by Eden Connor
"Could it have been the Pill he was mad she was taking? Birth control?"
That did fit, Dan had to admit. "Could've have been." He tried to recall how long it'd been after that day that Colton had been born. About eleven months? Rafe had brought home the pony at the same time Cammie had announced she was pregnant with Sarah, so that had to be about right.
"Now I know why Eric's such a caveman. I mean, Lila goes crazy when I tie her up. Little Miss Control Freak loves that, actually. But I can't imagine what she'd do if I tried to spank her as discipline. I'm thinking target practice with me as the bull's-eye."
"Some women like it," Dan pointed out, knowing he sounded defensive. "You say Lila likes being restrained. Why's it so hard to imagine some like to be spanked, restrained, rough fucked… even forced to have sex?" Colton lowered his head and gave Dan a hard look. "Not rape, dammit, but there's a biological imperative at work here, Colton. Women—some of them—like the idea they're being… taken. Consent's implied, or stated by contract in advance." He could tell he was on thin ice from his brother's troubled expression.
"Dan, why do I get the feeling you're speaking from experience?"
Fuck it. "Because I am. I'm not going to pussyfoot around a woman. If she's into me, and I want her, I'll take her. Whenever, wherever, and however I want. Some women crave that feeling, C, of being shown their man's in charge. Some need to be made to feel small, and helpless, and wanted beyond all reason or convention. They get off on that more than tender, sweet sex. There's not a damn thing wrong with it, either, if you're both into it. When a woman gets all hormonal, chances are a good hard fuck, or even a spanking, will actually help her. She'll cry, she'll get upset, but she… settles down." He shrugged defensively under his brother's stare but met his eyes steadily, more sure today of his answer than he would've been yesterday. "Endorphins are released."
"So… how'd you meet Cynda, again?"
"We met when she came to ask if I'd talk to a man who wanted to buy some land. She and I have an… understanding."
"Well, if Dad forced pregnancies on her, then I can see why Mom ran away," Colton burst out, obviously shying away from the rest of the topic. "She was praying I'd be a girl, so she could talk him into letting her get her tubes tied or something. Having all of us wore her down, D. I believe a woman should have a say in that. A big one. I can tell you for a fact Lila's taken a huge load off me by assuming equal responsibility for Jonah. I can't imagine how much harder it was for Mom with four of us."
Dan had witnessed only the one disciplinary spanking of Cammie. Rafe spanked his children too, and they all knew from experience, Rafe had a heavy hand. He'd been imagining Cammie leaving Georgia's house after making an appointment for an abortion. The other part of the equation, the part he felt separated him and their father from the primordial ooze, was making the effort to know that woman inside out.
Rafe would've sensed something was up, Dan knew. The path Cammie had chosen was such a huge betrayal of trust, she'd have been nervous and Rafe would've watched her more closely. Arranged to spend more time with her, because that was part of it. When you found a woman that wanted to get up close and personal with your inner caveman on a long-term basis, you had to be her everything, because you were demanding that of her. You had to commit to becoming so attuned to every little shade and shift in her moods that she could hide nothing.
At least, that was the De Marco way. Even Colton had the tendency, whether he'd admit it or not. From the minute he'd laid eyes on Lila, at all of nineteen, she'd been his one. He'd simply had to wait a decade to get his hands on her, but once he had, the kid hadn't stopped until he had Lila under his roof and in his bed full-time, overcoming every objection she'd thrown at him.
Dan was well past any need to sow wild oats. Like Colton, he'd always been more selective than Eric, partly because if he had to settle for vanilla, he'd as soon do without. He knew if he could find the one woman who made him smile when there was nothing at all to smile about and who also was into his brand of sex, one who craved giving up her control to him, he'd sink so far into that woman it would be hard to tell where she ended and he began. He'd see to that. Have I found her?
"Why is it we never thought she was dead?"
He related his conversation with Georgia and handed Colton the diary he was reading, so his brother could see the entry. "How could she have been killed between here and Georgia's house, Colton? It can't be half a mile."
"But what if she was?"
