“Bingo! The crazies come in waves. We’ve already had a few come in and call in. Just makes it easier to eliminate the first set. Do me a favor, Stu, don’t publish that for at least another day.”
“As long as you keep me in the loop, okay?”
When Jesse stepped outside, the weather had turned from crisp to damp and raw. The cold wind that had earlier felt bracing now cut through his exposed skin to the bone. He turned up his collar and walked back to his Explorer. He didn’t get far before he was surrounded by some of those reporters Cromwell had just warned him about. They shouted questions out to him as they stuck digital recording devices in his face. The questions were run-of-the-mill and so, too, was Jesse’s answer.
“No comment.”
When Jesse made it to his Explorer and drove away, he shook his head as he looked at the reporters in the rearview mirror. He hoped Cromwell was right, that they would disappear with the next whiff of celebrity scandal or mayhem. He was a patient man, but he didn’t suffer fools gladly. He didn’t suffer them at all.
20
Down below, the crests of the waves were chopped white by the wind. When they came ashore, they came barreling in with nasty intent. But that hadn’t stopped Maxie Connolly from putting her husband to bed and coming to that old familiar spot on the Bluffs. It had always been their special place. She was hungry for distraction, hungry to get relief from the gnawing guilt, hungry to escape the grief that, until tonight, she had so long kept at bay. All she had been able to picture in her head since leaving the police station was Ginny and Mary Kate clawing at the dirt being shoveled onto them, choking them. It didn’t matter that Chief Stone had assured her that the girls were both already dead before the blanket was placed over them and covered in a shallow layer of dirt. She wanted to get that image out of her head at whatever cost. And she wanted to see him again maybe more than anything she had ever wanted, second to having her girl back.
Of all the men she had used and who had used her, he had been the one. It wasn’t only about the sex. That’s how she knew it then. That’s how she knew it now, twenty-five years on. She wanted to feel his arms around her again. Wanted to hear the sound of his voice. To smell his peppery cologne. Just recalling the way his cologne meshed with their sweat and the smell of their sex excited her. It had been a long, long time since a man, any man, had made her feel this way. Certainly not that limp old fool asleep in their hotel room.
In spite of the cold. In spite of the guilt and pain, she didn’t know how much longer she could contain herself. She thought she might orgasm at the sound of his tires spitting out gravel as his car approached, but she told herself she had to hold it together. She had to. She couldn’t scare him away again. No, she had done that once, and now that she was back she knew she couldn’t risk doing it again. Losing him that first time, then losing Ginny, almost killed her.
She turned back toward the ocean, the wind whipping her hair against her cheeks. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he came near. She couldn’t bear to watch him for fear of falling completely to pieces. Then she heard his voice. A voice she thought she would never hear again.
“Hello, Baby,” he said. It was what he had always called her.
She finally turned around to look at him. “Hello yourself, Loverboy,” she said, as she always had.
As soon as she turned around, she knew things were different. He had changed. Of course he had. How could he not? But there was something in his eyes that frightened her a little. Her fear melted away when he took her in his arms and the smell of his cologne mixed with the sea air.
“I’ve missed you, Loverboy,” she said, her cheek pressed against his coat. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“You knew I would.”
“You’ve changed, Loverboy,” she said.
“Lots of things have changed since you went away, Baby.”
“I had to go.”
“I know,” he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I know.”
“I’m sorry about what happened between us before. I didn’t mean to—”
“Shhh, Baby.” He put his index finger across her lips. “It’s okay. That’s all over now.”
“I can’t lose you again.”
“Did you bring them with you?” he asked, cradling her head to his chest.
He felt her nod. “In my bag.”
“I want you, Baby.”
“Right here? Out in the cold? Can’t we go back to your car like we used to? You used to love it when we’d come up here and be together in your car.”
“Now, Baby. Right here. The way I like it. Turn around.”
“But I—”
“That wasn’t a request, Baby. You made me walk away from you once—”
“Please don’t be mean to me tonight. Just kiss me one time and then you can do anything you want to me.”
He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Thank you, Loverboy.” Black tears ran down her cheeks.
“Don’t thank me yet, Baby. I’m going to make it all right and take away all your pain.”
She turned toward the ocean, lifting up her coat and skirt, sliding her panties down to her ankles, and stepping out of them. It was all she could do to choke back her tears. She had wanted this for so long. With all the men she had been with since, she had pictured him. Imagined it was his touch, not theirs. She hadn’t wanted it like this. But he was right, she had made him walk away from her once. Not again. Never again. He yanked her by the hair and shoulder, though instead of lifting up her coat and skirt, he grabbed her throat and pulled her close to him. He placed one hand firmly against the side of her jaw and the other hand firmly against the opposite side of the back of her head. And suddenly she knew she had been right to be afraid. Then, with a sharp snap, he kept his promise, taking all of her pain away forever.
21
Jesse was stirring a good-night drink with his index finger, looking out the window and wondering why he’d moved out here, away from town, in the first place. He wasn’t a second-guesser by nature, but since last spring he’d occasionally found himself rethinking past decisions. Not regretting them. Not beating himself up over them, not exactly. But dissecting them, trying to follow how he’d reasoned them out. To see if he had actually reasoned them out at all or whether he had simply reacted.
He’d discussed it with Dix. Sometimes he hated bringing up new subjects with Dix because the man turned everything into a struggle. “What do you think it means?” There were moments when he swore he would strangle Dix if he asked him that again. But such was the nature of their relationship. Whenever a new topic came up, it was nearly impossible to get Dix to talk. Then it was impossible to shut him up. At least, that’s the way it felt. But it had been different when Jesse mentioned his recent bout of introspection. They seemed to have switched roles.
“How does it make you feel, questioning your decisions?” Dix asked.
“Uneasy.”
“Uneasy. Is that all you’ve got?”
“Uh-huh.”
“First you say you don’t know when I ask you what you think it means. Then this? Uneasy. That’s one word, Jesse. That’s terse, even for you.”
Jesse shrugged.
“One word and a shrug.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“C’mon, Jesse, have I ever answered that question?”
“There’s always a first time.”
“Indeed there is, like you walking in here and admitting to mulling over past decisions about something other than alcohol and Jenn.”