I turned to Steve with my mouth agape, thinking I must have misunderstood him. Victoria looked as surprised as I felt.

"W-w-what did you say?" she stammered.

"The house is haunted, am I right?" Steve said, his voice as calm as ever, although his eyes had taken on a merry twinkle. Not what one would expect from someone who had just suggested we were in a real-live haunted house.

"Did someone say something before you came? That’s what it is, isn’t it? People are spreading the stories all over."

"Actually, I hadn’t heard any stories, although I would love to hear them now. I’m something of a paranormal buff."

"Um…this whole conversation is paranormal if you ask me," I interrupted. "You don’t really believe in ghosts do you, Steve?"

"I believe I’m not so smart as to think I know all there is to know about this universe we live in. There are so many things we just simply can’t explain through the use of logic and science. There is a whole supernatural realm that I think we know very little about. If you want to call them ghosts, meaning an apparition of a deceased person, fine. Or you can call them manifestations of surviving emotional memories, a kind of emotional imprint." Steve was pacing around the entryway in long, excited strides as he talked. I’d never seen him like this.

"So you’re still interested in the house?" Victoria said, incredulousness filling her voice.

"Of course. I want a full tour, and all the history you know."

"Well, if you’re sure. After Amalie died…" she paused as if she expected Amalie to insert a comment here, then went on when only silence filled the gap, "…the house was passed through a succession of owners. It was left empty for quite an extended period of time right after the turn of the century. A doctor from Baltimore bought it in the Thirties and sold off most of the land that came with it for farmland. When the Captain bought the land, the plantation encompassed more than a thousand acres."

She was warming up to her subject again now that she knew she still had a live one on the hook. Her color had returned to normal and she was becoming more animated as she talked.

She continued, "Doctor Johnson never lived in the house and it fell into disrepair. He did maintain about 50 acres surrounding the house. When he died in 1950, his son sold the house to another doctor who intended to retire on the Shore. He fixed up the house and he and his wife moved down. They didn’t stay long. That’s when the ghost stories started. His wife said she heard strange noises at night, doors opening and closing, footsteps...the usual. The last straw apparently was when she woke up one night to find a woman standing at the foot of her bed. When she screamed to wake her husband up, the woman vanished into thin air."

"So she actually saw a manifestation?"

"So she said. As you can imagine, word spread like wildfire and for a while it was quite the attraction. Eventually interest died out, but the good doctor couldn’t find a soul to buy it. When he died it went to his wife, who left it to her daughter, who finally managed to sell it to someone. It went through about a dozen owners in the next forty years. No one lived here very long, except for one couple who seemed to get a kick out of living with a ghost. By that time, people had taken to calling the house Amalie’s house, since everyone just assumed the ghost was Amalie. The current owner has had the house on the market for two years now."

"The ghost has never been violent, though?" Steve asked.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Let’s see the rest of the house then."

She led us on a tour of the home. It was just as impressive inside as it was out. The house sat on an east-west elevation, facing east. On the south side of the house, facing the creek, was a huge ballroom. A row of wavy glassed windows looked out over the yard to where a few lonely looking posts gave testament to the dock that was once there. On the north side was a parlor and a library. The oldest part of the house had been converted into the kitchen at some point in the last century. It still had a huge brick fireplace that took up most of one wall. Smooth worn bricks covered the floor.

The second and third floors were all bedrooms. Apparently, the Captain had expected to entertain a lot. We found out that the cupola on top had been built so Amalie could watch for the Captain’s return. It was there that Amalie’s ghost was claimed to have been seen the most, and it was the door that led to the narrow staircase that was said to open and close so frequently. The idea being that Amalie was still waiting for the Captain to come home. Personally, I would have thought that by now she would have caught on.

Throughout the whole tour Steve acted like a kid at Disney World. He was especially interested in the bedroom that the woman had said she had first seen Amalie in. It was, he surmised, probably originally Amalie’s bedroom. I thought that he was stretching a bit for that one, but then, I wasn’t a paranormal buff like he was. Most of the house was empty, with almost no furnishings, but that one room had been used as a storage room. And from the looks of things no one had bothered to clean it out since the Roosevelt administration, the first one. I found myself just itching to jump in and start sorting through the castaways left by previous generations like an archeologist digging through stratum. But of course, I couldn’t. I kept getting that prickly feeling at the back of my neck but I tried to pass it off as suggestive thinking in a creepy old house.

The only place we didn’t go was down into the basement since Victoria seemed a little reluctant and the lighting left someone to be desired.

After the house, Victoria led us around the grounds. The Captain had had saplings flown in from all over the world, determined to make his gardens the envy of the social scene of the day. As a result, the yard was now full of rare and exotic trees well over a hundred and fifty years old. There were familiar species, like the enormous and dignified old magnolias and the graceful and melancholy weeping willows; and there were the unfamiliar, like an African elephant pine. Most of the yard was fairly well kept considering no one had lived in the house in years, but part of the back yard was overgrown with a dense undergrowth. The Chicone Creek emerged from this jungle-like copse and ran a picturesque course through the side yard.

The tour concluded back in front of the house. In the early afternoon warmth the spicy smell of boxwood filled the air and a chorus of birds chirped cheerily from the trees. The eerie feeling I had experienced inside the house now seemed miles away.

"Well, that’s pretty much it, Victoria said, "The property that you saw is actually only a portion of the total acreage. The property extends a ways into the forested area behind the house and across the creek. A lot of it has grown up but it could be cleared and it would make a wonderful recreational area with trails."

"It’s a beautiful setting, no doubt," Steve said, "I appreciate you meeting us out here to show us around."

"Hey, it’s my job," she said with a sparkly smile, "and my pleasure." I thought I noted a hint of flirtation in her voice. Apparently she didn’t know that Steve batted for the other team.

"I’ll get in touch with you if I have any more questions," Steve said politely.

Her smile dipped a few watts at the obvious dismissal, but she recovered quickly, "Great, you have my number, right?"

"Sure do."

We stood awkwardly for a minute before she finally said good-bye. We watched while she climbed back into the car and drove away. She wasn’t even out of sight before Steve whirled around, hands on hips and wearing a huge smile.

"What do you think?"

"What? Of the Bates Hotel?"

"Oh come on, it’s incredible. Look at this place. Something like this comes on the market once in a lifetime. And it has a ghost! Do you know what that means?"

"That it’s haunted?"

"It means I can haggle them down on the price. And after seeing this place it’s already an incredible price. The property alone must be worth almost that much. And the house is in incredible shape."

"You’re using the word incredible an awful lot."

"That’s because it’s just incredible. This is exactly what I had in mind, and as an added bonus it has its own ghost."

"You know most people wouldn’t consider that a bonus. You don’t really buy this whole ghost thing do you?"

"Killian, you of all people should know that there are things beyond our understanding."

I frowned, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You’re the one who told us all about Asher’s Aunt Judy and her psychic powers of perception. Why is that such a big jump to believing in ghosts?"

"She’s not psychic…exactly. Are we really having this conversation?"

"Think about it, Killian! How often do you get the chance to communicate with someone who’s been dead for over a century?"

"Not that often I would imagine."

"I’ve wanted to do this ever since I was a kid and read my first book by Poe. I’m buying this house. I can’t tell you how excited I am."

He didn’t have to; enthusiasm practically beamed from him like rays of light from a lighthouse. I was having trouble reconciling the always calm and rational Steve, the voice of reason for our family, with this animated man standing here now babbling about talking to dead people.

He spun around to face me, let’s go home. I want to tell Adam all about it and contact the real estate agent to see how much they’ll come down on the price. Maybe we can be in here before summer is over."

Steve nattered on about ghosts and famous haunted houses all the way home. I wondered how I had lived with this guy for almost two years and missed this odd obsession. The more I thought about it though, the more clues I realized I had missed. Like his favorite movie was The Sixth Sense. He had a whole library of "true" ghost stories and famous hauntings.

