The Grave Between Us by Tal Bauer

Chapter Thirteen

Saturday morning,he and Noah and Katie had to be awake and on the road early, heading out to Lake Anita State Park, midway between Des Moines and Omaha, to meet Lilly and drop Katie off for a weekend with her mother. Usually, they would drive Katie out after school on Friday, but because of the dance, they’d pushed the meet to Saturday morning.

Cole drove, holding Noah’s hand where it rested on his thigh. Katie fell asleep in the back seat before they’d even gotten out of their neighborhood. Cole was like a cat skittering on hot metal, scanning the horizon and the muddy cornfields on either side of the road. He eyeballed every tractor trailer like the drivers were known terrorists transporting nuclear warheads. His pulse was faster than a hummingbird’s, and he left his coffee untouched in the center console. He didn’t need any more caffeine.

He pulled off Interstate 80 at Anita and headed south toward town. Stopping at the Casey’s gas station, he ducked into the general store and bought a hot chocolate for Katie and a toffee-flavored latte for Lilly. Noah shook his head when Cole came back with the drinks, but he didn’t say anything.

Lilly was already at the lake, sitting on a picnic bench and reading the paper, bundled up in her jacket, beanie, and gloves. She waved as they pulled up, and she waited as Cole and Noah roused an unwilling Katie from her backseat slumber. Katie grumbled, grabbed her backpack, took the hot chocolate, and shuffled across the parking lot, face-planting in her mother’s arms in a sleepwalking hug. Lilly laughed over Katie’s shoulder as Cole jogged over with her latte.

“Thank you, Cole.” She steered Katie to her Lexus, waiting for her to climb in and shut the door before she said anything more. “Katie seems to be doing better. She sounds all right when we talk on the phone. She doesn’t want to get into details, and I don’t push. Teen girls and their mothers.”

“Katie is doing well. She’s very strong. She gets that from both of you.”

Lilly shook her head, a tired smile pulling on the corners of her lips. “I know she’s worried about her dad. How’s he doing?”

“Noah is all right. He doesn’t remember much of what happened, which is good. I think it’s been harder on Katie, seeing him in the hospital. From Noah’s perspective, he was driving, and then he woke up and we were all very upset.”

“Well, that’s the best scenario for him.” Lilly looked beyond Cole to the SUV with Noah sitting in the passenger seat. “I saw his car when they towed it to Omaha. I can’t believe…” She trailed off. “Bray texted me when he found out. He wanted to know if I wanted to fly out with him to visit Noah in the hospital.”

Sam Bray, the SAC of Omaha and Noah’s boss, also worked closely with Lilly, an assistant United States attorney. The midwestern federal family was small.

“The last thing Noah would want, after something like that, would be to see his ex-wife. No, he has you to worry about him now. I remember what that’s like. It’s more than a full-time job.”

Despite himself, Cole grinned. He looked down, rubbing his lips together. He shouldn’t commiserate with Noah’s ex-wife. “He’s worth it.”

She studied him, biting the inside of her cheek. “He’s a good man. I’m glad he has you. He’s wanted to love someone with everything he is, but I wasn’t that person. He adores Katie, of course, but he’s wanted a soulmate as long as I’ve known him. You unlock him, probably as much to himself as to the world.” She shook her head, her eyes coming back to Cole, away from Noah. “I don’t love him anymore, and I haven’t for a very long time, but I want him to be happy. Especially now, knowing our marriage didn’t fail because…” She shrugged and gazed out over the rippling lake, the gunmetal waves lapping against the muted sky.

“He’s scared to get married again,” Cole blurted out. Worries from before, suddenly screaming in the forefront of his mind again. Before Noah was shot, they’d been trying to plan their wedding. Had it been less than two weeks ago when he thought his biggest worries were what kind of ceremony Noah envisioned for them? When he’d kissed Noah’s hair and told him he was certain that Noah was going to be a good husband? “He thinks he’s going to be a terrible husband. That maybe he doesn’t know how.”

Lilly stared at the horizon. “If there’s anything Noah is guilty of, it’s that he didn’t fight to keep us together. But looking back, why would he have? I used to be so mad about his… indecisiveness. His indifference, as if he didn’t care if the sun rose or fell tomorrow, or if we were still married or not. I’m guessing that’s not what your relationship is like.”

