On The Line

Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback. As I said before, I'm thrilled and humbled by it. :)

Also - I love reading about your thoughts and how you try to solve the crime(s). Someone said the cops were pretty stupid not to instantly see who the culprit was. Well - you will find that it's not quite as easy at it seems. Your comments are very much appreciated and even though this first book is finished, each and everyone pushes me to write faster - remember there is a second book in the making. :) Thank you again!

Chapter 17: Memory Lane





”Lift up your arms. You have a parasite.”

“Like a tapeworm or something?”

“Lie back and lift up your sweater. You can put your arms down.”

“Can you do something about it?”

“Only for about a month or so. After that it becomes illegal to remove, except in a couple of states.”

“Illegal?”

“Don’t worry. Many women learn to embrace this parasite. They name it, dress it up in tiny clothes, arrange play dates with other parasites…”

“Play dates …”

“It has your eyes” (holding up a sonogram)

House and patient, in House MD, Season 1, “Maternity”





Edward despised Father Daniele on sight. It didn’t happen to him very often with people, but it was an instant gut reaction he couldn’t control. The priest was dressed all in black, but for his white collar that was a sign of his profession. There was a small golden cross pinned to his chest pocket, and he was wearing a cheap watch he checked when Karen introduced herself.



“Police? Whatever for?” The bushy brows, a stark contrast to his thinning hair, went up a little.



He sounded as if he had watched too many Jane Austen movies, his accent a mixture of pure New York Brooklyn and Oxford English for beginners. And yeah, okay, Edward had to admit that the stories he had heard from Michael hadn’t endeared the guy to him, but even if he hadn’t hadn’t known anything the priest before, the man would have given him the creeps.



“We need to ask you some questions, Father.”



The bushy brows went up even further. “Questions?”



“Yes,” Karen nodded. Michael stood beside her. So far he hadn’t made a sound, but his eyes never left the priest. His posture was stiff and Edward could feel the underlying tension, the readiness to jump if necessary.



Father Daniele pursed his thin lips and gave Karen a measuring look. “Alright, Detective Hamilton. Ask away.” He motioned to the benches and they all sat down, Father Daniele folding his hands in his lap in a way that made Edward want to throw up. There was something slimy about the way this man was moving, every gesture seemed measured, calculated to achieve a certain goal.



“It’s been a while, Father Daniele.” Michael spoke up for the first time. His face was completely closed, no emotion visible. It made Edward shiver slightly.



The priest turned his head slowly, his gaze settling on Michael. “And you are?”



“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. My mother still adores you.”



The bushy brows scrunched together. “Your mother?”



“Luciana Castellani. I’m Michael. Detective Castellani.”



“Michael.” Something flickered through those beady eyes. Recognition? Fear? Edward wasn’t sure. “Little Michele.”



Disgust crossed Michael’s features, but he controlled his emotions quickly. “Yes. I’m all grown up now.”



Oh yes. That he was. Edward wondered if having sexual thoughts in a church was a sin. He looked at Michael’s profile, the hard cut of his chin, the straight nose, those lashes most women would die for, and the full lips that were begging to be kissed – and then he thought of Jesus, who had preached of love, forgiveness and understanding. No. Whatever priests were saying, love could never be a sin.



And – what the fuck?



Love?



What kind of nonsense was that? Sitting in a church could obviously fuck with your brain in more ways than one. Edward decided to concentrate on the matter at hand and not let himself get distracted with something that could never have a future. Not that he wanted to have a future – Christ! Even if he were considering something as destructive as a relationship, the guy was barely out. No way Michael was ready for anything more than a quick, hot fuck.



“Luciana must be so proud of you. A detective.” God, the guy was a slimy bastard. Edward shuddered at the mere idea of Father Daniele touching another human being, let alone a little boy. The really horrible thing, however, was the fact that so called “priests” like Father Daniele were abusing boys and girls every day and not a lot was happening. In the USA they were at least prosecuting the bastards, cutting off their pensions, but not a lot was happening in Europe.



“My mother is not the matter here,” Michael said curtly. “We are investigating a series of murders.”



“Murders?” The priest’s voice went up slightly. “And a series you say?”



“Five young men have been killed in the past three months,” Karen clarified.



“And you think I can help you with that?” The incredulity sounded almost genuine, Edward had to admit grudgingly. “These young men were not members of my congregation.”



“How do you know that?” Edward asked, speaking up for the first time.



