Out Of Control

by Desiree Holt

  “I’m going over to Harry’s for a little bit,” he told the dispatcher, clapping his hat on his head.

  Maybe Uncle Tate would be there and he could bounce some ideas off of him again. Tate always had a good head for analyzing things.

  ****

  She dreamed again about Cole Landry.

  “You said I could taste you this time,” she told him.

  “I’m counting on it.” His voice was husky, edged with lust. His very masculine face was darkened with need, his whiskey-brown eyes now the color of rich coffee.

  She dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of him, one hand cupping the heavy sac of his testicles, the other sliding up and down the swollen thickness of his cock. She ran her tongue over the broad, flat head, catching the bead of fluid that sat like a pearl on the slit.

  Looking up at him, holding his gaze, she slowly lowered her mouth over him and took him inside her hot wetness. He was so large there was little room left to move her tongue, but she managed to twist it around his shaft slightly, pressing it against the throbbing vein that wound around it.

  His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head, moving it to a better angle. Her fingers continued to play with his balls while she hollowed her cheeks and sucked his cock as hard as she could. He rocked back and forth on his heels, a low moan rolling up from his throat, the sound urging her to move her head faster, squeeze his sac harder.

  “Oh, Jesus. Oh, shit. Oh, hell.”

  She felt the tightening of his sac, the tensing of his body, and then he erupted, spurting thick semen into her mouth. It glided down her tongue and against the back of her throat. She clutched his erection convulsively, tightening her fingers around the base as she sucked him dry.

  When the tension finally left his body, she smiled, knowing she’d made him feel good.

  “Your turn,” he told her in a low voice, cupping her elbows to raise her to her feet. “Time to pay attention to that sweet, little pussy.”

  He lifted and placed her on the bed so her legs were spread wide.

  “Tonight I’m going to lick every inch of you. Make you come with my hand and my tongue before I finally fuck you senseless.”

  Heat blasted through her like a furnace, the walls of her pussy already quivering with anticipation. She was so ready for him that when he touched the tip of a finger to her clit she jerked, as if fire had whisked over her.

  “Aah.” The sound was one of pure male satisfaction. “Someone’s very horny tonight.”

  He spread her lips and bent his head, flicking his tongue back and forth against that swollen bundle of nerves. Dana shook with the intensity of the sensation consuming her. Stiffened nipples ached for his touch and the muscles low in her tummy tightened.

  He took his time, teasing her clit first with his tongue and then with his finger until she came just from his focus on that one part of her body. Spasms rocked her while he held her still, his body preventing her from squeezing her thighs together. Then he began again, this time with his mouth on that bundle of nerves and his fingers stroking in and out of her wet folds.

  She planted her feet on the mattress and lifted herself to him, pushing down on his hand. He teased and tormented, adding a third finger then pulling his hand away completely.

  “Noooo,” she wailed. “Please, please, please.”

  “I love it when you’re hot like this,” he purred and thrust his fingers inside her again.

  She rode them hard, pushing against them, pushing, pushing…

  She woke up, yanked back to reality, her hand between her legs. Holy hell! What was happening to her? This whole thing was screwing with her mind.

  Extricating herself from the twisted, sweaty covers, she stumbled into the bathroom for one of the mild tranquilizers she rarely took. The sight that met her eyes when she looked in the mirror was almost as frightening as her dream.

  “I look like a scarecrow,” she said out loud. “Sleep, Dana. You have people to see tomorrow.”

  But the tranquilizer made her fuzzy and when her alarm went off, she struggled to wake up. She stood longer than usual in the shower, trying to wash away the cobwebs and the memories of the dream that disturbed her sleep. All these years, it had been the darkness that intruded, the scent of the wood shavings and of the man doing terrible things to her body. The taste of fear never left her mouth, asleep or awake.

