Episode 7: "Lost and Found"
The somber sound of Portishead’s “Roads” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8us3432lh4M) plays over the following three scenes:
Vittoria Morelli sits quietly in her parked car on Callum’s estate, pondering her next move. She had followed his orders and came straight there from Griffith Park, immediately comforted seeing Tristan’s car in the garage. He would be inside awaiting her arrival. Picking up her purse weighted down with the firearm inside, she took it out and wiped away any fingerprints left on it. She had done the job, and without Chloe’s testimony, there was no way the cops could erroneously link Vittoria to Justin Roberts’ disappearance in spite of her being his drug dealer. However, in that moment, Vittoria’s conscience felt a spasm of remorse for having innocently killed the woman’s partner.
Nathan Moynihan finishes reading a sweeping emotional passage from the book Our Autumnal Youth and has placed the book down, knowing the true identity of its author as Callum Sutcliffe, an individual whose lips he sinfully touched just the other day. He pulls the covers of the bed closer to him and tries his best to think of his partner Brendon Roberts, grasping the nearest picture of him and hugging it close to his heart. He fruitlessly attempts to fall asleep and dream of his times with Brendon, yet in that moment, he felt powerless and found himself desirous of a physical connection—the most recent one having been with Callum.
Two gurneys are separately loaded into the back of an ambulance—the first one with Allison Trudeau, strapped down and wounded with bloodstained clothing around her shoulder, her voice issuing demands to the paramedics to do all they can to save the life of her partner Chloe Dalton, who rests on the other gurney, completely unconscious. The ambulance rushes out Griffith Park and in the direction of Hollywood Hospital. In that moment, Allison cries out the name of her lover, hoping that she’ll answer but nothing so much as a whisper comes back to her.
ONE HOUR LATER, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL
Allison Trudeau is walking outside the operating room, her shoulder and arm in a sling. Her colleague Dr. Preston comes outside to talk with her.
Dr. Preston: Allison, you really shouldn’t be out here pacing. Your shoulder is not—
Allison: To hell with my shoulder! You can get the bullet out later. I have to operate on her…
Dr. Preston: Allison, you know we can’t allow you to do that. We’ve got an excellent staff of surgeons who will take good care of Chloe.
Allison: Just save her and the baby! Please… (breaking down) I can’t believe this is happening.
Dr. Preston (placing a hand on her): You need to get some rest. You’ll be prepped for surgery soon.
Allison: Just save them! They’re all I have…
At that moment, Kyle Walgrove comes down the hall. Allison rushes to him.
Allison: Oh, Kyle, I’m so glad you’re here.
Dr. Preston: We’re going to start surgery on Chloe now. Please take it easy, Allison.
Allison (turning away from Kyle): Just remember what I told you. Save them!
Kyle: Okay, Allison, please tell me what happened. I just got the call from the station. They said that you were shot, and that Chloe was badly injured. A horseback rider was found passed out near you guys. The Griffith Park police have the whole scene taped off.
Allison: Chloe and I were having a walk along the horse trails. I stopped to tie my shoe laces, and I saw an equestrian coming up on us in the background. Then some loud sound like gunfire or a firecracker went off, and that scared the horse. At the same time, something hit me, and I realized it was a bullet when I fell to the ground, and that scared Chloe. I think another gunshot went off, and the horse charged at Chloe, knocking her against the wooden fencing.
Kyle: Did you see anyone with a gun?
Allison: No, other than the guy on horseback, there wasn’t anyone else on the horse trails that I saw.
Kyle: So you never saw anyone or a gun?
Allison: What are you thinking?
Kyle: I’m wondering if this is an isolated incident or connected to the attacks on Brendon and Nathan.
Allison: My gut is telling me otherwise.
Kyle: What’s it telling you?
Allison: I know what you’re going to say, but I think that Callum Sutcliffe is somehow involved in this.
Kyle: Oh, Allison, do you really think that?
