Текст книги "Dark reckoning"

Автор книги: J. E. Taylor

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Jennifer recoiled under his direct, intense stare. Her green eyes flashed and she shot to her feet. “Get out.” She pointed to the door, shaking, and trying to contain her raging anger.

Steve didn’t move from the chair. “Sit down, Jen,” he said. He saw the nuance of real emotion in her eyes, her expression very different from when she acted angry—so much so he was surprised Tracy fell for it. He waited until she sat down, still glaring at him. “I had to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” she snapped, crossing her arms.

“That trusting you wouldn’t get me killed.”

Jennifer’s jaw dropped and her arms fell to her sides. “You had to ask after today?”

“Especially after today,” he replied and leaned forward. “You got me to admit things I never should have and that could burn me, Jen. This isn’t a game. People have disappeared and I have to assume the worst.” He did not fill her in on those that had been found.

“But you know me.” She tilted her head trying to ignore the hurt flaring inside.

He shook his head. “I knew an eleven-year-old girl. Things can change drastically in ten years.” He scanned her. “Things have changed drastically,” he said, his eyes returning to hers. He leaned back slowly and switched gears. “Technically, I could bust you for having alcohol here. Tracy’s a minor.” He smiled a little.

Jennifer watched him closely, her eyes narrowing in response. “Were you acting with me?”

Steve shook his head slowly. “No.” He took a sip of the beer. “If I had been, nothing would have happened.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. “I should have kept my distance, but I couldn’t.”

“Do you regret what happened?” she asked, her voice small and tepid.

He sighed. “No. Not in the least.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

“The fact that you asked me that question hurt.”

Steve shrugged. To him, it was a matter of self-preservation and training. “I question everything, Jen. It keeps me alive.”

Jennifer studied him. “You look tired.”

He nodded. “I’m used to napping after, ah, you know.” Heat crept into his cheeks and a dimple made an appearance.

“Have you ever been shot at?”

Steve nodded. “It isn’t fun.”

“Have you ever shot someone?”

Steve shook his head. He stood and went out on the balcony. When she stepped next to him, he said, “Do you really think you can handle that part of my life?”

Jennifer quietly considered the question. “It doesn’t thrill me,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of you in harm’s way.” The dream crept back into her conscience and she shivered. “I don’t like that at all.”

“I can’t change who I am, Jen. I like putting the bad guys behind bars.”

Jennifer smiled. He always loved to play cowboys and Indians when they were younger. “Still the cowboy, I see.”

Steve started to laugh. “I guess.” He always made her play the Indian.

Jennifer joined him, giggling at the memory of him tied to the fence in her yard and her hopping around pounding the palm of her hand to her lips making funky Indian chants.

“So, can you?” His blue eyes implored her.

“I can handle it. But I still don’t like it.” She was rewarded with the slow sexy smile.

Steve glanced at the parking lot again and the road beyond. There was still no sign of Bill and Tracy, so he leaned over and stole a kiss. “How long are we going to play this game with them?”

Jennifer shrugged. “Maybe we should tell them. I would hate to see you get hit again.”

Steve half smiled. “It won’t happen again.” He glanced at her sideways. “Besides, do you think two days is really enough?”

Jennifer glanced at the lake. “No,” she said. “They set us up because we both had someone we love die.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and eyebrows rose at the admission.

“I kid you not,” she said, lifting her hands in an oath.

“Really?” He shook his head. “Okay. Then I’ll see you later.” He gave her a kiss and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my car.” He looked at his watch. “Can you remember how to get to my Grandfather’s place?” he asked and she nodded. “I’ll meet you there in a little over an hour.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Oh, and I left after I apologized. I wasn’t going to wait around with you—I’m still an asshole.”

“It’s like five or six miles to campus,” Jennifer said.

“That’s just a warm up,” he said. “I’ll meet you at my grandfather’s. Wear something nice.” He closed the door behind him and headed out.

