by Lakes, Lynde
“And everyone works,” Darli said, “even the old folks. It sounds like a rigid society.”
“It’s strict.”
“And socialistic.”
“That too,” he admitted. “But the good things outweigh the bad. There’s no smog, little disease, no juvenile delinquency or crime, and no one lives on the street.”
“Your Utopia sounds like it lacks warmth and friendliness.”
“We’ll be together, and I’ll always be warm and friendly.” In the moonlight coming through the window, the ruby flecks in his eyes glowed brightly, any hint of tiredness gone.
“I’ll count on that,” Darli said. She smiled as he trailed his hand over the curve of her hip. She snuggled into him and put her arms around his neck. She gently flicked her tongue into the hollow of his neck. Then with the tips of her fingers, she began trailing little circles over his bare chest to keep him awake a little longer. For her, sleep would be impossible until she had a clearer picture of Uraticus. “What about our baby? I hate to think of him or her having to live such a regimented life.”
“It’s all in what you get accustomed to. I never minded. Our child won’t either. It’s the same for all children, so they don’t consider study and obedience a burden.”
“Only one more question and you can go to sleep.” She lowered her voice to a sultry tone. “Or whatever else might occur to you.”
He sighed then laughed. “You’re such a temptress! All right. Ask your question.”
Passion and a mother’s concern rose against each other, fighting the dual, aching conflict. “You said test tube babies are stronger and more intelligent than babies conceived the normal way. What if our baby can’t compete with those children?”
“I wasn’t a test tube baby and it didn’t cause me any problem. Please don’t worry. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
He kissed her temple and began to massage her shoulders…her neck…then he graced her with one of his deep, vibrating kisses. She wanted to know many other things about Uraticus, but Cortz’s unearthly kiss obliterated all questions. Darli ran her hands over his body, enjoying the familiar strength of it. In the shadowy room lit only by moonbeams, Cortz spread kisses from her lips, down the side of her throat, over her breasts, finally finding her nipples. He must have felt them harden nearly at the same moment she did because he slid his body onto hers. She welcomed the familiar weight and heat of him, by drawing him closer.
“You’re exquisite…wonderful to touch,” he whispered between kisses. “All that…and carrying our baby, too.”
The awe in his voice was an aphrodisiac. She arched into him, beckoning him to fulfill her. His uneven breathing signaled his increased urgency.
She pressed closer. He shifted, fitting his body to hers. Pulsations spiraled her to sizzling immediacy. They undulated in feverish abandon, then ecstasy claimed her in glorious spasms—a magnificent fusion of physical and emotional love.
Even after they were out of breath and spent, they continued to cling to each other. Once Cortz’s strength returned, he shifted and lay next to her. He pulled her body tight against him and curled around her, like the curve of a quarter-moon. Soon, his breathing evened…deepened. But she didn’t sleep. Concerns about Uraticus soared around in her mind like shooting stars. Suppose she and her baby weren’t accepted. Without love and acceptance from Cortz’s people, raising her baby in such place would be hell. I have to find a way for us to remain on Earth. Oh, God. What if I can’t pull it off?
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Mario saw himself as the first sacrificed non-virgin and Commander Olson as a fire god awaiting him inside a smoking volcano. The thought of the demoralizing emasculation yet to come threatened to melt Mario’s erect posture into a molten mass of bones. He gritted his teeth, stiffened his spine and prayed for the strength to survive the rest of the verbal eruption without telling the man who held his career in his hands to go to hell.
“So far you’ve given us zip, Mario.” Olsen sucked air through his cigar until the tip glowed a fiery red then when the ash turned gray, he flicked it into a large, square glass tray. Then in a lightning move, he slapped a file onto the desk. “There’s nothing new in your report.”
Ryker closed in on the other side of Mario and rested a heavy hand on Mario’s shoulder. “There’s still a chance to redeem yourself. Harris and his wife have disappeared, but eventually they’ll contact you or your girlfriend. When they do, we have them. Simple as that.”
