by Mary Birk
She took her hand off of his chest. “You don’t want me anymore, do you?” She had tears in her eyes.
He was baffled at the question. How could she doubt it? Hadn’t he made it obvious to her how he felt? “What do you mean?”
“At the restaurant, in the parking lot. I was so ashamed of myself, how I threw myself at you. And you didn’t want me like I wanted you. I felt like maybe you thought I was, I don’t know, like what Jack Shelton was saying about me in that interview. That I was cheap.”
“Oh, lass, I wanted you so bad it was killing me.” He pulled her close and kissed her neck. “Walking away from you was so hard. You in that dress. You in anything. You in nothing.” He nuzzled her, and then moved his mouth away. “God, you make me crazy.”
She smiled and exhilaration inflated his chest.
He felt like he could touch that full moon. “And God knows you’re anything but cheap. Loving you costs the earth. But I can’t share you, Anne. I’d rather do without you than that.”
She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth. She pulled back a little from him, to where he could see into her eyes. “Only you.”
He slowly slid his hand over her body. Finally, he could touch her. He let his hands travel under her shirt, unfastening her bra, releasing her breasts. He felt her warm flesh respond to his touch. She unzipped his pants and slid her hand down, making him straighten his legs to give her room, and finally, he was in her hands. His breath expelled harshly in relief.
His own hand slid down from her breasts and he let her shirt fall back down. He moved his attention to the waistband of her jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them. His hand slid down, found her, felt her shudder. “There’s my girl. My beautiful ready lass. My wife.” He covered her mouth with his, as she pulled his lips with her own.
Touching her, exploring her, felt so good. And her touching him was unbelievable pleasure. But he was so ready and he had waited so long, he didn’t know how much control he had left. Her fingers knew exactly what to do to drive him past the point he didn’t want to get to yet. Not here.
“As hard as it is to stop now, it’s cold out here, girl of mine. How about we go inside and get to a warm bed?”
Her eyes were dazed and she didn’t seem to hear him. Finally, he just took her hands away. “Come on, lassie, you have me so close, I’ll be lucky if I can walk.”
She nodded, but when he released her hands so he could get up, she curved down and he felt her warm mouth close around him. He groaned as waves of pleasure began pulsing through him. He fought for control.
“Stop, Anne, stop. We’re not going to get upstairs if you start that.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Lass, you have to stop. I want to be in you for the first.” With more willpower than any man should ever have to show, he took her head up gently and kissed those lovely, devouring lips.
He got the dogs in and locked up the house while she waited for him at the foot of the stairs. Her face had that sultry, sleepy look that she got when she was aroused and wasn’t able to think of anything else. God, he loved that look—her lips got fuller, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. She raised her eyes up, gave him a lazy, seductive smile, took his hand and led him upstairs to her bedroom. He thought of the tales of sailors who’d willingly followed mermaids down into the deep dark recesses of the ocean, and understood exactly how they’d felt. Who cared what happened later?
She switched on the light by the bed, and he quickly looked over at the fireplace mantel. Grainger’s yellow roses and the vase they had been in were gone. Her clothes came off in a few, fluid movements, and she stood in front of him with her arms outstretched.
He pulled her to him and reverently laid his beautiful, soft, warm and willing wife down on the bed.
Chapter 64
GUS WAITED in the shadows by the tower. Damn, it was cold. He should have worn gloves. He had picked a deserted spot for the meeting place, Bell Tower park, a small local park with a memorial in the form of a bell tower built to honor the memory of a young boy from town who’d been killed in Italy by highway robbers. What better place for the guy who killed another kid to pay for what he’d done?
He made sure the prick didn’t have enough time to set him up. Gus was sure he’d gotten there first. He told the man to meet him at eleven-thirty but he’d been there since before eleven, waiting. He’d brought a flask of dark rum to keep himself warm, but made sure he sipped it slowly. He didn’t want his senses dulled when he was in the middle of such an important business deal.
What he saw at the Marina when he was breaking into those boats the night Lenore Grainger disappeared was his ticket to financial security. He had thought long and hard about how he was going to cash in. The location for the meeting had been the first important decision. Then he had to figure out his approach to set up the meeting and how much to ask for in the beginning to keep quiet. He had no intention of this being a one-time payoff. He would ease the guy into it. One demand at a time.
And so far everything was going according to his plan, except for the police trying to put the squeeze on him. He wasn’t giving the cops this information for free, not when he had an actual cash buyer for it. And then all those questions about Lucy. He wasn’t sorry Lucy was dead even though she’d had a sweet mouth when she wasn’t using it to talk. But they were barking up the wrong fucking tree if they thought he had anything to do with that. He wouldn’t do something so stupid, especially now when his life was finally taking a turn for the better.
Gus liked the idea of being able to see the man he was blackmailing around town and to know they shared a secret, just the two of them. He would let the other man know who was boss. It didn’t make any difference if the scumbag knew who he was. He wasn’t a six-year-old girl and no one was getting rid of him that easy.
