by Janet Durbin
The reporter rubbed his jaw. He made no attempt to get up. He glanced at the camera to see if it was rolling. It was. He looked back at the angry woman. “I only wanted to get your side of the story."
"You don't need it. Get it from the cops if you want it that badly ... or make it up. That's what you're good at."
"But Mrs. Kranderson ... I want to report the facts."
"Facts.... I'll give you facts!"
She lunged toward the cringing man, but arms grabbed her from behind, preventing her from reaching him. Westerly dragged her back to the camper. She fought. She shouted. Once inside the vehicle, she cried in frustration. Westerly remained by the door to keep her from leaving again. He moved the curtain and watched the reporter get to his feet. The man smiled after talking to the camera operator. He picked up the lost mike. Straightening, he started talking into the camera. Web groaned. He knew what he was reporting. He didn't like it.
Something bounced off his back. Westerly turned to see a spatula hit the floor. A very angry woman stood with a pot in her hand. She cocked her arm and launched it at him. He ducked.
"What did you do that for?” he shouted.
"You should ask!"
"I tried to stop you from making a complete ass of yourself but ... too late.” He gestured toward the window. “That reporter is having a field day right now. He has footage that makes you look like a crazed lunatic. If a national network gets hold of that ... there goes your reputation."
"I don't care about my reputation!"
"What about helping those girls? Do you care about that?"
The two stood glaring at each other. Nature broke the staring contest. She flopped onto the bench.
"I do care. I want to find that sicko as badly as you do. It's just that my nerves are raw. I haven't had my usual down time between sessions. I haven't had any time to recover.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hiding her face with her hands.
"Neither have those girls. They went through hell before they died. Remember that whenever you decide to be an ass again."
He turned away from her and returned his attention to the window. He was tired. Tired of being here, tired of idiot people, tired of death. He had been with law enforcement for more years than he cared to count. In that time, he saw so much death ... including that of his family. A revengeful maniac had followed him home. He came back after Web left for work and killed his daughter. He almost killed his wife. After she got out of the hospital, she filed for a divorce. That was 15 years ago. He still wasn't over it.
Arms wrapped around his waist. He felt Nature hug his back. He reached up and placed his hand over hers. He forgot that her gloves were off.
She felt his pain and loss surge through her. She wanted to pull away.. The fact that he was someone she cared about prevented it. She wanted to help. The vision of Web finding his murdered daughter and his stabbed wife wracked her insides. The vision of him falling to his knees trying to shake Megan awake, the vision of his hands covered with her blood, and the vision of him throwing his head back, screaming long and loud, caused her to shudder. The death of her husband had been hard. This was a sheer nightmare.
The vision changed from the house to one at the hospital. She saw Web sitting at his wife's bedside. She saw the wife wake and him reach for her hand. She pulled it away. She turned her head, refusing to look at him. Web reached for it again. She put her hand under the covers. His face fell. It wasn't enough that he had lost his child, now; his love was lost to him too.. The killer's revenge was complete. He had lost everything, including himself for a while.
Nature felt the tears run down her cheeks. The man in her arms turned to face her. She felt his lips on hers, gentle at first, then with more urgency. He pulled her close.. She felt his hands move over her body. She felt him lift her shirt. She didn't resist. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She no longer cared that they worked together. They had something in common, something that would reduce any chance of messing up their working relationship. They shared the pain of loss, loss of loved ones.
Web kissed Nature. He reached under her shirt and felt her smooth skin. Her nipples rose to his touch. He pulled her shirt off. He bent over and kissed each breast. She bent back, she didn't stiffen like before.
What he was doing was wrong. He knew it. It could mess up everything they had accomplished, but it had been so long since he had been with anyone.. So long since he allowed himself to feel this way. He was finally able to admit it, admit that he loved Nature. He was finally able to break free of the grief and open the door to his heart..
He picked her up and carried her into the space in front of the table. He laid her on the floor, stretching out beside her. He looked for any sign of rejection in her eyes. He saw none. Smiling, he bent over and kissed her again, soft, and gentle.. She reached her arms around his neck. She curled his hair with its splashes of gray around her fingers. He rubbed her breasts, squeezing them, feeling the erect tips in his palm.
Nature grabbed his hand and guided it lower. He took the hint and unsnapped her pants. The zipper echoed across the camper. They smiled. He stood to pull on a pant leg. She arched her back to make it easier for him to remove the clothing. His disappeared after she was naked. She lay there admiring the firm body standing above her. She knew he was in his fifties; he still looked good.
He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He was afraid she would stop him like the last time. He wasn't sure he could take it if she did. When he felt her hands brush against his erect penis, his heart raced. He leaned his head back as he felt her soft lips surround the swollen skin. He experienced untold joy when the lips sucked him deep then withdrew, repeating the process again and again. He grabbed the cabinets on either side to prevent his knees from buckling. He moaned when he felt her fingers teasing his balls.
Web could not believe his luck. A short two days ago, he was smashed from drinking away her rejection, her sudden panic at their making love. Now, she filled him with a love he had only felt once before in his life.
