Stranded

by Alice Sharpe

  He paused as he sat back down on the edge of the mattress, just in his boxers now. There were scars running up and down his left leg that made her wince when she thought of the agony he must have endured all by himself. And yet he looked younger than he had in years, and incredibly handsome. Every molecule in her body reminded her that making love to him was about the best thing in the whole entire world.

  “He was fine until the lights came on,” Alex mused. “When he saw everyone he just clammed up. Do you have any idea what he wanted?”

  “No,” she said. “He’s been coming around like I told you, but he doesn’t talk a whole lot.”

  “That’s the feeling I got,” Alex said. “Oh, and I recalled seeing him at the airport the morning I flew out of here, though he claimed he didn’t remember.”

  “He’ll come back tomorrow, then we’ll know,” she said, getting up from the small chair and walking to the bed where she sat beside him. “Thanks for the anchovies and pickles,” she whispered.

  He looked into her eyes. “I know how you love anchovies,” he said.

  She smiled as she bumped his shoulder with hers.

  “I’m sorry about not telling you that Nate and I made those plans,” he added.

  “We got used to keeping things to ourselves,” she said. “We have to unlearn all those bad habits.”

  “Are you going to get mad at me every time I try to protect you?”

  “Probably,” she said. “I know how you feel,” she admitted. “I feel the same way. We’ve had our problems, Alex, but I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” He raised his hand and ran his fingers through her hair, his gaze devouring her. She closed the distance between them and touched his lips with hers. His were tender, his mouth hot and sexy.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered, and realized as the words left her lips that they were true. She missed the man she’d once known, the man who had loved her, the man she’d trusted with her life and happiness. And now it seemed he was willing to try to find that man again. She knew she’d grown distant, too. They both needed to work.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said against her ear.

  His warm breath traveled through her body like a renegade spark, awakening torrid memories of endless nights of bliss as it burned under her skin. The temptation to give in to her desire for him sent her heart racing and it took a few seconds to trust herself to speak. “I’m not ready,” she whispered at last. “I need to think with my head, not my heart and certainly not my body. You know what you do to me.”

  He smiled slowly. “It’s mutual.”

  “We’ll get there,” she said softly, and then took a chance that the changes she sensed in him were real. “Being pregnant has reminded me how much I want children,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Alex, if I lose this baby, then I want to adopt. You wouldn’t even talk about it before, but that’s the decision I’ve reached and I hope you’ll at least discuss it with me.”

  “If you lose this baby,” he said, his voice thick, “then I’m open to adoption.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Let’s just say that spending one hundred and three nights alone with nothing to do but try to stay warm gives you plenty of time to think. And what I realized was that life is a gift, that living with someone you cherish is a gift. I don’t get to call every shot, I have to roll with the punches, we all do. If adoption is the best way to grow our family, then I’m on board. Let’s get the pitter-patter of little feet running around here.”

  She blinked away warm tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He shifted his weight and settled back on his side of the bed. “Come here,” he said, and she scooted up beside him. He pulled her against his chest and flicked off the light.

  His skin was warm and musky smelling. He kept running his hand up and down her bare arm, kissing her hair and she closed her eyes, trying to relax. Eventually, she could tell by his breathing that he’d fallen asleep and she was glad.

  She’d known the minute he walked in the door tonight that a party was the absolute last thing in the world he wanted. Whereas she’d found the noise and laughter of friends and family comforting after the dire news Agent Struthers delivered, she suspected Alex had found it intrusive.

  Thank goodness they’d have tomorrow before the rat race of his job and the last few weeks of teaching hit full force. It seemed forever since she’d had a nice, normal, boring day.

  Several hours later, the ringing phone woke her with a start. Alex fumbled with the light and grabbed the receiver as Jessica sat up in bed. No good news ever seemed to come when it was still dark outside. The clock read 5:00 a.m.

  Alex spoke in a surprisingly crisp voice, which suggested he was already awake. He hung up abruptly and looked at her. “That was weird,” he said.

  “Who was it?”

  “Frank Smyth. He asked me to go out to Billy’s place. Since I’m not technically back at work, he’s hoping I can keep the visit under the radar. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess the chief got a call from Billy’s mom but he wasn’t explicit about what she said. You know how the chief worries about his public image.... I guess that’s why he wants to handle it this way.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “Absolutely not,” he said, pulling on his jeans.

  She was already out of bed and looking through her drawer for jeans of her own.

  “Jess, I’m serious,” he insisted. “I don’t want you to come.”

  “You don’t want me in any danger,” she said, stepping into leggings. Her jeans had been getting a little tight in the waist lately.

  “Of course I don’t want you in danger,” he said.

  “From Billy’s mother? Really? Anyway, you’ll protect me,” she said on her way to brush her teeth.

  “This is police business,” he announced as though that sealed his argument.

