Chill Factor (21 page)

His mom said, "I don't think it would hurt to miss one
workout."

"Then that shows just how little you know about it, doesn't
it,
Dora?"

The phone rang.

"I'll get it,"Scott said.

"
I'll
get it." Wes snatched the phone
from his hand. "You
start on those forms."

Scott carried his plate to the sink and offered to help his
mom load
the dishwasher. She shook her head. "Better do as Wes said. The sooner
you finish, the sooner you can join your friends."

Wes hung up. "That was William Ritt."

The hair on the back of Scott's neck stood on end.

"He said I should get over to the drugstore right away."

"What for?" Scott asked.

Dora glanced out the window. "Is he open today?"

"Oh, he's open and doing business. You won't believe who just
arrived for a meeting with Dutch." He held Scott and Dora in suspense
for several seconds before saying in a stage whisper, "The FBI."

"What do they want with Dutch?" Dora asked.

Scott could guess, but he waited for his dad to tell them.

"I'd bet good money it's about Millicent." Wes retrieved his
coat
and pulled it on. "Since I'm chairman of the city council, Ritt thought
I should know about this development." He opened the back door, saying
as he went out, "Maybe they've got a lead."

Scott watched him go, staring at the closed door long after
he'd
left.

CHAPTER  15

ORDINARILY, LlNDA WEXLER REPORTED TO WORK AT RlTT'S Drug Store
at
six sharp to start brewing coffee and making preparations to open at
seven for the diehards who were there every morning hungry for grits
and fried ham.

This morning, she wasn't going to make it. She phoned just
before
daybreak to tell William that her property looked like Siberia. "And
it's still coming down something fierce. Until the sanding truck makes
it out to these back roads, I'm stranded."

William reported this to Marilee, who tried to dissuade him
from
leaving the house and opening the drugstore. "Who's going to venture
out this morning? At least wait a few hours, until the roads have been
sanded."

But he was stubbornly committed to opening on time. "I've
already
shoveled the driveway. Besides, my customers count on me."

The attached carport had sheltered their cars. She watched
through
the kitchen window as William got into his, cranked the motor, and gave
her a thumbs-up through the windshield when it kicked on. He backed out
carefully and drove away.

Although Marilee had tried to talk him out of going, she
welcomed
being alone in the house. To have an entire day to herself made her
feel incredibly lighthearted and free. She returned to her bedroom,
removed her robe, and climbed back into her warm bed to indulge in the
erotic memories she and her lover had created last night.

He never got to stay all night, of course, but he never left
immediately after making love either. For a brief
but
enchanted while
,
they would lie together
and engage in
licentious dalliance. Their heads close, whispering, using the language
of poetry or the gutter, they plotted fantasies that would scandalize
even the most adventurous lovers. More often than not, they wound up
acting out their verbal foreplay.

She denied him nothing. He'd been given unrestricted access to
her
body. Before him, her sexuality had been an uncharted wasteland. Their
first time together, without shame or reservation, she had invited him
not only to explore but to exploit it.

The buildup to that first time had been gradual. They'd been
acquainted for years, but their perceptions of each other suddenly
changed. Simultaneously, it seemed, they began to view one another in a
different light. Each was unsure if this new awareness was
reciprocated, so they gravitated toward one another cautiously, until
the sexual interest was tacitly acknowledged.

Once it was, they began inventing reasons to cross paths.
Their
conversations were spiced with suggestiveness, although to anyone else
they sounded innocent and proper. Should their eyes happen to meet,
even in a crowded, public place, they telegraphed an unspoken desire
which, each confessed later, had made them flushed and weak.

Then one evening they got what they had independently wished
for—time alone. William had gone up the mountain to work on
the old
homestead, so there was no reason for Marilee to rush home after
school. She'd stayed in her classroom, electing to grade papers at her
desk rather than tote them home only to carry them back the following
day.

