We’ve got a whole new serial, folks. And it’s a hot one. With boys. Who love each other! That way! Oh, also, a warning: explicit sex, explicit language, and some violence. Wussies.

Presenting Forsaken by Jamie Craig…

Five years since Detective Xavier Landis walked away from the man who loved him.

Four weeks looking for the stalker nobody but he believed existed.

Three years of his life Detective Jeff Keyes wishes he could get back.

Two cops, both brilliant, both determined, trying to move on from a past neither can forget.

One dead girl.

And now…

Chapter One

“He’s lying.”

The wind blistered Detective Jeff Keyes’ cheeks, but his sunglasses kept his eyes from watering. The jogger who had found the body wasn’t the only liar. With a cobalt sky stretching from horizon to horizon without a single break of cloud, the day promised warm tranquility. What it gave was a bitter February gale that bent branches and chapped lips. This was why he preferred working at night. Darkness lied by hiding everything, but at least it was honest about it.

His partner frowned and glanced back at the rawboned man pacing along the edge of the running path. “What makes you say that?”

“Did you see his shirt?”

“What about it?”

“There’s a fresh coffee stain on the hem. Still wet. If he really found the body when he was done with his run, when did he find time to run the six blocks to the nearest Starbucks?”

Her frustrated grunt almost made Jeff smile. He might have complained about getting assigned such a green partner six months earlier, but Andrea Villegas was smart enough to recognize she could learn something from him. She never questioned his authority, always accepted his corrections with grace. That put her heads above most of the rest of the cops he’d ever worked with. Few people realized just how good he was at his job until they looked like idiots.

Jeff had met a lot of idiots in his lifetime. Sometimes he thought he had a magnet for attracting them attached to his ass. His prick, too. God only knew, he had a natural talent for finding stupid men to fuck. Advanced degrees apparently meant shit in understanding basic human courtesies.

Andrea sighed. “I hate it when assholes waste our time. Now I have to question him all over again.”

“Not yet.” Jeff jerked his head toward the techs crouching next to the covered body on the opposite side of the path. “Let’s go see if anything interesting has shown up and let our guy stew for a little bit. It’ll be easier to rattle his cage then.”

Her grin gleamed in the brilliant sunshine. “Sometimes, I love the way you think, Keyes.”

Together, they walked the twenty yards to the reason they’d been summoned to Golden Gate Park in the first place. Their shift had been nearly over. All they’d had to do was go back to the station and start the paperwork on the case that had pulled them out in the first place – a domestic disturbance ending in a homicide. Jeff had taken the lead in that one, aware of Andrea’s discomfort in such scenarios, so when the call came through on a dead body only a few blocks away, she’d insisted on taking charge. One glance at the jogger who’d found the young woman on his morning run, and Jeff decided it would be good practice for his partner. One witness, one body, one bullet. She needed to cut her teeth some time.

“How’s it going?” she said to the grizzled tech as they approached.

“Not bad.” He gestured toward the body between them. “The coroner’s going to have to confirm, but I think it’s a safe bet to say the bullet did the job.” With a gloved hand, he brushed away the long dark hair hiding her face to expose the gaping hole where the ear had been. “Smudging on the surrounding area suggests direct contact, but she was shot standing up. Nordby found brain matter splattered across the grass several feet away. No sign of the bullet yet, though.”

Andrea nodded, scribbling the notes down on her pad. Jeff glanced over, out of habit more than anything else, and checked to make sure she had everything. Her usually careful script barely resembled a child’s scrawl.

She still wasn’t inured to fresh DBs. Especially two in one night. Poor kid. She had to toughen up soon, or she was never going to make it as long as Jeff had.

“Did you find anything on the body?” he asked, taking the initiative. No reason not to keep the investigation on track. “Do we know who the vic is yet?”

The tech waved at the sheet stretched out on the grass behind him. A purse, some loose change, and other assorted items waited for inspection.

“I haven’t had a chance to go through any of it yet, though. Put some gloves on and have at it.”

