Clean Burn (24 page)

“I don’t think he’s okay on his own,” I said to Ken.

“Jim!” Ken called out to a lanky teen behind the snack table. “Make sure Mr McPherson gets to his store.” Jim loped after Rich.

“Dance with me,” Ken said. “Save me.”

“You know you want her, Ken,” I said, grinning. “Just surrender to it.”

He looked over his shoulder. Miss Sweet-as-pie was closing in on him. “You only have to follow. I’ll go slow.”

Ken all but yanked me onto the dance floor as the musicians started up a slow, plaintive melody, a cowboy cry-in-your-beer kind of song. One hand on my waist, the other locked with mine, his restraint was as secure as any compliance hold. Miss Sweet-as-pie huffed on the sidelines, a woman scorned.

After I’d stomped his toes four times in the first twenty seconds, Ken pulled me in a little closer. “It’s a waltz. One-two-three, one-two-three. Anybody can do it.”

“Anyone with a pair of functioning legs,” I muttered. Pain shot up my left calf every other step, transforming the count to one-stab-three, stab-two-stab.

He grabbed me tighter around the waist. “Just hang on. I’ll hold you up.”

I dug my fingertips into his shoulder. As we waltzed past the munchies table a third time, I spotted McPherson still there, still holding that same crumbling pile of chips.

Ken put his mouth next to my ear. “What were you and Rich talking about?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Small town life, raising children. Seemed like there was a rain cloud hovering over him tonight.”

“I don’t know the whole story, but scuttlebutt around town is that his kids all died in some kind of accident.”

That tickled a brain cell somewhere deep inside, but I couldn’t wrap my thinking processes around it. Besides, the pain in my leg did ease with use and I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. Not that I’d ever tell Ken that. I let him haul me around on the floor, his toes still in peril from my klutziness, my palm dampened by the sweat soaking through the back of his shirt.

When the music changed to a faster rhythm, he pulled me closer, turned me faster, until heat radiated off both our bodies. It was like sex, fully-clothed in public, and I wondered why I’d never tried dancing before.

Miss Sweet-as-pie had hooked up with Alex, the two of them cheek to cheek as they spun through the crowd in some kind of intricate dance. She kept an eye on Ken and me, no doubt looking for her opening. Out of breath and slathered in sweat, I was ready for a break by the time the band jump-started yet another fast-moving dance. But Ken kept an iron grip on me to prevent Miss Sweet-as-pie from cutting in.

When he finally let me stagger off the floor, he was right behind me, following me outside. All that physical contact had my libido sitting up and clamoring for attention, the spring breeze tantalizing rather than cooling me. When Ken tugged me into the shadows beside the community center, I didn’t resist. When he kissed me, I was ready to pull him right down my throat.

After a few minutes of hot and heavy, Ken pulled back, gasping a little as he stared down at me. I read the question in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I groped for oxygen. “Let’s go.”

We kept a couple of feet of space between us as we walked toward the Explorer. Ken smiled and waved at a few Greenvillians along the way, then did open the car door for me. A weak, girlie part of me appreciated the gesture.

I saw Cassie still lingering under the oak tree with her friends. “What about your niece?”

“She’s staying with a friend again,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Over at the Clarks’.” He glanced over at me. “I made sure she had her insulin squared away.”

I could almost hear the mood music playing in the background. We traveled in silence, edgy energy bristling between us. The first time we’d had sex, we’d been at his place mulling over a case. His wife had been out of town and we’d let ourselves get carried away.

Tonight wasn’t happenstance. Tonight I could pull the plug at any time. At least until I was naked with him between the sheets. Naked and exposed, every scar revealed.

That thought was almost enough to stop me cold as we stepped into his house. Except this wasn’t some low-life I’d picked up in a bar on Market Street. This was Ken, a man who knew every dark corner of my damaged soul.

He should have torn off my clothes, should have had me, right there on the living room floor. Taken me quick and hot, so I could pretend it was just a one-night stand like all those others had been. So I could keep my grip on the truth I’d nurtured inside for so many years – that I was degraded and bad, deserving of the worst a man could offer up.