Steve sprinted the first few miles hoping he wouldn’t run into them. He wanted to be far enough along to make the timeframe realistic. When he’d crossed half the distance between the apartment and the campus, he settled into a moderate jog, getting his wheezing breath back into a natural rhythm.

He nodded to Tracy and Bill a few minutes later when they passed heading in the opposite direction. The matching wide-eyed slack jaw stare was priceless. He wiped the sweat off his face and laughed, continuing his exercise regimen back to the fraternity house.

Chapter 9

Jennifer watched him tear out of the building and wondered how long he could run at that pace. Fifteen minutes later she watched Tracy and Bill pull in. She still had some time before she needed to clean up, but not much. She sat back down in the lounge chair and closed her eyes.

“Jen?” Tracy called.

“Yeah?” she answered from the balcony, stepping into character.

Tracy and Bill came out holding a bag of Chinese food and it took everything Jennifer had not to smile. She looked up at them.

“What happened?” Bill asked.

“He apologized,” Jennifer said and closed her eyes again.

“Why didn’t he stay?” Tracy asked.

Jennifer opened her eyes. “He doesn’t like me very much,” she replied. “And the feeling is mutual.” She got up and headed toward her room.

“Jen?” Tracy whined.

“What?” Jennifer swung around. “What were you thinking?” She slammed the bathroom door behind her, shutting off any further commentary.

Chapter 10

Jennifer stepped into the shower as Steve turned onto Fraternity Row. Out of breath, he bound up the steps to his room. He glanced at his watch. “Not bad.”

The five-mile trek only took him a little over thirty minutes. He grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom to clean up. Twenty minutes later, he was on the road.

Jennifer took ten minutes longer than Steve had, and when she walked out of the bedroom in shorts and a t-shirt, carrying her oversized pocketbook, Tracy called from the kitchen. “We have dinner here if you want some.”

“I’m going out for a bit. I’ll see you later.” Jennifer closed the door behind her before either of them could question her. When she hopped in her car and took off, her memory didn’t fail her. She smiled when she pulled onto the almost hidden driveway.

Steve paced by his car, clad in gray dress pants with a light blue button-down shirt. The swelling had receded but the skin around his right eye still held an angry purple tone.

Her headlights shined in his eyes, making him squint as he approached the car. When she cut the lights and stepped out of the car, Steve stopped, scanning her casual attire. “You consider that nice?” He waved his hand at her.

“No. I figured I’d change when I got here.” She looked at the closed up cottage. “Do you mind letting me in?”

He glanced at his watch, sighed, and raised his eyes back to her. “Okay.” He reached in his car and pulled the keys from the ignition, heading to the cottage without a glance back.

“You look nice,” she said, letting him walk in front of her. “Very nice.”

“Thanks. We have reservations in fifteen minutes.” He leaned against the wall by the door, waiting.

“How far is it to the restaurant?” Jennifer peeled off her shirt in the middle of the living room and reached into her bag, pulling out a sexy little black dress.

* * * *

“Uh, about fifteen minutes.” Steve straightened, watching her slip the silky fabric over her head, the straps just covering those of her black bra. She smoothed it over her body and slipped her shorts off, revealing a hint of black underwear before the fabric of the dress fell over her thighs again. She quickly slid the black high heel sandals on and then turned to him, unclipping her hair and running her fingers through it. The transformation took less than a minute, and left him breathless.

“Better?” She stuffed her clothes, flip-flops and hairclip back in her bag.

He didn’t respond with words. He moved across the room and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply.

When he pulled away, she ran her hands over his clean-shaven face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“That definitely was a yes,” he said, leading her out of the cottage to his car. He leaned in and plucked the single rose off the seat, opening the door for her and handing her the rose. “For you.”

Jennifer took the rose with a smile. “Thank you.”

He got in the car, leering at her. “I have half a mind to skip dinner and go directly to dessert.”

“I’m hungry.” She glanced sideways and raked her teeth over her lower lip. “Besides, we can have dessert later.”