With Andrea still writing, and her jogger witness looking at his watch every couple seconds, Jeff knew he had a choice to make. “Why don’t you go give Mr. Pants-on-Fire another shot at coming clean?” he suggested. “I’ll see what I can dig up in the purse, and we can get out of here before McDonald’s stops serving breakfast.”

“You sure? I don’t mind finishing all this up so you can go back and do the Becker paperwork.”

“And leave my partner behind? Nah. Not my style.”

They parted with small smiles, though Jeff’s vanished as soon as he turned his back. The relentless wind kept picking up the edges of the sheet, flapping it over the large leather purse. If they found any physical evidence on the scene, it would be a miracle.

He didn’t bother with anything but the bag, carrying it to one of the picnic tables to work it over. It held the usual detritus – a wallet, tampons, Kleenex, more pens than any one person should own. The red plastic wallet was frayed at the edges, a fake designer label emblazoned over the snap, but the driver’s license it held said he was looking at what was left of Robin Potter’s life. Robin Potter. Nineteen. Not even old enough to drink.

A muffled beep came from the bottom of the purse, and Jeff dug around inside until he pulled out a cell phone. The battery was dying on it. More importantly, a “Missed Call” message flashed across the screen.

Grabbing one of the pens, Jeff scribbled down the number of the unidentified caller on a Kleenex. It was probably just a relative, but every lead counted. He was about to call it in when he noticed the message icon blinking at the top of the screen.

Ten seconds later, an electronic voice said in his ear, “You have one new message. To play new messages, press one.”

The wind sliced behind his sunglasses as Jeff pressed the button. On the path, the jogger was running in place in an attempt to stay warm.

“Still listening, Detective Landis?” The distorted voice stabbed straight through Jeff, more effective than any frozen air. “Of course, you are. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Well, listen to this. Back off. Now. Or the next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.”

The voicemail system came back on, prompting him to delete, repeat, or save the message. Jeff heard none of it. The threat echoed continuously in his head.

Detective Landis.

As far as he knew, there was only one Landis on the San Francisco police force.

That’s what you do, isn’t it?

He snapped the cell phone shut, his fingers tightening around it. Xavier Landis specialized in white-collar crimes. He was an expert in surveillance. There was no way the killer wasn’t referring to him.

The next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.

Not if Jeff had anything to say about it.

Scooping everything back into the purse, Jeff fiddled with the clasp as he marched back to Andrea. The jogger’s strident voice grew louder with each step, but as soon as he noticed Jeff, he clammed up.

Jeff had that effect on people. At six-two with nearly two hundred pounds of packed muscle on his frame, he didn’t have to do much more than look people in the eye to get them to cooperate.

The jogger didn’t even get that.

“I’m taking lead on this.” Jeff didn’t wait for Andrea to argue. “Finish up here and meet me back at the station. There’s some things I need to check up on.”

She grabbed his arm to keep him from walking away. “What did you find in her purse?”

Ignoring her query, he carefully pried off her fingers. “Call me if I’m not at my desk. We need to talk.”

“Keyes!”

Her annoyed voice drifted after him as he strode down the path for the parking lot. His thoughts were already elsewhere; no amount of calling was going to distract him now.

Piercing blue eyes stared at him through the screen. He fully expected the fine mesh to dissolve under its intensity. “Don’t do this, Jeff. Not here.”

“Why? Because you don’t want a scene? Fuck you, X. You can’t expect me not to be pissed about this.”

“You had to see this coming. It’d never work. Not in the long term.”

“Because you’re a chickenshit.”

Whipping the door open, Jeff stepped out onto the porch of the house he and Xavier had rented together since their first year in the academy. Beads of sweat erupted on his brow from the heat. Or maybe fear. Jeff tended to sweat when he was afraid.

Xavier took a step back, off the porch, into the direct line of sight of their neighbors. If he thought the meager attempt was going to stop Jeff, however, he was sorely mistaken.

“Don’t do this,” Jeff said. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Because of our jobs? We’re in fucking San Francisco. If we can’t be out here, where the hell can we?”

