The Grave Between Us by Tal Bauer

Chapter Nine

It washours before Noah and Cole were alone again and able to talk. First the doctor came, checking Noah’s wound and his bandage, making him breathe in and out and cough. Making him stand and taking his blood pressure and pulse. Cole watched, feeling a fraction of his tension begin to ebb as he drank in the sight of Noah awake and moving around, still pale but looking more like himself. He texted Katie as Noah was finishing with the doctor, and twenty seconds later, Katie blew up Noah’s cell phone, nonstop ringing until Noah answered on speaker. Katie was crying, gulping her way through telling Noah how much she loved him. Noah managed to refocus her attention by asking about school and cheer and the upcoming dance.

Katie had to get back to class, and right as she hung up, Sophie burst into Noah’s room, grinning as she held out her arms and wrapped him up in a gentle hug. She gave Cole a long, lingering stare over Noah’s shoulder as she did, one eyebrow arched almost to her hairline. Cole shook his head. Sophie pursed her lips.

Sophie knew how to manage a conversation, and she spent ten minutes chattering at Noah about Dale and Miya and Megan and the rest of the office without once venturing anywhere close to the shooting. Noah, still clearly riding the ebb tide of sedatives, followed her lead, his gaze going soft as her lilting voice filled the room. He held Cole’s hand and relaxed against his pillows.

Jacob lumbered down the hallway in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Shaquille O’Neal. He looked even more misshapen than before, his half-shaved head throwing his lumpy features into even sharper relief. He was smiling, though, and he didn’t look as haunted as he had when Cole had seen him with Sophie, shortly after he’d swum out of the darkness and realized he’d been a millimeter away from gone forever. He sat in the chair across from Cole at Noah’s bedside, Sophie leaning against Jacob’s chair arm. The first thing he said to Noah was, “Holly and I are engaged.”

“Congratulations,” Noah said. He smiled and squeezed Cole’s hand, his fingers finding Cole’s ring. “I knew she’d say yes.”

Jacob beamed. He looked like a child’s drawing of Mr. Potato Head. “Actually, Holly pulled a Cole. She asked me. Man, now I know why it’s always a waterworks factory when a man pulls out that ring. I’ve never been that happy in my life. Nothing even comes close.”

Noah’s grip tightened. “I know what you mean.”

Sophie made a joke about how they should have a double wedding and split the cost, and that led to a long and short conversation on Jacob’s and Noah’s thoughts for their weddings. Long on Jacob’s part—he, it turned out, had imagined marrying Holly for the past several months, and he had the church service drawn out perfectly in his mind. He could picture Holly in her white wedding gown, Brianna as their flower girl. He saw daisies in Brianna’s hair and sunflowers in Holly’s hands, and he’d imagined the priest saying “You may now kiss the bride” so many times it was almost a movie in his mind. The whole time he spoke, he was smiling ear to ear, gazing into the distance like he was watching the ceremony play out in front of him, a dream that wanted to be a memory. Even Sophie smiled, and she ruffled the half of Jacob’s hair that was left, hugging her cheek to his shorn head when he was finished.

Noah’s contribution to the conversation was shorter. “Uh, we’re still talking about things,” he stammered.

Noah was rescued when the police chiefs of Des Moines and West Des Moines knocked on his door to say hello and wish him well. Sheriff Clarke arrived a few minutes later, and he tipped his Stetson as he stood at the foot of Noah’s bed. Noah was quietly popular in the small, tight-knit law enforcement community in Des Moines. He was visibly embarrassed by the outpouring of support, and Cole watched him fumble for what to say, how to thank the men he called colleagues and who had never once blinked when he went from married to Lilly to divorced to openly gay and dating Cole. Noah had said maybe ten people he knew would come to their wedding, but as Cole watched a small parade of chiefs and sheriffs and deputies and police officers file in and out of Noah’s hospital room, he started adding to that number.

Finally, a nurse came and bustled everyone out. Jacob kissed the top of Noah’s head and left with Sophie, and the other visitors all said their goodbyes as well. Cole waited as the nurse checked Noah from head to toe, and then, finally, they were alone.

