by V. K. Powell
A few minutes later they sat on the floater, feet dangling in the water, sipping wine. “Do you want to talk about it?” She was usually the one being prodded for information and her feelings. Was this cosmic payback for past relationships or were the scales just tipping to center, giving her an opportunity to grow and compromise?
“I don’t want to bore you. Just more mama drama.”
“I’m sufficiently fortified. This is my second glass. Did you have a disagreement?”
Leigh finished her wine, refilled the glass, and took another gulp before answering. “Not really. We talked about Jack mostly. It’s hard to imagine, but she actually understands him. What makes it worse is he likes her.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re upset because Jack likes your mother, she’s good with him, and that doesn’t sync with your memories of her?” She understood why that would bother her, but Leigh needed to hear someone else say it. People didn’t change their basic nature, no matter what our memories of them.
“When you put it like that, I sound childish and petty.”
“Look at me.” She waited until Leigh made eye contact. The hurt was evident in Leigh’s eyes, and she wanted desperately to erase it. “All memories are hoaxes of a sort. They represent a picture that’s faded and lost some of its color and definition.”
“What are you saying, that I should forgive her?”
“I’m just asking if perhaps it’s time to reexamine the work in a different light, in the present. Maybe you missed something before.”
Leigh stared toward the lake. “I’ve been wondering that too. I like the way you see things through the lens of an artist. You make life seem richer and more interesting, definitely a perspective I don’t see much in my line of work.”
Simple words really, but so desperately needed they brought tears to her eyes. She’d never been validated for her art, much less for a unique viewpoint that offered anything valuable or worthwhile. Leigh seemed to divine the gaps in her and slowly fill the voids. She hoped to repay Leigh for the vitality she was pouring back into her life, maybe by encouraging her to consider her mother in another way.
“I wish I could capture this sunset on canvas, but I’ve never been able to come close. There’s something elusive about nature that defies duplication even in photographs. Have you ever noticed?” When their gaze met, Leigh was staring at her mouth with the hungriest eyes she’d ever seen. “What?”
“Your lips are so sexy. I love watching you talk. And the things I want you to do with your mouth are painful to think about.”
Heat flushed her face and neck, and she took another sip of wine. “Well, thank you, I think.” If Leigh didn’t stop looking at her like she could devour her, she’d jump her like a ninja.
“I forgot to tell you, wine makes me amorous. Can I kiss you right now?” Without waiting for an answer, Leigh leaned over, cupped the back of her head, and brought them together. “Please?”
She answered with a kiss so needy it took her breath with its urgency. Her lips crushed Leigh’s and her tongue demanded entry. She searched the hot recesses of Leigh’s mouth, memorizing the ridges and edges of her teeth, the texture of her cheeks, and the strength of her dueling tongue. Leigh tasted like wine and sunset, intoxicating and promising. Dropping her wineglass, she fisted Leigh’s hair in both hands and held her in place. Her body was inflamed, and only Leigh, naked and sweaty on top of her, could quench it.
“Macy.” Leigh pulled back just enough to speak. “Macy, shouldn’t we go…somewhere?”
Panting, she reached for Leigh again but stopped when she realized what Leigh was saying. “Somewhere?”
“Yes. I have a strict landlord who doesn’t like exhibitions on her dock.” Her smile was a combination of teasing and tempting.
“Quite right.” She felt she’d disintegrate if she moved too far from Leigh, but she managed to regain a single thread of control. “Jeez, what is it about you that makes me want to attack you every time we’re within touching distance?”
“I have no idea, but I like it.” Leigh skimmed her finger up Macy’s arm to her neck and then circled her ear. “Don’t you think we should go upstairs or to the cottage?”
She wanted exactly that but knew she couldn’t have it. She had no idea if Leigh could handle a purely sexual relationship. The better question was, could she? Were physical encounters with no complications the answer to her relationship failures? “I think I better go home. We need to think this through before we do something we regret.”
