“Shit. My wallet. I left it here, in the desk drawer. I figured I wouldn’t need it just walking across the street to Millie’s.” Of course, when he searched the drawer, it was gone. “What a nightmare. All my credit cards, driver’s license…”
“Do you need me to get you a car? I can give you some cash…”
“No, it’s fine. Hogan and his wife live in Cobble Hill. It’s only—”
“I know Cobble Hill.” Rose’s smile came and went like the wind. “I’ll let you know what we find.” And he walked away, leaving him standing there like a fool.
Okay.Forget about Detective Rose. He was doing his job, and Colson had to get his head out of his ass, thinking Rose was giving him signals. He wove his way past the CSU people dusting for fingerprints and searching for whatever they were hoping to find, and ran upstairs. Like the first floor, the rooms were ransacked, but there hadn’t been anything to take.
Entering his bedroom, he made a beeline for the nightstand and the only thing of value to him—the picture of his grandparents and him, framed in heavy sterling silver. Growing up as a closeted teen, in an uptight inner circle where you followed centuries-old traditions without stepping out of line, Grandpa Alex and Grandma Betty were the only ones he’d felt safe with, and he’d confided in them about his sexuality—coming out in the middle of the assisted-living facility where they resided. He hadn’t been able to hold it inside him any longer. They’d hugged him and told him everything would be okay. That they loved him no matter what. The opposite of his parents’ reactions when he’d come out to them. The contempt and disgust on their faces would be forever etched in his memory.
“We are so very disappointed in you, Colson. This is something we can’t accept.”Those were the last words his father had said to him, standing in the living room, a frown on his stern, arrogant face. The face of a man who’d never been denied anything in his life. A man who’d never known hardship and had contempt for those who did.“It would be better if you left now.”
“Mom?” He couldn’t believe she’d allow this to happen. She loved him.
But she shook her head. “It’s not normal. What are we supposed to tell everyone? It’s such an embarrassment to us.”
A knife through his heart couldn’t have given him greater pain than her icy contempt. Shoulders back and head up, he’d marched to his room, packed a bag with some clothes and the only family memento that held any meaning—the picture with his grandparents—and left without another word. Close to fifteen years had passed since he’d last seen them, and he had no regrets in leaving. The greatest loss in his life was the death of his grandparents.
But Grandma and Grandpa had taken care of him, leaving him all their assets—cash, stocks, and bonds, plus their house in Connecticut. Their generosity had enabled him to buy the house he lived in now and become a writer, something he’d always dreamed of. He’d taken courses and studied the craft, written short stories for crime fiction and mystery magazines. He hadn’t needed the money, only the validation that he had the ability and could get published. Once he’d felt confident enough in his storytelling, he’d found his agent.
Now, instead of their sweet, smiling faces, all that was left was empty space where the frame had sat for years. Tears sprang to his eyes and he sank to the bed, crying like a baby.
***
“It will only be a day or two. Thanks for putting me up.”
The following morning, he sat on Hogan and Bea’s sectional couch in their living room, a cup of coffee on the table.
Hogan approached with his own cup and sat next to him. “What the hell is going on? First I’m talking to a detective aboutwhether or not you’re a murderer, and now your house gets robbed? Are you living inside one of your books or what?”
He barked out a weak excuse of a laugh. “Hell if I know.”
“This is an anomaly,” Hogan insisted. “They’ll catch the bastards who did this, and it’ll go back to normal.”
He sighed. “What’s even normal anymore? They took the picture of my grandparents, Hogan. The only thing that mattered to me.”
“I know.” Hogan put an arm around his shoulders. “It’s Saturday. Bea has a spa day with her sisters. Hang out with me and the kids. If anything will take your mind off your problems, it’ll be mindless hours on the swings.”
He needed to go home and take care of the aftermath of the break-in, but that thought sent a rush of bile to his throat. Not yet. He checked his phone to see if he’d received any messages from Detective Rose, but it was frustratingly silent.
“Yeah, sure. Why not? I just have to do something first. I’ll meet you there.” He couldn’t forget the door cam he’d promised Millie. Good thing he’d placed the order when he did, as he’d had to cancel his credit cards.
The package sat on his stoop and installation had proved easy. With a stern warning to Millie that she actually use it, he left for the park. Now he stood next to Hogan, who was pushing Jamie on one swing, while he had Mikey on the other. They’d brought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, along with grapes and goldfish crackers. A beautiful sunny afternoon found the park crowded with joggers, families, and couples walking hand in hand.
“Okay, kids. Time to give Uncle Colson a break. Let’s have some ice cream.” Hogan stopped the swing.
“Is the break for Uncle Colson or Daddy?” Colson laughed. “Come on, Mikey. What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Strawberry,” the little boy yelled and ran ahead of them to the truck, where a crowd waited.
Not to be outdone, Jamie ran after him, shouting, “I want chocolate.”
“Now there’s a business,” Hogan remarked as they waited on line.
“You’d eat yourself out of the profits in a day.”
Laughter sounded behind him. “I’d be the same.”