Dan thought back. "The police checked this place from top to bottom. Between them and the volunteers, every inch of this property was searched, as well as that path she took to Georgia's. They'd have found her body, or some sign of a struggle."
Rafe had been out day and night, too, walking every inch of that path between here and Georgia's.
Colton yanked the band out of his hair and drove his hands through it. "Lila's into crime novels, mystery whodunit stuff. I've read a few lately. What if… what if the killer volunteered for the search?"
Chapter Seventeen
Cynda's eyes flew open and she gasped. The airless room felt like it was squeezing the breath out of her. The overhead light had gone out without warning hours before. Even the wan light she saw through the wired glass in the door and leaking through the slot at the bottom for food trays looked as though it didn't want to come into this miserable space. Squirming, she tried to relieve the pressure on her hip. The metal one-piece spring unit seemed to bite at her bones through the thin mattress. Folding the scratchy blanket and shoving it under the pitiful excuse for a pillow didn't stop her neck from aching, but her neck didn't hurt as badly as her back. She thought about the nights spent cuddled against Daniel, soaking up heat from his big body while cool air chilled the sheets around her. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.
Glancing at Lila, Cynda saw she was still asleep. Damp hair frizzed around her flushed face and sweat glazed her upper lip. Cynda's bladder twisted painfully, but even in the dim light, she could see the dark smudges beneath Lila's eyes. Squirming again, she tried to think of something to take her mind off her misery, hoping to let Lila sleep a while longer.
She thought about Grams. Her grandmother would be heartbroken when she found out Cynda had gotten arrested. She'd hoped Cynda would be the first in her family to go to college, not jail. Rubbing at the hot tracks of her tears, Cynda cast about for something else, but nothing positive came to mind. She was most likely fired from her job at the restaurant. She'd had to squander her one phone call to let her manager know she wouldn't be able to work her Saturday night and Sunday lunch shifts. "Arrested, huh? I thought you were different from the rest of them," he'd said before slamming the phone down.
Anger made her flush. Lila still talked as though a conviction for civil disobedience was no big deal, but a white woman would never have to contend with being seen as just another black person with a record. She thought about Lila's confession she was pregnant, and how many times the other woman had been up during the night, but Cynda didn't think she could hold her bladder any longer. "Pregnant or not, I gotta pee," she announced, rising painfully from her bunk, wincing. She hadn't meant to speak aloud. This place was making her crazy.
* * * *
Seriously, cancer is just about the only thing that will keep me from strangling Lila, Dan thought crossly, opening one eye to determine the sun wasn't yet up. The whining sound that had invaded his fitful sleep grew louder. "Okay, Daisy, dammit, I'm getting up." He felt exhausted. When he hadn't been pillow-wrestling, his mind had been turning over all the problems he needed to solve. The old setter trotted to the door of the bedroom, her toenails clicking on the hardwood.
Dan dragged himself out of bed, talking aloud to the dog. "What was it about Dazza that upset you, Daisy girl? Was it the stink of fear on him? What's he afraid of? And how did he know putting Cynda on a leash would get my attention?" Just a few of the questions Dan had spent the night wrestling with, when he hadn't been inhalin
g the scent that clung to Cynda's pillow with building frustration.
At the mention of Cynda's name, Daisy stopped in the hall, wheeling to trot through the front room into his office, sniffing the floor like she was trying to follow Cynda's scent. Dan knew the feeling. He glared at the dog.
"She's not here. Can you bite Lila for me next time you see her?" Dan stomped into to the kitchen and yanked open the back door. Daisy finally poked her nose through the archway. Dan watched blearily while she found her way to the back door, wondering what possessed him to allow Cynda to talk him into moving the dog inside. Cammie hadn't been big on pets. No animal had ever spent the night under this roof, till now. The old dog nearly fell down the back steps in her eagerness to water the closest shrub. He made a mental note to pull up the invading honeysuckle vine wrapped around the azalea bushes and left the door standing open, fumbling blindly on the counter beside the sink for the coffee can.
It wasn't there. Dan pried his eyes open enough to stare dumbly at the empty spot where he always placed the new tin of coffee. Same spot, for seventeen years, and now it was empty.
