Chapter 3
Cavan rifled the fridge. For a woman who was mad about all things banana, his mom never kept the actual items on hand once she had peeled off their stickers. She’d dipped a few bananas in chocolate and frozen them, but he wanted something more substantial.
He found a frozen Lean Cuisine pizza and nuked it, washing down the bland slices with a can of Diet Dr. Pepper. Man, the pizza tasted like cardboard. He glanced at the portion in his hand. Oops, it was cardboard. It had somehow stuck to the pastry. He peeled it off and kept eating in spite of the total absence of flavor. It was better than nothing. He swigged his soda, staring out of the kitchen window as he ate over the sink. There were no free chairs. Since he’d left for work, his mother had piled boxes all over the kitchen. Each day boxes seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Cavan stared up at the unusual moon. It had an odd shape, almost like a heart. For some reason, it made him feel very sad. No, he knew the reason. He was lonely. His lover, Vince, had made him choose between his mother and their plans to move to Montana to run an organic vegetable farm. Cavan had hoped that Vince would wait for him, until he could sort out his mother’s house move, but he hadn’t.
For months, it had been very stressful when Cavan started making trips to LA to help his sister, who had her own problems. She was married and had a ten year old stepson who loved her one week, hated her the next. Still, Dina was a fabulous woman and tried hard to be a great stepmother to Max.
Dina and her husband, Garrett, got custody visits every other weekend and two nights a week, which meant that she had her hands full. Cavan didn’t mind helping but it hurt that Vince never came with him, claiming that he could never return to LA. And yet, up until the day they’d moved to Klamath Falls together three years before, Vince had been an LA native.
Cavan hadn’t loved the farm they bought as much as Vince did. In hindsight, Cavan realized that he’d done everything he could to accommodate Vince but the favor had not been reciprocated. They had started with a small property in Klamath Falls, but money had been tight and Cavan returned to work as a cop. He’d frankly enjoyed doing both jobs and thought things were fine. The farm was just starting to financially sustain itself when Vince once again grew restless and wanted to move.
In hindsight, Cavan could see now that their problems had begun then. It was too soon to move and Cavan enjoyed having law enforcement and the farm in his life. And then his mother was injured in a bad car accident. Not once did Vince visit her, but his mother never said a negative word about Vince. Instead, she’d urged Cavan to go home and be with his partner.
“Don’t make my mistake,” she’d said. “I put my job and you kids first. Your father felt neglected.”
“No, Mom,” he’d responded. “Dad was an asshole. You were fantastic. I know you loved him.”
And he loved his mother. He had ignored her advice and kept commuting. He did feel very stressed out, but figured it was all temporary until his mom got better. He’d asked Vince more than once, “Wouldn’t you do the same if it were your mother?”
Vince said no, that he would never put anyone above Cavan. But he had. He’d put his own ambitions above them both. When Cavan returned home to Klamath Falls one Sunday evening, he found that Vince had left him. No note, no goodbye, no…nothing. Not only that, but he discovered his lover hadn’t been making the mortgage payments, even though Cavan had given him money each month.
As of now, Cavan still owned the farm. He’d bought out Vince and had kept up payments. But Vince running out on him was like his father all over again.
That had been a few months ago. Cavan didn’t dwell on it too much anymore. He was over Vince, who’d turned out to be the kind of guy Cavan never dreamed he’d be. Selfish and manipulative. He was over the loving feelings he’d had for the guy…not over what Vince had done to him.
Last he’d heard from the sparse gay grapevine stretching from Northern California to Montana, Vince had a new boyfriend.
Cavan had tried calling Vince, who’d changed his cell phone number and blocked Cavan from emailing him. It had been devastating. The only thing that had been keeping Cavan in Klamath Falls was Vince. Once he’d accepted that Vince didn’t want him and had really moved on, Cavan had taken a demotion to be here in LA. He had a weird feeling things were going to change. It was an inexplicable feeling, born perhaps of an unusual moon on a rare night in which he’d helped to save somebody’s life.
The TV went quiet. He dropped his can and pizza box in the trashcan that smelled strongly of bananas. Walking past the living room, he saw that his mother was now online, no doubt working on things involving bananas.
