The Secrets on Forest Bend

by Susan C. Muller

  After a few minutes, Jillian asked, “Does it meet with your approval?” A soft smile played around the edges of her mouth.

  He acknowledged the smile sheepishly, but started examining the deck more thoroughly. “I had a little trouble with my deck yesterday. The rail broke unexpectedly. It wasn’t a big deal, it’s only a foot off the ground, but this could be dangerous for you.”

  Jillian gazed out at the wooded area behind her property. For an instant, Adam thought she was giving the finger to someone at the edge of the woods, but she was only brushing away a fly.

  He completed his circuit of the deck and nodded to Jillian. “This looks nice and solid. Whoever you got to put this up, they did a great job.”

  “They? There was no they. There was just me and Billy.”

  His face must have registered shock, because Jillian started laughing. “I had a professional put in the support columns and the stairs, but I did the rest. Billy tried, but bless his heart, he was only good for carrying supplies up the stairs and holding things while I did the nailing.”

  No wonder her arms looked so toned. That was a lot of work. No one who was still using drugs would be capable of the work involved in clearing all that brush and putting up such a professional looking deck.

  “Let’s go in. I think everything’s ready.”

  Jillian had grilled stuffed pork chops with fresh asparagus and made a spicy cinnamon baked-apple dish. She served the plates and sat them on the old Formica table. A green salad with several types of lettuce Adam couldn’t identify was already waiting. The salad had walnuts, cranberries, and a raspberry vinaigrette dressing. Adam inhaled ravenously as he sat down. She opened two of the beers he brought and they each took one, clinking them together and smiling.

  He didn’t know what the dinner meant, and he hated the feeling of not being in control of the way a case was progressing, but he was there, so he might as well eat.

  “This is a treat for me. I don’t get home cooking very often.” Adam waited for Jillian to start before he began eating. He hadn’t forgotten all his manners.

  “You don’t cook for yourself?”

  “Oh, I make a killer pot of chili and at least twice a summer I’ll fix a brisket that cooks all day and lasts all week.”

  “I started cooking when I was about twelve. Until then we lived off of peanut butter sandwiches and grilled cheese. Even when my mother was alive, it wasn’t much different. She had better things to think about than cooking.”

  “What kept her busy?” He paused to look at Jillian. He didn’t want to shovel food in his mouth the way he did at home, but the meal was so delicious he had trouble slowing down.

  “She was a pageant queen. Actually, she was Miss Texas at one time and second runner-up to Miss America. That meant she was an authority, and she made a fairly good business out of training young women to compete in pageants. Later, she set her sights on the Little Miss pageants and my sister Heather was her protégée.” Adam didn’t miss the slight edge of distaste when she mentioned pageants.

  “Heather ate it up and won all kinds of trophies. Then Mother was really an expert and our house was filled with little girls learning to parade, sing, dance, and smile for the camera.”

  “What about you? Didn’t you compete?” He took a sip of his beer. Even the asparagus was delicious.

  “No. I was a chubby little kid. I’d rather play outside than play dress up. After Heather died, Mother directed her attention to me, but I wasn’t very co-operative. She finally taught me a song and got me all dressed up, but I decided to show her.”

  “What’d you do?” He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth.

  “I got up on stage, folded my arms across my chest, turned my back on the audience, and just stood there in my little ruffled cowgirl outfit while the music played.”

  He tried to hold in the laughter, but it burst through. “I can see you now. I think maybe you haven’t changed all that much.”

  Jillian laughed and shook her head at the same time. “It really wasn’t funny. It ruined her career. No one wanted to hire a teacher who couldn’t control her own daughter.”

  One pork chop remained on the platter. Being on the job didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the meal. He was about to split it in half when Jillian reached over. She forked it onto his plate and asked, “What about your family? Do you see them often?”

