9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Remington James
B orrowing one of Ceily’s vintage bicycles to get to the Sheriff’s office had seemed like a solid plan. I don’t know if Hemminger will find the information I have helpful, or if she can tell me anything, but I’m determined to try. That was before the day turned balmy, hovering around ninety degrees, before I forgot about bugs, and before I miscalculated the distance or time it would take. My desire to do this is flagging. I could’ve gotten a ride, but then I would need to explain why I’m going there.
I roll to a stop on the bike path with the Sheriff’s office in sight to swat mosquitos off my ankle. “Christ on a cross what the fooook,” I whisper furiously in a Scottish accent. The swarm of bugs hovering around me is an irritating cloud. Pulling my ponytail tighter, adjusting the white babydoll top and jean shorts I’m wearing, and kicking at the rusted chain guard that has been rubbing against the pedal, I’m almost ready to proceed. Until it dawns on me that I still have to bike all the way back into Lake Hollow. Good freaking gravy, so much for thinking this was a good idea.
By the time I angrily shove the clunky wreck of rust into the bike rack at the Sheriff’s office, I’m crabby. The cinderblock, no nonsense building feels like a refrigerator after the heat and exertion of the ride. I wipe my sweaty face against an arm, leaning against the wall waiting for the detective. The desk clerk behind the bullet proof glass said she was on a phone call as she eyed me over, like I’m here to bump someone off.
“Ms. James?” Detective Julia Hemminger approaches from the hallway, extending a bottle of water so cold that condensation drips off. Bless her law-abiding damn heart.
Accepting the drink with thanks, I follow her into an office stuffed full of her things. The walls are covered and the desk is piled up high with paperwork. “I’m surprised by the visit. Is everything okay?”
That’s a rather broad term. Okay? I’m fairly sure I’m being haunted, one or more of my boyfriends are lying to me, my uncle detests me, and I just donated a pint of blood to the ferocious mosquitos that plagued me on my way here. Oh, and I just realized my cellphone isn’t on me. Goll damn it.
“I take it by that lack of a response that it’s not. What can I help you with?” She adjusts her chair, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. That worn and stained turquoise and pink striped journal is the only way Katie Gibson has to communicate with us now. Letting it go is for the best, but I’m nervous it won’t get the detectives any closer to holding the culprit accountable. Poised to listen intently, she meets my eyes. But finding the words is proving difficult. What if I cause the police to go after an innocent person? What if this conversation is the downfall of someone I love?
Pulling out Katie’s diary with the missing pages slipped inside of it, I put it on the desk in front of the detective. Her eyes widen as she looks down at it. “What do we have here?”
Detective Hemminger reminds me of my high school art teacher, the same warm voice, understanding eyes, and a demeanor that screams of competency. I want to tell her every last thing. About Carlotta’s letter, the tidbits I’ve picked up from various people over the past few weeks, but I know better. She’s trained and paid to be an information gatherer. I tell her about finding the diary, but nothing else.
It’s enough of a confirmation that the drownings were not accidental, at least two of them weren’t. I watch her page through, stopping and scanning the words. When she reaches the final entries, she sucks a breath in, her eyes getting even bigger. “You’ve looked at this?” she asks me in an even tone.
“Mmhm. I have. Can I ask you something?”She pulls her glasses off, to rub at the side of her nose. “You can.”
“Do… do you have a suspect?” My heart lurches in my chest. Not really wanting the answer, but knowing I need it. “For the drownings?”
She frowns before putting her glasses back on. “There is a person of interest. I’m limited in what I can say about the Ross murder case, because it’s an open investigation. That includes who the suspect is. It’s all circumstantial right now, there isn’t enough to make an arrest. We don’t want to risk alerting this person that we’re trying to find evidence.” She puts her hand on the top of Katie Gibson’s diary continuing, “What you found changes some things.”
