by Terry Odell
“No. Doing laundry.” Darn, she was already breathing too fast. She listened to the silence on the other end of the line. “How are you?” she finally said. Dumb, but a start.
“I’m okay. Busy. Sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“Randy, this is hard for me. Please, bear with me?”
“Always, Sarah.”
This time, she heard compassion in his voice and something loosened inside. “I’m going to a support group. It’s helping, but I’m still confused.” She took a deep breath. “Whenever I think of you, everything comes rushing back, and I don’t feel the same inside, and I want it all to be like it was, but it isn’t, and I don’t know how long it will take, or if—”
“Let me be there for you. Please.”
“I want to.” She wondered if he could hear her—she could barely get the words through the lump in her throat.
“Let me in, Sarah. I’m here for you.”
She sniffed. “I do want to, honest.”
“Open your door.”
Sarah walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Across the hall, cross-legged, leaning against the wall, sat Randy, talking into his cell phone. That lock of his hair still hung into his eyes. She longed to brush it back. She went to release the deadbolt, but her hand shook. Weak-kneed, she sank to the floor. “Not yet,” she whispered.
“Then I’ll stay here. What did you want to talk about?”
“You. Me. Us.”
“I like the sound of the last one best.”
“That’s what scares me. I thought I knew us, but now I’m not sure. Every us thought has Chris in it. We never did any normal get-to-know-each-other stuff, did we? It was always your job. The case. Even going to a play turned into the case.” She rested her palm on the door, leaned her forehead against the cool wood. “What if we don’t like each other when there’s no case?”
She heard a deep sigh. “Would it help if I said that I never thought of you as part of a case? That I couldn’t wait for it to be gone so that we could be together?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Open the door, Sarah. Let me tell you face-to-face that I love you. That I’ll do whatever you need. That I understand you need time and space, but it won’t keep me from loving you.”
Heart pounding, Sarah pulled herself up and unlocked the door. Randy must have heard the deadbolt release, because when she opened it, he was standing at her door, the phone still to his ear.
“I hope you’ll invite me in. We can continue on the phone if it makes you feel better,” he said. “I’ll sit on the couch and you can go into your bedroom.”
She managed a smile and clicked off her phone. “Stay. You’re here. I’ve been avoiding you and it isn’t fair. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She considered the couch, then sank into one of the armchairs. “I got the insurance money, but you know that, don’t you? And about Chris murdering that woman—and David?”
Randy put his phone in his pocket and sat in the chair opposite hers. He nodded.
“Did you have something to do with it?” she asked.
He compressed his lips, but didn’t answer.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“I lit a fire or two. What’s important is the truth, not who found it.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I mean, one day, I get this check from the insurance company and a form letter that says that based on new evidence, the Highway Patrol no longer considered the case a suicide.”
“If I told you I had anything to do with it, I thought you might feel like you owed me. You said you needed to work it out for yourself. I didn’t think my part in finding the truth needed to be part of the mix.”
“You know what was the worst? It wasn’t finding out Chris murdered David. That made me furious for a while, but then, everything fell into place. I’d made my peace with David’s death, and finding out he didn’t kill himself—well, that kind of outweighed the anger. The worst was finding out Chris killed that woman when he was at school.”
Her voice started to tremble and she couldn’t look at Randy. She almost picked up the phone again, but instead went into the kitchen and turned off the overhead light. “Turn off the lamp.”
Randy clicked the switch and she returned to her chair, hiding in the twilight’s semi-darkness.
“It took a while for all the memories to come back. Chris didn’t rape me. He couldn’t. He tried to … consummate … the stupid staged wedding, but he couldn’t perform. He told me he wanted it to be true love, not like it had been with his bad girls. I figured he was talking about prostitutes, and he said that with us, there wouldn’t be hitting. But when he couldn’t get an erection, he started hitting me. I tried being submissive, but he was too angry. That’s when I fought back and got away, but now I keep thinking he could have killed me, too.” She choked back something between a laugh and a sob. “Funny, isn’t it? I’m safe now, but I’m more scared than I was when he had me in bed with him.”
“You’ve been having nightmares, haven’t you? Flashbacks?”
Although it was a question, she knew he was telling, not asking. She met his eyes for an instant before lowering her gaze. Took refuge in the familiar. “You want some hot chocolate?”
“Sounds good.”
She went to the kitchen and saw Randy head toward the stereo. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” shimmered through the room. He stood at the edge of the kitchen, singing along softly. When the song finished, he whispered, “I’d like to be that for you. Your bridge.”
Silent tears trickled down Sarah’s cheeks. She handed Randy a mug and took hers back to her chair. He followed two paces behind her and settled into the other one.
Sarah closed her eyes and tried the relaxation techniques she’d been learning at the Women’s Center. A deep breath in through her nose to a count of three, an exhale through her mouth to a count of eight, her mind focused on a peaceful beach. When her heart stopped drumming against her rib cage, she spoke.
“I’m going to try to explain something I don’t understand myself. I need you to stay where you are and not interrupt.”
“Take your time.”
