The Lake

by Richard Laymon

She felt cold. Utterly exhausted.

  A smile played around Mace’s lips. Raising his brows, he held out his arms. “Come to Mace, then. There, there…don’t take it so hard. But don’t tell me you aren’t into a little violence now and then? Thought you were a gal who’d appreciate some rough and tumble—but seems I was wrong. Sorry about that, Leigh.”

  His eyes glinted in the darkness and the smile, vaguely mocking a moment ago, suddenly softened to one of concern.

  Her arms fell to her sides. She relaxed, moved in against him, feeling his warmth, his strong, hard body…

  “Come now, honey,” he murmured. “How about opening that bottle of champagne I brought us? A coupla drinks and we’ll start over. Huh?”

  “Sure.” She smiled up at him. They walked through the patio door and entered the dark living room. Maybe she had been a fool, she told herself. Making a stupid fuss over nothing.

  Just that I’m feeling vulnerable tonight, is all.

  “I’ll go get us some towels,” she said quietly.

  Moving away from him, she turned on the coffee-table lamp and went to the bathroom.

  Legs astride, hands on hips, Mace watched her go. Her buttocks swaying, her long shapely legs moving leisurely, one before the other, she looked like a catwalk mannequin.

  Hell, he thought, she’d give most movie stars a run for their money.

  She had glamor. Something he liked in a woman.

  She returned to the living room, wearing a soft bulky robe, the sash tied tight around her waist. Mace thought how young and vulnerable she looked.

  Too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter…

  She carried a couple of towels under her arm. Tossing one over, she said, “Here, don’t want you catching your death. Take off those wet things, too. I’ll dry them for you.”

  He caught the towel. He wrapped it around his waist.

  Leigh began rubbing her hair with the second towel.

  “Very sexy,” he murmured, watching her through half-closed eyes as he made for the bathroom.

  She quit rubbing and shook her head. Her golden hair fluffed out like a halo. Her legs were shaky. She was still feeling a little awkward about her earlier outburst.

  Time to relax, she told herself.

  She went to the kitchen and reappeared, moments later, with the champagne in an ice bucket. Ice chinked around as she placed it on the coffee table.

  Mace emerged from the bathroom, holding his wet T-shirt and shorts. He wore a white towel robe, one that Leigh’s dad used on the rare occasions he and Mom stayed over.

  His tanned body showed up in sharp contrast to the white robe. Eyeing him with reluctant admiration, Leigh felt a flicker of excitement. For a long time, their eyes met. Then, smiling, she dropped her gaze. Took his wet clothes and stepped into the kitchen.

  Arranging them in the dryer, she tried to convince herself she could still enjoy the remains of the night.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Let the orgy commence!”

  Leigh winced as Mace grabbed the champagne. Catching her expression, he gave a wry smile, tore off the foil top, and twisted up the wire.

  The cork flew out with a loud pop.

  They giggled, searching around for it on their hands and knees, their earlier tension all but gone.

  “Over here,” he called. “Under the TV table.”

  He paused, looking at the photographs placed either side of the TV. Family shots; memorable Kodak moments showing Leigh and Deana laughing into the camera, arms around each other. Two older people—Leigh’s parents, he guessed.

  And Deana standing alone. In a white bikini. On a seashore…

  “I want to keep it,” Leigh was saying. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s kinda romantic to save corks from champagne bottles. Write dates on them, names, that kinda thing. Folks do it all the time in the restaurant…”

  “Women!”

  He laughed, tossing the cork to her.

  “That’s what I love about you, Leigh West. You’re all woman. Beneath that cool exterior, I swear there’s a soft, sensual seductress just crying to be let out.”

  He poured the fizz into two flutes, already set by the ice bucket. Waited till the bubbles settled before filling up the glasses.

  “Here’s to…to what?” His eyes twinkled. He paused, brows lifted inquiringly.

  “To the future, Mace. A future without Nelson.”

  “To us, Leigh.” He looked into her eyes. She flinched slightly at their intensity.

