“Sal West bought and sold antiques with a blackmail business on the side. He takes nude photos of Rose Daugherty without her permission and threatens to go public with them unless she pays him. Daugherty confides in her neighbor Alex Hardwick, who provides the cash in order to identify the blackmailer, then steals the photos. West reports a break-in but can’t admit what was actually taken without confessing his own crime. He confronts Hardwick instead and things go badly. So he kills him and buries him under your gazebo.”
Agent Joon took a deep breath and held up her hand when Cooper tried to speak. “I’m not done. Twenty-five years later, Hardwick’s skeleton is dug up and, afraid that his crimes would come to light, West confesses to his murder in a suicide note and slits his own wrists. Now tell me, is that right so far?”
Cooper leaned back in his chair and pressed his thumbs into his aching eyes, trying to get at the pounding headache behind them. They’d been in West’s living room for hours while the techs processed the scene upstairs. Beside him, Park was sitting on the edge of his seat, head in his hands, and tapping his foot manically. It wasn’t helping the headache or the interrogation.
“Yes. That’s my interpretation of things.”
“Is it your interpretation?” Primelles said from his position leaning against the wall behind a seated Joon. “Or is it the truth, Mr. Dayton?”
“I can only tell you what I think. I don’t know anything.”
“Clearly.”
Joon held up her hand again, this time to silence her partner. “Let’s, for argument’s sake, say we believe you. Let’s say that West was a blackmailer. It isn’t incongruous with what we know about the man. Then let’s say that he was blackmailing the Daugherty girl with nude photos. Not exactly blackmail material, being naked, but I can accept it. We all do crazy things to avoid being embarrassed. Then you say instead of going to the police, Daugherty asks a neighbor for help. Now this one’s a little harder for me to wrap my little head around. By your own accord they had no relationship prior to this, so why Hardwick?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because Cooper didn’t have one. At least not one he could share with the unaware FBI. “But okay, I can accept that, too. Teenagers do crazy things. Hardwick then takes out thousands of dollars for a girl he barely knows, which neatly explains those pesky little cash withdrawals, robs West, and then holds on to the camera that Mrs. Hardwick remembers and tells you about twenty-five years later. Now, even if that’s right, it still doesn’t explain why you two broke into Mr. West’s house this evening and just happened to discover his body.”
“We were here to ask Mr. West some questions,” Cooper repeated for the hundredth time.
“And when a seventy-two-year-old man didn’t immediately answer his door at nine o’clock at night, you broke it down? Remind me, who is it that decided that?”
Park picked his head up from his hands, though his leg didn’t stop jumping. “That was me. I had reason to believe Mr. West was in distress.”
Joon’s face puckered in disbelief. “And what was it that gave you that impression?”
Park shook his head. “Have you called my supervisor yet? Margaret Cola.”
“Mr. Park, you don’t seem to understand the situation you’re in. You’re not in the position to be demanding we do anything. Unless this Cola woman is the one who forced you to break and enter a man’s home this evening, I really don’t see what she has to do with you answering my question.”
Park crossed his arms and closed his eyes.
“Are we boring you, Mr. Park?” Primelles asked.
Park bit his lip and didn’t answer.
“What does why we’re here have to do with anything?” Cooper said. “If you want to charge us with B and E, fine, go ahead. It wouldn’t stand up a minute in court. And it won’t change the fact that West killed himself or that there’s a suicide note upstairs confessing to Hardwick’s murder. If you have another theory as to why that happened, I would love to hear it, but it’s not our job to come up with a satisfying motive for you.”
“No, that’s true,” Joon said thoughtfully. “And I’d agree with you totally...if West had killed himself. But he didn’t.”
Cooper stared. Beside him even Park’s leg stopped twitching for a moment before starting up again, worse than before. “What are you talking about? I saw the body. I saw the note.”
“Our ME has yet to give an official statement, but Sal West sustained blunt force trauma to the back of the skull minutes before his death. The wound didn’t have time to coagulate and would likely have made West lose consciousness.”
“So, he slipped and fell in the bathtub.”