  Now, with the onrushing force of an avalanche, images of Cole were invading her dreams and wrapping themselves around her. She was doing things to him in her dreams—and enjoying the hell out of them—that she’d never been able to even contemplate with other men. Hell, she’d only managed straight sex a couple times and struggled to even finish that. And forget pleasure.

  She finally turned the shower to ice cold and shivered under it until her skin was covered with goose bumps. At least, she managed to wake up her brain. Unfortunately, her body was still hot and demanding.

  Had coming back here unlocked something inside her? Made her subconsciously try to break out of her self-imposed emotional prison? Maybe she was condemned to have a sex life only in her dreams. She snorted at that and pushed everything to the back of her mind to focus on the day ahead.

  She drank one cup of coffee while she toasted bread and buttered it, then filled her travel mug with the rest of the hot liquid. Checking to make sure she had her BlackBerry and voice activated recorder, she headed out to Ivy and Lee Winslow’s small ranch on the north side of town.

  As she turned onto a ranch-to-market road, she found herself stealing glances in her rear and side view mirrors. She couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow the killer was around, keeping a close eye on her. A shudder raced up her spine, and she gripped the wheel tighter. She was almost glad when traffic thinned out and she could check the cars behind her. When she turned onto the long driveway to the Winslow house and every car sped by at a normal pace, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

  She figured her best approach with Ivy Winslow was the same thing she’d used with Lois Kelly—just show up and hope for the best. A phone call might have gotten her an emphatic no. Especially since, by this time, she was aware her activities were a topic of local conversation. That is, when everyone wasn’t talking about the horrific death of Leanne Pritchard. Advance warning would have been more polite, but Dana had found in the past it was harder to turn away someone already at your front door.

  Twenty-six years ago, the Winslows had three children, two boys and a girl. Lily Winslow, the baby of the family, was only four years old when she disappeared from the picnic area of the annual rodeo. Dana wondered how the Winslows had put their life back together after their little girl’s body was found. Were they like the Kellys, so wrapped in grief that all they had left was bitterness? Or had they managed to find a way to get on with their lives, especially with two other children to raise?

  Dana pulled up in front of a big stone house surrounded by six acres of land. In a fenced pasture next to a barn, five horses grazed and swished their tails at flying insects.

  Checking herself one last time in the mirror on the sun visor, she mounted the steps and rang the bell. The curtain covering the eyebrow window moved to one side, then the door opened. No chain this time, thank heavens.

  Ivy Winslow was tall and just shy of being chubby. Her gray-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and, like Lois, she wore not a smidge of makeup. But unlike Lois Kelly, Ivy’s face was not pinched or bitter. Her hazel eyes were filled with long-standing sorrow, but she seemed in control of herself.

  “You’re Dana Moretti,” she said.

  “Yes.” Dana blinked. “I am.”

  “Jane Milburn pointed you out to me in the grocery mart the other day.” Ivy reached out a hand. “Come in, come in. I figured you’d get around to us sooner or later.”

  Dana stepped into what was obviously the large central room of the house, with big windows, a rock fireplace and gleaming hardwood floors. Her heels
tapped a rhythm on the wood as she followed Ivy Winslow into the kitchen area where the woman gestured toward a granite table.

  “Have a seat, please.” Ivy busied herself at the counter. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee, and I have some cinnamon rolls left from yesterday. Let me just get things together here.”

  Dana sat at the end of the table, putting her purse on the chair next to her and pressing the on button for her voice activated recorder. She couldn’t believe how gracious the woman was—a complete change from Lois Kelly—yet the air of tension around her was almost palpable.

  “Please don’t fuss over me,” Dana protested. “I was just hoping we could have some conversation.”

  Ivy turned to look at her, years of anguish lining her face. “I know you want to talk about Lily. I’m much better at it if I have a cup of coffee and something to do with my hands.”

  A lump rose in Dana’s throat. “Coffee and rolls would be just wonderful. Thanks.”