“Not at all,” Cole breathed. “Not even close.”

“You have the best parts of him, Cole. And you and he have nothing to worry about. Your marriage will be very happy. He’s not indifferent toward your future. He wants you, and he wants the life you guys are building.”

“Thank you, Lilly.”

“I’ll take Katie to school on Monday. I’ll call her out of her morning classes. We’ll have breakfast, and then I’ll drive her in before lunch.”

“You sure? It’s a long drive.”

“I’ve got some briefs I need to dictate. I can do that on the drive back.” She squeezed Cole’s hand and then headed for her car. Katie was already asleep in the passenger seat, face mashed against the seat belt, her bun unraveling.

Cole jogged back to the SUV, grinning when Noah raised an eyebrow at him. “Good conversation with my ex-wife?” Noah asked as Cole climbed into the driver’s seat.

“It was.” Cole took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “She thinks you’ll be a great husband.”

Noah’s face screwed up so horrifically Cole couldn’t help but laugh. He backed out of the parking space and turned toward the road. “She said you and I are far happier than you and she ever were, and that you want to be with me, which makes a world of difference.”

“She said that?”

“I’m paraphrasing, but that was the general idea.”

Noah was quiet. His jaw worked left and right, clenching, relaxing. “She’s right,” he grumbled as Cole turned back onto the interstate.

“Don’t like admitting that?”

Noah gave Cole a level glare over the top of his shades. Cole laughed again, and he took Noah’s hand, brought it to his lap, and squeezed.

A few minutes later, Noah spoke again. “There’s something I want to do with you today. Somewhere I want to go.”

Cole waited, stroking his thumb over the back of Noah’s hand.

Noah cleared his throat. “There’s a bed and breakfast outside Des Moines. Oak Haven Meadows. They’ve got a big property. Lots of fields and little decorative barns.”

“You want to get away for the weekend? We didn’t pack anything.”

“No, I don’t want to stay there. At least, not tonight.” He took a deep breath. “They mostly operate as an event venue, and they host a lot of outdoor weddings. Everything from giant events to small, intimate gatherings. I know it’s early in the season, and they don’t even start outdoor weddings until late spring. I mean, a lot of the fields are just mud right now, but they have some of the smaller oak groves open, and the barn is open for lunch, and wine tasting, and live music in the evenings—” Noah was babbling, but Cole kept his mouth shut. Kept his touch light on Noah’s hand. “And I thought we could go there for lunch, maybe look around? I liked some of the smaller venue options on their website. I want to show you the place. See what you think. Maybe we could talk to an event planner, if we both like what we see?” He inhaled sharply, then fell silent.

“You’ve been researching.”

“Yeah,” Noah said, blowing out a breath. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week.”

Warmth filled Cole, as brilliant as the sun. “I’d love to go.” He kissed Noah’s hand again. This was what was important. This was what mattered. Noah and him, together.

And keeping Noah alive, a voice in his mind whispered. Keeping him safe.

Hunting Ian. Finding him. Stopping him.

He inhaled Noah’s scent, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them back up to watch the road. No big rigs. Empty fields. Gray sky, as far as the eye could see. “I’m going to marry you, Noah Downing,” he breathed. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Noah smiled. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

It was turninginto the warmest day of winter, and he and Noah weren’t the only ones with the idea of going to Oak Haven Meadows for lunch or an afternoon of wine tasting. The parking lot, a gravel field dotted with potholes, was nearly full when Cole pulled in. He found a spot where Noah wouldn’t have to step out into the mud, then came around the side of the SUV, opening the door for Noah and holding out a hand to help him down.

Noah flushed, but he took Cole’s hand and held on. The main barn was giant and artfully whitewashed, something that would look more at home in a photo spread than on a working farm. Dormant rosebushes lined the sides, and oak trees dotted the rolling hills beyond, small vineyards and tilled fields separated by split rail fences and clusters of cottonwood and willow.

“Wow,” Cole murmured. Even with the sky overcast and the trees bare, the fields more dirt than anything else, the place was striking, and it was easy to imagine it all in full bloom under a summer sun.

