by Erik Carter
“Is that why you two ended? She cheated on you?”
“I don’t know if she ever cheated,” Dale said. “Honestly, she might have been right—I may have just been paranoid. But she was fickle. She’d break up with me over the slightest thing. And I never really forgave her for it.”
“Have you forgiven her since?”
Dale thought for a moment. “I’d like to think I have. I don’t know. It takes a toll on your ego getting dumped over and over. We broke up and got back together three, maybe four times. I lost track.”
“Doesn’t sound like a keeper to me.”
“In fairness, the first time she broke up with me came after I got interested in another woman.”
Mira let out a small laugh. “Ah, the truth comes out. Typical man.”
“Only interested,” Dale said, quickly correcting her misinterpretation. If there was one thing Dale disliked, it was being misunderstood. “We’d been fighting a lot, and I wasn’t particularly getting the warm-fuzzies. I never would have cheated on her, understand. But, yes, I got interested in someone else. We’re all only human.”
“This is true.”
Dale looked down, saw how fully recovered she was. He took his arms off her. She remained against him for a moment before stepping away.
“What time are we leaving?” she said.
“The middle of the night. Two or three in the morning. They’ll be searching the woods, no doubt about it, but they’ll hit town and the trails before they start searching isolated places like this. We should be safe.”
“Then we need that rest you mentioned,” Mira said. “Let’s go to bed.”
He didn’t like the way Let’s go to bed had sounded. Too comfortable. But he couldn’t imagine how she must have felt having gone through what she did only to be quasi-abducted by Dale. So he said nothing. He just hesitated slightly then followed her to the mattress. After she climbed under the blankets, he did the same.
She turned toward him.
“Dale?”
“Yes?”
“You said they’ll eventually be searching the woods. Do you think Clyde is doing the same thing?”
“Searching for his next victim?”
"No. Searching for me. The one he didn’t finish off. His girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I should say. Searching town, realizing I’m not there, remembering the cave… ”
“I think we’re safe.”
“I keep imagining him walking through the mouth of the cave over there, silhouetted with a knife like he was in my bedroom door.”
She started breathing heavily again.
“Hold me.”
"I’m sorry, Mira. I can’t. It’s already inappropriate in bed like this, and—”
“We’re in this thing together, Dale. We’re partners. And I need your support right now. Just put your arm around me. Please.”
A slight pause. Then Dale reached his arm around her, sliding it under her neck and around to her shoulder. She settled in beside him, putting her head on his chest, resting her hand on him as well, next to her face.
“Thank you.”
Dale felt himself compromised, in a bad situation. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel good. His breaths grew shallower, his heartbeat pounded. He knew she could feel both of these effects through her face and hand, pressed against him, which only made his breaths grow even shallower, his pulse even quicker.
Dale closed his eyes. If he could just get to sleep…
There was silence for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside, a bit of it blowing into the mouth of the cave and pattering the rock floor.
“Clyde wasn’t the only man who was bad to me.”
She paused, as though waiting for Dale to respond. When he didn't, she continued.
“When I was a kid, my father used to ... do things, and I—”
“Mira, please,” he said. He didn’t want to cut her off, but he had to. “I’m here to help you, but are you sure you should be telling me this?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s so personal.”
“Other things have been personal.”
“And related to the investigation into Clyde.”
“So you think I’m being inappropriate?”
“A bit, yes. We’re in bed together, and I’m holding you.”
There was a long pause.
“This whole thing is inappropriate, don’t you think? You kidnapped me, and my boyfriend tried to kill me yesterday. How can you say that?”
She started crying.
The guilt wave crashed over Dale again.
He rolled toward her.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. What you’ve been through ... I can’t even …”
“He came at me with a knife! He cut me up!” she said between sobs. “Imagine someone you love slicing your flesh. Trying to end your life. And you can’t even listen to me talk about my father? You asshole! You son of a bitch!”
“I’m sorry. I’m ... I’m sorry, okay? Please. Tell me more.”
Mira stopped crying. She looked into him with fiery anger, eyebrows pinched together. Then she took a deep breath, released it. Her face became kind again.
She leaned in and kissed him.
He pulled back, pushed her away with his hand.
“Oh, no. Mira, this is—”
“Inappropriate? Of course.”
The anger returned. She looked away from him.
“Listen, I’ll sleep here with you again. For a few hours. We need our rest. I’ll even hold you. I know that’s what you need right now, the comfort, the closeness. But that’s all.”
She rolled closer to him, her expression somewhere between happy and sad.
“Dale…”
She rolled her body partway onto his, draping her knee to the other side of his body. She went to kiss him again. He pulled back.
“Mira, stop.”
She put her hand to his shoulder, pulled herself further on top of him.
She leaned up as though to try another kiss, and when he avoided her again, she brought the kiss down to his neck.
Her lips burning hot, wet.