Steve raised his eyebrow. “That so?”

“Aye-up,” she answered as he turned the car around.

Steve audibly inhaled and focused on navigating the winding driveway. “How’d it go with Bill and Tracy?” He pulled onto the road.

“Uneventful. I didn’t say much. Just that you didn’t like me very much and the feeling is mutual.”

“That must have killed them,” he replied. In the little time he’d been exposed to Tracy, he picked up that she had to know everything that was going on or she wasn’t happy. “Tracy’s a journalism major, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He shrugged. “I bet she’ll end up doing entertainment news.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s a busy-body, has to have her hand on the pulse of everything and the juicier the information, the more she gets off on it.” He paused. “Regular news just isn’t that glamorous.”

He summed up Tracy in one sentence and Jennifer laughed.

“What made you choose acting?” He glanced over at her.

“I got the bug when I did a high school play my sophomore year. I loved to dance in the recitals, but this was different. I was so scared I actually threw up before my first performance but when I stepped on the stage, everything changed. It was such a rush, having all eyes on me, having people hanging on my every word or note I sang, and at the end, the applause. Steve, the applause is like a drug. It put me in a different state of being and I crave that feeling.”

“You mean I’m falling in love with an applause junkie?”

Jennifer looked over at him with her jaw askew. “What did you just say?”

“You’re an applause junkie?” he replied cautiously. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“That’s not what you said.” She crossed her arms and stared at him, her lips forming an adorable pout and he turned his attention back to the road without comment.

“Did you mean it?”

Steve didn’t respond until he had parked the car in the parking lot of the restaurant. “I should bring you with me the next time I interrogate someone. You seem to be able to get the most intriguing information without trying.”

“Did you mean it?” she asked in measured beats.

He finally looked at her when he got out of the car. “I don’t know.” He closed the car door and waited for her to get out.

Jennifer looked at the rose in her hand and decided to let it go for the moment.

* * * *

“What do you want, Steve?” She swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip, looking over the rim at him.

He sighed and sat back. “I can’t think beyond the job right now, Jen. I need to concentrate on what I was sent here to do.” He took a sip of his drink. “Before someone else disappears.”

He was pulling away again and she felt it. “So today…” She drifted off and her vision blurred from the welling tears. She blinked them back.

“Today was the best day I’ve had in over two years,” he replied. “Minus getting hit in the face.” He smiled a little.

“But?”

“But, I can’t focus on you.” He scanned her again. “As much as I’d like to…,” he trailed off and took another sip of his wine. “Pledge week ends Thursday and initiation is on Friday. Over the last four years, more than half of the disappearances occurred during pledge week. I’m running out of time.”

“I still think you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“I don’t think so, Jen.” He paused as the waitress approached and he ordered for both of them in flawless French. Steve continued after the waitress left. “I’m not off base on this. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?” Jennifer asked with her head tilted slightly, looking at him over her wine glass.

“Yes,” Steve said without hesitation.

“Then tell me what you said in the car.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You know what I said,” he whispered in her ear and sat back down.

Jennifer’s smile froze and everything in front of her line of vision disappeared.

She stood on the edge of a clearing, instantly recognizing it from her nightmare. Trembling, she watched a young girl dressed in shorts and a t-shirt push her way through the thick brush into the clearing.

The water rippled and a black form rose from the depths of the pond. Jennifer wanted to scream, wanted to tell the little girl to run and run fast, but her voice locked in her throat. All she could do was stare at the beast in silent horror.

When it stepped onto the moss, the girl found her voice. A shrill cry, a cry of panic, of fear, of terror belted from her lips. And she ran into the woods, still wailing. The thing followed, agile and fast. The sharp siren cut off moments later and the sudden silence broken only by wet sounds of flesh being stripped from bone.

A sharp pain in Jennifer’s hand brought her back to the restaurant and she looked down. A shard of the broken wine glass stuck out of the meaty part of her palm near her thumb.

