by Wayne Tripp
Chapter 18
After two months passed, February bled out, oozing slush and freezing tears. Lois Ricci was thought to have run off with her West Greenwich boyfriend. Two other young women vanished too. DeCosta reluctantly contacted the State police and dumped it in their laps. As far as MacLeod knew, none of the women had resurfaced. DeCosta never confided in him anymore. Lacey Rodriguez healed slowly, though she still remained blind and broken-hearted. Because her well-meaning friend Julie had Chief DeCosta in her back pocket for some past embarrassing indiscretion, she’d easily convinced him to issue a restraining order against a furious Jamie MacLeod. Jamie tried breaking the order twice, managing to blunder into determined watchdog Julie each time. Chief DeCosta warned him a third episode would get him kicked off the force; land his sorry ass in jail. Jamie tried again. He kept his job, but spent a week in lockup.
MacLeod found little sympathy. Many at the school had glimpsed the tears and red, puffy eyes Lacey tried to hide before she was attacked. Half of Grim Island thought his heartless treatment of the popular teacher had caused Miss Rodriguez to fall; the other half thought he’d given her a good shove. Kat wanted to hug Ms. Parker. With Lacey out of the picture, she got a second shot at snaring McLeod. But Jamie just did his job quietly, avoiding any intimacy. He became a brooding zombie, leaving as soon as he could, retreating home, or to the town library to stare sullenly into space. More and more people started to shun him, crossing Grim Island’s streets to avoid a face to face confrontation. Rumors started surfacing that poor Miss Rodriguez’s affection had turned to hatred. Supposedly, Doc Reynolds despaired of her ever seeing again. In his tormented heart, Jamie agreed with everyone else; he was to blame for Lacey’s blindness. Through his fear of commitment and his stupid playing around, he’d broken her heart. She’d been the one really good thing in his life; he should have held on to her with both hands. Instead, with callous indifference, he’d let her slip right through his fingers. He should've taken the risk; using the last injection to keep her safe. He should have been with Lacey that night, instead of Kat. Not that it mattered to the rest of the world, but if truth be told, she wasn’t the only one nursing a broken heart.
* * * *
Lacey Rodriguez hated James MacLeod. Julie shoved past Lacey’s assigned police protection to administer her daily dose of poisonous lies right along with her witch’s brew of healing meds. In pain, blind and extremely depressed, vulnerable Lacey gulped down all the lies she was fed. Jamie MacLeod didn’t believe for a minute her story of the crazed preacher, or the things that crept up her cellar stairs to attack her–he thought she was plain crazy, and threw herself down the stairs to get his attention when she sensed his attentions straying–he was glad she was blind. Now she was free of her, he’d gone back to Kat and was happily banging that bitch every night. He’d forgotten all about Lacey.
At first Lacey refused to believe these lies, but Julie was relentless, and as time passed, persistent doubt took root. From its festering soil bloomed a flourishing hatred for the man she’d once loved. He didn’t want her. He’d abandoned her to those things. He’d thrown himself into the arms of another woman. She must move on. Forget him. Pick up the pieces of her altered life and move on. She must. Yet, in a dark corner of her soul, a tiny voice screamed she was wrong, that he did care. And truth be told, so did she.
* * * *
Laying there slowly healing, Lacey suffered alone in the miserable dark with all eternity to think. She'd gradually stumbled on Jamie’s secret, realizing as she worked at it, how well all the pieces fit. I know what I saw in my hallway, talking to me and hurting me, was real. I know what I saw in the cellar. Coming up the stairs. No more time to be a naïve little school teacher, Lacey–the world is suddenly a very different place. There really are things that go bump in the night. Some of the things kids claimed to see crawling out from under their beds or the closet are real. Creatures we normally never see. You know Jamie’s secret, Lacey, don’t you? He's one of those creatures too. You know what you should do. What you thought you once had…what you felt… doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t care. She agonized for days, wondering if she should just bury what she knew, and move on; or use the disturbing facts she’d discovered to exact a terrible and just revenge.
* * * *
One day the tiny voices constantly urging Jamie to try seeing Lacey grew too loud. Kismet smiled for once, and Lacey opened the door herself, blindly looking straight ahead where she thought her caller should be. She’d forgotten Jamie always seemed to drift to the left of any doorway.