Allison: Of course, I do. The bastard threatened my life not even four hours ago.
Kyle: What would possess him to do such a thing?
Allison: Well, I did punch his lights out.
Kyle (incredulously): What?
Allison: He had it coming. He was saying such awful things about Chloe and me.
Kyle: Yeah, but that doesn’t give you the right to punch him.
Allison: Yeah, I know. I just wasn’t thinking at the moment. It was a gut reaction, but there was definite murder in his eyes when he issued that threat to me. I know he’s behind this.
Kyle: Look, I’ll ask Callum some questions, but I highly doubt that he had anything to do with this. He doesn’t strike me as the gun-toting type.
Allison: Give him the third degree, Kyle. He’s behind this, and I’ll bet my life on it.
Kyle: Don’t worry, Allison. Once they’ve extracted the bullet from you, we’ll have ballistics right on it. We’re going to get whoever’s responsible for this. I guarantee you that.
CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES
When Vittoria finally got out her car and rang the doorbell, she was surprised to have the door opened by an elderly looking gentleman dressed as a butler. Upon entering the foyer, she was taken aback at the opulence of the place. Then she saw Tristan coming into the room to greet her.
Vittoria: Damn, this is some crib he’s got!
Tristan: Yeah, Callum’s loaded. Now what’s this about you moving in here? He called me and left some cryptic message on my voicemail, telling me to hightail it over here.
Vittoria: I never said anything about moving in with him.
Tristan: How the hell do you know him?
Vittoria: He came upon me in Griffith Park and asked me to do a job for him.
Tristan (hesitantly): What sort of job?
Vittoria: Well, he in some way knew that I was already going after that lezzie and just wanted me to whack off her partner as well.
Tristan: And did you?
Vittoria (pulling out the gun): Yeah, he even gave me this to finish them both off. I must confess that I don’t think I even shot your friend Chloe. That horse did my work for me.
Tristan (disbelievingly): What are you talking about? What horse? Did you kill Allison and Chloe?
Vittoria: I told you that bitch was going to get what’s coming to her for ratting me out to the cops.
Tristan: I can’t believe you did this.
Vittoria: Oh, don’t go soft on me, Tristan.
At that moment, the door opens, Callum and Peyton enter, and Vittoria instinctively shoves the gun back into her purse.
Callum: Just the two people I wanted to see. Let’s go into my study to discuss matters.
Callum begins ushering Vittoria and Tristan into another room adjacent to the sitting room with Peyton following them step by step, ultimately prompting Callum to turn around.
Callum: Dr. Ashland, you can stay here. I’ll be back shortly.
The trio then enters the private room, and once the door is closed, Callum requests the gun, which Vittoria takes from her purse and duly hands to him.
Callum: You did make certain to wipe your prints from it? I see you’re now wearing gloves.
Tristan: What the fuck were you thinking having Vittoria do your dirty work for you?
Callum: I will not be spoken to in that tone of voice, Tristan!
Tristan: You had her murder two women in cold blood!
Callum: Pipe down, Tristan! This is right up her alley. I’m assuming you already know that Vittoria is waist deep in criminal activity, starting with arson and attempted murder.
Tristan: What the hell are you talking about?
Callum: I know that you two had something to do with the attacks on Nathan and Brendon.
Vittoria (in amazement): What?
Tristan: What are you basing this on?
Callum: Well, this morning your roommate accidentally dropped her fragrance Tentazione after she was trying to flee the scene after her run-in with Chloe. It just so happened that Nathan recalled on the night of the attack that he smelled an exotic fragrance just minutes before he and Brendon were attacked.
Tristan: And that’s all you’ve got? I’d like to see that hold up in court.
Callum (exaggerating): Well, Nathan said that was the fragrance he smelled at the cave entrance.
He instantly notices the apprehensive expression on Vittoria’s face.
Vittoria: You promised me that nothing would happen to me if I did what you asked.
