Attachment Strings (5 page)

Mrs. Anderson snorted in a very unfeminine manner. “No. The room is small and when they found him, he was right in the middle of it. He was bound to his wheelchair, seizing. When help finally arrived it was too late. I’m not making things up, detectives. Our children are in danger.
Please
stop whoever is responsible.”

“Could you give us the name of that boy? We would like to talk to the family. Were the police involved in that case?”

“His name was Derek Green. I’ll write down his address for you.” She got up to retrieve a writing pad from a cupboard. “The police weren’t involved. Everyone said it was an accident, that maybe he got locked in by another kid.”

That made sense to me. It didn’t change the fact this boy had died a horrible death. Mrs. Anderson handed me the note. I glanced at the address, showed it to Trenkins, and we both nodded in unspoken understanding. We would pass Georgia Avenue on our way back to the station. Maybe we could drop by.

We heard someone unlocking the front door. Mrs. Anderson tensed. Obviously she wasn’t expecting anyone. Trenkins moved in the direction of the living room door whereas I stepped in front of Mrs. Anderson, hand on my gun, ready to raise it.

“Darling? Are you here?”

“Oh God!” Mrs. Anderson sobbed, sidestepped me, and flung herself around the neck of a dark-haired man who entered the room.

“Darling, what happened? Are you okay? Where’s Amaris? Is she okay?” The man, probably her husband, fired off questions.

“She’s okay, fine, actually. You… you just scared me. I didn’t expect you to be home so early.”

“I canceled the afternoon meetings. I couldn’t concentrate on work anyway.” The man dropped a kiss on Mrs. Anderson’s forehead. His head snapped up when Trenkins harrumphed. Sharply, he asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Detective Woods, this is Detective Trenkins. You are?”

“I’m Connor Anderson.”

“My husband,” Mrs. Anderson added in case we weren’t sure how they were related. I swallowed down my sarcasm, wondering for a brief moment about my anger.

“Well, Mrs. Anderson, thank you very much for your time. We’ll keep in touch,” Trenkins said. We shook hands with both of them.

Mr. Anderson escorted us to the door. “I hope you’ll find whoever is making our life a living hell very soon.”

We nodded. Anderson closed and locked the door behind us. From the inside we heard a loud chirp from Amaris when her mother told her that Daddy was home.

“How can they be so fucking caring and nice and all with a daughter like that?” I muttered.

Trenkins glanced at me in an odd way. I couldn’t help but snarl, “
What?
”

A smirk appeared on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to make sure that
I
stay politically correct?”

We walked to the car. “Your disgust was pretty obvious.”

“So you thought you’d top my disgust with a loud rant about the unfairness of the world?”

I slid behind the steering wheel and waited for Trenkins to close his door. “They
oozed
happiness and love. I was waiting for a rain of kittens or stars or whatever.”

“How dare they be happy when
you
are grouchy. The nerve!”

I blinked. “I’m not grouchy.”

“Sure you are. As I said before, get this thing with your boyfriend straightened out. My patience with you is stretching pretty thin.”

“There
is
no boyfriend,” I squeezed out while I threaded into traffic.

“Oh. So that’s the problem. He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend? Didn’t get him off good enough?”

“Trenkins!” I wheezed. My embarrassment brought a hot flush to my face. I wasn’t even sure if I was embarrassed because of Trenkins’s cheeky remark or because he so boldly talked about me being gay.

“Don’t act all coy. Whatever is going on, get it straightened out.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“Just wanted to make myself clear.”

“You did.” After a brief period of silence, I asked curtly, “Are you going to tell anyone about me?”

“No. Why would I?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Ever heard of ‘It takes one to know one’?”

I almost missed the red light. We came to a halt with screeching brakes. “Are you serious?”

Trenkins rolled his eyes. “Yes. Get over yourself. Other people have the right to be gay too. By the way, how about we go on first name basis, now that we know each other’s darkest secret?”

Baffled, I heard myself saying, “Okay. I’m Jeff.”

“Parker.”

“How long have you known about me?” I asked when my curiosity got the better of me.

“For two weeks. I was surprised, I have to admit.”

“Why? Not wearing enough pink shirts?”

Parker snorted. “Maybe. Or my gaydar is for shit.”

“You’re not the only one with a shitty gaydar. I’d never have guessed you were gay.”

“Maybe we’re both great at hiding it. So, tell me, buddy, what’s the problem with the boyfriend?”

I glanced at him irritably. “I told you. There
is
no boyfriend.”

“What about the cute blond thing everyone was lusting after? By the way, I never thought you’d be one with a penchant for the androgynous type. Come to think of it, he looked pretty young too.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve only seen him once and he’s not my type.” Even I wasn’t convinced by my own words. “Oh, and he
is
legal.”

“Aha.”

“What do you mean with
aha
?”

“Maybe your preferences are changing?”

“No!” I pulled a face. “Boys don’t do a thing for me.”

“Except that one.”

Yeah, except that one. There hadn’t been one single night in which I didn’t dream about Alex. Without expression, I said, “It was a fling.”

“Sure, and you’re all sour and mopey because of that.”

“He’s not my type and that’s the end of this discussion.”

“Sometimes an exception can be the right thing. Think about it,” Parker said mildly.

I didn’t want to think about it, so I shot back, “You’re talking from personal experience?”

“All I’m telling you is you might want to consider seeing him again.”

“Wait, how do you know about Alex?”

“Who?”

“The cute blond,” I replied impatiently.

“I happened to be hanging out in the
Lion’s Den
two weeks ago. Want to try talking to the Greens now and drive over to the school afterward?”

“Subtly changing the topic is not your cup of tea, huh?”

