It's before dawn when I roll over to find that I am the only one in bed.
"Jack," I call out, but nothing comes back except my own echo from the empty cabin.
I think about all of the things that he could be doing as the sun rises: painting, jogging, chopping firewood, the list goes on. Just as I am about to turn over and go back to sleep, I decide that I'll surprise him with breakfast instead.
At first, the empty kitchen doesn't seem that strange, but with the door open and the truck missing from the drive, a strange pang of panic zaps my gut. When I peek out the sink window to see if I can see anything awry, I find a note lying on the counter.
"I'm sorry, Ty," it says in sloppy script.
"What?" I ask aloud.
It takes me much longer than it should to understand what the letter is saying. Jack has written it to me before taking off. Jack is gone. A nuclear warhead goes off in my head.
"No!" I shout. "No, no, no!"
I run upstairs to grab my new phone. When I call him, I hear his cell vibrate on the other side of the bed. He didn't take it.
"Shit."
In a blink, I have a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on. As I bounce around the house to find my tennis shoes, I call Ray.
"Morning, bub," he says sleepily.
I didn't even think about how early it still is. I can picture him rubbing his eyes.
I blurt, "He's gone. Jack, left."
"What!?" I hear Ray let out a grunt as though he just hoisted himself out of bed.
"There is a note. The truck is gone. I'm losing my mind. How could he–"
"Ty. Ty. Ty, stop. We know him. You know Jack, probably better than anyone. He wouldn't skip town," Ray reminds me.
I pause because I know he is right. An inkling of guilt builds up in my heart for letting my negative thoughts carry me away.
"I will be in the car and heading your way in the next thirty minutes. Be there by noon. Get ahold of J'Nae. If she is unreachable, I will text you Trent's number and address."
"Officer House? Why do you know his information?" I ask, completely blindsided momentarily.
"Story for another day, bub," he chuckles.
Just as I hang up and am about to dash out the door, a shiny object grabs my attention from under the corner of the stove. I reach down and recover a thick gold chain and obnoxious pendant.
"What the hell?" I utter before shoving the necklace into my pocket and taking off out the door.
***
Thirty minutes later I find House's homey bungalow between our cabin and the center of the city. Had I not gotten back into running this summer with Jack, I would have never been able to jog the three miles over here. The twelve times I tried calling House, it went directly to voicemail.
When I pound on the door, I have a sudden realization that there is a chance he may not be home. He could be working out or at work already or even with some broad somewhere.
"Gahdamn," I hear him call from inside. "I'm coming."
He jerks the door open just enough to cast a strip of morning sun down his mostly naked body. Only a pair of worn-out briefs cover his unmentionables.
"Tyson, da fuck you doing here?"
"House. Trent. Officer Haussier, Jack is gone. At first, I thought he left, but now I know he didn't. Something weird is happening and I didn't know where to go to get help."
"Okay. Okay, Jesus." He opens the door to let me in. "I am gonna need a shower and some coffee before we talk about this any further."
It is hard not to look at his perfectly smooth and sculpted body as he walks away, but I try. I smile a bit when I notice the handgun in the band of his underwear. I am sure he thought some crazy person was trying to break in or something.
Breaking in–no. Crazy person–maybe.
"Start the java, I am gonna do a quick rinse," House says as he walks into the recently renovated bathroom. In his zombie-like state, he doesn't close the door all the way, and it leaves me with the perfect view from the kitchen.
As I scoop grounds into the filter, I see him put his gun on the sink, turn the water on, and slide his underwear down. Not a speck of hair on his perfectly defined ass. Stepping into the doorless shower trough, House turns to show me his goodies. A delicious anteater of an uncut cock dangles at the vertex of his completely shaved and chiseled lower abs. I watch as soapy foam slides down his crotch, and he takes a moment to peel back his forehead and give his pink mushroom head a good cleaning.
It's the jump of my cock that brings me back to my task. I pull my eyes from House's wet body and turn my attention back to the coffee machine. A moment or two later I hear the water cut off and him dry himself off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him leave the steam-filled bathroom.
Returning from his room, House pulls a t-shirt over his head and asks, "So what makes you think something strange happened to Jack opposed to him skipping town?"
I hold up a mug of coffee as a way to ask what he wants in it.
"Black."
I hand it over as is.
"Wait. By being here, am I screwing Jack over? I mean, I'm telling you that a man on bail is missing. Are you going to report it?"
He lets out a long sigh. "Well..."
"House. I really need you right now. I have no one else to turn to. Scott won't answer my calls. Ray won't be back until this afternoon."
"Oh. Where did Ray go?"
"Raleigh. He had to check in on his– It doesn't matter. Are you gonna report Jack to the bureau or not?"
"Okay, Tyson. I will cut a deal with you. I have gotten to know Jack a bit through this whole process. He doesn't actually give me the creeper vibe that I accurately get with every other guilty son of a bitch that comes through the station. I can tell he means a lot to you. And Ray. Give me a good reason why I shouldn't report him, and I will wait to call it into HQ."
Though I am surprisingly thankful for House's offer, I don't have any physical proof to aid my case. I can't give him some heartwarming bullshit about feeling it in my bones because I know he will laugh in my face.
"I got nothing to prove it. You just have to trust me," I try.