Mario shook his head. “Sir, I don’t get it. My report proves they’re not guilty of anything.”
Olsen blew out a gust of smoke. It spiraled slowly toward the ceiling. “Your report doesn’t include the latest info. California authorities suspect Harris of being an impostor.”
Mario wrinkled his brow. “Impostor? I don’t understand.”
Olsen’s dull gray eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to. Just find Harris!”
“Then what, sir?” Mario’s scalp started to sweat. He raked his hair with stiff fingers.
“We’ll pick him up.”
Mario tried to hold his erect posture, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from slumping under the burden of his orders.
“What comes first, Lieutenant?” Olsen growled.
“Country, sir.” Then Mario managed to straighten and salute.
Olsen turned and faced the window. Sunlight glistened on his gray hair. He widened his stance, distributing the weight on those stocky legs evenly, as though wishing to appear solid, immovable. God-like.
Mario flinched when Ryker again rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You can make the difference, Salvatori.”
****
Darli drove toward her house, maneuvering automatically through the traffic. The skies had cleared, but a storm still brewed in her mind. Everything in her rebelled at the idea of leaving Earth. Yet if she didn’t go, the Navy would most likely capture Cortz, lock him up or even kill him on the spot. Or worse. A shudder rippled through her.
She couldn’t let anyone in the government get their deadly hands on her baby’s father. Cortz had shown love, understanding, patience, and great bravery by allowing her to explore the alternatives to zooming off to his sterile world.
Darli flashed her right-turn signal, then turned off the highway onto her beachfront property. She stiffened as a police car pulled into the driveway behind her. The windshield reflected the sun and obscured her vision inside the vehicle. She thought she saw the silhouettes of two men.
She got out of her car, took a couple of steps, and waited. Her heart quickened with apprehension.
“Mrs. Gregory Harris?” asked the police sergeant, lumbering toward her. His gravelly voice carried above the unceasing murmur of waves rolling onto the nearby shore.
“Yes,” she answered past the lump in her throat.
The other man got out of the police car. Fox! She had the greatest urge to run.
“I’m Sergeant Kanea, Honolulu Police Department, and this is Special Naval Investigator, Lieutenant Fox.”
Darli forced a wry smile in the direction of the tall, red-haired officer. “Lieutenant Fox and I have met.”
“That we have,” Fox said with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “The name was Miss Grenlane last time we met. I’ve followed the changes in your life with interest.”
Best not to comment on that. “Well, what can I do for you?” The grass, still wet from an earlier shower, felt cool on her sandaled feet. Still, sweat trickled down her back.
“We’d like to speak to your husband,” Kanea said. He widened his stance, legs wide apart, one hand rested on his gun, the other on the black leather notebook at his belt.
“He’s away on business. On a private boat.” The lie slid down her throat like hot oil. She breathed in salt air in a useless attempt to soothe her conscience.
“He was in Honolulu yesterday,” Kanea said. His mouth narrowed from a relaxed half-smile to a grim line. “His secretary said we just missed him. We arrived
here shortly after, but no one was home. In fact, no one was here all night.”
Darli shaded her eyes from the glint coming from the policeman’s badge. She stepped back, fighting a rising panic. “Since my husband was away, I stayed with a friend. May I help you with something?”
“We need to verify your husband’s identity.”
“That’s simple.” Darli raised her voice to add force to her words. “He’s Gregory Harris.”
The policeman’s hard, muddy eyes held her gaze. She didn’t blink. If he was trying to read her reaction, she wouldn’t make it easy. He shifted his bulk to his left foot. “Another Gregory Harris showed up in California.”
“What?” she asked, feigning surprise. Then she paused, as if to consider it. “I suppose two men could have the same name.”
“But both men couldn’t be the head of Harris Inventions,” Kanea said.
“That other man must be an impostor!”
“Perhaps, but we still have to talk to your husband.”
Darli switched her gaze to Fox. “Why is the Navy interested? My husband was never in the Navy.” Thank God Greg’s sister told me that.
