Old Bones: Nick Fabian, #3

By Reis Asher

Haunted by his last case and still struggling financially, private investigator Nick Fabian is floundering when a birthday surprise from his best friend Connor Long and boyfriend Roy Constas—a home of their own—offers a ray of hope for a future life beyond living in a cramped trailer and staring into the depths of human depravity.

 

Nick's optimism soon fades when he finds human remains crammed into a suitcase dumped in the attic. The bones belong to a local child who was reported missing three years ago. The news only gets worse when Roy reveals he was the one who took the suitcase up into the attic at Connor's request, but he insists he had no idea of its grisly contents.

 

With Connor Long the prime suspect in a murder yet again, battle lines are drawn in Point Clear. Connor's pregnant wife Lillian and girlfriend Sabrina stand by him, but Roy and Emily aren't so certain of his innocence. Nick finds himself trapped in the middle, drawn to Connor by an attraction he's never fully explored, but forced to accept the fact that Connor's hiding something. Connor's brother, Sheriff Thomas Long, hires Nick to investigate and find out the truth, no matter how ugly it may be—but will he regret asking the question once he knows the horrifying answer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reis Asher
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201442590

Book preview

Haunted by his last case and still struggling financially, private investigator Nick Fabian is floundering when a birthday surprise from his best friend Connor Long and boyfriend Roy Constas—a home of their own—offers a ray of hope for a future life beyond living in a cramped trailer and staring into the depths of human depravity.

Nick's optimism soon fades when he finds human remains crammed into a suitcase dumped in the attic. The bones belong to a local child who was reported missing three years ago. The news only gets worse when Roy reveals he was the one who took the suitcase up into the attic at Connor's request, but he insists he had no idea of its grisly contents.

With Connor Long the prime suspect in a murder yet again, battle lines are drawn in Point Clear. Connor's pregnant wife Lillian and girlfriend Sabrina stand by him, but Roy and Emily aren't so certain of his innocence. Nick finds himself trapped in the middle, drawn to Connor by an attraction he's never fully explored, but forced to accept the fact that Connor's hiding something. Connor's brother, Sheriff Thomas Long, hires Nick to investigate and find out the truth, no matter how ugly it may be—but will he regret asking the question once he knows the horrifying answer?

Chapter One

Are you sure this is the place? Nick peered through the car windows at a dingy side street, absorbing the details in the dying light of an early Summer evening.

There was nothing remarkable about the area he found himself in. Typical Northeastern-style row homes lined both sides of the street. Power lines hung from wooden poles, sagging under their weight. A recent fire had gutted a couple of houses further down, and several homes in the lot appeared to be vacant. This wasn't the most glamorous district in the city of Point Clear, but then again, that was why they were here. Work. He'd gotten a good tip, and he was following up.

Roy clasped Nick's forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze with his thick fingers. This is it. Come on, let's go take a look.

Maybe we should stake the place out first. Nick chewed his lip. He wasn't sure he was ready for this case just yet, but he couldn't turn down the money. Eddie Graham wanted his son, Gary, back in rehab. Nick couldn't argue with that. The photos he'd seen of a nice kid with a mop of strawberry blond hair made him feel sorry for the guy, but he couldn't afford to work this case for free.

All we gotta do is knock, Roy urged. Get a feel for the place. The kid may come willingly—if we don't spook him.

Shadows milled around behind net curtains, and then the lights went out.

I think they already know we're here, Nick muttered. Well, now or never. He opened the car door and jumped out. Roy was right behind him. There was a comfort in having him there, even though the disabled veteran was in no state to be protecting Nick. The horrors of his last case came flooding back into his brain and he wished they hadn't. He'd almost lost Roy.

He reached behind him for Roy's hand and found it. Their fingers brushed together, like a good luck kiss. Nick drew his hand away and knocked on the door. He felt for the comfort of his firearm, but he hadn't brought it with him. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to shoot someone again.

Heart in his mouth, Nick reached up, balling his hand into a fist and landing three sharp knocks on the door. He waited.

Nothing.

We should go. Nick turned to leave, but Roy shook his head.

This is the closest we've gotten. You can't turn tail and run now. They know we're here. If we don't act now, the kid's gonna slip away.

Nick sucked in a breath. Roy was right. He spun on his heel and tried the doorknob. It turned, and the door opened a crack. He'd expected it to be locked. What now?

Go on, Roy urged. According to the records, this place is abandoned. We won't be the only trespassers on site. He pressed a portable flashlight into Nick's hand and guided him through the door.

The lights came on. Nick was blinded as his eyes strained to adjust to the dazzling glare.

SURPRISE! a dozen voices chanted in unison.

Nick clamped his hand over his chest, panting heavily as his gaze darted from face to face. Emily Bright. Connor Long. Sabrina Tobias. Lillian Long. Thomas Long. A huge banner proclaimed "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in big, bold, friendly letters. A homemade cake sat on a table along with chips, tacos, sandwiches, and other appetizers. There was a worn-out couch and a couple of folding chairs in the middle of the room, but little else in the way of furniture. Whose house was this, anyway?

Nick turned to Roy, confused and overwhelmed. Eddie Graham, is he...?

An actor. Roy shrugged, a sheepish expression of guilt crossing his features. Sorry it's not a real job. Maybe I went too far.

No, Nick said, his panic subsiding, replaced by warmth. "You did all this for me? For my birthday?"

You said you hated your birthday, and you're too damn young to hate your birthday. I figured you've probably got some bad memories associated with it, so I wanted to make some new ones. Some better ones. Roy gestured to the others. Thank my co-conspirators over here. Emily did all the cooking.