“Stop!”
She wiggled herself fully on top of him, her frontside completely pressed against him, legs splayed on either side of his.
That long, sinuous frame he’d imagined.
Felt good.
Felt amazing.
“Listen to me, Dale…”
“Knock it off.”
This was not right…
Dale went to push her off, but she latched herself onto him, squeezing her thighs.
“No one else but you would have taken me away. Who would have ever thought we’d end up in this cave? This was meant to happen.”
“No.”
She planted her forearms on his chest and pushed up, positioning herself above him, looking down upon him.
“You have to stop this,” Dale said.
“We’re not doing anything wrong. There’s nothing inappropriate because this whole situation is inappropriate. Serial murders. Kidnapped witnesses. You’re right. I need closeness tonight. Kiss me.”
“No, Mira. Stop.”
“I need to feel that I’m loved. One kiss. Please, Dale.”
Dale hesitated.
“One kiss,” he said. “Okay? Then we get some sleep.”
Mira smiled and leaned down to him.
And they kissed.
Dale hated himself.
She pulled away, rested her forehead against his.
“Thank you.”
“Now roll over. We rest now.”
She didn't. She slowly, slowly brought her lips back down, kissed his cheek.
“Mira…”
“Dale, this was meant to be. You, me, in the woods, safe and dry in the cave while a murderer’s out there in the rain.”
She started twisting against him.
“You want me too. I saw the way you looked at the photo, the one my friend brought to the hospital.” S
he kissed on his neck, passionately. “I can feel that you want me right now.”
She brought her face above his.
“Let go,” she said.
She kissed him, threw her hands to the sides of his face, into his hair.
Dale put his arm around her back, and they twisted together on the mattress.
It was such a cliché thing to say or even think.
I wanted you since the moment I saw you.
But that's what Dale was thinking with Mira’s body writhing on top of him.
At least he hadn’t said it out loud.
And it was exactly as he imagined, when he’d been sitting in the hospital, looking at the frame.
Just then he felt a pang of the guilt.
Someone had tried to kill this woman.
Her former boyfriend.
But her words kept ringing in his ear.
Let go.
And Dale had. Dale had completely let go.
He was enjoying this. He was enjoying the living hell out of this. Her body felt as perfect as he'd hoped. As he’d imagined. So long and twisty. Writhing when on top. Squirming when below.
He remembered their conversations, felt the disappointments she shared, felt his own. Knew that there was reason for this to happen. Told himself that, anyway.
And as her thighs squeezed in around him, she gave him a small push with her hand, rolling back on top, arching her back and stretching that long torso above him. Twisting. He saw all of her. And his thoughts again went back to their conversations. On love and disappointment.
And Allie.
The strangest thing happened.
He could see Allie. For just a moment the face was hers. Allie’s dark red hair, cascading down her chest, breasts poking through the strands.
And then there was the twisting form of Mira again.
Dale shook it off, chalking it up to the moment. The mixed emotions and memories that had been bandied about the cave.
But it happened again.
The lithe, thin figure momentarily transmuted into the curvaceous, soft, redheaded comfort.
All this confused Dale. And he tried to think about it rationally, and this only brought about guilt. And he told himself that he would have none of that. Not right now. Like Mira had said…
Let go.
Dale had let go.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dale’s eyes snapped open.
There was a flash of memory, and an immediate realization struck him. Hard. What had happened. With Mira.
She lay on his chest, outstretched hand under her cheek. Sound asleep. Lips parted slightly. The blanket, which covered them both, was pulled beneath her arm, and the tops of her breasts were exposed. Dale felt them against him, bare and warm, moving slightly with her slow breaths, and covered in a faint sweat that bound their skin.
Dale watched her face as he carefully dislodged himself. As he had that morning, he slowly put his hand beneath her cheek and transitioned her face onto the pillow.
Oh god. Oh no.
The cave wasn’t entirely dark. There was just a bit of light. He could hear the rain outside, loud on the leaves. The air was chilly against his naked flesh, and it took a couple of half-blind moments for him to find his clothes. His briefs were nowhere in sight, but he soon located his 501s and shirt. He quickly threw the jeans on, buttoned up, and approached the front of the cave.
What had he done?
Outside rain poured over the trees. A steady stream rushed past the mouth of the cave, a small waterfall. It had started really coming down yesterday afternoon, right during the second time Dale and Nash went to Clyde Bowen’s house, shortly before Dale had taken Mira from the hospital. And it hadn’t let up yet.
That seemed so long ago. The hospital. Sending Nash away.
As Dale threw his arms through the sleeves of his T-shirt and rolled it down his torso, he stole a look back at the mattress. Mira was sleeping in the same position she had been on his chest—on her right side, hand under her cheek.
Oh god. Oh shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Dale had done some bonehead things during his time as a BEI agent. But this had to top them all. This girl was a victim. A victim! And he’d slept with her.
