Double Indemnity (8 page)

“Indiana Jones fan, huh? I guess this is one step up from vipers.”

“At least two, I'd say.”

They smiled at one another for a moment, but then Nathan's face shuttered. “Thanks again, Sam.”

Taking it as his cue, Sam headed for the door. “It's no problem. I know what it's like not to be able to sleep.”

He didn't stay for further explanations. The last thing Nathan needed to hear was Sam's own sob story. One of the worst memories Sam had of the time right after the accident was people sharing the tragedies in their own lives to make him feel better. As if hearing how much the world sucked could ever do that.

Sam punched one of the overly fluffy couch pillows and settled down with the TV still on. It always helped him fall asleep.

The next morning he awoke with a crick in his neck to the sounds of someone trying to be quiet in the kitchen and mostly failing. He found Nathan, still wearing his clothes from the previous night, knocking back a couple of painkillers with a pint glass chaser of water.

“How're you feeling?” Sam asked.

“Like hell.” He grimaced. “It's a good thing you came over when you did, or I'd probably be face down in the pool by now.”

“I'm glad you weren't. It would have been a pain in the ass to drag you out.”

Nathan gave him a half smile and refilled his glass from the tap. He drained it in a few long pulls, looking lean and graceful with his head tilted back. After he'd finished and wiped his mouth with his hand, he set the glass on the counter. “Why did you come over last night?”

Sam grasped for a rationale that wouldn't sound creepy or stalkerish, but he had nothing. “I thought you might need a friend.”

“Emma always liked you, you know.”

“I liked her too.”

“She thought you might have a crush on me.”

“What?”

Nathan's face paled. Sam's first instinct, to reach out and steady him, took him by surprise. He had no idea if such a touch would be wanted. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I realize I said
liked
. It will never be
like
again. The present tense is gone. She's gone.”

“Shit, Nathan.”

Sam had a small table and chair set in the kitchen, which he normally used to store mail and newspapers, but he figured it could also serve its real purpose. He cleaned it off, piled the papers in a stack on the floor, and set about brewing coffee, aware of Nathan's eyes on his back. The guy seemed tied together with string, and Sam figured he better tread with caution.

“How do you like your coffee? Cream and sugar?” He peered into the fridge.

“Black is fine.”

“Perfect, because I don't have either.” His cupboards were bare, and he didn't have much to offer by way of breakfast save bread and butter barely hanging on to its expiration date. He made toast for both of them and set plates down on the table along with the coffee. Nathan eyed the meager spread with a strange expression. He picked up a piece and stared as if toast were a new thing.

Sam cleared his throat. “Sorry it's not much. Haven't had much time to shop or cook lately.” Not that he'd cook even if he had the time, but Nathan didn't need to know. The comment seemed to be enough to break Nathan out of his quiet, though. He nodded.

“You work a lot.”

“Yep, twenty-four seven, feels like.”

“Emma was similar. Always at work. Working at home when she was off. She wanted to make detective.”

Silence descended as Nathan sipped his coffee, and Sam took the opportunity to study him. The pronounced dark circles suggested he hadn't slept well again, and his skin had the unnatural pallor of a hard night of drinking. But the expression in his eyes—dull and resigned—bothered Sam the most.

“What do you do for work?” Sam asked.

“I guess you could say I'm a consultant.” He punctuated the words with an efficient bite of toast. “I don't think I'll be going back to work any time soon.”

“Sometimes I find it's a good distraction.”

“With all due respect, I don't think I want to be distracted. I have to find who did this.”

“You don't trust the police to find out?”

Nathan pursed his lips. It seemed like he wanted to say something but was weighing his options. “I don't trust anyone.”

“I can't say I blame you.”

“You're awfully young to be so cynical.”

“Yeah, well I've had my fair share of shit thrown at me, and living in this neighborhood gives you reason not to trust the police. You know Rich Petersen?”

Nathan nodded. “There're always a few bad eggs. But I like to think most people go into it for the right reasons.”

“Of course.” Sam glanced down, abashed. “The chief is a good guy. And Emma, of course. Was.” God, he'd really put his foot in it.

“I should go.” As Nathan pushed the plate of half-eaten toast away and stood, a tightness lodged in Sam's throat. He'd made a misstep and he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't want Nathan to leave in this state.

Still, he said, “If I can help in any way, I will.”

Nathan's eyes softened. “You've already done far more than anyone else, and hell if I know why. But thank you.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“I'll catch a cab.”

“All right. Nathan—” Sam restrained himself once again from reaching out and grabbing the man's arm. “What will you do now?”

“I don't know.”

 

S
AM
PULLED
up in front of Nathan's house the next evening after work. He hadn't been invited, but he couldn't rest easy without finding out if the guy was okay.

This time Nathan was in the backyard doing laps. He covered the length of the pool in seconds, then performed some sort of fancy underwater flip, and headed back toward Sam with the butterfly stroke. He finished the lap and then held onto the edge, breathing heavily.

“What are you doing here?” Water droplets caught in Nathan's long lashes as he looked up at Sam.

“I came to make sure you didn't drown yourself. How long have you been out here?”

“I don't know. A couple hours.”

Sam whistled and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Though the water looked inviting, illuminated in the pool lights, he couldn't imagine swimming for hours. “What are you, training for the Olympics?”