“Are you a Catholic, son?” Daniele asked.



“Why? Do you think I’ll go to hell if I’m not?”



“I know my children,” Daniele said, and Edward wanted to punch him in the face - again. “In a congregation like mine, I know the ones who come here regularly. And even if they don’t, I still know them.”



“Does the name Steve Cuthbert ring a bell with you?” Michael still wore his impenetrable mask, no doubt not wanting to give the priest any chance to use their past against him. Although, Edward wasn’t sure the guy felt even a shred of remorse for what he’d done. A lot of child molesters made themselves believe their victims were actually happy with what happened to them.



“Steve Cuthbert?” Daniele repeated the name, as if tasting it on his tongue. “Not that I recall. Why? Is he one of the victims?”



“What about Corey DeVito?” Michael was watching the priest’s reaction closely. Edward could see the intent look in the other man’s eyes, could see how erect and alert Michael held himself.



“Corey DeVito?” Surprise was on Daniele’s face. “That’s a name I haven’t heard for a long time.”



Michael and Karen exchanged a look at that.



“Our information says that the DeVito family moved away when the boy was fourteen years old.” Karen had pulled a little booklet from her inner pocket and was reading from it – or pretending to do so, Edward wasn’t sure which. “Rumors were spread that the boy was gay.”



Father Daniele instantly crossed himself. “He was one of those who were led astray,” he whispered, his face tragic. “Despite all our efforts, we lose some of our sheep.”



And just like that, Michael’s calm snapped. Edward could see it happen, could see how his control slipped away as if it had never been there.



“Okay,” Michael snarled, getting right in the man’s face. “Let’s stop the bullshit, shall we? I saw you, Father,” he spat out the word. “I saw what you did to Angelo. But I was only twelve years old and too scared to do a damned thing when Angelo was first raped, then outed and treated like a leper. I was even younger when the same happened with Corey DeVito. But you can stop playing games with me right now, because I have your number.”



Edward would have expected to see shock on Daniele’s face, but nothing like that happened. Instead an almost peaceful expression settled on the man’s features. “My son. You are so very troubled.”



“I’m not troubled. Or if I am, then it’s because I had to watch my best friend getting raped by a priest who then continued his work as if nothing had happened, and who even had the most influential people of this church gather behind him and victimize a little boy who should have been protected by the very same people.”



Michael’s voice was so low, Edward had to strain his ears to hear all the words.



Daniele sighed, then slowly stood up. “I’m afraid our conversation is finished now. For any further communication, please contact the Archdiocese.” He smiled benignly down on his visitors and even though Edward wasn’t the kind of man who resorted to violence right now he could have punched this asshole in the face and not felt a sliver of remorse over it.



Michael stood up and took a step toward the priest. “You-“



“Michael,” Karen got between them so fast, Edward had to blink. “Father Daniele. Thank you for your time. We will let you know if we have further questions.” She shot Edward a look that clearly screamed ‘help’.



So he got up as well and grabbed Michael’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.” For a moment he thought Michael was going to resist, but then he seemed to deflate and Edward had no problem leading him out of the church and into the afternoon sunlight.



As soon as the doors closed behind them, Michael slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. “Fuck.” The one word was so heartfelt, under different circumstances it would have made Edward laugh. As things were, it only made his heart bleed more.



“Hey,” he said softly and touched Michael’s arm. “If it helps any, I think the guy’s a slimy weasel.”



Michael’s lips twitched slightly. “He’s that. And more.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shit, Edward. I wanted to punch his lights out so badly.”



“I understand.”



“You do?”



“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a saint, Michael. Just because I don’t look like a fighter, I can still feel the urge for violence.”



Michael lips twitched, but before he could really react, the door opened and Karen appeared, her face slightly flushed. “God save me from guys like that. He actually tried to lecture me about religion and respect.” She shook her head. “What an asshole.”



At that, Michael finally smiled and Edward pulled his hand back, not sure if his newly acquired friend was all that comfortable with being touched. Especially in company.



Karen exhaled loudly. “I wish we could take him into custody, and then just forget him in holding, preferably in a cell with a few men who’d really love to spend some time with a child molester.”



“It’s a nice thought,” Edward agreed, and Karen shot him a look. Edward held up his hands. “Hey – you brought it up.”



