Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Three Complete Novel Box Set: Trust Me Once, Twice Burned, Fourth Victim

by Jan Coffey

  She pressed back against the door. She wanted him to kiss her. But at the same time, things were different now. They were both older, and she was pretty sure she could keep everything under control. The fact that Chris was a full-grown man, made her want to be cautious. She drew one of her knees up against her chest.

  “I don’t know. This is only the first time we’ve been out toge—”

  “Since you’ve been back.” Chris slid toward her. “Just once. You don’t have to do a thing.”

  Before she could protest, his lips were pressing against hers. His mouth was warm, gentle, and Heather talked herself into just enjoying the moment.

  “This is not so bad, is it?” he murmured against her lips.

  “No, it’s not.”

  He shifted his weight to the edge of the seat and she drew her other leg up, too. “Just relax.”

  His tongue flicked at the seam of her lips, and Heather felt her entire body tingle with excitement. She opened her mouth, and his tongue swept in, tasting, exploring, teasing. When he straightened her legs out along the seat, she gladly let him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but he pulled back from the kiss.

  “There is plenty of the room in the cottage.”

  She shook her head. “This is just fine.”

  “How about the back of the station wagon?”

  “Too dangerous,” she whispered. “This is working for me.”

  He smiled. “Okay. But let me do it right.”

  Heather’s body was beginning to hum with a soft buzz. She watched him push open the driver’s door. He slid her across the seat and laid her down.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I just had a thought.” He smiled.

  “Chris, I’m not having sex with you,” she said seriously.

  “No sex,” he agreed, sounding genuine. “Come on, Heather. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  His mouth came down, and she was lost in the kiss that followed. Heather’s entire body was on fire.

  “I have something to confess.” Chris’s lips hovered over hers.

  “What?” She wanted him to kiss her again.

  “I’ve been obsessed with seeing your breasts since the first time we went swimming together down here.”

  A giggle rose up in her. She tried to move her hands but he tucked them behind her head.

  “Laugh if you want. But you had—you still have—these perfect round breasts with nipples that stick out on your shirt or bathing suit whenever you’re cold, or wet, or when we kiss.”

  He looked down at her shirt.

  “Can I look at them?”

  Normally, Heather would have been out of here if one of her other dates had asked that. But with Chris, they’d been kissing for minutes, and he’d not once groped at her. And he was being so darn polite.

  “Can I, Heather? Just look?”

  She felt excited and embarrassed at the same time. “I don’t generally go around showing my boobs to boys, you know.”

  “I know.”

  He kissed her deeply again. When he pulled back, her insides were quivering like Jell-O.

  “You are not saying no.” His finger started playing with the ring in her belly. “I told you I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  He sat up straight and slowly pushed the tight shirt up to her neck. When he started to undo the clasp of the bra, she closed her eyes.

  “Why close your eyes? You’re beautiful.”

  The clasp opened and her white flesh poured out, her nipples hard and extended.

  “This is the way I always imagined you would look. Like a goddess.” His warm hand slid caressingly over her stomach. Round and round. Again and again. The circles growing ever wider.

  Heather couldn’t understand her body’s shivering. She wanted him to touch her breasts now. When his hand moved to the metal button of her jeans, no objections came out of her mouth. He slowly undid the button and lowered the zipper.

  “This is not so bad, is it?” he asked, kissing her again deeply. She closed her eyes.

  A need that she couldn’t understand was rising in her. She wanted to move her hips against him. She wanted him to touch her. She heard a sound of the glove compartment opening and looked at him in surprise.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Never mind.” His caressed her stomach, inching lower. He stopped. “Can I kiss your breasts?”

  She almost groaned when he wrapped his hot mouth around her nipple without waiting for an answer.

  There was a click and a blinding flash in the car.

  “What was that?” Heather leaped off the seat, but Chris held her down.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. It was me.” He smiled, showing her the camera. “I took a picture of us.”

  “What for?” She struggled to free her hands, but he was trapping them.

  “For fun. Don’t you think it’ll be cool to look at a picture of me sucking your breasts…or licking you?”

  “No!” she spat out. “That’s sick.”

  “Come on, Heather. It’s all very cool. Wait till you see.”

  “You’re sick, Chris.”

  He shook his head, his smile slipping a little. He was holding her hands tighter now, and she bucked when he slipped his hand inside her open pants.

  She twisted on the seat. “Let me go! Stop touching me!”

  “Come on, Heather. You are getting upset over nothing. I didn’t try to fuck you.” She kicked as he tried to force down her pants.

  She raised her head and bit down hard on the inside of his arm.

  “Jeez!” he cried out in pain, yanking his arm away and dropping the camera.

  The moment he let her go, she frantically kicked herself free and shot out the open driver’s door. As she went, the camera came with her and she grabbed it.

  “Wait! Heather! Please wait.”

  She scrambled toward the woods along the lake.

  “I’m sorry!” he shouted. “Heather!”

  She was scared and angry. Angry for being such an idiot. Angry for falling for his stupid act. Angry for thinking the asshole was any different than the other walking hard-ons she seemed to attract.

