Police Brutality (Hazard and Somerset: A Union of Swords Book 2) Read online

  POLICE BRUTALITY

  HAZARD AND SOMERSET: A UNION OF SWORDS

  BOOK 2

  GREGORY ASHE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2020 Gregory Ashe

  All Rights Reserved

  CHAPTER ONE

  DECEMBER 16

  SUNDAY

  6:42 PM

  EMERY HAZARD WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED. He jabbed the pen at the paper again, as though this might help somehow.

  “Road signs.”

  “Figure eight.”

  “Ouroboros.”

  This last one made Hazard snap a look at his boyfriend, John-Henry Somerset, who just smiled, eyes wide and innocent.

  “I guessed that one time,” Hazard said. “Just once. And it was legitimate because the last thing you drew looked like a Coptic cross.”

  “Of course it did,” Somers said, grinning.

  Game night at Noah and Rebeca’s house wasn’t exactly Hazard’s favorite thing, but it seemed to scratch some itch that Somers had. More importantly, Noah and Rebeca didn’t make Hazard want to eat a bullet every time their names came up. So here they were, playing a version of Pictionary, with everyone taking turns guessing. Somers had modified the rules after their last visit. And the Coptic cross.

  Hazard tapped the page again, unsure how they could miss something so obvious. Two identical points. Arrows curled to show opposing directions of spin.

  “Road signs,” Noah said again.

  Rebeca slapped his arm. “You already tried that.”

  Noah, tall and goofy and very, very white, might have looked like an odd match for Rebeca: short, dark, composed and beautiful. But five minutes with them told another story. Hazard wondered if people thought the same thing about him and Somers. One look at Somers, who was using a pair of pretzel sticks to mime walrus tusks and pretending to chase Evie, his daughter—their daughter, Hazard corrected—made Hazard think that people probably did wonder at their pairing.

  “John, you’re missing the game,” Hazard said.

  “I’m playing with Evie.” Somers pretended to charge his daughter again—it looked all wrong, Hazard thought; Hazard wasn’t even sure if a male walrus charged in an attack. He’d have to do some research and show Somers an appropriate video clip. But before Hazard could bring up any of this, Raquel, Noah and Rebeca’s oldest daughter, swooped in to grab Evie, carrying her off toward whatever game the rest of the brood was playing.

  “Now you don’t have any excuses,” Hazard said. “Get back here.”

  “Give us a hint,” Somers said.

  “No hints,” Rebeca said.

  “Maybe one,” Noah said. “So we can play the next round.”

  Rebeca slapped his arm again, but she said, “A small one.”

  “It makes the world go ‘round.”

  “Are they circles?” Noah said, squinting.

  “They’re dots,” Rebeca said.

  Somers kicked out his legs like he was watching something that was about to get particularly good; Hazard’s middle finger itched.

  “That’s actually a question of perspective,” Hazard said. “They probably do have a round shape, but from your point of view, they might look more like dots.”

  “You’re not supposed to answer questions,” Somers said.

  Hazard glared at him.

  “And you’re not supposed to give hints.”

  “Don’t you have anything useful to contribute?”

  “Just reminding you of the rules, sweetheart.”

  Noah and Rebeca were working on something, whispering to each other.

  “Protons,” Rebeca said.

  Hazard opened his mouth.

  “No way,” Noah said. “No way. They’re wedding rings.”

  Before Hazard could answer, Somers laughed and said, “Ree wouldn’t draw wedding rings. He’d be afraid I’d think he was proposing.”

  Hazard had heard Somers’s tone before: playful on the surface, fraught with something else that Hazard couldn’t quite read. Noah and Rebeca were trying hard not to look at each other, and suddenly the room seemed very quiet.

  “Give us another clue,” Rebeca said. “I think—”

  “You were close,” Hazard said, tearing the sheet from the easel along its perforation. He took his time, making sure he got it just right, no tattered edges. “Romance. Well, a symbolic representation of romance, since it’s an abstract concept and therefore difficult to draw.”