“When I sent you away before … it was—” She swallowed and tried again. “When you brought me home, when you touched me, it didn’t feel the same. No tingles. Not like with Chris, but strange.
“Before all this happened, when you took me in your arms, I felt like nothing bad could ever happen to me. I was afraid I wouldn’t feel like that again. I needed to find some way to separate you from Chris. I didn’t know how I could explain that to you without hurting you. But I think hiding from it hurt you even more.”
Even in the dim light, she saw his brown-and-hazel eyes fixed on her. “I was so sure I could do everything on my own. But I couldn’t. I felt like a failure, and I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“Remember when you showed up at my place?” Randy said. “After Starsky and Hutch? You came to offer help. I accepted. There’s no shame in that. Neither is getting outside help. I’ve been there.”
“You? When? Why?”
He inhaled, his eyes lost their focus, and Sarah knew he was finding a place deep inside him where the memories were buried. When he spoke, there was no inflection in his voice.
“Ten years ago. I was still pretty green. Uniform. There was a robbery. Guns. I did everything by the book, but firing my weapon at another human being, even one who would have killed an innocent bystander— You always wonder if there might have been another way. One where no one would have to get hurt.”
“Oh, God. That must have been horrible. Did he … Was he… How did you—?”
“I killed him. I saved a woman, but I took a life.”
“I’m so sorry.” She looked up at him, her eyes stinging with tears.
Randy blinked back his own. “It’s part of the job. We have mandatory counseling. It helps, but I know what the nightmares are like.”
She wondered if he’d slept wit
h the lights blazing the way she had for a week. She thought of how long it had been before she could take down the trash without Maggie coming along. She leaned forward to set her mug on the coffee table and Randy reached to help her. When his fingers brushed against hers, a tingle—faint but familiar—made her quiver.
“I liked making love with you,” she murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do if it couldn’t be the same. Would you want to be with me forever if the pleasure never came back?”
He set her mug down with a clunk. “You can’t think I’m in this just for sex. If that’s all you thought, we can say goodbye right now.”
“No!” Her response was automatic and its vehemence surprised her.
He pressed his fingertips to his temples, slid them down to his chin and exhaled a shaky breath. “So, does that mean you still have feelings for me?”
She hesitated. Images of Randy and Chris swirled through her mind. Then there was only Randy. “Yes. I do. But can you undo a relationship and start over? Pretend we’re meeting for the first time? I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t we try? Dinner and a movie tomorrow? That’s a pretty normal thing for two people to do on a first date, isn’t it?”
Even in the dim light, she saw the hope behind the uncertainty in his face. And hope rose in her. Get back to a normal routine, her support group had said. This looked like as good a start as any. “Yes, but instead of the movie, would you teach me how to drive a stick shift? That’s a normal thing, too, isn’t it?”
Randy’s brows lifted. “I guess so, but why that?”
Sarah took a sip of her cocoa, and some of the knots inside untied. “The first time I got away from Chris, I found his car, but it was a stick shift, and I didn’t know how to drive it.” She paused. “Well, it didn’t start, but if it had, and I’d known how to drive a stick, I might have gotten away.”
“These days, manual transmissions won’t start unless you depress the clutch all the way when you turn on the ignition. But sure, I’ll be happy to teach you.”
She smiled. “Good. And one more thing.”
“Name it.”
“I’d like to take some self-defense classes, too. It might be locking the barn door after the horse got away, but I think I’d feel better.”
“The department offers classes. I’ll look into it. I might even show you some moves myself.” He grinned. “I’d still like the dinner and a movie, though.”
Sarah smiled as a warm glow crept through her insides. Her heart tried to escape her rib cage again, but this time it was a positive feeling. She rose from her chair. Randy’s gaze locked onto hers. When she crossed to him, he sat there, motionless. Letting her make the first move. She closed the distance between them, brushed her mouth against his forehead, heard the sharp intake of his breath. When she stepped between his legs and put her hands on his shoulders, he raised his head, his lips parted, inviting, but not insisting.
Without conscious thought, she accepted his invitation. Their lips met, barely touching. And then she was sitting on his lap. Without hesitation, she ran her hands through his hair and pulled him to her. As the kiss grew in intensity, her bones dissolved and her insides puddled. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. She kissed him deeper and deeper and absorbed his kisses as they sent flames raging through her.
When it was time to breathe again, she leaned away. “Oh, I missed us so much. Thanks for waiting.”
“As long as it takes.”
“Enough talk,” she said and drew him to her.
A Note From the Author
I hope you enjoyed reading this book. One thing readers can do to let an author know they've enjoyed a book is to pass the word along. If you're willing to let your friends know you think they might like the book, or tweet about it, or post it to your social media sites, that would be wonderful. Also, the best way to help readers find authors is to post a brief review. If you have a minute, I'd appreciate it if you'd go to the site where you bought this book, or any review site such as Goodreads, and let others know you liked it. Also feel free to lend this book if your e-book reader permits
And keep reading for Bonus Content
Thanks!
Terry
Acknowledgments
Cover photo by Amy Daraghy
Cover art by Dave Fymbo
There are countless people deserving thanks for the help in creating this work.
