Murder in Paradise Bay

by Talty, Jen

  “What did she tell you?” Her father’s voice cracked.

  “That she knew the moment she told you about me that you already loved me, and that she couldn’t take that from you. That she knew she could never be with you forever, and she’d break your heart, but she could give you me, and because she knew you’d be the best father ever, it allowed her to leave, because she wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Ever.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me she told you?”

  “I don’t know, but knowing that made things more normal for me. Helped me understand you better. Understand her. But it still doesn’t explain to me why you never gave a woman a chance, until now. Until Jillian.”

  “Something about her is different from anyone I’ve ever met. She doesn’t want to change me. Also, the timing seemed right when I met her. Doug was getting divorced. You dumped the weasel.”

  She always believed she and her dad were closer than any other father and daughter. They did have a unique relationship, perhaps because he was so young.

  “You both seem very at ease with each other,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t kept her from me.”

  Her father kissed her temple. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then why didn’t you bring her around?”

  “At first, it was new, and I wasn’t really sure. Everything was different with her, and that took some adjusting on my part. Then I worried you wouldn’t like each other.”

  “I like everyone.”

  Her father arched a brow. She decided to change the subject. “I noticed she brought an overnight bag. I doubt she’ll be sleeping in the guest room, and she’s upstairs, naked, in your shower.” Stacey’s use of sarcasm and shock value was often just her, being her, but sometimes it was to lighten things up. She needed normal right now. Not to think about the bad stuff. Just to focus on what was in this house, right here, right now.

  “You could have put that differently.” Her father let out an exasperated sigh. “Does it bother you?”

  Stacey laughed. “Bother me? I’m tickled pink you’re finally getting la…” She thought about her next words and decided it might be better to put them a different way. “If I didn’t like her, or thought this was wrong, I’d tell you. I just want you to be happy and have someone to share things with.”

  “I want that for you, too.”

  “Doug really does make me happy. I know it happened quickly, but it just feels right.”

  “I don’t think it happened as fast as you think. It’s somewhat funny, I think I brought Doug home because I needed a friend, and bringing a woman into the mix wasn’t right for us at the time. I guess I ended up bringing him home for you someday.”

  “That’s kind of weird.”

  “Pretty much.”

  She kissed her father’s cheek. “Why don’t you go join Jillian? That shower of yours is huge. I’ll go help Doug with dinner.”

  “Better choice of words, but—”

  “You’d worry if I didn’t say the most outrageous things at the most inappropriate time.”

  “All right, then.”

  “You’re seriously going to go join her?” She sat upright, trying to hide her shock. “Okay, touché.”

  “You know, I did do a fair amount of dating over the years. A couple, when you were very young, I brought home, but none of them totally and utterly fell in love with you. They all thought you cute, but either focused on having one or two of their own, or they had their own, with their own fathers, and that got icky for me. You were, and still are, the center of my life. If I was going to be with a woman—marry someone—she needed to be able to make that leap as well. Perhaps it was too much to ask of someone, but when you’re both mother and father, it’s all that matters.”

  “But what about when I went to college? I used to ask Doug, and all he came up with is that you dated.”

  He laughed. “I think the only one that anyone ever knew about was Alice.”

  “Weird, that you and Doug recently just saw her, after all these years.”

  “I didn’t even know she was still living in the area,” he said.

  “She was the only woman I really knew you dated, when you were dating her. Of course, she told the world.”

  “You never made one crude comment around that woman, but you did others. Have with Jillian. That was another reason I didn’t bring women around.” He patted her nose like he had when she’d been a small child. “You scared them away.”

  “First,” Stacey started, “I didn’t bother teasing Alice because I didn’t like her. She was also kind of nuts, and I go by the rule “don’t poke crazy eyes.” I could see how much you just wanted her to go away.”

  “Far away,” Jim said. “Very jealous woman. Not sure what I saw in her. After that, I was a little gun shy.”

  “Doug keeps kicking me under the table every time I’m about to something that might been seen as inappropriate.” Stacey thought for a moment. “I want to make sure she can accept me—us—the way we are. If she can’t, she’s not good enough for my old man.”

  “Jillian seems to be immune to your brand of teasing. She actually thought it was cute.”

  Stacey laughed. “Jillian’s different, and the two of you just feel right to me.”

  “I’m glad you like her, but let’s not risk scaring her away with any more rude, crude, and sociably unacceptable comments.”

  “I’ll work on that if you stop busting Doug’s ass about me. I know you’re just—”

  “That’s never going to happen.”

  Chapter 10

  DOUG FINISHED cleaning up the kitchen. He’d made quite the mess, but it was one way to think. The dinner conversation had been relatively light. Jillian did go over the timeline, pointing out the hours where Doug didn’t have an alibi, but it also showed how little time he had to pull off a murder alone. Then they looked at the timeline differently, which left a dark feeling in the pit of his gut. The idea that anyone would think Stacey could do such a thing was unbelievable. She was the kindest, most genuine woman he’d ever met. And she took her job as a State Trooper very seriously. She wasn’t one to bend the rules, and murder went way beyond bending the rules.

