Chapter 25 - Liam
TWENTY-FIVE
LIAM
The wounds on my chest are taking more time to scab over than the cuts from the woods, but that’s to be expected, given that they’re much deeper. I hadn’t realized how much deeper until I’d gone to bandage them myself.
I keep wondering if Ryker had planned to go a step too far, if his threats of death hadn’t been dirty talk but instead had been a genuine warning.
I still don’t know if I care.
It’s funny, that I don’t place that much value on my own life. I should.
But I’m not afraid.
I examine myself in the mirror. The shirt I’m wearing isn’t as tight as normal, so the bandages don’t show through it. Not easily, anyway. I know they’re there, so they stick out to me.
Oh well.
I grab my keys and head out of the condo, humming to myself as I step out of the elevator into the lobby.
Two grim, familiar faces greet me.
Agent Stratford and Agent Redding.
I immediately press the button to go up again, then curse because it won’t let me press anything without using my key fob. Before I can do that, the agents get onto the elevator with me.
“Forget something?” Redding asks.
“My sanity,” I say flippantly. “What a pleasure to see you here. As you’ll see, my lawyer isn’t currently with me, so you’ll have to get with her on when you can talk to me. I have my rights and all.”
“You aren’t under arrest,” Stratford tells me, like that’s supposed to be reassuring.
“Should we do this in your condo or out here where everyone can overhear?” Redding asks, glancing out toward the foyer.
“There’s nothing to overhear,” I say. “I’m not saying anything. I think this counts as harassment, you know.”
“Still, it would be better than standing in an elevator,” Stratford tells me. He smiles. “It’s just a few questions, Liam.”
I narrow my eyes at him, debating whether to tell him to cut out the friendly bullshit. But I don’t particularly want them to get aggressive with me. “Are these the same questions I already answered with my lawyer present?” I ask.
“No. We’re following up on a few things. We just need to clarify one or two issues and then we can safely move on to other witnesses,” Stratford says.
‘Witnesses,’ he claims, except I know I’m a suspect.
“You can cut the crap and tell me that I’m a suspect,” I tell him. “Which means my lawyer should be present.”
The elevator opens onto my floor, and I quickly get out, hoping I can get back to my condo and lock the door. Unfortunately, Redding manages to get in front of me, and he stops in front of my condo door, blocking the way.
“You just have to tell us the truth,” Redding says, his tone harsh. “We already know you danced with Reid Bertrand. So tell us where you went with him after. We’ve got you on camera passing a bodega down the street.”
Hmm.
I wonder if they really do, or if they’re lying. They’re allowed to lie to me, I think.
Still, unease coils in my stomach, because what if they do? What if there’s evidence saying I went home with him? Maybe I should’ve told them I went home with him.
No, that would’ve been stupid.
Ms. Lockheart might’ve been able to spin it, but that would’ve put me under more suspicion. That would’ve led to more visits like this, where they’re trying to trip me up.
Okay. So if they do have video of me leaving with Reid, that’s problematic. I could say that we left at the same time, but that contradicts what I’d already said.
I think.
I don’t really remember what I’d said, mostly because Ms. Lockheart had done all the talking.
“Interesting,” I say, leaning against the wall across from my condo. “That sounds like it’d be grounds for something more than you harassing me at my home.” I’m gambling, and I know it. I need to stop talking. “Okay. Hold on. Let me call Ms. Lockheart. We’ll get this sorted.”
“Sounds good,” Stratford says. “We’ll wait.” He takes his phone out, then he and Redding whisper to each other.
I roll my eyes. They’re really trying to trip me up.
I’m not going to fall for it. I’ll show Ryker how good I can be.
“You’re bleeding,” Redding suddenly says. He motions to my chest, and I look down to see that I’ve bled through one of the bandages straight through to my shirt.
Fuck.
I ignore him, pulling my own phone out so I can call Ms. Lockheart. Perks of my family being one of her top clients: I get her direct number.
“Ms. Lockheart,” I say, “the FBI have accosted me outside of my condo.”
“Don’t say a single word to them,” Ms. Lockheart answers. “I’m on my way.”
