by S. Burke
“Terrifying,” Nigel Cantrell agreed, then gave the Deputy his thanks and showed him out.
Mike and Trish came in soon after.
“Get all that?”
“Yup. We can’t use it, but it helps to know what she was like when she was pulled over.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Doc?”
“Yeah, Mike?”
“How did you figure it was Sheila you were talking to? In the cell, how did you pick it? It’s been bugging me.”
“Fair enough. I looked at the behaviour of the woman we saw talking out loud, the one admonishing someone called Sheila. Her behaviour didn’t fit with the female who did the little sex scene thing in the mirror. She let her hair down, literally, she removed her eyeglasses, and unbuttoned her blouse. Even the way she walked and sat was more confident. I was positive though, when she started sniffing me like I was food and she was a hungry animal. She wasn’t afraid; she was excited, her pupils hugely dilated.”
“So you called her out on it?”
“You saw her response. She was pleased I had worked it out.”
“She sure seemed that way.”
“Make no mistake, Mike, she was delighted. It added to her inflated sense of importance.”
“What now?”
“Now, we wait. We need a fast I.D. on the latest captive.”
“Why would she let herself be under suspicion? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
“It does to her. I think she’s setting this up for a mistrial. Or a verdict of not guilty. She will be hell on the witness stand if we ever get that far. Be aware that we are not dealing with someone of low intelligence here. She is very clever, and what’s more, she is out to prove she can outwit all of us.”
“Fuck!”
“‘Fuck’ comes close, yes.”
Chapter 8
Four Years Earlier
The young woman flicked a look at her watch, 4:15 p.m. She had a few minutes yet, so she checked her face in the mirror, noting happily that her eyes were sparkling. Mm … delicious anticipation. She could feel her heart beating. Taking a deep calming breath she focused on reducing her heart rate; slowing it dangerously low till it was barely pumping. It had taken her years to perfect this routine, she had practiced it every day, for an hour at a stretch. Calm now and cool to touch, she climbed from the red Porsche and removed the tools she’d need.
She pulled out the stiletto from the glove box and stabbed the tyre deep, watching in satisfaction as it flattened, careful not to get grease on her cut off shorts or the low cut blouse she wore with them. She checked her watch again; any minute now.
The Chevrolet appeared over the hill crest and pulled over to the edge of the road. The driver exited the vehicle and crossed the road, admiring the female’s long tanned legs extending from white cut-off shorts as he approached.
“Hi there! Can I offer you some help?”
The young woman looked up at him and smiled, her perfect white teeth iridescent against the honeyed, tanned skin.
“Oh, could you? Thanks so much. I’m so pleased you stopped. I’m ashamed to admit I have no idea what I’m meant to be doing here with this damned thing.”
The tall male dropped down to his knees and investigated the flat tyre. “You have a spare?”
“No, I meant to get that fixed. I have a pump thingy, can’t you just pump it up?”
“I can try, but by the look of this you have a puncture, not just a slow leak from the valve.”
“Um, is that bad?” She flicked back waist length dark hair and as a drift of her perfume shared the late afternoon air, she watched his eyes and smiled smugly as she noticed the pupils expand.
“I think you’ll be needing a new tyre … Miss?”
“Please, call me Sheila.”
The man offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sheila. My name’s Quentin, my friends call me Quinn.”
Sheila dimpled prettily as she shook his hand. “Quentin. I shall call you Quentin. Such a strong name.”
“Well now, Sheila. We are going to need to get you a new tyre. The nearest mechanic is a good two hour drive, which means he’ll be shut down for the night by the time we get there. How ‘bout I drive you home and you can have a tyre picked up in the morning?”
She laughed and blushed. “Um, home is California, Quentin. I’m travelling. I really should have thought about this more before I set out, I guess.”
“Travelling all the way from California on your own, without a spare. You have been lucky so far. Where were you planning on staying tonight?”
“I was gonna keep driving through till sun up and then find a motel. Is there one close by?”
“I’m afraid not, Sheila. You really are in the middle of nowhere here. I can offer you a couch to sleep on and we could pick up a tyre in the morning, have it on and you can be on your way. With two tyres, a new one and a good spare. I live alone, you would be quite safe though, I promise you.”
“I don’t know. I mean I’m grateful and all for the offer. Maybe you could order the tyres and I’ll give you the money for them now. I’ll sleep in the car. Right here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s a lonely stretch of road, and you’re alone. I’d feel much better if I knew you were safe. I can have a female friend come over if that would make you feel better.”
“You would do that?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Now I feel kinda foolish. Thanks, Quentin. I’ll just lock up the car and be right with you.”
Sheila grabbed her case from the trunk, and the smaller overnight bag from the back seat. Her rescuer opened the passenger door of the cream Chevy and she slid in.
“You surely are a long way from home, Sheila. How long have you been on the road?”
“Oh, not long, only about ten days I guess. I just wanted to see some of my own country before I go overseas again.”
“Aren’t your folks worried about you doing this on your own?”