My crash course in the paranormal ended when we pulled into our driveway. I followed Steve into the kitchen where we found Adam stirring what looked like the makings of a pastry crust in a large mixing bowl. I knew right away that something must be bothering him. He only made pastry when he was upset.

For once Steve didn’t seem to notice as he launched into an excited blow-by-blow. Adam cut him off quickly.

"Killian, Asher’s upstairs in your room," he said, "He’s been here all morning. I think he’s upset."

I wondered what I had done now. With a sigh I went upstairs. I found Asher lying on his stomach on my bed. Kane was tapping away contentedly at the computer, but as soon as I came in he hopped up and left the room. I didn’t think that was a good sign. I was right.

"Where were you?" Asher demanded as he rolled over and jumped to his feet.

"I was with Steve," I said as evenly as I could manage. Despite my earlier nap I could feel my sleepless night starting to catch up with me. I had a feeling this could get ugly. I hoped I was wrong.

"Why didn’t you let me know?"

"I didn’t know I needed your permission."

"What is that supposed to mean? I thought we were a couple, we’re supposed to tell each other when we’re doing things."

"We’re not married, Asher. We’re not even living together yet. It never even crossed my mind to call you. Look, I didn’t sleep well last night so I’m really not in the mood for this right now, ok?"

"No, it’s not ok. What’s going on with us? I feel like we’re drifting apart."

"Then maybe we need a break." I spoke without thinking and I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. Asher reacted as if I’d delivered a physical blow. He crumpled onto the edge of the bed and his face flushed bright red.

"What?" he whispered.

"I…I…"

"You’re breaking up with me?"

"No! I didn’t say that. Adam just suggested that maybe we need some time apart."

"Adam thinks we should break up?"

"We’re not breaking up. Just forget I said anything. It’s just that Marcus started it last night and then today…"

"Marcus thinks we should break up too? What does everybody think we should break up? If everybody thought we were so mismatched why didn’t anyone say something sooner?"

"Asher, nobody thinks we should break up, but people who are close to us can’t help but notice that we’re having trouble. Adam suggested we take some time off, to give us space and think. You know, figure stuff out?"

"And you want to do that?"

"I…don’t know. Maybe."

"Great, just great," he leaped up and ran past me. I tried to grab his arm as he passed but he yanked away and kept going.

"Asher!" I called as I ran after him, "Asher, wait!"

He stopped at the foot of the stairs and whirled around to face me. "Don’t bother, Killian Kendall," he yelled, "We’re through." And with that he spun around and flew through the door, which was being held open by a stunned looking Kane. I sat down with a thud halfway down the stairs as Steve and Adam rushed into the hall. No one said a word until the sound of Marcus’ car roaring to life broke the awkward silence.

"Killian, are you ok?" Adam asked as Kane said, "What happened?"

"No, I’m not ok. Asher and I just broke up." I leaped up and ran back up to my room, slamming the door behind me.

A second later a soft knock came at the door. "Killian?" Adam called.

I grunted from my face down position in my pillow. I heard the door open and close gently and few moments later I felt him sit down next to me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I rolled over onto my back. "Talk about what?"

"What happened?"

"I don’t even know what happened. I suggested we take a break like you said and then next thing I know Asher’s breaking up with me."

"Did he misunderstand you?"

"I don’t know. He just freaked out."

"It sounds like he may have overreacted. Maybe after he calms down you two can talk."

"Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to break up with me. And I handed it to him on a silver platter."

"You don’t know that, Killian. At the very least, this will give you both a chance to figure out what you really want."

"Yeah, whatever. I think I’m just going to take a nap now."

"Ok, kiddo." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead and then left me alone with my thoughts.

* * *

Nothing changed in the next few weeks. Asher refused to answer my calls and when I went to his house I was sent away with an apology by one of his other family members. I kept waiting for some great revelation to bring me perfect clarity, but it never came; I remained just as confused as ever.

The world kept on turning even without my moment of lucidity. The insurance company decided that my car was a total loss. The accident, on the other hand, turned out not to be a total loss. One day while we were talking on the phone about the accident he mentioned that his assistant had recently taken another job. I asked him if he would consider hiring me even though I didn’t have any real experience and he hired me on the spot. I was envisioning high-speed car chases, breaking into buildings at midnight wearing all black and packing a gun. Reality turned out to be a lot more boring. I mostly answered the phone, typed on the computer and filed. I was more of a secretary than an assistant, but at least I was making money. It seemed that most of the cases Novak accepted were insurance scam investigations and an occasional divorce case.

I had my own desk in the small reception room of Novak’s office, which was on the second floor of a modern, soulless building in the city. Besides my rather battered desk, the only other furnishings in the front room were two bright orange fake leather chairs that looked like they have been rejects from a 70’s waiting room. Novak’s office was neat as a pin. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with law books. The top of his large desk was always clear and looked as if he never used it.

Steve was going ahead full force with his plans to buy Amalie’s house. The real estate company, apparently ecstatic that someone was seriously interested in buying the white elephant, had come down a considerable amount. The bank had approved everything and everyone involved was amazed at how quickly things were moving. Steve was on cloud nine. He and Adam went shopping for period antique furniture almost every day. Adam still seemed to be in some kind of weird funk, but the only way you could really tell was by the abundance of pies, tarts and cookies around the house.

One day, about a week before Steve was to go to settlement, the door to Novak’s office swung open and in walked Judy. She breezed into the office as if she owned the place, took a look around and shook her head in disappointment. Her hair had grown out quite a bit since the last time I’d seen her. Her golden blonde hair now fell to just below her shoulders. She was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt with PFLAG written on it in large rainbow colored letters.

"Dearest Killian, I thought you would have had more taste than this. Can’t you do something to make this seem like a place you want to be?"

I grinned and jumped up, "Aunt Judy! I didn’t even know you were here."

"Oh God, please, drop the aunt stuff. It’s Judy. And I’ve been here exactly twenty-two hours. We got in yesterday and what’s the first thing I hear? That my mule-headed nephew and his equally mule-headed boyfriend, who I am very fond of, have broken up. So of course I headed right for your house and they sent me here. I met Steve by the way. I’ll be helping to decorate new homestead."

"You mean the house in Amityville?"

"Yes, well, someone mentioned something about a ghost but I’ve found that many of ghost stories are just romantic ideas and overactive imaginations. We’ll see. But really dear, couldn’t you have done something with this room?"

"I’ve only been here a few weeks," I protested.

"A few weeks? I could transform this place in a few hours."

"But that’s your job now, or so I understand. But I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here to give me decorating tips. What’s up?"

"Does something have to be up to see an old friend?"

"No, I guess not."

"I wanted to see how you were. I could see how Asher was and I could guess how you were, but I wanted to see for myself."

"How is Asher?" I said as nonchalant as possible.

"You can go see for yourself."

"I’ve tried. He won’t see me."

"Ah. Well, it’s not exactly my place to say really."

I frowned, "How am I then?"

"You’re confused."

"I hate how you do that."

"Do what?"

"How you’re always right."

"I’m not always right. Besides, this has nothing to do with any special perception on my part. Confusion is written all over your face. Especially when I mentioned Asher. See there it goes again. You don’t know how you feel about him do you?"

"Yes, I mean no. I mean…I know I love him…"

"You’re just not sure if that’s enough anymore."

"Yeah, something like that."

"It isn’t always enough for some people, you know. And then for some people it’s too much. For some it’s everything, and those are the most blessed."

"I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought we were perfect."

"No relationship is perfect, Killian. In every relationship there will be rough patches; fights, misunderstandings, periods of confusion. The true test of a couple is if they are strong enough to fight through these places and come out stronger on the other side."

"But Asher doesn’t seem to want to fight through this. He just gave up."

"It takes two to give up. It doesn’t seem to me like you’ve been doing much fighting either."

"How can I fight when he doesn’t want the same thing I do?"

"First you have to know what you are fighting for. Right now, I don’t think either of you knows what you want."

"Will we get back together?"