“Cavan,” she said, looking up from her laptop. “A collector in the Philippines is sending me that label I wanted! We’re doing a trade.”
“The label with the monkey on it?”
She nodded happily. He bent and kissed her heavily lacquered hair. She might have been the only woman alive who still had vast quantities of Dippity Doo, and used it. And he might be the only man alive who had such a boring existence he was intimately acquainted with his mother’s label collection.
Somebody shoot me…
He caught himself. No, he was lucky. His mom was doing pretty well and he had his health. His mind returned to Ludo and he called the hospital from his cell phone. “Critical, but guarded condition,” the nurse on duty told him. He wanted to know exactly what that meant, but she wouldn’t give further details.
Cavan finally took a long, hot shower and hit the sheets. Naked in bed, he longed for sexual release. He played lightly with his cock and balls, which hardened instantly as he fired up his laptop. He had a decent collection of gay porn on it. He and Vince had enjoyed watching movies together and indulging their mutual sexual fantasies. One of his favorite models was the Cuban superstar Rafael Carreras. Always threatening retirement, the hot, hung model had just shot a new movie, Backdoor, in the back streets of Montreal. Cavan had a subscription to Lucas Entertainment and downloaded the link to watch the scene.
He was starting to feel good now. His cock hardened, his pubic hair damp to the touch. It always made him feel good to jerk off right after a hot shower. Vince had never liked sex after showering. He said it made him feel dirty again. Whatever.
Don’t think about him. Think about someone else. Think about Rafael.
What he liked about this company’s movies were that the models were hot and there was a plotline and usually beautiful cinematography backing up the man on man action. Rafael stood against the fire stairs of some decrepit apartment building. He smoked a cigarette and gave a panhandling old granny some money. He liked that Rafael did that.
The model had a bad haircut, however, and when his scene partner, Ryan Russell, strolled down the dangerous-looking alley, grabbed him, shoved him up against the wall and kissed him, Cavan immediately got an iffy stiffy. The cop in him bristled at the scene. It got worse. They went into an ugly room and began having uncomfortable looking sex on a table. With dildos. Two no less, shoved up Ryan Russell’s apparently willing ass.
What a waste when the man had one of the finest looking cocks in porn history at his disposal. Cavan considered switching to one of Rafael’s tried and true scenes, but when that, too, failed to hit his ignition, turned the computer off.
He lay in the dark, stroking himself off, willing himself to just enjoy it.
For a hard-up guy I’m acting damned picky.
No, he realized in the next moment that he wasn’t hard up for sex, he was hard up for the connectedness that sex brought. He hadn’t been able to jerk off in weeks and he felt the effects of the abstinence. It made him anxious, yet he couldn’t let go and just enjoy. His cock semi-hard, he gave up. He slept badly, the time feature on his new clock radio too bright for his eyes. He kept having nightmares about Ludo. The sounds the man had made as Cavan worked to free him would forever haunt him. As exhausted as he was, he couldn’t sleep well and awoke at six, his stomach rumbling.
He threw on sweatpants and T-shirt and called the station house from the kitchen as he made coffee.
Masterson was being held without bail until a court appearance that afternoon and, as was typical in these cases, was being very uncooperative.
Veo called him a few minutes later. “Just got into the office,” he said, chewing on something. “Your fans brought in cupcakes first thing this morning. Maple bacon. Mmmm…”
Great. Even the guys at work were eating better than he was. He rifled the pantry. Half a box of cereal and enough milk in the fridge for a bowl for his mother. There were last night’s bananas. Where the hell was all the food he’d bought two days ago?
Cavan poured himself a cup of coffee. The smell alone put him in a better mood. He watched his next-door neighbor sneaking into his backyard. Literally sneaking, and turning on his sprinklers. Los Angeles had strict watering laws and his neighbor just violated them. He froze when he turned and caught Cavan’s gaze. Cavan gave him a finger wave. He didn’t give a fuck about sprinklers. He wanted maple bacon cupcakes.
“Got your message last night,” Veo said. “I had the watch commander check into the stuff you brought in. Believe it or not, it’s all gone missing.”
“What?” Cavan’s hand jerked and the coffee scalded his lips.
