Reclaim My Life

by Cheryl Norman

He tore his mouth free. “God, I want you.”

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes and gazed into his, the green irises darkened with desire. “I want you, too.”

  He covered her face with rapid kisses. “Are you sure—”

  “I’m sure.” Later, she’d deal with the consequences of her weakening resolve. For now, she’d enjoy the pleasure of making love with Wilson and pretend there was no threat against her life. Pretend no Witness Security Program would whisk her away to a new location at the first hint of trouble. Pretend she and Wilson would have tomorrow. “But if you’re going to get me naked, cowboy, first you’ll have to lose the gun.”

  A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. “Fair enough. But let’s move this to your bedroom.”

  Years had elapsed since she’d been intimate with a man. Suddenly self-conscious, she hesitated. Would Wilson think her attractive? She had let her body go to hell. Darkness was at least another hour away, so he’d see every inch of flab. She trusted him with her life, but could she risk her heart?

  “Second thoughts?” Wilson asked.

  “Just nerves. It’s been a while—”

  “Hey, it’s been a long time for me, too. We’ll take—” Whatever he’d meant to say was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. He answered it immediately, then frowned. “Where?”

  Instead of walking away for privacy, he pulled her to him and placed a light kiss on her forehead. Squeezed close to him, she could hear much of what was being said on the other end of the connection. Something about “origin of the fire,” then “cover up.” The last word chilled her: “Corpse.”

  He ended the call and looked at her with regret-filled eyes. “Bad timing, but I’ve got to go.”

  “It’s Kris, isn’t it?”

  He touched his mouth briefly to her lips—still tender from his earlier kisses—then released her. “I’m not keeping anything from you, darlin’. They found a body in the Sticky Swamp fire, but it’s burned beyond recognition. It could be anybody—”

  “How many missing person cases are you working?”

  “Just one, but this could be some other department’s missing person.” Stepping back from her, he hurried to the front door. “Lock up behind me, and promise you’ll stay inside.”

  “I promise.” No way she’d open her door to anyone she didn’t know, especially after dark. “Looks like our movie dates are doomed.”

  “Just postponed. Maybe we can watch one tomorrow night.”

  “I have rehearsals tomorrow.”

  He froze, his hand on the doorknob. “Till what time?”

  “Probably seven or seven thirty.”

  Wilson frowned. “Can you miss it?”

  “No, I can’t. The Shakespeare plays are my responsibility.”

  “I’ll be there to follow you home. No argument.” He gave her one last swift but commanding kiss, then left.

  She bolted the door. “No argument at all, Sheriff,” she whispered into the darkness.

  Elizabeth would take all the protection Wilson offered. She shivered, picturing a burned corpse, unable to shake the premonition that it was Kris.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Morning dawned gray and overcast, probably a combination of lingering smoke and clouds. Operating on four hours’ sleep, Wil hurried into the station to meet with Ronda Lou Buckner. When he’d called her with the news about the burned body, she’d insisted she return to Drake Springs immediately. He didn’t argue the point, but why make the trip before he had any findings to report? He said as much when he greeted her in his office.

  “You called; I came.” Seated in front of his desk, she pulled a file folder from her briefcase. “I spoke briefly with the arson investigator who found the body.”

  “Do you think it’s the same offender?”

  “We’ll know more after the autopsy. But the arson investigators suspect the fire was set to conceal the crime. As with the first victim, the offender has forensic knowledge.”

  “He succeeded in destroying any evidence—”

  “Not necessarily. We’ll know more when the victim is identified.”

  “It’s probably my missing person, who bears a striking resemblance to the first homicide victim. If so, couldn’t that link the two crimes?”

  She shook her head. “It’s premature to speculate. The department has put a rush on the autopsy given the urgency of the weather.”

  “Urgency?” He rubbed his eyes with his thumbs and groaned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me the hurricane’s projected to hit here.”

  “I guess you’ve been too busy to watch the news.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “The good news is rain is on the way and will extinguish the fires.”

  “And the bad news is it’ll hamper the crime scene technicians.”

