Page 2 of Lover
Her fingers were on the keyboard before her ass was completely in the chair. “Fantastic!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Okay, so the body of Mitchell Helms was found in a wooded area of Macleay Park in Portland, Oregon in 2007. He’d been reported missing by his parents in 2005 when he was...Jesus, Rory. He was just sixteen when he went missing. What the fuck is this world coming to?” Gonzales frowned, taking her frustration out on the keyboard in front of her.
Flipping through his copy of the file for the information on the missing person, Rory prayed that the poor kid was still alive, that his body wasn’t out there somewhere waiting for them to find him. Reading through the pages, he discovered why the director was so keen on them quickly solving the case. “Fucking hell, did you see this?” he asked Gonzales, holding the file up and pointing to the picture of a young man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a very familiar last name.
“Son of a bitch.” Connie jerked her file open, flipping to the same page. “Howard Manning Tullor Junior. His grandfather is Judge Tullor?”
Rory nodded.
Judge Howard Tullor presided over the great state of Washington, ruling with an iron fist and a constitution rooted in hatred. He was old and distinguished, but he was also racist and a bigot. “So, we have to assume that his disappearance could lead back to a case his grandfather heard.” Rory fired up his computer and entered the file number into the FBI database, so he could see all the information on the case.
“I agree, but we need to consider every angle here, Landers. Don’t let your hatred for this fucker cloud your judgment,” Connie warned him. He nodded his agreement. Scrolling through the file on his computer, Rory couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between the young man whose body was found in the park and Judge Dickhead’s grandson. Young, blond hair and blue eyes, very pretty and effeminate...the fact that Junior was missing could have absolutely nothing to do with who he was related to and have more to do with the fact that he fit a certain profile.
“Besides, wouldn’t it be just priceless if an openly gay agent with the FBI found and brought home the grandson of the judge that voted against equal rights for the LGBTQ community?” Her maniacal grin should have frightened him but he was on her side, so he was safe. Judge Dickhead? Not so much. The unsub that had killed at least one young man and likely taken another was up shit creek without a paddle as well. Special Agent Connie Gonzales was on the case now, and she didn’t take names or prisoners. She kicked ass with impunity.
“Goddamn, if I weren’t gay, I’d fucking marry you, woman.”
Gonzales snorted. “As if.”
Chapter Two
Rand 2012
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“That’s the last one.” Claire set the box in the corner by the bookshelf, collapsing onto the couch beside Rand.
Wrapping an arm around her, he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sis. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Let’s never find out, okay?” Claire elbowed him playfully. Her logic was sound, and he agreed wholeheartedly.
He hooked the handle of the cooler with his foot, dragging it closer to the couch. Lifting the lid, he grabbed a couple of beers, twisting the caps off and handing a bottle to Claire, then taking a healthy swig from the other before leaning back and sighing. The apartment he’d rented in Cedar Hill was small and quaint, nothing compared to the one he and Grant had shared for the past several years. But Rand didn’t see any sense in paying an exorbitant amount for rent on a place he’d probably only sleep and watch football games in. It was hell starting over though, and he was thankful to have his sister there with him, bearing part of the burden.
“I hate the fucker. Always have—that’s no secret. But I know you loved him, Rand, and I’m sorry for what he’s done to you. But...” Claire paused, taking a pull from the bottle in her hand. She turned to him and said, “I’ll help you dispose of the body if you wanna take him out.”
Rand cracked up. He laughed so hard he was crying and his ribs hurt, and it hit him—that was her intention. “God, I love ya, Sis.”
“Seriously, big brother, you’re some hot-shit former Military Intelligence Officer. You have to have connections that can assist with burying the body somewhere it would never be found.” Claire waggled her eyebrows, taking a long drink from her bottle before belching loudly.
“How, and I ask you this with all seriousness, are you still single?” He ducked when she swung at him, chuckling.
It had been just the two of them for so long, their parents having died in a car crash when Rand was sixteen and Claire fourteen. Hell, she was the reason he joined the Navy to begin with, so he could afford to give her the best of everything. They spent three years with a distant cousin in Texas—two together and Claire for another year while Rand went through boot camp in Chicago. As soon as he was at a place where he could apply for housing, he did and promptly moved Claire to Chicago with him. Everywhere he was stationed, they went together—all over the world; they even spent several years in France and a few in Italy. Claire could speak both languages, fluently, and a stranger would be none the wiser that she wasn’t born in either country.
Eventually, they wound up back where they started when Rand was assigned to Whidbey Island Naval base in Oak Harbor, Washington. Little more than a decade after their parents’ deaths, they visited their graves for only the second time. When Rand retired from the military, he asked Claire where she wanted to live—he couldn’t really care less just as long as they were together and putting down roots. So they moved back to Texas, the place Claire called their second home, having spent the last of her formative years on the ranch in Austin with their cousin.
“Hey, why don’t you stay the night?” he asked. “I can make up the sofa bed, and we can order takeout. It’ll be like old times.”
She sidestepped his question with another. “So, Senior Detective Davis, when do you go back to work?”
Ah yes, the silver lining in his otherwise shitty circumstance. Rand had been so excited the day he was officially promoted that he’d taken off early and rushed home to tell Grant, only to have his heart broken when his suspicions that Grant was cheating were confirmed. It was a blow that still stung, a cut that hit to the bone when the man Rand thought he’d spend the rest of his life with betrayed him. He’d spent the better part of a month working from sunup until sundown, closing out several open cases, then passing out on Claire’s couch every night.
Claire snapped her fingers in his face. “Earth to Rand. Have you heard a goddamn word I’ve said?”
“No.”
“Listen—”
“Nope.” He cut her off again, setting his empty bottle on the coffee table and grabbing a fresh one from the cooler.
“What am I going to do with you?” She sounded exasperated.
