The Love of a Stranger

by Jeffrey, Anna

  Doug went to her and slid his arm around her waist, pulled her against his side. “Bob Culpepper’s a good friend. He’s taking the whole mess to the Attorney General. Including Jim Higgins’ performance as sheriff. If it’s any consolation, Charlie’s murder won’t go unpunished.”

  She nodded. “Bob’s wanted to do something like that all along. I’ve kept him from it. It’s just that I hated to see Charlie’s weaknesses thrown out there for all the world to rake through unless there was a good reason. He depended on me to protect him. And I did for as long as I could.”

  Doubting if he could ever love her more than at this moment, he set her away and placed a reverent kiss on her lips. “Let’s go home,” he said.

  She sniffed away tears and smiled. “Yes. Let’s do.”

  Chapter 30

  Doug and Alex, lying spoon-like, came awake in the dusky gray of daylight. They had scarcely closed the front door yesterday afternoon before they fell into bed and made ravenous love. He had kissed her everywhere, taking her to screaming heights and whimpering lows.

  Now, with a low hum, his lips brushed her shoulder, moved to her nape. Without opening her eyes, she squirmed her bottom to fit against his groin. His hand smoothed along the outside of her thigh, caught her behind the knee and eased it up toward her chest. She felt open and vulnerable until the thick head of him eased into her. His hand cupped her breast and molded and kneaded. Her nipples grew firm and those little sounds she had now come to recognize came out of her throat. He began to move inside her in slow, tantalizing strokes and she moved, too, keeping his lazy rhythm.

  His hand moved down over her belly, his fingers found her slippery softness. She purred and pushed the needy little kernel at the top of her sex against his skilled fingers. As pressure built she rode his thick length until indescribable pleasure washed through her and her deep muscles contracted around him. She heard his groan, felt his body grow taut for a few seconds as his hot semen filled her again. On a sigh, she drifted back to sleep in his arms.

  The distinct sound of a truck grinding in low gear awakened her a second time. She sprang out of bed, grabbed a robe and strode to the living room windows. A truck tractor pulling a low-boy trailer loaded with a CAT labored up the driveway. It was being led by Kenny’s 4 x 4 and the bastard was behind the wheel, his arm hanging out the window, motioning the truck to follow him.

  She turned and saw Doug behind her, grim faced. “I thought they were going to arrest him,” she cried.

  Doug’s arms closed around her and he pulled her against him. “Shh. Any day now.”

  She hid her face against his chest, picturing the pond’s pure, clear water clouded with silt and talc, dead and dying fish floating to its surface. She had never felt so helpless.

  “Let’s get a shower and get dressed,” Doug said. “We’ll go to my house. At least you won’t have to watch.”

  She didn’t argue. Sitting in her living room, watching the surroundings she loved change before her eyes, were more than she wanted to bear. While she made arrangements for her phone calls to be referred to her cell phone, he packed up her computer and files. She threw some clothing, toiletries and cosmetics into a bag. They loaded it all into her Doug’s pickup and her Jeep and together with Maizie and Robert Redford, left her house.

  On the way down the driveway, a dump truck loaded with gravel forced them to pull to the side and wait while he passed. She had an insane urge to leap out of the Jeep and throw rocks at the cab and driver.

  The stay in Doug’s house turned from a weekend into the week. A cold front moved in and brought rain. Winter’s bite could be felt in the air. A detective from the state police called and came down from Lewiston. When she and Doug led him to her house and the cabin site, instead of her rock-strewn driveway, they discovered a smooth, gravel surface. After she had told the detective all she knew about Charlie’s death and shown him the site, she gathered more clothing and personal items and they returned to Doug’s house.

  With no firm timetable from the detective, she willed herself to establish a routine and wrote down a schedule: work out on Doug’s NordicTrack early in the morning, then phone calls, faxes and emails until noon. Bookkeeping and collecting the receipts at Carlton’s in the afternoon.

  She forced herself to not look across the valley to her house, but sometimes, in weaker moments, she did. She could see no change in the landscape with her eyes, but she could feel it in her soul.

  She felt tired and weepy and blamed it on the stress of worrying what Kenny was doing behind her house and what the state police were doing in Meridian. Doug was attentive and patient with her outbursts of temper and tears. And he was loving and supportive in a way she had never known a man to be.

  By Thursday, she had made a decision. It wasn’t in the stars for her to live in Callister, Idaho. Besides being expensive, her ten-year residency had been filled with trouble, both for herself and others. She would return to her business in Los Angeles and re-think her plans for her future. If Doug loved her as he said he did, he would accompany her.

  She broached the subject over a dinner of delicious steelhead trout steaks he had barbecued on the grill. Ted had caught the fish in the Big Salmon.

  “I can’t go back.” he said.

  She presented her arguments, how he could do the same things in Los Angeles he was now doing here and probably be more successful, make more money. And they would travel back to Callister often.

  “I can’t do it, Alex. Not even for you. And I don’t want to travel back and forth. Guess I’m a stick-in-the-mud. I like being rooted in one spot.”