Nature saw his head lean back. She saw his legs quiver with excitement. She wanted him now. Releasing his penis, she worked her mouth up his body. When she reached his nipples, she circled each one with the tip of her tongue. She loved the sensation of his body against her tongue. It was something she had not done for 11 years, not since the death of her husband. It felt almost weird, but, at the same time, it felt right.
She placed her hands on Web's head and pulled his lips toward hers. They touched. Their tongues snaked around each other. They both were hungry, hungry for something neither had had for some time. Web broke the kiss and buried his face into her neck, wrapped his arms around her, and guided her to the floor. He lay on her, kissing her again, like a man who had found water after crossing the desert without any.
Nature opened her legs, wrapping them around his. She brushed against his hard penis. She wiggled her hips, helping it find its mark. When she felt the tip against her opening, she grabbed his ass and pulled. Web followed her lead. He pushed gently. When the tingling of ecstasy filled his every fiber, the gentle rocking of his hips took on a new motion. He started pumping harder and faster. The woman beneath him stiffened.
A new aura flowed through Nature when Web entered her. She felt the blend of several men. She felt her husband with his love for her, she felt Web with his love and pain, and she felt the man. The memory of what the man had put those girls through, the suffering and torture, filled her. In her heart, she knew the man was not here ... that Web would not cause her to endure the same pain. That thought, and the feelings emanating from the one in her arms, allowed her to block out the bad and accept the good.
Web knew she was going to reject him again. He could feel it in the stiffness of her body.. If she did, he would leave. He was not able to handle the emotional roller coaster ride any longer. He cared about Nature too much. He would not be able to stay around her if he could not have her. He closed hi
s eyes and waited for the inevitable struggle to begin. When it didn't, he opened them. She was looking into his with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. Love and acceptance filled them. He was overjoyed. It showed in his passionate lovemaking.
Their lovemaking continued long into the night. On the stove, a pan with cold hamburgers, sitting in a pool of white grease, was on a back burner, forgotten. Outside, two men sat in a van. Wrappers of takeout food covered the dash. They were cold and they missed their families.
"How much longer do we have to do this?” The man who operated the camera asked.
"As long as it takes,” the reporter said. “The upper echelons think this one will be a huge story."
"At the moment, all I think it is, is a huge pain in my ass. I need a shower and my wife."
"All you think about is sex."
"You're one to talk. I heard you moaning out last night.” He assumed a dramatic pose, “Oh ... oh ... Monica ... Monica ... oh baby ... take it baby ... take it."
The reporter smiled. “Jealous."
"You know it."
Both men settled into their seats. They spoke of their families, the couple in the camper, and about the missing girls. After a while, the only noise inside the van was the sound of snoring.
* * * *
Nature caressed her fingers across Web's shoulder. A sense of completeness ebbed through her. She didn't realize how much she had missed it. It was nice. Her light caress woke the sleeping man. He glanced at her, his eyes thick with sleep. He smiled.
"Morning sunshine,” he muttered.
"Morning to you bright eyes."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Not an ounce.” She lied.
She kissed him. He responded with renewed passion. They made love again. The rising sun heralded their release with its rays of pink and yellow. Afterwards, they showered in the small stall, laughing and giggling like kids.
Nature glanced out the window when she finished dressing. There was no movement in the van. “Web ... do you see anything going on over there?"
He moved to her side. “No."
"Wanna make a break for it?"
"To the cab?"
"Yea."
"And go where?” He knew the answer. It was the same one he wanted.
"Home.” She dropped the curtain back in place. When she faced Web, she encircled him with her arms. “I miss my ranch. I miss Sandy. I miss the quiet."
He wrapped his arms around her, “Me too. Besides, I need to get back. Deputy Frewerson is probably going crazy by now."
She gave him a peck on the lips before letting go. “Since you drive like a cop,” she walked to the counter and picked up the keys, “you get to go first."
He took the keys from her outreached hand. Once he stood by the door, he spun around on his heels, holding the keys in the air like a gun, and said, “Ready deputy?"
Holding her fist up, the pointer extended like the barrel of a gun, she said, “Ready Freddie."
Web flung the door open and leaped to the ground at a run. Nature was hot on his heels. They separated and went to either side of the cab. Web unlocked his door and leaped in. He quickly leaned over and pulled the handle, unlocking the passenger door. Nature hopped it. As she was shutting her door, a shout echoed across the parking lot. It came from the van.
The reporter and camera operator were flinging their doors open. They were too slow. Web fired up the engine, threw the gear lever into reverse, and stomped on the gas pedal. The camper responded immediately. Smoke rose from where the tires spun before getting traction. He slammed on the brakes and pulled the lever into drive He saw black marks in the mirror when the camper shot forward. The men from the van were leaping back into their vehicle. He watched it start after them.