  She was also scared. Scared about how close she’d come to having this creep…jerk…asshole take porno shots of her. She felt suddenly queasy, thinking of them plastered all over the internet.

  But they weren’t going to show up anywhere. She threw the camera as far as she could into the dark lake.

  Heather turned and looked around her. There was no sign of Chris. There were lights on in a couple of the cottages she could see along the water.

  A week ago, something like this would have torn her apart. But now she was stronger. Léa had told her she had to deal with her emotions, express them. Well, she wanted to kick the shit out of Chris. Forget about being scared. She wanted to cut his balls off.

  She remembered her bag was in his car. The cell phone was in it. What she really wanted was to call home and have her dad come and get her.

  “You’re pretty far from home, little girl.”

  Heather’s heart almost stopped. The voice was deep. The words slurred. Mocking. She stood still as pure fear caught at her throat.

  Dusty was leaning against a tree beside the path not fifteen feet ahead of her, and she could smell the liquor from where she stood.

  He’d always scared her. Disgusted her. Even when she was younger, his lecherous, hawk like look when he stared at her had always been filled with malice. She remembered how he used to hang out in the woods behind Marilyn’s house whenever she babysat for the girls. That used to scare the heck out of her.

  “So where’s your new boyfriend?”

  Heather’s gaze was drawn to the blade of the knife in his hand. He was carving the bark off a stick of wood.

  “You outta town bitches sure got friendly with each other in a hurry. Just the same, you and that Hardy bitch.”

  She took a step backward and glanced around h
er. She could jump in the lake and try to swim away. She could run toward the road. Or she could just hide her fear and walk casually by. For years Heather had heard everybody say that Dusty was harmless.

  He pushed away from the tree. Even in the darkness, she could see his eyes narrow. He looked like an animal ready to pounce. Everybody was wrong.

  “Don’t even think about going anywhere, little girl. We have an account to settle, and you owe me big.”

  Heather took another step back.

  “I should’ve gone upside your head when you opened your fat mouth that night. It was ‘cuz of your screaming that I didn’t finish the Hardy bitch. You pissed me off big time.” He took a step toward her. She took two back. “Of course, if you get on your knees right now, I might take it easy on you…this time.”

  Heather gasped out loud as she backed into something behind her. Or rather, someone.

  “Stop right there, shithead.” Chris wrapped an arm protectively around her waist and drew her to his side. Relief and gratitude instantly replaced her anger at Chris.

  “Well, if it ain’t Christopher Robin, Boy Wonder.” The ragged man laughed and started toward them again. “We’ll have a fucking orgy. Okay, Boy Wonder, you hold her and let me go first and—”

  “I said stop!”

  Dusty glared at Chris. “Fine, big boy. You do her first, and then I go.”

  “Are you fucking deaf?” Chris shouted. “I said stop right there.”

  For the first time, Heather saw the pocket knife Chris was holding. Dusty seemed to notice it, too.

  “Oh, no!” he said, sarcasm in his voice. “I’m just so scared.”

  In spite of his tone, Dusty did stop. He lowered his own knife, grinning like a lunatic.

  “You just stay right where you are, pal.” Heather felt Chris pulling her backward, and she willingly followed his lead.

  “What the fuck, kid?” Dusty put his hand on his crotch. “No need to run off. Shit…if you want, you do it and I’ll watch. It’ll be just like the old days.”

  “I’m going to take Heather home now, Dusty. Don’t follow us.” Chris drawled each word, as if he were talking to a child.

  “What’s wrong?” the older man shouted after them. “I’m not good enough to watch you, anymore? The Boy Wonder’s too fucking good for me?”

  “Let’s go.” Chris took Heather’s wrist, and they started walking away.

  Dusty didn’t follow, but continued shouting at their backs. “I am watching, Christopher Robin. I’m watching. I know you marked your territory down here. I know, Boy Wonder. Chri…iss!” The shouts became singsong in quality. “Boy Won…der! I know what you are up to!”

  Heather continued to hear the taunts.

  “I’m really sorry, Heather,” Chris said. “I behaved horrible tonight. I put your life in danger by acting like some hard-up jerk.”

  She yanked her hand free. He kept up with her, talking non-stop.

  “It’s just that I’ve been wanting you so long. And I was trying to impress you because I thought I could never match up to those West Coast guys. I could only imagine the moves you’re used to. I acted like a total—”

  “Asshole! I know.” Her heart was still racing. The fear of every shadow being Dusty made her frantic to get out of this place as soon as she could. “Give me your car keys.”

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “Give me your car keys!”

  “You don’t have your license yet.” He was starting to whine. “Look, I promise not to touch you. I won’t come near you. I’ll take you straight home.”

  Heather rounded on him when they reached the car. “You give me your fucking car keys right now, or I’m going to go straight to the chief of police when we get back to town.”

  “What for?”

  “Does the term ‘date rape’ mean anything to you?” She held out her hand.

  He pulled out his keys. “We didn’t do it.”

  “But you had every intention of it, and you know it. I am only fifteen, and your father is a goddamn minister in this town.” Heather snatched the keys and got behind the wheel. When he tried to get in on the passenger side, she locked the door.

