Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  No, I didn’t tell him that the sultry voice of Jim had added a unique aspect to the experience. Not that I imagined him as Jim, or anything that lame. Okay, well, maybe the first few times. But Quinn was luscious enough to command his own brand of sweet heat below the waist, and since then I hadn’t needed The Doors to light my fire.

  I followed him back to the road, shifting my backpack to soften its heavy load on my shoulders. “When do we go into the woods?”

  “Soon. At the first glimpse of the trailer, we cut toward the back of the property.”

  We walked in silence for ten minutes. When I thought I couldn’t swat one more mosquito without shooting myself, Quinn brought out a bottle of oil. I’d stubbornly used the Deep Woods Off, and had refused his solution, not wanting to take a chance on getting eaten alive. But he hadn’t been slapping at himself for the past ten minutes, either.

  “Just a few drops. Put some on your hair, hands, and clothing. You only need a little.”

  “Which one is it, again?”

  “It’s the Purification blend, the one with citronella in it. Remember? We used it that morning when we arrived.”

  I dabbed drops of it all over myself. “I was so beat that morning, I don’t remember much. I hope it works.”

  “It will.”

  Before I could answer him, the annoying buzz of hungry mosquitoes stopped whining in my ears and around my face. “Damn. You’re right again.”

  He winked and pointed to a flash of white beyond the bend. “There it is. Come on. Walk slowly and carefully. We don’t wanna make noise or break an ankle.”

  It seemed the deer favored the same direction, and had conveniently trod in the our general route toward the back of the Trebangles’ place. The narrow path curved back and forth toward the ever-darkening woods. When we reached the point where Quinn guessed we couldn’t be seen from the house or road, we stopped. “Put your tarp down there,” he said. “And don’t turn on the flashlight until I say.”

  I almost answered with a smart aleck “Yes, sir,” but decided I really liked the way Quinn was taking charge. “Okay. You’ve got the glasses, right?”

  “Right here.”

  “Why couldn’t we use some of those cool heat-seeking, infrared, neato, spy glasses?”

  He chuckled. “It would be great. But there aren’t too many spy stores in this part of the world.”

  The menacing growl of a helicopter sounded in the distance. I froze for a minute. “Hey. What if they have those heat-seeking spyglass thingies?”

  “If it’s MedicuRX, and they’ve got ‘em, we’re dead meat.”

  I sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

  For the next three hours, the copters circled above and around us. I tried to ignore the fear growing in my belly and watched hundreds of fireflies dance the jitterbug in Dr. Trebangle’s backyard. I stared at them, fantasizing that I was back in my youth, running barefoot on the cool dewy grass with a pickle jar and metal cover poked with holes, ready to scoop the little bug into their temporary glass prison. Another sweep of copters came closer, almost directly overhead.

  “They know Sky was supposed to come tonight,” I whispered. “There’s no way this is a coincidence.”

  He nodded and put a finger to his lips. We’d agreed not to talk, but I was getting antsy.

  Instead, I thought of Sky and the fear that must be coursing through him. Hungry. Cold. Scared. How had he managed to survive such conditions?

  Then I reflected back to his stint in the war, and realized he’d probably endured far worse than this. Maybe he thought of living in the summer woods as a walk in the park.

  Unbidden, scenes from our youth tapped at the edge of my mind’s vision. I felt the warm breeze blowing across my bare back while we lay in Sky’s family’s pontoon boat in the middle of Honeoye Lake at midnight. His feathered touch traced my spine; his fingers trailed around my hips and lower. I pictured the blond curly hair on his strong, young chest; the hard body that lay beneath the soft fuzz.

  Damn. He’d been amazing. And he’d really cared about how I felt, if I’d been satisfied. I figured I’d been lucky. Most teenage boys rushed to conquer their hill, uncaring of the pain or condition of their lovers’ bodies. And most girls just took it, thinking it was part of the “first time,” anticipated hell.

  Yet, Sky had read extensively before he approached me, looking up oriental techniques I’d never heard of. He’d known about special places that make a woman moan in pleasure. Made me moan in pleasure. Focused and careful, he’d done embarrassing things that made me crazy, disappearing beneath the blanket for long spells of time. He’d worked on me until moisture coated all of my tender parts. And he’d waited until I was so ready I didn’t think I could wait another second.