“Yeah. We know you signed it in and we have a record of what you brought. There’s a logbook entry for a change in shift. I’m reviewing the tapes now. I’ll get back to you.”
Cavan went to check on his mother. She’d fallen asleep in her chair, which was not uncommon for her, but he knew her physical therapist would freak out.
“Mom,” he said, shaking her awake. She opened her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I gotta get out of here, gotta go to work. I made coffee. Can I get you a cup?”
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
“No.” She closed her eyes again. “Wait. How about the news update?”
“What update?”
“Weren’t you talking to your sergeant just now?”
Sheesh. Feigning sleep…
“Yes, why?”
“The next door neighbor who reported the dog abuse case says Luke Masterson wasn’t the man he saw abusing the dog. He’s on TV saying it was Ludo who was beating the dog.”
“Did they find the dog?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s weird. The police say that Masterson put Ludo in restraints in self-defense.”
“What?”
“Yeah…nobody believes him. The talking heads are having a field day.”
“Any news on Ludo?”
She shifted in her chair. “Upgraded to guarded condition, whatever that means.” She gave him a thumbs-up. “The doctors are about to give a press conference. Are you going to visit him?”
He reached down and hugged her. “Yes, I will.”
“Will you be on TV?” She looked excited at the prospect.
He laughed. “No, Mom, sorry.”
“You’re so handsome, you should be on TV.”
He kissed her head again. “I’ll keep my phone on, in case you need me. You want me to pick up some groceries?”
She shook her head. “We have plenty.”
Plenty? He knew Dina would be coming by in a couple of hours. He’d call and ask her to get some staples in. It was weird. He’d made sure they had a fridge full of food the day before.
“Chelsea’s coming at eight,” she said, barely keeping the indignation from her tone. Chelsea was her physical therapist, or as his mother liked to call her, professional bully. “I think it’s really strange, Cavan.”
“What is? Chelsea?”
She shook her head. “This whole case. It makes no sense.”
She was right about that.
§ § § §
Cavan flew through his gym session at LA Fitness, showered, changed and walked into the station house at seven-thirty. He felt vaguely victorious when he snagged the last half cupcake left in a box in the duty kitchen. He greeted his co-workers and made his way to the locker room. Man, the cupcake was awesome. Just as his mouth got all excited about the unusual mix of salty and sweet, he’d finished the measly half.
“Hey, Ben,” he said when he noticed his partner lounging on the wooden bench in front of his open locker.
“Hey.” Ben’s frigid tone surprised him, but then he remembered that Felicity said he was sore that Cavan got so much attention for Ludo’s rescue.
“That was a wild night, wasn’t it?” Cavan asked. “Great teamwork.”
Ben didn’t respond. He stood, folding some papers in his hand, stuffing them into his backpack. He radiated pure venom, a physical force so strong it was almost frightening. He shoved the backpack into his locker, slammed the door shut, flipping the lock closed. He refused to make eye contact with Cavan.
“Everything okay?” Cavan asked.
“How the fuck did you know?”
Cavan stared at him. “Know…what?”
“Come on, Carmichael.” Ben shoved a finger in his face. “How the fuck did you know I tripped in the fucking garden and never went after our suspect last night?”
“I didn’t know.” Cavan frowned at him. “I was in that smelly shed. No windows…remember? How could I have seen you in the garden?”
Ben didn’t listen. Or couldn’t listen. A white rage bubbled to the surface and he screamed. “You get a commendation and I get…a fucking transfer?”
Cavan stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any transfer and I didn’t know you fell. Did you hurt yourself?”
“Oh, blow me.” Ben’s face contorted with anger. “You know what? Fuck you, man. Fucking fuck you.” He opened his locker again, took out his backpack and smacked the door, almost ripping it off its hinges.
“What do you mean you’re getting transferred?”
Ben shouldered the backpack. “Just that, super fuck. You reported me and—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t see you!”
Veo walked into the locker room looking immaculate as always. Cavan stared at him. Was he wearing makeup?
“You still here?” Veo’s voice dripped disdain.
“Apparently.” Ben seemed to calm down a little.
“What’s the problem here?” Veo’s gaze flickered back and forth between them.