“I know.” She sighed, “There’s probably no proof whatsoever and even if there were, it’s all fucked up because we would have to involve the Archdiocese.” Karen rolled her eyes, “I did that once, and I really don’t care to do it again.”



Edward let that sink in for a moment then turned and walked to the car. He wasn’t a religious man, never had been, but he was suddenly glad King Henry had decided to kick the Pope in the ass all those centuries ago, even if his reasons had been somewhat screwed. But then, love could be a powerful emotion – or so he had been told.



+++



Luciana was beside herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this way, and she had no idea how to deal with the current situation. It was as if her life was spiralling out of control in a matter of hours.



“Cara.”



She looked up and found her husband standing in the doorway, his gaze serious, but calm, resting on her.



Luciana took a deep breath. “Oh Antonio – what’s happening to our lives?” She felt tears threatening and blinked them away. There were times for crying – this wasn’t one of them. Her best friend had lost her hand and she had to be strong.



“They move along,” Antonio said gently. “All we can do is to live them.”



She sighed. As much as she loved her husband – and she did love him dearly, God knew, but sometimes his attitude made her want to hit something.



“Carla is seriously hurt!” she cried. “And my son –“ Her voice broke, words refusing to come. She didn’t know what to think about that – saying something seemed impossible.



“Our son is fine.”



He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she stepped away. “How can you say that? Michael is,” she couldn’t say the word. “He’s not fine.”



Antonio’s eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry to hear you say that. Because from where I stand, he is a healthy young man who has a whole life waiting for him.”



The man was an idiot sometimes. She had known that for a long time, she just hadn’t thought he would be an idiot when it came to their children. “What life?” Was he really that blind? “Michael is a … he wants me-n.” Her voice actually broke on the last word and she had to clear her throat. “Men,” she repeated and felt her heart beat fast and hard in her chest.



“Yes,” Antonio said simply. “Why is that so hard for you to accept?”



Did that mean it was easy for him? “It’s a sin! Or are you telling me you don’t care that our son is risking his soul?”



“According to whom?”



He was still so calm. How could he be so calm? And how could he ask a question that stupid? “You know according to whom,” she snapped, angry with him, with herself – with life. Maybe that was a sin, too, but right now it was minor and she simply couldn’t bring herself to care.



Antonio looked at her for a long moment and she felt herself squirming. “The Bible was written by men, Luciana. What we know from Jesus, he was a man who said that nothing was more important than love. But even if it weren’t so, Michael is our son. Our son.”



“Why doesn’t it bother you?”



He smiled. “I’ve known it for a long time.”



“What?” Luciana felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her head. “How? I mean – why?” How could he have known? And why hadn’t she? Michael was her son, her baby. How could that be?



“I found a magazine under his bed. And that little friend of his, Angelo? He was here all the time.”



“He was a little boy!”



“He was twelve years old, yes.” Antonio came closer again and this time she didn’t shy away from his touch. His hand felt warm and familiar. “And it was all innocent. But it was still there.”



“Oh my God.” Luciana covered her mouth in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?”



“Because there was nothing to tell,” he said simply and she wanted to slap him. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and clung. “Cara. It was not my story to tell.”



She pulled back and stared at him. “I’m your wife. I’m Michael’s mother.”



“I know. But this is private. He didn’t tell me either. I might have suspected, maybe even known, but he never told me.”



Luciana shook her head. She felt overwhelmed and confused. Nothing made sense to her anymore. “Why didn’t he tell us?” Because, really, that was the most important question.



Another shadow fell over his face. “He saw what happened to the DeVito boy – and to Angelo. Oh, I’m at fault, too. I didn’t do anything to prevent it, and I’m deeply sorry for that. But this isn’t about me, it’s about our son. He saw how other people treated boys who were outed. Do you really think it made him trust?”



“He could have trusted us! We are his parents. We love him.” It hurt so much. Luciana bit her lip so hard it bled. But she was also wondering if maybe Michael hd felt it? Did he – albeit unconciously – sense the hidden corners of her soul?



“Yes, we love him. But do you remember what happened when the DeVito boy was outed? Think about it. Do you know what your mother said?”



“My mother?” Luciana crossed herself. Her mother had died fifteen years ago.



“Yes. She said that the DeVitos had to be so ashamed. Do you really think Michael didn’t hear that?”



Oh God. Luciana remembered. Her mother had really said that. And the worst thing was, that deep inside Luciana had believed her, had seen it just like her mother. And had acted acordingly, God help her.