She hangs up, and I’d be annoyed at the rudeness, but I’m glad I’m her top priority.
“You should get that bandaged,” Stratford says. He motions to the condo. “I’ll help you. Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Don’t need help,” I say, turning for the condo. I stare at Redding, who’s still in front of the door. “Would you move?” I pause, then add, “Pretty please?”
Redding stares back, not moving a single inch. “How’d you get hurt?”
“If I told you, you’d have me committed to a psych unit,” I say flippantly.
Which is not far from the truth.
“You’ve been dying to get me alone in my condo — which I understand, I really do. I’m just that attractive. So move out of the way. Please.” I stare at him, unwilling to back down.
“Did it have anything to do with your recent visit to Isaac Kutchner’s home?” Redding asks with a feral grin.
I look blankly at him. “Who’s that?”
Well, this isn’t good.
I remind myself that they’re allowed to lie.
But I can lie too.
“Didn’t even get his name?” Redding holds up his phone and shows me a picture of a handsome young man with dark hair.
The handsome young man I’d strangled out of boredom and restlessness aside.
When I don’t react, Redding says, “Don’t recognize him like this? Maybe this will jog your memory.” He taps to the next image, this one of the same man, lips blue and eyes bugged out wide, with dark red ligatures around his neck.
I shiver, torn between delight and apprehension.
They weren’t supposed to link those murders. I was careful.
“Why are you showing me that?” I ask, putting a tremble into my voice as I look away.
“He died recently,” Stratford says almost gently. “And we’re trying to determine who killed him.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with me,” I say, hugging my arms against my chest. Damn it, I think the bleeding has gotten worse.
“Well, you like frequenting the gay bars, right? And Isaac here, he wrote to his friend about the twink he was going to rail soon.” Redding sneers. “He shared some vivid descriptions of the ‘twink’ and the sick shit he was going to do to him.”
Well, fuck.
I’m not sure whether I should be truly alarmed that they have a description that could match me or disappointed that he’d wanted to do “sick shit” to me that I hadn’t gotten to experience.
No.
I have Ryker. I wouldn’t have let anyone else do it anyway.
“If it was self-defense, that’s okay,” Stratford says. “If he hurt you while you were having sex…”
“I don’t even know who it is,” I say. “I get that you’re doing your job, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Where the hell is Ms. Lockheart?
I can’t believe I didn’t notice the guy texting.
I can’t believe I potentially just got myself caught.
My phone lets out its loud ringtone, and I answer immediately.
“Ms. Lockheart?” I ask.
“Yes. Please meet us downstairs.” She hangs up again.
Us? Who’s us?
“As fun as this has been,” I tell the agents, “it’s time to go downstairs and talk while my lawyer is present. You know, like she’s supposed to be whenever you question me?” I don’t smile.
This is what it’s like to be afraid, I think.
I march back to the elevator, stabbing at the button to go down without waiting for them.
Stratford murmurs something to Redding that I can’t make out, then they follow me into the elevator.
“You’re into that stuff, aren’t you? That’s why the bruising the last time we saw you and the blood this time. You’re one of those degenerates—” Redding starts, but Stratford hisses at him to shut up.
For once, I keep my mouth shut.
I step out of the elevator first, and I head straight for Ms. Lockheart.
My father is with her, along with some other man I don’t recognize.
The agents seem to recognize him though, because they both tense up.
“Liam!” Ms. Lockheart greets. “And Agents Redding and Stratford. Have you all met Representative Landau? I believe he’s on the appropriations committee?”
“Indeed I am,” Landau responds. “I must say, it was quite a surprise to hear that my good friend’s son was being harassed by our fine agents.”
Well, this escalated.
I fight the urge to grin in triumph at Stratford and Redding, who both look just as apprehensive as I’d felt upstairs.
Good.
I mean, not good that my father’s involved, and not good that I’m standing in the lobby of the condo building with blood seeping through my shirt, but good that Ms. Lockheart is pulling out the big guns.
My father’s eyes narrow when he sees my shirt. “What happened to you, Liam? Did the agents hurt you?”
