The Fourth Motive

by Sean Lynch

“You didn’t have to; you were thinking it.”

  “I was not. I–”

  “Take it easy,” he interrupted her. “I carried you upstairs. Your aunt undressed you.”

  “You better not have undressed me,” she said.

  “I was only teasing you,” he grinned, “because it’s so easy to do.”

  Paige stopped suddenly and put her hands on her hips. Her face was flushed, her breathing was heavy, and she wore a look of exasperation.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said,” he answered, coming to a stop alongside her. He too was slightly out of breath from their run. “It’s easy to poke fun at you because you’re so damned serious about everything. You’ve should laugh once in a while. For such a beautiful woman, you sure are a sourpuss.”

  “What did you call me?”

  Kearns walked up to her, his own hands on his hips, and looked directly into her eyes. Cody eyed them both. “I said you’re a sourpuss.”

  “Before that?”

  “I said you’re a beautiful woman.”

  Paige wanted to avert her eyes but for some reason couldn’t. The moment was laden. She felt uncomfortable but, strangely, didn’t want the moment to end. She felt out of control; an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling to her. She swallowed and looked down at her watch.

  “I guess we’d better start heading back–”

  Her sentence was cut off by Kearns’ kiss. Though taken by surprise, to her astonishment, she did not pull back. She felt his strong hands cup the sides of her face, and his lips pressed deeply into hers.

  Paige opened her eyes, not remembering when she had closed them. She put her palms against his chest and pushed, feeling the heat and power of his body. She turned her head, sensing his reluctance to separate and feeling some of her own. Kearns stepped back.

  As soon as they parted, Paige looked down. Cody looked up at her, panting. Kearns appraised her evenly.

  “I wish that hadn’t happened,” she told the Labrador.

  “I would apologize,” he said, “but I’m not sorry.”

  “I am,” she said.

  With that, and without looking back at him, she whirled and began to retrace their route at a full run.

  “Paige! Wait!”

  Kearns started to run after her, Cody again at his heels, but slackened his pace when he realized she was sprinting. He contented himself to jog along behind her at a distance, keeping her in view.

  “It was only a kiss,” he said to Cody, lengthening his stride.

  Paige, Kearns, and Cody ran back to the house. They were oblivious to the watchful eyes above them, concealed within the foliage surrounding a fallen oak. There, under the cover of the scrub overlooking the valley, a silent observer kept vigil.

  CHAPTER 38

  Ray Cowell was careful to keep both hands cupped over the lenses of the binoculars to prevent a reflection from the glass. He’d learned that technique from reading the Marine Corps Scout/Sniper Training Manual.

  He’d been overlooking the ranch since before dawn from a vantage point high on the ridge above the basin. Ray saw Paige, Kearns, and Cody leave the house and begin their winding ascent of the hills. He was easily able to keep them in view without divulging his hideaway.

  Ray was elated. He wasn’t sure the slut would even be at the address in rural Napa, despite what the housekeeper had told him, until he saw her familiar features outside at first light.

  Ray’s car was parked on a remote fire trail a little more than a mile from the entrance leading to the Callen ranch, where it was both hidden and accessible. He left his vehicle covered in burlap strips and tree branches, in the manner he’d seen armored vehicles camouflaged from view in military history books. A casual observer couldn’t detect the car from the main road, and someone specifically looking would have to be almost upon the Hyundai to discover it.

  After stashing his car, Ray had hiked several miles around the far side of the hills behind the ranch and begun his climb to the crest of the hill overlooking it. He’d brought a powerful flashlight along for the nighttime hike, but with an almost full moon found he hadn’t needed it.

  Ray was dressed in military fatigues. He wore green-and-black jungle boots on his feet, and a boonie hat adorned his head. His duffel bag had been carefully packed but was heavier than he’d anticipated. He’d been forced to stop many times during the early-morning trek to catch his breath and adjust the shoulder straps, which were cutting into his collarbones, along with his father’s M1 carbine. He was a heavy smoker, he was unaccustomed to physical exertion, his bruised chest was still sore, and he hadn’t anticipated how difficult walking through the woods would be under the burden of his gear. He panted heavily and his legs felt like they were made of lead.

