"Okay, he grabs you, he's got a hold of you — is there anything you can tell me about him?"
"No."
"Nothing?" he asked, glaring at her again.
"He was tall, strong, and he had an erection. All right?" she said in exasperation. "Does that help?"
Justin turned sharply, putting his back to her. "How'd he get in? Did you leave the doors unlocked?"
"I'm not that stupid.”
"Well how then?"
"I don't know how he got in. Isn't that your department? Or am I in charge of that detail?"
"Damn you, Alex, this is no time for your sarcastic remarks.”
Why was he doing this to her? She began to cry.
"Shit." His hand moved to touch her, but halted in midair before dropping back to his side.
Alex heard sirens. Red and blue lights whirled above the house on the top of the bluff.
"Okay, pull yourself together while I talk to them.”
"And with those comforting words . . ." she said under her breath as she tried to control herself.
He lifted the gun from his belt, put it on the table beside her, and headed toward the front door.
She took a sip of water and rose to pace the room. The small oval mirror on the wall between the living room and dining room caught her reflection. She moved closer to it and examined her face. Mascara tear tracks ran down to her throat. Her hair, knotted on top of her head, escaped in wispy strands. There were chafe marks across the lower half of her face. A white, bloodless scratch marred her right cheek.
She pulled a Kleenex from the box on the breakfast counter, returned to the mirror, then roughly removed the mascara streaks. Pulling the pins from her hair, she shook her head until her hair fell to her shoulders.
In addition to being frightened and shocked, she was angry. That sonofabitch, she cried inwardly, staring at the wreck in the mirror before her. She was going to get another gun if she had to steal one. And she'd carry it with her everywhere. He'd never get that close to her again.
"Why?" she cried, hurling the glass at the mirror. Both glass and mirror shattered with a deafening crash.
Justin was up the stairs in an instant, his eyes wide and questioning as he looked at her and then at the broken glass. Neither of them spoke.
She began to pick up the broken pieces. He took a shard of glass from one hand and shook her other hand at the wrist until she let what she held drop to the small table. Still holding her wrist, he led her back to the chair.
"Now tell me the rest."
"Where are the police?"
"They're looking for him"
"Don't they want to talk to me?"
"I'm talking to you. Talk."
She sighed. "He ambushed me in the hallway and dragged me to the bedroom. I couldn't breathe. He fell on top of me. That's when I . . . I stabbed him."
"Then what happened?"
"He ran away."
"Did he say anything to you? Christ, Alex," he said harshly, "give me something to work with."
"Stop it.”' She looked up at him. "Stop it, damn you. Maybe you don't care for me personally, but —and correct me if I'm wrong, Sergeant — aren't we supposed to be on the same team?”
They stared at each other. "Well, aren't we?"
He ran a hand through his hair and squatted down in front of her, being careful not to touch her. His voice softened as he said, "I'm sorry."
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to control her shivering body, tilted back her head, and stared at the ceiling. "I was so scared.”
"I know," Justin said quietly, finally reaching out to touch her consolingly. His hand moved slowly up and down her thigh. "I know. But he's gone now.”
"He'll be back." Tonight? Tomorrow? Who knows when? That was part of the game. To keep her guessing, to keep her scared. To make her crazy. She thought grimly, He will be back.
“Was his voice the same as the voice on the phone?"
"Yes.”
"What did he say?"
"It's all such a jumble.” She tilted her head back again, closed her eyes, and tried to think. "He said I would pay —"
"Pay? Pay for what?"
Alex squeezed her eyes together tightly, trying to bring his words back. "'You'll pay. You'll pay . . ." She opened her eyes and blurted out, " .. Because of the two of you my life was a living hell.'"
Justin stared at her silently. "For a few moments, in the hallway, I felt certain it was my father. Now I'm not so sure. If I can just sort everything out —what's the matter with you? Why are you staring at me like that?"
"How did he get in?"
“What difference does it make now? If I can—"
"It makes a helluva lot of difference. He definitely did not force his way in.”
She glared at him in astonishment. "You don't believe me. You think I'm lying to you.” She shook her head ruefully. "Oh, my God.”
"Alex, I believe you. You look like you just wrestled a gorilla.” He touched her cheek near the scratch.
"Not a gorilla. Not a ghost. A man. A living, breathing man. I could feel him, smell him, even taste the sweat on his hand.”
"Jesus, how did he get in?" Justin asked the blackness beyond the window.
"I don't know." She was losing patience with his one-track line of questioning. "I sure as hell didn't give him a key to the house and invite him over for a rollicking evening of rape and mayhem.”
"Key." Justin rose to his feet. "You had the locks changed after the initial break-in, right?"
She nodded.
"Then he comes in again, but this time through the bedroom slider." He paced to the breakfast counter then slammed his fist down hard on the tiles. "What a goddamned idiot I am. How many keys do you have to that door." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the front door.