“No problem.” Ben looked at the ground, hand on hips. He toed the feet on the locker room bench as if he just didn’t know what to do with himself.
Cavan stared at the cupcake in Veo’s hand. Where was he keeping his stash?
“Sir,” Cavan said, “there is a problem.”
“Fuck,” Ben ground out.
Cavan talked quickly. “He seems to think I reported him tripping when he went after our suspect last night.”
Veo frowned. “Nobody reported you, Ortega. Masterson’s neighbor recorded the whole thing. You got up and instead of going after your guy, your cell phone rang. You got a message and texted back some chick!”
Ben’s face turned bright red. He shook his head as he looked away.
“That isn’t how it happened.”
“Yeah, it is. I subpoenaed your phone records this morning after I saw the footage. We got ’em pretty fast.”
Ben’s head jerked up. “The…er…footage?”
“Yeah. You’re lucky it’s not all over the Internet. You made your partner deal with a life-threatening situation alone so you could sext your girlfriend.”
“I didn’t—”
“You’ve sexted her seventeen hundred times since August. On a California state-issue cell phone. I’ve only read the messages from this week alone but I’d say you’re addicted and controlling.”
Ben didn’t respond. He looked desperate when he said, “I can change. Please give me a second chance. Please don’t make me go to the Rampart Division.”
Veo shrugged. “Too late. It’s out of my hands.” He looked at Cavan. “You and I have an appointment at Cedars-Sinai. The watch commander wants us there for the press conference.” Veo sank his perfect California teeth into his cupcake and walked out of the locker room.
“Shit,” Cavan said. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Ben walked out.
Cavan sat on the bench. The day had barely started and it already sucked. He took a deep breath. He called Dina, who answered on the second ring.
“Cav,” she asked, “how’d she sleep?”
“In her chair.”
“Ah, that explains the grumpiness this morning.”
“She was grumpy with you?”
“Yeah. She wouldn’t let Chelsea in the house. I’m going over there now. Chelsea’s sitting outside in her car. She says she’s scared of Mom.”
Cavan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “She’s scared of her? Geez…sis, I meant to ask if you’ll pick up some groceries. I don’t know how but the house is empty. There was enough cereal and milk for Mom to have breakfast—”
Dina cut him off. “What do you mean, empty? I filled the fridge yesterday.”
“You did? That’s weird. Because I filled it two days ago.”
“What in the world is she doing with all the food?” Dina let out an exasperated sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.” Dina ended the call.
Cavan tried not to stress. He’d had these conversations with his sister before. When he was in Klamath Falls, he was too far away. Now he was here living with Mom it still wasn’t good enough. He had to work. Dina acted as if he lay about the house eating lime creams and not lifting a finger.
He pocketed his phone and buttoned up is shirt. He was wearing a black T-shirt underneath it. City regulations mandated that officers wear a white one during the day and black or midnight blue for night, but he worked a twelve-hour shift and he had no clean white Ts handy. He hoped Veo wouldn’t notice and make a big deal of it. Cavan checked his uniform in the mirror on the opposite wall. Damn. He’d forgotten to take his dirty shirts and Ts to the cleaners. His only other uniform pants were now considered evidence. He had to get a replacement and get the rest of his stuff to the cleaners as soon as he could. Satisfied that his T-shirt was not visible under his shirt, he walked back into the main floor. He found Veo chatting up Felicity as she tacked a new poster to the wall by the entrance. Driving Buzzed is Driving Drunk. The guy in the photo was hot. Cavan felt the faint stirrings of…
Geez…I need to get laid. I’m fantasizing about poster boys.
Felicity fumbled a tack. It fell. She dropped and picked it up. She batted her eyelids as she looked over her shoulder to continue her conversation with Veo. Her lips moved into a smile. Cavan had never seen her smile.
He took it all in. Man…could whip-smart Felicity be falling for uber-buffoon Veo?
“Ready?” Veo asked him, a snap to his tone.
Felicity’s eyes sparkled as she winked at Veo. She must have noticed Cavan’s gaze because she bestowed a wink on him, too.
The two men walked out of the station.
