Carl was the one to take the call from the station house. He and Brian were in Carl's car. The Jeep had been left behind at the precinct parking lot. They were working a case involving an attack on a businessman who had been left for dead in his office parking lot. They were helping out another team of investigators while waiting for a fresh lead on the gay bashing cases. The businessman's case had nothing to do with their own case. The weapon had been a knife to the ribs and didn't involve a beating of any kind. The minute Carl got off the phone he passed on the news that he had just received to his partner and hurried over to the other Detectives standing near the site where the victim had been found an hour earlier. His quick explanation as to why he they needed to leave got a nod from the lead Detective which left Brian and Carl free to go.

On the way to their destination, which was miles away from where they had been, they talked excitedly about this new tip they had just received. It could possibly be the one thing that would lead them to the perps they had been hunting for months now. They just hoped it would be a good tip that panned out. As quickly as they could they arrived outside the bar that the tipster had mentioned in his call. As soon as they began driving into the neighborhood where the bar was located, they knew they would be dealing with a much less refined group of people than they had dealt with after Billy's bashing. This part of town was half industrial and half residential, consisting of lower income families barely holding on in run-down housing and a stagnant economy. The street in front of the shabby old bar was almost deserted. It was well after the lunch hour but much too early for most workers to be home yet. The Detectives weren't surprised to see so few folks were out and about. 

As the Detectives crossed the cracked sidewalk to reach the weathered door to the bar, they entered and were surprised at how empty the place was. It wasn't very large but there were half a dozen booths along the left side wall and a long bar along the right side. A few shabby, old tables and chairs were spaced a few feet apart near the back of the room and they could see an old pool table just past those. There was one scruffy-looking older man sitting at the bar nursing a beer from his bottle, and another tired-looking younger man with a large pot belly squeezed into one of the booths with a drink in front of him and a bowl of peanuts. Outside of the bartender, there was no one else. 

It had been less than a half hour since the 911 call came into the station and the message claimed that the bar was half-full of patrons. If that was true, they had certainly disappeared quickly. The message had also indicated the caller would wait for the police to arrive, but neither of the two men present had even bothered to look up when Brian and Carl walked in. It certainly didn't look like they were expecting anyone. A look of disappointment crossed between the two Detectives but they walked up to the bar anyway. They both pulled out their badges and after identifying themselves, began asking questions of the barkeep .

It didn't take long for Brian and Carl to realize that something wasn't right. The bartender informed the officers that there hadn't been more than a couple of patrons in the bar all day. He wasn't expecting a crowd until nearly five o'clock which was still hours away. When Carl gave the description of the man they were supposedly going to meet up with at the bar to get further details on the suspicious conversation, the bartender snorted. He hadn't seen anyone that matched that description all day, and didn't recognize it at all. He swore that he knew every patron that entered the bar but the man they were looking for wasn't among his customers, at least not to his knowledge. Since the bar was his business and he worked it all day, his story rang true. 

After a few minutes of discussion between the Detectives, Brian got an idea. He told Carl to wait a minute while he checked out the bathroom. He had a hunch. Less than a minute later, Carl saw Brian hurrying back to him from the back of the bar where the bartender had pointed out the location of the men's room. 

"Carl, there's no way someone could have stayed hidden and overheard a conversation between a bunch of men in that bathroom. You should see the place. It would barely pass the health inspectors and there are only two urinals against the one wall and only one cramped stall with a door that won't stay closed right next to those. There are two tiny sinks against the other wall but barely enough room in that place for three men at a time, let alone several men chatting while another one stayed well hidden. I don't know if someone is playing a practical joke on us or is just plain crazy, but this ear witness to a conspiratorial conversation about the bashings didn't hear it in that bathroom, if at all."

The two men were bitterly disappointed. They had been hopeful that this was the one big break they had been praying for. It was obviously a blind alley that would lead them nowhere. They left the establishment both unhappy that the long ride over to the place had been for nothing and royally pissed off at their wasted time and energy. Whoever was playing the prank was in deep shit trouble if they ever found out who set them up. They jumped back into Carl's vehicle and decided to take their delayed lunch break back at the Liberty Diner. It would take approximately twenty minutes to get there, but at least the whole day wouldn't be wasted.

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It had been nearly an hour since Chris had made his phony 911 call when, from his hiding place behind a tall statue, he saw Justin start to gather up his sketch pad and pencils. Chris knew what this meant. Justin was a creature of habit for the most part. He almost always stopped around this time to go to the men's room to wash up and then head over to the little cafe that was housed in the lobby of the Museum. It was seldom crowded this late in the afternoon and Chris had figured out that this was probably why Justin would usually stop to eat around this time. He didn't really care why Justin had fallen into the habit...he was just glad it had made things easier to know when to strike.

