Kisscut (24 page)

"She'll probably wait until the funeral's over," Jeffrey said, wondering when the funeral would be held. He doubted seriously that Sara would be invited, and she had not mentioned anything about it.

"I need to get your deposition in the next day or so, regardless," Buddy ordered. "We need to get it down on paper while it's fresh in your mind."

"I don't think it'll ever not be fresh in my mind, Buddy," Jeffrey said, thinking that he would carry Jenny Weaver's death around with him for the rest of his life.

"What else is going on here?" Buddy asked. "Don't hold back on me."

Jeffrey tucked his hands into his pockets. "Mark has this tattoo on his hand."

"The heart thing?" Buddy asked.

"Yeah," Jeffrey confirmed. "It's a symbol for something."

"Kiddy porn," Buddy supplied, much to Jeffrey's shock.

"How do you know that?"

"I've got another client who has the same tattoo," Buddy said. "Some guy a couple of weeks ago over in Augusta. I took the case as a favor to a friend."

"What was the case?"

Buddy glanced around, obviously debating whether or not to answer the question.

Jeffrey pointed out, "I've been more than forthcoming here, Buddy."

Buddy agreed. "Yeah, okay," he said. "He got nailed for coke. Not a lot, but enough to push distribution. He had some information to make the charge go away."

"I've heard this already," Jeffrey said. "He's a distributor, right? For the porn?"

Buddy nodded.

"And he turned state's evidence to keep his ass out of jail."

"Bingo," Buddy said. "How'd you hear about it?"

"The usual way," Jeffrey said, not wanting to give any more information.

"What usual way?" Buddy asked.

Jeffrey tried to divert him. "Where's your leg?" he said, indicating the empty space below Buddy's right knee.

"Shit," Buddy sighed. "My girlfriend took it. Won't give it back."

"What'd you do?"

"That's a cop for you," Buddy said, leaning on his crutch. "Always blame the victim."

Jeffrey laughed. "You want me to talk to her?"

Buddy furrowed his eyebrows. "I'll handle it," he said. "You gonna answer my question about how you know?"

"Nope," Jeffrey said. He looked back into the room. Mark had his head on the table, and Lena sat beside him, holding his hand.

Jeffrey opened the door. " Lena," he said, indicating she should come out into the hall.

Lena opened her mouth, probably to ask him to let her stay, but seemed to think better of it. She stood, not looking at Mark, not touching him, and walked out of the room.

"What did he say?" Jeffrey asked her.

"Nothing," Lena answered. "He wants to go to the hospital and see his mother."

"Go home," Jeffrey told her, and without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he stepped back into the room with Buddy right behind him.

"Mark," Jeffrey began, sitting in the chair Lena had vacated. "We know about the tattoo."

Mark kept his head down. The table shook as he cried.

"We know what it means."

Buddy leaned against the table on the other side of Mark. "Son, it's in your best interest to tell us what's going on here."

Jeffrey said, "Mark, do you have any idea who might have taken your sister?" When there was no answer, he tried, "Mark, we think some bad people have got her. Some people who might hurt her. You need to help us here."

Still, he did not answer.

"Mark," Jeffrey tried again. "Dr. Linton said Lacey seemed sick when she saw her."

Mark sat up, wiping his eyes with his hands. He stared straight ahead at the wall, his body rocking back and forth.

Jeffrey asked, "Was Lacey pregnant? Was that the baby in the skating rink?"

Mark kept rocking back and forth, almost like he was being hypnotized by the wall.

Jeffrey asked, "Were you the father of that baby, Mark?"

Mark continued to stare. Jeffrey waved his hand in front of the boy's eyes, but Mark did not move.

"Mark?" Jeffrey asked, then louder, "Mark?"

Mark did not flinch.

"Mark?" Jeffrey repeated, snapping his fingers.

Buddy put his hand on Mark's shoulder, but the boy did not acknowledge him. Buddy said, "I think we should get him a doctor."

