Kelly stopped him for a moment to make a few notes on her pad. "You know, if this were a fictional romance, the husband would have found out she was having an affair and the ultimatum would have been some sort of threat against her lover. You said Ginger's father introduced her to Reid O'Neill and if Ginger's father was a Klan member, maybe O'Neill was also. I think it would be safe to assume that their views about interfering Yankee reporters would be similar."
"I don't know," Jack said, frowning. "You're making a lot of assumptions without any facts to base them on. She told me flat out that her time with me was just a fling and that the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with was her husband, even with his faults."
"Which is what she would have to say to keep you safely away from her. Didn't you say she'd been crying? Why would she be crying if she was going back to the man she truly loved?"
"Women cry for all sorts of reasons. Maybe they were tears of joy."
"Yeah. Or maybe it was PMS," she added sarcastically.
He narrowed his eyes for a second then grinned. "Oh, I get it. Well, it really doesn't matter now. She walked away from me and someone killed her a few days later."
"The newspaper account put you at the scene of the crime."
"Hmmph. I was there all right. I got a phone call from Ginger, at least I assumed it was her. It was a woman's voice and she was sobbing. She said her husband had beaten her and she needed me to come get her. I knew something was wrong when I found the front door slightly open and no one answered when I called out, but I was only thinking of Ginger being hurt and needing help. It never occurred to me that I was walking into a trap. No sooner did I find her in her bedroom than half the police in Forsyth County burst in and found me leaning over her trying to check for a pulse. The timing was impeccable."
"Where was her husband while she was being raped and strangled?"
"Very conveniently attending a lodge meeting with most of the other men in the area. It provided all of them with the same airtight alibi."
"Was it a Klan meeting?"
Jack shrugged. "No one called it that during the trial but that's my guess."
"So, we have a cuckolded husband who, if he had found out about the affair, might have wanted to see you and Ginger dead or at least punished. Then we have a countless number of suspects who could have wanted to see you eliminated just for being a damn Yankee with a knack for stirring up trouble with his writing."
"And don't forget the real rapist who I might have unknowingly been closing in on. By setting me up he got off the hot seat himself."
"But only for a while." Kelly quickly leafed through the papers she'd printed out earlier that day. "I found this today. It's dated six months after you were executed."
Rather than take the paper from her, Jack moved his chair closer to hers so they could view the article together. Carefully maintaining a safe space between them, he read the lead aloud. "'Buford resident, Beauregard Ramey, Junior, was arrested last night for breaking and entering and attempted rape. Since the m.o. was exactly the same as that of the Lake Sidney Lanier rapist, it has been suggested that he may have been the actual perpetrator rather than Jack Templeton, who was executed—' That guy's name sounds familiar but I don't know why. Do you have anything else on him?"
"No. I only pulled up articles about SHC or that had your name in them."
"SHC?"
"Spontaneous human combustion. What supposedly happened to your body in the electric chair."
"I think I've heard of it but I thought it was a myth or science fiction."
"Yeah," she agreed with a nod. "Kind of like time travel. I printed out some articles about it. There actually was a case in Florida, a bit before yours, where a woman's body was reduced to ashes without much of her surroundings being damaged. The FBI and arson experts investigated the case but never came up with any evidence to refute the SHC theory, which is probably why that explanation was generally accepted for your disappearance."
"But how could it have happened?"
"All I got so far is that lightning might be a factor but one witness swore there was no lightning the morning you were executed." She pointed back at the paper in his hand. "It doesn't say Ramey denied the rapes but he was adamant about never beating a woman or committing murder."
"Damn. I wish I had my notes."
"I doubt if they're still around but since I got this from the Atlanta Journal's online archives—" His quizzical expression reminded her that he didn't know anything about the internet. "I'll explain that later. Anyway, maybe they'd have more information on Ramey's arrest and trial in their physical files."
Jack snapped his fingers. "They'd also have my columns. Maybe his name sounds familiar because I wrote something about him. Do we have time to go today?"
Grinning, she said, "You look like a bloodhound that just caught the scent of a rabbit. Admit it. You want to know the truth about what happened."
He narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth from side to side. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"
She shrugged. "Actually, I think I'm very smart. But in this case, I just had to wait for your reporter's curiosity to kick in. You say you don't care about setting things right but I dare you to say you don't care about the truth."
He opened and closed his mouth several times before exhaling heavily. "You're right. I still have no intention of going back to 1965 but if there's any way to figure out what really happened to Ginger, here and now, I want to be part of it."
"Good enough. It's too late to make the trip to the newspaper offices today. We can go in the morning if you'd like but there are sources of information right nearby too."
She related her conversation with Mrs. Lawson. "I figured there are probably a lot of people still in the area who remember that time. I should be able to ask all the questions I want if they think it's for a fictional book."
"What happened to your argument to me that the killer might still be living in the area? If he is, he's not going to want you snooping around, resurrecting old skeletons, no matter what reason you give."
"Sooo... I'll carry my gun," she replied with false bravado.