Chris waited until he saw Justin heading off and then began to tail him. He was happy to see that the Museum was almost deserted. It normally was on the weekday at this hour....another advantage for Chris. Chris knew exactly what the men's room looked like. It was quite modern with half a dozen urinals lined up at the back of the room and two rows of stalls on both sides of the room. A bank of sinks and hand dryers lined the walls between the stalls and the door. Chris was prepared for this moment. He had stolen one of the 'Closed for Cleaning' signs that the cleaning services people used at the Museum and stashed it behind some boxes in a small cleaning supply closet not far from the bathroom door. 

As soon as Chris saw Justin entering the bathroom, he hurried to the closet and was relieved to find that the sign was still hidden. He grabbed it quickly and returned to the bathroom a few yards down the short hallway off the main viewing rooms. He caught another break because there were still no signs of other visiting patrons or employees nearby. It emboldened Chris and he set the sign right in front of the bathroom door in hopes of keeping any unexpected visitors out. The bathroom didn't have a lock he could have used to ensure his privacy. As soon as the sign was set up, he cautiously pushed open the bathroom door. All would be lost if Justin was in the wrong place now. 

With the door open enough to peek inside, Chris could see that Justin was indeed inside a stall, something that he had noticed the blond often did before sitting down to eat. It was ideal for what Chris needed....either that or having his back to the front of the men's room while using a urinal would be perfect for what Chris wanted to do. Chris bent down to make a check. He was relieved to see only one pair of shoes on the floor in the stalls....the third one down. All the others were empty. Chris congratulated himself again on his good fortune. Any deviation from his plan would have caused him to abort the whole thing for the time being, but that wasn't going to be necessary now. Everything was falling into place perfectly.

Chris positioned himself at the end of the line of stalls. He was hidden from view of anyone exiting a stall until they reached the end of the line to get to one of the sinks. Chris let the tire iron he had been hiding in his pants slip out as he pulled it from its resting place along his outer leg. He hefted the thing in his hand and felt its cold metal. He almost caressed the rounded head of the iron which he would use to strike his blows. He liked the feel of the flat end of the piece which he would use to grip as he made his deadly swings. He was satisfied. Now all he needed was Justin. He waited patiently for the sound of the toilet to flush.

Several minutes passed and Chris began to grow agitated. He could hear Justin inside the stall, humming to himself. Chris didn't recognize the song at first but after a few more bars he began to remember hearing the song at that decadent dance club he had frequented in order to keep closer tabs on Justin and his boyfriend and learn more about the two from their acquaintances. It had a wild beat and wasn't Chris' type of music at all. He could remember how all those perverted men would twist their hips and thrust out their pelvises to that very song. No wonder, he thought, that Justin was humming it. Just as Chris thought he could take no more of the waiting, he heard the toilet flushing. His entire body went still and his fingers tensed up on the handle of the tire iron. It was time!

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Justin finished his business and flushed. He had been daydreaming about dancing with Brian while taking care of business and his favorite song kept running through his head. All he wanted was for the weekend to hurry and get here. He loved dancing in Brian's arms almost more than anything. Of course, doing anything in Brian's arms was pure pleasure. As Justin stepped out of the stall, he started to walk toward the bank of sinks at the end of the line of stalls. At that very moment, a young mother was cursing under her breath. Her five-year-old son refused to go into the ladies room at the other end of the hallway and now she found the men's room closed. Her poor son was bouncing from foot to foot. He couldn't hold it much longer. In an instant the woman decided that there was no reason she couldn't ask the cleaning lady or janitor if they would allow her son to just have a quick pee and they would be out of everyone's hair. The worst they could say was 'no' and then she would insist on Junior using the ladies room.

With her decision made, the mother pushed open the door. At that very instant, Justin rounded the corner of the first stall on his way to the sink. Chris had his hand raised with the tire iron ready to strike. Both men were startled by the woman's scream as she pulled her son close against her skirt to protect him from the sight in front of her. Chris and Justin's heads both pivoted towards the door but it was too late to stop the momentum of Chris' forward swing. The tire iron crashed to the side of Justin's turned head. 

Chris and the woman heard the sharp cry of pain as metal met flesh. Chris looked back at Justin and saw red suddenly appear on the side of his head as if paint had been unexpectedly splashed on his pale blond hair. Justin stood like a statue for all of a tenth of a second and then, like an accordion squeezed too tightly by a musician, he folded down to the ground. The woman screamed again and this time it was the catalyst needed for Chris to panic. He dropped the tire iron from his hand and rushed the woman, pushing her against the door jamb. He flung the door open wider and ran from the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He had screwed up big time and he knew it, but he needed to get away to somewhere safe where he could think things through. He left behind his victim, completely unsure of whether he had done any real damage at all. Even worse, he left behind an eyewitness still screaming for help.

All hell broke loose in a matter of moments. A guard came rushing down the hallway from the other end of where Chris was escaping. He followed the sounds of the screams and was shocked by what he saw when he opened the men's room door. A young woman was on her knees next to the body of a young man and begging him to be alright. A very young boy was standing behind the woman and sniffling out of fear. He didn't know why his mother had screamed so much but he knew it was really bad. The guard hurried over to the woman and knelt down next to her. He could see a pool of blood forming under the head of the young man, turning his blond hair a crimson red. The young man was totally unconscious. 

