Chapter 39
T he professor’s outburst amounted to an admission of guilt, although unintentional. Crissy made arrangements with Derby to return in the morning to provide an official statement; then they were released to go.
Barker put up a monumental protest over John’s freedom to simply walk out. His tirade turned nasty when he got in Derby’s face and asked just what kind of operation he was running here.
“I’m glad you asked,” Derby calmly replied. “This operation investigates homicides that take place in the parish. Since you were one of the last people to see the ogre alive, I was going to bring you in for questioning. Thanks for saving me the trouble. This way, Tom,” he said, smiling as he and another deputy led him, sputtering invectives, into an interrogation room.
John had the satisfaction of witnessing that scene; then he and Beth left to drive Crissy and Carla home. On the way, the latter said little. Her aspect remained defensive.
As they got out of the car, Crissy thanked Beth for the role she’d played in identifying Victor Wallace. “If it weren’t for you…” She choked up and couldn’t finish.
“I’m just glad you’ve been liberated,” Beth said. “At long last.”
She hung back while John walked the two women to their front door, where Crissy bade him good night and apologized again for bringing so much hardship on him. He said, “I’m grateful you’re alive. That’s what matters most.” She smiled at him shyly before slipping inside.
He was left on the porch with Carla, whom he faced squarely. “I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out the thumb drive, which he’d removed earlier from its secret holder in his boot.
He took her hand, laid it in her palm, and closed her fingers around it. “If you ever doubt how much I anguished over Crissy, Billy, Gracie, read through all that. It represents over three years of my life.”
She pulled her hand from his. “Let me ask you something, Detective Bowie. Fearing for your daughter’s life—”
“I was. Last night at this time.”
“You were fortunate enough to catch that degenerate in time. I wasn’t. We didn’t know who he was or when he might reappear. In my position, how far would you have gone to protect your daughter?”
It was a sobering thought. He would ponder it. But on some other night. He was taking the rest of this one off.
“John, look! It’s started.” Beth took his hand and dragged him along behind her as she ran through the woods from the camo garage to the clearing in front of the fishing cabin. Earth’s shadow had begun to appear on the moon. “It won’t be total for a while yet.”
Looking up, he said, “Wallace got his hoped-for clear night. Too bad the only thing he’ll see overhead is the ceiling of his jail cell.”
As soon as John opened the cabin door, Mutt leaped across the threshold, obviously having urgent business to attend to outside.
John called the nurses’ station on Molly’s ward and was told she’d been soundly sleeping and that her vitals were excellent. “If she wakes up, remind her that she can call me at any time and that I’ll be there first thing in the morning for sure.”
He then called Mitch and started by asking him, “Are you sitting down?”
He gave him a condensed version of everything that had transpired since they’d last seen each other.
When he finished, Mitch was practically speechless. “John, would you have ever thought it? That she was alive, I mean.”
“Honestly, no. Hoped, but you know how these disappearances usually end. Remains are found, sometimes years later. I thought that’s what would happen here.”
“Me too.” Mitch then asked how Molly was doing.
“She was a little weepy when I left her tonight, but she’s as okay as she can be. It’ll take some time and therapy.”
“She’s got you. That’s the main thing.”
“Thank you again for today, Mitch. Actually for all the days I was… not myself.”
“No thanks necessary.”
“No, they are. Thanks for always being there.”
“Are you getting sloppy on me?”
“Hell, no. It’s just that I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“Okay. Tell you what. We’ll be square if you get me through the christening and after-party without me killing my mother-in-law.”
“Tall order.”
“Tell me.” They laughed, then, after a short silence that spoke volumes, Mitch said, “Later, bro,” and clicked off.
While he’d been on the phone, Beth had uncorked a bottle of wine. With it and two mismatched glasses in her hands, she said, “Do you mind watching?”
“After the buildup it’s had, I wouldn’t miss it.”
