A matter of pride

Chapter 1

Dillon looked up, trying to pinpoint the sound that had caused his heart to clench suddenly and painfully in his chest. It came again, the sound of something tearing, slow and deliberate. He stayed frozen a moment longer, refusing to believe that it could possibly be true, but the scrape of a boot along the wooden floor confirmed his fear. There was someone in his home. He grabbed his cane, holding it tight as he tried to calm his breathing. Outside the rain pattered against the roof gently, a sound he usually found relaxing, but not tonight. The view out of the small, loft window was black but he had no idea how long he'd been sat on the cosy daybed with his book; the night gave him no clues and the only clock was downstairs in the kitchen. Downstairs where the noise had come from.Panic was rising in his chest, the fear he had thought he was finally getting past hitting him so hard that he worried for a moment that he would faint, or vomit, or both. His body felt suddenly too hot, his heartbeat too fast, and he had no idea what to do. A large part of him wanted to stay in the corner of the loft and hide but the smaller part of his brain, the stubborn part, rebelled at the idea, and when a thud echoed through the silent cabin, he lurched forward to the loft railing.His eyes narrowed as he scanned the small space. The cabin wasn't big. The living room and kitchen were both visible from the loft and they were empty and silent, but he knew he'd heard something, and was determined not to be strangled by his fear. Not this time. Whatever, or whoever, was in his home had to be either in his bathroom, or his bedroom. The thought made his eyes water but he forced back the tears; he could do this.Dillon limped carefully down the narrow staircase, took several deep breaths to ease the pain in his heaving chest, and edged toward the bedroom. Another sound, like a strong gust of wind through curtains, came from the other side of the door and he felt the bile rise in his throat again. Only this time, instead of being frozen by fear, anger began to rise up within him. He tried to convince himself that he could face whatever was behind his door but his knee wobbled, the weakened muscle straining as he tried to plant his feet. He had been working so hard to get back to normal and the last thing he needed was for his leg to fail him when he really needed it.It was only two more steps to the door, but Dillon still hesitated. Maybe, he thought, it would be best to just call the police, that was what normal people did in this sort of situation, wasn't it? Only the twinge in his leg reminded him that relying on the cops wasn't necessarily in his best interests. He took another deep breath instead, and tried to relax his muscles a little before the ache in his leg got any worse. He could handle this himself, he'd been through worse.He stepped forward carefully, leaning heavily on his stick to hide his footfalls, and reached his hand out to grab the door handle. His heart began to pound like it wanted to break free from his chest, so hard it hurt, and he cursed the prickling behind his eyes as the tears returned and threatened to fall. This could be nothing. A possum had probably snuck in through the open window. He was good with animals, he reminded himself, and there was nothing to fear from a possum. Of course, his brain informed him traitorously, if it was a possum it would have to get through the fly screen first, and he'd never heard of a possum that could work a latch.He grasped the handle tightly, there was no going back now, and without giving himself any more time to over-think Dillon pushed hard on the door and flicked on the light as he all but fell in to the room. Something was clamoring out of the bedroom window and it definitely wasn't a possum."Oi, what the fuck are you doing?" he yelled, sounding a lot fiercer than he felt.The intruder in the black hoodie jumped at the sound of his voice but didn't stop and Dillon made no move to tackle him, not when the man was already halfway out the window. The voice was all for show anyway, he was all bark and no bite and he knew it, and a second later the intruder had slipped through the window and out in to the darkness. For a long moment Dillon didn't know what to do, his body was frozen, but eventually he stumbled forward to the window, looking desperately out in to the night. He could just about make out the glowing circle of a torch through the sheets of rain as it bobbled down across the field. The man was heading toward the bush-land at the end of the property, and the national park beyond, and Dillon shivered.He turned back to his room but it didn't make him feel any better. Drawers had been opened and boxes had been pulled from the cupboard, things he hadn't bothered to unpack when he arrived, and the pictures and flag he'd hung on his wall were all torn down. He clutched at his cane as the tears threatened again, not caring that his hand was beginning to cramp. The intruder had been holding something as he fled.Sudden outrage rushed through Dillon's veins, fueled by adrenaline and nerves, and he stumbled as fast as he could from the bedroom and out to the kitchen. The rain hit him like a water cannon's blast as he yanked the back door open, but in that moment he didn't feel it, and was down the porch steps before he registered the cold. He was too focused on the distant torchlight and his bare feet slipped on the rocks and mud as he attempted to catch up, even as his leg began to scream at him over being treated so badly.A sharp stab of pain hit him suddenly and he cried out as the nerves in his foot began to misfire and his hip throbbed as if he'd poured boiling water over his skin rather than the rainwater that currently drenched him. He stopped, gasping for air, the adrenaline draining, his body shivering near uncontrollably as he fell to his knees, gripping his cane desperately. His t-shirt and track pants were wet through and his long hair was plastered to his head, obscuring his vision, and he was alone in the middle of a patch of scrub, in the dark. What'd he been thinking? He shook his head at his own stupidity as he realised that even if he'd somehow managed to catch up with the bloke, he wouldn't have been able to overpower him. He was a cripple, and