The young woman stopped smiling and her eyes filled with tears as she answered. “My mom and dad were killed in an accident a month ago.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”
“It’s okay. You weren’t to know. I have to keep telling myself it’s real, that they aren’t at home waiting for me to call.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Nope. Only child.”
“That’s rough.”
“Uh-huh. So, what about you, Quentin, big family, small family, what?”
“There’s just me now.”
“What do you do for a living, Quentin?”
“I own a small company; actually you’re lucky I came along when I did. I only come back home once every two weeks for a few days to catch up with mowing the lawn and stuff. I’m mainly living on the road these days building the business. Solar panels are getting very popular, and my business is growing.” He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable talking about himself.
“Well now, you are the clever one. Solar energy, that’s a good field to be in these days.”
“Thanks, I’ve been lucky.”
“Well, I’ll stay out of your way till morning. You must have friends you wanna catch up with.”
“To be honest, I’m a bit of a loner. Most folks wouldn’t even know I’d been gone for weeks. I don’t have neighbours as the house is out of town.”
“Oh. How far out?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve made you nervous again. I’ll call around to my friend Selma’s, you can bunk there. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“No, it’s okay, Quentin. I’m fine with it, truly. I must appear a foolish female to you, travelling alone and with no spare tyre and then being silly about staying at your house when you are just being kind.”
“It’s understandable, being careful, I mean. I do have to admit the tyre thing worries me a little though. That road rarely gets used, you could have been there a long time, and as you pr
obably already found out there is no cell-phone reception either.”
“I forgot to charge my phone on my last stop.”
“What? Phew, Sheila. You really need to be thinking this stuff out more carefully. You could run into all sorts of trouble out on the road.”
“I just wanted to get away, after the funerals. I wasn’t thinking too clearly, I guess.”
“Of course you weren’t. I’ll sit down with you later and help you with a list of stuff you might be needing, would that be okay?”
“Could you? That would be great. I have a good three days travelling to do to get to the Lodge.”
“The Lodge?”
“My folks own- owned- a hunting lodge, big spread. It’s mine now. I need to be there and see it again. I need to decide if I can make a go of it on my own.”
“Sounds fabulous, what sort of hunting?”
“Deer, in season. Fishing and duck hunting as well. There are a couple of really big lakes on the land. The lodge used to be booked year round. Then my folks decided I needed young people’s company, so we moved, and they put in a manager. The place still does well, but it needs work and promotion. I’ll have to see what I find when I get there.”
“Sounds like a lot of work. Maybe you could get in some good people to help you.”
“I need to decide first on what I’m gonna do. I loved the place as a youngster. I ran wild. Guess that’s why the folks thought it a good idea to get me back to civilization.” She laughed at the memory, and then gazed fixedly out of the car window ending the conversation, appearing to be deep in thought. Her head was turned. Quentin couldn’t see the smug smile of satisfaction on her lovely face.
Oh yessiree … planted that little thought in your big, macho, protective, dumbass head. Too easy. Dumb male pricks are all alike. I’m helpless and you’re my hero. You all make me puke.
Sheila appeared to be asleep. Quentin tried to focus his attention on the straight road ahead. His gaze kept drifting to the satin sheen of the long tanned legs, and the curve of a full breast that nudged against the outline of the confining bra she wore.
She made soft mewling noises in her sleep. Poor little baby, you have had such a hard time. You are the sweetest little girl I have ever met. Damned shame you are moving on tomorrow. I’d like to get to know you better.
The road began to climb up into the hill country. Quentin turned off and drove the unsealed surface carefully, finally pulling up outside his home as the sun was setting. The sky was a fiery red; he’d forgotten just how pretty it was here.
“Sheila … we’re here.” He gently nudged the girl, not wanting to startle her into wakefulness. “Sheila, time to wake up.”
She opened her eyes slowly and turned towards Quentin. Giving him a slow sleepy smile, she flicked her tongue around her pink lips and stretched like a cat. “Hmm … we here?”
“Yes, we are. Come on, sleepyhead. The sun’s setting; it’s too pretty to miss.”
Sheila clambered out of the passenger door and stretched again as she took in her surroundings. “I’d kill for a cold beer.”
Quentin laughed in surprise “You drink beer?”
“Surely do. You have any?”
“As a matter of fact I do. I always have some chilled for when I get back home. I’ll grab you one. You wanna glass with it?”
“No thanks. I like the feel of the bottle in my hands.”
Quentin laughed at that and unlocked the door, returning quickly to the girl now perched on the front stoop.
“Thanks.”
He sat next to her and enjoyed his beer, and then each had another. Sheila surprised him further by lighting up a cigarette.
She offered him one and he joined her.
“Most folks disagree with my habit,” he said, referring to the smoke.
“I learned not to care too much about what most folks think, you know. Most folks didn’t like me going away after the funerals. Most folks didn’t like me selling the big old house. Most folks wanted me to buy a sensible car and not the Porsche.”
“I guess I been raised to listen to other people’s opinions as if they came from God himself.” said Quentin.
She laughed out loud at that. “Most folks don’t like that I don’t believe in God.”