She pressed a fist on her mouth. “Dear God,” she moaned.



Her husband smiled again. “You’re a good woman, Luciana. I’ve loved you for a long time. You’ll find a way to deal with this. And then you need to go and talk to him, because even though he’s a grown up man, what he still fears most is our rejection.”



She nodded, feeling more confused than anything. “I love him.” She only hoped it wasn’t a lie. She loved him. But did she love him enough, this new and foreign version of her son?



“Yes. And that’s the most important thing.”



The most important thing. Luciana wasn’t sure she agreed, but she nodded anyway.



+++



Michael still felt angry enough to kill when they returned to the police precinct where they were greeted by their boss and the news that another body part of their missing twin had turned up in today’s mail. This time the kidnapper had sent them an earlobe and the lab had quickly confirmed that it did, indeed, belong to Nicholas Harcourt.



“His brother is in the interrogation room,” Christine informed them, looking frazzled. “He’s shaken, but surprisingly calm. He also insists that Nick is still alive.”



“I see. Does that mean he’s psychic all of a sudden?” Michael held up his hands when everybody stared at him. “Just saying.”



“He’s a little shaken. We went to see a real asshole.” Karen shot Michael a look, then her eyes went back to Phillips. “Don’t you know someone from the Archdiocese? Someone high up in the food chain.”



Phillips eyes narrowed and his brows drew together. “What’s this about?”



“It’s about this priest,” Michael said, wishing he could just forget he had ever met Father Daniele. “He raped at least two boys I know of.”



“Jesus.” Phillips stared at him. “You sure?”



He wished he weren’t. He thought of Angelo, now obviously happy with his boyfriend. “I was a witness,” he said simply.



“Aw. Shit. Castellani – I’m really sorry to hear that.”



“Me too.” Christine was white as a sheet and had tears in her eyes. Shit. The last thing Michael wanted was for her to pity him.



Phillips cleared his throat. “Are you in any shape to work?” he asked and included Edward in the question. “I want you with him, St. John.” A small twitch of the lips accompanied that remark.



“I’m good,” Michael assured him quickly, strangely annoyed be the wordless byplay between his boss and his new friend. What was going on between them? Was that a gay thing or was there more to it than innocent bantering? And – more importantly – why did it bother him so much? He wasn’t developing feelings for Edward, was he?



He quickly shook his head. Here was neither the time nor the place to deal with something like that.



“Detective Hamilton, Detective Givens, I want you two to talk to the Harcourt twin. He is waiting in Interrogation One.”



“Castellani, St. John, interview that guy one of the mothers mentioned.” Phillips opened a file in his hands. “David Caswell. Find him and talk to him. Maybe he can tell us more about Sven Sandstrom.”



“Or maybe he’s our Dave,” Karen said and she and Christine disappeared in the direction of the interrogation rooms.



“Alright.” Phillips closed the file. “Go and talk to the Caswell guy. Oh – and Edward?”



“Yes?”



“The amounts of chloroform in DuPont’s body weren’t enough to make him black out completely. You were right.” With a tight smile he turned and disappeared in his office.



+



“So – you and Phillips.”



From the corner of his eye Michael could see Edward raise a brow. “What?”



“Are you two buddies or something?” Aw, fuck. Why had he even asked the question? What the hell was wrong with him? Michael wished he could take the words back – but that wasn’t possible, of course.



Edward gave him a chilling look. “One – it’s none of your fucking business and two – it’s still none of your fucking business.”



Uh-oh. Edward was pissed. “O-kay,” Michael said slowly. ”Whatever.” They were standing in front of Caswell’s door. The man lived in a nondescript apartment building, and the woman with the dyed blond hair who had seen them come inside hadn’t given them a second look. It seemed neighbors didn’t really care for each other. Or maybe they did, and Blondie just was the exception – but Michael doubted it.



Before Edward could say something the door opened and a man stood in front of them. He wasn’t quite as tall as Edward, his clothes hung loosely on his body and he had a pair of glasses that sat askew on his narrow, long nose. The guy screamed geek, Michael decided and showed him his badge. “Detective Castellani. I’m looking for David Caswell.”



The man blinked, then frowned. “Detective? Uh … I’m David Caswell.”



It was Michael’s turn to blink. Not that he’d actually thought about how this guy looked like, but a nerdy geek wouldn’t have been his first bet. “Can we talk with you for a moment?”



