Steal My Heart

Chapter 17

HE WAS so content. The sun filled the room with light, Brian lay still in his arms where he’d been the entire night, and everything was okay. They had caught the person who had framed him and had more than enough evidence to clear Brian’s name. And to top it off, Hilliard had a vision of his future, and it all revolved around this house and this man. He sighed, because six months ago, he never would have dreamed that he would feel like this—happy. Fucking happy .

A sharp knock downstairs pulled him out of his reverie. Brian didn’t move, which was good. Carefully, Hilliard slipped out of bed. He pulled on a light pair of sweats and a T-shirt, heading down as the knock sounded again.

“What is it now?” Hilliard asked with a yawn as he opened the door to Uncle Timothy’s hulking form. “I got your little fantasy missive and have already forwarded it to Aunt Grace’s lawyer.” He shrugged. “Too bad it has no basis. We’re moving for a dismissal because the suit has no merit.”

“You think so,” he growled and slapped a piece of paper into Hilliard’s hand. “Grace signed the house over to me before she died.”

Hilliard looked at the paper before rolling his eyes. “First thing, it takes more than a scrawled handwritten piece of paper and a signature to transfer real estate. Where are the witnesses and the notary signatures? This was obviously made up two days ago after you left.” He shook his head. “Aunt Grace’s will was very clear. The lawyer did a title search, and there are no claims or anything like that. Real estate transactions need to be registered with the state and filed in the county. Was any of that done?” He had been studying real estate law and procedure for the past week, so all this information was fresh in his mind. “I can call the sheriff, and he can take a look at this. If it’s fake, then you’ll end up in jail rather than in this house.” Hilliard was more than a little sick of this man and his self-entitlement. “Besides, because of her will, you will need to prove that she changed her mind, especially after what was said in the document.”

Timothy yanked the page back, folded it, and jammed it into his pocket. “You little piece of shit. You came in here and turned my mother against me.” He pushed forward. Hilliard was a little stunned as his uncle knocked him aside and nearly sent him to the floor. “So help me God, I will get you out of this house if I have to carry you out piece by piece.”

“What the heck is going on?” Brian hurried down the stairs in a pair of boxers… and nothing else. His skin shone, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to Timothy. “I already called the police. I heard the threats you made. That will be more than enough.” He stalked toward Timothy, and Hilliard wondered if the two were going to break into a fight in his living room.

“Don’t.” Hilliard placed his hand on Brian’s arm. “He isn’t worth it. Bullies are never worth it.” He stepped forward, meeting his uncle’s gaze. “You come in here with some dubious paperwork that can be easily disproved and what? You think I’m just going to walk away?” He breathed deeply, anger rising. “I see why Aunt Grace left me the house. You’re an ass. I bet you treated your mother like crap and then expected her to give you everything you wanted.” He was so tired of people like Timothy. Alan had treated him the same way much of the time, and Hilliard had just let him. When he didn’t get his way, Alan had bullied and cajoled until he got it, and Hilliard had no one to blame for that but himself.

“You pansy-assed little—” Uncle Timothy lunged forward, trying to tackle him. Hilliard jumped out of the way, tripping his uncle, who crashed to the floor just as Grant hurried inside.

“I saw him come at you through the window,” Grant said, already in action, holding Timothy to the floor. “What happened?”

“He came here trying to intimidate Hilliard. What he expected to get is beyond us. Maybe the guy is just crazy,” Brian added. “Oh, and he has a document he tried to use to say that the house was signed over to him. It’s likely fake.”

Grant got the paper and looked it over. “So we can add fraud to the assault charges.” He smiled, and Timothy growled and thrashed on the floor like a large landed fish.

“I’ll look into all of this,” Grant said before calling for backup. He kept Timothy on the floor until another deputy arrived, and then they took him away.

“Well, that was exciting. More statements we’re going to need to make.”

Brian drew closer. “At least the police procedure section of the exam should be a breeze.” He grinned, and Hilliard tugged Brian into a kiss before hugging him tightly.

“I’m so tired of this crap. I just want him to go away, and I want to be able to start my new life here.” Nothing was ever easy. “I want us to be able to get on with things.” He rested his head on Brian’s shoulder. “But it will get there, I know that. It just takes time.” He wondered if he was reassuring himself or Brian.

“That’s what you keep telling me whenever I ask how long it will take before I’m officially cleared. Everything takes time.” He held Hilliard closer, and they stood together in the quiet, which was broken by a car speeding way too fast down the road. Brian went to the window and peered out, shaking his head. “Figures….”

“Frank’s kids?” Hilliard asked.

“And their friends.” Brian let the curtains fall back into place. Hilliard stilled, meeting Brian’s gaze. “You don’t think….”

“Yeah. Why not?” Hilliard asked. “Do you know where those friends live?”

Brian went back to the window, and Hilliard followed. “See that red house between the town and the cliffs? One of them lives there. I did some work on the outside a few months ago. The siding takes a beating from the spray and salt air. It took me forever to get paid.”

