Page 34 of Survivor
Frank leaned into him, taking Taylor’s hand in his and squeezing tightly, the warmth comforting and familiar, grounding him. There would be time later to deal with the betrayal. Right now, he needed to focus on finding out what Davis had uncovered in relation to his parents’ murder.
~ ~ ~
“Here, Frank.” Davis passed him a folder and Taylor wondered briefly what it held until he read the tab of the folder—Langford Case File CSI—and that question was answered.
“Use the table and start with the backyard here,” Davis pointed to one end of the table, “front porch here.” He pointed to the other end of the table. “I want to see what the two of you saw that night as you secured the residence.”
Stunned, Taylor stared at the folder in Frank’s hands like it might bite him. “You okay with this, Taylor?” Frank asked, handing the folder to Caleb and coming over to where he stood with Agent Landers, reaching for Taylor’s hand and pressing it to his heart. “Baby, you don’t have to stay in here for this; it can’t be easy for you. But I’ll be here with you if you do.”
Lord, but he loved this man. Had they really only been together for a couple of months? But of course, they’d actually been navigating the rough waters of that night by each other’s sides for the last decade. Taylor faltered, but only because he knew he was about to look at the one image he’d avoided for so long: the image of his parents on their bedroom floor, the life sucked out of them, stolen in the night by some psycho for a reason no one knew. “I have to,” he whispered, bending and kissing Frank softly.
Frank took a stack from the top of the file, handing the rest to Caleb, the two of them telling their version of what happened that night as they gently set each picture on the wood-grained table. The first image was a shot of the front yard he’d played in from the time he was old enough to walk, obviously taken from the street. One by one, the images were laid out like a slowly moving silent movie, telling the story of the worst fucking day of Taylor’s life. It took less than five minutes for the two men to recreate the scene, but there were two pieces of the puzzle missing. “Do it.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth.
Christ almighty, he didn’t know which was worse—the image of his parents’ bodies on their bedroom floor atop a circle of angry red or the image of him in Frank’s lap in the ambulance, tears streaming down his face, arms outstretched toward the house. “Oh God.” He couldn’t catch his breath and the room started to spin violently. Frank and Caleb were there in an instant, one on either side of him, bookends, pillars of strength.
“I…need a minute,” He moved to the door, Frank still right beside him, jerking it open and sprinting down the hall to the bathroom. Taylor barely made it into one of the stalls before his breakfast made an unexpected appearance. Ears ringing and heart pounding, he fell backward when there was nothing left in his stomach, the cold, metal wall supporting his weight. Someone spoke but he didn’t know who, couldn’t make out the words. Blinking back the tears filling his eyes, he reached for the person in front of him, knowing it would be Frank.
Rubbing his back and whispering soothing, calming words, Frank held Taylor while he had a short but satisfying breakdown. When he was seventeen, curiosity had sent Taylor searching for more information on his parents’ death than Frank or the Stones would readily tell him. He hadn’t gotten more than a few paragraphs into the article before he’d had to slam the lid of his laptop closed. Each year he got a little further into the story and eventually, he’d read every article that was ever posted. But hearing Frank and Caleb recount the events from that fateful night, seeing what they saw as they moved through the home, it was too much.
He didn’t know how long they sat there on the cold, tiled floor before Frank finally stood, hand outstretched toward Taylor. “That was the hard part, Tay, now we go back in there and listen to what Davis has found.”
Okay, he could do this. With Frank by his side, he could do anything.
