Dark Hearts (13 page)

Sam's heart skipped a beat. One of his mother's classmates was now moving in and out of ICU with a perfect excuse. It didn't give him a good feeling.

“What room is she in?” he asked.

“10B, but she isn't able to communicate. She had a stroke.”

“Oh, no, I'm so sorry,” Lainey said.

The elevator doors had already gone shut, so they had to hit the button and wait for them to open again as Will Porter walked away.

“I feel bad for him,” Lainey said.

Sam had a different feeling about him. He had both guards' phone numbers on his contact list, and without explaining himself, he sent Mike Cantrell a quick text.

One of the 1980 graduates has a wife in 10B. Watch him. Don't let him anywhere close to Trina.

He got a brief text back.

Noted. Eyes on him.

The elevator car returned.

Sam slid a hand on Lainey's back as they got on, and then punched the button for the lobby.

“It's been a long day, baby. I think it's time to get you home.”

She turned into his arms.

“You are my home, Sam, and it's been the best day. Good news about Trina. A wonderful evening with you. The only downside of any of it was that explosion. I sure hope no one was hurt, whatever it was.”

* * *

Trey drove up to an inferno at the far end of Main Street. Someone had driven into the gas pumps in front of the minimart, and the explosion that ensued had nearly flattened the building.

The clerk and two customers had seen the car careening out of control and, fearing it would either hit the station or the pumps, they had all run out the back door.

They were still running when the pumps exploded, knocking them off their feet and sending burning debris showering down around them.

The driver was a lost cause. Trey hoped he'd died on impact, because burning to death was a hell of a way to die. It made him think of Sam, and he hoped they had gone back to Lainey's from the hospital instead of to his motel, because they would have had to drive right past this.

The officer on duty tonight was Earl Redd, but Trey had their night dispatcher call his extra men in to help control traffic, and he also had the streets blocked off to keep the curious away.

His fears that the night clerk and any customers were inside the burning building were soon eased when they came walking up behind him.

“Hey, Chief, we need some first aid here.”

Trey turned just as the clerk, Carl Morris, bent over and clasped his knees, as if trying to catch his breath.

Trey ran to his aid. “Carl! I am so glad to see you. We thought you were inside.”

“We would have been if it hadn't been for Johnny Pryor here. He was on his way out of the store when he saw the car and yelled at us to run. It was a toss-up as to whether it would hit the pumps or the building. Either way, we didn't want to be inside. We ran out the back and were in the alley and still running when the pumps exploded.”

Trey eyed the other three people with Carl.

“Is anyone hurt?” he asked.

Johnny was shaking. His face was streaked with dirt, and Trey could tell he was in shock. The other two, an older couple, were shaken and clinging to each other. All of them had burned spots on their clothing and hair.

“Let's get all of you checked out,” Trey said. He took Johnny and the woman by the arm and walked them over to the ambulance that had just arrived.

While the EMT was checking Johnny's vital signs, Trey took the moment to question him.

“Johnny, I understand you're the one who initially saw the car. What made you think it was going to hit the station?”

“The driver was going really fast, and when I saw the car suddenly veer toward the gas pumps, I didn't think he'd be able to pull up in time.”

“Did you recognize the car or the driver?” Trey asked.

Johnny wiped a hand across his face as if trying to wipe away the memory of what he'd seen. “Yeah, I saw the driver clear enough.”

“Who was it?”

“A teenage boy. Don't know his name, but he sacks groceries at the supermarket. I think they call him Speedy.”

Trey's heart sank. He turned around and stared at the car engulfed in flames and the firemen still trying to put it out. He knew who Speedy was. Speedy's dad, Randy Powell, grew tobacco and raised hogs. His mother, Clarice Powell, worked in ICU at the hospital—the same nurse who signed them in and out when they went to visit Trina. He was sick to his stomach. This was going to be a really bad night for their family.

* * *

Lainey fell asleep on the way home, wrapped up in her long gray coat with her head against the window. Sam drove slowly so as not to wake her. He still felt like he was living a dream.

The night was dark, but the sky was clear. The security lights in the yards of farmhouses along the way lit their own little portions of the world. Lights burned brightly inside the houses, and he began counting off their names as he drove past, remembering who used to live where and wondering how many were still left.

He thought of Lainey's parents with sadness. They'd both passed, and he hadn't known. It hurt even more to think of her going through all of that on her own. But if he'd been here, he would have made everything worse. He'd done what he'd done for a reason. His gift was that she'd waited.

