Leaving him alone with his thoughts, he resumed the examination of his hands wondering what it would feel like to wrap his fingers around little Laurie's neck. The bell chimed in the background, interrupting his thoughts. Footsteps walking by him, a shadow informed him that whoever it was had stopped. Looking up, he saw it was Laura Hilliard.
Jolted upright, his head swiveled from right to left. Wanting a witness to the fact that she was approaching him and not the reverse, he’d been here first. Knowing that judges wouldn't see it that way, she'd twist it all around to make him look as if he was in the wrong and in violation of the court order, but it wasn't true.
Damned people! The few that were in Manny's were concentrating on settling their bills and not on the scheme meant to land him in jail. He could get kicked off the force for this. He didn't want that. He loved being a cop. It was the only thing he was good at, and this piece of scum was trying to make it go away. She'd planned it. She must have. There was no such thing as a coincidence.
Motionless, he waited for her to scream and start a scene. It was all going to be an act because she was smiling. Women that were really scared didn't smile. Yet there she was, that big mouth of hers painted a harlot red. Grinning from ear to ear, she was enjoying him stewing in misery.
If she wasn't going to say anything, he needed to. He needed to draw as much attention to what was happening as possible. It was the only way to avert disaster. Opening his mouth, she put a finger to her pursed lips.
“Shhhhh,” she hushed, making her way to the table across from him. Sitting, she let her coat ride up on a bare thigh. Not knowing what she could be wearing, there seemed to be too much skin showing for this time of the year. Unzipping a down coat that he'd seen in the store window of Zephyr's, it was a shop aimed at the younger crowd. Contemplating buying it for her as a Christmas present, it was before all this shit started.
Bonnie walked over to her, taking her order and quickly walking away. In another minute, she returned with a cup of steaming hot coffee. Laurie took a sip. Provocatively licking her lips, she never took her eyes from him. She was coming onto him. That's what this was. The signals were undeniable.
The chime sounded again. Larabee glanced at the newest customer. It was Foster—heading in his direction.
Laurie posed in a Hollywood kittenish sort of way. Enough to get his juices flowing, she tugged again on the zipper. Her coat peeled away revealing the leopard negligee he’d bought for Carol. Laurie wearing it, she was nude underneath. Her nipples showing through the semi-transparent material, an erection was coming on. Foster's body blocked the view.
“Hey, Brent,” Foster greeted, turning his head towards the front. “The usual, Bonnie,” he called out, beginning to unbutton his jacket.
“Get out of the way!” Larabee snarled, waving his hand frantically.
Foster jumped to the side, sliding in next to him.
“Headed home?” he asked Larabee.
“Maybe not. I told you she was a whore.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Carol's daughter.”
Foster slid closer, grabbing Larabee's arm. He spoke quietly, but assertively.
“Look, Brent, you're in enough trouble. I heard all about that court order. You better stay away from both of them, or ...”
“Stay away? When she's begging for it?”
“Who's begging for what?” Bonnie queried, setting down the brown bag filled with food.
“Never mind,” Foster said, wanting to change subjects. He didn't want Bonnie knowing that Larabee was talking like that. She could get him in trouble if she told.
“Never mind? Never mind? When Laurie is practically giving me a lap dance? She's asking for it!”
“Laurie Hilliard? You talkin' about Carol's daughter, Laurie? Brent, you gotta stop it. She's underage and ...” Bonnie counseled.
“She's not underage—not in some states, anyway. And besides, she's more experienced than I am.”
Laurie waited until Bonnie had her back turned. Sluttishly cupping her breast, she lifted it. Jiggling it, the soft flesh rippled seductively. Zipping up her jacket, she placed money on the table. Drawing the hood over her head, her blonde hair was pushed forward, her bangs partially covering her black-rimmed eyes. Brushing the golden fringe back, she crooked her finger indicating for him to follow. The bell ringing out, Laurie waited. Mouthing, “Come on!” she tossed her head, laughing.
