Title: Second Chance

Series: Hudson Valley Murder Mysteries, Book Two

Author: S.B. Barnes

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/04/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 94800

Genre: Contemporary, contemporary, gay, demiromantic, Hudson Valley, mystery, murder, campus, town/gown, professors, auto mechanic, closeted, coming out, family drama, student/teacher relation, mental health

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Description

Almost a year after the murder that shook Lobell College to its core, the start of a new academic year brings familiar faces back to the scene of the crime. Daniel Rosenbaum starts his first year as dean of the English department and takes a hands-on role in advising students. Lily Peterson and Gianna d’Angelo return to continue their undergrad studies after the death of the professor they were both in love with.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Hudson, Tony d’Angelo is working hard. With his sister back in college, it’s all hands on deck to keep his dad’s auto shop running and take care of his infant niece. He still finds time to spend most nights with his boyfriend, Daniel, although he can’t seem to find the words to talk to his family about his relationship. Tony’s life is exactly what he’s always wanted it to be—so why does he feel like he’s struggling to be himself?

When a Lobell professor is once again found murdered, the idyll of the last months is turned on its head. Can Tony and Daniel stay out of harm’s way this time? Or will the fragile new peace they’ve found together be shattered?

Second Chance
S.B. Barnes © 2025
All Rights Reserved

From behind, the door opens, and a wave of noise crashes over them. Lia cries out in discomfort. It’s bizarre because she doesn’t mind the godawful Top 40 station Gianna likes to play in the front office at full volume or the sounds of the workshop. Lia naps there with no problem, but this memorial appears to be an issue.

Tony struggles to his feet and picks Lia up, shushing her softly.

The door closes, the noise diminishing.

Moving slowly so he doesn’t jar Lia, Tony turns to see who it is. Hopefully, not Sean.

“Sorry,” whispers a little girl barely as tall as the door handle. “Am I allowed to be here?”

“Of course.” Tony tries to school his face into something calm and welcoming. “Are your parents in there?”

She nods. A black bow fixed in her hair leans a little lopsidedly, hard to see against the tight, dark coils of it. “My dad’s inside.”

“He knows where you are?”

Again, she nods. Her dark purple dress, with its little flowers, pairs with a white blouse. She probably doesn’t have any black clothes. Why would she? She can’t be older than five.

“I’m Tony, and this is Lia,” he says, and Lia chooses to mark the moment by pulling at the top button of his shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Francie,” she says.

“Nice to meet you, Francie. You seem a little young for college.”

She gives Tony a look. “I don’t go to school here,” she says with supreme dignity, and she’s right to. Tony should obviously have known better. “My mom is a professor.”

“Oh yeah? What does she teach?”

A little frown line creases on Francie’s forehead. “Sigh…” she tries. “No, puh-sigh… Something with Zebrafish.”

Lia fusses again when Tony tenses up.

“Zebrafish, huh?” he says, jostling the baby. “They sound pretty cool.”

Authoritatively, Francie nods. “They’re called that ’cause they have stripes. Like zebras. And their brains do stuff like human brains.”

It could be a coincidence. Probably lots of psychology professors do research with Zebrafish. It’s 5:00 p.m. on a Thursday, not the easiest time to get childcare. Maybe her parents brought her today because she met Amelia Lawrence too.

Except, she said only her dad was there. And she said her mom was the professor of the two of them.

Tony sets Lia down. Her nap time has been and gone. Gianna was supposed to get out in time so she could nap in the car, but at this time of day, a nap will mess up her bedtime. If her fussing over the last half hour is any indication, she’s close to meltdown. Tony offers her the pacifier to tide her over.

“What’s that?” Francie points at the string of beads it’s connected to.

“That’s her pacifier. We keep one for her in the stroller so she always has it when she needs it.”

Francie comes a little closer and peers over the top of the stroller to watch Lia suck at the pacifier. “Where’s her mommy?”

“Her mom is my sister. She’s inside. She wanted to go to the memorial. She’ll be out any minute.”

Francie doesn’t look away from Lia. There’s something unnerving about how steady her focus is. “They’re talking about my mommy in there.”

“Mm-hm.” Tony doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t want to reach out and touch Francie. It seems too familiar for a little girl he doesn’t know. At the same time, her being out here alone feels very wrong.

Francie turns to look at him. “Why are they talking about her like she’s not here?”

Panic grips Tony, tightening around his throat. “What do you mean, sweetie?”

“Daddy said she wasn’t coming home yesterday, but he didn’t say when she would. And everyone keeps talking about her like she won’t come back to work, but she loves work.”

