On the Record- the Complete Collection

by Lee Winter

“No, no,” Lauren said hastily.

  “Until dawn then,” Ayers said and snapped off the TV. She looked up and caught Lauren’s gaze. “Good night, Lauren.”

  She smiled, without the smart-ass attitude this time, and Lauren’s breath caught. It was only when she got back to her room that she remembered what she’d just agreed to.

  Dawn. Oh crap.

  Room service experienced alone was a sad affair, Lauren decided. She chewed unenthusiastically on her hotel-issue burger and fries, propped up in bed as CNN droned in the background, and wondered who Ayers had to call that was important enough to skip dinner with her. Lauren stopped chewing.

  It was not like Ayers was that close to her family by the sound of things. And she’d just been left by that asshole closet-job who Josh was panting over. So no way in hell was she calling Tad.

  At the thought of Josh, Lauren reached for her cell, accidentally spraying fries across her bed. A Facebook update greeted her the moment she switched on her phone. Her eyes froze.

  Joshua Bennett has changed his status to In a relationship.

  There followed a series of photos of her colourful neighbor draped all over the silhouette of a certain wannabe actor. Nothing of Tad’s face showed, but she easily recognized him. She stared at the images in disbelief. Josh hadn’t even waited two days. He’d looked her dead in the eye and promised not to lay a finger on the cheating creep.

  Lauren stabbed his number. It rang five times and then clicked to his voicemail. Well, that was new. Josh always took her calls. “Josh!” She growled into the voicemail recording. “You promised! I have to see photos of you on that douche’s lap while he’s feeding you ice cream? You hate ice cream! You always say it goes straight to your thighs! Or had you forgotten? Like the promise you forgot you made to me only two days ago? Damn it! It’s a good thing I like you! Now call me back!”

  She hit End Call with a dissatisfied grunt and tossed her phone on the bed.

  Her thoughts immediately turned to the woman in the next room. How humiliating for Ayers.

  Should she even tell her? Hold up the world’s most saccharine photos on her Facebook feed and say “Oh hey, check out what your ex of two days has been up to. Along with my best friend and multiple full-fat dairy products.”

  Lauren shuddered. Nope. No way in hell was she having that conversation. And it didn’t matter that Tad was single now. It went to his character—or lack of it. This showed what he was prepared to do and who he was prepared to use in the process. How could Josh not see that?

  She flopped back on her bed with an aggrieved sigh only to find something squishy under her arm. Cold fries. Coated in ketchup.

  She glared at the ceiling.

  Of course.

  She heard a muted laugh through the adjoining door and snapped her head toward the sound. Ayers? Laughing? Who on earth with?

  She jumped out of bed and crept over to the door, trying not to feel the least bit guilty as she pressed her ear to the crack. More laughter. Light and amused. The genuine kind, too. The indistinct words were one-sided, so Ayers was definitely on the phone.

  Lauren strained to hear some clue as to the caller’s identity and heard Ayers start to say goodbye. Her voice was louder, as though she was walking toward the door as she did so.

  Lauren bolted back to bed and threw herself on it. Soggy fries trampolined haphazardly up from the bed and rained down on her like piñata candies.

  “Shit!”

  She almost bit her tongue out when she realized she’d blurted that out loud.

  Ayers’s murmurings halted abruptly. Lauren hastily scrabbled around and snatched up the remains of her meal in case Ayers poked her head in. She flung fries back on the plate. Then she cranked up the volume on CNN to give the impression of being wholly involved in earnest, serious news-type matters. Like the absolute professional she was. A professional who didn’t listen at doors to colleagues in order to figure out who was making them laugh.

  Lauren glowered as she stared unseeingly at something on budget cuts. Oh no, she wasn’t tragic at all.

  A trickle of sweat made its way down Lauren’s neck, and she swallowed, only to discover that her mouth was bone dry. She lengthened her stride, her breathing choked and irregular. It felt useless. No matter how fast she pushed her exhausted body, it still wasn’t enough.