“You two can discuss the propriety of my getting a little something from a girl that's old enough to know what she wants. Me? I'm off to get a little bit of that jungle cat,” he replied. Wondering why those tracking websites were always wrong, Laurie had gotten her hands on that package. She must have waited for him to leave the station, probably combing the town until she found where he went. Snickering at the coy act she'd put on when he was dating her mother, it been just that—an act. Maybe that's why she broke them up. Maybe she wanted him all to herself. Well, he'd see about that. First he needed to find out who was better in bed.
Taking a few gulps, he downed his coffee. Foster looked to Bonnie for an explanation. Only returning his confused look with one of her own, Larabee didn't need permission. He grabbed his coat.
“Bonnie, I can understand you not noticing, but Foster, I'm sort of surprised. You're a police officer and supposed to be observant, and yet you didn’t see that she wants me?”
The two men the last remaining customers, she no longer needed to put a harness on what she was about to say.
“Brent! You're misreading things. Laurie doesn't want you! Her mother wouldn't have gotten a restraining order if she did! You're just mistaking things! You have to be!”
“Yackety-yack, yack,” he said, moving his hand like a hand puppet. Exiting, he slipped out into the night air, his dinner trapped under his arm
Waiting for him across the street, her eyes were filled with lust, her stockingless legs visible above the high-heeled black suede boots. His first wife had a pair just like that. He used to love when she left them on in bed. Ambling across the deserted street, he eased next to her, whispering in her ear.
“My place or yours? Where's it going to be, Laurie? Where would you like daddy to thump the shit out of you?”
Biting into her lips, she gnawed on the plump lower half. Her eyes glistening, snowflakes landed on the end of her nose. A ferocious sexuality overtaking her face, it added interest to what would be considered a pretty face.
Rubbing her hand down his thigh, she hoarsely whispered.
“The woods.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Missy’s feet were buried in the snow. Standing uncomfortably near the edge of the forest, she’d been resistant to participating in the expedition to find a Christmas tree, but Collette and Kurt had ended up talking her into it since the whole of Velofsky’s was involved. While the rest gathered outside the annex, Missy, Kurt and Collette were some distance away. Doing her best to avoid playful warfare, she waited until her two friends finished their snowball fight before approaching.
“Why the pouty face?” Kurt asked. Flipping fresh powder at her, she deflected most of it. Brushing her blue woolen mittens over her face, she cleared the icy particles away. Why was he even asking such a stupid question? The last place she wanted to be was in those woods. It brought back bad memories, and fitful imaginings of even worse possibilities.
“Halloween. Remember?” Collette prompted.
“Oh, yeah,” he answered before either could pounce on him for being dense and insensitive. “But it's daylight, and you’re not alone.”
“He's right!” Collette agreed, scampering up to Melissa and hooking her arm around her friend’s. “Don't you watch scary movies? Things only happen at night ... when you’re in the shower or something.”
The bright sun beat down on Melissa's face. Easing the premonitions of doom that always were likely to precede field trips into the woods, the forest looked as beautiful as when she first saw it, but asking her to enter was like
asking her to put her legs in a shark’s open jaws.
“Finally, we are here!” Una shouted as she and her grandmother emerged from her quarters. Rushing forward, Alexei helped Anna down the stairs. Viktor held an axe tightly in his large hand, while a smaller one was clutched by Franklin. A contingency of ballet dancers out to hatchet down a tree struck Melissa as impossibly funny. Starting to chuckle, once started, she couldn’t stop.
“You think this is funny, Ninotchka?” Kurt teased, wrapping his arms around her. “A little respect for history in the making, upstart!”
His remark, plus the sight of the world famous ballerina Una Velofsky trudging through the snow, was the finishing touch to send her into a fit of infectious laughter. The mixture of fun and good weather broke through the tension of the past few days. Before long, Collette joined her, chasing after Kurt and trying to pelt him with hastily packed snowballs.
Jeff made his way over to Melissa.
“Congrats on the part, Melissa,” he shyly offered.
