"BK House," Charlie Salinger answered.

Becket smiled for the first time in a month. "Hey, it’s Becket."

"Staying out of trouble?"

"What fun would that be?" Becket rested his feet on the porch railing. "I was wondering, I know I’m not signed up for summer classes, but do you think it would be possible for me to come back early?"

"Why would you want to? The campus is dead this time of year."

"I live in a town of thirteen hundred and thirty-four people stuck out in the middle of fucking corn fields. Believe me, you don’t know the first thing about dead." Without a car of his own, Becket was forced to drive the dirt roads of Crescent Ridge, Iowa, in his grandpa’s old rusted out pickup. It would be different if his dad actually needed his help on the farm, but with three older brothers, all living and working on the six-hundred and seventy acre spread, Becket’s help wasn’t needed or wanted.

"Locky’s not here if that’s what you’re hoping for," Charlie informed Becket.

Resident Assistant Lockland Regent was the golden unicorn, the one man Becket continued to drool over but had never been able to conquer. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he caught Locky looking at him with lust in his eyes, he always turned Becket away when the offer was made.

"What about Fallon?" The uncle of one of his old housemates may not have been Becket’s first choice, but Fallon was hot and rich, two of his favourite things. Besides, for some reason, Fallon’s ongoing interest in getting Becket into bed seemed to infuriate Locky.

"Stay away from Fallon. He’s too damn old for you," Charlie scolded.

Becket grinned. Forbidden fruit always tasted better. "Will you let me come? I’ll pay."

"You’ll clean. This place needs a good cleaning from top to bottom before the fall semester, and since I obviously can’t do it, and Jack’s taken a job at one of the local diners for the summer, we were planning to hire it out. However, since you have the time, you can do it in exchange for room and board. How’s that?"

The thought of cleaning the house made Becket groan. He weighed the work involved against his need to be within a two mile radius of gay bars and, as usual, his sex drive won out. "Fine."

Locky loosened his tie after a long day and fixed himself a Jack and Coke. The money he earned practicing law at his father’s firm would pay his bills for the rest of the year, but the clients he dealt with made him feel dirty at the end of the day.

"Lockland, are you joining us for dinner this evening?" his mother, Gloria Regent, asked.

"Not tonight. I’m meeting friends." Locky took another sip of his drink and settled himself on the tufted red leather sofa in the den. He cursed himself for giving up his apartment, but it didn’t make sense to hold onto the damn thing when he was only home three months out of the year.

"Will Brooks be driving you?" Gloria asked.

The last thing Locky needed was for the family chauffeur to know his business. "No, I’ll drive myself."

"Well, be careful, dear," Gloria said before leaving the room.

Locky finished his drink before going up the back staircase to his bedroom suite. He had no plans to meet friends, but he did hope to get laid. It wasn’t often that he went in search of a random partner for the night, but he needed to get Becket out of his head and his dreams.

Showered and dressed to impress, Locky left the house. He ate a quick dinner at his favourite restaurant in Portland before arriving at the club around ten-thirty. It was still early for the usual crowd, but that suited him fine. He had a few ghosts he needed to exorcise before he’d be in a party mood anyway.

"Hey, Bobo," Locky greeted the owner. He’d known Bobo for years and had even helped him out of a few tickets early in his career. It was the first time he’d stepped foot in the club since the night that had changed his life.

Bobo’s blue eyes opened wide. "Locky?" He grabbed Locky into a bear hug, fitting for someone of Bobo’s large size. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you again."

The Injustice of Being

Eric Kloiber concentrated on the small tag of skin he was desperately trying to remove from the corner of his well-bitten nail. He wasn’t normally a nail-biter, but his sore, bloody cuticles had suffered as much as his head and heart since the night he had been drugged and raped.

"Something’s wrong," Eric mumbled to himself.

"Excuse me?"

Eric glanced at the police officer posted outside the courtroom door. "Sorry. I was…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

The officer went back to his post, leaving Eric to wonder what the hell was going on. What should have been a speedy trial had turned into the hardest two weeks of his life. After his initial testimony, the defence had suddenly produced a copy of the prescription Jigger had used to get the Rohypnol in the first place. According to the defence attorney, Jigger had been prescribed the sleeping aid because of his odd employment hours. Coincidentally, the prescription had been signed by Jigger’s brother, Dr Adam Williams. The prosecutor argued that the evidence should have been presented to them in the discovery phase of the hearing, but the defence claimed they’d only just obtained the copy from a mail-in pharmacy Jigger used.

