Chapter Two
Sam was pulling his jacket from his locker when Thomas, their team leader, clapped him on the shoulder. “You doing alright Sam? You’re looking a little worse for wear.”
He shook his head, giving Tom a tense smile. “Nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.”
“Yeah,” the older man agreed, propping himself up against the lockers with one shoulder. “Two double shifts in four days, we’re not getting a lot of downtime.”
“But we are winning the war on drugs,” Gary joked from behind them. “One mediocre dealer at a time.”
“Nah, they’re like cockroaches,” Sam threw back. “For every one we take out, a dozen take their place.”
“Let’s not talk about cockroaches,” Warren, their tech specialist, chimed in. “Living with them for all those weeks last year was bad enough. I didn’t get a night’s sleep.”
“Speaking of a night’s sleep, what say we postpone going home and go out and get a drink. We’re off for the weekend, let’s let off a bit of steam.” Tom’s expression was earnest and Sam knew he was right. They were tired out and wound up. A bit of team bonding to let off some steam was exactly what they needed. But it had been three days with zero contact from Matt.
As if reading his mind, his phone rang. Not Matt, but Matt’s mom. Maybe she’d heard from him and he was worrying for nothing?
He stepped toward the bathroom to take the call, knowing he’d get more privacy there than he would in the locker room.
“Hello.”
“Sam, I’m so relieved you answered. Have you spoken to Matt at all? He won’t answer my calls or messages. His sister’s away, or I’d send her over to his apartment—”
He stopped her, keeping his voice even to hide his worry. “I haven’t heard from him in a day or two but I was going to call over after work. I’ll let you know how he is once I’ve spoken with him.”
“Thank you, Sam. You’re such a good friend to him.”
Her relief was clear, but it felt like a heavy burden on his shoulders. What if Matt wasn’t okay? What would he tell her then?
When he went back into the locker room, the others were waiting for him.
“Come on, Sam. Drinks? Gary’s driving,” Warren said.
They were looking at him expectantly. “Maybe next time, guys. I have plans.”
A range of emotions crossed their faces. Disappointment on Warren’s, puzzlement on Gary’s, unhappiness on Tom’s. Tom was the one always preaching about the importance of team bonding. Sam never quite lived up to his expectations. Part of that was self-preservation. He was still the new guy, even after seven months. And the old army hang-up about coming out was ever-present. He didn’t really think it would matter, didn’t think they would care, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. And now, with Matt, he had responsibilities elsewhere.
Tom opened his mouth and Sam braced himself for a challenge or a cutting remark.
“Next time,” was all the team leader said, but he scrutinized Sam, as if to glean some clue as to what was going on. He could just ask, but Sam knew he wouldn’t, not unless it started to bleed over into work. And Sam would never let that happen.
Bang. Bang. Bang. “Come on, Matt. If you don’t answer this door, I’m going to have to get it open, one way or another.”
He’d been outside for almost ten minutes, knocking and calling, with no sound from inside the apartment. He was a split second away from putting his shoulder to the door when he heard movement inside.
The lock turned and the door swung inward, a rumpled Matt peering blearily at him.
“Sam, what the hell?”
Before Matt could react, he pushed past him into the apartment, taking in the closed curtains despite the daylight outside, the disarray of the room, and the smell of alcohol.
“Three days, Matt. You haven’t taken any calls or answered any messages. Your mom is worried sick.”
He turned back and Matt shut the door, leaning heavily against it as Sam’s words washed over him. “You spoke to my mom?”
“She called me. Like I said, she was worried.”
With a muttered grumble, Matt stumbled back into the room towards the couch, sinking into it. “I’m fine, I’ve just been… busy.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam replied, taking a seat opposite him. “Doing what?”
He kept his voice even, knowing Matt would only meet fire with fire. He needed to calm things down, not ignite them.
“Just… stuff,” he said, scrubbing a hand across his face. He had what Sam guessed was about a week’s worth of beard growth. It made him itchy just looking at it.
“Have you picked up any shifts?” Matt had been doing relief work in some of the local emergency departments, covering holidays and sick leave.
“No, not… I did a shift in Mercy’s the week before last. It was rough.”
Before, rough would have been nothing to Matt, it was practically his middle name. As an army medic, he’d seen just about all there was to see. Until he saw too much, one last thing that pushed him over the edge and set him on this slow spiral into oblivion.
“Have you been drinking today?” he asked cautiously, not knowing what kind of response he’d provoke. The alcohol wasn’t Matt’s problem, it was just helping him reach rock-bottom faster while masking the pain that came with the fall.
“Not today. Last night. And the weekend. It helps sometimes when the nightmares get too much.”
“How’s it going with that counselor at the VA?”
Matt let his hands fall and Sam got a good look at his face for the first time. His cheeks were drawn, his eyes red. He’d lost more weight.
“It’s not. This isn’t… I don’t want to talk, Sam, what the fuck is talking going to do?”
Leaning forward, he tried to get Matt to meet his eyes.
“Nothing you’re doing right now is helping, Matt. That is crystal clear. You need to try something different. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, because we both know it won’t. It’ll hurt like hell reopening those wounds, but they didn’t close right and they never will unless you clean them out.”