"Goddammit, woman, if you're gonna rearrange my life, could you at least leave me a fucking note?" he muttered, driving his fist down onto the dark countertop he'd thought would hide grime, but only seemed to reveal how much light-colored dirt there was in the world. A small sheet from a yellow sticky notepad fluttered from the tile backsplash to land on his thumb. Cynda's neat block lettering directed him to the freezer. She wrote like a kindergarten teacher. There was even a smiley face.
Dan didn't smile back. She was a kindergarten teacher, not some cheap piece of ass Brian Case had found. What the hell am I doing?
* * * *
Cynda poised uncomfortably over the stainless steel toilet that had a water fountain built into the back. The lights came on, causing her bladder to lock up. One metal tray slid through the slot in the bottom of the door. A second try bumped the first, causing black liquid in both melamine cups to slosh onto the single, thin sandwich on each tray.
To her dismay, the door opened.
The glaring mahogany-skinned corrections officer wore polyester-blend pants that stretched obscenely over her gut. Cynda noted with disgust the dark circles under the arms of her khaki shirt. Lila sat up, blinking in the strong light.
"Here's yo' breakfas', and I'll be right back," the CO announced, giving Cynda a humiliating stare. "Better quit pissin'. If you're pregnant, I gotta go fetch you an extra sammitch and carton of milk. But in case you jus' lyin' to get extra food, congratulations, you gets a free pregnancy tes', courtesy of the county." She turned and stomped out of the cell, but Cynda was sure everyone on the hall heard what she said next. "Damn welfare hoes, sittin' on they black asses wif' they legs spread, poppin' out babies wif no daddy in sight, livin' off the res' of us what work an' pay taxes."
The slamming door echoed painfully in Cynda's head.
"Have I lost my eyesight, or wasn't she blacker than you?" Lila demanded.
"She's a damn Oreo," Cynda snapped, feeling her bladder let go with a small sense of triumph. There was no point to being modest. Or civil. Raising her voice, she added, as scornfully as she knew how, "Black on the outside, but thinks she's white on the inside." Blinking furiously, Cynda tried not to cry in front of the white woman that had caused her humiliation. Even if she didn't have on any damn panties. She wiped and stood, letting the now-grimy dress fall and glared at Lila. Flopping onto her bunk, she felt like a barn animal. There wasn't even a sink so she could wash her hands.
* * * *
Yanking open the freezer door, Dan spied Daisy's tail, raised like a flag, through the open back door. Her nose was pressed to the ground and she was heading unerringly toward the spot where he'd buried the raccoon. "Daisy, no!" he yelled. The bird dog stopped, looking blindly over her shoulder before slinking into the garden, making him think the setter was still searching for the young woman who'd saved Not-Jacques. Dan grabbed the tin of coffee grounds and slammed the freezer door. "She not there, either," he muttered, relieved to find his filters hadn't been relocated. He threw an extra scoop of grounds into the top of the coffeemaker and jabbed the start button. Through the window, he saw the tip of Daisy's tail weaving through the coneflowers. At least she isn't tracking the raccoon, he thought, relieved. Probably a rabbit, or a squirrel.
Figuring out why Dazza wanted to buy the worst five acres he owned might show him a way to help Cynda with the loan shark. Dan figured it was a better use of his time than standing around thinking about Cynda and her crown of flowers. He thought about Colton's comment the evening before. Could someone have murdered Cammie and then participated in the search to prevent them from discovering her body? One benefit to living in the same spot all his life was that damn little seemed to get thrown out. His father had been obsessed with the search for Cammie. Where had he put all Rafe's notes and the ledger where he'd listed all the people who'd helped in the search? Tiredly, Dan chugged two cups of hot coffee, thinking of the places he might look.
* * * *
"I think there's been some mistake," Lila stated when the door opened again. The CO stepped in, holding an over-the-counter pregnancy test kit. "I'm the unmarried ho that's knocked up." She stood, drawing to her full height, glaring down her nose at the shorter CO.
