Extreme Exposure

by Alex Kingwell

  “It’s okay.”

  She backed away and a hot flush crept up her neck. “Well, I can’t really say that I’m out of practice, because that makes it sound like at some point I was in practice. And that is clearly not the case.”

  “I don’t want somebody practiced. I want you, Emily. I knew the moment I first saw you, I wanted you. But I don’t want quick and dirty, not this time. I want every square inch of you.”

  Chest heaving, she stared at him.

  He sat on the bed and held a hand out to her. “Come here.”

  Taking his hand, she stood between his legs, looking down. Tilting his head up, he put his mouth on hers, felt her soft, moist breath. Nibbling her lips, she gave a little whimper as his tongue found hers.

  Running his fingers through her hair, the kiss deepened. As she sucked gently on his tongue, he felt his erection pushing against his fly.

  “Take off your shirt,” he said in a gruff voice.

  Pulling back, she lifted her T-shirt over her neck, stood before him in a white bra, a lacy thing with a pink bow in the middle. He traced his finger down her neck to the soft mound of a breast. A low moan escaped her throat and she arched her head back. Leaning in, he pulled down the fabric of the bra and thumbed her hard, pink nipple as more moans escaped her lips.

  After a minute, he took off his shirt, and she unhooked her bra, exposing firm, round breasts. Those innocent eyes on him, she put her palms against his chest, drew wide circles. He left a trail of kisses on her breast until his mouth found a stiff nipple and began sucking it. After a long moment, he shifted back on the bed. Still sitting up, he drew her onto his lap, her knees on either side of him.

  A sound came from the hallway outside. They froze, turned to listen as somebody entered the next room. The television came on.

  He looked at Emily and smiled.

  Still feeling shy, she said, “Can we get under the covers?”

  She shifted off him and he stood up, reached over, and pulled back the sheets. “You get in first. I want to be on this side, because of my arm.”

  He slipped in beside her and put his arm under her head. She moved closer, so that she was on her side, facing him. Her eyes had flecks of brown and blue amid the green.

  Molding her body to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His rough hand followed the curve of her waist down to the soft slope of her hip. Blood rushed through him and the need to be inside her was like an ache. He wondered how in the hell he was going to take this slowly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Emily lay curled up in bed, her mind floating on a blissful cloud, her body sore in all the right places. Matt was talking on a cell phone on the balcony, but the door was closed and she couldn’t hear him. He must have had a shower, because his hair was wet and tousled and he had a white towel wrapped around his waist.

  The bedside clock said it was after nine. Shadowy morning light filtered in the west-facing window. She hadn’t slept that well for weeks. Who knew sex could be like that, so intense physically and emotionally? Remembering her legs wrapped around that waist, the feel of him sleek and hard inside her, heat rose under her skin and she felt herself become wet.

  Whew.

  She got out of bed, crept into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. When she came out, wearing a bathrobe, he was still on the phone.

  Five minutes later, finished with the cell phone call, he came back in the room, walked over and kissed her.

  “How long have you been awake?” she said, reaching over to brush hair off his face.

  “A couple of hours.” Worry edged his voice and he seemed distracted.

  “What’s wrong? Who were you talking to on the phone?”

  “My sister,” he muttered. “My father’s in the hospital.”

  Her heart caught. “Is he okay?”

  “I think so, for now at least. He has really bad stomach pain and some sort of obstruction. They’re trying to figure out whether he needs surgery or not. She doesn’t really know much more than that right now.”

  A queasy feeling rose in her stomach. “You should go.”

  “She’s going to give me a call later, when she knows more. As it stands right now, I don’t think I have to go, at least not right away.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  She said, “I’ll be okay.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I can’t anyway, at least until I talk to the police. They’re expecting me in two hours.”

  She backed away. “How is your arm?”

  “I should get something for it, take the edge off.” He sat down on the bed. “I was talking to a friend from home who works for the Boston Globe. She called someone she knew at the Riverton paper, a reporter. He checked the court records here to see if there was anything on Celia. Apparently he’s got good contacts, people who let him know stuff, but they couldn’t find anything.”

  “Maybe there was no such thing. Maybe Jason was wrong, or was lying. Maybe it has nothing to do with what happened to Amber anyway.” Sitting down on the other bed, across from him, she fidgeted with the bedspread, tried to rein in a mounting feel of hopelessness.

  He lifted the bedside phone. “Let me order some breakfast from room service. We can take another look at Amber’s notes. Something Jason said is eating away at the back of my mind. I just can’t put my finger on what it was.”

  “Just let me run out and get you some pain relievers.”

  “That’s okay, it’s not that bad.”

  While he phoned room service, she grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom and changed. When she came out, Matt had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and was sitting on the bed looking at the notes.

  She didn’t know what it was—his father’s illness, pain from his broken arm, or frustration with the investigation, maybe a combination of the three—but he seemed preoccupied and distant. His life had been turned upside down, all because of her. Was he questioning whether it was worth it? She likely would be, if she were in his position. A couple of hours of hot sex wouldn’t change that.