  The silence practically had its own heartbeat, even to Hazard’s ears.

  “Romance,” Rebeca said. “Damn it. I almost said romance.”

  Nobody said anything. Laughs and shrieks from the kids at the other end of the house echoed in the room. Slowly, Hazard balled up the oversized sheet of paper.

  “Here,” Rebeca said, standing and smoothing her skirt. “I’ll toss that.”

  “And I’ll grab some drinks,” Noah said. “Beer? Beer?”

  Hazard shook his head. Somers didn’t seem to hear the question at first and shook his head a moment too late. Noah and Rebeca looked like they were in a race to see who could get to the kitchen first, and then Hazard and Somers were alone.

  “It was just a joke,” Somers said.

  “I know.”

  “I was just trying to be funny. They didn’t have to get all weird about it.” He cleared his throat. “You didn't think I meant anything, right?

  Dropping onto the sofa, Hazard slid an arm around his boyfriend. He didn't say anything because nothing seemed safe.

  “Maybe next time I’ll just piss on the rug or something. See if that clears them out any faster.”

  “John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t pee on their rug.”

  For some reason that made Somers laugh again, and he turned on the sofa, gathering his knees to his chest, to face Hazard. Somers had blue eyes, tropically blue, and they focused on Hazard now with their exceptional clarity. “So, you were drawing romance.”

  Hazard flicked a look at the empty easel. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

  “Like the Maginot Line that I drew last week.”

  “You drew that little hook that looked like Strasbourg—”

  “Or like that All Play when Rebeca was drawing a chicken—”

  “In my defense, I’d just finished that documentary on Swedish manufacturing.”

  “—and you shouted out, ‘MILF.’”

  “I don’t really want to fuck her. Just so we’re clear.”

  “Uh huh,” Somers said, biting the corner of his mouth, which Hazard thought meant that Somers was fighting a grin. “How about you explain this one, tonight? We’re all alone. You can talk me through it. Just so, you know, maybe I won’t have made an asshole of myself for nothing.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “It’s romance,” Somers said. “Come on, tell me. I want to know how you see romance.”

  “It’s silly, John. You know I’m not romantic, not really. I just—I was fixated on something I’d been reading about. That’s all.” Hazard looked at the blank easel, envisioning the drawing: the two dots, the arrows indicating opposite spin. Looking back at Somers, he shrugged. “Quarks.”

  Somers didn’t blink, but Hazard got the sense that he wanted to. “Quarks.”

  “Quarks.”

>   “Like, physics?”

  “I told you it was stupid.” Somers was still staring, and Hazard felt a prickle of discomfort, the sense of alienation that reminded him he didn’t see the world the same way as everyone else. He felt it less around Somers—most of the time—but he still felt it. It had followed him since childhood, and it made him feel like a child again, all awkward knees and elbows juxtaposed to Somers’s controlled elegance.

  “Not little hearts,” Somers said.

  Hazard rolled a shoulder.

  “Not a rose. Or a bouquet of roses.”

  Hazard gave a half-shake of his head.

  “Not a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Or a candlelight dinner. Or, I don’t know, a penis.”

  “John!”

  With a soft smile, Somers said, “Quarks.” Like it was the heart of some unspeakable mystery.

  Which, Hazard supposed, they technically were. Quarks were a part of physics still being explored, full of all sorts of phenomena that nobody really understood, which was just one reason Hazard had thought they were an obvious choice for representing romance. And, of course, they had spin. That was the most important part.

  Before he could explain any of this, Evie charged into the room, followed by Rocio, Noah and Rebeca’s youngest daughter. “Daddy,” Evie screamed, throwing up her arms as she raced past Somers.

  “Daddy,” Rocio mimicked, throwing up her arms.

