a killer was on the loose, Hutch blamed himself. No matter how many times Granite disputed it, bragged about how amazingly talented he was, Hutch couldn’t take a compliment. He was always pushing himself harder, to learn more, do more, until he was beyond exhausted, and then he pushed further.
Granite carefully laid a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”
Hutch jumped at the contact but was quiet for a long moment. He stared out across the field where Edward Thompson had been discarded, deep in thought. Finally he shook his head. “No, I want to see the Ramirez site next.”
“No,” Granite muttered, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “We’re going back to the hotel to have a drink and discuss what we know so far.”
Hutch shrugged off his hand and turned to glare at Granite. “Eighteen dead men don’t have the luxury of having a drink and discussing a fucking thing. The least I can do is to keep working until I find this son of a bitch.”
Granite sighed and tilted his head up as if to find strength in the stars. He huffed out a breath before he lowered his head and met Hutch’s gaze. “You won’t do any of them any good if you collapse from exhaustion. I’m not telling you to stop. Stubborn bastard won’t listen to me anyway. But let’s check in with Byte to see what he’s found and continue with the sites tomorrow.”
Hutch exhaled heavily and gave a curt nod of his head. Hutch might be a stubborn bastard, but he understood logic. “Let’s go.”
“I’m driving,” Granite demanded as he fell in step with Hutch.
“Fuck that. I want to make it back to the hotel in one piece.”
“As opposed to me not wanting to? Give me the goddamn keys.”
Hutch stopped near the driver’s side door and looked down at his shaking hands. He muttered a creative curse under his breath and threw the keys at Granite. Grudgingly he moved around the car and climbed in on the passenger side without another word.
The way Hutch crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead with an indignant look on his face was almost laughable. His pout would give any obstinate two-year-old a run for his money. Given Hutch’s fragile mental state, though, Granite didn’t dare chuckle.
The ride back to the hotel passed in silence, both men lost in their own thoughts. Every case was important. The three of them worked well together and had a kickass arrest record because they all had the same belief. It wasn’t about the money or recognition, but a strong desire to protect against the monsters that walked among them. For Byte and Hutch, this case was even more important. It was personal.
“You doing better?” Granite finally asked as he pulled into the hotel parking deck and killed the engine.
Hutch laid his head back and stared straight ahead. “What is it about people?”
It was a rhetorical question that didn’t really call for an answer. Granite waited in the silence of the car for Hutch to continue.
After several long moments, Hutch turned his head and looked at Granite with tired eyes. “What makes someone look at a gay man as something less than human? That their death doesn’t matter because of who they shared their bed with?”
He knew Hutch was no longer focusing on the killer but on the mentality of many in the law enforcement community. He didn’t have the answer. He doubted that Hutch really expected one. Granite reached over and gave Hutch’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Good thing we care, then, right?”
Hutch gave a determined nod of his head, opened his door, and stepped out. “Let’s go find this bastard.”
Chapter 7
A FTER RETURNING to the hotel, the only thing Hutch could think about was a hot shower, getting a little food in him, and getting back to work searching through the stacks of files. Somewhere in the mess was a clue that would perhaps not tell him who his killer was, but at least push him in the right direction.
“Hey, I
Granite carefully laid a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”
Hutch jumped at the contact but was quiet for a long moment. He stared out across the field where Edward Thompson had been discarded, deep in thought. Finally he shook his head. “No, I want to see the Ramirez site next.”
“No,” Granite muttered, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “We’re going back to the hotel to have a drink and discuss what we know so far.”
Hutch shrugged off his hand and turned to glare at Granite. “Eighteen dead men don’t have the luxury of having a drink and discussing a fucking thing. The least I can do is to keep working until I find this son of a bitch.”
Granite sighed and tilted his head up as if to find strength in the stars. He huffed out a breath before he lowered his head and met Hutch’s gaze. “You won’t do any of them any good if you collapse from exhaustion. I’m not telling you to stop. Stubborn bastard won’t listen to me anyway. But let’s check in with Byte to see what he’s found and continue with the sites tomorrow.”
Hutch exhaled heavily and gave a curt nod of his head. Hutch might be a stubborn bastard, but he understood logic. “Let’s go.”
“I’m driving,” Granite demanded as he fell in step with Hutch.
“Fuck that. I want to make it back to the hotel in one piece.”
“As opposed to me not wanting to? Give me the goddamn keys.”
Hutch stopped near the driver’s side door and looked down at his shaking hands. He muttered a creative curse under his breath and threw the keys at Granite. Grudgingly he moved around the car and climbed in on the passenger side without another word.
The way Hutch crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead with an indignant look on his face was almost laughable. His pout would give any obstinate two-year-old a run for his money. Given Hutch’s fragile mental state, though, Granite didn’t dare chuckle.
The ride back to the hotel passed in silence, both men lost in their own thoughts. Every case was important. The three of them worked well together and had a kickass arrest record because they all had the same belief. It wasn’t about the money or recognition, but a strong desire to protect against the monsters that walked among them. For Byte and Hutch, this case was even more important. It was personal.
“You doing better?” Granite finally asked as he pulled into the hotel parking deck and killed the engine.
Hutch laid his head back and stared straight ahead. “What is it about people?”
It was a rhetorical question that didn’t really call for an answer. Granite waited in the silence of the car for Hutch to continue.
After several long moments, Hutch turned his head and looked at Granite with tired eyes. “What makes someone look at a gay man as something less than human? That their death doesn’t matter because of who they shared their bed with?”
He knew Hutch was no longer focusing on the killer but on the mentality of many in the law enforcement community. He didn’t have the answer. He doubted that Hutch really expected one. Granite reached over and gave Hutch’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Good thing we care, then, right?”
Hutch gave a determined nod of his head, opened his door, and stepped out. “Let’s go find this bastard.”
Chapter 7
A FTER RETURNING to the hotel, the only thing Hutch could think about was a hot shower, getting a little food in him, and getting back to work searching through the stacks of files. Somewhere in the mess was a clue that would perhaps not tell him who his killer was, but at least push him in the right direction.
“Hey, I
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