“Yes, who is it? How may I help you?” Jamie stood there so tongue-tied by his good fortune that he almost missed his chance to speak.
“Lace, it’s me,” he croaked
“James.” Her voice played host to a jumbled tangle of emotions. She could feel herself growing weak-kneed at the sound of his voice. She chose to let her anger speak. “What are you doing here? You must know by now I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“Lacey, just let me explain–”
“No! Go! I mean it!”
“MacLeod! Get out of here!” Julie Parker charged through the farmhouse doorway, all but knocking Lacey out of the way. “You were warned. I can see your little stint in jail doesn’t seem to have done any good.”
“Please, just let me talk to Lacey.”
“Get your ass out of here now, or I’m on the phone to DeCosta.”
“Lace, I–”
“You’re going! Now!”
“Screw you Parker!” Jamie tried to get Lacey’s attention again, but Julie was already dragging the confused woman back inside. She stuck her tongue out at MacLeod as she slammed the door in his face, and then flashed a most unpleasant grin. Lacey saw none of it.
Chapter 19
Over time, things gradually returned to normal. The tattooing killer didn’t strike again, having moved on to Providence, Fall River, or maybe Des Moines– becoming somebody else’s problem. Jamie had his talk with Ezekiel; now the rat-faced sail maker was out the tavern door precisely at eleven thirty. As for the attack on Miss Rodriguez, the official police investigation conducted by Chief DeCosta concluded the teacher had been the victim of a vicious prank gone horribly wrong. She’d caught three young men selling drugs to the kids in her school yard. She’d threatened to turn them into the police, but had never actually made the call. For revenge, they’d dressed up as ghouls and harassed her in her home. Miss Rodriguez didn’t agree, insisting her attackers hadn’t been human at all. Chief DeCosta brushed her hysterics aside. After all, she’d been hit on the head. It wasn’t like she could see the kids to identify them. No charges were brought. Chief DeCosta liked that just fine. With the annoying case closed, he could get back to surfing the web.
MacLeod obeyed the restraining order, not because he’d ceased to care, but because of the convincing rumors that Lacey Rodriguez blamed and despised him for causing her blindness, and had publicly damned him to the deepest pit in hell.
* * * *
Lacey went back to teaching. To be a teacher had been her goal since childhood. Teaching was in her blood. It was the one thing she felt she did well, and just then she needed some stability in her life. Besides, she really needed the money. Sweetling had taken away her junior high class, and demoted her to shepherding 3rd graders. Easier to intimidate, they should be a snap to watch. Even though she couldn’t see Sweetling, Lacey sensed him looking down her dress the whole time he made his tasteless joke. Her vision improved enough for her to see shapes and movement, but no more. The first day she held her breath, wondering how impossible the teaching assignments would be. Surprisingly, it had gone quite well.As she tapped her way forward with her cane, bumping into the occasional unexpected desk, the kids pitched in and guided her to the front of her classroom. The other teachers took turns looking in on her as well. Grim Island had taken Lacey Rodr
iguez, their injured heroine, protectively under its leathery wings. As for Jamie MacLeod, most of the town turned an icy backside, or lashed out with sharp and flashing claws. All except Kat O'Hara. She was more determined than ever to make him hers. By any means.
Chapter 20
“Bullshit!” The full force of the ancient grimoire-like volume smacked into the snack room’s table for a second time. Unable to decipher a title that promised to predate Latin, Eric was pretty sure the thick volume wasn’t on the Vatican’s approved reading list. Pretty sure it wasn’t a training manual for the Grim Island police dept. either, he wondered whose book it was, and wished he could take a peek inside. “You’re asking me to believe you had nothing to do with that nasty prank pulled on Miss Rodriguez?” bellowed the officer as he strutted around the tight room.
“Y-yes sir. I thought the case was closed? Miss Rodriguez wouldn’t press charges.”
“Humor me–answer the question.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Miss Rodriguez. She’s my favorite teacher. I-I really don’t know who could have done such a thing.”