“Nope. You think there’s anything to the whole conspiracy theory? Maybe the Andersons just rubbed someone the wrong way. Maybe them
oozing
happiness and love makes them a convenient target,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up.”

Parker chuckled. I did my best to squash my desire to find someone I could ooze happiness and love with. Since when did I wish for
that
? And why the hell did Alex’s face pop up in my mind every time I allowed myself to think about really loving someone?

I shook my head, took a deep breath, and accelerated.

A
FTER
a tearful, though not very informative, talk with the Greens, I glanced at my watch and sighed. “You want to grab something to eat before we head over to the school?”

“Will they even be open at this hour?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. Let’s try it out.”

We drove to the school, where we found they closed early on Fridays. Frustrated, we walked back to the car. Parker pulled out a cigarette and lit it. After the first deep drag, he asked, “You want to get the headmaster’s private address and talk to him there?”

“Do we have another option?”

“I guess not. Let’s stop at the White House first. I’m starving.”

Parker was always starving. I didn’t mind stopping, as I was hungry too. We ordered fries and cheese steak subs and, afterward, large cups of coffee. Parker patted his belly as he relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Don’t you think you’re enjoying the good life a bit too much?” I asked.

“Hey, don’t take away one of my few enjoyments. It’s not as if I have to be in shape to keep my hot young lover.”

I let out an exasperated groan. “There
is
no lover. You might have a better chance at finding someone without that paunch.”

“You’re so superficial. Whoever gets to be my lover has to look for my inner qualities.”

“You have some?”

“I’m sure there has to be at least one quality. I’m still searching for it.”

I shook my head and tried to hide my grin behind my hand. I beckoned the waitress over for the bill. After paying at the register we went outside to our car. There, Parker made himself comfortable and said, “You think that girl is in real danger?”

“Amaris? I don’t know. I have an uneasy feeling about all of this.”

“Yeah, me too. I doubt the headmaster and the parents will be happy to have us snooping around, especially on the weekend.”

I couldn’t care less. If someone was walking around, attempting to kill innocent people, a small interruption of weekend plans wasn’t such a big price to pay, was it? “We’re off duty tomorrow anyway. We’ll see what information we can gather together today and start fresh on Sunday.”

Parker nodded. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Why? You coming on to me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, don’t worry. Just thought you might want some company at the
Lion’s Den
while you wait for your boy.”

“Parker, you’re annoying the crap out of me.”

“Just trying to be helpful here, man.”

“You’re not.”

“Then you won’t mind if I make a pass at him?”

I blinked against a red veil in front of my eyes. Anger and jealousy surged through me so fast it made me gasp. “He won’t take you up on your offer.”

“You sure? He could be desperate.”

No way. “A guy like him doesn’t get desperate.”

“I’ll just have to give it a shot, then.”

“No!” I hollered. An uncomfortable silence followed my outburst. After clearing my throat, I mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Maybe it would be a good idea for you to see him again.” Parker held up his hands placatingly. “Come on, Jeff! That was quite the reaction to my teasing. Just saying.”

I gave a noncommittal grunt and shifted my gaze to the road in front of me. It had been a one-night stand. No more, no less.

I only had to try a million times harder to convince myself.

A
T
THE
station we organized some notes, found out the headmaster’s address and phone number, and attempted to call him. His answering machine informed us he wasn’t there but we could leave a message. Parker left his cell phone number and mine.

“Well, what are we going to do now? There’s no lead, we don’t even know if it’s a real case, and the one guy who could give us addresses and phone numbers is unreachable.”

“How about we call it a day?”

Parker looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “What’s with you? You’re the workaholic around here.”

“Even a workaholic needs a break from time to time.”

“Aha.”

Such an ominous sound. Frowning, I asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Forget it, I don’t want to know.”

“In that case, I’ll tell you. You’re going to look for your lover.”

“Keep quiet,” I hissed. “I mean it. This is none of your business so keep your mouth shut.”

“Whoa. Chill, Woods, will ya?”

“Oh, we’re back to a last name basis already?”

Parker got up grumbling. “Have a good night,
Jeff
. However you’re going to spend it.”

I felt bad. Almost. Then I remembered how much I hated other people snooping around in my personal life.

After polishing up a report, I powered down the computer, stretched my back, and got my jacket. The ride home was as uneventful as ever and the air inside my apartment smelled stale. I lived on Sunset Avenue, close to Sunset Park, which was nice. I liked the neighborhood, but today the apartment didn’t hold any warmth for me.

My mailbox contained a bill, brochures, and a catalog. I threw everything on the kitchen table and slumped down on one of the two wobbly chairs. For a while, I sat there rigid and stared into empty space. This wasn’t how I had imagined my life would be ten years ago.

I had wanted to make a difference, had wanted to help people and society by becoming a cop. I wasn’t completely adverse to a serious relationship, though I didn’t mind the lack of it. I got my rocks off whenever I wanted. Or at least when the job offered me enough time to spend a few days in New York, partying through the clubs. Hunting for one-night stands became less and less intoxicating until I gave up on it. Mostly.

The last few months had shown me that my life lacked in a certain area. I was tired of coming home to an empty apartment, the TV, and having only myself for company. I still had a few friends left, but most of them had entered the settling-down stage with their significant other. I was the odd man out.

Deciding to end my heartfelt contemplations, I crumpled the brochures in my hand and threw them in the trash. I popped a frozen meal in the microwave and gloomily waited for the
ping
. The meal consisted of potatoes, a lot of cream, broccoli, and sliced chicken. It would have tasted way better had I prepared it myself. I was a decent cook. I just didn’t indulge in it very often. While I cleaned my plate, glass, and silverware, I vowed to myself to change this fact. At least sometimes. Making resolutions was good for the soul, right?