Jumping at Shadows (12 page)

“It’s that easy,” Steve told him, though Eric hadn’t voiced the question out loud. “As long as you know what you’re doing. And whoever did this”—he shrugged—“knew what they were doing.”

“Except for their e-mail address.” Jeff jumped back in, making Eric twist around to face him. “The address given on the application was fairly new, and valid at the time of the application, which was less than a month ago, by the way. However, it was apparently a temporary address, and the account was canceled immediately after the airline tickets had been delivered. And being an e-ticket, there was no actual paper sent out. I’ll see what comes up from tracing the e-mail address, but don’t get your hopes up.” He sighed as he mimicked Steve’s position. “It could have been set up from anywhere, any Internet café, library, school, anyplace that has computers for public use. And any information given to set up the account could easily be phony. Whoever set it up had kept it up just long enough to get the credit card and the tickets, then shut it down before the service provider caught on. That’s not surprising these days.”

Especially for someone who knew what they were doing
, Eric bleakly, though silently, repeated Steve’s words. He wasn’t exactly banging his head against the wall, but he had to admit that he had hoped the results his team had found would be more conclusive—and more ready to be used for a conviction. An unrealistic hope, he knew, but there nonetheless, especially with Victor Kroger stepping things up beyond merely taking photographs.

He took a deep breath and willed himself to patience. “Anything else?” he asked the group as a whole.

There was, but nothing as substantial as what they had already discovered, and the next hour was spent in little more than speculation and organizing the steps to trace the credit card and tickets. Eric let them go before 10:00 a.m. His own meeting with the Captain took less than an hour, and the general small talk around the precinct kept him there until almost noon. That the investigation was completely unofficial all but eliminated the vast amount of paperwork that needed to be filled out, and that alone was a boon for which Eric was grateful. A glance at the clock as he was getting ready to leave showed he could still make it home to have lunch with T.J. With Perlman closed for another day, he had one more afternoon he could spend lounging around naked with his lover, and he was ready to get started.

The hall to the exit doors on the side of the building was long and empty, and sleet rattled audibly against the double-paned glass as Eric stopped to zip his bomber jacket to the neck and then pull the gloves from his pockets. Forecasters had been predicting a bad winter since summer, and so far they weren’t wrong. The reprieve from the cascade of ice had lasted only until the early hours after midnight, returning then to add to what was already frozen on every visible surface. Its continual fall pelted him the instant he stepped outside.

The majority of the city’s population was still hunkered down in their homes, and because of that, for once, he had been able to park close to the doors of the building. That and spending more time with T.J. were the only silver linings to the weather he could think of as he stepped off the curb amid the crunch of ice.

“Shit!” he bit out suddenly as his rubber-soled Timberland slid on an icy patch. His knee twisted awkwardly, and he landed on his ass on the pavement with a teeth-jarring thump to his tailbone. For a moment, he sat stunned, disoriented by the suddenness of the fall. Then the cold and wet from the ground began to seep through his jeans. Gritting his teeth, he slowly pushed himself up.

“Fuck!” he hissed, feeling the pull of strained muscles as he was forced to use his own truck to lever himself upright. He felt like an idiot, and he really hoped that he had been out of the range of the parking lot security cameras when he fell, or he would no doubt be hearing about it—forever. He glanced to where the nearest one was secured above the door, then swung his gaze to where the others were posted around the lot. Not likely. But his coworkers would have to rib him later, and with one hand on his truck for balance, he took another slippery step…

… and barely caught the movement of another person over the tailgate of the high bed. Both of them froze.

He had almost missed the man standing there, his figure partially hidden by the ice-coated shrubbery near the back of the lot. The lot wasn’t that deep on this side, and only the darkness of his pea coat and the heavy knit ski cap pulled low over his eyes made him stand out from the whiteness of the shrubs. His hands were slightly raised, and he was looking right at Eric.

There were no vehicles besides his own truck on this side of the building, and it was too cold and inclement for anyone to be walking anywhere in this city. Those thoughts flitted through Eric’s mind as they stared at each other. The buses weren’t running, and neither were the taxis. And if he was waiting for a friend, he wouldn’t be this far from the road.

