Reasonable doubt, p.1
Reasonable Doubt, page 1
part #5 of Hazard and Somerset Series
Reasonable Doubt
Copyright 2018 Gregory Ashe
All Rights Reserved
A BABY WASN'T A LOADED GUN. That’s what Emery Hazard kept telling himself, anyway. He sat in a small living room while a dark-haired child played. She was sorting blocks, stacking them, and then smashing them to the ground. Her dark eyes came to rest on Hazard again and again, and Hazard found himself calculating how fast he could run, how long, how far. He could make it to the highway for sure. He could hitch a ride.
A baby wasn’t a loaded gun. Not exactly.
The little girl had a mass of dark curls, longer in back and scanty in front, and that hair and those eyes were gifts from her mother. But her features, they were her father’s features. Softened, yes. Hidden, to a degree, by baby fat and age. But they were there. The girl would be a knockout in fifteen years. Until then, she’d have to settle for being adorable.
Her father, John-Henry Somerset, was in the small house’s even smaller kitchen, talking to his ex-wife. The conversation was low, but not heated. Casual. She was laughing, and then he was laughing, and the little girl’s dark eyes stayed locked on Hazard like she was waiting for him to slip up, and then boom. He didn’t know what boom might entail, but he knew it’d be bad. He could definitely run as far as the interstate. He knew he could make it that far.
And that conversation in the kitchen—like they were best friends. In some ways, Hazard thought, they were. Or they had been. But what the hell was Hazard supposed to do while they caught up? It was one thing to start dating the man he’d been drawn to since high school. It was one thing for Hazard to date his partner, a cop, in a small town with the public spotlight narrowed to the two of them. It was one thing, even, to be the cause for Somers’s divorce—he still thought of him as Somers, at least, most of the time. Not John-Henry. Not even John. Most of the time, he was Somers. But it was another thing entirely to sit in Somers’s ex-wife’s house, to smile, to let her kiss him on the cheek, to pretend that he hadn’t torn apart her family, and to let her pretend too.
The blocks crashed to the ground again, and the dark eyes roved Hazard’s face. Goddamnit. Didn’t she ever look away? What was so goddamn fascinating about him? Was it a joke? A prank? Had Somers put something in Hazard’s clothes? Hazard wasn’t entirely sure about how babies worked. He understood the biology and physiology of reproduction. He’d seen a few documentaries on childbirth. If worse came to worst, he could probably get a woman through an easy labor. But the rest of it—were children like cats? Was there some toddler equivalent of catnip that Somers had sprinkled in Hazard’s pockets? It seemed possible. Hell, right then, it seemed downright likely.
A baby wasn’t a loaded gun. There were lots of differences. Lots. Hazard just couldn’t put his finger on any. Not right then. He just needed a minute to think, that’s all.
He pulled out his phone, swiped at the screen, and opened apps at random. He didn’t have any games—he never had time to play games—but he flipped through his apps anyway, as though there might be something in there to occupy his attention.
“You all right?” Somers stuck his head out of the kitchen. His blond hair mussed, his shirt wrinkled, the collar slipping to expose the dark ink along his collarbone: Somers was hot. There wasn’t really any other way to put it. No other way to explain Hazard’s reaction to him, to this man he loved. Amusement crinkled Somers’s eyes.
“Just fu—”
The lines around Somers’s eyes deepened as Hazard glanced at the little girl and swallowed the word.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Somers didn’t say anything, but he withdrew into the kitchen, and laughter exploded a moment later. Goddamn him. Goddamn both of them.
From Hazard’s phone came ringing and then a familiar voice muted by distance. “Hello? Emery, is that you? Hello?”
Fucking shit luck, Hazard thought. His fat fingers had somehow dialed Nico, his ex, and now the younger man’s voice was coming across the line. With a grimace, Hazard disconnected the call. Almost immediately, the phone buzzed in his hand, and an incoming call from Nico flashed on the screen. He swiped it away.