He carried two of the game table chairs outside and set them up just beyond the steps. But they only used one of the chairs. He held Beth in his lap as they sipped at their wine—he didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t a big fan of wine. However, it did seem suitable to the occasion.
Mutt lay at John’s feet. They watched the eclipse through its totality when the moon turned into a bright orange disk like the one John had seen on TV. Shortly after, he whispered into Beth’s hair, “I’d rather be looking at you.”
Without any objection from her, he stood and carried her into the house. He ordered Mutt to his bed, then went into his bedroom and shut the door behind them.
They undressed quickly and got between the sheets. Facing each other, he gathered her closer and worked his knee between her thighs. “Gotta be said that this is more comfortable than up against the wall.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “But that had merit. In fact, it was thrilling.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Your spontaneity was rather… barbaric.”
He arched an eyebrow and gave her a lazy grin. “That good, huh? How good?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re asking me to rate your performance?”
“Well, a guy likes to know how he did. His self-esteem hinges on it.”
She laughed, then swept her lips across his soft chest hair as she ran her hand down his rib cage, over the ridge of his hip bone, and closed her fingers around his erection.
“You rated high,” she said, speaking in rhythm with her stroking. “Waaay up there. If there were a chart, you’d be off it.”
He swore under his breath. “Not too much, Beth. I’m about to burst.”
“We haven’t done anything yet.”
“You haven’t. While you were moon gazing, I was otherwise occupied.”
“Doing what?”
“Reciting the alphabet over and over. Counting backward from one thousand. Twice. Wondering how soon I could be inside you again.”
With bedroom eyes, she looked up into his face. “I’ve been wondering that myself.” Withdrawing her hand from him, she raised it to her mouth and sucked a bead of moisture off her thumb.
Resorting to near-barbarism, he kicked off the covers and drew her across him. She came up onto her knees, then sank down on him and began rocking her hips forward and back.
“No, no, no, no.” He angled himself up, bringing them face-to-face, and bracketed her hips between his hands to hold her still. “Not yet.”
Her eyes were closed. She moaned, “Oh God, John, why?”
“I don’t want to skip the foreplay.”
She opened her eyes, looking surprised, and whispered, “Really?”
“Both times have been incredible. Wild, spontaneous, barbaric. Impatient on my part.”
“No less impatient on mine.”
“I’m not complaining, God knows. But I want to exercise a little patience this time.”
He made a caress of removing his hands from her hips. He brushed back tangled strands of hair, then cupped her face between his palms. Using his thumbs, he traced the arch of her eyebrows and stroked her cheekbones. He outlined her lips with the tip of his index finger. She tried to catch it between her teeth, but he snatched his hand away just in time.
To punish him for that, she rotated her hips as seductively as a belly dancer. He growled, “You’re gonna pay for that.”
“I hope so. Soon . Please.”
“You’re not enjoying this?”
“Immensely, but—”
“How about this?” He cupped a breast in each hand and lifted them to his descending mouth. His tongue played upon her nipples, with ardor one moment, with teasing the next, until she was pleading with him to let her move.
His hands left her breasts and moved around to her lust-inspiring ass. He imbedded his fingers in the soft flesh, and held her grafted to him. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this since I set eyes on you. Just like this. Ride me, but slow. Slow.”
She began to move as much as his strong clasp on her would allow, until he himself couldn’t remain still any longer. He placed his hands on the tops of her thighs, ran them up and down several times from her knees to the smooth creases that channeled down to form that enticing vee.
His thumbs slid down those twin pathways, and when they reached the meeting place, he wedged his fingers into the notch where they were coupled and found the heart of her sex, exposed and aroused and inviting him to fondle. Which he did, every movement of his fingers leaving her increasingly restless.
She exhaled a sound close to a sob and then began chanting his name as she ground against his hand. She wrapped her arms around his head and held it firmly against her chest.
He angled his hips up with strong thrusts, now reaching, pressing into her to the point where the feel of that silky heat that gloved him was surpassed only by the intensity of its contractions.
