According to Design Page 22

  With a grimace, he tugged his cell phone out, using just his fingertips. He smeared the screen and sides, but most of the phone remained clean. He managed to open the camera and took pictures of the entire crime scene. The investigator in him took over and he ignored his discomfort. His knee ached and sent a sharp pain up his leg.

  “Yuck,” Keegan muttered and dropped the phone in the café bag. At least the bag hadn’t been destroyed. Brunch for two wasn’t ruined. “Yay for that bit of luck. Crap, this feels gross.” He gripped the handles and rushed across the street. He tried to ignore all of the odd looks. Again, he scooped out the keyring from his pocket with a single finger. He tried to not spread the nastiness covering him, but it was useless. He stepped inside to stand on the tiled entrance. Some globs of muck plopped around him. Yeah, he didn’t want to go near any of the displays or the beautiful dark hardwood. He winced at the sounds of more blobs dropping. It made such a mess. Marissa would kick his ass.

  Since he didn’t hear the usual loud rock music playing at ear-piercing decibels or any machines, he shouted, “Wyatt? Wyatt, I need your help.”

  “What? Come on back, I’m busy.”

  “Wyatt, get out here.”

  Silence fell between them.

  “Wyatt! Please!”

  “Okay. Okay. Hold your…” Wyatt appeared in the hallway between the studio and gallery. He stopped short and braced his hands on either wall. His eyes popped out of his head. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Aggravated by the entire situation, Keegan mumbled under his breath about the stupid obvious question. When he got himself under control, he explained everything and asked, “Can you call the sheriff? I need him to come here and bring the other forensics investigator. This is a hate crime. I left the scene but took pictures.”

  “What the fuck is happening to this town?” Wyatt yanked out his cell phone and hit a number. “Sheriff? It’s Wyatt McBride at Fire Glass. I need you and your crime scene tech to get down here. No, no, I can’t call Keegan, because he’s the victim.” He paused and listened. “It’s a hate crime of some type. Someone threw a bucket of…shit…I don’t know what it is…on Keegan. He left the main scene but took pictures. He said the attacker used homophobic slurs.” He listened. “Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. See you in a few.”

  Keegan held out his hand in question.

  “Stay right there. Robin and the other tech will be here in a few minutes.”

  “I couldn’t reach my phone since I dropped it in the bag with our brunch. Luckily, nothing happened to our food. Just me.”

  “This is unbelievable. Why is all this shit happening here? This town is welcoming and embraces any lifestyle. One fucking homophobic bastard wants to ruin everything. Who the fuck is he? Did you see him?”

  Keegan blinked at all the cursing leaving Wyatt. He knew his lover was steaming mad and ready to strangle the bastard. Part of him loved how Wyatt came to his defense, but he didn’t want Wyatt to fly off the hook. “Yes. Amanda knows him too.”

  Wyatt shoved fingers through his hair as he paced. “Damn, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  “I’m okay. Babe, don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

  “What?” Wyatt spun around to face him.

  “I know you’re spitting mad. I can see the fire rising within you. Don’t get cocky and fly off the handle. Please.”

  “Look what he did to you, Keegan.”

  “I don’t want to look. I can feel it. Let the sheriff handle things.”

  “Kee…”

  “Do this for me, babe,” Keegan pleaded.

  “Kee…”

  Keegan held up a hand, grimaced when another glob dripped and fell. “I’m a little sore. A lot nasty, but I’m okay. I need a shower. Bad.”

  “We’ll get you a shower. Soon. I promise.”

  Keegan gave him a wry smile. “At least, I’m not hurt until Marissa walks in and sees all this.”

  Wyatt stared at the tile and then Keegan. “Yeah, she’s not going to be happy. Know any cleaning companies?”

  “There’s one we work with for crime scenes. It’ll be sparkly clean in no time. Promise.”

  “Then I’ll do my best to keep her away.” Wyatt pointed toward the bag. “Food?”

  Keegan lifted the bag and laughed. “Yeah, I did make it to Minstrel and back. Brunch is safe. Can you get my phone out? The pictures are on it.”