To Hazard’s relief, Somers and Cora emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later. Cora looked as lovely as ever: her dark hair short, her skin luminous. She was beautiful the way movie starlets were beautiful sixty or seventy years before—like you couldn’t touch her, and hell, you didn’t need to. You could just look and enjoy. Even Hazard, who had never wanted anything more than a casual acquaintance with women, knew she was beautiful in a kind of knee-knocking way.
“Thank you again, Emery.”
“It’s fine.”
“This really means a lot to me. I know you had plans.”
“We were ordering pizza and watching a movie. We can do that here, right?”
Cora was already shaking her head. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Didn’t John-Henry tell you? This house is gluten and dairy free. I hope that’s not going to be a problem.”
Gluten and dairy free? “No.”
“And I really don’t like any movies in the house that might affect the aura. Nothing violent or sexual. So, could you find something G-rated for the evening? Because of the aura.”
Because of the aura. Because of the house’s goddamn aura. Hazard fought back his reaction. “Yeah. A lot of my favorite documentaries are unrated, but there’s—”
Cora was already shaking her head. “Even if those documentaries unrated, I really think it would be best to stick to Disney movies.”
“Ok,” Hazard said. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”
A smile slipped to the corners of her mouth.
“You’re bull—” Hazard stopped himself. “You’re joking.”
Cora burst into laughter. “Emery, I’m sorry. John-Henry made me.”
“Because you’re sitting here like you’re about to get your teeth pulled,” Somers said, leaning against the wall, arms across his chest. “All of them.”
“I’m sorry, Emery.”
“No,” he said. “It’s fine.”
“I shouldn’t have teased you.”
She really was beautiful, and she had this way of looking at Emery—at everyone, he guessed—that made him feel like he was important and interesting and the only one in the room. Some of the tension went out of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it out of Somers’s ass.”
“Language,” Somers said with a grin. Then, to Cora, “You’re sure about Tuesday?”
“Yes, that will be perfect.”
“Tuesday?” Hazard’s internal alarm went off. “What about Tuesday?”
“Get that look off your face,” Somers said. “It’s just babysitting.”
Laughing again, Cora bent to kiss Hazard’s cheek. “Thank you.”
He grunted, unsure of what to say. She kissed Somers’s cheek too, and then she left. Somers swooped down, catching up Evie in his arms. She squealed, her chubby legs flailed, and her arms went around his head. Pressing her face to his, she continued shrieking with delight. Hazard wondered if there was blood coming from his ears.
Then whatever enjoyment Evie found in being swung around by her father ended, and she screamed, “Down, down, down,” and Somers, laughing, lowered her back to the floor.
“No,” she said when he tried to snatch a block.
Somers just laughed again. He watched her as she settled back to work, her tiny face studious. You could have scribbled happiness in all his margins. He watched her for a long time, and Hazard watched him watching her. For many months, almost a year, she had vanished from his life. Cora had refused to allow Somers to see his daughter. Did he just want to hold her, Hazard wondered. Did he want to bury her in kisses? Did he wonder about those critical developmental stages that he had only glimpsed in passing or that he had missed completely? Some things, when you lost them, you could never get back. The thought struck a dark note inside Hazard, and he sensed a problem in a blind, scrabbling-in-the-dark way. A big problem like he was about to smack into a rock wall. But Somers didn’t look like a man who’d lost anything, and he didn’t look like a man with a problem. He looked like he’d hit the jackpot every time he dropped a quarter. Maybe more than that. More than lucky. Happy.
“You’ve got a way of looking at a guy that makes him think funny things,” Somers said, his eyes still on his daughter.
Hazard sprawled on the couch. He kept looking.
Red mixed with the tan in Somers’s cheeks, and his eyes flicked to Hazard. A smile pulled at Somers’s lips.
“You’re doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“You know what.”
Hazard spread his legs.
