7th Heaven

by Kate Calloway

  "Uh, I thought you guys might want to go over the plans again. I brought sustenance." I was beginning to wish I hadn't come. Bart's absence made the whole thing different.

  "You going to come in, or did you want to eat in the doorway?" Erica grinned. "It's okay, Cass. Honest."

  I followed her into the living room, feeling awkward. "I can only stay a few minutes," I said, realizing I'd probably gotten Erica out of bed. "Wow. I like what you've done with the place. When did all this happen?"

  "Little by little," she said. "Every time I come up here, I manage to make a few changes. Most of it I hired out last summer."

  When Erica's uncle had died four years earlier, she'd bought the estate, but I hadn't been inside since she'd started remodeling. Right away, I could tell the changes suited her.

  "You've opened it up. It seems airier."

  "Got rid of those God-awful curtains. And I stripped the paint off these walls. The natural wood's much nicer, I think. Plus, I had that sliding glass door put in to the front deck."

  "It looks great, Erica. Really. You could make a living doing this. Sorry if I woke you. I forgot you're a late sleeper."

  "Wasn't sleeping, Cass. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about you."

  "Oh."

  "Don't look so worried. They were nice thoughts. This room is a really good place to think," she said. "You can see out to the lake and on a nice day the morning sun comes in through the east window. Even today it's not bad."

  "That's great. Listen. I just wanted to drop off the basket. I guess I'll see you around six?" I turned to leave but Erica blocked my path. She must have seen the panic on my face. She held up both hands, lightly touching my shoulders.

  "Please tell me what you're afraid of, Cass." Her voice was low and full of emotion.

  "I. . . we've already done this, Erica. I may not be a genius, but I do catch on eventually."

  "I hurt you," she said.

  I felt my face getting hot. I nodded.

  "And you hurt me. So we should be even."

  "It's not a game, Erica."

  "No, I never thought it was. Do you know why I left you, Cass? You scared me. We scared me. The intensity. It was all-consuming. I couldn't breathe, I was so happy. I was afraid I was drowning, losing myself, becoming something I'd never been. I ran away, Cass. But I came back, twice. Three times, counting now."

  "You're timing was always bad," I said, feeling my heart pounding so hard I was afraid Erica could hear it.

  "I know. But maybe the third time's a charm?"

  I started to answer but she moved forward, stepping into my space, daring me to pull away. Her eyes were so blue, I thought, like deep water. And her perfume, faint and tantalizing, filled my senses. Before I knew what I was doing, Erica was in my arms.

  "There's so much I want to say ..." I said, caressing her back, pressing my lips to her neck.

  "Shhh," she murmured. "Talk later." Her voice was husky, the way I remembered it. My lips found hers tentatively, touching softly at first, then giving way to the pent up passion. I slid my hand inside her nearly open robe and felt a sound escape from somewhere in the back of my throat. My hand cupped her breast and she shivered, then moaned. I moved down, kissing her throat, her collarbone, working my way to the taut, full nipples. When I took one into my mouth, Erica cried out.

  The robe fell to the floor as I continued my descending exploration of the body I remembered so well. Her skin was smooth and warm, and I could hear her heart beating in cadence with my own. My fingers brushed the glossy black triangle of curls and Erica bit my shoulder, making a noise that both frightened and excited me. We were still standing, barely, on trembling legs. She'd never looked more beautiful, I thought.

  "Please take me to bed, Cass," she whispered.

  She didn't have to ask a second time.

  Erica had never been a shy lover, but I wasn't prepared for the intensity of our love-making. How could it be this good, I kept asking myself, taking her again and again to the brink of ecstasy, not caring which of us came crashing down first or how many times.

  "For someone afraid of heights ..." I murmured, unable to finish the thought because Erica was taking me there again and I didn't want to stop her, couldn't have if I'd tried.

  Later, with tears on her cheeks, Erica asked me why I was crying. I leaned up and kissed one of her tears away. "Same reason you are, I guess." We left it at that. We were past words. And we were too exhausted to talk anyway.

