“Yes,” the man said, carrying a large cello case. “Right over there behind the curtain. It goes to the east parking lot.”
“He skipped.” The detective grabbed Lara’s hand and pulled her behind him as he rushed to the back of the building. They looked in every room. Rickerson even checked the men’s room.
Robert Evergreen was gone.
Chapter 23
On the drive back to Santa Ana, Lara’s side was throbbing, her elbows smarting from the scrapes, and she was exhausted. More than anything, she was annoyed that Rickerson had made her come on what had amounted to a wild goose chase. She should have known better.
“Why would Evergreen’s son tell us anything?” she said sharply. She kept moving around in the seat, trying to get comfortable. “This was nothing but a waste of time.”
Rickerson was silent. Rolling down the window, he punched his unmarked police car up to eighty miles an hour. The wind beat against his face. He wished he had a cigar and felt in his pocket even though he knew he hadn’t brought one.
“I don’t really feel like going home right now,” he said. “Want to go for a little ride?”
She didn’t answer. She was looking out the passenger window, lost in her thoughts.
“I guess that means yes. Right?”
Still she didn’t answer. He took the next exit and headed for the beach. There was this one stretch of road, high on a hill near Long Beach, that looked out over the ocean and the city. He hadn’t been there for years.
They climbed a winding, narrow road and Rickerson strained to see if they were headed in the right direction. Everything changed so fast around here. Sometimes he couldn’t recognize a place in only a matter of months with all the building. The views were breathtaking up here, particularly on a clear night like this one. He wanted to stand there and look out at the lights, the moon reflecting on the water.
And he wanted to do it with Lara Sanderstone.
He pulled up near the edge and parked, cutting the ignition.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Lara said, turning to him. “I guess everything’s been too much. You know, last night…Evergreen today…the whole thing. And then with this Frank Door…I think I’m handling it and then suddenly I realize I’m not handling it at all. Do you know what I mean?”
He did. “Let’s get out. It’s gorgeous up here.”
When they were standing near the edge of the ravine, gazing out over the lights and the ocean, he reached for her, touching her fingers lightly and then letting the contact go.
“It is beautiful up here, Ted,” she said, reaching her own hand out and lacing her fingers in his. “It’s so peaceful, so calm.”
He clasped her hand and pulled her closer. Then he draped his arm over her shoulder. Neither of them moved. They didn’t look at each other. It was an awkward moment. They both knew it was the first step: a small gesture but a momentous one. Lara felt strange standing there with the detective’s arm around her. She had wanted it, but now she was a bundle of nerves and apprehension. After untold moments had passed, he casually pulled her even closer, sheltering her under his arm. Even with the wind blowing, she could hear him breathing. It was heavy, labored. He was nervous too.
“‘I panicked yesterday when I heard you were attacked. I wrecked the car.” His voice was soft and low. Lara had to strain to hear him.
“The police car?”
“You got it. I ran right into the back of a woman with three kids in the car. Damn. Thank God, there were no injuries.”
He wasn’t looking at her while he was talking. His eyes were locked on the ocean, the view. Lara couldn’t believe it. He was actually that concerned for her, shook up enough to wreck his police unit. He must be terribly embarrassed, she thought. Then she wondered if he’d have to pay for the damages. She pressed her head down to his shoulder and felt the coarse grain of his jacket. Someone really cared about her.
Suddenly he faced her and gathered her in his arms. She didn’t resist. He didn’t kiss her. It was an emotional embrace, the way a person hugs a long-lost child, a husband coming home from the war, a parent they haven’t seen in years. He squeezed her even tighter, placing his own cheek next to hers. Except for his mustache, his skin was soft and smooth, cleanshaven. She forgot all about the acne scars. Right now he was the most attractive, masculine, and appealing man she’d ever known. Right now he was a long-lost love finally returning.
Her breasts were against his chest. She inhaled his cologne, the scent of his hair. They were up quite high and the wind was blowing, the evening air chilly. But she was warm, protected.
“Ted,” she said softly.
“Don’t say anything,” he said, his voice scratchy. “Please, just let me hold you. I’ve wanted to hold you like this for days now…almost since the first day I saw you in that house in San Clemente.”
They stood there in each other’s arms. Moments passed. With his hands he turned her around and pulled her back against his body and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying not to touch her bruised side. He didn’t want her to see the look on his face, in his eyes. He didn’t want her to see the acne scars. What he wanted was for her to imagine that he was handsome, rich, and successful. More than anything, he wanted her to want him.
“Lara,” he whispered, his face next to hers. “I’ve never cheated on my wife. Not once. Believe me. Not once in all these years.”
“Then you shouldn’t start now,” she said softly.
“I only want to hold you, be close to you for a few minutes. Then we’ll go back.”
“Do you love your wife?” Lara asked, leaning even farther back against his body, feeling his genitals through his pants, asking herself if he was already aroused or if what she was feeling was normal. Whatever it was, it felt good. She moved her hips around. He grew. Her heart was racing. She wanted him. It was obvious that he felt the same. She was tempted to reach behind her and just grab him. She couldn’t wait much longer.
