“I’ll go with you,” John said. “I want to get on the computer again.”
Cory looked at Marisol. “Guess it’s just you and me. You up for some coffee?”
She smiled. “Up for it? If I don’t get some caffeine in me I’ll fall asleep right where I’m standing.”
“Have fun kids.” Todd shot Marisol a wink when Cory wasn’t looking. In return, she flipped her middle finger at him.
“Let’s go.” Taking Marisol’s arm, Cory led her towards the stairwell.
John and Todd watched them exit the building into the warm, muggy evening.
“Sometimes it seems like nothing’s changed since high school,” John said. “Do you think he’s ever gonna have a clue?”
Remembering the kiss outside his house, Todd smiled. “Oh, I think he’s got a clue. The question is when is he finally going to make his move?”
Chapter 14
Nancy Harmon was putting the dinner dishes away when she caught a glimpse of movement outside her kitchen window. Normally she would’ve ignored it - after all, it was probably just neighborhood kids playing or maybe a dog searching for a garbage can to knock over. Or a deer. God knew there were plenty of deer wandering around; they liked to come down from the woods, drink from the stream at the town park, and then peruse the neighborhood for gardens or flower beds to eat.
But after attending the town meeting earlier, the idea there might be someone - or more than one someone - roaming the town and attacking people, made her nervous. On the other hand she didn’t want to appear hysterical, calling the police because of a hungry deer. Better to be sure than look stupid.
“Hank? I think someone’s outside in the yard.”
Her husband, who’d just finished his shift at the ME’s office, didn’t look up from his newspaper. “Probably just a deer,” he mumbled.
“No really. I saw something. Can you go look? And while you’re at it, take out the garbage?”
Hank rolled his eyes and put the paper down. “Fine. I’ll check it out.” He pulled the garbage bag from the canister and tied it off, then opened the back door. Before stepping outside, he turned to his wife. “Try not to see any—”
Two men emerged from the darkness and charged into the kitchen, knocking Hank to the floor in the process. They stopped just inside the threshold, glancing around the kitchen with wild eyes.
Nancy opened her mouth to scream but the words died in her throat. She dropped the dish she’d been holding and when it struck the floor, both men turned towards her.
Time seemed to freeze as she and the intruders stared at each other. Both of them wore clothes stained with dirt and something darker. Their hair stood out in clumps and strange white marks marred their faces and necks. Pieces of bluish-gray flesh hung from their cheeks and foreheads, giving them the look of lizards shedding their skins. Their rank, heavy odor filled the kitchen, overwhelming the lingering scents of dinner.
Then time kicked into motion again as Hank rolled over and grabbed one of the men by the leg. The stranger fell to his knees but instead of trying to get up he turned and plunged his thumbs into Frank’s eyes. There was a wet, splattering sound and Frank started screaming, a high, panicked cry unlike anything Nancy had ever heard.
That’s when she found her own voice.
“Help! Help!” She took a step backwards, intending on running into the living room and out the front door, but the sight of Frank lying on the floor, bloody pieces of flesh hanging from the holes where his eyes used to be, stopped her. How could she leave him behind?
Her indecision gave the second attacker all the time he needed to grab her and slam her against the refrigerator. Her head hit the door and for a moment there were three men in front of her. By the time her vision returned to normal she was on her ass, her back against the cold metal of the icebox.
Then the third figure entered the kitchen.
At first she thought her eyes were still playing tricks on her. Then she remembered the old man at the meeting, shouting about aliens.
Oh my God. He was right! It’s an invasion from space!
The short, charcoal-gray creature floated across the floor, its stubby feet never touching the ground. It reached out to her with tiny hands, ignoring her screams.
The last thing she saw was the two men bending over Hank and tearing his clothes away.
Then her whole world turned gray.
Nancy Harmon ceased to exist.
* * *
Cory and Marisol were on their second cup of coffee when the Medical Examiner entered the diner. As soon as he saw them, he hurried over to their table.
“Marisol! I’m glad I found you.”
“Oh, hi Ed. This is my friend, Cory Miles,” Marisol said. “Cory, this is my boss, Dr. Ed Corish.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Cory held out his hand.
“Likewise.” The ME gave it a perfunctory shake and turned back to Marisol. “I hate to interrupt but the forensic team at the gas station just found some remnants of human bodies. They’re down in the lab right now. I need you to run the DNA tests.”
“Right now? Can’t the night shift handle it?”
Corish shook his head. “Nope. They’re all tied up running tox screens. I tried calling Hank Harmon but no one answered at his house.”
Marisol sighed. “All right. Sorry Cory.”
Smiling, Cory stood up and tossed five dollars on the table. “That’s okay. I’ve got files to go through back at the hotel. I’ll walk out with you.”
Outside, the ME headed back across the street to the town offices. Marisol and Cory hung back.
“I had fun tonight, considering the circumstances,” Cory said as he took her hands in his.
“Me too.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward.
This time Cory was ready and the tender kiss lasted much longer than the one at Todd’s house. When they finally separated, Marisol opened her eyes to find Cory staring down at her.
