Colin took Joshua’s hands and kissed them, then rose and moved toward the kitchen. “I need a beer.”
Joshua trailed him into the kitchen and then stood leaning against the counter while Colin pulled a beer from the refrigerator. He waved it in Joshua’s direction, eyebrows lifted, and Joshua nodded. “Yeah.”
Colin handed him the beer, grabbed his own, and looked around the kitchen. “You haven’t started dinner yet.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. I was talking with David and got home late. I’ll fix us something.”
“No,” Colin said. He took Joshua’s hand and drew him back into the living room. “Just sit with me and drink this beer, then we’ll grab takeout.”
They flopped onto the couch and drank silently for a few minutes. Then Colin shot Joshua a wary glance. “I can almostseethe wheels turning, Josh,” he said, a slow smile touching his lips. “Go on. Say it before you explode.”
Joshua drew a deep breath through his nose, let it out, set his beer on the coffee table, and turned to face his husband. “Can I hang out my shingle for a second?”
“I guess so, sure.”
“What you’re experiencing is called secondary trauma,” he told Colin, his voice low. “It’s an occupational hazard for people in helping professions. Some call it compassion fatigue. But whatever it’s called, it contributes to the high incidence of burnout and stress in prosecutors. As a professional group, you’re also at a much higher risk for depression, substance abuse…” He hesitated, then met his husband’s eyes. “And suicide.”
Colin returned his gaze in silence for a moment, then nodded and turned away. “I’ve heard some of this before. Even in law school, it was something that…” He chewed on his lower lip again. “It got discussed,” he muttered, still avoiding Joshua’s eyes.
Joshua nodded but remained silent. He’d made his point. He’d shared the fears that made his heart shudder in his chest. Now, he had to shut the hell up. He had to let Colin process what he’d heard and respond in his own way—in his own time. “Where do you want to eat, baby?” Joshua asked finally, reaching to grab his beer. “I’m up for Burger Bach if you’re in the mood.”
Colin nodded. He leaned forward, his bottle clasped between his two big hands, and stared into the fireplace. They both sat silently for several moments and then Colin lifted the beer and finished it in one long swallow. “Yeah. Burger Bach sounds good.” He stood and held out his hand to Joshua. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go while it’s still early. Doesn’t take long for a line to form in that place.”
Joshua followed him, grabbing his jacket as he walked. “I wish they didn’t put bacon on every goddamn thing they make.”
“I don’t care if they put a whole pig on it as long as they don’t run out of my Curried Honey Dijon dipping sauce.”
“Hmm,” Joshua grumped. “You might if you saw what that pig was doing to your arteries.”
“I’m leaving my arteries at home tonight, and so should you.”
Joshua, whose arm was linked with Colin’s as they walked toward the car, doubled over with laughter.
* * *
On Monday morning,Colin met with the two police officers who had partnered with him on the Albemarle County Crime and Assault Task Force. He knew both men well and considered them indispensable figures in his life.
Shannon Nash had saved Colin from bleeding to death when he was shot in the line of duty by quickly applying a tourniquet to his shattered leg. And when Joshua had been abducted and held hostage by Lukas Page, Donald Anderson was a crucial factor. Though forced to work with a weakened signal due to bad weather and a rural location, his untiring, dogged investigation had pinpointed Joshua’s location allowing police to attempt a rescue.
“Hey there, buddy,” Nash said when the receptionist ushered him into Colin’s office. “Jesus, this office never fails to amaze me. Sure is a step up from where you started.”
Colin leaned back in his chair and shot Nash a quick grin. “I’m still getting used to it.”
“You deserve it,” Nash told him. “You do a great job.”
“Awww, don’t go giving him a bigger head than he already has,” Anderson teased from behind him, his distinctive southern twang bringing a quick smile to Colin’s face. “But Shannon’s right about one thing: this place is the Taj Mahal compared to that dinky little dungeon you were in before.”
“It’s nice for sure,” Colin agreed, then waved the two officers into chairs. “Have a seat and tell me what you’ve found out.”
“There’s something weird about this case, Colin,” Donny said, leaning toward him. “We can’t find a damn thing that suggests a motive! Nothing.”
“There doesn’t even appear to be a robbery.”
“No robbery?” Colin asked in surprise. “Yousureabout that?”
“Colin,” Nash said, his voice flat. “C’mon, man, our badges aren’t that shiny.”
“Sorry,” Colin said. “It’s not that, Shannon. I just didn’t expect it.”