he could hardly beat the guy with his cane when it was supporting ninety percent of his weight, could he? His anger over the theft had pushed him out of the kitchen door, but sense and fear made him quit.Out among the trees, the light became a distant flicker before Dillon lost sight of it altogether, and that decided it for him. No way was he stepping foot in the bush after dark, he'd be as good as gone once he got inside the park, and lost within seconds. He bent over, resting his free hand on the muddy ground, as he watched the rain drip down through his overlong hair. It really was getting far too long, he realised, even by his standards, but he could hardly do anything about it out in the rain, and besides, he had bigger problems to worry about. He was going to have to call the police whether he wanted to or not.It was a long, arduous walk back up to the cabin. All of the good work he'd done in strengthening his leg over the last few months seemed to have been undone in under a minute and he swore angrily at the pain, and how stupid he felt for going after the intruder. His hand was shaking when he picked up his mobile, his lungs still burning along with his overworked hip and leg. Would this time be different, he wondered. Would the cops out here be any more understanding than the ones he'd had to deal with before? He doubted it, and as he struggled out of the wet t-shirt and sat down heavily at the kitchen table he was filled with a stomach-turning sense of dread. He was an outsider in Port Evans, new to the town, and he'd seen folk whispering about him when he'd had to go in to the small supermarket and the doctor's office. He'd be lucky if the police here even bothered to follow up on his call and he doubted they'd make any real effort to catch the thief. Still, he'd be damned if was going to let it go unreported.***Detective David Sharma only had a partial view of the man who'd phoned in the robbery, but he had to admit that it wasn't a bad view. The guy had opened the door but left the chain lock on and David could see part of his bare chest and narrow hips, and a pair of very sharp dark eyes glaring out at him. He looked like something out of a fashion catalogue and David felt his cheeks heat at being so close to someone so attractive, even if they didn't look at all pleased to see him."Good evening, sir. Mr. Kelly, is it? I'm Officer Sharma. Did you report a robbery?"The man on the other side of the door lifted his chin, suspicion evident in the thin line of his lips, and David tried to ignore the way it highlighted the man's striking bone structure. He was on a job; he wasn't supposed to be ogling a possible crime victim. What was wrong with his brain? He decided to blame it on the terrible state of his motel bed and the subsequent lack of sleep and tried to focus on appearing calm and trustworthy. He needed the people in this town to trust him and so far he had not been doing a very good job of it."You don't look... local," the man told him tentatively. "And, and I don't see a uniform. How do I know you're who you say you are?"His words were soft but clipped, his tone wary, and by the way his chest was heaving David knew the guy was probably stressed and on edge, so did his best to sound calm and non-confrontational as he replied. He'd only been in town for three days and they had been a long and tiresome three days. Mr. Kelly was far from the first person in the dusty South Australian town to comment on his dark skin; most everyone he'd met so far acted like the very idea of an Indian man deciding to be a police officer and not a doctor, or delivery driver for their local curry place, was completely unheard of. No one had been aggressively racist, at least not yet, just blithely ignorant, and David was doing his best to just grin his way through it. Now he wondered why the other officers had been so eager to send him out on this particular call. None of the Port Evans officers had said anything directly, but the implication was that Dillon Kelly was a member of the community who David should meet. Maybe he was the local xenophobe, David thought; that would be just his luck. He wasn't popular with the other members of the station yet, hadn't had a chance to build their trust, and knew he had to tread lightly until he got a better understanding of the situation."I'm new," he explained with a friendly smile. "Just got here a few days ago, in fact."On the other side of the door he saw the man shuffle uncomfortably, eyes flickering. "Can I see your badge, please?" Now that he was a little calmer his voice was soft and melodic, David felt his heartbeat quicken for a moment at the gentle tone. They were almost of a height and he tried to make eye contact with the man, but those dark, wary eyes just flickered from his face to the darkness behind him and David struggled to get a read on the guy. It was making him nervous just watching the way his eyes were darting and he pulled his ID from his back pocket and held it up so the man could look at it through the gap in the door, taking the opportunity to study Dillon Kelly's intense, intelligent face when it was still, until his eyes narrowed again. "Sydney police?""I've just transferred. Fancied a sea change," he responded with a smile, a little miffed he didn't get one in return."You sure you weren't sent here as punishment?"The snark in that particular comment made him laugh and his heart skipped when a smile flickered across the guy's lips. Being in Port Evans did feel a little like being sent to Naraka, the hell his grandmother had always warned him of when he was a child, but it had been his decision."Nah, nothing like that," he grinned. "I just needed a break from the big city and, you know, there are diversity quotas that need filling. I agreed to go country, I ended up here."He shrugged and hoped the guy bought it. Dillon Kelly didn't need to know that he was really a temporary transfer for a special investigation, one that had to remain under the radar. Half of the department here didn't know he wasn't a long-term transfer, a fact that probably had something to do with their hostility, but David just didn't have time for any of that.Some years ago, he'd been the one to link together the disappearances of several gay men in Sydney and put a serial killer behind bars. He