“I’ll be up late tonight. If you finish at the lab early, come by my room.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea. There’s a spare key under the mat on my front porch. Why don’t you just wait for me at my place?”
Cory’s smile grew wider. “Sounds like a plan.”
She kissed him again and then hurried across the street.
From the window of his second floor office, Jack Smith felt his anger rise as he watched his ex-wife kissing Cory Miles, right out on the street for all the world to see.
That bitch. The ink’s barely dry on the divorce papers and she’s already sucking face with her old high school sweetheart.
Jack knew all about Cory Miles and his relationship with Marisol. Over the years she’d mentioned him on occasion, how he’d been her first crush. He’d never really worried about Miles, especially since Cory’s family had moved away before senior year, but Jack was a big believer in doing his homework and since he’d found out Miles was in town, he’d put his staff to work digging up everything they could on the hotshot lawyer.
He hadn’t known Cory very well in high school; Cory hadn’t played any sports or been a member of any school clubs. When he and Marisol had started dating, she’d still been bitter about Cory moving away and never staying in touch, been bitter as well about losing her only other friends, Todd Randolph and John Boyd. Jack had filed all the names away in his memory, a habit that served him well as time went on and he developed political aspirations.
And then, all these years later, he’d seen Cory’s name in the paper as the lawyer representing Randolph. He’d known it was only a matter of time before Miles and Marisol met up, either accidentally or on purpose. So he’d made sure he was prepared.
Watching Marisol walk across the street while Miles headed for a mint-condition Cadillac parked nearby, Jack mentally reviewed what he’d learned about his unexpected rival.
Cory Andrew Miles. Born and raised in Rocky Point. His parents, both from fairly well-off families - although nowhere near as
well off as the Smiths - had moved to Connecticut right before Cory’s senior year. Supposedly that was because the senior Miles had gotten a promotion and transfer, but Jack was fairly certain the whole mess with Todd Randolph killing all those people had more than a little to do with it. Get the kid out of town and away from bad influences.
Miles’s parents had died in a car accident while he was in college and he’d inherited a nice sum of money - more than enough to pay for college and law school and still have some left over.
No arrests, no record of drug or alcohol abuse. No divorces. No suspicions of homosexuality or perverted sexual habits despite his lack of any long-term relationships.
All in all, on paper, Cory Miles seemed to be a model citizen and businessman, the type of person Jack would have welcomed at his own country club.
So he’s got nothing I can use against him. That’s okay. I can still make his life difficult. And as for Marisol...well, she’s got plenty of skeletons in her past. We’ll see how long their romance lasts when the shit storm starts and they’ve got no umbrellas.
Jack went to his desk and jotted a note for himself to run Miles’s plates in the morning.
Since he doesn’t have any outstanding tickets, maybe it’s time he got one.
You messed with the wrong guy’s wife asshole.
* * *
Marisol loaded the last DNA sample into the lab’s state-of-the-art Beckman Coulter STR analyzer and hit the run button. It would take twenty-four hours for the machine to run the forty samples; two each from the fourteen pieces of human flesh recovered from the fire, plus controls and standards. The lab had already identified one of the victims - Ana Pachuri, age twenty-two - from her dental records. The police were assuming that at least some of the other remains would belong to her father. The family had provided hair samples for DNA comparison.
But there had also been a second car at the station when the fire started, parked at the pumps. No bodies had been found inside. So there was the distinct possibility that one or more of the samples could come up as unknowns, leading to a long identification process - especially if the car’s occupants were from out of town and had just stopped for gas.
Marisol looked at the clock. Almost midnight. That meant another late night tomorrow. She sent a quick email to Ed letting him know the samples were running and she’d talk to him the following afternoon, when she came in for her shift. Then she grabbed her purse and went across the hall, where Jaime Snyder was running chemical analyses on various pieces of burned metal.
“Hey Jaime. I’m taking off. Do me a favor and just peek at the STR once in a while, will you? Call me if it jams or if there are any other problems.”
“Will do,” the anorexically-skinny blonde said, never looking up from her work.
Marisol thanked her and hurried out to her car, her stomach doing nervous flips. She’d managed to avoid thinking about Cory for the past few hours by concentrating on her work but in a few minutes she’d be alone in her house with him.
The first time we’ve been alone in private since...shit, since the day we decided to go into the tunnel.
The memory of that long-ago afternoon, when she’d kissed him on the cheek just before Todd and John had arrived at the crypt, was as fresh in her mind as if it’d been yesterday.
With a start, Marisol realized she’d initiated every moment of intimacy between them, from the first gentle hints back when they’d both been shy teenagers to the two times they’d kissed since he’d arrived in town.
Her nervousness increased as she thought about how to bring things to the next level. Would she have to seduce him? Could she? The image of her seducing Cory - Let me slip into something more comfortable, her mind drawled in Marilyn Monroe tones - was so...bizarre...that she had trouble wrapping her mind around it. They’d been the objects of each others’ teenage crushes and shared two passionate kisses twenty years later. That hardly meant he’d be ready to bring their relationship to a whole different level. Emotionally ready, not physically, she amended to herself. After all, he is a guy.
