Lord of Lightning (16 page)

Lise tried to think how to stop him as he pushed back the chair and stood. “How could the prom be over?” she said. “We didn’t even dance.”

“Dance?”

“The waltz, the fox-trot, Fred and Ginger used to do it.”

“You want to waltz?” He stared at her incredulously and his voice dropped to something low and cold. “Your timing stinks, you know that?”

“I don’t want this evening to be over yet, that’s all I know.” She fought back an upsurge of emotion. She was revealing more of herself than she wanted to, but she knew if things ended this way, she would never see him again. “I want the chance to get to know you better, Stephen.”

He regarded her with disbelief and a harsh sound of anger. “Why, Lise?” Flattening his palm on the table, he leaned toward her. “It’s hardly worth your time or trouble. I’ll only be here a few more days. There’s no future for us.”

“I don’t remember asking for a future.” She met his hard blue eyes, determined to deflect their cruelness. It was himself he wanted to hurt.

“Stephen, please.” She laid her hand on his sleeve and froze. The cold contempt in his eyes brought the warmth of his body into sharp contrast. He didn’t want her touching him. He didn’t want her anywhere near him.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, profoundly saddened. “The prom
is
over.”

What A Fool Believes
was playing on the jukebox as Lise forced back her chair and rose, pushing past Stephen. She hesitated a moment as the seventies ballad brought back memories of an adolescence that was lonely and confused. It brought back a young girl’s longings, and a heart full of dreams that had gone begging. She glanced at the half-dozen couples on the dance floor and their swaying bliss made her even sadder.

“I’ll be outside,” she said, starting for the door. She hadn’t gone two steps before Stephen caught up with her.

“Lise ... don’t leave.”

His voice was a harsh, riveting whisper. Before Lise could react, he’d taken hold of her shoulders and brought her around to face him. His hands were taut. His darkened eyes held anger, sadness, an apology.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he took her by the hand.

“I don’t know, Lise. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. You wanted to dance, didn’t you?”

He led her onto the sawdust-strewn dance floor and into his arms. She could feel the tenseness in him as he fitted his hand to the small of her back. It was as though he’d raised an invisible barrier, and yet Lise knew he wanted to pull her close. She could feel it in the depth of his breathing, and in the muscular tension he gave off. He needed to be close to a woman. Badly. But he wouldn’t let himself.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, meaning the dancing.

“A very long time,” he said.

There were the inevitable moments of awkwardness as they began to move. It seemed to take forever until they found a compatible dance step, and then gradually the music began to work its sad, sweet magic. Almost imperceptibly the slow throb of the ballad insinuated itself into their stiff movements. They began to sway a little. They drew a fraction closer. An irresistible rhythm was taking hold.

A current of electricity sprinkled Lise’s palm as she ran her hand along the stonewashed silk of his shirt. She’d never been in his arms before, at least not like this, with such carefully calculated distance between them. The fact that their bodies weren’t touching as they moved only heightened her awareness of him. Her imagination was vividly supplying the missing details. It was telling her how it would feel to be pressed up against every solid inch of him.

Their thighs brushed, and he swore softly. “It’s been
too
long,” he said, pulling her closer.

She yielded instinctively, flowing into his heat. He gripped her hand tighter, and as his arm locked around her, she softened against his hard contours like seawater eddying against rocks. She heard an exhalation, and realized it was his—a mesmerizingly throaty sound that was lost in the swell of the music. It’s been
forever,
she thought.
I’ve never danced like this before.

The musculature of his shoulder rippled under her hand, drawing her awareness to that part of his body. Gradually she realized that her fingertips were nestled in the glossy thickness of his hair. I don’t believe this, she thought.
I’m at the prom ... with the boy of my dreams.
As the scent of gardenias eddied around them, she swallowed a bittersweet sigh. She felt as though every sweet yearning she’d ever had was being realized in this gentle moment of reckoning.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” His lips were against her temple.

“For this.”

He pulled her closer, and she could feel the need shaking through him. She’d never, ever had a man respond to her as he did. He needed caring for, he needed holding so desperately it made her ache. She laid her head against his cheek and whispered five soft words. “I
am
sorry for you.”

“M
ISS
A
NDERSON
, are you picking daisies?”

“Hmmm?” Lise glanced around the railroad pike where she and her class had spent the morning putting the finishing touches on their futuristic vision of Los Angeles. Em Baxter had asked the question, Lise realized. The five-year-old’s forehead was knitted into a thoughtful frown.

“Picking daisies, Em?”

The child hunched her small shoulders. “My mom always asks me that when I’m daydreaming. You keep staring out the window, is all.”

“I do?” Lise considered the front window, completely unaware that she’d been staring anywhere.

“And you just glued another dogwood tree to the
freeway!”
Danny Baxter yelped. “Look!”

Everyone did look, including Lise. Two trees appeared to have taken root square in the middle of Interstate 5.

Lise flushed with soft laughter and rolled her eyes, which her students seemed to think was hilarious.

Julie flashed a wicked grin from the other side of the pike. “And just what did you do last night. Miss Anderson?” she said. “You were seen cruising around in Flash Gordon’s Land-Rover!”

A low gasp ricochetted through the room.

The warmth in Lise’s cheeks deepened. Normally she wouldn’t have dreamed of discussing the details of her personal life with her students, but she simply couldn’t hold it in. “I went to a prom,” she said.

