. Plus my sister is here and she won’t hassle me about blind dates if you’re around.”
Rafe couldn’t laugh at the thought of Jeremy out on blind dates, so he smiled crookedly. “Your mom still around?”
“Nah,” Jeremy pushed away from the car. “Left when I was real young. Just me, dad and my sister since I was like three.”
“It’s cool you get along with your dad though. My dad hardly speaks to me.” Rafe clamped his lips shut on a curse. Was he actually date talking? He was! What was wrong with him? The last thing Jeremy needed to know about was the way his parents hated who he was. He needed to get the hell out of there before he started making passes at the guy. “You know what, I’ll have to ask for a rain check on the drink. I’ve got a couple of things to take care of and tomorrow’s going to be busy, what with that lynching posse to set up for Angel Torres.”
“Right. I won’t keep you.” Jeremy pushed away from the truck and smiled as he started up the walk.
Rafe didn’t know what made him say it—why he needed to leave some little loophole for contact with an obviously straight guy, but he spoke up anyway. “I’ll keep you posted on the investigation. Let you know how everything’s unfolding.”
“That’d be great. Thanks again, man,” he waved. “See you around.”
God, Rafe hoped so.
When he was sprawled on the couch at home, he pulled out his cell and pushed the speed dial button for Brian. He got knocked off into voicemail after a few rings and sighed at the beep.
“Hey man, it’s me. I took the case because apparently I don’t know how to say fucking no. Big surprise right? And damn, this cop that set me up with the job is better looking than I remembered—‘course I was totally hung over when I met him. He’s like an effing Adonis. Anyway, thought I’d let you know I caved so you can come and put me out of my misery before I fall for another straight guy. Bring, like, an elephant gun maybe. Call me.”
***
Angel Torres was about as happy to talk to another detective, as Rafe was to go to his parent’s house once a month. When he parked his truck, the kid came outside grudgingly, throwing a couple covert looks around the neighborhood like he was worried who was watching. He was wearing an extra-long white t-shirt that hung like drapery over the sagged waist of his jeans. It was the standard issue uniform and certainly a statement, Rafe thought.
“Angel?” he asked, climbing out of the truck, his pocket recorder already whirring away.
“You the P.I.?” Angel mumbled, head tilted like he had something to prove, and Rafe knew it was going to be a filthy long day.
“Yeah, Rafe Bridges. Like I said when we talked earlier, the Aragons hired me to help find their daughter.”
“And like I told you earlier, I already told the cops what I know.” He thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “Why don’t you call ‘em up and ask them what I said?”
“‘Cause I’m not a cop and I can’t be in their faces all the time asking for information they can’t and won’t give me. I do my own investigation.” He held out his hand and Angel reluctantly shook it. “I prefer asking questions my own way.”
“I haven’t seen ‘Senia since Thursday morning,” Angel offered up out of nowhere. “Sometimes her mom lets me stop by when her pops is at work so I can spend time with her without a fight.”
“Yeah, I got the impression you and Hector aren’t really close, but I’m not taking sides—you can hate each other forever as far as I’m concerned—my job is finding Yesenia.”
Angel’s answering look was skeptical. Okay, so the kid wasn’t pulling for him. Win some, lose some.
“Listen, would you be willing to do this over a bite of lunch? My treat. I’ve got two more interviews after this and I haven’t eaten.”
“Man, I don’t have a lot of time for this,” he griped, aiming for tough but only managing whiney. Rafe wondered what it was that kept the eighteen year old so busy. He was available in the middle of the damn day, anyhow.
“Lunch. On me. Thirty minutes and we’re done. Even if I have more questions than time.”
Angel hesitated for a second then shuffled past, banging his shoulder into Rafe’s. A classic maneuver meant to intimidate; it was possibly more effective if the recipient didn’t dwarf him.
“Clock’s ticking, detective.”
Nice. Angel was a real charmer. No wonder Yesenia liked him so much.
Ten minutes later, Rafe was parking his ass on a bench, juggling a couple drinks and a plate of foil-wrapped chimichangas.
“Of all the places we could go, you pick a burrito mobile in a parking lot?” He sniffed at the food like it was laced with rat poison.
“You’ll change your tune when you taste it, trust me.”
Angel shrugged and unwrapped his chimichanga. “I thought you were going to ask me questions.” He took a huge bite and Rafe imagined holding him by the ears until he dropped the machismo bullshit.
“Right,” he said instead, letting the opportunity pass. “You said the last time you saw Yesenia was Thursday morning.”
He nodded, not saying anything.
“Did she run away? Do you know where she is?” Direct and to the point was always a good tactic.
Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head, like working with an adult ranked somewhere between cleaning monkey cages at the zoo and having teeth pulled. “She ran. She was ready to do anything to get away from that asshole.”
“I assume you mean Hector Aragon.” He filled in the blanks while Angel got to chewing on another bite. “Why did she want to get away from him? Did she talk about it a lot?”
Angel shrugged. “Not really. She didn’t like the way her pops wouldn’t let her see me. She said he wanted her so close all the time and she hated it.”
“And you don’t know where she is? You haven’t heard from her?”
“No. She called later that day, after I left, and she was still home then. I was supposed to take her out Thursday night, but her pops heard and they started fighting again. I don’t know who she went to for help. I don’t know where she went, but she needed to leave.”
“So would you tell me if you knew where she was?”
Angel paused and eventually shook his head. “So you could deliver her right back to him? Nope.”
Just in the way Angel answered the question Rafe could tell he didn’t know where his girlfriend was, yet there was something going on, maybe he’d known she was running but she hadn’t told him where and when.
“Her dad thinks you’re behind it.”
“Shit, what’s new? Anything bad happens, I’m responsible. That’s bullshit. He thinks I’m hiding her or that someone I know took her. He’s crazy—serious head case, bro. Serious problems.”
“What kind of problems?” Rafe asked, sinking back against the bench and taking all sorts of mental notes.
“Man, I got a little sister the same age as ‘Senia, and my pops watches her like a hawk, but not like the way ‘Senia’s dad watches her. He’d chain her to the furniture if he could. She can barely leave the house during summer, even if it’s to go to a friend’s that he likes. He treats her like she’s nothing but a prisoner. He won’t even let her have a part-time job.”
Rafe caught the concern in Angel’s eyes before he turned away and dug back into his lunch. His jaw clenched forcefully with every bite. The kid was worried about his girlfriend, really worried, so Rafe was watching very closely as he asked his next question.
“Does he hurt her?”
Angel kept chewing, his brow lowering darkly over his black eyes. “Like do I see bruises, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
His body went taut and he wadded up his foil wrapper, tightening his hand around it until the flesh of his knuckles grew white. “There were never any bruises I could see, but that doesn’t mean anything, you know?” He fixed an angry glare on Rafe. “He controls everything about her life. He hates me and thinks I’m using ‘Senia. Ask anyone I know, even my parents, they’ll tell you I’d do fucking anything for her. Why else would I put up with that asshole all this time? If I were using her, I wouldn’t have stuck around.”
Rafe nodded and cleared his throat, his mind moving fast. “So, Hector’s confused, don’t you think? He hates you, thinks you’re using his daughter, but at the same time he must know you care a little because you’re his first suspect for kidnapping. That’s interesting to me. He says you’re smart enough to take her and keep her somewhere else so when the cops look at you, you seem innocent.”
“He’s an asshole. I told you he was crazy. What—you think he’s hiding something?”
“Somebody is.” Rafe darted a glance sideways.
“I ain’t using her, man. I already said that. I didn’t take her and hide her either. Strap me up to one of those lie detectors, you’ll see.”
“I could do that. I’ve got the license,” he bluffed, “but don’t worry. If I thought you were a liar, I’d come out and tell you straight to your face. For now, we’re just talking.”
Angel’s lips twitched a little. “I’m not lying. The cops know where I was Thursday; my story checks out.”
“I know. I talked to one of the guys from the Missing Persons Unit and I got him to tell me that much.”
“Well then?” he snapped.
“When did you first hear she was gone?” Rafe continued, downshifting into the story again.
Angel snorted. “Thursday night. Her pops came to my house, woke up my whole family banging on the front door and shit. He thought Yesenia was with me and my parents even let him check my room. Him and Carlos.” He didn’t have to say how furious this must have made him, it was clear.
“Carlos was with him?” Rafe covered his surprise. This was the first he’d heard of Carlos taking part.
“Yeah, the maricón dug through my closet!” Angel was too busy growling to notice the way Rafe stiffened at the Spanish word for faggot. It took him a second to shrug it off as another immature comment from an ignorant kid.
“Would you say you know Yesenia best?” he finally asked.
Angel played with the crushed ball of foil and nodded. “Besides her mom, yeah.”
No question the guy loved Yesenia. Once Rafe started pulling back layers, it was obvious who Angel’s main priority was and that he’d do anything he could to protect her. That’s why Rafe didn’t quite trust the alibi.
“So where would you look for Yesenia? Where do you think she’d go?”
“I don’t know, man. Some place her dad would think of last, I guess. I’ve asked around too,” he offered. “I went to her friends and my friends. She’s got a big family. Anyone could have helped, but if they did, they aren’t talking and they probably won’t ever talk. They know he ain’t right.”