Ends of the Earth
Her lined face softened. “I know. I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you so miserable.”
“I’m fine!” He tried to laugh, not quite succeeding.
“When was the last time you had a date?”
Ben didn’t think the quick grope and blowjob with a random guy from Grindr in East Glacier Park Village counted as an actual date. He leveled Dee with an exaggeratedly accusing look. “And when was the last time you had a date?”
She barked out a laugh. “When you’ve been married thirty years, it qualifies as a date when your husband takes you to the sports bar to watch the game, holds the door for you, and turns away to burp.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
The phone rang, and Dee retreated to answer it. The mention of the word “manhunt” piqued Ben’s interest, and he came to lean a hip against her desk. He raised his eyebrows when she hung up. “Well?”
“There’s a killer on the loose from Whitefish. Chance he might be heading into the park. Also a chance he already escaped south, but I guess we’d better be safe than sorry.”
“What’s the story?”
“Scumbag blew away his ex-girlfriend and her new guy in a convenience store last night. Did the cashier too for good measure.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about that. Do we have a description?”
Dee nodded to the corner. “Fax should be coming any minute.”
She went back to her paperwork, and Ben lingered by the fax machine. The mug shot was two years old according to the accompanying note. The beady eyes of a man in his thirties with unkempt hair cut into a mullet style stared back at Ben. The man had a thick, muscular neck, but his chin was small and weak, his nose crooked, as if it had been broken a few times.
“Looks like a real charmer,” he noted.
Dee glanced up from her desk, and Ben turned the page toward her. She snorted. “Yep. If you’re bored, want to make some copies for me?”
“Sure.” The photocopier had been built sometime in the Stone Age, but it got the job done. According to the description on the police alert, this Harlan Brown was not only armed and dangerous, but was a paranoid survivalist who had extensive knowledge of the area and had been known to drop off the grid for weeks at a time.
Great. He might be hiding right under their noses. “I’ll put these up. Can you make sure the other stations have them too?”
Dee didn’t look up. “Will do. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but I wouldn’t want to run into this creep out there.”
Ben picked up the pile of copies and looked at the mug shot again. “Definitely not.”
The stars twinkled into sight as Ben parked his truck near the entrance to the Bear Creek campground. He was a full hour early to begin his inspection rounds, but he wanted to find out exactly where Jason and Maggie were camping before they went to bed. Maybe he’d be invited back later if his instincts about Jason Kellerman were right.
Ben ambled down the dirt road that twisted through the campsites. He was hungry for the feel of another man beneath him. Seeing Brad had served to remind him how unsatisfying their sex life had become years before Tyson Lockwood had even entered the picture.
When Ben and Brad met in college, they’d been young and fumbling. Brad had never liked the idea of bottoming, refusing even to try it. Ben never pushed—Brad had every right to his preferences. But as the years passed and Ben had wanted to explore and expand their boundaries, Brad was never enthusiastic. He’d always hated the mess of sex, wanting everything tidy and contained.
Kicking a rock into the undergrowth with a violent rustle of leaves, Ben wondered if Brad was like that with Tyson. Maybe he just didn’t want my dick inside him. Probably bends over for Tyson Lockwood daily. Gives him everything I wanted. Adopts a baby with him. Why were we ever even together?
It was all tainted now. Half his life, and he couldn’t help but look back on it as a waste.
After the breakup, it had taken Ben months to even think about screwing other guys, and aside from the odd trip to Butte’s pathetic excuse for a gay bar or a couple quick online hookups, there hadn’t been anyone. Certainly not anyone who mattered.
The guy in East Glacier had been wearing a wedding band, and Ben had tried to ignore it, telling himself as the man sucked him that it was none of his business. But he’d felt dirty in a way that had nothing to do with the sex.
That had been months ago when winter was thawing, and now it was July, the heat of summer lingering as night fell, slick on his skin. He wanted more than nameless sex with a stranger.