Hilliard nodded. “You know, since they’re clients, maybe you should pay them a visit and see if they have any additional work for you. Maybe we can talk to the family. Kids talk all the time, and sometimes they have no idea what to keep to themselves. So what if Kevin or Kendall accidentally mentioned to their friends where their grandmother kept stuff? Kids brag, or they let things slip….”

“Okay. Let me get dressed, and then we can pay them a visit. Though I don’t know what we can expect.”

Hilliard scratched his head. “I don’t know either, but we have to try to find out.”

Brian shook his head. “No, we really don’t. We can let the police look into this. We got what we needed.”

Hilliard sat down. “You’re probably right. We could just let them handle it.” He glanced up at Brian, who shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“You can’t just walk away, can you.”

“Would you…?” Hilliard suddenly stopped. His mouth hanging open, and then he clamped it shut. “Sorry. You wouldn’t want me to just quit, would you?”

Brian drew closer. “That isn’t what you were going to say.” His gaze bored into him. “You were about to say something very different and you stopped. What was it?”

Hilliard swallowed hard. “Just let it go. I was about to run my mouth, and that’s a bad thing for someone like me. I get into trouble….”

Brian drew even nearer, his face right up next to Hilliard’s. “Just tell me.”

He sighed. “I was about to say would you love me if I just quit?” He looked away. “I know it was stupid. Can we just forget it?”

Brian placed a finger under his chin, bringing his face back forward. “You’re probably right. I think I first fell in love with your conviction, and even when I had doubts piled halfway to the sky, you never stopped and knew we’d find something. So yeah, I love you for that… and so much more.” He smiled.

Hilliard’s mouth went dry. Brian loved him. Damn, just hearing the words made his heart soar. “I love you too,” he half croaked. “You reduced a lawyer to near speechlessness.” He held Brian to him, closing his eyes just to take in this moment so he would always remember it. What he really wanted to do was pull Brian back upstairs, strip him down, and make love until they could barely move.

Brian was much more practical. “So yeah, let’s go pay a visit and see if we find something. But after this, can we let it go? The police are better able to handle this sort of thing than we are. You and I can go on with our lives and be happy.”

Hilliard loved that idea. He had to admit he didn’t think anything was going to come of this either, but he had to give it a try. “Okay. After this we back away and let Grant do his thing. It isn’t like there’s much chance of anyone finding out anything at this point. Frank has muddied the waters to the point that any trail is likely tainted by him anyway.” He hated giving up, but Hilliard had to admit that he had already accomplished his real goal. “Let’s stop by Beverly’s and take the dogs with us. I’m sure they could use a walk, and it would seem less threatening.”

Brian nodded, and they headed out. At Beverly’s, the dogs were excited to go out, and Beverly seemed on cloud nine, smiling from ear to ear. “Gran…?” Brian queried.

“You hush,” Beverly told him. “Take the dogs for a walk.” She shooed them out, and Hilliard and Brian headed out along the flats toward the ocean.

“What do you expect to gain from this?” Brian asked.

Hilliard shrugged. “I’m hoping that if Nathan is home, we can talk to him.” Hilliard smiled when he saw a bike near the house. It was the one that had passed when the kids dirtied up his car. He walked more quickly, the dogs excited to be out.

No one seemed to be around when they approached the house, but he and Brian went right up the walk and knocked firmly. He was thinking about what he was going to ask when the door opened.

“What do you want?” a kid that must have been Nathan asked. He had the California surfer look down to a T, with long bleach-blond hair, blue eyes, and a T-shirt and cutoffs.

“To talk to you,” Hilliard said.

Nathan shook his head. “I ain’t talking to you. I know what you did to Kevin and Kendall’s dad.” He stepped back to close the door.

“Hey,” a woman said from behind Nathan. “This is my house, not yours.” She reopened the door. “I’m sorry for his manners. I’m Christine West.” She looked at Brian and Hilliard before smiling down at the dogs. “I don’t know what we can talk to you about, though.”

“I’m leaving,” Nathan said, pushing past all of them and out to the car with the surfboard on the roof. “The waves are calling.” He hurried away, and Hilliard watched him go.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” He smiled. “Would it be too much to ask for a bowl of water for the dogs before we walk them home?” Gigi was panting a lot, and he didn’t want her or Poppy to get stressed. This whole thing was a fool’s errand. Hilliard was no detective like those people on television. Heck, they were just fictional characters, and yet somehow he thought that if he talked to enough people, the solution to this mystery would present itself. He didn’t know what he expected, but he should have listened to Brian and just let Grant do his job. Hilliard felt like a fool, at least to himself. But Brian gently touched his arm and smiled at him.

“Sure, come on in. They look like sweet dogs.” She stepped back, and the dogs led the way in like the princesses they were. “My deadbeat ex-husband was allergic to animals, so Nathan and I could never have pets when he was growing up. Now I suppose I could have one, but I guess I never got around to getting one.” She bent over to give each of the dogs a scratch. “Let me get some bowls.” She left them in the living room and went into the big kitchen just beyond. “I’m sorry about Nathan. He’s really a good boy. After his father left us for some floozy in his office, it’s just been the two of us.” Water ran, and Hilliard looked around the room.

