Pushing away from the picnic table, she sauntered to the source of the deep shade, and leaned against the trunk of an enormous walnut tree. She contemplated the placid flow of water below her, listening to the whir of cars as they swept past on to destinations unknown.
As if sensing the turbulent flow of her thoughts, Jack began to speak, seemingly aimlessly. “We don’t get many out-of-towners down here. It’s mostly families and gold dredgers and history seekers. Those foundations across the river,” he nodded, indicating the ruins poking up out of the long prairie grass. “That’s the original town of Bagby. It started out as one of those gold settlements that usually burn out as fast as they start. It was hastily made, dirty and corrupt as they come.”
“Hmmm.” Arden hummed, listening to him with half an ear while she circled round and round what she wanted, needed to figure out.
“It was a hellhole all right, and never did get much better, even up to the time they flooded the valley to make the lake back in the 60s. The Josephine and Pine Tree mines further up the hill were pumping out ore faster than men could spend it, and along with that came the debauchery that that too many men, too much whiskey and a boatload of money creates. The folks of Bear Valley had cleaned up their town when the boom first started, so they pretty much kept out of the miner’s business, except to sell them goods. Then Zachariah Ashton had to come in here with his cows and shake the whole damn county to pieces.”
Arden turned to face him. “Ashton. Any relation to the Sheriff?”
“Yup. The Sheriff’s his great-grandson or something along those lines. I guess lawing comes natural to those boys.”
“Lawing? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before.”
The old man chuckled. “Sorry, it’s one of those words we’ve twisted to make our own. What I meant was, old Zachariah was a lawman too, pinned on a badge not too long after he got here so he could hunt down the man who killed his partner, legal-like.”
“Oh,” Her companion settled into a companionable silence, drawing on his cigarette and watching the river. Now that Jack had broached the subject of the Sheriff, she couldn’t very well avoid thinking about him, could she?
She didn’t want to analyze what she felt for him, but it was hard not to when she’d been hauling her feelings out for show and tell for the past four days. He scared the crap out of her, pure and simple. Now that she had a little time, a little distance to look at their highly charged rendezvous she was appalled by her lack of control.
Sex had always been fun to her. It was a good healthy outlet for two consenting adults. She’d never lost her head like that, never lost herself in the moment, never given herself over so completely to a lover. And that was exactly what Bill Ashton had been. A lover. A partner. Not someone you merely slaked a thirst with. He was the type of man you married and raised a houseful of kids with. The type of man you sat with on the porch swing then thanked the heavens for your good fortune.
What in God’s name could she do with a man like that, especially under her present circumstances? She could be called back to the base or some god-awful corner of the world at a moment’s notice. The fact that she loved her chosen career only added to the certainty that she was going to have to make a choice between the life she wanted to live in the short term and the one she wanted to pursue when she retired.
She would see him tonight, she decided, talk it out and see where they both stood. The Samantha situation only jumbled the mess, made it more confusing for everyone involved. Pushing back from the tree, she turned to find her Jack’s gaze on her, a small smile on his craggy face.
“Did you find yourself?”
Arden grinned, “Probably not, but I think I may have found the path again.”
* * * *
Newly energized, Arden began the trek back to town. As she drove her mind kept circling around one of Dr. Porter’s parting comments to her. It disturbed her on a fundamental level, because she could see the truth in it. He had stressed the role that each of the victims had played over the course of their incarceration, albeit by force. Even though it was only his theory based upon the Ross crime scene, he thought that the women had entered into a willing, consensual sexual relationship with their captor, thereby giving him the power to grant or take their lives as he deemed appropriate. It was a pact with the devil in any case, since he almost certainly planned on killing them anyway.
The Sixth Fold
She has come so far, so fast. She is the Goddess, even she has begun to admit it, in her subconscious. Everything I have waited for and wanted is coming to fruition. It is only right that she should realize it on Mabon, the Fall Equinox, the day when we once again dance on the cusp.
When had she begun to believe? Samantha couldn’t really pin down the date or time, since both had become meaningless entities to her. It seemed more like a gradual rebirth, a deepening awareness of herself, an awakening of senses she didn’t even know she possessed. She knew it was Mabon, because the food and incense for the day had changed to the traditional fare of fall harvest. It had been a change she welcomed, it marked a progression in her captivity, and in her education.
She no longer looked at the wall of books as the tools of a madman, but as possible steps to her salvation. The deeper she slipped into meditation and the practices of the Eight-Fold Path, the more steadfast she became. She’d already completed the first two steps of that path without even knowing it, and her use of drugs in the past had given her the knowledge to carry her past the third aspect.
They were all laid out before her now, and she ran through the list in her mind, not even reading the text placed before her. It had been burned into her brain.
Mental discipline through fasting and physical disciplines. Done.
Development of the Will through mental imagery, visualization, and meditation. Done, mostly through yoga, but done.
Proper controlled use of drugs. Done to death.