Noah scooted over on the bed, making room for Cole to climb in beside him. He sagged against Cole, laying his head on Cole’s chest as he laced their fingers together. “Put the Do Not Disturb sign out,” he said. “No more visitors.”

Cole kissed Noah’s forehead, stroking Noah’s hair. “You’re more popular than you realize.” He wrapped his arm around Noah’s shoulder and squeezed him close. He felt Noah’s heartbeat against his chest, felt Noah’s warmth seep through his shirt, into his skin. Alive. Here.

Noah was quiet. “Why was your old boss here asking me questions?”

It took every ounce of control he’d developed over the long years in the BAU not to react. To keep from gathering Noah in his arms and running as far as he could, somewhere there was no Michael King or Ian Ingram or monsters from his past. He kept sliding his fingers through Noah’s hair. Breathed Noah in and held on to his scent before he spoke. “What do you remember about what happened?”

It was a classic interrogator’s move, answering a question with a question. It was also a reflex for Cole, when he didn’t want to answer what he’d been asked. Noah had called him out on it more than once. This time, he seemed to let it slide.

“Not much. The glass breaking. I remember seeing Jacob bleeding. I jerked the wheel…” Noah frowned. “It’s fuzzy. Everything fades out. It feels more like I’m watching something happen to someone else. It doesn’t even feel like a memory.”

“That’s good.” Cole stroked Noah’s arm. Squeezed his hand. “That’s for the best. You’re going to be all right. You and Jacob. It’s okay if you don’t remember anything.”

“Not if that means whoever shot us gets away.” Noah must have felt him stiffen. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

Cole closed his eyes. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Open your eyes and wake up. He opened his eyes. He was still in Noah’s hospital room, listening to Noah’s heart monitor and the soft hiss of oxygen. He licked his lips and bit down on the lower one. “They—Michael and the FBI—think they know who shot you and Jacob.”

Noah went still.

“They think the shooting is connected to a case I worked on a long time ago. Have you ever heard of Ian Ingram?”

He could almost feel Noah think, spin through his memories. “Yeah,” Noah said. “I remember that name. I was looking for information on serial killers the FBI apprehended when we were first trying to track down the Coed Killer. His name came up in the database, but there wasn’t much information available. The files were mostly redacted, aside from basic biographics. I think I put in a request for access, but I never heard anything back.”

“I’m sure your request was ignored. If you’d pressed it, it would have been denied.”

“Why?” Noah twisted, looking up at Cole. He frowned. “What’s special about him? And what’s the connection to what happened to us?”

“He escaped,” Cole whispered. “We don’t have him anymore. We lost him eight years ago.”

Noah’s eyes went as wide as saucers. The blood drained from his face as his lips moved, searching for something to say.

“I was the lead interrogator.”

Lead interrogator. As if that banal term could encompass what he’d done, what he’d become, and what Ian had become to him in the space of those months. Such a short time. But black holes could suck whole galaxies of light into their frozen cores. Ian Ingram could swallow Cole’s entire life. Then and now. Now, Cole had so much more to lose.

“Does the Bureau think he’s coming after you? After all this time?”

Not me.Cole’s stomach lurched. He leaned his cheek against Noah’s head. “It’s just a theory,” he said. “There’s some indication he’s involved. But that’s for them to worry about. Ian Ingram belongs to the BAU, and they’re taking over the investigation. I’m not involved.” He stroked Noah’s arm and realized he was squeezing Noah’s hand so hard Noah’s fingertips were turning blue. He consciously relaxed, uncurled his shaking fingers. “Right now, your job is to rest and recover. And my job is to watch over you and take care of you.” He kissed Noah, first on his hair, then on his nose, then on his lips.

Noah kissed him back, softly, sweetly. Cole ran his hand up Noah’s arm and cradled his head in his palm as he deepened the kiss. Noah’s eyes fluttered closed, and he sighed, leaning into Cole like he could give all of his worries over and Cole would take care of him. Like Cole would keep him safe from gunshots and escaped serial killers and monsters who moved in the dark… even though Cole hadn’t kept him safe, and he had no idea if he could.