  He could almost understand why people thought he was capable. Many people didn’t know him. Understand him. Thought he was different. He was still a bit guarded. Perhaps more so, since he’d separated from Mary.

  He dried the last pot then put it away. He checked the back door, making sure it was secure before clicking off the light then heading upstairs. Jim’s door was closed, but Doug heard the television on in the background. He clicked off the hall light then noticed Stacey’s door was open. A glimmer of light trickled into the hallway. He leaned against the doorjamb and peeked inside.

  Stacey was sitting on her bed, cross-legged, with a pillow across her legs and her laptop on top of the pillow. “Hey there, sailor,” she said, not looking up. “You can come in.” She shut the laptop then put it on the dresser. She wore a tiny pair of shorts and a camisole top. Her hair flowed over her breasts.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and then stepped into her room, gently closing the door behind him. “I’ve been thinking about how “innocent until proven guilty” really doesn’t exist.” He sat at the foot of her off-white, queen-sized sleigh bed, piled with a light green comforter and a dozen pillows. Her room was meticulous, but she’d always been a bit of a neat freak.

  “Sure, it does.”

  “Not in today’s world. Look at all the weird shit that goes viral on Facebook. We publicly humiliate people. Judge everything. Convict based on one small piece of a person’s life.” He snagged a pillow then leaned back against the short footboard. “That last news clip regarding Mary’s death focused on the fact I had been homeless, as if that were a valid reason I could up and kill my wife.”

  “Can’t let what people are saying right now get to you. It’s all speculation.”

  “Jim’s worried, too. About the business. I tried tal
king to him, but he brushed it under the rug.”

  “He’s worried about a lot of things, but the business isn’t at the top of the list.”

  “I feel like everything I do is making me look like I’m guilty of something. The guys on the site look at me differently. They don’t think I notice, but I do. Can’t stand watching the news, because I am the news. I was finally getting my life back to where it should be, and then it came crashing down.”

  “We’re going to figure this out.”

  “I wish I believed that were true,” he said.

  “We have to believe.” She scooted over to the other side of the bed. “Stay with me?”

  He sat there for a long moment, staring at the open space. Her hand glided across the sheets where she wanted him to lay down.

  “For a little while.” He slipped between the sheets, facing her. She lay on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek, her eyelids fluttered.

  He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “I keep having this dream that I’m walking down a long corridor, like at the morgue, and when I get to the end of it, there is a jail cell. I step in. Turn around. The cell slams shut. I always wake up at that point.”

  “I used to have a reoccurring nightmare, and it’s come back since all this happened.”

  He rolled over to his back, one hand behind his head, the other resting on her hip. “What is it about?”

  “I wake up and go downstairs, but the house is empty. No furniture. Nothing. And you’re gone. Dad’s gone. I’m alone, but the worst part is, when I get to the kitchen I can see you in the driveway, so I think it’s okay. But I can’t get outside. The door is locked. I try banging on it, but you can’t hear me. Then you get in the truck and drive away. That’s when I usually wake up.”

  “Interesting that we’re both dreaming about being locked up.” He ran his fingers up and down her bare thigh.

  “Or abandoned,” she said. “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “Why didn’t you ever want to find out what happened to your parents?”

  He stared at the ceiling. The last time he’d had this conversation with Jim, Doug had just turned twenty and was heading off to the university. He hadn’t wanted to live in the dorm, so Jim helped him pay for a small studio apartment. As they moved him in, Jim broached the subject again, but Doug didn’t want to think about them. Or what happened.

  His parents had left him at a playground when he’d been five years old. He had some memories of them, but those were not fond memories. Most of the time, they lived in shelters. Or in a car. He was always hungry, and his parents rarely talked. About the only thing his real parents had taught him was how to live on the streets. The only question he had for them was, why did they leave him. Was it because they hoped he’d have a better life? Or was it that they just didn’t want him anymore?

  He waited and waited for them to come pick him up, or come visit so he could ask, but they never came. Then one day, when he’d been about seven, people started coming to look at him, to possibly adopt him. He was too young to understand that someone must have found his parents, and they had given up their parental rights.

  Which answered his question.

  It was both.

  “I actually found them right after Mary told me she was pregnant.”

  “Did you tell my father?”

  He sucked in a breath as her fingers glided up under his shirt and across his chest. “The only person who knew was Mary. She helped me find them. It actually wasn’t that difficult.”

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  “Not much to tell,” he said. “They died years ago.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.” She snuggled in closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  He closed his eyes, drawing her closer. “I meant to, but then Mary lost the baby, and things were off with all of us. Plus, I didn’t want to find them for me. Mary wanted the medical background. So, I let her find them.” He kissed Stacey’s temple. “I also didn’t say anything because they died out on the streets, homeless, and I knew had Jim not taken me in, that’s how I would have ended up.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I was lucky, when my luck was about as poor as it could be.” The system hadn’t been kind to him. He didn’t know how to talk to people, and most people wanted babies, not older children. He watched a few kids under the age of ten get adopted, but they were the outgoing ones, not the ones who hid in a corner or acted out. “When I was placed in my first foster home, I thought I’d struck gold.”

