“Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.” R. W. Raymond Brian nursed his hangover with hot, black coffee. He had no idea what move to make next, but he’d be damned if he’d give up and let Stockwell cover up Reichert's death, neat and tidy, the same way he did Jason Kemp’s. Justin was right, it wasn’t over. It couldn’t end this way. He finished his coffee, determination doing more to clear his head than caffeine, and threw on clean clothes, careful not to wake Justin who was still sleeping off their binge from the previous night. He stopped for a second to look at the young man asleep in his bed. Sunshine, he thought, wish me luck. * Stockwell’s secertary showed him directly into the office. Brian was surprised; he would have left a client he was trying so hard to pin down waiting for at least twenty minutes. “Brian, I’m glad you thought it over and decided to come back. It’s good to have you on the team again.” Stockwell came around his desk and held a hand out to Brian. Brian ignored the gesture and shook his head. “I’m not here to play ball, Jim.” “Then why are you here, Kinney?” Stockwell’s hand dropped to his side, clenched. The welcoming smile remained in place, but his eyes turned cold and blank. “To talk.” “What about?” Stockwell asked, his voice deceptively even. “Oh, this and that,” Brian shrugged. “The weather, stock market, best vacation spots…or we could cut the bullshit and talk about how your ex-partner’s sperm ended up inside Jason Kemp, and the stunning coincidence of Reichert’s sudden and tragic demise.” Stockwell sat down on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “Mmm. Terrible thing. No matter how well you think you know someone, you can never truly be sure that the face they show you isn’t just a mask.” Brian licked his lips and smiled without humor. “And it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the good guys and bad guys nowadays.” “What Ken did to that boy was…horrible.” “Fucking him or killing him?” Brian asked with raised eyebrows. “Brian, I don’t have a problem with gays. I have a problem with anyone who breaks the law, gay or straight.’ “So covering up the murder of a gay teen to protect your partner, your friend, of fifteen years was just what…bending the law?” “You’ve got the wrong idea,” Stockwell laughed. “I had nothing to do with what happened. Ken retired. It wasn’t out of the blue; he had been talking about it for months. The Kemp boy fell through the cracks. I’m not proud of that, but there was no nefarious intent. We had no reason to suspect one of our own, but believe me, if we had- partner or not, cop or not, Kenneth Reichert would have been treated like any other suspect.” “Jesus, Jim. I think you actually believe that,” laughed Brian. “I think we’re done here. Goodbye, Mr. Kinney,” Stockwell said pointedly. Brian shoved his hands in his coat pockets and left without another word. Frustration boiled up inside him as he made his way down to the ‘vette and headed back to the loft. A vague plan was beginning to form in the back of his mind, a way to stop Stockwell. Up in his office, Stockwell sat behind his desk, deep in thought. He had hoped Kinney would come around, but the man was intent on being a problem. Damn him, he thought, damn him. * “Shit, Brian, what did he say?” Justin asked when he found out where Brian had been. “That he didn’t do anything wrong. That Reichert acted alone. Oh yeah, and that I’m overreacting and he loves fags.” Brian’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Justin went over to Brian and cupped the taller man’s face between his palms. “I can’t believe you did that. The man’s a freak. It could have been dangerous confronting him.” “Yeah, he could have done anything to me…in the middle of his office, in broad daylight.” Brian wrapped his hands around Justin’s wrists and leaned down to kiss him. “Stop worrying. I can take care of myself.” * Brian had given the kid in the mailroom a fifty for the information in his hand. While it did confirm one of Brian’s suspicions, it was basically useless beyond that. There was no one he could take it to, no one who would believe Stockwell was capable of murder. Oh well, he thought, it was worth finding out. Brian suspected Reichert's suicide may have been assisted by his former partner. The file in his hand proved it. There were traces of adhesive found on Reichert’s wrists and around his nose and mouth. And the official cause of death was asphyxiation, not carbon monoxide poisoning. That meant someone had tied Reichert up, killed him, then put him in his car with the motor running. Unfortunately, knowing it made no difference. The autopsy report had been sealed, effectively covering up another murder. Brian wondered how Stockwell did it. Had he tampered with the evidence, compromising the scene? Or more likely, called in a favor from the doctor or some other person in a power position? Brian stuffed the autopsy report in his coat pocket and lit a cigarette. Now that the mailroom kid was gone, the street he had chosen for a meeting place was empty. He figured the meeting had taken all of five minutes maybe, putting the time at around 2:40 a.m. “What a fucking bastard,” he said quietly to the night air. He turned down the small alley to his left, wanting to get back to the loft before Justin woke up and noticed he was missing. Brian stopped and stubbed out the cigarette, a strange tingle running down the back of his neck. He knew something wasn’t right. His instincts warned him he wasn’t alone before he heard footsteps. He cursed under his breath, thinking his own guilt at this crazy subterfuge was making him paranoid. Nevertheless, he picked up his pace. “Kinney!” A voice called out behind him. “We need to talk.” Brian stopped. Stockwell. He turned around slowly. “Jim. Fancy meeting you here.” “I’m afraid it’s not a coincidence, Brian. I’ve been following you.” “Is this where you arrest me on some trumped up drug charge? Loitering? Solicitation?” Brian asked in amusement. “No, Kinney.” Stockwell moved closer until he was standing directly in front of Brian. “I told you, I’m not a dirty cop. I wouldn’t run you in under false pretenses.” The calm reassurance made Brian nervous. He stuck his hands in his pockets and raised one eyebrow. “What is it you want to talk about? Considering you weren’t very receptive when I came to see you, I’m awfully surprised you’re in the mood for a chat now.” “I’ve been thinking about our meeting since you left. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you.” “Jim, I’m flattered. Does your wife know?” “Stop the bullshit, Kinney. I’m not in the mood to play games.” “Well, that makes two of us. So what the fuck is this all about then?” “Every decision a man makes affects the course of his life, but what’s important is the big picture. I’ve realized I can’t live in fear of one bad choice.” “Then end it, Jim. Take responsibility.” Brian’s eyes bored into Stockwell’s. “That’s just what I had in mind, Kinney. I really am sorry about this, but you shouldn’t have set me up, gone digging where you didn’t belong. I’m not a bad man, Kinney. I’ve never taken a bribe in my life, but when Ken came to me as a friend, asked me for help as a friend, not a cop…I made a choice. And now, I have no choice but to see it through.” Before he had a chance to react, while his brain was still processing the information…Stockwell pulled an evidence room, black-market 9mm from under his coat and put a bullet in Brian’s forehead. He was dead before his body hit the ground. Stockwell carefully removed Brian’s wallet and the autopsy findings with his gloved hands, took the cash out of the wallet before throwing it behind a line of overflowing trash cans. He put the rapidly cooling gun into a plastic bag. He did the same with the cash and piece of paper. “You should have stayed out of it, Kinney,” Stockwell said, a sincere touch of regret in his voice. Rain began to fall as he walked slowly and steadily away from the crime he had just committed. Raindrops filled Brian’s unseeing eyes and ran down his face like tears.