“Why don’t you invite the guys over for a barbecue tonight?” Paul had said. “Your parents too, if they’d like.”
Having his family and Paul together was a dream Cliff had entertained from the beginning of their relationship, and now that his mother’s cancer was in remission, she’d slowly begun regaining her strength. He and Paul made a habit of having dinner with them once a week. Everyone together would be the best of all.
Routine. Cliff liked routine, but having a partner in law enforcement meant last-minute changes to dinner plans and bedtimes. Cliff was learning to adapt because having Paul there with him every day was living his dream. Which would he rather have? Dinner alone every night at seven, or Paul across the table at nine, ten, or whenever?
There was no choice.
Cliff rolled over and stretched, then bounced out of bed and took a shower. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he made fresh coffee, toasted a bagel, and picked up the paper. It was such a beautiful morning, Cliff decided to indulge and have breakfast out on the deck. Juggling newspapers, coffee, and a bagel, he pushed the kitchen door open with his foot and was hit with the warmth of the sun on his face. He managed to set everything down on the table under the umbrella without dropping or spilling and stretched out on the lounge chair. Newspaper in hand, Cliff’s eye caught the headline about the recent string of break-ins on Main Street, and he wondered how Paul and Rob’s investigation was going. His phone rang, and swallowing a bite of his bagel, he answered the call from his best friend, Ryan.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Not much. Just checking in. Haven’t talked in a little while.”
“It’s been insane at work. Three conventions, one right after the other, but at least I have the day off.”
“Damn, that’s rough.”
“Yeah. I’m not doing a thing today but sitting on my deck, drinking some wine, and reading a good murder mystery.”
“I wouldn’t mind that myself.”
“I’m reading a good one. S.c. Wynne has a new one in her Psychic Detective Mysteries. It’s called Shadows Deceive.”
“Great. I read the first two. Gonna check it out after I get off shift. How’s Paul doing?”
“Good. Working on those break-ins on Main Street, so he’s busy as hell.”
“I know the feeling. Last night we had to put out a nasty grease fire at the Thai place, Lemongrass Grill. You ever eat there?”
“Yeah, the food is really good. We ate there last weekend. Be safe.”
“No worries, brother. They don’t call me Teflon for nothing.”
“You’re funny, but I still worry.”
“I know. And I’m careful. We all are. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You want to come over for about a barbecue tonight? I’m going to invite the guys.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll text you later.”
He disconnected the call and held his face up to the morning sun. “Better go inside and get sunglasses,” he muttered to himself. Empty plate in hand, Cliff reentered the house. He’d just placed the dish in the sink when he heard a bang and glass breaking.
“What the hell?” He sprinted to the living room and saw the shattered front window.
Bang! Crash!
He threw himself on the floor as something whizzed by his ear. “Shit.” The screech of tires and the roar of an engine filled the air, then…silence. Careful of the shards of broken glass scattered around the floor, Cliff ran to the front door and yanked it open, knowing full well it was already too late to see who’d done this. Several people were out on their porches, talking and pointing.
He began to hyperventilate, feeling light-headed, so he drew in a few deep, slow breaths, trying to pull himself together. The enormity of the situation hit him. Without moving from his place by the doorway, Cliff pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Paul.
“Hi,” Paul answered. “I was—”
“Paul, I think you should come home.”
“What’s wrong?” Paul’s voice sharpened.
“Someone fired a gun at the window. Please? Come home.”
“Are you okay? Were you hit?”
“N-no, but I’m freaked out.”
“Don’t touch anything. I’m with Rob. I’ll call it in to the station. We’re on our way.”
“Okay.” A thought hit him. “Paul. What’re you going to tell people? You know…” He left the question open-ended. Would Paul tell the officers on the scene that he lived here? With Cliff?
“Don’t worry about it.”
And he hung up.
Within two minutes Cliff heard sirens wailing in the distance, and he stood in the street to make it easier for the officers to find the correct house. By now a crowd had gathered, and the sirens drew closer. Another minute passed, and then, finally, Cliff spotted flashing lights as a black-and-white sedan came tearing down the street.
“Here,” Cliff called out, waving his hand. “Over here.”
The police car halted, and two officers—one male, one female—climbed out.
“Are you Cliff Baxter?” the female officer asked. “I’m Officer Porter, and this is Officer Lawrence.” The male officer, in his midfifties, with dark hair and eyes, pulled out his memo book, acknowledging him with a tip of his head, while their radios crackled with constant updates from the dispatchers.
“Yes. Come in, please. Two shots were fired. The first one happened while I was in the kitchen, the second less than a minute later.”
“Can you show us, please?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
They walked behind him and stopped at the entrance to the house. The large bay window in the front that let in most of the light to the living room was shattered, and a pang traveled through Cliff at the sight of all that glittering glass scattered on the floors.
“Be careful, it’s all over.”
Officer Lawrence nodded. “Thank you. You say you were in the kitchen. So you didn’t see anything?”
“No. I mean, yes, I was in the kitchen, but no, I didn’t. I heard tires squealing, an engine gunned, and the car took off. After the first shot, I ran in here and hit the floor when the glass completely shattered with the second bullet.”
“I see. Okay. Did you touch anything?”
“No, nothing.”
Tires screeched to a halt, and Cliff heard two separate car doors slam. Then Paul and Rob burst into the house. The expression on Paul’s face—fright and anger—was one Cliff knew he’d never forget. When he gave Paul a slight smile, the tension eased, and Paul blew out a breath and nodded. His shoulders relaxed, and Cliff watched Rob give Paul’s shoulder a tight, quick squeeze.
When Paul spoke, he was in control. “Officers, good morning.”
Porter nodded while Lawrence greeted Paul and Rob. “Oh, hello, Detectives. We were just getting some information from Mr. Baxter. He said he was in the kitchen for the first shot but in the living room for the second. He also heard a car speeding away.”
“Good. Thanks. Can I ask that you call in Forensics? And then go outside and see if you can get the names of any witnesses? Detective Gormley and I will want to speak to them.”