Page 11 of Carter

“Don’t mind the mess.”

I step into his small apartment that has me feeling claustrophobic.

There’s nothing in here to make a mess with. It’s bare. A couch with one end table and a small entertainment center with a tiny flat screen on top of it are in the left half of the room, while the right side is the smallest kitchen I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure I could even turn around in there.

Nothing hangs on the walls. There are no plants, or any splashes of color in here. The one window in the kitchen is covered by a set of brown curtains that aren’t long enough to cover the entire window.

I clear my throat and turn to face Carter, who is watching me carefully.

“As I said, my name is Detective Nash Bennett. I’m a Cold Case Homicide Detective, meaning I go through older cases, re-evaluate them, and decide if there is enough evidence to open a case again.”

“And you think Ryan’s should be re-opened?”

I think I want to give you some peace.

“I’m going to look over interviews, evidence, and speak with witnesses again.”

“And then you’re going to re-open the case?” he asks.

“If it’s determined that there is enough—”

He scoffs. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

He pulls the door open. “Get out.”

“I—”

“You said you were going to re-open the case. Now that you’re in my apartment, I’m getting a different story. If you’re not here to help me and Ryan, then get the hell out of my apartment,” he seethes.

“I am here to help,” I say. “I want to help you.”

“Why? Why do you care about ‘some gay boy who got it coming to him’?”

“Excuse me?” I say again, this time I can’t hide my anger. My face heats and my hands ball into fists. I’m not angry at him, of course, but where the fuck did he hear that?

“Yeah, I know how you cops think. Trust me. I have really good hearing.”

If I didn’t have as much self-control as I do, my jaw would be on the floor.

“Look, I don’t know who the hell said that to you, but if it was someone in the department, I want their name right now.”

His eyes narrow slightly.

“My brother is gay,” I say firmly, leaving out the part that I am too because it doesn’t matter. My sexuality isn’t a big part of my life. “And even if it wasn’t something close to home, I would never look at any otherinnocenthuman inanyway other than respectfully. I don’t care about sexuality, religion, life choices. What I care about is getting justice.”

His lips purse, looking away for a moment as if he’s considering my words. His expression hardly changes, so when he brings it back to me, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Why do you care?” he repeats. Watery, red eyes meet mine, and something twists in my chest.

I step up to him. He’s a few inches shorter than me, and I try not to use my height to make him nervous. Even if I did, he doesn’t look like he’s about to back down.

“Because I lost someone I loved too, and I can’t imagine knowing their killer was out there running around freely while they lay cold in the ground.”

Not my finest or kindest moment. But the truth hurts.

His lips part, understanding flashing across his face. But only for a moment. That mask is right back on.