  When we woke, it was mid-afternoon and the rain was coming down softly outside the open window. Erica was gazing at me, as was Pepper, who'd crawled up onto the foot of the bed sometime during our nap.

  "You are so beautiful," she said. "The best part is, you don't know it."

  This made me blush and my insides turned to butter again. I reached for her, but she rolled off of the bed, giggling. "Forget it. I'm starving. I'll faint if you don't feed me."

  So I got out of bed too and followed her through the house into the kitchen. Both of us were stark naked.

  The coffee was still warm in the Thermos but the cinnamon buns were long cold. I fed her one anyway, and she licked the icing off of my fingers in a way that made me moan. We sipped coffee right out of the Thermos, passing it between us as we fed each other. Then Erica got playful with the icing, and the next thing I knew we were on the living room floor, making love again. It was slower this time, less frantic, but still sweet and wonderful. Only the chill in the air motivated our eventual trek to the shower.

  "Me first," I said. "I don't trust you in here." But she got in with me anyway and we almost managed to shower together without turning it into another exercise in erotica. Almost.

  Afterward, we had to towel ourselves off sitting down. Neither of us had the energy to stand.

  "What time are we supposed to meet?" Erica asked lazily.

  "Oh, shit! What time is it?"

  The day had slipped away. It was already five o'clock. If we didn't hurry, we'd be late for our date at the county park. "I've got to get some things," I said.

  "I'll meet you there!" I hurried down to the dock, which is to say I managed to walk without stumbling, and roared across the lake to my house, smiling like an idiot, my heart as full as the moon, as light as a sparrow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  We were all in our places for Stage One of Operation Get Even, as Bart had dubbed it. This step was far less dangerous than Sunday's would be, but important, because we needed to know how many players we were dealing with and who they were. Bart was stationed in the County Park parking lot dressed in green pants and shirt he'd bought at a garage sale that morning. At a distance, it looked like the usual garb for a Parks and Recreation worker. He had a push broom and was making a show of cleaning the sidewalks nearest the dock. His headset was obscured by the ski cap he wore, which looked out of place in the summer but hid his red hair. He'd tucked the ponytail up underneath the cap, but a few wisps had already fallen down and if anyone looked closely, they'd probably recognize him.

  Lizzie was a block away at Gus's Marina, pretending to wash her car. Not the best ruse, given the weather, but it was all she could think of. It was a safe bet that Cathwaite would either pick up his club members in the party boat, or they'd drive out themselves. The best place to pick them up would be the county dock. If they had their own boats, they most likely moored them at the marina. It was Bart's and Lizzie's job to note the license plate numbers of anyone arriving between five and five-thirty and relay them to Erica via walkie-talkie. Erica was in my Seaswirl, halfway between the county dock and the marina, waiting to jot down the numbers.

  I was down on the fishing pier across from the county dock, fishing pole in hand, dressed in a yellow hooded slicker. Despite the fact that the rain had stopped, the outfit was not out of place and it helped me conceal what I was really doing. Because there were other fisherman down there with me, my job would be difficult. I'd brought my best camera, a digital Sony with a zoom lens that could tak
e a decent close-up from that distance. The camera had a swivel-tilt eyepiece that allowed me to focus without holding the camera to my eye. Even so, it was hard to conceal the camera from my fishing buddies on the pier.

  Bart's voice came in a rushed whisper over the walkie-talkie, full of excitement. "Here comes one now. White sedan. Just a second, let me get around back.

  Ooh, you guys are going to love this. Guess what? Triple A sticker on the left rear bumper!"

  If Bart didn't calm down, he was going to blow his cover.

  "Plate?" Erica whispered into the mike.

  Bart excitedly read off the numbers, then repeated them more slowly. I could see the man but didn't recognize him. Dressed in shirtsleeves despite the weather, he had no-doubt been well-built in his youth, though some of the muscle was turning to extra weight around the middle. He moved like an athlete, though, his stride confident as he made his way down the ramp to the county dock. In the distance, I saw the Cathwaite's party boat rounding the bend. Good. The man would have to stand around and wait, giving me ample opportunity to get a good shot.