Steve took her hand and pulled the glass out. He grabbed his napkin, pouring ice water on it and wrapped it around her palm. Pressing gently to stop the flow of blood, he looked warily at her as the color returned to her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The restaurant staff hustled around to clean up the glass, issuing apologies.

No, I’m not okay. Instead of voicing her thought, she shrugged.

Steve allowed the manager to escort them to the office where he took a closer look at the cut. The blood was already clotting, but the manager pulled out a first aid kit just in case. Steve took over and cleaned the wound, putting a band-aid over it. He glanced into her clear and confused eyes. “Can you give us a minute?” Steve asked the manager as he stood. The manager nodded and said they would have another table ready in a moment. “Thank you,” Steve said. He watched the manager leave the office and then turned his attention back to Jennifer.

Jennifer stared at the bandage on her hand.

“You broke the glass.”

“I got that much,” Jennifer replied.

He waited.

“A…a little girl around ni…nine or ten, reddish blonde hair and a…a tie-dye t-shirt…was there a child like that on the missing per…persons list?” Jennifer asked without looking at him.

“No, why?”

Jennifer lifted her eyes to his. “There will be,” she said.

* * * *

Her eyes tilted back in her head exposing just the whites. Steve quickly wrapped his arm around her. Jennifer slumped against him and he shuddered, reliving her transition at the table. The loss of color from both her cheeks and lips and the death-like quality that shrouded her eyes freaked him out. He shook off the shock and reached for the first aid kit and grabbed a smelling salt, broke it between his index finger and thumb and waved it under her nose.

Jennifer moved her head violently away from the foul smell and came around. “Dear god, what is that?” She pushed his hand away.

“Smelling salts.” Steve stepped away from her and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He closed the door before picking up the pen and pad on the desk and pulling the manager’s chair in front of where she sat. “Tell me what you saw.”

Each word, each description that fell from Jennifer’s lips brought a new wave of dread through Steve, tightening his chest. She described in detail the scene, right down to the little girl’s dirt-laden Keds. She jumped when the manager knocked on the door and called out to them in French.

“Un moment, s’il vous plait,” Steve replied, his eyes locked with Jennifer’s. He glanced at the notes and ripped the sheet off the pad, folding and stuffing it in his pocket. He put the pad and pen back on the desk and opened the door. “Sorry, she got a little shaky after the fact,” he explained to the manager.

“Do you want to eat here?” Steve asked turning his head toward Jennifer. “Or do you want me to get the food to go?”

“To go.” Her eyes filled with tears.

The manager nodded and stepped away. A few moments later, he came back with a bag of food packaged for them.

Steve reached for his wallet.

“No monsieur, this is on us.” The manager offered Jennifer a slight smile and returned his attention to Steve.

Steve nodded. “Merci beaucoup.” He took the bag and put his arm around Jennifer’s waist, leading her to the car.

They drove in silence back to the cottage. He parked and grabbed the bag, heading inside, and stopping at the door to look back at her. He swung the door open and she walked into the dark room. Steve handed her the bag as he closed the door. “Wait here.”

Jennifer heard him shuffling around and then saw a flicker of light. The hurricane lamp he held let off a soft glow. He adjusted the height of the flame.

“There isn’t any electricity yet.” He offered an awkward shrug. “I never got around to turning the service back on.” He took the bag out of her hand and led her to the breakfast nook, helping her into a chair. He furrowed his brow in thought. “What really happened back there?” he asked, rummaging through the silverware drawer, sitting down and handing her a fork and a knife.

“I’m not really sure.” She picked at the food in the to-go container, taking a small bite despite her total lack of hunger. “This is delicious.” She pointed her fork at her dinner.

He pulled a bottle of wine out of the bag with a smile. “I guess they really didn’t want a lawsuit.” Leaning back in his chair, he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener, proceeding to uncork the wine. He retrieved a pair of dusty glasses from the cabinet and un-tucked his shirt, wiping the dust off with the tail.

