Jail's Bait: Parole's Victim (Book 4)

CHAPTER 3

DETECTIVE Dan Clark sat in his high-rise corner offices at WolfRam & Hart, staring out of the tinted floor-length windows at the afternoon Seattle vista, not seeing the various billowing clouds sail across the sunlit blue skies. He had made it to the office, but really he was still back at home, back in bed, where he’d woke up this morning in a cold sweat once again- it’s not like he wasn’t used to this, however.

He’d seen his lover Trey shot to death right in front of him last night.

Again.

WolfRam & Hart’s Northeast Division Junior Partner still was very handsome and exuded sex appeal for a man his age. Even at 52 he was still eye-catching; a tall drink of water, the women in his law offices agreed- tall and fit, dashing with the salt-n-pepper hair that had evolved into white streaks on his temples. His dark eyes were still captivating and his suits were immaculate. Many a woman who worked with him either on the force or in the courtrooms used his body as a stand-in fantasy when they went to bed at night. And to this day no one outside of his close circle even considered him to be DL. He commanded great respect from everyone he came across- as a prosecuting attorney he delivered some spectacular cases to the WolfRam & Hart Senior Partners’ approval.

Yet none of that mattered right now. Right now he still had clammy palms and a sheen of perspiration on his face. Being a cop more so than a lawyer came with its share of bad moments, yet there were those times that not even a seasoned vet could shake, that would attack him unawares in the middle of the night- once a month for the last decade. Around the same time every month, after going to bed and falling asleep that night… Danny would suddenly be back on the street in front of Rena Howard’s house… he would slowly turn and realize he was facing Trey, the love of his life- tall and incredibly sexy, deep yet light brown eyes, that leering half-smile that made one almost afraid to trust him- Trey, smiling and forever happy, holding out his powerful arms as if to take Danny into them, this time to never let him go, forever and ever-

-and then the look of love on Trey’s face would turn into shock as he would look downward to see the large hole that would suddenly appear in the center of his chest as he fell to the ground- but not before pointing an accusatory figure at Danny, shouting over and over again ‘it’s YOUR fault, it’s YOUR fault, it’s YOUR fault, it’s YOUR fault…’

-And then Danny would wake up, starting the nightmare process all over again next month.

The first time he had this nightmare was right after Trey’s funeral, recurring nightly for over two months. Danny figured it would finally go away after some time had passed, and they did taper off, slowing down to only once a month- after two years had passed. By that time he had come to terms with the fact that he might never be totally free of the nightmare- just like he would never be totally free of Trey in his heart. Danny hadn’t touched another person sexually since that last time he was with his dead lover, and even though he got frequent requests for companionship from both men and women, he had yet to bring himself to go there with anyone. Whenever he entertained the thought it only made him remember Trey, and berate himself for betraying his memory by daring to try moving on. He knew deep down that Trey would want him to live a happy life and live well, but he just couldn’t bring himself to ‘cheat’ on the only person he was ever REALLY in love with. He believed that his heart was just too broken to be healed. Not that the guilt of betraying Trey’s brother Joe, Danny’s first lover, didn’t lend to additional self-recriminations…

His son Lamar and Joe’s son Malik were the typeset example of what true love between men can really be; no couple, gay or straight, could be any closer.

On the other hand, the distance between him and Joe couldn’t be greater. Whenever he and Joe wound up in the same place, whether work-related or through their sons, the two ex-lovers suffered a cold politeness; not that Joe didn’t have just cause, however…

Just then Danny realized his office phone had been ringing off and on for several minutes. Pulling himself out of his brooding reverie, he leaned over and picked up the receiver. “This is Mr. Clark,” he began.

“This is MRS. Clark,” the voice on the other end replied with a smirk.

Inwardly Danny groaned. He didn’t have the strength to deal with Claire right now… “Hullo, Claire… What’s going on?”

“I was calling to find out if you had any idea of what we were getting Marquis for his graduation gift,” she said, a sudden trace of irritation in her voice. “Not that we can get him anything that will top what Joe and Cookie ‘Moneybags’ are going to buy,” she huffed.

“Why are you trying to top Joe and Joan anyway,” Danny said, beginning to get irritated himself. “Marquis won’t care who bought what gift- it’s the thought that counts.”

“Bump all that ‘its-the-thought-that-counts’ crap,” she brushed aside. “It’s bad enough that Cookie's’s faggot son gave the boy a dangerous animal-”

“I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE,” Danny interrupted her with some heat, “DO NOT CALL MALIK THAT.”

“I’ll call the little sissy what I want,” Claire shot back. “He turned our normal, straight son into a homo, and I’ll never forgive him for-”

“NOW YOU CALL OUR SON A HOMO?!?!?” Danny responded, the force of his tone silencing Claire for the moment. “Some mother you are, you can’t even see your son for the brilliant man he’s become; and then you wonder why he doesn’t even call you. Do us all a favor- you are the boy’s godmother, yes; so, once you see Marquis safely graduated and off to college, why don’t you go back to that trailer camp you Allah-soldier freaks were hiding under..? I’m SURE no one here will much care or even notice that you’ve gone, UMFANA,” he added contemptuously.

“We’re called AFRICA’S ISSUE,” Claire fired back.

“Do you really think I care what you and your little back-to-Africa wannabe Black Panther crack-headed REJECTS call yourselves..?”

After a second of silence Claire spoke. “Are you finished?” she replied, quietly sullen.

Danny was firm. “Are YOU?”