  The helicopters circled again, and Quinn pushed up from the ground. “There’s no way he’s coming with all those choppers overhead. And he’s already two hours late.”

  I squirmed, glad he couldn’t see my flushed face. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  We packed up the gear, walked using flashlights back to the van, and turned around. We passed the trailer slowly, noting nothing out of the ordinary. But around the next corner, five black SUVs were parked near the trail where we’d originally spied on the good doctor’s home. Nobody sat inside, but when we slowed and opened our windows, I heard a sound that chilled me to the bone.

  Dogs.

  Quinn exchanged a worried glance with me. “Crap.”

  Fear etched my voice. “Do you think they found him with those infrared things?”

  He gripped the wheel. “Maybe.”

  “What do we do?” I peered anxiously into the dark woods, catching a glimpse of flashlights bouncing between the trees in the distance.

  Quinn rolled slowly past the vehicles. “I don’t know.”

  “It looks like they’re coming back.” I craned my head out the window. “Quinn. The dogs are getting closer.”

  Quinn looked where I pointed at the lights, only taking his attention off the road for a split second. In the next moment, he slammed on the brakes and skidded to avoid something, but it collided with the front grill, jarring the van and making an awful thump sound.

  “Crap. We hit something.” He stopped the van and jumped out of the car.

  I followed him, my heart drumming a conga rhythm beneath my ribs. “What is it? A deer?” In seconds, I realized my guess was way off.

  My husband stood over the body of a man who lay moaning on his side. “No,” he said. “It’s not a deer. I think we just found Sky.”

  Chapter 26

  “Hurry! Get him in the van.” I looked back toward the lights playing in the woods. The sound of baying dogs grew perilously closer.

  Quinn took Sky’s arms and I grabbed his feet. Although he’d groaned at first, now his head flopped to the side, and he made no sound. We maneuvered him to the side door, rolled him inside, and Quinn jumped behind the wheel.

  I stayed in the back with the man I knew had to be Sky, praying he wasn’t dead. Fear bubbled up inside me and my voice took on that hysterical whine I hated so much. “He’s not waking up, Quinn. I think you killed him!” I gulped a sob, but watched out the back, relieved when they didn’t follow. “I don’t see anyone. I don’t think they saw us.”

  Quinn manhandled the van over the bumps and around curves. “He’s not dead. He can’t be. Check for a pulse.”

  We careened down the hill and made a hard left onto Route 30. I placed two fingers over Sky’s carotid artery when the ride steadied. A strong beat met my touch. “He’s alive.”

  “Thank God.” Quinn spared a glance backwards and flicked me a wide grin. Nobody followed us. “I think we made it, babe. Damn, we’re good.”

  I wasn’t so sure that running over my old boyfriend had been the best way to find him, but I nodded and agreed. In the dark, I saw flashes of Sky when we passed under the occasional streetlight. Dark blond stubble. Strong jaw. Big hands. Big feet.

  The young man of
my dreams had grown into a rugged and handsome adult. I swallowed hard and tried to lift his head onto my lap. With a bit of maneuvering, I moved closer and slid under him, cradling him in my arms. “Sky?” He moaned and shifted. I tried again. “Sky?”

  His eyes flickered open, and although I could barely see them, I knew they were deep sea green. His lips moved, but no sound emerged.

  “It’s okay. Just relax. You’re safe now.”

  His whole body shuddered. I pulled Beau’s thick quilt over him, stinky as it was. At least it was warm. “There, now. Just relax.”

  His eyelids drooped, but he managed to rasp out one word. “Marcella?”

  I felt rather than saw Quinn’s jaw tighten. It had to kill him, rescuing the guy who’d deflowered his own wife. And I loved the hell out of him for the stoic way he’d handled it.

  I held Sky’s head and gently stroked his brow. “It’s okay now, Quinn and I have you. You’re safe.”

  We pulled into the drive for Tall Pines. Although Quinn tried hard to roll slowly over the massive roots and holes, the van lurched a few times, hitching a soft moan from the man whose head lay on my lap.

