Twistered

by J. L. Wilson

  I restrained myself from smashing it to the ground. What was he talking about? Good heavens! I walked onto the grassy lawn surrounding the Coliseum, smiling mechanically at people who passed me. A tangy, moist smell in the air was sharp and pungent. I stared at the thunderheads in the distance, the tumbling clouds as chaotic as my thoughts. I headed toward the swine barn to check on the other dogs when a sudden thought made me stop as though pole-axed.

  Drew didn't use a condom. If he and Mina--then he and I--my stomach lurched and the hot dog I ate earlier rumbled in my stomach and threatened to come up. Good Lord. What if he and she--then he and I--?

  I needed movement, I needed a distraction. I wouldn't know for sure until I talked to Drew and I didn't know when that would be. I whirled and went back into the building, following the cold corridor to the locker room where the MUPs class was getting ready for their moment of glory in the ring. The eight dogs were in the hall, their handlers keeping an eye on the dogs and on attendees at the show who milled past on their way to bathrooms, refreshment stands, or their seats.

  Three swarthy, leather-jacketed men were watching the dogs as they paraded past. One made a comment to the others, who all laughed. Two women were with them, each dressed in tight jeans and T-shirts that left little to the imagination. Wild, uncombed hair and heavy makeup completed my stereotypical idea of 'slut.'

  A woman with two young children was attempting to see around the burly crowd, pointing to one of the dogs. "Excuse me," I said, tapping the biggest man on the arm. "Could you move to one side? I believe this lady would like to see the pets."

  He eyed me over his shoulder and moved fractionally to the left.

  I smiled politely. "If you're not here to view the adoptable dogs, could you please move along?" I touched my shirt and the Humane Society logo. "Please?"

  The man eyed my breast and his eyes lit with malicious pleasure. "That's okay," the lady with kids said nervously. "We'll see them after the show. Come on." She nudged her children ahead of her, following the last of the dogs into the arena.

  One of the men said, "Yeah, I'd take that dog for target practice."

  "You do and I'll see that you're arrested," I retorted.

  The three men turned, fanning out in a semi-circle in front of me. They were all tall, dusty-looking, and beefy with dark stubbly beards and hard, muscular bodies. The women eyed me with obvious disdain, probably deciding my demure couture was no competition for their dubious charms so amply displayed in their garish getup.

  The tallest man also eyed me, raking me with an up-and-down glance. "You and who else?"

  "I'm the coordinator for this show, which is a fund-raiser for our town. You are here on our sufferance. I'd be happy to call the police and ask them to escort you elsewhere if you don't like it here or if you choose not to follow our rules." I put my hands on my hips.

  He stared over my head as though assessing the crowd, which had thinned considerably. I wondered if there were any other volunteers around to back me up. Then I dismissed the idea. These thugs wouldn't dare try anything untoward in a public place. The fools were boorish, not idiots.

  "If I adopt an animal, I can do what I want with it," he said. "It's nobody's business but mine what I do."

  I revised my assessment of their intelligence. "And that's bullshit. Why do men assume they can prove their masculinity by picking on the weak and defenseless? Don't they realize it only shows how impotent they really are?" I didn't wait to see if my words hit home. I wheeled and walked away, tossing back, "If you're not gone by the time I come back, I'll see that you're arrested for loitering."

  "I'll show you who's impotent," a voice growled behind me. My arm was suddenly squeezed in a vice-like grip. I jerked to a halt, half-falling to the ground.

  "Let her go."

  Jack Tinsley approached, striding forward until he was face-to-face with the motorcycle thug who held my arm so tightly it was starting to tingle. Jack was once again all in blue: a pale denim sport coat, navy blue shirt and dark blue jeans. The two women both eyed him appreciatively but he ignored them, keeping his gaze fixed steadily on the men who now flanked me.

  "Let her go. Now." He shifted position slightly and the thug's eyes went to Jack's coat, which opened to move away from his body. The man's eyes widened and he released my arm so suddenly I stumbled.

