“On that little sofa?”
He put his hands on her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “When I’m in your bed, the last thing I’m thinking about is sleep. And the second last thing I’m thinking about is the case.” He brushed another kiss along her cheek. “Go take your bath. I’ll clean up down here.”
Ashli indulged in a long, hot bath, soaking away the worries of the day and the pensive mood Lange had fallen into. Instead of the sheer teddy, she slipped on a comfortable pair of flannel pajama pants and a lacy but respectable camisole. Tucking her feet into her favorite pair of fuzzy slippers, she knew her outfit was far from sexy. If Lange wanted to sleep on the sofa, far be it from her to lure him upstairs with frilly lingerie.
She found him sitting in the wingback chair, nursing a second glass of wine as he stared out the opened blinds. The lights were off, eliminating a reflective glare from inside and allowing a clear view of the night sky. Although he had done his best to clean the painted message from the window, a few streak marks lingered on the glass as an ugly reminder.
“Lange?” she asked softly, making her way across the room in the darkness. “Are you all right?”
“Just having a glass of wine. Want some?” He pointed to the bottle that by now was practically empty. Maybe this was this third glass.
“No, thanks, I’ve already brushed my teeth,” she murmured. She hung back for a moment before coming closer and touching his shoulder.
He flinched at the contact. A nerve worked along his clenched jaw. He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at her.
“Lange? Lange, honey, what’s wrong?” It was the first time she had called him the endearment, but he suspected it had no romantic connotations. She was bringing little boys in from the rain again.
It took him a long while to answer. She waited patiently until he was ready to talk.
“Toby’s been gone twelve years today.” His voice was raw and rusty.
“He was the friend you lost?” she guessed softly.
Instead of answering immediately, Lange caught her by the waist and pulled her across the arm of the chair and into his lap. He needed her warmth and softness when confronting the cold, sharp pain of the past.
“He was only nineteen.” He spoke in a low voice that was full of pain. “We were going to conquer the world. Go to the police academy together, start our careers together, branch out as a private investigation team.” There was pregnant pause. “Never thought I’d be doing all this alone.”
“Tell me about Toby.”
He started slowly, but then the words flowed out of him. He told her story after story, some going back as far as elementary school. Some stories made her laugh, a few made her sad, but she listened to them all with only minimal comment. These were Lange’s stories, Lange’s memories. The fact that he shared them with her was a huge comment on their relationship.
After the last story, Lange fell silent again. Finally he spoke. “You know, this is the first time I’ve even said Toby’s name out loud in probably ten years. Some friend I turned out to be.”
“Sometimes memories are too painful to speak out loud.” She stroked the back of his head, smoothing down the black ends of his hair.
“It doesn’t seem right, just letting his memory die. But nobody I know now ever even knew him.”
“You haven’t kept in touch with anyone from your past?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. There really wasn’t anyone to keep in touch with. I never had many friends, and no family other than my grandmother.”
Ashli thought about her own life, so full and robust with friends and relatives. She had dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins, three grandparents who were still living, many close friends she could depend on in a crisis, casual friends by the score, and more acquaintances than she could ever count. She could not imagine her life without any of them. Her heart ached for Lange, knowing he did not have that network of caring.
“Lange.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me!” he said sharply, misinterpreting the softness in her voice. “I can’t tolerate your pity.”
“I don’t pity you, Lange, but it does make my heart physically hurt, knowing you feel so alone,” she whispered. She weighed her words before she spoke them. They were thickened with the tears she tried not to shed. “Lange, there’s something I want you to know. If . . . If something should happen to me . . .”
“No!” The word tore from him.
“No, listen to me.” She covered his mouth with her fingers. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “If - If something should happen to me, I want you to know that you will always be welcomed with my family.”
“Ashli, don’t,” he pleaded, his own voice thick. She felt his strong arms tremble as they held her.