  “No, it’s not,” she called from the bathroom, then turned to look back into the bedroom. “Smyth asked you to take care of it because you’re not on the roster yet.” She watched Alex open the gun safe as she started brushing. He took out his service pistol and put it in a shoulder holster, which he strapped over his T-shirt. They passed in the bathroom door as he went in and she came out.

  She shrugged on a light sweater and slipped her feet into moccasins. “Why would she call the chief directly?” Jessica asked as she gathered her hair into a quick ponytail.

  “I have no idea,” Alex said as he set aside a hand towel. “He just said he couldn’t take the call. I don’t know why, but I got the feeling he wasn’t even at his house.”

  “His wife just came home, where else would he be? Anyway, the reason I’m going with you is that Billy trusts me. He’ll be more likely to talk if I’m there.”

  “I don’t even know if Billy is there.”

  “Where else would he be?” she repeated as she walked out of the bedroom. After a few steps, she called over her shoulder, “Are you coming?”

  She heard him swear under his breath as he caught up with her. It sounded like he said, “Damn stubborn woman.” She laughed out loud. At least they’d finally had a genuine honest moment.

  Chapter Four

  Back when Alex had been on patrol, he’d been called out a number of times to the Summers house for various disturbances. Nothing serious, just one of those situations where occasional loud arguments, late-night noises and unbelievable clutter brought complaints from neighbors.

  The last time he’d seen Lynda Summers had been a good three or four years before. That
time, neighbors had called because of the five old broken-down cars in her front yard and a putrid rotting smell emanating from the shed out back. It turned out the shed housed dozens of sacks of garbage and at least one dead opossum.

  The road that led out to her place was called Blue Point but he often thought it should have a more ominous name as it was narrow and twisty, a challenge to manipulate on a foggy morning before the sun had a chance to burn it away. By the time he and Jessica pulled into the front drive of their destination, they were both tense from the trip.

  The lights in the house shone through the fog as the door opened and Lynda Summers stepped outside. “Where’s Frank?” she demanded.

  “He couldn’t make it,” Alex told her.

  Lynda was edging toward fifty. Time and hard living had eroded her prom-queen looks, though she still exuded an earthy quality. Her hair was now all but colorless, wispy and fine, overprocessed. At five-thirty in the morning, she wore an ivory housedress and fuzzy slippers that might have once been white. The overall result was unbelievable paleness.

  However, much more distracting than her appearance was the way she had of regarding people with her head tilted and one eye kind of half-shut, as though she was trying to discern everything they were hiding. It was unsettling, to say the least. Even the most virtuous person in the world doesn’t appreciate being looked at as if he’s a sleazeball.

  “I know who you are,” she said at last. “You’re that cop who disappeared. You used to come out here and give me trouble, didn’t you? You cops, I swear, you’re all alike. Your picture was in the paper yesterday. You look pretty good for a dead man.”

  “That’s because I’m not dead,” he said, attempting humor.

  “Everyone thought you were.” She cast a long look at Jessica before looking back at him. “Why do I get the feeling you were really hiding? Not that I’d blame you. I think about doing that sometimes.”

  “What?” he said incredulously. “I wasn’t hiding. The paper explained about the crash.”

  “You can’t believe the things you read,” she said. “But I didn’t call you. I called Frank. A long time ago, too.”

  “And Frank called me,” Alex said.

  “That jerk.” She turned suddenly and, moving way faster than it appeared she could, retreated into her house. Since she didn’t close the door, Alex and Jessica hesitantly followed.

  “What’s the problem?” Alex asked, stopping right inside the door because that was about as far as he could get. Piles and heaps of clothes, stuffed animals, books, magazines, newspapers, dishes and every other possible thing took up all the floor space, except for a couple of narrow paths carved out of the junk that ran down the middle of the room and a path to a love seat and chair situated in front of a television. Some of the walls were covered with sagging shelves crammed with dolls. All those glassy eyes staring endlessly were creepy. Even doorways sported mounds of objects that seemed to burst through the openings like lava from an inferno’s fissures. Alex’s gut clenched. Being inside was hard for him anyway, and being inside this closed junk pile felt suffocating.

  Lynda gave him her one eyed stare as she watched his gaze travel her home. She didn’t respond to the question and he wondered if she’d heard him.

  Right behind him, Jessica cleared her throat. “Mrs. Summers, is Billy here?”

  Lynda’s attention turned to Jessica. “I don’t think so,” she said, stopping to pick up a paper sack full of what looked like dolls still in their boxes and mindlessly setting it back down. “You’re that teacher, aren’t you. Well, last I saw of him he was headed out to your house.”

  “He got there about eleven last night,” Alex said, “but he claimed he forgot why he came. Do you know why he wanted to see us?”

  She shrugged. “He spent the day moping around, muttering to himself like he does. You can’t get a decent conversation out of him when he’s like that.”

  “He left our house hours ago,” Jessica added. “Are you saying he never arrived home?”