Somers moved over to straddle Hazard, his arms going round Hazard’s neck and pulling him close.
“You’re mad.”
“I am not.”
“Let’s see.”
Blond stubble glinted on Somers’s jaw, and the smell of Dove soap came off him. He kissed Hazard lightly, and then harder, and then hard enough to make Hazard shift underneath him.
“Hm,” Somers said, running his tongue over his upper lip. “Maybe you’re telling the truth.”
Hazard shrugged.
“You’re amazing.”
“I’ve always been a pretty good kisser.”
“I meant for doing this.” Somers laughed, rolling sideways to sit next to him on the sofa. His hand found Hazard’s. “Is this the most awkward night of your life?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Top five, maybe.”
“Ree, she doesn’t hate you.”
“All right.”
“Hand to God.”
On the floor, the little girl had lost interest in the blocks. With wobbly uncertainty, she pulled herself to her feet and tottered towards a toy box along the far wall.
“We’d been separated for almost a year, Ree. She was dating other guys. She was dating Ethan, and that’s still going really well for her.”
“I said all right.”
“This was the right thing for both of us.”
Enough was enough, Hazard decided. He grabbed the back of Somers’s neck, pulled him in, and kissed him. Kissed the hell out of him.
When he let up, Somers was breathing like he’d just finished sprints. “I know this is weird and awkward, us being here, babysitting so she can go on a date. It’s weird for me too.”
Hazard kissed him again. He got a hand up under the t-shirt, and Somers leaned into his touch.
Panting, Somers said, “I promise, Ree, she’s going to love you—”
This time, Hazard didn’t let him finish.
When Somers came up for air this time, his eyes were owlish. “What was I saying?”
Hazard shrugged.
“You did that on purpose.”
“It’s the only way to shut you up.” He kissed Somers again. His hand roamed the corded muscles on the other man’s back. “I wish I’d figured it out fifteen years ago.”
“I love you, Ree.”
Kissing him one last time, Hazard leaned back. “Love you too.” Then he wrinkled his nose.
Laughing, Somers twisted a handful of Hazard’s shirt. “Come on, big boy. It’s time you learn how to change a diaper.”
THE GRAY SMOKE-LIGHT of the city filled their bedroom without brightening it. In their small apartment in the Crofter’s Mark building, Hazard lay with Somers curled against him, sweat cooling on his back and shoulders. The only movement was their breathing, unsynced but harmonious, and from time to time the individual beads of sweat would shift, pulled by gravity along slick skin, merging with the next drop, and the next, like rain after a storm. One bead, heavy and cold, slid to the hollow of Hazard’s back, and he shivered.
“All right?” Somers said.
Hazard kissed his ear softly.
“You’re sure tonight was ok?”
“You keep asking. Are you sure?”
Somers rolled to face him. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but tonight, buoyed up, weightless in the haze of light from the windows, he was more than that, something from a dream. Something from Hazard’s dreams, from twenty years of restless dreaming. His eyes were the color of tropical water, warm, shallow, turquoise that might as well have been white as you splashed in it up to the ankles.
“I’m serious.”
“I can do this now,” Hazard said. He reached out, one thick finger finding the line of Somers’s cheekbone and tracing it, then curving down along his jaw. Somers was the one who shivered this time. “And this.” His finger found Somers’s collarbone, gliding the length of his shoulder, then down to the dark calligraphy that inked Somers’s torso. Seek Justice. That’s what Somers had said the script meant. More than that, too, but what Hazard remembered, what he cared about, were those two words: seek justice. Those words, and what they said about Somers. “And this.” He bent and kissed Somers on the lips. “Why wouldn’t I be ok when I can do that?”
Frown lines scored Somers’s forehead. “Do you want her to call you dad?”
“She’s your daughter. What do you want her to call me?”
Somers stilled, and his hand rested softly against Hazard’s chest.
“What?”
“She’s my daughter?”
“John.”
“I know. I know. We don’t have to figure it out now.”
