"Ow! That hurts!"

The cry of pain from the next room of the crime scene house brought SAC Wroe's head around and sent his hand diving into his jacket. He came out with a Sig Sauer and dashed into the foyer with Sheriff Aguirre of the local police department right on his heels. Special Agent Wroe recognized the voice and wasn't surprised to see Ennis del Mar, but he was dismayed to see his team's most valuable player struggling against the chokehold of the rookie left to guard the door. Wroe pointed his weapon at the cop.

"Let go of that man immediately, or I'll be forced to act."

"Easy there, Mr. FBI Man," Aguirre said, training his standard issue thirty-eight on the serial crimes specialist. "Don't make me shoot you."

"This is my top profiler," Don Wroe said. "He's worth more than three of me."

"Well, then, I understand your concern, but you need to stop pointin' that piece at my deputy. God knows Twist is a fuck up, but that's a brand new uniform he's wearin'."

"Then tell him to take his hands off my man right now."

"I ain't real happy with the way you Federal boys waltzed into my crime scene," Aguirre said. "Maybe I ought a let ya shoot Twist, then I can shoot you and let the coroner sort it out."

"If you've got an M.E. in this hick burg that knows a gin blossom from a petechial hemorrhage," Wroe shot back.

"Petchiae occur on the eyes or eyelids as a result of asphyxiation," Jack Twist said in a strained voice. "Gin blossoms are the broken blood vessels on an alcoholic's nose and cheeks. This clown's one of your guys?"

"Del Mar's with my circus," Wroe affirmed.

"I'm gonna let ya go now, okay?" Jack told his prisoner. "Settle down and act like a sane person and I won't have to restrain you again."

It was Aguirre's opinion that the newly arrived FBI man looked the type that would enjoy being handcuffed under the right conditions. There was something about the way del Mar moved with a grace that was neither feminine, nor masculine, that made him suspect in Joe Aguirre's eyes. Del Mar didn't dress like any Fed Aguirre had ever seen either. Instead of the usual Blues Brothers black suit and white shirt, the profiler wore olive drab cargo pants and a black sweater unraveling at the neck. Aguirre smirked when the disgracefully disheveled agent's superior called him on the carpet.

"What was that all about, Ennis?" Don Wroe asked curtly.

Ennis del Mar picked at a loose thread at the neck of his sweater. "That jack-booted Gestapo over there wouldn't listen to me."

"That is such bullshit," Jack began, before a glare from Aguirre stopped him.

"Hold your horses, there, Rodeo," the sheriff said. "Let the Federal BI go first."

Jack shot Ennis a glance full of resentment. Ennis's composed expression didn't change as his gaze flickered between his superior and the young deputy, but the brush of their eyes shook Jack to his core. With an effort of will, Jack managed to banish the image of del Mar's hooded eyes marking him like a kestrel on the falconer's wrist. Jack had too much imagination just like his daddy always said.

"I got your message. I came as fast as I could, not bothering to change my clothes, and letting the fact that my ID wasn't on me slip my mind," Ennis told his boss. "Maybe we ought a let the water go under the bridge and focus on what's important."

The bristle went out of Wroe instantly. "It's very fresh, like I said in my text message. Almost nothing's been touched, beyond the kid that discovered the bodies and… what is it?"

Ennis's eyes were at half-mast as he turned to stare at the window to the right of the front door. "He came in through there," Ennis said. "Looking for a place to burn a little weed. A house for sale is great for that purpose."

Wroe smiled faintly. "Right on the money. The kid lives at the other end of this road. At first, he said he broke in to drink beer, but as he told the story, relived the finding of the bodies, he got very truthful with us."

"Looking mortality in the face is humbling."

Jack Twist snorted. Wroe and del Mar glanced at the deputy, but his back was to the conversation. Catching Aguirre's impatient scowl, Wroe got back to business.