The jailor's brows flashed upward, but her glare was directed at Cynda. "I'm gonna watch you piss, so don't be thinkin' you two gon' play any tricks."
"Watch all you like," Lila replied, unfastening the button on her shorts. "But unless you want me to pee on your shoes, you need to move." Snatching the box from the black woman's hand, Lila peeled open the top. "You can see the toilet from the door," she added imperiously, yanking out the plastic tray and dropping the box on her bunk.
The jailor's glare would've peeled paint, but she took a half-step into the corridor. Lila yanked her shorts down and shoved the stick between her thighs. Her posture was rigid, and her blue eyes flashed. Bright circles of red colored her cheeks. Cynda suppressed a grin when she held out the still-dripping stick. "You'll see two bars in under a minute. And you spilled the coffee."
"If you's pregnant, you don't need no damn coffee," the CO shot back.
"If you were my physician, your opinion might matter to me," Lila retorted. "But you aren't. You're a civil servant. Try being civil."
The CO's smile was cruel. "You's a prisoner. Try shuttin' up and bein' respectful."
"Respect is earned by giving it. And by this time tomorrow I won't be a detainee," Lila reminded her. "What's your name again?" The way she squinted made Cynda think the woman was too vain to wear glasses.
"Officer Nelson. Yep, you knocked up," the CO stated, her grin becoming sly. "I'll be right back wif' yo milk and extra sammitch, ma'am," the woman said, sounding far too obsequious to Cynda's ears. The door slammed loudly again. Lila yanked up her shorts, shooting Cynda a triumphant look.
"You haven't heard the last of her," Cynda warned.
Lila rinsed her hands in the fountain. Wiping them on the seat of her denim shorts, she knelt and peeled the soggy bread from the thin slices of bologna. She tossed the bread into the toilet. Putting both pieces of meat on one tray, she poured the remaining coffee into one cup, and handed the tray to Cynda. "I'm so sorry I got you into this mess," she said, sounding sincere. "In twenty-four hours, give or take, Daniel and Colton will be here to get us. I can do anything for twenty-four hours and so can you. As for Officer Nelson, she'd have to take a few graduate-level courses to out-bitch my ogre-in-law."
* * * *
While poking through drawers in sideboards and dressers, Dan decided Kingsley Dazza could've overheard a conversation between Cammie and Georgia. Cammie was a woman; she'd told someone other than her diary about the kind of sex life she shared with Rafe, Dan figured. Georgia's nephew would've been in his twenties at the time. Dazza might've simply decided the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree and taken the domestic discipline concept a step farther, selecti
ng a collar and leash because it was symbolic of the BDSM lifestyle. There was a place in Greenville where aficionados of that lifestyle hung out, but he'd never spent much time there. Their style of play felt too ritualized to him. He wasn't playing. He needed to have his woman—as well as his brothers—bring him their problems to solve; doing so was inextricably tied to his self-esteem. That was who he was. Head of the family, now that Rafe was dead.
Something made him wonder how old Rafe had been when Cammie went missing. He calculated the dates. Thirty-seven? No, thirty-six. Rafe had been younger than Dan was now. Shock riveted Dan to the floor. Sinking onto the wide seat of the hall tree, he tapped the old drumsticks he'd found on his knees, staring through the mesh baby gate at the sleeping, rotund form of Not-Jacques.
* * * *
Cynda looked at the unappetizing bologna. They'd been served two meals so far and each time they'd been given a bologna sandwich. She'd hoped breakfast would be something different. "No, you should eat this," she protested, above her growling stomach.
"Can't do it," Lila assured her. "I'd be puking my guts up before you could blink. You wanna listen to that?"
Cynda didn't have to look at the toilet to know it was less than two feet away. "Nooo."
"Then eat up," Lila said, rising to drink long gulps from the fountain while Cynda tried to decide what to do. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Lila looked at her. "The milk will hold me over till my stomach settles down. Promise. You eat that."
Unhappily, Cynda picked up the meat. Her stomach rumbled painfully. She washed it down quickly with the coffee, her heart sinking when Lila drank from the fountain again.