  Ivy busied herself placing mugs and plates on the table then took a chair across from Dana. Taking a careful sip of her coffee, she set her mug carefully on the granite surface, folded her hands, and looked Dana straight in the eye.

  “I believe in always getting right to the point,” she said. “Jane tells me you’re writing a book about what happened here in High Ridge. To our children.”

  “Yes, and I apologize.” Dana broke off a tiny piece of roll, nibbling at it politely. “I know I should have called before just showing up. But to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get. Everyone seems to want me to take a hike, get out of town. Disappear. I thought maybe the surprise element would work better.”

  Ivy took a small bite of her roll and chewed it slowly. “Most of the parents will want to shut you out. Linc and I decided a long time ago that the only way to get past that awful horror and keep Lily alive in our hearts was to talk about it and try to live with it.” She brushed an imaginary crumb from her lap.

  “That has to be a difficult thing to do,” Dana commented.

  “You have no idea.” Her eyes drifted to a point over Dana’s shoulder. “At first, I wanted nothing more than to die and be buried with my baby.” She shifted her gaze back to Dana. “They wouldn’t let us see the body, you know. Jed Nickels—he was the sheriff then—absolutely refused. And our pastor, when they gave him the details, agreed. But I wanted to rip that coffin open, see the horror for myself, and then die with her.”

  Without thinking, Dana reached out a hand and laid it softly on Ivy’s arm. The woman flicked her eyes down at the touch, and although she didn’t flinch, Dana drew her hand back. Okay, she wasn’t an enemy, but neither was she a friend. She got the message.

  “I know how devastated you had to be,” she said in a gentle tone.

  Ivy let out a long, slow breath. “You can’t even begin to imagine. And Lincoln. He was shattered, but he found strength somewhere to keep us all together.”

  “How did your boys handle it?”

  “Josh and Nate were six and eight at the time. This kind of thing was beyond their ability to understand. Again, I give Linc all the credit for figuring out how to reach them and help them through it.”

  “He must be a very strong man,” Dana pointed out.

  “He’s a rock.” Ivy picked at a piece of frosting on her roll. “He was our strength and our refuge. And when we finally reached a place where we could function again, he allowed himself to fall apart. And we were there for him.”

  “You sound like you love him a lot.”

  “We love each other,” Ivy told her. “None of us will ever forget Lily. She was a wonderful, beautiful child. But the boys have grown into terrific men. They’ve married really great women, and we’re all very close. It was a struggle, but it’s definitely been worth it.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say this,” Dana said carefully, “but so many times, in cases like this, it destroys the family.”

  “Ah.” Ivy’s look was sharp. “You’ve been talking to Lois Kelly. Or was it Mila Garza? Sonja Escobedo? Natalie Grimes?”

  “Lois,” Dana admitted. “But I hope to speak to the others, too.”

  “Tell me something, Miss Moretti.”

  “Dana. Please.”

  “Dana, then. What do you hope to achieve here? What have you accomplished with your other books? Help me to understand.”

  “As I tried to tell Lois, I bring a fresh pair of eyes and a research brain. Many times I’ve spotted things investigators missed.” She sipped at her coffee, taking time to choose her words carefully. “It doesn’t always turn out this way, but in some of the cases, I’ve actually been able to point the police in directions they’d overlooked. Bring a resolution to the case and closure to the families.”

  “And you think that’s what you can do here?” The hope in Ivy’s voice was almost painful to hear.

  “I don’t know. I never know. But I plan to try.”

  Ivy studied Dana’s face carefully. “Why this case? There must be thousands for you to choose from.”

  “I have a special hate for people who abuse, torture, and murder children,” she explained, striving for the right mix of professionalism and sympathy. And trying desperately to leave her own anguish out of it. “The number of victims in this particular case is so overwhelming, along with the fact that no one was ever arrested. As far as I can tell, there weren’t even any suspects.”

  Ivy snorted. “No kidding. By the time I managed to pull myself together and understand that I had two sons who badly needed me, Linc was conducting a one-man campaign for the sheriff to bring in outside help. Any help. Anyone who could sift through the meager clues and interviews.”