  Ray had thoroughly reconnoitered the area via car before embarking on foot, and was comforted to learn the ranch’s nearest neighbor was over six miles away. He had concocted a story about hunting in case he encountered anyone but realized that scenario was unlikely due to the seclusion of the Callen property.

  He located the perfect place an hour before dawn. It was in the tangle of a giant downed oak tree and overlooked the ranch. The tree and the overgrown brush surrounding it were just over a thousand yards from the rear patio, easily within viewing range using his high-powered Zeiss binoculars. The spot offered superb concealment.

  Ray began unpacking his things and setting up his observation post, not expecting any activity at the house for several hours. He was delighted to observe the whore, true to her routine, emerge from the dwelling at first light. He was less delighted to see the muscular man and dog emerge several minutes later and follow her. He couldn’t be certain but was almost sure the man was the one who intervened on the slut’s behalf the day he tried to take her.

  He remembered how the housekeeper scoffed at the theory of the slut having a boyfriend. If he wasn’t a boyfriend, who was he? A bodyguard? That possibility concerned Ray.

  He planned to observe and gather intelligence today. He knew from his father’s lessons and a book he read on the origins of the Office of Strategic Services, the most important weapon in any soldier’s arsenal was intelligence. How well you knew your enemy could be the difference between victory and defeat.

  Nonetheless, Ray felt ready for what lay ahead. He fantasized he was fighting in Korea alongside his father. The weight of the carbine felt reassuring, and he was certain if his dad could see him now, he would be proud.

  Ray badly wanted a cigarette but resisted the impulse to light one. He remembered reading that the Viet Cong could smell American tobacco in the sterile jungle environment at a distance of several hundred yards.

  He watched through the binoculars as the slut and her friend jogged steadily up the hill, the yellow dog trailing behind them. Every part of him had been waiting, almost living, for what would soon transpire.

  Ray was aware his previous acts had been childish and amateur, not the actions of a professional. He’d planned poorly and executed those plans impulsively. He’d let himself become excited. He’d made mistakes. He would not make mistakes again.

  He flashed his nicotine-stained teeth in a feral grin when he looked through the binoculars and saw them kiss. So much for the “no boyfriend” theory. He laughed as they turned around and ran back the way they came.

  “Run along home, whore,” he said aloud, as he watched them depart. “Get in a fuck while you can. Make it a good one, though; it’ll be your last.”

  He set aside his binoculars and unfolded a camouflage-colored tarpaulin to use as shade. He wasn’t particularly tired; it was a byproduct of the residual adrenaline left over from his early-morning exertion, but he knew he had to rest. Soon, the heat would set in and make sleep difficult. He wanted to be as fresh and ready as possible; it was going to be a busy night.

  Tomorrow would be even busier.

  CHAPTER 39

  Kearns sat outside on the rear patio, enjoying breakfast with Elsa. Cody was
munching on his own breakfast underneath Kearns’ chair.

  When they returned from their morning run, Elsa was already in the kitchen. Paige passed her wordlessly, ignoring her aunt’s hearty, “Good morning”.

  Kearns smiled a greeting and went to the cottage for a shave and shower. Twenty minutes later, he was on the patio, where Elsa was laying out breakfast with Cody dutifully at her side. When Kearns arrived, Cody trotted up.

  “How does breakfast sound?” Elsa greeted him.

  “Marvelous,” he said, kneeling down and giving Cody a vigorous hug. “I’m starved.”

  “How was your jog?”

  “Could have been better.”

  “I figured. The black cloud over Paige’s head was a clue.”

  They sat down together and Elsa poured Kearns a tall glass of orange juice. “You know,” he said, nodding his thanks, “sometimes I think I could screw up a cannonball.”