"Sweetie, I’m not a fortune-telling gypsy at a carnival sideshow. I can’t look into some magic crystal ball and see whatever I want. Sometimes things are shown to me, I can’t explain it and I don’t really have a lot of control over it. I try to respond to what is shown to me as best I can, because I figure it’s shown to me for a reason. Some time I’m quite lost as to what that reason is."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Where did that come from? Are you trying to change the subject?"

"No. Maybe. What you were saying made me think of the ghost though. I said I didn’t really believe in ghosts and Steve said it wasn’t that big a jump from you to ghosts."

"Gee, that really makes a girl feel special. I remind him of dead folk?"

"I don’t think that’s what he meant."

"I know, dear. I’m teasing. To answer your question, yes, I do believe in ghosts, but I guess that really depends on what your definition of ghost is. We use the term pretty broadly you know. Some are spirits left behind from a sudden, often violent death. They are confused and don’t fully realize they are dead. Some seem to have unfinished business to attend to and they simply can’t move on. Some are simply emotional impressions left behind after someone dies."

"Which of those do you think Amalie is?"

"Who?"

"The ghost in the house that Steve is buying."

"I don’t really know the whole story, Steve just mentioned in passing that it was supposedly haunted." She frowned, "He actually seemed a bit jazzed at the idea."

"Yeah, he’s been like that ever since we saw it for the first time."

"Must be some house."

"It is, but I think he’s more excited about the ghost than the house."

"Tell me about this ghost. What did you say her name was, Emily?"

"Amalie," I corrected. I told her the whole story as best I could recall it from Victoria’s account. When I finished, Judy thought for a moment.

"I’d like to do some research on this Amalie. It sounds a trifle too romantic to be a real ghost story. I’d like some clearer history and of course I’ll have to go out to the house."

"Well you’ll be there anyway if you’re going to be helping decorate. I guess that’ll be your first big job out here huh?"

"Yes, I’m hoping to use that as advertisement. A showplace like that could be quite a feather in my cap."

We were interrupted by the arrival of my boss.

"Judy Davis, this is my boss Shane Novak," I said making the requisite introductions.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Novak," Judy said with a bright smile.

"The pleasure is all mine," Novak said, "And please, call me Shane."

The phone rang, distracting me from their conversation, although I overheard Judy offering to decorate the office.

"Hello, Novak Investigations. How can I help you?" I said into the phone.

"Killian?" It was Asher.

"Hi," I said uncertainly.

"I need your help."

"What?"

"There’s been a murder."

hh

My first discernable thought was, "Oh no, not another one." It had been less than six months since Aidan’s murder and only a little over a year and a half since the harrowing events that eventually led to me shooting a serial killer. It didn’t seem possible that death had once again struck close to me and it had to be close to me or Asher wouldn't be calling me.

"Who?" I asked when I finally found my voice. My dread must have been evident in my voice because both Judy and Novak turned to look at me.

"Do you remember the kid I was telling you about, Caleb?"

"The one whose dad beat him up?"

"Yeah."

"His dad killed him?"

"No, Caleb’s ok. It’s his dad."

"His dad was killed?" Why was Asher calling to tell me this? I didn’t even know Caleb, let alone his dad. Why did he think I would care? Out of the corner of my eye I saw Judy motion Novak into his office, and with a slightly bewildered expression he followed her in and closed the door behind them.

"Did you see the news last night or this morning?"

"No, why?"

"How could you miss it? It’s been all over the news. He was hacked up with an ax and then burned up with the house."

"Lovely, thanks for calling and sharing such a wonderful mental image with me. I couldn’t have got through my day without hearing that."

"Killian, this is serious. The police think Caleb did it."

"Did he?"

"No, of course not!"

"How do you know?"

"Because he told me and I believe him."

"Then why do the police think he did it?"

"You know how he was taken away from his dad a few weeks ago? They decided not to charge his dad with anything because he told the investigators that Caleb attacked him and it was self-defense. So instead of his dad going to jail Caleb got sent to a group home for troubled kids. He ran away a few days ago, just before the murder, so the police just assume he did it."

"Asher, you don’t know that he didn’t. Maybe it happened just like his dad said. Maybe Caleb did attack his dad and it was self-defense. Maybe he did go back and kill him."

"No, Killian. Listen to me; Caleb is little. I mean, smaller than Will even. And his dad was big, over 6’. If you’d seen Caleb you would know he couldn’t have done this."

"You’ve seen Caleb?" I felt a sudden pang of something, jealousy maybe?

"Yes, a couple times I went and saw him at the group home. It was awful there. The other kids pushed him around because they heard he’s gay. He even got beat up a couple times. No one does anything about it."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I thought maybe…you work for that detective now, right?"

"You thought what?"

"I thought maybe you could…investigate this, find the real killer."

"You what?"

"I thought maybe…"

"After the last time you almost broke up with me because I wanted to help your cousin find out who killed his best friend? You who said it was too dangerous? You who said it was stupid to go after a killer? And now you want me to help get your new boyfriend off?"

"He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend. And he needs help. Please, Killian."

"What do you want me to do? I’m a secretary for this guy. I’m not a real detective."

"Then ask him to help. I have to do something. If you won’t help then I’ll have to do this by myself."

I sighed. "No, don’t do that. I’ll help. But don’t expect Novak to help. He gets paid for this. He’s not going to just do this on his spare time."

"Thanks, Killian. I mean it."

"Yeah, whatever. It’s no big deal. What do you want to do?"

"It is a big deal, especially to Caleb. I don’t know what to do first. You’re better at this than I am."

"Well, I guess I need to know as much about what happened as possible. And I’ll need to meet Caleb. And probably I’ll need to see where it happened too. Not that I know what I’m looking for, but they always do that on TV. Like I’m going to find something the police missed."

"Ask your boss; maybe he’ll be able to give you some pointers."

"Yeah, pointers, sure."

"Killian, thanks. I mean it."

"You’ve already said that."

"You’re mad aren’t you?"

"Asher, I have to get back to work," I said looking at my empty desk and the paperback book I’d been reading before Judy came in.

He sighed, "Ok, I’ll talk to you later, right?"

"Yeah. Bye." I hung up and slumped forward onto my desk. What was I getting myself into? How was I going to catch a killer? I hadn’t been so successful at that particular endeavor the other times I’d tried. How was I going to bring this up to Novak without looking like a total dork? And most importantly, why had I been such a jerk to Asher?

"Why me?" I moaned softly.

"It’s your destiny, love," Judy murmured sympathetically into my ear. I jumped, sitting up with a jolt and just narrowly missing giving Judy a crack in the nose with the back of my skull.

"You scared me," I said accusingly.

"Sorry, dear," she said.

"What do you mean it’s my destiny?"

"Surely you’ve noticed by now."

"Noticed what?"

"That you are a seeker."

"A what?"

"A seeker. You seek the truth. You weren’t satisfied with a lie when your friend Seth died and you sought the truth despite the very real dangers that waited on your chosen path."

"Why do you always talk in riddles," I said testily.

She smiled. "I’ll be seeing you." She waggled her fingers at me and breezed out the door.

"Your friend is a very unique lady," Novak said from behind me.

"No kidding," I said sourly.

"I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation on the phone there. Someone you know died?"

"Not exactly."

"They didn’t exactly die?"

"I didn’t exactly know them. Did you hear about the guy who got chopped up and then burned?"

"Yeah, his kid did it, right?"

"So the police are saying. He’s saying he didn’t do it."

"Wow, now there’s a first. What’s your involvement?"

"My friend knows the kid. He doesn’t think he did it either."

"And?"

"He wants me to find who really killed him."

"Don’t you think that’s what the police are for?"

"That’s what I told Asher."

"Good."

"But he didn’t listen. So I kind of agreed to help him."

"Not good. Look kid, I would have thought you would have learned your lesson when it comes to messing with psycho killers. The lesson is you don’t mess with psycho killers. They’re psycho, that’s why they call them psycho killers. And this kid is a bona fide psycho. Anyone who can chop up their own father and then set him on fire is certifiably nutso. Besides you don’t have any real experience."

"But you do."

"Uh-uh, no way José. You want advice? I’ll give it to you for free. Stay out of this."