"The victims," Wroe held up two fingers. "Lureen Newsome, twenty-two years old, a real estate agent working for the outfit that lists this property. James 'Jimbo' Pattersen, twenty-eight years old, a local contractor hired to refurbish the place. That much we know from their wallets and the fact that the Sheriff is very informed about his constituency."

"They were lovers," Ennis said.

"According to gossip. According to fact, she was once engaged to Deputy Twist."

Ennis turned his head to look at the deputy again. "That's no murderer," he stated.

"Yeah, the fact that the breakup was amicable and that he was technically on duty and highly visible at the Sheriff's Department's annual benefit rodeo several miles away when the killings occurred would tend to corroborate your assertion."

"Technically on duty?"

"I'm not sure riding a bull to raise money is a strict definition of police work."

"You'd know more about that than me. Anything else you want to tell me about the scene before I take a look?"

"It's not pretty, but you knew that already."

"Our boy's work is never pretty," Ennis said. "But I've seen it before. I'm ready."

"All right then." SAC Wroe turned to Aguirre. "Agent del Mar's going to have a look at the bedroom now," he called out.

"Not by himself, he ain't," Aguirre said. "Take him upstairs, Twist."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Ennis said.

"I wasn't talking to you," the Sheriff said. "I don't give a God damn if the FBI has jurisdiction. You're in my county and I'm gonna make sure ya do this right if I have to look over your shoulder the whole time."

"This way," Jack Twist said, heading down the hall, his footsteps crackling on the makeshift tarp of garbage bags.

"What's his problem?" Aguirre asked bluntly, as del Mar walked away with the deputy.

"Childhood trauma," Wroe said just as bluntly. "Abusive father. Nothing you need to hear about."

"Think I ain't got the stomach?"

"I'm sure you do, it's just none of your business," Wroe said as Ennis disappeared down the hall.

"You don't have to do this," Ennis told Jack.

"Lureen was a friend. I'll do whatever it takes to find out who did this to her."

Ennis nodded, and they didn't speak again until they reached the bedroom door.

"I'll be right here," Jack said, taking up a position just outside the doorway.

Ennis nodded again, as he stepped into the room. The bodies lay as they'd been found on the blood-soaked linen, clothing in disarray, heartbreakingly vulnerable. "You didn't deserve this," he said softly.

Jack watched suspiciously as the FBI investigator talked to himself and looked around the bedroom. There wasn't much to the profiler's technique. All he did was stare at something like he was in a trance before his interest was pulled away for no discernible reason. "I've never worked on a murder investigation," Jack said, making an overture. "First one."

Ennis didn't answer, or acknowledge in any way that the deputy had spoken. His gaze was fixed on the night table beside the bed. Jack figured the makeshift soda can ashtray was the focus of the agent's intent scrutiny and almost told him that Lureen had given up smoking. He held his tongue though. For all he knew, Lureen had started again, and del Mar didn't seem to be in a receptive mood right now, if he ever was.

Ennis took a last look at the woman's pretty face, left untouched by the killer, though her torso was a welter of cuts and stabs. The pillow under her head was clean, suggesting that the murderer placed it there after she was dead. An obvious clue, and taken together with Ennis's impressions of the crime scene, it pointed to someone that cared for Miss Newsome.

"I'm done for now," Ennis said.

"What exactly did you do?"

"Got a feel for the crime scene."

"You some kind of psychic or somethin'?"

"That's right."

"Bull fuckin' shit."

"You don't have to believe me."

"You're damn right I don't. What a load of crap."

Ennis shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Jack had promised himself that he wouldn't look at Lureen again, but he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye as he turned to follow del Mar. Her wide-open eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling reminded him of a deer strapped to a fender. The thought of her vibrant spirit snuffed out, slaughtered like a game animal, roused an anger so intense it made him dizzy and nauseous. "I'll get him for you, gal," he vowed with cold lips, as he said goodbye to the best friend he'd ever had.

"We'll catch him," Ennis said, when Jack caught up with him. "It's someone close to her, someone that loves her, someone that has trouble controlling his rage."

"You a mind reader, too?"

