Chapter Ten
Rory
Standing at the foot of the bed, Rory watched Shannon intently while waiting for Gonzales and Rand to arrive at the apartment. Even in sleep his muscles twitched, his long lashes still damp from the tears. He’d drifted off on the ride home, thankfully, and barely opened his eyes as Rory guided him up the stairs and straight to the bed. Sighing, Rory wracked his brain, pulling up every detail of the afternoon, zooming through every image of Shannon’s time in his office. It was the file on the Washington case that had his lover reacting like a soldier with PTSD that had just seen images of whatever war-torn country they’d fought in, bringing visions of the past forward so vividly that the person couldn’t differentiate between memories and reality. But why that case? He knew Shannon was from Washington. Could he have known one of the young men that had gone missing or turned up dead?
A ding from his pocket snapped Rory out of his trance, and he pulled out his phone. It was a text from Gonzales telling him that she and Rand were on their way up. Walking around to the side of the bed, he tucked the blanket under Shannon’s arms, wiping a strand of hair off his forehead. “Sleep, my love.” Flipping the lamp off on his way out, Rory quietly closed the door and crossed the large open space to the area Shannon had set up as a living room.
The apartment above the dance studio Shannon owned was laid out similar to a flat, with exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and hardwood floors. Only two rooms were closed off—the bedroom and the bathroom; everything else was pretty much wide-open space. There were two false walls that anchored the living room area and partially separated it from the kitchen, the door to the stairs conveniently between the two rooms. Rory turned the lock and opened the door just as Gonzales came up the steps carrying a box that was likely full of cartons from their favorite Thai restaurant on the corner. Rand was right behind her with a six-pack of craft beer in each hand, concerned expressions on both their faces.
“Shan’s sleeping, so keep your voices down.” He waved them into the apartment, closing and locking the door. “I say we talk while we eat and he’s still resting.” They followed him into the kitchen.
“Is he okay?” Rand asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, Rory sighed, grabbing plates and silverware, setting them on the table. “You guys okay drinking the beer from the bottle? Shan has some glass mugs in the freezer if you’d rather.”
Gonzales snorted, picking up a bottle from the cardboard container, twisting the cap and flicking it at the trash can in the corner before downing half the bottle in one swig. “Classy, Connie, real classy.” He tried to joke, but his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was in the bedroom on the other end of the apartment, sleeping. Rory froze, his own beer mere inches from his lips. The realization that he’d fallen in love with Shannon hit him like a ton of bricks. For one fleeting moment, he considered how Rand would react when he learned that Rory was in love with Shannon. And fuck it all, he was too exhausted to dissect that train of thought.
“Earth to Rory.” Connie snapped her fingers, waving her hand in front of his face. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, partner?”
“Just thinking about earlier,” he lied.
“Yeah, that was some surreal shit. There was this look of sheer terror in his eyes, and, well, honestly…” Rand took a second to swallow the mouthful of pad thai he’d been talking around. “…it reminded me of some of the soldiers I worked with when they were stuck in a flashback.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking—PTSD,” Rory agreed, trying hard not to stare at the detective’s lips when he licked a dollop of sauce from the corner of his mouth.
Rifling through her messenger bag, Connie pulled out the files on the Columbia River Killer, setting them on the table. “Something in here spooked him. This is the image I pried out of his hand before we left the office.” She set the photo of one of the young men listed as a missing person on top of the file. He studied the picture for a long moment, expecting Rand to put his two cents in. When he looked over, Rand wasn’t even paying attention. Turned sideways in his chair, strumming his fingers on the table absentmindedly, Rand Davis was staring at the closed bedroom door.
Rory cleared his throat and Rand jumped, head jerking around. “Something I can help you with, Detective?”
“No, I just…are you sure he’s okay?” There was genuine concern not only in the big, brooding man’s voice, but Rory could see the unease in the depths of Rand’s eyes. “Are you okay, Landers?”
Blinking, Rory nodded, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension. “Yeah, just worried about Shan. Let’s put our heads together and…” A picture on the refrigerator caught his eye and he stood, walking over and sliding the photo out from under the magnet, turning and setting the photograph on the table beside the one Connie had removed from the file. It was a depiction of Shannon and Taylor, probably three or four years ago, taken in front of the clock tower on campus in Austin. Shannon still had a boyish look to him back then, very much like each and every one of the images tucked away in the file sitting on the table in front of Connie.
