“I’ve always thought it would be really romantic to live on a boat,” gushed Carole as Ray gave her the grand tour, inside and out. It was not as large as some of the houseboats, but still had more than enough room to allow for freedom of movement and fair sized decks and cabin quarters. He’d recently had new carpet installed and put in hemlock paneling and cabinets himself. Log furniture was accentuated with a few pictures on the walls and central air kept the living space comfortable.
“Oh, it can be romantic,” Ray told her, having come full circle to where they began the tour. “Especially when the sun’s setting, and also in the dark of night when the moon is overhead. But there are other times when the high winds and rising waters make you want to be anywhere but on a houseboat. But I can’t think of any place better to live, in Portland anyway, than on the water.”
Carole was thoughtful. “Maybe someday when I retire from the bench I’ll get the nerve to buy myself a condo right off the ocean in the Bahamas or Hawaii. Or maybe the Cayman Islands. That’s probably the closest I’ll get to being on the water.”
Ray grinned, happy just to watch her sensual mouth move, seemingly with no effort. “That’s cool,” he said, and imagined himself retiring with her anywhere she wanted to go.
After a moment or two, Carole said: “What I can do to help?”
“There are plates and glasses in the cabinet in the kitchen,” he said. “And silverware in the dinette, if you want to set the table.”
“One set table coming right up,” she said cheerfully.
Ten minutes later, they were eating and chatting like old friends or lovers.
Or new ones.
“So what made you decide to become a cop?” asked Carole, sipping wine.
“I often ask myself that very question,” Ray mused, “and have come up with more than one answer. I guess at the time it seemed a better bet than joining the service like my old man, who made a career of it. And later, I thought I could make a difference in someone’s life as an officer of the law,” he added. “Not really sure I have, though.”
“I think we all make a difference in someone’s life,” she stated. “It only takes one person to make it all worthwhile.”
Ray peered at her. “Is that why you became a judge?”
Carole stuck a fork in her salad. “In a manner of speaking,” she said. “I suppose I wanted to make something of myself beyond what was expected of me. I also wanted to put myself in a position where I could do some good in getting criminals off the street.” She paused. “Sometimes, though, they have a way of slipping through the cracks, no matter what—”
Ray knew she was referring to recent defendants who had walked, only to wind up dead.
“Don’t blame yourself for a system that doesn’t always work, even with the best of intensions,” he told her sincerely, cutting off a slice of well-done steak. “You can’t put all the bad guys away, any more than I can catch them all.”
Carole lifted her wine. “Maybe if I had put a few more away, they’d still be alive today...”
“Or maybe they would have ended up killing their girlfriends and wives—or making them wish they were dead,” Ray countered. “How the hell do we really know? In any event, I think this so-called vigilante killer was prepared to carry out these executions whether the victims were on trial or not. It wouldn’t have taken much for them to find some assholes who fit the bill. The truth is, none of us can predict when a serial killer will decide to go after someone or when, where, or why. All we can do is try to catch the son of a bitch before he—or she—kills again.”
“You really think you’ll catch this one?” Carole asked bleakly.
“Count on it.” His jaw tightened. “Serial killers, regardless of the reasons behind their crimes, can never simply walk away. They keep upping the ante, playing with fire, pressing their luck, till they shoot themselves in the foot, so to speak.”
“You make it sound almost like a game, Ray,” Carole said, chuckling.
“It is in a way,” he told her. “Only the stakes are high for all sides.” Ray drew a breath, exhaling slowly. “At the end of the day we can only hope there are more winners on the side of real justice than losers.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she seconded, raising her glass.
Ray held up his own glass, spying the glint in her inviting eyes. He knew he was beginning to like Carole Cranston more and more. For better or worse. But right now, all he could think of was for better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They went out to the upper deck, bringing the wine with them. The lights of boats taking advantage of the calm, warm night could be seen on the river.
Carole felt comfortable with Ray Barkley, unusually so with someone she barely knew. He was charming, caring, tough, and could stand on his own two feet. He wasn’t pushy, obnoxious, arrogant, or otherwise a bastard like so many men she had gone out with.
She wondered if their connection had more to do with their professional lives or their personal desires.
“Is there anyone special in your life, Ray?” Carole asked nonchalantly, though she sensed the answer. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would be with her now if there was. Aside from that, there were no signs the houseboat, neat as it was, had a woman’s touch to it.
“Not at the moment,” he said calmly. “Was married once, but it ended in disaster. It took a long time to get over her, but I did. I’ve moved on with my life. What about you?”
Carole had expected the question and was prepared to respond. That didn’t make it any less difficult. I hate talking about myself, especially the past, which I’d rather leave alone.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now,” she told him candidly. “I was married once, too. I met what I thought was the perfect man when I was in college. Only he turned out to be not so perfect.” A knot formed in her stomach, but she wanted to finish. “He ended up a drug addict and eventually committed suicide—”
Carole could see that this took Ray by surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Ray said in a low, melancholy voice. “It must’ve been pretty hard on you?”
