by Nancy Bush
I didn’t feel like an argument, so I said nothing.
“He was like that with me at the beginning of the season.”
“That when you two got together?”
“We were together the first couple of games, I guess.”
“You mean, having sex.”
“No…just drinking. Smoking, a little. All the girls were envious,” she said wistfully. “But then he kind of went for Clarissa.”
“You must have had sex sometime,” I pointed out.
“I guess it was after the Oregon City game…” she said. “I really don’t remember. Dionne was there and she wanted me to go home. That’s before she got so upset. She and Keegan dated a while back. Sort of, anyway. What are you doing?”
We were at the house where I’d left the canoe and she balked at crossing the lawn. I had to practically muscle her along the side wall. “No one lives here,” I said in her ear. “I left a canoe here the night the paramedics showed up. That’s how I escaped. I’ve got to take it back.”
“What if we get caught?”
“We’re screwed,” I said.
“I don’t want to go.”
I ignored her. “How’d you get home the night you think you slept with Keegan? Do you remember?”
She didn’t answer right at first, seeming to think there might be a trap in there somewhere. “Dionne said she helped me.”
“You don’t remember that, either?”
“Not really. Why? Is it a crime or something?”
Maybe, I thought, as we reached the water. To Dawn, I said, “Stand guard for a minute, okay?” as I slipped inside the boathouse.
“What? No. Where are you going?”
“Just wait…”
It took a lot of persuasion on my part, a lot of resistance on hers, but we finally got the canoe back in the water and began paddling quietly, keeping to the shoreline. I could tell she wanted to ask a million questions, but my threat that we could get in trouble kept her quiet. At Social Security I clambered out, then helped her to the seawall. I placed a finger to my lips and glared at her harshly, reminding her anew of the need for quiet. She glanced toward the house and kept her lips firmly shut. With an effort we hauled the canoe inside the boathouse, placing it upside down like I’d found it. I even hung the oars back on the wall.
Climbing over the fence to Do Not Enter was where things got tricky. She whispered, “I can’t do it!” way too loudly.
“Yes, you can,” I said through my teeth. She shook her head, but I added, “Do this,” and wound my fingers in the chain-link, prepared to climb. I just wanted off Social Security’s property.
Dawn whispered, “I don’t think I can.”
“You can. Trust me.” With her grip, I figured she could hang glide without a harness and do fine.
She grabbed the fence, following my example, but my gaze was glued to the amber light shining from Social Security’s living room. I just wanted to get the hell out. Now.
With an effort, she tried to haul herself over. I confess I gave her a hefty push. She made a strangled sound and plopped down into the muck on Do Not Enter’s side. “God-dammit!” she yelled.
A light flashed on.
I leapt over that fence as if demons were licking my heels. Dawn was still struggling to her feet as I raced for the basement. I hoped she wouldn’t get caught but now that I knew she was (a) not pregnant and (b) kind of a pain in the ass, I wasn’t as concerned as I might have been.
Several couples had straggled outside in our absence and they stopped and stared as I shot past, Dawn following after me, swearing in frustration.
Someone had finally dared to turn on the red string lights, which I thought might be a bad idea. I hesitated on the bottom stair and Dawn caught up to me. “I don’t know why I told you everything. I must be crazy. And he wants you now. I guess I should have known this would happen.”
“Yeah. Well. I’m not interested.”
“That’s what they all say,” she said, snorting in disgust.
“I don’t want to be with anybody I can’t remember having sex with,” I told her. “You shouldn’t, either.”
“Who are you? My mother?”
She was spoiling for a fight. I figured it was just a matter of time before the yelling started. “You should remember,” I told her fiercely.
She pushed herself past me and headed upstairs. I was right behind her, anxious to get the hell away. As soon as we were on the main floor, it felt like kids materialized from the gloom, coming our way. Dawn moved out of the way and I edged toward the front door.