Things would change around his house when he had this kind of money coming in regular, that was for sure. One of the changes he looked forward to the most was the way his wife would look at him again. No more relying on her to provide the main family income. No more having her in charge of how the money was spent. She wouldn’t even have to work anymore.
Once he got enough to get his boat out of collection and got his fishing business back on its feet, they should have plenty to take care of the three of them. The way he saw it, his new money stream would continue to provide extra income enough to keep them comfortable for a long time. He just had to be smart about it. After the first one or two big payments, he would start asking for smaller sums of money, but on a regular basis. No use killing the golden goose. Or was it the goose that laid the golden egg? Whatever. It was an arrangement both he and the kid’s killer could live with.
Gus had made the first call to the man the day the girl’s body was found, kept it short, just to get the guy interested. He’d seen enough television to make sure he didn’t use a telephone that would have his name show up on caller i.d. He’d gotten a disposable cell phone from the convenience store and called the guy’s cell phone when he knew the man was alone. He said that he’d seen what the man had done with the little girl on Valentine’s Day. Then he’d hung up. The great thing was that Gus could see the guy from where he made the call and the reaction gave him all the confirmation he needed that he had it right. The bastard had turned the color of raw fish flesh and almost dropped his phone.
Then about a half hour later, Gus called again. That’s when he started talking money. He still hadn’t identified himself. He was letting that wait until they met the first time. Until the first payoff. How much to ask for had been difficult to decide. But Gus didn’t want to completely panic the man right out of the box. Finally, he’d decided on twenty thousand dollars. It had a modest, but substantial sound. Plus, it wouldn’t be too hard for the guy to come up with that much on short notice. But the jerk-off had balked at the twenty thousand. Eventually, he’d agreed, but said he needed until Friday to come up with it. Gus had no choice but to wait.
When Gus called to
day to set up the place for the meeting, the guy said he’d gotten the money together, but that it hadn’t been easy. He sounded like he was afraid Gus might ask for more if he came up with what was asked for too quickly. Gus fully intended to, but not quite yet. First, he’d get this money, prime the pump so to speak.
As the man approached the tower, Gus came out. The man was carrying a plastic grocery bag, as Gus had told him to do. It sure seemed full of money. He recognized Gus immediately.
“I should have guessed it would be you. It’s all there, don’t worry.”
“I’m not. I know where you live.” Gus chuckled. He reached for the bag and couldn’t resist looking inside. Then, forgetting his plan to ease the man into the ongoing nature of his blackmail plans, he said. “And if I need more, I know where to come. We can work together. Be friends.”
“More?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. We can talk later. Oh, by the way, I saw you at the funeral. Your big grief act would have convinced me if I didn’t know better.”
“How do I know I can trust you to keep your word?”
“What good are you to me in jail? This will work out fine for both of us.”
The man moved away from Gus without speaking.
“No need to be unfriendly. We’re partners.” Gus protested good-naturedly. He looked down at the bag of money again. He felt good; for once he was in charge.
Then Gus looked up and realized the man had a gun pointed at him. Shit. He’d underestimated his opponent. He thought quickly; he needed to make the man see sense.
“Now, there’s no need to do that. You’ll just be making a bad situation worse for yourself. I didn’t come here without making sure someone knew where I was going, you know, and who I was meeting. You kill me and they’ll go to the police.”
“You wouldn’t have told anyone else.” The man gestured with the gun at the bag. “Drop the bag.”
Gus said, “You’re making a big mistake. I’m not stupid enough to come here to meet you without making sure I left something for insurance.”
“Drop the bag.”
“Okay, okay.” His mind was racing, but he was not willing to give up the money. Gus tucked his head under and charged forward. The first bullet hit Gus in the stomach. He felt a strong punch in his gut, then pain. He fell to the ground but didn’t let go of the money.
The gun fired again, and Gus’s fingers released their grasp.
DAY EIGHT – SATURDAY
FEBRUARY 21
Chapter 65
ANNE AND REID padded downstairs in their socks the next morning, each holding their shoes in one hand, and each other’s hand in the other. The house was almost eerily quiet. Jeanne and the children were gone. Meg must have still been in bed, because her car was there and there was no sign of her.
Trying to avoid seeing anyone and breaking the spell of a fragile new world that held just the two of them, they slipped out of the house to take the dogs for a walk on Bodega Head. Reid hadn’t smiled so much in years, and the constant tension and anxiety he’d felt during their separation had evaporated, leaving him feeling unbelievably young and optimistic.
Unfortunately, their Saturday morning idyll was interrupted when they got back to the Mermaids. Anne was just starting to make eggs when Reid’s mobile buzzed to life with a call from Jack Shelton.
“Reid, I need you to check something out for me. I had to go to the city, but one of McLendon’s men called about something that came in on the tip line. It’s probably crap, but McLendon’s not there, so if you could just go over to the station, I’ll owe you one. It shouldn’t take much time. The officer on duty has the information for you.”
Reid wondered not for the first time what had happened to him not being involved, but felt he had no choice but to go. As loath as he was to tear himself away from Anne, he was buoyed by the thought that he would see her again later that day, and they would have one more night together before he had to leave for Glasgow.
