Readjustment (Restitution #2)

12

Caleb Straus

I woke before my alarm and stared at the ceiling. The heat kicked on, smelling like singed dust and whatever was sticking to the furnace filter. I scratched my nose, careful not to wake Adam, who had himself wrapped around my right arm.

Honey colored light filtered through the blinds and brought Adam’s features into focus. I brushed the messy, flat tufts of his hair off his forehead and tried to commit what I saw to memory. His slack jaw, lightly closed eyes, the hollow of his cheeks and defined muscles in his shoulders.

Dullness chased away the last bit of warmth in my chest as I caressed his shoulder and mentally prepared my speech. I’d hoped things would seem better in the morning, but my heart was still heavy. The sex had been beautiful, but it had to stop. I’d already lost too much of myself.

“Morning.” Adam blinked awake and shuffled away from my side. He raised his arms over his head and stretched his legs with a soft groan.

“Good morning.” An ache formed in my throat when he turned to look at me. Every moment of silence was proof that this ride was heading for a crash. The vacant eyes. His fingers absently scraping over the sheets. Lips twitching like he wanted to say something that hadn’t fully formed.

“We should…” I rubbed my throat. “We should talk.”

For a few endless moments, he said nothing. Just stared at me unblinking, all the color bleeding from his face.

“Right now?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I slid back and put more distance between us, like that’d make this easier. “Josh is coming later, so…”

“Can we shower first?” Adam grimaced and his shoulders rose. “I’m sticky and—”

My phone saved me from the rest of his sentence. I rolled over and saw Branson’s name on the screen, so I answered.

“Straus.”

“Truist hospital just called,” he said. “Milo Davonte was dumped outside the ER a few hours ago.”

I sat up straight. “What’s his condition?”

“Serious.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Deep infection in a gash on his knee. Broken rib. Facial bruising. He was incoherent and combative, so they had to give him a shot in the ass to quiet him down. They’ll update us soon.”

“Understood,” I said, “I’ll be in ASAP.”

I set the phone on the table and exhaled with equal parts frustration and relief.

Adam propped himself on his elbows. “Chief?”

“Yeah.” I swung my legs to the side of the bed. “Milo’s at Truist. It’s pretty bad, but they’ll treat his wounds and update us when he’s stable.”

“Oh.” His gaze darted between me and the bedroom door, and with a flash of irritation, I realized he was waiting for directions. Like always.

I pulled back the covers, filling the room with the scent of sex and sweat. “We need to get going.”

“Okay.” He scrambled out of the bed, pulled on his briefs and collected his clothes.

“We’ll talk later,” I said.

“Yeah, all right.”

“Before you see Josh.”

“Okay.” He swore under his breath as he picked up the sock he dropped on the way to the door. “See you at the office.”

I waited until the apartment door closed, unwrapped myself from the sheets, and punched the bed.

Ignoring my reflection, I turned on the shower, eager to scrub the last ten hours off my skin. The water was still warming when I stepped in, worked body wash into my loofah, and ran synthetic mesh over me until it began to chafe.

But it was impossible to scrub hard or deep enough. Lube, sweat, and dried come would come off, but not shame. My skin stayed red after toweling off and styling my hair. I had to go through with this. There’s a reason being with Adam feels too good to be true: because it was. At least like this. I could live with the hurt of admitting that. I couldn’t keep going on like… this.

But for now, work trumped life, and the well-timed break gave me more time to collect my courage. I grabbed my keys, shook the tension from my arms, and exited the apartment. Two of Mrs. Norris’s boys nearly bowled me over as I turned to secure the deadbolt. One was dressed as Santa Claus, and the other like Will Ferell’s Elf.

“Damnit, Evan! Christopher!” She slung their backpacks over her shoulders. “If you go down those steps without me, I swear to God…”

Whatever she was implying was enough to make the boys stop in their tracks.

“Good morning.” She said sheepishly as she walked beside me towards the steps. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” I said. “Nice to see they still dress up on the last day before break.”

“Yeah.” She flashed a shy smile. “They can’t wait.”

On cue, the boys took off down the steps, and we followed behind.

More kids in costumes were waiting for the bus, and the warmth of nostalgia made me think my day might be turning around. Adam's truck being gone didn’t hurt either.

Sunlight lit the horizon on fire, spinning the sky into pastel blues and vibrant oranges as I drove under the tunnel of trees at the creek. Outside the Circle K, a crew of heavily layered workers were waving over an excavator to a broken water main. Water rushed over the road as the team struggled to find the shut off. I absently thought of how sinkholes are formed. The way the ground weakens from below the surface and everything suddenly collapses.

I turned up the radio until I couldn’t hear myself think anymore. The country station’s morning show was playing a game where guests guessed the name and artist of a 90s country tune for tickets to an upcoming show. I’d guessed them all right as I pulled into the station and parked by Adam’s Silverado.