  Her heart shivered, the blissful peace she had felt half an hour earlier gone, leaving in its place something cold and forlorn.

  There was a sound in the hallway outside their door. She darted a glance at Matt.

  He said, “Probably just room service. I told them to leave the food outside.”

  It was room service. They tucked into omelets and coffee. After, sitting on the bed with a second cup of coffee, she picked up Amber’s notebook again. There were some pages she hadn’t even looked at yet. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she should be getting back to business.

  She said, “Jason said something about Amber thinking she was getting too much money in the settlement.”

  Matt looked up, brows furrowed. “Now that you mention it, he did, didn’t he? Most people don’t complain about that sort of thing. And didn’t Celia say she gave half of it in her will to the place she worked at?”

  She nodded. “So Jason was right about that. But I can’t see why somebody would kill her for complaining that the settlement was too much money.”

  “We have to get that lawyer, Ackerman, to talk to us. Maybe we should drop by his office, after I get back from talking to the cops.”

  He put down his coffee cup. “I’m going to slip out and get us some clothes. Any preferences? I’ll be back within half an hour. Put the chain on the door when I’ve gone, okay?”

  Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. But there were tight lines around the corners of his mouth, and he still looked distracted, as if he’d already moved on.

  * * *

  Matt opened the bottle of Tylenol, popped two in his mouth, and took a long swig of water. Emily, who had let him back into the hotel room a minute earlier, was giving her full attention to the papers fanned out across the bed in front of her.

  “How are you doing?” he said.

  “These notes are starting to get easier to read. She writes in a kind of shorthan
d.”

  “I noticed that this morning,” he said. “I took a look while you were still sleeping. She seems to have an aversion to vowels.”

  “Maybe she was worried about somebody getting their hands on them.”

  He gestured to the bag. “There are clothes in there for you.”

  She smiled, reached into the bag, and grabbed her clothes, disappeared into the bathroom to change. He wanted to stop her, kiss her, but she was too quick.

  Rubbing his temples, he tried to think. His father’s illness was way worse than he’d let on to Emily. Surgery sounded like a very real possibility. If it went ahead, he had to go home. But how the hell was he going to keep her safe in the meantime?

  After she was done in the bathroom, he shaved and changed. When he came out, Emily looked up. “On July 12, that’s, um, less than two weeks before she was murdered, Amber said she was worried about the lawyer representing her in the insurance case. She said she didn’t trust him.”

  He sat down. “Does she say why?” When Emily shook her head, he said, “I wonder what that was all about. What would you do if you didn’t trust your lawyer?”

  She thought about it. “Go the law society? The police?”

  A call came in on Matt’s cell phone. He listened, took notes, and when he was done, she looked at him expectantly.

  “That was the reporter in Riverton. There was a driving under the influence incident involving Celia. He talked to a cop friend.” He referred to his notes. “It happened on June 11, a Friday evening. There was a call from dispatch about a car weaving all the road, heading north on Highway 11.”

  Emily said, “That’s the main road going north-south outside of town.”

  He looked back at his notes. “Anyway, the cop found the car still running and pulled her over. She refused to take a sobriety test, but he smelled alcohol on her and suspected she was drunk. But she was never charged.”

  “Did the cop follow it up?”

  “Yeah, and he was told to shut up. He didn’t push it.”

  She furrowed her brows. “I still don’t understand how this could relate to Amber’s murder.” She stood up suddenly. “I wonder who Celia’s lawyer was. You think it could be this Ackerman character?”

  “Good question. We should find out.” He checked his watch. “I have to go see the police. I’d better call a cab. I shouldn’t be driving with this cast.”

  “I’ll stay here. I’m on a roll with these notes. If I keep at it, I should be done in an hour. Don’t worry, I’ll put the chain on the door.”

  “Keep that phone on. I’ll call you and let you know how I’m doing.”

  After a nod, she dipped her head back to the notes.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For the first time since Amber had been murdered, Emily had the feeling that identifying the killer was within reach. It all seemed to come back to Amber’s lawyer, Joel Ackerman. The lawyer had done something questionable. Amber had talked to Jason about it, but he had been too scared to tell her and Matt what it was.

  Matt’s question came back to mind: What would she do if there was a problem? She hadn’t thought of it at the time, but she would go to MacDonald, of course. Obviously, Amber hadn’t, because the judge would have told her if she had. But maybe the judge could find out if Amber had approached the judge in her case.

  She had to talk to Harold. Standing up, she stretched. She could call her mother and ask for Harold’s phone number, but her mother might object. She decided to walk to the courthouse, which was about ten minutes away. She wanted to get out of this room, anyway. Grabbing the cell phone and her notes, she took the Do Not Disturb sign off the door and left.

  Outside, the day was warming up. It was too early for lunch, so the downtown sidewalks were mostly empty, except for a handful of shoppers who stopped to gaze inside boutique windows or inspect outdoor sales racks.