  “At least give me a ride back to town.”

  “No chance. You can walk. And as far as coming around to get your car, don’t bother. I’ll have a couple of my father’s bruisers deliver it to your house when they’re done trashing it.”

  She slammed the station wagon in reverse and gunned it up the gravel driveway.

  And as Heather ran over a small shrub marking the end of the drive, she swore that she was never going on a date again until she was at least thirty.

  Chapter 24

  Bright spotlights from the cruisers flooded the gate and the yard beyond the mill property fence. The padlock was open. The gate had been left ajar.

  “Dusty?” the police officer called out. The small construction trailer that sat near the gate was dark. She peered into the partially open door. The silence, as heavy as midnight, stretched on for a minute.

  A second officer came around the trailer.

  “His truck is gone,” he said in a low voice.

  He motioned to Robin that they should take a look. She nodded and drew her baton. The other officer kept his hand on his gun as they advanced.

  The stench of the place hit the two as soon as they stepped into the trailer. It smelled more like a kennel than a living space for humans.

  The switch beside the door did nothing when Robin tried it. Turning on her flashlight, she spotted a string dangling from the bank of fluorescent ceiling lights, and she gave it a tug. After a second, the lights blinked and came on.

  The furniture was mostly old and broken, no doubt taken from the mill offices and from the town dump. A swivel chair with a cracked green seat sat by a card table against one long wall. An army cot with a bare mattress was visible by the end wall beneath a tiny window. Standing where she was, Robin could see the counters on either side of the little sink were covered with garbage, fast-food containers, empty bottles of liquor and more filth that was unidentifiable. The doorless cabinets beneath were loaded with more of the same. Jeff, at the far end of the trailer, was shining his light into a small room that appeared to be in the similar condition. Or worse.

  In her six years as a police officer, Robin had never seen squalor like this. She hadn’t thought it even existed in Stonybrook. She looked at her partner, who was now peering at the wall above the card table.

  Photographs and clippings covered a large section of the paneling. Glancing around, she saw that a large corkboard on the other wall contained many more. Beneath the clippings and pictures, small carvings of animals and large-breasted women were visible. She noticed Jeff reaching up to flatten out a clipping.

  “Don’t touch anything,” she barked.

  “He’s even got a picture of you.”

  Robin frowned and looked at the clipping Jeff was pointing to. It was the time Marilyn Hardy had given her a medal that her family sponsored. She looked at the photographs around it. They were all of Marilyn. Every one. Going back to high school. And grade school, even.

  In a partially open drawer beneath, she saw a stack of photographs. Jeff tried to reach for them.

  “Only stuff in plain view!” she reminded him, and he withdrew his hand.

  They both noticed the police scanner at the same time.

  Exchanging a look with her partner, Robin crossed the trailer to look at the other wall. It was covered with material about the murder trial, and one very mangled clipping with Léa Hardy’s face missing. “I’d say she has every right to be nervous.”

  Jeff walked to the end of the trailer where the cot sat against the wall. Newspapers and magazines were stuffed underneath. “I can’t tell what’s junk and what’s not. Do you think he’s flown the coop?”

  “Where is he gonna go?”

  She cast a final look around the kitchenette area. More junk. A couple of grinding stones. Several carving
knives. A good sized block of wood. More piles of newspapers stacked next to a plug-in single-burner stove.

  It smelled worse here than in the rest of the trailer, if that were possible. She glanced into the sink. One look at the two decomposing rats, and she almost lost her dinner.

  “There’s a box by the bed with more pictures,” Jeff said.

  “We need a search warrant,” Robin said, moving for the door.

  “Yeah.” Jeff followed his partner out. “Just be glad we’re not the poor bastards who’ll have to do it!”

  ~~~~

  Mick was surprised to see Heather driving Chris Webster’s station wagon. He was even more surprised when she parked the car in front and got out alone. There was no sign of the other teenager.

  He sat in his leather chair and pulled the newspaper back on his lap, trying to hide the fact that he’d been pacing the length of the living room nonstop for the past half hour. Max was less subtle. The animal was ready to jump through the screen door in his excitement at seeing her coming up the steps. A sharp “No!” from Mick kept the dog from doing any damage.

  One look at her pale face and puffy eyes, and Mick shot to his feet.

  “I’m fine,” Heather said in response to his immediate question. She lifted both hands. “Nothing happened, Dad.”

  Totally ignoring the excited dog, she dropped her bag and the keys by the foot of the stairs, kicked out of her shoes, and started up. She hadn’t climbed three steps when she hesitated, then came back down and into his arms.

  Mick hugged her fiercely to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay now.” She was shivering. “It’s so good to be home.”

  It felt like a lifetime since she’d come to him like this. But as much as he treasured the moment, he was already primed to kill the little bastard who’d scared her so badly.

  “What happened, baby?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

  She pulled back, and he was afraid that she wouldn’t trust him enough to tell.

  “I want something to eat.” She started toward the kitchen, but then stopped in the doorway. “Do you want to sit with me?”