"I keep a set there.” She pointed to a fuzzy key ring on the table below the broken mirror. She rose from the chair and strode to the key holder on the wall in the kitchen. "There was another one on this rack.” She fumbled through the keys. "It's not here. That lunatic has a key to my house.”
"Okay, okay, let me think. He took the key when he broke in through the slider. He's had it for several days, and he waited until tonight to use it. Why? Probably because Wednesday night you went to Ott's. And Thursday night I was here—for a while anyway."
A shudder went through her. Barely above a whisper, Alex said, "He's had a key since the first break-in. And he's been coming and going at will.”
"But you had the locks changed."
"Different locks, different keys. But he's been here all along."
"Explain.”
"Things broken and out of place. Thuds in the night. The fire in the kitchen. It was him."
"Then I'd say he's had it longer than that. He broke the window to make it look like a forced entry. He could have come through that small pane, but I doubt if he did. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary before that night?"
Alex paused to think. "Yes. Hawkins said he put the bedroom window screen back on. A day or two before the first break-in he found it lying on the ground. It'd been hot that week. I must have left the windows open."
Justin nodded slowly.
"What made you come tonight?" Alex asked softly.
He lifted the gun from the table and held it out to her. “This is for you. Can you shoot it? Do you know anything about firearms?"
"Joe taught me." She took the gun. "Won't you get into trouble giving me this?"
He shrugged. "I'm leaving the force in January, so I guess it doesn't matter. Now that we've established how he got into the house, tell me again what he said. What was that about your making his life a living hell?"
The more Alex thought about it the more she persuaded herself that what she had heard was nothing more than the rantings of a madman. To have committed an act against anyone so horrendous, so unforgivable, for a person to want to kill her was inconceivable. The man was obviously crazy. "He said a lot of off-the-wall s
tuff. Probably meant nothing."
"No, he was trying to tell you something. Think about it."
She chewed on her lower lip. "He said I would have to pay for the both of us.”
"Any idea who he meant?"
"My mother, I think," she said quietly, seeing again the spittle covering the face in the picture.
"Because she ran off and left him?"
Alex looked up at him, surprised. She nodded. "We're back to my father again, aren't we?"
"Do you have any of his personal papers?"
Alex nodded.
Minutes later, from a shelf in the garage, Justin helped her take down a carton labeled Bently— Desk Contents. He carried it upstairs, set it on the floor in front of the couch.
"This stuff was in my father's desk. Joe cleaned it out and put it in the garage. I never looked at any of it."
"Why?"
"I was afraid of what I'd find."
Alex sat on the floor. From the stack of papers at her knee she lifted an official-looking document. She found herself reading it twice before she could comprehend its meaning. Then she read it a third time.
Justin came into the room, carrying two cups. "I put all that crap in your coffee. Sweet'n Low, Cremora. You suffering from a synthetic deficiency?" He looked at Alex's face. "What is it? What did you find?"
"My father adopted my sister.”
He stared at her curiously.
"I didn't know that," she said. "I thought she was his natural daughter. According to this, her surname, before my father gave her his name, was Hunter—my mother's maiden name. Lora was illegitimate."
"How old was she when he adopted her?"
"Two. My parents were married in March of that same year."
"Do you think she knew?"
"I don't think so."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"When she was seventeen she ran away from home. We never heard from her again."
Alex picked up a batch of letters held together by a rubber band. The band, rotten, sticky, fell away.
She felt the blood leave her face. Her hands began to tremble.
There were ten letters in all. Seven of them had been addressed to her father. The other three had been addressed to her. All were from Lora.
Justin sat on the floor watching Alex's face as she read each letter. When she finished she looked up, stared vacantly out the window. She sighed.
Justin leaned forward.
"It seems my sister got pregnant when she was seventeen. My father turned her out. Disowned her. In these letters she begged him to let her come home and bring her baby with her. She also wrote to me. He managed to intercept and read my letters. Listen to this," Alex lifted a letter to the light. "'Little sister, you're the only chance I have now. We can't come home unless Dad comes for us. Something very scary happens to me when I try to leave this house. It feels like I'm going to die. Alex, I'm sick. I think I'm going crazy. I have no one to talk to except the baby. Please, only you can make Dad bring us home.'"
Alex looked at Justin. Her expression quizzical. "How could he be so cruel? Even if she wasn't his real daughter, he raised her as his own.
"When she disappeared, he said it was no great loss since she was just like our mother. He would say over and over how Lora cared nothing for the people who loved her. That she thought only of herself. And I believed him."
Justin picked up the top envelope. "Lora Bently, Haller, Oregon. May I use your phone?"
She nodded.
He went to the kitchen extension. Alex sorted through the rest of the papers as Justin talked on the phone. When he returned, she was putting the papers back into the box.
"If your sister still lives in Haller, the local police will find her. We should hear something by morning.”
Alex rose. "Would you like something to drink?”
"I'm fine, thanks," Justin said, following her into the kitchen. He leaned against the wall. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm not sure." She rubbed her right hip where it had hit the night-stand.