“There’s an oak grove over there,” Noah said, pointing down a sloping hillside. “Next to a little creek. The website showed a picture of a wooden footbridge over it. You know, ridiculously picturesque.” Noah’s cheeks were flaming. “Some of the photos showed the grove done up with lights in the tree branches. Lanterns around the creek.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

Noah nodded. He wrapped his arm around Cole’s waist and hooked his thumb in the waistband of Cole’s jeans as they walked. “I liked it.”

“Do you think they have a brochure we could look at over lunch?”

“Probably.”

Inside, half the space had been converted into a restaurant, little patio tables set on a wood plank floor scattered with loose straw. The décor was shabby chic: mason jars with white ribbons, burlap bunting, and linen edged in old lace. String lights looped overhead. Toward the back of the barn, people clustered around a long bar, some sipping cocktails but most sampling wines and picking at charcuterie boards.

Most of the patrons were couples, men and women, but there were families dotted in the crowd and a handful of young children in the open space away from the bar, playing hide-and-go-seek in the old horse stalls while their parents nibbled cheese and sipped pinot and gazed into each other’s eyes.

At first glance, Cole couldn’t see another same-sex couple. That didn’t bother him, but his eyes slid to Noah and he squeezed Noah’s hand, preparing to let go—

Noah held fast. If anything, his arm pressed a little tighter around Cole’s waist. Cole turned to Noah and kissed his cheek, resting his forehead against Noah’s temple as they waited their turn to be seated.

The hostess, a young woman around college age, looked them up and down and beamed. “Table for two?”

“Yes.” Noah cleared his throat. “We were actually looking for some information on planning a wedding—”

“Congratulations! I’ll bring over our catalog and our testimonial binders. You can take a look at what we offer and what our other happy couples have had to say.” She led them to a cozy bistro table with the chairs side by side rather than across from each other, facing the open expanse of the barn. They sat, and Noah immediately put his arm around Cole’s chair back, his fingers landing on Cole’s shoulder blade. The hostess smiled, passed them their menus—vellum affixed to old pieces of barn plank—and said, “I’ll get that catalog for you.”

He looked at Noah, and Noah looked at him, and they both burst into giggles, leaning close. Cole gripped Noah’s knee. “We’re really doing this,” Noah breathed. “We’re going to get married.” He sounded amazed, his voice full of wonder, as if the truth had just sunk into him.

“We are.” Cole brushed his lips against Noah’s. Noah hummed. “Maybe even right here.”

The hostess reappeared, handing them each a thick, well-worn binder stuffed with glossy printouts and photo pages. “All of our ceremony and reception locations are listed in there, along with all the options we offer. We can take care of everything, or we can host your event and let your own wedding planner handle the details. Do you have a wedding planner yet?”

“Um…”

“No worries.” She rolled on. “Marcia is one of the best wedding planners in the business. We’re so lucky to have her. She’ll take great care of you guys if you work with her.” She pointed to the photo pages at the back of the binders. “Those are pictures from some of our weddings. Check out the different locations and see if you’re inspired by anything.” Another full-wattage smile, and then she bounced away, her ponytail swishing behind her.

A young, gorgeous man in jeans, boots, a button-down plaid, and a white apron tied around his trim waist appeared in her wake, dropping off champagne flutes, smiling as he drawled, “Congratulations, guys.”

They watched him walk away, slowly sipping their champagne. Cole elbowed Noah, flicking both his eyebrows and then jerking his head toward the hunk in the apron. Noah went redder than Cole had ever seen, fluorescent meltdown magenta, caught checking out another man. Cole giggled and kissed Noah’s temple, his cheek, holding him close, as he whispered, “I love you so much.”

They ordered appetizers to start, settling in to flip through each page of the binders. The large venue spaces—the open meadows, the starlit clearings cut out of the cornfields, lined with luminarias—were breathtaking but too large for their modest dreams. Noah claimed again he didn’t know that many people, and when Cole pointed out how many well-wishers he’d had at the hospital, Noah said there was a difference between friendly colleagues and people he wanted to share the happiest day of his life with. He didn’t want to talk shop on his wedding day.