was still sure that there were more victims who hadn't been found but his bosses hadn't been too keen to hear about how their own officers had failed to take the disappearances seriously. The media had been keen though, and soon David had developed something of a reputation as a serial killer expert and had been lent out to other states and cities when cases stalled and killers couldn't be caught. He was one of the best, or so people continually told him. And now Port Evans needed his expertise.After one final, suspicious look Dillon undid the chain lock and opened the door just wide enough to let David slip through. "I tried to catch him myself, but he got away."That explained the wet hair and lack of shirt then. It was still pouring down out there and even his thick coat hadn't been much protection. David stepped in to the small, warm house gratefully but his steps faltered when he actually came face to face with the man. It was hard not to stumble and stutter over his words, or his feet, when faced with someone so intensely beautiful. Dillon Kelly's hair was hanging in wet tendrils around his face, accentuating his finely sculpted jaw and cheekbones, and the dark lines of his brows and lashes. His mouth, though firm, was full lipped, and his body was lithe and lightly muscled, despite his slim stature. He was like a painting, David thought, too perfectly balanced in features to be real, but he was jolted from his musings by the unexpected glint of light from a cane in the man's hand. He hadn't seen it when the door had been between them and he blinked in surprise, attempting to reel in his thoughts from where they had drifted."You should leave catching the crooks to the police, mate, especially in your condition. Or did you twist your ankle during the pursuit?"He'd meant it as a light hearted throw away sort of line, but the guy stiffened and his eyes turned cold as he took a halting step backwards. He was leaning so heavily on his cane that David wanted to put an arm around him to take some of the strain but it was obvious that that was out of the question, and plain as day that the guy didn't trust cops. David had seen it enough over the years that he had a nose for it, and he tried to make himself less threatening as he took off his coat and hung it by the door, tucking his shoulders in tight to his body, but Dillon Kelly didn't relax."Calling your lot is, is always a last resort for me."David heard the tinge of bitterness in the man's voice. Something had definitely gone down between Dillon and the police and he had a sudden suspicion that the cane, and the limp, were somehow involved. And, like a true copper, he couldn't let his curiosity lie idle."And why's that, then?"The question seemed to shock the man. Emotion flashed across his features and his arm shook from the grip he had on his cane before he regained his composure."Let's just say that, um, in my experience most cops couldn't care less. Not about guys like me anyway."The niggling suspicion in the back of David's mind became more like a blaring foghorn at that comment and he wanted to come straight out with it and ask the guy on the spot if he was gay but knew he couldn't. That would be a definite way to make the guy clam up, and probably ask him to leave and, as a series of graphic crime-scene photos flashed through his mind, David had a sudden urge to know more about this man, and the crime he had called in about. Dillon fit the profile: gay, isolated, unbelievably pretty. Could he be a potential target for the killer? The only real difference David could see was Dillon's prickly suspicious nature. The other men had been lured with apparent ease and had been described by their friends as trusting and happy-go-lucky sorts. Possibly Dillon had been the same once, but he certainly wasn't right now. David was sure there was more to the story, but now was not the time to dredge it up. He'd just have to tread lightly and go by the book. Whatever Dillon Kelly's history was with the police, maybe being professional would be enough to convince him that some cops could be trusted."If it weren't for my leg, I might, um, might have been able to catch him," Dillon said in low voice, averting his eyes as he limped past David to the small kitchen. "Once I would've.""I'm impressed you tried on a night like this," David offered as he followed him further in to the cabin."Yeah, um, it was pretty stupid actually. I had a moment of sanity and realised I wouldn't know what to do if I caught the guy." He forced a laugh that died when it was barely past his lips.David watched as the man lowered himself carefully in to a chair, his jaw tight with pain, yet so finely sculpted it set David's heart to skipping again. No bloke had a right to be so attractive, he mused as he watched the movement of Dillon's arm muscles as they supported his weight, but shook himself free of it when those dark, wary, eyes looked back at him and then flickering to the one other chair available. David took the cue and sat and tried to keep his mind on the job at hand."So what happened?" The wary look was back and David wondered if the bloke was actually going to snap at him before he realised the possible misunderstanding. "I mean tonight, with the break-in. You said it was a man?""He had a man's build. Tall. Broad shoulders. Black hoodie. Um. I couldn't see his face." His words were short and clipped once again, but the gentleness was still there beneath. It was the subtle shaking of his hands, one still on the handle of the cane, the other scrunched tightly in his track pants just above his knee, which gave away that the break-in had really rattled him. "I, um, was reading a book upstairs, um, I was a veterinary nurse... before I came here. And there's a whole shelf of books about animals native to the area. Especially birds. I like birds. I thought, um, I thought, when I moved here, it could be a new hobby, you know, bird watching or something."David knew not to interrupt. People usually had to back up and talk about safe things before they were able to deal with the actual crime. He nodded to let the man know that he was listening and that he understood but Dillon didn't continue the story. He turned his head up to stare at the ceiling instead, eyes blinking rapidly and lips pressed together in a thin, pale line."Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Kelly? Or a coffee?" He phrased it gently but the guy went immediately stiff again and leant back from David as far as his chair would allow."Nah, I'm fine. I don't... I don't need anything, thanks."Dillon Kelly really didn't trust him but David tried not to take it personally. He'd seen it before in people who'd had bad experiences with the police. He'd seen it a whole lot when he'd first started investigating the disappearances in Sydney. The gay community had an unfortunate history with the police and sometimes David found it hard being the man straddling that line, acting as go-between. Dillon's voice had a definite Adelaide roundness to it and David was all too aware of the way some coppers in that city chose to cover up crimes which should by rights have been written up as hate crimes and gay bashings. When the first two men had gone missing from the city's parklands an attempt had been made to hush the whole thing up, until someone had sent an email his way, in time for a third body to turn up in the northern suburbs, strangled and dumped in a river. He'd flown south only to be informed that a fourth dead man had turned up, also strangled, in a town half an hour beyond the outer suburbs. The fifth had washed up a month later on Port Evans' beach, and the sixth had been discovered in the rubble of the town's old drive-in cinema only two days after that. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the whole thing quiet, to claim that the deaths had been accidents, but that was the story they'd gone with, to keep the town from falling to panic, and within hours it had been agreed that David would transfer to their country branch and hopefully catch up with the bastard before he managed to kill again. So far they'd had no luck but he wasn't about to give up."Have you been living here long then?" David asked with another grin, trying to steer the conversation back in to lighter waters."A little while," Dillon hedged, looking at him sideways, but David suddenly felt determined to win the guy over."Seen any of the wildlife yet? I mean, other than in books?""A bit," Dillon replied cautiously, though his shoulders had begun to relax again. "Not as much as I'd like.""I used to be mad keen on animals when I was young," David told him truthfully, feeling a spark of his old enthusiasm as he wracked his brain for any information that might be useful. "Koalas, wallabies, and those tiny, little, hoppy guys, you know the ones? They look like mice but are really marsupials?""Bilbies? Possibly?" Dillon replied with a flickering smile and David grinned and clapped his hands."Yeah, that's the ones. Bilbies! There were a couple at the zoo and they were my absolute favourite things. My mum always wanted me to look at the tigers and elephants, proper Indian animals, you know? But I just wanted to watch the bilbies." He chuckled at the fondness of the memory and glanced over to see that Dillon was sitting more comfortably than before and still had that whisper of a grin playing about his lips. It seemed a terrible shame to take it from him, to tear away the tiny slice of camaraderie he'd been able to build, but he was on duty, and he had a job to do, even if neither of them were very happy about it. "So. You were looking at the books. And you heard a noise?"He saw Dillon shiver and hated the violence of it. The guy didn't have enough body fat and David worried that another shake like that and his bones would jangle all out of place. He had some muscle, the lean kind that came from working his body hard, and probably harder than he aught, though that was only a hunch, but there was little fat on him. The man's arms were stronger, more muscled, and David supposed that was a bonus when dealing with a bum leg and whatever else was causing him such pain."I thought maybe it was, um, it was nothing," Dillon muttered, his eyes wandering to the half closed door to his bedroom. "Thought maybe it was a possum and, um, went barging in, hoping it was just that but..."David nodded and took out his notepad to jot down a few of the details. "And was anything taken?"He watched as Dillon blinked, his mouth opening and shutting again as if the sound had been muted before he finally seemed to pull himself together."I don't actually know. I didn't check. He went out through the window, and he definitely, um, definitely had something with him. I went after him through the kitchen and, um, realised I was a bloody idiot for trying to run, let alone barefoot in the rain, came back here, called your lot and then..."He was blinking again and David reached forward to give his shoulder a squeeze. He wanted to do more but didn't want to come across as inappropriate, even if his instincts were screaming at him to just give the man a hug. It was one of the hardest parts of his job but there were rules, and detectives did not hug the people they were interviewing."It's alright, mate," he said softly. "It's alright to be shaken."Dillon nodded and pursed his lips and David stood up quickly, before he had to see the man cry, and crossed to the sink. There was a glass on the draining board and he took his time drying it and filling it from the tap before making his way back to the table, where Dillon was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He accepted the drink silently and took a long swallow before clearing his throat to continue and David tried to focus on his notes and not the droplet of water that had escaped from the corner of the man's lips and trickled down his pale neck to pool in the dip of his collarbone. He wasn't usually distracted by men whilst on the job, whether he thought they might be gay or not, but Dillon seemed to be harder to ignore and so he pushed on with his questions a little more quickly than he normally would have."So you say he was in your bedroom?" he asked, kicking himself when the bluntness of his tone made the other man startle."Yeah," Dillon answered. "Um. He'd been through all my drawers and the boxes I'd stashed in the cupboard. I've got too much stuff," he shrugged apologetically. "I moved in here and realised I had, I had, um, no where to put most of it and just decided not to unpack. Stuck the boxes in the cupboard. I don't even remember half of what's in them.""So