  She heard the resolve in his voice, even saw it on his face, but wasn’t she a negotiator by trade?

  Friday stormed in with winds, rain and dropping temperatures. Excited TV meteorologists predicted a severe winter. Doug brought up skiing and making a trip to Sun Valley. She maintained the thread of his returning with her to Southern California.

  At mid-morning on Friday, a truck roared into the driveway and came to an abrupt halt. Before either Doug or she could reach the front door, Ted was clambering across the front deck. He swung through the doorway without knocking, breathless and excited. “Jesus Christ, Doug, the state cops came in here and arrested Jim Higgins. Another bunch of ’em went out to Kenny Miller’s shop with a warrant, but he wasn’t there. Nobody knows where he is.” Ted’s gaze shot to Alex. “They’re saying he killed Charlie, Alex.”

  She began to tremble all over, could feel herself breathing. Doug came to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You hear anything about Cindy?” Doug asked Ted.

  “Somebody said they picked her up over in Challis.” Ted paced in front of the fireplace. “My God, I can’t believe this. I didn’t even know those guys were investigating that fire. Until this morning, nobody ever said a damn word to me.” Then his expression changed to one of dawning and he leveled a squint-eyed look at Doug. “You did this, didn’t you? That day we went up to Granite Pond.”

  “Relax, Ted. Soon as Miller’s in custody everything will settle down.”

  Alex’s stomach began to roil. She backed away from the conversation and sank to the sofa. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She had never reacted this way to shocking news. Doug came to her side and took her hand, looked into her face. “It’s gonna be okay now. The hard part’s over.”

  Alex knew she wouldn’t relax until she knew with certainty that Kenny was locked up. But would he ever be found, much less arrested? He had enough money to be anywhere he wanted to, including out of the state. Or even out of the country.

  Doug’s gaze swung to Ted. “There’s a deputy in the sheriff’s office, right?”

  “Yeah. Rooster Gilley. As a lawman, he’s damn near as worthless as Jim was. But at least he’s honest.”

  “That counts for something,” Doug said.

  After Ted left, Doug left the room and returned with a 9mm automatic and l
oaded it while he sat beside her on the sofa. He would defend her. She knew he would. If necessary, he would die trying. She started to weep inside. What would she do if something happened to him? She loved him.

  “Where’s that .357, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “In my purse. Why?”

  He looked at her across his shoulder and grinned. “You know, we’re gonna have to get you a permit.”

  Permit. Who cared? She might have to defend herself. “Are we—are we going to need guns?”

  He sat back and took her into his arms. “It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry.”

  ****

  Days passed. Kenny’s whereabouts remained unknown. The cops were turning over every rock. Jim was relieved of his position as sheriff and arraigned on a laundry list of charges. The Miller family covered his bail. Doug understood all of it, but she didn’t.

  With Kenny a fugitive, Cindy was hidden away in a secret location. The logging in Swede Creek Basin continued, but Bob Culpepper had filed an injunction to stop it. In that regard, something was expected to happen any day.

  The story made Boise TV. Reporters showed up and called for interviews, but both she and Doug said no. Like hungry bears, they pushed into Carlton’s and asked questions of the customers, tried to film and question her and Doug. He escorted them outside and sent them on their way.

  The town hummed with so much gossip and speculation, the buildings seemed to lift off their foundations. Business in Carlton’s doubled as the curiosity seekers came and were too embarrassed not to buy food or drink. Doug helped Estelle behind the bar.

  He refused to allow her to go away from his house without him accompanying her. He had never said in words he expected a confrontation with Kenny, but he didn’t have to. Who knew what a maniac might do?

  She worked robotically at winding up the Salt Lake Project, sometimes did the same chore twice to keep her hands and mind busy. In a conversation with a Utah highway engineer, paging back through her planner seeking a critical date, she came across a note she had made to pick up her good beige slacks from the cleaners. She had ruined them when her period had started in the middle of a traffic jam in Boise. It was six weeks ago.

  She paged ahead from the date, trying to remember if she’d had a period since then. Well, she must have. It had just slipped her mind. Other than sometimes having cramps, she paid little attention to the schedule.

  “Alex?” the engineer on the phone said. “You there?”

  “Oh, James, I’m sorry. Someone just came into my office. I was distracted a minute. Listen, can I call you back tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Make it in the afternoon. By then, I’ll have this problem solved.”

  They hung up and she went through her planner page by page. She simply hadn’t had a period for a month and a half. Dear God. Could she be pregnant? Of course not. A very good gynecologist had told her years ago to forget ever having any more children. A brazen fact flew at her. Not since the very first time had she and Doug practiced birth control. She felt weak and began to tremble.

  She glanced out the door of the small bedroom Doug had given her to use as her office, debating if she should tell him her worry. He was in his own office working on his computer. They had developed a pattern of leaving each other alone in the morning hours to work on their respective projects.

  Well, she wouldn’t panic and no need to panic him. Missing a period probably had something to do with stress. Or menopause. After all, she was almost thirty-seven. She had read that some women started the change early.

