“We have a promising lead,” he confirmed. “There’s one guy who can be considered a common thread, so we’ll see how that goes.”
“I heard about the fire at Mr. Robertson’s house,” I told him. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything, but I’m guessing that the fire the day after his dead body was discovered wasn’t an accident.”
“It sure wasn’t, although it will take a few days for the fire marshal to give us a detailed report.” Gabe was silent for a few minutes while he chowed down some more food. “What I’m about to tell you will be public knowledge soon enough. In fact, I’m impressed the truth isn’t out yet.” I nodded for Gabe to continue, although I was pretty sure what he was going to tell me. “Mr. Robertson’s death wasn’t natural.”
“I figured as much, but thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that you see such shitty things in your job. I know that somebody has to do it, and I sometimes wish that burden wasn’t on your shoulders, but I’m glad we have someone as dedicated as you are looking out for us.”
“Thank you, Sunshine. There are some really hard days, but coming home to you each night helps me in ways I don’t think I can properly express,” Gabe told me.
“You can try,” I suggested. I never considered myself to be a glory hound or attention seeker, but I won’t pretend that I didn’t love hearing how much Gabe loved me. He was the first and only man to say those words to me, other than my father and Chaz.
“You give me a reason to smile, you make me laugh, and you remind me of good in this world. Loving you gives me a purpose to live for, something other than a job. You make me want to be a better version of myself,” Gabe said tenderly.
“Wow.” I wasn’t sure what to say, but that didn’t last long. I pointed my fork at him and said, “That right there is why no one else will ever get my chocolate chip cookies.” I should’ve said more and reciprocated those sentiments back at him, but I was too emotional to do it just then.
After dinner, Gabe turned on a baseball game. The Reds were on the west coast taking on some team in royal blue jerseys. I couldn’t tell you what the name of the team was, but I was fond of the way their asses looked in their white baseball pants. Because the game started three hours later than normal, it wasn’t half over by the time we went to bed.
“Maybe you can call Emory and find out who wins,” I said, as I snuggled up to Gabe beneath the sheets.
Gabe chuckled then said, “Smartass,” before he kissed my forehead.
My heart still felt full from the words Gabe used earlier to express his love for me. In fact, it felt like it might explode if I didn’t tell him how I felt. Telling Gabe that he was the most important person in my life and that I couldn’t imagine a day without him seemed like the best way to open up a valve and release some of the pressure.
“You’re an incredible man, Gabe.”
“I am?” he asked.
“The best. I thought men like you only existed in fairy tales, books, and movies, but here you are,” I said, placing a kiss on his chest over his heart. “You’re kind, genuine, you speak from the heart, and you love with everything you have, and somehow you want to share that love with me. I am the luckiest man on this planet. So, on the days when things look bleak, and humanity has let you down again, know that I’ll be here to show you that this life is worth living and there is always sunshine waiting to brighten your world after those dark clouds pass.”
“Josh, that’s a beautiful thing to say,” he said tenderly.
“I have my moments,” I said sheepishly.
“Oh, Sunshine. Every moment with you is precious and beautiful. I want you to take that knowledge into your dreams with you tonight and know that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I want you to have sweet dreams about a happy future with me and not turbulent ones about the man next door. Will you do that for me?” he asked.
“I’ll try my best,” I promised.
Sleep, when it finally came, was better than the previous night, but not filled with sunshine and fields of flowers like Gabe had wanted. I didn’t want to worry him, so I did something the next morning that I had never done with him up to that point: I lied. I told him I slept great and then distracted him with a blow job in case my smile hadn’t been convincing. I would need to face down whatever demons were possessing my dreams on my own. I had a feeling that I could only do that by going straight to the source of my fear—Emory.
GOOD MORNING,DETECTIVES,”RYLANBroadman said outside the glass doors of Blissville Bank and Trust.
“Counselor,” I returned.
“Morning,” Dorchester replied.
Broadman opened the door, and we followed him inside the bank. I remembered how surprised I had been the first time I walked into the building after moving to Blissville to open an account. It was more opulent than any big city bank I had ever been to with the white and gold marble floors that gleamed beneath the bright overhead lights and cashier wickets made of an expensive dark wood. The office furniture throughout the building was constructed of the same high-quality wood. The sitting area furniture looked like expensive antiques that a person didn’t expect to find in a bank. I had almost been afraid to sit in them for fear that my big frame and weight would break them.
“I spoke to the bank manager, Ken Divers, and he’s going to give us a private room to go through and document the contents of the safe deposit box. I would need to take this step for trust purposes even if you didn’t want to see what’s inside,” Broadman told us.
The chairs and sofas were as elegant as I recalled from the time I opened an account. My doubt in their ability to hold me had grown, as had my waistline from eating Josh’s cooking the past few months. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who felt that way because Broadman and Dorchester looked them over and remained standing with me while we waited for the bank manager to meet us.
My first impression of Ken Divers was that of a man who worked endless hours and didn’t take home much to show for it. I’d always heard that the only people who made money in banking were the presidents and CEOs. Ken’s shirt looked a tad threadbare around the elbow when he extended his hand to Dorchester first, and then to me. I wondered if perhaps the bank could’ve invested more money in their employees instead of the building itself.
“Come with me, gentlemen,” Divers said. We followed him down a hallway that led to a vault filled with various sizes of safe deposit boxes. “Box five twenty-nine,” he said out loud as he looked for the right one. “Aha,” he exclaimed when he spotted it.
Lawrence Robertson’s box was the largest size the bank offered. Each safe deposit box required two keys to open it: the client’s specific key and the bank’s master key that fit all the boxes. The bank couldn’t open the box with just their master key. If a client lost a key, the bank hired a locksmith to drill the lock to open it. Divers slid his key into place then gestured for Broadman to do the same. Broadman had told us that the bank issued two keys for each box; Robertson kept one, and he’d given the other to his attorney. The men turned their keys at the same time, and we heard an audible click when the box unlocked.
Divers opened the door, and both men grabbed a side of the box and began to pull. It was longer than I expected it to be. The height and width were about a foot, but I estimated the length of the box to be at least three feet long. I could tell by the grunts the two men made and the way their knees bent that it weighed quite a bit too.
