Blinded

Chapter 22

Brian had dressed and he and Trent had made a pot of coffee. Neither of them would get any more sleep that night. Trent had called the police using the number Carver had provided on his card. Brian had talked to some detective at the station. He was told that Detective Carver was not scheduled to be in until the morning. However, the cop promised to call Carver even though it was four in the morning. Brian felt better about talking to Carver than somebody that he had never met before … or maybe somebody that he had met. He shivered at the thought.

When Brian had mentioned attempted murder he could tell by the reaction on the other end of the line that he had really gotten their attention. The detective had wanted to come right over, asking if Brian had been injured. Brian told him the whole story but he insisted that he wanted to talk to Carver, no one else. Finally that was when the man had agreed to call the detective at home.

Brian and Trent sat at the dining room table drinking coffee and talking. Brian got to know his former trick in a way that he never had with any of the others. He had never given any of them a chance. All he wanted from them he had had in bed. Once that release was over he had wanted them to disappear. After talking to Trent Brian had to wonder how many other men he might have liked and wanted for friends if he had only given them a chance. He'd never know.

Trent told Brian about working in an insurance office. It was a boring and tedious job, but it provided him with a livelihood regardless of how "unlively" his existence was. He wanted to be a writer and had truly loved Brian's first novel. He said the main character was just the kind of gay man that he wished he could be. Brian snorted but refrained from informing Trent that the character was based on him. He just said that he had known many executives like that character.

Brian and Trent waited not knowing how long it might take Carver to arrive, or if he would arrive at all before daybreak. A little after five a.m. the buzzer sounded signaling Carver's presence. Trent buzzed him up.

Detective Carver entered the loft giving Trent a cursory look. He went directly to Brian who was still sitting at the table.

"Mr. Kinney, someone tried to kill you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Brian replied.

"Tell me what happened."

Brian proceeded to tell the detective about the harrowing events of a few hours earlier. The detective listened carefully and made some notes. As Brian got near the end of his story, he told about how Trent had saved him from falling over the edge and had brought him safely back to the loft. The detective looked appraisingly at the other man.

"And what's your full name?" he asked Trent.

"Trent Marchment."

"And what were you doing on that roof, Mr. Marchment?"

Trent hesitated not quite knowing how to answer that. "Trent's my stalker," Brian said for him. "He's the one who has been sending those notes."

"And now he's here in your apartment? Isn't that rather odd? Are you sure he had nothing to do with what happened on that roof?"

Trent gasped. Not only was he labeled as the stalker, he was now being accused of trying to kill Brian. "Fuck!" he sighed running his hands through his hair.

"Detective," Brian began, "Trent saved my life. Without him interrupting the guy I would be dead on the sidewalk outside right now."

"Okay, I get that," Carver said slightly annoyed, "but it's my job to explore all the possibilities."

"I understand, but don't pick on Trent. He saved me, stayed with me, and he's here now. He did nothing that is criminal." Trent had to smile at Brian's kind words.

Carver raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go. "So what's your theory about who would want to kill you, Mr. Kinney?"

"Until Trent rescued me, I would have thought like you that he was the chief suspect. But I know it was someone else. He didn't say much but he had a harsh … bitter voice."

"Bitter?" Carver asked.

"Yeah, like life had done him wrong."

"That's a very strange thing to say about someone who is trying to push you off the roof."

"That's the funny part," Brian said thoughtfully. "He wanted me to jump. He kept yelling at me to jump until Trent arrived."

"He didn't get rough? Was there a gun?" Carver asked.

"Not that I know of. Did you see a gun, Trent?"

"No," Trent replied concisely.

"Did you get a good look at this guy?" Carver asked Trent.

"Between the blizzard and what he had on and being scared shitless I don't remember much."

"What do you remember?"

"He had a dark jacket and a ski hat pulled down onto his face. He had scary eyes. He looked right at me as he ran past."

"Could you identify him if you saw him?"

"I doubt it," Trent admitted. "It all happened so fast and I was worried that Brian was going to go over the edge."

"So how did he get you up on that roof?" Carver asked turning back to Brian.

"After he got the loft door open, I was … scared. He ordered me to get up and told me where to walk to. He kept barking orders at me. When I realized he was trying to make me go to the roof, I tried to push him down the stairs but he didn't fall. He shoved me out the door to the roof. That's the first time he even touched me. He kept yelling 'Jump' when I got to the edge. He pushed me after Trent yelled at him."

Carver looked thoughtful. "He had no gun. He barely touched you, but he was determined that you were going off that roof?"

"That's right," Brian concurred.

"It sounds like he wanted it to look like suicide."

"Suicide?" Brian said in wonder. "Why would he want it to look like suicide?"