Instead, he kissed me up the stairs, down the hall to his bedroom. His mouth lingered on mine with each step, feathering along my cheek, my throat. Breathing into my hair.

When he undressed me, he took his time, pulling off my jeans, skimming my shirt up and over my head. His palms hesitated over the worst of the burn scars, the ones he remembered and the ones that were new to him. Not a word spoken as he unhooked my bra, saw the circle of healed desecration around my right nipple.

I fought back tears more than once. Shook with the effort of it as he turned away to pull a condom from the nightstand. Squeezed my eyes shut so tight as he nuzzled my neck, I thought I’d never open them again.

Climax caught me by surprise, wrenched from me by Ken’s touch. After years of finding pleasure only with a lit match, it didn’t seem possible to achieve it through tenderness. While I lay there, overwhelmed, staring up at him, he came, sending me over the edge again.

He didn’t let go. Just fell asleep still inside me. I lay there, the man so tightly wrapped around me I could scarcely breathe, and finally let the tears go. They slipped into my hair, my ears, dripping onto the pillow.

I don’t know what terrified me more, that I’d rediscovered what had made our lovemaking so profound or that this man was the only one on the face of the planet who could make me feel that way.

I’d seen the look in his eyes when he came. He was hoping for possibilities in our reunion that I couldn’t possibly allow to happen. I was beyond damaged goods, a reality I’d never been able to get through to him.

A few minutes later, he finally relaxed enough that I could ease him from my body and wriggle free. I found my clothes, pulling them on as I went. I was halfway to the door when I remembered I didn’t have my car.

I dithered for a moment, then spotted Ken’s cell on a table by the door. With barely a whit of shame, I thumbed through his address book until I found Alex’s number. I called him on my own cell.

He answered after one ring. “Deputy Farrell.”

I could hear the music in the background. Apparently the benefit dance was still going strong. “It’s Janelle. I need a favor, Alex. No questions asked.”

I wasn’t sure the young squirt would have the necessary discretion, but he said, “Whatever you need.”

“Pick me up at the sheriff’s place. I’ll be outside.”

To his credit, he didn’t say a word. With only the slightest hesitation, he said, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Quiet as a thief, I crept outside and stood in a chill drizzle waiting for Alex. It struck me as I shivered in the cool wet that the nearest box of matches was back in my room. I didn’t even care.

CHAPTER 19

As dawn faded the blackness of the dark basement to gray, Mama sat on the top step of the stairs and watched her children sleeping. Junior lay sprawled on his stomach, his arms stretched above his head. Sean snuggled up beside his brother. Sean should have been sleeping in his own bed, but the boy worshipped his older brother. Just like before, he’d wake during the night and go find Junior.

Baby Lydia dozed lightly, faint whimpers telling Mama she’d be awake soon. Thomas slept just as deeply as he had since Mama had first brought him home. She’d tried to rouse him enough to tip a little water past his lips, to spill some broth into his mouth, but he just lay limp in her arms.

Junior shifted onto his side, tucking his arms close to his chest. Her oldest boy’s behavior lately troubled her. He’d never been like this before; rebellious, disobedient, prideful and angry. Something had changed in the time between before and now. It was almost as if he wasn’t her son anymore.

That notion set off a burning anxiety in the pit of Mama’s stomach. When she’d found baby Lydia, she’d been sure it was the Lord’s way of sending her a message, that Mama was worthy, that He approved of the rituals she’d performed in His name. Then Sean had come back to her and her fount of blessings overflowed. Then Junior’s return so soon after.

Maybe Junior had been touched by the devil during his time away. Maybe that was the wrongness she sensed in him. She knew there was goodness in him still, but at times the evil seemed to crowd that out, forcing him into dark deeds.

She needed Angela so desperately. Her oldest had just dipped a toe into womanhood when she’d gone away. She’d always lived up to the name Mama had given her, virtuous and pure-hearted. If Angela was here, she would drive the taint from Junior’s soul and restore Mama’s oldest boy to her.

If Angela was here, Mama could finish it. The last ritual, the final purification. Instead of destroying them one by one as she had been, she could burn away all the sins festering around her, threatening to pull her into Satan’s grasp. With one last candle, she could light a final cleansing conflagration.