Keegan stood to one side, his shoulder propped up against one of the posts. “Hey, there,” he said smoothly. He moved toward me with a conqueror’s confidence, handing me a beer. “Got your canoe back, huh?” He inclined his head toward Social Security.
“Yep.”
“You were here last week. Sorry I missed all the excitement.” He smiled. “Glad you got away.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Come on over here….”
Dawn had melted away. I tried to think of a way out, but Keegan was surrounded by his disciples, all of them looking as if they might wrestle me to the ground should I disobey. Man, oh, man. I was not okay with this. Was I being overly dramatic? Imagining danger from this high school kid that just wasn’t there?
I looked down at my beer. Its top had been popped. I didn’t see how I was going to fake being thrilled to be with him. I sure as hell wasn’t going to become part of the harem.
As if noticing I wasn’t imbibing, Keegan tipped up the brim of my baseball cap to look meaningfully into my eyes. “Drink up,” he said, tossing back his beer, taking several long, healthy swallows. Then he held my gaze, waiting.
I tipped my beer and swallowed.
He gave me a knowing smile.
I stared at him, chilled. My cell phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. Keegan heard the faint buzzing. I unzipped the pocket, pulled out the phone and looked at it.
Keegan snatched it away from me.
I held my breath.
“Your dad,” he said, sounding pissed.
My dad?
Keegan quickly took back my beer. “Fucking parents.”
I stared at the still vibrating phone. The word DAD stared at me from the liquid crystal dial.
Dwayne Austin Durbin. In a faintly trembling voice, I answered, “Hi, Dad. I’m still with my friends.”
There was the faintest of hesitations, and then he said clearly, “It’s getting pretty late, Ronnie.”
“I’m on my way. Bye.” I clicked off. “Gotta go,” I told Keegan.
“I don’t want to wait another week.”
“Umm…I don’t know.”
“Give me your cell number. I’ll call you.”
“Give me yours. My dad’s real strict. I’d better call you.”
He didn’t like the shift in power, but I wouldn’t give him my number. No way was he going to have a link to Jane Kelly. Not that I expected him to be an expert on discerning information, but one never knows. I’m always amazed at what people are capable of.
He finally coughed up his number and I plugged it into my phone as I hurried away from him.
I drove toward Dwayne’s feeling light-headed. I’d escaped by the skin of my teeth, on that I was sure. Once parked, I pounded on his door. I was incapable of searching through my purse for his key. When Dwayne opened the door, I threw myself into his arms. Luckily, he took my weight without a stumble.
My body shook in waves. Aftershock. I’ve been in tight spots before. I’ve been scared. But I never wanted the feel of human comfort more than I did right now.
“Jane…”
I shivered violently.
“What did he do to you?” Dwayne’s voice was taut.
“Nothing.” Dwayne smelled good and felt better. I wrapped myself around him, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. Distantly I knew I’d be embarrassed later. I was taking advantage of the situation, givi
ng myself a reason to stay close to him, to feel my flesh against his.
Dwayne’s arms were strong and supportive around me. I buried my face in his shirt, much like Dawn had buried hers in mine. “I’m okay,” I assured him again, my voice sounding strangled. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m overreacting. I’m fine. Truly.”
“What happened?”
I eased myself from his embrace. He regarded me seriously, his blue eyes intense. He was holding me up by my arms. I felt like kissing him. Really, really felt like it. That heavy-heartbeat, time-telescoping-to-this-moment kind of desire. Thudding. Needy.
“Why did you call?” I asked.
“It was dark over there. I couldn’t see anything and it felt wrong.”
“Gut instinct?” I said shakily.
“You sure something didn’t happen?”
“I’m fine.” Running a hand through my hair, I turned away from the door toward the living room and Dwayne’s faded gray sofa. I stumbled to it. Dwayne followed, sitting down next to me. He was in shorts. His right leg wrapped, elasticized, strapped. His left leg lay against mine. I tore my gaze from his thigh and wondered if I was having some kind of strange attack, an intense desire I couldn’t control. Reaction to fear. Panic. A primal need to assure ourselves that we’re alive. I wanted sex. I wanted sex with Dwayne. It felt like a drug rushing through my system, roaring in my ears, heating my blood.