  “Dee Dee,” Evie screamed on the second pass, close enough that her little body checked Hazard’s knees.

  “Dee Dee,” Rocio echoed.

  And then the rest of the kids were there, like clowns climbing out of a car, one after another until the gag felt worn out. Hazard still wondered how there could be so many, and if more were still coming. In theory, Noah and Rebeca only had six kids—only, Hazard thought with a trace of panic—but Hazard was fairly sure they multiplied when they were indoors. It didn’t help that, between Raquel at the top and Rocio at the bottom, the four in the middle were boys. And right now, those four were wrestling and shouting, punching and pulling, grabbing each other by the shirt or the arm and swinging. One of the middle boys came off the ground, feet whipping through the air and missing Hazard’s chin by an inch, and then three of the boys went down in a crash, laughing and shouting and the whole thing turning into another kind of fight.

  “Ok,” Noah said, peering into the living room from the kitchen. “It sounds like they’re ready to go.”

  “I’ll get the leashes,” Hazard muttered.

  Somers elbowed him, but he was grinning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DECEMBER 16

  SUNDAY

  7:01 PM

  SOMERS SHIVERED AS THEY STEPPED out into the night, grateful when Hazard slung a big arm over his shoulders. In his other arm, Hazard carried Evie, who was red cheeked and already snot nosed in spite of her coat and scarf and hat.

  Winter had come hard to Wahredua, and the first two weeks of December had brought record lows and mountains of snow. Some of that had melted off, but enough remained to turn the little Arts and Crafts neighborhood where Hazard and Somers lived, with Noah and Rebeca in the house next door, into streets of frosted gingerbread houses. Lights hung from rooflines: some monochromatic blues and whites that turned the snow even colder, and others the traditional multicolored bulbs that made Somers think of Christmases when he’d been a kid. Somewhere nearby, “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” played loud enough that Somers could hear Gene Autry enjoying the hell out of himself.

  For half a block, they managed to walk as a group, with Noah and Rebeca’s kids hollering until one of the boys ended up spread-eagle in a bank of snow. Then Noah and Rebeca sent the kids ahead, and Raquel, with a shy smile, asked if she could take Evie, and then it was just the four adults watching their children race away.

  “Hear that?” Noah said, cocking his head as the sounds of arguing faded. “Heaven.”

  Nobody seemed to feel the need to talk after that; it was enough to enjoy the crisp air, the crunch of snow underfoot, the pleasures of walking a short, comfortable distance in winter.

  Somers wrapped an arm around Hazard’s waist, which was harder than it would have been two or three months ago. Hazard had been hitting the gym again. Hard. And he’d been hitting meals again. Hard. He was packing on the dense layers of muscle that he had carried when he had first come to Wahredua, and Somers didn’t have any complaints. Just last night, for example, Hazard had picked up Somers like it was no sweat and held him against the wall while they—

  “Your cheeks are red,” Hazard said.

  “It’s cold,” Somers said, but he couldn’t help a glance at Noah and Rebeca, as though they might have somehow overheard his thoughts.

  “Yes, but usually it takes somewhere around seven and a half minutes for your cheeks to get red.”

  Somers blinked. “Wait. You know how long it takes? Seven and a half minutes?”

  “At this temperature. And it’s a rough estimate.”

  “Oh my God,” Somers said, shaking his head.

  “What?”

  Rebeca made a cooing noise. “You’re so cute. It’s kind of unbearable, you know.”

  “Don’t start,” Somers said, jabbing a finger at Noah.

  “She’s right,” Noah said with a smirk. “It’s definitely unbearable.”

  “I said don’t start, Noah.”

  Noah just laughed.