"It goes with being psychic. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking about how crazy mad I am that someone did this to Lureen," Jack said. "And Jimbo."

"I think most of us can bring up that pure rage that makes you feel like you're gonna pop, but something in us keeps us from acting on it. We somehow find a way to stand the things we can't control."

"You're a shrink too, huh?"

"Would it surprise you if I had a PhD in psychology?"

Jack looked at the other man for a long moment. "No, I reckon it wouldn't. Do you? Have a degree in shrinkology, I mean?"

"No." Ennis started down the hall again. "I'm working on it though."

"Hey, listen," Jack said, before they reached the living room. "I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier. I over-reacted a little."

"A little." Ennis rubbed his neck. "Understandable under the circumstances, as my boss would say."

"He seems okay. Aguirre's an asshole though."

"You're kidding," Ennis said without inflection and saw the beginning of a smile on the other man's lips.

"Twist!" the asshole yelled as he spotted his deputy. "I got an important assignment for ya. I want ya to git your narrow ass over to the diner and bring back all the doughnuts and coffee they got. If Alma squawks, tell her the department'll square up with 'er later. Go on now. Quick like a bunny."

It was a long day for Jack, following as it did the day of the rodeo, and the night of partying afterward. He was tired and sore, but Aguirre used cooperating with the FBI as another opportunity to torture him, making him work a double shift and treating him like an errand boy in front of the Agents. Between running around for coffee, doughnuts and sandwiches, Jack hadn't seen much of the actual investigation since escorting the profiler to the scene. He knew that people had been questioned, and he had a good idea who, but he didn't know what had been learned and it ate at him. When his radio brayed, he snatched it up with more force than necessary; sure that Aguirre was about to send him for pizza. To his relief, Cassie in dispatch told him to knock off for the night. The next thing he knew, he was picking his head up from the steering wheel as the patrol car rocked in the wake of a tractor-trailer passing by with a prolonged blast of its air horn.

Jack rubbed his face and looked around, but the semi was out of sight. He was on the shoulder of the highway, just barely off the road. In front of him was the billboard for the Café Risque roadhouse up by the interstate; a negligee-clad giantess smiled invitingly at him and promised, "We bare all." It was the hour between day and night that some people call dusk and some call twilight, a time when light and dark are balanced in a grainy sort of harmony to delight and deceive the eye. Jack looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight according to the usually reliable timepiece. It should be dark except for the moon and stars and oncoming headlights. Something was not right here. Not right at all. He looked up again and it struck him that the strip club billboard had been taken down over a week ago.

Jack shook his head. He needed to go home and regroup, get a good night's sleep in his own bed. The key turned smoothly in the ignition and the powerful engine turned over, ready to do his bidding. Jack pulled onto the deserted two-lane blacktop and headed into town. He drove past the Ford dealership and the feed and seed hardware as though floating down a sluggish river. The white painted boards of Calvary Baptist and the gravel parking lot of the bait shop glowed like an afterimage in the diffuse half-light revealing their homely charms to one that had driven by without seeing them for years. Up ahead, the cool green neon of the Holiday Inn sign winked on. Without thinking about it, Jack pulled around the motel and parked. He got out of the prowler, locked the door out of habit, and walked by the ice machine to the stairs. The climb to the second floor strained his calf muscles, but he ignored the burn. He was too excited to care about small aches and pains. In just a few minutes he would be with… He would be with…

Jack stopped with his fist raised to knock on the door of room 211. What was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was waking up by the side of the road. He let his hand drop back to his side as he tried desperately to recall how he'd gotten to the hotel.

The door opened. "Don't stand on the doorstep. The neighbors will talk," Ennis said.

Jack blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my room and I'm trying to get some badly needed sleep. What can I do for you, deputy?"

"I don't know. I was just… I don't know."

Ennis looked into the deputy's glazed eyes. "Come in," he said, in a voice that wouldn't brook any arguments.

Jack glanced at the sky as he obeyed. "Shouldn't it be night?" he said.