you don't know if anything was taken?" David knew he was pushing. He knew he needed to back off a bit, but his brain was whirring too fast, trying to pull together clues and pieces of information that he couldn't quite make sense of even though he knew they were vitally important."He had something wrapped in a, um, a t-shirt or cloth or something," Dillon replied, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. "I haven't checked the room. He took something. I just don't know what. I'll, um, I'll go look now, I guess."He started to stand, his face contorting as he struggled with his leg, and the policeman in David's head finally snapped back in to gear and back in to control."No, sit," he told him. "I have to go over the crime scene first.""But it must be gone midnight."David gave him an apologetic grin but knew it was best to get on with it as soon as possible. If there was a link between this break-in and the murders he needed to know. "Look, I saw another little place like yours down the street a way. Do you know the owners maybe? Is there someone you could stay with?"He sighed as the guy shook his head but really he'd expected as much. Dillon Kelly didn't seem to fit in with what he'd seen of the town so far."It's a holiday place. It's been empty as long as I've been here. Sorry."On his drive out to the cabin, he had noticed that the houses were pretty far apart. In the town proper the spacing was fairly average, though still more than he was used to after growing up in Sydney, but Dillon's tiny house was right on the outskirts. The block it sat on was large and scrubby and he'd seen signs that advertised a national park, which he guessed was the dark wall of trees at the end of the property. Isolated didn't even begin to cover it and given the state the guy was in, it wouldn't be good for him to be alone tonight."Is there a friend you can call?""Nobody I'd want to, want to wake up in the middle of the night." His gaze rested on David for a moment, long enough to make David feel just the wrong side of warm and too aware of his body's reaction to such an intense stare. Dillon still looked like he wasn't sure David could be trusted. "I appreciate your concern about me, but I can take care of myself.""Alright," David told him, "it's entirely up to you. I do need to process the scene though, sorry. I'll just get my kit out of the car."It wouldn't take long at all to gather evidence from the scene, but David figured he could stretch it out. Even if Dillon would never admit it, it was obvious that he was on edge emotionally. Since David couldn't talk him into calling a friend he figured he'd stick around until the guy at least looked more stable. He stood up from the table and glanced down at Dillon again, hoping to give him a reassuring smile. Instead a chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with how attractive the man was. Dillon just seemed too much like the other victims. There was a chance, he thought as he headed toward the door, that this break-in wasn't as straightforward as it seemed. Perhaps Dillon Kelly was the lead they'd been looking for."If it's alright with you, I might just check the perimeter of the house while I'm out there. The thief could've dropped something, or left a clue to his identity that could prove invaluable.""Sure," Dillon nodded; his eyes fixed doggedly on the water glass in front of him, his sculpted face pale and closed. "You do what, what, um... You do what you need to do."*The yellow light from the porch cast a shaking light through the rain as Officer Sharma trudged slowly and methodically around the house. Dillon watched from the kitchen window, leaning against the sink and gripping the glass of water the officer had given him, shivering at the thought of how cold he must be. The acrid taste of his pain meds was stuck to his tongue and he took another sip of water, knowing it wouldn't really help. He didn't expect anything would help. The cop wasn't going to find anything; they both knew it. He was out there, in the rain, his thick curls dripping water in to his eyes, purely to make Dillon feel better.He'd felt something close to relief when he'd seen Officer Sharma at his door with his reassuring dark eyes and that bright smile beneath his scruffy, black stubble. The feeling had increased when he'd learned the guy wasn't a member of the local department, who all seemed to be such stereotypical country cops, but even so Dillon wasn't about to drop his guard. A stranger was still a stranger, and a cop was still a cop. But he did feel better for having made the call.He'd been surprised at how emotional he'd become though, when recounting the break-in. He'd never used to be the sort of person to cry in front of others but being questioned by the police again, even when the situation was entirely different from the last time, had overwhelmed him. It was just another way he'd changed over the last year and a half, and not for the better, though there wasn't much he could do about it. He took a final sip of water and set the glass on the counter, wishing the ache in his leg would let up just for a while.Outside in the rain Sharma stepped away from the house and out of the light, until all Dillon could make out was his silhouette. He wasn't overly tall or muscular, more compact, though Dillon had the feeling the guy could hold his own easily in a fight, and he moved with a surety that Dillon envied. He watched as the officer strode back into the light and caught a flash of his glossy black hair as he turned his face toward the cabin, and shivered at the focused look on his face. His exceptionally handsome face, Dillon finally admitted to himself as he watched the man scour the area for clues.Dillon shrank back from the window and headed toward the bedroom, he didn't want to start perving on the cop who'd come in response to his call, even if the man was good looking and kind. He had more sense than that, not to mention pride. The bedroom door creaked as he pushed it open and he squared his shoulders against the urge to run in the opposite direction and cower behind the couch. The panic was back, which didn't make sense. The thief was gone and he had a police officer in his back yard. It was his bedroom, his space, his property, but it felt contaminated somehow, like even the air he