  “My dad was a mechanic during Vietnam. He always believed that following orders was what kept him alive. When he had a heart attack about two years ago, they retired to the hill country. You wouldn’t believe how his personality did a one-eighty. After years of insisting everyone adhere to a strict set of rules, he and Mom now spend their days fishing and playing golf and taking each day as it comes. They’re both happier than I’ve even seen them.”

  “How did you manage, growing up in a house full of rules? I can’t imagine it because I grew up without any at all. When Heather was alive, my mother ignored me. After Heather’s death, I ignored my mother. I’d show her, right? Then Mother died, and Dad went to pieces, leaving me to finish raising myself.”

  “You may find this hard to believe, but I had a tendency to rebel. Although I am now willing to admit a few of those rules might have been for my own good. And now, here I am, in a job that punishes people for breaking rules.”

  When Jillian rolled her eyes and laughed, it was like opening a window to let fresh air and light into a room that had been closed and dark for too long. When the people he worked with placed bets on how long it took to make him growl, it was a sure sign he growled more often than he laughed.

  “My little brother, on the other hand, thrived in a tightly structured existence and he went straight into the army. I call him the Little General, but he’s a Captain. He’s stationed in Alaska now. He loves it. He married a local and they have a kid on the way. I went up for a week last year. We fished and hiked. It was really nice, but it was summer. I don’t know about winter. My guess is he’ll probably stay there.”

  They finished eating, and he helped Jillian clear the plates off the table and stack them in the sink. His mother had never left a dish in the sink in her life.

  “I think it’s time for the game to start. Let’s go in the other room and get comfortable.” Jillian yanked the curtains closed with a solid snap.

  He settled into a sofa that fit his body perfectly as Jillian clicked on the TV. She commented on the plays and on the players often enough to keep the conversation going but not enough to be a distraction. He was surprised how much he was enjoying her company.

  “How did you get so interested in basketball?” Some women liked baseball or football, but he hadn’t met many that truly enjoyed basketball.

  “I played a little in high school. Not well enough to do anything with it, but I always liked it. Wish I could find some type of adult league. We had one here for a while, but there wasn’t enough interest to keep it going. I’d like to get back into it. What about you? Did you play any sports?”

  “Baseball. I had a partial scholarship to Texas State in San Marcos. I had to supplement it with work so they got me a job with campus security.”

  He sat his beer down, being careful to place it on a coaster, and twisted to face her. “I told my family I liked the idea of helping people, but I sometimes wonder if I felt important, strutting around in my uniform.” He stopped. What had gotten into him, revealing something so personal?

  “Anyway, when I graduated, I went to the police academy. I still pitch on the inter-squad team.”

  Adam relaxed and enjoyed the game until half-time, when Jillian dished them each a bowl of Bluebell Homemade Vanilla ice cream topped with fresh strawberries. They ate sitting on the sofa. “You can’t beat Homemade Vanilla ice cream,” Jillian said. “Unless maybe it’s Butter Pecan.”

  “Or Rocky Road.” He finished the last bite, almost licking the bowl.

  Jillian stacked the bowls in the kitchen with the rest of the dishes. When she slipped back onto th
e sofa, she was much closer to him. “Well, I guess that’s it then,” she said. “I like basketball, you like baseball. I like Butter Pecan, you like Rocky Road. There doesn’t seem much point in going on.”

  “Maybe if we keep trying we can find an activity we both enjoy,” he said.

  Jillian kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet under her, then settled back on the sofa and leaned against his arm. Well, I guess that answers that question. Or did it? Damn, he hated not being in control.

  When the game finished, Jillian stood. “It occurs to me I’ve been a poor host. I never gave you a tour of the apartment.”

  Adam glanced around. He could see every room from where he was sitting. A slow smile spread across his face. Well, he wasn’t actually on duty. More like keeping his eyes open on his own time. He was satisfied she wasn’t a psycho vigilante.