“I loved my wife, Lara, and I tried to give her a good life, but she wanted more. She—she left me.”
Lara jerked out of his arms and turned to face him. “You’re divorced?” she said, her heart in her throat.
“No,” he said, “I’m not actually divorced, but my wife moved out over three months ago. The way it looks now, she’s not coming back.”
“But you—you wear a wedding ring,” she stammered. The wind was whipping her hair in her face. She took the clasp off and let it fly free. What she wanted to do was take all her clothes off and let them just blow away in the wind, then stand there completely naked with this man only an arm’s reach away. Her heart was soaring. He was separated. He was on the verge of a divorce. “If you’re lying to me, Ted, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
“I’m not lying,” he whispered. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
They were facing each other, the moonlight throwing shadows over their faces. His hair didn’t even look red. It looked dark brown. The shape of his face, the slant of his nose, his large expressive eyes, all made him look unbelievably handsome.
“I want you, Lara.” His voice was not the voice she recognized. It was softer, deeper. It was crackling with emotion and desire.
“Ted,” she said, throwing herself into his arms, practically knocking him to the ground. He started kissing her face, her nose, her cheeks. His mustache tickled. She loved it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, lacing his fingers through her dark hair, placing his face there so he could smell it, taking a strand and twirling it around his finger.
“No, I’m not,” she said softly, pecking again and again at his face with small, delicate kisses. She felt sixteen again; she felt like screaming and jumping up and down. She had never been this excited and stimulated in her entire life. She latched onto his earlobe and almost took a bite. She’d wondered what his skin would taste like; it tasted salty and sweet at the same time.
“Yes, you are. Maybe because you don’t
realize how pretty you are is what makes you beautiful.”
This time his mouth connected with hers. His lips were so soft, the inside of his mouth so clean. She slid her tongue over his teeth. Briefly she asked herself if he had quit smoking cigars in anticipation of this one moment. He didn’t reach for her breasts or grope between her legs as most men would. He just engulfed her body in his arms and held her as tightly as he could.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said, panting with desire. “Tell me you feel the same way—want me as much as I want you.”
“Yes,” she said, her caution gone. “God, yes. Can’t you tell? Are you blind? I’ve been dreaming about you. I thought you were happily married. I thought—”
Instantly he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the car. He placed her on the hood, her legs open, positioning himself between them, running his hands from her ankles to the top of her thighs along her nylons. She sighed. He lifted her around the waist in the air with one hand and pushed the hem of her skirt up around her waist with the other. Then he put her back on the car and started tugging on her panty hose. When he couldn’t get them off, Lara pulled them off herself. She could feel the cold metal of the car on her skin, on her buttocks. “Here,” she said, reaching for his crotch, wanting to please him, touch him.
“No,” he said, breathless. “Not yet.”
She could barely see his eyes in the moonlight, but she glimpsed the passion there. They were dark, fluid.
“I’ve waited too long for this to make it go fast,” he panted, moving closer into the center of her legs, spreading them even wider. “I want it to last. I want to explore every inch of your body.”
His hand came from out of nowhere and was suddenly between her legs. The soft, padded fingers slowly stroked her, arousing her, making her wet. Her head fell over onto his shoulder and she closed her eyes, let her arms hang limp. She only wanted to feel the sensation, block out the pain of the past week. It was as if he was playing a musical instrument—one he knew well. With his other hand he touched her hair, lifting it off her neck and tickling the tender spot with his fingernails.
“God,” she said. Between her legs, she was on fire. He was so gentle, his touch delicate and sensuous. It was torture and pleasure at the same time. She pushed him back. She wanted to please him as much as he was pleasing her.
“No,” he said, shoving her back onto the hood of the car, pulling on her dress until it was over her head and gone somewhere on the ground. He unsnapped her bra and tossed it as well. Now she was completely naked, staring up at the stars. Rickerson buried his head between her legs.
She was embarrassed. This was brazen. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. The cool, moist air brushed across her nipples. They were hard. His hand found them and caressed them—delicately, tenderly. Lara was floating; between her legs was throbbing now. Never had she felt such exquisite pleasure, such passion. It was more than she could bear. Everything disappeared: Ivory, Josh, Evergreen, Phillip, England. She didn’t want it to stop; she wanted it to go on forever.
It almost did.
Finally she sat up and jerked him to her chest. Then she slid off the car and unzipped him, taking him in her hand and relishing the feel of him. She had wondered about this part of his anatomy. Would he be small? Would his pubic hair be as strawberry red as the hair on his chest? In the darkness she couldn’t tell. But what she felt in her hands was the essence of this man’s masculinity. His skin there was as soft as a baby’s skin. She dropped to her knees on the ground and took him in her mouth. He was clean, almost delicious. She was impervious to the gravel on her scraped knees. She was impervious to anything but pleasure.
He tried to pull her to her feet, but she knocked his hands away. She let him slide in and out of her mouth, completely into it. He moaned. Then he cried out, “Oh, my God…that feels so good.” He put his hand on her head and pressed her even closer to his body.
