A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Page 4

  “Is that common? For you to figure things out on the first interview?”

  I pursed my lips. “Not necessarily, no. But it is a great way for me to size the situation up, and sometimes, yes, the person does blurt something out during the first interview that can be used against them. But the interview isn’t where the majority of my work lies; it’s just the preliminary step.”

  Liam crossed his arms, tilting his head. He seemed really drawn into what I was saying. “I can’t believe this is what you do for a living. The same kid who was deathly scared of spiders now has a job chasing down much bigger monsters.” His eyes were glittering with something. Admiration? “So then what’s after the interview?”

  “The investigating,” I quipped. “And I’m still terrified of any eight-legged creature, so there’s that.”

  Liam chuckled. “I’ll squash any I see for you.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, feeling a warmth settle in my chest. “Seriously, though, after the interview comes most of the legwork. I’ll be digging into anything I can legally get my hands on, along with setting up some surveillance and potentially staking him out.”

  Liam arched a brow. “Shit. Like in a movie, basically. You’re going to sit in your car, eating popcorn, staring at his house?”

  “Pretty much, minus the popcorn,” I said. “I’m more of a kettle corn kind of guy, myself.”

  “Wow,” Liam said, nodding his head, “how times have changed. Next you’re going to tell me you don’t douse your brownies in whip cream anymore.”

  “Oh, no, no, that still happens.” The mention of whip cream–covered chocolate brownies darted my memory in another direction. “Hey, how’s your mom been? She’s the one that got me hooked on that mix. I remember one of the first times I went over your house—she was spinning around the kitchen like a hurricane, coming out with buckets of treats for us.”

  Liam’s face cracked for a brief moment. His eyes darted down at the hands in his lap before coming back up, but his gaze didn’t meet mine again. Instead he was looking up at a framed photo I had hanging on the wall behind me. “Those brownies were something else, huh? I swear she put something in there, crack or something.” Liam laughed, almost to himself, before his eyes came back to settle on mine. I saw something there. Like a distant storm cloud, far enough to still have sunshine but close enough that you can hear the thunderclaps. “She’s okay.” He left it at that. Before I could follow up, Liam continued, steering things back in the original direction. “What would a stakeout be good for?” he asked.

  I wanted to keep digging. My detective side was hard-pressed to let a subject drop like that, but I could sense something was off in the air. Liam didn’t want to talk about it, and I certainly wasn’t going to press him, either. It worried me, since there was clearly something going on, but unfortunately, I didn’t feel it was my place to poke and prod.

  Liam was one of my closest friends growing up, and here I am, scared to keep asking about his mother. Goddamnit, time isn’t anyone’s friend.

  “A stakeout has a few different purposes,” I said, answering Liam’s question while compartmentalizing my concern. “Mainly, I want to see what Johnny’s routine is. When he leaves his house, when does he come back, who does he come back with. Are there any questionable people he’s meeting with. Things like that. Nowadays, though, with social media and computers being on you at all times, there are other things besides a good stakeout that work. I’ve put together entire timelines based off Facebook check-ins alone, something I never would have been able to do ten years ago.” I looked down at the notes I’d been jotting down. “I do have to prepare you for the possibilities that, one: we may not find out anything, or two: we may find out Johnny is totally innocent.”

  Liam seemed to bristle slightly at that. “He’s behind all those. I’m positive.”

  I cocked my head, giving him a look I hadn’t given since we were teens.

  “Okay, fine, so I’m not a hundred percent positive,” Liam said, correcting himself. “But I’m almost sure. And you’re going to make me sure.”

  “You were always so hardheaded,” I said, grinning. My arms were crossed against my chest as I leaned back in my chair.

  “And you were always there to soften things out for me.”

  “I was.” I nodded, another memory jumping to the forefront. A time when the last thing I wanted to do was make things soft between us. It was during a time in my life when the last thing I wanted to do was admit how attracted I was to my best friend, and yet there we were, clumsily kissing on the floor with years of pent-up frustration locked up between us.

  Liam sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up but still looking really damn good. “This is so crazy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. I was sure I could be clinically diagnosed with whiplash at that point.

  Liam looked at me then, like really looked at me. I matched his intense gaze. “You’ve changed so much, but I can still see the thirteen-year-old Marky Mark there, too. The smile, and the eyes. They’re still the same. But then you’ve got those big lips now, that perfect jaw, your strong brows. Damn, Mark. You’ve really become a man, huh?”

  It was like dumping gasoline straight onto a campfire. There had been a heat between us from the second Liam walked in, but looking at Liam, really seeing him as the man he had become, it made that fire explode into something much larger. Something out of control and wild.

  “I have,” I said, smirking. “Looks like you’ve done the same.”

  “I tried, I tried,” Liam said, tilting his head as though he were modeling. Seconds later he cracked and started to laugh. It was such an intoxicating sound, enough to numb some of the shock inflicted from today.

  We talked a little more about the case and what I planned to do. I was thankfully able to stay in a good headspace for the meeting, considering I’d just been broken up with, and I had a feeling it was because Liam was the one sitting across from me. He’d always had a soothing effect on my frayed nerves. Like aloe to a burn, Liam was the salve I had needed.