“It was,” Carole admitted, thinking back, and even now. “I never saw it coming till it was too late.” She sipped her wine. “On the bright side, it propelled me to go on and finish law school, pass the bar, and work for the D.A.’s office for a while, before becoming a judge.”
“Something good definitely came out of it then.” Ray ran a hand across his head. “I hear you’re one hell of a judge, Your Honor.” He smiled at her.
She smiled back. “I’m sure you’re one hell of a detective, Mr. Barkley.”
He laughed. “I try to hold my own out there on the mean streets of the Rose City.”
“You mean when you’re not holding your partner,” she inquired jokingly, adding quickly: “I meant in the line of duty.”
That is what she meant, isn’t it? There was no reason for Carole to believe any hanky panky was going on between Ray and Detective Parker. But then, anything was possible. And, either way, it wasn’t any of her business what he did on or off the job. Or who he did it with.
Ray leaned towards her, and said smoothly: “If anything it’s Nina who holds me up—in the line of duty. We may not see eye to eye on every tiny thing, but she’s got my back when the going gets tough.”
“That’s nice to know.” Carole wished she had someone who would watch her back and be there when the chips were down or when the sun wasn’t shining. Someone like Ray Barkley.
Carole gazed into his amazingly compelling gray eyes. She felt a bit lightheaded from the wine, but in a nice, mellow way. He was becoming more desirable to her in ways she hadn’t felt in some time.
“Looks like we’ve both had it rough when it comes to relationships,” she commented.
“I try to think of it as learning experiences in life and love,” Ray uttered, “that can prove to be useful in the long run—”
Carole found herself drifting towards him, their
fingers touching, caressing one another’s. “How about in the short run?” she said sotto voce.
Ray put his hand to her cheek, sending electrical charges into Carole’s face and then coursing throughout her body. “That, too.”
Their eyes met and both knew what was about to happen, encouraging it through the flicker in their connection.
Carole did not try to fight her growing feelings for this man that went beyond merely wanting his body. She knew there were implications down the line that would have to be dealt with. But, for now, she saw only an inner need they both shared and wanted to be appeased—through each other.
“Do you want go back inside?” Ray asked her eagerly.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
* * *
She felt herself slowly sinking onto the bed while in Ray’s arms. Her head rose upwards so her mouth was perfectly aligned with his. They kissed. It was a light brushing of the lips that ignited embers within.
Carole pressed for more, prying Ray’s mouth open for a deeper, more intimate kiss. He responded by putting his tongue in her mouth and holding her tightly against his rigid body.
“I want you,” he whispered huskily into her mouth, the words echoing in Carole’s ears.
“You can have me,” she gasped back, barely able to contain her unbridled desire.
Ray put a hand on Carole’s full breast, fingers grazing her nipple, sending a torrent of fire burning within, before he moved to her other breast and nipple, having the same effect. Another hand went under her dress. Roaming, deliberate fingers moved effortlessly inside her panties and into her. It was all she could do not to have an orgasm on the spot.
She hadn’t realized until now just how much she had needed someone. How long it had been since there was anyone to interest her. Or anyone she wanted to be interested in her.
Caught up in a dreamlike state, Carole had barely been cognizant when Ray buried his head between her open legs. She came instantly and with a flurry.
Then it happened again, as he seemingly knew exactly what it took with is mouth and tongue to bring her to this state of euphoria.
She went with it, enjoying every moment, and then some. Her mind tried to keep up with the pleasures of her body this man feasted upon.
When her turn came, Carole unfastened Ray’s trousers and took all of his erection in her mouth. His breathing quickened and a low groan erupted as she brought him to climax in a matter of minutes.
Without a word between them, they removed their clothes and began to make love, as if totally in tune with one another. Carole started on the bottom and ended up on top. Her thighs clenched and her body gyrated as another wave of orgasm hit her like a bolt of lightning. Every cell in her body seemed to come to life. It was as if she had been awakened from a deep slumber to find herself in the firm tentacles of a man bent on satisfying her every whim and doing so masterfully like a seasoned pro.
Ray held onto Carole like a lifeboat while they kissed, fondled, and caressed, and slammed into each other like battering rams. Her every move led to a counter move on his part, as if a game of chess. Only there would be no losers. Just winners.
At last, a powerful mutual release gave way to an easing back down to earth. A calming of the river. A softness of breath. A time for reflection. Contentment.
Carole lay in Ray’s powerful arms for a long time afterwards, savoring the moment and the man. She felt a little embarrassed about what had happened, as if it had been her very first time. Or perhaps because of the length since the last time.
But the better part of her knew it was something she did not regret. Ray had been everything she had hoped, and much more. She wondered he if thought the same about her.
I’ll just be happy that we enjoyed this wonderful night together, without looking too far ahead.
When Carole left early the next morning, there were no promises or expectations. No declarations of love and commitment. No talk of further meetings. Each agreed to let the dust settle and see what happened. When and where.