Jennifer watched him go through the motions of dinner. “I freaked you out,” she finally said after he poured the wine and downed his glass, reaching to refill it again.

Steve laughed and nodded. “And I’m not easily unnerved.”

“I’m sorry for ruining the evening,” Jennifer said. She returned her attention to the meal.

“I actually like this better than the restaurant.” He smiled at her. “But I have more questions for you.”

Jennifer looked sharply at him. He sat with one arm slung over the back of the chair, while the other held the wine glass, slowly swirling the liquid around. He tilted his head studying her.

“What happened at the restaurant, Jennifer?” He asked with a disarming smile.

* * * *

Realization set in and irritation crept over her skin. The calm smooth cadence of his voice was marred by the sharp suspicious interest in his eyes. He was drilling her for information—as if she was a suspect. What the fuck? “You’re interrogating me?” She pushed the chair back to leave.

“Sit down!” Steve slammed the wine glass on the table. Fury blazed in his eyes, transforming his rugged features into a frightening mask of anger.

Jennifer stood and headed toward the door, hell-bent on getting away from him and his enraged glare.

Steve grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, and she reacted, her black-belt training taking over with his sudden, less than gentle maneuver. But he easily sidestepped her attempt at another Osoto Gari and she found herself face down on the floor with her hands clasped behind her back. Cold metal ensnared her wrist followed by the click of the handcuffs and panic set in. “What are you doing?”

Steve hauled her into the kitchen chair, threading the cuffs through the back spindles and fastening them around the free wrist he held. He stormed out of the room and came back a few seconds later with two photographs, slamming them on the table in front of her. “She wasn’t among the missing—she was one of the ones we found. Her name was Amy and she disappeared a month ago. She wandered away from her parents’ campsite and was found a few days later.”

Jennifer’s wide shocked eyes gaped at the photographs, twitching from the picture of the smiling girl to the second of something torn to pieces, bloody and mangled. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand at all until her eyes landed on the bloody discarded sneaker. Her gaze shot up to Steve in horror. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Jennifer repeated over and over. Trembling, all the heat in her face drained and she pushed the chair away from the table with her feet.

“How could you know so much detail, Jennifer?”

Jennifer stared at him and the tears flowed down her cheeks. He thinks I did this. “I wasn’t in Brooksfield last month. I was in New York.”

Steve stepped back, blinking rapidly, his gaze bouncing between her and pictures on the table.

The tears continued. “How could you possibly think I could do that?” she sobbed, hanging her head.

He pulled open his cell phone and made a call. “I need you to verify the whereabouts of someone from July fifteenth to August fifteenth. Jennifer Curtis, date of birth July 16, 1986. Permanent address, 174 Evergreen Lane, Norwalk, Connecticut. Call me back when you have the information.” His eyes, narrow and questioning, never left her. She continued to sob.

“How could you think that?” She raised her tear-stained face to meet his suspicious glare.

* * * *

Doubt as strong as an arrow to his heart knocked him back another step.

The phone rang and he flipped it open. “That was quick,” he said, and listened. Steve stepped forward, took the pictures off the table, and left the room. He tucked them away in his briefcase in the bedroom and closed his eyes. “What about Tracy Sheehan or her father?” he asked softly. “I asked Jack to check into them for me. Were they in Brooksfield during that time?” He waited on the line this time. He got an answer, although it wasn’t what he anticipated. He closed the phone slowly. They were in New York at the same time as Jennifer.

He hung his head. “Shit.” Putting the phone back in his pocket, he glanced toward the kitchen and pondered what this really meant.

Steve crossed to the kitchen and pulled a chair over near Jennifer. He didn’t want to un-cuff her just yet. He studied his hands and when he raised his eyes, she returned his gaze, the tears still slowly trailing down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“Un-cuff me. I want to go.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Now!” The anger kicked in full force, stopping the flow of tears.

“You described her in detail, Jen, what the hell was I supposed to think?” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness.