A personal note from the author:
I want to express my heartfelt thanks to all who have taken the time to write to me. Most of the emails I've received have expressed how much they're enjoying the story. However, a few have expressed how they personally identify with Stevey because of their own abuse. My heart bleeds for those who have been subjected to such inhumanity. While I didn't originally intend to make a statement with this story, I hope that those who need it can find comfort in the justice Stevey's abusers will eventually receive. It is to those men, young and old, that I dedicate this story. I pray that God blesses them with love and understanding.
Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 16:
"Do you love Tim?"
My breath caught again. "Yes, I love Tim."
"Then what's wrong? Tim loves you and you love Tim, so why aren't you here? Tim's walking around here like he's trying to remember where he left his car, and he loves that car more than anything! Except you, of course!"
"Well, you and Tim should talk. I can't say anything more about it." I was starting to choke up.
"Okay, I will. Wait a second."
I heard some movement again. "Stevey!"
"Yeah?"
"Stevey, what're you up to?"
"What? Nothing!"
"Stevey! I know you're going to get Tim on the phone! If you do, I'll hang up!"
"Just a minute!"
I hung up.
Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 17 My cell phone rang almost immediately. Caller I.D. told me it was Stevey calling back. I turned it off and hid it, so Nell couldn't find it. I know I'm being a weenie, a wimp, a total wuss. I can't help myself. That's just the way I am. I don't like being hurt! I don't think anyone does. I want to get over this awful feeling, this deep emotional pain! I want to feel good again! I sat on the bed, unable to think of what to do with myself. Then I looked down at the notepad that lay beside me. The name, "Inspector Blodgette" stared back at me. For some strange reason, I didn't want to be nude when I spoke to this guy. I searched for some clothes. I finally found what I thought would be comfortable. I put on a pair of too-large, faded blue jeans and an extra-large t-shirt, a souvenir of a long-ago visit to Carmel. No under shorts or shoes, just pants and shirt. It felt loose and comfortable. >From my landline, I dialed the number. "Department of Public Safety. How may I direct your call?" (DPS is the state police in Texas.) "Inspector Blodgette, please." "One moment." I heard a series of clicks and rings then the same gruff voice answered accusingly, "Blodgette." "Inspector Blodgette, this is Geoffrey Stewart. I'm returning your call." "Yes, Mr. Stewart! There are some questions that need answering. Can you come to my office? It shouldn't take long." I thought a moment. For some reason, I didn't want to be on his turf. At least, not today and not by myself. "Actually, that's not convenient. Can you come to my house?" I didn't think he'd like that. There was a pregnant pause. My instinct was right. "Mr. Stewart, I was hoping you'd be cooperative. I'm quite busy with investigating this case. Two boys were allegedly kidnapped, a paramilitary group took the law into its own hands, and two men were shot. There's an awful lot of explaining to do." "WHO WAS SHOT?" I demanded. "The alleged kidnappers." I groaned to myself. That'll make it difficult for Frank and his friends! But, I had the impression the Inspector was not thrilled with having to do the paperwork. With all the righteous indignation I could muster, I said, "First of all Inspector, the kidnapping was NOT alleged, the group may NOT have been paramilitary, and I had no idea anyone had been shot! All I know is that two thirteen year-old boys were kidnapped and sexually assaulted! I was able to help get them back to their parents, and for that, I am incredibly grateful!" Another pause. It doesn't seem as if this guy can think very fast. I've already decided I need to get my attorney to be with me when I talk to this guy. "Mister Stewart! You're very close to crossing the line in this case! I still haven't decided if I need to get a warrant for your arrest!" I puffed out my chest. I learned long ago that body language, even over the phone, makes you sound fiercer. "Inspector Blodgette! Have I yet refused to answer your questions? Have I yet told you that I wouldn't talk with you? I want nothing more than to have the two lowlife scum that kidnapped these two boys for their own sick purposes put behind bars! Now, do you want to come to my house this evening, or do you want me to come to your office tomorrow? It's your choice." Another pause. I can almost hear the gears grinding. "Mister Stewart, I'm sorry. It's been a long weekend." (I think I heard a pencil break. He must not apologize very often.) "Why don't you come to my office tomorrow? I don't think any harm will come by waiting a few hours. It's at DPS Headquarters." I changed my demeanor to "congenial." In what I hoped would be a pleasant voice, I said, "That would be fine. What time would you like to meet?" "About nine o'clock would