  He was much closer now. It was so quiet the only sound she could hear was the thudding of her heart, her rasping intake of air, and his labored breathing. She saw a shaft of light around a corner, a flash of shadow, and she bolted.

  She threw herself around the bend, her thighs straining with exertion, only to almost collapse to her knees at the sight she was confronted with.

  White, blinding fear lanced through her. She was too late. She watched as the fleeting shape she’d been trying to reach, to save, went down in a terrified scream underneath the shadow. The agony of the woman’s cries dug and clawed at her.

  She tried to cry out. No sound. Lauren tried to get nearer, to haul him off her. Every time she was within finger’s reach, he was farther away somehow.

  And then she felt it. The presence of a second man, even closer than the first.

  He was whispering things, obscene things meant for the other woman, but Lauren could clearly hear them. Tears of frustration began to leak from her eyes. She had to stop this… But her legs. Why the hell wouldn’t they move?

  She struggled furiously, and her gasping, silent cries turned into a full-blooded shout.

  “Lauren!”

  She twisted her head around at the new intruder. Suddenly cool air was filling her lungs, and she sucked in one deep breath after another.

  “You’re safe now. Come on, Lauren, wake up.”

  She felt a hand—soft, so soft—gently touching her arm, and her eyes flashed open. She exhaled, getting her bearings. She slowly made out the features.

  Catherine Ayers came into focus, sitting on the side of her bed, rubbing Lauren’s arm.

  She sat up abruptly, disoriented. “What’s wrong?”

  “A nightmare, Lauren. Your shouts woke me.”

  “Nightmare?” Lauren wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her chin into her chest.

  “What was it about?” Ayers asked not unkindly. “You were thrashing when I came in.”

  Lauren shook her head, but the images wouldn’t leave. “I…uh…was running. And no matter how fast I ran, I was useless. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t…” She swallowed and clenched her trembling hands.

  “I’m sorry you’re enduring that again,” Ayers said quietly.

  “Again?”

  “Olencha. The two truckers. You’re safe now.”

  Lauren bit her lip. It would be a world of awkward for them both if she admitted what had really scared her. Even now, the curdling fear of being too late clawed at her, of what might have happened if she’d been lining up at the diner’s counter while Ayers had been trapped.

  Goosebumps broke out across her flesh, still damp with sweat. Ayers’s hand instantly flattened and rubbed her arm automatically, warming her. Lauren stared at the fingers in surprise. Ayers tracked her gaze and retracted her hand instantly, dropping it back to her lap.

  “Is it time to get up?” Lauren asked, already missing the soothing touch.

  “It’s nearly five thirty. Seems like you’ll have time for that workout after all,” Ayers said, offering a small smile.

  Lauren nodded, too tired to bother with her usual retorts.

  “Are you really okay?” Ayers asked with a frown.

  Lauren dragged her fingers through her hair as she tried to think of a way to honestly answer that without sounding even more pathetic.

  “I just need some water,” she said and struggled to rise. “Throat’s as dry as a Nevada highway.”

  “Stay there, I’ll get it,” Ayers sai
d. She placed a stilling hand on Lauren’s thigh as she rose.

  For the first time since she’d woken, Lauren fully took in Ayers’s form. Catherine was back lit by the light streaming in through the open door to the adjoining room and wearing a long, white, button-up shirt that barely came down to mid thigh. The swells of her breasts were contained by just four buttons. And that, Lauren realized, as her poor, abused heart thudded faster, was absolutely all she had on.

  She sneaked a look at Ayers’s face just before she turned to leave. Scrubbed free of make-up, she looked much younger, as though the bruising weight of the world added a burden in years that she only carried in the waking hours. Her thick, auburn hair fell messily around her shoulders. Everything about her seemed softer.

  Lauren hissed to herself. There was absolutely no good that could come from that line of thought.

  Ayers reappeared a moment later and sat on the side of the bed. She tucked one foot under her bare thigh and passed over a bottle of water from her mini-bar. She watched silently as Lauren took a sip and then finished the rest of it in a series of hasty gulps.