"It’s not that simple," I said miserably.

"Sure it is. Just say no."

"Thank you, Nancy Reagan. If I don’t do this Asher will do it himself. I can’t let him do that."

"Why is this so important to Ashley?"

"Asher," I corrected, "and it’s complicated."

"Try me. I’m a detective, remember? I bet I can follow."

I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure how he would take the news that I was gay. From my observations of him during the brief time I’d worked there he seemed to be a pretty open minded, fair guy. But he was of a different generation too, a generation that wasn’t as comfortable with homosexuality. I decided to be as vague as possible.

"Asher and I have a long history. We’ve been friends since we were little kids."

"That still doesn’t explain why he’s so keen on getting this kid off."

I sighed and fumbled around in my mind, looking for the right words.

"Let me guess, you and this Asher were romantically involved?"

I felt my eyes widen in surprise and my heart began to hammer in my chest.

"Did you think I wouldn’t approve? Hey, it’s none of my business; it’s your private life. But for the record, my grandson is gay and I’ve done my research. I can’t say I totally understand it, but then I don’t have to. I do know I love my grandson and it doesn’t make a bit of difference who he loves."

"I didn’t know you had grandkids," I said weakly.

"Just two. My wife and I had one daughter and she has two children. Shane, named after me," he said with a proud grin, "is the one I was talking about. He’s about your age I’d guess. And then there’s Paige, she’s 15. The live in Alexandria, that’s in Virginia, near DC."

"Oh."

"Was I right?"

"Yeah. Asher and I dated for over a year and half."

"Dated? As in past tense?"

"Yeah, past tense. We broke up a few weeks ago."

"None of my business but did it have anything to do with this other kid? The psycho?"

"No, at least I don’t think so. It was just…stuff."

"Ok, butt out Shane."

"I didn’t mean…"

"Sure you did, and you’re right. It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to be a buttinsky. I don’t get to see my grandkids very often and you remind me a bit of Little Shane. I guess I’m just being overly paternal"

"It’s ok."

"Tell you what; if you’re hell-bent on looking into this mess, against my advice I might add, I’m not gonna send you into the lions without some training. I don’t have a lot of spare time, as you know my caseload is a little heavy right now, but when I do get a few minutes I’ll help you out. Start teaching you some tricks of the trade and all that. What do you say?"

"What do you get out of it?" I asked cautiously.

He grinned, "As soon as you get some experience under your belt I’ll dump some of this shit work on you."

"You mean I’d actually handle cases?" I said in amazement.

"Don’t get too excited. For the most part detective work is one big yawn. Lots of research, lots of grunt work, lots of sitting around doing nothing. It’s not what you see on TV. But if you work hard and show an aptitude for it, I’d be more than happy to take you on as an apprentice. In Maryland, you have to have three years of experience as an investigator before you can be licensed, so you won’t be out on your own right off the bat; if that’s even what you want."

"But I’d be a detective?"

Novak laughed, "Yes, you’d be a real live detective. What courses are you taking at college this fall?"

"Well, I hadn’t decided on a major yet, just general studies."

"Think about taking some criminal justice or journalism courses. A photography course would be very helpful. Our business is collecting data and it’s important to be able to document that information. If they have any courses on electronic equipment that might be good too."

"I don’t know if they offer all those where I’m going. I’ll look into it."

"Good, we’ll make a PI out of you before it’s all over."

I’m sure I was grinning like an idiot but I didn’t care. I knew then that this was what I wanted more than anything. I wanted to be a detective.

"So, tell me more about this murder case?" Novak continued, "What do you know about it?"

"Next to nothing."

"Good, there’s no time like the present to begin learning research techniques. You can start by going to the newspaper and seeing what they have on file. I’ll make a couple calls to my PD connections and see what the ground level buzz is on the case."

"You have police connections?"

"I’d better. I was a cop for longer than you’ve been alive. And no good investigator worthy of the name would be caught dead without a couple good contacts at the station. I’ll take you there one day and introduce you around."

"I may know some of them," I said dryly.

"I keep forgetting you’re not exactly green when it comes to the whole investigation scene."

"I’m far from experienced though."

"Well, the first step is getting background. We need to know as many facts as we can about what happened. And I mean evidence, not just suspicions and theories, although they have their place too."

"What do I do?"

"Go to the newsroom at the Chesapeake Times and tell them you want to look at the issues starting when the story first broke. Tell them you’re working for me; they know me there."

"What am I looking for?"

"Anything and everything to do with the case; names, dates, location, the officer in charge of the investigation, what they think happened, whatever you can get."

He gave me directions and sent me off after telling me to keep record of my mileage on the car. I was driving Adam’s, as mine was still incapacitated. I didn’t have any trouble getting the newspapers, but as the story began to unfold bit by tortured bit I found myself more and more horrified and less and less sure I wanted to be involved.

The first story, reported several days earlier, was just a brief account of a house fire in which the firemen said there was at least one victim. No cause of the fire was reported. By the very next day the deceased had moved from the status of an accidental victim of a tragic fire to murder victim. Details were still sketchy at this point. It seemed investigators were staying pretty tight lipped.

The full story broke on day three. The police released full details of the man, Ira Cohen, a night deskman at a run-down hotel on the edge of town. His earthly remains had been found at the heart of the fire, but he hadn’t died in the fire. It seemed that before the fire had been started old Ira had been hacked apart. My stomach lurched just thinking about it. It was also reported that an accelerant had been used to set the blaze.

A clearer picture of Mr. Cohen began to appear in yesterday’s paper. He had a record of minor infractions; DUI’s, disorderly conduct and barroom brawls, but it seemed he didn’t limit his brawling to the barroom. There were records of several investigations into allegations of child abuse, but nothing ever came of any of them.

The article ended with the mention that Mr. Cohen’s son, Caleb, had been picked up for questioning regarding the murder and fire.

With a sigh I closed the tablet I’d been using to take notes, now with several pages full of my sprawling handwriting. I thanked the staff that had helped me and drove back to the office.

"The damn phone has rung itself off the hook!" Novak barked as soon as I opened the door. He was sitting at my desk.

"Sorry?" I offered, although I was unsure of what I was apologizing for.

"Ah, it’s not your fault. It’s the weather. It makes everyone think their spouse must be cheating on them. But if you’re gonna start helping me out on research I’m gonna need to find us another desk jockey."

We went into Novak’s office while I quickly brought him up to date on what I’d found out at the newspaper.

He grunted when I had finished my recital. "Good work, kid. I knew most of that already but you did a nice job. My source at the department confirmed all that and gave me a bit more that they haven’t released to the newspapers yet. It seems the kid, Caleb, threatened to kill his old man in front of a couple police officers the last time they were called out there, by a neighbor I might add. Apparently it was common knowledge that the guy beat up on his kid on a regular basis. It seems our Mr. Cohen was a real prize, a championship sleazeball. I imagine it’s going to get ugly for the child protective services before it’s over."

"Why?"

"The kid should have been out of the house long ago, but nothing was ever done. Anyway, the kid was taken out of the home and placed into a group home while yet another investigation took place. The problem is the kid disappeared from the home on the day of the murder and wasn’t seen again until some uniforms picked him up on the boardwalk a couple days ago. His story is that from previous experience he fully expected to get returned to his father and he wasn’t having any of it so he took off. Bad choice as it turns out, especially if he’s telling the truth, which the police don’t think he is. Right now he’s their favorite suspect. Well, only suspect."

"What do you think?"

"I don’t have enough information to think anything at this point. From what little I do know there isn’t any real evidence against the boy. All they have is a threat that almost anyone would have made in the same situation and his disappearance, which may have been just as he said. On the other hand, it doesn’t take an overactive imagination to understand the rage and helplessness the kid must have been feeling. Cornered people do desperate things and this murder was definitely a crime of passion."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Simple. You don’t chop someone up who you mildly dislike or just want out of the way. That takes an intense hatred or a psycho, as I mentioned earlier. Now, I’ve spent enough time today on a case that I’m not even getting paid for. I’m going to get back to my paying cases and I suggest you get back to work as well. We’ll look at this again on Monday if I have time."