  “Can you go a little slower, honey?”

  “I’m trying.”

  When we turned into the dirt parking area, Quinn backed up and positioned the side door as close to the stairs as he could. He slid the heavy door open, and together we maneuvered Sky out of the vehicle and into the spare bedroom downstairs.

  In the harsh light of incandescent bulbs, the man’s past came clear. A pockmarked segment of his face testified to a burn, or perhaps an explosion, long healed and deeply scarred. Quinn unbuttoned Sky’s filthy jacket and shirt, revealing an unwashed body, covered in scratches and bruises. Two dark purple circles stared at us from his left shoulder. My fingertips feathered over the deeply scarred pits. “Oh my gosh. Look at those. Think he was shot?”

  Quinn nodded and unzipped Sky’s pants. I turned away until he yanked them off and covered him, more out of courtesy for my husband’s ego than out of modesty. Like I said, Sky had really big feet.

  “God, Marcella. His whole left side is raw.” I looked again, finding Quinn’s capable fingers pressed against Sky’s wrist. His mouth tightened, then he turned to me. “I think he’s gonna need treatment, at least something on that wound. It looks awful.”

  “Is he bleeding?”

  “No. Just kind of…oozing. And it’s already turning black and blue. Why don’t you get some warm, wet towels?”

  I ran to the bathroom and grabbed one of the blue Walmart towels we’d just bought, then ran it under warm water and wrung it out as best I could. I hurried back to the bedroom. “Here you go.” I handed it still dripping to Quinn. “What about Roberta? Should I call her?”

  “Good idea. Meanwhile, I’ll clean him up and put some lavender on his wound.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure? Won’t it hurt him?”

  “No. I read about tons of injuries people had where they used lavender. Burns. Cuts. Bee stings. It’s supposed to really help with the pain and scarring.”

  “Okay. Do what you’ve gotta do.”

  I left Quinn to tend to Sky, looking back at my husband with renewed respect. I’d always known he’d be a champ in a pinch, but tonight he’d shown me what he was really made of. Gold. Solid gold.

  Chapter 27

  I slept fitfully, with visions of Sky on stage, crooning bluesy songs that sent me screaming forward through masses of screeching fans like a fourteen-year-old Beatlemaniac. He gyrated like Morrison, but his voice flowed over me like cool water instead of liquid fire. In slow motion, I called to him, waved, and he smiled sparkles of sunshine over my head.

  I woke up in a sweat at five-thirty and looked at Quinn.

  Damn. Why couldn’t I shake the salacious dreams and the powerful undercurrent of emotions? Ever since Callie had dropped Sky’s bulging knapsack on my coffee table, nothing had been the same.

  I loved my husband, pure and simple. I didn’t want Sky. I didn’t even want him to pay attention to me, or to acknowledge our past.

  Did I?

  How would I react? Would my insane, baser emotions fly out of me and make me blush like a schoolgirl when his hand brushed mine? Would I stammer and shake? Would I long for him? For days gone by? Would I jump into his arms, wrap my legs around him, and smother his cheeks and forehead with kisses to show how happy I was that he was actually alive?

  No. Stop.

  As tempting as the idea of a wild and lusty fling might seem in a romance novel, in real life I’d never do it. Not only would it be so damned wrong, but I’d be breaking the most important promise I ever made to Quinn on the day we were married. He’d be crushed, and I’d never forgive myself.

  I gazed at Quinn’s long, dark lashes and smiled. My Indian brave. So trustworthy. So loving, so gorgeous.

  I know. Count my blessings and all that.

  I knew I should be enormously grateful for the decent man who loved me, made me laugh, and was such a wonderful companion. Really. I did.

  I slid over his warm body and pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a pink tank top. It was unusually warm for the Adirondacks, especially this early in the morning. I’d need to get the fans going and open the windows for a while to get some fresh air into the cabin.

  On the way to the bathroom, I peeked at Sky. His door had been pulled halfway closed by Quinn when we went to bed last night. He’d left the light on in the kitchen so Sky would have some idea of his surroundings and not wake up in a fright.

