Page 6 of Snowbirds
Radisson had conceded, which, Morrison found, many people eventually did when it came to something he really wanted. Probably, it was easier to deny his requests when he wasn’t standing in front of them. But Morrison had been there for real and in person and not taking no for an answer. Besides, it turned out there was no case to work on; Paulter had just been offloading him.
After what turned out to be a pretty productive conversation, he’d headed back home much faster than the drive in, packed Blue, and hit the road.
Now, here he was in Arizona, the Grand Canyon State, and parked in front of Hatch’s temporary house.
What had he been thinking coming down here uninvited?
Yes, he was generally impulsive and one hundred percent an adrenaline junkie, but as he’d aged—like a fine fucking wine, thank you very much—he’d learned to… moderate his impulses. At least that’s what he told himself.
Anyway.What he’d been thinking was that Hatch had sounded depressed when he’d talked to him. And that Ivan didn’t like not being able to just Kramer into Hatch’s office when he wanted to and make him smile against his better judgment.
And he didn’t like that Hatch was alone.
In general, there was a lot he didn’t like about the current situation.
Sure, his parents lived around here somewhere. They’d invited their son to visit, after all. But what kind of people were they, really? In Morrison’s experience, bio family was just not all that. There were no guarantees. And over the years they’d worked together, Chris Hatch had become a sort of family to Morrison—even if Hatch had no idea. Even if Hatch had been fixated on Dante Castone. So here he was in Arizona, making sure Hatch was okay.
That’s what he’d told himself for twelve hundred plus miles, and that’s the story he was sticking with.
Not that he felt brotherly toward Chris Hatch. Nope, not at all.
A tap against the passenger-side window had the combined benefit of bringing him back to reality and scaring the living shit out of him.
Whipping his head around, he expected to see Hatch, but instead of his boss—who was decidedly not his boss at the moment—it was an older woman. She had a shock of thick gray hair and wore a bright tie-dye shirt with a Grateful Dead skull on the front. Probably harmless.
He rolled the window down.
“Um, can I help you?” he asked.
“Are you lost? It can get kind of confusing around here.”
The woman had kind eyes, a hazel brown that seemed familiar, and a kind smile too. He recognized that as well. Not that Hatch smiled a lot.
“I’m visiting my boyfriend.” No way was he saying boss to the woman he suspected was Hatch’s mother, even if it technically wasn’t currently true. The likeness was too close for them not to be related, though, and Morrison was an expert on Chris Hatch.
Expert sounded so much better than stalker. And boyfriend sounded better than scary boss-stalker dude. Yes, he nodded to himself,boyfriendcovered just about everything in a non-creepy way.
Less creepy anyway.
“Chris said he was staying here on vacation. It’s kind of a surprise, but I was in the area.” If being in Portland, Oregon, one day and Arizona the next wasbeing in the area. And once the wordsboyandfriendhad crossed his lips, he couldn’t take them back.
What the actual fuck?
Morrison, goddammit, Hatch is going to kill you.
The woman’s eyes widened, and a broad smile crossed her face.
“Christopher is my son!” she exclaimed. “He’s with his dad checking out the Yuma Swap Meet. I don’t know when they’ll be back though, it’s a few hours anyway.”
She motioned for him to get out of the car. “Come over to our place while you wait for him. We can visit,” she said with a great deal of excitement. “Would you like some iced tea or fresh lemonade? My name is Susie, by the way. Chris has never brought a boyfriend down here before. We’ve been so worried he was lonely back in Portland all by himself.”
Morrison was very impressed; he couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise if he’d wanted to.
Susie Hatch moved purposefully around to the front of Blue, clearly expecting him to join her. Morrison noted the Grateful Dead shirt had the lightning-bolt skull on the back as well. A true Deadhead. He loved her already. Too bad he and Hatch weren’t really boyfriends, he’d definitely keep her for a mom.
Maybe he’d keep her anyway.
“I wouldn’t say no to some lemonade,” Morrison responded, smiling as he popped open the driver’s side door and extricated himself from Blue. “My name’s Ivan Morrison, by the way.”
