The Rebuilding Year (17 page)

Ryan blinked. “Sure. Come on in.” He led the way toward the kitchen. “Hey, John,” he called toward the workshop. “It’s the police.”

“Who?” John appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Detective Carstairs. Hello.”

“Mr. Barrett. Could we have a talk?”

“Sure, have a seat.”

Ryan cleared his books into a pile to make space at the table. John sat down, seemingly at ease. But Ryan could see the tension in his body despite the leg-sprawled pose. Carstairs leaned against the counter.

“There’s coffee left in the thermos,” Ryan offered them both. “Best in town.”

The detective glanced at him. “That would be good. Thank you. Would you tell me your name?”

Ryan poured coffee into a mug. “Ryan Ward. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Just black, thanks.” She took the mug, turning it in her palms as if her hands were chilled. “You’re Ward? I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“What’s this about?” John asked.

The detective turned to look at him. “That body you found. We finally identified her from the dentistry. Her name was Kristin Saunders. Ring any bells?”

John frowned. “I don’t think so. Ry?”

Ryan shook his head. “Not in my class anyway.”

Carstairs set her mug on the counter. “She was Alice Tormel’s roommate.”

“Alice?” Ryan said. “Like, fell out of a tree, Alice?”

“Yes.” She was eyeing them. “You both knew Alice. But you never met Kristin?”

“Neither of us knew Alice,” John said firmly. “I saw her home one night when she was high. Ryan tried to save her when she climbed the tree, also high. That’s all the contact we had with her. If this Kristin was the girl who took her up to her room that first night, or one of the ones trying to talk her out of the tree, we didn’t know it at the time. Did she have dyed red hair?”

“Blonde,” Carstairs said. She pulled out a photo and passed it to John. He studied it, and then handed it to Ryan. “Either of you recognize her?”

Ryan shook his head. He wasn’t surprised when John said, “I’ve seen her around campus. More last year. She used to rollerblade sometimes. I don’t think I ever heard her name.”

“Any idea who she hung around with, who her friends were?”

John shook his head. “When she skated, it was by herself. I’m sorry.”

“And it’s just coincidence that you were there when Alice fell, and you were the one to find her roommate’s body?”

“Yes,” John said firmly. “It was just coincidence.”

“Were there drugs in Kristin when she died?” Ryan asked.

“Funny you should ask me that. Not only did we not find any drugs in Kristin’s blood, we didn’t find any in Alice’s.”

“Then you didn’t look for the right thing,” Ryan told her. “That girl was definitely on something. Unless she was really mentally ill, but it sure sounded like a drug high.”

“According to the two of you.”

“Talk to the two girls who were there,” Ryan said angrily. “They’ll tell you the same thing. She was trying to be a bird and fly when she jumped out of the tree.”

“We will be talking to them again,” Carstairs agreed evenly. “We can’t test for every possible intoxicant. So we might have missed something.” She took a sip from her mug. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“We’re roommates,” Ryan said quickly. Anything else was none of her business. “I rent a room. John owns the house.”

“I see.”

“When did Kristin die?” John asked. “I’d think I would have heard if a student had gone missing from campus.”

“Her stuff was gone too. So everyone thought she couldn’t handle what happened to Alice and went home. She’s been gone since a week after Alice died.”

“Shit.” Ryan frowned. Three months in the earth. No wonder John had been so freaked when he found her. He’d never said much, but Ryan could tell it had been bad.

“I’ll need a list of everyone who has been working on your grounds crews since September,” Carstairs told John.

“Why my crews?”

“Access to tools, a good excuse for wandering around campus with a shovel? People who might be familiar with the remoter parts of the campus.”

“The college personnel office would have a list,” John said. “I have names, but not contact details. They do the hiring, I just tell the men where to go and what to do.”

“Have you sent anyone out to work in that area in the last year?”

“No. I was checking it out for the first time myself, thinking about a hiking trail.”

“Do you remember any instance when tools were stolen, or used and left dirty?”

John laughed humorlessly. “They’re gardening tools, shovels. They’re often left dirty.”

“Help me out here,” Carstairs said. “Is there anything you remember that would be worth my time to pursue?”

“No,” John said firmly. “Nothing.”

“I think you should be looking for the drugs,” Ryan repeated. “Because Alice was flying. Figuratively before the literally part.”

“Mr. Barrett, are you aware of drugs on campus?”

“Sure,” John said. “Lots of pot, probably plenty of other stuff too. It’s a college. I don’t worry about the pot. If I knew who was selling the hard stuff I would tell you. I don’t.”

Carstairs looked around. “This is a nice house. Must have cost quite a bit.”

“I used to work for a big firm.” Ryan admired John’s calm tone. “I had some savings.”

“There’s money to be made selling drugs on campus.”

“I’m sure there is. But not for me.”

Carstairs drained the mug and set it in the sink. “If I find out either of you knew something that could have helped us and didn’t pass it along,” she said, “I’ll be back, and you won’t like it.”

“You’re welcome back any time,” John said.

Carstairs gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your
roommate
is right by the way. Great coffee.”

Ryan stood up quickly. “I’ll let you out.”

When he came back to the kitchen, John was still sitting at the table peering into his empty mug.

“How come you didn’t get mad when she practically accused you of dealing drugs?” Ryan asked.

John shrugged. “She’s fishing. I imagine they don’t have many leads. Can’t blame them for chasing anything they do have.”

“So she should just come here and accuse you?”

“She was looking for a reaction.” John looked up at him. “Why did you tell her you were my roommate?”

“Because I am,” Ryan said defensively. “Anything else is none of her business.”

“Yeah, except she said roommate like she didn’t buy it. And now she’ll wonder what else I’m hiding.”