  "I've got incoming!" Lizzie hissed over the walkie-talkie. Jeez, I thought. She sounded like we were about to get bombarded by missiles. "It's your lover-boy, Erica. Looks like he's got his own boat. Want me to get his plate?"

  "Very funny," Erica whispered.

  "We've already got his license number," I interrupted. "See what kind of boat he's driving if you can."

  "Ten-four," she said, clearly enjoying her mission. A while later she came back on. "Dark blue ski boat. Big, loud outboard. Coming your way, Erica. You might want to lay low."

  "Roger that, good buddy," Erica teased. But she took Lizzie's advice to heart, because she ducked down out of view as Hancock's boat roared past.

  "Got another one!" Bart said, forgetting to whisper. He caught himself and lowered his voice. From my vantage point, he was doing a good job of imitating a park worker, though I doubt any parks employee had ever swept the walks with as much enthusiasm as he did. "Big black Caddy. Old dude inside. Oh, you guys are gonna love this one. I ought to strangle the s.o.b. It's the old geezer in the bar."

  "You sure?" I asked, feeling the excitement.

  "Positive. He's cleaned up real good, but it's him. Let me get the number."

  As Bart moved around to the back of the Cadillac, the old man descended the ramp to the dock. Despite the flowing white hair and beard, his movements were that of a younger man. He seemed to be quite light on his feet and in fact rushed to help steady the party boat as it sidled up to the dock. I took several shots, wanting to get a good picture of the man who'd played such a central role in duping the boys.

  "Now this is weird," Lizzie whispered. "Hang on a sec. I better move back." A few minutes passed before she came back on. "Hang on to your hats, ladies. No offense, Bart. We just stepped up a notch in company. Mr. Stickwell who runs the bank in town just boarded his cabin cruiser. Big fancy white thing coming your way, Erica. You don't suppose he's one of the players?"

  I watched as the cabin cruiser passed by the fishing pier, then slowed at the opposite dock. I could see Stickwell waving at the men on the party boat before roaring off ahead of them.

  "Bingo," I said. "Stickwell's definitely in."

  "Who's driving the party boat?" Erica asked. She wasn't much farther from it than I was, but I had the better angle.

  "Not the professor. Must be Guy Waddell." I took a few shots of the man I assumed to be the famed handyman/errand boy for the Cathwaites. As I did, he seemed to look right at me, cupping his hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the glare.

  I reeled in, talking animatedly to the guy fishing a few feet down, and laughed as I recast my line. I took one more surreptitious peek at the opposite dock, but the party boat was already pulling away.

  "That looks like a wrap," I said, getting into the lingo.

  "Roger that," Bart said.

  "All clear here," Lizzie concurred. "I'll be there in a jiffy."

  "Ten-four," Erica said. She started up the Seaswirl and put-putted toward the county dock to pick us up.

  "Do better if you use bait," the guy standing a few feet over said as I reeled in again.

  "Yeah? I'll keep that in mind."

  The four of us waited at my place for it to get dark. I took the disk from my camera and slipped it into my laptop. With the Photoshop software, I was able to manually enhance the photos to my liking, enlarge them and print them out. While they finished printing, I called Martha at home and left a message on her answering machine, asking her to call me when she got in. Meanwhile, Bart and Erica made omelettes with the leftover came asada and we devoured them at the kitchen table. I tried not to look much at Erica, but it was no use. Her foot kept finding mine under the table, and besides, I liked looking at her.

  About nine o'clock we piled into Erica's boat and motored over to Sturgeon Bay. Cathwaite had seen my boat yesterday, and any one of them could have noticed it again today anchored across from the county dock, so we took hers. Lizzie and Bart were both excited about the adventure and jabbered the whole way over, but as we rounded the bend leading into the cove, they fell silent. Erica cut the running lights and slowed to a crawl.

  "Hug the far shore," I said unnecessarily. She was already headed in that direction. The party boat was tied to the dock, as were Hancock's and the banker's. The walkway was well-lit with colorful Malibu lights and Japanese lanterns hung from the eaves of the front deck. Inside, the blinds were pulled, but bright light shone through the taller windows. The upstairs was dark, though, except for one room on the west side, facing the rear of the cove. "Could be the room on top," I whispered. "Let's get as close to the shore over there as we can."