  “Thanks.”

  She shivered. Her bedding was strewn all over the place. Two blankets and a pillow were on the floor. A sheet was wrapped in a strangled twist around her hips, and her long legs stretched out across the bare mattress.

  “How do you sleep in so little? This room is freezing.” Ayers stared at her tank top and boxers.

  Lauren shrugged, struggling not to feel self-conscious. “Habit.” She flicked her eyes over to Ayers’s revealing white shirt. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Ayers glanced down, and her eyes widened. A faint pink stained her cheeks, and she discreetly attempted to tug the hem of her shirt a little farther down her thighs. “It was warm last night,” she said tightly. “I dressed for the conditions.”

  Lauren gave her a faint grin, and she was rewarded with a matching smile.

  “Wanna get started on the day?” Lauren asked as she shifted in an effort to unkink her shoulders.

  Ayers straightened. “Tell you what—take a long shower, decompress. I’ll order us breakfast, and we can get moving.”

  “Okay. And, um, I think I need a stack of pancakes today.”

  “Of course,” Ayers said obligingly.

  Lauren side-eyed her. “With maple syrup,” she added, waiting for at least some snark. “And extra butter.”

  However Ayers merely nodded and said easily, “Naturally.” As she got up, she leaned forward. Her white cotton cleavage briefly billowed and provided Lauren with an unexpected flash of naked skin.

  She slammed her eyes shut. Okay, so Ayers really wasn’t wearing anything else. Her brain helpfully replayed that tantalising glimpse of soft breasts, much fuller than she’d have guessed. Arousal coursed through her.

  “I could order your pancakes with double the sugar, too.” Ayers stood. “Why stop at one diabetic coma?”

  “Um, I do have a line, believe it or not,” Lauren countered, her voice hoarse. She stood and stretched, her gaze fixed on the far wall as she warmed up her muscles. She gave her neck a rotation each way and then shook out her arms and legs.

  Ayers seemed suspiciously silent. Lauren sneaked a peek to find her gaze fixed on her bare stomach. She watched curiously as Ayers’s hooded eyes shifted upwards, running slowly along the lines of Lauren’s tank top. They paused at the curve of her bust and then lifted higher and stopped.

  For a moment they stared at each other. Lauren fidgeted under the close scrutiny, and she pulled her tank top back down her stomach. Ayers focused with surprising intensity on the fingers plucking at cotton.

  “Catherine?” Lauren asked.

  “It’s time to get up,” Ayers husked. “We should…get started.”

  Neither of them moved at first, then Ayers suddenly shook her head, pivoted on one heel, and left the room. She banged the door shut behind her with a lot less grace than usual.

  Lauren stared after her in confusion.

  Topaz Lake just after dawn was beautiful, Lauren decided as they pulled up not far from Sands’s abandoned SUV. It would have been even more beautiful if it wasn’t for the tangle of yellow-and-black crime scene tape ringing the area.

  “Think they’ve cordoned off enough?” she asked with a snort and turned off the engine.

  “Police do like to be thorough to the point of overkill,” Ayers said. She reached for a black camera bag she’d tossed on the back seat half an hour before. “I brought my long lens in case we can’t get in close enough. But at least we’re early enough to avoid anyone telling us to move on.”

  They walked around the perimeter of the police tape. A few boats dotted the lake in the background with anglers probably eager to hook some rainbow trout, but they were just distant smudges of color.

  “Anything out of the ordinary?” Lauren asked after they’d navigated the edge of the tape completely.

  Ayers set her camera bag down, crouched, and unzipped it. “Maybe. Depends on what that is on the dash.”

  Lauren’s head whipped around and spotted a white scrap of paper.

  Ayers clicked into place a 60-250mm lens to her DSLR. She trained it on the dashboard and zoomed in.