The young officer who’d drawn Saturday duty at the police station, Colin Burke, greeted Reid with obvious relief.
“The FBI only tells us what they want us to know, though I think they tell the chief more. No one tells me anything, so I’m not sure what’s important, but this sounded weird, so I called the number Special Agent Shelton left.”
“What exactly happened?” Reid liked the young officer, and felt sorry for him being left with so little information.
“I’m not sure. A couple of things just came up. This morning our tip line got a call about Frank Bolton. Not anonymous, the lady actually left her name, Darlene Miller. So I called her back. Turns out she’s one of his neighbors, someone the police interviewed already. It sounded like she kind of had a thing for him and I got the impression it wasn’t mutual.”
Reid’s mind went back to Anne. Get to the point, laddie, he thought. You don’t realize what I gave up to come here. But he only asked, “Yes? And?”
“Earlier, according to the file, she’d corroborated his story about when he came home from the Valentine’s party. But she said what they didn’t ask, and she didn’t volunteer, was that he left again and didn’t come back until sometime around five in the morning. She says she forgot about it. I just went through the notes of his interview where he was asked about his whereabouts that night and he never mentioned the second trip out that night.”
“Sounds like maybe Bolton did something to tick off his neighbor for her to have this sudden recovered memory.”
“Yeah, I think maybe she’s upset that the guy was with another woman and is trying to take some revenge by calling the police to get him into trouble.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“She said a neighbor woman, a friend of hers, I guess, told her yesterday that she’d gotten a call from the FBI to confirm Bolton had been with her Wednesday night, the night Lucy Shearling was killed. I think that’s what pissed Ms. Miller off.”
Good, Reid thought, they’d checked out Bolton’s alibi.
“Ms. Miller said she thought we should double-check his alibi because she’d seen the girl there a week ago Thursday, and she’d spent the night.”
“Was she sure it was Lucy Shearling?”
“Dark hair, tight pants, tight shirt, tattooed neck. Drove a yellow Volkswagen bug. She seemed to think Shearling was an old girlfriend from last summer or something.”
“And Shelton wants me to talk to Bolton?”
“Yeah, because the chief is gone, and you already know Bolton. Agent Shelton wanted me to tell you that they went through Bolton’s story about the sketches that were supposed to have been taken the night the kid disappeared. There was a database or something that showed the sketches had been moved earlier to the house. Agent Shelton said they’d copied the file from Bolton’s computer and did an analysis of it. Routine, putting the evidence chain together. They got the report back last night.”
Reid thought of how little time he had before he with Anne before he had to return to Scotland. “What did it say?”
“Turns out the database wasn’t changed to show the sketches being moved to the house until this Thursday. Right before Bolton gave the printout to Andrew Grainger, and he gave it to you.”
“No shite.” Now this was information.
Colin smiled. “No shit.”
Reid nodded. “Anything else?
The officer handed him a folder. “Some background information on Bolton that Agent Shelton sent.”
Reid could tell there was more. “You have something else?”
“I’ve been going back through the telephone call dumps, you know where they pulled all of the calls from the Grainger Colony around the time of the kidnapping, before and after? There’s a bunch of calls from Bolton’s office phone to Amsterdam. And as far as I could tell from the notes, he didn’t say anything about doing any deals there. Do you think that could be important?”
Reid shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you ask Andrew Grainger?”
>
“Not yet. Do you want me to call him?”
“Please.” It would probably be bad form for Reid to call Grainger himself this morning. Even as civilized as they’d managed to be so far.
Chapter 66
CAREFUL not to look over at the Colony house, Reid left his car in the parking area and crossed to the barn. The place felt empty, the quiet almost ominous, the only sound his own footsteps echoing on the terracotta floor. The door from the hall to the office stood ajar. Reid pushed the door open with two fingers. Frank Bolton sat at his desk as rigidly still as the iron sculptures outside, his gaze locked on something he was cradling in his hands. Reid inched close enough to see that it was the photograph of Bolton’s kids.
“Frank?”
The distracted man looked up and Reid was startled by the newly prominent dark circles bagging underneath the man’s eyes.
“Yes?” Then seeing who it was, Bolton put down the frame, stood and then sat right back down again, pulling a file open. “Yes? How can I help you?” His voice was edgy, annoyed, an I’m-busy-and-you’re-bothering-me voice, even though Reid had seen him sitting there doing nothing seconds before.
Reid pulled a chair over to the desk and sat down. “The police had some questions come up and asked me to come talk to you, see if you can help. They’re a little short-handed this weekend.”
“This is a bad time. I’m very busy right now. Can we talk later?”
Reid shook his head. “It won’t take long. I’m sure if you need to clear it with Andrew, he’ll tell you to make talking to me a priority.”
Bolton let out a breath in a show of annoyance. “All right.”
Reid felt in his pocket, drew out a recording device he’d borrowed from the station. “You don’t mind if I record our conversation, do you?” He set the recording device over to the side.
“I guess not.” Bolton’s tone belied his words. “I don’t have anything to say that I haven’t told you already.”