  Erica eased the speedboat around the curve, then cut the engine. We were right on the edge of someone else's property, but no one appeared to be home. From where we were, we could almost see the west-facing upstairs window of Cathwaites' place.

  "Can you guys put us on shore?" I asked Lizzie and Bart. They had the oars out, silently nudging us closer. When the bow hit ground, I stood up.

  "Wait here," I said.

  "Cass, if they see you, it could blow the whole thing."

  "They won't. I just want to be sure."

  I slipped the binoculars over my head and leaped onto the bank, sinking ankle-deep in mud.

  "Hope those weren't your good shoes," Bart teased in a whisper.

  "Shhh!" Lizzie and Erica both admonished.

  I ignored them and scrambled up the bank, working my way through the brush toward the Cathwaites' estate. The adjoining property was thick with wild berries and skunk cabbage beneath large cedar trees. It made for good cover, but difficult travel. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me and froze. Very carefully, I turned and saw two large eyes staring back at me. An ear twitched, then another. Then, deciding I wasn't much of a threat, the deer went back to grazing.

  My heart was beating harder now and I hurried up the small knoll that skirted Cathwaite's property. Suddenly, the house loomed in front of me, its low stucco fence not a hundred feet away. I froze, hearing my own breathing but listening for the sound of the dogs. Had they heard me? Would the breeze carry my scent their way? The longer I stayed there worrying about it, the worse it would get. I lifted the binoculars and used my elbows to prop myself up over the crest of the knoll. I could see the upstairs window clearly. But I was too low to make out anything except the ceiling and the top of a bookshelf. There was no way to see inside the room from my position. If only I could scale one of these trees, I thought, wishing I had Bart's tree climbing equipment with me.

  I was about to retreat when a rectangle of light sprang open from the wall next to the window. A door! I watched as two figures emerged onto the balcony, the tips of their lit cigars glowing orange in the night sky. Slowly, I brought the binoculars back into position and zeroed in on the faces. The banker and Professor Cathwaite were laughing, their voices carrying over the water in deep, hearty tones. Behi
nd them, through the open door, I could just make out the blue luminescent glow of a large-screen TV.

  Knowing I had what I'd come for and not daring to stay any longer, I inched my way back down the hill until I was well out of their line of vision, then stood and ran. Just as I did, the dogs started a chorus of furious barking and I hoped to God they couldn't hurdle that stucco wall.

  When I reached the boat, Erica was frantic. "Get in! They just turned on some kind of searchlight!"

  I leaped in and ducked down below the dash. I was soaked from the wet earth. Bart and Lizzie pushed us away from shore, then ducked down in the back seat. Sure enough, a roving searchlight mounted to the boathouse threw a harsh yellow beam of light across the water in a lazy arc that was heading right for us.

  "Gun it," I said.

  Erica pushed the throttle forward and the little boat leaped out of the water with a roar, barely skimming the surface as we skirted the beam of light and raced out of the cove.

  "Uh-oh," Bart said from the back. "I think we've got company."

  I looked back over my shoulder and saw two distinct headlights giving chase.

  "Jet Skis," I said. "Somebody must've been right down there on the dock when we took off. Turn down this arm," I said.

  Erica made a sharp turn, sending a rooster tail of white spray behind us. "Pull up there and cut the engine."

  She gave me a look like she really didn't need me telling her what to do, then killed the engine and let the boat glide toward shore. All four of us watched as the two Jet Skis flew past us in the main channel, their high-pitched whine sounding like enraged mosquitoes.

  "Close," Bart said. "Now what?"

  "We get out and wait. If they double back and see the boat, at least they won't know who was in it."

  "I think they know my boat, Cass. Newt walked me down to it, remember? And someone was following me.

  "Well, if worse comes to worse, you can say someone stole it. Report it missing tomorrow morning. Right now, we better get up behind those trees and lay low." Thank God it was a cloudy night, I thought.