Not So Innocent (Shattered Glass #2)

Chapter Fifteen

In the morning, when Cai considered sniffing Riley’s dirty shirts, he picked up his cell phone to text Julian. There was only so much crazy he’d allow, and rifling through hampers went about four steps beyond whacko. He’d probably saved himself from Riley’s cologne, anyway. Ellie needed to be stopped from buying aftershave with her two-dollar allowance. And niece or not, Riley needed to stop wearing it.

Cai: Been by our place?

As he typed, Fuzz hopped on the sofa and plopped his muzzle in Cai’s lap. “Hey, boy. I thought you’d forget about me when I left.” The dog scooted closer and rolled onto its back. The phone vibrated and he read the message while absently scratching Fuzz’s belly.

Julian: I’m fine. Thx 4 asking.

Cai: Ofc you are. You’re with Dare

Julian: You’ve left my fate to a man with a unicorn painted on glittery purple boots.

Cai: The horn probably detaches so he can shish kebab an eye and eat it as an appetizer

Julian: That’s lovely imagery. No, haven’t been to the flat. Why?

Cai: Feds want permission to search condo for evidence ) ~~

The winking smiley face strengthened his blush. Subject change.

Cai: Walter Cole was at the FBI offices yesterday

Julian: Did he see you?

Cai: Don’t think so. We gotta hurry. How long?

Julian: Rach says prolly a few hours if we get her inside. We’re spydering employees. Need 2 days min.

Cai: K. Tomorrow will try to lead Cole away.

Julian: Are you somewhere safe?

Cai: Going 2 church today. Meet?

He waited a beat, then added.

Cai: We can stop. Give them the drive. Let FBI go after Cole.

Julian’s response was a long time coming.

Julian: Can I call? Want to hear your voice.

The ache in Cai’s heart expanded into his gut. He pressed the bottom of his palms into his eyes, shook the dampness off, and typed his last message to Julian.

Cai: No. It’s okay. I’m on board. Toss the burner and get another.

Before Julian could respond, he turned off his phone.

Fuzz whined and scooted around until the petting started again. “Sorry boy. Hey, Begone is coming!”

At the cat’s name, Fuzz ran to the door, his ears pricking up. When his playmate didn’t come in, the dog shot an accusing look at Cai and padded off to his kennel, nosing open the bedroom door on his way.

Through the gap he’d created, Riley caterwauled an unrecognizable song under a heavy shower spray. Cai smiled despite the tears and the soreness of his cramped back. Terrible cologne, awful singing, and a mild OCD streak. All of Riley’s weirdness was adorable. The obsession with the wrong sport, however, was not. Cai tossed the football-shaped pillow off his lap and then rubbed his neck. He’d only slept an hour after waking up in the middle of the night. That was enough for the too-short sofa and poorly stuffed pillow to strain his muscles. He clasped his hands and stretched them to the ceiling. Riley opened the bedroom door just as his neck cracked.

“Ow.” He hissed and clamped his palm over the pain. Plan: Be Irresistible and Sexy, thwarted.

“You all righ—” Riley stopped tucking in his dress shirt, leaving one end dangling over his dark slacks as he stared up. “Were those my crystal glasses?”

“The old jars that were over there.” Cai pointed to the tool cabinet and bit his cheek.

“What did you do with the screws and nails that were in them?” Riley continued tucking, his voice more amused than Cai expected.

“I dumped them in the top drawer.” He grinned at Riley’s horror-filled eyes. “I didn’t really. They’re in Tupperware. All organized. But I couldn’t find the paint I left here the year before last?”

“That’s because I locked it in the garage. So you would sleep.” Riley emphasized ‘sleep’, like being louder and more articulate would magically induce snoring. “Instead of doing that, you stayed up all night cracking jars into pieces. I have to say, that is one ugly ass sculpture.”

He loved Riley’s honesty. “Oh. Wait.” Cai reached for the blinds and let the sun in, projecting the glass sculpture into a myriad of glittering colors onto the far wall. The effect was an apple tree, leaves and branches swaying as if alive on the wall.

“Holy shit.” Riley’s jaw dropped.

“I’ll need to put a light installation in... I mean, if you like it. So it’s not ugly.”