In other words, she can’t tell me. I placed the diary in her hands, but there isn’t anything to allay the fears mounting inside me over Cal and Charlie. “But you only mentioned Susanna Ross’ case, what about Sara and Katie, now?” Wilder has asserted that they are all linked, but there is no telling what the authorities believe or can prove.
“Thank you for coming in with the diary. I understand that you could’ve done something else with it, but it was wise to bring it to me. Does anyone else know about it?” Deftly ignoring my question, she marches on.
Uh, uh. I’m done giving her anything, because she’s not able to share a thing with me. I see you and raise you… a zipped lip. Shaking my head at her, I drop my eyes from her face.
She moves the diary into a manilla envelope, writing on it, she puts it in a locked cabinet against her wall. “You remind me of my daughter. If she was in the same situation as you, I’d want someone looking out for her. You have an interesting group of new friends in Lake Hollow.” That’s rather funny when I consider my own mother. She’d gleefully abandon me with no thoughts of my safety. Oh, that’s right she actually did.
The detective sits back down, her face serious as she says, “Please be careful. While I can’t tell you who our person of interest is, I will say they are in Lake Hollow currently. You may find yourself spending time with them, and there is no telling what this person is capable of or what they think of you. I’d advise you to avoid private time spent alone with anyone beyond your family for now.” Her sad smile morphs into a weary sigh. “If I’m scaring you, that might be for the best. It’s much easier to stay alert if you’re at least a bit afraid. Please take my card, if you hear or see anything that connects to the drownings, I’d like you to call me.” She hands me her business card which I tuck into my pocket.
Afraid? I’m not scared right now, I’m getting angry.
Whoever killed Sara, likely took Katie’s life, too. Wilder’s visions draw a connection between all seven drownings. The person that did it not only got away with it but let Wilder flounder under suspicion. This person has to be responsible for Carlotta’s demise. A body count of eight, and maybe there’s more. Maybe I’m a target. But afraid? Not as much as I want to destroy them. In this moment, I’m even more convinced this isn’t one of my boyfriends.
Hemminger walks me out. “Any big plans today? Whatever you do, there’s a record high temp coming this afternoon. Try to stay hydrated and out of the sun.” Spoken like a true mom. It reminds me how much I once craved that kind of guidance.
“Charlie Gibson and I are going out for ice cream.” I throw his name out there as a test. Call it a degree of self-preservation, I want to see her reaction to my mention of him.
She smiles kindly at me. “Fitting activity based on the weather.” I let out the pent-up breath I had after announcing my plans. “Remember my warning, okay? For the time being, while my partners and I start looking into the other drownings, re-interview a few people, it’s really best not to talk about any of this with anyone.”
One last reassurance needed, I say, “I understand. I can keep this to myself. I should get going though, I’m meeting up with Cal.” I’m not. In fact, I need to get back to him after avoiding telling him about art school. I just say it to see her reaction over my mention of him.
My insides freeze when she bites her lip, an unsaid fear in her eyes. “Cal... Cal Truitt?”
“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We’re meeting up.” Do it, Remi. Just throw another little piece of curiosity at her… “He wanted us to meet up at Lakeside Park before I get ice cream with Charlie.” Wilder’s visions have something to do with the park, not just the lake.
She opens her mouth up, eyes tense.
Then she folds her arms over her chest. “Remi, I can’t stress this enough. Please be careful.”
I want to throw up, walking out of the county sheriff’s office. Not over the long bike ride back to Lake Hollow, but over the possibility that Cal isn’t who I think he is.
My horrendous trek back to The Bends comes to an end with me almost falling off the bike outside the cabin door. Sweat running down my back and neck. A sticky film from the bugs, dust, and cottonwood fluff coupled with my wild hair make a shower imperative.