  Relax, Leigh, she told herself. It’s party time. Go with the flow. Let it all happen.

  She smiled at him. “To us,” she said, chinking her glass against his.

  Then:

  “Mace…”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Mace, about what happened back there. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? My fault, Leigh. Shouldn’t have pressured you like that. A guy gets a little carried away sometimes. So let’s say no more about it. I’m sorry. Didn’t spoil our night, I hope?”

  “No, of course not.” Leigh gave a hesitant smile, wishing that were true.

  It’s been too long between men, she reasoned. I’ve almost forgotten how it was with them.

  Her mind slipped back.

  To Charlie. Her introduction to oral sex. Comparing Mace’s macho display with Charlie’s tender, boyish passion.

  So long ago now.

  Christ. Eighteen years, and she still remembered…

  Her face had been sore for days afterward.

  Before that, Larry Bills—her first-ever lover.

  Ugghh.

  She cringed inwardly, embarrassed at the memory.

  After Larry, there’d been Tad Bronski, then Jake Hartmann from high school. Nice guys, both of them. Each respected her—and Jake had been deadly serious about their relationship. That is, until his folks hauled him off to Canada when his dad changed jobs.

  Her mind lingered on Charlie again. He’d been a pretty hot lover—on those two occasions…

  When he’d stopped being so goddamn shy, and scared of his mother.

  He’d been kinda innocent. A victim, somehow.

  You could say that again.

  A lamb to the slaughter…

  Yet, from the first, she’d detected something different about Charlie.

  A kind of quantity X. Something of the unknown about him.

  Something ever so slightly sinister.

  And, of course, his witch bitch of a mother.

  Edith Payne.

  Leigh shuddered, not wanting to start that over again.

  Yeah. All her boyfriends had had their moments.

  Except Larry Bills. He was a one-off and didn’t count. Boy, was that the mother of all mistakes…

  And, of course, Ben.

  Ben was a pussycat. So kind and thoughtful; he’d never do anything to hurt her.

  Now there was Mace.

  She smiled to herself. Mace was all man.

  And, she had to admit, that’s what did it for her.

  His taut, powerful body. His attitude.

  And his control.

  Always, his tight control.

  Me Tarzan. You Jane.

  That’s Mace, all right.

  He’d been an absolute rock for her over Nelson.

  Kind. At first, neither suggestive nor sexy. She’d felt safe just having him around the place—and God knows, she’d been grateful for that.

  She hadn’t exactly rebuffed him, either. She’d encouraged him, if anything.

  She’d called him the other night. Practically begging him to keep her company in the long dark hours.

  No prizes for guessing they’d ended up in bed.

  She, tearful; he offering his special brand of comfort…

  So what happened tonight?

  Where had it all gone wrong?

  Mace took her hand in his.

  “Hey.” He laughed. “Don’t go quiet on me, Leigh. I came armed with champagne, hoping to bring a little
joy into your life.”

  He toyed with his glass, swilling around the remains of his drink. Knowing something still bugged her.

  “Leigh. I care about you. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “It had crossed my mind, Mace. You spending more time here than in your own apartment, an’ all!”

  “Any objection to that?”

  “Mace. You know I don’t. You’re beginning to mean a lot to me, too. I, we, would have been lost without your help, your advice and…concern. It’s real good to know you’re there for us.”

  “Is that all? I’d hoped there was something more…”

  Her robe slipped off her shoulder. Her mouth opened slightly as she gave him a puzzled smile.

  “Of course there’s more, Mace. Much more. And you know it. It’s just that tonight…”

  Suddenly, he was before her, hunkering down, looking anxiously into her face. “I’d hoped there was, Leigh.”

  He dropped to his knees, resting his head on her lap. Feeling his warmth against her, she stroked his hair, still damp and tousled from the hot tub.

  They stayed this way for a while—quiet, content, just being together.

  Then he was sitting on the sofa beside her, she leaning against him, feeling relaxed and a little sleepy.

  “Time to go,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

  “Go? So soon?”

