River Bones

by Mary Deal

  “What about them?” Sara asked.

  “I've already had thoughts about combining them into one bigger house,” Esmerelda said. “That's how I'll get away from these stairs.” She shook her head again. “My life is here.” She took Sara's hands. “But I love you for thinking of my welfare.” They hugged. Esmerelda swiped at tears as she pulled away.

  #

  On the way back to Talbot House in the SUV, Sara glanced at Huxley as she drove. His demeanor was quiet and dead serious. “Hey, I'm not psychic,” she said.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said. “Maybe something you should know.” He paused again. “The reason I'm here instead of returning home after my last trip. We found a soldier's remains in Nam.”

  Sara gasped. “Someone who was with your brother and Betty?”

  “I see you know about Betty.”

  “Daphine told me. Esmerelda's never mentioned it. I figure it's too painful for her, so I never bring it up.”

  “That's wise of you.” Again he went into quiet thought. “Forensic dogs,” he said finally, and nodded thoughtfully. “A retired Colonel—part of our group—he and I went straight to Southern California to break the news to the family.”

  “How could you be certain so soon?”

  “Dog tags, an engraved wedding band, two teeth,” Huxley said. “One of the group knew the approximate area the soldier dropped. We just couldn't find the remains without the dog.”

  “After so many years?” Sara asked. “A dog sniffed it out after decades?”

  “They're also doing DNA tests, but those dogs are magnificent creatures,” Huxley said. “They're known as Human Remains Detection Dogs. Officials have used them to find the boundaries of forlorn graveyards.”

  “They can pick up scents that old?”

  The seat belts prevented Huxley from fully turning to face her. “These HRD dogs have been trained not to pick up fresh human scents,” he said. “They're trained in detecting ancient remains, like in cold cases. When trained properly, they can detect residual scent from a tiny fragment of human bone buried for eons. The animal making the current discovery was trained to detect certain metals, like the dog tags.”

  “Maybe now you'll find more of those missing.”

  “We hope,” Huxley said. “A lot of the people in our group are getting too old to make the trip, facing days riding in a Humvee or walking difficult pathways through the jungle. We need to complete our searches or expand the group with younger volunteers.”

  Sara reflected on the message of closure Huxley might have brought back to the MIA's relatives. “Both joy and sorrow for that family,” she said. She glanced at Huxley again. His expression was one of hope.

  “I decided to swing by here on my way home, so I could tell Esme.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “Very good, actually. She knows Betty's gone, but finding one MIA keeps her hope alive.”

  “And just maybe we can help.”

  Huxley reached over and touched her shoulder. “I'll miss you. I'll be leaving soon. I need to see my family.”

  His hand remained on her shoulder, yet she felt great disappointment. She dreaded the day he would leave.

  #

  The following Monday, Sara rushed to get out of the house and to Sacramento. She ended up arriving too early before the government offices opened for the day. Just after ten o'clock, she finished filing the foundation's documents and felt a rush of elation. She wished Huxley could have been with her. At least, she could involve him through her thoughts. Not a day had gone by since she first looked into his wondrous eyes that she did not think of him in some way. She hung around town browsing furniture stores but her heart wasn't in shopping. She would meet Huxley for dinner. He would catch a flight home around noon on Tuesday.

  Sara drove into a newer condo complex just off of Highway 50, found the right unit and knocked on the door. Huxley opened it and she stepped inside while he retrieved a jacket. The condo belonged to one of the veterans, and seemed inviting and comfortable. Times had changed. Here she was picking up her date. She contemplated the evolving roles.

  “I know a great Chinese restaurant,” he said. “They even have those old-fashioned booths and curtains for doors.”

  Surprisingly, chopsticks weren't that difficult to master. Maybe it was their mood. His casual conversation was light and teasing. Sara hadn't felt so good in years.

  “Take a bite of this,” he said, offering Lo Mein noodles on his chopsticks.

  Sara knew it impolite to eat off another person's plate. Etiquette classes she took during her twenties impressed dos and don'ts when defining acceptable behavior. She ate what was offered when very young because her family was so poor. They didn't know if they would have anything to eat the next day. Sara's first impulse was not to open her mouth. With Huxley, she let her guard down and leaned toward him. Huxley muffled a gasp as she parted her lips.

  After a few seconds of silence and settling down, he said, “OTF has a good start now.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said, savoring the unique flavor of the Lo Mein. “I honestly couldn't have moved this along as quickly without your knowledge.”

  “The process won't take long,” Huxley said as he picked up a platter, served a portion to her, and then scraped the rest of the noodles onto his plate.

  Waiting for documents was not a good position to be in with state agencies in Sacramento. “Hope it doesn't take as long as some of the house permits,” she said.

  “I'll see if there's anything my contacts can do to give it a shove.”

  They had seen each other every day for more than a week. “May I see you when I return?” he asked.