He'd noticed her car in the faculty parking lot and went into
the
building on the pretext of looking for someone else.

He appeared at the open door of her classroom, startling her
because
she'd thought she was alone in the building. They ran their altogether
polite and proper drill. He asked if she'd seen the individual he was
supposedly looking for, and she said no she hadn't, but each knew that
the exercise was all pretense.

He lingered. She picked up her stapler and studied it as
though it
were a new and incomprehensible invention, then set it back down in the
same spot. He took off his jacket and folded it over his arm. She
fingered her pearl earring. They exchanged chitchat.

Soon they ran out of things to say that didn't sound banal.
Still,
he didn't leave. He stayed, gazing at her with longing, waiting for a
signal from her to act on the physical yearning each felt in the
other's presence.

In effect, he abdicated the initiative to her. He wasn't free
to
take a lover. Marilee knew this, accepted it, disregarded it. For once
in her life, she was going to be selfish and seize what she wanted
without taking into consideration anyone else's opinion. To hell with
the consequences.

The boldest thing she'd ever done was ask if he would
accompany her
into the storeroom and heft a box of books to bring back to the
classroom. "My fifth-period class starts reading
Ivanhoe
next
week," she told him as they made the short walk, their footfalls
echoing off the metal wall lockers along the deserted corridor. "The
copies are stored in here."

She unlocked the storeroom door and went in ahead of him. She
yanked
on the string that dangled from the ceiling light, turning it on, then
reached around him to shut and lock the door. Facing him, she stood
with her arms at her sides and waited. She'd brought them this far. The
next move was his.

He held out for perhaps three seconds before pulling her
against him
and kissing her with unleashed ardor. He squeezed her ass. He fondled
her breasts. He pulled the elastic band from her hair, then grasped
handfuls of it and twisted it around his fingers.

Marilee had only read fictional accounts of passion that fiery
and
could scarcely believe that she was the object of it.

He groped beneath her sweater, but she did better than that.
She
pulled it over her head and removed her brassiere, revealing her
breasts to a man for the first time. Reaching beneath her skirt, she
peeled off her panty hose and underpants, then invitingly propped her
hips against a stack of boxes.

"Anything you've imagined or fantasized, do with me," she
whispered.
"I want you to look your fill. Touch
me
to
your heart's content."

He slid his hands up her thighs. Already she was wet. As his
fingers
moved inside her, she threw back her head. "Anything you want.
Anything."

His eyes were glazed with lust, but as he opened his fly and
put on
a condom, he had the presence of mind to ask if she was a virgin. She
told him about her only experience. Her last year in college. A
philosophy study partner. It had happened only once, with no more
preliminary than a dry kiss.

"The front seat of a car makes for a very unsatisfying fuck."

Miss Marilee Ritt was the last person on earth he would have
expected to use that word. Hearing it from her prim lips aroused him
beyond his ability to contain himself. It also swiped his conscience
clear of any misgivings. He took her fast and furiously, climaxing
before she did.

Pulling out of her, he said, "You didn't come, did you?"

"It's all right."

"Like hell it is."

He used his fingers.

Afterward, she was so shaky she had trouble dressing. He
helped her.
There was laughter over his clumsiness with her garments, sighs when he
paused to caress a part of her body, playful remonstrations over his
deliciously lewd comments. He helped her into her panties, then stroked
her through the damp fabric until she came again, clinging to his
shoulders, gasping for breath against his chest.

The air in the storeroom had become close and musky. As they
left,
Marilee wondered if the next faculty member to unlock that door would
notice the scent of sex. She hoped so. The wicked thought made her
smile.

The clandestine aspect of the storeroom had added excitement
to that
first encounter, but from a practical standpoint they couldn't continue
to use it. Not only was there a high risk of discovery, but
romantically speaking, it left a lot to be desired.

"There are French doors on the north side of my bedroom," she
told
him. "I'll leave them unlocked for you every night. Come to me whenever
you can."