  He grabbed the remote and quickly clicked off the TV as he reached for her hand. They started for the one room he hadn’t been into yet. The bedroom was as neat as the rest of the house, yet still managed to look lived in. He saw a pair of sandals in one corner and a shirt over the back of a chair. The top of the dresser was cluttered. It had a feminine feel, but not overpoweringly so.

  No teddy bears, dolls, or excessive pillows filled the bed. Good, he hated those things. They always got in the way at the wrong time.

  When they stepped inside the door, she swung around to face him, putting her arms around his neck. He immediately pulled her closer, his breath heavier with each passing second. Why had he let himself be brainwashed into believing that a tiny, doll-like woman was the ideal? He didn’t have to bend over double to kiss Jillian, and her body remained pressed against his in all the right places.

  Her tank slipped easily over her head in a move he’d been thinking about since he first stepped onto her deck. He was already aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. She unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside, and the sensation of her breasts brushing against his chest while their hands roamed over bare skin sent a surge of pleasure through his body. His tongue found hers and he drank her in greedily. It was agony to break away long enough to carry her to the bed.

  Within a few minutes, much to his delight, he’d discovered her second tattoo, exactly where he hoped it would be. He smiled to discover it was as smooth and silky as the rest of her body. It even tasted a little like cinnamon-apple, although that could have something to do with the aroma in her apartment.

  He would have to get her to his house and see what it tasted like there. If it was beer and cat litter, he needed to invest in one of those scented candles he saw advertised.

  For now, he was going to enjoy being with a woman who seemed to want him and had asked for nothing in return. If there were consequences, he’d face them later.

  The sky was still dark when Adam rose on one elbow and nuzzled Jillian’s ear. “You’re going to hate me, but I have to go.” He nibbled her shoulder and felt himself come awake again.

  She turned to face him, sleepy-eyed. “Go? Can’t you leave for work from here?”

  How bad would it be if Rover missed one round of medication? He lifted the sheet and gazed at her body. Damn he wanted to stay longer, but if he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t be able to stand up. “No. I have to give my cat a shot.”

  Her eyes took on a hard look. “That must be the truth. No one would come up with such a lame excuse if it wasn’t.”

  “There’s a history of diabetes in my family so I’ve always been careful what I eat. I never expected Rover to be the one to come down with it.”

  “You have a cat named Rover?”

  “He was the terror of the neighborhood when he decided to adopt me seven years ago. Bigger than most dogs and twice as mean. He still hasn’t forgiven me for having him fixed.”

  “Okay, if you have to go. But Adam, come prepared next time. Bring the damn cat with you.”

  A grin filled Adam’s face as he drove home through the darkness. She’d said next time.

  The sun was up, but it was still early when Jillian woke. She’d noticed evenings were lasting longer, but it was the first time she realized that mornings were beginning to come earlier also. She stretched one leg over to the other side of the bed. It was already cold. The pillow was a lump beside her. She pulled it close and buried her face deep in its softness. The fragrance of Adam’s aftershave lingered and that made her smile. Remembering the night before made her smile even more. It couldn’t continue for long, she knew that. But damn if she wasn’t going to enjoy it while it lasted.

  She pulled on her shorts and tank and started looking for her running shoes. The air was early-morning cool when she stepped outside. From her front door to the I-45 feeder road was two and a half miles. That was a nice five mile run with no traffic at this time of the morning. She did a few stretches and started with a slow jog. By the time she was out of the parking lot and onto the road, she was ready to pick up speed.

  She had reached the feeder road and started back when Heather joined her. “I didn’t think you liked exercise,” Jillian said through gritted teeth. The number of places she was safe from Heather’s interference was shrinking. Soon she wouldn’t be able to leave the store at all.

  “I don’t, but you said I should find a way if I wanted to talk to you. Besides, I needed an excuse to wear this outfit.”

  Jillian glanced to the side and ran her eyes up and down. Heather wore a maroon velour warm-up suit with a glittery pink T-shirt that exactly matched the stripe down the side of the pants. “It looks good on me, don’t you think?”

