their relationship was strong and central to Ked’s life and well-being. In addition, Dan’s best friend, Donny, lived here too. Until Dan met Trevor, that friendship had been the single most important relationship in his life, apart from Kedrick.
All this went through his mind as he sat on the stoop and finished his burger combo. He tucked the wrappers inside one another and stood, looking up. This was his future. Somehow, he’d intertwined the house’s progress with the success of his new relationship. It was irrational, but the joy he felt on seeing the change was palpable.
If one went smoothly, then it followed that the other would too.
A ragged light showed in the east as he parked his car. The streetlamps appeared as pools of blue against the thinning darkness overhead. He entered a silent house. Ralph wagged a tentative greeting from his bed in the kitchen, as if unsure whether to welcome Dan’s late return. Surely there were rules about such things, even for humans?
Dan emptied his pockets, tossing keys and wallet onto the kitchen table, before running a glass of water. He took the glass into the living room and looked around. It was a welcoming home, one with signs of good taste, even in the dark. The floorboards were worn and the rugs faded, but the overall design said “solid.” It wasn’t exceptional as houses went, but it was a home and a well-loved one. Now he was about to leave it behind. Until this moment he hadn’t thought how that would feel. Funny, he’d wanted to move for years, and now that he was about to do so he felt a sense of regret. It wouldn’t stop him, though.
Light showed against the floor outside the bedroom. He pushed open the door and peered in. Trevor was sitting up reading by a bedside lamp. His features looked almost translucent, the skin pale with fatigue. His hair was matted from being pressed against the pillow. Dan guessed he’d simply given up fighting to get to sleep.
“Hi there.”
Trevor put his book aside. “Welcome back.”
Dan glanced over at the clock: 4:33 a.m. “Wow, it’s late,” he said, as though it had just occurred to him.
“Or very early, depending on your point of view,” Trevor replied with a tired smile.
“I’ve just been to the new house,” Dan said apologetically.
“How is it? Still there?”
“Pretty much. Looks good.”
Trevor waited.
“I didn’t want to call and chance waking you.”
“I was up. I was a little worried.”
“Sorry. It was inconsiderate.” Dan held out his Frosty, melted down to a gelatinous sludge at the bottom.
Trevor accepted the cup. “A very bad habit, but thanks.”
He sipped and returned it. Dan emptied it in a single gulp before dropping it into the garbage. He nestled in beside Trevor without taking off his clothes, as though another call might send him running
off again.
Trevor ran a finger over his forearm. “Anything to report?”
Dan hesitated. He didn’t want Trevor worrying he was risking his health or his life. Having already lost one partner, a second who purposely took risks might prove too difficult to bear.
Dan tried to make light of it. “I broke Rule Number One of surviving in a horror film: Don’t go into a room with the lights off.”
He gave a brief account of his find, without mentioning the state he’d found the body in. It might or might not make the newspapers over the next few days, but there was no need to force-feed Trevor the gruesome details.
“Is there more?”
Dan nodded slightly. “Whoever it was took a swing at me with a pipe, but he missed.”
Trevor stiffened.
“I wasn’t hurt,” Dan quickly added.
“This time.” Panic showed in Trevor’s eyes, the fear of harm coming to someone he loved. The unspoken What if?
“This time, yes. Next time I’ll be more careful.”
Trevor shook his head. “You sound like a kid who just missed being hit by a car on his bike. How do you know you’ll be more careful next time?”
Dan wanted to say that next time he wouldn’t go tramping around the ruins of a burnt-out building without using his flashlight, or even that he wouldn’t go at night, but it was just as likely that he would eventually find himself in some sort of danger. He couldn’t avoid it forever.
“I know because I’ve got you and Ked to think about. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
He reached for Trevor’s hand and pressed it against his lips. Trevor gave him a slight smile: The Bogey Man Averted. For now, at least.
There was an intertwining of limbs as they sought each other. Before anything could be decided, fatigue took over and desire backed down. After a few minutes of cuddling and stroking, Trevor fell asleep. His grip loosened on Dan’s biceps, the fingers straying across his chest.
Dan listened to Trevor’s breathing. His mind was still in the grip of images gleaned earlier in the evening,
pulling him back to the discovery at the slaughterhouse. None of it made sense without knowing why his client had been targeted. Assuming the dead man was Darryl Hillary, of course. He fell asleep with those thoughts in his head and Trevor snoring softly beside him. The alarm woke him three hours later.
Three
The Rue Morgue
Still wearing his dressing gown, Dan stepped onto the back patio, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other. The sun was bright; the air hung heavy with humidity. It already felt more like 35 Celsius than the mere 29 degrees the forecasters were predicting. Another hot one.
The paper carried an update about a sporadic series of garage fires in the city. They’d carried on through the summer. Just when you thought they were over, another popped up. Always garages, always in the middle of the night, but so far no injuries. Someone wanted to give the residents a good scare. Or maybe they simply wanted to add to the city’s growing pains, tossing panic alongside transit confusion and the cacophony of languages as different cultures were set side by side. Let the city go up in flames, Dan thought. There were more pressing issues afoot.
He sipped from his mug and mulled over the events of the previous evening. The images presented themselves in chilling precision, from leaving his house to finally driving away from the slaughterhouse nearly two hours later, along with everything else that happened
in between.
A knock interrupted his reveries. He opened the door to find an eager young courier beaming at him like there was no tomorrow and he loved his job delivering packages to strangers more than anything else on earth. At least there’s one happy person in the world this morning, Dan thought. He signed the electronic pad and looked at the envelope. It was the file he’d ordered on Darryl Hillary.
He