As Sam came around a curve in the road, the headlights flashed on a panther just coming out of the trees along the roadside. He tapped the brakes, and as he did the big cat hunkered down, opened its mouth in a snarl and slunk back into the trees.

Sam's eyes widened as the cat disappeared. The sight of the magnificent animal was stirring. This was part of what he missed about his home. There was wildlife in Atlanta, but there it walked on two legs.

Lainey shifted in her sleep.

He glanced down to make sure she was okay and accelerated out of the curve. Only a couple more miles to the house.

He caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye and watched as a falling star burned out above them. How long, he wondered, had that star been falling? Since before he was born? Was it a message for him that the past was gone? Or was it a warning?

He drove over the hill and looked down at the security light in the yard of the house below. He'd done this so many times in the past. Back then this house had been his second home, and the people in it part of his family, and Lainey the soul mate he'd been given to love.

Thank You, God, for keeping us alive. I won't let her down again.

He took the turnoff into the drive and slowed down as he headed toward the house.

It was the familiar crunch of gravel that woke Lainey. She sat up to see where they were. “We're already home?”

“You missed seeing a panther,” Sam said.

She shuddered. “Really? I thought I heard one a couple of days ago. That shriek they make sounds like a woman screaming. Really eerie.”

“Got your key?” he asked.

She dug it out of her purse and handed it to him. When they reached the house, Sam unlocked the door, then walked in ahead of her, turning on lights as he went.

Lainey paused to lock the door. “Can you stay?” she asked.

“Long enough to love you to sleep,” he said.

Lainey hung up her coat, and then held out her hand. “‘Come into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly.”

Sam's eyes darkened. “You had me at ‘come,'” he drawled, and picked her up in his arms and carried her to her room, raining kisses on her face, on the back of her neck, behind her ear. By the time they reached their destination, she was shaking.

“Put me down, Sam. I need to get naked.”

Twelve

“L
ast time we did this, we did it in the dark,” Sam said. “But I want to see your face. Can you handle that, baby? Can you handle me? I'm not so pretty, but I'm damn good.”

Lainey's hands were shaking as she continued to undress.

“Do I look like I'm all of a sudden shy? I waited a long time for you to come home, and I don't intend to waste a single moment now that you're here,” she said in a soft, shaky voice. “Get your clothes off before I die where I'm standing.”

Sam had never stripped so fast in his life. He was hard and aching, and as he was pulling a condom up over his erection, all he could think about was being inside her.

When Lainey turned her back to pull down the bedcovers, Sam grabbed her from behind and slid a hand between her legs. Her clit was hard and throbbing, her breathing deep and ragged, like she'd been running for miles. He splayed one hand across her rib cage to steady her and made her scream with only two fingers.

Lainey was riding the high with no thought of anything but the blood rush in her body. She couldn't think, couldn't talk and had no notion of wanting anything but that climax she was chasing. It hit her so fast she jerked. When her legs went out from under her, Sam kept her from falling.

She was still shaking when Sam laid her down. He parted her legs and slid deep into the wet heat between them, then grunted from the pleasure. As he began to rock against her, one deep thrust after another, over and over, he could feel her hands stroking his back, tracing the scars, cupping his backside, holding him tight, keeping him deep.

Time rolled on.

Lainey's head was pressed against the headboard, and he could feel the muscles coiling within her, pushing her toward a second climax. Her lips were slack, but her gaze was fixed on his face.

“See me, Sam,” she whispered. “I see you.” And then she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He pushed harder, faster.

“You feel so good,” he whispered.

He laid his face against the curve of her neck, trying with everything he had in him not to come without her, but he couldn't hold on. It rolled over him and pulled him under. He didn't know until it was over that she'd gone with him. She was lying beneath him, her arms around his neck, and both crying and laughing.

“Oh, my God, oh, my God. You should be declared a lethal weapon. You rocked my world, melted my bones and you make love like a stud. You followed me home. Can I keep you?”

Sam grinned, then began kissing her, leaving the imprint of his lips all over her body, from right beneath her chin, down her chest, across the scars, to the middle of her belly, until he heard her sigh.

“Are we good here?” he asked.

“We are
so
good,” Lainey said.

“Can I take a rain check on round three? I have to be up early to meet Trey. We're going to check out a mine.”

“I couldn't manage a round three right now if you begged,” she said. “Just don't make me get up to see you out.”