“How many suicides have you seen where the person slits their wrists while standing up? There was also no evidence of his skull hitting the bathtub. We did, however, find blood in the kitchen.” Joon was watching Cooper critically. Analyzing his reaction, surely. “West was murdered and his suicide staged. Sloppily, at that.”
Cooper swallowed, his throat so dry it caught and clicked. “Why would anyone do that?” he asked roughly.
“Well, we can assume it’s the same person who wrote that note. In other words, someone who wanted very much for us to think West killed Hardwick and to stop our investigation.”
“Hardwick’s murderer,” Cooper breathed.
“That’s certainly a possibility,” Joon said, nodding slowly. “Another possibility is it’s someone who cares about Hardwick’s killer. Someone who knew we were getting closer to making an arrest and tried to throw us off the trail.”
Cooper stared at each of the agents, searching their faces for signs of humor. Really, really bad humor, but still, anything but what they were suggesting. He saw nothing. “You’re insane. You’re both insane. I did not kill West.”
“But someone did. And neither of you can provide us with a logical explanation as to why you were found inside West’s house or why you, Mr. Park, were covered in the victim’s blood.”
“You didn’t find us here,” Cooper said, exasperated. “We called you.”
“Maybe killing him was harder than you thought. Messier, too.” Joon looked at Park. “Once you realized you were covered in evidence, it would be safer to phone it in yourself and pretend you got the blood on you while checking West’s pulse.”
“Why the hell would Park kill him?” Cooper shouted. “He doesn’t even know the guy. And he obviously didn’t know Hardwick.”
“We’ve been watching you, you know. Both of you,” Primelles said. “You’re very protective of Mr. Dayton, aren’t you? So when you thought your lover’s father was going to go down for murder, you decided to take matters into your own hands.”
Cooper’s breath stopped. How did they...?
Park laughed harshly. “I forget, for which anniversary do you give blood of thine enemy? Five years or ten?”
“You think this is funny?”
Park stood, and both Primelles and Joon flinched slightly. He looked...bad. His expression was cold with a steady undercurrent of contempt, but whatever flash of illness that had come over him at the party seemed to be back in full force. He was ashy gray, sweating, and trembling. His impatience was also at a near unrecognizable high. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Mr. Park, you need to stay seated,” Agent Joon said, calmly.
“No,” he snapped. “What I need is some air. Unless I’m under arrest, you can’t keep me here anymore. I didn’t kill West.”
“No, you just broke into his house because you ‘got a feeling he was in distress.’ How would you know that? Unless you’re saying you’re the one who caused his distress. How long were you alone in the house for?”
“I’m done talking to you.” Even Park’s voice was shaking now. “I need to get out of here.”
“Guilty conscience? Or are you overdue for a fix?”
“I can’t breathe in here. The smell...” Park bent over suddenly and put his hands on his knees, panting heavily.
Cooper jumped up and went to him. “He’s been sick. Please, can we just go outside? Just for a minute?”
“He’s not sick. At least not the kind of sick you’re talking about,” Primelles said. “He’s going through withdrawal. Look at him, it’s obvious.”
“He doesn’t even use,” Cooper hissed. “Park? Are you listening?”
Park’s body was shaking so hard now his teeth were clattering together. Cooper touched his shoulder. “Oliver?”
“Fine,” he gritted out. “Just need a moment.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“We’re not done here!” Primelles said.
“Yes, we are. He needs a doctor.”
Park gripped Cooper’s arm hard. “No doctors.” He looked him in the eye. “It’s just a dizzy spell. I’m okay.”
“Fine. But we are getting out of here.”
Cooper started to gently tug Park toward the door when Primelles got in their faces. He knew what the agent was going to do the moment he saw him, the dislike and scheming determination in his eyes, but there wasn’t time to warn Park.
The agent’s hand shot forward as if to seize Cooper’s shirtfront, and Park stopped him midway, grabbing his wrist before Primelles could touch Cooper. Park let go almost immediately, but it was too late. He’d stepped, or grabbed, right into the agent’s trap.
