Free Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon Page B

though for the first time, well, Peter really didn't feel like Cole was all that much his type.
    Maybe it did have to do with that fat gold wedding band on Cole's left hand. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Cole hadn't stood up for him with the board of trustees. Or maybe his feelings for Cole had been mostly infatuation that he was finally—and high time—growing out of. Whatever it was, as Peter scrutinized the other man, he felt oddly dispassionate, even cool.
    "Cole, why did you come here this evening?"
    Cole didn't answer.
    Peter thought he understood. “I appreciate your concern, but at this point it's up to the police."
    "Yes.” Cole continued to watch him in that hard-to-decipher way.
    "Or is there something else?"
    "Such as?"
    "I don't know.” Peter said slowly, “Detective Griffin said that there had been some discussion of replacing me at the museum before today."
    " What ?"
    "He said that even before I became a suspect in the museum thefts that there was talk of terminating my contract."
    "He's saying it to get a rise out of you or something. It's not true."
    Peter had not thought it was true either, until he listened to Cole denying it. Then he realized that Griffin had apparently got it right. It was right there in Cole's tone. It wasn't the idea he was shocked at, it was the fact that Griffin had found out.
    "I don't understand.” And despite his best effort, Peter couldn't hide his upset. “I've worked my ass off for the museum. You said yourself we're finally beginning to see a profit."
    "Pete"—Cole rested his hands on Peter's shoulders—"it's not true. I don't know why he told you that, but of course it's not true."
    And the more Cole denied it, the more Peter could see that it was true.
    Chilled, he said, “That's good. I've been completely loyal to you and the museum. I'd be disappointed to think my loyalty wasn't returned."
    Cole's hands, still resting lightly on Peter's shoulders, began to knead gently. “There's nothing for you to worry about. No one is going to disappoint you. As soon as this mess gets cleared up, you'll have your job back. Trust me."
    "I'd like to."
    "You can. I promise you.” He seemed to re-collect himself and let Peter go. “Everything will work out. You'll see."
    "Griffin seems to think I'm going to be arrested."
    "I don't believe that."
    Peter had no real response to Cole's optimism. He'd have liked to believe Cole, but he tended to think Griffin had the inside track.
    "If I am arrested—"
    "That's nonsense. You won't be arrested.” Abruptly, Cole headed for the front door, and Peter followed him slowly.
    If he was arrested, it was obvious that Cole would feel himself unable to help—all part of that antifavoritism thing, apparently.
    At the door, Cole hesitated. His blue eyes gazed deeply into Peter's. His whiskey breath fanned Peter's mouth. It was a little weird, actually. Was Cole...? Did Cole want to kiss him? Peter wasn't sure, but it sort of seemed like...
    Cole said a little huskily, “Good night, Peter."
    "Good night."
    Peter closed the door, locked it, and wondered what the hell that had been about.
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Chapter Seven
    Peter knew what the result of the lineup would be from the moment he arrived at the police station Wednesday morning. He could feel it in the way he was greeted—even by his lawyer—and in the way he was escorted down to the waiting room. It was obvious that this was pretty much a formality. Mr. Stephenson had as good as said so. In fact, he'd actually said he wasn't sure why the police were wasting everyone's time with a lineup since Donald Herschel had already identified Peter, before, during, and now after his impromptu visit to the pawnshop, as the man who'd tried to sell him stolen goods.
    Peter wondered if he should apologize for wasting Mr. Stephenson's valuable time. He'd have been happy to skip the lineup himself. At least he didn't have long to wait before he was summoned to join a queue of eight