“Your husband claimed to be from another planet during his hospitalization in a mental institution,” Fox said. “The Navy checks all reports about space aliens.”
Fox stood straight-backed, with his brimmed cap tucked under his arm. His white uniform was blinding in the daylight, and his shoes glistened like pearly mirrors.
“I’m relieved to hear that,” she said past the lump in her throat. To throw them off she had to make a joke of their allegations. “But do you really think there are little green men here?”
“The question is, Mrs. Harris, do you?”
“Your question is ridiculous, Lieutenant.”
“Little green men aside, there are some interesting coincidences involving you and your husband. And I intend to get to the bottom of them.”
Darli lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. She didn’t flinch. “Well, I assure you my husband is not a space alien, green or otherwise.”
Kanea tapped his gun. “We need to establish beyond a doubt exactly who your husband is.”
The shade from his enormous form stretched ahead of him and blocked out her shadow. She stood a little taller. “Is he charged with something?” Inwardly she felt shaky, but she managed to hold her voice steady.
“No, Ma’am,” Kanea said. “No formal charges. Yet.”
“Well, my husband will call you when he returns,” Darli said evenly. “We want this absurd matter cleared up as much as you do. Who should we contact?”
“Call me,” Kanea said.
Both officers handed her a card. She glanced down at them and then tucked them into her purse.
“Exactly when do you expect your husband to return?” Kanea asked.
“I don’t know,” Darli said. “In a few days, maybe a week. But, you will hear from us soon.”
She watched the two men walk back to their car. Kanea nodded a farewell as he slid into the driver’s seat. Fox paused beside the car and studied her. She glared back at him.
After a few seconds of eye-combat, he gave her a quick salute and got in. As the officers drove away, Darli let out whoosh of breath. She wrapped her arms around her middle to ease her inner trembling. Then she inhaled and became aware for the first time of the aroma of ginger blossoms mixed with the ocean’s salty smell.
Darli checked her mailbox, grateful to have a routine task to provide a link to reality. With a bundle of envelopes and two pieces of junk mail in hand, she turned and stopped in her tracks. A sensation washed over her…she wasn’t alone. She caught a glimpse of a man’s face in the bushes. Then he was gone.
Damn them! They’re watching me again. Darli ran into the house and slammed the door. The leaded glass vibrated. She slumped against the wood frame and peered out. Her heart pounded. She felt a steely web closing around her and Cortz.
If only she hadn’t called Fox that first time so long ago. Now he knew she was married to a man who had once claimed to be an alien, and the lieutenant also had whatever information his cohorts discovered when they searched her apartment. She was sure the Navy was involved it that. Cortz’s gear and wet suit fueled their suspicions. She was also convinced their agents had followed her before and were watching her now. Well, she wouldn’t make it easy for them.
Darli hurried to the study. She sat down at the desk and flipped through the mail. None of it was important.
Next, she called Cortz’s office and told his secretary that Greg wouldn’t be coming in for a few days, and that she would call in for his messages.
She scanned the phone book. In her frantic search one of the pages ripped. Who could she call to buy a new identity for Cortz? An attorney? A detective? Oh, God, I don’t have the slightest idea where to get that kind of information, and time is clicking away. She jumped up. The book fell to the floor in a heap of crushed yellow pages.
She rushed up the stairs to her bedroom and yanked on the bureau drawer. It was stuck. She yanked again. Damn…damn! She pulled again at the drawer, finally it gave. She threw a shawl and an old muumuu onto the bed.
Darli caught the harried reflection of herself in the mirror. What kind of person have I become? She’d learned a great deal about herself in the last two days, and she’d found she would do anything to protect Cortz: lie to the police, the Navy, maybe even the whole darned government. It didn’t make sense. She had always been an ultra patriotic straight-arrow. Now here she was, putting together a disguise like a super-sleuth to protect her baby’s father.