“Look,” Claire sighed, her tone changing to syrup, “I only want to give the boy a good graduation gift from his godparents, you know- the two of us, presenting a united front so that he could see we care for him just as much as Joe and Cookie do,” she whined.

Danny knew Marquis wasn’t judging a “Best Parental Figures” pageant, but he held his tongue. “Sure thing, come by and we’ll look at some things online.”

“Good… good. You know, Danny-boy,” Claire went on, “that… well, I’m good for my part of the gift, right; I’ll p-pay you back for it.”

“We can hammer out the details later,” Danny said- knowing full well that Claire would NOT be giving a dime back to Danny under any circumstances. She only wanted to make sure that whatever HE bought for Marquis had her name on it as well, since he had access to the Hill fortune that she did not.

He sighed. “Come over later on, and we’ll get started.”

“No problem,” Claire agreed, sounding satisfied. “I’ll call when I’m on my way.”

Danny put the receiver on the hook and sat back, rubbing his temples. He knew, of course, what Claire’s real bitterness was about.

Years ago, she’d left Danny and Lamar, running off to live in a commune of bitter, angry militants, and when she came back everyone else was rich- everyone but her. It was immediately apparent to everyone concerned that when she suddenly stuck around, it was not to honor her god-motherly duties to Marquis but because she saw dollar signs- not only in her godson but in her son as well. Knowing that Lamar had half of an immense inheritance signed over to him, no questions asked, made his momma a greedy bitch, Danny thought ruefully.

She had immediately tried to get Lamar to finance her ‘group’ activities, but he was still angry at her abandonment when he was a teenager, and so told her no. Funny then, how all of a sudden she started having a real problem with Lamar’s and Malik’s relationship, and became very vocal about it. Malik, being more ‘Joop’-like back then, stood his ground and Claire wound up in several furious shouting matches with him, and Lamar always broke it up, respecting his mother but remaining loyal to Malik. When it became clear to the woman that Lamar would NOT side with her, not ever, she changed her tune, formally apologized to them both and never spoke ill of their love-life again… not to their faces at least.

Next she tried being chummy with Joan, Malik’s mother, Danny and Claire’s old schoolmate. There was a moment back in high school when Claire and Joan were best friends, and Claire had hoped to bank on their old history to get in good- with the Hill fortune, that is. Joan grew up in the streets, however, and saw right through Claire’s phony efforts to re-connect. In addition, Cookie had leftover resentments with Claire, whom she’d always believed came in between her and Danny, whom she had always wanted. Joe and Claire never got along after he overheard one very bitter exchange between Danny and herself, over her opinions of Malik’s influence on Lamar.

This left Marquis's mother, Marquette, who took pity on her son’s godmother and sent her some money every so often to keep her bills paid. This did not help Claire’s financial situation any, so she was left to sign up for public assistance and food stamps to get by. Danny had constantly questioned her on her reluctance on getting a job of her own to support herself- since she HAD a college degree in Sociology, but her recurring reply was she would never work for ‘the man’ who ‘raped her families and sold her children into slavery, stole her ancestors’ resources and drained the blood of a billion people to build a country that treated her people no better than cattle, yada, yada, yada.’ That was the reason why she wouldn’t get a job. Danny wondered when Claire was going to wake up and realize that she was taking assistance from the very government her ‘group’ was out to destroy. He was tired of trying to talk to this woman about her fruitless attempts to destroy America and send all of her ‘people back to the Motherland’, and he couldn’t wait for her to get out of their lives again, this time for good. All this drama did was remind him why when she left him he let her go in the first place, without ever really trying to go after her. But then years later when Claire-Umfana came back and saw that they all did better off without her, it was like an equation- open mouth, insert hate.

Danny, sighing, decided to go downstairs to get some fresh Seattle air before the sun set. There was a park down the street from the office, and a quiet park bench for a half-hour, he felt, would do him some good.

The streets outside were as to be expected on a Friday afternoon in downtown Seattle, an expectant lull in the air as inside the office buildings Danny passed, those Monday-Friday workers preparing for the relaxing done on weekends were straightening up files and closing down workstations. He was not surprised to see more than a few passers-by give him a second look; yet not for him personally being ‘too-sexy-for-his-cat’, but moreso for the resemblance to his son, who happened to be famous. It was certain that those who recognized the look surmised that he was related to Karl Khronic in some way, especially since those who read supermarket tabloids like the Bible would know that the celebrity writer lived in Seattle.

On Bay Street Danny crossed over Elliott Avenue, straight into Myrtle Edwards Park. About two minutes into the park was his favorite sitting bench, which provided a great view of Elliott Bay and, towards the north, the back of Mt. Rainier. He sat down in the secluded area and looked around at the great mountain that was the door-keep of the Artic Circle. Just behind the ridge he couldn’t see was HT Mansion, but he liked looking over there all the same, towards where he knew his son (when in town) was either at work on a new manuscript or at play with Malik. Just sitting there looking at the great mountain sometimes helped lessen the great weight of guilt that he-

“Excuse me..?”

Danny, surprised to hear another voice come out of nowhere, turned around- and his breath stopped cold. “Trey!!!”

Trey, his Trey- stood before him, covered in dulled-colored rags, dirty and unkempt, wearing moth-eaten gloves with the fingers cut away. He looked older, gray-lined- yet underneath the dirt the face was the same as ever, with those startling light brown eyes that shone beneath the grime.

“Can ya spare some change, sir,” he asked Danny.

Danny stared back- and promptly passed out, sliding off the bench to the ground in a dead faint.