"Sara can-"

"No," Buddy interrupted. "I think he's seen enough of Sara for one day."

It was ten o'clock by the time Jeffrey left the station. Nearly two hours of his time had been spent calling around the state, making sure other police departments had gotten the flyer on Lacey and knew to be on the lookout for the black Thunderbird. A lot of the cops he spoke with wanted to give him details on open cases they were working. While Jeffrey didn't think he could help some of them, he made all the right noises, hoping the cops on the other end didn't feel like he was giving them lip service. It was more likely some patrol car in Griffin would run across the black Thunder-bird than it was for Jeffrey to find a missing wide-screen television that had been stolen out of a police sergeant's mother's house, but he wrote down and repeated back the serial number anyway.

Despite what he had told Nick, Jeffrey wanted to see what he could find on the Internet on his own. With Brad's help, they had found thousands of sites under the general heading of "girl-lovers." Brad's face had turned completely white by the third site they visited, and Jeffrey had dismissed the young patrolman and tried to navigate the Web on his own.

Even with Jeffrey's rudimentary knowledge of the Internet, he was able to find links to site after site containing images of children posed in various compromising positions. By the time he signed off, Jeffrey had felt the need to take a shower just to clean some of the images from his mind. Sara was right. Maybe some distance from the case would give him some perspective. As it stood, Jeffrey did not know where to look next.

Jeffrey tried not to think about what he had seen on the computer as he drove to Sara's house. He had called Sara before he'd left the station to tell her there was still no word on Lacey and that he was on his way over if she still wanted to see him. Thankfully, she did. He pulled into the driveway, noticing that she had left the lights on for him. When he got out of the car he could hear a soft, jazzy song playing in the house. Sara must have been looking out for him, because she opened the door before he had a chance to knock. Everything that had been troubling him for the last few days left his mind when he saw her standing there.

"Hi," Sara said, a sly smile at her lips.

Jeffrey was speechless, and all he could do was look at her. Sara's hair was down around her shoulders, the curls softer than usual. She was wearing a silky black dress that wrapped around her body, showing her curves to their best advantage. A long slit up the side showed a hint of leg. She was wearing high heels, and they flexed her calf in a way that made him want to lick it.

She took his hand and led him inside. Jeffrey stopped her in the hallway, and pulled her close to him. The high heels added about three inches to her height, and Sara leaned her hand on his shoulder while she slipped off the shoes so that she would be back at eye level.

"Better?" she asked. When he did not answer, she leaned in, brushing her lips across his. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, watching her kiss him. Her mouth was sweet, and he tasted wine and a bit of chocolate on her tongue.

Jeffrey closed the door behind him still watching her. He could not remember a time when she looked more beautiful, even with the Band-Aid on her forehead.

She said, "I don't want to talk about my day, or your day, or what's going on."

All he could do was nod.

Sara leaned her arm against the wall, giving him a quizzical look. "Cat got your tongue?"

Jeffrey put his hand to his chest, trying to articulate how he felt. "Sometimes," he began, "I forget how beautiful you are, and then I see you…" He let his voice trail off, trying to find the right words. "It just takes my breath away."

She raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if he was feeding her some kind of line or not.

"I love you, Sara," he said, taking a step closer to her. "I love you so much."

She seemed to be fighting a smile, and he loved her even more for that. As long as Jeffrey had known her, Sara had never been able to take a compliment.

She said, "I guess this means you like the dress."

"I'd like it even better on the floor."

She stood away from the wall, and he watched as she reached behind her and did something with her hands. She wasn't wearing anything under the dress, so when it fell to the floor she stood completely nude in front of him.

Jeffrey drank her in, craving her in a way that frightened him. He went down on his knees and kissed her until she could not stand anymore.

Wednesday

Chapter Twelve

Lena dreamed that she heard a hammer pounding against a nail. When she rolled over in bed, she half expected to see her hand being pinned to the floor, but wh at she saw instead was Hank, tapping out the hinges to her bedroom door.