  “They’re working the scene now.”

  “You’ve already been out there?” After working in a large city, Wil had yet to accustom himself to depending on FDLE. But he wasn’t fool enough to think he could work homicides in a vacuum.

  “I swung by there on my way. I wanted to catch the arson folks.”

  “Good God, when do you sleep?”

  “Look who’s talking.” She gathered her files and stuffed them back into her briefcase. “Right now we’re in a waiting mode. Let’s grab some breakfast, Sheriff.”

  Wil didn’t relish showing up at Boyd’s with Ronda Lou, although he’d probably see Elizabeth there. He refused to think of her by her real name for fear he’d slip and use it. The last time he’d taken Ronda Lou to breakfast, he’d seen something that might have passed for hurt cross Elizabeth’s face. At the time, he hadn’t been sure of her feelings for him. Last night had changed everything. If not for that untimely call, they would’ve made love. And he probably would’ve blurted, I love you. No matter how close they’d become, she wasn’t ready to hear declarations of love, given the limbo in which she found herself as long as Frank Sullivan posed a threat.

  “Is Hardee’s okay?”

  “Hardee’s is fine.”

  Instead of using his private entrance, Wil led Ronda Lou into the station, detouring past the dispatcher’s desk. Nancy Fox looked up from the console, her index finger raised to signal him to wait. Nancy, lowest in seniority on the dispatch team, was the youngest child of Woodrow and Gilda Fox, who owned the only drug store in town, Fox’s Apothecary. Of all his staff, Wil knew the least about Nancy other than her penchant for body piercings and black nail polish.

  Speaking into her headset, she ended the call. “Dean Drake needs you to call him right away.”

  “All right.” What did Sam want? Wil hadn’t stopped by his dad’s last night after his late night at the crime scene. Was something wrong with his dad? “Then we’re running over to Hardee’s for a quick bite. I’ll have my cell.”

  Excusing himself from Nancy and Ronda Lou, he returned to his office to call Sam. “What’s up?”

  “I guess you caught the weather report about the hurricane.”

  “I heard. What about it?”

  “Hazel Porter refuses to go out to Drake Oaks tomorrow because of the warning, but she’s willing to look after Father here in town. Can you get him moved to my place today?”

  “I’ll handle it. It may be after dinner, though. Will you be there?”

  “That works best for me, too. See you then.”

  Wil joined Ronda Lou and escorted her to his Jeep while he mentally added move Dad to Sam’s on his growing to-do list. He figured he’d meet Elizabeth and enlist her help. She could take care of Sophie while he packed for his father’s stay in town. He could manage by himself, but why miss an opportunity to spend more time with her?

  At lunchtime, Elizabeth found Sunny locking her bicycle at the stand next to the Student Union Building. For the first time, the sky held the threat of rain, but it hadn’t deterred her from riding her bike to campus.

  “Hey, girl, ready for lunch?”

  Sunny nodded. “You bet. Ian fed me Chinese last night. Thirty minutes later I
was hungry again.”

  “Ian cooked Chinese?” Elizabeth fell in step beside Sunny, and they headed toward the cafeteria.

  “Sort of. You know, those frozen dinners? They’re not too bad, just not filling.”

  “Too many vegetables.” Which was why Elizabeth loved most Chinese food. Unfortunately, the closest oriental restaurant was thirty miles in any direction from Drake Springs.

  “Let’s just say the vegetable-to-chicken ratio was skewed. What’s the special today?”

  By the door, a dry marker board listed the day’s entrée. “Shepherd pie. Suits me.”

  Sunny pushed open the door. “Anything suits me as long as we can eat here. The weather’s too gloomy to wander far from campus.”

  After they’d gone through the line and paid for their meals, they found a vacant table near a window. They settled and started to eat, and then Elizabeth brought up the discovery of the charred corpse.

  “What?” Sunny stared, her fork in midair. “What body?”

  “All I know is the firefighters found a charred body out in the middle of Sticky Swamp. I’m worried that it’s Kris.”

  “What makes you think that? Is it a woman’s body?”