  “Don’t give it another thought,” she consoled him. “Paige will be fine by this afternoon. Be patient; I told you this place has a positive effect on her. She’ll come around. Besides, it’s too beautiful a day to spoil with a sour attitude, even for her.”

  “Maybe not; I really stepped on my dick this time.” He winced. “Pardon the expression,” he added, an embarrassed look on his face.

  Elsa tossed her head back and laughed. “No need to apologize,” she said. “It was one of my husband’s favorite sayings. Only, he would say ‘I stepped on my dick with hobnailed boots’. I’m not offended.”

  “Paige sure was,” he said, buttering a slice of toast.

  “Whatever happened between you two will blow over,” Elsa assured him.

  “I doubt it; I kissed her.”

  “You don’t say,” Elsa said, her eyebrows lifting. “Worse things could happen to a pretty girl.”

  “I should have known better.”

  “Oh, phooey. I’m sure if you did it, it was the right thing to do. Damned if that’s not just what she needs. A little kissing now and then never hurt anybody.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do. I’ve known Paige all her life, remember? She always tried so hard to be such a straight little arrow to please that heartless father of hers.”

  “I’ve met the Judge,” Kearns said. “I never thought of him as heartless.”

  “You weren’t his only daughter. He was tough on her.” She sipped coffee. “When you’re a little girl, all you want is for your father to put you on his knee and tell you how precious you are. But there was none of that mushy stuff in Gene Callen’s home, no, sir. He was as stiff at home as he was on the bench. It’s what eventually drove his wife away.”

  “You mentioned marital troubles before.”

  “That’s right,” Elsa continued. “But I don’t blame Gene entirely. Claire was a big girl when they met, and she knew what she was getting into when she married him. I may have already mentioned Gene is an excellent judge of character; it’s one of his many strong points. He knew his wife was more than a match for him. But his weakest point, and it’s a flaw he’s passed on to his child, is his inability to express his feelings. Oh, he knows the right things to say, all right, but when it comes to actually relating to people, especially those he cares about, he’s all thumbs, always has been.”

  “Is that why Paige is so cold-shouldered most of the time?”

  “Of course. Like her father, she’d rather diminish the importance of a relationship than admit she needs it. And just like her father, she’s driven by a fierce self-reliance as a result.”

  “Basically, you’re telling me she’s shy?”

  Elsa laughed again. “Kevin, you have a way of eloquently simplifying things.”

  “Just a guess,” he said.

  “I’d call it an accurate guess. For goodness’ sake, she’s twenty-eight years old, yet she acts like a bashful schoolgirl when a classmate shows interest. Not a lot of men show interest, I’m willing to wager.”

  “You kidding? Paige is beautiful.”

  “She is, but she’s guarded. Standoffish. Most guys aren’t looking to work that hard in their relationships; Paige is high maintenance. And she can be very intimidating, even for an attorney.”

  “I suppose I’m too dense to be intimidated,” he said.

  “One of your strong points,” Elsa said.

  “In any case,” he exhaled, “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have kissed her. It’s probably why she hasn’t come out to join us for breakfast.”

  “Nonsense. She’s on the phone with a police officer from Alameda. I heard them conversing as I was coming out.”

  “Sergeant Wendt?”

  “I didn’t catch the name. In the meantime, have some eggs and sausage; for a guy your size, you eat like a mouse.”

  Kearns accepted a loaded plate. “I should mention,” he said, “that I took the liberty of borrowing one of the shotguns. I have it out in the cottage where I can get to it. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I just pray you won’t need it.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his glass of orange juice.

  The sliding glass door opened and Paige walked out, squinting in the sun. Kearns stood as she approached the table and did not resume his chair until she was seated. Though she nodded as he pulled out her chair for her, she did not meet his eyes.

  “What’s the news from Alameda?” Elsa wasted no time asking.

  “Dad’s doing a lot better. They’re going to move him out of the intensive care unit. Sergeant Wendt said he’ll still be under guard, at least for now. I’ll be able to speak with him later this afternoon.”

  “Any progress in the investigation?”

  Paige shook her head. A long silence ensued.