“Please let me finish. This is important.” She sniffed, keeping her eyes trained on the lips she still caressed with her fingers. “I want you to know you will always have a place to go. You’ll always have a home with my family, Lange. They’ll be your roots.”
To her amazement, a tear rolled down his cheek and collected on her fingertip.
She snapped her gaze to his, stunned to see the depth of pain swimming in his dark eyes. He shuddered as he pulled her tight against him, his words torn from his heart with a ragged breath. “Don’t talk like this, Ashli! Don’t say such things. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, too.”
Her hand was trapped between them as he held her too tightly. She wanted to hold him, she wanted to put her arms around him, but she was crushed to his trembling chest. She felt the sobs rack his body, and her own tears flowed hot and free, running down her cheeks and soaking into his shirt. She finally finagled her hand free, so that she could slip both hands around his neck and press her face close against his. After another long moment, she managed to slide her lips over to his. Their kiss was long and sweet and desperate, flavored by both their tears.
When Ashli pulled away at last, Lange lessened his grasp. She laid her head on his chest, and they settled into the chair, neither speaking. She sensed he would be embarrassed over his display of emotion, so she generously avoided eye contact. She drew lazy patterns over the damp wrinkles of his shirt, alternating smoothing out the fabric and patting the sacred area over his heart. They stayed that way for almost an hour, without words, until cramped muscles insisted that they move.
She stood and reached out her hand.
“Let’s go to bed, Lange,” she said quietly, her blue eyes seeking his.
Without a word, he took her hand and followed her upstairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Late Saturday afternoon, Ashli packed a wicker basket with food to take to Diane’s. She planned a simple meal of grilled chicken and penne pasta, tossed salad, a crusty loaf of bread, and thick, gooey chocolate brownies. It was a meal that could go from casual to sensual with a bottle of wine and the right music. She was certain her friend could provide both.
“I was about to get into the shower,” Diane said as she opened the door. She was already in her robe and had her hair tied up in a turban. “The kitchen’s through there. Make yourself at home. And do me proud,” she called with a cheeky grin as she disappeared down the hall.
Laughing, Ashli found the small kitchen and set to work. Soon she had the apartment filled with the delicious aroma of grilling chicken, Italian seasoning, and the sweet promise of chocolate.
She rummaged through Diane’s cabinets and found everything she needed to create an intimate place setting for two. There was a round table in the corner of the living room, but with a white tablecloth, red candles in silver candlesticks, and a small ivy centerpiece, it became a romantic nook for lovers. Stepping back to survey her work, Ashli clapped her hands in delight. Hopefully, tonight would be everything her friend hoped for.
Back in the kitchen, Ashli tossed the pasta with the chicken and cherry tomatoes, and set the heat on simmer. It was just after 6:30, and time she made her exit. The brownies were cooling on to
p of the stove, the salad was made, and the wine was ready to uncork. By pre-chilling the salad plates and pre-warming the bread basket, there would be little room for error, even for the most inept cooks.
“This smells delicious!” Diane said as she came into the room.
“Thanks.” Ashli was working with her back to her, adding the last dash of seasoning. “Just leave the pasta simmering, until the tomato skins burst. Stir it gently every so often, like this, to keep it from sticking. You can serve it directly on the plates, or I found this pretty serving bowl you might prefer. The bread –”
When she turned, she got sight of Diane and the words suddenly died upon her lips. Stunned, she could only stare at the woman in front of her.
“What?” Diane asked with a laugh, pumping the ends of her very blond, very bleached hair. “Don’t you like it?”
“It- it’s just so different,” Ashli managed to say.
“Well, they say blonds have more fun, so I thought I’d give it a try. You certainly seem to be having a lot of fun these days.”
Something about her words was a little too sharp, a little too bright. Ashli swallowed uncomfortably, belatedly noticing the red dress Diane wore. It was every bit as tight and daring as it had appeared in the ad.
“You didn’t take my advice and buy the dress, so I bought it for myself. You like?” She skimmed her hand down the ultra-tight fit, preening for effect.