Callum: I’m a man of my word, Vittoria. You needn’t worry about me turning you into the cops.
Tristan: You haven’t any concrete evidence! In fact, she could go to the cops with information on you as you were the one who gave her the gun to shoot Allison and Chloe.
Callum: I would love to have seen how she would have handled Chloe with that pathetic knife she was wielding. Besides, Tristano, for her to go to the cops and snitch on my involvement would be complete suicide on her part since she pulled the trigger. At most I’d be classified as an accessory, but then I could always claim she stole the gun from me.
Vittoria starts spouting profanity in Italian at Callum.
Callum: I’d be careful, dear. You were Justin Roberts’ drug dealer after all.
Vittoria (growing a backbone): You can’t prove that without Chloe’s testimony.
Callum: I don’t need Chloe’s testimony. It would come directly from the horse’s mouth—Justin Roberts.
Tristan: But he’s missing!
Callum: Luckily for me, I know where he is, and should he open his trap about your being his dealer, you’ll be back in the slammer in no time—without even so much as a whisper about the double homicide you just committed.
Tristan: What do you want, Callum?
Callum: You were always a man of business, Tristan... wanting to get down to brass tacks. For right now, I need Vittoria to stay here in this house until I handle the matter regarding Allison and Chloe’s deaths. There has to be no link between Vittoria and the bloodshed.
Tristan: And once that’s done?
Callum: Then you two can finish what you started three weeks ago with a little adjustment… you’ll now be killing off one half of the pair this time. You’ll get rid of Brendon Roberts for good.
Vittoria and Tristan remained silent.
Callum: I really wish I knew which one of you attempted to kill Brendon Roberts the other night. (pause) Well, don’t be in a hurry to tell me!
Tristan: I’m tired of playing these fucked up games, Callum. Neither of us is admitting to anything dealing with Nathan or Brendon or the arson. Like I said earlier, it’s not like you have any concrete evidence to tie us to the crime.
Callum: Playing it safe, eh?
Tristan: Damn right! It looks like we’re at a stalemate. You don’t have any way of blackmailing us for this alleged crime against Brendon and Nathan, yet you do have a way of blackmailing Vittoria for the drug dealing and the gunning down of Allison and Chloe but to do that would incriminate yourself.
Callum: You do have a point. Therefore, all I ask is that you both partake of my hospitality. We’ll talk this over tomorrow. Right now, I must get back to my meeting with Dr. Ashland. Ciao!
Vittoria (once the door is closed): Oh, Tristan, he’s onto us!
Tristan (gritting his teeth): Don’t panic! We have the upper hand here. We know Callum’s Achilles.
Vittoria: His what?
Tristan: His weak spot. It’s Nathan.
Vittoria: Why does he want him? I mean, he’s hot for someone in his age bracket, but we know that Nathan is in love with Brendon.
Tristan: We only have to get rid of one of them now, but if Callum pushes us too hard, we’ll just have to push back harder.
MEANWHILE IN SITTING ROOM…
Peyton (upon Callum’s reentry): What were you talking about with them? Blackmailing them also?
Callum: You might say so.
Peyton: I want to know what’s happened with Allison and Chloe. You were quiet on the subject the entire way to the park and the whole time back. I have been attempting to call Allison, but she’s not answering her cell.
Callum: Maybe she and Chloe are having a quiet evening at home.
Peyton: I swear, Callum, if anything happens to them, I’m holding you responsible.
Callum: Don’t fool yourself, Peyton. You’ll do anything to get your hands on that DVD, and as long as I have it, you’re beholden to me.
Peyton: Except I draw the line at murder.
Callum: Murder? Whatever do you mean?
Peyton: Allison told me there was another attempt made on Brendon’s life, but this time in the hospital. If you had anything to do with that—
Callum: Peyton, you were with me at the time it happened. I promise you I had absolutely nothing to do with it, but it does seem someone else out there has it in for Brendon Roberts.
Peyton: I’m going over to Allison’s house to check on her.