  Dana raised her eyebrows. “But he didn’t? I thought maybe I’d just missed it in the reports I read.”

  “You have to understand,” Ivy sighed. “Jed Nickels had been on the force for fifteen years at that time, starting as a rookie deputy. And he has deep roots here. His people go back four generations. When he was appointed sheriff, he saw this as his own little kingdom to rule. Anything from the outside was considered interference.”

  “But didn’t other parents demand answers?” Dana asked, something she’d been wondering. “Weren’t they anxious to find the killer?”

  Ivy’s chambray-clad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Some did. Others were too busy blaming themselves and each other. And this was a closed community back then. Outsiders weren’t welcomed and bad news didn’t breach the county limits. Jed’s word was law. If he shut down information, it stayed that way. If he chose not to call in outside help, no one questioned him, either out of respect or fear.”

  The pain in the woman’s voice cut clear to Dana’s soul. Was that how her own mother had felt, at least in the beginning? Later, when the initial agony passed, she’d retreated behind a wall Dana could never breach. She didn’t even remember the last time she’d been hugged or told she was loved.

  She pulled herself back from the well of memories. “What can you tell me about that day?”

  Ivy refilled her coffee mug, and Dana could almost see her brain sorting through the details of that day.

  “We’d gone to the annual rodeo. Josh was good enough by then to compete in the junior events and we all cheered him on.” Her gaze drifted again. “About one o’clock Linc got hamburgers and drinks for all of us and we went to sit at one of the picnic tables in a shaded area.”

  “Lily was right there with you?”

  “Of course.” There was a trace of indignation in the tone. “We were very careful about that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” Dana wet her lips. Now came the hard questions. “What happened next?”

  “Nate had to go to the bathroom, and Linc was always leery of letting the boys go to public rest rooms alone. Events like the rodeo, for example, were magnets for drifters, so he got up to go with him.” Ivy rubbed her arms as if she was suddenly chilled. “Someone called to Josh and when he turned around
, he knocked his drink all over the table. I was busy mopping up the mess with the extra napkins. Lily was right on the bench next to me.”

  “Did she see something that caught her attention?”

  “Only the clown.” Ivy’s chin wobbled, and her eyes clouded with tears. She brushed at them impatiently with the back of her hand. “Josh said she saw the clown.”

  The familiar cold feeling settled in Dana’s stomach. “The clown? There was a clown there?”

  “Yes. Besides the ones used in the ring to distract the bulls, the rodeo committee hired clowns to entertain the kids in the picnic area. You know, keep them from getting restless. Lily was fascinated by them. One of them gave her a balloon animal he made.”

  The balloon animal again.

  This was one sick bastard.

  Dana was certain now she was on the right track. Capturing the kids’ attention with his balloon tricks made it easy to entice them away from their parents. And somehow, he managed to choose each child carefully, making himself available when the parents were distracted by other events.

  “They’re a great lure for children.” Dana hoped she kept the bitterness out of her voice.

  “They certainly were for Lily. Josh said afterwards the clown motioned for her to come to him, because when I turned around, she was just…gone.” Ivy drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, obviously making a great effort to center herself again. “A four-year-old has no fear of clowns. She probably thought he was going to give her another balloon.”

  Dana knew exactly how Lily felt. She’d been that child herself. She tried to find something to say, but Ivy seemed on a roll and she didn’t want to stop her.

  “I yelled for her.” Her voice was insistent, begging for Dana to believe her. “Josh yelled for her. By the time Linc and Nate returned, we were frantic, searching everyplace.”

  Dana frowned. “No one saw where she went? Where the clown went?”

  Ivy shook her head. “The picnic tables were at the edge of the rodeo area, right next to the fairgrounds. There’s a thick stand of trees and a road just beyond. It wouldn’t have been any trouble for him to snatch her up and take off with her.”