MacLeod pulled up directly beside Eric Standish, and leaned over the geeky teenager’s shoulder so there could be no mistaking his next words. “I believe you, kid,” he whispered. “I really do.” MacLeod straightened up, ran a hand through his thick sun-kissed hair, and resumed talking loudly as he resumed pacing. “Chief DeCosta believes you three punks terrified this poor woman. He’s closed the case, but he believes you’re all guilty.” Down came the book again, for a third time. MacLeod stopped pacing and took a cheap plastic chair across from his confused and quivering suspect.
“Look, Eric, I know you’re a good kid.” Exhausted from too many sleepless nights, Jamie’s hand scrubbed down his face and took up residence below his chin. “I don’t believe for a minute you were involved in this. I’ve been doing a little research of my own and I’ve made a couple interesting discoveries about Grim Island’s past. That’s why I set up this meeting. We don’t have much time, so you listen good. DeCosta has his head up his ass. I have a pretty good idea what happened to Miss Rodriguez. I think you do too. So let’s cut the dancing around because I think we both want the same thing. We want to protect Miss Rodriguez. Right?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Good. I knew could count on you. Now, I know you’re a bright kid with a vivid imagination, and you happen to like local history–I know because we borrow some of the same library books–so I’m going to tell you a couple of things off the police record . I want you to swear to me you’ll keep an open mind and share this with no one.”
Unable to resist, Eric quickly promised.
“I got pretty close to Miss Rodriguez. She had some pretty bad scratches with some kind of moldy dirt in them. I have a friend who does forensics for us over in Providence. That dirt contained necrotic human tissue. Body dirt, Eric. Are you with me? You’re looking a little green, kid. Anyway, before I was escorted from the crime scene, I saw two open holes in the other part of the cellar. Graves. There were digging marks along the sides that indicated someone or something had clawed its way out.”
Eric didn’t moan or collapse. He nodded his head and looked at Jamie MacLeod as though the officer was just telling him that Miss Rodriguez was beautiful.
“One more thing. You ever hear of a Father Malachi Paine? He was a fanatical fire and brimstone preacher with quite a following here back around 1860. I think he may have paid Miss Rodriguez a visit.”
“But that would make him at least a hundred and–”
“That’s right, he was roughly thirty at the height of his preaching, so he’d be well over one hundred and eighty years old!”
“But that’s impossible!”
“Are you calling your favorite teacher a liar, Eric? Because that’s who Miss Rodriguez said she saw. Her description fit an old engraving I found of him perfectly.”
“No, of course not. But that would mean she was threatened by a dead guy.”
“Exactly.”
The two talked in whispered tones for another fifteen minutes about what might have happened to Lacey and what they could do to protect her. Somehow, Eric slipped and revealed that he’d noticed Principal Sweetling and Miss Rodriguez seeing a bit of each other after school. Eric could have sworn the detective’s face darkened a bit and his spirit dimmed. He could have helped the cop; he could have removed the sadness from MacLeod’s eyes if he’d only revealed that he’d also seen Miss Rodriguez looking longingly at MacLeod's photo as she sat at her desk and cried. He could have, but when it came to detective MacLeod, his feelings were still at war.
Chapter 21
Kat walked in the door just as Eric left, catching a frustrated MacLeod slamming his fist into the wall.
“Bad interview with Standish? You can’t possibly believe Eric is involved.”
“I don’t. The kid’s innocent.” She could see he was really worked up about something though; he was like a sea gull with its beak tangled in a clump of monofilament fishing line. “Damn it!” Jamie shot Kat a glance that would melt steel. Ignoring his glare, she made sure they were alone, strolled up to him, and forcefully pushed him back against the wall. Smiling up into his eyes, she brushed a wayward shock of light brown hair out of his eyes, and began caressing his cheek. “We have to talk, detective,” she said. Grabbing his rumpled tie, she straightened the knot and tugging him to her, gave his mug a quick peck on the lips. Snaring his attention at last, she whispered in his ear, “Let a girl buy you some lunch, officer. I fear you’re disturbing my peace and I’m going to have to punish you, Officer MacLeod. Maybe we can work something out. I’ll listen to your plea over dessert. Or maybe, you’d prefer me for dessert?”
