Blood flushed all the way up into Calloway’s temples, and he lunged for Morgan. It was more of a scuffle than a fight, a hard shove and rough hands as they grappled against the spare couch. Before it could go any further, Boyd dragged Calloway off him and shoved him toward the door.
“For fuck’s sake, Shay.”
That was it. Shay. Morgan leaned against the back of the couch, hands braced on the cushions, and smirked.
Boyd yanked open the door. “Go cool down. Talk to Mac.”
Shay wrenched his arm out of Boyd’s hand. “I’d rather chew glass. You want to be taken in by this guy, I can’t stop you. But don’t think I’m going to join you.” He jabbed a finger over Boyd’s shoulder at Morgan. “If you hurt my family… him… I’ll fucking kill you.”
This time it was Boyd who tried to pull him back, but Shay shook him off and stalked away. Boyd stood on the threshold, weight braced against the door, and watched him go.
“Fuck him,” Morgan said.
It sounded petty even to him. Boyd pushed himself up off the door and let it swing shut.
“Don’t,” he said as he turned around, one hand up to wipe his mouth. “He’s got a point.”
Morgan’s faint twinge of regret passed. He crossed his arms over his chest. “None of this was exactly my idea.”
“I know,” Boyd said as he walked over. “But he doesn’t, and… it’s not easy on him. None of this.”
Morgan reached out and cupped Boyd’s chin in his hand to check out his lip. It had split in front of his incisor and was raw and swollen. It looked tender and discolored faintly blue. Morgan brushed his thumb over it, and Boyd leaned back with a wince.
“It looks like it’s not that easy on you.”
Boyd licked the bloody welt and grimaced. “I’ll survive,” he said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been punched in the face.”
“By him?”
“No,” Boyd said. “And I don’t need your protection either.”
“Wasn’t offering. Just curious how much of a prick he was.”
“He’s not… sometimes.” Boyd pushed Morgan’s hand away. “Probably best you take the couch, huh?”
That was not unexpected. Morgan could have spun the punch as foreplay—some of his best nights had started with a brawl—but emotions were rarely good for his hard-on. He still felt a pinch of disappointment that he added to the list of reasons he didn’t like Shay Calloway.
“Probably. Here.” Morgan pulled Boyd’s glasses from his pocket, unfolded the legs, and slid them onto his face. Boyd shied back slightly, his expression suspicious. Morgan flashed him a grin as he stepped back to undo his jeans. “So you can see what you’re missing.”
He didn’t quite get a laugh, but the unbruised corner of Boyd’s mouth turned up briefly before he shook his head and went to get some blankets and a pillow.
THE DRYswab scraped and poked at the inside of Morgan’s cheek. It seemed to take an unreasonably long time. By the time the soft-cheeked cop had finished, the hinges of Morgan’s jaw felt stiff, and they ached. They clicked as he closed his mouth. He worked his jaw from side to side and leaned back. Mac had sent a patrol car to pick him up that morning at Boyd’s. Ever since then he’d been fingerprinted, photographed, given a statement to sign, and muttered about behind his back. Now this.
“All done,” Officer Pitt said as she deposited the swab neatly into a test tube and sealed and dated it in an evidence envelope. “Thank you for your cooperation. If you just wait here, Captain Mac… Macintosh… will be with you in a moment.”
She hesitated, her eyes fascinated as she studied his face. That was nothing new. People liked to look at Morgan. It could be useful. He even mostly appreciated it, these days, even if he didn’t always return the interest. This wasn’tthatlook, though. It was the other one, from when he was a kid and the new social worker would read his file.
Pitying. Prurient.Sticky.
“I remember the Calloway case,” Pitt said. “I was in Shay Calloway’s class at school. I had such a crush on him. Before. It was… terrible. My mom wouldn’t let me out by myself for months. It was like something out of a horror movie or something. He just disappeared, and there was nothing. No clues. No evidence. Just suspects and theories. Do you—”
“That’s enough, Officer Pitt,” Mac interrupted as he stepped into the room. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The edge of rebuke on his words was enough to make Pitt snap her back straight and her chin up. She grabbed the evidence bag from the table and turned sharply on the ball of her foot.
“Sir,” Pitt said with a dip of her chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just… the Calloway case. If we can—”
“Get those samples to the lab,” Mac said. He was in uniform for the first time, black cotton and short sleeves, with the glitter of a badge on his chest and at his collar. It didn’t actually make him look like any more of a cop, but he’d done away with the thin pretense that he was something else. “Go. And if I hear any gossip about this….”
Pitt firmly shook her head. “I wouldn’t say anything outside the station, sir,” she promised. “I’ll get on to the lab right away.”