“It’s, ah, it’s lovely. Look, I think I have everything done here, so I’m just going to get out of here, before your boyfriend arrives.” Ashli’s words were rushed. She hoped to escape as quickly as possible; the entire situation was making her very uncomfortable.
“I can’t imagine what’s keeping him. He’s usually very punctual.” Cocking her head, Diane beamed. “Oh, listen, there’s the doorbell now.”
“I thought he wasn’t coming until seven. How will I get out without him seeing me? You don’t have a back door, do you?” Ashli was feeling trapped, and not just by the boyfriend. She had never seen her lawyer friend act this way before, and it was more than a little disconcerting.
“I guess we’ll just have to come clean about our little trickery.” She sounded completely unconcerned as she left the room. The tight skirt and killer stilettos made her exit more awkward than sweeping.
Ashli braced her arms on the cabinet, gulping in deep breaths to keep from panicking. Something was definitely not right. Had Diane taken some sort of drug? Was she high? Or just crazy? Neither thought brought much comfort.
“Darling, you’re here!” She heard Diane’s voice, still too bright and too loud. Yes, Ashli decided, she was probably high. “I was so thrilled when you called and said you wanted to get back together.” She heard the murmur of a man’s voice, then Diane’s again. “You like? I know you have a recent thing for blonds, so I thought ‘what the hell’? Give the man what he likes. And I definitely know what you like.”
In the pause that followed, Ashli could only imagine what her last throaty comment had led to. Then Diane was laughing again. “Now, now, behave yourself, big boy. I take it you like the dress?” Another seductive laugh and a man’s reply, too low to hear. “I know, I know, I’ve missed you, too. I’m glad you’ve gotten that little blond bimbo out of your system and are ready for a real woman again.”
This time, when Ashli heard the man’s reply, her world fell out from beneath her feet and the room began to spin. There was no denying the sound of Lange’s voice, or the way he growled the other woman’s name; she had heard that growl too often, sometimes in anger, but more often in desire. “Diane,” he said now, and there was another gush of laughter from the living room.
“I guess one little kiss wouldn’t hurt. Then there’s someone I want you to meet,” Diane said.
It was like watching a terrible accident, taking place right before her eyes. She didn’t want to see, didn’t think she had the strength to watch, but she couldn’t look away. In fact, Ashli deliberately stepped forward, compelled to watch the terrible drama unfolding right in the next room. She stepped through the doorway in time to see Diane capture Lange’s head and pull his mouth down to hers. Tears blurred her eyes, making it impossible to see if he was returning the kiss with the same gusto she issued it with. But when Diane pushed her body into his, his hands came up to catch her hips. Suddenly sick at her stomach, Ashli wanted to turn away, but she was rooted to the spot.
“Diane!” Lange pushed the red-head-turned-platinum-blond away. She had rocked into him with such force that he had to grab for her to keep his balance. “What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you what you wanted . . . a blond whore! What’s wrong, aren’t I good enough for you?” she spat.
“A blond . . . what are you talking about? Why did you dye your hair? What -!” He stopped abruptly, seeing they were not alone. “Ashli!” He paled when he saw the stricken expression on her face. “Ashli, what are you doing here?” This, in a shocked whisper.
“Surprised to see your little blond bitch here, in our love nest?” Diane sneered. She turned toward Ashli, her face distorted in ugly scorn. “That’s right. This is our love nest. For two years, two frickin’ years, we’ve been lovers in this very apartment. You wouldn’t believe the things that gorgeous body of his has done to mine, right here in this very room!”
Ashli clutched the back of a chair. Her breathing was coming in pathetic spurts, depriving her lungs of its much-needed oxygen. Her skin was growing clammy, her stomach was churning. But her heart. Her heart was literally breaking into hundreds of little shards.
“Diane, that’s enough!” Lange barked sharply.