He kissed her one more time, and then reluctantly got up and went across the hall to the bathroom. When he came out, she was curled up on her side with the covers pulled up around her neck, sound asleep beneath the lights.

He dressed slowly, taking his time just so he could watch her sleep, and then turned on a night-light before he turned off the ones overhead. Just before he left, he tucked the covers up behind her neck so she wouldn't be cold, then leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I know you can't hear me, but getting you back is worth all the pain I suffered when I gave you up.”

He turned off lights as he went through the house, and then turned the lock before he let himself out. He didn't know if she usually left the porch light on at night, but he did it anyway, just in case.

* * *

It was after 3:00 a.m. before Trey verified that the vehicle that had hit the gas pumps was registered to Randy Powell, and by then Randy Powell had already come to town looking for his teenage son, who'd missed his curfew.

Randy had come to Mystic ready to be furious with his kid, but instead, when he heard what had happened, he headed for the station. When they wouldn't let him drive any closer, he got out and headed there on foot. The closer he got, the faster he went, until he was running. And when he reached the scene and recognized his old car, he screamed.

Trey caught the man in his arms and had to walk him away. His heart was breaking for the family, especially the mother who had yet to know what had happened to their child.

The father's appearance hastened his need to notify Clarice before someone else broke the news, and he took Randy with him to do it. The couple was going to need each other even more before this night was over. The boy had been their only child.

Trey watched Randy trying to hold it together, but by the time they got to the third floor of the hospital, where the ICU was located, he knew the grieving man wasn't going to make it any farther.

“Randy, take a chair here in the waiting room. I'll bring Clarice out to you, and we'll do this together, okay?”

“Yes, okay,” Randy said, and then grabbed Trey's arm. “Why?”

Trey ached for his sadness.

“I'm coming to realize there is no answer to why bad things happen. All I know is that after a tragedy, our job is to get through it. You and Clarice will have to be strong for each other. Just give me a couple of minutes to get her,” Trey said, and then left the waiting room.

It was only a few more yards down to the ICU, but the closer he got, the slower he walked. Once he stepped through those doors, he was going to change a mother's life.

He pushed through the double doors as quietly as he could, cognizant of all the seriously ill people asleep on the other side. No one was at the front desk, but there was a nurse coming out of a room just to his right. She looked startled to see the police chief on the floor at this time of the morning and immediately stopped what she was doing.

“Chief Jakes?”

“I need to speak to Clarice Powell. And you will need to get someone to cover for her for the rest of this shift.”

The startled expression on the woman's face said what she was thinking. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Just tell her I need to talk to her. No more.”

The nurse nodded, and then hurried away.

Moments later Trey saw Clarice come out of a room and head toward him with a slight smile on her face.

“Chief Jakes? This is a little late for a visit, don't you think?”

“I didn't come to see Trina. Will you please step out in the hall with me a moment?”

Her eyes widened, and he could hear a note of panic in her voice when she asked, “What's wrong?”

He took her by the elbow and gently led her out of the unit.

“Please, Chief. Is it Randy? Has something happened to Randy?”

Before Trey could answer, Randy Powell walked out of the waiting room and started up the hall toward her. It was the tears on his face that gave him away.

Suddenly Clarice gasped. Everyone in Mystic had heard the explosion. All they knew was that someone had driven a car into the gas pumps at the minimart. She moaned.

“No, no, no. Not my Jack. Please tell me it wasn't Jack!” she cried.

“I'm so sorry, Clarice,” Trey said, and then caught her as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Trey stayed in the waiting room with them until Randy's mother, Beth Powell, arrived. She was pale and staggering when she walked in, and then gathered them both in her arms as they began to cry all over again.

Trey was exhausted. It was almost four in the morning. The search at the mine site was supposed to begin around nine. This was going to be a long-ass day, and he still had paperwork to write up on the accident.

* * *

Sam was sleeping with his gun in one hand and his phone in the other when someone knocked on his door. He woke up with a start, then realized he was getting a text and glanced at his phone.

It's me, Trey. Let me in.

Sam stepped into his jeans and zipped them up, then took his gun to answer the door.

“What the hell?” he said as Trey walked inside. He locked the door behind him, and then watched Trey taking change out of his pockets and kicking off his boots. “Trey. What's going on?”

Trey didn't even look at him.

“Can I use your shower? There's no time to go home and clean up before we have to go to the mine. I had a change of clothes at the precinct, but I smell like smoke.”