"It's almost one a.m."

"Sorry," Jack's gaze sharpened for a second. "The weirdest thing happened to me."

Ennis turned on the lamp by the bed. "Let me look at you," he said, in the same authoritative tone that had got Jack moving before.

Jack came into the light, but not fast enough. Ennis took hold of his wrist pulled him forward. As soon as they touched, an aura flared around them, visible only to those with eyes that saw such things. Ennis tugged harder and Jack's chest slammed into his. Jack's mouth opened in protest and Ennis filled it with his tongue. He felt the other man's startlement, and he felt the moment when Jack surrendered to the inevitable. They were meant to be together and the negligible barrier of flesh would not keep them apart; they would use it as a bridge and a conduit for the force that ran rampant in them. Ennis reached for the vestiges of control even as he realized it was useless. This was a compulsion too strong to be resisted, and if he held back, he would never find the cause of it. Giving himself over to the infinite, he let it happen. His gift, a legacy of his Shoshone great grandmother, bloomed outward to encompass the entity that was trying to make contact through the medium of flesh.

Ennis refrained from the heady wine of Jack's mouth long enough to pull his shirt over his head. His fingers danced nimbly down the row of buttons on Jack's uniform until they reached the zipper of Jack's trousers. Rubbing his nose and cheeks against Jack's, Ennis reached in through his fly and touched his bare dick. Jack shivered like a fly plagued horse and moaned in Ennis's ear, a name, a nickname, Jimbo. And now Ennis knew the catalyst for the possession, but he was still overwhelmed by its power. Most departing spirits were mere echoes of a soul that had moved on, but this one was a whirlwind of cheated outrage and fierce longing for what had been stolen by the killer. Instinctively, Ennis did his best to soothe the bereft spirit.

"I'm here," Ennis said, stroking Jack's hair. "I love you and I want you."

Jack sighed. "I love you too, and I really want to make love with you. It means a lot to me that you don't care about the other guys."

"What happened before I fell in love with you doesn't matter to me. Come on. I won't think you're a slut if you sleep with me before the wedding."

"I haven't even told anyone we're getting married yet. Except for Daddy, of course."

Of course, Ennis thought, as he traced the whorls of Jack's ear with his tongue. Daddy. "Let's elope. Just run away somewhere like Vegas."

Jack laughed softly. "You're nuts."

"My nuts are all yours, baby."

"Let's do it," Jack said, putting his arms around Ennis's neck. "I don't want to wait. We may never pass this way again, right?"

"That's right," Ennis said, easing Jack down onto his back. "We should take every chance for happiness that comes our way."

Jack smiled up at Ennis. "I kind a like bein' bad," he drawled.

Things blurred for Ennis at that point. His attraction to Jack and the phenomenon they were both enmeshed in blended in his head until he couldn't separate them. This had never happened to him before and the moral implications were disturbing, but he could stop a flash flood more easily than this force that swept him up. He made a last attempt at guiding the stream before he slipped beneath the surface and was completely absorbed.

Jack moaned as eager, yet reverent hands bared his flesh with the intent of kissing each square inch of him. He reciprocated, as desirous of this union as his beloved, hungry and aching for the mystery to unfold. If his body had known the touch of lovers before this one, it did not matter. This would be the first time with the one he truly loved. Neither of them cared what their families and friends would think. They had each found the missing half of their souls and no one was going to keep them apart. If they had to move somewhere else like Jimbo wanted, then that's what…

Jack's eyes flew open and focused on the man between his thighs. Ennis del Mar took the head of Jack's cock lovingly in his mouth as he pumped the shaft in his fist. It felt so damn good that he swallowed the words that rose to his tongue and in another moment, he had succumbed again to the erotic spell being woven with fingers, lips and tongue. Ennis forged a warm, wet trail down Jack's balls, licking and sucking, until he reached his goal. Blowing lightly on the puckered opening, he circled it with a teasing forefinger before spreading Jack's cheeks and pushing his tongue inside him. Jack tensed and relaxed again as Ennis prepared him, waiting in a kind of delirium of arousal for the main event. Ennis lifted his head, resting his cheek against Jack's inner thigh, as he eased a finger into the spit slick aperture. Wrapping an arm around Jack's leg, Ennis took hold of the deputy's handsome cock as he worked his finger deeper.