“I give up. You were being chased so you stole a bike from a junkyard to flee? No, no… let me guess, Skip is looking at buying a bike shop, so he had you start transporting them one by one back here. This is the hundredth bike.” Wilder puts his hand out to help me up. Of course he had to come outside to witness me like this. He’s all freshly cleaned looking, standing shirtless in a pair of black athletic shorts, causing me to almost pant for reasons other than the heat. I’m grossed out for him, when he plants a smooch on my forehead.
“Eww… don’t kiss me, I’m all mucky yucky. I’m covered in the countryside.” Playfully pushing him away, I stretch my legs out. All that walking, and still, all it takes is a few miles on a bicycle to make them cramp. To be fair, it wasn’t a well-functioning one with one wheel bent, the chain guard catching the pedal, and the seat a glorious, cracked ass pincher. “I need to clean up.”
He trails me into our cabin, where Droolius looks up from Skip’s tennis shoe he was intently chewing on to greet us with an excited yip and tail wag. My little menace. I give an affectionate rub to his head. “Skiperoo is going to love that.”
Telling him what I’d been up to, Wilder isn’t thrilled that I rode a bike all the way to the Sheriff’s office to hand over Katie’s diary. He tells me that he would’ve taken me. Yeah, on the back of his sleek black and red road rash inducer. No, thank you. I’ll take the soreness, and bug bites versus scraping over the pavement. “You’re missing the point here… did you hear me?” I strip out of the damp clothes, Wilder leaning in the doorway.
“Huh… the… huh?” His eyes soften, his whole face transforms watching me. That glimmer of lust, the quirk of his lips. Maybe I can get a hand? Since our fun the night of Grady’s party he’s been stopping anything beyond a touch or kiss. “You’ll have to forgive me. I can’t hear right now with you naked in front of me. I can’t think.” He steps into the small bathroom, closer to me, his hand running down my sweaty side. “I can barely catch my breath.”
I cup his hardening length through his shorts. “I’m not opposed to assistance in the shower.” So help me, if he puts me off again, I may scream.
But we don’t make it in the shower before I’ve removed his shorts and underwear. “I surrender, James.” Wilder rasps below my ear, where his tongue just licked a path up my neck. “You’re a terrible tease, you know that? As a side note-”
I interrupt him with a huff, “Me?! I’m not the tease here. You’re the worst.”
“I think you meant best. I’m the very, very.” He nips my ear lightly, his voice giving me goosebumps. “Very best.”
That look in his eyes further unravels me. “Hey, stop weaponizing your eyes at me like that.” Holding the back of his head and keeping him close to mine, I whisper, “If you stop this now, I will go absolutely savage on you.”
His cocky smirk firmly on his face, he pulls me tighter. “Back to the side note… you drove the temp up a good ten degrees when you took your clothes off. I had to let you strip me just to get comfortable. “I win. He caresses my back, while his tongue in my mouth makes my body so needy for him that I catch myself shimmying as close as I can to him. With as much of my bare skin touching his as possible, my right hand wrapped around his sizeable dick, my strokes are getting jerky.
My frantic kisses, paired with the moans he makes are getting me worked up to the degree that my limbs aren’t cooperating with me. He scrambles my brain this close. His tongue is a key that turns off all thoughts.
Being careful flies out the cabin window. No condom? Right now, I can’t have a problem with that.
His engorged dick is weighty in my hand as I guide him into my throbbing pussy. “Oh, James…,” is his seductive moan against my forehead as he thrusts deeper into me, is like a further aphrodisiac.
Wilder Lee has moves that have me riding a wave of euphoria as I’m clawing at his back. I think I stop breathing for a few seconds. His dick is making sure that I’ll remember this, days from now, feel that blissful ache left behind.
My fervent moans of, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…,” against his mouth are rewarded by his seductive look paired with that cheeky smirk of his. I can’t pull him tight enough to me.