What if he turns me down? What if I end up standing there, a naked fool in my own bedroom?
She turned onto her street, her house only moments away, and found her hands shaking so bad she had trouble working the turn signal.
Get a hold of yourself, girl! You’re acting like a silly virgin.
She and Jack had stopped sharing a bed two years before the divorce, so in a sense...
Don’t go there!
Cory’s car sat in front of the house, leaving the small driveway clear for her. After leaving Jack she’d taken a portion of her ridiculously small settlement and purchased a nice two-bedroom cottage just off Main Street, technically in a good part of town, but in practical terms, a million light years away from the mansion she’d lived in while serving her time as Mrs. Jack Smith.
Yet where most, if not all, of the people in Jack’s circle would have been mortified to move into a residence smaller than their guest cottages, Marisol felt nothing but joy each time she pulled into her driveway. The house was hers and she was damn proud to say so. She’d earned it, both through her hard work in going back to college and getting a damn good job, and for all the shit she’d put up with as a trophy wife. She could have taken him to the cleaners; after all, he’d had affairs, verbally abused her and generally made her life miserable. Her lawyer had urged her to take half his money, half the belongings in the house and alimony larger than her current salary.
Instead, she’d asked for a cash settlement equal to what she estimated she would have earned had she been working the past twenty years, plus an alimony payment just large enough to cover her school loans and mortgage. In total, it came to less than what they’d paid in country club membership fees and vacation expenses while married. She figured Jack probably only had to cash one of his many bonds to pay everything.
And he’d still been frighteningly angry at having to do that.
Stop thinking about it, she told herself as she unlocked the front door. It’s over. Time to move on.
Maybe with Cory? That thought was almost as terrifying as thinking about Jack.
The only light in the house came from the kitchen, where Cory had lit two candles and placed them on the L-shaped breakfast bar that divided the kitchen and dining room. Between the candles sat an open bottle of Chianti and one glass. As she got closer, she saw he’d placed a note by the bottle.
Pour yourself a glass and come into the bedroom.
Her stomach started tingling again and her hands trembled as she poured the wine. This is it. This is it. Don’t ruin it. Don’t act like an idiot. But how should she act? Should she take her clothes off before going in? What if he was simply watching TV? But if she went in fully dressed and he was naked, would he feel embarrassed?
Oh for Christ’s sake, just go in!
Marisol downed her glass of wine and poured another before kicking off her shoes and undoing the top button of her blouse. The bedroom door stood three-quarters closed. Flickering shadows told her he’d lit more candles in there.
He’d certainly made himself busy. He’d have had to look pretty hard to find the candles and matches. Oddly, the thought of Cory rummaging through her closets didn’t bother her in the least. She reached out to push open the door, paused just long enough to undo one more button, and then stepped inside.
Cory lay under the sheets, just enough of his chest exposed to show he wore no shirt. “Hello Ms. Flores,” he said, one side of his mouth curving up in an enticing grin.
“Hello yourself Mr. Miles.” Marisol set her wine down. “Pretty forward of you, getting naked in my bed.”
“How do you know I’m naked? I could have my pants on.” He took a sip of his own wine.
Marisol pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Then you must have been wearing two pairs of pants.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m in my underwear.”
She glanced at the clothes but couldn’t see any und
erwear in the pile. “Are you?”
Another shrug. “You’ll have to get under the covers to find out.”
She chugged her wine, enjoying the hot burn as it ran down her throat. It was already sending warm, comforting waves of pleasure from her stomach to her brain, each surge washing away more of her nervousness and leaving behind a welcome layer of alcohol-manufactured bravery. Feeling freer and less inhibited than she’d ever felt in her life, she removed her blouse and bra, trusting the candlelight to hide any awkwardness or imperfections. Then she dropped her skirt to the floor, revealing her naked body to him for the first time.
Approaching the bed, she whispered, “I don’t wear underwear.”
Cory flipped back the sheets. “What a surprise. Neither do I.”
Chapter 15
The heavenly scent of fresh coffee forced Cory to open his eyes, just in time to see Marisol tip-toeing towards the bedroom door. He took a moment to admire her body and then called out.
“Good morning beautiful.”
Marisol came back to the bed, wearing a wide grin and a short, silky bathrobe that exposed almost as much as it hid. “Good morning yourself. Or should I say good afternoon?”
Cory ran his hands through his hair and took a sip from the steaming cup she had left on the nightstand. “Afternoon? What time is it?”
She laughed. “Almost twelve. Do you always sleep this late?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Only when a horny vixen keeps me up half the night, using and abusing my body.” He stretched and sharp pains in his back and legs told him his statement wasn’t far from the truth. He hadn’t had marathon sex like that in a long, long time.
But it was worth every bite, bruise and scratch!
“Vixen? You were just as bad. I wasn’t the one who wanted to do it standing up. Now, since you’re awake, you can get your ass out of bed and I’ll get breakfast started. We’ve got just enough time to eat before I go to work.”
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