Primelles’s face practically glowed with self-satisfaction. “Oliver Park, you’re under arrest for assaulting a federal agent.” He cuffed Park’s arms behind his back. “Maybe an overnight visit will help you remember what you were really doing in here tonight. A little incentive to, how did your boyfriend put it? Come up with a satisfying motive for us?”
“You baited him,” Cooper snapped, so angry he was borderline breathless. “I’m not going to let you do this.”
“Do you want to get charged as well?”
“Cooper, don’t.” Park still looked ill, but his face was almost eerily calm now, his eyes nearly closed, like he was falling asleep on his feet. “I’ll be fine. Call Santiago. Tell her everything.” He stumbled when Primelles pulled him out of the room.
Joon started to follow, and Cooper stopped her. “You just made a huge mistake.”
“Perhaps.” She looked at him, contemplative. “Or perhaps it’s time for the BSI to realize they’re not above the law.”
* * *
Cooper had gone through some pretty bad phone conversations with SAC Santiago before, but this one was up there. Fortunately she heard him out without comment as he explained everything that had happened over the last few days, from discovering Hardwick and running their own unofficial investigation to discovering West after Park had smelled blood from outside the house and his subsequent arrest.
He only left out Primelles’s insinuation that Park and Cooper were lovers. Maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe this was the time to come clean, but it felt wrong making that decision by himself for the both of them.
“All right, let me make some calls,” Santiago said briskly when he was done. “It’s too late to put anyone on it tonight, but if what you’re saying is true and they’re just trying to rattle Park with a bogus charge, they won’t hold him past the morning. That’s only a few hours away.”
Cooper checked the time on his phone. It was almost two AM now. That didn’t comfort him much. Any amount of time Park spent in a cell was too long. Especially when he was clearly unwell. He hadn’t told Santiago about that part either. He didn’t even know what to say—Park has had two dizzy spells? They may or may not be affecting his judgment? That just sounded weird and not serious enough to mention. He was also a little worried she’d jump to the same conclusion as Primelles and think Park was on something.
“They’re just jerking us around because they’re pissed,” he said.
“And whose fault is that? I cannot pretend to understand why you thought it was a good idea to undermine an ongoing investigation you are personally connected to—”
“Because clearly it’s in such good hands.”
“—but you’re the one who put Park in this position.”
Cooper bit his lip. Yeah, he was. None of this would have happened if not for him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, Park could be home in DC sipping those over-the-top sugary cocktails he favored and reading that ridiculous brick of Plath poems he’d been dragging to their sleepovers recently.
Instead Cooper had asked Park to come here, argued with him, asked him to hide who he was, asked him to risk his job and help him undermine an official investigation, got frustrated when Park jumped to protect him, and finally got him arrested. There was such a fine line between the two, help and protection, sometimes even he didn’t know what he wanted.
It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t been fair, and now Park was suffering for it.
Cooper hung up with Santiago shortly afterward and got out of the car parked in the driveway where he’d made the call in case his dad was home and asleep. He let himself back inside as quietly as possible. The house was dark and silent, but he was too hyped up to go to bed. It felt incredibly wrong to wait around until morning. He needed to be doing something. He crept into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water and then moved to the back room to check if there was any activity still happening at West’s.
That’s when he realized he wasn’t alone.
Cooper jumped, his gut cramping, and water sloshed over his hand and onto the carpet.
Ed was sitting in his favorite armchair in the dark, head down. He was in his pajamas—Cooper hadn’t even known he owned pajamas—and his left arm was at a funny angle, held a little separate from his body and bent, as if offering to escort an old woman onto the dance floor.
Ed didn’t move or react. Just stared at his arm. Behind him, through the window, every light in West’s was on and spilling out onto the field, creating strange shapes on the dead grass.
“Dad?” Cooper whispered, feeling silly. They were alone in the house. There was no reason to keep his voice down. But even that tentative whisper sounded like a shout in the too-still living room.
“I’m over here,” Ed said, as if Cooper wasn’t standing three feet away from him.
“What are you doing up? Is—is something wrong? Did something happen at the station?”
