Deadly Memories

by Joanne Fluke

  “It’s gorgeous! But where did you get the stones?”

  “They’re from the last shipment. I wrote them off. And now that Grant’s gone, she’ll never find out.”

  “But Grant told her all about how you were skimming when he took her to the air . . . oh!” She stopped suddenly, her face mirroring the sudden revelation. “I almost forgot. She doesn’t remember anything Grant told her . . . right?”

  He grinned and kissed her neck again. “Right. I worked on the books while she was in the hospital. When she turns them over to a new accountant, he’ll never suspect a thing. And what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her . . . or us.”

  “But what if she remembers? They said her memory could come back.”

  “It’s a long shot. Personally, I don’t think it’ll ever happen, but if it does I’ll think of something.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, and then she turned to kiss him. “You’re really brilliant, you know that? And I love my new necklace!”

  He grinned. “I knew you would. Just don’t wear it when you get home. Somebody might start asking questions.”

  “I’ll be careful. I promise. But I can wear it tonight, can’t I?”

  “That’s why I gave it to you now, instead of saving it for your birthday.” He picked up her coat, and held it out. “Let’s go. Our reservation’s for seven. And then we can come back here and celebrate all night.”

  She kept the smile on her face as he helped her slip on her coat. But when he turned to open the door, she blinked back tears. If this was her birthday present, it meant they wouldn’t be together next week. She’d have to spend another birthday alone. That was the trouble with having a married lover. He had other, more important commitments. And when she’d suggested this whole plan, she hadn’t realized how lonely the holidays and birthdays would be.

  “What’s the matter?” He turned, catching her in the act of wiping away a tear.

  “Nothing. I just love you so much. And I wish you could be with me more, that’s all.”

  He frowned slightly. “But you were the one who wanted me to marry her. And you know we have to be careful. If anyone suspects we’re more than friends, it could blow everything sky high.”

  “I know.” She forced a smile and took his arm. “And I know I shouldn’t ask this, but . . .” She stopped, trying to force the words back. It would serve no purpose to ask. But she simply had to know what to expect. “When you get home . . . will you have to sleep with her?”

  He looked at her in surprise. And then he nodded. “Of course. Come on, honey . . . be reasonable. She’ll think there’s something really strange going on if I don’t.”

  “I guess you’re right.” She gave a little sigh. “But I wish you didn’t have to.”

  “Hey, don’t forget that all this was your idea. There’s no backing out now. And there’s no reason why a husband shouldn’t sleep with his wife, unless . . .” He stopped, and gave her a devilish grin. “Honey! Don’t tell me you’re jealous at this stage of the game?”

  “No. Of course I’m not.” Her face colored slightly, and she turned away. She didn’t want him to know that she was lying. Every night he spent with the bitch was agony, but she had to endure it. The rewards far outweighed any momentary pain.

  “Cheer up, babe.” He gave her a little squeeze. “It won’t be forever. And when it’s all over, we’ll be together.”

  “Right.” She hugged his arm tightly as they walked out the door. She really had no right to complain. It was her plan, and he’d agreed. And now he was just doing what she’d asked him to do. But she wished he wouldn’t play the loving husband quite so convincingly. If she wasn’t careful, he might get to like being married to the bitch with all her money, and her fancy house, and her socially prominent friends. He might get to like it so much he’d decide to play the part for real. And where would she be then?

  They’d only gone a few steps before she stopped, pulling him to a halt. And then she smiled up at him with a devilish grin of her own. “I’ve got a great idea. Let’s change our plans for tonight. I don’t feel like going out to eat after all.”

  “You don’t?” He looked puzzled. “But I thought you were dying to go to the Four Seasons.”

  “I was. But then I got to thinking that it’s our last night. And I don’t want to waste a second of it.”

  He started to smile then, a smile that grew wider with each passing second. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.” She licked her lips in a way that she knew would turn him on. “Let’s go back to our room, Donny. I’m sure I can find something there to fill me up.”

  * * *

  He was watching a videotape when the phone rang, and he took time to put it on pause before he answered. He knew better than to answer on the first ring. Guys in his line of work let the phone ring at least three times before answering. If you picked up right away, it gave the impression that you were nervously waiting right there by the phone.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me. Did you make contact today?”

  “Of course.” He grinned into the receiver. They were the anxious ones, not him. “No problem.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Some. You’ll get it all in my report.”

  “Don’t play games with me! You know what I want.”

  He smiled. It was dangerous to make them nervous, but he couldn’t resist. “There’s no sign of her memory returning yet, but I plan to help her along a little.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll ask her some questions, and see what answers I get. Give me a week. I’ll know more then.”

  “You’ll call if something happens before that?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you won’t do anything until you check with us. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly.” He hung up the phone with a smile on his face. The person who hung up first won. That was another maxim he’d learned.

  There was a soft knock on the door. Two taps evenly spaced, and then a third. He crossed the room in his stockinged feet and checked the peephole before he opened the door.

  “Hi, baby!” The blonde that entered was past her prime, with dark roots and teeth that needed straightening. “Sam said you called in for me?”