Chapter Sixty
Thank God you could always count on finding a crowd at The Ala Moana Center. Darli glanced behind her. If anyone followed, she’d lose them in this mob. She weaved in and out of the throng of locals and tourists, entered Sears, and walked straight to the rest room. She stuffed the heavy canvas bag she’d carried into the store into one of the two large Sears’ bags that she’d brought along. Then, trembling and feeling harried, she changed into an oversized muumuu and a shawl. Underneath, she wore several layers of blouses, shorts, and a sweater tied around her middle. When she left the air-conditioned department store, carrying two bags now rather than one, a cloak of humidity hit her and she started to sweat. On the plus side, all anyone watching would see was a fat, bent woman in a muumuu. She stopped a moment and put one of the heavy bags down long enough to pull the fringed shawl tighter around her head, then headed for the bus stop. If the authorities had her parked car staked out, they would have a long wait.
When she arrived at the hotel where Cortz waited, she hurried to an out-of-the-way restroom on the second floor and switched back into her own clothing. She wiped sweat from her brow with a tissue, finger-combed her hair, and stuffed the extra clothes back into one of the bags. Her hair still felt tangled and hot on her neck as she rode the elevator to her floor.
At their door, she put the bags down and fumbled in her purse for her keys. After two tries, she finally got the door open. She entered the room, weighted down by her load, and kicked the door closed with a resounding bang. Cortz looked up from his chair by the window. “Darli, you look upset.” He tossed the notes he was studying aside and jumped to his feet. Then, in three large strides, he met her halfway. He took the bags from her, dumped them on the luggage rack at the end of the bed, and opened his arms.
She fell into them, basking in their steadfast semblance of safety.
He looked down at her, concern in his eyes. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”
“A policeman and Fox came to the house. They want to talk to you.” It was difficult to get the words past her gasps for air. “If only you hadn’t told the doctor you were from another planet.” She was babbling, but couldn’t stop. “I haven’t been able to find anyone to help us with a new identity. I don’t even know how to go about it.”
Cortz drew her closer. “Slow down, Darli, take a deep breath.”
“There was a man in the bushe
s, watching me, the house. He tried to follow me. You were right. It is too dangerous to stay.”
He held her at arms-length. “Then it’s agreed. You’re willing to go?”
She closed her eyes a moment, and then nodded.
“Good. We’ll go now.” His gaze pierced hers. “Do you think you were followed?”
“No. I wore a disguise and changed buses twice.”
She shivered. It wasn’t the air-conditioning blowing on her sweaty skin that turned her blood to ice, it was raw fear. She burrowed deeper into the circle of Cortz’s arms and wished she could forget the world outside.
“I’m sorry for this mess.” The ruby flecks in Cortz’s dark brown eyes glowed bright like the centers of hot coals, revealing the passionate truth of his words. “I’ve turned your life upside down. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you.” He smoothed his fingers along the surface of her hair. Then for a moment, he just held her. When her body trembled against his, he tightened his hold. “Where did you park the car?”
“Ala Moana Center. We can’t use it. The cops or Navy probably have staked it out.”
“What?”
“Are watching it. I’ll call Keiko. She’ll help.”
“No. Don’t.”
“It’s all right. I trust her.” Darli called the university office. Kelly, the part-time clerk came on the line and told her Keiko had gone across the street for coffee with her boyfriend, Mario.
“Mario’s there?” A cold chill rippled down Darli’s back. She remembered his questions, the way he watched them, his edginess—and the fact that he knew about Cortz’s hospitalization.
“They must’ve been expecting your call,” Kelly said. “Mario asked Keiko if you’d checked in yet. Want Keiko to give you a jingle when she returns?”
“No, thanks. Don’t even mention I called. I’ve decided to surprise Keiko.”
Darli depressed the connection and re-dialed. “Mario’s in with them.”
“I knew it!” Cortz’s eyes blazed.
“Give me a second. I can figure this out.” She tried to sound upbeat. “We can’t rent a car because the authorities have probably alerted all car rental agencies on the island.” She tapped her lip. “Okay. I’ve got it. I’ll borrow a car from a guy who owes me a favor. He’s perfect because Keiko and my other coworkers don’t know him.”