He was staring at me, concerned and perplexed. I pressed trembling fingers to my lips, begging my body for control. I mean…goddammn it! I couldn’t do this. Not now…not in this way.
“It’s date rape,” I finally said, surprised by the normalcy of my voice. “Something like GHB or Rohypnol. This guy, who could have any girl he wants, prefers to drug them.”
Dwayne made a sound low in his throat. Something animal that only increased my pulsing need. I wanted to grab Dwayne and writhe around with him. Like I had no brain. Like a sex addict with zero control.
With an effort I pulled my thoughts from him. I thought of icebergs. Frozen wastelands and frostbite. Crashing arctic waves and frigid temperatures. It helped. Enough that I could concentrate on my narrative.
“He gave me an opened beer.”
“Lendenhal?”
“Yes. That’s the first time that happened. Every other time I’ve popped the beer’s top myself. But they were all there. The disciples. It’s like they knew what he was up to. Like a big fraternity.”
“No one tried to stop him?”
I shook my head, pulling myself together, thinking about the situation. “He’s not the only one who uses Roofies, or whatever. The first time I was there, I saw him give a packet to Judd. Glory was mad at Judd for ruining her clothes, and she wasn’t in the mood, so Judd went to Keegan for help. Keegan handed him the packet.”
“Did you drink any of the beer?”
“Pretended to. Keegan grabbed it back from me when you called.” I explained how he thought Dwayne was my father, then added, “Oh, and Dawn’s not pregnant. She was. She miscarried. She’s not happy about it, but her parents are.”
“She told her parents?”
“She wanted the baby. It was Keegan’s and she wants him.”
Dwayne’s jaw was stiff with suppressed fury. I thought of all the things Larrabee had said earlier. All the things I didn’t know about him. What I did know was he possessed a strong sense of justice. “I want this bastard’s balls in a wringer,” he muttered tightly.
“Me, too.”
“We can call the police on them. Next Friday.”
I nodded. It was time for the police. “Keegan said he didn’t want to wait another week. He wants me to call him.”
“You have his number?”
“He gave it to me.” I glanced out the window to the dark night. I thought about Keegan. Yes, it was time for the police, but I felt an irrational need—very unlike me—to see this through. “You know…if I saw him again…I think I could get one of those doctored beers.”
“No.” Dwayne was positive on that score.
“Keegan Lendenhal’s practically a god. He’ll slip out of the noose, I just know it. His parents, the team, the whole town…they won’t be able to pin this on him without proof.”
“The guy drugged and raped Dawn Wilson.”
“And she’ll never press charges. We’ve got to catch him, Dwayne.”
He got to his feet as if compelled, shaking his head. Perversely, the more he fought me, the more I was sure this was the way to bring Keegan Lendenhal down.
“Dwayne, it’s personal.”
“Bullshit! You know better. That’s what makes you right for this job, Jane. You’re never irrational about the danger. This guy drugs girls and has sex with them. His buddies help him. He’ll try it on you. And, Jane…he could succeed.”
I had a vision of myself, out cold, being deliberately stripped of my clothes, Keegan Lendenhal climbing atop me.
All my muscles seemed to contract together. I couldn’t think about Keegan Lendenhal anymore. “There’s something else,” I said. “Not the teenagers. Just something else that Larrabee said.”
“What?”
“He said you—introduced him—to his wife?”
Dwayne didn’t want to switch subjects. He looked like he was going to brush me aside. But he stopped himself, maybe realizing that I was the one who needed the change. “That’s true,” he admitted. “The marriage lasted four months. He still blames me.”
I stared at him and then I started laughing. And then hic-cupping. And then laughing some more. The tension went out of Dwayne’s muscles as he watched me collapse into a sort of welcome hysteria.
“What is it with you two?” I asked him.
