“Thirteen people. Beaten up or killed because they were LGBTQ. The youngest I saw was a boy aged five. Stepdad beat him to death because he asked to wear a tutu to church one morning.” He couldn’t look at Evy then. Instead, he continued. “All kinds of people. All ages, genders, sexualities. Just because they weren’t straight. I… I just couldn’t do it anymore. Almost four years ago, the little boy happened, in Detroit, and one of the other officers on the scene said something about the stepdad ‘nipping it in the bud’ and I….” Mark cleared his throat and drank a bit from his beer to get the choking feeling to go away.
Evy hadn’t let go of his hand, but her touch was softer again. Still grounding. When he glanced at her, there were tears rolling down her cheeks, and she looked at him with sympathy.
“I attacked the guy. The officer. Someone pulled me off him before I could do that much damage, but….”
She nodded and smiled slightly. “So then you came here?”
“Yeah. Nothing came from the… the thing. The cop didn’t want to make a deal out of it, and I’m grateful. But there was an internal investigation, a brief one, because rules and all that. It didn’t go on my record when they found out the situation. I told them I was leaving anyway. Then, that same night I’d told them that I was looking for jobs around the country and I saw the open spot for a deputy.” He smiled at her weakly. “And here I am.”
“Did your parents ever find out why you left Detroit?”
“No. Sometimes I want to tell them. Out of spite. But there’s this part of me that thinks that they’ll come here and….”
“You don’t want them tainting the town, because you like it here.” Jesus, she really read him well.
“Funnily enough, none of this is why I wanted to see you, though,” Mark forced himself to say, then tossed back the last of his whiskey and pulled his hand from under Evy’s.
“Oh? Well color me intrigued.” She grinned at him.
“Do you know Francis? Doc’s friend?”
“Forties, sharp jawline, blue eyes, smirk?”
Well, this was going to be an interesting conversation for sure.
Chapter Eight
It turned out, moving from one state to another, finding a new job, and organizing everything took time. At first, everything went smoothly, but then the holidays hit and soon enough it was the first week of February, and Francis felt like he hadn’t actually gotten anywhere with the move.
Sure, there had been a few calls with Padraig and Kaos, when they’d exchanged news and talked about possibilities, but Francis still felt worlds away. He’d given himself a deadline though, for the next week, and at the moment it seemed like he’d be able to make it.
There had been a few instances when he’d gotten texts from Mark or initiated a brief conversation himself. They never lasted for more than half an hour of back and forth, but it still made him feel as if Mark wanted to stay in touch. That in itself was something he looked forward to exploring more when he got to Acker.
That night, since it was his last Saturday in town, his friends were taking him out later. They had a surprise thing organized, theater and a dinner at least, and he could hardly wait.
And then, then he got a call from an unknown number.
“Francis Archer,” he replied, hoping it wasn’t someone trying to sell him something.
“Francis, it’s Mairead,” a familiar no-nonsense voice came through, and Francis’s knees wobbled.
“Oh, God,” he managed to breathe out.
“No, wait a minute, it’s not life or death, Francis. Sit down and let me explain,” Padraig’s sister hastened to add, but her tone remained the same.
“Okay, okay,” he murmured, going to his couch and gulping in a deep breath.
“There was a break-in at the clinic and they think whomever it was knocked Padraig over the head. He has a concussion and they’re making him stay overnight, but he’s gonna be okay.”
“Oh God,” Francis said, then pulled up his professional persona. He could do this. “Can you get me a number for the nurses’ station there? I’d like to call and check myself. It’s not that I don’t trust you—”
“I know. You want to hear what the nurses know. I understand. I just talked to his boy. He’s going to have Makai and Emil there soon I bet. So everyone is fine, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“All right. Good to know.”
“I’ll text you the phone number as soon as I get it. Take care.”
“You too. Thanks, Mairead.”