During my time in grief counseling, I’d learned a concept called “timeboxing.” The goal was to give yourself specific times to grieve and free up your mind to function. So that was my plan for the day. To function as a detective and let excitement and curiosity around Milo take charge. As for dealing with Adam, I’d do what I always do; try to keep things level, then allow myself to grieve after we talk.

My partner was in the bullpen in a fitted, burgundy suit with his hair slicked back when I walked in. He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, as he studied his computer screen. The man with the suave grin and messy tufts draping his face in my bed seemed like a lifetime ago.

A tumbler of coffee sat on the edge of my desk, the cinnamon wafting into the air as I hung up my coat. At least there’s that.

Before I had a chance to thank him, Chief Branson called us into his office. Dark circles framed his eyes, and a can of Monster, the original green and black, sat on the corner of his desk.

“Got a news conference here this afternoon.” He picked up an overstuffed accordion folder and opened it. “I’m up to my ass in credential verifications. I need everything you have on Antu, so we know what to ask the public.”

“Milo Davonte’s still our first person of interest,” I said. “The drug angle flatlined, but he’s got a long rap sheet and was the last person using that vehicle.”

“But given the shape he’s in at the hospital, I don’t think he was involved in the break in.” Adam leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “We know Keola was trying to trade information for profit. There isn’t solid evidence yet, but between the possible memoir, and the people he’s approached, it’s possible he knew something about the sheriff’s department. The missing laptop only strengthens that possibility.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” Branson’s chair cracked as he leaned back and rested his hands on his head, his sour frown matching my thoughts on the matter. “What do you make of Brass and Myers? Do you think they’re involved?”

“Hard to tell.” Adam shifted in his chair and his face hardened. “The laptop disappeared before we talked to them about Keola having dirt on the department. They had to have known beforehand.”

“There might be someone else in the sheriff’s department,” I added. “Or an outside source. Our biggest motive is what Keola knew. If we figure that out, it should lead us to our perp.”

“All right.” Branson let his arms fall down in defeat. “That’s enough for now. Be careful what you discuss with Myers and Brass. We’ll reconvene this afternoon.”

The silence in the office stretched out between Adam and me as we worked through the morning. I kept waiting for him to implode, but he remained focused and silent. By early afternoon I had run out of fingernails to bite when, mercifully, the hospital called. Milo Davonte was stable and awake.

“You really think this is our guy?” I pulled my driving gloves on.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone dispassionate. “Physical evidence points that way. Motive is still the bigger mystery.”

“And why someone nearly beat him to death.” I added.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Adam spent most of the drive staring at his phone, muttering under his breath, before tossing it up on the dash and slumping in his seat.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Fine.”

“Something with Josh?”

Adam’s groan wasn’t as quiet as he probably thought. “Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Adam…”

“Caleb, please,” he ran a hand through his hair, “can we not do small talk right now? I’m barely keeping it together.”

“Okay.” I pulled into the parking garage, pulled a ticket and fixated on the colors of the clearance bar as it lifted. The car’s souped-up engine rumbled in the enclosed space as I parked on the second level.

Adam rested against the passenger window with his hand over his eyes. He tried to hide his inner turmoil, but the hard set of his jaw gave him away.

I put my hands back on the wheel to resist touching him. “I’m not upset with you.”

He puffed out a testy breath that fogged the window.

“There’re just things we need to discuss and—”

“Got it, Caleb.” He grabbed the door handle and was walking across the lot before I unhooked my safety belt.

“I was wrong,” I muttered. “What he needs is to grow the hell up.”

The slap of our shoes echoed off the sterile brick walls of Truist Hospital. At the elevator bay, I punched the Up button and filed into the first open cart.

The veins in Adam’s hands were dark purple and prominent as he gripped the guide rails. He’s going through a lot, I reminded myself. But when we reached the 4 th floor, I still wanted to slam him against a wall.

Life was easier when I didn’t care. Or when I could drink until I didn’t.

Large black letters spelled “Wound center” on the ward Milo Davonte was roomed in. Colorful pin boards filled the halls with pictures of staff and informational pamphlets. The light was a softer hue than the main floor. A nurse in purple scrubs had just exited Davonte’s room. Her badge said Lisa, and her no-nonsense expression and wide stance told us she’d be trouble.

“One visitor at a time, please,” she said brusquely.

Adam held up his badge. “We’ve got some questions for him.”

Knowing our badges trumped hers, Lisa huffed. “He’s on a lot of pain meds. Infected wounds. Broken ribs. Lots of deep bruising. Hope you find who did it,” she added, before she hurried to tend to other patients.