“What are we supposed to be doing at this press conference?” Cavan asked as they walked outside. The street was calm, thank God. Butler Avenue was not the kind of place you would imagine housing a police station. Leafy, residential and surrounded by a prominence of condos, Cavan understood why Ben had described it as “condo city.”
Ben.
Cavan felt awful about the way things had ended between them. On the other hand, knowing that his partner had been texting instead of chasing down Masterson galled him. The sun shone…crazy warm again. Veo stood in his well-polished shoes with the kind of stance a king might take as he surveyed his domain.
“It’s just a meet and greet, job well done type of thing. We are not addressing the criminal aspects of the case at all. That comes later.”
Man, Veo’s white teeth were blinding.
“I don’t have to speak, do I?”
Veo’s head whipped around to him like Robo Cop. “You don’t want to speak?”
“Hell, no. It’s embarrassing enough that my partner hates me and that tape got leaked to the media.”
Veo flushed slightly. His cell phone rang and he took the call.
“Understood,” he said. He ended the call. “Well, Carmichael, I’m happy to represent. Chief Charlie Beck and the mayor will be there. I can speak for you. For the whole department. You just need to stand there and look handsome.” He chucked his fingers under Cavan’s chin.
They drove in one of the bomb squad’s SUVs, the driver congratulating him on the previous night’s case. Cavan wondered why they needed to be chauffeured by a unit that must have better things to do, but he kept his mouth shut and didn’t ask questions.
“Thanks.” Cavan felt nervous. He wanted to see Ludo. He didn’t give a shit about press conferences, but he dutifully trotted into the hospital’s conference room. It was packed to the rafters with media types. Cavan joined Police Chief Beck and a row of other officers he’d never met before on the dais, as Dr. Samada and another man in a white coat began speaking.
Before they got a chance to talk, the city mayor, Eric Garcetti, snatched the mic and began talking. Cavan knew all about the mayor and the running gag that he went wherever the cameras went. Cavan listened as the mayor and several other people took credit for busting open the case of the chained-up man.
Funny…I don’t remember any of them being there last night when I found Ludo.
Chief Beck praised Cavan. The doctors praised him and reported that Ludo was doing unusually well, responding to treatment.
“I’ve never seen a savage attack, but we are confident he will recover fully,” Samada said.
Veo longed to jump into the fray, Cavan could tell. A couple of reporters asked Cavan questions, but the mayor, who apparently now thought he was a cop, answered everything. Veo began to glower.
The press conference became less formal once the mayor disappeared and the news crews went off in search of other stories.
“Gotta take a leak,” Cavan whispered to Veo, who nodded, seizing the opportunity to share his wisdom with a radio crew from NPR.
Cavan wormed his way out of the conference room and onto the first floor wards. He approached a desk nurse and asked about Ludo. She pointed him through a set of glass doors.
He found his way to yet another nurse’s station. The nurse was a little unhelpful until Cavan said that Dr. Samada had indicated that Ludo wanted to see him.
“Just a minute.” She walked off on squeaky, crepe-soled shoes. He stared at them. They were odd shoes with the higher part at the top of the foot instead of the heel. He wondered if they were comfortable.
She quickly returned. “He wants to see you,” she said, a warm smile spreading across her face.
He followed her to a darkened room, curtains drawn against the sun. Ludo lay back against a mountain of pillows, his hands and feet bandaged. He lay on top of the covers, scratches and welts visible. Somebody had washed his hair. It looked curlier and cleaner. He didn’t smell anymore.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, and left them alone.
“Thank you,” Ludo said, his gaze on Cavan’s face. He had a TV remote by his side and he switched off the unit as he spoke.
“You look so much better.” Cavan found himself feeling very emotional. “I am so glad you’re going to be okay.”
“Thanks to you.” Ludo’s voice cracked. His head turned slightly. “You didn’t say anything at the press conference.”
Cavan shook his head. “Not my kind of thing. I wanted to come and see you. I came last night but you were in recovery.”
Ludo’s head turned a little more, his chin jutting toward the chest of drawers to his right. “I’ve got all kinds of IVs in my hands…it makes it…hard. Can you hand me that cup of crushed ice, please? They won’t give me liquids yet, but I am so thirsty.”