Riley whistled in appreciation. “How did you cut and tint all the different glass pieces?”

“Broke the glass in a towel. Decided what to make after I saw the pieces. Then used glue and food coloring for the tints. Heated them in the oven. From that cake you made for Jocelyn’s birthday. It was all expired.” Nearly expired anyway.

“It’s phenomenal. Write a list for what you need to finish the installation.” Riley swung his tie around his neck and knotted it quickly as he walked off. A minute later, a machine coughed and spat in the kitchen.

Cai’s joy manifested in the urge to sprint into the kitchen and try to wrap around Riley like a starfish. Phenomenal! When he had reasonable control, he grabbed his mug and calmly followed. On the way, he kicked a few stray nails under the leather recliner before they made Riley to break out the Hoover and vacuum the entire living room.

Come to think of it, the house had always been kept neat, but Cai had never seen it this immaculate. He turned to look at the room with new eyes. White walls. Furniture bare of clutter. A single picture of the Cordova family sat on one end table. Riley’s OCD made Cai more comfortable around him. It almost put them on more even ground. Mental illness for mental illness. Did that make him a selfish jerk? Maybe.

This was a new level of clean. It worried him.

The kitchen really disturbed him.

Every mug the same color, handles all turned the same direction, more barren counters, pressed and creased tea towels. When Riley had first bought this house, he’d hung photographs and paintings everywhere. Even the yellow blanket his mother had knitted no longer lay across the sofa. Although, honestly, that blanket was... Yikes.

Was he reading too much into the changes?

Or maybe he liked the idea that Riley hadn’t been okay without him.

That did make him a selfish jerk.

He edged into the kitchen and leaned against one of the marble counters while Riley rinsed a coffee cup with bleach and then water. “You painted the walls again?”

“Not all of them.”

A sense of buoyancy surrounded Cai. He rose up on his toes and crossed his arms. “You can paint over it, if you want.”

“Why would I do that?” Riley took Cai’s cup to rinse. “I love your murals. Though, I do question why it took six weeks to paint the first one and yet you finish a complicated sculpture overnight.”

Was Riley daring him to answer? The old Cai might've balked. The new Cai? Not so much. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

As Riley poured the coffee, the glass pot clinked against the rim of the cups. “You didn’t need an excuse for that, Cai.”

“Do I need one now?” Cai stared at Riley’s back. He imagined slipping his hands underneath the white dress shirt, the skin warming from his touch, tense muscles releasing and contracting. Riley moaning, his head falling forward, eyes turning dark as pine. “Yeah,” Cai whispered.

“Yeah what?” Riley turned and offered a filled mug.

Cai took it, gave a noncommittal shrug, and drank quickly, burning his lips in the process.

Riley sipped, tilted his head, and then reached for the lock of hair hanging over Cai’s forehead. He twisted it between his fingers and thumb. “What did you cut your hair with?”

Coffee spilled from Cai’s cup and trickled over the sides. He barely noticed, too rapt in Riley’s soft voice. “Sewing shears. Your mama’s knitting basket.”

Riley moved in closer, one shiny oxford touching the curve of Cai’s Chucks. “You smell like paint and mint.”

Yes, please.

Cai uttered a faintly audible, “Borrowed your toothbrush.”

“Did you?”

Don’t back away this time, Riley.

The mist of Riley’s breath heated his lips. Cai stilled, tense with anticipation, death-grip on the mug. “Yes.” He wanted to trace his fingers across that newly shaven jaw and pluck the toilet paper off Riley’s chin. He wanted to steal the kiss, instead of waiting for it, and then laugh at Riley’s surprised expression. To sink into the intimacy of lovers.

Cai did none of those things.

There were times to push and flirt, but not while he was winning. As Riley brushed a kiss over his lips and across his cheek, Cai exhaled a sigh of victory. He didn’t move—afraid that Riley would wage that internal war again. Heat blazed through his veins, evaporating the tension, weakening his knees. He reached back for the counter, grasping the edge to hold himself up.

“You always smell like paint,” Riley murmured in his ear.

Tingles skittered over Cai’s body, like bathing in carbonated water. The kitchen dimmed, flickered and then disappeared as he closed his eyes.