He crossed to her. "What is it?" Without waiting for an answer, he knelt down and pulled up
her denim skirt.
“What are you doing?" She tried to push her skirt down, instinctively looking to the windows.
"This is no time to be modest." His fingers tenderly touched the red puffy area below her hipbone.
"Stay here. I'll get ice for that. It won't help the discoloring, but it might keep the swelling down." He put a handful of ice cubes in a dish towel.
Alex shivered when the cold pack touched her skin. The doorbell rang.
He handed her the ice pack. "Keep this on for another few minutes."
He went down to the front door.
Moving into the dining room, Alex leaned against the wall with the ice at her hip, and caught bits and pieces of conversation as it drifted up to her. ". . . no sight of him? Probably won't come back tonight . . . eyes open anyway . . . be right here if you see anything . . ."
She went limp with relief. He was going to stay with her. She wouldn't be alone. Not even a loaded gun could make her feel safe tonight. When he returned, she was back in the kitchen retrieving her shoes.
"You look tired," he said. 'Why don't you go on to bed?"
“What about you?"
"I'll be okay."
Going down the stairs, she could feel his gaze on her. Turning at the bottom, she looked up at him. “Thank you for staying."
He ran a hand through his hair, but said nothing.
She stared at him a moment longer, then continued on to her room.
As she undressed by the light from the foyer, she heard him talking upstairs. Holding her robe in front of her, she walked to the open door and called up, "Are you talking to me?"
"I asked if you wanted your cat inside," he called back. "He's on the deck."
"Yes. Thanks.”
Silence.
"Good night," she said.
"Night."
She leaned against the doorjamb, thinking. Not about the nightmare that had taken place earlier in the hall, that was something that had to wait for light of day. She thought about Justin. Upstairs keeping vigil.
Justin suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs. A startled look crossed his face when he saw Alex leaning against the doorjamb.
"The light." He pointed to the chandelier in the foyer.
Pulling the robe up to cover herself, she put a hand to the switch. "I can get it from here."
He stared at her for several moments as though he wanted to say something. Finally he nodded, turned, and headed back up. Waiting until she was sure he was off the stairway, Alex turned off the light.
She took a hot shower, roughly scrubbing her body with the back brush until it stung. Then she wearily climbed into bed.
When she closed her eyes a torrent of memories rushed at her. Everything she remembered about her sister, the way she had looked, talked, laughed—the things they had done together—all came back vividly, as though days, and not decades, had passed. She prayed for her sister and then she cried herself to sleep.
Sometime in the night Alex opened her eyes to see Justin, wearing nothing but his slacks, silhouetted in the doorway to her room. She had been dreaming about him. In the dream he'd told her he loved her. She'd wanted to tell him she loved him as well, but each time she'd opened her mouth to speak, her father's face appeared in place of Justin's.
Fully awake now, she softly called out his name.
He turned and slowly walked away.
As if drawn along by an alluring magnetic force, Alex left her bed, put on her robe, and went upstairs. Although the house was dark, she could clearly see him standing at the windows, hands in his pockets, looking out toward the casino lights.
As she crossed the thick carpet to him, she wondered if what she felt for him was some mad obsession. He had begun to invade not only her every waking moment, but her dreams as well. Her attraction to him could not be anything mor
e than a superficial infatuation. She was thirty-eight years old. Too old to love for the first time. And how, she wondered grimly, could she have fallen for someone who was incapable of returning her love?
All those thoughts racing through her mind dissolved as she stopped behind him. There was no stopping now. She was burning up with anticipation and longing. With a feathery lightness her hands moved over his naked shoulders.
Justin turned slowly, hands still in his pockets, and looked at her questioningly. She rose on tiptoe, leaned in, tilted her head upward, and kissed the corner of his mouth. She pressed her lips to his eyelids, first one, then the other. Her tongue slowly traced the separation of his lips as her hands roved over his chest, thumbs playing over the nipples. One hand tracked lightly down his chest, across his stomach to the front of his pants. Through the cloth she felt him growing against the palm of her hand, heard him suck in his breath. She stroked him, kissed his sedate lips, teased his nipple.
"If you keep this up," he said in a low, husky voice, "I'm going to have to take you right here and now."
"Uh-huh." She put her lips to his ear. "Lie to me. Tell me I mean something to you. Tell me you're not just out for a good time."
"Is that what you thought?"
"Tell me."
"You mean something to me," he said quietly. "You mean a lot to me."
"Yes. You're a good liar."
"I don't lie."
"I didn't lie to you."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes. It does."
"Then I believe you."
She dotted his lips with light kisses.
"I won't use you, Alex."
He started to pull his hands from his pockets. She held them in place.
"I know you won't," she said, dropping her robe to the floor. She reached for his belt buckle. "Because tonight, I'm going to use you."
They kissed long and eagerly. Alex lowered herself to the floor, bringing him down with her. She made love to him, passionately, almost desperately, with no thoughts other than those of the moment.
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