  “Time to go to bed. For me to make love to you till…sunup, at least. I love you, Leigh West. And tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much…”

  Mace left before six next morning, leaving her in bed, drowsy, clinging, not wanting him to go.

  “Gotta ride, Leigh. Things to do, places to go.”

  He kissed her warm, open mouth. It tasted sweet as honey, making him want more.

  He lingered over her, kissing her neck, caressing her shoulders. His hands slid down to her breasts, feeling her nipples tense and stiffen. Tracing swirls around them with his forefingers, he tweaked them slightly. She squirmed a little, sighed, and curled into his arms.

  Finally, he whispered, “Call ya later, Leigh. ’Bye.”

  Quietly, he let himself out of the house.

  Not wanting to wake Deana.

  Dipping into his jacket pocket, he hooked out a palmful of seeds. Flipping them into his mouth, he chewed around them for a while.

  His lips curved in a slow smile.

  Thinking about Deana sneaking in at two-thirty a.m.

  As he munched, his face broke out in a grin.

  Suddenly, he didn’t give a monkey’s shit about waking Deana. He hoped he had. He quite liked the idea of her lying there, listening…

  Hearing him leave her mother’s bed.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Leigh was leaving for the restaurant when the phone rang. It was Mattie.

  “Hi, Mats. What’s up?”

  “I’m coming over, Leigh. Be there in five, six minutes?”

  “Sure. See ya.”

  What did Mattie want so early? I know she’s supposed to be our personal bodyguard—but hasn’t she heard that Nelson’s dead?

  Mattie had sounded subdued. Upset, even. Leigh frowned. What on earth was wrong?

  Was it anything to do with her?

  Perhaps Mattie needed a shoulder to cry on.

  Leigh didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure. As it comes. The blacker the better.”

  Leigh set two mugs on the kitchen table. More informal here than in the living room, she decided. If Mattie had something on her mind, she’d probably prefer to discuss it in the intimacy of the kitchen.

  Leigh poured coffee, passed Mattie hers, and sat facing her over the table.

  Leigh added cream to her own coffee while Mattie worked around the real reason for her visit. For a while, she stirred her coffee, concentrating on the swirling black liquid.

  “Not keeping you, am I?” she asked, glancing up.

  “Not a bit of it. The gang’s all there, back at the Bayview. Beavering away, I hope.” Leigh smiled at her.

  Mattie said, “Heard the news about Nelson. So you identified him?”

  Leigh sighed and nodded. “Yeah. All of that. Not a pleasant experience, I might say.”

  “Yeah. I seen bodies that’ve been in the water for a while. Good thing you even recognized Nelson. Fish tend to mess things up.”

  Leigh shuddered. “Don’t, Mattie. It was bad enough as it was…”

  “Mace told you about Nelson?”

  “Yes, he did. He’s been very supportive.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Leigh started at the cynicism in Mattie’s tone.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that Mace can be a very supportive person.”

  Leigh didn’t care for the way she said that.

  “You got something on your mind, Mattie? If you have, spit it out. I’m all ears.”

  Mattie hesitated for a moment, then said, “Lemme tell you a story, Leigh.”

  “Go on.”

  Mattie paused again, deciding where to begin.

  “Five years ago, when I first came to Mill Valley PD, I was a raw, hurt young girl. Naive, if you like. From a li’l hick town near Lodgepole, Sequoia country…

  “I’d met up with some guy there who did things to gals. To get his wicked way.”

  She huffed out a short, cynical laugh.

  Then, with a meaningful look at Leigh, she said, “Know what I’m sayin’? On the other hand, Leigh, maybe you wouldn’t wanna know what I’m sayin’. Even if you did, I’m not about to tell ya what that guy got up to.

  “This I will say. What happened back in that small hick town made me want to get out there, smoke out all the pervs, the rapists—the psychos lurking in every goddamn corner of this big, beautiful country of ours…and give ’em hell. Or at least what the fuck they deserved—as far as the law allowed, that is.