Bring me Angela, Lord
, Mama prayed.
Before I lose Junior entirely. Before the world’s wickedness pulls us both into the pit
.

She waited for the glow inside her, the heat that told her the Lord had heard her entreaty. But as dawn spread its faint hope into the corners of the basement, Mama only felt colder.

Time was running out; Mama could feel its imperative looming over her. If the Lord didn’t intend to return Angela to her, would there be another sign she should watch for? How would she know when the time had arrived?

Do it now
, Satan whispered in her ear.
Why wait?
 

Even as a thrill of anticipation shivered down her spine, Mama resisted.
Not by Satan’s command, Lord
, Mama vowed,
only by yours
.

Only by yours
.

CHAPTER 20

I was deep in a damn good dream, an X-rated fantasy involving me and a Keanu Reeves lookalike, when the room phone interrupted me. Brain only half-engaged, I pressed the phone to my ear and drifted off again. Ken shouting my name in my ear jostled me back into semi-awareness.

“Yeah, what?” I muttered as I struggled into an upright position.

“You left,” he said, the accusation clear in his tone.

I scrubbed at my gritty eyes, forcing the guilt away. “Tell me that’s not why you called.”

“There was another fire. A shed again.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Anybody hurt?”

“Homeowner was able to get water on it before it got too far. Fire unit finished up the job.”

“That’s good.” I tentatively stretched out my left leg. “Unless you caught the arsonist, I’m guessing that’s not why you called either.”

“A guy named Dave Sanders is on his way into the Sheriff’s office. He saw something interesting down at the river the other day.”

My calf contracted with a painful good morning greeting. “Was he on the SAR team?” I couldn’t remember anyone named Sanders, but maybe he’d arrived when I was out searching with Charlotte.

“He’s a copier repairman. On his way to a service call over in Carson City, he stopped by the river.”

I tried to massage loose the muscle in my leg the way Ken had. Apparently I didn’t have the touch. “Could we cut to the chase here?” I said, the pain making me impatient.

“Dave Sanders might have seen someone pull Brandon Thompson’s body from the river.”

My whiny calf took second place to that astonishing news. “Where?”

“Don’t know yet. I’ll ask him when he gets here.”

I squinted at the bedside clock – 9.30. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hung up to avoid an argument. I figured he wouldn’t have called me if he hadn’t intended to invite me to the party.

Hopping on one foot, I retrieved my overnight laundry from the shower curtain rod and dressed. By the time I pulled on shoes and socks, I could hitch along on my left leg without screaming in agony. It would stiffen up again on the drive into town, but hopefully it would be serviceable enough to crab walk me into the building.

Except when I crossed the still damp parking lot of the sheriff’s office, the front door was locked up tight. No Miss Sweet-as-pie on a Sunday. I had no choice but to call Ken’s cell and hope he’d be willing to let me in.

Before I could dial, he poked his head out of a doorway down the hall and spotted me. He glared at me, disappeared inside for several moments, then reappeared, glowering down the hall toward me. His neat slacks, dress shirt and tie made my nearly clean T-shirt and three-day jeans feel even grungier.

He opened the door. “Can you keep your mouth shut? Let me run this?”

I drew a zipper across my lips. He squinted at me suspiciously, then led me down the hall to the briefing room. A balding guy in his late thirties sat at the table spooning creamer into a paper cup of java.

After the intros, Ken nodded at Sanders. “Start at the beginning again.”

“I was driving over to Carson City on Friday. Client had a C5180 that needed servicing.” He sipped his coffee. “I pulled off the highway to take a...” His gaze flicked over to me. “...to take a break. You know, stretch my legs. I took a little walk, you know, to look at the river.”

“Where was this?” Ken asked.

“I’d probably have to show you. Maybe five miles past Strawberry Canyon?”

Right in the ballpark of where Brandon had gone in the river. I shifted in my chair, feeling like a five year-old with the answer to the teacher’s question. But I kept my mouth shut.

“What did you see?” Ken asked.

“A woman climbing down the bank over on the far side.”

I couldn’t help myself. “A woman? Are you sure?”