Caswell hesitated for a split second, then nodded. “Sure. Come in.”



He turned and they followed him, entering a tiny apartment that was stuffed with books and two laptops – both of them running.



“Sorry,” Caswell said, indicating the chaos around them. “I’m right in the middle of a project.” He looked at them and crossed his arms. “So – is this about Sven?”



“Why do you think that?” Michael asked, instead of answering.



Caswell rolled his eyes. “Because he was killed? Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that sooner or later the police would turn up again.”



Edward cleared his throat. “You don’t seem all that heartbroken about his death.”



Michael gave him a surprised glance. He had wanted to ask the same question.



Caswell snorted. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sorry he’s dead, but Sven was totally repressed. It was all good when we were fucking, but later,” he shook his head. “Sin, Hell and the Devil.”



Michael winced, understanding only too well what Caswell was talking about. Not that he really believed in Sin, Hell and especially the Devil, but he had grown up with all that bullshit and his grandmother had been a firm believer in all three.



“So what?” Edward said. “He turned to self-flagellation?”



Caswell snorted again. “Not really, but it was close. His parents fucked him up good. Look, Sven was a sweet boy. Good looking.” He chuckled slightly. “I was surprised when I realized he was interested in me.” With a self depreciating twist of his lips, Caswell indicated his own body. “I mean, I’m not exactly a gay dreamboat. But I soon realized Sven liked me because I was completely non-threatening. And willing to keep our - whatever it was - quiet.”



“You were in love with him,” Edward said quietly.



Michael stared at him. “What?”



Edward didn’t take his eyes from Caswell. “Despite all, you were in love with him.”



It took a second, then Caswell’s mask crumbled, and to his utter shock Michael saw a tear tickle down the pale face. “I called his parents. I told them how much Sven was suffering because of their treatment. His father threatened to kill me because I defiled his son and his mother just quoted the Bible to me.” He paused and sniffed. “There was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing.”



“Hey.” Edward’s voice was all soft, and Michael had a very inappropriate moment where he imagined Edward using the exact same voice on him, preferably when they were both naked. He quickly shook himself. Fuck. He had to focus – on the case. And not on Edward, naked or not, and – shit. Edward was saying something about Sven’s death not being Caswell’s fault, and Michael managed to pull himself together, thank God.



“I’m really sorry about what happened to Sven,” Michael said, glad his voice sounded normal – professional. When Caswell turned his attention to him, he continued, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary before Sven disappeared?”



Caswell thought about it for a moment, started to shake his head, but then stopped. “It might be nothing, but there was this priest.”



“Priest?” Michael asked softly. “A Catholic priest?”



“I’m not sure. I’m really not into religion, but still know what a priest looks like. He was a creepy guy. Nosy too. Said that Sven’s parents had sent him to talk sense into their son.” Caswell didn’t quite roll his eyes, but Michael could read between the lines. For some reason, he couldn’t quite put a finger on, he liked this kid. He might be a nerd, but he seemed a genuine kind of guy.



“Do you remember a name?”



“No, sorry. He was tall, though. And good looking – for a church guy, I mean.” Appreciation was written all over Caswell’s face. “What creeped me out most was the way he talked. With this upper class accent. As if he was better than usual people.” He stopped for a moment, then added, “He had an Italian name, I think. But I’m really not sure anymore.”



Michael looked at Edward who, in response, raised one brow. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Sandstrom had mentioned sending someone after their son. So either they hadn’t sent the guy, or they had lied to them. Which meant they had to talk to them again. Just lovely. Maybe he could get Karen and Christine to do that. Somehow he had a feeling Mr. Sandstrom in particular might be more cooperative with female detectives.



“Did you ever meet Sven’s parents?” Edward asked.



“Only his mother. Once. And only by accident. Sven freaked when he saw her. He introduced me as his study buddy, but I think she kind of knew.” Caswell made a face. “It was fucked. Sven was completely uncomfortable, stuttering and saying stupid stuff. I was glad when we parted ways again.”



Edward nodded and turned to Michael. “Do you have any more questions?”



Michael shook his head. “For now I’m done. Thanks for talking to us, Mr. Caswell.”



Caswell nodded. “You’re welcome. Besides, you were a lot nicer than the first cops that came here.”



Michael saw Edward grin slightly and had to struggle to keep his own expression blank. “We aim to please,” was all he said and held out his hand. Without hesitation Caswell took it and even smiled a little.