be fine." I thought a moment. "I'm sorry, Inspector, I have a doctor's appointment at nine. Can we make it later?" I think I heard another pencil break. Either that or it was Blodgette's mind. In either event, it was a small noise. In a dejected tone, he said, "Just come in when you can. I'll be here." "Thank you, Inspector. I'll come to your office directly from my doctor's appointment." "Fine. I'll see you in the morning." "Good-bye, Inspector." I pushed the switch hook before I hung up, so he wouldn't think I slammed the phone down. He was verrrry tense! I picked up my cell phone and called the number I had programmed for my attorney's cell phone. It was Sunday, but I had already sent him on an errand to rescue Frank! "Hello, Carl? This is Alan Stewart. How're you doing?" He sounded exhilarated. I thought that odd. "Alan! I'm great! I was about to call you. There's a problem. Frank just told me the story about what's been going on. I heard about the kidnapping on the news, but I had no idea I'd be getting involved in it! The problem is that Frank has about fifteen friends that were arrested along with him. The charges are mostly Breaking and Entering, Interfering with a Police Action, Resisting Arrest, and Assault with a Deadly Weapon. Do you want me to spring everyone?" "Hell, yes! Get them out of there!" "I thought you'd say something along those lines. The only problem is that some of these guys have records, and some of their past convictions are similar to the current charges. It might be difficult to get them out." "Carl, do what you can. Assemble a team if you have to, but do everything possible to get them out, and then defend them later. Understand?" "Perfectly. Frank's being processed out as we speak. The others may take a little longer. I'll talk to you later." "Carl! I'm not done yet!" "I'm here! What is it?" "I'll need you with ME tomorrow. Inspector Blodgette of the DPS wants to question me in his office at DPS Headquarters. Can you be there sometime between ten and eleven?" "Hmmm. I might be free by then. Can you call me when you know for sure what time?" "Sure. It'll be after my doctor's appointment. I'll call you on your cell." "That'll work! See you tomorrow." "Good luck. And Carl, give Frank a big wet kiss for me!" (Carl's about the same size as Frank and just as straight.) "Uh, yeah. I'll TELL him you said that!" I laughed out loud. He knows my warped sense of humor. "I guess that'll have to do. Bye, Carl." "Bye, Alan," he groaned. I'd like to be there and hear that conversation! That ought to be a hoot! After I hung up my cell, it "jingled" at me to let me know I had another message. I looked at the little screen. I had, in fact, three messages. I decided I'd spoken to everyone I needed for the evening, so I turned it off. If one or more of them was from Tim, I don't know what I'd do. I have a tenuous enough grip on my emotions as it is. I don't want to test my control. I muddled my way through the evening, snacking a light supper (I wasn't hungry enough for a full meal), and went to bed early. For some reason I was quite tired. Tension will do that to you. The next morning, my internal alarm brought me bolting out of bed at five o'clock. It was too damned early! But, I was too wide-awake to go back to sleep. I looked over at the bed where I felt Tim should be. There wasn't even an impression of him there. Before I could stop myself, I leaned over and smelled the pillow. My heart sank. His scent lingered on the pillow he'd used. I could smell the slightly musty, but exhilarating scent of his hair. Immediately I was back on the boat, spooning Tim, our naked bodies nestled against one another. I succumb to my yearning for him and a lump came to my throat. Dammit! I'm the head of a large, prestigious computer consulting firm! I have 300 employees who rely on my ability to make decisions! BUT, I can't even get my own life settled! Somehow, it's easier to make major business decisions to keep my company on an even keel than it is to run my own life! I tried to put it all out of my mind as I showered, shaved, and performed my morning rituals. I decided to dress in a suit. Professional attire might be more appropriate for my meeting with "Inspector Gadget", as I decided to think of him. (Long ago, I had discovered that if people tried to intimidate me, if I thought of them in comical terms their bluster had no effect on me. It's just my way of putting on armor.) While I was thinking about the meeting, I decided to grab my digital camera and take some pics of the bullet holes in the Suburban. I printed them up on 4 by 6 photo paper and put them in an envelope in my inside coat pocket. There! I always like to go into meetings with surprise material! It's like pulling a rabbit out of a hat! I retrieved my cell phone from my sock drawer and turned it on. The three messages had multiplied to eight. I decided to listen to them. As I suspected, the first one was from Stevey. "Alan, you asshole! Call me back!" I chuckled and shook my head. That kid doesn't mince words! The next message was a