was breathing had been sullied by the intruder's presence.He knew enough not to touch anything. He'd go through the drawers and cupboard later to see if anything was missing, and frankly, he didn't want to touch anything, but he needed to see it again, upsetting as it was. He needed to prove to himself that it was real. Seeing the rainbow flag he'd hung on the wall lying torn and crumpled on the floor sent a stab of pain to his heart, but worse than that was the empty hook where a photo from his first pride march had hung, a reminder of one of his most precious memories. He scanned the floor desperately for it, but it was nowhere to be seen, and in an instant the tears had returned to taunt him and prick at his eyes.He suddenly felt light-headed as the room began to shift out of focus in front of his eyes and his throat began to tighten, but scowled at his body's weakness and tried to clear his head with a shake. He'd survived a lifetime of bullying, had pulled himself out of a river with his damned foot in his hand. He had lived through surgeries and interrogations and rehab. He could handle this.Then he saw the small, carved wooden box that he used for his keepsakes, open and thrown onto the bed, and his stomach twisted until he felt sick. His legs shook even more than usual as he stepped towards it. The box was empty. His ring, the one Sam had given him as a promise of love, was gone."Mr. Kelly?" He heard Officer Sharma's voice behind him but it seemed to come from far away. "Mr. Kelly, it's just me, David, and I'm just coming into the house." Dillon's hand hovered over the empty box but he couldn't bring himself to actually reach out and pick it up. Too many things would hurt too much if he tried to do that, physically and emotionally. "Mr. Kelly? Dillon?"Footsteps pounded on the wood floor and Dillon turned, too fast for his tired muscles, to see the man standing in the doorway. The warm purr of his voice was somehow calming and Dillon let out the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding, hating the way his chest was heaving and the way his ribs seemed to be rattling around like there was nothing holding him together."I'm sorry," he whispered, not entirely sure what he was apologising for, except that he probably should have let the officer check the room over before he went back in.David gave him a questioning look in return. "I knocked, but I was afraid that-"Dillon opened his mouth to speak again, to let him know what was missing, to explain properly what had happened. Instead he bent forward, crumpling, his cane sliding out of reach to clatter on the floor too loudly in the small, quiet room that was suddenly spinning and lurching with sickening speed. He saw Sharma rush toward him as his knees buckled and feared the man wouldn't be fast enough, but strong hands caught him before he hit the wooden floor and guided him toward the bed with a lightness that Dillon hadn't expected. He tried to pull himself together, to stop the tears that were now tumbling forth and dripping from his nose, but it seemed impossible. Instead he found himself leaning more of his weight on the officer, hating that he couldn't even stand on his own two feet, hating more that the stranger next to him could feel how badly he was shaking.Gradually he became aware of the man's hand as it rubbed gentle circles against his back, the simple action warming his skin and easing the shaking with more success than the entire strength of Dillon's will. It felt nice, a little too nice, and Dillon shifted himself away, feeling the other man move too, until there was a small distance between them and he could look at the guy properly. There seemed to be no judgement in Officer Sharma's dark, wide eyes, only concern, but it made Dillon suspicious. He'd expected mockery or disdain, not compassion."I'm... I'm, um, really sorry," he said through clenched teeth, turning to look at his hands. "I'm not like this. I didn't used to be like this, I swear.""Reaction to a home invasion takes a lot of people by surprise," the officer replied simply, shifting his weight carefully on the bed to try and catch Dillon's eye. "It's totally normal, really."Dillon straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, but his stomach was still doing somersaults and the gesture seemed futile from where he sat on the bed. He didn't want pity any more than he wanted scorn; even if it seemed to be the one constant in his life these days. He attempted to straighten his shoulders again and blinked away the last of the tears, wiping his nose on his wrist as he tried to prove he wasn't some sniveling, useless, weakling."There was a photograph in a frame... that's gone, and, um, a... piece of jewelry. A ring. Neither was worth much."They had been priceless to him but he wasn't about to let his emotions get the better of him again by admitting that. The ring was one of the few things he had left to remember Sam by, the photo too come to think, and his heart ached so badly it even eclipsed the ache of his leg as the old emotions bubbled to the surface, but he clamped down on them angrily before they could make him look an idiot all over again."You really need to let me process the scene, alright mate?" David told him quietly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll dust the area where you kept your jewelry and the windowsill and then take a few photos, okay?" Leaning close, he gave Dillon a look that was too familiar, and too pitying. "You might want to go in the other room.""No, I... I want to help. It's, it's my home, it's my stuff." He blinked rapidly, hating the tightness that had returned to his throat.David just gave him a look and walked to the door of the bedroom, returning with a navy brief case that he lay down on the bed. Dillon watched as he clicked it open to reveal the police kit within before glancing back up at the officer who, he realised with a jolt, was looking right at him."Tomorrow you can come back in here," Sharma said, his voice still gentle but with a firmness that Dillon figured didn't broach argument often. "But honestly, I'd rather you did so with a friend. You can look and see if there's anything else missing then. Make me a list with a description of each item. But right now, you need to head out to the couch and rest. You'll be no