Lena sat up in bed, yelling, "What the fuck?"

"I told you things were gonna change," Hank said, still tapping at the pin holding the hinge together.

"Jesus Christ," Lena said, putting her hands to her ears, trying to block out the hammering sound. She looked at the clock on the dresser. "It's not even six o'clock," she yelled. "I don't even have to be at work until nine today."

"Gives us plenty of time," Hank said, sliding the pin from the hinge.

"You're taking off my door?" Lena demanded, pulling the sheet to her chest even though she was wearing a heavy sweatshirt and matching pants. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Hank ignored her as he started working on the top hinge.

"Stop it," Lena ordered, getting out of bed and taking the sheet with her.

Hank kept tapping, still ignoring her.

He said, "Things are changing, starting today."

"What things?"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

Lena unfolded the paper, but her eyes could not focus on the words. She was reminded of when she was a teenager, and Hank had not approved of a boy Lena was seeing. His solution then had been to nail her bedroom windows shut so that she would not be able to sneak out anymore at night. She had pointed out this was a fire hazard, and Hank had countered that he would rather see her burned alive than hooked up with that trash she was seeing.

Lena tried to take the hammer from him, but he was too strong.

She said, "I'm not a baby, goddamn it."

"You're my baby," Hank said, jerking the hammer back. He tapped out the last pin and the door dropped to the floor. "I held you in these hands," he said, dropping the hammer to show her his hands. "I walked with you at night when you wouldn't stop crying, I made sure you had your lunch when you went to school, and I loaned you the money to make the down payment on this house."

"I paid you back every goddamn penny."

"This here's the interest," he said, wrapping his hands around the edges of the door. He lifted it with a heavy groan.

Lena watched, incredulous, as he carried the door out into the hallway.

"Why are you doing this?" she whined. "Hank, stop it."

"No more secrets in this house," he mumbled, straining to set the door against the wall. He turned to her, saying, "I'm laying down the law here, child."

"I'm not doing any of this," she said, throwing the list at him.

"The hell you say," he countered, catching the paper before it hit the floor. "You're gonna do every goddamn thing on this list every day, or I'll have a talk with your boss. How's that?"

"Don't threaten me," she said, following him back into the bedroom.

"You take it as a threat if you want," Hank said, yanking open one of the drawers in her bureau. He rummaged through her underwear, then slammed the drawer closed and opened the next one.

"What are you doing?"

"Here," he said, pulling out a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. "Put these on and be downstairs in five minutes."

Lena looked at him, and she noticed for the first time that Hank was not dressed in his usual jeans and loud Hawaiian shirt. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a beer advertisement on it and a pair of shorts that looked so new they still had the creases in them from being folded in the package. Brand new sneakers were on his feet, white socks pulled up to just under his knees. His legs were so white that she had to blink several times to see where his legs stopped and the socks began.

"Downstairs for what?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"We're going running."

"You're going to go running with me?" she asked, not believing this. Hank was about as out of shape as a geriatric in a wheelchair. He did not even like walking to the mailbox.

"Five minutes," he said, leaving the room.

"Bastard," Lena fumed, contemplating whether or not to go after him. She was so mad she couldn't see straight, but still, she took off her pants and slid on the shorts.

"Fucking prick," she mumbled, slipping on the shirt. She had no choice, and that was what was pissing her off. If Hank told Jeffrey half of the stuff he knew about Lena's behavior, Lena would be out on her ass so fast her head would spin.

Lena allowed herself a glance at the list. It started off with "exercise every day," and ended with "eat normal meals for breakfast, lunch, and supper."

From deep inside somewhere, she pulled up every curse word, every expletive, she had ever heard in her ten years as a cop and directed them all toward Hank. She finished with "… fucking motherfucker," then grabbed her sneakers and went downstairs.