hang up, but it was from Stevey's number and only a short time later. The next one was a hang up from Tim's cell phone. It was about an hour later. The rest were identical, evenly spaced through the night. I made up my mind to have a talk with Tim when I got to work. If he wants to work this out, we'll have to have some rules. I decided the major reason I was upset with Tim is that he didn't say anything to me when he left. If we expect a relationship to work, we'll have to agree to discuss our troubles with each other! I felt my heart lift a bit in the expectation that Tim and I might get back together. A short time later, I was standing in the kitchen, trying to decide which car to drive, when Nell came out of her rooms. "Ah, ha! So, you've decided to rejoin the living!" I smiled at her, but I saw she had a serious scowl on her face and her arms were crossed. She was serious! I lost my smile. "Yes. I have." "Alright, then! Tell me what you've done with that beautiful boy! Where's Tim?" she demanded. Did she really think I'd murdered him? I didn't expect to be in front of the Spanish Inquisition at seven o'clock in the morning! "He left." She bored holes through me as she narrowed her eyes. "Why?" she said accusingly. I shrugged, trying to remain casual, but not feeling so. My voice gave me away as I whispered, "Because he wanted to, I guess." "Why'd he want to? What did you say to him?" Through the lump in my throat, I said, "Nothing. I didn't say anything to him." I really didn't want to discuss this. "Then that's what you did wrong! SAY something to him, but get him back here! That's the happiest I've seen you in THREE YEARS! You just get your little butt out there and grovel if you have to, but GET HIM BACK!" I sighed. "I wish it were that easy." She sighed. "IT IS! Just DO something! This old woman hasn't got forever for you to figure this out! You'll be the death of me, Geoffrey Alan Stewart! Don't you know I've got a heart condition? You just can't DO this to an old woman!" Did I say that I love it when Nell mothers me? There's a reason I haven't said it. I don't! It makes me feel like a helpless little boy. On top of that, I can't stand it when she's right! I cleared my throat. "I'll tell you what. If I don't have him here by the end of the week, I'll start dating someone else." (I don't know who the blazes I'd date, so I'm bluffing. . . . I know! I'll pay an escort! At least that might put her off for a while!) "The end of the week? Are you crazy? I'll be dead and buried by then!" I chuckled. I'm negotiating my love life with a mad woman! "All right, two days, then." "Two days? I'll be in my coffin!" "Tonight?" She thought a moment. "I guess I can wait that long." She looked up at me with that scowl again. "I'm getting tired of looking at that tired little droopy butt of yours! I need some new eye candy! Tim's just what I need! Especially if he'll be running around here naked!" I smiled. I know she thinks of me as a surrogate son, so she's not as demented as she sounds. "Nell, has anyone ever told you that you're quite perverted?" "Yes, quite often. So, what's your point?" "No point! Just checking!" "So, you want breakfast for a change?" I looked at my watch. I had a little less than an hour to burn. "Okay, how about a piece of toast?" She clutched her chest. "Be still my beating heart! He's going to eat toast! Are you sure you can handle that much food? You won't founder will you?" If she were a man, I swear she'd be a drama queen! "Nell, just toast, okay?" She threw her hands in the air in surrender. "Just toast! You want anything on it? How about butter, jelly, eggs, sausage, pancakes, steak, . . ?" "Nell!" She shook her head in disgust. "Just toast," she said, dejectedly. She makes me laugh. That's why I love her. When she brought my toast to the kitchen table where I was sitting, she also brought margarine and my favorite seedless blackberry jam. So much for "just toast." I picked up the newspaper and was perusing the story on my adventure the previous evening. It said that the group of men who rescued the boys was a vigilante group of retired Navy Seals! Frank had never said he'd been in the service, much less as a Navy Seal! That explains a lot! The article went on to say that the boys were both thirteen and that their captors had sexually molested them! Stevey hadn't told me that, but I wonder if he hadn't gotten sidetracked before he finished his story. The article said that the boys' names wouldn't be released because of their age. Then it went on to say the kidnappers had been wounded when they started shooting at the boys' rescuers. The wounds were just superficial, but, by the sound of it, Frank's buddies were defending themselves. It'll be interesting to see how that plays out in court. I finished my toast (with margarine and jam), and kissed Nell on the cheek. "See you tonight." She scowled at me, again. I wonder if she practices "that look" in the mirror every morning. "Not if you don't bring that boy home with you!" Will she never let up? "Nell, I'll see what I can do. No one