The furniture had seen better days. It was worn but looked comfortable, just like the house. It was clean and well cared for. Hilliard guessed that money was tight and had been for a while. He understood about just hanging on. He’d done plenty of it when he was younger.

The walls were covered in what looked like original, if maybe amateurish, paintings and pictures of Nathan as he grew up. Everywhere he looked, a smiling face shone down, a few with missing front teeth.

“What are you doing?” Brian whispered as Hilliard went to take a closer look at a picture that had been enlarged and now hung in the center of the main wall. It was one of Nathan surfing.

“That was taken when Nathan won the junior championship out in Hawaii,” his mother said. Hilliard turned as she set the bowls on the mat near the door. The dogs immediately began drinking. Hilliard looked back to the picture.

“How long ago was that?”

“A little over two years. I could never have afforded to send him, let alone go along, but Nathan won a place, and the organization was so excited to have him that they paid for the whole trip.” She beamed as she told the story, but Hilliard was barely paying attention. A long shelf ran under the picture. It held a couple of trophies, a small bottle of sand, a Hummel child in a swing, and two small detailed figurines that had yellowed with age. “Nathan gave those to me after we got back.” She must have seen him admiring the small pieces. “To thank me, I guess.” The way she beamed told Hilliard plenty about how she felt about her son.

“Thank you for getting the dogs some water. We really appreciate it,” Brian said from behind him. The dogs had lain down on the floor. Nathan’s mom picked up the bowls and took them to the kitchen as Hilliard headed for the door. When she returned, she once again looked toward the picture on the wall.

“That was the happiest time in Nathan’s life,” she told them. A kettle whistled in the kitchen, and she went to deal with it.

Hilliard pulled out his phone and took a couple of quick pictures while looking like he was checking something. The whistle stopped and she returned. She saw them to the door, and Hilliard thanked her again for being so good to the dogs before they stepped out into the morning.

“I guess that was a waste of time,” Brian said softly as they walked back toward town. “I need to get to work or I’ll never get what I need to done.” He strode toward Beverly’s at a fast pace, with Hilliard struggling to keep up. Brian stopped outside the gate at the front walk, breathing heavily, glaring at Hilliard. “What is so interesting on your phone?” His gaze narrowed.

“Let’s go inside,” Hilliard said, leading Brian up the walk.

“Mrs. Weller called and was asking when you’d be by. I told her about eleven,” Gran told Brian, who relaxed a little. “I knew you two were up to something.”

“Not much. Just a trip down Nathan memory lane for Mrs. West. She was nice enough to give the dogs water.”

“She did more than that,” Hilliard said.

“Excuse me?” Brian sat on the sofa, and Hilliard sat next to him, the dogs each taking a lap.

Hilliard pulled out his phone and enlarged one of the pictures. “These two small figurines are netsukes. They’re Japanese, and I’m willing to bet they were stolen from Violet. A little over two years ago, give or take, Nathan was in a junior surfing championship in Hawaii, a trip that was supposedly paid for.” He held Brian’s gaze as the pieces filled in.

“You mean…?”

Hilliard nodded. “Let’s say that one of his friends, Kendall or Kevin, was telling surfer-boy Nathan a story about where their gran kept some of her valuables. You can even hear a joke about granny panties and stuff. Nathan goes in when Violet is at church and robs the place, knowing where some things are. He also grabs anything else that’s small and looks valuable. Then he gets out of the house and goes home. Maybe he goes to San Francisco and sells the goods a few days later. Then he uses the money to take himself and his mom to Hawaii, using some grand story about the organization paying, and there you have it. The goods are gone, and he doesn’t think anything of the figurines—they aren’t silver or anything—so he gives the ivory pieces to his mom, saying he got them for her in Hawaii, and she puts them on the shelf in plain sight all this time.”

“Jesus,” Brian breathed. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. And if Frank had left well enough alone and not been so afraid that his boys had been the thieves, Nathan would have been caught some time ago. He was a suspect—”

“Until another one landed in their lap,” Beverly interjected, shaking her head. “I’ll call Grant, and he can check with Violet that those are her pieces. Then he can wrap this up and bring it to an end.” She put her head back in her chair, looking tired. “I’ve dreamed of this. I knew it wasn’t my Brian.” She leaned forward, her eyes suddenly filled with fire. “But I swear if I get my hands on Nathan West, I’ll give him the spanking he’s long deserved.” She got out of her chair and stalked to the kitchen. Hilliard hoped he never pissed her off, that was for sure.

Hilliard smiled and Brian sighed, leaning against him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Hilliard asked.

“Everything,” he whispered. “For believing in me, for finding out about Frank, about Nathan, for standing by me….” His voice broke. “For loving me when most people thought I was a thief.”

Hilliard kissed him gently. “There’s no need to thank me, sweetheart. Somehow I think I got the better end of the deal.” He nuzzled the spot behind Brian’s ear. “I found a hot guy who is gentle, kind, and handy around the house. And he loves me.” What more could he want?