Leigh tried to kiss her again, but she pulled away and stood. “Trust me, I wouldn’t regret kissing you or having sex with you…ever. And I won’t hurt you.”
How many times had Macy heard that line? As many times as she’d delivered it to have sex with a woman she had no intention of staying with? Did she want to believe she’d never be hurt again? Was that the stake grounding her to the past? When Leigh said those four words, she almost believed them.
Leigh slid her arm around Macy’s waist and brought their bodies into full contact. Need flowed between her legs and she straddled Leigh’s leg. “Oh, my…” She slid her aching crotch up Leigh’s thigh as far as her tiptoed stance would allow. “You undo me. I have absolutely no self-control.”
“I want you so much, Macy. Can’t you feel it?”
The only thing she felt was sexual need and the certainty she’d never tire of Leigh’s candor about her feelings. “I have to stop now or I never will. Please help me.” She placed her hands in the center of Leigh’s chest and gently pushed.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” Leigh said, and Macy totally believed her.
“I’m sorry.” As she walked toward the cottage, she called back over her shoulder, “How about a drive around the lake tomorrow after I finish work?” She didn’t hear Leigh’s answer, but her insides quivered with the anticipation of being near her again. If she didn’t regain a modicum of control, she wouldn’t be able to resist her desire for Leigh much longer.
Chapter Twelve
Leigh had finished the open bottle of wine Macy left on the dock before falling asleep, too tipsy to relieve her sexual frustration. When she woke on the sofa, the sun was blistering one side of her face, and the ache between her legs was just as painful as the night before. Toby stared at her like he used to when she came home after a party-hopping night in college.
“I know. I’m a romantic idiot who always goes for unavailable women. Is that what you were going to say?” His gaze didn’t change. “You’re just like her, you know, teasing, tormenting, but so freaking gorgeous I can’t resist. What should I do?” Still no answer. “Thanks for that, as usual, no help at all.”
While she showered, Leigh thought about Macy and how being with her somehow felt right. She’d never believed a lover accepted her just as she was, occasionally impulsive and often overly emotional. Macy’s logical and orderly approach to life seemed more grounded and stable, something she missed in relationships. She sensed that Macy secretly craved an expressive woman with a touch of spontaneity. They’d be a good match, if she could only get Macy to consider it. But something or someone held her back.
Macy had kissed her twice, actually initiated the first, so maybe she was only interested in a physical relationship. Having sex with Macy would definitely be pleasurable, but she didn’t like the idea it couldn’t go further. Why was it so hard for Macy to open up? They’d had a couple of intimate conversations, but she’d stopped short of the deeper feelings that guided her life and held her hostage to the past.
How many times could Macy pull away from her without permanently damaging their connection? Every time she was with Macy, touching her, kissing her but unable to have her, she moved closer to her breaking point. Every link had its tensile strength. Susan had taught her that she could only be pushed away so many times before the damage became permanent. She prayed that wouldn’t happen before she and Macy had a chance to test their power together.
L
eigh dressed, combed her hair, grabbed the witness statements from the cold-case file along with a hot cup of coffee, and took them to the balcony overlooking the lake. Maybe concentrating on something besides Macy would dull the needy ache in her body. She didn’t have a deadline on the case review, but she knew her former coach, and sooner was always better than later.
Flipping through the witnesses’ statements, she stopped at the longest one and pulled it from the middle of the stack. Witness name, Macy Reynolds. She reread the name and checked the address. Macy wasn’t a common name, but she would’ve remembered meeting Macy Sheridan even if it had been sixteen years ago. Macy would’ve been a teenager and Leigh had just turned twenty-two. This Macy was the victim’s best friend and had reported her missing. She was certain she’d never actually seen this witness, Macy Reynolds, because she’d only conducted the neighborhood canvass at the crime scene, but the unsettled feeling remained.