He made a face at her. "Do you really know how to use that thing?"
"I took lessons."
"Lessons that probably didn't prepare you for actually pulling the trigger on another human. Why did you buy a gun as powerful as a Walther PPK anyway?"
She shrugged. "I bought it after a fan took it into his head that I was writing my love scenes directly to him. I chose that make because I'm a James Bond fan. You probably don't know who—"
"Of course I know who that is. I read Ian Fleming's books long before they made Dr. No into a movie."
"I didn't realize Dr. No was that old. You might enjoy seeing the 007 movies that came out in the last few years. I have DVD collections of all the different Bonds at my townhouse in Atlanta. We can play some when we go down." After she said it, she realized he didn't know what she meant. Back in his day, colored television was still a fairly new invention. She couldn't wait to see his reaction to her sixty-inch curved screen.
"Kelly. You went away again. Do you do that often?"
She smiled. "I'm afraid so. It's the downside to an active imagination."
"Hmmph. Anyway, back to your questioning people. I can't let you do that."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You can't let me? Listen up, caveman. One of the big changes that have occurred in this country is that a woman no longer has to get a man's permission to do anything."
He held up his hands as if to ward off her attack. "Okay. No problem. I'll just go with you."
She could see several advantages to having him accompany her, the primary of which would be his thinking of questions she might not. The smallest of which would be that she wasn't nearly as confident as she claimed and wouldn't mind his presence. But there were risks involved in his going out in public. "It's been a long time but, like I said before, someone might still remember what you looked
like."
"Even if someone thought I looked familiar, wouldn't simple logic eliminate any question of my being the same man?"
She paused then shook her head. "You could be the son of the man who was executed, come back to get revenge. We can't take any chances. If you want to come with me, you'll need a disguise."
He reached for her baseball cap and put it on with the brim low over his forehead.
"Maybe if you hunch over a bit, make yourself smaller. And since your hair length and eye color were specifically mentioned in connection with the rapist's description, you might want to trim the back of your hair and keep anyone from seeing your eyes. They're pretty distinctive."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "You think so?"
Rather than give him more of a compliment, she continued. "It might work if I introduce you as my secretary and you keep your head down by focusing on writing notes while I'm interviewing someone. And you'll have to remember not to jump into any conversations. I'd have to appear to be in charge at all times. If you think of a question, you can whisper it in my ear."
"That should be interesting," he replied with a smirk. "Especially if I accidentally brush my lips against your ear and you go flying across the room."
She frowned. Instead of being concerned about getting shocked, her imagination was responding to the thought of his lips brushing her ear, which led to flashes of where else she'd like to feel his lips—
"It's nice to see that women can still blush," he said, giving her a look that implied he knew exactly which part of his statement had flushed her cheeks.
She silently damned her fair complexion. "Never mind. We'll figure it out as we go. Now, here's something that I thought about after my chat with Mrs. Lawson. After Ginger's death, her husband immediately started expanding his business in a big way. I'm guessing there might have been a huge death benefit on Ginger's life insurance."
"It's a guess worth checking into. We should also try to find out what else he inherited from her. I seem to remember her mentioning a family trust fund."
Kelly was very pleased that he was now as intrigued by the project as she was, though he was increasingly distracted by the need to scratch. She suggested he try rinsing off again, in case it was leftover soap film as he'd guessed but he didn't want to risk another overcharge so soon. At any rate, theories, suppositions and forming a plan of action, interspersed with his questions about the political and social changes of the last five decades, would keep his mind sufficiently occupied for several hours.
As the light in the cabin grew dim, however, the focus of their attention changed.
Chapter 5
He stood outside the kitchen window, watching her do the dinner dishes, her pink ruffled apron tied around her waist, the seams in her stockings not quite straight up the backs of her shapely calves. The perfect little housewife.
But where was her husband? Why wasn't he there, untying the little bow at her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck, seducing her away from her chores and into the bedroom? She was probably wondering the same thing, feeling sad because she didn't have a man who understood her needs.
He understood. He vividly recalled the conversation between his mother and aunt one night when they didn't know he was listening—the very private conversation that explained why Mama always looked so unhappy.
If this woman were his wife, he would never leave her unsatisfied.
He took a deep breath and pulled the beige ski mask over his head. If she didn't see his face, she could pretend he was her husband come home early to surprise her. He walked around to the other side of the house, where he knew of an unlocked window and quietly entered the neat bedroom. As much as he wished it was unnecessary, he slid the knife out of the sheath that was strapped to his leg.
His heart picked up its pace as he silently tread toward the kitchen. The instant he stepped through the doorway she saw him but a wave of the wicked-looking knife warned her not to scream. In a flash, he moved behind her, covering her mouth with his free hand as he used his body to nudge her toward the bedroom.
The moment he freed her mouth, she begged, "Please don't kill me. I'll do whatever you say, only please don't hurt me."
