A Barlow Lens Read Free Page A

best friend I had, would ever have.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Val asked.
    â€œJack happened.”
    â€œKevin found out you were gay and, along with that, so was his brother and didn’t like it?”
    â€œSomething like that. Jack told him but didn’t tell him who he was involved with. I told Kevin that myself. Never had a clue it would be an issue,” Wyatt said. “There were a few words exchanged and more than a few punches. We ended up beating the crap out of each other. Their family wouldn’t have anything to do with Jack after that, and I found a new job. None of them even so much as sent a card, let alone attended his funeral.”
    â€œThat’s… I don’t even know what to say.” Val sounded gutted.
    â€œWhen Kevin and I worked together, he was no saint, but then neither was I. Jack and I met, and I thought I really knew Kevin. I told him much the same thing Vin told you once.”
    â€œThat my family wouldn’t care if I was gay and to stop hiding,” Val said.
    Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t work out as well for Jack and me. We had the opportunity to stay in Europe and did so.”
    â€œDo you regret any of it?”
    Glancing at Val again, Wyatt nodded and turned his attention back to the road. “No, not one bit.”
    â€œIt’s okay to talk about him, Wyatt. I know you were in relationships, and considering you’re more than twenty years older than I am, I’d be a little worried if you hadn’t been. Stop trying to be the strong, silent type, worrying you’ll hurt my feelings mentioning Jack. Because you won’t.”
    Wyatt reached over and squeezed Val’s wrist very gently. “Thank you.”
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    G RIFF HAD given Wyatt the name of a hotel near his neighborhood and within walking distance of the home he shared with his partner. It was also a few miles from the building where the victims had been discovered.
    It was a warm spring day, and the street leading to Griff’s home was quiet, lined with trees, modest brick homes with trim lawns and bright flower gardens. The air smelled faintly of lilacs, charcoal, and freshly cut grass.
    When they reached Griff’s front walk, two canine faces watched them approach and Val’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. There was a gate across the drive, and Wyatt presumed the rest of the backyard was fenced in. Wyatt wasn’t any better with dog breeds than he was with horses, but both dogs looked like mixes. As they walked up the drive the two dogs announced their arrival.
    A man, around Val’s age, ambled from the back of the house and shushed the dogs. He opened the gate, explaining, “It’s nice outside, so we thought you’d enjoy the patio. Just got the grill fired up.”
    Wyatt couldn’t decide if this Griff guy was some kind of law enforcement child prodigy or looked far younger than he actually was. He certainly didn’t look old enough to have reached the rank of inspector with the US Marshals’ office, nor did he give off that “cop” impression. Time to take the plunge.
    â€œInspector Diamond?”
    The guy laughed. “Oh, hell no, he’s the one firing up the grill.” He had the sort of tan one acquired from working outside, and a broad grin. Extending his hand, he said, “Clint Bishop. Griff’s my partner, and these are our dogs. They’re noisy but very friendly.”
    Clint probably saw how unnecessary his statement was when Val knelt down and petted two very excited dogs.
    â€œWyatt Harig,” Wyatt said and shook Clint’s hand. “The guy trying to steal your dogs is Val Mihalic.”
    Val looked up and grinned sheepishly. He stood, brushing his jeans off, and offered his hand to Clint. “Sorry. I miss my guys.”
    Clint chuckled. “You don’t have to explain to me. They go almost everywhere with me.” He moved the dogs back and swung the