But Victor Kroger’s thugs would be.

“Shit!” Eric hissed, his hand reaching for the gun holstered at his side while his heart began to pound in his chest. T.J. had merely raised an eyebrow when Eric had put it on that morning, but as far as Eric was concerned, the time for taking chances was over. His fingers were clumsy with his hands gloved, but he pulled the firearm free without taking his eyes off the hired thug, and he released the safety even as he pointed the barrel. The man’s face was nearly hidden, but Eric knew when he looked toward the gun, and there was no question of his being heard. “Freeze! Put your hands in the air! Slowly!”

Time stopped for a heartbeat; then in a sudden flurry of motion, the man darted into the shrubs faster than Eric would have given him credit for, and he didn’t stop, crashing through the growth in search of the sidewalk on the other side.

“Freeze!” Eric shouted again, tensing his grip as he lunged forward, needing a clear shot, needing it before he lost his chance to nail Victor right there and then. But his next shout was startled as his foot slipped again, and the pavement slammed into him almost before he realized he was falling. His fingers lost their grip as his elbow was jarred, and his hand caught his weight at the same moment the gun hit the ground. Breathing hard as sharp arcs of pain shot through his wrist and elbow, it took far too long for his senses to return. By then, the lot was quiet save for the tapping of sleet, and the shrubs were still except for the lingering sway of a few stems. Whoever it had been was gone. Again.

“Fuck!” he shouted, and cried out as pain shot through his wrist when he slammed his fist into the pavement. Anger pushed him to stand awkwardly on his feet, his lungs burning as he leaned heavily on the truck beside him. His head turned wildly to scan the parking lot, looking for any sign of movement, any sign that the dark-coated figure had not gotten away. Nothing. No passing cars, no pedestrians, no figures running into the streets. He may as well have been alone in the world.

“
Fuck!
” Breath heaved from his lungs in a cloud and vanished a moment later. Then a thought struck him like a blow, stopping his breath and seemingly his heart for the moment it took to sink in.

The security cameras.
The fucking security cameras.
A sense of giddiness swept over him as he craned his neck to see each location around the lot, making eye contact with each watching camera in turn.

Capt. Carroll wanted something tangible to go on. And now he had it.

“
N
OTHING
,” Eric muttered bitterly, swirling the coffee in his cup while he perched diffidently on the kitchen table. His expression was bitter as T.J. filled his own cup. “At least nothing that can be used for identification, let alone to actually press charges. At least not against
him.
”

The man in the parking lot had been caught on tape, but the cameras weren’t at eye level, and the combination of the ski cap, the weather, and the distance had left his face blurred, grainy, and completely unrecognizable. And not once, from the time he came into view to his progression through the shrubs until he vanished in a run from the lot, did it show him doing anything worthy of arrest. Or even questions.

The same couldn’t be said for Eric.

Eric’s fall, though lacking anything resembling dignity, would have only been worthy of some teasing from his peers—except for the fact that he had pulled his gun. Never,
ever
pull a gun on a nonviolent criminal, and from what the tapes showed, nonviolent was exactly what the man was.

His being a criminal, however, was incredibly doubtful, as Capt. Carroll had explained to him in very precise detail. The gun slipping from his hand—loaded and with the safety off—was enough to earn him a reprimand, if not outright suspension. Had it gone off, he might have lost his badge, if not his life, depending on where the barrel was pointed. Pointed at himself, it might have ended his own life; pointed at the man in the pea coat, it might have been his life with T.J. that he lost—suspended while he sat in a jail cell for shooting an unarmed civilian. The captain had let him off easy by only giving him the mother of all ass chewings, along with a direct order that he not carry his firearm until his unofficial, post-operation leave was officially over.

Eric grimaced as the steaming coffee burned his tongue.

“Are you sure it was him?” T.J. asked cautiously. He had turned to lean back against the counter, and though his tone didn’t sound accusing, his eyes were guarded as he looked at Eric over the rim of his cup.