  Sara wanted to know him better, sooner. She had spent copious amounts of time mentally conjuring experiences with him. Doing so made her feel alive again. It had been difficult to keep her feelings subdued and her mind focused on the business at hand. She might have left him with the impression that she was a prude, or just not interested in a close relationship. Truth was, she harbored thoughts about what it would be like to know Huxley intimately. Over recent years, she repressed thoughts of having a man in her life. Now here she was, unable to stop thinking romantically about Huxley. Her runaway fantasies contained only him. Yet, some old childhood programming kept her from revealing even a hint of her innermost feelings.

  “When will you return?”

  “A few weeks. I really miss my family. They're everything to me.” Huxley had a son and a daughter, both grown and married. They worked the family ranch in Oregon.

  “In the Coburg Ridge foothills, in the shadow of Indian Head peak.”

  “I have no idea where that is.”

  “My sister and brother-in-law run the operation. The rest of the family work for them.”

  “Your farm, what goes on there?”

  “Cattle, sheep, a few crops, even some marketable timber.” He took a sip of water. “My sister—she's older than me—wanted to get into Christmas trees. What a great entrepreneur she turned out to be. Filled up most of the idle acreage, and our bank accounts.”

  Huxley's face lit up when he spoke of family. He produced photos from his wallet, like a proud parent. “My parents are still living,” he said. “If you can call having nurses twenty-four-seven any kind of a life.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Sara said.

  “I was ten years old, my brother twenty-one, when he went missing in Nam.” Emotion flooded Huxley's face. “I need to bring my brother home,” he said, choking up. His lips tightened. “Before Mom and Dad pass away.”

  Chapter 51

  Huxley asked if he could drive on the way back to his condo. “I like playing the male role once in a while,” he said with a teasing smile.

  “You paid for dinner,” she said, acting as though he had taken away one of her privileges.

  They had grown up in an era of the double standard but adjusted well to societal changes, could even joke about their roles. Joke, like they had done all through dinner,
talked about so many subjects, with a lot of humor that turned into magnetic teasing, with personal comments and gentle touching. She burned with desire she didn't think she was capable of feeling again. She felt young, frivolous, and daring.

  It was great to see the tension drain out of Huxley's face as the evening wore on. When they arrived at his condo and parked beside his sedan, he grabbed her keys from the ignition and jumped out, coming round to her side to open her door. Chivalry went right along with the fun of the evening.

  “You are so gallant, sir,” she said affectedly, taking his hand and sliding out.

  He steered her toward the front door. “How about a night cap?”

  Sara found herself inside and toasting with a mug of decaf before she had time to contemplate what she was doing.

  He retrieved the car keys from his pocket and dropped them into her opened purse. He leaned slightly across the counter and intensely studied her. “You're the one,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “You're the one.”

  She loved being with Huxley and didn't want the evening to end, but that was inevitable. “I really must go,” she said, coming to her senses.

  “I was hoping not to hear that,” he said, coming around the end of the counter and reaching for her.

  Suddenly, she was in Huxley's arms. Past resolves melted in the heat of true passion. “I should go,” she said, hearing desire on her own breath. Huxley kissed her, gently at first and when she could no longer restrain herself, he must have sensed it. His kiss became insistent, till she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his affection, heartbeat for heartbeat. Then she tried to move away. “Huxley, we—” His mouth came hard against hers. His hands were all over her back, her hips, pulling hers toward him until she felt his desire. She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her bare skin. She wanted to touch the hair that swirled over his chest, and feel it against her naked breasts.

  Huxley unbuttoned her blouse and she slipped out of it as they walked into the bedroom. She felt both scared and wanton, beyond stopping. He unfastened the button above the zipper of her slacks and she stepped out of them and out of her heels. He removed his shirt, exposing a magnificent muscular chest with hair that went all the way down to….

  Huxley ripped back the bed covers and, in one swoop, picked her up, positioned his knee on the bed, and laid her down. His physical strength surprised her. He turned his back to her and removed his trousers. He was shy about himself. Huxley was shy! He came to bed in his under shorts and pulled up the covers and kissed her longingly. He ran his hands over her yearning body as if wanting to have every inch of her at once.

  His fingertips explored. Her bra fell aside and she squirmed out of her panties as she lay facing him. His fingertips touched her everywhere, without hesitation, followed by his lips. Huxley seemed love-starved.

  It was a long time since Sara had been with a man and she felt awkward. She was just as starved. She could now live out the fantasies she conjured about this man. She kissed his chest, dragged her tongue slowly across his nipples, and ran her fingertips any place that made his breath quicken. Together, they went beyond their fantasies.

  Each time he heard her breath falter he intensified the pleasure. At times he watched her expression. Surely, she had grimaced in sheer ecstasy and had a fleeting moment of embarrassment at being watched. But Huxley wouldn't allow that for long.

  He kicked away the covers and positioned himself farther down the mattress. Sara thought she would surely pass out from the intensity of his probing tongue. When words escaped her throat as nothing more than guttural sounds, he began to bite.

  “Hux, no!” she said, though the words seemed barely discernible.

  He continued to bite, just hard enough so that she felt stimulated beyond belief. She had wanted him and was getting her wish. “Love me,” she said, begging, because she could take no more foreplay. She needed penetration, hard and fast. She needed to be taken, but he continued the rapture with his tongue.

  Finally, he climbed on top. “Hard, Hux,” she said. But her voice came out on faltering breaths. She dug her fingertips into his hips and pulled him toward her.

  Huxley took her. The way she needed. The way he needed. A feeble scream escaped her throat. Hearing him moan his pleasure enhanced her enjoyment. He held back nothing and didn't stop his forceful thrusts until she was satisfied. Even then, he continued until his massive orgasm overtook him and he moaned loudly with each spasm. Then he collapsed onto the sheets beside her.

  She lay quiet while her breath and heart rate calmed, too awed to move or speak. He drifted off fast, but strangely, kept hold of her wrist and wouldn't let go.

  #

  Sara bolted awake as if someone had shot a gun off in the room. Fear erupted from a deep crevasse in her mind.

  What if the serial killer was not from the Sacramento area, not from California at all?

  She tried to keep her anxiety and fright under control.

  What if he was someone who came into the state regularly and then left?

  She had to get a grip on her thoughts, but they kept coming.

  Maybe that was why the serial killer had never been caught. He was from out of state. A perfect cover.

  Why was she having these thoughts this night?

  What the hell am I doing in bed with a guy I know so little about?

  She began to tremble.

  How convenient to have legitimate business here, then turn off his cell phone, do his killing, and skip out.

  Sometime during the night, he loosened the grip on her wrist. How strong he seemed. Overpowering. Why had he tried to detain her?

  Huxley's knowledge of war tactics would help hide his crimes.

  She tried to reason it out. Why would someone like Huxley turn into a killer? Because he lost his brother and his mind snapped? That was the only reason she could come up with because she knew not much else about him. She trembled fiercely. She had to get out of bed before he woke.

  Don't even shower!

  Sara eased out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and stood in the darkened bathroom and dressed. When she came out into the bedroom, Huxley wore only his slacks and blocked the bedroom doorway. “What are you doing?” he asked, still sleepy. He dragged a hand over his face.

  Sara was scared. Her libido and loneliness had swept away all caution. “I shouldn't be here,” she said. “Too soon. This shouldn't have… too soon.”

  “Is that a reason to leave?”

  “Please,” she said, motioning for him to step aside. “Let me go.”

  He still blocked the doorway. “I'm not letting you get away now.”

  His words filled her with dread. Her heart continued to pound and her pulse throbbed up the side of her neck. She looked for a weapon and saw only the oversized lamp on the dresser across the room. She did not wish to anger him and managed a tighter grip on her purse, which was all she had if she needed to bash him. He took a step toward her and she stepped back. “Look, I'm leaving, okay?”

  Huxley stared at her for a moment with a look of confusion, then disappointment, and anger. He spun around and went directly to the front door. She followed. He held it open and made no effort to detain her. “Strange,” he said. “I hadn't pegged you as a one-nighter.”

  His words cut deep. Still, Sara eased by him and out the door and never looked back.

  Chapter 52

  Sara drove like a reckless teenager. She almost missed her turn onto the Hood-Franklin Road to head west again, and it wasn't due to any fog. She passed the Franklin Cemetery and her mind flashed on Crazy Ike. Ike Ames was just a little off center in the attic, but was not schizoid, and had no record of doing much harm.

  Who did Huxley think he was? He had ask to drive in order to keep her car keys, to allow him time to con and cajole her into going indoors.

  You're the one, he had said. “The one what? His next victim?” She gritted her teeth. “I don't think so!”

  The morning sun hadn't yet shown but began to ligh
ten the sky from below the horizon. Sara crested the levee at Hood, finding a measure of peace in dawn breaking over the Sacramento River. Seeing the river water under a waning moon reminded that she needed a shower. Wash that man right off, and scrub away the false sense of romance and bliss.

  She skidded to a stop in her the gravel driveway, not bothering to park in the garage. She headed straight to her bedroom for a change of clothes. She yanked clothes from hangers and turned to the dresser for fresh underwear, finding the top drawer half open. She never left drawers open but must have left it that way during her morning rush.

  “How did I allow my excitement over a man make me forget things?” she asked, mumbling.

  Sara pulled the drawer farther out. She picked through her underclothes and then closed the drawer. As she turned to head toward the bathroom, she stopped cold. She turned back, pulled the drawer open, stuck her hand inside, and felt around.

  Gone!

  Her pistol was gone! The bullets all gone! Someone had been inside her house. She trembled violently. She tried to remember if she had moved it.

  “Of course not.”

  Her hand went immediately to her cell phone and she pushed the code for the Aldens.

  “Hello,” the voice croaked into the phone.

  “Buck?”

  “Huh?” he asked, sounding like he was fumbling with seeing the clock on the nightstand. “Sara? It's not even sun-up.”

  “Buck,” she said. “My pistol. It's gone. The bullets, the holster—”

  He gasped through the phone and she heard him come awake. “What? When? Tell me.”

  “I spent the night with a friend in Sacramento. I've just arrived home and the dresser drawer was open and—”

  “Sara, get the hell out!”

  “What?”

  “Someone could still be in there. Leave!”

  “Okay.”

  “Get out!” he said again. “Get the hell out! Head over here… and don't hang up.”