Sam could tell that whatever had caused the explosion must have been bad.

“Of course you can use the shower. My shaving stuff is on the counter, too. Use what you need.”

Trey stripped where he stood, then walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sam sat down on the side of the bed and turned on the television, then kicked back to watch. It was the comfort of knowing his brother was in the next room that made him relax enough to close his eyes.

* * *

Trey came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and water drops running down his forehead. He glanced toward the bed and realized Sam had fallen asleep, then saw the scars and froze. He'd never seen his brother like this, only wrapped in bandages while he was still healing. This was far worse than he could ever have imagined. And except for whatever help he'd accepted from their mom, Sam had dealt with it alone. Trey took a slow, shaky breath and turned away just in time to catch the early-morning weather forecast on the still-running TV. The day was supposed to be clear.

Sam woke up as Trey was putting his boots back on. He scooted into a sitting position and reached for his shirt.

“Don't do that because of me,” Trey said.

“Do what?” Sam said.

“Put on a shirt,” Trey said.

Sam hesitated, and then laid it aside. “Force of habit. So enough about the shirt. Talk to me.”

Trey stomped his feet into the boots, then got up and started to pace. That was when Sam knew he was trying to come to terms with what had happened the night before.

“You heard the explosion?” Trey asked.

“Yes.”

“You know Clarice, the RN who's usually at the front desk when you walk into ICU? She's married to Randy Powell.”

“I didn't know that's who she married. Randy was the team's best wide receiver our senior year in high school. He was one fast dude.”

“Yes, well, their only son, Jack, aka Speedy, drove his car into the gas pumps at the minimart last night.”

Sam flinched. “Oh, my God, that's awful. And they blew up with Jack still in the car?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet mercy,” Sam said. Just thinking about all the flames and heat made his gut knot. “Do you know why? Was he drunk or—”

“We don't know, and the body was burned so badly I don't know what the coroner will be able to figure out. Honestly, I'm not sure how much it even matters. All his parents care about is him, and he's gone. How it happened won't change a thing.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

Trey shrugged, and then suddenly stopped pacing and sat.

“No, I'm not okay. This just added to the huge knot in my chest. I can't remember the last time I woke up without it, and I won't be okay until the killer is caught and Mom is laid to rest.” He grabbed his towel and started drying his hair. “This is making me crazy, Sam. I don't have a fucking clue as to who's doing this, and only a half-assed reason that may or may not be why.”

“Trina is going to wake up and put all this uncertainty to an end,” Sam said.

“It won't be any too soon,” Trey said, then tossed the towel and started finger combing his hair.

“So what time do you want to leave for the mine?” Sam asked.

“Eight thirty?”

Sam nodded. “I'll follow you out there so I'll have my car just in case you get pulled away on a call. Oh, one other thing. I took Lainey to see Trina last night after dinner. We met Will Porter getting off the elevator as we were leaving. He was there visiting his wife...in ICU.”

Trey frowned. “Since when did that happen?” he muttered.

“I don't know, but from the way he was talking, I got the impression she's dying. And she's in room 10B.”

“I don't like that,” Trey said.

“I didn't, either, so I gave Cantrell a heads-up that the guy was from the same class as our three murder victims, so he needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't get anywhere near Trina.”

“Good call,” Trey said. “I'm going to check out the situation and confirm his story. In the meantime, tell me what's happening with you and Lainey? Are you official again?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“I'm happy for you,” Trey said.

“Happy doesn't quite cover how
I
feel,” Sam said, grinning. “On another note, I was talking to Lainey about her mother's diaries, and how she thought the names her mother wrote down in her diaries were a kind of teenage code for the real names.”

“Yes, I got that,” Trey said.

“Well, there was something I noticed when I was reading them. One of the couples she mentioned was Tom Collins and Betty Boop. That got me to wondering if Tom Collins was Donny Collins, and if he had a girlfriend. If he did and we can figure out who she is, she might know a lot of what we're trying to find out.”

Trey's eyes widened. “Well, hell, that's why it's good to bring fresh eyes into an investigation. I never thought of that. There was no Betty in that class, so—”

“‘Betty Boop' could simply mean we're looking for someone with the initials BB, although there are countless other reasons to use that nickname, and she could easily have been younger, too. I read some more in the diaries before I went to bed last night but don't know anything else that would help. You need to find someone who remembers those kids and those years.”