I took the dismissal for what it was and returned to my desk. The phone began to ring before my bottom even hit the chair. The rest of the day was fairly routine. I thought all the excitement was over for a while. Boy, was I wrong. er?wed her

Chaos greeted me as I walked through the front door of our house that evening. The sounds of pot and pans banging around came from the direction of the kitchen, where I deduced that Adam must be cooking. Steve was struggling to add the extra leaf to our antique (and very stubborn) dining table. Kane was busily vacuuming and over all this, the radio was loudly blaring country music.

I rushed over to help Steve with the table. "What’s going on?" I asked as I tugged on my end. It slowly slid grudgingly open far enough to accommodate the leaf.

"We’re having company," Steve grunted as he dropped the leaf into place. "Push," he ordered.

"So I gathered," I gave the table a shove and it slid back together. "Of the last minute variety I assume. Do I get to know who it is or do I have to wait until they arrive?"

"Judy and Jake. It was Adam’s idea."

My stomach did a funny little flutter at the mention of Jake’s name but I tried to just ignore it. I thought that Steve sounded a little disgruntled by our eleventh-hour guests, but then again I may have been reading too much into it.

e

I wondered into the kitchen and decided I wasn’t just imagining things. Adam was wearing a very grim expression as he attacked a large bowl of salad as if the greens had offended him.

"What did that lettuce do to you?" I asked lightly. He jumped and looked up.

"Killian," he said, as if surprised to see me.

"Yeah, I live here, remember?"

"I didn’t hear you come in."

"Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ok?"

"Me? Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Well, with you roughing the roughage and all…"

"I’m fine, just a little stressed with having to throw together a dinner at the last minute like this."

"I thought it was your idea."

"Who said that?"

"Steve."

Adam rolled his eyes, "He would. Technically I invited them, but you know Judy. She called here fully intending to eat here tonight. She dropped hints until I invited her and then she was all, ‘oh we couldn’t, too much work, blah blah blah,’ but of course she accepted."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, not really. Thanks though, Kill. It’s not as bad as I’m making it out to be; I’m just blowing off steam. The chicken breasts are in the oven, the risotto is almost done, I’ve ravaged the romaine enough and we have plenty of desserts around. All I have to do is mix up the vinaigrette and I’m all done. Besides, you’re a working stiff now. You go on and relax until dinner."

"I don’t do anything except sit behind a desk all day. The most strenuous thing I do is answer the phone. Although I did get to do some research today at the newspaper."

"That’s different. Is it for one of Mr. Novak’s cases?"

"He hates to be called mister. And not exactly, but that’s a long story."

"Which I want to hear in full, just not right now."

"Ok," I said, trying to hide my relief. I wasn’t quite ready for Adam to know that I was getting involved in another murder investigation. I made my exit while I could and took the stairs two at a time up to my room. I was checking my email, nothing but get-rich-quick offers and penis enlargement advertisements, when Kane came in.

"Hiya, Kill," he said as he pulled his stained, raggedy t-shirt over his head, "Dad said I hafta change."

"No wonder, you look like some street kid in that nasty shirt."

"Hey, you know it’s my favorite. It was Seth’s. What should I wear?"

"Clothes."

"Come on, you’re the gay guy. You’re supposed to be good at fashion stuff."

"Give me a break!"

"I’m just kidding," he said with a grin. He pulled a short-sleeved knit shirt out of my dresser and held it up. "I know how you are about stereotypes. Can I wear this?"

"Just don’t get anything on it."

"I’ll try. Are you and Asher still on the outs?"

"Yeah, why?" I said warily.

"Are you going to start something up with Jake again?"

"What?"

"You two had something going on once, before Asher, right?"

"That’s ancient history, Kane."

"Hmmm, a bit touchy aren’t you? Maybe you protest too much?"

"Don’t misquote Shakespeare at me," I said a trifle grumpily.

"Fine, I think thou dost protest too much. That better? Anyway, the only reason I asked is because I met this really nice guy today at the library and I think he might be gay."

"Ok, first off, I do not need you fixing me up. I am perfectly capable of finding my own dates if and when I decide I’m ready to date. Second, what makes you so sure he’s gay? Did he talk with a lisp and have a limp wrist?"

"Now who’s throwing around stereotypes?"

"I was making a point."

"I’ve been around enough gay guys to know one when I see one. Besides, he was hitting on me, not real obviously or anything but definitely flirting. And no, I wasn’t imagining it. And then," he paused dramatically before delivering his final argument, "he gave me his phone number before he left."

"Oh," I said, feeling properly chastised. I turned back to the computer and started reading an article about Madonna.

"Aren’t you going to ask me if he was cute?" Kane asked after a minute.

"It doesn’t matter since I’m not about to call him. Besides, you’re straight, how would you know?"

"I’m straight, not blind. I still know if a guy is hot or not. I’m just not attracted to him if he is."

I shrugged and kept reading. I lasted a full thirty seconds before my curiosity overcame me. "Well, was he cute?" I demanded, carefully keeping my eyes on the screen.

"Well, I am only straight," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "but I’d have to say he was a major hottie."

I struggled for another half a minute before asking, "How major?"

"You know that guy from Cruel Intentions?"

I spun around, "Ryan Philippe?"

"Yeah, that’s him. Well he didn’t look anything like him."

I laughed out loud as Kane collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Good one. You made the whole thing up, didn’t you?" I said.

"No, he’s for real, honest. I just couldn’t resist. He’s got brown hair and eyes, cute in an all-American sort of way. Actually he looked a little like that guy in your favorite movie."

"Beautiful Thing?"

"No, that other one, with Rachel from friends."

"Oh, The Object of My Affection."

"Yeah, that one."

"You mean Paul Rudd?"

"If you say so. His name is Micah."

"That’s a nice name."

"He seemed like a nice guy. He overheard me asking the librarian about where to find books on local history. He said that he’d just finished a great book on the subject."

"Since when have you cared about local history?"

"I don’t. It was for Steve. He’s doing some sort of research about this house he’s so obsessed with. Anyway, Micah showed me the book he was talking about and a few others. Wasn’t that nice of him?"

"A regular boy scout," I said dryly, "And how old was this font of knowledge and goodwill? 50? 60? 70?"

"I’d guess in his early 20’s. He’s a reporter. That’s why he knew all that stuff. He was doing research for an article."

"Oh. Well I’m still not calling a complete stranger. And you don’t even know for sure that he’s gay. He might have just given you his number as a professional courtesy; you know, in case you had more questions."

"Get real. My gaydar is probably better than yours. I could introduce you."

"Forget it, Kane. I’m not going on a blind date with some stranger you just met in the library. Do you really think I’m that desperate?"

"You’re still hung up on Asher aren’t you?"

"For the love of…where did that come from?"

"If you’re not ready to date just say so."

"Has everyone lost their freakin’ minds around here?"

The phone started ringing at the moment and Kane scooped it up. I gratefully escaped back to the computer.

"Speak of the devil," Kane said as he dropped the phone into my lap.

I looked up questioningly, but he walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

"Hello?" I said, half expecting to hear the mysterious Micah on the other end.

"Killian?" It was Asher.

"Oh, hi."

"Don’t sound so excited," he said.

"I was just…never mind. What’s up?"

"You said you’d call me."

"No, I said we would talk."

"Well, now we’re talking. What’s going on?"

"You’re lucky. Novak agreed to help out in his spare time. I think he’s just curious about the case."

"Great! When do we start?"

"We started today. We did some research and stuff. We won’t be doing much more until Monday."

"Monday? We have to move faster than that! Caleb’s in jail!"

"I thought he was fifteen."

"Well, it’s juvie jail, but still."

"Look, we have to do this on Novak’s time. He’s doing us, no, you, a favor by doing this at all."

"We don’t have to wait on him for everything. You could meet me tomorrow and we could go visit Caleb. I had him add you to his visitor’s list. It’s not like he has that many. Don’t you want to meet him?"

