Page 24 of Subtracting the Heart

Grabbing a flashlight, Cade hurried upstairs to the boys’ rooms, carefully avoiding the windows so no nosy neighbors picked up on the light. He quickly tossed each boy’s clothes into the blanket on their bed and tied it up, tossing it down the stairs to drag to the porch.

After doing it five times, he returned downstairs to drag each bundle to the back porch. He then went to the kitchen and began rooting through the freezer. He went to the porch and found several boxes which he filled with the perishables in the fridge and the contents of the freezer. He was barely able to carry the heavy boxes, but he was running on pure adrenaline, for which he was grateful.

Once he had everything on the porch, he grabbed a box top and ran downstairs to use it as a makeshift covering for the broken window. He grabbed a ladder and was able to wedge the lid in the empty frame, not so it would keep out a burglar—just the cold.

That reminded him he should turn down the furnace to a setting to just keep the pipes from freezing, so he hurried upstairs and checked the thermostat in the office, seeing thecomputers had likely been seized by the police which made him wonder if they’d ever get them back.

After he was sure everything was locked up and safe, he hurried outside to the back of the building and unlocked Ford’s trunk. He loaded the food in the back where it would stay coldest, and he loaded the bundles into the back seat.

Just as he was wedging the last clothing-filled quilt into the car, boots crunched the snow behind him. “Freeze! Get your hands where I can see them.”

Cade put his hands on top of his head and stood still as a statue. His knees began to shake.

He was shoved against the side of the white car with his hands in handcuffs. If it was one of his boyfriends manhandling him, it could have been hot. It wasn’t. It was scary as fuck.

The guy turned Cade around and shined a flashlight in his eyes. “What kind of a fucking bottom-feeding asshole robs a youths’ homeless shelter on Christmas Eve? I’m gonna make sure you spend the holidays courtesy of the county, you fucking bastard.” Cade could hear the contempt in the young cop’s voice.

“Look, I’m Kincade Hayes. I worked here untilyouassholes closed it down last night and called it a brothel. Really? We were giving these kids a place to be safe until the gestapo came in and kicked them out without their clothes. I have five of them at my place in the historic district right now. Those bundles are their clothes and the food in the trunk is what Beverly Singer, our cook, left in the freezer for us because she’s on vacation.

“Call Sam Belew, the night administrator. He’ll vouch for me. My phone’s in my pocket and his number is in my contacts.”

“This your car?” the cop asked.

“No, it’s my boyfriend’s. Ford Thomas is his name. He owns Fairytailsin Andersonville. His number is also in my phone, I swear. He’s at the hospital with Jackson Delacroix, who got hurt in the game today. He’s my other boyfriend.”

The cop stepped closer behind him. “I’m reaching for your wallet. Is there anything in your pocket that will hurt me? A gun, knife, needle?”

“No. Nothing.”

The guy reached into Cade’s back pocket and retrieved his old wallet, opening it and examining his driver’s license. The cop plucked out the card for the car service, which was the only card Cade had in his wallet. Thankfully, the card had his name printed on it.

“Okay, you told me your name. Take a seat on the stairs, please. I’m going to check the car’s registration.” The officer walked Cade over to sit on the back steps.

“What’s your name, sir?” If the guy was going to arrest him, it seemed as if Cade should at least know his name.

“Officer Dearborn. Steven Dearborn. Sit.” Cade did as he was told.

A minute later, the man came back with the paperwork for Ford’s car. “Says here this car is titled to Branford X. Thomas. Where is Mr. Thomas?” the guy asked.

“He’s at the hospital with Jax Delacroix. You know, the Ragin’ Cajun? Number 79 for Chicago?”

“And you say these men are your boyfriends?” Officer Dearborn sounded skeptical.

“Just call them.”

The man had his cell phone, after all. Cade watched as he scrolled through the contacts and touched one, putting it on speaker.

It rang four times before it went to voicemail. “This is Ford. You know what to do.”

The officer scrolled the list again and found another contact. Again, he put the phone on speaker. It went straight to voicemail. “You got me. Now what?” It was Jax. Of course, he didn’t have his phone with him. It was likely in his locker at thestadium since he was taken straight to the hospital after the bad hit.

“How about your home number, Mr. Hayes. What’s that?” The house phone! Cade wracked his brain until he remembered Ford and Jax’s number, spouting it for the man.

“I’m sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service,” sounded loud and clear over the speakers.

Cade and Officer Dearborn sighed at the same time. Of course, Ford and Jax probably got a new phone number when they moved to the historic district. It was a different prefix from Andersonville, after all.

“See, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but I gotta take you in. I need to call for the car to be towed until I can ascertain whether it’s been stolen. Mr. Hayes, you have the right to remain silent and I suggest you do so.” The cop put him in the back of the squad car, continuing to Mirandize him.

---