The whole thing was fucked up. Even worse, everyone had told him it should be a quick deliberation for the jury, but that hadn’t turned out to be true either. Six days. What the hell was there to discuss in an open-and-shut case for six fucking days?

Eric stood and began to pace back and forth in the marbled hall. He wished he’d asked Becket to sit with him while they waited for the jury’s decision, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Becket had attended every day of the trial with his boyfriend, Locky. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to miss the verdict. Even though Jigger was being tried for Eric’s rape, Becket had also been one of Jigger’s victims. Unfortunately, Becket had kept his rape a secret until it was too late to obtain the evidence needed for a conviction.

The heavy door to the courtroom opened and Eric stopped walking at the explosion of voices filtering into the hall. Cries of outrage from several familiar voices took Eric’s breath away. He lowered himself back to the bench and stared up at the detective who had been in charge of the investigation. Will James’ light brown hair, was longer than it had been at the start of the investigation, but Eric assumed his attention had been too focused on putting Jigger away to worry about something as trivial as his appearance. The grim expression on Will’s face seemed to confirm Eric’s biggest fear.

"Not guilty," Eric surmised.

Will nodded and sat beside Eric, his much larger frame making Eric feel small and vulnerable. "Not guilty on the drug charge. They couldn’t reach an agreement on the rape charge. The judge had no choice but to issue a mistrial."

"Mistrial." As he said the word, Eric’s body began to go numb. "What exactly does that mean?"

Will rested his forearms on his thighs and rubbed his hands together. "The prosecution will take a second look at the case and decide whether or not to retry it."

"You mean they might not?"

"Trials are expensive. Evidently we didn’t have enough to convince this jury." Will sighed. "Sorry, kid, but I honestly don’t know what Byron will decide."

Misplaced anger filled Eric. Whether he was mad at Byron Long, the prosecutor, or the whole fucking judicial system, he didn’t know or care, but he lashed out at Will. "I’m not a kid. You don’t go through what I’ve been through and remain a damn kid."

Will sat up. "You’re right. I apologise."

The heavy door opened again as people began to leave the courtroom. The last place Eric wanted to be was at the centre of his friends’ pity. "I gotta get outta here."

Before Will or anyone else could stop him, Eric jumped to his feet and ran down the hall. He considered hiding out in the bathroom, but he knew that would be the first place Becket would search. Instead, he ran down the wide staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He slowed to a walk as he got to the security station and nodded to the guards before exiting the building.

Eric didn’t realise until he was two blocks down the street that Will hadn’t told him whether or not Jigger would be freed. "Fuck!"

"How the hell did that happen?" Will asked Byron as the prosecutor left the courtroom.

"Not enough concrete evidence."

"Jigger’s an ex-con. His sperm was found on Eric’s jeans. Eric was sitting at the bar being attended by Jigger at the end of the night, and Rohypnol was found behind the bar, in Jigger’s work locker and in his home." Will took a deep breath as he continued to tick items off on his fingers. "Not to mention the array of sexual tools found in the trunk of his car."

"But no one saw Mr Williams give Eric the drug or leave the club with him, and since Eric can’t remember, it simply isn’t enough," Byron explained. "And going to prison for six months at the age of eighteen for stealing a car to go joyriding with his friends is a long way from a hardened criminal past."

Will’s hands curled into fists. It wasn’t the first time Byron had subtly reprimanded Will for his use of Paul Williams’ nickname. "Are you going to retry him?"

Byron stopped walking and turned to face Will. "Not unless I have more evidence. You get me that, and I’ll do my part to get a conviction. In the meantime, Mr Williams will be released on bond, pending another trial." He leaned towards Will. "If you get me something more to take it to trial."

The thought of Jigger out on the streets brought Eric’s safety to mind. "What about Eric, can he take out a restraining order or something?"

"The judge issued Mr Williams several warnings before he set bail. Unless he defies those warnings, Eric shouldn’t need to petition for a restraining order."

