“For being so goddamn stupid to get sent up for some stupid piddling thing like stealing, and leaving me alone with her. He had a gun in his pocket when he walked into that little Mom and Pop. He never took it out, but it was on him, and they said that made it armed robbery.” His face darkened. “Just plain stupid . . .”
“And as soon as he was gone . . .”
“She started taking men in again. Some of them liked little boys. She didn’t care, didn’t give a shit, long as she got what she needed.”
“And there was never anyone you could tell . . . no one you could trust? A teacher? Your minister?”
“We weren’t exactly a churchgoing family. And at school, well, I was just a poor, transient kid. Way behind everyone else in the class, always, ’cause we’d moved around so much. Then there were days when I was in no shape to go to school . . .”
His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped.
“And then Al came back . . .” Annie prompted.
“Yeah. She’d been too high to remember he was coming home that day, and she was having herself a party with some guy she’d picked up. Al came in and started looking around the house for her. When he found her, boy oh boy, you should have heard the two of them.”
“Big fireworks, eh?”
“Screaming, both of them.” He shook his head, remembering. “He left the house, and she finished up what she was doing with this other guy, then sent him packing right before Al came back. He’d been drinking, I could tell that, and when he started in on her, I just snuck into the closet and closed the door. I stayed in there, hiding, but then I heard all the commotion in the living room and I opened the door just a bit. He had her on the floor, with her skirt up . . . and then that knife was in his hand. Up and down, up and down, up and down . . .”
“Six times.”
“Yes. Six times. She started screaming when she saw that knife—never made a peep the whole time he was raping her, but she saw that knife and, oooweee, she was screaming bloody murder. Which was exactly what Al had in mind, I suppose. . . .”
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “No child should ever have to see—”
“Don’t.” He squeezed his eyes closed tightly. “Don’t think you can win me over by pretending to sympathize—”
“I’m not pretending. No child should ever have to go through what you went through.”
He stood abruptly, then began to clear his place, carrying the bowl and plate into the kitchen. She heard the sound of running water. A few minutes later, he came back into the room and sat next to her.
“Sorry. I was taught to clean up after myself. Where were we? Oh, right, Unger was killing my mother and I was watching from the closet.” For all the emotion he displayed, they could have been talking about the weather.
“Anyway, in the long run, it worked in my favor. They took me out of there and sent me to live with the Channings. That was the first real home I ever had.”
“But you thought you didn’t deserve it.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a shrink if you didn’t see that, would you?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a shrink if I didn’t see that everything that happened to you by the time you were four or five made you what you are. Then, later, seeing your mother raped, watching her murdered, just gave you a visual blueprint for your anger and—”
“Yeah, yeah, my anger and my pain.” He laughed hoarsely. “I’ll tell you what took away some of the pain, lady shrink. When I came out of that closet and saw that she was dead and I picked up that knife and slid it into the places where he’d cut her—”
He raised his right hand and began to plunge it down slowly, stabbing an invisible knife into an invisible body.
“—and made believe that I had been the one to kill her”—his face took on a dreamy look—“I had been the one who’d made her bleed like that. . . .”
“So that she couldn’t let you be hurt again.”
He nodded. “I used to fall asleep at night praying that I’d wake up in the morning and be big enough, strong enough, to hurt her so that she could never hurt me again. I was grateful to Al for doing it, and at the same time I hated him, because I wanted to be the one. He took that from me.”
“But you pulled her skirt down and covered her face,” she reminded him. “You tried to hide the fact of the rape, and you shielded her eyes.”
“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “she was still my mother.”
Outside, a car door slammed. He sat up like a shot.
“Shit. She’s here.” He ran to the window and looked out, watching two figures move through the light from the car’s headlights. “Who’s that with her? Who is it?”
He turned to Annie, furious.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged.
“You tell me.” He crossed the room and grabbed her by the arm. Cutting the ropes that tied her ankles together, he pulled her roughly to the window and held the drape back by less than half an inch so that the lamplight would not be visible from outside the cabin. “He looks like law. Is he one of your buddies from the FBI?”
“Yes.”
“Swell. Just fucking swell.” He pulled her away from the window. “You knew she wouldn’t be alone. You knew. That’s why you’re so calm—you thought the FBI would come storming in here to save you. Fuck that. Fuck that.”
He turned off the lamp and dragged her through the kitchen, where he grabbed a dish towel and stuffed it partially into her mouth.
“Just in case you were thinking about warning her . . .” He opened the basement door and shoved her down the steps brusquely, holding on to her so that she did not fall. Once downstairs, he searched for the side entrance and unlocked it, pulling her along with him into the cool air of early evening.
The presence of the FBI agent changed everything. He’d have to regroup, he thought as he dragged Annie through the brush just below the ridge behind the cabin. He’d need a place to stow her while he came back for Mara, and he had just the place in mind.
Tightening his grip on her arm, he quickened his pace, hoping he could find his way back to the cabin at the top of the road in the dark. After a quick stop at his car, he’d come back to rid himself of the FBI.