  “You said you were ten when that happened.”

  He nodded.

  “You’ve never really told me what happened at that foster home. Daddy told me never to bother you with it. Never to ask. Does he know?”

  “He knows, but he doesn’t know,” Doug said. “It could have been worse. I wasn’t beaten, but abused in other ways. She took in kids for the money. To work on her farm. I was twelve when the system finally cracked down on her. The next foster home didn’t go well because of me. I had gotten so tall, people were intimidated by me, and I used it. I cursed worse than you.”

  “I don’t curse that much.”

  He chuckled. “Remember when you stepped on broken glass, and we had to take you to the hospital?”

  “You’d drop a few F-Bombs if someone were sticking tweezers inside your foot, digging around for glass,” she said.

  “Probably.”

  “Tell me more.” Her fingertips danced across his chest, occasionally touching his nipple, sending little pulsing lightning bolts across his skin.

  “The second family said I wasn’t a good fit. I got pissed at my caseworker, called her a colorful superlative, threatened her, and landed myself in a group home. I just kept running away. I thought my parents might have had it right. Living on the streets was easier than living with people. Then I found that house your father was working on.”

  “I love that place. Too bad the owners are, like, never here. Barely even come in the summer anymore.”

  “I made it my home for months, until winter came. The rest is history.”

  “It’s a good history,” she said. “Life without you in it would pretty much suck.”

  He took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then took her hand and kissed her palm. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered.

  “I could think of a few things.” She tugged at his shirt, shifting her body, trying to pull it over his head.

  “I’m sure you could, but why don’t we just cuddle.”

  “We can do that, too, but I don’t want your jeans rubbing against my legs. Kind of like hugging sandpaper.”

  It didn’t take him long to shed his clothing, nor did it take her long to remove hers. He lay on his side, looking at her naked body. Everything about her was perfect. “This is not cuddling.”

  “Why don’t you come here, then?”

  He scooted closer, tangling their feet together as he ran his finger up her arm, over her shoulder, then down to her breast.

  She cupped his face, shifting closer, pressing her body firmly against his. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she said.

  He lowered his head, parting her lips with his tongue. He kept the pace of the kiss slow, wanting to savor her words. He moved his affections to her neck, his hands pressed against the bed, raising himself so he could continue down her body, kissing and tasting every inch of her. She always smelled like strawberries. Her skin was soft and supple, her muscles lean and strong. She arched her back, presenting her soft mounds. “Protection,” she whispered.

  He dropped his head to her chest with a thud. “I don’t have any.”

  “You had one last night.”

  “Yeah, the token one every single guy carries around in his wallet. Since there hasn’t been any reason to use them, I only had the one.”

  “I’m a little scared to think how old that one was, then.”

  He laughed.
“Not that old.”

  “I’m on the pill, so that part is taken care of,” she said. “I also know I’m clean. My job requires mandatory testing for AIDS and whatnot. What about you?”

  “I adore how blunt you are.” He kissed her nose. “I had myself tested when I found out Mary was having an affair, and again a few months ago. Until you, I haven’t had sex in over a year.”

  “You poor boy.” She shifted her body to just the right place, giving him full access. “I think we need to make sure you get lots of sex, then.”

  “I could be down with that program.” He rolled to his side, propping his head on one hand, gliding his other gently across her breasts. She squirmed, trying to roll to her side, but he kept his leg draped over hers and gently pressed her shoulder back down. “Be still.”

  Her back arched as he plucked one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He licked the other hard nub, enjoying her soft moans. She tried to roll again. This time he gripped her wrists above her head in one hand. He suckled her breast, his other hand roaming her stomach. Her hips. Her thighs and between her legs. She was dripping wet and ready. He moaned as he slid his fingers inside, gently stroking her.

  She groaned, wiggling, trying to break free. “Let my hands go.”

  “No.”

  She raised her one knee then let it drop to the side, giving him greater access. He continued to stroke her insides as he kissed the under swell of her breast, gliding his tongue down to her belly button. Her stomach muscles twitched and quivered. He’d let go of her wrists, and her hands were in his hair, gently pushing him down as she raised her hips. He licked her once, then blew a long slow puff of air.

  “Oh, God.”

  “You like that.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Do it again.”

  He chuckled, then did as requested. A few times. Her one hand fisted in his hair. The other holding the sheet. Her hips rose every time he pulled his head away. He could tease her for hours and be perfectly satisfied. He pulled his fingers out and raised them to her lips. She opened her mouth, sucking on his fingers. When she was done, he traced a path from her neck, across her nipples, giving each on a good twist, down her stomach, over her hard swollen nub and back inside her hot, wet body.