"How should I know?" Carver said. "We don't even know why someone's trying to kill you in the first place."

Brian sat staring into the darkness. Something was rattling around in his brain if he could only put his finger on it. The silence hung over the three as they all thought about who might be doing this. "There's something we're missing," Brian said slowly.

"Obviously," Carver retorted. "My partner's on the roof looking for clues. Maybe he'll have some ideas."

"Your partner?" Brian asked. "You never had a partner before."

"I've always had a partner," Carver corrected him. "It's just that we didn't need two of us to interview you about the mugging, and he was off sick the day I came to the loft."

"The mugging," Brian repeated. "You know," he said slowly, "I've almost been killed three times in the last three weeks."

"Three times?" Trent gasped.

"Yeah, the mugging and the roof, but a couple of days ago Justin and I were walking to the movie rental store when someone running along the street rammed into me and knocked me in front of an SUV. Luckily the driver was able to stop in time. I could have been killed."

"And each time it was meant to look like something other than an attempt to kill you," Carver observed. "They must be connected. Thee times like that is no coincidence."

"Shit!" Brian reacted. "Now I am scared. What the fuck is going on?"

"Are you sure you can't think of any reason why somebody would want to hurt you?"

Brian shook his head. He had no idea.

"Dan," a voice said quietly from the doorway. "I didn't find anything on the roof."

"We're not getting anywhere here either," Carver replied. "This is my partner, Ken."

Trent nodded and Brian looked up even though he couldn't see anything. Ken stayed in the doorway barely stepping into the loft. "Are you just about done?" he asked. "I got a call from the station. We need to get back."

"I don't think there's much else I can do here," Carver said. "I'd advise you not to be alone, Mr. Kinney, and get a more secure lock on your door."

"And that's it?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"There's not much more I can do. If you think of anyone who might have it in for you, call me."

Brian could tell they were leaving. He dreaded being alone. He wondered if Trent would stay until Cynthia arrived.

When the cops had left and Trent and Brian were alone, Trent stared at Brian like he was seeing him through different eyes. "Brian," he said, "is there anyone I can call for you?"

"No, not really. What time is it?"

"Almost six, why?"

"My assistant is supposed to be here around nine. Would it be possible for you to stay until she arrives?"

"I can do that," Trent said. "I'll call in and tell them I'm going to be an hour late."

"Thanks," Brian said sincerely. "After everything else that you've done, I really appreciate you staying. I don't want to be alone."

"I can understand that, and there might be something you can do for me if you would."

Brian groaned inwardly. He had come to like Trent since their talk and he owed him his life, but there was no way he would welcome him back into his bed. "What would that be?" Brian asked slowly dreading the answer.

"I'm writing a novel," Trent explained. "Do you think you could introduce me to your publisher? Maybe he would be interested in it."

Brian released a sigh of relief. "I can do that," he said quickly. "But you understand that there's no guarantee that he will like it."

"I know. In fact I was thinking of asking you to read it first, but since it's not out on tape…" Trent laughed uneasily.

"Yeah, that does present a problem."

"Anyway, if your editor or publisher would look at it and tell me if it has a chance, I'd really appreciate that."

"Let's make another pot of coffee, and then you can sit down and tell me what your book's about," Brian said.

"I'd like that," Trent said moving to the kitchen. Brian could feel the shift in their 'relationship'. He smiled to himself.

Some time later the phone rang. It was Justin checking in before he went to school. Brian pretended that everything was fine. He didn't want the boy worrying all day.

By the time Cynthia arrived just after nine Brian had gotten to know Trent quite well. He was a nice, seemingly kind man who had had some rough times in his life. That was what his novel was about, those rough times. Brian had no idea whether the book would be any good, but he could see why Trent would want to write about it. Many authors were exorcising demons. In a weird way that was what he had done with his first novel.

Brian introduced Trent to Cynthia. He could imagine the look on her face wondering who the hell this guy was. She probably thought that he was a trick that Brian had kept around for some unfathomable reason. And in a way he was. As soon as Cynthia got there Trent said he had to take off for work.

"I can't afford to lose this job no matter how crappy it is," he said.

"Thanks for everything, Trent," Brian said shaking the man's hand at the door.

"Can I call you some time?" Trent asked.

"I'd prefer a call to your other form of communication," Brian said wryly.

"Me too. Take care, Brian."

Trent left hastily and Cynthia looked at Brian. That had not sounded like her boss. "What was that all about?"

Brian knew he was going to have to explain it all eventually. "Let's sit down and I'll tell you the dastardly tale." He dreaded having to tell Justin when he arrived after school. He was torn as to whether to send him home and keep him safe or keep him at the loft where they could be together and fight the forces of evil. It was hardly funny, he chastised himself. What the fuck was he going to do?

"So, late last night…"