Dwayne shrugged.
“He also told me you were accused of murder.”
“I was.” Dwayne seemed about to say something more, then shook his head. “That bastard. I thought he knew how to keep his mouth shut.”
“What happened?”
“It’s old, old history. But right now? We need to concentrate on what to do about Lendenhal.”
“How old a history?”
Dwayne ran a hand through his hair, fighting frustration. “High school.”
“That long ago?” I said in surprise.
“A girl I knew went missing. This gung-ho homicide detective tried to charge a bunch of us with murder, but there was no evidence. After high school, I thought about law enforcement, but it wasn’t going to happen. The girl was never found, and that detective was sure I was responsible. He wouldn’t let it go, and it followed me around for a long while. Nobody wanted to trust me. So I changed my mind. End of story.”
“And the homicide detective?”
“I don’t know. Probably still stewing about it. It’s long over.”
There was a lot left unsaid, as ever with Dwayne. But the switch of subject made me feel more like myself, had shifted the focus off me and helped pushed Keegan Lendenhal’s sick behavior aside for the moment.
“Wow,” I said. “My life’s really boring.”
I could tell he wanted to close the door on this once and for all. No way, buddy, I thought, but I was willing to let him off the hook for the moment. After all, he’d restored my equilibrium—at least as far as Keegan Lendenhal was concerned. I was going to have to stick with images of icebergs and glaciers for a while on that other, sexual thing.
“That answer your questions?” Dwayne asked.
“I’ve just got one more.”
He gave me a long, hard look.
“What are smithereens?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The problem with unresolved issues is they keep you awake all night. From midnight to 7:00 a.m. I tossed and turned and generally disturbed Binkster’s sleep, as she was stretched out beside me, her muzzle softly snoring right at my face, one front paw holding my restless body at bay.
Reluctantly dragging myself from my bed, I felt crabby and out of sorts. Lack of sleep’ll do that to you. Stumbl
ing into the kitchen, I examined the remains of my grocery shopping. I still had some coffee, but I didn’t feel like making any. Glancing outside to my backyard, I registered the gray day.
But there was no rain.
I threw on my sweats and Nikes and tried to talk Binkster into joining me. She flipped over and ignored me, kicking her back legs a couple of times as she settled in again, just in case I missed the point. I decided she wasn’t starving and she could let herself out her dog door if she needed to, so I locked up the house, tucked my key in the zippered pocket of my sweatpants, then jogged to the Coffee Nook.
In the light of day, my anxiety over Keegan Lendenhal retreated. In fact, as I jogged onward, it gave way to a healthy anger. Who the hell did he think he was? His actions were criminal. Yes, I could call the police on him, and I intended to, but I really wanted to be the one to bring him down. I wasn’t quite sure how to do it yet. I needed a foolproof plan. But I’d give myself a week to figure it out, and Dwayne was just going to have to accept that fact.
It was Friday and the Nook was busy. Spying Chuck talking loudly with another older man—who looked as pained as I felt—I zigged the other direction. Julie saw me and handed me an empty paper cup without comment. I filled it up with black coffee and circled to the other side of the bar. Billy Leonard wasn’t at his usual stool, but then I was later than normal.
Jenny said, “You look like you need breakfast.”
“I do?” I was hunkered down in my spot, leaning forward over my coffee, blowing across the top.
“How about a sesame bagel with cream cheese?”
“Put it on my coffee card,” I said. Coffee Nook has prepaid cards that are set up for ten drinks, but other items can be substituted in coffee’s place. The great thing about the cards is, once you’ve been stamped ten times, you get a free cup.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jenny asked, slicing the bagel in half and slamming it in the toaster.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re sprawled across the counter.”
It was true. My arms were spread out in front of me. I looked like I was going to lay my head down on the laminate and pass out. It sounded like a pretty good idea, too. Well, okay, maybe I was feeling some reaction from last night’s events. Or maybe it was an overall malaise brought on by everything going on in my life.