  The courthouse was an imposing stone building, built more than a century earlier in a neoclassical style, with a wide Greek portico and four columns spaced evenly along the front. After passing through a security scanner, she approached the reception desk, explained who she was, and asked if Judge Harold MacDonald was available. Told to wait, she sat on a bench and called Matt on his cell phone. There was no answer and she wasn’t given the option of leaving a message. No surprise there, considering the police interview was likely just beginning.

  Five minutes later, the judge came down, escorted her up the balustrade steps to his chambers, a large room with dark wainscoting and one window that overlooked a side street. Taking off his robe, he hung it on a hook behind the oak door and gestured to a chair.

  “It’s lovely to see you. Sit down. Sit down. I just wrapped up a preliminary hearing, so I’m finished for the day. Did you come about the house?”

  “The house?”

  “You said you wanted a tour of the house.” He sat down, facing her across a large metal desk.

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

  He seemed taken aback, so she said, “But I’d love to have a tour. It’s just that right now I need your advice.” She took a minute to explain and showed him Amber’s notes.

  He looked at the notes, brows furrowed. “She didn’t call me, and I certainly would have told you if she had. Who’s the judge in the case?’

  Emily found a court document. “William Houston.”

  “I know Bill. I could ask him whether Amber approached him. He’s not in here today, but I could call him.”

  “Would you?”

  “Why don’t you come out to the house? We could have some lunch, I can give Bill a call, and we can go through these notes. Maybe something will jump out at me.”

  She hesitated, knowing Matt would wonder where she was. But she could call him to explain.

  The judge stroked his moustache. “Something’s been bugging me about all this.”

  She sat forward. “What do you mean?”

  “Something Celia was telling your mother the other day at the party.”

  Her stomach knotted. “You mean Celia knew something about Amber’s death?”

  He gave his head a quick shake. “Oh, no, I certainly don’t think she had anything to do with what happened to Amber. I can’t imagine that.” But there was a trace of doubt in his voice.

  She shuddered, remembering Celia’s anger over the continued investigation. Maybe Celia had worked on getting family members on her side.

  “I think it was about the lawyer. Yes, that’s what it was. It was a problem with the lawyer that Celia recommended to Amber.” Tilting his head, he paused. “Have you talked to her lawyer?”

  “He refuses to see me.”

  “That’s not surprising. But maybe he will talk to me.”

  She sat forward, kicking herself for not coming to her mother’s partner earlier. “Would you?”

  “I can call them both, the judge and the lawyer, right after lunch. Will you come to the house?”

  “How far is it?”

  “Twenty minutes at most.” His vibrating phone skittered across the desk but he ignored it.

  “I just have to make a quick call, let Matt know where I am.” But when she tried the number, there was still no answer.

  He said, “Where is he, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “The police wanted to talk to him about the bombing,” she said.

  He grimaced. “That may take a while. We can try again when we’re up at the house. He could join us.”

  “That would be great.” Standing up, she felt strangely conflicted, knowing she would soon discover who had killed Amber and why. The answer was dangling in front of her as if on a string, almost close enough to snatch. It would soon be over.

  But dread made her heart squeeze. What if the truth came too close to home, if Celia or her mother had been involved? Could she bear that?

  * * *

  Standing outside the police station, Matt checked his phone. Three missed calls, all from Emily. She must have found something. Calling her n
umber, he got no answer. He left a message asking her to call. Maybe she was using the bathroom.

  After a couple of minutes, he tried the number again. Still no answer. His stomach clenched. Had they found the hotel room? Found her? Heart racing, he hailed a cab, gave the hotel address, saying he would tip extra if the cabbie hurried.

  The cabbie tried, but the downtown traffic was sluggish. In front of them, a bus stopped with a hiss of its air brakes. There was no room for the cabbie to pass. Pounding his fist on the seat, he watched while people got off, others got on.

  Fifteen minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of the hotel. Tipping him, Matt jumped out, raced into the hotel and up the stairs. At the door to the room, he hesitated, not knowing what he would find.

  She wasn’t there. There was no sign of a struggle. The room looked neat, tidied up. A quick search failed to turn up a note or a cell phone, which suggested she had it with her. Had she gone for a walk? Why wasn’t she answering? Hands shaking, he tried her number again. Getting no answer, he slammed his fist against the wall. Not setting up voice mail had been a huge mistake. One he wouldn’t have made if he hadn’t been so busy getting her into bed.

  Sitting on the chair, he took some deep breaths, ran a hand through his hair.

  There’s an easy explanation. The ring’s on mute.

  No, it didn’t make sense. The phone wasn’t on mute. Something was wrong. Fear spiked in him, sent his heart racing. If anything happened to her, he didn’t know what he would do. He jumped up, sprinted to the door. Waiting was not an option. He had to do something. He took the steps down to the lobby two at a time. At the front desk, nobody had seen her leave. She hadn’t left a message. The woman at the counter found him the number for Mona’s hotel. After being transferred twice, he got through to her.

  “Maybe she lost the phone,” Mona said after he explained why he was calling. “Or maybe she’s busy. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Dishes clattered in the background, suggesting she was in a kitchen or dining room. “If it makes you feel any better, Harold isn’t answering my calls either. It’s not like him not to get back to me. Really—”