Page 16 of Missing in Action

Tyler bit his lip.

“I was thinking about Finn,” Holden said. “What he suffered. I was thinking of making domestic abuse the theme of my next book. I haven’t tackled it before.”

Tyler regarded him nonplussed.

Holden looked ashamed. “You’re thinking I’m going to cynically cash in on Finn’s misery.”

Tyler shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Look, you seem like an okay guy, Holden. I don’t think you’re going to do that. Just don’t have the lead character named Finn and don’t have him get boiling water poured on him, okay?”

“I wouldn’t,” Holden said. “But I wondered whether to speak to him. Whether he would be interested in writing his own story with me helping him.”

Once more, Tyler stared.

“I don’t usually write non-fiction,” Holden went on hurriedly, as though disapproval radiated from Tyler in waves. “But I’m interested, particularly as I’m in the house where it happened. Oh God, you think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

Tyler sighed. “No. Maybe it might be what he needs. Catharsis. But maybe it might open up memories he’s tried to bury. Then there’s Brandon. You really think the sheriff of this town will want you writing about how he shot and killed a man here?”

Holden looked crestfallen. “You’re right. It was a bad idea.”

“I never said it was a bad idea, but…you know, you’d have to play it carefully. Finn, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. I hate the idea that he would be hurt by this.”

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I’m sorry.”

“Aren’t you working on a novel at the moment?”

Holden lowered his gaze and poked his pancake. “Oh yeah, I am.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m working on a novel all right.”

Tyler frowned. He waited.

“Come upstairs and I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

Holden’s demeanor had changed. He seemed cold, unreachable. Tyler had to remember that while he was spilling the beans last night about all his troubles, Holden had not reciprocated. This guy had been swindled out of all his money and he hadn’t yet said a word to Tyler about it.

“What sort of stuff do you write?” He made his tone light and soft.

Holden looked up at him and Tyler saw the sort of pain that he was used to only seeing reflected back in the mirror. “Crime thrillers,” he said.

“My favorite.” Tyler smiled. “Finn has your books. He offered to lend me some. Which one should I start with?”

“No need. I have them upstairs. Come up and choose for yourself.”

Twice now Holden had asked him to come upstairs. If he really wanted him up there, Tyler wasn’t going to refuse. He was only a man after all. He put down his fork. “Come on then.”

Holden pushed his chair back. Tyler followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Holden kept a slow pace to match Tyler’s climb. Tyler eyed his ass. Firm and round in a pair of combat pants. He tried to concentrate on his leg to see how it felt as he moved, but he was far more interested in Holden’s ass. Holden was interesting him more and more, period. Tyler would soon have to do something about it, because this itch needed scratching very badly.

Holden led him into a home office, set up with a desk and chair. A second monitor was attached to the laptop. A notebook was open and propped open on a bookstand, revealing an untidy scrawl across both pages. A cup with a black cat on it overflowed with pens.

“Here you go,” Holden said and nudged the mouse so the screen fired up. “Here’s my new novel so far. The cursor blinked a few lines down from the top of a word document. The sole words, in capital letters, read Chapter One.

Tyler sighed. “I’m sorry, man.”

Holden gestured to the crammed bookcase against the far wall. “Mine are on the top shelf.”

Tyler peered at the row of spines. There were five in all. They had Holden’s name in block capitals, in gold on a black background. Tyler pulled out the first one and looked at the cover. Red roses dripping with blood on a black cover. The title was Dig Your Grave. He turned it over to read the blurb.

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