His own ears could hear how contrived his words sounded, enough that it even drew a smile from Matt.
“How long did you spend thinking up the most relevant analogy for my situation? You must have busted a few brain cells creating that one.”
“I’d like to see you do a better job,” he teased back, glad to see a spark of light in Matt’s eyes. “Alright, how about we order in some food? Not junk, something with actual nutrients, from that wholesome foods place down the street. You go clean up, call your Mom, and I’ll get this place set to rights, okay?”
Matt looked exhausted, like all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, never to wake again. But he rallied, forcing himself to his feet.
For the next hour, Sam blitzed through the apartment, opening the curtains and windows to let in light and air, throwing the trash out, emptying the fridge of expired food, and washing the dishes. The whole time he worked, he kept an ear out for Matt, hearing him turn on the shower, him at the sink, fumbling around with a razor, then later, in his room, talking to his mom. One less job for Sam to do.
The takeout arrived just as he finished wiping clean the table and kitchen counters. He paid, took in the bags, and set the food out.
“Food’s up, Matt. Come and get it,” he called.
The Matt who left his room was worlds away from the one who’d stumbled into the bathroom an hour before. Clean shaven, hair washed and still damp, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that highlighted more starkly the weight loss Sam had seen in his face.
Matt stopped when he caught sight of the spread on the table. “Steak, seriously? Sam, I’m pretty sure they don’t pay you enough to be ordering steaks.”
“It won’t break the bank, Matt,” he replied, trying to hide his irritation. “Just sit down and eat, it’s getting cold.”
Matt took a seat opposite him, reaching to pull his plate closer, his hands shaking slightly. Sam hoped it wasn’t the alcohol. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“You need to eat,” he retorted, heaping food onto his plate in the hope his friend would follow his example.
“I haven’t had the best appetite lately.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he replied quietly. “When was the last time you ate a meal?”
Matt’s answer was a shrug before he caught Sam’s look and sighed. “My sister left a casserole last week. It did me for a few days.”
“One meal a day isn’t going to cut it, Matt. How are you going to get better if you’re not giving your body, or your mind, anything to work with?”
He regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. Matt could be stubborn; push too much and he’d retreat into his shell.
“Look,” he said, before Matt could reply. “Let’s not worry about that now. One step at a time, okay? There’s food, let’s eat and enjoy it. The rest will come in time.” He wanted to believe that, he truly did. People like Matt didn’t always come out the other side. But Matt had him and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
They ate in silence for a few minutes and from the enthusiasm with which Matt tackled the steak, Sam guessed he was hungrier than he was willing to admit.
“How’s that new roommate working out?” Matt asked him, answering Sam’s question as to whether Matt had even read any of his messages.
“Drew? He’s been no trouble so far. Keeps to himself, tidy. He’s been out looking for work. He got a job in a diner near the park.”
Sam had gleaned that little bit of information on one of the few occasions he and Drew had crossed paths that week.
“You’ll need to be careful. If everything Logan’s told you about him is true, it might be only a matter of time before he falls back to his old ways.”
“Not much I can do about that if it happens.”
“Except nail down everything of value. You know what gamblers are like. In some ways, they’re as bad as drug addicts.”
Sam reached for the salad, piling more onto his plate.
“What?” Matt asked. “You don’t agree?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, shrugging. “I don’t get that vibe from him. He’s not secretive, he’s not overly generous. But then again, I’ve only set eyes on him half a dozen times. It’s not enough to get a good read on a person.”
He took a long swallow of his soda before speaking again. “Logan seemed so disappointed about it all. I guess he really thought Drew had turned over a new leaf, that the whole gambling thing was kid’s stuff he grew out of.”
“But they haven’t been close for years, right? I got the impression it was phone calls at the Holidays and emails on birthdays.”
“Yeah, that’s about the extent of it. But Drew asked him for help and I guess he couldn’t say no.”
“And Logan knew you wouldn’t turn down the chance to play the hero and save the day.” There was the slightest edge to Matt’s remark, a hint of bitterness that Sam tried to ignore. Sam helped people, it was just what he did. He couldn’t be who he was otherwise.
“How about a walk after we eat? You’re so pale, I think you’re turning translucent.”
Matt grimaced but didn’t say no. Sam would take that as a win.
He could tell Matt was ill at ease as they walked down the street. As a cop and a former soldier, he was used to being aware of his surroundings. Matt was too. But this was different. Every noise, however innocuous, pulled Matt’s attention, had his shoulders tensing, set his teeth on edge. It was like walking with a nervous horse that might bolt at any moment. Matt was sweating too, despite the cool breeze of the summer day.
A horn blared at the next intersection and Matt jerked then froze, staring in the direction the noise was coming from, breathing quickly. Sam stopped next to him but said and did nothing, letting the other man come out of it in his own time.
Matt slowly relaxed, coming back to himself. He half-turned towards Sam. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine, really. Do you want to turn around and head back?” He’d said they’d walk around the block, but he hadn’t counted on how jumpy Matt was going to be.
“No, let’s keep going,” Matt said, moving doggedly onward. Sam followed, dividing his attention between his friend and their surroundings. Matt needed help, as much as Sam could give.