She read the witness’s statement and found nothing indicating the two Macys were connected. Still, she’d ask Macy Sheridan when she saw her later if she remembered the highly publicized case. Breathing a sigh of relief, she scanned the other accounts before moving on to the rest of the case notes. No one had seen anything of importance that night. Over the next four hours, she came up with the same unacceptable conclusion over and over. Jesse Quinn had simply vanished. She wondered if somewhere Jack’s family was thinking the same thing.
If she hoped to find anything new about an old case, she’d have to go back to the beginning and do it the hard way. She folded the witnesses’ statements and tucked them into the pocket of her jacket and headed for her car. On the way into town, she called Hedy, hoping she’d have time for a quick brunch. They agreed to meet at the deli in half an hour.
“Do you have my house staked out?” Hedy asked as she hugged Leigh and scooted into the booth across from her.
“What? No. Why?”
“You usually call when Bo’s out of town. You still like him, right? Because he is the father of my child.”
“Eww. I don’t like to think about any guy putting it to my baby sister. Can we move on? How are you feeling?”
“Sick as a whore in church, but otherwise, not bad. When I don’t have morning sickness, I’m eating everything in sight. What’re we having?”
“Don’t know about you, but I’m having the jumbo cheeseburger all the way with sweet-potato fries. And before you ask, no, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you at least having sex?”
“No.”
When the waitress took Leigh’s order, Hedy added, “Ditto,” and waited until she left. “So why not?”
“If you count orgasms with nobody else in the room, I’m having lots of sex. Otherwise, it kind of requires a partner, which last time I checked, I don’t have.”
Hedy tried to suppress a grin. “What about your landlord?”
“What about her?”
“Pam says you have the hots for her and you two had a moment.” She finger-quoted the last three words. “Any truth to the rumor, Detective? Would you care to comment?” She held the saltshaker toward her like a microphone.
“Since when do you and Pam talk about my nonexistent sex life behind my back?” She tried to sound stern, but Hedy was having too much fun to spoil it.
“Since she called with congratulations on the baby news and bought Bo and me a celebratory dinner. Sweet of her. The subject just came up because we care about you and want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, I’m fine. We don’t have a relationship, but I am attracted to her.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Leigh recalled the pained look on Macy’s face when they’d kissed on the dock. “She has some things to work out, and I’m not jumping into anything where I have to play second or third fiddle again. Been there, done that, have the scars to prove it.”
Hedy covered her hand where it rested on the table. “Good. You deserve better than, what did you call it, a vacationship?”
The waitress brought their food and they ate in silence for several minutes. When Leigh looked up, Hedy was staring into her plate like she’d seen something distasteful. “What’s wrong? Yours no good?”
“It’s not that.” She stuffed a fry into her mouth, and Leigh remembered the young child who’d done the same thing when asked a question she didn’t want to answer.
“Just tell me, Hedy. You don’t look well.”
“I’m worried.” She was pale, and the corners of her mouth turned down like she was about to be sick.
“Do I need to call an ambulance? Take you to the hospital, right now?”
Hedy shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “No.” Her voice had a scared-little-girl quiver.
She grabbed both of Hedy’s hands and rubbed, trying to keep her own voice calm and soothing. “Honey, just take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”
“I had a miscarriage.”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard properly. “What? When? Are you all right?”
“Not this baby, Leigh. I was pregnant before.”
What Hedy said didn’t make sense. She would’ve known if something so significant happened to her sister, wouldn’t she? They shared everything. “When was this?”
“You were working undercover. Bo and I hadn’t been married long, and you were fairly new with the department. I didn’t want to worry you, especially while you were working with a bunch of crazy drug dealers. I’m sorry.”
“How did you get through it? Are you okay? How did I not know?” Then the lightbulb came on. “Susan?”
Hedy nodded, unable to meet her gaze.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me, because Susan was helping you?”
Hedy nodded again.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a selfish, unreasonable brat.”
Hedy finally looked up, tears streaking her face. “I don’t think any of those things. You just weren’t very receptive anytime I mentioned Susan. I needed help, Bo was a basket case, and you weren’t available. I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.”
