A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Page 3

  “You look good,” Mark said, his lips twisting into a smile I hadn’t realized I was missing. He walked toward me and held a hand out. He was wearing a light pink button-up shirt tucked into a pair of well-fitting black pants. There was a plain silver necklace peeking out from the open collar. “It’s been… damn, how long has it been, Liam?”

  Our hands met to shake, and any answer I had for him was wiped off my tongue. It was like grabbing an electric fence and holding on, just as the power surged on (à la Jurassic Park minus the bloodthirsty raptors. Thankfully).

  “A while,” I managed to spit out. “It’s been a while.”

  “Like, what, ten years?”

  “Shit, I’d say even longer than that. I was fifteen when I moved away. You were sixteen. I’m thirty-one now. So… fuck. Sixteen years.”

  Mark shook his head again, and I mirrored him. That was a damn long time. And it was a damn shame, too. When our hands separated, I put mine back into the pocket of my jeans, wondering how long the feel of Mark’s palm on mine would last.

  “Damn, man.” Mark chewed his lip.

  “Sit, sit.” He motioned toward the comfortable-looking leather chair in front of his desk. I pulled it out and sat, trying hard not to get caught staring. I came in a panicked mess, and with one handshake, Mark had me feeling like we were kids again, when everything had seemed so under control. Nothing was spiraling; I wasn’t facing fake charges and the end to my career.

  And there was the lump in my throat again. It had arrived the yesterday when the allegations first broke and seemed to have made a permanent residence right there in my esophagus. I tried swallowing it back down.

  “Wow, okay,” Mark said, still sounding slightly shaken. I didn’t blame him. I wondered if he was feeling the same sparks that I was in that moment. Hell, the same sparks I had felt since back when we were thirteen, when we’d first met. Even then, back when we were practically babies in the grand scheme of things, I remember feeling some kind of pull toward Mark. Of course, at that age, it was more of a simple curiosity mixed with innocent admiration.

  Nowadays, though? That same curiosity and admiration were there, but so was a fiery passion that was burning through my anxiety.

  “All right, as much as I want to sit and catch up with you, I know you came here for a reason, and I want to be able to help. Of course, if you don’t feel comfortable for any reason, we can find another dete—”

  “No, no need. I want you,” I said, leaving a breath of air before going on, “as my detective.”

  I could have sworn I saw Mark’s smile flicker wider for a moment, but he set his face and focused in on his computer, his fingers pounding across the keyboard.

  “Good,” Mark said, “then maybe we can catch up later.” He looked away from the screen and at me for a moment, those two gems of his causing my breath to hitch. He smiled, as if he had gotten the reaction he was looking for, and went back to looking at his computer.

  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “All right,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So what brings you in?”

  “Well… let’s see, where should I start.” I pulled my phone out, the screen already opening up to one of the most recent articles written on me by a glittery pink gossip website. I flipped the phone around and set it on the table. Mark picked it up and read the big bold title out loud. “Liam Wolfe, Career Going Down as Fast as a Grindr Hookup… wow.” His eyebrows rose as he scanned the rest of the page. I waited until he was done to give him the full details, because surprisingly, the website’s reporting was actually pretty accurate and succinct. Had to give them that. The drops of come they’d painted on my chin made me laugh, so all in all, I guess they were doing a good job.

  Regardless, though, the article was real, and so were the allegations. “And I’m pretty sure Johnny is doing this so that his little brother can jump in the director’s chair. The studio would be fine with it as long as they get someone with a modicum of talent and an open schedule.”

  Mark was typing this all out. He asked me a few questions here and there, but for the most part, it was me talking. Which was weird, considering that as kids, it was always the opposite. Mark had been the one with the chatty lips while I’d sat back and listened. As I grew older, that changed, and I became much more talkative.

  I wondered what had happened as Mark grew up. Did he still go off on hour-long tangents about silly shapes in the clouds, or was he more of the sit back and observe type? Did he still obsess over crazy conspiracy theories that he’d never believe in but loved talking about?