This is not a situation Tony is even slightly equipped to handle.

Thankfully, the door swings open again, this time on a disheveled, unshaven man in his mid-thirties.

“Francie, there you are.” The man runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. Francie must get it from him. “You can’t run off, querida.”

“I told you I was going outside.” Francie pouts. “I don’t like it when you get loud, Daddy.”

The man winces. His tie is a little crooked, and the suit doesn’t fit him too well. He must have gained a little weight since he bought it. There are deep circles under his dark eyes.

“You must be Francie’s dad.” Tony holds out his hand to shake. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.” The man who must be Mr. Lawrence attempts a smile. “Sorry about her.”

“No, she’s been great. Clever kid.”

Mr. Lawrence’s grimace of a smile becomes marginally more real. “Don’t I know it. Hey, kiddo, you want your book until Dad’s ready to go?”

Francie nods and holds out her hand.

From the inside of his suit jacket, Mr. Lawrence produces a Magic Tree House book. Francie grabs hold of it, sits on the steps, and immediately opens to somewhere in the middle. The font is enormous; Tony should have gotten his prescription checked six months ago, and he can read it over her shoulder.

With a sigh, Mr. Lawrence leans against the side of the building. He loosens his tie. It doesn’t help his generally disheveled appearance. “Sorry,” he says to Tony. “We’ll leave in a second. I just need—I need…”

“Take your time.” Tony risks a glance at Lia. Her eyes have fallen shut. Her bedtime will be fucked for today, for which he sends a silent apology to Gianna. “I can go, if you—”

Mr. Lawrence shakes his head. “No, no. It’s fine. I need to catch my breath or something.”

“Can I get you anything? Some water? Coffee?”

“Nah. Had enough of that in there.”

“That bad, huh?” Tony can’t imagine listening to other people give eulogies for his dead wife. If it was Daniel, he’s not sure he’d have shown up to this. It would hurt too much.

Mr. Lawrence snorts. “It’s a memorial for my wife, man. Of course it’s hard to take. All of them talking about Amy’s work here like…like it didn’t…like this place wasn’t why.” The last he says with an eye on his daughter, clearly aware she doesn’t understand what’s happening yet.

Tony’s not sure how to respond, so he makes a vague sound of agreement and hopes for the best.

“You work here?”

“No. My sister’s a student.” On a whim, Tony adds, “And my partner’s a professor.”

“Tenured?”

“Yeah.” At least, Tony thinks Daniel is tenured. He’s tenure-track, whatever that means. The way he said it when he told Tony made it sound as if the college gifted him a baby unicorn.

“Lucky, then.” Mr. Lawrence lets out a long sigh. “Amy was trying for it. For years. They kept giving her more classes and responsibilities and putting off the tenure for next year. She worked late every night the week before…before… And what did it get her? Some whacko with a knife. You know she was alone in her office for hours before anyone found her? She went in early. Thought this was her semester. And none of them are even sorry.”

“Jesus.” Tony doubts the college’s tenure policies are to blame for what happened to Amelia Lawrence. They weren’t the ones holding the knife, unless there’s another psychotic administrator hiding in the woodwork. He understands the rage though, especially since there’s no one else to blame right now.

“It’s all, oh, she was such a hard worker, she gave so much.” Mr. Lawrence pulls his tie all the way off. “Never what she gave up. She didn’t get to say goodnight to Francie the night before…and the morning before, she left before Francie was up. I’ve had to do her hair all week, and I suck at hair.”

Silently, Francie nods at her book.

“I think you’re doing pretty good,” Tony offers. “Better than I would. And I know they’re doing their best to find the person who…”

“Yeah.” Mr. Lawrence gives him another weak smile. “Yeah, I know. I have no idea what we’ll do without her. We live here for her job, you know? I took her name when we got married. Everything is just…her.”

“I can’t imagine,” Tony lies. He can imagine how he would feel if Daniel were gone, did for one brief, horrifying minute in January. He’s not in a hurry to repeat the experience.

“C’mon, I don’t exactly look like a Lawrence.” He barks a laugh, misunderstanding entirely what part of it Tony can’t imagine. “And the in-laws won’t let me forget it either. More jobs in IT for a Lawrence than a Martínez though. It all made sense with Amy. Now nothing does.”

Tony claps him on the shoulder. “Give yourself some time. You don’t need to know what to do right now. Take each day as it comes, and you’ll get there.”

“Yeah.” Mr. Lawrence manages a slow, steady exhale. “Thanks, man. I’m really…this is really hard.”

“Anytime,” Tony says, although he doubts they’ll see each other again.

