Splintered (29 page)

“Hey,” Noah said softly. “How you feeling?”

“I feel….” Hutch licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Throat’s dry.”

Noah sat back and pushed the nurse’s call button. “Sorry, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to have anything. We’ll have to ask the nurse.”

“How—”

“The surgery went great. You’re going to be sore for a while from the exploring around they did in your belly, but from what I understand, there is no major damage to any of your internal organs.”

Hutch shook his head and winced. “How is Byte?”

They’d learned soon after arriving at the hospital that Byte was alive but in critical condition. The bullet had hit a lung. “He made it through surgery and is in stable condition,” Noah assured him. “He’s going to be okay.”

Hutch nodded, the look of relief turning to one of pain when he swallowed hard again. “And you?”

Hutch was covered in dozens of burns and cuts, a couple wounds deep enough they were concerned about internal bleeding, and yet he wasn’t worried about himself, but about Noah and Byte. It was another thing Noah found appealing about Hutch: he acted all gruff and burly, but beneath the hard exterior was a sweet, squishy core.

Noah held up his good arm to show his bandaged wrist. “I’ll live.” Hutch tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he took in the sling Noah was sporting. “That’s not life-threatening either.” Broke, raw, hurt like fuck, but not going to kill him.

“Can I help you?” asked a pleasant voice through the intercom.

“Yes, Agent Hutchinson would like something to drink, please.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you,” Hutch said in a raspy voice.

“You’re welcome, but all I did was push a button. You better be thanking her,” Noah said.

Hutch shook his head. “For saving my life. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“Hey! There will be none of that,” Noah told him sharply. “I played the role exactly as it was meant to be. I was the worm, remember?”

“But you asked me not to let the line break. I’m…. Fuck, Noah, I’m so sorry.”

Noah’s chest tightened painfully at the glimpse he got of the aggrieved look in Hutch’s eyes before he turned away. Ignoring the way his body protested, legs spasming as he stood, Noah leaned over Hutch and forced Hutch to look at him with his good hand.

“The line didn’t break, Hutch. It held firm as we both tugged and pulled on it, and dammit, we won. We took that son of a bitch down. We are here to talk about it, and more importantly, he can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

Hutch started to respond, opening his mouth, then snapping it shut when the nurse walked in with a cup of ice in her hand. “How are you feeling, Agent Hutchinson?”

Hutch gave Noah one last look that Noah easily read as “this isn’t over,” then turned to the nurse. “I’m thirsty.”

“I can only offer you a few ice chips and some swabs,” she responded sympathetically.

“I want a drink,” Hutch grumbled.

“You take these,” she said, handing the cup to Hutch. “If you can tolerate them, I’ll see about getting you some water.”

“Whoopee,” Hutch muttered and then popped a spoonful of ice into his mouth.

“Mr. Walker, Officer Campbell has asked me to remind you he’s still waiting to speak with you.”

“What for?” Hutch snapped and then choked on his ice.

“Calm down,” Noah said and gently patted Hutch’s shoulder like that would do anything to dislodge the ice. He rolled his eyes at himself. “They just need to finish taking my statement. I’ll be back shortly, okay?”

“Can’t he take it in here?” Hutch grumbled.

“You’ll be fine,” Noah assured him and patted him gently on the top of the head. “Now be a good boy and do what the nice nurse tells you.”

“Brat,” Hutch growled, but his lip curled into a smile.

He grinned cheekily in response to Hutch’s tease. They were going to be okay. It was over; they’d all survived, and dammit, they could still smile, which was a major bonus.

H
UTCH
OPENED
his eyes to find Granite sitting in the chair next to his bed with a silly grin on his face. “Please tell me you have one of those greasy cheeseburgers hidden in your pocket,” Hutch pleaded. “The food here sucks!”

“Sorry, Boss, gave the last one to Byte.”

Hutch sat up on the edge of the bed and dangled his feet. “How’s he doing?”

“Same as you—hungry, tired, and ready to get the hell out of this place.”

“They promised to spring me today,” Hutch informed him. “Any word on when he’ll be released?”

“Another day or two,” Granite responded with a shrug. “He’s pretty bitter about it too, but I promised him you’d give him a sponge bath if he was a good boy.”

“Geez, thanks,” Hutch grumbled. “So what’s the final word on the asshole who put us here?” Hutch had been given the “official” report by their deputy director, but he knew he hadn’t gotten the whole gory story.

Granite pulled his notepad from his pocket and dramatically flipped it open. “Let’s see how close your profile was, shall we?”

“Just the facts will suffice.”

“Oh hell no! I spent a lot of time on this, sitting in a straight-back chair that hurt my ass while you two slept and healed.” Granite shook his notebook threateningly at Hutch. “So just sit your ass back and indulge me, dammit.”

“Fine,” Hutch conceded, but rather than sit back, he stood and began gingerly pacing. His wounds protested, but he needed to move. Granite’s ass wasn’t the only sore one.

“Or stand,” Granite grumbled under his breath and then cleared his throat. “One Michael Edwards, thirty-eight years old and single. You got that right. Raised by one Geraldine Edwards, a crazy-ass religious fanatic who took young Michael in when his parents were killed in a car accident when he was four.” Granite looked up from his notebook with an impressed look on his face. “Got that one right too. You’re two and oh. Good job.”

“Thanks,” Hutch said dismissively. “Keep going.”

“Well, Crazy Geraldine, and I’m talking batshit crazy, was all fire and brimstone, playing with serpents, and beating the devil out of young Michael.”

“And we know this how?”

“’Cause I’m just that damn good,” Granite replied cockily. Hutch paused in his pacing and shot Granite a disapproving look. “Okay, okay. Damn, you’re no fun at all, Mr. Cranky Pants.”