He questioned the plan, but she dismissed his fears that
William
would discover them. "He goes to bed early and doesn't leave his room
until the next morning."

The first night he sneaked into her house, they agreed that
making
love lying down, in a bed, completely naked, was worth any risk. In
words that made her blush, he praised every inch of her body. She
amazed him with her unabashed curiosity over his.

"My beautiful lover," she whispered now, repeating what she
had said
to him last night when she took his penis between her lips. He loved
that. Loved it when she closed her mouth around just the tip, which was
as smooth and firm as a plum.

The telephone rang, shattering the lovely recollection.

Rolling onto her side, she looked at the caller ID box beside
the
phone. William, calling from the drugstore. If she didn't answer, she
could always claim she'd been in the shower. But if he truly needed her
help, could she ever forgive herself for not answering because she
wanted to daydream about her secret lover? Guilt won out.

"What is it, William?"

Marilee sounded groggy but also piqued. Had she returned to
bed
after he left the house? William wondered. Probably. She hadn't gotten
that much sleep last night. Ah well, such was the price of passion.
Served her right if she didn't get to lallygag around all day as she'd
obviously planned to do after last night.

Actually she was to be admired for her stamina. It was a
marvel to
him that his sister could crawl after one of their marathons of
fornication. Her lover's staying power was equally remarkable.

Often he was tempted to ambush one or both of them with his
knowledge of their illicit affair. He practically licked his chops in
anticipation of the moment when he revealed that he knew about the
fervent rutting in his sister's boudoir. They would gape at him in
horror, realizing that their futures depended upon his whim.

It would be such a triumphant moment. Of course, half the fun
was
knowing that such a moment was inevitable, so he could wait.

He would know when the time was right, and when it was, he
would
spring the trap. In the meantime, let them fuck themselves into
complacency.

It was difficult to keep the smile out of his voice. "Marilee,
I
need you to come to the store right away."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's
wrong
. I've got customers.
Important
customers," he said in an undertone. "Two FBI agents. They were waiting
in their car when I got here. They're meeting with Dutch to discuss the
Gunn girl's disappearance. I should offer them breakfast, and as you
know, Linda can't get here."

"I don't know how to use that stove."

"How hard can it be? You'll figure it out. Don't dawdle. I
need you
here now. I called Wes—"

"WhyWes?"

"As head of the city council, I thought he should know about
this.
Anyway, he's already on his way. How soon can you get here?"

"Give me ten minutes."

William hung up, with a smirk and a snuffle of
self-satisfaction.

The bell above the door jingled when Dutch walked into the
drugstore. The merry sound set his teeth on edge.

With a death grip on Cal Hawkins's elbow, Dutch half-dragged
him to
the lunch counter and unceremoniously plunked him onto a stool, hoping
the sudden motion would jar the cretin awake.

"Get him some coffee, please," he said to William Ritt, whose
cheerful smile was as annoying as that stupid bell above his door.
"Make it black and strong. Same for me."

"Coming up." Ritt motioned toward the burbling coffeemaker.

Unsurprisingly, Hawkins had not been up and raring to go when
Dutch
arrived at his ramshackle house. Hawkins didn't answer the knock, so
Dutch let himself in. The place was so full of junk it was a fire
hazard. It stank of backed-up plumbing and sour milk. He'd found
Hawkins sleeping fully dressed in a bed that a mangy dog wouldn't be
caught dead in. He hauled him off it and propelled him through the
house and out to his waiting Bronco.

During the drive downtown, he'd reiterated to Hawkins how
vital it
was that he pull himself together and get his sanding truck up the
mountain. Even though Hawkins had responded to everything he'd said
with a nod and a grunt, Dutch wasn't convinced he was completely
conscious.

And, as if dealing with Hawkins wasn't bad enough, he had to
make
nice with the freaking FBI. It was his least favorite thing to do
anytime, but it was going to be especially irksome after the night he'd
had.