Cavan held the plastic cup to Ludo’s face. For the first time, he realized how handsome the man was. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he crunched the ice chips.
“Better?”
Ludo nodded and took some more chips.
“You have a strong will to survive,” Cavan said. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not as much as I was. I have a catheter right now. That’s not much fun but the pain in my gut is so much better. I’m really hungry. They’re promising me soup tonight, but what I really want is shrimp.”
“Shrimp?” Cavan was shocked by their entire conversation. Ludo seemed so…alive. He seemed robust and…he wanted shrimp?
“I love shrimp. I prefer langostino…” His face took on a dreamy look.
Cavan laughed. “If they let me, I’ll bring you some.”
Ludo smiled. It was a strange, but oddly beautiful smile, as if his face wasn’t used to it.
“Where are you from?” Cavan asked.
Ludo’s dreamy expression vanished. Wariness replaced it.
“Argentina,” he said, as if the admission cost him.
Ludo’s eyes closed. They said nothing for a moment. The nurse returned.
“He needs rest,” she whispered.
“Okay.” Cavan nodded.
“Bring me shrimp next time, okay?” Ludo’s dark eyes opened and seemed to hold Cavan to a promise.
“I’ll do that.”
They smiled at each other. Cavan longed to tell Ludo that it wasn’t he who leaked the footage to the media. He was so grateful Ludo was alive and wanted the man to know that.
“You’re a good man, Officer Cavan.” Ludo closed his eyes again and seemed to fall asleep.
§ § § §
On the ride back to the station, Veo was pissed that so many others had stolen their thunder. “We’re going to stage our own press conference at two o’clock,” Veo said. “I can’t wait.” He pulled out a comb and worked it through his already immaculate hair.
Cavan and the bomb squad driver exchanged smiles.
“You interest me,” he said.
It took Cavan a moment to realize that Veo was talking to him.
“I do?” Cavan was taken aback.
“You come off like…I dunno…kinda goofy, but you have a confidence in you. A quiet confidence. I guess that’s why you think it’s okay to wear a black T-shirt under your uniform.”
“Thanks…I think.”
Back at the station, the driver held the door for Veo. “Got time for a coffee?” he asked Cavan sotto voce as they walked into the station.
Cavan thought he might have misheard the guy, but the quirked brow focused on him told him otherwise.
“Er…sure. I think. Hang on, lemme check.” Cavan was flustered. The guy was handsome but was he gay? He didn’t even know his name.
“I was wondering if I’m supposed to be hitting the streets…or if I can grab a quick coffee?” he asked Felicity, who was dumping family-size plastic bags of candy into plastic jack-o-lanterns.
“You’re off the roster until they find you a new partner.” She clicked through computer records as Cavan mined the candy stash for gold. He found it. A root beer barrel. His favorite.
“I know Sergeant Veo wants you here for the press conference at two-thirty, so you’ve got plenty of time for that coffee, but stay close to the station, yeah?”
“No problem. By the way, where’s the closest cleaners?”
She flicked a glance at him. “I have a guy that comes in and picks up uniforms every day. He can have it back to you tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Ben didn’t tell you?” She looked annoyed. “Probably too busy texting his girlfriend.”
“Sergeant Veo also mentioned that I could get a replacement uniform.”
Her face darkened to a dangerous shade. “I’m being nice, Carmichael, but I ain’t your housekeeper.”
“My uniform’s been checked into evidence and I have nobody else to ask. I’m sorry if I offended you.” He was anxious now. He’d just lost his partner after a single day and now his only friend in the station house was mad at him.
She softened a little. “Give me your measurements. I’ll handle it. And bring me your dirty gear.”
“Thanks.” He rushed to the locker room and returned to find the bomb unit officer waiting for him.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Cavan said, but the cop inclined his head and walked outside.
Once again he found himself standing with an officer surveying Butler Avenue as if he owned it. He remembered Veo’s words and felt a little deflated. Did he really come off as goofy? Goofy wasn’t good, right? Goofy wasn’t sexy.
“Got any place special in mind?” the bomb squad guy asked.
“No. I’m new in town. I’ll let you lead the way.”
The guy nodded. As they walked down the street, he held out his hand. “I’m Mitch Berman.”