  “That’s right. Do you remember what I want?”

  “Sure thing.” She grinned and took the envelope he handed her, stuffing it in her purse without opening it. “The same as last time?”

  He nodded, the color rising to his cheeks. He hated to associate with someone like her, but it was too risky to pick up someone who wasn’t a pro. She knew the drill. He’d taken her through it step by step the last time he’d called for her.

  “Where do you want to do it, baby? On the couch like last time?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Let’s go in the bedroom. Follow me.”

  He led the way to the bedroom. Not that she could get lost. It was only a three-room apartment.

  “Nice sheets.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and ran her hand over the brightly patterned sheets printed with cars and trucks and buses. “I got ones with flowers up at my place. You wanna come over and see them next time?”

  “Sure. Maybe I’ll do that.” He grinned at her, although he had no intention of setting foot in her apartment. It was bad enough having her here, letting her know where he lived. There was an old quote, something about how desperate men did desperate things. And he was definitely desperate. He always got this way when he was zeroing in on a kill, and he needed some way to defuse the energy that might cause him to act prematurely.

  “Hey . . . you’re shaking.” She reached out and pulled him down to the bed. “Hot to trot, huh, baby?”

  He nodded, although that wasn’t the truth. He despised what she was about to do, and he was thoroughly repulsed by her. He hated her heavy makeup, and her sickening perfume, and her coarse way of speaking. But he needed her to be exactly the way she was, an older image of his first se
xual partner.

  “Now?” She gave him what she thought was a sexy smile. And when he nodded, she patted the bed. “Come on, baby. Your mom said you can’t stay up past eight, so it’s time to put you to bed.”

  He shuddered, but he felt himself hardening. And his face turned red as she reached out and unzipped his pants, pulling them down with both hands.

  “That’s a big one for such a little boy!” She giggled, a thoroughly incongruous sound for someone who was at least ten years past her bubble gum-chewing, high school cheerleader stage. But he’d asked her to giggle and play a teenage babysitter.

  She reached out and flicked at it with her finger, batting it, playfully. “What do you think you’re gonna do with that, huh? You’re not even old enough to know what you got. Maybe I’d better roll you over and see if it’ll go down.”

  There was a fluffy white bath sheet on the bed table and she flipped it out on the bed. Then she patted the center of the towel, and grinned at him. “Roll over, baby. And put it right there. We don’t want any mess on the sheet.”

  She rolled him over and giggled again, more convincingly this time. But perhaps it was because he couldn’t see her. His face was buried in the pillow. “Your mom said I gotta clean you up before I put you to bed.”

  “No! No bath!” His voice was high and childish, with a hint of petulance. But she just laughed, the way she was supposed to do.

  “Come on, baby. You know you can’t go to bed without a bath.”

  “No!” He said it again, and tensed. He knew what was coming next. And her hand smacked hard against his buttocks, making him gasp.

  “There’s more where that came from, so you better behave. I’m the boss while your mom’s away. Now don’t move while I get the water, or I’ll smack you again!”

  The bedsprings creaked as she got up, and he heard her go into the bathroom. The water ran for a long time, and he rolled over, grasping the part of him he’d just discovered and pulling at it with his fingers.

  “Stop that!” She came back into the room, carrying a pan of steaming water and a bar of soap. “You’re a very bad little boy.”

  But he didn’t stop. It felt too good to stop. He just moved his hand up and down, smiling at her.

  She hit out at his hand, her fingernails grazing the part of him that felt so good. It didn’t hurt. It just made him want more. But then she flipped him over again, and he could hear her wring out the washcloth. “If you were older, I’d smack you again. But you’re too little to know what you are doing.”

  The washcloth was hot, much hotter than the one his mother used, and it hurt his bottom where she’d smacked him. At the same time, it felt good and he started to squirm up and down on the towel, rubbing himself against the material.

  “Hey!” She sounded exasperated. “Cut that out! You’re not supposed to do that!”

  But he barely heard her as he squirmed and rubbed, trying to drive himself into the mattress.

  “I said, cut it out!” She flipped him over again. And then she stared at the place between his legs. “Jeez! I gotta do something with you. Your mom’s gonna fire me if she sees you like this!”

  He watched as she squirted some baby lotion on her hands and rubbed them together until they were slippery. Then she grabbed his legs and pulled them apart, and began rubbing him with the lotion.

  “No!” He tried to squirm away from the fingers that held him. “No, no!”

  “Don’t move!” She swatted him with the palm of her slippery hand. “You started this. And now I gotta finish it up before your mom gets home.”

  He started to cry then, but it didn’t do any good. Her fingers were grabbing him, pushing and pulling and making him feel all funny inside. And she was holding him down with her other hand, digging her nails into his leg.

  “Noooo!”

  He wailed, and she smacked him again. “Do it, baby! Make it happen right now!”

  But nothing happened as her hand went up and down. And nothing happened when she grabbed his testicles and squeezed them between her fingers. The thing between his legs was still hard no matter what she did.