If a kiss could do this, what would it feel like with Riley inside him?

What happens when he finds out about Tommy? He should know the whole truth.

Cai’s arm felt like it weighed a ton as he lifted it to press his palm against the thumping beat of Riley’s heart. He pushed with barely enough force to move a feather.

Riley stepped backward and scratched the back of his head, guilt and recrimination written in the lines around his eyes and mouth. He hesitated and then grimaced before setting his cup down and cracking eggs into a bowl. The clink of the whisk against glass seemed to blare in the quiet. “I apologize,” Riley said. “That was inappropriate and unprofessional.”

“I guess I’m sending you mixed messages.” Cai scraped paint out of his cuticles, unable to bear Riley’s rigid shoulders. “I owe you an explanation.”

“I’m guilty of mixed messaging too, Cai. No need for an explanation.”

“Yes, but your reasons for not doing what you clearly want to do are absurd.”

Riley chuckled and tapped the whisk, freeing it of eggslime. “Protecting you is absurd?”

Cai ignored that idiocy, only acknowledging it with a half roll of his eyes. “I had all of these fantasies about us. Romantic fantasies, not just sexual,” he clarified when Riley scratched the back of his neck.

“Cai—”

“Don’t interrupt!” Cai blinked at his own audacity and gazed at his feet as if they were the most important thing in the room. “I mean, um, I’m not done.”

“My apologies.”

“Where was I?”

“Fantasies of the nonsexual variety,” Riley answered with a twist of his lips. Definitely struggling not to laugh.

“Right. Um.” Cai forgot the steps to the explanation for his point. Something about his fantasies creating a long-term scenario by way of Austin and Peter and how their relationship worked because of honesty. Dang. The whole speech had deserted him. All he had left was the conclusion. “You and I. The fantasies always had an after. And I’ll settle for a now, but I’d like an after...after. I don’t want you to be blindsided by the terrible things you find out later. You should know there’s more now, so we have a chance of an honest after. You should know that now, I mean, not after.”

The stare Riley gave him wasn’t encouraging. When several seconds passed with no response, Cai considered the slight possibility that he hadn’t been clear. He went over what he’d said, trying to see where the confusion lay.

Then Riley asked, “After what?”

Oh. “After sex.”

“What?”

“After we have sex,” Cai said, louder, annunciating each word.

“Yeah, I heard you. We’re not having sex.”

“Yet.”

“Stop adding addendums. We”—Riley flipped his finger between them both—“are not having sex.”

“Oh. Um. I think we are. So, you can keep kissing me now that you know.” Riley’s expression didn’t forecast more kissing. Before the pointless objections began, Cai changed the subject. He’d messed it up. Oh well, there was always later. It’s not like he hadn’t waited years already. “Can you tell the people searching the house about Begone?”

“You just did,” Riley grabbed a frying pan, set it on the stove and then shut the cabinet door with more force than was necessary. “This conversation is not over, but I have to leave soon. It’s tabled until later.”

“You’re going to search our condo?” Cai jammed his thumbnail between his teeth and chipped away at it. The wall of his bedroom popped up in his head. “That might be... embarrassing.”

“We’re checking to be sure it’s safe and to get you some of your things. I’m not digging through your diary.”

“Yeah...um that’s not what I mean.” The eggs could cook on Cai’s face at this point.

Riley glanced over his shoulder, and then turned slowly. “Tell me you don’t have lewd paintings of me up on your walls.”

Cai looked up at the ceiling and picked a different nail to gnaw on.

“Cai?”

“I’d like to tell you that. I’d like very much to tell you that because you seem rather angry.” Cai backed toward the kitchen doorway. “It’s just the one wall?”

* * *

“Yes, I realize you have a job, too, but, between this week and the last two times she got sick, I’ve used all my personal and vacation days.” Kelly slammed her door shut as she exited the car. “Don’t threaten me.” She mouthed ‘sorry’ over the hood to Riley.