Milo was sitting on an angle in his bed with a large ice pack across his torso. Puffy, dark bruising stretched from his right jaw and up to his messy black hair. A tattoo of what looked to be the Loch Ness monster snaked along one side of his neck, its tail tucked under the opening of his gown. He was built the way Adam was: thick at the shoulders and arms, and thin at the waist with long lean legs, sporting a thick bandage above his left knee.

His eyes grew wary. “You the social workers?”

“No, sorry.” I held up my badge. “I’m Detective Straus and this is my partner Detective—”

“You’re cops?” He jerked upright with a painful grunt.

“We’re with Peyton PD.” I reattached my badge. “How are you feeling?”

“Am I under arrest?” he asked, as the color bled from his lips.

“No, we just—”

“Get out.” Davonte scurried to the furthest edge of the bed.

“Pardon me?” Adam asked coolly.

“I said get the fuck out!” He pointed at the door and grabbed his side. “ Fuck.”

“We’re just here to ask a few questions.” I held my hands up. “We want to find who did this to you.”

Milo took a shaky breath. “You’re gonna get me killed.”

“Like Keola Antu?” Adam stepped closer. “If you know who killed him…”

“Excuse me.” A mousy female voice came from the doorway. “Who the hell are—”

“Detectives.” Adam held his badge up as Jessica Houston barreled into the room, a textbook tucked under one arm, and drinks from the hospital café in each hand.

Jessica's eyes bulged, and she nearly dropped her book. “Is he under arrest?”

“No, but we need to ask him a few questions.” I turned back to Milo. “We can’t protect you if you don’t tell us who did this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Milo said. “You’ve got nothing on me. Stop wasting your time.”

“You’re upsetting him!” Jessica set the cups and her book down and moved between me and the bed. “He has a concussion. If he says he doesn’t know, then he doesn’t.”

“Use your head.” Adam didn’t back down, his eyes locked on Milo. “You think we’d be here if we didn’t have anything? We’ve got your phone. We’ve got your DNA in Jessica’s car.”

Davonte froze like he’d been doused with ice, but his heart monitor was beeping so fast I thought it might be broken.

After a calculated glance between Adam and me, Jessica reached over the bedrail and ripped three of the heart monitor pads off Milo’s chest.

Milo yelped and placed a hand over the red marks on his chest. “What the fuck, babe?”

The high-pitched shrill, like nails on a chalkboard, actually made my teeth itch. Before Jessica could say anything, Nurse Lisa entered the room looking mad as a wet hen.“Everybody out.” She went to a rolling dresser and rifled through a drawer.

Adam stood still. “You can’t—”

“Yes, I can.” She pointed at the door. “Leave!”

“We’re going.” I tugged Adam’s arm and pulled him towards the door. At the last minute, he grabbed Jessica by the elbow and dragged her with us.

“Hey!” she shrieked.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was tight as he whipped her around to face him.

“You were scaring him.” Jessica freed her arm from Adam’s grasp. “You almost gave him a heart attack!”

“You sure it wasn’t his conscience?” Adam asked.

“Excuse me?”Jessica was enraged.

“He should be scared! He knows damned well why we’re here.” Adam lowered his voice, but it didn’t take the bite out of the words. “What do you know, Jessica?”

“That you guys are assholes.” She jutted her chin at him. “I’m trying to protect him!”

“Oh, drop the act,” Adam snorted. “Milo’s hiding something and we all know it.” He moved until they stood nose to nose. “I don’t care who it is, but one of you needs to talk to us.”

“Okay, okay.” I put a hand on Adam’s chest and pushed him back. I turned to Jessica and said, “He’s right.”

“Fuck you!” She crossed her arms. “Why should I?”

“Because you’ve seen him.” I pointed back at the room. “Someone hurt him, and if we don’t figure out why, we can’t protect him from it happening again.”

“Or you.” Adam said evenly. “You think whoever did this will just hurt him next time?”

Jessica’s shoulders rose and fell with her ragged breaths. Muttered voices, a squeaky nurse’s station wheel, and faint beeping created a wall of sound as she paced back and forth

After a short while, she stopped and lifted her eyes. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when they called me?” Her voice rose, and she began to cry. “They said someone dumped him here like…like trash. Why would they do that?”

“I’m sure these last few days have been hard on you.” I pulled the pack of tissues I kept in my coat pocket and handed it to her. “And that you want this to be done.”

She nodded and blew her nose.

“You need to trust us when we say it isn’t,” I said. “I understand that you want to protect Milo, but you’re no match for these people. Talk to us, and we’ll make sure you’re put where no one can find you.”

“He’s right.” Adam cut off Jessica’s rebuttal, “You’re safe in the hospital, but you can’t stay forever. So, please, think about it long and hard. Milo has a history with some dangerous people which means your life is on the line too.”

Jessica shoved the used tissue in her jean pocket and looked at her feet. “I’ll…” She pushed tears off her cheeks. “I’ll talk to him.”

