Haydon Cliff Box Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 2The park where the second murder occurred was known as Lemon Park. It had an official name, something entirely different, but the park was on Lemon Street and that was all anyone ever called it. Even the police department.

Edgar parked the Taurus in the lot and we took the first pathway at the entrance. Haydon Cliff City Park had been the location of the murder of the homeless man who’d been stabbed. That was pretty far from this one.

During the day many of the homeless that hung around Lemon Park could be found elsewhere, trying to panhandle outside stores and such. But there was a bit of a camp toward the back of the park. Generally the homeless there were left alone unless they caused trouble to citizens picnicking or running the park trail.

“There’s Betty,” Edgar said, pointing to the old lady who had just emerged from a copse of trees. “She sees everything.”

And usually kept her mouth shut about it, too, but I agreed it was worth a shot.

Betty was old but I didn’t really know how old. She’d reached the age where you couldn’t really tell if she was eighty or ninety or even a hundred. She’d been homeless around Haydon Cliff since I was a small boy. My family’s home where I grew up had been just around the corner from Lemon Park. Apart from her age, I knew her well. She was the kind of person who was everyone’s confidant. And the fact she wouldn’t talk was why.

Betty had cataracts in one eye, but she glanced at me with the other eye as I approached. “Detective O’Hara.”

“Hello, Betty. You remember Detective Lopez.”

She glanced at Edgar. “Pleasure.”

I tried a smile. “I imagine you know why we’re here.”

“I had my purse stolen a couple of weeks ago,” she said.

“Now, you know we work homicide. Did you report it?”

“What would be the point? Nobody ever cares about the homeless.” She glared at the two of us. “Except when we’re dead.”

“So you do know why we’re here,” Edgar spoke up.

“You’re here about Gus.”

Edgar checked his notes. “Gus Lawrence.”

Betty shrugged. “I knew him only as Gus.”

I nodded. “Were you around the day they found him?”

“I’m always around. But I ain’t the one who found him. That was a fella called Nutsy.”

Edgar stared at her. “Nutsy?”

Betty shrugged. “Don’t know any other names for him.”

“How long have you known Nutsy?” Edgar asked.

“I don’t know.”

Edgar shot me a look, but I just shrugged. If he didn’t know the way Betty was by now he never would.

“What about Gus?” Edgar asked.

“What about him?”

“Did you know him long?”

Betty seemed to consider the question. “Long enough.”

I saw Edgar’s fingers tighten on his pen. “Can you be more precise?”

“Well, you know when you ain’t got a fancy phone or wristwatch, it’s hard to keep track of the years as they pass you by,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows.

Edgar smiled. “Approximately, then.”

“I didn’t kill him. I had no beef with Gus.”

“Did others?” I asked.

“He wasn’t always the nicest guy. But that wasn’t that unusual around here.” Betty eyed us. “I don’t think it was anyone that knew him anyway.”

“Why is that?” Edgar wondered.

“There was that other one, wasn’t there? I’ve heard there’s a killer loose.”

“Complete exaggeration, Betty,” I told her.

“Right. That’s what they all say.”

Edgar made a note on his pad. “Who are they?”

“The cops.”

* * * *

It had been a long day—they were always long—when I headed out to my car after my shift was over. Edgar had walked out with me and made for his motorcycle.

“Hey, Scott?”

I stopped as I was about to open my car door. “Yeah?”

Edgar looked more than a little uncomfortable. “Want to go get a drink or something?”

And though he’d asked, his expression said that was exactly the last thing he wanted to do. Fortunately I would save him from such a fate.

“Nah, that’s okay. Not much in the mood.” I opened the door. “Catch you later, Edgar. Good night.”

And I got in without giving him a chance for anymore awkward invitations.

I stopped on the way home for a drive-thru fast food dinner. Soon afterward, I was pulling into my reserved parking space at my apartment complex when I noticed Edgar waiting next to his motorcycle. He was parked in a visitor spot.

“You forget something?” I asked, not bothering to hide my confusion. And perhaps a hint of irritation. Because yeah, I was annoyed that he had just showed up without notice.

Edgar nodded but didn’t say a word. He followed me up the stairs to my second-floor apartment.

“I didn’t get you anything,” I said, holding up my bag of food as I stuck the key in the lock.

“Not hungry,” was his only response. He seemed impatient, agitated. I wasn’t sure why.

Shaking my head, I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Edgar waited for me to precede him, then he entered the apartment and kicked the door shut behind us. I started to turn toward the kitchen when he reached for my bag of food and tossed it on the nearby hall table where I usually set my keys and mail.

“Hey, what are you—?”

He had me up against the wall, and despite the fact I was taller, he easily overpowered me with his strength. He grabbed my wrists and held my arms high above my head as he ground the hard bulge in his pants against me.

His lips smothered the protest I was about to make, his tongue thrusting inside my mouth, rubbing against the roof of my mouth before settling into a tangle with mine.

