Ethan looked pleadingly at Raymond Knott. He was known for his sympathy to gay couples, mostly because he was openly gay himself. It’s why Ethan had picked him. He assumed he would be more inclined to work the case because it was a hate crime being committed. He wasn’t sure what to make of him when he first walked in. His credentials were all there, certainly, but he couldn’t decide if the man was just composed or languid.

Ethan knew he was panicking. He had been since Derrick had given him the ultimatum last night. He was in a state of pure dread, and he hadn’t slept all night. He just needed a yes or a no right here and now. He had been on the phone with the yellow pages in hand, not something he thought he would thumb through in his life ever again. He hadn’t even known they were still in print. He’d tried every P.I. service near the Estates, and no one was able to take his case in time. He Googled services on his phone and tried those, too, but no luck. Everyone was booked or busy and didn’t have time for his case.

Derrick had left for his clinic without so much as a “hello” or “have a good day” that morning, and it stung as if he had slapped Ethan across the face. He had never been kicked out of their bedroom before, and the bed in the guest room had felt foreign, the mattress lumpy. Maybe because it didn’t have the right dips in it as when Derrick was snuggled into his arms.

Ethan knew that Detective Knott was his last hope. He’d gone to work that morning at the firm and spoken with Arnie at the espresso machine. Ethan smiled, remembering the first time he had met Arnie. He was a cool guy. He felt close to him as they had both been in the accounting department at the firm for five years now.

Arnie had asked him straight up what was wrong this morning, and Ethan told him about his fight with Derrick. He figured if anyone understood, it would be Arnie, because he was bisexual himself. Arnie patted his arm and told him kindly to give him until the coffee run later that morning, and he would see what he could do to help. He’d given him a number, which had led him to a guy at a check cashing office in a corner store downtown who had given him the number of a man named Ralph Emerson, who raved about Detective Raymond Knott over the noise of needy children for at least ten minutes. Ralph couldn’t give him enough positive feedback.

After that call, Ethan looked up the investigation service, which only had three likes on Facebook. Not a good sign, but with Ralph’s stellar review, he figured he had to chance it, because he was running out of options. He had taken the rest of the day off, driven downtown to the outskirts of the Vietnamese neighborhood, and walked in the door.

Detective Knott had a firm grip with calloused hands, making Ethan wonder if he had worked a trade job before he had become a P.I., or if he had any hobbies that might have roughed up his hands. It was, in a way, strangely comforting. Like it signaled that he was a hard worker, despite Ethan knowing it could just mean he had poor skin and hair care practices. He shook Misha’s hand, Ms. Crawly, as the placard on her desk indicated. It was hidden under a mountain of paperwork, which was listing dangerously towards the left side of the desk. For her sake, he hoped she caught it before it finally gave out because, judging by the thickness of some of the files, she would be reorganizing and filing for a long time if that happened. He shook his head. God, he was tired. But he had to focus on Detective Knott right now, not paperwork. He was sure Misha was able to do her job just fine without his compulsive need to put her desk to rights and judge her.

He followed Detective Knott into his office and sat in a chair opposite the desk. He noticed the Detective’s workspace was vastly more organized, which gave him a momentary respite from the unease he had felt when he first walked in. He didn’t want to hire someone who was going to scam him out of his money, not look into his case at all, and just string him along until it was too late. He didn’t get that feeling as he observed Detective Knott, though. He was old school, as he took out a notebook and a pen and wrote a date at the top of the page. When he paused, he looked up, and Ethan noticed the intensity and sharp clarity in his blue eyes.

“How about you start from the beginning, Mr.?”

“Reynolds, Ethan Reynolds,” he supplied. Detective Knott made a note on his pad. “My fiancé’s name is Derrick Marlow,” he said, and again, the detective made a note.

“Would you like some coffee, Mr. Reynolds?” Misha asked him.

“Yes, please, Ms. Crawly,” he answered. He had been sucking down coffee today like it was fuel for a gas guzzling Hummer.

“Please, we’re informal around here. At least I am. It’s just Misha or Mish,” she told him. She patted his shoulder, a gesture that seemed overly intimate, but as he watched her turn to leave, the look on her face was one of sympathy and then fixed determination. He got the sense that the pair, although unlikely, worked because she had a penchant for looking after people and soothing them, as much as her disarray probably bugged the detective.

He turned his attention back to Detective Knott when he asked, “How long ago was it that you had the barbecue?”

“Um, three weeks. We moved in the week prior, and then that weekend, we held the barbecue to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.”

“And when did the first incident occur?”