“C’mon, Francie. Let’s go home.”

Francie gets to her feet, brushing off her dress. “Dad?” she asks. “When’s Mommy coming home?”

For a moment, Tony’s sure Mr. Lawrence is going to crumple to the ground, knees cut out from under him. Instead, he keeps himself steady, his back ramrod straight.

“I don’t know, querida.” He rests a gentle hand on her cheek. “I don’t know.”

Tony watches them set off across the parking lot with a lump in his throat. He never thought Lia was lucky to have lost her father before she was born, but it might be better than having to go through it when she’s old enough to remember it.

He feels strange, as though he’s floating above his body. Over the course of the last hour, he said a bunch of helpful and supportive things to two people who needed it much more than him, but what he can’t work out is why it was him who said them. What qualifies him for that? He doesn’t know anything. He’s totally adrift and clinging to Daniel like a lifeline.

Maybe he should take his own advice to Sean and find someone to talk to.

It doesn’t take long for Gianna, Daniel, and Colette to come out.

“Oh, shoot, she fell asleep already?” Gianna winces as if it’s Tony’s fault she stayed much longer than either of them thought she would.

“Sorry.” Tony isn’t sorry. He also isn’t in the habit of using his customer service voice on family. There’s a first time for everything.

“It’s fine. I gotta get her to the car though.” Gianna takes off toward the lot, carefully maneuvering the stroller down the steps and not asking for help. “Thanks.” The last is thrown over her shoulder, barely an afterthought.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

She can’t hear him anymore.

“What a nightmare,” Colette announces.

For a second, Tony wants to defend Gianna—she’s a pain in the ass, but she’s not that bad. Then, he realizes Colette’s talking about the memorial. “I only caught the Cliff notes out here. What happened?”

“Amy’s husband happened,” Colette says sourly. “That is a man with anger management problems.”

A bad feeling sinks low in Tony’s gut. Francie did say she didn’t like when her dad got loud. He wonders what Mr. Lawrence said or did when his daughter couldn’t hear it.

“He’s going through something awful.” Daniel’s more measured, but he doesn’t deny the anger issues. “People react to grief all sorts of ways.” The last, he says with a pointed look at Colette.

“I suppose that’s fair.” She sounds begrudging about it at best. “Still, I never yelled at three separate faculty members in front of the entire student body.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Guess I missed some pretty wild stuff.”

“Eh.” Daniel makes a weighing motion with his hands. “Extreme emotions happen at funerals. To be honest, it seemed like he and Amelia had been having some issues for a while. She was working too much, he didn’t approve, you know.”

Colette crosses her arms and inspects the fingernails on her right hand closely. “If you ask me, he should be the prime suspect after the show he put on.”

Daniel doesn’t protest.

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t see it.”

“You didn’t hear it,” Colette points out.

“He came out this way after.” Tony wonders if he should repeat the things Mr. Lawrence said, the naked desperation in his tone. He doesn’t think it would help. “He didn’t seem like a killer, just a grieving husband.”

Colette sighs, put-upon. “All those seasons of Bones, and you learned nothing.”

“Sure, I did.” Tony grins. “Police violence is justified when it’s the good guys.”

Colette scoffs in disgust, heading for the car. “America,” she mutters under her breath as she goes.

Daniel follows her. “You don’t mean that.”

They bicker across the parking lot about the merits and lack thereof of the USA, the tone light and teasing to hide their unease. It’s familiar, which is why Tony started it. Familiarity is comforting. He wonders if he’s been hiding behind it for too long now. Maybe he should have broken up the slow, steady routine at the garage to have a real conversation with his father about Daniel. Maybe he should have broken up his weeknight routines with Daniel to talk about Stacy and Mario properly. Maybe he should have broken up his own routines to find someone professional to listen to all the things he didn’t know he needed to say.

Tony considers breaking up this routine to tell Colette about Sean needing more hands-on counseling or about Mr. Lawrence and his utter devastation. Instead, Tony says nothing as he slides into the passenger seat, still thinking about Francie and her father.

When they pull up in front of the apartment, Tony’s shocked out of his daze by the sight of a knife taped to the door.

 

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S. B. Barnes attended college in the Hudson Valley, studying English Language and Literature and Anthropology (although unlike her characters, her time there was not interrupted by crime-solving). She grew up split between the USA and Germany, attending university in both countries before eventually settling in Germany. Today, she works as a teacher and lives with her husband and two cats in an apartment with too little shelf space. Fiction has always been one of her greatest loves, as a reader, as a teacher, and as a writer. While S.B. has been writing for most of her life, this is her first foray into publishing her work.

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