“Is it? Doesn’t she deserve to know the truth? The truth about us, Lange? That we’ve been lovers for two years, that we were planning a future together, until she came along? Doesn’t she deserve to know how you threw me aside to get into her pants, then how you laughed at her for thinking she could ever please you?” The room was spinning wildly now, and getting darker. Ashli could barely hear Diane’s next word over the ringing in her ears. “I’m willing to forgive your little tumble in the hay with her, Lange, since I know how pathetic it was. I know you want me back. I know what a man like you needs, what you want.”
Diane thrust her red-clan body up against his, trying to grind her hips into his, but Lange shoved her away. He used more force than intended, inadvertently pushing her to the ground. His eyes were on Ashli, and the way all the color had drained from her face.
“Ashli, don’t listen to her, she’s insane,” Lange said. He tried to cross the room to reach her before she crumbled, but Diane was clutching his leg. He shook her away angrily, until a sharp pain seared through his flesh.
“Damn it, Diane, what the hell?” His bellow was more one of rage than of pain, even though it hurt like a son of a bitch. He glanced down and was shocked to see blood. “What did you do?”
“I stabbed you, just like you stabbed me!” she yelled, brandishing the long blade that glistened with his blood. She tried to stab him again, but he jumped back, out of her reach.
“You really are crazy!” he screamed at her. “Get up off the floor and give me the damn knife, you crazy woman!”
“Come and get it,” she said with deadly calm. Not in the least intimidated by the thunderous scowl on his face as he slowly advanced toward her, Diane scrambled backwards, holding the knife between them.
Ashli watched the scene in horror, too shocked and too sick to act. Lange was bleeding, even though he seemed to ignore the wound across his lower thigh. Diane, her short, tight skirt hiked immodestly high, craw-fished her way backwards, coming directly toward Ashli. Somewhere in her numbed brain, Ashli knew she should move, knew she should call for help or go to Lange or do something, but she was rooted to the spot, her legs and her mind immobile.
“Diane, you know you don’t want to hurt me.” Lange’s voice was now deceptively calm and steady.
“But you hurt me! You stabbed me in the hear
t, as surely as if you had a knife!”
“I know I did. I’m sorry about that. Just give me the knife, and we’ll talk about it.”
“What’s to talk about?” Still crawling backwards, she bumped into the leg of the coffee table with a curse, but kept going. She stopped when she touched Ashli’s leg. “You stabbed me in the heart, and she stabbed me in the back!”
“Run, Ashli! Get out of here!” Lange cried, predicting Diane’s next move.
Snapping out of her trance, Ashli leapt aside, just seconds before the long blade of the knife jabbed into the floor where her foot had just been. In her haste to get away, Ashli stumbled over the arm of the chair and fell into its cushions.
“You were my friend!” Diane screamed in rage. “You stole him from me, and I want him back!”
“I-I didn’t know,” Ashli stammered. “I didn’t know it was him.” Her eyes flew to Lange’s, as her shocked brain tried to make sense of it all. Lange and Diane, in a two year love affair? Here in this apartment? Her stomach rolled again. Had he really laughed at her?
“Diane, put down the knife.” Lange was steadily advancing toward them, his voice still calm and reassuring. “We can sit down and discuss this. I didn’t realize you even knew Ashli. Tell me how you know her.” He tried to distract her until he got close enough to take the knife.
“The restaurant, you idiot. Where do you think I bought that tomato basil soup you liked so well? The question is, how do you know her?”
“Business.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said with a sharp laugh. “Your new client, the one that sounded like Doris Day. I should have made the connection the day you told me about her.”
Seeing an opportunity to escape, Ashli eased out of the chair and inched away from the woman with the knife. Lange caught the movement from the corner of his eye and quickly engaged Diane in more conversation.
“So when did you realize Ashli was the woman I was protecting?”
Diane laughed harshly. “Stupid me, not until Veronica told me she saw you slinking out of her apartment, still wearing your clothes from the night before.”
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not Page 22
