The City PI and the Country Cop (16 page)

* * * *

The rest of the day passed much as Teague
expected. At Hoyt’s insistence, they made a quick stop at a local
men’s clothing store to get him two sweatshirts that zipped up the
front. “It’s getting chilly enough that I need more than just a
shirt, even if they are flannel,” was his excuse. Teague suspected
the real reason was that zippers only required one hand.

When they got back to Hoyt’s house, Teague
told Hoyt to sit while Teague made lunch. Hoyt did, in the kitchen,
giving advice on how to make the sandwiches.

“I have,” Teague pointed out dryly, “made
them more than once in my lifetime.”

“Then why are you only using mayo? They need
mustard, too. Lots of it. And the soup needs some spicing up.”

Resisting rolling his eyes, Teague did as
Hoyt requested, put the sandwiches on plates, the soup in bowls,
and joined Hoyt at the table to eat. It was amusing to watch Hoyt
try to spoon up his soup using his left hand. When Hoyt growled
with frustration, Teague found a large mug in the cupboard,
transferring the soup into it.

After he finished cleaning up the lunch
dishes, Teague suggested that Hoyt do his time without the sling
and then go take a nap. It looked as if Hoyt would balk at the nap
idea, until he yawned while he was straightening and flexing his
elbow and wrist. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“You’re just beginning your recovery and even
though it might not have seemed it, you undoubtedly expended a lot
of energy working with the PT.”

“Trust me, I know I did. That woman makes
Torquemada seem like an angel.”

“Just what you need, you stubborn man.”

“Me? I want this over and gone.” Hoyt touched
his shoulder. “The harder she works me the sooner that will happen.
So I’m not being at all stubborn.”

“Knowing you, you’ll work it too hard and
re-damage it.”

“I don’t think she’ll let that happen.” He
regarded Teague. “Neither will you.”

The corner of Teague’s lip quirked up. “I’ll
do my best to keep you in check.”
While I’m here.
That
thought sobered him, although he tried not to show it.

“Okay, I guess I’d better get my ass upstairs
before you have to carry me to bed.”

Teague pointed to the recliner. “That’s where
you’ll end up if you fall asleep now.”

“I’ll—” Hoyt yawned, “—pass.” He started up
the stairs, pausing to look back at Teague. “You coming?” When
Teague cocked an eyebrow, Hoyt said, “It’ll save me picking up
stray buttons sometime in the future.”

“All right. I get the message.”

When they got to the bedroom, Teague helped
him remove his shirt, “Without popping any buttons,” Hoyt commented
with a sleepy laugh. Since he was only napping, he decided not to
fight taking off his jeans, so after he toed off his shoes, Hoyt
settled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “Maybe I should have
opted for the recliner again.”

“Try this,” Teague suggested, easing a pillow
under Holt’s shoulder brace and arm. “You did take your pain pills,
I hope.”

“Yep. While you were doing the dishes. That’s
probably one of the reasons I’m tired.” He patted the edge of the
bed. “Stay until I’m asleep?”

With a nod, Teague sat. “From the look of
you, that will be any second now.”

“And then you’ll be free to take off and do
whatever.”

“Not until Tony gets here.”

“You can, you know. You didn’t sign on to be
my day nurse. Not that I don’t appreciate you being here. In fact…”
Hoyt’s eyes closed momentarily before he opened them to look at
Teague. “Maybe I should be glad Irwin shot me. You’d have left town
already if you didn’t think I needed a helping hand.”

“Maybe,” Teague admitted. “I’ve been gone
well over a week. I know my people are competent to run the agency,
but I
am
the owner. At some point I’m going to have to get
back there.” He chuckled. “Before they think I’ve abdicated.”

“Can’t have that,” Hoyt replied bitterly.

Teague brushed a knuckle over Hoyt’s jaw. “It
is what it is, as someone said. We both know I’ll be leaving.”

“Even though…we seem to have something going
on between us?”

“How could we make it work?” Teague asked
softly. “No, don’t try to answer that now. You’re on meds and more
than half asleep. Not a time to have a serious discussion
about…anything.”

“This isn’t just
anything
.” Hoyt
sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right though. Damn, you’d think at
my age…” His voice faded out and Teague saw that he had finally
fallen asleep.