  Wyatt carefully grabbed the handle and located the phone. “It’ll heat up. I can’t believe how you’re an absolute mess.” He rubbed one of his rags around the phone to clean it off. “There we go. Good as new.”

  “Yes, I know I’m a disaster and thanks for the phone. By the way, I’m sorry about the shirt.”

  Wyatt waved a hand. “It’s an old shirt.”

  “I liked it. It’s comfy.” Still, Keegan stayed put.

  * * * *

  Antsy and uncomfortable, Keegan was ready to do a happy dance when Robin made it to the gallery with the other forensics detective, Phillip Maxwell, behind him. Robin wore his usual dark jeans and boots with a brown uniform shirt and dark sunglasses. He must have left the towering Stetson in his SUV. Phillip came prepared for anything in his white coveralls and dragging his rolling kit.

  Robin opened the door and removed his sunglasses. With wide eyes, he took in the full sight of his muck-covered forensics tech.

  Keegan shuffled from one to the other. Mortal embarrassment rushed through him, colored his cheeks under the nastiness. Yeah, I’ll never hear the end of this one.

  “This isn’t what I was expecting to find.” Robin tried to continue talking, but stopped to smother a chuckle. “You don’t witness something like this craziness every day in law enforcement.”

  “Good to know one can surprise a law enforcement officer,” Keegan said in a grumpy tone. He pointed a finger at Robin. “Don’t you dare laugh.” The threat lost its punch when another pile of muck dropped on Robin’s boot.

  Both of them glanced down. Robin lifted an eyebrow.

  “Damn it,” Keegan muttered. “Phillip, help me out.”

  “Not sure where to begin, kid,” the older tech said. He walked around Keegan to get all points of view.

  “Start with my phone. I took pictures of the original scene. Wyatt has it.”

  “Will do,” Phillip said. With a nod, he accepted the phone from Wyatt.

  Wyatt stepped past Phillip. “While he looks ridiculous, this isn’t a laughing matter. This has to be a hate crime, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff held up his hands to calm Wyatt’s temper. “Hold on a moment. I need to hear everything from Keegan. While, yes, he’s a victim of whatever this stuff is, he’s also a tech and knows what I need.”

  Wyatt grumped and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Wyatt, please, this is how law enforcement works. I’ll be okay,” Keegan said. “What do you need?”

  “Well…” Robin looked between them. “I need to get your story about what happened on record. Phillip will take your clothes and samples of the umm…muck.”

  Phillip nodded in agreement. He fiddled with Keegan’s phone. “I forwarded the pictures to my email for the records, Keegan.”

  “Fine. Wait,” Keegan said and held up his hands. “Do you want all of my clothes? Everything?”

  Robin glanced at his tech, who lowered the kit to the floor then opened it.

  “For evidence. You know how it is. You can keep your boxers to protect your modesty, kid.” Phillip pulled out a tube of paper then unrolled it across a section of floor. He ripped off the section and jotted a note on the edge. “You know the drill. Stand on the paper to catch any drips and other evidence.”

  Feeling a little mortified at having to strip in front of everyone and subjecting himself to something he was used to doing to victims, Keegan stepped carefully to stand on the paper. He spread his feet shoulder width apart and held his hands out.

  “You know, it’s a helluva lot easier working with someone who knows the process.”
Phillip rose to collect the multiple samples.

  “Yeah, yeah, just get it over with. Never knew how humiliating this could be for someone. We have to figure out another way to protect them,” Keegan said.

  “I’m sure we can sit down and talk it over to find another process. Until then, can you go through what happened from the moment you left Wyatt and the studio? Did you guys spend the night here?” Robin pulled out a pad and pen to jot down notes.

  “We spent the night at my place,” Wyatt said.

  Robin glanced over his shoulder at Wyatt.

  “What? It’s the truth and I’m part of the story,” Wyatt said.

  “I’m asking Keegan. Do I need to send you to the corner?” Robin asked.

  “Hell, no.”

  “Then zip it.”

  Wyatt glared at Robin but didn’t toss out another snarky comment. He paced off to the side.

  Robin turned his attention back to Keegan. “Keegan?”

  “I stayed with Wyatt. I mentioned I’ve been dating him for the last couple of months,” Keegan said.