  Hazard had watched the exchange without commentary, and his hold on Somers hadn’t altered. Somers thought there were lots of reasons to like Noah and Rebeca—they were both smart, accomplished, progressive, friendly, and funny—but maybe the best reason was that, around Noah and Rebeca, Somers and Hazard could just be themselves. They didn’t have to carry around the past, all the tortured shit that had happened between them in high school. They could just be who they were, today, together, in love. And Noah and Rebeca didn’t even bat an eye because they hadn’t grown up in Wahredua, hadn’t seen how bad it had been between Somers and Hazard in high school. It was hard to find a married couple, the right age, with kids, who hadn’t grown up in Wahredua; thank God Rebeca had come for a professorship at the college, and thank God Noah could follow because he wrote freelance. Some days, Somers thought he’d be friends with Noah and Rebeca just for that fact alone, even if they’d been raging assholes.

  From their neighborhood, a residential pocket in the older part of town, it took less than ten minutes to walk to City Hall and the spread of government buildings at the heart of Wahredua. As they got closer, more people appeared, moving along the sidewalks in small groups, all heading to the same location.

  “It seems pretty late for a tree lighting,” Noah said. “Is it always this late?”

  “No,” Somers said. “Normally they do it on the first, and the tree comes down on New Year’s. I guess they had to wait because of the bad weather.”

  “Or other reasons,” Hazard said.

  “Like what?” Rebeca asked.

  Hazard caught Somers’s look and shook his head.

  On the snowy lawn outside City Hall, it looked like most of Wahredua had turned out. Somers saw kids he had gone to school with, grown men and women with kids of their own now. Some of them, like Amanda McNealey, with whom Somers had gotten to second base during the summer of sophomore year, stared at Hazard and Somers like the carnival had come to town. Others, like Sandy Burnett, who had played football with Somers since they’d been in grade school, just waved and smiled. Somers saw the old guard, men and women his parents’ age who still ruled the social circles of the small town, and he saw college kids who were new to Wahredua and had been drawn to the community by generous scholarships from Wroxall. It was good to come to something like this, good to be reminded that some things actually did change, even if most of the time it felt like Wahredua was stuck in the past.

  For the first time that Somers could recall, though, an undercurrent of tension ran through the cro
wd. Men watched each other warily; women drew together, backs to the world. A guy in denim and a Carhartt coat pushed through the crowd, and a group of college boys railed at him as he passed. It didn’t go any farther than that, but Somers’s pulse beat a little faster.

  Then the tree caught Somers’s attention. It had to be fifty feet tall, and although the lights were still dark, Somers was already impressed. Easily, it was the tallest Christmas tree Wahredua had ever put on display. And it was a beautiful tree: an eastern white pine, native to Missouri, with closely clustered branches and full needles. Like something you’d see in Rockefeller Center. Or in a movie.

  Caught up in admiring the tree, it took Somers a moment to notice that Hazard had gone still beside him. He glanced over; Hazard’s face was rigid, and his attention was fixed on something ahead of them.

  When Somers saw, he squeezed Hazard’s arm. “Don’t.”

  Hazard was staring at the Right Honorable Mayor of Wahredua, Naomi Malsho, Somers’s ex-sister-in-law, formerly a strategic adviser to the Ozark Volunteers—a group of right-wing extremists. Judging by Hazard’s face, though, Somers guessed that Hazard was thinking about one of Naomi’s more recent crimes: she had sold Somers out, betraying him to a man who wanted to kill him.

  Hazard wasn’t making any noise, but Somers could feel the sub-audible growl vibrating in the big man’s chest.

  “Stop,” Somers said. “Not tonight.”

  “What’s wrong?” Rebeca said.

  “Nothing. Right, Ree?”

  Hazard tore his gaze away, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You know,” Rebeca said, staring at the stage where Hazard had been looking, “a lot of people at the university were talking about the possibility of no Christmas tree this year. I’m kind of surprised they went through with it.”

  “Really?” Somers said. “I thought everybody loved this. It’s a tradition.”

  “Too Christian,” Noah said. Something must have crossed Somers’s face because Noah laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Hey, man. We’re Christian. But, you know what I mean?”