Page 12 of Devil's Hour
“If given a choice, I’m going to pick you.” It was the best he could offer—the best anyone could. It wasn’t the first time they’d had a variation of the same conversation nor would it be the last. It usually ended in a lot of kissing and tender sex, but it wasn’t an option right now. Royce’s gaze shifted down the long row of empty shower stalls, and he contemplated putting one of them to good use until Sawyer chuckled and took a step back.
“Get dressed so we can get on the road. I’ll treat you to your favorite catfish sandwich for lunch, Sarge.” Appeasing his stomach was a close second to his cock.
“Deal.”
Royce had used his last spare T-shirt after changing out of his uniform and had to settle for a navy blue polo with the SPD crest on the chest. He kept a few of them on hand for occasions when his casual attire wasn’t appropriate. Once he caught the appreciative gleam in Sawyer’s eyes, he decided to wear them more often. Considering his promotion and new responsibilities, maybe it was time to retire the T-shirts for good.
The Donovans lived in a neighborhood similar to the ones where the recent fires had occurred. With the middle class shrinking every day, income and jobs decreased while crime and violence increased. It was the same affliction facing every state in the union. The rich got richer while the poor got poorer.
The Donovan home on Stillwood Drive in the Colonial Oak neighborhood was the tidiest and the best maintained for two blocks. It was apparent they took pride in what they owned, even if it didn’t seem like much to others. It was something that resonated with Royce because his mother had felt the same way. They might’ve been poor as fuck and had to wear secondhand clothes from Goodwill, yard sales, or wherever she found them, but they were always clean and tidy. Their house wasn’t much to look at, but his mother kept it spotless even with unruly kids and a husband who didn’t care about anything except when his next meal and drink were coming.
When Royce and Sawyer exited the Charger, they noticed an older couple having a spirited discussion on the front porch.
“Missus, I want you to go inside and rest. I’ll take care of pulling the weeds for you,” the man said, leaning over the beautifully manicured flower beds. “I’ve been doing it all summer long.”
The woman sat in a rocking chair wrapped in an afghan blanket, which seemed out of place for August. “Sometimes you pull things that aren’t weeds, dear heart. I feel fine, and it makes me feel better helping in some small way.”
Dusty Donovan Sr, Royce assumed, stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Your idea of helping isn’t the same as mine, woman.”
His wife was too busy watching Royce and Sawyer’s approach to respond. Noticing her distraction, Dusty turned around and flinched.
“He’s not here,” Dusty said gloomily. “The boy hasn’t been here in six months.”
“We’re not here looking for your son, Mr. Donovan,” Royce said. “I’m Sergeant Locke, and this is my partner, Detective Key.” Mrs. Donovan chuckled while Mr. Donovan continued to watch them through weary eyes that had seen too much. “We’d like to speak to you for a minute if that’s okay.”
“Me? Well, I guess that’s all right.” He removed his straw hat and gloves, tossing the latter inside the hat and setting it on the porch.
The woman slowly rose from the rocking chair. “Would you gentlemen like some freshly squeezed lemonade or iced tea?”
“Missus, you need to be resting. Your treatment will catch up to you tomorrow, so you need to rest and be ready to fight,” Mr. Donovan pleaded.
“Okay then,” she said, nodding her head and lowering herself back in her rocker. “Please get these men and yourself a cold drink. I don’t know who you’re talking to in that tone, anyway. Who’s the one pulling weeds out in this miserable weather. There’s a reason I always wait until after supper before I work in my garden.”
“Okay, okay,” Mr. Donovan said, holding up his hands in surrender. He turned to face Royce and Sawyer once more. “Iced tea or lemonade?”
Royce wasn’t really in the mood for either but accepting his hospitality could help Mr. Donovan relax. “I’ll have lemonade if it’s no trouble.”
“It’s not,” Mrs. Donovan said from the porch.
“I’ll have the same,” Sawyer said.
“All right. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Mr. Donovan said. “Is there anything I can get you, missus?”
“You can find some manners and invite these gentlemen inside the house where it’s cooler. You can sit at the table and have a discussion.” She steepled her hands in front of her chest and looked up at the sky. “Lord help me with this man. I’ve been asking for your intervention for sixty years now, and I’m not sure you’re listening.”
“Almost sixty-one,” Mr. Donovan said with a smile, then climbed the porch to help his wife out of the rocking chair. Opening the screen door, he gestured for them all to enter the house before him.
Mrs. Donovan showed them to a small kitchen in the rear of the house. She pulled the lid off a large Tupperware container. “I have cookies too. Lemon icebox cookies, chocolate chip, and snickerdoodle. I get nervous before my treatments and baking helps calm me.”
“Turns our house into an oven too,” Mr. Donovan groused but helped himself to one of each.
“I haven’t had a lemon icebox cookie in years,” Sawyer said. “My grandmother made them.” Mrs. Donovan handed him three cookies and gestured for Royce to help himself.
Mr. Donovan removed glasses from the cabinet while his wife removed the pitchers from the refrigerator. They moved effortlessly in the cramped space from years of practice. Sixty-one years married to the same person. Not that long ago, Royce would’ve cringed at the thought, but now he had the urge to reach for Sawyer’s hand the way Mr. Donovan did with his wife.
After everyone had their drinks and ate their cookies, Mr. Donavan looked at Royce and said, “What can I do for you?”
“I would like to know if you saw anything suspicious this morning when delivering papers in the Victorian District.” He named the Goodwins’ street as well as two others so it wouldn’t be too obvious they were singling them out. “There were some reports of vandalism overnight and early this morning, and I’m hoping to find a witness.”