  “Maybe he’s in his bedroom.” Lynda gestured at the doorway Alex had seen earlier, the one piled with junk. Moving carefully through the mess, he approached the door along a little side track, picking his way over discarded clothes. He could see where someone consistently climbed over the pile in the doorway. He found a switch and flicked it on, illuminating a sea of junk. How could anyone sleep in this?

  A quick look around revealed a mattress in one far corner with a little lamp on the floor beside it. A couple of blankets and a comic book lay abandoned on the “bed.”

  “Is he in there?” Lynda called.

  Alex retraced his steps. “No.”

  “Aren’t you worried about him?” Jessica asked. “It’s very foggy outside and he was on a bike.”

  “You don’t have any kids do you?” Lynda snapped.

  “Not yet,” Jessica said, as her hand seemed to automatically cradle her abdomen.

  “Do yourself a favor and skip it. You got yourself a good-looking guy here. Kind of scrawny for my taste, but a hunk anyway. Why mess up a good thing with a bunch of little brats running around? And try getting rid of them when they finally grow up. Look at Billy. He’s a full-grown man no matter what people think and I’m still supposed to provide a roof over his head.”

  Alex saw anger flash in Jessica’s eyes, but she held her tongue.

  “Anyway, maybe he got tired and stopped at a friend’s house.”

  “What friend?” Alex asked. “Can you give us a name?”

  “That mechanic at the airfield. Tony something.”

  “Tony Machi?”

  “I guess. Billy thinks he can learn by osmosis. That’ll be the day. Or maybe those look-alike kids.”

  “What are their names?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t know. Who cares?”

  “Did you call around or go look for him?” Jessica asked.

  “How would I do that?” Lynda said. “I don’t have a single car that runs. You’d think that worthless son of mine could get one of them to start, but no, he just tinkers and tinkers and nothing ever gets fixed. He better get home soon. There’s nothing in this dump to eat.”

  “Maybe you aren’t worried, but I am,” Jessica said calmly. “Do either of you know where this Tony lives?”

  “I can find out,” Alex said.

  Lynda shrugged again. “I don’t go into town anymore.” When she abruptly threw up her hands, one grazed a box to her side. The others jiggled and swayed in a rippling effect that seemed to spread across the top layer from one side of the room to the other like a small tsunami. “Billy will be fine. Stop your bellyaching,” she said as she ignored the threatening box over her head.

  And that wavering tower was just one of dozens, crowding around the room like soldiers on the warpath, determined to take over the house. It was a miracle she could survive in this environment. Maybe he needed to talk to social services Monday morning because if ever a house was a fire and health risk, this place was it. For now, he hitched his hands on his waist. “If you aren’t worried about Billy, why did you call Chief Smyth?”

  Her answer came in a begrudging voice. “Because I heard a noise out back. It woke me up.”

  “What kind of noise?” What he really wanted to know was why she felt free to call Chief Smyth in the middle of the night about something that should have gone through the dispatch desk.

  “Someone was out there, probably trying to steal something. I turned on a light and the noise stopped. As long as you’re here, you might as well go take a look. But don’t touch anything.”

  “Okay,” he said, determined not to roll his eyes, which was what he wanted to do. The house smelled—how did Jessica keep from heaving? She must not have morning sickness. Still, he touched her arm. “Maybe you should come outside while I look around,” he sai
d figuring she was safer out there with a potential burglar than in here.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, sidling away from the teetering stack of boxes.

  “You can’t get outside through the kitchen door,” Lynda said. “It’s blocked. You’ll have to go out the front way and walk around.”

  With a last glance at Jessica, he stepped outside where a deep breath of fresh, damp air reinvigorated him. He dug a small but intense flashlight out of his pocket to help thread his way through the yard, which was almost as cluttered as the inside of the house. Evidence of Billy’s automotive endeavors littered the path as three cars that looked as if they hadn’t moved in a decade stood parked with their hoods open and various engine parts scattered about. There was no sign that Billy had practiced his green thumb on his mother’s land.

  The sun was just coming up behind the hills, a yellow glow doing its best to break from under the haze like smothered candlelight. For a minute Alex stopped walking and listened. Birds had begun chirping, tree branches hung low and damp from the mist. There didn’t seem to be any unexplained noises. He shined his light on the shed and found a lock securing the door through the hasp to which it was affixed. There were scratch marks and gouges on the wooden door as though someone had tried to pry the lock off. There was no way of telling how old they were.

  A lean-to had been erected next to the shed and he shone his light there next. It was stuffed to the top with garbage bags and cardboard boxes, used motor parts and heaven knew what else. The light dispersed several rats who scurried off under the debris.

  He backed away and shone the light around the yard one more time. As water dripped down his neck, he found himself shaking his head. What in the world would anyone steal in a place like this? Lynda Summers was absolutely delusional.