  "It's cool, man. No need to get hasty." The thug backed away, hands raised. "We're just talking. Nothing personal." He turned and glared at me, his eyes hard and hate-filled. "We're on our way out of here." He put an arm around the slut with him and they sauntered away, brushing by me and leaving the smell of sweat, leather, and cheap perfume in their wake.

  I turned to Jack, who watched the unsavory pair leave, followed by the other scruffy miscreants. "What did you do...?" My words faded as I saw the gun nestled under his arm. "Oh. Is that legal? I mean, isn't that a concealed weapon?"

  He put a hand on my arm and steered me toward the ramp leading into the arena. "I'm an FBI agent. It's legal. You shouldn't do things like that unless you have back-up."

  "What do you mean? This is a public place. They wouldn't have done anything."

  His hand tightened on my arm. "I suppose that crack you made about the police means you think Strawn will protect you."

  His angry tone made me defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Do you think sleeping with him gives you special privileges?" He gripped my arm even tighter as he pulled me to a stop.

  "That hurts." I tugged my bicep away. "And you have no right to criticize my relationship with Drew. I've known him for years. We're good friends."

  Jack backed up a step. "That might not be in your favor."

  "Quit being cryptic." I rubbed my arm. "Why don't you say what you mean?"

  "Okay. I will. Is there somewhere private we can go?"

  "I can't leave. I'm in charge of this show. We have another hour before it wraps up."

  Jack looked at his watch. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his shoulders were tense, rigid. "I have to go somewhere, but I'll come back. Make sure you don't leave without me." He glanced around as though suddenly realizing where we were. "I know you think you're safe, but you aren't, Dorothy. Don't leave alone and whatever you do, don't leave with Strawn."

  "What's that mean?" I asked in a low voice, stepping closer to him.

  "You heard me."

  "I heard you but I don't understand." Anger made me louder than I intended. A couple of people walking by eyed us curiously. I lowered my voice. "I didn't understand what you were talking about earlier today and I don't understand what you're saying now. Why shouldn't I go anywhere with Drew?" I heard the Professor, our announcer for the evening, say, And here's our final group, the Heinz 57 class. Give them a big hand. Applause started from the arena, drowning out Jack's response.

  "What?" I moved closer to him.

  He moved back into the depths of the building and I followed. "Jack, what is it?" I hurried after him as he went back to the corridor outside the locker rooms.

  Jack didn't stop until he got to the exit where I had paced anxiously earlier. He stood in the doorway, framed by its white lintel. "Did you talk with Mina Wickman today?"

  I nodded but he couldn't see me. "Yes, I did. Earlier today."

  "Did she tell you about Chief Strawn?" He spoke the words to the world outside where the wind was picking up, bringing with it the smell of rain.

  I eyed him warily. His shoulders were hunched in his jacket and his hands clenched at his side, opening and squeezing shut. It seemed like he was bracing himself for a blow. "What could Mina tell me about Drew?" If that bitch told Jack I was sleeping with Drew, I'll kill her, I thought. I won't have my business shared with every stranger in town.

  Jack turned to stare at me. His jaw was tight, his lips a compressed line. "He's a dirty cop. He's involved with the Wickeds."

  Chapter 15

  "That's crazy," I said immediately. "Why would she say that?"

&nbs
p; "Her brother called her three weeks ago. Esterson said he overheard Chief Strawn talking with one of the men in the gang. The Chief left town a month ago, didn't he?"

  Jack was right. Drew was gone for three days to Kansas City. I knew that because a newspaper article in the local paper talked about him attending a law enforcement seminar. "So? Mina could be lying. It's only her word that Wade said anything."

  "Why would she lie? Anyway, she said the proof is in the papers her brother left for you." Jack eyed me cautiously. "You still have them, don't you?"

  I thought of the tote bag, now stowed in the nearby locker room with coats, jackets, bags, and other volunteer paraphernalia. "Yes, I do."

  "Have you gone through everything?"

  "Not yet."

  "We made copies of everything, but Strawn was in charge of that. He might have destroyed evidence."

  "Now wait a minute." I started toward the locker room but stopped, trying to gather my scattered wits.

  "I want to examine the copies you have and compare them to the ones I saw earlier. What time do you leave here?"