He shook his head slowly, then looked at Cooper. For a moment his expression was startled and unfamiliar, like he was looking at a stranger, before it cleared and he seemed to find his focus. “Cooper. Did you just get in?”
“Uh, yeah, sort of.” He looked over his dad’s shoulder, at the crime scene techs finishing up, no more than flickering shadows that passed back and forth in the windows. “Did you hear about Mr. West?”
“Yes,” he said absently. “That’s good.”
Cooper raised his eyebrows. “Good?”
“Not good, obviously.” Ed shook himself a bit, like he was trying to clear his head. “But now we know Hardwick’s killer is here.”
“As opposed to where?” Cooper said, confused.
His dad’s eyes skittered away, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. Cold cases like this can go on forever. Especially if the killer d-died or moved away.”
He’d never even considered that possibility, Cooper realized with surprise. Which just went to show how little he should have been working this case. He was way too personally involved to do his best work. Another reason why Park was sitting in a cell right now.
“I guess. But it didn’t happen that long ago.” Few people who had been in “killer shape” back then were dead now. Well, Margaret Daugherty. But Cooper hadn’t liked her much for a suspect. This seemed to cross Robert Bell off the list, as well. “And like you said, no one seems to leave this fu—friggin’ valley.”
Ed nodded. He still had that faraway look in his eyes, but beneath it he looked almost...relieved. Like he’d been carrying around some unspeakable dread for days and it had finally begun to clear.
Cooper examined him closer. Ed could certainly just be relieved that with West’s murder happening while he was being questioned at the station, he was off the hook for Hardwick. The agents’ agenda against Park aside, it seemed obvious that both crimes had been committed by the same killer.
But his dad was innocent, of that Cooper was sure, and unlike him, Ed’s faith in the justice system was unwavering. He really believed that the innocent walked free. So why had he been worried? Why had he acted so strangely at all, unless he thought—
Cooper stopped. “If the killer died,” he repeated slowly. Ed’s flinch hit him like a pistol-whip to the face. It was all the confirmation he needed. “You thought Mom killed Hardwick.”
“No,” Ed denied immediately. “I didn’t think that.”
“But you wondered. You were afraid it might be true. That’s why you’ve been lying to the feds, why you’ve been acting so weird. What the fuck!” Cooper hissed.
“Coop,” Ed said tiredly. “Please. Not tonight.”
“No, Dad. No. Why the hell would you think something like that? Why would you try and—and ruin her like that?”
Cooper wasn’t making sense; he was too shocked and hurting to. He could handle learning his mother had an affair. He was dealing with the fact that her judgment in men was maybe not the best. But to think that his father, who knew her, who remembered her better than Cooper ever could, considered her capable of murder? No. That he couldn’t take.
“How could you say that?” Cooper continued. “How could you even wonder? She’s not the bad one. She’s never been the bad one—”
“He hurt her!” Ed exploded. His voice echoed around the tiny living room. “He hurt her, and for a minute I wanted to kill him. I wanted to. You and I both know sometimes a minute is all it takes. If just for a minute she—I didn’t want to think she killed him, but that man’s body was in my yard, Cooper, our yard. All these years I hoped he was suffering somewhere because he made her suffer, and he was right here.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean he hurt her?”
Ed’s tone softened, and he exhaled long and slow, like he’d been waiting for this to happen. “We were getting divorced. They were going to leave. Together. Leave Jagger Valley. And they were going to take you and Dean with them. She’d already told me everything. We talked. Figured it out. It killed me to lose you, you have to know that, but we both agreed you boys needed your mother more. Loved her more.” He said it like he was quoting a long-ago conversation. “And I couldn’t stop her. I could never convince her of anything she didn’t want to do. I thought maybe if...”
He closed his eyes. “Then she found out she was sick and it wasn’t a fun adventure for him anymore. He was having second thoughts. When he disappeared, I thought that was that. He didn’t want to take care of someone who might not live to see next year. It tore her up. He did that, and I hated him for it.”