The medium-sized wedding options were smaller versions of the meadows: a willow grove, a barn with half with its rafters exposed to the sky, and a lakeside field near the main bed and breakfast. The lake looked artificial to Cole and didn’t appeal to him. And besides, even if they had a few more friends than they realized, more than likely, they were going to have a small wedding.

Those options were the most beautiful, Cole thought. Size wasn’t everything, it turned out. If they held their wedding on a Thursday, they could use one of the big meadows but carve it into a smaller space with stacked hay and turn the field into a dance floor and reception area with weathered picnic tables and silver candelabras, clusters of battery-powered candles scattered on the ground. Giant sky overhead, intimate gathering below.

Then there was the oak grove that had caught Noah’s eye, also lit by candles beneath the tree canopy and lining the creek, with string lights overhead. That space was tiny, for only twenty or so guests, and it seemed like a snapshot of a whole different world, a fairy tale. Noah traced the burbling creek with his fingertips.

“You like that one best,” Cole said. He took Noah’s hand in his. “I love it, too.”

“I want to see it in person.”

“Of course. But if it’s not actually the septic tank drainage site, or next to a parking lot, or filled with poison ivy…”

Noah laughed. He finished his champagne, twirling the stem as he set down the glass. “If it’s as beautiful as it seems to be… I think I want to marry you there.”

He kissed Noah, letting his lips linger, feeling Noah’s smile grow. He kept his eyes open, watching Noah’s eyes flutter shut, watching the unfiltered joy spread across Noah’s face. Cole loved these moments, sneaking peeks when Noah was wide open, when he was so happy and in love—

Color flickered in the corner of Cole’s gaze. Color and folded lines, crisp edges.

Three kids ran in circles between the bistro tables and the bar area. They were chasing each other, running and swooping their hands in looping arcs, like birds in flight. One boy’s hand opened, and the paper crane he’d been playing with soared through the air, flying for a moment before gliding to the ground.

Cole was out of his seat before his next breath, jogging across the barn toward the kids. Noah called after him, but he didn’t answer. His focus was on the cranes. The one in the dirt, the ones in the other kids’ hands. Orange, pale yellow, sky blue. His head moved on a swivel, moving right and left, scanning the crowd. Couples, men and women, mostly younger, some older. The bar was crowded, and he couldn’t see everyone.

A few people were staring at him, their mouths open, foreheads furrowing.

His weapon was in his ankle holster, concealed. It would take him less than two seconds to drop to one knee and draw, if he needed to. If Ian was there.

He got to the crane in the dirt at the same time as the kid, and they both reached for the folded paper bird. He snatched it before the kid did. “Hey!” the kid protested. “Hey, that’s mine!” The kid lunged for the crane, and Cole grabbed his upper arm.

The other two kids stopped their play, standing very still, watching Cole with wide eyes.

Cole turned the crane over. Sky blue paper. The kind people who took origami seriously used. The folds were crisp and smooth, the edges sharp. This hadn’t been made by grubby, young hands. Each wing was of equal size.

“Hey!” Another man, taller and broader than Cole, stormed across the bar area. “Get your hand off my kid!”

Cole stood and reached for his badge. “I’m with the FBI—”

“Good for fucking you! I don’t care who you’re with, get your hands off my son!”

“Where did your son get this?” He held out the paper crane.

The man took his son’s hand and pulled him behind him, out of Cole’s grasp. “It’s not a crime for kids to play in the horse stalls!”

Noah appeared, wide eyed. “Cole, what are you doing?”

Cole turned to the boy, trying to meet his eyes around his father’s legs. “Can you show me where you got this?”

The boy pointed to the decorative stalls along the opposite wall at the same time his dad shouted, “No! He doesn’t need to talk to you, you sick bastard! Get the hell away from him!” He reached out and shoved Cole, sending him back three steps.

Noah put his hand on the man’s chest, stopping him. He put his other hand on his weapon, holstered at his waist beneath his fleece pullover. “Sir, step back. We’re with the FBI.”

“What the fuck is the FBI doing touching my son?” the man bellowed. “Show me some identification! Now!”