"You are so beautiful, baby," Ennis breathed as he found the key to unlock his partner's release. "Come for me." Pressing firmly, he rubbed figure eights around and over the springy bump in the front wall of Jack's sheath. He pulled Jack's arousal toward his mouth and lapped at the tip as he stroked the shaft in a steady rhythm. Jack's hips moved of their own volition, thrusting into Ennis's fist, Ennis's finger beckoning him closer and closer to bliss. Lifting his head from the pillow, Jack met Ennis's eyes in perfect rapport. Ennis got to his knees and lifted Jack's legs, letting Jack's calves rest on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, Ennis nuzzled the tip against the other man's ass. Jack moved restlessly, his burning gaze locked on Ennis's face, as Ennis leaned forward. "I love you," Ennis said. "And we'll be together forever."

As Ennis entered Jack, he felt the wind of wild wings beating the air and the rush of pure joy at a soul unfettered from the bonds of this world. Jack came powerfully as the hard length of flesh dragged across his prostate. Ennis put a hand on the other man's shaking abdomen, smearing cum over the flat belly, as he withdrew and pushed back in. Jack tensed as though he'd grabbed hold of a live wire and his rod dribbled another load. Each pass of Ennis's blunt cock head made Jack twitch in reaction and kept him hard. The spiral of pleasure was coiling in his groin again, ratcheting tighter with every thrust. Ennis wrapped his fingers around Jack's dick again and shuttled them rapidly up and down. Jack's body arched in a rictus of ecstasy as he climaxed, his opening clamping down on the rod of flesh that stretched it. Ennis groaned, rocking into Jack in short jabs as the increased friction took him to the peak and shoved him off, every nerve alight and singing as he fell into heaven. Jack grunted, but took Ennis's weight as the other man collapsed atop him. With a smile of utter satisfaction, he cuddled Ennis in his arms and went to sleep. And the soul of the wronged departed.

Ennis whispered a one-line prayer in a language the white man had nearly eradicated, saluting the spirit that had left this plane, glad that the soul of Lureen Newsome had found peace. It was not punishment of her killer that she sought, but the completion of her bond with the one she loved. Ennis del Mar was not so forgiving. He knew the name of the man that had robbed Lureen and her man of life and love and he would see that the killer paid for this crime. One way or another.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jack woke with the exquisite little aches that signaled a love hangover and cracked his eyelids to see who lay next to him. The sheets were motel sheets, and not from any place south of the border. He wondered just how crazy drunk he'd managed to get last night and how many people had seen him with whomever it was he'd picked up. The face of the FBI profiler strobed in his mind and he rolled out of bed.

His uniform was neatly folded on a chair, his boots stood side by side near the door, and they were his only companions. He could feel the emptiness of the room, knew without looking that there was no one in the bathroom. He was alone and well-fucked to judge by the ache in his ass and the cum dried on his belly. He wished he could call Lureen, but the only person that really knew him was gone beyond his recall. There was no one he could confide in now and last night's black out was a steadily growing cause for concern. When the phone rang, he jumped about a foot.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

"Jack? It's Cassie. Agent del Mar asked me to give you a wake up call. Said you been run ragged and needed the rest. Sheriff says you can have the rest of the day off. Without pay, of course. The mean old sumbitch."

"Thanks, Cass. Is del Mar, I mean, the FBI, are they still there?"

"Nope. They wrapped up the case already. Should a told ya first off. This town is gonna be buzzin' for a while. L.D. Newsome confessed to killin' Lureen."

"And Jimbo," Jack said numbly.