  When we began wrapping up the interview was when I noticed a familiar thing Liam would always do when he was nervous about something: he started fiddling with his left earlobe. Moments later, as we were both standing up so I could walk with Liam to the front, Liam asked the question he must have been anxious about.

  “Hey, we should go grab dinner tonight. Have a real catch-up.” He was looking at me, practically looking into me. “Maybe you can come over and we can really catch up.”

  And there it was. Confirmation the flames that kept me up at night all those years ago were still licking at our toes, ready to consume us in our entirety.

  “I… I, um…” I was speechless. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to lock up my office and leave with him right then and there. But that was only a piece of me, and although it was the largest piece, another side was still scrambling to make sense of what had happened with Chris. Although I hadn’t been head over heels for the man, I still cared for him and was totally blindsided by the breakup. That part of me needed space to heal itself. If I went out with Liam tonight and things escalated past conversation, then I was sure I would self-destruct. Liam wasn’t a rebound for me. He would never be just a rebound, and that was exactly what saying yes to tonight would make him.

  Though we were both grown men now. We could go out and rekindle a fire that had frightened us as kids and be able to handle it like adults. In that moment I was a big hairy moth to a frighteningly bright flame. It warmed my body just thinking about it. The heat practically bloomed from my crotch, my dick swelling in response.

  “I can’t,” I said, speaking before my thoughts became even more jumbled. I always liked to work with a clear head, and I never really found myself losing my cool, except for with Liam. “Sorry, Liam, it’s just been a really crazy day for me,” I added, instantly picking up on the small flashes of disappointment appearing across his expression. The wiggle in the brow, the t
witch in the left eye, the pursing of his lips—those pink, juicy lips that would have felt so good against mine. Lips that would look so damn good wrapped around my hardening cock.

  And that’s exactly why I can’t hang out with him tonight. Not hours after I was just broken up with.

  No, Liam wasn’t a rebound hookup. He was more than that—he always was. I needed to get my head on right before I could take Liam up on an offer like that.

  “That’s fine,” Liam said in a way that made it clear it wasn’t fine.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Let’s get together in a few weeks, when things calm down.” That may have not been enough time for me, but honestly? I didn’t want to wait any longer than that to see Liam again. I had waited way too long already.

  His posture perked up, a smile working onto his face again. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  “Good,” I said, leading Liam out of my office and into the hallway, swapping our personal numbers. Wanda and Leo, two other detectives at Stonewall, walked past us on their way to the common room, both smiling and nodding at us, neither knowing just how insane these last couple of hours had been for me.

  I still can’t believe Liam is walking next to me right now.

  ...Wow.

  5 Liam Wolfe

  The day had been pretty shitty when I walked into Stonewall Investigations, and, well… it was still pretty shitty when I walked out. Weather-wise, at least. The sky was overcast, and the streets were darker than they should have been at four in the afternoon in the middle of summer. There was still a heavy heat in the air, but the sun was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the clouds held on to most of their rain for now, so I didn’t have to look like a drenched dog since I’d forgotten my umbrella at home.

  That was the weather, though. My mood, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. I was feeling so much more optimistic than I had been when I woke up at three in the morning, unable to go back to sleep. Not only did I feel like I was getting somewhere in terms of figuring out what skeletons Johnny was hiding in his closet and who’d sent that email, but I had also rekindled a relationship with my closest childhood friend. It was a total shock, walking into that office and seeing Mark there, fifteen or so odd years since we’d last seen each other. The flurry of butterflies was instant, and they lasted throughout the entire meeting. I wasn’t sure what made me happier—seeing Mark again or knowing he was going to figure it all out. He always did. Whenever I’d had a problem as a kid, Mark was there to help solve it. When I’d moved away, I quickly learned how to figure it all out myself, but damn it did I miss Mark during that time of my life. I was definitely bummed he didn’t want to hang out later and catch up, but there was something in his eyes that told me he had a good excuse.

  I walked down the street where Stonewall Investigations was located. It was a quiet street, made up of rows of brownstones and bright green trees. I took a turn down the street and found myself on a much more populated corner, the subway entrance just on the other side. I considered going home, but I felt like all I’d do was pace around in a circle, trying to stop myself from checking social media. No, I needed a distraction. Something to get my mind off things.

  At the street corner, I pulled my phone out and called a friend, someone I knew would be able to distract me from the shitstorm of problems that swirled around me.

  “Hey, Griffin,” I said when my friend answered the phone.

  “’Sup, Liam. How’re you feeling today?”

  “I’m doing all right. Just got out of a meeting with the detective I hired to investigate things.” I couldn’t help but smile. “You won’t believe how small the world is.”

  “What happened? Was he your old and most endeared librarian turned rugged private eye?”

  I laughed at that. “Not exactly, no, but good guess.”