  "Jack, I don't think--" I gave up whatever I planned to say when I saw the hard expression in his eyes. "In an hour or so."

  "I'll follow you home."

  "But--" I needed time to call Drew. I didn't want to hand over anything that might hurt him. But as soon as I thought that, I reconsidered. There was nothing in that envelope of papers and memorabilia that could possibly harm Drew. Still...

  "Dorothy, there you are!" Betty Cochran waved to me from the doorway leading to the arena. "We're finishing the MUPs. You need to take a bow."

  "It will be at least another hour." I started moving toward Betty.

  "I'll wait." Jack kept pace beside me, smiling politely at Betty, who gaped openly at him.

  She took my arm and steered me along the ramp leading to the arena. "Is that the FBI guy?" she whispered excitedly.

  "Yeah." I turned. Jack stood in the ramp entryway, a few feet back from the concrete aisle that circled the arena. He was in shadows, watching me. The only thing visible was part of his face, highlighted by the overhead lighting. He suddenly smiled, transforming the stern, disciplined FBI agent into a sexy, charismatic male. I almost swooned at the allure in his gaze and the frank, assessing look he gave me.

  "Dorothy, here's the preliminary revenue figures." Patti Gillfoyle, our volunteer treasurer, thrust a piece of paper into my hand. I took it automatically as she dashed away, her patchwork Madras shorts a bright sea of color against the gray concrete of the steps.

  I turned, but Jack was completely in shadow and I couldn't see his expression. I stuffed the paper into my coat pocket and started to follow Betty to the metal stairs leading to the floor of the arena. Mel intercepted me. She was carrying an armful of handouts about the Foster Freedom program and she automatically handed one to passersby as she spoke. "Did Mina find you?"

  "We talked to her earlier today, remember? Is that what you mean?" I waved to the Professor, who was gesturing to me from the center of the show ring.

  "No, she was here tonight. She had keys for Leo--something about a store he wanted to see? I didn't catch the details. Anyway, when she found out he was gone she wanted to leave them with you. I pointed her to the locker room and told her to put it with your stuff. You left your tote bag and purse there. That was okay, wasn't it?"

  I remembered Leo mentioning the new beauty shop he was opening. Mina probably wanted him to look at the site. "Sure. I'll give him the keys when he gets back to town." I pulled my notepad from a coat pocket and jotted a quick note: keys, Mina, Leo. I started down the metal steps, but paused when Mel said,

  "You know that animal inspector who came by? Turns out he's not coming back. I called the department and they don't have anyone by that name working there."

  "You mean Waller? The guy I found in the Tube?"

  Mel nodded, her frizzy brown hair catching a glow from the spotlights, making her appear momentarily electric. "I called them to see about scheduling his return visit but they said there was no one by that name there."

  "Dorothy, come on!" Betty tugged at my hand, pulling me down one step.

  Perhaps I was paranoid, but that didn't sound right. "Tell him," I said, gesturing toward the arena ramp. "Tell Tinsley."

  Mel grimaced. "No way. You tell him." She moved away but turned back. "I might let King and the girls in the Tube tonight if this storm keeps up. I'll talk to you later." She hurried off, waving to someone in the crowd.

  Oh, great. Monkeys running through the Tube tonight. I made a mental note to double check the lock on the door.

  "Here she is, Dorothy Gaylord, the chairwoman of this year's show. Dorothy, come and take a bow, you deserve it!" The Professor's voice boomed from the center of the arena where he stood, gesturing expansively.

  The spotlight swung to me and I waved in response to the polite applause that filtered to the arena floor. I rooted in my coat pocket and found the piece of paper Patches handed me. I almost tripped over my own feet in surprise. When the Professor gave me the microphone, I couldn't suppress my glee. "We've raised almost twenty thousand dollars for the animals today!" I shouted, waving the paper excitedly. "Give yourselves a big hand!"

  I waited until the clapping faded then I thanked the volunteers, had them all take a bow, and turned the mike back to the Professor so he could wrap up the show. I spent the next ninety minutes meeting with volunteers, the fairground managers, Humane Society personnel, and the committee for next year's show. When I finally emerged from the locker room, it was almost midnight and the Coliseum was quiet.

  Jack was waiting for me in the corridor outside the locker room. "Is your car in the lot?" he asked as we approached the exit door where a security guard waited to let us out.

  "Yes." I looked with dismay at the falling rain. "When did it start raining?"

  "An hour ago." He nodded toward the empty cattle barn fifty feet away, where lights were moving around and voices could be heard. "Most of the motorcycle people are inside."

  I forgot all about the AMRAK riders. Many of them were staying with townspeople but quite a few were camping. "I'm parked on the other side of the barns." I evaluated the distance between the empty barns--cattle, swine, and sheep--all aligned next to each other. It would be a long, wet run.

  "My car is here." He pointed to the side of the door and a sedan parked on the grassy verge. "I'll drive you to your car." He didn't wait for my approval but put a hand under my arm and pulled me into the darkness. I heard the door to the Coliseum close behind us as I was bundled into a car, Jack sliding behind the wheel.

  I pointed Jack toward the gravel road that skirted the barns. He drove in silence for a minute then said suddenly, "Is that a lot of money?"

  "What?"

  "The money you raised tonight. Is that a lot?"

  I eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was joking. He stared straight ahead, the sharp planes of his face flickering in and out of brightness as we drove past the barns and their yard lights that cast pools of light in the darkness. "Of course it's a lot of money. We usually only raise about eight or ten thousand."

  "You do a lot in this community, don't you?" Jack didn't wait for my reply. "You're the librarian, you volunteer to run a dog show, you participate in fund raisers. I talked to some people. They said you do a lot."

  He sounded almost accusatory, as though those were bad things. "Small towns are usually overlooked when it comes to government funding. We have to rely on ourselves."

  He reached across the seat and took my hand. "I'm not criticizing." His hand tightened. "I'm envious."

  "Of what?" I leaned forward, wiggling my hand free of his. "There's my car." I fumbled the key ring from my purse, thankfully keeping Margaret Hamilton's cackling voice silent for once.

  "Envious of your life, I guess." He parked next to my car. All I had to do was step out of his door and into my driver's seat. As I started to open the door, he leaned over. "Dorothy." His voice
was low and rough.

  I turned to him. Jack put a hand on my head and gently tugged me toward him. I put a hand on the console in the middle of the seat, not sure if I was resisting or trying to get my balance. Our lips met in a smoldering, lingering kiss that ignited my nerve endings from my head to my toes. For one brief instant I wanted to throw caution to the winds, climb in the back seat, and have at it like a teenager. But common sense prevailed and I pulled away from him. "Why did you do that?"

  "You're..." He tilted his head. Dimples showed at the corners of his mouth and his eyes, so deeply blue, were like pools of summer sky. "You're kissable."

  I threw open the passenger door as I grabbed my tote bag and purse. I didn't have any retort to an answer like that, so I used transferring to my car as my escape. I tossed my bags into the passenger seat and sat, breathing heavily. My legs were wobbly and I burned even though my clothing was damp from the downpour.

  I gripped the wheel to steady my hands before shakily jamming the key into the ignition. The engine purred to life and I let the distraction of driving a new car take over. There was no way in hell I was going to get involved with Jack Tinsley. I repeated that like a mantra as I drove through puddle-laden streets to my house on Garland Lane.

  I drove slower than usual because of the steady, heavy rain and the unfamiliar car. I also went slower because I wanted to postpone an encounter with Jack. But finally I drove into my garage and got the door to the house unlocked while Jack parked behind me in the drive and raced through the pounding rain. "Looks like everyone's asleep," he commented as we went into the house.

  "It's after midnight. We're not a real party neighborhood." I flipped on the light over the stove then dropped my tote bag and purse on a chair. I started to empty the pockets of my Volunteer Jacket but decided that could wait until morning. I added my car keys to the pocket pile while I bent to pet SoSo, draped over one of the chairs in the breakfast nook.

  "Who's that?" Jack moved to stand next to me.

  "Oh, that's SoSo." Jack and my cat exchanged equally cool blue gazes. "He's a so-so companion," I explained, sidling away from Jack. "Even as a kitten he was standoffish."