I started to argue but once again my curiosity won out. "What time?" I said with a sigh.

"How about 11?"

"Fine," I said, "I have to go. Judy and Jake are coming over for dinner."

"I know. They’re staying here while they get moved into their apartment. It’s a full house."

"I bet. I have to go help Adam now." A small fib but I was eager to get off the phone before I got drawn into anything else.

"Ok, see you tomorrow."

I hung up and I decided to go down and see if there was something I could do so it wouldn’t be a total lie. As I stood up I noticed a cream-colored business card lying next to the keyboard.

"Micah Gerber," it read, "Journalist." His phone number and email address were printed beneath that. For a crazy moment I thought about sending this guy and email, but I quickly shook it off and ran downstairs.

I was setting a basket of rolls on the table when I heard voices in the hallway. Apparently Judy and Jake had arrived. My stomach did a triple somersault before settling into what felt like jumping jacks.

I couldn’t make myself go out to greet them so I waited for them to come to me. I didn’t have to wait long since dinner was ready. Judy and Jake came into the room, led by Steve with Adam and Kane trailing behind. Jake stopped cold when he saw me standing there. He looked better than I remembered. He’d grown up since I saw him last; he now looked several inches taller than me. His hair had darkened to a light brown with blonde highlights and his skin was a warm golden tan, making his bright blue eyes look even brighter. He was, in a word, beautiful. He grinned and his teeth flashed white. I smiled back uncertainly. No one in the room missed the exchange but thankfully everyone had the grace not to mention it.

We settled into our places around the table and somehow it maneuvered so that Jake and I were sitting side by side. I was beginning to feel like things had been orchestrated to throw us together. I didn’t much like the feeling.

Adam left the room and came back with the bowl of salad and after a brief blessing we all dug in. Conversation was light; we mostly talked about Judy and Jake’s recent move, her new business, and the house that Steve was buying. I noticed that every time the subject of the house came up that Adam didn’t have much to say. Or maybe I was just making mountains out of molehills.

Steve filled us in on his latest research on the house, "The real estate agent told us that the house was built in the early 1850’s, and that Captain Marnien built it for his young bride, Amalie. The Captain was quite a local celebrity, a bit of an eccentric, and he did apparently build the house. There’s a whole little booklet about him that was published in the 1940’s because he was apparently very influential in the area. He married Amalie in 1855 and they moved into the house soon after even though it wasn’t completely finished. They had a child but he died before he was a year old which was very common then. Captain Marnien was lost at sea about a year after their fifth anniversary. It was in all the local newspapers at the time, even made the Baltimore papers. It was considered quite a tragedy. Amalie died about a year later according to one book that was really about historic homes on the Lower Shore. I haven’t been able to find her death notice yet, but it’s all very interesting. Apparently even though she was a young, beautiful and very rich widow, Amalie didn’t socialize at all after the loss of the Captain. She hardly ever left the house in fact."

"Do I understand correctly that there’s even a resident ghost?" Judy asked, "And if so may we assume that the unhappy spirit is Amalie?"

"So the legend goes," Steve said with a child-like grin

"I don’t believe in ghosts," Kane said firmly.

"Some things exist whether you believe in them or not," Judy said with a small smile.

An awkward silence fell over the table until it got to me. I was never one to stand a pregnant pause. "I know what I want to do now; like with my life I mean," I announced suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at me and I wondered if I was blushing. "And what would that be?" Adam asked.

"Well I’ll have letters behind my name."

"M.D.?" guessed Adam.

"PhD?" offered Steve.

"DOA?" Kane smirked.

Judy just smiled and Jake just looked slightly disinterested.

"PI," I said.

It fell like a brick. Only Judy’s expression remained the same. Adam’s eyes widened and his fork stopped in midair. Steve frowned. Kane looked as if he was struggling to keep from laughing out loud and Jake looked interested for the first time that night.

"You want to be a detective?" Adam said carefully.

"Killian Kendall, PI," Kane said with a snicker.

I threw him a dirty look and answered Adam, "Yeah, like Novak. He said that if I work with him three years I could get my license. I’d be like an apprentice."

"It sounds kind of dangerous," Steve said.

"Not really. He said most of his cases are really boring; mostly research and stuff, like I was doing today."

"Are you going to drop out of school?" Adam asked.

"He hasn’t started yet, how can he drop out?" Kane pointed out.

"No, I would just take classes that would help make me a better investigator; journalism, photography, stuff like that."

"Well I think it’s a marvelous decision," Judy interjected. Adam and Steve threw her a matching pair of scowls.

"Thank you, Judy," I said deliberately. "It’s nice to know someone supports me."

"It’s not that I don’t support you," Adam said, "I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into."

"This is what I really want to do."

"You’re mother is going to kill me," he muttered.

"I’ll be 18 in a month, then I’ll be an adult and she won’t have to worry."

"You don’t stop being a parent when your child turns 18," Steve said.

"I didn’t mean to start a family argument at the dinner table," I said pointedly.

"What? We’re not family?" Judy said with a warm smile.

"I didn’t say that," I said with an answering smile.

"Jake, you have one year left of school?"

"Yeah, Kane and I are in the same grade." He cast a slightly suggestive smile in Kane’s direction. I made a mental not to remind Jake that Kane was straight.

"It’s hard to believe that my youngest son is going to be a senior this fall," Adam moaned.

"Tell me about it," Judy agreed, "Do I look old enough to have a son in college?"

"No you don’t," Steve assured her, "How is Dash by the way?"

"Loving every minute of life on his own. He’s going on some sort of work exchange experience thing to Australia for a year starting next month. He promised to come for a visit before he leaves."

"What kind of work will he be doing?"

"Knowing Dash, very little. They’ll have to pry him away from the beach and parties."

"Was it good to see Jamie again?" I asked Jake.

He gave me a funny look that I couldn’t quite decipher. "It’s just nice to be home," he said quietly. I looked at Judy but she didn’t look back. I wondered if I had said something wrong.

"It’s good to have you back," I said to fill the silence. That got me a sexy little smile for my effort. I felt a chill run down my spine and I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I honestly hadn’t thought about rekindling any kind of romance with Jake until Kane brought it up. Our last attempt had been a clumsy, uncertain exploration and had ended before it had even truly begun. But now I was finding that the same attractions that were there the first time were still very much present. I had do decide if I wanted to act on those feelings or do my best to ignore them. I still wasn’t sure what was happening with Asher. Were we going to work things out and get back together or was that a lost cause? I needed to have a heart to heart talk with someone, and I didn’t think Adam or Steve would do this time; they both had too much on their own minds. Maybe I could talk to Judy.

The conversation had moved on while I was lost in my thoughts and I suddenly found myself the focus of everyone’s attention.

"Uh…what?" I said a bit defensively.

"I asked if you’ve heard how Will is making out with the new baby," Adam said.

"Oh, he sent me an email last week. I need to go see him. He said he's hardly slept at all since they brought Darin home, but other than that he’s good. And Darin is good."

"We’ll have to have him and the baby over for dinner soon," Steve suggested.

"How old is the baby?" Jake asked.

"Almost a month old," I told him.

"Will is Asher’s cousin on Aunt Deb’s side, right?" he asked Judy.

"Yes."

"I thought Asher told me he was gay."

"He is," I said.

"So is the baby like…adopted or what?"

"It’s a long story," I hoped he would get the hint and drop it.

"Dinner’s done, how about if we take a walk and you can tell it to me."

"I…" I started to say that I should help clean up, but Adam cut me off.

"That’s a good idea. You two can catch up."

I smiled weakly as everyone got up from the table. As I was following Jake towards the door, Judy caught my eye and seemed to be trying to tell me something. I wasn’t sure what though so I just kept going.

I wasn’t sure what to say once we were alone, so I headed for the beach.

"I missed the beach," he said after a minute.

I thought you were living in California," I said.

"California isn’t all beaches you know. Mom and Dash used to live on the coast but they moved inland just before I went out there. Besides, the west coast beach just feels different. This is home."

"You seem a lot better than when you left."

