The Intersection of Purgatory and Paradise (20 page)

“I was attracted to Delgado before I met you, but I never loved him. I love you. I have from the start,” Christopher said quickly. “How can you think I’d leave you to go after him?”

“I don’t,” Doug said, and he almost meant it. “But I know how close you guys were. I know you still talk to him on the phone, and he texts you all the time.”

“We were only close because neither of us had anybody else, and I got a crash course in how to work with him. From this same friend, in fact.”

“So this ‘old friend’ is who exactly?”

“Jealous much?” Christopher teased him. “He’s not an ex. We did sleep together once, a long time ago, but it was just sex.”

“Just sex?”

“He was curious. I was horny. Just sex. Now he’s a friend. I think he’s a friend, anyway. He cares about Delgado a hell of a lot more than I ever could. When I got assigned to work with Delgado on the gang task force, he made a point of asking me to keep an eye on him, and he gave me some tips on how to work around Delgado’s OCD issues. Delgado was already kind of a legend in the San Diego PD, so I was willing to take any inside tips I could get to make him put up with me.”

“Make
him
put up with
you
?”

“Believe it or not, yes.”

Doug dropped down beside Christopher again. “When?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Christopher shrugged. “I told you I can’t stay here,” Christopher whispered. “I can’t. I was the second person who saw that kid’s body this morning, and before your coworkers even identified the body, they had me in handcuffs. Whatever fuckup Marshall’s trying to hide”—Christopher squirmed—“the others went along with it. There were eight deputies on the scene, six highway patrol officers, and a whole lot of civilians. They didn’t even take Coach Peterson’s statement. They shut him up and told him they’d call him when he tried to say he’d seen me jogging from the other direction. You might be able to handle spending your entire life living in enemy territory, but I can’t. At least in San Diego, I know who’s likely to hold a knife to my throat and who’s not.”

“They held a knife to your throat?” Doug snapped.

“No!” Christopher ran his left hand through his hair. “No, that was the old friend I was telling you about. At least I know what to expect with him.”

“He held a knife to your throat?”

“Yeah,” Christopher said, as if it was irrelevant.

“The old friend you had sex with held a knife to your throat?”

“Not the point,” Christopher insisted.

“So….” Doug swallowed against the lump in his throat. “You didn’t answer. When?”

“When I can find a way to convince you to come with me. Or I convince myself you won’t.” Christopher’s voice squeaked. “When you won’t resent me for asking you to give all this up.”

The relief that crashed through Doug felt like a cold ocean wave. It chilled him from head to toe, calming a surge of fear he hadn’t realized was building. “Do me a favor?” he asked, sitting up.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t move. Stay right there. I’ll be right back.” Doug dug his keys out of his pocket and jogged to his truck. He grabbed the stack of photos he’d salvaged from the garage, then hurried back in.

Christopher sat up when he came through the door. “What is it?”

“A picture. A lot of pictures.” Doug set the album down and flipped through the pages until he found the photographs his mother had taken in Rhode Island. “This was Saint Catherine Academy in Newport,” he said, turning past photos of the stately brick boarding school.

“Newport?”

“It’s closed now, but it’s where my mom went to school. She loved the old architecture, loved the town, and when she hooked up with my dad in college, they went to Rhode Island to get married. Mom dragged him around the whole place. He said it was so cold they were the only ones outside.” Doug found the photograph and turned it so Christopher could see. “Almost the only ones outside.”

Christopher smirked. “Purgatory and Paradise? That’s cool.”

“I thought so. Not when I first saw this, because I was twelve and nothing my parents did was cool at that age. But now…. She used to say their marriage really started at that intersection, because it was where she stopped thinking about her life and his life and started thinking about building a life together. Consciously deciding to make it the best life they could, you know?”

“Uh, not really, but it’s a neat picture.”

“That was where she decided to come to Montana. It was where she realized my dad would never be comfortable in a Manhattan townhouse like her folks.”

“Okay.” Christopher smiled at him, obviously confused but willing to play along.

“I know I’m not making much sense. What I mean is, whether or not this works”—Doug gestured between them—“it’s up to us. This can be perfect—it can be heaven. Or it can be hell. It just depends on which way we go. As good as it’s been this past year, it’s also sucked because I couldn’t see that you were subjecting yourself to hell just to be with me. You don’t have to. We don’t have to stay.”

“Doug, this is a big decision, and I—”

“I put in my two weeks’ notice this morning. I don’t know if Daniels took me seriously, but I did. That developer from Missoula offered me eight thousand dollars an acre for the ranch. It’s not a great price, but it’s probably the best I can get without subdividing the land and getting it rezoned.”

“Eight thousand an acre? Would that be enough to move you down there? You’ve got what? Ten, twenty acres?”

Doug rolled his eyes and dropped onto the bed again. “Do you know what an acre is?”

“Like, a mile? Two miles? It’s smaller than a mile, isn’t it? A block?”

“An acre is about four thousand square meters. I’ve got about six hundred acres all together.”

“Six hundred?”

“Six hundred and forty, technically.”

“So that’s….” Christopher’s eyes grew wide.

Doug nodded slowly, grinning. “It’s enough to relocate, yeah. Hell, it’s enough for a house on Coronado, I think.”

Christopher’s smile was huge, real, and infectious. “You’d do that?”

“Live in a place where I can walk to the beach and come home to see you happy each day?” Doug pretended to think about it. “It’ll be a challenge, but I think I can bear it.”

Christopher sat up on his knees and brought his hand to the back of Doug’s neck, dragging Doug across the bed into a frantic, laughing kiss.