  “I don’t think they know. Wilson said it was badly burnt—”

  “Wilson said?” She grinned. “You two are getting mighty chummy, Liz. So how’s that going?”

  Elizabeth debated kissing and telling. Sunny was her closest friend in Drake Springs, but Wilson was the county sheriff. He might not appreciate her sharing information about their budding romance.

  Evidently, Sunny read between the lines. “I see. Have you slept with him yet?”

  “No!”

  “But you want to, right?”

  A grin escaped. “I’ll admit the thought crossed my lustful mind.”

  “All right!” Sunny high-fived her, and some of the students turned to stare.

  “I do like him, Sunny. I don’t know where it’ll lead, but I’m willing to see.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Ian. He’ll be so happy for you.” Sunny paused to sip her iced tea. “You’re coming over for dinner tomorrow night, aren’t you? We’re grilling hamburgers.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t want to be out by myself at night until they catch the murderer.”

  Sunny grinned. “Invite the sheriff.”

  Would Wilson agree? She wouldn’t know if she didn’t ask. “Maybe I will. Can I let you know for sure tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Just remember if that hurricane hits, all bets are off.”

  “Even if it stays on its present course, it’s not predicted to make landfall before Friday.” After Wilson had left her last night, she’d checked the tropical update on the Weather Underground Web site.

  “Have you ever been through a hurricane?”

  “Not really.” Hurricanes didn’t threaten Kentucky, but she couldn’t say so since her fictional biography put her childhood in Georgia. “Have you?”

  “No, but I’m evacuating if there’s a warning, with or without Ian.”

  Elizabeth hadn’t intended to pry, but the words tumbled out before she considered them. “Are things okay with you and Ian?”

  Sunny glanced up from her shepherd’s pie. “Why do you ask?”

  “Yesterday, you seemed upset. I’m sorry.” Elizabeth waved a hand dismissively. “Forget I asked. I shouldn’t pry.”

  “Yesterday, I was damned upset.” Sunny glanced around the cafeteria. “I’m probably just paranoid, but I discovered something that … that has me on edge. While I was gone, Ian went on my computer, pulling up my browser history, that kind of thing.”

  “Did he have an explanation?”

  “A lame one, something about connection speed and our wireless router. He knows I didn’t buy it.” Sunny frowned. “I thought we respected each other’s privacy, you know?”

  “Why do you think he wanted to look at your browser history?”

  “I haven’t told Ian anything about my financial situation. He struggles to make a good living, and I have a generous trust fund. I didn’t want him to feel inferior, you know? Now he knows about it. He found my financial downloads on my spreadsheet. It… changes things.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” The generous trust fund explained a few things, like the Lexus and the frequent trips to Boston. But surely Ian wondered, too. Elizabeth wasn’t condoning his invasion of Sunny’s privacy, but she couldn’t blame him for his curiosity. A married couple who kept secrets from one another flirted with disaster. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

  Sunny shrugged. “I think I need to see a lawyer.”

  “A divorce? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  Sunny shook her head. “No, not for a divorce. I need to draw up a will. Do you realize that if you die intestate in the state of Florida, the spouse gets everything?”

  “Well, I saw that in Body Heat, but that’s an old movie—”

  “I’m saying that I don’t want Ian to think he’d benefit by my untimely demise.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t used to Sunny using terms like demise and intestate. She’d obviously researched her subject. “You don’t think Ian would …”

  “Kill me? No, but lots of wives have thought their husbands wouldn’t kill them. Lots of dead wives. Don’t you watch truTV?”

  She shook her head. Her television viewing was limited to comedies or DVDs, usually mindless fare that offered a mental escape. “I think the murders have us spooked. But if you have reason to suspect Ian of violence, you need to go to the police.”

  “Ian loves me. I seriously don’t think he’d hurt me. But suddenly I don’t trust him anymore.”

  “It’s none of my business, but if Ian struggles to make ends meet, he might worry about your spending, that’s all. You’ve kept your trust fund a secret but drive a Lexus. Duh.”