The argument with her husband had waged the entire ride and didn’t appear to be ending any time soon. Feeling intrusive, Riley moved out of range of the conversation and examined his surroundings. Busy industrial neighborhood with semi-trucks and delivery vans parked everywhere. Patches of dead grass filled in where the pavement cracked and split. Smog cramped the air with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. Riley’s coat would be blacker by the time they left.

The condo Cai shared with Julian took up the top northwest corner of a two-story warehouse. Every tiny square window on the bottom floor was broken in some manner and the remaining bits of glass were layered in filth. A dormant cottonwood grew through the metal staircase that connected the floors. Walking up would require stepping on a few of its branches. Cai had given him a key, and he waved it at Kelly then pointed it at the building.

She nodded, flashing two fingers and then used them to indicate she was watching him. “Dev, I’m at a scene. We can talk about this later.”

The warehouse’s lower level appeared empty, except for the thing scurrying across the cement floor. No neighbors, no people at all nearby. Reluctant to go further without backup, Riley confirmed that Kelly had finished her call, and then he climbed onward. When he reached the last step, a two-inch gap became visible in Cai’s front door.

Drawing his gun, he signed to Kelly, “Call for backup” . She halted mid-climb and then slowly descended backwards to the ground floor. Speaking quietly into her radio, she pointed at him to stay, then signaled that she’d do a sweep around the building.

A few tense minutes later, officers arrived.

Four patrolmen went around back, then two of them returned with Kelly to join Riley. She motioned for him to widen the gap in the door. He held up his fingers in a count of three and kicked it open. “FBI!” he bellowed.

No response.

Kelly leaned in quickly for the layout and then signaled directions.

Riley peered in before advancing per her instruction.

They split up at the entrance, steering through a spartan living area and the few unbroken sculptures on tables and pedestals. A TV had been knocked over, spewing broken glass in an arc across the floor. Bits of plaster and marble from several statues had scattered across the rest of the room. In the mostly empty space, every step echoed against the walls. Each group readied to enter a closed door. Riley took the left, the two police officers got the middle, and Kelly went right.

Other than their own footsteps, there had been no sounds from the condo since Riley had noticed the broken door. Whoever had forced the lock open were likely long gone, but the type of men that Cai and Julian had invited into their lives demanded extreme caution. Silence could mean an empty room or it could mean an ambush.

Shoulders tensed, Riley raised his gun higher and then kicked open the door.

Towel squashed over a silver grab bar. Wet rug molding on the floor next to an even moldier shower. “Clear!” he called, backing out of the bathroom.

The other two officers yelled next. “Clear!”

“Clear!” Kelly called out.

Riley took out a pair of latex gloves from his blazer and pulled them on. Before he could start examining the bathroom, Kelly called out again, her voice unusually flat. “Oh, Agent Cordova, could you come here?”

Agent Cordova? The hairs along Riley’s scalp prickled. He crossed the living room, over a threadbare rug and past the sofa, which used to have a faded geometric pattern before someone had cut it open and ripped its guts out. Hadn’t Austin bought them any good furniture?

Them.

“What are you going to do when it’s too late? When I’ve found someone else?”

On a crate serving as an end table, the glare of a framed picture winked at him. He picked it up, his gloved thumb printing itself on the protective glass.

Well, Cai, apparently what I’m going to do is dwell on it during a crime scene sweep.

In the photo, Rachel lay between Cai and Julian, arms up, presumably holding the phone. Her electric blue hair fanned out against green grass. She and Thompson flashed cheeseball grins for the camera. Cai looked straight into the lens, his smile wide and dimpled, but his eyes flat in a thousand-yard stare.

A genuine smile from Cai knocked the breath from your lungs. It dimmed the sun and made you feel as if Lucifer conspired with God to create a being of both innocence and sin.

I thought Julian made you laugh?

“Ril—Oh Jesus! Rat!” Kelly backed out of the room. “Get me a broom,” she yelled at the cop who’d cleared the kitchen.

Riley tossed the picture on the sofa and quickly hunted for Begone. She yowled and undulated against the door as she exited the bedroom after Kelly. Riley scooped her up in his arms with a chuckle. “This is Begone, his cat.”

“Where’s its ears? And tail? And”—she waved at Begone like a magician attempting to disappear a rabbit—“the rest of what makes it a cat.”