“That night. It was a brick, like every other time, and it had a note on it that was secured with an elastic band.”

“How many other times after that?”

“Twice, and then again last night.”

Detective Knott was scribbling furiously. “What made last night different?” he finally asked, as he caught up with his note taking.

“Last night, the person hit the dog, Sunshine, when they threw the brick. It cut her side and Derrick went crazy. He gave me the ultimatum that he would leave if the person wasn’t caught. The wedding is in two weeks, and we just moved in. We can’t leave. We just can’t!” He sat on the edge of his seat. He was getting anxious. He hated having to sit here, when they could be out looking for clues to find who was harassing them.

“Alright, calm down. The more I know about what has been going on, the better chance I have of finding whoever did it,” Detective Knott reassured him.

Misha brought back a tray with coffee, sugar, and creamer, and he reached over to the desk to fix his cup. His hands shook when he tried to pour the creamer, so she took it from him without a word and poured until he nodded that it was enough. The cup clinked against the saucer as his hand continued to shake. The first sip burned in his throat, yet seemed to calm him down.

He noticed Detective Knott discarded the saucer immediately and just set the cup down to the left of his note pad where he could reach it easily with his free hand. For a man whose office was so pristine, it was strange to see him so nonchalant with something that could potentially disrupt the flow of said office. It suggested to Ethan that the detective was a calculating man who was sure of himself and knew when it was appropriate to take risks. It made Ethan feel better. Ethan was accustomed to reading people. It was his job to persuade them to make choices regarding their money. People were very guarded when it came to finances, so he had to learn to read them pretty easily. The qualities he saw in Detective Knott only further reassured him that he had come to the right place.

“I’m sorry, Detective. It’s just, you don’t understand. Derrick is a veterinarian. He is very attached to Sunshine. She’s his baby. He loves animals and can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to them. That and Derrick is…well, he’s…” Ethan searched for a word that would be accurate but not offensive.

“I take it he is easily intimidated by hate crimes?” Detective Knott asked gently.

Ethan looked around. Misha had gone back to her office, so he lowered his voice, as if what he was about to say could only be said between them. “Derrick used to be bullied a lot for being gay. I would stick up for him when we were kids, but he’s always been jumpy when it comes to stuff like this. It’s the kind of thing you think that, as an adult, you’ve grown out of. People will just leave you alone. But he’s extra sensitive when he sees it or hears about it. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I understand,” Detective Knott said seriously.

And Ethan realized, as he looked in his eyes, the detective understood with perfect clarity what he meant. He was agreeing that Derrick was the more submissive of the two, that he had been traumatized as a kid and didn’t handle the abuse and harassment well or at all. Detective Knott realized Derrick would run before he would face it head on. Ethan knew this, which was why he was here, to protect Derrick before it came to that, just as he had when they were kids.

“It’s worse because it is happening to him. He didn’t think it would in such a swanky neighborhood. Neither did I,” Ethan confessed. He had worked hard to get them to where they were financially, so they could afford it. It was supposed to be a safe, pleasant neighborhood, but everything he had hoped and dreamed was being shattered by the torment.

“I can imagine. Before we go further, I am sorry this is happening to you,” Knott said.

Ethan nodded, afraid to speak. He would never admit to Derrick that he was terrified himself. The last note had been brutal, what it had said. It made him sick to his stomach to think someone would do the things that were written on it, but there were some sick and twisted people in this world. The previous notes had only threatened them, telling them to leave or else. This one had outlined all of the horrible things that would be done to them if they didn’t go.

As if reading his thoughts, Detective Knott said, “Do you have the notes and bricks with you?”

“Ah, I didn’t think to bring those,” he said. Why hadn’t he thought to bring them? That was stupid. Of course the P.I. was going to want to see them. “I can go get them if you like,” he offered, half rising from his chair.

“No, that’s alright. I can pick them up later. I will want to come to the house, with your permission, and look around, if that’s all right?”

“Yes, of course,” he answered. He had expected this. “It’s just, Derrick thinks I threw the bricks and notes away. He didn’t want them in the house. I put last night’s in a box in the garage because he never goes out there. I told him I threw the other ones away when the police looked at them after the initial investigations,” he admitted. He had kept them in the box as well, for reasons unknown to himself at the time. Now he felt like he had subconsciously thought the investigations might come to this if the police wouldn’t help them.

Detective Knott didn’t say anything for a moment, and Ethan felt himself flush. It wasn’t like he and Derrick had relationship issues, but he could see where the deceit might make the detective wonder.