He swallowed. “Would you … I mean, I know Sven and I - we were … not related or anything, but if you find the guy who killed him – would you let me know?”



Michael met Caswell’s eyes. They were such a light gray, they seemed almost translucent. “I promise,” Michael said, and meant it.



+++



His mother didn’t smile when Michael and Edward came back that night, and while his father did smile at him, Antonio’s eyes were very serious.



“Any news?” were the first words out of his mouth.



“No breakthrough,” Michael replied. “But we found the guy who killed Edward’s friend.”



“You did? But that’s good.”



“Yeah. Well.” It was good. Sure. But … A part of him felt bad because he couldn’t muster more enthusiasm, especially for Edward’s sake, but somehow finding Cuthbert seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things.



“He killed Xavier,” Edward said with a tightly controlled expression on his face. “But he was hired to do it.”



“I see.” Antonio nodded and gave Edward a sympathetic glance. “You and your – friend. Were you close?”



Michael could see that Edward considered the best way to respond, but he wasn’t surprised when Edward simply looked at his father and said, “Xavier was my lover. We lived together for over two years. We separated, but he called a few days ago and sensed that something was wrong with me – so he came.”



Antonio reached out and touched Edward’s shoulder gently. “It isn’t your fault, son. He came because he wanted to.”



Edward snorted. “Yeah. Right.”



“Guilt is a very dangerous feeling, Edward. It clouds our judgment. Your friend felt you needed him and he came. You would have done the same thing for him, I’m sure.”



“Of course.”



Michael smiled slightly. His father was such a clever devil.



“And if something had happened to you were your roles reversed, would you blame him?” Antonio asked.



“Of course not,” Edward replied, then stopped and stared at Michael’s father. “Shit.” he winced. “Sorry.”



Antonio chuckled. “Don’t worry. I may have used the word once or twice before you were even born.”



“Dinner is ready!” came Luciana’s voice from the kitchen. “Wash your hands and sit down.”



Antonio winked at Edward and Michael. “The General speaks, we follow.”



Michael sat down across from Edward, glad that his father was so at ease with everything. It meant the world to him. He had dreaded coming back, not sure what his mother’s attitude would be. So far she hadn’t said anything, but she had avoided them as much as possible. Now she came into the dining room, carrying a large bowl. The table was already set and Michael noticed his mother had laid out her best silver – the one she usually saved for birthdays and Christmas.



“I made Minestrone,” she announced. “It’s a family recipe,” she told Edward with a tight smile. “My grandmother brought it with her from Tuscany.”



When everyone had soup, Luciana sat down. “Do you want to say grace, Edward?”



Michael’s eyes snapped up, and without thinking, he glared at his mother. “Mama.”



“What?” Luciana looked at him innocently, then slapped her forehead as if she had just thought of it. “Oh – don’t you say grace?”



Edward put the spoon down he had just picked up. “If you’re asking if I’m Catholic, Luciana, the answer is no. I also don’t pray or go to church.”



Michael heard his father sigh, and saw his mother bristle, so he said quickly, “Mama. Edward’s family is very different from ours.”



“He is also our guest,” Antonio cut in. “And we should respect that.”



“If my being here is a problem-“ Edward began, but Michael cut him off instantly.



“You stop right there,” he said and glared at Edward. “I brought you here and you’re staying.” No way was Edward leaving the house and maybe staying at a hotel. No fucking way.



“My son is right,” Luciana said, her fingers playing with her napkin.



There was no mistaking the long look Edward gave his mother, before he picked up his spoon again. “Alright.”



“It’s just,” Luciana began and Edward’s spoon hovered in mid-air. “You’re one of them, too.”



Michael closed his eyes. “Mama.” He felt a mixture of anger and embarrassment. This could not be happening.



But Edward was completely calm when he put his spoon down again. “If you’re asking if I’m gay – the answer is, yes I am.”



Luciana pressed her right hand over her mouth, her eyes huge, while the left was still worrying the napkin. “How did your parents react when you told them?”



“Cara,” Antonio tried to interfere, but Edward shook his head.



“No, it’s okay.” It was an obvious lie. Michael could see it in the rigid way Edward held himself, the mask his face had turned into. “My mother was shocked because she was afraid what her social circle might think of her. My father threatened to disown me. When I was still gay, he did just that.”



Luciana’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “He … disowned you?” Was that shock because of what Edward had said about himself, or was his mother stunned by his father’s actions? Right now, Michael couldn’t tell.