Callum: Give her my regards.
Peyton leaves the house in a hurry. Callum goes over to his mini bar and pours himself a drink when the doorbell rings, and Godfrey goes to answer it, opening the door to the brooding presence of Detective Kyle Walgrove, who immediately identifies himself to Godfrey. Upon given permission to enter, he comes inside and is led to the sitting room where Callum is enjoying his drink, having already prematurely toasted to the demise of his nemesis Allison Trudeau. Godfrey announces Kyle.
Callum: Is this a social call, Detective Walgrove?
Kyle: I’m afraid it’s not. I know we’ve never formally met, but I’ve come here tonight to ask you some important questions. What happened to your face?
Callum: I was attacked by some wretched brute.
Kyle: I know that Allison was the one who hit you.
Callum: You do? Then why did you ask? I’m guessing you approve of what she did.
Kyle: I don’t approve of any kind of violence.
Callum: Oh really? As I understand it, police brutality is an honored custom here in southern California. (suddenly sotto voce) Although, I wouldn’t mind be roughed up by you in the bed. You’re quite strong.
Kyle: I’m not that type of cop, Callum. Anyway, I need to ask you some questions. Allison said that you threatened her earlier tonight.
Callum: It was a gut reaction, Detective! She nearly dislocated my lower jaw! She’s lucky I’m not pressing charges for assault and battery.
Kyle: I take these threats very seriously, Mr. Sutcliffe. So where have you been all evening?
Callum: I was with Nathan Moynihan earlier. He paid me a visit, and I offered for him to stay for dinner, but he respectfully declined. He’s still worried about that errant ward of his. Anyway, I spent the remainder of the evening with Dr. Peyton Ashland and my butler.
Kyle: You never left the house?
Callum: What’s with all this third degree questioning? Has something happened? (pause) Oh, my word, don’t tell me they’ve found Justin Roberts’ body.
Kyle: No, no, it’s nothing like that. There was another incident at the park this evening, involving Allison Trudeau and her partner Chloe Dalton.
Callum: An incident, you say?
Kyle: Yes, one involving gunfire. Do you happen to own any firearms, Mr. Sutcliffe?
Callum: I was a law-abiding British citizen, Detective Walgrove. I didn’t possess any there—my husband Gavin also hated them except when he went hunting for pheasant in Norfolk—and I certainly don’t have any in this country. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened? Were they harmed?
Kyle: They are both in the hospital. Allison was shot in the shoulder, and it appears Chloe was either likewise struck or trampled by a frightened horse.
Callum (exclamatory): Bloody hell!
Kyle: I can see from your reaction that you’re greatly disturbed by this news. You clearly had no prior knowledge of this. I’m really sorry to have disturbed you this evening, but—
Callum: I-I had no idea. Please let them know they’re in my prayers.
Kyle: I would appreciate your keeping this information to yourself until it’s fully disclosed by the media.
Callum: Yes, Detective Walgrove.
Kyle (extending his hand): Please call me Kyle. We’re both Outrunners.
They shake hands, and Kyle routinely warns him not to leave town. Once the door closes, Callum goes completely uptight.
Callum (to himself): You’re absolutely right, Detective Walgrove. I was greatly disturbed by your news. My reaction was to that wench Allison being alive! This only goes to show that if one wants something done right, one must do it himself!
Godfrey (entering the room): Are you ready for your late supper, Your Lordship? Is something wrong? You look rather lost in thought.
Callum: I’m only livid that Allison Trudeau still lives and breathes upon this earth. That incompetent idiot Vittoria couldn’t even do her job correctly.
Godfrey: I have prepared rooms for them in the eastern wing. They will not be in earshot of our other guests in the western wing, but I am concerned that they may learn of our other guests from abroad, particularly as the young one has been causing much of a stir lately.
Callum: Call the pediatrician. With the amount I pay him, he can make house calls.
Godfrey: Yes, Your Lordship.