  “Right. Did you two head to the gallery together?”

  “Yes, Wyatt drove us here. He went to work on his project. I stayed at a table by the opening, out of his range, and graded papers. I got hungry and asked Wyatt if he wanted brunch. When he said yes, I walked to the Minstrel Café.”

  “What happened when you got there, Keegan?”

  Clearing his throat, Keegan went through every step from leaving Wyatt, to the sight-seeing, and entering the café. He mentioned his chats with Diane and Amanda, and that teasing from Amanda had led to the initial hiss of harassment from a man leaving.

  “Can you describe him?”

  Keegan gave him a full description—the greasy lank hair, wife-beater shirt and jeans. “There’s a snake tattoo wrapped around his left biceps. A red cobra of some kind with a flared hood, fangs and just…nasty. Nothing like the beauty in Wyatt’s ink. It stuck out.”

  “Cobra tattoo?”

  Keegan glanced to see Phillip working around his legs. He moved his arms to reveal a general idea of the placement and size of the tattoo for Robin.

  “I’ve seen that before on a guy,” Robin said.

  “Same here,” Wyatt said, breaking his silence but not his pacing.

  Robin rolled his eyes from a position only Keegan could catch. He jotted additional notes. “What happened after this guy left?”

  “Amanda gave me a bag with my order. I walked down the sidewalk opposite the gallery,” Keegan said and laid out the incident of being knocked around several times, the language the man had used, and being pushed to the ground and covered in muck. “He spat next to me too. Then he disappeared—I heard a truck peeling away. The engine noise was louder and deeper, which told me it wasn’t a car. The whole thing happened in less than five minutes. It rattled me to where I didn’t realize what the hell happened.”

  “Did you see the same man when he hit you or tossed the muck?”

  “Hell, yeah, I caught a glimpse as he ran away from me. That same ugly tattoo snapped back at me. I tried to remove the majority of this shit, but it’s sticky. I pulled out my phone and managed to snap photos of the entire scene. Then I made my way back to the gallery. I called for Wyatt and he contacted you.”

  “Where is the alley?”

  “It’s next to the gallery. If you stand on the street looking at the gallery, it’s on your right side. You can see the leftover muck.”

  “Did anyone else witness the initial contact between you and the suspect?”

  “Yes, Amanda was behind the counter and heard everything. I believe she knows him. She mentioned talking to Isaiah about banning the man because he harassed other customers.”

  “Good. This will help confirm things. Can you remember anything else?”

  “Not really, I’m in some pain. My back hurts from where he slammed his hand into me and sent me to the ground. My knee stings from kissing the pavement. Oh yeah,” Keegan said in a snarky tone, “I’m covered in muck.” He let out another grump. “I don’t like being on this side of an attack, boss.”

  “None of this is your fault. Thanks to you coming forward, I’m going to catch this guy and stop him. I believe this isn’t the first time he’s pulled this off. Some odd reports of this type of hate crime came across my desk, but without the details of the attacker…” Robin said, putting away the pad. “Appears he slipped up when he went after you.”

  “Do you want me to sign a formal statement?”

  “We’ll take care of everything when you come in on Monday. Either Phillip or I will contact you if we need anything else.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll be there,” Keegan said.

  He glanced at Wyatt, who met his gaze.

  Robin looked over at Phillip and asked, “How are you doing? Almost done with him?”

  “I’m finished. Keegan, you can strip. You know the routine, kid,” Phillip said.

  Keegan groaned and nodded.

  “Take him through the steps. Keep to procedure if we need to proceed with prosecution,” Robin said.

  Keegan groaned.

  “You heard the boss.” Phillip held his hands out to point out that it wasn’t his fault.

  Keegan closed his eyes and lifted his head back. He really didn’t want to do this, but shit, he knew procedures.

  “Kick off your shoes. Remove your top next. Then drop your pants. Hand each item to me so I can bag them separately,” Phillip said. He prepared several paper bags and corresponding tags to collect the clothes. “Wyatt, do you have a towel or blanket you don’t mind getting dirty?”

  “I’ll get something,” Wyatt said before he walked away.