I pulled a card from my wallet. “Call us anytime. Day or night.” She hesitated, then clasped it with two fingers. I held on to it for a second and kept my words gentle. “Day or night. We’ll be here.”

Adam and I played a silent game of chicken as we made our way back to the Charger. I looked at him, he looked away. He looked at me, I looked away. I turned over the engine, sank against the headrest with a sigh. The sooty concrete wall in front of me was a perfect fit for my mood. Dirty, cold, and dim. My limbs took on a heaviness that made it hard to even put the car in gear. “Well, that was…unproductive.”

“Not exactly.” Adam pulled his safety belt on.

“We didn’t get enough for an arrest.”

“He froze when I mentioned the evidence.” He rested his hand on the console like an invitation to touch him. “At worst, forensics will probably pin him.”

“But that could be six more weeks,” I said, frustrated “Keola Antu is dead. Jordan Hawes got hurt. Milo Davonte was beaten within an inch of his life, and I still don’t have an arrest.”

“ We still don’t have an arrest,” Adam corrected. “But planting the idea we have hard evidence, and you laying the groundwork with Jessica? That was brilliant. She thinks she can save him and she’s not going to stop. Especially now that she sees he’s in danger.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” He turned to sit flat in his seat, but I didn’t miss that minuscule smile. “Now let’s drive before we both freeze to death.”

A squall of snow blew off the top of the parking garage as we exited the hospital. The sunlight caught it as it fell to the earth like a shimmery blanket of diamonds before meeting the salt bleached concrete. Adam was right, of course. We’d shaken Davonte’s foundation and his support system in the span of three minutes. It was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

“Thanks.” I said, as we approached a red light where carolers dressed like characters from Frozen were shuffling through binders of sheet music.

“For?”

“For being nice back there.” I jutted my thumb over my shoulder.

“I was stating facts as your partner.”

“I know, but given that—”

“Please, Caleb,” Adam’s voice held a hint of warning. “If you bring up this morning, or Josh, or needing to talk… I just can’t right now.”

“Fair enough,” I returned my hands to ten and two, “but the sentiment still stands. I appreciate you having my back.”

Adam stared at the passing world, and after a pregnant pause, said, “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“Maybe.”

“Or having an early mid-life crisis.”

“That sounds more likely.”

He tried to ice me with a glare, but the twitch of his lip gave him away again.

It might be okay, I told myself. He’s had time to realize I’m not trying to hurt him. It was a crock of dung, but it was better than being anxious. I didn’t get much time to debate the options when a call from the chief lit up the dashboard.

“Straus.”

“You and Dawson still at the hospital?” Branson’s commanding voice bellowed through the speakers.

“Just left,” Adam said.

“Good,” Branson stopped to clear his throat, “Jordan Hawes is here. Get back ASAP.”

“En route.” I toggled on the sirens and lights and picked up speed as we headed down Ferris Drive. We passed through town and a gaggle of teens cutting class took off and jumped the benches around the firefighter statue. One clipped the hurdle and bit it, but the others were running so fast I don’t think they noticed. The straggler covered his face as he took off and dashed behind a shop. Like we didn’t have better things to do.

Chief Branson met us as we walked in the staff door and motioned us to the interview room. He had another energy drink in hand, and I was beginning to wonder if he was trying for a heart attack.

Hawes was rocking on the metal chair and at the sound of the door, he lost his balance and narrowly missed landing on the floor.

“This better not be another lie.” Adam pulled out a chair and plopped into it.

“It’s not.” Hawes looked down at his lap, then at me. The soft one. The person who’d sympathize because I couldn’t bear to have someone think badly of me.

I sat next to Adam and pulled out my notepad. “Let’s get into it.”

“Uh, yeah. Alright.” Hawes pulled his wavy hair from his low bun, ran his fingers through the mess of bronze strands, then refastened it. “A deputy visited me yesterday morning; before I hit the grocery store.”

I could almost hear the crackle of Adam’s spine. “You didn’t think to tell us this?”

“He told me not to.” Hawes spoke so fast the words blended together. “He said he’s also working the case, and that the sheriff’s department was suspicious of you guys. And if I told you, he’d have me up on charges for interfering with an investigation or something. The officer asked the same questions as you guys, but…”

“But what?” I asked.

“Something about him wasn’t right. Why would you guys show up later if they didn’t want you involved?” Hawes tugged the collar of his coat. “It bothered me all night.”

It isn’t true. It took all I had to not shake my head. That stuff happens in Chicago. New York. Atlanta. Not here. But my heart told me it was real, and it crushed my spirit.

“Did you happen to catch his name?” Adam asked?

“I wrote it down. Hang on.” As Jordan searched his phone, the light highlighted his smooth, youthful skin. “He didn’t say his first name, but his last name was Kaiser.”