“Until Cai, this thing had an even more horrendous life than him.”

“He tell you that?” she asked.

“You think he did this?” Anger rose up in defense.

“He shot a guy, point blank in the head and sat down with his bloody corpse a foot away to make a phone call. Yeah, I think he could do that to a…cat. Then he told you some sob story about rescuing the thing, and you believed him because he batted those great big innocent grey eyes.”

Riley located the cat carrier, which was being used as the other end table. “Cai would sooner harm himself than an animal.” He shoved the cat in the cage.

“Which part of your anatomy is defending him? Because if it’s the one from that painting in his bedroom, you’re mounting an enormous defense.”

He felt the blood draining from his face. “Nooo.” His denial came with several head shakes.

“Oh ho ho, yes.” She embedded each word with a rich laugh.

Pointing at the room Begone had come from, Riley raised his brows in question.

She nodded and called out, “Wait!” before pulling her phone out of her purse. She followed after him, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

The painting took up the entire wall opposite Cai’s bed. Riley lay naked with his back arched, one leg slung over the arm of the recliner his mother had bought him, dick in his fist, eyes closed, mouth open.

“What the f—”

A flash went off, which was the only reason he blinked.

* * *

Cai sometimes felt a twinge of faith while admiring the art in houses of worship. He preferred Riley’s church over his mosque simply because of the carvings and paintings. Not that anyone had given him a choice. Peter had promised Mama to raise him in Islam, so it had been forced on him until he’d orchestrated being banned from the mosque. Both Peter and Riley’s mamas regularly tried to convert him to Christianity, but, since he hadn’t found a way to offend Father Jeremy, he was dragged to church a lot.

If he was being honest, he didn’t mind. Peter’s mama made Burek for him, and Mrs. Cordova mothered him, something he truly missed from his actual mother. And besides, during mass, he could stare at the stained-glass windows.

“Nikolaj, you’re early.” Father Jeremy crouched to pet Fuzz and received a combination whine and nuzzle. “I thought you’d be coming after morning mass?”

“Oh, um. Too many white walls. And Fuzz needed a walk.” He tore his gaze away from the church and gently tugged the dog’s leash to keep him from jumping up. “Think he mostly walked me. I wasn’t really paying attention. Guess he’s been coming here a lot?”

“Usually, every morning for coffee with Riley, but not since he got his recent case,” Father Jeremy said, pulling out a set of keys from his crisp black pants. “Come in. I’ll make you something warm to drink.”

“What about Fuzz?”

“He’ll be good. But keep a tight leash. Last time he was given free rein, he got into the sacramental bread and ate half of Christ.”

“Upper half or lower?”

“Becoming a smart aleck in your old age?”

Cai shrugged, determined not to apologize. He was allowed to try and be funny. Wasn’t he? “Sorry?” He sighed at himself.

“It was funny,” the priest said, opening up the church and then crossing himself with the holy water at the entrance. “I’m not used to the new you yet, Nikolaj. Doesn’t mean I don’t like it. It’ll take a while to learn your humor.”

“It’s not new. It’s just...aloud, now,” he uttered, but Father Jeremy had already walked off. Fuzz chased after, yanking Cai down the red carpet in the center aisle.

In the alcoves along the outer edges, the windows cast multicolored light over the carved statues of the Stations of the Cross. On Easter weekend, Cai eagerly anticipated mass because it meant a visit to each statue. His favorite of the wooden carvings was titled Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus. Riley had carved Jesus’s face on the paper-thin cloth draped in Veronica’s hand. It was an amazing sculpture, and the skill involved rivaled Cai’s own. One day, when he was exceptionally bored, he’d find out who Veronica was. Today, however, with the dog yanking him to catch up to Father Jeremy, he barely caught a glimpse of the statue. That was okay, because Riley’s handiwork was everywhere.

“Who gave Jesus six pack abs and a bulge? I thought he was starved before they crucified him?”

Riley’s answer had been a simple, irritating, “Shh.”

“Nikolaj?” Father Jeremy pulled him out of memories.

“Coming,” he said.

At the back of the church, Father Jeremy held open the thick cherry wood door to his office and allowed Cai through. “Tea? Cocoa? I have marshmallows.”