“I know,” Teague murmured. “At our age we
should know better than to look at this as anything more than a
brief attraction at best. Even more so since we only met a week
ago. You’re a nice man, Hoyt Newman. If things were different…” He
bent to gently kiss Hoyt’s forehead. “But they aren’t.”

* * * *

Tony arrived before Hoyt
work up, so Teague filled him in on the day and then took off. The
last thing he wanted to do was go back to the motel. He knew
himself well enough to know that if he did he’d spend his time
going over and over why he and Hoyt, as a couple, wouldn’t work.
God only knows I’ve done that already. Too much. It’s the only
thing I’ve thought about for the past few days, when I wasn’t
worrying about the murders.

As he drove past The Red Calf he decided
stopping for supper would kill some time. Pulling into their lot,
he parked and went inside. The place was busier than he expected
considering it was a Sunday evening. He didn’t see any empty tables
so he went to the bar, taking a seat at the end.

“You’re back again. You’re becoming a
regular,” the bartender commented before asking what Teague was
drinking. “Where’s your friend?”

For a second Teague thought he meant Hoyt,
which was strange since the two of them had never come to the club
together. Then he realized he meant Irwin, or Will as he’d been
calling himself when Teague met him. “He’s in the hospital,” Teague
replied, surprised the man didn’t know that, and the reason behind
it.

“Ouch. Well, when you visit him; tell him I
said to get well fast. He’s a nice young man and a good customer,”
the bartender said, setting Teague’s beer down.

“You might want to rethink that,” Teague said
with a wry laugh. “You’ve heard about the murders here, haven’t
you?”

“Yeah. It’s about all people talked about for
the last couple of weeks. What’s that got to do with Will?” Then
the light seemed to dawn. “The guy tried to kill him, too?”

“Nope.” Teague waited a beat until he was
certain he had the man’s complete attention. “Will, as he called
himself, was the murderer.”

“Fuck. You have to be kidding. He’s a nice
guy. Okay…” The bartender shook his head. “If that’s true I guess
he isn’t so nice after all.”

“To put it mildly. We caught him as he was
trying to kill a young man who works for me.”

“We? You’re a cop?”

“No.” Teague went on to tell him the gist of
what had happened.

“Unbelievable,” the bartender muttered when
Teague finished. “Why the hell would someone do that? Kill those
kids like that?”

“I’m sure the police will find out once he’s
well enough to be questioned.”

“If they do, can you let me know? No,
probably not.” He grinned ruefully. “The joys of being a bartender.
I hear the beginning of someone’s story but half the time that’s
about it.”

Teague chuckled. “Since this isn’t Callahan’s
Crosstime Saloon, I’m not surprised.”

“What?”

“It’s a saloon in a series of books. Look for
them if you like reading. They’re amusing and philosophical.”
Teague was surprised when the bartender actually took time to note
the title on a paper napkin, asking who wrote them. “Spider
Robinson,” Teague told him.

The bartender walked away at that point to
take care of other customers. Leaning back, Teague did some
people-watching until he spotted an empty table. Grabbing his beer,
he hurried over, just beating out two men who were heading toward
it. They kidded him about being fast on his feet before going to
the bar to wait for the next free table.

This is a nice town with nice people. No
wonder Hoyt likes it here. It’s just…too small.
He smiled to
himself.
So says the man who grew up in a small town—and left as
soon as I could. I need what I have now. Life in a big city with
all it has to offer. My agency, my friends. Even if Hoyt and I do
have something real going on between us, I’d go bug fuck living
here. On the other hand, he’d be miserable after a few weeks of
living in a city.
Teague realized he was rehashing all the
arguments for his leaving as soon as possible.
Yeah, it’ll hurt.
But in the long run it’s for the best. I’ll tell him in the morning
that it’s time for me to go back. He’s an adult. He’s got Tony to
help him overnight. I’m sure he’s got friends to drive him to his
appointments. Time to make the break before things get more
serious—if that’s where we were heading.

Picking up the menu, Teague made his choice
and told the waitress when she came over. Then, in order to keep
from thinking, he went to the rack by the cashier, bought one of
the national papers, and settled down to read.