"I am a lot better. So tell me the story on Will."

So I did. I told him the whole thing, including my limited involvement and how Will came to adopt Darin. When I finished he was quiet for a few minutes. The only sound was the crash of the waves rolling in.

"I missed you, Killian," he said softly after a while. My heart skipped a beat and then sped up. I looked away. "I thought of you all the time," he went on, "When I heard that you and Asher had broke up, I have to admit I was relieved."

"Look, Jake, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I don’t know where Asher and I stand. I’m not really…"

He cut me off with the softest of touches, just the lightest brush of his hand against my cheek. I turned back to face him. He was so close I could smell his scent, feel the warmth from his body. "I don’t know if I ever thanked you for saving my life," he whispered. Then he leaned in ever so slightly and his lips brushed mine. Any restraint I had been holding on to washed away in the sudden rush of emotion and suddenly I was kissing him with an intensity I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jake broke away first. "I knew you wanted me," he said with a self-satisfied grin. s scent,

u

Life is funny sometimes. Not ha-ha funny; the kind of funny where, for the life of you, you just can’t figure out what the hell is going on. Every time you think you’re starting to understand the rules of the game, something or someone comes along and throws you a curveball—or three.

First there was the whole mess with Asher breaking up with me and making it seem to be my idea. I had to admit I still hadn’t sorted out all my feelings on that one. I’d been busy enough with my new job that I hadn’t really had time to dwell on it all that much, but I had recently realized that I hadn’t been as upset as you would expect over my break-up with my boyfriend of almost two years. I had hardly been more than a speed bump. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, that said about me. Maybe it said more about us.

Then there was this whole fiasco of moving to the Adam’s Family homestead. It was causing a definite tension between Adam and Steve. I hoped they weren’t heading for a break-up too.

And as if that wasn’t enough, now Jake was kissing me. I wasn’t at all sure how I felt about that. I’d always been attracted to Jake. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But it was only on a strictly physical level. It was that animal attraction and his aggressive manner that had thrown us together the first time. But I’d grown a lot since then.

"I’m not going to lie to you, Jake," I said softly, "I am attracted to you."

With a sexy grin he moved in for another kiss. I placed both hands against his chest and gently but firmly pushed him back.

"But that’s all it is, Jake, a physical attraction."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his face a study in confusion.

"Maybe that was enough once, if it ever was, but it’s not now. I need more than that. I don’t need a meaningless fling right now. I don’t even need a boyfriend. I have too much going on that I haven’t figured out. What I do need is a friend. Think you’d be interested in the position?"

"I don’t know," he said slowly, "What are the requirements?"

I smiled. "Just be yourself."

"I think I can handle that," he said with a smile of his own.

"And no pressure to be anything more," I added.

He nodded and we started walking back, side-by-side in a companionable silence.

"You know," he said, stopping suddenly a short ways from the house, "Out in California it was so different from here. Especially where we were. It seemed like everyone wanted something from you, usually sex. It was easy to just fall into the same patterns everyone else was following. I was still really confused and angry about everything that happened. Hell, I was just plain messed up. I still am. That’s one of the reasons we moved back here. Do you know that I probably slept with more than twenty people while we were there? I lost count."

"Jake!" I gasped.

"Don’t worry, I always used protection and get tested regularly. That’s not my point."

"But twenty?"

"Yeah, I was a slut. But my point is, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be friends with someone, with no strings attached."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Isn’t that what friends do, tell each other everything? I just want you to know that I’m a little rusty on this whole friend thing. I’m probably going to screw up; you should know that now. Like when I was coming on to you back there, it was just, like, force of habit, you know? It was like I couldn’t stop myself. And I hated myself the whole time."

"Gee…thanks."

"I didn’t mean it like that," he said quickly.

"I know. I was just trying to make a joke."

"Oh. Well, what I meant was that…oh hell, I don’t know what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that I do want to be your friend. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into."

"I’ll take the risk."

"Thanks. And thanks for not letting me screw it up."

"Hey, what are friends for? Just be careful because I’m not at all sure I’d be able to say no and second time."

He grinned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

* * *

I walked slowly down the beach by myself. Fog swirled around me and blew across the sand in undulating and ever-changing patterns. Everything seemed softened, even the sound of the waves crashing in seemed muted.

Suddenly, through the fog, I spotted a familiar form walking in front of me. I stepped up my pace but he somehow stayed just ahead of me, winking in and out in the mist.

"Seth!" I called out. He turned and smiled, then, with a little wave he turned and disappeared into the fog. I started to run, trying to catch up to him. I saw him again, this time within reach; I grabbed his shoulder. He turned around but it wasn’t Seth. It was Todd and suddenly we were back in the room the night he tried to kill Asher, Jake and me, but now it was just me and him. I was holding a gun in my hand, pointed straight at Todd.

"You took Seth away from me," I screamed. I pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. There was no sound, just the sight of Todd crumpling to the ground, his blood a brilliant splash of red. I stood looking down at his lifeless body until I felt a presence beside me. I looked up to see Seth looking at me in horror.

"You killed him! You’re no better than him."

With a gasp I sat straight up in my bed. Weak sunlight shone through the window and across my sheets. Kane slept peacefully in his bed.

I hadn’t dreamed about Seth in a long time.

* * *

Asher was fifteen minutes late meeting me at the restaurant where we had agreed to meet. I sipped a cappuccino while I waited and wondered what the hell I was doing there. I didn’t know this kid, why should I care what happens to him? Besides my insatiable curiosity, I knew I was doing it for Asher. Whether or not we were dating, we’d shared too much to turn my back on him now.

He came through the door looking as good as ever. His curly black hair was still wet from his shower. He was wearing a silvery-blue pullover that set off his eyes and a dark blue pair of cargo shorts. He slid into the seat across from me.

"Hi, Kill. Thanks for doing this."

"I’ve not done anything yet."

"You’re here, that’s something."

"I’m not sure what I’m doing here."

"You’re good at this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t even know where to begin."

"So what am I supposed to be doing anyway, interrogating the kid? This is all kind of weird."

"How is it weird? I just want you to meet him. Once you meet him you’ll know he didn’t do this. He couldn’t have done what they’re saying he did. It’s not in him."

"There’s a lot more in any of us then we even know," I said, thinking about my dream.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I killed Todd."

"But you had to. It was self-defense."

"I still killed a person, Asher. I took someone’s life. Maybe this kid felt like it was in self-defense. His dad abused him so he whacked him."

"Whacked? You sound like a gangster. And his name is Caleb. If you already think he’s guilty why are you even doing this?"

"I told you, I don’t know why I’m here. I wouldn’t be doing this for anyone else."

An unreadable look came into his eyes. "Do you still love me?"

"What? I...Yeah, of course I do."

"You do?"

"You thought I stopped loving you? Did you stop loving me?"

"Yes…I mean, no. I mean, I didn’t know what to think. You were acting so weird. You never talked to me, I mean really talked about important things. You never told me how you were feeling, what you were thinking."

"Maybe I wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship we had."

"What do you mean?"

"I think we moved too fast."

"Too fast? Killian, if we went any slower we’d be dating at a retirement center."

"We were kids. Hell, we still are. I’d never dated anyone before and suddenly here I was in a long-term relationship. I wasn’t ready for that."

"I thought you just said you loved me."

"I did. I do. It’s just that…I don’t know what I want right now. I feel like I’m searching for something, but I don’t think I’m going to find it in a relationship. Not right now, anyway. I don’t want to lose our friendship. You’re a part of my life and I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too. I don’t know what to do. Let’s just do this now and worry about the rest later."

We stood up and walked out to the parking lot.

"Are we going in one car or taking both?" I asked.

"It’s silly to take both. Why don’t you just drive with me?"

I climbed in and we set off. Conversation was kept to a minimum and what little there was seemed superficial. I was relieved when we arrived at the Juvenile Detention Center where Caleb was being held.

It was a squat brick building, not the most architecturally interesting structure. The small lawn had been attractively landscaped, though, and an American flag flapped in the breeze.