Callum: Have my supper sent to my room. I’ll dine in bed once I’ve given Vittoria a piece of my mind!
ALLISON AND CHLOE DALTON’S HOME
Peyton sped over to Allison’s house in Los Feliz, a lovely artistic neighborhood located in close proximity to Griffith Park. As his car neared her house, he saw that Allison’s car was still not there, yet there was someone at the front door, ringing the doorbell. Peyton parked his car and soon learned the visitor was Bralen Jones.
Peyton (getting out his car): Bralen, what are you doing here?
Bralen: Allison wanted to interview me for an article in the Outrunner Express newsletter. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would drop by. What are you doing here at this late hour?
Peyton (hesitating at first): I-I, uh, came over to congratulate Allison on the news of the baby. I got the email earlier today about Chloe’s pregnancy.
Bralen (glibly): Oh yeah, that! It completely eclipsed my news of going to the Olympics. (pause) What’s wrong, Peyton? You look preoccupied.
Peyton: No, I’m fine. I just wanted to come and check things out.
Bralen: Do you smell something?
Bralen rings the doorbell several times again. No one answers after a minute of impatient waiting, and then Peyton informs him that Allison usually leaves the back entrance open. They walk around to the back of the house, where they see smoke in the kitchen, coming slowly out the window, and hear the smoke alarm going off. Rushing into the kitchen, they see the source of the smoke, turn off the oven, and behold the sight of burnt food inside it.
Peyton: Something‘s not right about this!
Bralen: Yeah, Allison doesn’t know how to cook. They should come out with a cookbook for lesbians.
Peyton: I’ve been calling her cell for the last hour, and she’s not answering it. What are you doing?
Bralen (having opened the refrigerator): I thought Allison was a strict vegetarian—and I mean that non-sexually —so what’s this doing here? (withdrawing a can of whipped cream)
Peyton: Put that back, Bralen! You shouldn’t be going through other people’s refrigerators.
Bralen (rushing up behind Peyton with the can in his grasp): Oh, calm down, Mr. Stuffy Pants.
Peyton (his head and ears suddenly sprayed with whipped cream): Will you fucking stop that?
The imposing tone of Peyton’s voice jolted Bralen, at once arousing his libido. Peyton was already wiping the whipped cream from the crown of his head. Bralen slipped behind him again and placed his mouth on Peyton’s right earlobe, sucking away the frothy cream and sliding his arms around Peyton’s torso, gently pulling him back until their bodies touched.
Bralen (whispering into his ear): You want me to go on?
Bralen’s roaming hands had already found the growing lump in Peyton’s trousers and began rubbing and fondling it through the fabric.
Peyton: We really shouldn’t be doing this in Allison’s home. What if they were to come home now?
Bralen: Then they’d see some great cockplay, something they’re really missing out on.
Peyton: You’re such a sexist pig!
Bralen: I never considered myself sexist—sexy, yes—but as for the pig part, you hit that right on the nail.
In the same breath, Bralen had adroitly unzipped Peyton’s slacks, unleashing his massive endowment. He once more grasped the container of whipped cream and sprayed it on Peyton’s erection, all the while staring seductively into his eyes before lowering himself onto his knees and placing his moist, eager mouth around it.
Peyton: We really shouldn’t be doing this here.
Bralen (licking the cream from his lips): Would you rather take this into the other room? It does smell smoky in here.
Bralen rose, grabbed Peyton, and jerked him into the living room, throwing him onto the chaise longue. Peyton’s cock still stiff, Bralen readily recommenced sucking it, soon hearing pleasurable exhalations escape Peyton’s lips. Dynamic and unmistakably experienced in fellatio, Bralen’s mouth swallowed inch by inch of throbbing flesh, his gag reflex not yet triggered despite the fact that rivulets of saliva were streaming down Peyton’s shaft.
Peyton: Hey, watch the dribble! Don’t want to get it on Allison’s furniture.