Lena sat in Jeffrey's office, staring at the clock on his wall. He was ten minutes late, which had never happened as long as Lena could remember. She should probably be glad he wasn't here yet, because Lena needed to sit in order to recover from her morning run with Hank. He was a tough old man, and she had found herself being outpaced by him from their first step outside. Lena had to admit that some of her dogged determination must have come from her uncle, because he seemed to be like Lena: Once he got something in his head that he was going to do, nothing would stop him. Even when Lena had lagged behind, her lungs about to explode, her stomach churning from all the amino acids her muscles were giving up, he had simply jogged in place, his jaw set in an angry line, waiting for her to get over it and get moving.

"Hey," Jeffrey said, rushing into the office. His tie was loose around his neck and he carried his jacket over his arm.

"Hey," Lena said, standing.

He motioned for her to sit down. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "Traffic."

"Where?" Lena asked, because the only traffic in town was around the school, and then only at certain times.

Jeffrey did not answer her. He sat at his desk, buttoning his collar with one hand. Lena was not certain, but she could have sworn she saw a red mark on his neck.

She asked, "No word on Lacey yet?"

"No," he told her, tying his tie. "I talked to Dave Fine on my way in. He's got the notes from his sessions with Mark."

"He's just going to hand them over?" Lena asked, and not for the first time she was glad she had not talked to the pastor about her problems.

"Yeah," Jeffrey said, smoothing down his tie. "I was surprised, too."

Lena crossed her arms, staring at her boss. There was something different about him. She just couldn't place it.

"He's going to meet me at the hospital at ten," Jeffrey said, then looked at his watch. "I'm already late."

"I thought you wanted me to go with you?" Lena asked.

"I want you to get Brad and take Mark to his house," Jeffrey told her. "Get him some clean clothes, let him take a shower, whatever he needs to do, then take him to the hospital."

"Why?"

"His mother took a bad turn last night," Jeffrey said. "Fine thinks she'll probably be gone this morning." He tapped his fingers on his desk. "No matter what he did, I'm not going to keep that boy from seeing his mama one last time before she dies."

Lena was touched by this, but she tried not to let on.

Jeffrey jabbed a finger at her, as if in warning. "I mean it about Brad, Lena. You're not to be with Mark alone. Do you understand me?"

She thought to protest, but he was right. She did not want to be alone with Mark Patterson. There was something about him that was too raw. Perhaps she identified with him too much.

" Lena?" Jeffrey prompted.

She cleared her throat, then answered, "Yes, sir."

As usual, Brad drove through town at exactly the speed limit. Lena tried to quell her impatience at the same time she tried to ignore Mark sitting in the back seat. Without looking, she knew that Mark was staring at her. Both she and Jeffrey had agreed that it would be best to let his father deal with telling the boy his mother would probably be dead before the end of the day, but sitting there in the car with Mark less than two feet behind her, Lena felt like she was doing something wrong. Even with the safety guard between the front and back seats, she felt like Mark might come through the fence and grab her, demanding to know what was going on.

For Mark's part, whatever medication the doctor had given him last night seemed to work. He was back to his usual surly self, standing too close to Lena when she cuffed him, making a suggestive noise as she led him to the car. Lena wondered what had brought the change. Mark had seemed nearly catatonic the day before.

"It sure is hot out," Brad said, taking a left off of Main Street.

"I know," Lena agreed, wanting to keep up the small talk. "It's hotter now than it was last year."

"That's the truth," Brad answered. "I remember when I was little, it didn't seem like it ever got this hot."

"Me, neither," Lena said.

"Didn't even have an air conditioner until I was twelve."

"We got ours when I was fifteen," she told him, allowing a smile at the memory. Lena and Sibyl had stood in front of the little unit until their faces had felt like they were frozen in place.

"We used to beg my daddy to turn the hose on out in the yard," Brad said, giving a little laugh. "I remember once when my cousin Bennie came over-"

Mark kicked at the guard between the seats, saying, "Shut the fuck up."

Brad slammed on the brakes and turned around. "You do that again and we're gonna have to have us a talk."