Deep down inside Carole knew she wanted to see Ray Barkley again and again, each time soaring to new heights and new possibilities with this fine and very sexual man. But the little girl in her knew that when you played with matches you could easily get burned. Just as when fate was tempted, the results often proved disastrous.
In spite of any other feelings she might have for the detective, no matter how strong, she might do well to remember that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You look positively glowing this morning, Barkley,” Nina said with amusement, blocking his path as he headed for his office. “Or should I say like a man who got some last night?”
Ray yawned, ignoring her suggestion. “Rough night.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Worked on some stuff around the houseboat.” He somehow managed to keep a straight face as he went into the office. She stayed hot on his heels as if his shadow.
“Like I’m gonna believe that for one second,” Nina hummed wryly.
Ray couldn’t help but chuckle. “You can really be a trip sometimes, Parker.” He rounded on her, feeling a bit guilty in doing so. The last thing he wanted was to cause a rift between them. But now was not the time to tell her about his escapades into the wee hours of the morning with Carole Cranston. He was still trying to come off the high himself and not even wanting to think about any future lows that might come out of it.
Nina backed off, as if she had been pushed. “Hey, lighten up, man, will you? I’m just playing with you. There’s nothing in the manual that says you can’t get laid if you get lucky.”
Ray thought about the night he and Carole had just spent together. He wouldn’t exactly call it luck—though he sure as hell felt like he was living a charmed life in her company. In truth, it had been one of the most productive, quality nights he’d had in recent memory. She was everything he could possibly have hoped for in a dinner date, lover, and a lady, and much more.
If he had he had his way, they would already be well on the road to a full-blown relationship. But sensing Carole was not ready to declare this as anything more than a one night stand or, at the very least, wanting to take a wait and see approach, he had exercised restraint in going along with it—for now anyway.
He didn’t want to screw this one up if he could help it. He knew a damned good thing when he saw and felt Carole Cranston, and was determined to give it everything he had to make something out of what they’d started. The jury was still out on exactly what.
This feeling ruled Ray, in spite of believing that Carole was holding back on him, as if she were being weighed down by something dark and onerous. Did it have anything to do with the fact she was not in a relationship? Had come out of a bad one? Or was it more professional in nature?
He sat at his desk, eyeing Nina still standing there with her mouth half open as if unsure what to say.
“Is there something else on your mind?” he asked brusquely.
“Yeah, there is,” she responded with an edge to her voice. “In case you’ve forgotten, there is the little matter of a serial killer bitch we’re investigating.”
A tiny smile brushed his lips. “I haven’t forgotten. What have you got?”
Nina sighed, pressing her palms into the desk. “What we don’t have is Esther Reynolds,” she said disappointedly. “She has a fairly solid alibi for the time frame each of the men were killed. Not to mention there’s no physical evidence thus far to link her to the crimes. The search of her home turned up nothing.”
Ray wasn’t surprised. Reynolds seemed too obvious a choice, as far as he was concerned. Too hardened. Too bitter. Too visible. He still didn’t rule out that she knew more than she was willing to tell about the murders. Proving it was another story altogether.
“What about the other women connected to the shelter?” he asked.
Nina leaned forward, the Bantu knots getting in her face. “There’s a few interesting ones to look into,” she repl
ied. “Some have records for assault or attempted murder, usually of their abusive significant others. A couple of them were in mental institutions for a while, related to physical or emotional abuse. One was only six years old when she saw her daddy strangle her mother after inflicting a serious beating—”
Ray stared at the possibilities. “Well, I suppose any of these women could be our serial killer. Or none of them.”
Nina looked at him hesitantly. “There’s something else I think you should know. I ran a check on contributors to the shelter’s financial coffers—”
“And...?”
“Looks like one of the largest donations in the last year came from none other than Judge Carole Cranston herself!”
Damn. Ray swallowed hard, though he tried his best not to waver under the scrutiny of Nina’s gaze.
“Oh, Ray. Please tell me you’re not sleeping with her,” she said bluntly.
Without responding directly, he lied when he said: “I already knew about Judge Cranston’s financial contributions to the shelter.”
Nina’s eyes ballooned. “You knew, and you never said anything?”
“What was there to say?” Ray tried to sound nonchalant. “She told me when she delivered the list of names of people from her courtroom. She also admitted she often suggests the shelter to battered women as an alternative to being beaten. That hardly makes the judge a serial killer.”
“It points to another possible link between her and the crimes,” Nina contended. “That makes her a suspect in my book! If you can’t see that, Ray—or are blinded by her long pixie braids and big breasts—then maybe you don’t belong on this investigation!”
Their eyes locked for a long moment. It was Ray who averted his gaze, realizing his objectivity may well have been compromised where it concerned Carole Cranston. Even then he refused to believe Carole had anything to do with the bat murders. Other than being the judge who was forced to release the defendants-turned-victims. But he doubted he could get Nina to see things from his point of view.
Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller Page 10