  My long lost friend and lover lay on his side, facing me, with the sheet wrapped around his hips. Quinn hadn’t dressed him after peeling off the grungy rags he’d worn for fear of disturbing the wounds that raked across his hip and back.

  Thankfully, he breathed evenly. No sign of fever or infection—yet. Roberta was due in a few hours to tend to his wounds with her healing plasters and herbs. I thought of the crystal, and wondered if I should wrap Beau’s collar around Sky’s arm or leg.

  I glanced at the taught muscles on his thighs.

  No, definitely not the leg.

  With a nervous hitch over my shoulder, I let my eyes roam over his body. He still sported a full head of blond hair, worn long with highlights from the sun. His beard must have been at least a week old. Somehow I’d feared that his gorgeous hair would have been the first to go, and that he’d have a bald spot or might have grown pudgy over the years.

  Not Sky. He was well muscled and lean, without an ounce of fat. No beer belly on this guy.

  His face, chest, back, arms, and legs were bronzed from living outdoors. I pictured him working on the lakes, collecting some kind of specimens from the water, wearing the cutoffs he’d always worn as a teenager. The scene sharpened to a close up. A fine sheen of perspiration lay on his back as he bent over the boat. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath tanned skin.

  I felt a flush creep up my neck and started to perspire. I shook myself and took a deep breath.

  I tried to figure out how I could help him. Although Quinn had cleaned him up as best as he could, our guest still needed a hot shower and treatment for his abrasions. But I couldn’t do that until he woke, and God knew he needed as much sleep as he could get. I imagine he hadn’t slept much in the cold, damp woods.

  He stirred, revealing himself in full regalia. I blushed, backed up, and stumbled to the bathroom. For some reason, I felt like sobbing.

  Was it because he was alive, after all the years I’d spent wondering if he’d even made it out of the Middle East? Was it because of the feelings that continued to rise, unbidden, in my sick mind? Or was it because he reminded me so much of Callie, and the wonderful times we’d had as the lakeside trio? Callie, Sky, and me. They had been my life for many sundrenched, glorious summers.

  Callie.

  My heart drummed beneath my ribs.

  Damn it, Callie. Where are you?

  I brushed my teeth and took a fifteen-minute shower, then put on the co
ffee. While it was brewing, I rustled through my bag to find the maps we’d brought to Roberta’s the day before. I wanted to mark off more waterfalls so we could explore every one of them. Instead of the maps, my hand brushed her diary. A chill ran through me. I glanced toward Quinn, still softly snoring in our room. And then toward Sky in the adjacent little bedroom, who moaned off and on, but who also seemed impervious to the scuffling and rattling sounds I’d made.

  The coffee finished dripping into the carafe. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I poured myself a cup, added some hazelnut creamer from the fridge, and took my bag, a dishtowel, and my coffee mug outside to the Adirondack chairs overlooking the Sacandaga.

  I passed Beau, who still slept on the futon. He didn’t stir, or whimper, or open one eye. Maybe he was still dreaming about that rabbit.

  Chapter 28

  Quietly, I slipped out the door with Callie’s diary in my bag. I wiped the dew from the chair with the dishtowel and settled into it. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, spreading warm rays through the tall pines. The river, with its ever-present comforting murmur, soothed me. With one last look toward the house, I reached for Callie’s diary and began to read where I’d left off.

  July 21st. We’re going to the New York State Fair! I can’t wait! Mum says we can take Marcie. We’ll see the horse shows, check out the sheep and pig pens, go on rides, everything! Mum says we can spend all day there. I can’t wait!

  July 22. I can’t take it anymore! I saw Sky kiss her at the fair, behind the popcorn trailer. He KISSED her! I hate him. I hate them both!!! How COULD he? He’s stealing her from me.

  I almost dropped the diary. My hands trembled and the trees whirled around me. The mountains zoomed in and out of focus. The river’s murmur was the only constant.

  She saw us kiss? She hated us for it?

  I swallowed hard and looked back toward the house, then out at the mountains. The knowledge slammed into me, shaking me to my core.

  Could I be the girl Callie wrote about? Her secret love?