use at all if you overdo things." He looked pointedly at Dillon's leg at that and Dillon realised that he'd been clutching it tightly, barely aware of what he was doing.Shame washed over him as he nodded, and the emotion doubled in size when Sharma had to pass him his cane and help him to his feet. If he was completely honest with himself he'd probably already overdone things, chasing after the thief like the idiot he was, but he didn't tell Officer Sharma that and didn't speak at all until he was in the doorway and there was a safe distance between them."Sorry. This is my first robbery. You've probably done hundreds of them."Officer Sharma lifted a camera out of the case and turned to look at him with an expression Dillon didn't recognise. "You're going to be alright, Mr. Kelly."Dillon nodded. He couldn't be bothered to disagree. "I'll wait in the lounge room."For a while after that Dillon sat on the couch listening to the officer work, determined to stay awake. He'd embarrassed himself enough for one night without falling asleep and drooling down his chin, but it was a fight he could feel himself losing. Sharma seemed to be taking a long time to do a seemingly simple job and it made Dillon suspicious. Then again, most things made him suspicious, whether he wanted them to or not. It would definitely be a bad idea to fall asleep with a stranger in the house he felt firmly, no matter how decent a bloke he seemed.He stirred sometime later when a blanket was settled over him, realising that he must have fallen asleep after all. His eyes felt too heavy to open and he pulled the blanket up over his shoulder and drifted off again. Later still Officer Sharma's voice drifted in to his mind, warm and soft, and Dillon felt the reassuring hand on his shoulder again and knew he was safe, even though his eyes still refused to open."Mr. Kelly, I'm all done now," the man murmured. "You need to lock the door behind me. I'll wait outside until I hear the bolt click, alright?"He heard the door swing open and ease shut and then finally, with a great deal of effort, forced his eyes to open and survey the room blearily. He was alone and the cabin was silent. Still groggy from sleep he fumbled with his cane and rose to his feet with a grimace before limping across the floor to flip the deadlock. His hip was on fire, the result of falling asleep sitting up on the couch, and he swore under his breath at the heavy throb of it as he leant against the door, listening to Officer Sharma's footsteps fading as he crossed the porch. He checked the time on the microwave before heading back to the couch and attempting to arrange himself in a more comfortable position. It was nearly three a.m.Outside on the road the officer's car started up and Dillon pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes tightly. The panic was back and he felt ill. If he threw up on the couch, he wondered, would it stain? Or would he be able to get it dry-cleaned somewhere in the town? It had come with the house and he didn't want to leave the place looking worse than when he'd arrived, not when he was paying such minimal rent. A tear slipped past his guard and trickled down his cheek to catch in the patchy stubble of his chin but he didn't bother to wipe it away. He tried to breath deep, calming breaths, but they turned in to sobs and he resorted to grinding his teeth together until his jaw ached just to keep the tears at bay. God, he felt useless. And it wasn't just the leg, it was everything, it was his mind. Once he'd been the calm, quiet, organised one, the guy that could be trusted to keep his head in a crisis. Now he was a wreck, and it was doubly embarrassing that his latest melt down had been witnessed by one of the few people in town who had shown him any kindness. It also really didn't help that the guy was a looker, not to mention a flirt. And Dillon had spent the night giving him the stink eye. His life was such a mess.Falling back to sleep turned out to be near impossible and a few hours later, just as he finally slipped from a light doze and into proper sleep, his mobile phone buzzed and snapped him back in to wakefulness. Even though it was on the coffee table by the couch he didn't pick up until after the fifth ring and did so was a deep scowl. It was too early for phone calls surely."What?" he answered croakily, rubbing at his leg and blinking at the grey morning light shining through the crack in the curtains."Oh, Love, were you asleep?" Lizzy's voice bounced loudly through the speaker and Dillon winced. "Don't tell me you forgot!""Forgot what?" As he sat up the memory of the break-in made him shiver but his mind was otherwise blank and his friend tutted at him down the line in response to his vague response."Your second date with Craig Gillman, of course! Breakfast at the Mainstreet Cafe at eight-thirty. You said he seemed nice.""I said, um..." Dillon blinked, trying to focus his mind. "I said he was alright, yeah."He winced as Lizzy tutted at him again but wasn't awake enough to say anything back at her. He'd agreed to let Lizzy create his profile on the dating site, safe in the knowledge that there would be absolutely no matches in his area. He'd moved out to the country for a reason after all, but he'd been wrong and the messages from people wanting to meet up had been instantly distressing. Then Craig had turned up and actual dates were involved, and Dillon hadn't been so sure it was a good idea but hadn't known how to back out of it. Lizzy was quiet for a moment before speaking, this time a lot more softly than before."You okay, Dill?""Um..." He wanted to tell her about the break in, knew it was the sensible, grown-up, thing to do, but it was too hard. Lizzy was his friend but they weren't exactly close, hadn't spoken to each other for years, in fact, before Dillon had decided he needed to get away from his life and had stumbled across her ad for the countryside 'eco-cabins'."Do you like Craig?" she asked in a tone that seemed casual, though Dillon knew better. He sighed."He seems alright, Liz, but I just... I don't think I'm ready. It's um, it's just too soon I think."He gathered the blanket around his shoulders as his brain was flooded with memories that he didn't want to deal with. Lizzy, however, wasn't about to let it go quietly."You only had one