Cooper couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. His mom was going to take him and Dean away from his dad? He tried to picture them, her and Hardwick living together somewhere, but all he kept seeing was Ed. Ed alone in this unchanging house, talking to himself on his boat, wandering the woods for hours with no one to follow behind and whine until he agreed to take them back home.
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course not. She didn’t want you to.”
“When he disappeared...”
“She said he must have made his decision. She begged me not to go looking for him, and since there was no official report, I didn’t.”
“But then you didn’t divorce. You took care of her. Even after she said she was going to take us away. Why?”
Ed looked at him like he didn’t understand what Cooper was saying. “She was my family. No matter what, she was family. We didn’t love each other in the same way anymore, but we still chose each other. We chose to look after each other, always. Whether as a couple or as friends or”—he slapped his hand against his leg a few times, searching for a word—“or co-parents or partners or whatever you want to call it these days. Marriage, blood, who raised you, who made you, all that’s a start, but it’s not everything. You have to make your own family, Cooper.”
His expression twisted. “Which is why she’d be so disappointed in what a bad job I’ve done at it since she—”
He stopped. The unspoken word echoed in the room and they both waited for it to fade back into the dark corners.
“You didn’t do a bad job.”
“Oh, Coop.” Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “Didn’t I? I know you hate being here. That’s why I tried to change things. Take down the gazebo, more phone calls. I thought you were, I don’t know, sad.” He said the word like it was some newfangled invention. To him, maybe it was. “I thought being here reminded you too much of your mother. But it wasn’t that, was it? You didn’t want to be here because you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Dad,” Cooper whispered. Just saying it hurt his throat and nose, a visceral pain like the urge to cry had just ripped through years and layers of toxic masculinity and left actual bleeding wounds in its wake.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Ed’s voice was harsh now. The exhaustion replaced with frustration, anger.
“What do you mean, say anything?” Cooper’s hand went to his stomach, tracing the scars before he forced it away. Would Sophie have...? No. “About what?”
“The FBI woman, Agent Joon, stopped by. She told me about that boy. Man. Park.”
Cooper’s heartbeat felt so loud he was surprised the room wasn’t shaking from it. “What?” he choked out. “Told you what? He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill West.”
The inside of his head felt chaotic and slippery, but defending Oliver was something solid he could grab onto. If Ed knew about wolves—but how would Joon have known? And if she did, was Park in danger now in her custody?
“No, I don’t think he killed West. It’s a stupid theory. Obviously this is just some turf-war power play.” Normally this was where Ed would make a crack about the BSI obviously not being involved because West didn’t die of paper cuts or something, but he just sat there, face serious. “It did make me wonder why, though. Why they’d even think that, I mean. So I said that to her, I said, you’d have to be pretty crazy to kill someone you just met on the off chance it would detract suspicion, and she said to me, ‘Crazy in love.’” He paused. “Now that was an odd thing to say. What do you think she meant by that?”
Cooper’s head jerked to the side, an automatic no. No, he couldn’t do this. Not right now on top of everything else. And fuck Joon for making him.
He felt the sort of blind rage usually reserved for a threatened animal in the corner. She wanted a power play? He’d show her a goddamn power play.
“Take a breath, Coop,” his father said, watching him, and Cooper inhaled obediently, feeling the air move uselessly around in his mouth, his throat closed too tight to do him any good.
“You and your partner...you’re together.”
He nodded jerkily.
“Is he really your partner at the BSI?”
“Yes, of course,” he whispered.
“Is he the first man you’ve been with?”
“No,” he said, finding his voice now. Calm down. Focus. This is happening with or without you, so control the situation.
“So,” Ed said. “This is...a thing.”
“I don’t know, Dad, is my being gay going to be a thing with you?” His words hung in the air between them.
“I don’t get it,” Ed said finally, and Cooper swayed in place, suddenly and mind-numbingly exhausted.
“No, I didn’t think you would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cooper shook his head.
“How is this my fault?” Ed demanded. “You never said anything. I can’t read your mind, Coop. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to give you any more reasons to be disappointed in me,” Cooper said, his voice flat.
