The Highwayman Book 2: Strange Love

Chapter 2: Damian Truth and Ridge Tyson, Revealed-2

Frank Petri talked about procedural bullshit with Ridge, blaring into Ridge’s cellphone. Ridge sat in the Nissan Frontier’s driver’s seat, red-faced and growing angry. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at Petri’s nonsense.

The Frontier with the Pennsylvania license plate and Hilary 2016 bumper sticker sat on Lot Street in downtown Carver, a suburb of Pittsburgh. Rain splattered against the windshield. Damian wanted to instruct Ridge to flick the wipers on, but he was far too occupied, creating a new sketch on an open page in his Canson Universal sketch book, a recent gift from Ridge.

Small drawings in graphite came to life on the single white page in front of Damian. The sketch pad rested on his bent knees, and he drew the number three, a shovel, a four-door car with its trunk open, and a motel. He doodled for ten minutes.

Ridge said, “Yes, sir…I understand. We’ll work with what we have…Of course, we know procedures…Yes, and we’ll correspond with you regarding everything we find out.”

The Missing Fraternity Brothers case at the moment had very few details. Three young men were missing. The brothers were from Roth College, near Ashtabula, Ohio. Roth College was nestled by the Iroquois River, Ashtabula, and Lake Erie. Almost three thousand students paid to attend the private college and were suffering from the tragedy.

How were three fraternity brothers missing from sixteen thousand acres of lakeside property? Where had the three Roth Raiders—Go, Go, Go Raiders!—vanished? How were the three young men not seen leaving or being taken out of the gated and security-manned college? Why hadn’t someone—a student, professor, or visitor of the college—seen one, or even three, frats jump the campus’ wrought-iron gate, which surrounded its private community? When did—

Roth had a dark secret, or scar as the people of Ashtabula called it. The frats (Freddy Balluns, Mike Rashford, and James Duale) had vanished out of thin air. Gone. Disappeared.

Again, just like the previous cases they shared, Damian and Ridge were on a hunt for the invisible and unknown. Where were the three fraternity brothers? Who was associated with their disappearance? What had transpired on the night they vanished a year ago?

They had two names to build from, concerning the missing fraternity brothers case. Sandling and Krombley. There were no pictures of the two men. No first names. No histories. Nothing. Damian thought they were chasing their own tails, day in and day out for the last year, walking into unproductive clues that were no different than walls. Unproductive work. Dead ends everywhere. Both felt as if they were losing their minds, challenged by the case.

They spent the last twenty-four hours in Carver, questioning residents and business owners. Both attempted to gain any information on the two nameless men that they were looking for. They visited bars, restaurants, and two hotels. None of the small business’s employees panned out with their inconsequential information and clues, though. Residents of Carver were clueless about a two-man operation that became connected to the three missing fraternity brothers. Truth told, Damian and Ridge gained no information. As far as they were concerned, the fraternity brother case had died in their laps, unable to even start building it into something real.

* * * *

Ridge ended the cellphone call with the agency, disgusted. “The motherfucker was being bitchy as always.”

Damian didn’t respond, busy sketching, unable to look up from his work.

Ridge leaned across the seat ever so slightly and craned his neck to view his lover’s work. He studied the number three, shovel, car, and motel. “What’s all that mean?”

Damian printed the word Rankin next to the motel sketch. He pointed to the word with the tip of the pencil and said, “Google the Rankin Motel. I think that’s where we need to go.”

* * * *

Somehow, and some way, Ridge always felt as if he lacked control in their relationship. Of course, he had high grades and a high IQ during his years at Temple; two reasons why the FBI hired him. Who in his position didn’t? But Damian just happened to be a different breed. Talented. Brilliant. Uncanny. Ridge knew that, without Damian’s help, the cases they worked together on wouldn’t have been solved. Honestly, Ridge really didn’t care if Damian called the shots in their two-man pack since he had loved the man with all his heart. No matter what, Ridge admitted that he liked to spend his days and nights with Damian, both as his lover and his coworker. Now, if he could just get the guy to marry him. Damn, that would be nice. Extraordinary.

Gay marriage had become legalized in Pennsylvania most recently, which only caused Ridge to want Damian as his husband more. He dreamed of a church service, many guests at their wedding, a harpist, white roses, doves, and a killer reception to follow. He could taste an expensive champagne in his mouth right now, dreaming of his special day with the man, in love with Damian Truth with all his heart and soul. Maybe someday he could live the dream. Maybe. Who knew?

For now, Ridge had work to do. He Googled the Rankin Motel on his phone, learned of its location, which was just forty minutes north of Pittsburgh on Route 73, and told Damian, “It looks pretty seedy.” Damian turned his handsome stare at Ridge and replied with, “Did you expect it to be the Taj Mahal.”

Ridge shook his head. “f**k no.”

“Right. f**k no.”

The two men shared a quick kiss and traveled north, hard for each other, at work.