Page 50 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“Probably not,” Jackson said, now rubbing noses with Clive. “Remind me to wash up after this by the way, because Billy Bob knows when I’m cheating on him.”

Cody made that unexpected sound again, and Jackson found himself relaxing as well as making out with the cat. Without warning, some of the awfulness slipped from his day, some of the worry, the anxiety, the film that covered his body from treading backward in the waters of time. He found himself melting into Cody Gabriel’s couch and enjoying the sun through the bright yellow curtains.

“Nice digs,” he said, meaning it. While space was at a premium, the two couches were only gently used, and the curtains and valances were cheerful. There were pictures on the walls—sports shots of the Giants baseball team and the Kings—and his lamps were graceful ceramic columns of pale blue.

“I had a friend help me pick stuff out,” Cody admitted, coming to Jackson with a bowl of chips and a fresh soda, which he deposited on a sturdy coffee table since Jackson was still otherwise engaged. He returned to his counter with two steps. “I’m sorry—I didn’t ask. Is there anything you didn’t want on this?”

“Not a thing,” Jackson told him, as his stomach growled again. He reached out to grab a chip, but Clive clung to his arm and shoved him back against the couch with a forceful headbutt. “Although I think it’s cute that you assume they’ll let me eat.”

“They’ll move when it’s time,” Cody said, laughing a little.

“Which friend?” Jackson asked. He’d seen a telltale twitch to Cody’s eyes, and now, at the question, he refused to look up from his counter.

“You, uhm, remember North Albright? The, uhm, marshal who took care, erm, kept watch over me when I was testifying?”

Jackson’s eyebrows went up. “I do,” he said, surprised. “I, well, I thought there was something about, you know, waiting ayear….” Oh, he hated to bring up recovery rules when it seemed like Cody was doing so well.

“Not that kind of friend,” Cody retorted, way too defensively.

Not yet.Jackson would put money on it—but he wouldn’t put Cody through any embarrassing discussion. “Either kind is fine,” Jackson said softly. “Don’t mind me. Being nosy.”

Cody shrugged and finished up with the two sandwiches as he spoke. “Isn’t that what friends do?” he asked. “Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what happened to Henry?”

Clive had tucked his entire head obtrusively in the hollow of Jackson’s neck and shoulder, and was purring so loud Jackson could feel it in his stomach. Poppy had moved the cleaning session back to the crook of his elbow, and he had to work at not giggling.

He was never going to be more comfortable and cared for than this.

With a deep breath, he started to tell the story.

By the time he was done, both of them had finished their sandwiches, and Cody had cleaned up, insisting the whole time that Jackson stay right where he was. Clive had managed to drape himself around Jackson’s neck like a stole, and Poppy had burrowed back behind Jackson’s ass in the fold of the couch, but he still felt as though he’d be betraying friends to get up.

Cody had listened to every detail with what Jackson thought of as “cop’s ears,” asking questions that mattered and weeding out the less important details, mostly about the shooting and how certain they were about Moms for Clean Living.

“We’ve got three witnesses,” Jackson said. “We’ve got Cowboy’s mom, who was pressured into giving her son into their custody, Cowboy, who spent a whole two hours at their compound and pointed it out to John and Galen, as well as identified this Retty humanoid as being their chief enforcer, andHenry, whoalsoidentified her windbreaker and gave the same description as Cowboy. We’re pretty secure there, and Ellery and the office staff have been researching their eyeballs out all morning.”

Cody nodded, coming to sit in the chair kitty corner to Jackson. “Okay, then. Do you have a plan?”

Jackson filled him in on his thoughts about the rehab center as well as scouting out the compound itself, although he hadn’t decided how he wanted to do that.

And then, because Cody understood theories and how they could be pure speculation and not based in fact, he tentatively talked about his fears for Caleb, the lost soul Cowboy had been so upset about.

“Do you really think the boy witnessed a murder?” Cody asked, disturbed.

“Think about it,” Jackson said. “If it was any other crime—including a sex crime, torture, or bullying—these women could take their chances in court. With a savvy lawyer and some fast talking, all they’ve got is their word against a fourteen-year-old sex worker. Doesn’t look good for him, right?”

Cody grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah. I know all about credibility.” He’d run because he’d been blackmailed with his drug use into doing something he hadn’t wanted to do.

Jackson nodded. “So why riskeverythingto bust into a stranger’s apartment, guns blazing, to try to get to this kid? Why start a shootout through a wall if you weren’t hoping to hit a witness?”

“Ugh,” Cody said, shuddering. “That’s so dangerous—and not very bright. Nothing worse than somebody scared, desperate, andstupid.”

“And armed,” Jackson said grimly. “Do not forget armed.” He paused, enjoying one last purr from Clive and Poppy’s warm presence below his left-hind-yab. “So. You want in?”

Cody gave an almost evil smile. “Does my cat want to hump your face?”

“Disturbingly enough, yes,” Jackson told him. “My God, Ellery and I need a cabin up in Tahoe to get this much action.”

Cody laughed. “Wait here while I go pack some extra clothes. You were right—the visit to the rehab center should be done while I’m at my worst.”

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