Personal power, thought-projection, raising and drawing power. She was working on it. She’d been trying to reach Arden, to tell her that she was all right, but the distance, both physical and emotional, seemed to be too great. She would continue to try.
The keys: ritual knowledge and practice through the use of enchantments, spells, symbols and charms. Again, she had the knowledge, and was using that knowledge to dig deeper, find more, but without the proper tools, most enchantments were weak at best.
Psychic development and dream control. She figured that one would take a hell of a lot of time to master, but figured she had nothing but time at this point.
Rising upon the planes. Astral projection and mental projection. Way, way down the road, but attainable, given time.
And last but not least: Sex magick, sensuality and eroticism. She had that one down cold, at least the sensuality and eroticism part. But it was hard to practice sexual magick, at least the way it was alluded to in the teachings, without a partner.
As she sat on the floor in the lotus position, she laid out the cataclysmic events of the last one hundred days or so in an orderly, dispassionate fashion totally unlike her impetuous, flamboyant nature of the past.
Who was she now? She was no longer Samantha Henning, at least not the woman who’d acted as whore and courier to a criminal, who’d bartered her body and soul for just one more line, one more hit. She was no longer the Samantha who’d gone out of her way to insult and torment those weaker, less fortunate than her. All of those dirty, callous thoughts seemed to be a million miles from who and where she was right here, right now.
At the same time, she regretted little over the course of her life. If she could go back and change one thing, make a difference in one way, it would be to reestablish her relationship with Arden. They’d been adversaries since adolescence, but she now recognized that their rocky relationship had been fueled by her own selfish nature. She’d always been jealous of Arden, the good girl, the good student, the beautiful little tomboy. Granted, Arden had always given back as good as she
got, but the hurt had always seemed to run deeper for her, each argument seemed to tear them a little further apart. For that, she was profoundly sorry, both for herself and for Arden.
However this captivity, this forced bout of self-analysis ended, could she really tell herself she was not the better person for it?
And that was, perhaps, the thing that scared her most of all. Had her captor unwittingly made her into the person the both of them wanted, needed her to be? The line between the Samantha she was and the Diana she was becoming had become disturbingly thin, frighteningly fragile.
I don’t know if I can wait for the Midsummer ceremony. She is perfect and right. She has mastered almost everything I’ve placed before her, even though she has fought it each step of the way. She has even more potential than I. Samhain looms next, and the skin between the living and the dead will become thin and taut. I must wait until at least then.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alleged Sheriff’s Department Misconduct
Mariposa County Sheriff William Ashton has been placed under investigation for impropriety surrounding the Ladykiller serial murder investigation. Sources within the department claim Sheriff Ashton’s involvement with Air Force officer Captain Arden Jones, herself the sister of an assumed victim, went beyond the bounds of good judgment and may have jeopardized the investigation as a whole. When questioned on the allegations, Mayor Ken Patricks stated only that an examination of the charges would be made.
The Ladykiller has claimed five known victims to date. Law enforcement officials have no apparent leads, and the missing person search for Samantha Henning, the sister of Captain Arden Jones, continues.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” hissed Bill as he read the short blurb in the Sacramento Bee. Doug had shoved it directly under his nose before the first cup of coffee was even poured in the squad room.
It was not a good way to start a Friday morning. He hadn’t seen Arden since Sunday night and that separation and uncertainty was wearing on the one remaining nerve he had left. He’d wanted to give her a little time to think everything through. She’d come to him when she was ready, then he could begin courting her, as was her due.
This little tidbit just frosted the cake. He hadn’t breached any protocol in having Porter interview her, he’d made sure of that through the county legal counsel. Someone was leaking information again.
He was choking down that first cup of coffee, trying to figure out what to do about the rat within the department, when Ken Patricks stormed into his office, demanding to know what the hell was up with ‘that military chick.’ For a man of the people, the mayor had a surprising repertoire of curse words at his disposal, and did not hesitate to use them when warranted.
By nine Bill had fielded calls from each of the supervisors and the furious editor of The Dispatch. He could tell his “no comment” was starting to piss people off, and he didn’t expect it to get any better as the day wore on.
By nine-thirty he’d consumed half a roll of Tums. His usually cast-iron stomach was rolling queasily, sending him signals his brain didn’t want to receive.
* * * *
The utter stillness that descended over the squad room signaled Arden’s entrance. Within seconds, both deputies and administrative personnel alike found something absolutely enthralling on their desktops, not even daring to glance at the cause of the latest sensation in the Department.
Arden walked directly to Gail’s desk. Gail was the only person in the department besides Doug Brewster not staring conspicuously at their fingernails. The indefatigable secretary smiled tightly at Arden, bouncing the eraser end of a Ticonderoga pencil rapidly on the blotter on her desk. “Sheriff’ll be out in a few minutes Captain Jones. Why don’t you have a seat.”
“Thanks, I’ll stand. Sergeant Brewster.” She said calmly, nodding her head the lawman’s way.