Bralen: Yeah, you’re right!
Peyton unexpectedly felt his dominant streak urging him on—an irrepressible impulse to control Bralen, who had brought this situation upon himself. Both his hands shot forth, seized Bralen’s head, and he then forced his cock farther down his throat. Peyton’s cell phone rang, and he thoughtlessly answered it.
Peyton (to Bralen): Keep going!
To his annoyance, it was Callum, admonishing him to say they were together all night should Detective Kyle Walgrove come to interrogate him.
Peyton: Why? What have you done? (pause) What the hell! (carelessly rising from the chaise longue and injuring his penis, Bralen accidentally biting it)
Bralen: You should have told me you were getting up. You’re lucky you’ve got some thick skin. The last guy whose cock I unintentionally bit needed stitches.
Callum (voice emanating from the phone): Who’s that you’re with?
Peyton: None of your business!
Callum: Just remember what I told you.
Peyton snaps the phone shut, pushes his hurting cock back into his slacks, and zips them up. He looked at a bewildered and confused Bralen.
Peyton: We’ve got to go now. That was Callum. Allison and Chloe are in the hospital. There’s been an accident at Griffith Park!
Bralen: Come on, let’s take my car. You’re in no condition to get behind the wheel. On the drive over, you can reciprocate what I’ve done for you.
Peyton: Isn’t that dangerous?
Bralen: Don’t worry! I’ll go just under the speed limit and try to avoid bumps and potholes.
HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL, THE NEXT MORNING (MONDAY)
Nathan has rushed to the hospital, Allison having informed him what happened the prior evening. He is in her room staring at the sling on her shoulder, the bullet having been surgically removed. Her face looks weathered from the strife she has endured the past twelve hours.
Nathan: I got here as soon as I could. My God, Allison, your shoulder! Why didn’t you call me last night after all this happened?
Allison: I didn’t want to add to your stress. Peyton and Bralen were here with me last night. I finally had to send them home about an hour ago.
Nathan: Well, I notified the school that I wouldn’t be in until 10:00. You didn’t tell me much over the phone, but you said there was something very urgent you had to tell me.
Allison: I-It’s about Ch-Chloe! (breaking into tears)
Nathan: Oh, Allison, no… please don’t say she—
Allison (wiping her nose with the back of her hand): No, she made it through surgery. Her back was greatly injured. The impact was too strong. She suffered a lot of internal bleeding. Dr. Preston had to do an emergency hysterectomy.
Nathan: What does that mean?
Allison: She lost the baby, Nathan.
Nathan: Oh, my God, Allison. I’m so sorry. (wrapping his arms around her). We’ll get through this.
Allison: I can handle it, Nathan. It’s just that I know Chloe can’t… how am I to tell her that she not only lost this baby, but that she won’t be able to have another one?
Nathan (standing and raking his hand through his hair): I-I don’t know what to say. Do you want me to be there with you when you tell her?
Allison: No, I should be the one. She’ll be expecting me when the anesthetics wear off.
Nathan: Other than that, is she okay?
Allison: The doctors will prescribe her some painkillers for her back injury. Other than that, she should make a full recovery.
Nathan: Thank God. I’m really at a loss for words. I’ve lost a child also…
Allison (moving to hug him): Yes, you did, but at least you can have another child if you want. For my precious Chloe, the struggle has just begun. She’ll have to cope with the inability to bear children, and I know that was something she truly wanted to do.
Nathan: I could just kill the son-of-a-bitch that did this! Have they found out who was responsible?
Allison: I haven’t had a chance to speak with Kyle, who’s doing all he can find out what really happened.
Nathan: But you were shot?
Allison: Yes, I was hit by a bullet. Chloe was struck down by the horse, and the horseback rider is still in intensive care to my understanding. He hasn’t awakened yet, but Kyle will be questioning him as well to see if he knows anything.
Nathan: Allison, you know I’m here for you.
Allison: Yeah, I know. (pause) You should go see Brendon before you head into work.