“It’s not that.” Except he was lying. His already thin mouth practically disappeared when Xavier lied. “You always knew you and I were never that serious.”

He gaped in disbelief. “Are you shitting me? I haven’t even looked at another guy in two years. How much more serious do you want me to be?”

“Okay. Maybe I meant I was never serious.”

“I don’t believe you. We love each other.”

Xavier shook his head. “You’re the only one who’s ever said the words.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

“My mistake.” He adjusted the weight of the backpack he had slung over his shoulder, and retreated another step. Then another. The walk to the curb wasn’t long enough for there to be a third before he reached his car. “Now I’m fixing it.”

Fixing it. Jeff ground his teeth together as he swung his car out of the lot and onto Fulton Street. Five years later, and the declaration still hurt.

Well, it was his turn to fix things now.

The next person to get a bullet through the head will be you.

Fuck Xavier if he didn’t like it.

* * *

Robin Potter had never had a boyfriend. She had shyly admitted to going on a blind date a week after she graduated from high school. Her best friend had set her up with her older brother’s coworker. They were supposed to be a perfect match, but Robin had confessed to Xavier she didn’t think any boy would be perfect for her. Every time Xavier had been called in on a stalking case, it was the boyfriend, or the ex-husband, or the jilted lover, or the guy who did not take no for an answer. Robin had insisted she didn’t have any of those things. She didn’t know who could be following her. She didn’t have a clue.

And now she never would.

Had she seen the man? Had she known him? Did the light of recognition flash in her eyes before they were dimmed forever?

Xavier knew he had failed this young woman who didn’t have anybody else to look out for her. He supposed when he saw the coroner’s report, he would know just how deep his failure went. He hoped the lead detective would find something, some clue when he turned over all the information Xavier had gathered over the past several weeks. And he hoped the information led to no concrete clues. That was a selfish wish. The height of selfishness. But if there was something there, and he didn’t see it, and he never stopped the murderer, and he let that sweet girl die, how could he live with himself?

The disc drive on his laptop popped open. It took most of the morning, but he had burned all of the photos, phone conversations, e-mails, and videos pertaining to Robin’s case to a CD. He had other cases to work on. Other assignments. Crimes that were actually in his jurisdiction, not just something he did in his spare time because nobody else would. With no hard evidence, no likely suspect, and no probable motive, nobody in the department had the time or inclination to take Robin Potter’s claims of harassment seriously.

But their paths had crossed, and if Xavier couldn’t believe her claims, he believed the fear in her eyes.

Xavier carefully pressed the CD into a jewel case, and wrote Robin’s name in black marker across the front. After he delivered this and attended the funeral, his obligation to Robin would be…what? Fulfilled? Not that. Maybe just ended. What else could he do? He wasn’t in homicide.

Movement at the doorway caught his eye. He only meant to glance up, but as soon as he lifted his head, he froze. A familiar figure stood inside the entrance, his heavy-lidded gaze sweeping over the room. As soon as it lit on Xavier, it stopped, and the wide, sensual mouth firmed into a straight line.

His heart thudded as Jeff Keyes strode through the desks, heading straight for him. He’d cut his hair, Xavier thought irrationally. Between the military cut and the stubble shading his jaw, he looked even more dangerous than usual.

Xavier didn’t even notice the notice the evidence bag dangling from Jeff’s hand until he stood next to the desk. Though he tossed it onto the blotter, Jeff never looked away from him. Xavier felt pinned by his gaze.

“You’ve got a problem. Say hello to your new bodyguard.”

Stay tune next week for Chapter Two…

___________________________________________

Jamie Craig is the penname used for the collaborative efforts of Pepper Espinoza and Vivien Dean. Both successful authors on their own, they began working together in early 2006. Pepper lives with her husband and cats in Utah, where she attends graduate school, and Vivien resides in northern California with her husband and two children.

This an original story given generously to us by Jamie Craig. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Jamie Craig or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Note: Hey, other writer-types, do you want to contribute to The Serial? If so, email me and I’ll hook you up, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

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