"Tyson, you know I can't do that. I can't go off of the word of some kid. I want to believe that there is a reasonable explanation for all of this, I do."
He takes a hold of my shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy."
I know he means it, but I can only shrug with defeat. I can feel the tears building behind my eyes as my arms flop against my sides. That's when they collide with something hard and pocket.
"Wait," I say, fishing the necklace from my pants. "I found this in the kitchen this morning."
I hand him the chain, and House examines it.
"I think it was left behind by someone who came into our house last night. Maybe someone who took Jack. I know that there is no exact proof, but that pendant is neither Jack's nor Ray's. I don't know whose it is."
"I do."
House's two small words almost floor me.
"What?" I manage.
"I know who the medallion belongs to. Jesse Miller, Claire's brother. He is my ex."
Kaboom! Bomb number two.
"Let me grab my keys. We will go pay him a visit."
And with this, we are out the door.
***
I must admit, House has a sweet car, but I couldn't fully take in the experience since he was driving like a bat out of hell. The drive over to Jesse's should have taken about ten minutes, safely. However, House got us there in about four.
It was a pretty swanky spot. Some old factories turned into upscale townhomes. When we get to the callbox outside the entrance, I assume he is going to have to get buzzed in, but instead, House pulls out a small fob and gains access right away.
"Ex?" I ask without needing to say anything else.
"It's complicated."
Grabbing the elevator and heading for the fifth floor, I wrestle with the 50,000 questions I have for House. When we get to Jesse's door, there is a digital number pad. Without a second thought, House punches in the five-digit sequence and the door chirps with admittance.
"He's so stupid. Didn't even change the code," House grumbles to himself.
I follow my officer friend in. The foyer has a little hall that leads to an enormous great room and massive window overlooking the east side of Downtown. House pushes into a half-open door on the far side of the living area.
Before I can understand what the big mound is on the bed, House is poking it.
"Hey. Get up dickhead."
The massive man rolls over and says, "Trent. What the fuck are you doing here? You said you didn't want to see me anymore and here you are–"
He stops when our eyes meet. We recognize each other. He is the fucking linebacker that fought Jack and me at the bar. There are still some scabs on his forehead from my beer bottle special.
"You," he says, sitting straight up. A look of pain flashes across his face.
"You guys know each other," House asks.
With that, Jesse is up and moving toward me.
"This little shit." He lunges for me and gets the scruff of my shirt.
While deciding if I hold my ground or try to run, I only briefly notice that he is completely naked. His soft dick swings and his balls flop. House definitely has him beat with his turtlenecked sausage, but it is a great unit that I'd gladly service.
Thankfully, House steps in. "Chill out, Jay." He grabs the oaf by his mountain of a shoulder.
"Fuck," Jesse flinches. He turns from House and me.
Immediately we can see why he yelped in pain. From his left shoulder down to the small of his back is a continent-sized bruise.
"Jay, what the hell happened? What did you do?" House is both annoyed and concerned.
He shakes his head and turns back to us.
"He told me that Jack knew what happened to Claire. He told me that Jack had his hand in all of it. He told me the only way my sister could rest in peace was if I helped get Jack to pay for his sins. And I went along with it. I wanted to believe him."
His head slinks down. Jesse's near tears and I can tell his feelings are undeniably genuine. The poor guy knows he has done something wrong, and his heart is still broken over losing his sister. I want to hug him and punch him at the same time. He looks at me and the last of his toughness cracks. He takes a crashing seat on the end of the bed.
"Jay," Trent says in a soft voice. "Is Jack okay?"
He shrugs in defeat.
"He told me to get him. To bring him back to the warehouse down near the railroad tracks. He sent me with Cedric, and some chick met us. I was supposed to manhandle Jack into the car, but he kicked my ass...again."
"Is he alive now?" House asks.
Jesse just shrugs again. The guy is going into shutdown mode.
I step in this time. My legs straddle his tree trunk thighs and I lean in close. I ignore the fact that his snake and eggs are resting against my bare thigh.
"Jesse," I say lifting his face to look at mine, one hand on each cheek. It is strangely intimate for near-stranger status.
"When you saw him last, was Jack alive? I have to know, buddy, if he is okay."
He just looks at me for a few seconds then slowly nods. "Yes. When we dropped him off, he told me that Jack would stay alive until after Friday. After his trial. The boss has some bargain for him. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. We are going to get this worked out," I say, wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. With him still upset, I pull him into a hug. The size difference between the two of us is almost funny.
"I am so sorry about your loss, Jesse. I knew Claire," I whisper.
His arms come up and embrace me as his body starts to shake with sobs. I stand in the clutches of the man who tried to kill me, softly running my hands through his hair with his head upon my chest, letting him get all of his sadness out.
House motions to me that he is going to call headquarters and steps out.
When his last snort is done I tell Jesse thanks for the information. He may very well have helped save Jack. I then wipe his face with my shirt and he holds me by my hips. As a peace offering, I kiss his forehead and pull him back into a hug.
"Okay, I called it in. We need to head that way," House tells us, coming back into the room.
"No!" Jesse blurts. "Trent, you didn't! He has someone working on the inside. That is how he has been able to get away with everything."
House lets out a I-shoulda-known sigh.
Returning my attention to Jesse, I ask, "Who is 'he'?"
"Silkston. Silkston has Jack," he replies and my blood turns icy.