From against the sink, against the wall, me wrapped around him tightly. Each time I’m spiraling, he pulls back drawing out the ecstasy. Until I use all my might to grab his ass cheeks to pull him tighter against me. “I want you to cum,” I say raggedly into his ear. Does he ever. Seeing him running out of me, down my leg, does something to me. That feral part of me purrs, luxuriating in causing him to blow.
My mouth seeks his again, as his dick is pressed between us growing rock hard again. “More… oh my God, please.” Using his cum, I stroke down his veiny cock. I’m not done with him yet… I never will be.
“Mmm… I’m not arguing with you about that.” His fingers dance across the curve of one of my breasts as his other hand plays with my clit causing me to suck a breath in. His every move, every breath draws me more deeply into him.
Our bodies, slick with sweat, are intertwined. His voice is spellbinding, “I’m not going to last, if you keep grinding on me like that.” But I can’t help myself. He pulls back, sitting me on the edge of the sink. He dives back in for a kiss that makes my heart skitter about in my chest. “Fuck… I can’t stop.” He grabs me, pulling me back onto his rigid dick.
I’m sure anyone at The Bends can hear us when we climax, because the sound I make has Droolius running to the bathroom, and Wilder’s growl has me holding him tightly, my legs locked around him. My body wracked by unsteady breaths, as I quiver. He kisses the corner of my mouth, his voice shredded, “You’re fucking intoxicating.”
Cascading water with suds from the fragrant peony shampoo pool at my feet. Wilder squirts more shampoo on his hand to massage my head with as I resist the urge to lean back against his chest. “Relaxed?” he asks as I find myself lulled into a daze. For the first time in days, I let go of all the thoughts troubling me. I had been solidly in the present moment. Just realizing that, put an end to it.
Wilder misinterprets my sigh. “No, you’re not?”
I focus my attention on the reddened bug bite above my knee, while I try to explain, “My mind is busy trying to sort things out. It took a break, but we’re right back at it.”
He puts an arm around my waist to pull me flush to him. “You won’t accomplish anything if you get wrapped up in maddening matters. It’ll just drive you crazy… crazier.” He laughs, while squeezing me with the arm holding me tightly.
We switch positions so he can rinse off from washing my body and hair. Turning to grab the bottle of soap, I catch him lock up out of the corner of my eye. He crashes against the wall of the shower, I move quickly to lower him, shutting the shower off.
Swearing to myself, because I can’t stop his momentum, his body strikes the floor of the tub/shower combo, his head glancing off the side with a dull thunk. My eyes fill with tears. I couldn’t even manage to keep him from injuring himself. All his concern over having a seizure in front of me is further complicated by my argument not holding up at all. A lot of good having me here was. A strained groan comes from him as his body shakes.
I slide under his upper body, holding his head in my lap. Wiping tears from my eyes, I say as soothingly as possible, “I’m here. You’re going to be alright. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here baby. I’m here.” My hand smoothes through his hair. His body relaxes after a couple of minutes, but before I can think of what to do next, it starts again. Wilder starts to sound like he’s choking, making me reposition, terrified that it’s because of how he’s lying.
Under his breath he’s saying something. It takes
leaning in close to his mouth to decipher what it is. “Remember, cry… remember, cleanse… stop, stop, stop.” Then his teeth clench, the tremor becomes stronger. I need to call for help, but I’m afraid to leave him in the tub or move at all.
The debate on what I should do ends, when his body relaxes after a couple more minutes, his eyes blink open a couple of times, a hand going to the side of his head. “Jesus Christ.” He moans, struggling to sit up.
“You shoul-”
“I’m going to be sick,” he cuts me off, as he moves fast to turn his head over the side of the tub to vomit.
I don’t want him to see that I’m crying. Keeping my hand rubbing his back, I turn my head away. He had tried to tell me they were coming on with no warning, and more often, but this makes my worry over him topple all reason. He shouldn’t be driving his motorcycle, or for that matter staying alone. What if I wasn’t here? He could’ve been knocked out or worse.
“You hit your head,” I mumble through tears.