He needed to come or he was going to die, but he wanted to experience her orgasm. At the first jolt of her climax, he threw off his iron control.
He knew he would die remembering that instant of joy.
When he woke up, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Last night, after catching his breath from the mind-blowing sex, he’d reclined and brought Beth down with him. She’d sprawled atop him as bonelessly as a rag doll. Except a lot sexier.
Lethargic himself, he’d kept his eyes closed and allowed himself to enjoy that kind of intimacy. The kind that was perilous to indulge in because it required too much, the kind that was in direct contrast to the I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude he’d forged.
But because he’d been unshackled from his bitterness over the Mellin case, he’d been able to relax and savor the aftermath, take pleasure in the weight and feel of Beth’s sweet body, the heat that had radiated from her skin, the brush of her hair against his throat, the soft breaths feathering his ear.
Still snugly connected, they had slept.
At some point, she’d sleepily moved to his side, they’d readjusted, and now lay spooned. He wanted to luxuriate in it but knew all the responsibilities of the day were waiting for him.
He pried open his eyes. The filmy, gray light of predawn made everything in the room indistinct. Shapes were undefined, colors were dulled, adding to his feeling that this bed was his and Beth’s own desert island, apart from all else, either tangible or conceptual. For a few precious minutes, he remained as he was, watching as the light seeping through the window curtain inevitably became brighter.
He’d promised Molly he would be at the hospital early.
He moved Beth’s hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. She murmured and shifted her legs, rubbing them against his. He whispered, “You’re free to sleep in and spend the day with Mutt. But I don’t know when you could expect me back.
“If Molly is released from the hospital, I want to see her home, not leave her to deal with Roslyn’s theatrics alone. Also, Derby will need me when it comes to formally charging the professor. And Barker, I hope.”
She reached over her shoulder and covered his mouth with her hand. “Say no more. I’m going with you.”
They kissed, then reluctantly got up. “I’ll use the other bathroom,” she said. “All my stuff is in there.”
John let Mutt out, then showered and dressed. By the time Mutt scratched on the front door, his bowls had been filled and were waiting for him in the kitchen, where John had started the coffee. He was pouring the first cup when he heard footsteps coming from the other bedroom.
“Impeccable timing.” He turned to pass the coffee to Beth.
But when he saw her face, his motion was arrested. She was looking at him with a mix of apprehension and anxiety. His gaze shifted to the open door of her bedroom where her suitcase was straddling the threshold.
He gave it a long look, then, in a measured move, set the cup of coffee on the counter.
She swallowed hard and wet her lips. “The network wants me back.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move, just stared straight into her woeful eyes.
“I had… uh… There were several messages in various forms left on my phone overnight. Brady’s out. They want me to executive produce Crisis Point . They want me to begin with a retelling of Crissy Mellin’s story. A comprehensive two-hour episode, over which I’m guaranteed full authority and autonomy.”
Somehow, he managed to draw in enough breath to speak. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
She took a step toward him. “John—”
“When are you leaving?” He glanced at the telltale suitcase. “Immediately, I gather.”
“John, it’s for Max.” She clasped her hands at her waist and made a begging gesture with them. “His final words to me were about the Emmy. He said, ‘Get it for me, Beth.’” Tears filled her eyes. “I have no aspirations of accomplishing that, but I owe him this story. I owe it to myself. I can’t turn down this opportunity.”
“Of course not. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“Actually, I’m not flying out of New Orleans. The network flew two crews down here to cover the eclipse in totality, which wasn’t in New York. They came by private jet. They’re regrouping at an FBO about an hour’s drive from here. I’m to fly back with them.”
“Private jet. Wow. You’re getting perks already.”
“John, please listen. Don’t—”
“I’ll drive you to the FBO.”
“No. You need to stay with Molly. I thought I could ride to the hospital with you and hire a car from there.”
Before his chest cracked opened from internal pressure, he turned his back to her and picked up the cup of coffee now grown cold. “Sounds like a plan.”