“Wow. You don’t, at all?”
“Nope. Do you?”
“I guess so. Hadn’t given it a great deal of thought. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone come on out and admit that they didn’t believe like that before.”
“Does that bother you, Quentin?”
“It doesn’t bother me at all. In fact it’s kinda refreshing.”
“Refreshing. That’s just what I need, another refreshing beer, and then, if you don’t mind, I’d like a shower.”
“Beer comin’ right up and I’ll check the hot water situation. I asked Selma to drop by yesterday and turn it back on. She’s usually pretty good at that.”
“Great. Thanks.’
Quentin went off to check and returned with a fresh beer for each of them.
“Yeah, it’s on.” Quentin sat back down next to her and they drank the beer and smoked in silence.
“You got any food supplies in?”
“Yup. Selma again. I’ll bet there are a couple of steaks and salad fixings. And plenty of fresh vegetables.”
“Sounds perfect. I hope you appreciate this friend of yours.”
“Yeah, she’s a nice person.”
“Oh, spare me. If I ever hear anyone refer to me as a nice person I may slap them.”
“What? Why?”
“Nice people are forgettable, Quentin, you know. Old what-his-name, can’t remember a thing about him, but he was a nice person! I hate that expression. I hate that people don’t care enough about themselves to be memorable for something other than being a nice person. Nice people are losers, Quentin. I have no time in my life for losers.”
“Hell, Sheila ... that’s harsh.”
“Hell, Quentin. That’s honest.”
“Well, shit.”
“Shit indeed, I’ll drink a toast to shit!”
He was laughing so hard he didn’t notice she wore a smirk of absolute pleasure.
He carried her bags in and set them down on his big bed commenting as he did, “I’ll take the couch. I’ll grab some fresh sheets and a towel for you.”
“Quentin, can you manage two towels, my hair is so long I need a separate one.”
“Not a problem. You want to shower first, then eat?”
“That’d be great. I can cook if you like.”
“Well um, yes, that would be nice … um, terrific. I haven’t had anyone cook for me for a very long time.”
“Okay. Which way to the bathroom?”
“Follow me.” He headed down a long hallway. The bathroom was large and clean.
Taking towels from the linen closet, he went back to the bedroom with fresh sheets. He could hear her singing in the shower, which made him happy, and couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this good. He looked in the mirror and wondered what Sheila saw when she looked at him. He knew he was a good-looking man- he’d been told that often enough- he just wasn’t sure why it didn’t seem to count for much. The women he’d had sex with were … nice. He laughed. Sheila was right. He couldn’t recall their names, but they had been … nice.
She scrubbed herself and sang her favourite old song, ‘I Am Woman’. It always made her feel good, and the shower was clean and roomy. She liked plenty of space to move around in, as small confined spaces made her edgy. She’d mastered the panic years before, yet the knowledge that she had a vulnerable spot made her angry.
With pleasure she looked at the articles of clothing she had chosen to put on. A hedonist at best, she loved the feel of good quality fabric against her skin, and the silk kimono was at once demure and unbelievably sexy. The bright colours highlighted tanned limbs and brought out the sapphire blue in her eyes. She slipped her feet into the matching sandals and slid the silk thong up
her body. A bra wasn’t needed with the wrap. Besides, glimpses of her perfect breasts would help stir the pot.
She dried her waist length hair and put it up in a loose bun, allowing strands to escape and brush her collarbone and flushed cheeks. A light spray of Armani and she was ready. She straightened up the bathroom and hung both towels neatly to dry.
“That water was so good,” she said as she entered the kitchen. “Why don’t you grab your shower while I cook us up some dinner?”
“Hmm … what? Sorry, I was miles away.”
“Okay, I just suggested you might like a shower while I cook us some dinner.”
“Yeah, great idea. Come in here and I’ll show you where to find stuff.” He walked into a small annex off the main dining area and opened the concertina doors, which revealed a huge food pantry with freezer and microwave. The chef’s oven was in the main kitchen.
“Wow, this is just wonderful.” She picked up bottles and jars and almost purred with pleasure at the huge collection of herbs and spices. “You obviously like to cook.”
“Yeah, I do,” he admitted with a faint blush.
“Good grief, are you blushing? Cooking doesn’t make you a screaming queen, Quentin.”
“Folks I grew up with didn’t think that way, so I kinda kept the cooking and my artwork to myself.”
“You’re an artist? How lovely, you must show me some of your work after dinner. Now, vegetables, where do you keep them?”
Quentin pulled open another cupboard, and showed her the vegetables. She made a selection and chose the remainder from the refrigerator. He showed her how the oven and stove worked, then headed happily into the shower. He checked the door was locked as he lifted her towels one by one and inhaled the fragrance of her in.
He showered fast- old habits die hard he thought to himself- running his hand over the jagged scar that ran the length of his body from shoulder to opposite hip. It bothered him only because it reminded him of why he had it. That was the past; he needed to forget it. That wasn’t easy, but it went with the territory. He also wondered if Sheila would ever see it.