If It Made Sense, It Wouldn't Be a Mystery, Would It?

Chapter 7

POV: 3RD PERSON

Brian cocks an eyebrow in Horvath's direction, indicating to Justin that he has the answers. Justin turns his eyes expectantly towards the man.

The detective clears his throat. "Well, first of all, I've been fired from the force." Justin blinks in surprise, pulling out a stool to take a seat.

"Why?" Justin asks, wondering both why he was fired- and why the hell he'd come to the loft to tell him and Brian about it.

"The official reasons I was given were that the Kemp murder was mishandled, and insubordination. I helped undermine Chief Stockwell's campaign."

"But, you didn't have anything to do with the Kemp case, did you? And what did you do that was considered insubordinate? Why would-"

"Justin…" Brian interrupts, silencing him so that Horvath can continue. Justin shuts his mouth, giving Brian a slightly resentful look.

"As I said, those were the reasons I was given. Ineptitude and insubordination," Horvath continues. "But, I suspect the real reason I was fired was because Stockwell believes that I know more than he would like me to. About Kenneth Reikert's death-"

"The suicide you mean?" Justin interrupts. Brian rolls his eyes as if to say, 'shut the fuck UP already!' Justin gets the hint and is quiet.

"Yes, about his death, and about Kemp's. As you may know, I was the one to find Reikert's body in the garage. Before the investigators arrived to record everything and collect evidence, I poked around a little. I've seen many suicide and murder victims, and while on the surface Reikert's wounds appeared to be self-inflicted, it seemed to me that the angle of the shot wasn't quite right. Blowing your head off with a shot gun takes a bit of effort- the barrel is long, the trigger is far enough away from your head that in order to pull it, your arm has to be completely extended, or nearly so. There are a limited number of angles you can manage in those circumstances. Reikert was not very tall- he was barely tall enough to make the force, in fact. His arms weren't very long. And it appeared to me impossible that he was able to inflict that wound himself. Physically impossible."

Horvath pauses, thoughtful. "So, I went inside the house to see if there was anything I could find- I had no clue what I was looking for. At that point, I really had no idea whether my suspicions were founded, or if I had simply misread the crime scene. But, given the facts that had come to light recently- regarding the link between Jason Kemp's death and Reikert that Brian and that kid had brought to light-I followed my gut."

Brian sighs quietly, gets up and goes to the fridge. Pulling out a bottle of water, he resumes his stance at the counter and looks at the former cop, listening. Suddenly realizing he hasn't offered either of them a drink, he proffers the bottle towards Horvath, then Justin. Each shakes their heads no. Justin can tell Brian is restless, agitated. His expression is similar to the one he had worn the afternoon before, when Rodney and Justin's mom were talking about the cop's suicide.

"Anyway, I found several items in Reikert's bedroom. In his bookcase and his nightstand. I didn't stick around for very long, as CSI was due to arrive and I didn't want to explain what I was doing snooping around in the house, picking up evidence." The detective tossed an address book, a small bundle of letters and a few photos onto the counter.

"So." Justin is still puzzled. "OK. But why come to Brian, to us? I don't understand."

"I wasn't sure who else to go to. The police surely won't investigate this any further- it's considered a closed case: suicide. And I wouldn't push to reopen the case if I were still on the force, either- having seen a cop of 14 years get fired for what appear to be flimsy reasons. Actually, I went and talked to Debbie first, and she suggested I talk to you and Kinney here," he gestures towards Brian, "because Hunter worked with you to collect the damning evidence on Reikert- she believes that you-er, Kinney rather, might get a call from Hunter while he and Michael are on the run. I guess in Michael's brief phone calls with both Ben and his mother, he has mentioned Hunter's continued…" Horvath pauses again, a little uncomfortable, "er, he has said that Hunter still harbors quite a… crush on Kinney. And Debbie believes that the kid might try to call here. And if he does, that Kinney might be able to get him to talk more about what he knows-"

Brian scoffs. Having tried so far to suppress it, he snorts an ironic laugh. "What he knows? And me? Why the fuck would he be willing to talk to me any more than he'd be willing to talk to Mikey or Ben? And why do you think he knows more than he's already said?" He laughs again. "Crush. Jesus Christ. Teenagers." Realizing what he has just said and remembering how Hunter had treated Justin during their few encounters, he glances quickly at the blond. Justin isn't smiling, and his jaw is set. 'Fuck,' Brian thinks.

"Because," the former cop answers, "first of all… Michael and Ben are like parents, or as close to parents as Hunter has right now. Talking about this with overly concerned 'elders' is pretty rare for teens. But, it may be that he would feel more comfortable talking to you. If not for any other reason than he wants to impress you, have a reason for you to be in contact. I really need to find him to talk to him, Kinney, and he refuses to say where he and Michael are. And Michael is going along with it- short of telling Ben the other day that they were in Altoona, neither has said further where they are or where they are heading, to anyone. Michael is worried that everyone's phones are tapped or something, and they could be traced- I wish I could convince him to at least let me know where they are. I'd like to talk to Hunter- in person. And finally," Horvath says, taking a deep breath, "there's this." He tosses a folded up letter in front of Brian. Justin reaches over to take it.