“I figure it's a healthier way of tiring myself out than what I did last night.”

Sam didn't mention he'd almost expected to find more of the same. “You're probably right.”

“Do you want to come in?” Nathan's muscles flexed as he pushed himself away from the edge.

The evening had begun to cool the air, but it was still sticky and hot. Sam hadn't even thought to bring trunks. He remembered Nathan's invitation weeks before, when he'd told Sam he could borrow a pair, but Sam would look ridiculous in anything of Nathan's, what with the height difference. And nudity was out of the question. He shook his head. “I'm good.”

“Suit yourself.”

Nathan started another lap, this time at a slow crawl. For lack of anything else to do, Sam stationed himself on one of the deck chairs and watched as the sky darkened.

When he finally heaved himself out of the pool, Nathan's usual grace was gone. He grabbed a towel and stood there staring across the pool at Sam, dripping wet.

“You're still here?” There was actual surprise in his voice.

“You're kind of freaking me out, to be honest. I've never seen someone swim so long, except maybe a seal.”

“I'm fine. I am… tired, though.” He approached with wobbly steps. “I'll be okay.”

Right. He seemed hardly able to move, let alone towel himself off and go to bed. Sam imagined a different life, one where he could do the honors of drying Nathan's muscular torso, his lean, strong legs—and then quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

“Good. Okay.”

“Good night, Sam.” Nathan started to walk away but then paused and turned his head. “I take it I'll see you tomorrow?”

“You betcha.”

 

 

S
AM
MADE
good on his promise. He showed up the next night, and the next. Most of the time, Nathan swam and they didn't talk. It became a strange routine, the peaceful evening turning into night with only the sounds of gently lapping water and crickets to break the stillness. Out here in the country, millions of stars appeared once the sun set, and Sam wondered why he'd never given much thought to their beauty before. There was probably something to be said for looking up once in a while, instead of straight ahead, but Sam didn't feel inclined to delve more deeply into the thought.

After the first night at Nathan's, Sam made sure to bring his trunks. He never swam as long as Nathan did, but he did laps and then lounged by the pool's edge, feet dangling. They spoke very little, except for passing comments about the weather or sports. But on the fourth night, Nathan seemed different. He smiled when Sam arrived and continued his lazy backstroke. “I was wondering if you were coming.”

“Of course.”

Sam nodded and went into the house to change. When he came back, Nathan was still idly circling the pool. Sam took a running leap, cannonballed into the cool water, and popped up only a couple of feet from Nathan.

“Quite an entrance.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm a drama queen.” And then, for no reason whatsoever, he splashed Nathan right in the face.

Nathan wiped the water from his eyes, which he then narrowed dangerously. “You splashed me.”

“Hell yeah, I did. And I'll do it again.” So he did.

“Do you seriously want to play this game?”

Sam shivered, and not because of the coolness of the water, which had warmed considerably. Nathan's predatory smile grew.

“You better swim fast.”

Sam dove to get a head start, but Nathan had the advantage. Before he knew it, Sam was trapped in Nathan's strong arms and dragged toward the deep end of the pool. They wrestled, laughing, until Nathan finally got the better of Sam and dunked his head. Sam grabbed Nathan around the waist to pull him under as well, but the water made everything slippery. Their bodies slid together, and Sam suddenly realized he'd wrapped his leg around Nathan to get a firmer hold and had wound up in a very compromising position. His cock was hardening against Nathan's thigh. Nathan exhaled against his cheek.

The struggle continued for a moment before Sam froze and, with a laugh to cover up his increasing embarrassment, pushed himself away. Nathan let him go without protest. Sam swam to the other end of the pool and then hoisted himself out, deciding to pretend nothing had happened.

“There's water in my ear,” he explained, tilting his head to the right.

“I'm sorry.” Nathan sounded contrite.

“It's not a big deal.” Maybe Nathan hadn't even noticed Sam's response to the roughhousing. A guy could hope.

“It's getting late.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. Better leave before things got even more awkward. “I… I've got plans tomorrow night, so I probably won't come by.”

Nathan glowered at him. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need a babysitter, Sam. I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. I'm always fine.”

Nathan got out of the pool too and dried himself off. Sam pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped a towel around his wet shorts. “Do you mind if I borrow this?” It would help keep his truck seat from getting soaked, not to mention hide his misbehaving erection.

“Not at all. Hey—”

“What's up?”

“Thank you for the company. I do appreciate the distraction, but it almost doesn't feel right. Like I shouldn't be distracted. I don't deserve to be.”

Sam nodded. He had a feeling there wouldn't be any more late-night swims. “I understand what that's like. But call me if you ever need to talk, okay?”

“I will.”

 

 

N
ATHAN
DIDN
'
T
call the next day, or the next. Sam got an
assignment from the
Gazette
. In honor of Mark Feldman's work, the mayor had made a two-year pledge to get drugs off the streets of Stonebridge. Sam's editor insinuated his article should take a positive spin on the plan, and Sam wondered, not for the first time, just how deep in the pockets of local government she was. He suspected the whole thing was nothing more than a publicity stunt.

Still, the article would pay more than his usual fare, so he swallowed his distaste and went down to the station on his day off to find someone to talk to. Since Emma was gone, he would need a new connection, and he didn't like exploiting his relationship with the chief.