The guard was an ex-soldier who had served overseas in the war and knew better than to move the victim. He rapidly called 911 on his cell phone and then used his walkie-talkie to call his boss for assistance. He did his best to get information from the clearly traumatized woman, but only was able to understand that she didn't know the victim but had seen the attacker. By the time she gave a description, which was not very thorough since she had been so shocked at first that very little had registered in her mind, Chris was already safely out the doors of the Museum and on his way to a hiding place. 

An ambulance arrived within minutes after the 911 call and a number of police were right behind them. The police found Justin's drivers license in his tote bag. It had his mother's home address. A quick call revealed the phone number. As the ambulance drove off with Justin inside, Jennifer was getting the call that all mothers dread the most. When the policemen told her the name of the hospital they were taking Justin to, she immediately thought of Brian. 

"Has anyone told his boyfriend what happened? He's a policeman too," Jennifer asked, not worrying whether Brian was openly gay on the job or not. All she knew was that he hadn't protected Justin like he had promised.

"His boyfriend? And who is that, Mrs. Taylor? Do you know what precinct he works out of?"

Jennifer hung up after passing on this information. She was in a hurry to get to her son. She wanted to scream but she knew she had to stay in control. Her son would need her. They said he was hurt but no one said how badly. At least they hadn't told her he had been killed. The thought brought shudders of racking pain to her mind and heart. She quickly called a neighbor and asked the old friend to pick up Molly at school when it let out, promising to call as soon as she knew what was going on with her son. Jennifer then dashed off for the hospital. Only then did she let tears start to flow, almost blinding her as she made her way to her son's side.

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Brian and Carl had just started to chomp into their sandwiches served up by the tranny named Kiki who was grousing about the low tips she was getting during the bad financial times they were in. She was working the shift just before Debbie's night shift so Carl was missing his favorite waitress. Brian's phone began to ring and a quick check showed it was the station house. They had already called in the code for lunch break so the call was a surprise. Brian glowered at the phone but flipped it open and answered.

"What is it? Can't a guy stop to get a bite to eat? We can't work on an empty stom......"

Carl looked up from his plate. He was about to add his two cents to the protest when he saw Brian's face. It had drained of all color. He was as pale as the white napkin next to their plates. That's when he noticed that Brian's hand was beginning to shake as he held the cell to his ear.

"Brian, what's going on?" asked a worried Carl.

It took a moment for Brian to find his voice again. He held the dead phone in his hand, looking at it as if it were a venomous snake that had just stuck its fangs into him. He stared at Carl, barely seeing him through the fear that clouded his vision.

"That....that was our Commander. He just got a call from a Detective working a case who spoke with Jennifer Taylor. She told him that they needed to get in contact with her son's boyfriend and let him know what had happened." 

Brian's voice had slowly dropped almost to a whisper, as if speaking out loud would make everything too real. He shuddered and looked Carl directly in the eye as he struggled to finish the message. 

"Carl, Justin's been attacked....right out in a public place....the fucking Museum for Gawd's sake! What the fuck was he doing at the Museum? Damn it Carl, what the fuck was he doing there alone?"

Carl could see that Brian was beginning to lose it. He grabbed Brian's hands and held them to the table.

"Brian, calm down!" he ordered. "Where is Justin and did they say how bad it was?"

Brian forced himself to gather his thoughts. He didn't know whether his stongest urge was to scream....or hit something. Carl's voice pierced through his anguish and he knew he had to answer.

"He's been taken to Pittsburgh Memorial. They said he's alive but that was all they knew for now. I've got to get there Carl...now!"

"Of course you do," Carl agreed readily. "I'll pay the bill. Meet me at the car."

Two minutes later, Carl's car was on the road and rushing to the hospital. The man sitting next to Carl was shaking so badly that the older man knew they would never have made it alive to the hospital if Brian had been driving. He was grateful that they had chosen his car to start their day at work. 

Brian remained silent as his mind flashed back to some of the happiest moments of his life...the day he first saw Justin crouching beside a car he was about to vandalize....the day he spotted the beautiful blond on Liberty Avenue for the first time and took him home with him to protect him from his father's anger.....the night he helped Justin to celebrate his eighteenth birthday....all the nights the two of them went dancing together, usually followed by some high-voltage lovemaking afterwards....that very special night that he took Justin home from his Prom.....the night he finally admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with Justin which led to asking his young lover to move in with him while attending Art School...all the memories of why he loved Justin more than anything or anyone else in his life. But despite that love, he had failed Justin...failed to protect him from the evil he had somehow known was threatening the young man. Brian dug his fingernails into his palm, drawing blood, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Justin simply had to be alright. Nothing less was acceptable. Nothing else was survivable.

To be continued..........................................