  Did he still smell like the overpowering oaky cologne he’d always use, or did that change, too?

  How did he feel if my hand were on his again? Was he still soft, or had he taken on more of a rugged texture?

  My dick twitched as my questions roamed, my mind beginning to solidify just how much Mark had changed. How much of a man he had become. How his jaw was so well-defined and his brows were full and his eyes glowed. Those lips were plumper, and that smile was more smoldering than I ever remembered it being. Through his shirt, I could also see the definition of muscles earned from hours spent at the gym.

  My dick stopped the twitching. It was rock hard and pulsing between my thighs.

  So crazy. This is sooo fucking crazy.

  … Maybe I should have asked for another detective. I could have come back and caught up with him.

  Mark looked from the computer to me, and his eyes glittered like tiny, priceless jewels. My cock gave a rogue throb.

  Nope, I definitely did the right thing staying with Mark.

  “It is extremely convenient timing with the film about to start shooting, and although we don’t know for certain that it was Johnny who wrote the email alleging the theft, it sounds to me like he has the most reason to do it. Plus, you said he’s had it out for you before.” Mark seemed struck by a thought with the way the wrinkles between his brows deepened. “Did you recognize anything in the email that could point toward Johnny? A misspelling he always makes or an abbreviation he commonly uses?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. There was a typo or two, but nothing I could pin on Johnny. The police are looking into it, too. They had some kind of forensic expert come in and check it out.”

  “And so the police cleared you of the allegations?”

  “They have an open investigation going on, so nothing’s been officially cleared, but it can’t take much longer. I mean, it has to be obvious I didn’t steal any money. My bank accounts are a little complicated, but still, they have people dedicated to figuring it all out.” I took in a deep breath and let it out, still feeling a well of frustration growing inside me. “Shit, it’s that every day this news is out there is another day my name gets ruined. I’m lucky the studio hasn’t fired me yet and given Johnny exactly what he wants. But I guarantee you, if I start trending again for any kind of negative reason, I’m getting the axe.”

  “I’m going to figure this out for you, Liam, don’t worry.” He was looking at me again, and the bubbling well of frustration was turned right off. I felt his words settle inside me, allowing me to feel better than I had since this entire mess started.

  “Thank you, Mark.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Who woulda thought, little Marky Mark, the one who was scared to learn how to ride a bike, would be the one hunting down a rhino turd like a big ol’ hero.”

  He laughed at that. It was surprising to me just how familiar Mark’s laugh was to me. Even after all those years apart, the chuckle-chuckle-hiccup thing he did was still there and still filled me with happiness on hearing it. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said, his smile lighting up that handsome face of his.

  It was then I realized I didn’t even know if he was gay or not. Obviously we’d had a connection as kids and even acted on that connection one single time before (and wow, what a time that had been) but we’d never actually spoken about our sexualities. I guess I could assume, but we all know who that made an ass out of.


  “All right, so back to Johnny. You mentioned you have some things on him?”

  “Right, yeah,” I said, rolling my neck and stretching the tight muscles in my shoulders before focusing back on my phone and the issue at hand. “Here, look at these.”

  I went to my email folder and opened up a few of the starred ones.

  “These are all from actresses he’s worked with,” I said, watching as Mark’s expression seemed to grow more and more disgusted as he read through the emails.

  “None of them are accusing anything criminal, but they’re definitely saying he’s a sick scumbag. All of them landed in my inbox the day the news broke. They’re reaching out as a sign of support, and so that hopefully, together, we can give this guy the karma he deserves. I’ve already forwarded the emails to my attorney and the police, too. But you’re the one who can really dig deep here.”