When she could tell he couldn’t wait a moment longer, he pulled her up with his arms and leaned back against the car. Then he lifted her in the air and let her slide down until he was inside her, kissing her mouth, probing with his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. With his hands he moved her body, but it was slow, an inch at a time. And it was good. He started pushing her buttocks up until they had almost disconnected, and then he let her slide down again until he was deep inside her. She felt small, delicate, weightless. She felt wanton, without a care in the world.
Again and again he moved her up and down. His big, padded hands were on her buttocks. “Oh, Ted,” she said. She suddenly opened her eyes and saw nothing but flashing white light. She flung her upper body backward, arching her back in pleasure, feeling her own hair grazing her back. He had to hold her tight to keep her from falling. She was impervious to the ground beneath her, secure in his grip. His own face was twisted with passion. “Now,” she panted. “Now, Ted. Right now.”
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
Carrying her in his arms, he placed her in the backseat of the car and moved on top of her, his long legs sticking out the car door. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he pulled his body up and she placed them around his shoulders, lifting her pelvis up high, as high as it would go, wanting to feel him push right through her.
Outside she could suddenly hear the ocean, the waves crashing on the shore beneath them. It was as though they were on an island somewhere. She couldn’t contain herself any longer. She was seconds away, holding back, not wanting it to end. He stopped. Withdrawing from her, he again put his mouth between her legs, holding her upper body down with his strong arms. She was writhing, moaning, crying out. Then in an explosion of pleasure, it was over. Her arms fell off the side of the seat, her body melted in satiation. She couldn’t speak.
He was on top of her again and moving faster, harder now. Her arms and legs were like rubber, but the feeling began building again and she couldn’t stop it, control it.
“Jesus,” he cried in a voice from the center of his throat. He was sweating. Their stomachs were wet with perspiration, slick. There were funny smacking noises as he moved even faster, like they were stuck together, like suction.
Lara cried out again, tossing her head, never having felt such intense pleasure in her life. Just at that moment he plunged deep inside her and his body froze like a statue. He didn’t cry out. He appeared to be holding his breath, locking the pleasure deep inside him. A second later, he collapsed on top of her.
“I love you, Lara,” he said.
Tears started to fall from her eyes. He couldn’t love her. As wonderful as it was, it was only sex. She didn’t answer. She just held him, smelled him, let herself swim in the sensations. “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had,” she whispered. “And I mean that, Ted. The best.”
“You’re the most exciting woman I’ve ever known,” he said.
They sat up. He got out and left Lara there while he found her clothes and brought them back to her. He leaned against the car door and watched as she dressed. “I’ll never be able to look at another judge without wanting to undress them,” he said lightly.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, smiling. “Better make sure it’s a female.”
“You’ve redefined the law,” he said. He was watching her struggle to get her clothes back on in the backseat of the car. He was grinning from ear to ear. “You’re pretty cute too.”
Then he repaired his own clothing: his shirt was unbuttoned, his jacket gone; he’d kicked his pants off by the car. Lara didn’t think he had worn underwear. If he had, it was gone now.
He turned on the headlights and found the last remnants of their clothing: his jacket, her shoes; the panty hose had evidently blown away.
They stood for a long time in silence at the edge of the cliff looking out over the ocean, he with his arm around her, she leaning into him. The fantasizing was over. It had been better than she’d ever dreamed. Never had a man thrilled her, titillated her, co
mpletely satisfied her like this one. And the words—the words of love—they played in her mind again and again. Could it be real? Did she dare to let herself go, let herself really care about this man?
“Tell me about your kids, Ted,” she said, pulling away. ‘Tell me everything.”
“My kids…well, Jimmy is fourteen and Stephen is seventeen. They both go to St. Catherine’s Catholic School in San Clemente. They live with me, Lara.”
“Why?” she said. She was hungry for information and she wanted it fast. She felt like a prosecutor with a witness on the stand.
“Because Joyce—my wife—went back to college.
She attends Long Beach State. She’s studying engineering.”
“Must be smart,” Lara said. “Have you filed for divorce?”
“There wasn’t a reason. Before tonight, before I met you, I was actually hoping she’d come back.” He looked over at her, but she was staring out over the ocean, the lights.
“Are you going to file now?” She couldn’t look at him, but she had to know. She couldn’t afford to climb on an emotional roller coaster.
“Yes,” he said softly, reaching his hand out to her. “I’m going to file now.”
Both their hands were sweating even though it was almost cold. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what this conversation was all about. “Does it bother you that I’m just a cop? I mean, a judge is a pretty lofty position.”
“Hell, no,” she said, not having to think about it for more than a second. “And you’re a damn good cop. You’re a damn good cop, a damn good lover, and a wonderful man.”
“I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m also a good father. Wonder why my wife didn’t figure that one out?”
“She’s dumb,” Lara said, facing him.
“You just said she was smart.”
“I was wrong. Ted,” she said, serious now, “did you really wreck the police car when you heard I’d been attacked?”
“No,” he said. “But it worked, didn’t it? Sounded awfully good to me.”
Interest of Justice Page 34