Will inwardly groaned. The pressure to produce more evidence was overwhelming. Not only was Byron counting on him, but he knew Eric’s faith in the justice system hinged on a conviction. It was something Will didn’t know if he could deliver, because despite his skills as an investigator, he couldn’t produce evidence out of thin air. Hell, he’d worked his ass off building the case in the first place. He’d questioned every person Eric remembered seeing in the bar the night he’d been drugged and raped and...nothing. He hadn’t come up with a goddamn person who remembered seeing anything unusual the night Eric was left bleeding in the lobby of the dorm. It was something that had always bothered him.

After glancing at his watch, Byron set his briefcase on the floor and shrugged into his beige trench coat. "I’m due at the office. By the way, the jury was locked at nine to three. We’re almost there, but not quite."

Will nodded as Byron picked up his briefcase and started down the steps. He should get back to the station, but before he dug back into the files, he needed to make sure Eric was okay. No, he admonished himself. The best way for him to assuage his guilt was to do his job. Holding Eric’s hand would make Will feel better but not because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t the time to be selfish.

Before leaving the courthouse, he stopped in front of the Lady Justice statue in the Grand Rotunda. He’d always loved the statue and had spent hours as a kid looking up at it in awe.

"Bad day?"

Will turned to find his father, Henry. Although they resembled each other in hair colour and height, Henry’s rounded stomach was a testament to years of eating Will’s mom’s cooking. He pointed at the statue. "She let me down today."

Laying a hand on Will’s shoulder, his dad shook his head. "I’ve cleaned this building for thirty-seven years. Watched all kinds of men and women stand right where you’re standing and curse that lady." He turned to stare at Will. "You know what they all had in common?"

"They lost," Will guessed.

"Just because someone doesn’t get the verdict they want, doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right one."

Will looked away from the statue and studied his father for several moments. His dad loved the law, was fascinated by the entire process and even after thirty-seven years of sitting in on trial proceedings every break and lunch hour, Henry James’ faith in the system had never wavered. "Did you catch any of the trial?"

"Sure," his dad replied.

Although his captain would probably kill him, Will trusted his dad over all others. "What went wrong?"

His father shrugged. "I didn’t know Mr Williams. Byron Long sat a handsome man in front of five women and seven men and tried to convince them he’d committed a heinous act, but he didn’t have the evidence to back it up."

Although his dad was using Byron as the scapegoat, Will knew his father was talking directly to him. "What would’ve convinced you?"

"History. Did he torture cats, look into the bedroom windows of his friends? A man who would drug and rape young men didn’t start overnight. If I was sittin’ on that jury, I’d want to know for sure that the man I’m putting away is bad." Will’s dad grinned. "So prove to me he’s a bad apple and a danger to society."

Will had checked for priors on Jigger, but he hadn’t dug very deeply into the guy’s past. His attention had been on Eric and making the entire process as easy as he could on the guy. Not that he would ever cross the line with a victim, but he’d admitted to himself shortly after meeting Eric that there was something special about the young man.

Fuck. It wasn’t Byron’s, Lady Justice’s or the jury’s fault the trial had ended the way it had. The majority of the blame could be squarely put on his shoulders, but he refused to carry the entire load. Vince, his captain, had assigned the investigation to Will because of its nature. He didn’t feel the other cops would be comfortable with the victim or the subject matter, and he’d been right. Still, Vince had scrutinised the time Will spent interviewing people who were at the club and dorm the night of Eric’s rape. "I don’t know how much more time Vince’ll let me spend on this," Will admitted.

"It won’t really matter if it’s important enough to you." His dad met Will’s gaze. "Is it?"

Will thought of Eric and his struggle to find balance in his life after being outed in such a horrific and public way. "I think Eric needs it. I’m not sure he’ll be able to move on if we don’t get a conviction."

"That’s not what I asked. Is. It. Important. To. You?" his dad asked again, stressing each word individually.

Will had been one of the lucky few. He’d come out to his parents at a young age without fear of reprisals, so he knew what his dad was really asking. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the slight curls wrap around his fingers as he did. "Yeah, I like him, but it would be unethical to take advantage of the situation."

His dad grinned. "So do what you have to do to nail that sonofabitch, and the two of you can meet on a level playing field."

Will didn’t even know if Eric would be interested in going out with him. "He’s been through a lot."

"Of course he has. I didn’t say it would be easy, but I’ve never known you to back away from something you wanted just because it wasn’t."

Hell, he needed to get away from his dad before he talked him into running to Eric and confessing everything. "I’d better go. It seems I have a past to dig into."