Wordlessly, he directed her to keep quiet as he untied her little apron and tossed it on a chair. Then piece by piece, he motioned for her to undress, until she stood before him wearing only her garter belt and hose... and a terrified expression on her face. He tenderly stroked her cheek to assure her she had nothing to fear as long as she cooperated with him.
Following his unspoken order, she lay down on the bed and gave no resistance as he took four silk neckties from his pockets and used them to tie her ankles and wrists to the bedposts. Once he was certain she could not run off, he set down the knife and caressed her cheek again. Soon she would understand he was doing this for her.
For the next half hour, he concentrated on arousing every inch of her body with his hands and mouth, until she was moaning and writhing in near delirium. She sounded as though she were upset or in pain but he knew the truth. He was giving her the kind of pleasure she wished her ignorant husband would provide. He was showing her that she should have married him instead. It felt good to know that realization would haunt her long after he left her tonight.
But he was not yet finished. There was still the message to be left behind for her husband. That man had to be made aware that his lawfully wedded wife had enjoyed another man's lovemaking.
As he undid his belt buckle, he noted how the woman kept shifting her eyes and cocking her head to direct his attention to the nightstand. He glanced at the foil-wrapped condom and remembered how it had interfered the last time. His gaze returned to the woman's damp, squirming body and he hurriedly shoved his pants past his hips to show her that he was more than able to finish the job he'd started on her. She smiled and shyly lowered her eyes.
As he moved to enter her, however, she shifted her hips and loudly cleared her throat. He understood what she wanted him to do but he ignored her and continued forward.
"Damn you!" she cried out and twisted away from him in earnest. "Y'all know the drill. No divin' without a wet suit. I'll play almost any game but ah ain't riskin' mah life fer no hunnert bucks."
Junior slapped her face as his fantasy disintegrated. Within seconds, his erection was gone as well.
"That'll cost you," she said with a sneer. No trace remained of the sweet little housewife. "The boss don' like it when a john gets rough with one of his girls, unless it was paid for up front."
He felt his dinner backing up into his throat. With effort, he got both the nausea and his anger under control sufficiently to get off the bed and straighten his clothes.
"Hey, whatcha doin'? I didn't say y'all had to stop."
He began untying the neckties.
"All ah wanted was for you to wear a rubber. It's fo' your protection too." Although he had removed the last tie, she remained sprawled on the bed. Stroking her own body, she switched to a kittenish voice. "Come on, honey, don't be like this. Y'all got me all hot 'n' bothered for ya."
He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and dropped it on her stomach. "That's for the slap. Now get out of my house."
Her eyes were wary as she rose. "Don't think y'all can get away with complaining 'bout me—"
"I'm not going to complain and neither are you." He pulled off the ski mask and let her see the disfigured side of his face. As expected, the grotesque sight got her moving.
After she left, he forced himself to acknowledge the mistake he'd made. It was partly her fault though. She was so damn convincing, it was as if she had really taken him back into the past, to the time when he had total control of the situation and no one worried about diseases.
He would have been able to come with this one. He knew it. Then she ruined it. By speaking lines that weren't part of the script. By wanting him to wear a damn rubber. He hadn't worn a rubber back then. He wanted it to be exactly the same as before
. He needed it to be the same. And yet, he also remembered how acting on that need had nearly destroyed him.
Only his father's power and money had saved him from a jail sentence. It had also hired a discreet shrink who had helped him to understand that even if the women enjoyed what he did for them, his behavior was not socially acceptable. His good intentions did not exclude him from the law. He had to accept the fact he might never have a wife of his own, but that didn't give him the right to use the wives of other men.
Unfortunately, understanding wasn't always enough and when the emptiness became unbearable he found that pretending sometimes took the edge off. By using an escort service, he was able to order his particular fantasy with very little legal risk, especially if the woman came to his home. Living in a farmhouse surrounded by several acres of woods ensured his privacy.
Most of the time, the girl wasn't much of an actress or he simply remained too aware of reality to completely let go. For a few minutes tonight, however, fulfillment had been within his grasp. Then the damn whore opened her mouth and he was empty once again.
He felt his cock swelling again and groaned. The pill he'd taken didn't care that the whore had left and it was no longer needed.
He knew it was wrong, even dangerous, to think about his need or recall the incredibly exhilarating times when he'd been able to satisfy it. But he would give almost anything to be able to experience the real thing one more time... to see the gratitude in a woman's eyes as he demonstrated what a man was supposed to do for her... to slide his sex through the soft pubic hairs he'd so expertly dampened with his tongue... especially when those hairs had a reddish tint.
Chapter 6
Kelly knew the exact moment when Jack's attention leapt from current events to sex. Her yawn had been involuntary and stretching her upper body had followed without thought. His gaze automatically went to her breasts as she arched back on the chair and her body instantly acknowledged his notice.
She swallowed hard as his eyes raised and held hers captive. The way he was looking at her seemed so very familiar, as though they'd known each other forever. She definitely knew what he was thinking at that moment, since it was a reflection of her own thoughts.
Out of Time (Lovers in Time Series, Book 1): Time Travel Romance Page 7