She set the photo of the missing person on top of the picture from the fridge, covering Taylor. The stranger and Shannon, now side-by-side, could easily be mistaken for brothers. Connie gasped, “Ay, dios mío.”
“Holy shit,” Rand agreed.
“Didn’t you tell me that Shannon was from Washington, partner?” Connie looked up at him, eyes questioning.
All he could do was nod; no words would come. Was this why Shannon always clammed up or quickly changed the subject any time Rory tried to talk to him about his past? Was the young man that so resembled him a relative? There had always been a part of himself that Shannon kept locked away, hidden. A distant longing mixed with regret and pain in his blue eyes when Rory would try to dig deeper, learn more. When he and Shannon had first started dating, Taylor had questioned Rory, asking what his intentions were, saying that Shannon’s life had been difficult until he’d moved to Texas and giving Rory the “I’ll kick your ass if you hurt him!” spiel. What in the hell had his lover been mixed up in?
Rand grabbed the two images, holding them side-by-side. “Son of a bitch, they’re damn near twins. I can’t believe we missed this.” Rand’s hand brushed his when he reached for the pictures, and Rory suppressed his reaction to the man’s touch, feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. The man he loved was in the other room wracked with grief; what the fuck was wrong with him?
“Babe, what’s going on?” All three of them jumped. Shannon was halfway across the room, coming toward them, the blanket Rory had tucked under his arms draped over his shoulders.
Connie snatched the pictures from Rand, shoving them into the file and dragging a takeout box over to cover it up. “Hey, you feeling better, sweetie?” she asked.
“Not really.” Shannon shook his head.
Rory went around the table and pulled Shannon close as soon as he was in arm’s reach. He couldn’t say how long they stood there holding on to one another, each drawing strength from the other. The sound of a throat clearing pulled them apart, but Rory’s focus was still on the man in front of him. “What are you hiding from us, Shan?” Eyes darting from Rory to the kitchen and back to him, Shannon opened his mouth, but no words came out. Reaching up, he wiped a tear away with his thumb, cupping Shannon’s face in his hands. “Baby, please, talk to me. There is nothing you can say that will change the way I feel about you. I love you, Shan, and you’re safe with me, I promise.” He hadn’t meant to make such a declaration now, with Connie and Rand standing behind him. Was he putting his emotions into words, or trying to drown his reaction moments ago? No, he truly loved this man; saying it out loud felt right.
Sniffling, Shannon gave him a watery smile. “Really?” Chuckling, Rory nodded. Shannon leaned into him, their foreheads touching and whispered, “I love you too,” before kissing him softly, just a press of lips to his. When he pulled back and looked up into Shannon’s eyes the naked, raw clarity he saw damn near floored him. A myriad of emotions swam in the blue pools: love, devotion, trust, and awe. There was still a glimmer of uncertainty floating just beneath the surface though, a sliver of fear breaking the waves. When Shannon dropped his arms and moved past him, Rory fought the urge to grab him and drag him into the bedroom. Protective instincts kicking in, he wanted to close the door on the world, lock it, and throw away the key. Whatever pain consumed his lover’s past ran deep, bubbling under the skin, festering like a wound that never completely healed—instead leaving a jagged, ugly scar as a permanent reminder of a time Shannon likely wanted to forget but was never quite able to bury.
“I have to tell you about my life, my past in Washington. Why I left and…it’s hard for me to think about it, much less talk about it. But if my story can help you guys figure out what’s going on there with all the missing teenagers, well, I don’t have a choice but to do what I can to try and stop this from happening to anyone else.” It would seem now that Shannon had decided to open up he couldn’t stop talking, his words coming out in a rush without pause and with little hesitation.
“Tell me, Shannon.” Rand’s voice moved closer to them until he was right behind Rory. “Why do you think whatever it is you’re going to tell us has something to do with the disappearances and deaths in Washington and Oregon?” Thankfully, Rand used the words “disappearances” and “deaths” instead of “missing persons” and “murdered.” Still, Rory saw the impact those two little words inflicted on his lover’s face when he grimaced. There was something else, something more in Shannon’s eyes—in the way they darted up, focusing on the person behind him, on Rand. It was barely perceptible…there in one instant, gone in the next, baby blues staring back at Rory lovingly.
Shannon sucked in a deep breath, slowly releasing each molecule of oxygen before he answered Rand’s question. Knowing what Shannon was going to say and actually hearing him say the words were two entirely different things, so when he did, Rory had to lock his legs in order to remain upright, the blow like a punch to the gut. “Because it could have been me.”