“What did you want me to say?”

John said steadily, “I think of you as my boyfriend.”

Ryan winced. “I hate that word. It’s so…high school.”

“If you were dating a woman, you’d call her your girlfriend.”

“Maybe. But it’s not the same thing.”

“What do you think we are, then? Lovers, partners, fuck buddies, friends with benefits, what?”

“I don’t,” Ryan said desperately. “I don’t put a name on it. Christ, John, it’s only been a week. I’m still trying to accept the fact that my biggest fantasy these days involves getting another man naked in bed. You’re my best friend and we have sex and I don’t put a label on it.”

“Do you want to hide it?”

“Not hide it.” Ryan was aware that John’s eyes were wary, waiting. “I just don’t see where it’s anyone else’s business. We can live our life without…advertising.”

“So if I see you on campus I’m allowed to…what? Shake your hand? Is a hug okay, if there’s some manly backslapping included?”

“Don’t. Don’t push me. Not yet.”

John nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m greedy. I want it all. I want to have your picture on my cell phone, and call you for no reason, and kiss you when I see you.”

Ryan couldn’t imagine it, didn’t want to. He had to head this off. He walked over to John and fisted a hand in his shirt. “You could kiss me now.”

John’s eyes warmed. “I don’t know if I want to do that,” he drawled.

“You do.” Ryan hauled him upward. John stood slowly, and then bent his head. It took nothing, just the barest touch of mouths, for the heat to ignite. John kissed him like he wanted to eat him alive. He shoved Ryan back against the table, demanding his mouth. Ryan heard a book go flying.

He pulled free to say, “My histology text.”

“To hell with histology.” John’s hands were hard, rough, over his back and down inside the waistband of his jeans. He bit at Ryan’s neck, sucked hard. Ryan leaned in tighter, more.

“The bed is upstairs.”

“To hell with the bed.” John dropped to his knees in front of Ryan, hands fumbling with fasteners. And then Ryan’s fingers were tangled in that auburn hair, and John’s mouth was too full for talking.

John juggled the grocery bags as he opened the front door. There was an unfamiliar car in the drive. He wondered if the cops were back again. If they were, he hoped Ryan was keeping his temper. Carstairs had been around campus all week, and she’d made it a point to seek John out more than once. Ryan was ticked off, but John could sympathize with the detective’s frustration. He was the closest thing they had to a lead, because they basically had no leads. And both the college and the community urgently wanted this thing solved, before sensationalist publicity made too many parents decide to send their little darlings elsewhere to school.

As he set the bags on the counter, he took note of the voices in the living room. Ryan and another man. Conversation sounded cordial. John put the milk and orange juice in the fridge and then wandered in.

Ryan was sitting in the wingback chair. Across from him another man sat on the couch. He looked vaguely familiar, but John couldn’t place him. Dark brown hair, dark eyes, a pleasant face, slightly overweight. He was dressed in a business suit, the tie pulled loose and one button undone.

Ryan looked up as John came in, and he smiled, but it was a strained, pale version of his usual. “Hey, John, I’d like you to meet my brother, Brent. Brent, this is my roommate, John Barrett.”

John held out his hand. “Hey, good to meet you. Ryan’s told me about you.”

Brent’s handshake was solid. “Wish I could say the same. But I haven’t heard from little brother in six months. I missed the Christmas family thing.”

“I sent you a card,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, great, so I knew you were still alive and able to sign your name. Thanks, bro.”

“You could have called me.”

Brent looked uncomfortable. “Well, I wasn’t sure, you know, you weren’t very talkative last time.”

Ryan looked almost as pained. John said, “So, what brings you down here? This wasn’t a planned visit, was it? Not that you’re not welcome.”

“Oh, I’m not staying,” Brent said quickly. “I just had a client down this way, had to make an in-person call to straighten things out. And it occurred to me it was less than fifty miles out of my way to visit Ryan.”

“He blew into town, called my cell and asked for directions to the house.”

“Yeah.” Brent looked around him. “You know, this is a cool place. You could do a lot with it. Do you own it?”

“John owns it,” Ryan said. “I just rent a room.”

“Better than a dorm,” Brent said heartily.

“Right.”

“So, would you like to have some dinner?” John wasn’t sure what was going on with these two guys. Ryan had always talked about his brothers with affection, but you could cut the tension here with a knife. “I bought groceries,” he added. “So we actually have food.”

“No, no,” Brent said, getting quickly to his feet. “Let me take you guys out to eat. My treat. I can expense it. My boss is always giving me a hard time about making his meal charges look bad by comparison. He’ll be happy if I spend a few bucks.”

“You two should go,” John said. “I’m sure you have catching up to do. You don’t need a stranger horning in.” He wanted Ryan to invite him, deny he was a stranger, ask him to meet the family.

But it was Brent who said quickly, “No. Really. You should both come.”

“You’d better have an unlimited budget if you’re offering to feed this big lug,” Ryan said, motioning to John with humor that seemed forced.

“I doubt he can out-eat you,” Brent said. “At least the way you used to eat. I mean, you look good, so you aren’t overeating, clearly.” He flushed. “Look, I’ll go warm up the car. We can ride in mine, so you can give me directions.”

John stared after the man as he headed to the front door. “What’s his problem?” he whispered to Ryan.

Ryan looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “He doesn’t deal well with weakness, emotions, all that shit. I told you, when David died he left the country. When I was hurt, he did the same thing. Suddenly a week later he had a rush job in Mexico that lasted for months. I make him uncomfortable.”

“Still? You’re pretty normal now. Well, for a maniac.”

Ryan smiled briefly. “Thanks, John. Yeah, apparently, still uncomfortable.”