Nathan: Yeah, I’ll have to impart the bad news to him as well. Good thing about it is that I most likely won’t get a reaction from him. Anyway, as president of Outrunners, I’ll be issuing a formal edict that there will be no more training runs in Griffith Park until they have solved these crimes. I think we’ll either go to Silver Lake or Runyon Canyon.
Allison: I’m fine with that ruling.
They hugged before Nathan left her room, heading down the hall in the direction of Brendon’s room. Allison stood immobile, gravely contemplating within herself why she held back on telling Nathan her intuitive impression that Callum Sutcliffe was one way or another involved in the attacks.
CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES
Rising at dawn to place a call to Armitage & Burnham Publishing in London, Callum quickly allayed their anxieties over their pressing need for the final draft of the next Simon Edgley novel, promising them that they would have it within forty-eight hours. The situation mandated he enter into his personal conclave, a ritual he performed thrice a year when he had to write each of the novels under his various pseudonyms. Shut off from the rest of the world—which in the past included Gavin, Godfrey, and the Armitage family—Callum would take temporary residence usually in the basement with only his notebook computer and classical music as companions over a taxing two day period of creative outflow. Like all great artists, he needed his privacy in order to effectively create. Under no circumstance was he to be interrupted until the completion of the novel, and all his meals and drink were delivered promptly at scheduled times and left on a tray outside the door.
It was with much reluctance that he would presently do this awful task, especially in the midst of the bedlam surrounding Allison, Chloe, and Nathan. Then there was also the vile dealing with Tristan and Vittoria, and while Callum didn’t mind them staying under his roof—which allowed him the ability to keep a close watch over them—he detested the idea that they were likewise playing hardball with him, threatening to fire back on him should he try to blackmail them. He needed something ironclad with which he could keep them in his grasp, much like how he held Dr. Peyton Ashland.
Having finished his call to London, he had a good breakfast and set about finding a way to rectify the mess in which he had been placed. Allison had not been fatally shot, and she had sent Kyle over last night for that spontaneous interrogation. Hopefully, Peyton would play along and provide his alibi, but Callum did not yet know Chloe’s status. If she were alive, then Vittoria would still be a liability, for then Chloe would stop at nothing until Vittoria was prosecuted for dealing the drugs to Justin, especially as he was still reportedly “missing.”
For now Callum wanted to concentrate his energies on Detective Kyle Walgrove. He had to know the identity of the person with whom Heath Alcott was having an affair since that tasty tidbit of information would go a long way toward keeping Kyle on a leash. Justin said that last week he had gone into the house and heard Heath engaged in sexual activity with someone else. Callum would have to take a chance and go over there and see if there were any clues. He had Kyle and Heath’s address from Peyton’s black book, and thanks to Justin’s big mouth, he knew where they hid their spare key—under the flowerpot on the porch.
They lived in a nice cottage house on Cherry Grove Drive, just short of Santa Monica Boulevard. Having driven to the place, he debated where to park his car as there was an available spot next door in front of Kyle’s neighbors, but Callum didn’t wish to draw attention to himself. More to the point, two of the neighbors were already outside, particularly a father who was teaching his teenage son how to drive, and the kid looked to be rather challenged. Callum chose to park farther down the street and thought he recognized the car parked in front of that neighboring house as Tristan’s car.
He got out his car, waited for the father/son pair to pull out their driveway and begin their lesson, and then walked up to Kyle’s residence. There didn’t appear to be any car in the garage. He looked at the porch and his eyes landed on the sight of three flowerpots, and he found the key under the second one. He slipped it into the lock, and stole inside the house.
The throbbing, sexual beat of Garbage’s “Push It” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzViEkqthfk) begins playing the moment he enters the house.
His ears right away took notice of the sound that Justin had described, for it was an indisputable echo of ecstasy merged with grunting sounds. He tiptoed his way through the living room, crossing the kitchen, and entering a short carpeted hallway. The sounds were coming from the end of it, and he gingerly walked down it, stooping onto his legs at the doorway and peeking inside at the mind-blowing spectacle.
