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The shuffling started again, this time louder. The closet door rattled. “Hello?” I said, keeping my voice from wavering. “Who’s there?”
I moved to stand between Charlie and the closet. My heart started to race and my thoughts careened together, but I didn’t let any of that show. This house was supposed to be empty, and clearly it wasn’t. It made me realize—a little too late—how stupid I was in allowing Charlie to come along. I had been blinded by that damn charm and sunshine smile of his.
The sounds stopped. I could hear Charlie breathing behind me. There was a heavy-looking metallic lamp on his nightstand. I grabbed it and raised it in the air as I reached for the door handle with the other.
“Whoever’s in there, I’m about to open the closet, so if—”
I couldn’t finish my sentence. The door crashed open, and Charlie yelled and I swiped at thin air with the lamp, expecting to hit a skull and instead falling over with my own momentum. Between our legs ran a massive raccoon, who seemed to be as scared of the situation as Charlie and I were, screeching and chattering the entire way out of the open window, an entrance and exit into the bedroom having been chewed right through the screen.
Charlie looked to me, fear quickly morphing into relief, which created a dimple-forming smile. I matched it before we both started laughing. It was only once we regained control and stopped laughing that we noticed the pile of photos that the raccoon had been nesting in inside the closet.
“Whoa,” Charlie said, crouching next to me as I picked up the large prints. They were all taken from far away, and they all showed the back of Honey and Wood. But it wasn’t the location that interested me the most; it was the subjects of these photos.
“Why does Hank have photos of Sheriff Pope and Evan?” Charlie asked the question I was thinking out loud.
“And why were the sheriff and Evan talking so intensely? Look, it’s almost like they’re about to get in a fight.” I flipped through all fifteen photos, making the progression of their conversation clear. It seemed to end abruptly when a dancer walked out from the back door. The sheriff and Evan split, and the next photo had neither of them in frame.
“That’s weird… Can I see them?” Charlie asked, taking the pictures and flipping them over, even holding them to the light to check for any hidden messages. His detective skills impressed me.
While Charlie looked at the photos, I searched the rest of the closet. “There’s nothing else in here.”
“I don’t know what any of this means.” Charlie handed me the photos.
“It means Evan and I have to have another chat. This time without fists flying. Hopefully. And I want to talk with the sheriff, too, but I’ve got a feeling I’ll have an even harder time with that.” I reached out and rubbed Charlie’s arm, bringing out his smile. Like sunshine breaking through thick rain clouds. “I think we got what we needed. I’m going to make some calls, and hopefully I’ll have some solid answers here soon. We’re getting close, I can feel it.”
“Is that what you’re feeling? I thought it was me just being happy to see you.”
Charlie laughed, smiled wider, eyes glowing brighter.
Fuck, I had missed him. I could admit it now. When I first moved away—after the vile shit he had said to me—I hated him. At least I thought I had. In retrospect, there was never any hate there. Only a deep and profound sadness, so dark and twisted that it morphed itself into anger. The result had been me pushing him to the furthest reaches of my thoughts, never even acknowledging the emptiness Charlie had left in me.
Then Dean came along. He didn’t fill that emptiness—I could see that now, too—but he created an entirely new piece to me, one that could love and live again. That side of me also neglected to confront the pain Charlie’s sudden separation in my life had caused.
I pulled him in, wrapping my arms around his waist, looking down into a pair of eyes I found to be as deep as star-flooded galaxies. “I’m going to figure out who’s behind this. I promise you, Char.”
“I know. I believe you.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but kiss him.
“Also,” I said, “do you think that raccoon would want a spot at Stonewall? We’re looking for detectives.”
Charlie scoffed, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the open window. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back with a resume or some shit.”
That had me laughing. We made our way out of Hank’s house, deciding not to overstay our welcome. We were still trespassing, and I didn’t want any neighbors calling in suspicious activity. The last thing I needed was to deal with the sheriff showing up, gushing himself over the prospect of handcuffing me.