The camper flew down Madison Ave. At the next intersection, Web turned sharply to the left onto Nova Rd and headed south. The camper rocked back and forth, but Web brought it under control quickly. He looked back. The van was trapped by traffic. With any luck, it would stay that way until they got out of sight. He saw a sign for Morris Blvd and turned right. They drove past the Daytona Beach International Airport. Web considered turning into it and hiding, but the camper was too obvious. It would stand out. He glanced at Nature. She was hanging on to the seat with one hand while the other had a death grip on the door handle.. She noticed him looking at her. He held up a thumbs-up gesture. She smiled, refusing to release her grip.
Web returned his attention to the road and saw a sign for I-95 up ahead. On Beville Rd, he turned right and mashed the gas pedal. The news van had disappeared several blocks back. He didn't reduce his speed. It might catch up any second now and he wanted to make it to the highway before that happened. He relaxed a little only after the camper merged in with the I-95 traffic. As they passed over a bridge, he and Nature saw the van sitting off on the side of the road. They had apparently taken a wrong turn and went around the airport instead. He honked the horn and waved. Nature also waved. She was having as much fun as he was.
It felt good to be heading home. Home. It was a word that had meaning again. As if sensing his thoughts, even though she wasn't touching him, Nature glanced sideways at him. She snuggled against his body when he raised his arm, placing it over her shoulder. They rode that way for a long time, both glad to finally be on the road, heading north.
Chapter Eleven
The man entered the Daytona area just after two. He drove down several streets trying to locate the one the news people had focused on. He saw a sign for a local airport. He ignored it. He had no use for planes. They just made a lot of noise and polluted the environment. He decided to stop and ask directions.
He pulled into a gas station and filled the tank. The trunk remained quiet. He noticed a van parked in a spot outside the door. It had one of those camera mounts on top of it. He wondered if it was the same film crew.. If it was, he knew it would be a sign, a sign that he was on the trail of The One. He went inside to pay.
Two men hung out by the coffee machine. One wore a suit. They seemed nervous. He moved closer to the glass coolers with the drinks inside. They stood just off to the side of where the men were. He listened to their conversation.
"What do you think will happen?"
"It wasn't our fault. We did the best we could under the circumstances. If they would have sent us some relief, we would have been ready instead of being so damned tired,” the guy in the suit said.
"Do you think they will can us?"
"Nah. If they did, then they'd have to do our job."
That made the guy in the jeans chuckle. “Yea, I could just see Veronica sleeping in the van."
"I'd like to see Veronica sleep in the van.” The suit lifted his eyebrows a couple of times.
"I bet you would, you sex craved maniac. Don't you ever get enough?"
"Not when it involves a good looking thing like her."
"Speaking of women, what did you think about the one in the camper? What was her name?"
The man was getting bored with their conversation. He was about to lose hope on getting anything useful when the sudden mention of the camper caused him to pay closer attention. Maybe they would give him some information that would help him in his search after all. He glanced at the drinks, listening, making it appear as if he was having a hard time deciding.
The suit pulled out a notepad. He glanced at some words on the page. “Nature. Nature Kranderson. She was okay. I wouldn't mind exploring what she had."
The man seethed. If she was The One, then this kind of talk was inappropriate. He held his tongue though.
"I bet that guy with her got a taste of her.” The man in the jeans poured some coffee into a cup. He put a lid on it before continuing. “They slept in that camper all night. Can't imagine that happening without a bit of hanky panky."
"Now who's the sex craved maniac.” The suit moved away with the man in jeans. They paid for their coffee and returned to the van.
After he recovered from his initial anger, the
man stood before the drinks, frozen. Realization hit him. Did he actually hear what he thought he heard? Did he actually have a name to go with the face? Could his luck be that good? Could she truly be the one he sought for so long?
"Hey buddy. You gonna stand there and let all the cold air out or are you gonna grab something.’”
The man was jolted out of his reverie. He grabbed a bottle of Pepsi and shut the door. Walking up to the counter, he said, “Sorry about that."
"Just don't let it happen again."
"I won't.” He pulled out his money. “I owe for this and a tank of gas."
The clerk looked out the window. “That yours?” He indicated the older model Ford sitting at pump six.
"Yeah."
"Nice car."
"Thanks."
"That will be $31.75."
The man handed over two twenties. He took the eight dollars and folded it with the other bills. He dropped the quarter into one of those fundraiser things that sat on the counter. Picking up the soda, the man whistled a catchy little tune he remembered from somewhere as he pushed the door open. He had no clue what the name of the song was. He just liked it.
He patted the trunk as he went past. The thought of the woman inside caused him to think of the woman on the TV. He got in and twisted the lid off the bottle. He took a long drink before starting the engine. He had no idea which way to go. The men from the van gave no indication as to which direction the One had escaped to. It didn't matter. He had something that was of far greater importance. He had a name. With a name, one could find out any information one wanted on the internet, even an address and phone number. And with a name like Nature, the list would not likely be long.
He smiled as he pulled back onto the street and started in the direction indicated by the sign for the nearby university. At the university, there would be computers. Where there were computers, there was access. Where there was access, there was information. He looked forward to seeing what he could find out about a woman named Nature Kranderson.