“What?” Eric’s arm lowered as the surprise of the question caught him. “Of course it was him! Who else could it be?”

T.J. shrugged. “According to the desk at the precinct, it was a gentleman reporting his lost dog,” he answered calmly. “You told me that yourself, you know, and you saw his visit on the desk log.”

“I’m sure some old man came in, but that’s not the man on the tape,” Eric muttered bitterly. He scowled rather than grimaced as he sipped his coffee this time.

“That’s not what the officers at the desk say,” T.J. repeated reasonably. “You said the tape showed him leaving the precinct, and it stands to reason the man leaving the front door would be the same one in the side lot a few moments later. The time stamp on the police report would back up the time stamp on the tape, and I bet if you asked, the desk would confirm the gentleman with the lost dog was wearing a pea coat and ski cap.”

“I did, and he was, but that doesn’t prove anything! Half the damn city is wearing pea coats and ski caps, which only means Victor’s cronies fit right in!” Eric snapped, and then drew a breath to calm himself. “Look, I know you don’t believe me any more than they did, but I know what I saw. I know
who
I saw. And who I saw was one of the assholes working for Victor Kroger.”

T.J. sighed and took another sip from his mug, watching the ripples on the surface of the coffee a moment before speaking. “Is it really out of the question that the man in the parking lot was just an old man who had lost his dog?” He straightened when Eric stiffened, and forestalled Eric’s next comment by raising one hand pleadingly in front of him. “Yes, you left through the side and he left through the front, but he could have easily come around the building. You already admitted that there are a few blind spots to the security cameras. And yes, it may have looked like he was hiding in the shrubs, but isn’t it possible he was just looking for his dog there? People have been known to leave no stone unturned—literally—when they are looking for a lost animal.”

“You really want me to believe he was looking for his dog in the damn bushes?” Eric demanded incredulously, staring at his lover in wonder.

T.J. shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible, baby,” he said calmly. “Just like it’s possible that he had seen you slip and was intending to help.”

“Fuck that!” Eric snapped, then hissed a “Shit” when a jerk of his hand spilled coffee on his fingers. He shook off the liquid as the cup changed hands, then found T.J. watching him with amusement flickering across his face. “I don’t know, maybe,” he muttered at last. “But why would he run?”

“Maybe because you were pitching a fit about slipping on the ice,” T.J. offered, crossing his arms as he relaxed again against the counter. “You weren’t wearing a uniform, you weren’t near a squad car, and you weren’t parked in official parking. Chances are he reconsidered playing Good Samaritan when he heard how loudly you were growling,” he added teasingly.

“I don’t growl!” Eric shot back, drawing a laugh from T.J., and he had to admit defeat as T.J.’s laughter threatened to get contagious. “Okay, maybe I do a little, but not enough to scare off some old man in a parking lot.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” T.J. answered, still chuckling. He pushed from the counter to sweep Eric off the table, pulling him in for a kiss before ushering him out of the kitchen. “Now let’s get back to enjoying our day off.”

“Yeah, all right. Just let me get changed,” Eric conceded heavily, his good humor inevitably returning as T.J. pushed him toward the bedroom. T.J. was already dressed in their traditional home attire—shirtless, with sweats—and Eric would be dressed likewise when he joined him in front of the TV. Gay porn had been hinted at before he had left that morning as a worthy afternoon pursuit, and although it would require pay-per-view, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time they had paid that bill. A smile crossed his face as he listened to the sounds of T.J. rooting around in the hall closet for a blanket, and with an erection already pressing on his underwear, he decided to slip them off along with his jeans. It would save time removing them later, once the scenes turned hot enough for them to copy the action on the screen, which wouldn’t take long if his skills at porn selection had anything to do with it.

The shade on the window kept the room dark as he changed, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from the window even as he pulled the fleece over his hips. T.J. might think he was getting paranoid, but Eric knew he wasn’t. There was no way this could all be just random events. He hadn’t realized that he had been staring at the window shade until his lover’s voice startled him.