In spite of her harsh words to him, she wasn’t surprised that the gangly youth had earned a spot in the company. There was so much potential.
“Thanks,” she said, rubbing his hair until messy. “And I’m sorry about what I said. I hope you know that I didn’t mean it.”
Smiling, he took the drubbing, meekly slicking his hair back in position before topping his head with a black cap. The march continued, the herd of dancers already at the border of the forest. The progress halted, Una was deciding on which path to take. Melissa leaned her head back, enjoying the day and counting her blessings. Certain that her future was as bright as the sun glaring off the white snow, there were no dull business courses in her immediate future, but she’d postponed telling her father the good news. Wanting to tell him in person, she’d decided to wait until the Christmas break.
The chatter that arose over which route to take was muffled by Melissa's withdrawal into a self-imposed cloud. The fresh air, and the knowledge that her career was taking off gave her an impish pair of wings. On a whim, she looked for a place to make a snow angel. The stomping feet of fellow dancers patterning the ground with the ridges of their boots, she wandered away, selecting an area that had sustained no damage. Sprinting towards it, she leaped, twisting in the air like a cat. Falling onto her back, she avoided the possibility of her footsteps vandalizing her work of art. High spirits causing her to titter as she flapped her arms from a wide second to a high fifth, her legs carved out the skirt as a shadow fell onto her face. Opening her eyes, she saw Kurt, his arms outstretched.
“Jump. Ninotchka!”
Pushing herself up, she hoisted herself onto her feet. Knees bent in a primitive pose, her favorite partner waited patiently. Springing up like a gazelle, he caught her, retracing his steps so as not to disturb the embossed sculpture. Standing at the periphery, they admired her handiwork.
“Magnifico!” he pronounced.
“It's the best one ever!” she agreed, as Kurt planted a friendly kiss on her cheek, setting her gently down.
“I think you should sign it,” he suggested.
“I think you're right,” she answered agreeably. Kneeling down, she scrawled her signature in the snow. Her head nestling on his shoulder, he grabbed her hand, speaking exuberantly.
Up ahead, a glut of dancers spilled onto a rudimentary trail. Encircling a tall, triangular candidate for execution, all agreed Una had chosen the perfect tree. Their joyous exultations filled the forest with good cheer.
“Now, my little multi-talented artiste, let us catch up with the others before they ruin the occasion by chopping down the wrong tree!”
The wind whipping into her face, Melissa trying her best to keep up. The blast of air causing tears to stream down her face, she wasn’t able to match her partner’s pace. Winded, she let go of his hand. Bending over to catch her breath, her peripheral vision caught an anomaly. Something dark was in the snow. Straightening, she slowly made her way to the spot blighting the landscape. Squinting at the smattering of red that had been drizzled like syrup on pancakes, in the center was a discarded coat. The kind the officers of Holybrook wore, it was shredded as if by claws.
“Kurt!” she screamed, already reaching for the steadying hand that was several feet away. Hearing his name, he turned, loping up behind her. Enjoying the merriment, he let out a few guffaws before being silenced by what lay in the fresh powder.
“What the —?” he said, stopping short of saying more.
“What do you think it is?” she asked.
“I don't know,” he answered, “but I hope it’s not what it looks.”
Chapter Thirty-six
“Just tell us why you met him,” Foster demanded, trying to press the right button to open up the morose high-schooler.
After determining it was Larabee's coat in the snow, all hell had broken loose. Remembering that Larabee had said he was meeting Laurie Hilliard, Foster had wasted no time. Heading to Holybrook High, he’d dragged her out of school kicking and screaming. She was being given no quarter for being a juvenile. If she was charged, it was going to be as an adult for first-degree murder.
“I told you that I didn't meet him!”
Getting angrier and angrier, the obnoxious officer was either deaf or as dumb as he looked. Why the hell should she meet that jerk? The asshole had been three times her age and a complete pig. It was amazing that anyone even cared what happened to him.