wants him here more than me." In an out-of-character moment, she whispered, "Alan, I know you love him. Get him back, please? I want you to be happy." I looked at her a moment, astonished. It isn't that often that she's this serious. I felt a large lump come to my throat, so I just nodded and kissed her cheek. When I got to the garage, I looked across the line of cars. None of them looked inviting, so I walked out to the "toy box" and began looking around. My eyes fell on my luxury Hum-Vee. It's painted gunmetal gray and the windows are so dark no one can see who's in it. Its appearance is quite intimidating and for some reason, it fit my mood. Inside, it's got all the latest entertainment gadgets: XM-radio, a 12 CD changer, DVD, and an amplifier and speakers that can wake the dead. But, on top of all that, it's quite comfortable. Marty was just coming in to work and he saw me eyeing the Hummer. "Taking the macho car?" I chuckled at him. "Yeah. By the way, the Suburban has some damage. Could you arrange to get it fixed?" "Damage? What kind of damage?" "Bullet holes." His eyes popped and his jaw dropped, but I gave him a look as if to say, "Don't ask." "Okay, I'll see to it." "Thanks." I knew he'd have to take it to the manufacturer in San Antonio. "Are you still seeing that tattooed guy? The one with all the body armor?" He chuckled. "Joe? Yeah, I still date him off and on. Why?" "Why don't you get him to follow you down there then have a night or two on the Riverwalk?" "On you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Of course! Why don't you go down Friday and spend the weekend?" "We could go today and spend a couple of days. Joe's out of work again." "Go ahead. I don't think anything around here is pressing. Enjoy!" I reached into my wallet, pulled out ten $100 bills, and handed them to him. He said, "Thanks, boss!" as he grabbed me and hugged me. "Don't mention it. . . . By the way: thanks for yesterday." "Don't mention it." He smiled a sad smile. I chuckled at him, then climbed into the Hummer and started it. Marty jogged to the overhead door and punched the button to open it. In no time, I was on the road and on my way to my first appointment. I arrived early at the office of "Dr. Prissypants" (actually, Dr. Phillips) and signed in. I didn't have to wait long before the nurse led me to an exam room, checked my blood pressure, and then told me to strip from the waist up. She plastered me with those little sticky electrodes and gave me a quick EKG. The doctor came in a short time later. "Hello, Mr. Stewart," he said while looking at my chart and EKG. "How've you been feeling?" "Fine, doctor. No complaints." He listened to my heart and lungs. "Mr. Stewart, you seem to be doing fine, but your blood pressure's a little high. Is there any reason for that?" I thought about all that had happened in the previous week and marveled that I'd lived through it. "The last few days have been . . . difficult." He raised an eyebrow. Why do people do that? Are they trying to make you feel uncomfortable? It always does me. "Do you care to tell me about it?" Okay, buster, you asked for it! "Things were rocking along all right until Thursday. That's when I realized that my own paranoia was destroying someone who means a lot to me and my love life was imploding. I didn't sleep that night. Then Friday, it was resolved." I started to choke up. I whispered, "Doc, Friday was the best day of my life! It continued until Saturday morning when all Hell broke loose. Saturday turned out to be the worst I've felt since my partner died three years ago." I realized tears were rolling down my cheeks and my nose was running. I must be going through some kind of depression! Small wonder. The Doc handed me a couple of tissues. I mopped my face and continued. "Sunday turned out a lot better, but I haven't worked out my personal issues, yet." "Does this have anything to do with that young man I saw with you in your room in the hospital?" I took a deep breath. He didn't seem to be acting negatively, just somewhat matter-of-fact. "Yes and no. Tim, the older young man that was with me, is the one I've fallen in love with. Friday is when we finally committed to one another. It was wonderful! Then his brother Stevey was kidnapped Saturday morning. That evening, Tim left me." I swallowed hard. "His brother was kidnapped?" He thought a moment. "Do you suppose your young man was feeling guilty that his brother was in trouble and he was happy?" That made too much sense. "That's possible, I guess. I'm don't know a lot about what makes people do what they do, except maybe in business." "It's just a suggestion, but he might need your comfort now, more than ever. Why don't you call him? Test the water? He could be regretting his actions." "I suppose that's possible. But his brother's safe, now. Yesterday, some friends of mine rescued Stevey and the friend that was kidnapped with him." "Those two were on the news! Were you there when they were rescued?" "Yeah, and I've got the bullet holes in my Suburban to prove it." "BULLET HOLES? Mr. Stewart . . ." "Alan." "Alan, you're recovering from a heart attack! You can't be stressing yourself like this!" I chuckled. "It's not like I planned for all this to happen. Believe me, it's not my idea of a good time. Except for Friday, of course." He looked at my chart again. "Considering what you've been through, your blood pressure looks quite normal. But, I want to see you again on Friday. And for God's sake, will you PLEASE rest?" I smiled at him. "I'll try. When I leave here, I have an appointment with a DPS inspector. It's about the kidnapping." He sighed and shook his head. "I heard about it on the news. I understand why they'll want to talk to you, but I want you to go home afterward. No more work for the rest of the week! Got it?" "Doc . . ." "Phil." "Phil. Phil? . . . Phillip Phillips?" He chuckled. "Yeah. My mother has a warped sense of humor." I smiled. "It shouldn't be hard to remember your name." "No." "Anyway, Phil, I'm the president of a very busy company. I've got a lot of people depending on me. I know you're about to say that they can't depend on a corpse, so don't go there. There's some work I have to catch up on this afternoon, then I'll rest. Deal?" "Those aren't the words I'd have chosen, but they'll do. I can only advise you, Alan. If you won't do as I say, then I can't help you." "Phil, I promise I'll be home by five. Will that do?" "Alan, it's up to you. I want you to rest for a week at home. Can you do that?" "Return to work next Monday?" "That'll be fine. Come see me on Friday, though. . . . And I hope it works out with that young man." "Thanks, Doc. . . . Phil." He shook my hand before he left. I quickly dressed, checked out at the front desk, and was in my Hummer calling Carl. "Alan! Where are you?" "Just leaving my doctor's office. Where are you?" "I'm in the DPS parking lot. I got Frank and twelve of his friends out last night. The other three have other problems. There were some outstanding warrants. I got the feeling they knew they were taking a chance yesterday. Do you still want me to defend them?" "Absolutely! What are their charges?" "One has a few traffic tickets, but on top of this, I couldn't spring him last night. He'll be bonded out today. Another has outstanding child support payments." "Pay it off and add it to my bill. Get him out today. How about the last one?" "That one's a little more complicated. He's facing a homicide charge. He's been a fugitive for a few months." "Did you find out if he did it?" "No. He wouldn't talk much about it. I get the feeling there were strong feelings between him and the deceased." "Do what you can to make sure he gets a good defense. I'm on my way there, now. Give me fifteen minutes." "Great! I'll be waiting for you right inside the lobby." It's amazing the looks you get when you're driving one of these behemoths. It's just barely narrow enough to fit in most lanes of traffic, and it's too wide for some. When I pulled into the parking lot at DPS headquarters, I parked in the outer part of the lot and took two spaces. Carl was waiting for me right where he said he'd be. He spotted me, first. "Alan!" Is it my imagination, or are there dollar signs in his eyes? Whatever. At least he earns ever penny I pay him. "Hi, Carl. Let's get this over with." There seemed to be a lot of people there with that thought on their minds. I approached the receptionist. "Geoffrey Stewart and Carl Winston to see Inspector Ga . . . uh, Blodgette." She snickered. "That's what we all call him." "What? Y'all call him Inspector Gadget?" She guffawed. "Yeah! But don't call him that to his face! He'd bust a vessel!" I chuckled. "I'll take your advice." She rang his extension. "Inspector, Mr. Stewart and Mr. Winston to see you." She paused and held her hand over the phone. "He says he only has an appointment with Mr. Stewart." "Mr. Winston is my attorney." "Oh." Into the phone she repeated, "Mr. Winston's his attorney. Uh, huh. Okay." She hung up. "He said he's be right out to fetch you." A couple of minutes later, a very flustered looking and sweating bald man burst into the lobby from an interior door. "GEOFFREY STEWART?" he shouted into the room. He was a large man with an enormous paunch. He seemed to walk like a penguin, with bowlegs and a side-to-side waddle. I held up my hand and waved, silently. Without acknowledging Carl, he said, "Come with me." He led me through the door with Carl shadowing me. We walked down a corridor and entered a small conference room. There was a young man with short black hair wearing a dark suit at the far end of the table. I judged he was probably in his late twenties or early thirties. From what I could see of his face, he seemed to be quite attractive. He tore his blue eyes from a file of papers he was studying to glance at us briefly, but otherwise, didn't acknowledge our presence. Only then did Blodgette turn around and notice Carl. "Mr. Stewart, you didn't need to bring your attorney." He seemed even more flustered. "Inspector, on the phone you stated that you hadn't decided whether or not to arrest me. I thought it only