  Being careful to not touch more than needed, Keegan stepped out of the shoes. Phillip picked up each one for a separate bag. The T-shirt followed into another pouch. Next, he undid the pants and let them fall. He lifted his feet out then moved to the side, shivering while standing in his tight cotton boxers.

  “At least you didn’t choose tightie whities today.” Phillip chuckled after teasing him.

  “Shaddup.”

  Phillip grabbed the pants with care. He folded them before he slid them into the last paper container.

  Robin moved around Keegan and stopped. “Whoa there, that looks nasty.”

  “What?” Keegan asked.

  “Turn around, Keegan. Phillip, I want pictures of this bruise.”

  Alarmed at the thought of a bruise, Keegan spun around.

  “Wow. That’s going to be a beaut.” Phillip pulled out a high-res camera and snapped several pictures. “Turn and let me get a look at the knee you landed on the pavement.”

  Keegan turned again and held out the leg with the swollen reddened knee for more pictures.

  “If you have any problems with the knee and need to go to the clinic, please make sure they forward a medical report to our office.”

  “I know the procedure. I may have to see Doc Elliott. My knee is bugging me.” Keegan flexed the leg in question.

  Phillip lowered the camera. “Is there any other place we overlooked?”

  “Not unless you want my glasses. They made it through without getting cracked. Luckily, nothing landed on our brunch. Tell me you’re not taking that into evidence,” Keegan said.

  “Nah, don’t need your glasses. As good as your breakfast smells, I don’t think I need it. But now I want to get some for myself,” Phillip said. “I wouldn’t want you to have gone through all of this only to not have any food. The entire trip would have been lost.”

  “Tell me about it. I don’t want to go back out and do this all over again.” Keegan stared down at his mostly naked body and the drying muck sticking to him.

  “Step off the paper so I can save that,” Phillip said.

  Keegan stepped to the side. Phillip carefully folded, bagged and labeled the last piece of evidence. “Do you two want anything else from me?”

  “Nope, I’m done with you. Go get that shower.” Phillip
packed up his kit. “I’ll check out the alley and match your photos to my gatherings, measurements and sketches. If anything else happens, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Appreciate you getting here so fast, Robin, Phillip.” Wyatt reappeared with a scruffy old blanket in his hands. He walked over to Keegan, shook out the cloth then wrapped it around Keegan’s shoulders. He enclosed him inside and rubbed Keegan a little to warm his chilled limbs. “There you go, Kee.”

  “Thanks,” Keegan said. He held the edges together. “I feel miserable. I need a shower.”

  Wyatt nodded toward the back of the alley. “Go upstairs to the first apartment. The shower in the master bath works and there should be lots of soap and towels for you. We can eat when you’re done.”

  * * * *

  After watching Keegan disappear, Wyatt turned to find Robin standing next to him. Phillip had already left to finish his evidence gathering outside in the alley.

  “What the hell is happening around here?” Wyatt asked.

  “I have no idea but I’m pissed off. There’s someone deliberately attacking members of the LGBT population. Which is most of the town. This isn’t the first time someone said they had a bucket of muck thrown at them. This is the sixth time since June,” Robin said.

  “Who the hell would sink so low?”

  “A homophobic bastard who thinks they’re better than everyone, including law enforcement,” Robin said.

  “What now?”

  “Thanks to Keegan being who he is, I know exactly who I’m after. I look forward to getting a warrant for his arrest.”

  “The tattoo?”

  “Yup, and general description. Bastard screwed up when he attacked Keegan. He’s not getting away this time.”

  “He better fucking not,” Wyatt said.

  “Relax. Don’t blow your top. Take care of Keegan. I’ll handle the bastard,” Robin said.

  “What did you find out about his ex?”

  “From what I understand, Dwayne Morris was let out for ’good behavior’ and overcrowding. Unlike others, his sentence didn’t mandate he remain in prison. It was ten to fifteen years and Morris spent four years behind bars.” Robin shuffled his feet. “Morris never reported to his parole officer. One of my detectives managed to talk to some officers in the precinct where Keegan and Morris worked. Some overheard rumors of Morris checking in with his friends in the narc department. Someone is searching the databases for Keegan’s whereabouts.”