  It felt good talking to Griffin, another person who had come back into my life after a long absence. We had met when I was in college and he was living in Los Angeles because his dad was starting a media company. I’d wanted to be an actor back then, and his dad was able to get me into auditions for films produced by his company, which really helped me. Griffin, on the other hand, had a really hard time. Turns out, the media company blew up into a global phenomenon, turning the success into a double-edged sword for Griff. He’d gone through some shit, beyond just his father’s job, and turned to alcohol, which turned him away from the people who cared about him the most, me being one of them. Thankfully, Griffin had come to his senses and sought out the help he needed, and with that, he’d invited me and another of our close friends back into his life.

  “What are you up to now? Maybe we can grab something to eat while I blow your mind with this story.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve been meaning to get out of the house, but this weather’s got me curled up like a cocoon.” I heard Griffin struggle to get up from his bed.

  “Griff, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon! You’re going to get bedsores.”

  “I’ve already talked about this possibility with Alex, and he said he’d love me either way, so there.”

  Another laugh rose up from my chest. “Where is he?” I asked, leaning against a light pole.

  “Working, actually. Not in the office, though, so you wouldn’t have seen him. He’s over in Brooklyn on a case.”

  “Got it,” I said. Alex was Griffin’s boyfriend and someone who brought out the absolute best in him. He also happened to be another detective working at Stonewall. Griffin was actually the reason I’d gone to the detective agency in the first place. “Wanna do Kuruma, then? I can go for some good sushi.”

  “Sounds like a plan. See you in a bit.”

  “See ya,” I said, hanging up the phone. All around me the city was still bustling even though the weather was calling for a Netflix-and-chill kind of afternoon. The streets were fresh with recent rain, and the clouds still let go of a small drizzle. There was a group of schoolkids, probably in middle school, walking behind their teachers in their blue-and-white uniforms underneath clear raincoats. They looked like a bunch of wet ducklings, gazing up at the buildings that stretched to infinity and onward from their viewpoints. A dancer—and I could tell because he was literally dancing his way through the crowd—twirled past me, big red headphones on his head (that I hoped were waterproof) and a long pair of gray sweat shorts half covering those lithe and powerful legs. He was basically expressing what I was feeling inside. I wanted to dance through the street like no one was watching. Or maybe he did it because everyone was watching. Either way, I felt like dancing. Not necessarily because everything was fine and dandy now, which it most certainly wasn’t—far from it—but I still wanted to dance to a song that was thrumming in my veins. One I hadn’t heard in years.

  It was Mark. Seeing him had me feeling like this. After all those years, you’d think there would be awkward tension between us, or maybe even nothing at all. Things wither and die when they aren’t watered. But the connection between us hadn’t died at all. It was thriving, and it was making my body hum with a newfound energy.

  I stood on the corner and ordered a car to pick me up. While I waited, I resisted checking Twitter and went for my email instead. My assistant had thankfully denied plenty of interview requests from the sharks circling inside the various newsrooms, and he’d also handled a few other issues that were hanging in the air. I had to make sure I gave Byron some time off after all this because he had been working insanely hard and doing it all really well. I knew he wanted to be a director one day, and I had no doubt his work ethic would get him there, plus I’d help him along when the time came.

  I replied to a couple of emails myself before my black town car pulled up. I hopped into the back and settled into the comfortable leather seat. With emails done and my mind still swirling in a storm of positivity, I broke down and opened Twitter, almost immediately regretting it. One of the first tweets to show up was one directed at me, calling me out for my “trash behavior.” The username was a random string
of letters, and the icon was the default Twitter egg—someone totally random and yet their words hit like a physical punch to the gut.

  I sighed, continuing to scroll, my current rose-colored glasses strong enough to take the hits from the random comments. I kept picturing them all feeling terrible once the real truth came out. I doubt I’d get many random apology tweets, but I knew they’d have to feel some kind of guilt at their biting comments toward an innocent man.

  One of the stories I scrolled past caught my eye. The headline was short but made an effect instantly. “Unicorn strikes again.” Without even clicking the link to open the story, I knew exactly what the headline meant. Another innocent gay man taken by a heartless, twisted monster. I took a deep breath, looking out the window. It was starting to rain, drops falling on the tinted window and sliding down. We were stopped at a red light just around the corner from Times Square. It was weird seeing the bright lights shine and reflect off nearby buildings, cutting through the cloudy gloom like lighthouses leading ships to shore, except these ships were full of tourists with selfie sticks and awe-filled eyes.

  I opened the article, a picture of a smiling man with his husband taking up the entire top of the page. The victim, Leo Cambria, was only twenty-four and was about to celebrate his first wedding anniversary. And the poor guy ended up with a knife through the forehead instead. It made my stomach twist and my chest tighten.

  Fuck.

  It had already been a few months now since the killings had started up again, and every day that passed where the Unicorn was still evading capture added to the boiling pot of tension that threatened to blow up the entire community. At first, when news broke that the Unicorn was back, it was business as usual, with everyone thinking they’d catch the person responsible in no time at all. But then, when people realized this wasn’t getting solved anytime soon, fear and paranoia started to spread. Hookup apps now included warnings to be extra careful with who you met, and gay bars were starting to feel the crunch with fewer and fewer people going out. Why go out, get drunk, and lose inhibitions while there was an active predator out there, hunting gay men? No, people preferred to stay inside and party with their own groups of friends.