T
HE
SUN
was setting over the Mission Valley by the time
Christopher made it out to the house. The overgrown grass glowed like gold, and the vast blue-green forests beyond shimmered like something straight from an oil painting. The ranch was beautiful. Even with the charred frame of the garage marring the landscape, it was still breathtaking.

Christopher thought he’d had his fill of that view, but even now, after a year of living with that golden glow, it still left him stunned. But then, it might have just been the mood he was in. He felt like he’d stepped off a treadmill after running until he couldn’t lift his feet, and he wasn’t sure if he was standing on his own legs or falling on his ass. The world was spinning, and it left him reeling, elated, and thrilled.

All because he was here to begin packing.

He sat on the steps and pulled out his phone, dialing his partner.

“Did you make it up there in one piece?” Ray asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Yesterday,” Christopher said. “I got up here late yesterday morning. I was too much of a wreck to sleep, so I drove straight through.”

“And you’re just now calling me? That means talking to your cowboy either went very good or very bad.”

“Good. Better than good. It went so good, I’m not even pissed about spending the morning in jail.”

“Jail?” Ray asked, chuckling. “So long as whatever you got caught doing was worth it, that’s what matters.”

“I was arrested for murder,” Christopher said, almost laughing at the words.

“What the hell? You were down here. We’ve got you in half the pictures.”

“I got back, things went good with Doug, and then I went for a run and found a dead body on the high school football field. Since I was the one who called it in, the officers who responded decided I must be the one responsible.”

He heard Ray whistle over the phone. “Damn. Sounds like you had one hell of a day.”

“Honestly, I took a nap. Two days on the road, and, uh, then not really sleeping last night. I was exhausted. Some of Doug’s coworkers are pricks, but the guys running the jail are decent. They got me some coffee, didn’t make me dress in one of those stupid jumpsuits, and let me sleep.”

“You shouldn’t take it personally, Hayes. Statistically, it’s a safe bet,” Ray reminded him. “Whoever reports a homicide is typically—”

“I don’t want to talk statistics. I know the statistics. I also
know these guys really are pricks. They make you look understanding and considerate.”

Ray huffed. “I’m a considerate guy. Sometimes.”

Christopher smirked, glad Ray couldn’t see his expression. “Because blowing up the copy machine is totally considerate.”

“Hey, I have never blown up the copy machine! Once Sanchez unplugged it, it stopped smoking and was fine.”

“Yeah, whatever. Has Jenkins saddled you with a new partner yet?”

“I prefer to work alone,” Ray insisted.

“So, if I were to tell you I’m coming back, you wouldn’t care?”

“Are you coming back?”

“Doug’s selling his place. He put in his notice this morning. I’ve got to requalify on the firing range and probably get my medical clearance signed off, but I’m coming back. Think you could stand helping me get back up to speed?”

There was a long stretch of silence over the line. “Well,” Ray said, his tone bored, “if you’re coming back, I guess I could stand having a partner again. If you’re still willing. Apparently, I’m an asshole and nobody wants to work with me.”

“You’re a complete and total asshole, and we both know it. I wouldn’t change you for anything, Delgado.”

“Awe, I love you too, Hayes. When are you coming back?”

“With any luck, we’ll be there house hunting in a few weeks. House hunting!” Christopher exclaimed. “I’m so relieved I don’t know what to say. I’m just happy.”

“Good,” Ray said simply. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I’ve got to start packing. I just wanted to let you know so you can tell Jenkins not to bother trying to pair you up with somebody else.”

“Ha. Working with me has become what he threatens people with when they fuck up. ‘You can go on a week of administrative leave, or you can work with Delgado for a month.’ You’re the only partner I’ve ever been able to trust to do the job right, Hayes. You know that.”

“I know your expectations are seriously unrealistic,”
Christopher countered. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, man.”

“Sounds good. Call me if you need help, all right? I’m out of vacation time, but I’m sure I can get in trouble for something if you need help up there.”

“Don’t you dare. I’ll see you later.”

Christopher shoved the phone into his pocket and jumped to his feet. In a few weeks, he would be home. He’d have it all—his lover, his best friend, and his life back.

He was pretty sure the porch and the front of the house were stable, but he took his time going from room to room, inspecting the walls and ceilings for any sign of damage. Separating the things he’d acquired over the year he’d spent with Doug from everything else would be easy because he’d never had much other than clothes and running shoes. Figuring out what Doug would want to take, what he’d want to put into storage, and what he intended to sell was daunting, but Christopher was more than happy to take the few instructions Doug had provided and make a start on the job.

First, though, he had to make sure it was safe to climb the stairs. They were anchored in the wall the house shared with the attached garage. Along the base of the drywall, the paint had blistered and cracked from the heat of the fire. There were no scorch marks or smoke stains on the inside, but Christopher knew the two-by-four frame on the other side was blackened and burned. Before trying the stairs, he poked one of the blisters carefully. The paint cracked and sloshed together as he pulled his finger down. There was just as much damage from the water as there had been from the fire.

He tested each stair carefully, keeping himself poised to shift his weight back to the step behind him if the next began to buckle. It was slow, but the stairs held his weight. They squeaked and shifted more than he remembered, but they felt sturdy enough. When he reached the landing, he turned toward the bedroom he and Doug shared and froze. The floorboards in the far bedroom, the room that had been Doug’s bedroom when he was a child, squeaked.

Christopher’s pulse spiked as he froze, waiting for the building to creak and settle around him. A house collapsing on him was the last thing he needed today.

The floorboards creaked again, and then again. But nothing moved. The floor beneath him was the only part that seemed to have been damaged, and it wasn’t shifting.