Resolve slid through his bones. He kissed Noah deeper, pushing their foreheads together. I swear, he won’t touch you again. Never again. No matter what.

Noah curled into his side and held on. After a few minutes his breathing evened out, and his hold on Cole’s hand loosened, and he relaxed in Cole’s arms, snoring softly. Cole watched him sleep, watched his chest rise and fall. He rested his hand over Noah’s heart and felt its steady beat, the thrum of his lover’s life.

When Noah was limp and snoring, Cole eased himself out of Noah’s bed. He slipped into the hallway and shut the door, then made his way to the stairwell, pulling out his cell phone and tapping a number that was still programmed into his speed dial.

“King,” Michael grunted. There was a rushing noise over the line, like Michael was on the move, going somewhere fast.

“It’s me,” Cole said. He turned to face the corner of the stairwell, as if he could hide his words.

“Did you talk to Downing?”

“He doesn’t remember anything. He has no memory of Ian, or of the photos being taken.”

“Are you certain? We should still show him a six-pack, see if he can pick Ingram out of a lineup—”

“I’m sure,” Cole said, cutting him off. “He doesn’t remember, and I don’t want to excavate that memory if it is there somewhere. Noah doesn’t need to remember being tortured or having his own gun pushed into the side of his head.”

Michael sighed.

Cole dug the pictures Michael had brought out of his jeans pocket. He flicked through the crumpled paper, his heart seizing when he got to the picture of Noah screaming in agony. “Even without Noah’s ID, we still have Ian’s fingerprints on the photos.”

“We?”

“You. The FBI.”

“I’m on the way to Omaha,” Michael said suddenly. “We’re going to pick apart Downing’s SUV and take a look at the evidence Omaha’s collected. I’m hoping we’ll find something there, but I don’t need anything more to convince me this is Ingram. The fingerprints, the photos. I know it’s him.”

Cole folded the pictures and shoved them back in his pocket. “I know it’s him, too,” he whispered. A beat of silence passed. “Why now?” Cole snapped. “Why Noah? Why is he targeting him?”

“Downing is important to you.”

“Noah isn’t the only man I’ve dated.”

“He’s the only man you’ve asked to marry you.”

Cole sagged against the wall. “You think he’s been watching me? For eight years?”

There was a pause, too long, too heavy. “What?” Cole asked. “What haven’t you told me?”

“We had a tail on you for nine months after he escaped. In case he came for you or tried to contact you. Or…” Michael’s voice trailed off. “We never saw him. I don’t think he was following you then.”

“Then,” Cole snapped. Maybe once, he would have been angry about being tailed by the FBI. But what had they seen, those nine months? Him and his shame, alone in his apartment every night? Some nights he would have been glad for Ian to pay him a visit, if only to put an end to his self-flagellation. But not anymore. Now he had a life he loved, a man and a daughter he cherished more than the oxygen he breathed. “What about now?”

“That’s something we’ll have to figure out.” Michael waited. “Cole, you know we need you on this. No one else understands Ingram like you do.”

“I don’t understand him. I proved that, years ago. I don’t know him at all.”

“I think you’re the only person in the world who does know him. And I think that’s why he did what he did.”

“What, left me alive?”

“Yes,” Michael said simply. “We need you if we’re going to find him. And Downing needs you. Ingram targeted him. He usually finishes what he starts.”

“Fuck you, Michael,” Cole hissed. “Don’t fucking try to use Noah to manipulate me.”

“I’m trying to stop Ingram.”

A paper crane in his palm. His fingers moving through black earth and damp fog. Noah sagging against him, giving all his worries over, taking shelter in the circle of Cole’s arms. Trusting Cole’s words. It was Noah’s job to rest. It was the FBI’s job to find Ingram. It was Cole’s job to take care of Noah. To keep him safe.

To keep him alive.

“Send me the case files. Send me everything. I’ll find his trail.”