Payback by John Inman Page A

our fingers. The taste of Spence’s come still on my lips, making me love him all the more.
    I shook my head, jarring the memories, even now trying to push them away. It dawned on me this might not be such a bad idea. Maybe I would remember something new.
    “Do you want to drive to the park?” I asked.
    Chris scooted his chair back and stood. “No. Let’s walk. Let me just get comfortable.”
    He stripped off his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, then pulled his tie away from his neck, tossing it over the jacket. He casually popped a couple of buttons at the throat of his shirt, revealing a scatter of dark chest hair.
    “Ready,” he said with an easy smile. It was the first time he had ever truly seemed comfortable around me. I couldn’t imagine why, but it made me like him even more than I already did. I realized at that moment that Detective Christian Martin was probably a very nice guy, in spite of his line of work.
    My heart gave a lurch when he focused on the backpack. “About time you retired this thing, don’t you think?” he asked. “It looks like it has more miles on it than I do.”
    I forced up a chuckle. “You may be right.” And to change the subject, I countered his question with one of my own. “Anything to report on my case? Anything new?”
    He blinked. “Your case. Uh, no, I’m afraid. Not really.”
    “Too much time has passed,” I said. I could feel the anger setting in once again. Jesus, I couldn’t seem to get away from it for two minutes.
    Chris clutched my arm. “That’s not true, Tyler. It just takes one break. One witness to come forward. One anonymous tip.”
    I could tell by the expression on his face that my smile wasn’t exactly blinding. But then, none of them were these days. “Or one incredible stroke of luck,” I added to his list.
    “Yes,” he said solemnly, studying my face. “A little luck wouldn’t hurt either.”

Chapter Six
    Words
     
     
    T O MY amazement, I found myself enjoying the walk with Chris through the familiar neighborhood streets. He talked lightly of how things had changed in San Diego since he was a boy. I was surprised to learn he had grown up in a house less than six blocks from my own. His parents had sold the home while Chris was in college. They now lived in a retirement village in Del Mar. Detective Martin owned a small condo downtown, close to work.
    The shadows were deepening as we approached the gate to Doggie Park. In the distance we could hear the yapping of happy dogs, each and every one of them taking advantage of this small window of opportunity to run leashless and play their little hearts out with others of their ilk before their masters dragged them home. Listening to the dogs brought a smile to my lips and at the same time made my heart ache. I was hit with a sudden rush of loss once again, not for Spence this time, but for Franklin. I wondered where he could be. Had he found a new home? Had he died somewhere alone, wondering all the while what had happened to his two masters? Had he asked himself why they abandoned him the way they did? Did he wonder where they had gone?
    Chris must have noticed my change in demeanor. He dragged me to a stop just inside the gate. Gently gripping my shoulders, he turned me toward him and eyed me closely. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
    I gave him a brief shake of the head. “No, it’s all right. I was just thinking about Franklin. Wondering what… whatever became of him.”
    Chris nodded as if he understood. And since he was a pet owner, maybe he did. He seemed to also know there was nothing he could say to make me feel better, so he didn’t try. He merely turned to face the fence behind us and slapped the top rail, inviting me to join him. “Sit with me,” he said.
    We perched side by side atop the fence, just as Spence and I had done two months earlier. Just as I had done the other day. Our knees brushed together. Uncomfortable with the contact, I pulled