Jamie looked at the pretty police officer smiling up at him, and felt his frustration dissolve just a little bit. Face it Jamie, Lacey doesn’t want you anymore. In spite of the blindness she blames you for; she’s still a beautiful woman. Doesn’t need your sorry ass. She has moved on, even started dating again. Though for the life of him, he couldn’t see why she’d lower her standards down to Gerald Sweetling, her school’s principal. Maybe that was just it; she didn’t have to see the fat creep any more. Give it up, Jamie. Kat is a sweet lovely woman. She cares about you. She’s stood by you through all this–the only one who has. And she’s hot! Damn but she filled out that white blouse well! Come on, Jamie boy–loosen up a little. She wants to play!
“Okay, that’d be great. Only, you let me pay. Where did you want to eat? How about the Clam Shack or we could do the Black Pearl up in Newport? You pick, Kat. I’m at your mercy.”
Chapter 22
They ended up at his place. Somewhere along the way, they forgot about food and talking. When Kat expressed concern about their dual disappearance from the station, Jamie calmed her fears. DeCosta was at a Police Chiefs’ conference in Miami. At that particular moment, he was probably swilling beer at a ball game on the taxpayers’ dollar.
She chatted all the way to his home. They talked about her singing, the chance of sailing together in the coming season…anything that kept them away from the words that really mattered.
Then they were at his place, and their clothes started falling off. He’d playfully nicknamed her his Tigress; she meant to justify the moniker. She tugged his silk tie undone, and ripped his blue striped shirt open, exposing his broad muscular chest. With slender fingers, Kat traced the two pale scars that wriggled through his matted chest hair. He recalled them both–a small caliber gunshot wound taken two years back from a drunken Manny Soares, and a stutter of shallow knife slashes from a hopped-up vampire wannabe one Halloween night in Salem. He lifted her face from the chest she kissed, and losing himself in her green eyes, kissed her full lips. Long red nails tugged his shirt off and dug into his muscular arms, raking long lines of blood. She pulled him to her, her kiss full of passion and eager hunger. Biting his lower
lip, Kat ground herself into his chest. He grabbed her left wrist, shoved her arm behind her, imprisoning it behind her bottom. Her other hand escaped south and clutched his stiff cock, jerking it bigger. She cried out as he grabbed her breast, and pummeled him in mock protest. He snared her free hand, imprisoning it with its mate. “Oh Jamie, I’ve wanted you so bad. I thought you'd never get over her—she who's right in front of you. It’s been way too long.”
"I-I'm sorry, Kat. I got swept up, hoping to get her back. I never meant to hurt you."
Jamie bent to scoop Kat up, but she scooted away giggling, and danced to his bedroom, dropping her clothes along the way.
Jamie stalked into the room behind her, a naughty grin plastered on his face. He glanced at the windows, shades still drawn; good, the shadows would add mystery to their play. Dim light was supposed to be romantic, wasn’t it? He certainly didn’t need a reminder of the phase of the moon. He’d shed his shredded clothes, choosing to stand there wearing nothing but his dashing smile.
Kat was already on his bed, her teasing smile daring him to take away her remaining clothes. Her short sleeved blouse was completely undone, her breasts covered in a black lacy bra with drooping silk straps already slithering down her arms. She was on her knees, rocking forward, her near naked breasts inviting him to come and touch. She wriggled her ass in its matching black panties, shook her red hair and pursing her full lips in a seductive pout, invited Jamie to the feast.
He fell on her like a ravenous wolf. Slick with desire and need, he wanted to be gentle and caring. He didn’t tear away her clothes, waiting instead while she teased him with each piece she peeled away. He kissed her face, lips, throat and breasts, whispering endearments he hoped someday he’d grow to feel. She smiled up at him and offered herself; he gave in to the want, and fell on her like a beast. They fell in rhythm and rutted like wild animals. He stabbed her deep, a snarling growl roaring from his throat; she cried out, and offered up her wound, begging for more of his rigid blade. He thrust in again, and she began to flow, her hot passion spurting to meet his own. Jamie exploded, flooding her in a warm brew of frustrated want and satisfied need.