  Well, I hoped so. I knew the cops had to follow the letter of the law to a T, and my lawyer wasn’t going to do any intense investigative work, either, but it seemed like Mark worked in a slightly gray area. I wasn’t thinking he could go and break into Johnny’s house tonight and figure it all out, but at least Mark seemed to have more tools at his disposal than a disinterested cop would.

  “I certainly will dig deep,” Mark said, looking up at me again. And, okay, I get that my thoughts were better served going somewhere other than sex, like focusing on the investigation at hand, but my hard dick still pulsing in my boxer-briefs rerouted all logical thoughts and sent them right to my balls. It was like I was a preteen, brushing up against Mark’s bare elbow for a split second, which back then was enough to have me running to the bathroom under the guise of a stomach cramp.

  He must have thought I’d had a terrible digestive system. I almost chuckled, holding it back. My hands balled into a fist and fell into my lap. “There’s also one more thing I wanted to talk about. Something pretty big.”

  Okay, this was definitely going to kill my boner.

  “Leave it to a director to bury the lead for dramatic effect.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, giving a smirk, trying to ignore the stiff length pushing up against my fists. “Can you blame me?”

  “Yes, actually. Yes I can. This is me blaming you.”

  We both laughed at that, and suddenly, the ice was broken. Shattered. Cracked right from underneath us, plunging us both into waters both warm and familiar. I was looking into the eyes of one of my closest childhood friends, someone who I’d always wondered about as time passed, thought about. Hell, I’d had dreams about him. The good kind of dreams, the ones that leave you feeling sad and hungover for the rest of the day, knowing the dream was just that. An elaborate illusion.

  “All right, so what is it? Should I start up a drumroll?” Mark started clapping on his thighs, softly at first.

  “I need it louder than that,” I said, feeling so damn good being able to joke with Mark again. It was something I had no idea I’d missed this bad. As kids, we were always laughing. We were called the giggle gang at one point. Some kids used it as an insult and some as a cool-sounding group name; some probably used it as both.

  “Okay, now can you imitate the sound of a cheering crowd?” I said, tilting my head and putting my four fingers up in the air, connected to symbolize the lens of a camera. I looked through it, pretending I was setting up a shot. Mark started to hiss, sounding more like a startled rattlesnake than a crowd.

  I laughed and shook my hands in the air, waving it all off. Our goofiness had overtaken, and if we allowed it, I’m sure we would have stayed locked up in that office regressing back until we were both in the womb. No, there would be time for that later.

  At least I hoped there would be.

  “Seriously, though,” I said, getting back to business, both of us getting out our last chuckles. Mark was looking at me from across his desk, his jaw flexing as he prepared for the news.

  “So,” I said, “I think Johnny killed his last two wives.”

  Annnd scene.

  4 Mark Masters

  My brain felt like putty. The off-pink kind that comes in those bright red plastic eggs and can absorb and basically photocopy newspaper articles. Yeah, my brain was that. I was taking in all the information and storing it in the relevant places, but emotionally, it was like DEFCON 1 had been triggered inside the folds of my cerebellum. Total putty. I had just been dumped by a decent guy—which I had not seen coming at all—to then get blindsided by a reunion with someone I’d never thought I’d see again. Someone who just so happened to be my first crush and who didn’t even know it.

  Wo— Nope. Not even thinking that word. It’s been the only thing in my damn vocabulary.

  Then again, there really was no other word to totally and completely sum up the situation than the W word.

  And then Liam dropped the bomb: “I think Johnny killed his last two wives.”

  My eyebrows shot up. My lips formed before my thoughts did. “Wow.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, it’s a doozy, I know.” His eyes were wide as he looked at me. I was older than him by a year, but for some reason, it always felt like that gap was extended much further, like I’d been on this earth longer than him by a stretch. Looking back, it could have been because of how much Liam always looked up to me, always wanted to do what I was doing. Now, that gap was still stretched, Liam feeling years younger to me in that moment. It was in the way his eyes were wide and looking to me, searching for assurance. He was looking for help, and I wanted to do everything in my power to give it to him.