Unfolding it, Justin reads aloud:

"Sweetheart," he began,

"You know by now how sorry I am that you had to find out about Jason the way that you did. You also know how much I love you- we have a bond that is unique, that will never die. It's just when you are away for such long stretches at a time, I get lonely. Jason is a twink, sweet, naïve, easy to please- but he means little to me, and nothing compared to you. I hadn't known that your son and Jason were friends- I didn't make the connection when you wrote me about your son's friend from the vaseline towers. Believe me, I was shocked to find you and Jimmy at the door as Jason was leaving- I hadn't expected you to come over without calling first. I know that sounds lame- but I didn't want you to find out about him like that. I was glad when Jason and Jimmy went off to play Nintendo- I don't think either of them caught the importance of that moment… but, Christ, Gary, the hurt in your eyes stabbed me like a knife. It stabbed me like a knife, and I never want to see that look again. I like Jason very much, but never like I do you- I love you. It's so ironic that your son's best friend turned out to be Jason- again, please believe that I had no idea. Please believe me, and understand that he is just there for me when I'm lonely, when you're gone. You know how much I love you.

Gary, I want you here with me. Bring Jimmy. We can be a family. Your wife is a cunt- I know you feel guilty for having left Jimmy with her, but he's with you now- you had to leave her, Gary- she's dangerous, vicious. You didn't have a job at that time, you had no means to support Jimmy, so you were right to leave him with her. How could you know what she would do? She abused you, your son, and both of you needed to leave her for good. And thank goodness you both are now safe and sound, together again. Please move in with me, Gary. You are welcome here. Jason will be history if you commit to me. We can move anywhere you want, now that I'm no longer with the police force- I will follow you anywhere.

Stockwell's campaign is going well for him, and I've been laying low. I can't begrudge him for asking me to resign the force. When he found out that I was gay, he was wary of me staying on the force. He said it would ruin his chances of becoming mayor. I must admit, I think he might have found out about Jason, although he didn't mention him. Still, he saved my life seven years ago, and for that, I owe him everything. I know you can't stand him, but he's really a good man. As much as he has changed over the last year or so, I have to believe that his heart is still good, that he will do the right thing.

Please remember always: I love you. Write soon. I miss you.

Forever,

Ken."

They are quiet for some time. Brian chews lightly on his thumb, thinking. After mulling over the surprising revelations he's just heard, he wonders, 'Why did he have a letter from himself to his lover?'

"Why did he have this letter?" Justin asks. Brian lets loose with a soft chuckle. Fucking mindreader, that boy.

"What do you mean?" Carl asks.

"Well, he must not have sent it." Justin explains.

Carl pauses, then nods. "I guess not..."

"When was it written?" Brian asks.

Justin glances down at the piece of paper in his fingers. "About two months before Debbie found Jason Kemp in the dumpster behind the diner," he remarks. Brian raises his eyebrows, not sure if that is really significant or not.

"Listen, boys," Carl interrupts, "I'm going to leave this stuff with you this afternoon so you can read through it. I have to get back to Debbie's- she says Michael is planning to call at 3, and I want to be there in case Hunter might be willing to talk to me- tell me where they're at. It's worth a shot."

Justin places the letter back onto the counter and stands up. "Sorry to hear about your being let go from the force," he says, again offering his hand. Brian just takes a gulp of water and straightens up. Carl shakes Justin's hand and heads for the door.

"You boys don't mind me telling you about all of this? I know it's out of the blue, and I realize it's not any business of yours. Or mine, either, perhaps. But if my suspicions are correct, Stockwell is a very dangerous man who still has way too much power... and from what I have seen of you two in action, as sleazy and underhanded as it was, you're pretty effective forces to reckon with..."

"Detective Horvath--" Brian starts.

"Carl." Horvath corrects.

Brian sighs, "OK, whatever. Carl. I have one question. Why the fuck do you care about all of this? Besides losing your job, which may or may not be for the reasons you think: what the hell do you care what happens to a bunch of fags? Stockwell doesn't pose any threat to Pittsburgh's glorious breeder population. Only the perverted queers have to watch their backs..." Justin thinks Brian sounds pretty rude, and he looks at his feet, a bit embarrassed.

Carl is quiet a moment. "Well, Kinney, I guess you could say that I care because I'm in love with a loud-mouthed, red-headed waitress who doesn't take shit without a fight... and who is a self-proclaimed advocate for all you 'perverted queers'."

Brian rolls his eyes. "Ah. The love of a good woman. Fuck that..." he mumbles.

"Brian!" Justin interjects. God, sometimes he can be such an ass, Justin thinks.

Horvath ignores Brian's sarcastic remark. "And," he continues, "having learned what little I have through reading those letters, this woman I love has a 'perverted queer' son- your best friend- who is on the run with a potential dead boy. I can't be sure, but that Hunter kid may know a lot more than he's let on so far- that's why I want to find him. He may be in a lot of danger. And Michael may very well find himself in the line of fire."

Brian looks at the former detective soberly, letting what he said sink in.

"However you want to put it, Kinney, here I am. You can help me if you want. Or not. It's up to you. But I know you love your friend very much. And even if you didn't," he smiled, trying to lighten things a little bit, "I am certain that you know Debbie's wrath. So I would think about it carefully. After all, it was her idea that I talk to you to elicit your help. Not mine."

But Brian doesn't find any humor at all in what the man is saying.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Kinney. I'll get the number from Debbie." With that, he slides open the loft door and lets himself out. Brian turns his eyes towards the collection of items strewn on the counter.

"Fuck me..." Brian mutters. Justin just stands there.

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