“Cavan Carmichael.” They shook hands.
“So what’s it like being on the bomb squad?” Cavan asked.
Mitch looked at him. “I wouldn’t have any idea. Why do you ask?”
“You’re not with the bomb squad?”
“No, where’d you get that idea?”
“There was a similar type vehicle at the crime scene I worked last night. My partner said it was the bomb squad.”
“They do have similar vehicles.” Mitch seemed to be cherry-picking his words. “And I do believe they were there last night. The guy you caught…well…the kidnapper had quite a cache of weapons hidden in the house and in the trunk of his car.”
“He did?” This was news to Cavan.
They crossed Santa Monica Boulevard. Cavan got a good, strong whiff of the other man. Speed Stick and day old laundry. Man, what Cavan wouldn’t give for some hot goddamn fucking. He and Vince might have split up two months ago but they hadn’t had sex for weeks before that. He frowned now, thinking about it. That should have been a giveaway. I should have seen the signs.
Mitch held a screen door open as they entered a cafe called Cacao. As they walked in, Cavan was taken by the kitsch tiki decor, but felt like he and Mitch were the oldest guys in the cafe. The place was filled with kids working on computers and sipping gigantic cups of coffee. The women were all blonde, the guys kind of geeky looking. At the counter, Mitch treated him to a cappuccino. The smell of the coffee reminded Cavan that he was starving.
“I can recommend the muffin tops,” Mitch said, buying a couple of them. “You want a banana?”
“No, thanks.” Cavan would be very happy to never, ever see another banana again.
They retreated to the quietest corner they could find. Cavan was about to sip his cappuccino when Mitch asked, “What pattern did he make for you?”
“Excuse me?”
“What pattern did he make? In your foam? I have a jack-o-lantern. He’s really quite an artist. What did you get?”
Cavan stared at his cup. “A heart shape,” he said, feeling a blush coming on.
“Maybe it’s going to be your lucky day,” Mitch said.
“That would be…nice.”
“You had quite a night.” Mitch sipped at his drink, the jack-o-lantern’s gap-toothed smile becoming distorted when he set his cup down again.
Cavan wrapped his hands around his own cup. He wanted to hold his heart for as long as he could. It was a beautiful heart, a smiling heart. He thought of Ludo all alone in the hospital. Who was he? Did he have family? Was he gay? Straight?
“Cavan?”
He looked up. “Sorry. I keep thinking about him…you know, the man I found.”
“It’s a weird-ass story, isn’t it?”
“What have you heard?” Cavan was curious.
“Probably no more than you’ve heard. The guy who held him hostage has more aliases than a porn star. I heard Veo say they found a load of guns.” He shrugged.
“What do you do for the division if you’re not in the bomb squad?” Cavan asked.
Mitch gave him a twisted sort of smile. “Not much with the crime being down and now that robbery and homicide took over your case, I’m driving that asshole Veo around.”
“But that still doesn’t tell me what you do.”
Mitch seemed hesitant. Cavan wondered what he’d said wrong and focused his mind on coffee instead of questions. He barely had time for a sip when his cell phone rang. He checked the readout.
“Sergeant Veo wants me back at the station,” he said.
“Bummer.” Mitch looked disappointed.
Cavan sipped fast, taking the muffin and coffee to go.
“I’m gonna hang for a while.”
Mitch must have known it wasn’t Cavan’s fault, that work came first, but he felt an invisible door closing between them. He thanked the man for the food and coffee and when he received a lukewarm response, walked out the door. He had the peculiar feeling of ships crossing each other and the faint bonds of attraction that had begun, snapping irretrievably.
He hesitated outside the cafe. Did he dare go back inside and ask for a date? He turned around, retraced his steps, surprised at how nervous he felt.
Mitch was on his cell phone texting. He looked up, but the expression on his face wasn’t welcoming.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I just thought…I wondered…I—”
Mitch’s cell phone rang. “Gotta take this.” He got up and walked to the back of the cafe.
What the fuck?
Cavan felt slapped. It was stupid, he knew it. He hardly knew the guy, but losing Vince had shorn him of all his confidence. He walked outside again, L’il Wayne coming over the sound system telling him How to Love.