Lena had never heard Brad threaten anyone, and she was surprised to see that he had it in him. For the first time, she let herself see that Brad actually didn't seem to like Mark Patterson.

"Chill, John Boy," Mark said.

Lena let herself glance back at Mark, and he licked his tongue out suggestively. She turned back around, staring out the front window, trying not to let him know that he had gotten to her.

The car lurched a bit as it moved forward, and Brad was quiet for the rest of the trip. Lena directed him toward the Patterson trailer by pointing with her finger instead of giving him verbal directions. She tried to let herself think that Mark was not in the back seat, but every few minutes she would remember, and it was almost like she could feel his breath on her neck.

"This is it," Lena said, indicating the trailer. She was out of the car before Brad had come to a complete stop. Her thigh muscles protested as she moved, and she cursed Hank again for making her run that morning.

Brad opened the back door, saying, "You gonna behave now?"

Mark took his time getting out of the car. When he stood, he was several inches shorter than Brad. He said something to the young patrolman that Lena could not hear. Whatever it was, it served to embarrass Brad, because his face turned completely red.

"Watch your mouth," Brad said, but there was no real threat to his tone, only what could be called shock. Brad grabbed the handcuffs around Mark's wrists and pulled him toward the trailer.

At the front door, Lena pulled Mark's keys out of her pocket. They had confiscated his things when he was arrested. She guessed that a key to the door would be on the ring.

"It's the third one," Mark said. "The one with the green rim." He smiled at Brad suggestively. "Rim, rimming, rim."

Brad's jaw worked, and he stared at the door as if he could open it with his mind.

Lena found the key and turned it in the lock. A breeze of cold air came from the trailer when she opened the door.

Mark stood in the doorway for just a second, his eyes closed, inhaling the scent of lilacs that greeted them.

"Come on," Brad said, pushing the boy inside.

Lena shot Brad a questioning look, wondering what had gotten into him. Brad was usually the most docile person in the world.

"Take the cuffs off him," Lena said.

Brad shook his head no. "We shouldn't do that."

Lena crossed her arms. "How's he supposed to bathe and get dressed with cuffs on?"

Mark gave Brad a wink. "You could stay with me, officer. Help scrub my back."

Before Lena knew what she was doing, she popped Mark on the back of the head. "Stop that," she told him, an-gry that he was making Brad so uncomfortable. She told Brad, "Why don't you watch the back of the trailer in case he tries to sneak out?"

Brad seemed relieved by this suggestion, and left without another word.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded.

"Just offered to help him relieve some of that stress he seems to have."

"Jesus Christ," Lena breathed. "Why would you do that to him?"

"Why not?" Mark shrugged.

Lena took out her handcuff key and motioned him over. He put the cuffs tight to his crotch so she would have to touch him to work the key.

"Hands out, Mark," Lena ordered.

He sighed dramatically, but did as he was told. "You like being chained up?" he asked.

"I'll give you ten minutes in the shower," she told him, releasing the cuffs. "If I have to come in after you, I won't be nice about it."

"Mmm…" Mark said, drawing out the sound. "Sounds tasty."

Lena clipped the handcuffs onto the back of her belt. "Ten minutes," she said, wondering if this was how Hank had felt this morning, ordering her around. She walked over to the couch and picked up a magazine before sitting down. Mark stood in the kitchen, watching her for what seemed like a full minute before he went back to his room. A couple of minutes later, she heard water running in the shower. Lena closed the magazine, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

She stood from the couch, holding on to the mantel as she stretched out her quads. Her legs hurting this much af-ter what a year ago would have amounted to a light run was beginning to piss her off. She was stronger than this. There was no way she could be so out of shape.

Lena picked up a framed photograph of Mark and Lacey standing in front of a nondescript roller coaster. Both children were smiling, and Mark's arm was thrown around Lacey's shoulders. In turn, she had her hand around his waist. They looked about three years younger than they were now. They looked happy.