“I’m cut, burned, hungry, and I need a fucking smoke. I deserve to be a tad bit cranky. Now keep reading.”

Granite rolled his eyes at Hutch, but he got back to his report without any further teasing. “Michael had numerous hospital admissions. He was admitted for broken bones, head trauma, stitches… and then at thirteen, Auntie Geraldine tried to exorcise the kid’s demons once and for all. By the time the cops were alerted by a church member with a conscience, Michael was on death’s door. He’d been beaten and caged for months.

“Anyway, I haven’t gotten the psych reports yet, you know how they get all pissy when you try to get someone’s mental health records, but I do know he was institutionalized till the age of fifteen and then in the foster care system until eighteen. Once he became an adult, he legally changed his name to Drew McCormick and set about building a whole new identity and life for himself.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hutch cursed and ran a hand over his three-day old beard. “How in the hell did he become head of security? Don’t they do a background check?”

“His record is clean. Guy didn’t have so much as a parking ticket, and you know no one, including prospective employers, have a right to juvenile records. He was meticulous in keeping normal-looking on the surface, but just like what we found in the basement of his home, Michael was keeping the evilness within him well hidden.”

Hutch noticed the sickened look on Granite’s face when he mentioned the basement. “You’ve seen it?”

Granite nodded, the color draining from his face as if he were picturing it.

“That bad, huh?”

Granite tilted his head and met Hutch’s gaze. “You experienced his evilness up close and personal, what do you think?”

Hutch remembered the look in Drew’s—Michael’s eyes. He might have said he was trying to rid Hutch of the devil through torture, but Hutch knew better. He’d seen it shining in the fucker’s eyes. Michael was the devil, and he was enjoying every cut, burn, and scream. Not only was he enjoying it, the sick bastard was getting off on it.

“I think I better sit down,” Hutch retorted and slumped down on the mattress.

“I figured out the timeline between kills. Edwards received one week off for each twelve weeks he worked, and what he had in mind for his victims took time. The basement was like a medieval dungeon or torture chamber. Chains were bolted to the walls and ceiling. Along the entire length of another wall was an assortment of weapons, sex toys, giant fucking dildos.” Granite shook his head, the color leaving his face once again as he remembered the horrors of what he’d seen. “The worst part was what they found in the freezer.”

Hutch closed his eyes and hung his head. He had a good idea what Granite was about to reveal, and the thought made him nauseous.

“Hutch, there were more than eighteen.”

Hutch’s eyes flew open, and he snapped his head up, looking at Granite with disbelief. “What?”

“Twenty-three clear containers. Jesus, the sick bastard had saved the victims’ dicks as trophies,” Granite spat angrily.

“And you said I was no fun, Mr. Bearer-of-bad-news.”

Granite ignored Hutch’s poor attempt to lighten the horror hanging heavily in the air swirling around them. “It will be weeks before all the DNA results are in, but I was talking to Struk, who pointed out that if they were homeless or runaways, we may never know who the other five victims are.”

“All we can do is try our best to identify them.”

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. “Agent Hutchinson?”

“Yeah, c’mon in.”

“I have your discharge papers,” the nurse announced as she entered the room.

“Thank fuc—I mean, great,” Hutch responded.

“I’ll head out and get the car,” Granite offered.

“No, stay,” Hutch told him. “I want to go see Byte before we leave.”

Granite nodded and sat back in his chair, putting away the horror in his notebook.

Hutch couldn’t get discharged and out of the room fast enough. He wanted to see Byte, see with his own eyes he was okay, and then he wanted a hug. But only one man could give him the kind of embrace he needed. Hutch needed Noah, because in his arms Hutch knew the weight of what he’d just learned would be eased a little. Noah made him feel good just with his nearness, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to be too far away from the man ever again.

Epilogue

T
HE
EARLY
-
MORNING
sun streaming in through the bedroom window made Noah snuggle farther into the mattress and pull the covers up over his head. It was his last day of teaching, last day of seeing patients at the campus outreach center. He’d been working toward this day for most of his adult life—he’d officially be Noah Walker, PhD. Dr. Walker. Yet not even the excitement of his last day was enough to pull him from his bed.

The alarm sounded, and Noah groaned in protest, burying his face in his pillow.

“Shut up, I’m not ready, damn you!” The alarm didn’t listen and continued to screech until Noah was forced out of his warm bed and slammed a hand down on the snooze button with an irritated huff.

He flopped back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. He knew why he wasn’t ready for this day to begin, why he was dreading it, had been dreading it for the past week. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Hutch, Granite, and Byte would be leaving today. Michael Edwards’s, aka Drew McCormick, reign of terror on the gay community had come to an end, as had the agents’ time in Chicago. The idea of them leaving—the very real possibility of never seeing them again—made Noah’s chest hurt.

Had he only known the men for such a short time? Jesus, it felt like so much longer than a couple of weeks. He supposed it was the shared experience, the uncertainty, fears, frustrations, and the triumphs was why he felt so bonded to them. He was going to miss them all terribly, especially Hutch.

Noah closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Yeah, especially Hutch
.

Most of his life had revolved around his obsession, and for the past eight years, he’d let it propel him through his studies, excel at them. It left very little—no time to form friendships or date or even think about what it would be like to have that one special person in his life.

So now what?

School was done, and the one man he thought he could actually see himself with for more than a random hookup was leaving. The idea of having so much free time on his hands bothered him, and for the first time, the thought of being alone scared the bejesus out of him. His time with the guys might have been brief, but it was long enough for him to discover he enjoyed the camaraderie, the friendship.

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Noah blew out a frustrated breath and then pushed himself to a sitting position. “I seriously hate that damn thing,” he grumbled and reached over and turned off the alarm.