I shake my head. “They’ve been too busy asking me questions while I asked them to wait until my lawyer was present. Showing me pictures from a crime scene and everything.” I look mournfully at him. “I think I’m going to have nightmares.”
Stratford licks his lips. “He’s a witness to a crime,” he says carefully. “It’s crucial that we talk to him as soon as possible.”
Ms. Lockheart shakes her head. “You saw him bleeding, and you didn’t allow him to get the wound treated?” She turns to Landau. “Is this how the federal bureau conducts itself? If Liam’s wound gets infected…”
Landau in turn glares at the agents. “Surely it could all have waited for another day? And they’ve told me you’re going after Michael’s mother? Some of Liam’s friends? If Liam’s a witness, why the full harassment campaign?”
It won’t be fun answering Ms. Lockheart’s questions about why I was bleeding—assuming she even asks any—but I’m grateful for it right now. It makes them look like careless, heartless assholes. To be fair, they probably are, but they telegraphed that more perfectly than I ever could’ve hoped for.
“Representative Landau, perhaps the bureau needs to look into its staffing decisions,” my father says. “I can’t help but feel this is prejudicial in nature. All because my son is homosexual, they assume the worst of him.”
“What?” Redding asks. “It’s not because he’s a fag—”
Stratford knocks his hand against Redding’s arm. “Shut up!”
“They called me a degenerate, too,” I tell Ms. Lockheart. “And they got really nasty when I wouldn’t answer their questions. This one—” I gesture to Redding. “—in particular.”
“I’m sorry for any distress we may have caused,” Stratford says. “But at this point, we have to consider Liam a suspect. He’ll need to come in for questioning right away.”
Landau and my father exchange looks.
I think about when I called Ms. Lockheart. It had only been fifteen minutes ago, max. Factoring in the time it takes to get here… there’s no way she could have rallied a representative that fast, not unless she was already with him.
And my father had already been there too.
So whatever the relationship between my father and Landau, it’s not just a simple friendship. Money has to be involved, and politics too.
Landau shakes his head. “No, no. I don’t think there’s any reason to bother the Cohens more with this. I’ll talk to your supervisor. Refrain from harassing the good, tax-paying citizens of New Bristol, agents.”
Tax-paying, bribe-paying, whatever. It’s all the same in this city, and we all know it.
“Thank you, Representative Landau,” I say, bowing my head to him. “It’s been so hard. They’re talking bad about me to everyone I know.”
My father’s gaze snaps to the agents.
Social currency is the best currency, and reputation is everything.
“Do I need to file defamation charges?” he asks, his voice dangerous.
Huh. Isn’t that interesting? I never would’ve thought he cared.
Except I know he cares more about the Cohen family reputation than he does about me.
“No, of course not,” Stratford hurries to say. “We’ve only been asking questions. No accusations have been made.”
“Then please, agents, I think you can see yourselves out,” Landau says, motioning toward the condo entrance.
The two agents exchange a look. Redding’s face is flushed with anger, and it takes everything in my power to resist flipping him off as he storms out. Stratford follows a bit more calmly.
When they’re gone, Landau turns to my father. “This better be nothing, Michael.”
“My son isn’t capable of the crimes they’re accusing him of,” my father says. “He’s foolish and harmless, not a murderer.”
His words make me feel small, and I want to shout at him that I am capable of it, that I have done it.
But no matter how many times Ryker calls me an idiot, I’m not that stupid.
“I don’t know why they’re hyper-focused on me,” I agree. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You heard that one agent,” Ms. Lockheart says. “Bog standard homophobia.” She glances at me. “Jesus Christ, Liam. Get back upstairs and treat that wound before you look like you’re on a horror movie set.”
“Yes, Ms. Lockheart,” I say obediently. “Thank you for coming.” I bow my head to Landau. “I really appreciate you, Representative. I promise, there’s nothing. They’re just harassing me because they don’t have any leads, or because I’m gay or rich or whatever they don’t like.”
My father sighs. “Stay out of trouble, Liam.”
I nod, turning back for the elevator.
That was close.
That was too fucking close.
I guess I’m going to have to have a cooldown period whether I like it or not.