“Coffee, please, if you have it. No marshmallows.” Cai respected the priest too much to roll his eyes. Cocoa? “You’re not going to call me ‘son’ too, are you?”

“No.” Father Jeremy chuckled. He turned to plug in the coffee maker on the chest of drawers behind his desk. Above him, the stained-glass window cast crimson hues onto his brown hair. “You used to like marshmallows and cocoa.”

“I used to be sixteen.” And needed people like you to not think of me as a killer.

While Father Jeremy scooped grounds into the coffee maker, Cai settled in one of the straight back chairs and drew his knees to his chest. After some consideration, he planted his feet on the ground, tapped his heel a few times, before finally, awkwardly, crossing his ankle over his knee.

The priest opened the giant armoire lining the wall next to the entrance and hung his coat on one of the hangers. When he shut the door, incense and cedar perfumed the room.

Fuzz sniffed at the closet and wagged his tail. Cai pulled him back with a gentle tug of the leash. The dog crawled under his chair, flopped down and huffed.

Cai couldn’t take his gaze off the woodworking on closet. Had Riley sweat into that grain? Had he bled from splinters and slips of the carving knife?

“Nikolaj?”

“Sorry. What?”

“I said that I like marshmallows. No one confuses me for being sixteen.”

“Perception is everything, though, isn’t it? People don’t perceive you to be a teenager, therefore they don’t attribute your behaviors as one.”

With Riley, he had to appear strong. With Peter he had to appear needy. With Austin, invulnerable. Don’t cry. Sit up straight. Don’t show vulnerability. Be aggressive. Be tough. Be stoic. Cai was tired of the rules about humanity and masculinity and maturity.

“We all want to be older when we’re young and young when we’re old,” the priest said.

“I don’t need to be older.”

Father Jeremy clasped his fingers and rested them over his stomach. “What do you need?”

Cai abandoned the attempt at looking mature and crossed his legs in the chair. “It’s such an arbitrary thing to define me. Two digits that don’t reveal much of anything about my life or my experiences.”

“Don’t they? Most people follow set patterns in life.”

“But I haven’t. I’m supposed to assimilate into whatever category people assign me?”

“All right. What would you choose to define you?”

“A million other things. History. Conversations. Intellect.”

“You’d be what, a hundred and fifty? Sixty? By that standard.”

“Eighty. One hundred and eighty.”

“That’s a big number.”

“Not bigger than nineteen, is it?” Cai looked down at his legs, picking a stray thread off his inseam. “Why can’t he see past my age?”

“Maybe he does?” Father Jeremy said kindly.

Cai examined his raw and bloody cuticles. “What a terrible thought.”

“I didn’t mean that he found you wanting, Nikolaj, I meant that maybe he worries about taking advantage of you for... other reasons.”

“So, my choices are that he either believes I’m too naive to think for myself or that I’m some sort of crazy person he needs to coddle? I’m getting all kinds of good choices lately.”

Father Jeremy stood up and then poured the coffee. “How about a third choice?” After handing Cai a bowl of sugar and a mug, the priest took the chair beside him, leaning on the arm. “He’s not attracted to you in that way?”

“You’ve met my brother, Peter?”

“It’s been a while, but he’s...”

“Hard to forget?” Cai finished. “Do you think I could be around someone that looks like him without knowing what lust is? I don’t get looked at like that. I’m tall and gangly. I cut my hair with whatever’s handy. My nose is too big. My mouth is too wide. My features aren’t symmetrical.” He waved away the priest’s attempt at flattery. “I’m an artist, Father, I know what I look like. I don’t care. What I’m saying is, when that look is turned on me, I know it. Riley wants me. But he won’t allow himself to have me.”

“He has a strong sense of right and wrong, Nikolaj. You have to have seen that, being around him all these years.”

Not strong, pathological, Cai wanted to correct. Instead, he said, “I’ve heard stories about when he was young. Like he shaved dirty words into the dog’s fur. That he stole beer from your dad. That you two got drunk and were caught kissing in your parent’s attic.”

“He got a good walloping for that. Riley spent a lot of time wincing when he sat as a kid,” Father Jeremy said, chuckling. “Did he tell you about our first kiss?”