I felt my own c**k rise in reaction, pushing against my briefs and zipper of my jeans. He’d somehow managed to trap my legs so I couldn’t move them, because if I had been able to, I would have probably kneed him in the crotch. Because this…this wasn’t supposed to be happening again.

And yet it was.

Already my protests had died on my tongue as he sucked on it just enough to pull a rumble from my chest. Already my resolve to fight this—fight him—had crumbled as though it had never been there to begin with. He held my wrists with one hand, and with the other, he lowered the zipper of my jeans. He had already undone the snap.

My breath hitched as his mouth broke from mine long enough for me to draw in a deep lungful of air before he again plunged his tongue into my mouth. His hot fingers slipped inside my boxer briefs, closing around my erection. I whimpered. Of course the bastard knew he’d won. I was conquered.

He drew out my c**k, sliding his fist along the length, his thumb grazing the tip, where it leaked pre-c*m. I wondered for a moment whether he thought he was going to f**k me against the wall. But then he abruptly released my c**k, pulled me away from the wall and pushed me in the direction of my bedroom.

I found myself heading there without even attempting to fight the urge, and I was pretty sure I should be. But as we entered the room and the words of protest formed on my lips, Edgar shoved me face down onto the bed.

I heard him open my nightstand drawer and remove a condom and lube from the place where I had retrieved them the previous night. This was going to happen again. And I was going to let him. We both knew it.

I raised myself enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it across the room. I managed to toe off my shoes after a bit of a struggle. I lifted my hips as his hands went to the waistband of my jeans, and he yanked them off with my boxer briefs, leaving me nude.

One of his hands landed on my right ass cheek hard enough to make me flinch, but I was ready for the other hand that landed on my left one. I exhaled slowly, wiggling my ass in the air, encouraging more. Three more slaps stung each cheek.

Then I heard the snap of the lid from the lube bottle. I spread my legs even as I felt blunt fingers pushing between my cheeks. Edgar wasted no time using only one finger, but instead immediately thrust two slicked digits inside me. My hole opened easily for him. He didn’t bother with a third finger either, instead withdrawing, and as I looked over my shoulder, I watched him roll the condom over his fat c**k.

I still had a chance to protest this. To throw him out of my room, out of my apartment. Tell him we just weren’t doing this. Not again. This was the moment when I could stop it. I knew that. But I wouldn’t. Didn’t. Instead, I buried my face in the bed and reached underneath me to close my hand around my leaking d**k.

I felt Edgar rise above me and his hands gripping my hipbones hard enough to leave more bruises to match those he’d given me the night before. Hot breath fanned the nape of my neck. His c**k parted my cheeks and the tip breeched the tight ring.

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip and I clawed the sheets as he pushed deeper inside me. He paused for a few heartbeats, long enough for the sting of his entry to pass. And then he was moving, penetrating deeper still with each hard thrust, plowing into me with such force the bed moaned in protest.

He gripped me with one hand on my hipbone and slid the other beneath my legs, his fist joining mine on my c**k. His callused fingers were rough and not at all gentle, but it was what I wanted, what I craved.

My orgasm tingled up my spine, then slammed into me the way Edgar slammed into me as my balls tightened, my c**k jerked, and emptied against the sheets.

Edgar continued f*****g me, the slap of his balls joining the low growls from his throat and the creaks of the bed in creating the only noises in the otherwise quiet apartment. And with a roar, he jerked inside me three more times, then stilled.

He pulled out of me almost instantly, rising from the bed, with his soft footsteps heading toward the bathroom.

Briefly closing my eyes, I shook my head at my own stupidity. I’d let him have me again. Made it easy for him, really. I turned over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I felt dirty, yeah. But also I suspected I’d let him do it again.

I finally struggled to stand and reached for my clothes, redressing. I’d clean up later. I suspected Edgar would rush to get out of my apartment so I’d have plenty of time for that. I padded barefoot toward the kitchen, grabbing my bag of now-cold fast food to reheat in the microwave.

I was just putting it on a plate when Edgar came out of my bedroom, dressed. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Edgar walked into the kitchen and opened my fridge. He’d done that since I’d known him, always making himself at home in my place. Anywhere, really. Edgar was bold. He took out a bottle of beer and twisted off the top. “You want one?”

“Sure.”

He handed the one he’d just opened to me and removed another. “You got anything to eat?”

I shrugged. “Nope. Which is why I stopped for fast food. Haven’t really had a chance to go to the store. Need to.”

“Hmm.” He eyed my hamburger and fries. “Okay if I order a pizza?”

I blinked. “You’re staying?”

“If it’s okay.”

I wanted to ask what all this meant, why he was now acting like we were a thing or something. When I knew we weren’t. I was just somebody to f**k. Edgar had a bunch of somebodies. But his heart…that was unobtainable. I was no fool.

Or maybe I was.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”