  “Quite the outfit, I’ll admit. It might be more appropriate for drinking lattes in December than running in April.”

  “It’s not like I have to worry about sweating or anything. You should see yourself. Your face is all red and splotchy. Those awful clothes probably stink. The only good thing is the sweat makes those silly spikes fall out of your hair.”

  Jillian ignored the comments on her appearance, Heather had already ridden that horse into the ground, and it wasn’t like her sweat was any worse than the overpowering perfume Heather always wore. “Maybe you can be any age or shape you choose, but we mortals have to do it the hard way. Besides, I thought you wanted me to keep fit as part of your Master Plan.”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Heather looked away. “Anyway, I came to ask you about last night. You said you wanted to keep the police from your door, then you went and invited one in.”

  “So now you stand at the edge of the woods and spy on me?”

  Heather gave an exaggerated sigh, ignoring Jillian’s question. “Well, what’s done is done. Tell me all about it. I want every juicy detail.”

  “Sorry, some things are personal.”

  “I know it was personal. I hope it was very personal. That’s why I want you to tell me about it. Is he as big everywhere as he is in the arms and shoulders? I’ve heard that’s important.”

  Jillian tried to keep the satisfied smile off her face, but settled for turning her head. Heather didn’t notice and kept talking. “You should have seen him hammering on that deck rail without a shirt on. Come on, give. It’s the only fun I have.”

  “Forget it. I’m not talking to you after what you did to Adam and to Billy.” Jillian was breathing hard, but Heather didn’t have a hair out of place.

  “You blame me for everything that happens. His deck was only a foot off the ground. I didn’t hurt him. And how could I have done anything to Billy? That’s absurd.”

  “Don’t play games with me. I’m on to you. You can drop the innocent act.” If Heather hadn’t bothered to deny crashing Adam’s deck, maybe she was telling the truth about not hurting Billy.

  “Well, if you won’t talk to me, I guess I’ll have to make my own fun. Just don’t complain if you don’t like what happens.”

  “Stay out of my life. You have the whole world to torment. Leave me alone.”

  They reached the edge of the parking lot and Heather stopped running
, but Jillian continued without looking back.

  Pretending Heather wasn’t worth a glance over her shoulder.

  Despite little actual sleep, Adam was at work early Monday morning. His first stop was the police department gym, although he had to admit, he’d managed a fairly substantial workout the night before. He pushed the door open and groaned. Not his favorite part of the day. Gyms were the same the world over——clanging barbells and stale sweat. He didn’t run to keep his physique or lift weights so he’d look buff without his shirt. He considered working out part of his job.

  Early in his career, a suspect decided he didn’t want to be arrested and escaped by overpowering Adam and then outrunning him. He’d be damned if he ever let that happen again. Not on his watch. Not when lives depended on it.

  Once in his office, he plodded relentlessly through the piles of paperwork that had accumulated since he’d been working on the Dewitt homicide. It helped to keep his mind off that damned gun. Like a cat with nine lives, it kept showing up every time he turned around. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t continue with Jillian until he’d scratched her name off the suspect list.

  Ruben was right. He needed to be certain before he started tossing out accusations. He had a plan, but it was hell to wait for the right time.

  At mid-morning he pushed back from his desk and ambled into the break room for a cup of coffee. Calvin Marshall was holding court, describing how he had single-handedly protected the city of Houston from bad guys, big and small, when he was younger. Just the sound of Marshall’s voice made Adam’s skin prickle.

  He carried his coffee out of the squad room and down to the main lobby. A young rookie was filling in at the desk while Marshall enjoyed his break.

  “Do you have any of those forms for turning in a gun to be destroyed? One of my neighbors is an elderly widow, and she wants to get rid of her husband’s gun. I promised to bring her a form and take care of it for her. She doesn’t drive.” He lied to criminals every day, but doing it to a fellow officer made him squirm.