It was Tristan! He was the one having an affair with Heath Alcott! This is too good to be true, Callum thought. I must give the bloke credit. He knows how to move it. However, his taste in sexual partners is somewhat questionable, given Heath’s strange predilection for freakish sex acts, as evidenced from the scene before him.
Both were in the bed, standing up on their knees, Heath facing away with steel clamps on his nipples and a leather belt secured around his neck, Tristan tightening his grip on it as his body slammed into Heath—who kept demanding more aggression out of him. He was already red in the face, but there surged a definite energy within him that thrived on the harsh treatment. Heath’s hands went behind himself to grab Tristan’s head and pull him back for a kiss. It was at that angle that Callum saw Heath’s erection—steely and rigid with a cap of pink flesh already gleaming with signs of bodily satisfaction. Callum saw Tristan reach down and grasp it, squeezing it gently before tugging on it.
Heath: Just fuck me, you asshole!
Tristan: Oh, is that how you want it?
Tristan’s hand slapped Heath’s cheeks before he pushed him forward onto the bed on his stomach before savagely mounting him and grabbing his shoulders as leverage. He threw all his weight now into his thrusts, jarring more high-pitched moans from Heath. Tristan began feeling his own body heat increase as his sweaty skin continued slapping against Heath’s similarly moist flesh.
Callum chose not to stay for the climax, having seen enough, and slipped away from the scene, content with what he had witnessed. He retraced his steps and went back outside, rushing to his car. He stopped dead in his tracks the minute he saw the neighbor’s son ineptly navigating the wheel of his father’s car, sending it careening carelessly around the corner and the vehicle nearly sideswiped Callum’s sports car when it was making its way toward its normal parking spot. Suddenly, the boy’s foot must have become leaden, for the car abruptly started speeding, and the inexperienced driver slammed into Tristan’s car, the sound of metal colliding with metal. The trunk of Tristan’s car flipped up with the impact.
Callum rushed over to assess the damage, his eyes immediately latching onto the forbidden item confined within the trunk. He knew instantly what it was, and while the father and son were arguing, Callum carefully grasped the blanket covering the blood-encrusted crowbar and darted away. When he reached his car, he carefully placed it in the passenger seat, an air of utter fulfillment sealed on his face.
TWO HOURS LATER
The poignancy of Snow Patrol’s “Open Your Eyes” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l5ipSldZNI) provides the musical background for the following monumental montages:
Callum descends into the wine cellar of his home with his notebook computer tucked under his arm. Standing on the stairs, he hands Godfrey an envelope along with specific instructions. The butler then ceremoniously closes the heavy wooden door, sealing Callum into the dark chamber. Callum sits at the desk positioned in the middle of the room and majestically opens the notebook computer, eager to embark on yet another fictional voyage.
Allison stands outside Chloe’s hospital room, in conflict with herself on how exactly to break the awful news to her partner that she’ll never bear children. She knows that Chloe will take it very hard, and that it would potentially devastate her beyond repair. There was no way of sugarcoating it. She slowly makes her way into the room, sitting down next to Chloe, who was still peacefully asleep. For a split second, Allison dreads the moment Chloe’s eyes would open, whereupon it would be countdown until the awful revelation that would ultimately break her heart.
Nathan enters Brendon’s room to tell him the bad news about the accident that took Chloe’s unborn away from her. He sits idly beside him, trying to find the words of pain to tell his lover that he was now likewise suffering the loss of what would have been his first child. Nathan reaches up and wraps his arms around Brendon, unleashing a flood of tears from his eyes. I love you so much and just wish you were here with me. His tears fell onto Brendon’s face, and had Nathan been sitting in his chair or otherwise in a different position from the one which he currently held, he would have seen that Brendon’s eyes had just opened.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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