  “Jeez!” She sighed as she shook her head. “You’re lasting longer than my boyfriend, and he’s really a stud. I’m gonna go call Rosie. She’ll know what to do.”

  The mention of Rosie’s name made him snap. He reached out to grab her and threw her roughly down on the bed, driving into her with so much force, the headboard of the bed slammed up against the wall. Once, twice, and it was over in a burst of pure frenzy. But when he came to his senses, he found her staring up at him with fear in her eyes.

  He let her go. He’d been gripping her arms so hard, there were white marks where his fingers had been.

  “Sorry about that.” He smiled to put her at ease. He would need her again before this was over. “I really lost control this time. I think it was because you’re so fantastic. You should have been an actress.”

  ” Yeah?” She began to smile back. “You really think so?”

  “You were perfect, exactly the way I wanted. And I think you deserve a little more than the going rate, don’t you?”

  “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” She smiled at him coyly, her fear washed away by the prospect of money she wouldn’t have to turn over to her pimp.

  “Just wait a second. I’ll get it.” He stood up and pulled on his pants. And then he took his wallet out of his pocket. “How about an extra fifty? You’re worth it.”

  “That’s sweet.” She took the money and tucked it into her bra. Then she got up and headed for the door. “You wanna wave bye-bye to me?”

  He laughed. This one had a sense of humor, even though she was stupid. “The game’s over. Maybe next time.”

  “See you soon.” She opened the door, and then she turned and stared at him. “How about I get another girl? We could have lots of fun.”

  He tried not to react, but he couldn’t help frowning. Another girl was one more person who’d know about him. But he knew better than to tell her why another girl simply wasn’t acceptable, so he forced a grin.

  “You’re doing just fine on your own. Besides . . . you’d have to split the profits if you brought in another girl, and you don’t want to do that, do you?”

  “No way!” She shook her head, and turned to go. “Just call Sam when you want me again, and I’ll be here with bells on.”

  He kept the smile on his face until the door had shut behind her, and he crossed the room in three quick strides to lock it securely. Then he poured himself a drink and sat down on the couch, lost in the fantasy she’d started for him.

  Of course Rosie had come over, and she’d stared at him, too. And she’d tried to do what the other one had with no result. But Rosie had a boyfriend who’d taught her a lot about kinky sex, and she’d brought a magazine she’d snatched from under her older brother’s bed. Between the two of them, they’d subjected him to some things that were very pleasant, things that made him hot just thinking about them. But as the minutes ticked by, they’d grown desperate. And they’d tried other, more drastic things that made him shudder to this day.

  It was almost like it had happened yesterday and the memory of the searing pain was still as fresh as on the night it had happened. The awful soreness had lasted for days, and he hadn’t been able to tell anyone what was wrong. They’d almost killed him and no one had ever found out about it.

  It hadn’t ended with that night. They’d discovered a new toy to play with, and they’d abused him until he was old enough to talk. And when they’d finally tired of him, they’d threatened to kill him if he ever told anyone what they’d done.

  “Jesus!” He reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He’d almost blown it tonight, by showing how he really felt. She’d been just a little too convincing, too much like his abusive baby-sitter. He had to be very careful to exercise perfect control. Girls like her were rare. He’d only found a few in the past. And he wanted to play it all out, wor
k his way through the whole scenario. He couldn’t let her know how excited it made him, how he longed for that ultimate release. She’d run for her life if she ever guessed how it would all turn out in the end.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Maura glanced at the clock in her studio. It was five minutes past one. But hadn’t it been five minutes past one the last time she’d looked? And certainly at least an hour had passed since then. Her clock must have stopped. There was no other explanation.

  She picked up the telephone to dial the number for the correct time of day. And that was when she noticed that the clock hadn’t stopped, after all. The minute hand was moving, creeping around the face of the clock so apathetically, it seemed to be in slow motion.

  Maura sighed and picked up her sketchbook again. She was working on her design for a new tennis outfit, but it was going very badly. She couldn’t seem to concentrate, and all her ideas seemed impossible to implement. Perhaps her talent for design had disappeared, along with her memory.

  But her memory hadn’t disappeared, not completely. She’d remembered Nick’s name. Did that mean that her memory was coming back?

  Maura pulled out her desk drawer and stared at the picture she’d taken from the photograph album. Nick. Nicolas. Cola. She wished she could remember more about him. She had his wedding ring, the ring that Emmy had given him. But who was Emmy? And how had Maura met them?

  She tried, but she couldn’t remember Emmy at all. There was no visual image connected with her name. But Jan had said that Nick was a visiting professor, and that meant she must have known them both in her college years. They could have been very close friends. Perhaps they’d even been neighbors when she’d been married to Paul. She could imagine sitting at her blue kitchen table, pouring coffee and exchanging confidences with Nick’s wife, Emmy. It would certainly explain why she knew so much about their lives and why she felt such overwhelming grief when she looked at Nick’s picture. But why did Maura have his wedding ring? There must be a reason why Emmy hadn’t kept it, but she had no idea what that reason would be. There were just too many pieces missing, and until she remembered them nothing would make any sense.