To Sandra McDonald who got me started.
The Short Story Group at iVillage whose weekly prompt led to a full-blown novel.
To the Yahoo Novel Construction group for their crits and feedback. And love to the Pregnant Pigs, who insisted I never give up writing and submitting.
To Wally Lind and the gang at crimescenewriter, and to Detective Tom Bennett for the law enforcement and forensic advice.
To Dr. Randy Ferrance for the medical consults, and Amy Daraghy for keeping me straight on Oregon flora and fauna.
And, of course, to all the wonderful people at the Central Florida Romance Writers, who were there for me no matter what.
Thanks to Jessica, Nicole & Jason for their parts, and to Dan, my favorite research assistant, especially for always being willing to accept “scrounge” as the answer to “What’s for dinner?”
Bonus Content
Don't miss the next Pine Hills Police novel—HIDDEN FIRE. Here's a sneak peek:
HIDDEN FIRE
Terry Odell
Under the table, Sarah's toes found the cuff of Randy's pants and inched their way up his calf, the coarse hair tickling her foot. His eyes widened, his eyebrows arched and the standard restaurant candle-in-a-jar caught the hazel flecks in his otherwise brown eyes. He brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, but it flopped back the way it always did.
She smiled at the hovering waiter, placed her hand over her empty coffee cup and shook her head. "No more, Tony. Thanks."
Tony refilled Randy's coffee cup and whisked away his empty pie plate. Randy's eyes returned to Sarah, moving between her dessert and her face. He smiled, but she could sense his impatience. She continued her torment by dipping her spoon into the chocolate mousse in front of her. Slowly, carefully, she filled the spoon with the rich delight.
His call had surprised her yesterday, when he announced he'd be coming back from San Francisco a day early. She wriggled her toes higher up his leg, trying not to laugh as he squirmed. She'd chosen her outfit with special care this morning. Demure didn't begin to cover it. Prim? Prissy? That was closer. Navy blue slacks, a pale blue silk blouse buttoned to the neck and a navy blazer. Not quite a suit, but close enough. Of course, the thong beneath the slacks and the lace demi-bra under the blouse were anything but prissy. She'd sensed Randy's eyes on her behind as they walked up the steps to the restaurant. And maybe his hand had crept a little lower than the small of her back as he'd guided her to their booth.
She poised the mousse-laden spoon in front of her mouth, parting her lips a fraction. With her other hand, she fingered the pearl button at her neck.
"It's warm in here, isn't it?" One button, then a second, slipped through its hole. Randy leaned forward.
"You're killing me," he whispered.
Her tongue wrapped around the mousse. Her eyes closed. She sighed.
"You're going to finish that, aren't you?" he asked, resignation in his tone.
Without opening her eyes, she said, "Every bite."
He blew out a long, slow breath.
She met his gaze and smiled at his obvious annoyance. "It's chocolate. Some things shouldn't be rushed."
She slid her foot out from inside the restriction of his slacks and worked it up his thigh. He reached for his glass and swigged gulps of water. When her toes met his lap, he choked. Coughing, eyes watering, he reached down and encountered her waiting foot. Still choking, he clutched it closer to his groin and she felt his hardness. She lowered her eyes to her mousse and took another bite, swirling her tongue around her lips.
Tony appeared and refilled Randy's w
ater glass. "Are you all right, Detective Detweiler?"
Randy nodded and waved him off, gesturing for the check. Sarah covered her mouth with her napkin, trying to erase her grin.
"So, tell me all about your violent-crime work," she said. "Not much call for that in Pine Hills. Or do people get violent when they get parking tickets?"
He wiped his mouth and set the napkin beside his plate. "To tell you the truth, Sarah Tucker, I'm thinking about all the gruesome pictures, which is the only thing keeping me from embarrassing the hell out of myself right here."
Heat burned in his eyes. Her nipples pebbled behind the lace of her bra and moisture pooled between her legs. She scraped the remnants of the mousse from her dish, the clicks of metal against glass barely audible over the blood pounding in her ears. She wanted him. Now.
Tony returned and dropped the check on the table, not meeting Randy's eyes. "Whenever you're ready, Detective." He pivoted on his heel and left.
"All finished," Sarah said, smiling. "You want to go, or have more coffee?"
In response, Randy dumped some bills on the table, angled himself out of the booth and extended his hand. She fumbled, trying to get her foot back into one of the sensible pumps she'd worn to complete her stodgy look. Grasping his fingers, she scooted across the vinyl bench. He gave her the leverage she needed and she rubbed against him as she stood.
He stroked her hand. "After you." His aftershave wafted to her nostrils, counteracting the myriad cooking aromas.
He quickened his pace. By the time they hit the porch surrounding the rustic restaurant, he half-dragged her down the steps and elongated his stride across the unpaved parking lot. Earth and pine scents mingled, still unable to compete with his special scent. Spice and Randy. A lethal combination.
"Hey," she said with a laugh. "You in a hurry? I'm not six-six, remember? Short legs."