Page 55 of Zero Divergence
“You’re off the market now and into dudes these days, so I guess there’s no harm in bringing her around to meet everyone.”
“Wait,” Royce said, holding up his hand. “You thought I was going to have an affair with your wife? You think that poorly of me?” Royce’s voice pitched lower as his frustration rose.
Sawyer wished he had popcorn to eat while watching the confrontation play out but settled for a German chocolate cupcake instead.
Ashcroft shrugged. “Come on, Locke. You knew damn well what your reputation was, and you both fed into it and played off it at the same time. It shielded you from all of us trying to fix you up with our wives’ friends, sisters, or cousins.”
“True,” Royce said, conceding the point. “I never would’ve slept with any of your wives or girlfriends.”
“Right. Now we know why.”
Royce opened his mouth to argue more but must’ve thought better of it because only a long sigh slid from those gorgeous lips.
“So, what were you two lovebirds arguing about?” Ashcroft asked, then bit off half his cupcake in one bite. Telling the man to keep his voice down would do no good since he only had one tone: loud.
“We’re fighting over who our cat likes best,” Royce said with a negligent shrug. Our cat. It was the simplest remark, but if Sawyer were a cartoon, he’d be making heart eyes at Royce. Judging by the smug smirk on Royce’s lips, Sawyer might actually be shooting hearts at him.
Ashcroft choked on the cupcake, and it took him a few minutes of sputtering to right himself before he could speak again. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Locke,” he said, shaking his head as he exited the bullpen, leaving them alone again.
“Why the fuck were we even arguing over our cat to begin with?” Royce asked when they were alone again. He snapped his fingers. “Ah. We were talking about Humphries’s dogs and how the media kept showing pictures of the man with them as if to prove he can’t be a serial killer if he dresses up his wiener dogs for Halloween and poses with them for pictures.”
Sawyer knew Royce’s wheels were spinning when he tilted his head and stared off into space.
“We are noteverbuying a Halloween costume for Bones,” Sawyer said before the idea could take root. “We’re especially not wearing matching costumes with the cat. That’s a level of gayness I will never achieve.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Royce countered unconvincingly. “Wait, there are levels of gayness? Like an epic video game where you must complete challenges to advance? What’s it called?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk. “How many tasks have I completed and what have my prizes been so far? Is there a point system? What are the rules? Why am I just now learning about this? I would’ve expected someone like you to explain things better during orientation?”
Sawyer laughed harder with every question until he couldn’t breathe. “Orientation?”
“That time you dry humped me in your home gym,” Royce whisper shouted. “After I blew my load, you should’ve told me how many beginner’s points I achieved. I aced that gay porn challenge, yeah? I definitely remember my prize that night.” Royce waggled his brows. “Oh, I bet offering up my ass was the mack daddy of all challenges. That was a reward in and of itself.”
“Stop,” Sawyer said between gasps, wiping the tears from his face. No one could make him laugh and live in the moment like Royce could.
Royce smiled sweetly and ate his cupcake while Sawyer pulled himself together. Sawyer ached to reach across their desks to swipe the dot of icing at the corner of Royce’s mouth, then lick it off his thumb. He settled for tapping his own lip. Royce’s tongue darted out to capture the icing, and Sawyer couldn’t help but track its progress. He finally glanced up and met Royce’s stormy gaze.
Giving himself a good mental shake, Sawyer said, “If you weren’t coming up with costume ideas for Bones, then what were you thinking about?”
Royce chuckled. “I, uh, don’t remember now since you distracted me. Why don’t you share the significance of your computer search?”
Sawyer cleared his throat. “If the trip to Mexico was a last-minute decision, he would’ve scrambled to make arrangements for his dogs. Sure, he might’ve boarded them on short notice, or he might’ve trusted a close neighbor to look after them.”
Royce straightened in his chair and grinned. “I love the way your brain works, GB. Even if he did board the dogs, he or his wife would’ve probably asked a trustworthy neighbor to keep an eye on the place.”
“Exactly,” Sawyer said, grinning at his partner. “Once we find the right neighbor, one of us can call them and impersonate someone who wouldn’t raise red flags. You know reporters have made these people’s lives a living hell at times.”
Royce nodded. “What’s a safe choice?”
“You think it over while I find the right person to call.”
A few minutes later, Sawyer found what he was looking for. Lucretia Meyers had lived by the Humphrieses since they moved into the neighborhood six years ago. Several media outlets interviewed her on multiple occasions and even included photos with most of the articles. One piece referred to her as Lulu instead of Lucretia, indicating the woman had built a rapport with the reporter.
“Found her,” Sawyer said, then read off parts of an interview where she talked about dog sitting for the Humphrieses. “‘No one who loves animals the way Franco does Beatrice and Pumpernickel can be bad.’”
“She’s the one,” Royce agreed. He searched for a contact number, then took a big sip of water before picking up the phone and dialing. “Hello, is this Lucretia Meyers?” Royce had added vibrato and slowed his cadence to disguise his voice. Sawyer averted his gaze so he wouldn’t start laughing and blow Royce’s cover. He’d been horrible at phone pranks as a kid. “This is Sylvester Goodfellow calling from South University,” Royce continued. “I’m sorry to bother you, but—” Mrs. Meyers must’ve cut him off because he stopped talking suddenly. Sawyer looked up and noticed the delighted gleam in his partner’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I am calling about Franco. I’m trying to get ahold of him, but he’s not answering his phone or returning my messages. Franco listed you as an emergency contact if we couldn’t reach Mrs. Humphries, which is also the case. I thought you might be able to help me. It’s imperative I speak to him.” Royce blinked rapidly and fiddled with the collar of his polo shirt.
Sawyer nodded to encourage him and mouthed, “You’re doing good.”
“Well, that does make sense,” Royce said in response to whatever Lulu said. “A second honeymoon before he starts back at the university is just what they need.”