“Ma’am.” Doug briefly pondered the wisdom of what he was about to do, then motioned his head toward the conference room that doubled as a questioning area. He watched the way every head in the room swiveled to watch Arden’s progress and imagined the result of the speculation grenade he’d just pulled the pin on.
“Sergeant.” Arden was in her depth now, and both of them knew it. The rank structure and courtesies of every police department in the world were startlingly similar, almost mirror-like, to the military.
“Listen Captain, the Sheriff would shoot me, and I mean that, literally, if he knew I was talking to you like this. I mean, he’s a grown man who makes his own decisions, but he’s my friend too. You know what came out in today’s paper?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Mindy showed it to me as soon as I got back from my morning drive, barely able to restrain herself.”
“Well.” He paused, shifting on his feet, uncertain how to proceed. “You know what this can do to the Sheriff’s career. I just hope you’re half the woman he thinks you are, to put him through this.” Then he stood there, like a great big slab of granite, prepared for the harsh words and recriminations that were sure to follow. Instead, Arden just looked up at him, a sad smile in her eyes.
“I hope I am too, Sergeant, I hope I am too.” With that she turned, opened the door, and found herself a hard plastic seat in the lobby.
* * * *
She stood before him, magnificent in her frustration, a beacon amidst the files and folders and piles of his office. That article had hit her hard, below the belt. She dealt with it in the only way she knew how to, head on.
“You just don’t get it, do you? Look at what my being here, our being together, has done. You’re under investigation, for God’s sakes. There just can’t be an us until all of this,” she gestured wildly, taking in the squad room, town, and county in one grand gesture, “is over. They’ll never leave us alone until it is. And then there’s me.
“I took an oath to serve and protect my country, and my word is my bond. I have four years left before I retire, and I will serve each and every day of that term. It’s not that I don’t want to stay here, see what might develop between the two of us. I’ve discovered I want to do that more than almost anything. But I can’t have it at the cost of my conscience. You should know me well enough by now to know that.” Her intensity rivaled the sun, and he knew she meant each and every word, that she was not playing games or bargaining away her soul. And it made him love her and want her that much more.
“No Arden, it’s you that just doesn’t get it.” He knew he was being harsh, but maybe there was only one way to say it. He wanted, needed her too much to put it in pretty words or phrases. “All of this, as you put it, will end in one of three ways. Samantha will show up unharmed and I’ll have a murderer on the loose, Samantha will show up dead and another girl will disappear and I’ll still have a murderer on my hands, or the county will boot me out on my ass before either of them happen for gross incompetence. Either way, it has nothing to do with you and I.” He paused, then continued in a gentler tone.
“Let’s be real honest here. This situation sucks across the board. You and I have found something right, something good. Why let a shitty predicament kill that before it even gets started?”
“The situation has everything to do with you and me. We wouldn’t be here if Samantha hadn’t disappeared. And now, there is an us, whether we like it or not. It’s up to us to behave like responsible adults, to make the best of bad circumstances.” She snapped back at him edgily. “And I’m going to do just that. I’m leaving for L.A. this afternoon. We’ve got an airshow coming up, and Major Allen wants me home as soon as possible to handle the PR end of it.
“Now that the article has been published, today seems like as good a day as any.” She softened her voice, laying a hand on his arm in supplication. “Let’s be realistic, Bill. We both know how badly this article and my being here can hurt you. I have a career in Los Angeles, and it’s not something I can just call in sick for. You of all people should understand that.”
“Well.” He drew t
he word out slowly, softly. He’d known she couldn’t stay in Mariposa forever, but he’d counted on more time to get close to her, to wear down that shield that seemed to spring up whenever they were together. She was his, dammit, even if she didn’t realize it yet. She hadn’t even left and already it hurt, hurt in a way he’d forgotten, or maybe never even known before.
“If that’s the way it’s gotta be, then that’s the way it’s gotta be. I can’t say I’m happy with it, though.” He shifted away from her, running an idle hand over a stack of notes before turning to her again.
“I’ve got to be straight with you, Arden, especially since we haven’t had a chance to clear the air since last weekend. There’s something between us, and it goes way past anything I’ve ever felt before, even with Caitlin. Now you need to be honest with me. If this is it, if I’ll never see you again except as the investigator in charge of your sister’s disappearance, then tell me now. If you’re planning on backing out on what we’ve started, I need to know so I can get on with my life. If you’re going to stick, then we need to figure out where we go from here.” He stood before her quietly, his voice and body rock hard with the intensity of his emotion.
Arden reached up, stroking a hand over his clenched jaw. “Until this morning I couldn’t and wouldn’t have answered that question. Now, I almost wish it was just a casual fling, because it would be easier for both of us.” She stood there, her hand still feathering his cheek, tears filling her eyes. “Maybe this is for the best. What we have burns so fast and so hot that most of the time I don’t know who I am. I need that Bill. I need to know that whatever else changes, for the better or worse, that I stay the same. I need to be Arden Jones, not Bill Aston’s woman or that Air Force chick. I need to figure out who I really am and I need to do that alone.”
The Summerland Page 20