Ed’s body went still in his chair and his eyes widened. “What are you talking about? When do you think I’m disappointed in you?”
“All the time. Big stuff like school and the FBI and the BSI—”
“That’s because I know you’re not happy doing that—”
“—but also little stuff like what I’m eating, what I look like, what sports I play, who my friends are. It was always wrong. No”—Cooper stopped himself—“not wrong, but the wrong decision for you.”
He took a deep breath. “This one, this mattered too much to me to hear you say it was wrong, too.”
“I don’t think that,” Ed said angrily. “I’ve never thought that. What have I ever said that made you feel like I did?”
“It’s what you didn’t say, Dad.” Cooper could hear his voice loud and steady, like it had been growing inside him and waiting to burst out for years. “You never even mentioned it. Like it didn’t exist. Like it didn’t even cross your mind that I could be gay or bi or anything else. How was I to know it was okay? I never heard it from you. It wasn’t my job to tell you. It was yours to make me feel like I didn’t have to hide it from you.”
Ed stared at him. “I—” He looked away and blinked a few times. “Okay. Okay.”
He didn’t move or speak. Just stayed staring off for so long Cooper started to shift in place and considered walking away. Was this it? Was this all they’d say to each other? After all these years of hiding and avoiding this moment, it was...disappointing. If he was going to be forced to reveal himself like this he wanted some clarity, some acknowledgement, he wanted something in return.
“...Dad?” Cooper said finally.
Ed’s neck rolled forward as if waking from a trance. He looked down at the bend of his elbow. “Right here,” he said, and then paused. Cooper waited. “You would fit right here in the crook of my elbow. You’d tuck your head under my chin and we’d sit here, in the chair, for hours. Watching the game, telling stories, napping.” He smiled faintly. “Sometimes we just sat here and did nothing at all. I’d just listen to you breathe. You fit so perfectly. Like we knew to make you just the perfect size and shape. How is that possible?”
Cooper didn’t answer. Couldn’t move even if he wanted to.
“Sometimes,” his dad said, still staring at his empty arm. “I look at you, and I can’t believe you ever fit in this tiny little crook in my elbow. Other times, I think if I could just get my arms around you at the right angle, you’d fit there still.”
Ed looked up at him. “It was easier then. With her. Your mom always knew what to do. How to talk to you. I’m not good at this kind of stuff. Not with anyone.”
Cooper swallowed, throat aching, and said, “Me neither.” He hesitated, then, “Dean thinks we’re a lot alike.”
Ed’s head rolled back against the chair for a minute, as if absorbing that. “Hmm, maybe we are. But different, too. And that’s okay.” He met Cooper’s eye. “Oliver. Does he make you happy?”
Cooper bit the inside of his mouth, hard. “Yeah.” Ed was still examining him closely. “He’s uh...you know, he’s good.”
Ed nodded once shortly, and thankfully looked off into space instead. “Good. That’s good. That’s all that matters. That’s all that’s ever mattered to me.” He cleared his throat. “You should get to bed, you’ve got to spring a man from jail tomorrow. You need me to make any calls?”
“No, I already told our boss. Uh, thanks, though.” Cooper shifted in place. “Are you coming up, too?”
“In a minute. I’m just going to sit here a little bit longer.”
He had the weirdest desire to move toward his father, to touch him, but Ed looked so vulnerable he couldn’t predict what would happen if he did. He didn’t think he could take it if Ed got any more emotional or, shit, even cried. That’s something they didn’t warn you about getting older, seeing your parents age too, seeing them as people, sad and afraid and haunted by their own mistakes.
He backed away and hesitated in the doorway. “Goodnight, Dad.”
“Night, Coop.” Ed’s voice was gruff. Cooper started to walk away. “And...” He paused in the dark hall, only able to see his dad’s silhouette now. “I’m proud you’re my son. Every single day. I should have said so. Should have said a lot of things.”
Cooper nodded, knowing his father couldn’t see him. The tears in his eyes crested and fell down his cheeks, and he retreated upstairs before the sniffling could give him away.