Then, finally, he’d claim his prize, and the first part of the game would have played out.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
“BOY, YOU WEREN’T KIDDING WHEN YOU SAID THIS place was quiet. And dark.”
Aidan paused next to the car and searched the darkness for a recognizable form. Other than a few trees silhouetted against the sky, there was little to be seen in the inky darkness. “This would be the perfect place to watch the stars. There’s no competing light for . . . how many miles are we from civilization, would you say?”
Mara laughed. “We’re a few miles outside of town, but since town doesn’t consist of much, I guess you can reasonably assume that we’re pretty much out there.”
His hands on his hips, Aidan took a deep breath. “Makes you think about the days when people built cabins like this in the wilderness, you know? Nothing around them, no lights anywhere. They’d step outside and stand, looking up, just like we are right now. Infinite night. The difference for them was that it would never change, night to night. It would always be wilderness, always be isolated. Talk about a lonely existence.”
“Most nights there’d be no lights inside, either, except maybe an oil lamp, if they could afford that. Otherwise, there’d be just the fire in the fireplace.”
“No Sex in the City. No MTV.” He nudged her. “Survivor had a whole different meaning back then.”
A screech shattered the silence, and Mara jumped, then laughed nervously.
“For some, surviving the night out here is still a challenge.” She tilted her head upward and scanned the treetops, looking for the owl that had just shattered the silence.
She looked around the darkened road. “Which leads to the obvious question, where is Spike?”
“He jumped out when I opened th
e door.”
“Spike!” she called. “Spike!”
From behind her, the dog barked and she turned in his direction.
“Guess I need to remind you of the rules, buddy. You can’t take off on your own around here. Didn’t you hear that owl?” she scolded. “You’d make a pretty tempting target.”
Spike barked again and moved toward the house.
“You don’t let him run loose up here?”
“No.” She shook her head and walked to the back of the car with Aidan, who opened the cargo space. “It’s just plain dangerous to let your pet go off on his own. He’d be no match for a bear or a hungry cat. And we have raptors up here with wingspans you wouldn’t believe. Everything from bald eagles to hawks, any one of which could pick up and take off with a dog the size of Spike. It’s a pain to have to keep the dog on a leash, but you have to remember, we’re invading the space of the wild animals that live here. We have to play on their terms.”
She fished in her pockets for the key, then reached for her bag.
“I have it,” Aidan told her. “Why don’t you just go ahead and unlock the door and turn some lights on.”
“Okay.” Mara called again for Spike, who, sensing she meant business this time, bounded out from some shrubs off the path to the cabin. “Watch your step here, Aidan. The stones are a little uneven.”
She felt in the darkness for the stair railing, then grabbed hold. “And it’s ten steps to the top,” she called back to him. “Count them on your way up, or you could misjudge in the dark and trip.”
“Wait, let me turn the car around so that the lights shine on the house.” He did so. “There. That should help.”
“Wonderful. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
The stairs illuminated, she found her way to the front door, then searched for the lock. The headlights from Aidan’s car did not reach the door, and after it took her a few tries to get the key into the lock, she reminded herself that the last time she’d been there, she’d promised herself a key ring with a small flashlight. “Next time I’m out, I will definitely buy one of those.”
“What?” Aidan said, reaching the top of the steps.
“I said, I need to buy one of those key rings that have a little flashlight.”
“Or maybe a sensor light that goes on automatically.”
“You mean the kind that turns a light on when someone walks within a certain distance of the house?” She pushed the door open and felt along the inside wall for the light switches. Finding them, she illuminated not only the deck, but the small inside entry area.
“Right. Easy to install and relatively inexpensive.”
“Sounds like a simple solution to the problem.” She snapped on the lamp on one of the tables in the living room area.
Aidan dropped their bags just inside the door. “We can run into that home supply place we passed about twenty miles back and pick one up tomorrow. I can put it up for you.”
“Thanks, but I really didn’t mean to put you to work while we’re here. I’m sure I can find an electrician—”
“What, and deprive me of a chance to show you what a talented guy I am? Not on your life,” he said, and grinned as he went back out the door and to the car.
“Spike, come back here,” she called as the dog followed Aidan. “We’ll go for a walk later.”
She went into the kitchen and turned on the water to fill the dog’s water dish, then spilled half of it as she attempted to put it down on the floor. She mopped the water up with paper towels, then opened the trash can to toss them in. The lid had dropped quickly, but not before she thought she saw something.
She opened the lid again and looked into the trash. An empty can of condensed soup lay amidst the discarded towels. She was still staring down at it when Aidan came in, carrying the bags of groceries they’d picked up on their way.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I opened those drapes in the living room partway. There’s a nice view of the sky . . .” He paused in the doorway. “What’s the matter?”
“Probably nothing.”
“Why are you staring into the trash?”
“There’s an empty soup can.”
“Hmmm. No wonder you’re suspicious. Someone having eaten soup in a mountain cabin . . .”