  “Dad bought me the Lexus. I told Ian that. No, no matter what spin I put on it, Ian had no right to violate my privacy.”

  “I agree. But in all fairness, Ian has a complaint. It’s one thing to hide your net worth from everyone else, but you shouldn’t keep secrets from your husband.” She raised both hands and winced. “I’m sorry. That’s judgmental, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Sunny’s frown deepened. “But you’re right. I may have overreacted.”

  “I’m not the best person to advise you, Sunny. I’ve never been married, so what do I know? Maybe you two could talk to an impartial third party before things between you get too strained.”

  “A marriage counselor? That’s a good suggestion. Thanks.” She finished off her lunch and pushed aside her tray. “I think Ian will agree to counseling.”

  “He seems committed to the marriage, but you’d know more about that than I.”

  “He’s more committed to the marriage than I am, if you want to know the truth.”

  What an odd admission. “I thought you were nuts about Ian.”

  “I’m nuts about Ian, just not nuts about marriage. This thing about him snooping in my computer has creeped me out. But I’m not throwing in the towel. As my mother said, I’ve made my bed, etcetera.”

  Elizabeth wondered if her weekend trip to visit her mother had been for a heart-to-heart about her marriage. But Sunny said she didn’t discover Ian’s computer probing until she got home. Was there other trouble in paradise? She recalled Kris’s remarks about Ian and Sunny making an odd pair—which reminded her of Sunny’s bicycling.

  “By the way, promise me you’ll stop these long, solitary bike rides until they solve Cathleen’s murder, please.”

  “I can’t promise that. Riding keeps me strong and fit. It’s important to me to stay in shape, and not just for appearance’s sake.”

  “I’m afraid for you—”

  “I’ll stick to the streets here in Drake Springs then.”

  “And in daylight hours only.”

  “Yes, Mom, and I’ll wear my helmet.” Sunny’s smile softened her sarcastic tone. “Now, what ab
out you? Sometimes those rehearsals run late.”

  “I know. I’ll be careful.” She wasn’t ready to tell her friend about Wilson’s plan to meet her and follow her home. Too many unknowns lay between her and Wilson, and their relationship was new. Other than knowing he cared about her safety and wanted her in bed, she didn’t know anything about his feelings for her.

  She’d trusted Wilson with the truth about her identity. But she had a history of believing in the wrong people. She prayed this time her faith wasn’t misplaced.

  Frustration gnawed at Wil. He didn’t mind working long hours to solve a crime, but long hours waiting for results from tests and investigations exhausted him. Ronda Lou managed to stay out of his way most of the day, chasing down reports and pulling whatever strings she could to expedite testing. Other criminal activity in the county demanded his department’s attention, and complaints about the smoke from the Sticky Swamp fire clogged the incoming telephone lines. Nancy had looked as haggard as he felt when ending her shift at the dispatch desk.

  At 4:30, Zelda came to his door with a stack of call-backs. “Messages.” She stuck out the fistful of yellow slips. “None that are urgent, but I thought you’d like to know about the one on top. It’s from a Veronica Stone.”

  “I don’t recognize the name—”

  “I know, which is why I’m telling you about her. She’s the mother of the dead woman, Cathleen Hodges. She’s trying to make arrangements to claim her daughter’s body so she can bury her in Arkansas. But she’s been delayed because of the airport closing—”

  “What airport closing?” For the first time since taking office, Wil felt pulled in too many directions at one time. What now?

  “Jacksonville International is closed to incoming flights. Right now it’s still allowing departures because of the evacuees—”

  “Nobody’s been ordered to evacuate yet.”

  Zelda shrugged. “These are voluntary refugees. Hurricanes spook folks, especially the tourists. You know how it goes. Anyway, Mrs. Stone won’t be here until after the hurricane threat is lifted.”

  “Okay.” He rubbed his chin, considering the news. He’d hoped the mother would hold some sort of memorial service in town so he could scope out the mourners. Often killers would show up at the gravesides of their victims. But funeral arrangements were up to the victim’s family. “Anything else urgent?”