* * * *

Teague didn’t have to make up some excuse for
leaving the next morning. He was dressed, and getting ready to head
down to the motel’s restaurant to pick up something to eat, when
his phone rang.

“Now that the murders are solved, when are
you planning on coming back?” Jake asked almost before Teague could
get out a “Hello.”

“Problems?” Teague asked since Jake sounded
tense.

“Not per se, but we just picked up three new
clients in the last couple of days so your presence would be
appreciated.”

“Is that your way of saying I should have
gotten my ass back there yesterday?”

Jake chuckled. “Guess it is.”

“All right. If I leave within the hour, I
should be back this evening, barring car problems or bad
traffic.”

“Good. How are you by the way? Healed
up?”

“Damn, I told you the last time we spoke, it
was just a flesh wound. I was almost healed before I left the
hospital.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll take your word for it since
Keir said about the same thing. At least you weren’t the one who
took a bullet to the shoulder. That would make driving a
no-go.”

“Yeah,” Teague replied a bit distractedly
since his thoughts immediately went to Hoyt and how he was going to
tell him he was leaving.

“Okay,” Jake said, “I should let you go so
you can pack and get out of there. See you in the morning.”

“That you will.” Teague broke the connection,
then got his bags from the closet. As he folded shirts and pants,
he tried to decide on the best way to approach Hoyt. “Call when I’m
halfway home,” he muttered. He knew though that he wouldn’t do
that.
I may…I do have my faults, but cowardice isn’t one of
them.

He finished packing, checked the room to be
certain he hadn’t forgotten anything, and then went down to the
motel’s front desk to check out. While he put his bags in the Trek
he prayed, “Please let Hoyt understand. Or, more to the point, let
him accept that I’m leaving and why.”

Ten minutes later he parked in front of
Hoyt’s house, walked to the door and rang the bell.

Tony let Teague in, saying, “You’re
early.”

“Yeah I know. Is he up and moving?”

“He is. He should be down in a couple. I was
just fixing breakfast, if you want some.”

“No thanks.” Teague glanced at the stairs.
“Okay if I go up?”

“I don’t see why not.” Tony frowned. “You’re
leaving, aren’t you?”

Teague just nodded, heading up to Hoyt’s
bedroom. When he walked in, Hoyt was standing at the window. He
turned to look at Teague, smiled momentarily, then gave a shake of
his head as he repeated Tony’s words. “You’re leaving.”

“I have to get back. Jake called. They need
me there.”

Hoyt stepped toward him, stopped, and barely
whispered, “I need you, too.”

“Right now you think so. In a week you’ll
wonder why you did.”

“I see.” Hoyt moved closer. “Do you think
I’m…so shallow? Do you think this…this whole…what I feel for you…is
just a…? Was just a diversion? Something to take my mind off the
murders?” With each sentence Hoyt’s voice got stronger, and
angrier. “Is that what it was for you?” His hand fisted.

Teague took a step back, paused, and caught
Hoyt’s fist before the man could hit him or pull away. “No. This
wasn’t a ‘diversion’ as you put it. I like you. I care about you.
In a different time and place, under different circumstances, we
might…we probably would have made this work. But this is here and
now. You have your life. I have mine. They’re totally different.
You
know
that, damn it!”

“And how we feel about each other doesn’t
play into things. Got it.” Hoyt pulled his hand free. “It could
have worked, if you…if we were willing to meet halfway. But I guess
that’s not going to happen. Go. Get out of here. Go home to the
life you think is best for you. Like you said,” he muttered
caustically, “in a week this will just be a ‘what might have been’.
In a month…” Hoyt walked past Teague to the door. “Have a good
trip. Drive safely, and all that crap,” he spat out before going
down the hallway to the stairs.

“Wait,” Teague implored.

Hoyt ignored him, making his way down to the
ground floor. Teague followed a few steps behind him then watched
as, without a backwards glance, Hoyt went into the kitchen.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Teague barely
whispered.
Not unless one of us was willing to change. And if
one of us did, he’d resent it in the end, which would tear us apart
and hurt worse than my leaving now does.

Teague closed the front door gently behind
him before going to the car. As he drove away, he felt as if he was
leaving a part of himself behind and knew he’d never be whole
again.
Not unless…And that will never happen.