Page 13 of Devil's Hour
“I’d love to help you, but I didn’t deliver papers today. My Macy had a breast cancer treatment this morning, so a substitute carrier filled in.”
“Do you know who?” Sawyer asked. “We’d like to ask them the same question.”
“There are a few different people who pick up my route when I need to take time off, so I don’t know for sure who you need to speak with.” He snapped his fingers. “Let me call my supervisor to find out which one.”
“That would be great. Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Donovan rose from his chair and went into the other room to make the phone call.
“Your cookies are so delicious, Mrs. Donovan,” Sawyer said. “Just like my nanna made them. I’ll have to ask my mother if she has Nanna’s recipe.”
“If not, you come back here, and I’ll give you a copy of mine.”
“How are you feeling today? I remember how hard chemo treatments were for my mom,” Royce said.
“Today isn’t so bad, and tomorrow will be passable, but the five days after that will be hard. I worry more about my Dusty though. It’s hard seeing him so upset. I know he’d give anything to take away my pain, but that’s not how life works.”
“No, it isn’t,” Royce agreed. “My mom drank beverages with ginger in them to help with nausea. Ginger ale was her favorite.” He remembered the look of relief on her face after the first sip. “She also knitted to take her mind off things like you bake. I still have some of her blankets.”
Some of the sadness he felt must’ve leaked into his voice because Mrs. Donovan patted his forearm. “I’m sorry, honey.” Royce smiled and nodded at her.
Mr. Donovan came in a few minutes later. “Hector Rodriguez filled in for me today. I don’t know his address, but I know where he lives, so I wrote down directions. Hector is a good egg. If he saw something, he’ll tell you.”
“Do you know if Mr. Rodriguez sticks to your delivery schedule?” Sawyer asked, taking the paper from him and tucking it in his pocket.
“As far as I know,” Mr. Donovan said. “And trust me, customers don’t hesitate to let me know if their paper was late in my absence. I’m usually in that area between five thirty and six.”
Royce and Sawyer rose from their chairs and shook hands with the couple.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality and the information,” Sawyer said. “Wishing you a speedy recovery, Mrs. Donovan.”
Royce wished her the same, and they left the couple in their kitchen.
Once outside, Sawyer bumped his arm against Royce’s. “We have three suspicious fires, another person to interview, and once we find out what time Skip Goodwin picked up his paper from the lawn, we can narrow down the window of time our jackass tampered with or swapped-out newspapers, which will help with the neighborhood canvass.” Sawyer glanced at his clock. “And it’s not even noon. Not a bad start, Sarge. If you’re really lucky, you’ll be tackling a suspect by two.”
“Shut up and feed me, asshole.”
Blue was already waiting for them at Clancy’s when Royce and Sawyer arrived, but he wasn’t alone. The African American man sitting beside him appeared to be Blue’s opposite in both build and personality. The man was several inches shorter than Blue, leanly muscled, and wore a more reserved expression than the gregarious smile gracing the face of the gentle giant everyone loved. Royce noticed the fire department patch embroidered on the guy’s red polo shirt, identifying him as a firefighter, but that wasn’t what held his interest. Blue had his arm draped over the back of the man’s chair and was leaning toward him in a way that screamed intimacy, and somehow Blue’s larger-than-life grin was impossibly bigger and brighter when he looked at the mystery man.
Two things struck Royce: Jackson Blue was in love, and Royce envied his ability to openly and publicly show affection to his guy. It was a dumb thing to be jealous over because the only person holding him back was himself.
Both men looked up as Royce and Sawyer approached. Blue smiled proudly while his guest looked slightly less confident about his welcome. Royce and Sawyer sat across from them and waited for Blue to introduce them. When Blue just sat there grinning like a sappy fool, Royce took the initiative and extended his hand to the handsome fireman with the amber eyes. “I’m Royce Locke.”
The man shook his hand. “Ezekiel Blevins. My friends call me Zeke. It’s nice to meet you, Royce. I’ve heard a lot about you, so it’s nice to put a face to the name. Blue told me you were promoted to sergeant this morning. Congratulations. Or maybe I should offer my condolences since you’re now in charge of this guy.” Zeke placed his hand on Blue’s shoulder.
“It’s good to meet you too, Zeke,” Royce said. “I’ve had the honor of working with Blue for the past three years, so I’m used to his shenanigans and have his number.”
Blue met Royce’s gaze and said, “Best three years of your life.”
Royce laughed. “Let’s not get carried away, Blue.” Royce briefly placed his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, and even such a simple touch seemed to sear Royce’s skin. “This is my partner, Sawyer Key.”
“Good to meet you, Zeke,” Sawyer said, shaking his hand. “I’m the newest member of the major crimes unit.”
Zeke chuckled. “I’ve heard plenty about you, too, but mostly the ways you irritate this one,” he said, tipping his head at Royce.
“I get under his skin every chance I can get,” Sawyer returned coolly.
Royce nearly choked on his saliva when Sawyer’s blasé remark triggered memories of Sawyer fingering his ass that morning in the shower. The restaurant had become uncomfortably warm, so he hooked a finger under his collar and pulled his polo shirt away from his skin. “Have you guys ordered yet?”