“That wasn’t it?” Cai asked.

“No. We were eleven for the first one. Riley, bold as Angel Gabriel, cornered me after mass. We were wearing our altar boy robes!” As Father Jeremy spoke, his grin grew wider. “He’s pissed, looking me dead in the eye, and I’m thinking he’s going to clock me for tattling about the fake blood on the statue of Jesus, but he just seethes out, ‘I need to kiss a boy to see. You wanna be it?’ And I did. We didn’t stop kissing for years.”

“Sounds bold.”

“He was. And incorrigible.”

“I see sparks of that sometimes.” Cai traced the outline of the scab on his knee. He pressed until he felt the crack of skin, then watched blood soak into the fabric. “We were at a supermarket, in the fruit section, and this woman is walking parallel across from us. She smiles at Riley. He smiles back. She grabs an orange and does this flirty head tilt thing. Riley picks up a zucchini as long as my arm and just thumps it against his palm.” Father Jeremy laughed so hard he sloshed coffee over the rim of his mug. “The woman drops the orange onto the cart and ends up knocking the whole pile of them over. She leaves quickly, weaving between rolling oranges like she doesn’t see them. And Riley picks one up, throws it in our basket and then walks away.”

“That sounds like Riley.”

Cai instantly sobered. “No, Father, it doesn’t. It doesn’t sound like him at all. It shocked the heck out of me. But it sounds like it used to be him all the time. Like that’s the real him and he breaks free every once in a while.” Why were people okay with this massive change in Riley? “Was he always obsessive? When did he become so reserved? When did he become so cautious and compulsive?”

Before Father Jeremy could respond, a flurry of air whooshed through the church, and a stream of sunlight flashed under the rectory door. Both faded away with the thump of the main doors shutting.

“That’ll be the parishioner I’m expecting.” Father Jeremy stood and looked at his watch. “Everyone’s early today.”

“I’ll wait at the stations of the cross.” Cai stretched up, loosened the leash, letting the dog run ahead a bit. Fuzz started to growl before he bounded out of view.

* * *

Anger and embarrassment flooded Riley’s face. “Jesus Christ!”

“Oh,” Kelly said. “I don’t think he channeled JC to paint that masterpiece.”

Riley paced, gripping his hip near his gun and rubbing his forehead. “Did you already call in the Evidence and Response Team?”

“Sure did.” She sat at the edge of the bed, leaned back and tilted her head to get a better view. “Wow.”

“That’s not real, Kelly! He’s never seen my...me naked.”

“No one is going to believe that. It’s like a picture.” She reached forward, nearly touching his painted knee. “Like I could feel the sweat if I touched it.”

“Don’t touch my Goddamn sweat.” He rubbed his eyes and chuckled, then laughed. Then, face in his hands, sat on the bed next to her. “I’ll never live it down.”

“They won’t recognize you. The ERT unit usually holes up in the lab. They only come up to the main floors to pass results off.”

“They’ll be collecting evidence here. When I’m standing right in front of them.” He scowled at the picture, then her. “They can probably make out my dick from the International Space Station!”

She laughed, gently slapping her leg. “Ten feet of butt naked Latin…” Her laugh faded. She pushed off the bed and called over her shoulder, digging out her cell. “Call that boy.”

He almost asked what was wrong when the realization slammed into his chest and winded him. Everyone who saw this painting could recognize him and then connect him intimately with Cai.

Wrenching his phone out of his pocket, Riley misdialed twice before finally clicking on Cai’s number. Voice mail. “Fuck!” He tossed Kelly the keys as they ran out the door with cell phones to their ears.

“Stay here,” she yelled to the DPD officers standing guard outside.

“No answer.” Riley stabbed the button to redial as he climbed into the passenger seat. When he heard the robotic voice again, he barely kept from smashing the phone against the sidewalk.

He was in the process of buckling his safety belt when the tires screeched out. “I’m going to—” What? Strangle him? What if he’s already dead?

Voicemail again.

“DPD are in route to your house,” Kelly said, gently squeezing the crook of his arm.

Each unanswered ring acted like a garrote around his lungs.