We went in and told the uniformed lady at the front desk who we were there to see. There was some discussion on her phone, then we had to sign into a register. We were led to a room with a bank of booths with a glass wall separating us from an identical set-up on the other side. We had to wait a few minutes before Caleb was led in.

I stared at him in surprise. My first impression was that Asher was right, there was no way this kid could have killed anyone. He was small, maybe 5’3" and if he weighed more than 100 pounds I’d be shocked. He had a mop of light brown hair and enormous brown eyes that radiated anguish like a beacon. His thin lips were pressed together nervously as he looked me over. He settled into the seat across from us and fixed his mournful gaze on Asher.

"Caleb, this is Killian. He’s the one who’s going to help us prove your innocence."

I tried not to wince at Asher’s over-the-top dramatics. Caleb’s eyes shifted to me again before sliding back to Asher. He reminded me of a puppy that’s been kicked by its owner one too many times and now it’s distrustful of all humans.

"How’s he going to do that?" he asked in a soft voice.

"He’s a detective," Asher said.

"I’m not a detective," I interjected, "I’m a secretary at a detective agency."

"But you’re just like a detective and you’ve solved a murder before." Asher gave me a look that I interpreted to mean he wanted me to play the master sleuth for Caleb’s benefit. I had no intentions of pretending to be anything I’m not.

"I didn’t solve anything. I was just as surprised as everyone else."

"Well, your boss is helping too, and he’s a real detective. He used to be a police detective and everything."

I couldn’t argue with that. Caleb’s eyes darted back and forth between us as if he was watching a tennis match.

"So you’re, like, going to find out who really killed my dad?" he said guardedly.

"We’re going to try," I said quickly, before Asher could make any promises.

"How?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "We’ll ask questions. Talk to people. Look around…"

"And that’s going to find out who killed him?"

"Maybe."

"What kinds of questions will you ask?"

"Uh, well, we’ll ask your neighbors if they saw anything that night. Stuff like that." I decided that it was time to take control of this conversation, "Do you know who would want to see your dad killed?"

"You mean besides me?"

"Um, yeah."

"Everyone who ever met him? He was a bastard, plain and simple."

"Is there anyone in particular? Who should we talk to? Help us out here."

"He had a girlfriend. Her name is Nadine. I can’t remember her last name. Tyndall? Tinkle? Something like that."

I pulled out a notebook and I had stuck in my pocket and jotted the name. "Anyone else? Did he have a job?"

"He worked part time as a security guard at a hotel downtown. I can’t remember who his boss is…was. I think it was the Ease Inn."

"What about your mom?"

His eyes dimmed and he looked away. "She’s dead."

"How long ago?"

"I was little. I just woke up one morning and my dad said she was gone. When I asked him what he meant he said, ‘Dead, boy. Your mom is dead and gone.’ Things got worse from then on."

"How do you mean?"

"That’s when he started hitting me. Before that he mostly just hit her, he only hit me when I was bad or did something wrong."

"Did he hit you a lot?"

His haunted eyes found mine and locked onto them. I couldn’t look away. "Every day," he said as matter of fact as if he’d just commented on the weather.

It took me a moment to find my voice again. "Is there anyone else who might have wanted to kill him?" I asked finally.

Caleb shrugged.

"What about your neighbors?"

"There’s old Mrs. Fields on one side, but she’s deaf and half-blind. She wouldn’t know if someone chopped dad up in the middle of her living room." I flinched at the coldness in his voice. "The Haynes’s live on the other side. They don’t have any kids. Becky, that’s the wife, she was real nice to me. She’d let me come over sometimes when Dad was drinking. And she always gave me food. I guess I don’t look like I eat enough. Her husband, Terry, was alright too, but he was real quiet and he worked a lot."

I was scribbling the whole time he talked. It was easier than looking into those eyes. They seemed like endless pools of misery, their depths formed from years upon years of pain and torture. Now that he’d stopped talking, though, I couldn’t avoid looking up. He was watching me closely.

"Are you really going to help me?" he asked. There wasn’t any hope in the question; as if he already knew the answer and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

"I’m going to look into it," I said carefully.

He frowned. "Don’t bother."

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Caleb, Killian’s good," Asher said quickly, "He came here to talk to you today. Give him a chance. Let him help you."

"How can he help me if he doesn’t believe I’m innocent?"

"I didn’t say—"

"You didn’t have to. I can tell you think I did it. If you’ve already made up your mind that’s not the kind of help I need."

"If there’s one thing I’ve learned from past experience it’s that I can’t go into something like this with preconceived notions. I miss too much that way. I have to keep my mind open and that means I can’t go in assuming you didn’t do this just because you say you didn’t. I’m also not going to assume you did do it just because the police think you did. I’m going to be as unbiased as I know how, and since I don’t know you, your dad, or anyone else involved that shouldn’t be that hard."

Caleb thought for a minute and then nodded slightly. "Fair enough, I guess I have to take what I can get. It’s not like I can afford to hire a decent lawyer."

"Is the State appointing one for you?"

"I guess so."

"Why do the police seem so sure you did it?"

"Because I ran away from the group home I was in."

"Why?"

"Why not? It was better than staying there. If I wanted to get the shit beat out of me every day I could have just stayed with Dad."

"Where’d you go?"

He looked away. "No where special."

"You had to go somewhere."

"I just wandered around."

"The police picked you up on the boardwalk, right? Is that where you went?"

His eyes narrowed. "You’ve done some homework. No, I’d just gotten to the boardwalk when the police grabbed me. I didn’t even know what was going on at first. I thought they were going to take me back to the group home, so I ran from them. They caught me, though. That’s when I found out that my dad was dead. And that they thought I had done it."

"So you didn’t know that he was dead before they found you?"

"Nope, that was the first I’d heard of it. Not that I was all that broken up. I hated him."

I tried to think of any more questions. I wished Novak was there or that I’d asked him what kinds of things to ask. I was trying to remember every police show I’d ever watched.

"Where were you when they say your dad was killed?"

"I told you, I don’t know. I was just wandering around, working my way towards the boardwalk."

"Why were you heading towards the boardwalk?"

He shrugged, "I don’t know. I thought I might run into someone I knew."

"And did you?"

"I didn’t see anyone until the cops busted me."

"So you don’t have an alibi?"

"I didn’t know I was going to need one."

The door opened behind us and a guard stepped in. "Times up, guys," he said genially.

Caleb stood up and looked intently at Asher. Then he placed his hand flat against the glass and Asher placed his against Caleb’s. They stood like that for a second and then Caleb turned and walked away without another word. A guard was waiting to take him away.

"What was that about?" I asked Asher as soon as we were outside.

"What?"

"That whole hand thing."

"He was just saying good-bye," Asher said defensively.

"I think there’s something going on between you two, but that’s none of my business. What is my business, though, is that there was something very odd about that whole interview."

"What do you mean odd?"

"If you were accused of killing your father, wouldn’t you explicitly say that you didn’t kill him? He never once actually said I didn’t kill my father, not even when he was walking away. He doesn’t seem at all concerned about who did kill him."

"He hated his dad, Killian. The man beat him every day of his life; for no reason. You can’t expect him to be in mourning. A part of him is probably glad he’s dead."

"A part of him? I’d say it’s more like all of him. He’s a cool customer, Ash. Be careful."

"You think he did it, don’t you?"

"Like I said, I try to keep an open mind. But if I had to say one way or the other right now, then yes, my gut instinct says he did it."

"Killian!"

"Look, I never promised that I would believe his innocence. I said I would look into it and I will. But if I find more evidence that he did do it, I’m not going to hide that. I’ll turn it over to the police. I can’t even say that I blame him really. If I was in his shoes maybe I would have done the same thing. There were times when I hated my dad enough to kill him and he didn’t beat me every day. But the difference is I didn’t kill my dad."

"And you don’t know that Caleb did either. What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty? He’s already been tried and convicted by the police and the newspapers and now you too."

"You know Asher, sometimes things are just as they appear."

"And sometimes appearances can be deceiving."

Continued

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