Thanks. Nick drew Emily into a hug before hugging Sabrina and Lillian too. Lillian's pregnancy was starting to show, and Nick could have sworn he felt the baby kick against him as he embraced her. It was a miracle in the making. The three of them looked so happy together, radiant with joy.

What, no hug for me? Connor joked. Nick spread his arms wide and pressed himself against Connor's broad chest. He'd kissed this man, once, and the tension between them had never really subsided. He got the feeling that if he gave the word, Connor would still be down to fuck him. Which was fine with Lillian and Sabrina, as far as he was aware, but Nick had never seriously discussed opening up his relationship with Roy.

Was that something he wanted? Surely not. Nick dismissed the thought. Things were better since they'd returned from Philadelphia, but he hadn't forgotten that he'd almost lost Roy. That Roy had left him, albeit temporarily, and was then held at gunpoint. Nick didn't want to do or say anything to endanger their relationship like that again.

Connor let go and Nick turned to his brother, Tom.

Tom chuckled. No hugs for me.

He clapped Nick on the shoulder, and Nick had to admit he liked that better than the hugs. It was affirming to be casually treated as a man like this, in the company of friends. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be used to it, but it was the best birthday present he could have asked for.

I really appreciate this. Nick blinked back tears, which surprised him. He didn't cry nearly as much since he'd started T a few years back, but he was overwhelmed now. This outpouring of love was so much to process all at once. Did he deserve it? He'd ditched all these fine friends to run off to Philadelphia in pursuit of a ghost.

He'd killed a man. Frank was no friend of his, but when he closed his eyes, he could still see the blood and brain matter fly as his bullet collapsed Frank's skull. He wondered if the others could see it too, the blood that never seemed to wash off from underneath his cuticles and under his bitten nails. Officially, Frank's death had been considered an act of self-defense, and no charges had been pressed. He'd gotten lucky. He'd found the one good sheriff out in that rural suburb who didn't automatically side with the city cop. Maybe the murder footage in the cabin had been enough to persuade him that putting Nick Fabian on trial was going to air out some very dirty laundry in a time when cops were increasingly being scrutinized.

Roy's hand closed around his shoulder in a supportive squeeze, drawing him back to the present moment.

We gonna eat? I'm starvin'.

Yeah, yeah, of course! If Nick's words came out a little too high, his pitch strained, nobody seemed to notice or care. He headed over to the table with Roy and helped himself to some chips. Sabrina's homemade spinach dip was to die for, and Nick wished he was good at cooking so he could ask her for the recipe. Instead, he had to make do with eating as much as he could while he had the chance.

Having fun? Emily drifted over to the table as Roy sidled away. We should light the candles on the cake. Here, help me with this. She handed Nick a book of matches.

He took one and struck it, watching the flame come to life. He lit the thirty-some candles one by one, racing himself to get it done before the match burnt his fingers. He managed it, waving the stump of the match out before pushing it into a discarded soda can. Smoke coiled up from the hole, coloring the air before it was snuffed out by residual liquid. Someone turned the lights off, and the candle-lights danced in the gloom as they all came together to sing "Happy Birthday". Nick blew out the candles, making a silent wish.

Roy emerged from a back room—presumably the kitchen—holding  a small box. Nick had to clamp his mouth shut. The box looked like a ring box. Surely he wasn't proposing? Nick swallowed. He wasn't ready. He'd admitted to himself that he was in love with Roy Constas, but marriage was a commitment he wasn't sure he ever wanted.

Put that look of panic away. It's not some tacky public marriage proposal. Roy grinned as he set the box into Nick's waiting hands. He turned his head sideways to admonish Emily. Told you the ring box was too much.

It's fine. Nick inhaled and snapped the box open wide. Inside, on blue velvet, sat a very ordinary-looking key. He glanced sideways at Roy. What's this for?

Roy gestured around them. This. The house.

Nick's mouth fell open. How can we afford this?

Well, as you can see, it needs some work. But we've got a very understandin' landlord who ain't gonna kick us out on our asses if we're a little late on payments. He glanced at Connor, and Nick spun around.

Connor's our landlord?

Connor spoke up. Not landlord, really. It's more of a private mortgage. As Roy said, there's no need to stress about the money. I bought this house a long time ago planning to fix it up and rent it out, and well, all the best-laid plans go wrong, don't they? I never got around to it, and now we've got a baby on the way, so I know it'll never happen. It seemed pretty obscene to have an extra house doing nothing while you were paying rent on two trailers. Connor shrugged. If you don't like it, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Are you kidding? I've always wanted a home of my own. Nick flipped on the light switch and looked around the living room. Sure, the brown shag pile carpet needed a good clean and the egg-shell colored paint was peeling, but a few weeks of basic work and this place would be habitable.

He climbed the stairs as the others watched him from the living room. Roy was right behind him. The bathroom was dated, but clean, and there were three large bedrooms. The master bedroom already had a bed in it, along with a few basic things Nick recognized from Roy's trailer.

Took the liberty of getting the utilities switched on, Roy pointed out. He scratched the back of his neck. It’s alright with you, isn't it? I kept tellin' Emily I should ask you first. I mean, movin' in together, it's a big step—

"I love it, Nick said. I never thought I'd own a home of my own. I’ve always paid rent and got shafted by landlords. I was hoping I might raise enough money to buy one of our trailers eventually, but I never imagined owning a house. How much did this cost?"

Less than you'd think. Less than your Explorer, actually.

For real?

Roy grinned, the tension sagging out of his shoulders. He leaned against the doorframe to