Hazard combed his fingers through the Somers’s short, textured hair.
“I just think about that. About stuff like that, I mean.”
“All right.”
“So you want her to call you that? Dad?”
“I’m saying all right. You think about stuff like that.”
“And you don’t?”
Hazard worked his fingers through the blond hair again.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Somers’s lips quirked dangerously close to one of those sex-fueled smirks. “Yeah, you made that pretty damn clear. I mean, what else?”
“Do I want kids?”
“Sure. Do you want a family?”
“A family?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you just ask me if I want kids?”
“What’s wrong with the word family?”
“Just ask me what you want to ask me.”
“I thought that’s what I did.”
Letting his hand drop down to the dark whorls of ink on Somers’s chest, Hazard shook his head. “You asked what I want. And you asked about a family.”
“All right. Fine. I’m asking now. Do you want kids?”
“Do you?”
“That’s not the point. I want to know what you want.”
A growl was building in Hazard’s chest. He pushed Somers onto his back and straddled him, the sheet sliding away, both of them naked to the gossamer light spun through the windows. Planting one hand on Somers’s chest, pinning him to the mattress, he took firm hold of Somers’s chin with the other. Not too tight. Not hard enough to hurt. But damn sure that Somers wouldn’t be able to turn away.
“I want you. If you want a kid, let’s have a kid. If you’re happy with Evie, so am I.”
“Ree, I want to know—”
Shushing him, Hazard gave Somers’s head a little shake, and he felt Somers hardening under him, and he heard the whisper of breath that was close to a moan. Hazard let a heartbeat pass and then leaned low. “If you want a million kids, I goddamn want them too. Understand?”
There were questions in Somers’s eyes. And, to Hazard’s surprise, a glimmer of what might have been pain. He kissed him, his tongue raking Somers’s mouth, drawing a whimper from him. Somers bucked under Hazard’s weight.
“Twice in one night?” Hazard said, grinning.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”
“Yeah?” Hazard slid a hand down Somers’s taut stomach, over the bush of sandy blond hair, and to his dick. He squeezed. “Prove it.”
Somers rolled, and Hazard moved with him, and then Somers was on top, kissing a line down Hazard’s neck.
“I damn well will,” Somers said, his voice mock-furious.
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PERFECT MORNING: waking late in bed together, a run along the river, brunch. Instead, two phone calls ruined it. The first call, the one about the murder, Hazard could have shrugged off. Murder was murder. Killers, for the most part, didn’t care about brunch. The second call came while Hazard and Somers were en route to the crime scene, and that was what really screwed up his day.
“Who was that?” Somers asked as Hazard disconnected.
“Nobody.”
“Nobody?”
They were driving along the old Missouri Pacific lines, heading east towards the part of town that used to cater to the railway. A hundred years ago, this part of the city had thrived: theaters, restaurants, tea houses, as well as the infrastructure for the rails themselves—homes for railroad workers, warehouses, light industry. What had once been prosperous and well maintained, however, had followed the same track as the rails: houses slumped towards the gutters; businesses folded like cheap suits; the only theater still open survived as a strip club, with the turn of the century decor torn out and replaced with mirrors and fog machines and a poorly-wired sound system.
“I don’t think it was nobody, Ree.”
“It was my dad. Can we drop it?”
“Is everything ok?”
“No, Somers. Everything is not ok. He’s coming here. To Wahredua.”
“Oh. What’s wrong? God, your mom’s not sick, is she?”
“What’s wrong? I just told you: he’s coming here.”
The Interceptor bounced out of a pothole, and Hazard’s head cracked against the glass. Nobody had repaired these streets in at least twenty years. Longer, Hazard guessed. Around them, the houses sagged inside their clapboard siding, and paint peeled from moldering frames. Maybe there was a hotel over here. Maybe he could stuff his dad somewhere over here, and in a day he’d be sick of it and turn around and head home.