“Annie’s the only person that I know of who’s been here. She doesn’t like tomato soup. Never did.”
“Maybe she had a friend with her one weekend, and the friend brought some food up. Much like we did.”
“Oh. Right. That’s probably it.” Mara dropped the lid. “Odd she forgot to take the trash with her, though . . .”
“Hey, I’ll bet even Annie forgets things once in a while.”
“That would be a first, but I suppose anything is possible.”
Mara began to unpack the bags and put the groceries away.
“Hey, I see there’s some wood stacked up in here,” Aidan called from the next room. “How about if I make a fire?”
“Great idea. Thanks.” Mara smiled as she placed the bottle of wine on the counter and searched the cupboards for a couple of wineglasses.
The sound of music filled the cabin. Aidan had found the stereo.
Perfect. A little music, a little wine, a cozy fire . . .
Mara began to hum as she opened the freezer. Annie always kept an assortment of frozen goodies for just such times. There, just as she suspected, she found a frozen pizza. She’d just pop it in the oven while Aidan got the fire going, then they could snack on the floor in front of the hearth, sip wine, and . . . well, who knew where that could lead?
She poured wine into the glasses and carried them into the living room. She handed one to Aidan, who sat on the floor, leaning back against the sofa, watching the flames.
“The fire looks great,” she noted.
“Sit with me”—he patted the floor next to him—“and we’ll enjoy it together.”
“Let me just get Spike situated first.” She set her glass on the brick mantel and walked to the entry. Opening the inside door, she leaned down to adjust a latch on the screen door.
“What are you doing?” Aidan asked.
“Opening the pet port,” she replied, “so that Spike can go in and out as he pleases, which is pretty much constantly.”
“I thought you didn’t let him run loose up here.”
“Oh, I don’t. There’s a kiddie gate at the top of the steps. I’ll latch that over so he can’t leave the deck. I’ll be right back. . . .”
Once outside, Mara closed the expandable gate and locked it, then called Spike outside. He came right through the pet door and, happily wagging his tail, began his inspection of the deck.
“Okay, Spike, you know the drill. You can come and go, but there will be none of this let-dog-in, let-dog-out nonsense, understand? You can just do your little doggy thing.” She lifted the dog and whispered in his ear, “But try to do it mostly out here for a while, all right? Momma’s got plans for Aidan. . . .”
She set the dog back onto the deck, picked up his leash, and draped it over the railing. She went back inside and returned with a fuzzy stuffed toy that looked like an oversized baseball, which she rolled across the deck. Spike pounced on it and happily lay down with his head resting on it.
“That’s the idea.” Mara grinned. “Good doggie.”
“The timer just went off in the kitchen.” Aidan started to stand up.
“Oh, I was heating the oven. I thought I’d throw in a pizza.”
“Great idea.” He lowered himself to the floor again and stretched out his left leg. He was tired from all the driving. His eyes closed, he rested his head against the sofa and prayed that his bad leg would settle down. There were definite romantic vibes in the air, but a fat lot of good it would do if he couldn’t get the bam bam bam of pain to ease up.
Maybe the wine would help. He lifted his glass and was just about to take a sip when Mara sat down next to him. He put an arm around her and drew her close. She leaned against
his shoulder, feeling secure and calm in spite of everything that had been happening.
“It’s so peaceful here,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You could almost forget about Channing for a while.”
“I want to forget about him. I want to forget about what he is and what he’s done, if only for a few hours. Just for a while, I want to think about something besides the killing and I want to stop thinking about the fact that he’s intending to add my name to his list of victims.” She sat silent for a moment, then added, “Of course, you, being FBI, could probably not forget for too long.”
“Probably not,” he said with a nod. “But maybe we could, just for a few hours, focus on something good. Something . . .”
He drew her close and traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue before parting her lips and kissing her, lightly at first, then more deeply. Mara pulled away momentarily to put their wineglasses on the table next to the sofa before sinking back into his arms. She did feel safe, did feel secure, wanted that feeling to last. It had been so very long since she’d felt anything other than dead inside. It was nice to discover that it wasn’t a permanent state.
How long had it been since she craved the sensation of someone’s mouth on hers, of kisses that started on the side of her face and trailed down her throat? How long since she’d wanted to feel a man’s hands on her body, the sensation of warmth that was beginning to spread through her with no sign of stopping?
Stop thinking, she chastised herself. Just feel . . .
She did just that, lowering herself to the rough carpet and pulling Aidan with her, her head spinning as heat began to build as his hands slid under her shirt and found her breasts.
Damn sports bra . . .
“Wait,” she whispered, and partially sat up to remove the offending article, then eased back down again, bringing him with her. Her mouth opened for his kiss and her hands fisted in his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers. She arched her back, offering herself to him, and he took, his hands everywhere at once, his mouth everywhere at once, and she fought back tiny cries, so clever were his fingers and his tongue. . . .
“What was that?” He froze in her arms.
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