Noah pulled out his credentials and flashed his badge. He kept his eyes locked on the angry father. Cole could feel the waves of tension, mixed with anger, pulsing from Noah.

An older woman and man appeared, bustling across the barn, guided by the hostess. Everyone had stopped eating and drinking, instead staring at the disturbance Cole had caused.

“We’re the owners. What’s going on?” the woman barked. “What’s happening here?”

“This asshole touched my son!” the father shouted, pointing at Cole. “And this asshole”—he shoved his finger in Noah’s face—“claims they’re FBI, but they aren’t telling me why they think that gives them the right to put his hand on my kid!”

The woman’s sharp eyes snapped to Cole, then to Noah. Behind her, the older man scowled, and he rested his hand on the butt of a revolver holstered on his belt. His white mustache twitched.

“You say you’re with the FBI?” the woman snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah held up his credentials for her. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take your hand off your weapon. Now.”

“And I’m going to have to ask you two to explain yourselves,” the older man growled.

“I need to know where your son, and the rest of these kids, got these paper cranes.” Cole held up the origami bird. “It’s related to an ongoing investigation. It’s important.”

He felt Noah’s eyes slide to him. Felt their burn.

“And I told you,” the father snapped. “They were playing in the horse stalls!”

“Did anyone approach your son, or talk to your son, or give him anything?”

“The only person who has bothered my son is you!”

“We have school groups visit on field trips during the week,” the woman said, speaking over the father’s raised voice. “The kids speak with volunteer botanists and biologists, mostly college students getting their education degrees. The kids meet in the barn for arts and crafts all the time.” She waved at the paper crane, shaking her head. “I’ve seen a million of those things over the years. I sweep up a hundred a week sometimes.”

Cole deflated, the racing adrenaline and heart-clenching terror vanishing as fast as they had exploded inside him. He sagged forward, his hands on his shaking knees, the crane still pinched between his fingers.

“I’m going to have to ask you both to leave,” the woman said to Noah. “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah tugged at Cole’s elbow, hard. “Come on.”

“Give my kid back his bird,” the dad growled. “And don’t go around touching any more kids. Your badge doesn’t give you the right to be a predator.”

Cole almost lunged at the father, almost laid him out with a punch across his ugly pug nose. He gritted his teeth and shoved the paper crane toward the kid, letting go before the boy had his hands on the bird. It fluttered down, and the kid leaped for it, then ran away to rejoin his friends.

The kids’ playful shouts echoed through the silent barn, the only sound accompanying Cole and Noah’s long, horrible walk to the exit. Eyeballs followed them as if every patron wanted to make sure Cole and Noah were thrown out.

His gaze drifted back to their table and their empty champagne glasses, the half-eaten appetizer. The binders, open to the photos of beautiful weddings. The images went off like depth charges in Cole’s mind. Noah had wanted to marry him there.

He trudged to the parking lot, jogging ahead of Noah to get the passenger door for him. Noah was solid ice, refusing to even look at Cole. He didn’t say a word until they were on the highway.

“What was that?” Noah’s voice was hard. Brittle. “Why did you accost that kid about his origami?”

“I didn’t accost—”

“Cole.”

He gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands shook.

“You said it was related to an ongoing investigation. What investigation? I don’t know about anything you or the rest of the office is working on that involves origami.”

Muddy fields flew past the SUV, emptiness that could hide so much. Hide graves. Even hide a man, if he wanted to disappear. Ian had walked away from civilization eight years ago, it seemed, and there hadn’t been a single sighting of him in all that time, until he’d chosen to reveal himself when he tried to kill Noah, take him away from Cole.

How many times in the past eight years had Cole seen a paper crane?

When was a paper crane just a paper crane, and when it was the signature of a serial killer stalking his life?

His vision blurred, and he hissed, rubbing his palm over his eyes as he let his foot off the gas. He fumbled at the dash and found the emergency blinkers, guiding the SUV off the highway and onto the gravel shoulder. It was flat here, an extension of the road, not like the ditch Noah had been forced to crash into when Ian—

Silence. Noah waited, his ragged breaths audible in the stillness.

Cole closed his eyes. “I haven’t told you the whole truth about your shooting, Noah.”