Page 18 of In His Sights

“Since high school.”

“Lewis said he was your best friend.”

That one word in the past tense nearly broke him. “He was. Cory knew me inside and out. He was there for me when I needed someone.” He took a mouthful of bourbon, wincing when it hit the back of his throat. “You know what I told him the last time I saw him? Which was Sunday, by the way.” Six days ago.Christ…. Gary inhaled deeply. “I asked if he had any idea how rare we were. I had a ton of friends in high school. Dated a few of them. And once I graduated, I never saw them again. Cory? That’s a different story. We stayed friends. We were roommates in college when I attended Northeastern.”

“And you stayed friends all this time?”

Gary shook his head. “We lost touch when we graduated. Not sure what happened there.” That wasn’t true. He’d thought Cory had gotten into a relationship with a guy who turned out to be very possessive. “We got out of the habit of meeting up. Then when I left the police academy, I looked him up.” Mr. Possessive had dumped him, the bastard, and they’d regrouped.

“What did Cory do for a living?”

“He was a personal trainer. He worked in a gym in Brookline. He even got me to take out a membership, and we’d work out together.” Despite his aching heart, Gary smiled. “That didn’t last long.”

Travers sighed. “Been there, done that, lost money. I could never keep up the effort either.”

Gary took another mouthful. “You were right.”

“About what?”

He sagged into the chair. “Talking helps.” Except he knew when he got home, the glue presently holding him together would dissolve and he’d be a mess.

“Why did you meet him on Sunday?”

Travers was an okay guy, but that didn’t mean Gary was going to share stuff about his folks. “It had been a while, that’s all.”

“You sure that was it?” Travers gave him an inquiring glance. “You don’t think maybe you were checking up on him?”

“There might have been an element of that, sure. He asked if I wanted to warn him.” Gary’s throat tightened again. “I think I wanted to be certain he was being safe.”

Travers’s eyes were warm.

Gary had had enough of feeling like crap. He had to do something.

He drained half his glass and coughed. “That psychic…. The one the chief told you about. What’s his name? Dan Porter?”

Travers frowned. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Gary looked him in the eye. “Call him.”

“This can wait a while. You’ve just had a—”

“Call him.”

Travers held up his hands. “Fine. I’ll call him. But… I’m taking you off the case.”

Cold trickled down his back, dizziness in its wake. “No. You can’t do that. I’m part of the lead squad on this case, for God’s sake.”

“Not anymore.” Travers’s voice was kind but firm. “I’m making Stevens the lead.”

“You’re letting Lewis run this? No. You’ve gotta be kidding.”

Travers’s gaze narrowed. “Are you saying Stevens isn’t up to the task? Is there something I need to know?”

“No, nothing like that,” Gary remonstrated. “But please… don’t do this. Don’t take me off the case.” He straightened in his chair. “You’ve told me God knows how many times the last six years that I’m one of your best detectives. So please,useme. I’ll liaise with this psychic, I’ll work on the previous victims, but don’t shut me out.”

If begging was what it would take, he’d beg. On his knees if he had to.

Travers studied him in silence. “Fine. But I have some conditions.”

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