  Still, she should check and alleviate the concern. Didn’t she have enough to worry about without adding that? When she went to Carlton’s to pick up the receipts she would go by the drug store and buy one of those pregnancy test things advertised on TV. Her mind began sorting how she would be able to buy it without Doug seeing her. She pulled off the deception by telling him she wanted to pick up perfume in the drug store. He waited out front in the pickup, then they drove down the street to Carlton’s.

  They left the bar early. Back at the house, while Doug cooked dinner, she took the pregnancy test to the bathroom. When it turned out positive, she lapsed into stunned silence. But what she really wanted to do was curl up in the corner and howl.

  Doug had cooked grilled chicken and steamed broccoli and made a green salad. How healthy could you get? She minced at the food and kept her news to herself until she thought through the ramifications.

  Doug made conversation, but she was so preoccupied, for her part, she mostly grunted. There were at least a hundred reasons why she couldn’t be pregnant.

  “There’s a good old movie on tonight,” Doug said as they cleared the supper dishes from the table. “Glen Ford and Rita Hayworth. “Gilda.” Wanna watch?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “What’s wrong? This thing with Kenny getting to you?”

  Well, it was now or never. Being pregnant was a secret hard to maintain. “Oh, nothing much. Just a little thing like the rabbit dying.”

  “Rabbit? I thought we just had cats.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve never heard that tired old saw?”

  ****

  Doug searched his mind a few seconds before her remarks sank in. His heart made a jump. He nearly dropped the stack of plates in his hands. “You’re not saying—”

  “You know damn well what I’m saying.” She burst into tears. He hated seeing her upset, but he couldn’t stop the silly grin he felt spreading over his face. He set down the plates and took her into his arms. “Good Lord, Alex. Is it true? I can’t believe it.”

  “I don’t know. I passed the test. Or I failed the test. Or something.”

  He felt giddy and silly. There was a God after all. He pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at her tears. “And you’ve kept this a secret how long?”

  She cried some more. A thousand images swirled through his head as his brain tried to get around the idea of fatherhood. He tried to visualize her pregnant, her belly swollen with his child. His chest felt so full, he thought he might cry, too. “One chance in fifteen thousand, huh? Guess my little soldiers are some of those determined ones.”

  “Don’t make jokes. This isn’t funny. Something will have to be done.”

  He didn’t let himself think about what she might have meant by that statement. He set her back and looked into her eyes. “Damn right. We’ll get married. Live like normal people. Go to ball games and get a dog. The cats will just have to live with it.”

  She wailed against his shoulder. He patted her and held her, planning. He would build a cradle with his own hands. Go to Toys R Us the next time he was in Boise. He would teach his kid to play football so he could go to a top college on a scholarship just like his old man had done.

  “You don’t understand.” She sniffed and wiped her nose again, her breath hitching. “I can’t do this. I’ve already done it. And I failed.”

  “Already done what?”

  “I’ve—I’ve already had a child. I killed her.”

  Chapter 31

  “What?”

  Doug had almost been afraid to ask the question, wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. The feeling crawling through him could be described only as cold and black. Had any part of her life ever been normal and ordinary? She was sniffling now, struggling to halt tears. He put an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the dining table, pulled out a chair, eased her into it, all the while dreading to know what caused her such anguish.

  She propped her elbows on the kitchen table, blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “They say pregnancy makes women over-emotional. It’s hormone imbalance or something.”

  He didn’t know much about pregnant women, but he suspected hormone imbalance had nothing to do with her emotional state. He leaned forward, took both her hands in his. “We’ll both feel better if you tell me.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t. It was so bad.”

  “Tell me,” he urged so
ftly.

  She freed her hands and stood, walked over to the window, staring out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He stayed where he was, watching and waiting.

  “Have you ever done something that cost you so much you couldn’t recover?” she asked mournfully.

  If she wasn’t so distraught and if the question wasn’t so ironic, Doug might laugh. But his own failures were a topic for another time. “What, Alex?”

  She turned her perfect profile to him and looked at the floor. “Her name was Holly....She was pretty and sweet and fun. She looked like Charlie. You probably never saw him, but he used to be a handsome man….He—we loved her so much. And we killed her.”

  She turned back to the window and he saw an almost imperceptible shake in her shoulders. He left his chair with a sigh and stepped behind her, placing his hands on her arms. “Alex—”

  “It was before we bought this house in Callister.” She made a gesture toward Wolf Mountain, staring out the window, talking into the darkness in a soft monotone. “I dropped her off at a birthday party and went to the restaurant. Charlie had taken the lock box key and I wanted something out of it. When I got there, he was drunk. He wouldn’t give me the key, insisted on going with me to the bank. We left together in my car and I stopped by and picked up Holly from her little friend’s house.”

  A sense of foreboding began to build in Doug. He hated hearing what he knew was coming. “How old was she?”

  “Ten. I tried not to fight with Charlie in her presence. It upset her. But even back then, Charlie could be out of control when he was drinking. Anyway, our daughter climbed into the backseat, apparently didn’t buckle her seat belt. Charlie and I were so involved with ripping each other to shreds, we paid no attention.”