  “Let me give you the day’s itinerary,” Elsa announced, ending the awkward quiet. “On the agenda today is nothing, absolutely nothing. You two are going to sit by the pool and keep Cody company. And you’re going to relax; that’s an order.”

  “Sounds like heaven to me,” Kearns said. Paige nodded imperceptibly.

  “Get your suits on. I’ll clean up. The rest of the day is for taking it easy.”

  After breakfast, Paige and Kearns retired to their respective rooms to change as their host had ordered. When Kearns emerged, he found two towels, two glasses, and a large pitcher of ice water with lemon slices on the table nearest the pool. He’d brought his own towel with the .45 tucked discreetly inside.

  Kearns was arranging two deck chairs by the pool when Paige came out. She boldly walked across the patio, but he could sense how self-conscious she was in her swimsuit. She needn’t have been.

  Paige was wearing a modest white two-piece, which displayed her magnificent legs to perfection. Kearns felt a tightness in his throat as he tried not to stare, and was grateful for the Ray-Ban sunglasses he wore and their ability to conceal his scrutiny. Her long blond hair was pinned up, revealing the shaved patch and stitches, but also showcasing her neckline and shoulders. Her firm breasts rode above a hard, flat, and tiny waistline.

  Elsa reappeared with a bowl of sliced fruit and several books.

  “Aren’t you going to join us?” Kearns asked.

  “At my age, the sun isn’t very kind. I’ll be inside in my favorite chair doing the same thing you two are doing. If you want anything from the kitchen, give a shout.”

  “Don’t you have anything more contemporary?” Paige said, examining the books. There were copies of Cooper’s The Deerslayer, Wells’ The Island of Doctor Moreau, and Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises.

  “The classics are always contemporary,” Elsa reminded her niece. “That’s why they’re classics.”

  “I love H.G. Wells,” Kearns said eagerly. “Haven’t read any of his stuff since I was a kid. It’s perfect; thank you.”

  “Ta-ta.” Elsa waved, returning to the house.

  Once she left, Kearns and Paige settled into their chairs. Paige napped and Kearns read. Neither spoke a word as morni
ng faded into the afternoon. Every hour on the hour after noon, Elsa would return to the pool from the kitchen with a beer for Kearns and a margarita for Paige.

  Occasionally, Paige or Kearns would take a dip in the pool to cool off; the temperature was over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. During the times Paige was in the water, Kearns found it particularly difficult to concentrate on the chapter he was supposed to be reading. She glided across the pool, her strokes smooth and effortless. He noticed she was careful not to get her stitches wet. He also noticed her glancing at him a time or two when it was his turn for a dunk.

  The combination of sun, relaxation, and alcohol had a tranquil effect. By late afternoon, Kearns felt his eyes growing heavy. When he turned to look at Paige lying next to him, he realized she was fast asleep. He checked his watch; it read after 5 o’clock.

  Kearns stood up, yawned and stretched, and for the second time in as many days scooped Paige gently into his arms. She gave no indication of waking up, and he could tell by the depth of her rhythmic breathing she wouldn’t be waking anytime soon. He padded noiselessly in his bare feet into the house.

  Elsa sat up from her chair as Kearns strode past. She lowered her reading glasses, her eyes flashing mirth.

  “I see all the relaxation was too much for her,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he whispered. “I’m going to grab a nap myself as soon as I put her to bed.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “Can we make it a late one? The sun and booze tend to kill the appetite.”

  “That sounds ideal.”

  Elsa preceded him upstairs and opened the door to Paige’s room. Kearns placed Paige carefully on the bed. Elsa kissed her on the forehead, and they left her to slumber.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said once they were downstairs, “wake me when Paige wakes up, would you? We could have dinner then. I’ll cook.”

  “You cooked last night. I hardly ever get to cook for anyone but Cody, so it’ll be my pleasure. Enjoy your nap.”

  Kearns retrieved his book on the way to the cottage in case he awoke before Paige. Cody obediently trotted after him.