He exhaled, ran his hand through his hair.
It had started with the kiss. So caught up in the moment. And then ... so much more. The slideshow presented itself in his head. Her long torso above him, arching backwards. And beneath him, dancing. Perfect breasts with perfect nipples. Her fingernails cutting into his back, into his shoulders. Her eyes looking at him with sincerity. Her lips, fiery wet, and kissing him so intensely—lingering, sensual.
Dale’s head dropped. And he sighed.
A victim. Someone he was protecting. Someone he was hiding from a murder investigation, shielding from the local police, the NPS, the FBI. And the BEI. Someone he was risking his career—and freedom—to protect.
And he’d slept with her.
What the SHIT had he been thinking?
Thinking. Yes, that’s exactly what he needed to do. He needed to think.
Think, think, think.
Well, strictly speaking, there was nothing in the BEI operating instructions that forbade him doing what he’d done. That was a bit of good news.
The other good news was … was …
He couldn’t think of any other good news.
So he just went closer to the mouth of the cave and sat down with his back against the stone wall, watching the rain beyond.
The best thing he could do now was work on the case. No matter what had happened with Mira in bed, there were two much more important things to focus on—keeping her safe from Sadler and the corrupt investigation; and catching Clyde Bowen before he killed again.
The issues with tracking down Clyde Bowen, though, were plentiful, not the least of which was the fact that the man in charge of the local investigation was Bowen’s perverted partner in crime and had been trying to locate Bowen in order to, Dale assumed, get him out of town. It had been a day and a half now since Sadler started looking for Bowen. Assuming that he’d found him, this meant—
There was a sound behind him. Mira’s voice.
“Hey.”
Dale turned.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“I’m … just thinking. You mentioned Clyde’s escalation. Every one of the women who have been killed, or in your case attacked, so far have been here in Hot Springs. He knows the pressure is on, and it’s a small city. What if he escalates again? Takes his act on the road. All those out-of-town women he met at the spa…”
Mira stepped closer to him.
“That’s too much to worry about all at once. First we need to get out of town. You said we need our rest, and you’re up staring out into the woods. Come back to bed, you silly hypocrite.”
Dale turned to her.
"Mira, listen. What happened was … not right. And I blame myself. This case, it’s messing with my mind. I don’t understand it. Being with you was improper of me, and I—”
“No, Dale. Stop.”
“Go back to sleep. Please. I’m going to do some more planning for us.”
“I see. So you score with the woman you’re protecting, the victim, the woman you stole away from the hospital, and then you turn your back on her? You had your fun, and you’re done.”
Dale shook his head, looked at her sincerely. He stood up and took a step toward her. “Oh, no, no…”
“I’m a piece of garbage to you, then? Something to be used up, tossed aside. I thought you were something different from men like Clyde and my father. You knew what you were doing, and you’re not going to shirk your responsibility. Come back to bed with me. Now.”
She burned holes into him with her eyes and stuck out her hand.
Dale reluctantly took it and followed her to the back of the cave.
Dale was back in bed with Mira. They lay in the same positions they had been before he'd slipped ou
t several minutes ago. She was on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. Just exactly as they had been.
Something about the exact replication of it, the repetition—having gotten into bed with her three times now, twice in the last couple hours—felt … weird.
He knew he’d gotten himself into a bad spot. This whole thing had been bad from the start. He had done what he felt was right, taking her away from the danger of the corrupt investigation.
That much of it was good. That much of it was Dale Conley.
But how had it gotten to this? So very fast? Him in bed with her, for a third time, having had sex.
His judgment had been so poor. The assignment had been so dark—all the gruesome, destroyed women. The stories of Clyde Bowen and Bill Sadler and what they had done to women. The discussions about love and betrayal and Allie. And—
And he was making excuses. Dale hated excuses. And he especially hated when he gave them.
No, he couldn't blame the dark qualities of this assignment for where he was now. He'd gotten himself into this position. He'd made poor decisions.
And for some reason, right then he thought about Nash. He hadn't thought about the guy for a while now, having gotten so caught up in everything at the cave.
The flashlight was on, putting out just a bit of light. Dale leaned off the mattress a few inches and lifted his wrist, looked at the time. It was 4:53.
Time always made Dale feel connected to other people. If you looked at a clock, you knew that somewhere the other person was experiencing that time as well—even if the first digit didn’t match in a different time zone.
Somewhere, in Hot Springs, it was 4:53 for Nash.
Dale sure hoped Nash was surviving this assignment better than he was.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nash rubbed his eyes. They were strained, tired. And so was his voice.
The wind whistled through the edges of the window frame. Rain washed down the glass in rivulets.
There was a brief silent moment—a pause—in the Ventress grilling. Nash had noticed for the last half hour or so that she was slowing down a bit. The energy in the room had changed.