date, and you said you left early. You've got to give the whole dating thing more of a chance," she urged him, her tone softening. "It's been over a year, Love, you have to at least try.""Yeah, I know," Dillon whispered, not trusting his voice when he could feel the telltale prickle behind his eyes. "And, and it's not that. It's just... I was robbed last night.""Oh my god! Dill! Are you okay? Were you hurt? Oh, Love! Did you call the cops? Please tell me you called them, Dillon, seriously. I know they can be dicks but you have to report this stuff and break-ins are something they actually know how to do. Or I can call them for you. It's my property so I can be the one to report it if that'd make you feel better. I'm sorry, Love. Why didn't you say straight away? I could've... I don't know, been nicer..."Dillon waited for her words to peter out because experience had taught him it was easier than trying to talk over her and he had to smile at her concern."I did call the police, Liz, I promise. And I'm not hurt." The pain that shot up his leg to his hip as he tried to stand made him rethink that statement. "At least no more than usual.""God, you didn't do anything stupid did you, Dill? You didn't try to run after the bastard, did you? Dill? Dillon!" Dillon just grunted as he concentrated on walking the short distance from the couch to the bedroom but Lizzy let out a groan of frustration. "You did, didn't you? You tried to tackle an intruder. What was your plan? Beat him into submission with your stick? Dill, you idiot. And why am I only finding out about this now?""It was late. I didn't want to bother you."Dillon stood in the doorway to his bedroom, taking in the scattered clothes, empty boxes and the trashed flag still on the floor. He reached out for it but stopped, an invisible something holding him back. Officer Sharma had said not to do this alone."You idiot," Lizzy told him lovingly. "I would've come. It's a twenty-minute drive at most. You should have called." Lizzy fell silent with a huff, but Dillon could think of nothing useful to say."Sorry, Liz," he whispered. "I know you would've."Lizzy had already given him a place to stay at half the rent she usually asked, he couldn't have put her to the added trouble, no matter what she said. He looked down again at the fallen flag, then up at where it was supposed to be, at the bare wall where the photograph had hung. Why would anyone steal a photo, unless their goal was to make him even more miserable than he was already?"Craig'll understand if you need to cancel," Lizzy said eventually. "Seriously, Dill, you've had a shocker. D'you have his mobile number?"Dillon gripped the handle of his cane so hard it started to hurt as he backed away from the bedroom. He couldn't stay here... not alone."Actually, I think I need to get out for a bit," Dillon said hurriedly. "I'll go on the date. It'll get my mind off of things.""Are you sure?""I am. Um... I am." Anything to get away from being reminded of the break-in, he thought. Even Craig Gillman was preferable a day spent alone with his thoughts."Alright," Lizzy agreed kindly. "I'll meet you right after your breakfast then. And I'll stay with you as long as you need."Dillon hobbled to the kitchen and leaned against the sink, so he didn't have to look into the bedroom."You don't need to do that, Liz," he lied. "I'll be okay.""No, Love, I know you," Lizzy told him dryly. "Quit trying to do everything yourself. We'll get through this and I'll get some extra locks put on the cabin too. But you've got to do something for me."Dillon pressed the phone against his ear, his suspicion piqued. "And what's that exactly?""I know you're not keen on the whole online dating thing. I get it. But I'm doing it because I love you and don't want you to be alone. You need to get back out there, get your confidence back before you turn in to a hermit. So, for me, could you be a little more open-minded about Craig? There isn't a lot of choice out here in the sticks. I just want to see you happy, Love."Dillon's jaw tightened but he swallowed the anger that was building. Lizzy meant well. Just like his friends in Adelaide who'd tried to coax him back out on the dating circuit had meant well. They all seemed to have his best interests at heart; he just couldn't picture himself in a relationship, not anymore."That ship's sailed, I reckon, Liz. Think I'll just stay here forever and become the local witch."Lizzy didn't laugh like he'd expected. Instead, when she spoke, her voice was rough with emotion. "There's more than just one soul-mate out there for each of us, Love. Seriously. What happened to you and Sam was... horrible," her voice hitched and Dillon felt the tears welling in his own eyes before he could force them back. "But you still deserve to be happy. You still deserve love."Dillon nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Lizzy gave him another promise to meet him after his date before she said goodbye, and then Dillon was alone again, left with the sorry task of making himself look presentable for his date with Craig Gillman. Because he was in a hurry, and a shower seemed like too much of an effort, he opted for pulling his hair back in a bun rather than trying to style or straighten it. The bonus of that particular look was that it would hopefully send Craig the message that he hadn't spent hours fussing over his appearance. For Lizzy's sake he would go on this second date, but he wasn't going to put any extra effort in because he really didn't want to give the guy any false hopes.Once he was out on the front porch Dillon pulled out his keys and stared at them. A lot of people around here didn't bother to lock up their homes unless they were going away for more than a day, but now he knew he was going to have to lock up properly all the time. The anxiety was there in his head, eating at him and dissolving the confidence he'd been building up so slowly over the last six months.The renewed fear made his hands clammy as he fumbled with the key. What if the thief came back? He shivered but locked the door and then began the slow, arduous walk toward the bus stop at the end of the road. At this rate he really would have to become a hermit. Maybe there were some caves up in the hills he could look at. He'd have to ask Lizzy when he saw her after breakfast.