natural that I should have my attorney present." "Yes, well, that's not what this is about! We just need to know what happened!" He looked at both of us, then at the dark young man. "Please, take a seat and we'll get started." He indicated two chairs on the close side of the table. He took a seat opposite us. I heard him mumble to the young man that all but three of the men who were arrested had been released on bond. The young man nodded without lifting his head. Carl and I smiled at each other. Blodgette seemed incensed that the young man didn't respond with any emotion to his comment. He turned on a recorder in the middle of the table then began as if his speech were well rehearsed. He gave the date and mentioned all of our names, including the FBI agent. "I asked you here today to ask you about the occurrence yesterday in the county east of here. Do you know Frank Holmes and the men that were with him?" "I know Frank Holmes. I don't know any of the other men." "Excuse me," Carl interrupted, "but could you introduce your friend?" The young man finally raised his head. "I'm Agent Andrew Cooper, FBI." "And what is the purpose of your presence, sir?" The young man scowled, not unlike Nell's scowl. I almost laughed, but I bit my lips. "I'm investigating the kidnapping. It's a Federal offense." As if Carl didn't know! Carl bristled, but said, "Thank you. Please proceed." Subsequently, Cooper paid more attention to the conversation. Blodgette asked me if I knew the boys and the kidnappers. Then he asked what I knew about the kidnapping and how I found out about it. I answered all of his questions. I even showed him the pictures of my Suburban. When Blodgette asked if he could keep the pictures, I looked at Carl who nodded his approval. When I mentioned that Stevey's brother, Tim, was a very good friend of mine, Cooper raised his eyebrows. For someone who appeared to be well coached at not showing any emotion, that seemed to be significant. Later, I noticed he was watching me, intently. I thought I felt my gaydar go off, but it might have been wishful thinking on my part. Of course, we always hope that those we have to deal with are of "like mind," or at least sympathetic! The "questioning" was all pretty mundane, so I suspected that my answers just confirmed the reports they had already received from the others. After about 45 minutes, Inspector Gadget stood and offered his hand, saying, "Thank you for coming in, today. I'm sorry for any inconvenience you may have had." "No problem. I'm always glad to assist law enforcement." Inspector Gadget's face registered surprise as he turned off the recorder. I thought that reaction odd, but from what he had said before, he might have expected me to be adversarial. Then Cooper, the silent FBI agent, stood and stepped around Carl to offer me his hand. He was about my height with a swimmer's build. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Stewart. May I speak with you in private?" It was my turn to be surprised. "Certainly!" He looked at Blodgette, expectantly. Finally, the inspector caught on and said, "I'll wait outside." I turned to Carl and whispered, "I'll catch up with you outside." Carl looked at Cooper suspiciously then turned toward the door and exited. When they closed the door, Cooper was still standing very close to me. "I'll make this short. You and your friends took the law into your own hands." I started to protest, but he interrupted by holding up his hand. "Don't worry! I just want to warn you not to do it again. I know why you did it, and I certainly don't blame you for doing what you did! I would have done the same, if I'd been in your shoes. I'm going to pressure Blodgette and the locals to release your friends from their charges. The men who had outstanding warrants, I'm afraid, I can't do anything about." "Why . . ?" "Let's just say I have some personal experience in these matters." I looked critically into his bedroom eyes and thought I detected some distant pain in them. "You've been abused, haven't you?" He narrowed his eyes then shrugged. "Yeah. That's why I went into law enforcement." He looked at me appraisingly. "People trust you, don't they?" "Yeah, I suppose they do." He nodded. "I've never admitted that to anyone before. I don't even know you, but somehow I feel I can trust you." I smiled. "Thank you." Coming from an agent of the FBI, I felt flattered. He hesitated and looked at his watch. "It's time for lunch. Do you have plans?" Oh, my gawd! Is he really coming on to me? "No, not really. I guess I could go for a quick bite." "I'll meet you in the parking lot. What're you driving?" I smiled. "You can't miss it. It'll be the only Hum-Vee in the parking lot." He raised his eyebrows. "We'd better take mine. I've got a government issue Chevy Malibu. I'll meet you out front." I smiled at him. "Are you sure about this?" He finally cracked a smile. When he wasn't being serious, he had a very pleasant face. His eyes lit up. "Very sure." I sighed. "Okay, I'll meet you."To be continued . . . .
Please write to me! - kenlou16@yahoo.com