  Lauren tried to get a clearer look at the paper herself but was stymied by the plastic tape. She made a step to go under when a hand flashed out and grabbed a fistful of her brown leather jacket.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Ayers said, tugging her back. “Your footprints will show up in the sand, and I don’t want to have to explain to the DA at your hearing that I witnessed you contaminate the crime scene resulting in California’s finest all chasing their tails, hunting for a size-nine suspect.”

  She let go of Lauren’s jacket, returned her attention to her camera, and fiddled with a light setting. Lauren peered down at her boots, startled Catherine had accurately picked her shoe size. She shoved her fists into her jacket pockets and felt appropriately chastened.

  “Um, don’t you mean Nevada’s finest?” Lauren said after she’d digested the warning. She glanced around at the early morning light and stamped her boots to get warmer. “We are still in Nevada.”

  Ayers glanced over her shoulder at her. “I believe we crossed the state line a minute before you pulled in. We’re on California’s side now. I think this is probably Mono County Sheriff’s jurisdiction right where we’re standing.”

  Lauren shook her head. “No, the border is in line with…” She peered up toward the highway to get her bearings and then drew a visual line down from a building on the border she’d mentally noted before they’d left. Her eyes travelled slowly down and landed squarely on the SUV.

  “Huh. We’re both right.”

  Ayers shot her a questioning look.

  “Fairly sure Sands’s car is sitting right on top of the state line. Two wheels are on either side of it.”

  Ayers lowered her camera. “Well. That certainly makes things interesting. Which police force has authority in the case? Usually it’s wherever the body is found, but in this case there isn’t one.”

  “Maybe that’s what the bureaucratic gray area is? Must cost a bit to search Topaz. No one wants to foot the bill.”

  “Mmm,” Ayers said. She lifted her camera again, zoomed in on the SUV’s dashboard, and shot off a few frames.

  “You’d think they’d just combine forces and share the costs.”

  She dropped to her haunches and examined the photo on the viewing screen at the back of her camera. “Okay. It’s a note for... I can see D-E-L,” she stopped and zoomed the image further to the right.

  “Della?” Lauren suggested.

  “Could be. I can’t read anything else without getting on the other side of the tape.” She flicked Lauren a warning glance. “Which we won’t be doing.”

  She stood again and squeezed off a few more phot
os but found no better angles. Then she swapped lenses and began to shoot the general area itself.

  “Are you sure we can’t just…” Lauren waved in frustration at the police line. The answers were so close she could taste it.

  Ayers pursed her lips. “No. Now stop asking.”

  She finished with her photos, headed back to the car, and packed away the equipment. Lauren trekked after her and wondered if they were done already.

  Ayers rummaged through her bag and fished out a thermos of coffee and plastic cups and filled them. She passed one to Lauren. “Courtesy of the hotel’s kitchen staff who took pity on us leaving so early.”

  Lauren took it gratefully and sank onto the sand, her back leaning against the car, and sipped. “Good thinking,” she murmured. “World’s a lot less grim with a caffeine hit.”

  They enjoyed the coffee in silence—Lauren sprawled out beside the open rear car door; Ayers sat just inside, poised on the back seat, papers on her knees, sipping occasionally. Every now and then Lauren would hear the rustle of papers as Ayers checked something or scribbled a note to herself. The cry of birds passing overhead caught her attention.

  She studied one.

  “Common loon.” Ayers said without looking up and continued to write.

  “Excuse me?” Lauren snapped her head around.

  Ayers glanced down at her in amusement. “The bird that flew by. The common loon or Gavia immer. Probably a breeding ground around here somewhere.”

  “You didn’t even see it,” Lauren accused.

  “I heard it though.”

  “You’re a bird watcher.” Lauren went back to leaning against the car. “Never would have picked that.”

  “Why not?” The papers stopped rustling.

  “Because political correspondents don’t have the most outdoorsy job.”

  “I wasn’t always a political correspondent. In fact, in case it’s escaped your eagle-eyed attention, I’m not one now.”

  “You will be again,” Lauren said with certainty and took another sip of coffee. “You’re too good at it not to be.”