“Look, it’s not what you think. I don’t lie to Derrick all the time. The police couldn’t help, so I just thought it was best to hold onto them until something could be done. You know, like if they were ever needed for evidence again.”

“I see.” Knott made a small note on his pad, which made Ethan feel inferior under the detective’s hawklike gaze. He knew he was going to have to come clean with Derrick about it when the detective turned up at the house to look around. He wasn’t looking forward to that confrontation, since he and Derrick were already at odds with one another.

“I’ll still want to see them but tell me what was written on them, please.”

Ethan told him the exact, word-for-word threat inscribed on each note. When he got to the last one, he stumbled a bit on some of the vulgarity, but the detective never wavered in his note taking and wrote page after page about each person that Ethan could recall who had attended their party. He even asked about the glass company who kept coming out to fit the new window into place. Ethan spent the better part of the afternoon with the detective, going over almost every aspect of his life and Derrick’s for the last three weeks and the couple before they made the move. He even outlined the details of their wedding, which was set to take place in the chapel that was part of the Highland Estates community. It was large and opulent, like the community itself, and he knew how Derrick loved bright, colorful, flashy things, so he had given him free rein to go nuts and do as he saw fit. Ethan had always figured if he could get through the pizazz of the wedding, he could spend the rest of his life enjoying the marriage, so he wasn’t bothered either way.

He found himself smiling as he told Detective Knott about Derrick’s insistence on multicolored center pieces at every table for the reception and how, when the florist had shown him tasteful, simple, white arrangements instead, he had pouted and grown sulky until Ethan went to the florist and demanded they either provide what Derrick and he had paid for or give them a refund, and they would take their business elsewhere. Derrick had been a brat that day, a complete bridezilla, as Ethan had called him. But he had a right to be upset, as it wasn’t what he had ordered. He fondly remembered that night, when he had marched Derrick into the bedroom, given him a few swats on the ass for being so childish, and then proceeded to wrestle him around the bedroom to the yipping of that damn dog until he kicked Sunshine out and pinned Derrick to the bed, who went laughing and submitting while Ethan had his way with him. It had been a good night and Derrick had ended up in a better mood, as Ethan knew he would by the time he was done with him.

“Something amusing?” the detective asked, snapping him out of his memory.

“Ah, Derrick can be…difficult to deal with if he is in a bad mood. That’s the best way I can describe it,” Ethan told him. He saw the corners of the detective’s lips quirk and wondered if he should be worried, but he shook the thought from his mind. He was thirty-five and Derrick twenty-nine. Derrick liked to tease him about being old, and judging by the “You’re forty-five!” birthday card on his desk, the detective wasn’t Derrick’s ideal type, even if he thought Derrick was looking elsewhere, which Ethan was positive he wasn’t. He was just scared.

“Fair enough. I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else you can think of? Anything strange or weird happen at the barbecue, or did anyone say anything off-putting?” Knott asked.

“Umm, no, not that I can think of. Wait, the Waldons seemed really nervous but maybe that was just because they were meeting new people? I know that seems silly but…”

“No, every little detail helps. I will follow up with them. What time is best for you to have me stop by this evening?” Detective Knott asked.

“Probably after six, if that isn’t too late. Derrick closes the office at five and it takes him about half an hour to get home. I’ve got the rest of the day off, so I’m going to hit the gym to relieve some stress and then head home. Unless there’s something else you would like me to be doing?”

“No, that’s fine. I think it best you have a clear head. It sounds like the perp is escalating, so we need to be focused and move quickly. I’m going to follow up at the police station and look into the initial investigations, and I’ll see you tonight.” Detective Knott stood, so Ethan rose and stuck out his hand.

“Thank you for taking the case. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you working on it so quickly. I can’t…I can’t lose him,” he said softly.

Detective Knott shook his hand and nodded. “We’ll see if we can’t wrap this up quickly. I know you and your fiancé just want some peace and to be able to move on with your lives.”

Ethan nodded and grabbed his coat. “There’s paperwork to be done, correct?”

“Yes, go ahead and stop by Misha’s desk. She’ll have the forms ready for you, and you can fill them out at your convenience and give them to me tonight.”

Derrick nodded again and walked out the door. He stopped at Misha’s desk and picked up the packet of papers.

“You’re in good hands.” She looked at him steadily. She had intense dark eyes, and he felt something loosen in his chest as he realized she was the kind of person to work ‘round the clock to make the client feel safe again.

He thanked her and left for the gym. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he felt like he might actually get to have it all, the love of his life and the home of his dreams. That is, if Detective Knott and his assistant solved the case.