  “Okay, let’s unpack this,” I said, honing in on the new piece of information. “What did his last two wives die of?”

  “I’ve got the official police reports right here, actually,” Liam said, pointing to a green folder he had brought with him.

  “So the deaths were investigated?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think the police did the most thorough job.” He was shaking his head, frustration playing on his face, his well-groomed brows scrunching together, his soft eyes gaining an edge to them. In another circumstance, I would have noted how cute he looked when he was angry. Maybe even have said it out loud.

  Another circumstance. Pfft, that’s an entirely different plane of existence… I wonder how happy we are in that world, where I can comment on his cute facial expressions.

  “They were both confirmed as suicides,” Liam continued as I leafed through the reports, my eyes darting over important details. I’d make sure to go over it all with a fine-tooth comb later, but for now, getting Liam’s view was most important. “But here’s the thing, both of the wives were found dead just a few days before their one-year anniversaries. And both of them did it by turning their cars on and shutting the garage doors. Both of them, three years apart. That’s odd, isn’t it? That doesn’t really happen often, I don’t think.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I said, red flags thrown up. “And I see only one of them left a note. Typed up apparently, but I don’t see a copy of it. Do you have a copy?”

  Liam pursed his lips, shaking his head. “No. I’ve been trying to get it, but they’re having some ‘difficulties’ finding the evidence.”

  I moved to my computer, typing that up toward the top of my notes, in all caps and bold. I wanted to see that suicide note.

  “Neither of them had kids, but I’ve heard Johnny talk and I know he wants them, or at least he’s talked about wanting them. I guess I can’t really know what he wants.”

  “Why do you think he’d kill them?” I asked. In my line of work, I found sometimes blunt questions yielded the most answers, especially when emotions were still relatively raw in a client. Even if they didn’t know they were holding on to a key, they could give it up by just answering a question.

  Liam took a deep breath but didn’t seem like he had to think much on an answer. “I think he’s a sick fuck who gets off on dominating women, and I think things got out of hand one day, with both women, and he killed them. Lost his cool. May
be after the first, the second was easy for him.”

  I nodded, taking what he had to say into consideration, but instantly, something wasn’t making sense to me. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to puncture a hole in your theory, though. I don’t think he lost his cool, not with how these women died. No lacerations, no signs of resistance, no markings around the neck suggesting strangulation. Everything from these medical reports seem as if, eh, Pamela and Kristine both got into their cars voluntarily and turned the engines on.”

  Instantly, Liam deflated like a popped balloon right in front of me. He sat back, slumping slightly in the chair, his lips turned downward. “Shit, you’re right.” I was struck with how deeply I disliked seeing Liam disappointed.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean I think he’s innocent, either,” I clarified. “I just think that if these were murders, they took calculation to get right. They were premeditated. Someone had to somehow incapacitate the women and get them in the car without leaving evidence behind.”

  Liam seemed to perk up again. “That sounds much more plausible.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. I noticed he had a dark brown leather bracelet on, a copper plate held on the band. His first name was engraved on it. “So what’s the plan, Marky Mark? What the hell do we do? What’s your next step? Is this crazy? Am I going too deep into this shit?”

  I smiled at the use of my old nickname. I remember pretending like I hated it when he first started using it. I think we were fourteen? Sometime around then. But it stuck, and it seemed like it still hadn’t gone anywhere. “Well, first we stop using that old nickname,” I said, clearly joking. Liam smiled at that, narrowing his eyes.

  “You know you love it.”

  I did, but I had to keep up some kind of appearance. “Next is an interview,” I answered, trying to tamp down the silly smile that was spreading across my face. This was definitely not a moment to be grinning from ear to ear, but I couldn’t help it; Liam still had that kind of effect on me even after all those years separating us. “I’ll try and get Johnny down for a face-to-face interview so I can feel him out and hopefully uncover something then and there.”