Suddenly her baby sister looked older. The laugh lines around her eyes and mouth seemed deeper, conveying more grief than joy. The pain of such a loss would never go away. Her heart ached for Hedy, and again she couldn’t do a thing. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I wish I’d been there, and I’d like to think I would’ve put my feelings aside. Can you ever forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, and I don’t want you feeling guilty about this too. You’ve got enough old baggage.”
“You haven’t told me in all this time because of how I feel about Susan.”
“It never seemed right, but now, with the new baby, maybe we can all move on. She was there for me when I needed her, Leigh. That counts for something.”
She thought about what Hedy said and about the last two times she’d seen Susan. Something was different about her, but she hadn’t given her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe now was the time to put old hurts behind her and look forward. New life, new possibilities. “You’re probably right. I’ll try harder. Does the miscarriage put you at greater risk with this pregnancy?”
“The doctor said I should be fine as long as I get lots of rest and avoid stress, but I still worry. We want this baby so bad.”
“She’ll be fine because she’s my niece. And yes, I’ve already decided you’re having a girl, so don’t argue.” She grabbed one of Hedy’s fries and pointed it at her. “Now eat your lunch. That little track star needs nourishment.”
An hour later, Leigh was walking the parking lot of the old bar where Jesse Quinn disappeared, reviewing witness statements, and waiting for a return call from her contact at the Center for Missing and Exploited Children. She’d placed herself in the position of witnesses, as much as possible, and read their stories from their perspective. Checking off the businesses and residences in the area, she made a list of those not contacted at the time. One of the buildings had bee
n completely demolished and was now the parking lot of a dry cleaner.
When her phone rang, she answered immediately, anxious to make progress in at least one of her seemingly hopeless and unsanctioned cases. “Hello?”
“It’s me.” They never exchanged names over the phone, a little paranoid and overly cautious about some of their methods. “Sorry it took so long to call back. How can I help?”
“I need you to check for a missing boy, fourteen or fifteen, small build, whitish-blond hair, gray eyes, five-feet eight inches tall, about a hundred ten pounds. Don’t have a name, and before you ask, I’m not sure if he’s been reported missing. He showed up here looking for family, and we’ve run into a dead end.”
“Any idea where he came from, possible name, or anything to narrow the search.”
“He said his father’s name was Steven Temple, but I’m not sure that’s true. He’s going by Jack, but I wouldn’t count on that either. Nothing else. Give it a shot, that’s all I can ask.”
“I assume this is off book?”
“Yep, and one more thing…some branch of the feds warned us off the search for Steven Temple. Let me know if you run into resistance. I’ll owe you one.”
“You always do.”
Leigh hung up and started knocking on doors around the club. Of the remaining witnesses, one had died, two moved, and one didn’t remember anything new. It was mid-afternoon when she finally gave up for the day, leaving only four more places to check. As she drove back to the lake, she thought about her conversation with Hedy again and decided she’d make time to talk with Susan in the next few days. She couldn’t postpone the inevitable forever.
*
Macy shaded in the area of the sketch around the chin and dropped her pencil on the table. She’d concentrated on the details of the nose, mouth, and ears separately, careful to project only what was on the underlying skull photographs or indicated by the tissue-depth markers. She took a breath and, hoping for the best, stepped back from the drawing.
When she looked at the face she’d recreated, she knew immediately it wasn’t Jesse’s. The disappointment slammed into her. She reached for the table edge, feeling sick as her stomach churned. Jesse’s crystal blue eyes had been so alive and so different from the sketch she’d just completed. She’d thought she was ready for this possibility, thought she’d remained objective and detached. But even with all her psychobabble and rigid control, she couldn’t keep the feelings from ambushing her again. Tears clouded her vision and splattered to the floor. God, how she missed her friend, how she desperately needed to know what happened to her, even if the answer was the most horrible one imaginable.