“Yes,” Edward said simply. “He also told me I wasn’t to call him Father ever again.”



“Oh my God,” Luciana whispered, so pale that for a moment Michael feared his mother would faint. But then she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. “Are you two…” She trailed off, gesturing from Edward to Michael and back.



“No.” Edward showed her an artificial smile. “Michael is my friend.” He glanced at Michael, then looked back at Luciana. “And if you would excuse me now, I’m a little exhausted.” He stood without waiting for an answer, then left the room and they could hear him walk up the stairs, his steps heavy, underlining his words.



Michael stared at his mother, the anger in him so strong, he had to work hard to keep his voice steady. “Why did you do that?”



“I-“ she began, but he cut her off.



“Do you have any idea what he’s gone through ever since Karen got him involved in this case? I’d be surprised to find out he slept more than a few hours since then. And when he finally does fall asleep, he wakes up to his lover lying on the floor, dead. And then you start with your petty-“



“Petty?”



“- bullshit.”



“Michael,” his father’s voice was calm, but it held a clear warning.



But Michael didn’t want to listen to reason. He’d had enough. A little voice inside of him whispered that he was being irrational, and that it wasn’t his mother’s fault that he’d been forced to listen to assholes like Father Daniele today. Maybe, if things were different he might have listened to that voice, but tonight all bets were off.



“Papa, I know you want to help. And I’m so grateful for your support, but Mama has gone too far.”



“I’m just concerned,” Luciana said. “You never said anything about being … you know, and as soon as Edward turns up you change. It makes me wonder what he did to you.”



“Jesus, Mama. Do you ever listen to yourself ? Edward did nothing to me. Apart from offering his friendship, that is. You should thank him for it, instead of treating him like some freak.” He stood up and threw his own napkin on the table. “I’m ashamed of you,” he said and didn’t care when his mother flinched. “But then, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Because really, with the company you keep, I should have expected it.”



His hunger gone, he stalked from the room and went up the stairs, taking two at a time. He was slightly out of breath when he knocked on Edward’s door. When Edward finally opened it, he took in the slightly wet hair and the fact that Edward was wearing only a tee-shirt over a pair of old jeans that were unbuttoned.



“Michael?” Edward frowned. “Is something wrong?”



Michael blinked. “Wrong? Yeah. No. I don’t know.” He sounded like an idiot. But he didn’t care. After all he’d seen and heard today, he was so far beyond caring, he could hardly believe it himself. “Can I come in?”



Edward hesitated briefly, but then stepped aside and closed the door when Michael was through. “Tell me,” he said simply.



“I’m sorry,” Michael blurted.



“It’s not your fault. Your mother-“



“It’s not just that.” Michael started to pace. He needed to move or he would jump out of his own skin. He was sorry for so many things, most of all for the way he had treated Edward when they’d met.



“Michael-“



“No,” Michael stopped and looked at Edward. “I was such an asshole.”



Edward’s eyes widened slightly and he chuckled. “Yeah. You pretty much were.”



Michael nodded. It was nothing but the truth. “I felt threatened. And exposed whenever you were close. I know I was just lashing out, but I’m still sorry.” God, was he ever sorry. “As for my mother. She had no right to behave that way. It’s not your fault.”



“She’s scared, Michael,” Edward said in a voice so gentle, Michael felt his knees go weak. It was hard to believe that only a short time ago he had resented this courageous man for nothing but who he was.



“She’s a bigot,” Michael said viciously.



“I don’t think so. Again, I think she is scared. She doesn’t understand. And things you can’t understand are always scary.”



Michael stared at Edward. “Can I kiss you?” It was completely stupid, but Michael didn’t care.



Clearly surprised by the question, Edward let out a laugh. “What?”



“I said.” Michael took a step toward Edward, getting right into his personal space. “Can. I. Kiss. You?”



“Uh-“



Edward’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. There was moisture just above his upper lip, and Michael wanted nothing more than lick it. Would it taste salty? Or was Edward’s perspiration sweet?



Their eyes locked.



“Michael-“



“Shut up.” He didn’t want to talk anymore. So he wrapped a hand around Edward’s nape, pulled him close and kissed him. Edward hadn’t really answered his question, but Michael simply couldn’t bring himself to care. And the way Edward’s lips opened at the contact told him more than a thousand words could have.



to be continued …