"Right. But that ain't what's gonna keep the gossip goin'. I feel for ya, bud. Your name is surely gonna be tossed around some."

"Don't seem all that important to me right now. I'm gonna grab a shower and see if it makes me feel human."

"All right then. See you at the salt mine."

Jack hung up and went to stand under hot water without moving for several minutes before he reached for the complimentary soap. After rinsing off, he let the shower run cold for a few seconds, feeling his pores snap closed. His head was a lot clearer as he wiped the beaded layer of steam from the mirror and checked his beard. Nothing he could do about the two days' worth of dark stubble without a razor, and anyway, he kind of like the way it looked, carving the remnants of baby fat from his cheeks, giving him years he hadn't earned yet. He grinned at himself, checking his teeth, but he didn't have a toothbrush anymore than he had a razor. He should just get on home, but he was oddly reluctant to leave this room that he couldn't remember entering.

Refreshed the shower, he turned his energy to finding clues to the identity of his one-night-stand. Sometimes gals, or guys, would scribble down their number and leave it under the ashtray, or the pillow, but not this time. There was nothing but a few stray pubic hairs between the sheets and an elusive scent like old incense. When he caught himself thinking about getting the fingerprint kit from the cruiser, he called a halt to the madness, buckled on his gun belt, and went to the door. When he pulled it open, his double was standing there, fist raised to knock, looking like a zombie. He slammed the door and reeled back until he encountered the bed and sat down hard. His hat fell from nerveless fingers as the dam of memory broke and he was inundated with flash card visions of the night before. Tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks as the compressed emotions slammed through him, leaving him empty and yearning, raw as an open wound.

Until the last memory.

Jack felt a cool hand touch his cheek and opened his eyes, but there was no one there. "Lureen?" he said, feeling a little foolish, but saying it anyway. No one answered. Lureen was gone, but he knew in his heart that it was all right, and that his tears were because he missed her, not because she was in any pain. He had never in his life believed in anything beyond what he could touch, taste, or smell, but he had sure enough experienced something that he couldn't explain, or deny its truth. There was some open space now between what he called reality and the things he was going to start taking on faith.

He didn't really want to be a policeman; that was his father's dream. He liked sleeping with men a lot whole more than women; he was just paying lip service to convention. He had a feeling that Ennis del Mar could help him; all he needed was the will to ask for it. It shouldn't be that hard to get in touch with the agent.

Jack's cheeks grew warm at the mental image of himself with his legs in the air and del Mar pounding into his ass. The two of them had a lot to talk about once they got over the awkwardness of what had happened to them. Of course, for all he knew, del Mar did this all the time. Anxiety crept in like a mouse and began gnawing on his nerves. Jumping to his feet, he hurried out to his patrol car.

Jack saw the paper stuck under the windshield wiper from across the parking lot and nearly broke into a run. Snatching up the folded sheet of copy paper, he looked at the bottom edge and saw the signature, Ennis, no last name, as if they were friends. Unlocking the car, Jack slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine and the air conditioning, and sat back to read the note.

"Dear Jack. I didn't want to wake you up. Shit like this really takes it out of you. I know you've got around a million questions about said shit, and I'm looking forward to answering as many as I can. Anything to keep you around. There, I've tipped my hand. I want to see you again, and get to know you. Maybe it's because of what happened to us, but I'm not so sure. There has to be a reason that I can't stop thinking about you. I swear I can smell you on my fingertips and Don is looking at me like I've lost my mind because I keep sniffing them. I'd better go before he asks me why I've got so much to say to you. My address and phone number are below. Call me, or come find me. I'll be waiting. Ennis."

The warm glow that suffused Jack might have been from the sunlight through the side window, but he knew better. It was the kindling of a new fire in his heart and he was going to let it burn until the shadows were gone from his life. No more hiding. He was going to get up and get out like he and Lureen always said they would as soon as they graduated. She'd be staying here now, at least some part of her would, but the spirit that couldn't be contained by small town society would be going with Jack Twist, wherever he might wander.

The end.