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you.”
    Edward nodded and left the office. Jimmy gunned the motor and backed out of the closest bay, cut the wheel hard, and nearly hit Edward as he came to a brake-squealing stop.
    Curbing his anger, Edward set his face to neutral and walked around to the driver's side, doing his best “manly” walk. Hey, he could do butch if he had to.
    Jimmy got out and held the door open, as if being polite, but Edward knew better. People like these two men wore thin veils of civility over the senseless hatred that boiled underneath, and when that hatred erupted, someone usually got hurt. Or killed.
    Edward got in, and Jimmy shut the door. Still holding on to the door, Jimmy leaned over, his cigarette-laced breath puffed against the side of Edward's face as he growled, “I hope you don't plan on hanging around here for long, Mr. I-I-I . This is a God-fearing town, and we don't need any more of you faggots settling here, for damn sure.”
    Edward knew arguing or even trying to reason with people like Jimmy and Phil was a waste of time and energy. Despite the fear and anger that warred inside him, he remained silent, which seemed to piss off the asshole even more.
    “Just keep your hands to yourself, faggot. We catch you with any of our boys, we'll hang you by your dick from the nearest tree.”
    Looking straight ahead, Edward put the car into gear and hit the gas. The mechanic jumped back, cursed at him, and gave him the finger. Heart pounding, Edward pulled out of the drive and into the street without a clue as to where he was going. All he could think about was to get as far away from the garage as possible.
    Once free, Edward slowed down, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He could see the billboard... Spring Lake: The next San Francisco . He laughed. Not without the hills, the marina, and the Castro District.
    How paranoid could some God-fearing people be? Did they really think he was going to start trolling outside the junior high school, enticing young boys into wickedness, sin, and manis and pedis with candy and video games?
    Hell and damnation. He was a homosexual, not a pedophile. They were not synonymous. The thought of touching a child was as abhorrent to him as it would be to anyone else.
    He drove a few more blocks, spotted a coffee shop, and pulled into their drive-through. After he ordered a latte, he got out the map and studied it as he waited. He was on the main street, and from there, he traced the route to his grandmother's house.
    He paid, got his drink, and pulled out.
    “Over the river and through the snow, to grandmother's house we go,” he sang, off-key, then sighed and looked at the empty seat beside him.
    It wasn't the same without Winston.

Chapter Five

    After seeing to his wounds, Jack rolled back to his desk. His foot bumped the dog. He pushed back and looked down. The animal was dead asleep, the tip of his long tongue stuck out of his mouth between his front teeth as if giving Jack a permanent raspberry.
    This was ridiculous. How on earth did he get stuck babysitting a dog?
    Right. He'd promised Edward. No. He would not refer to Edward as Edward. Mr. Beauregard or Beauregard, but not Edward.
    His stomach rumbled. His head pounded and his ankle ached. Jack popped two more painkillers and dry-swallowed them.
    Kristen knocked, opened the door, and stuck her head in. “Chief?”
    “Yes?”
    “You've got the meeting with the mayor in thirty minutes, remember?”
    Jack sighed and stood up. “I don't suppose you'd go in my place?”
    She cocked an eyebrow at him.
    “Right. Best be going. Maybe I can grab a burger on the way there.” He grabbed his hat and came around the desk to take the file Kristen held out to him.
    Behind him, he heard the patter of nails on linoleum. Winston, dragging his leash, trotted up to him and sat.
    “Oh no. I've got a meeting. You have to stay here.” Jack shook his head.
    Woof.
    “I don't care, you're not coming.”
    “Chief? When you talk to him, does he answer