  “I joined Mill Valley Police Department. Became a crack shot, did martial arts. One of the guys, they called me.

  “Met Mace. Worked with him. He ’peared to be an okay guy, all right. Looked after me. Gave me back my confidence in human nature, I guess. Rounded me off.” Her mouth curved in a mirthless grin. “I was a pretty messed-up gal in those days…”

  Leigh frowned. “Mattie. I’m sorry. Really sorry. You must have been badly hurt…But what has this…”

  “Got to do with Mace?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, I’ll tell ya, Leigh. I got to know Mace pretty well, bein’ his partner an’ all. He was my alter ego. My shadow. Christ. We didn’t even have to speak to know what we were both thinking.” Suddenly concerned, Mattie glanced across at Leigh, hoping she hadn’t come off too strong. Dropping her voice, she looked away. “Yeah. We were that close.”

  Leigh sipped her coffee without even tasting it.

  What had Mattie come to say?

  Something about Mace?

  If it was, she had a sinking feeling she didn’t want to hear it.

  “I know you’re seeing a lot of Mace. And I don’t blame you. Or him. You’re a wonderful lady, Leigh. Money. Nice home. Great restaurant. A daughter who’s a credit to you…”

  “And?”

  “You don’t know Mace like I do, Leigh.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Mattie. Let’s just get to where you’re at.”

  “I mean, Leigh, the guy back there in Yellow Bend ain’t the only one who likes to hear a gal scream.”

  Mattie finished her coffee. She left soon after delivering her parting shot, leaving Leigh to interpret the conversation as best she could.

  Mattie’d spilled the beans, all right, Leigh thought. Leaving me with plenty to think about. Jesus. Most of what she’d said was beginning to make a lot of sense.

  Carefully, Leigh picked through Mattie’s words, going over her sketchy innuendos. And, she didn’t mind admitting, it hurt like hell. For chrissake, Mattie couldn’t mean Mace was a psycho? Could she?

 
Shuddering, Leigh dismissed the thought.

  Sure. Mace had a macho streak.

  Most men have, she told herself.

  But he isn’t a sadist, as Mattie implied. Mace was kind, civilized, and…normal.

  Wasn’t he?

  Sure he was. Look how he brought me flowers, champagne. Was always around to protect us from Nelson.

  But, she told herself, I was the one who encouraged him.

  He didn’t jump me.

  I was the seducer; he, the seduced…

  Leigh hesitated. She held her breath, last night’s little drama fixed firmly in her mind.

  Some head, first, honey. Just to get things moving…

  A cold shudder ran through her body.

  A lot of guys like their head, she reasoned.

  It’s all part of the foreplay.

  But she’d reacted in such a goddamn crazy way. Like a dumb kid crying “rape.”

  On the other hand, if what Mattie implied was true, that whole darn episode could be a taste of things to come…

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Hi, Mom. Thought I heard voices.”

  “That’s right, honey. Mattie dropped by. To see how we’re doin’. Just checking.” She gave Deana a bright smile. “Want some coffee? It’s still hot. Or will be, once I’ve perked it up a little.”

  Leigh switched on the percolator. Still thinking about Mattie. What was it with her? She fancy Mace herself, or something?

  Way she went on, she all but hated him.

  I’ve heard there’s a fine line between love and hate.

  Could be she’s just plain jealous…

  “Hey, Mom. The coffee’s perked. Pour mine while I get dressed, will you?”

  “What did your last one die of, young lady?”

  “The usual. Lack of breath, I guess.” Deana left the room, smiling. Mom was the best. Always so cool and nice about everything.

  She felt a stab of guilt.

  She didn’t like having secrets from Mom. It felt like betraying a friend.

  Slipping into blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt, Deana decided the time was ripe to introduce Mom to Warren.

  She’d like him. He was so sensible and grown up.

  And he had his own business.

  That ought to impress her.

  Deana returned to the kitchen, her ponytail swinging jauntily. Mom was at the sink, rinsing out the two used coffee mugs. Deana picked up hers from the table.