“Yeah, we all know what you told us, but that isn't the truth, is it?”
“Yes, it is! And if you don't believe me, then why are you bothering to ask me anything?” she countered, smug in the logic exhibited. People always took her for being stupid, but she wasn't. She read five books a week, and had since she was a child. She wondered how many this freak had read. Most likely she could count the total on one hand.
Foster grimaced, Todd sensing his frustration. Also anxious, he couldn't wait until the FBI arrived. This latest case had made everyone on the force do an about-face. While two dissimilar cases of disappearance were just that, three hinted at a cabal—and this adolescent with khol-rimmed eyes was right in the center of it.
Foster took a deep breath. Deciding it was time to try a different tactic, he retrieved a package off the chair in the corner. Unwrapping the bundle taken from the Hilliard home, this little homicidal maniac wasn't going to get away with murdering his partner—and neither were her friends.
“This yours?” he asked. Unrolling a black t-shirt, s skull printed on the front of it was revealed.
“Hey, what are you doing with that? You've got no right to go through my things and ...”
“Sure we do. We're the police and you're about to be formally charged with kidnapping—and murder as soon as that blood is tested. We pretty much can do anything we want to, so I suggest you start cooperating. Otherwise, it's just you that's going to take the fall. Do you really love those friends of yours so much that you're willing to spend your entire life in prison? You know, they’ll go free—laughing at you for being such a patsy.”
“Friends? What friends?”
“The friends that helped you? We know all about the cult operating in Holybrook.”
She shook her head, her bleached blond hair waving about like dried straw. Digging her hands into it, her fingers attempted to make it through the tangled mess, getting stuck in snarls instead.
“A cult? I don't belong to a cult! I didn't even know one was here!”
“You sure you want to say that? Lying to the police in an attempt to cover-up an active investigation is another crime. We could go easy on you. All you need to do is cooperate and tell us who was involved.”
“No one was involved and I'm not a part of any conspiracy!”
Todd stood, making his way over to the small pine table. Checking to make sure the red light on the hidden camera was still on, he didn’t want to risk getting this case tossed out because of an allegation. It’s why everything was being taped.
“Now you k
now that's not true, Laurie,” he offered. “We have emails exchanged between you and someone using the initials “HJ.” HJ recruited you into the group. Course he was smart. Used a school computer, but we’ll track him down. And we talked to your mother, Laurie. She told us that you claim to be a witch. Said that you were talking about putting some kind of curse on Larabee. One that would punish him. At least, that’s what she remembers.”
“She told you that?” she asked. Astonishment passing over her features, that plus the makeup made her look like a runaway in a bus terminal.
“Sure did,” Foster concurred.
She paused, laughing sharply. Rubbing her forehead, she couldn't believe her mother. What was she trying to do? Get her convicted?
“Okay, okay, okay, the only way you'd know about those emails is if you have my computer,” she hesitated, waiting for them to acknowledge the obvious.
“Right you are. Anything on there, we know—and there’s plenty. It backs what your mother said, so let's stop lying. Tell us what happened last night.”
“Nothing happened last night! And I admit that I'm a Wiccan. I became one last year because I wanted to help make the world a better place.”
“Yeah, witchcraft is good for that,” Foster mocked.
“Hey, you don't know what the hell you're talking about! They're nice people! The nicest people I know and they're interested in what I do and listen to what I have to say!”
“Unlike everyone else at your school?” Todd asked gently. “Or at home? Laurie, we know you've had a tough time. Your mother said you changed after your father left. It's got to be tough for a young girl to handle a divorce. Then your mom takes up with someone you don't like, and you don't see any way out other than to take things into your own hands. Isn't that what you meant? About your Wiccan friends listening to you?”
“No, that is not what I said or meant! I only know the Wiccan group through their forum. And they would never get involved in something like murder, not even if I asked them real, real, real nice,” she replied sarcastically. Her blue eyes twinkling with hubris, she held a profound belief in her being smarter than anyone else on the planet.
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