“With the
spaceman
?” Em Baxter blinked in disbelief.

“Yes, Em—and his name is Mr. Gage.” Lise touched her shoulder lingeringly, remembering the corsage. “He even brought me gardenias.”

By that time the entire class was staring at Lise as though she’d gone crazy, but she hardly minded. She was remembering how she and Stephen had slow danced until midnight to steamy pop ballads of the past, songs full of sexual longing and unrequited love. She was remembering the wild thrill of his arms around her—and the sweetest moments of all—when the music stopped and they continued to sway on the dance floor, unwilling to let go of the moment, or the music, or each other.

She was remembering the ache in her throat when he told her what a miracle of life she was. And she was reliving a good-night kiss on her front porch. A kiss of such urgent tenderness and passion that it left her reeling. It had been the most wonderful night of her life ...

“Miss Anderson!”

The raspy male voice catapulted Lise back to the present. She glanced at her students’ startled faces as someone began pounding frantically on the classroom door.

“
Miss Anderson!”

Lise jerked around as the school’s janitor, a thin, balding man in his fifties, burst into the room.

“What is it, Earl?” she asked.

“It’s them museum statues—” Earl yanked a blue handkerchief out of his hip pocket and wiped his forehead with it. “Buck Thompson claims he found one of ’em buried out on the Cooper property. He says it’s proof positive the spaceman took ’em.”

Lise’s reaction was immediate and angry. “If Buck Thompson found a statue on the Cooper property,” she muttered, “it’s probably because
he
buried it there.” It hadn’t occurred to her before that Buck might have been the one to take the statues, but it made perfect sense now that she thought about it. What better way to cast suspicion on Stephen?

Lise held up a hand and turned to her class, calming their excited buzzing. “It’s all right, gang. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Julie, take over for me,” she said, motioning Earl toward the door.

Earl swung around the minute they were out in the hallway. “That ain’t all. Miss Anderson,” he said, his voice hushed. “I didn’t want to say it in front of the kids, but the Davenport sisters are missing.”

“
Missing?”

“Yes, ma’am. They ain’t been seen since yesterday, and nobody knows where they went. Buck and the guys at Frank’s station are saying
he
had something to do with it—”

“Wait a minute, Earl,” Lise cut in. “I saw Bernice last night. She was on her way home from the library. Did you check their house?”

“Yes, ma’am. Norbert Potts stopped by there this morning when Miss Bernice didn’t show up for work. He tried calling first, but nobody answered the phone.”

The Davenport sisters missing? Lise was trying to remember what Bernice had said last night. Nothing unusual except,
Adios
? Was that the word she’d used?
“Adios
...” Lise said, thinking aloud, searching for a connection. “Earl! Maybe they went on that Mexican cruise they’re always talking about!”

Earl wrinkled his nose. “Bernice Davenport would never traipse off to Mexico and leave the public library high and dry. Why, she’s been our foremost reference person for thirty-five years. And she’s never taken a day off in all that time.”

Earl was right, of course. Neither of the Davenport sisters would do anything so irresponsible. “Well, I’m sure they’re all right.”

“More’n I can say for your outer-space friend once Frank’s boys get hold of him,” Earl said ominously.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a bunch of ’em headed for the hills about fifteen minutes ago. I s’pect they’re going to rough him up pretty good if they don’t get some answers.”

Lise’s heart jolted. “But that’s ridiculous. Stephen didn’t do anything!” She touched the janitor’s arm, staying him while she mobilized her thoughts. “Earl, I need your help. Tell Julie to take over the class until I get back. Then, run down to city hall and tell Billy Cornmesser to get out to Stephen’s cabin as fast as he can. Tell him I’m on my way there now.”

“You oughten to go all by yourself!” Earl called after Lise as she sprinted down the hallway. “Billy ain’t going to be no help, Miss Anderson! He’s down at the courthouse testifying on some traffic thing.”

Lise shook her head and kept running. She would have to handle it on her own then. There wasn’t time to find anyone else, especially an ally who could be expected to take Stephen’s side against Buck Thompson and his friends. Perhaps she should have sought Buck out herself and tried to talk some sense into him. Their infrequent dates had been years ago, but Buck had never stopped asking her out. And there was something distinctly territorial about him—a cocky swagger that warned other men off. Lord, if she’d contributed to this nightmare, even unknowingly, she would never forgive herself.

Lise drove the deserted road to the hills with a recklessness fueled by fear. Violent images flashed through her mind, impelling her. She desperately wanted to believe the men wouldn’t hurt Stephen, but in her heart she knew they were capable of anything. Buck saw Stephen as a rival, and he was obviously willing to go to any lengths to turn the town against him. With the Davenport sisters missing and the statue conveniently turning up, he’d probably whipped his cohorts into a frenzy of vigilantism.

The thought of anything happening to Stephen filled Lise with dread. She had promised herself years ago that she would never do what her mother had done—let a man become the center of her world, let him become everything in her life. And yet in a few short days Stephen had become the center of her world. It felt as though he
were
everything.

Dust enveloped the jolting Cordoba as she sped down the rutted dirt access road. The cabin came into view, and as the brown haze cleared, she was a horrified witness to the mayhem she’d imagined earlier. It was a full-scale assault. A half-dozen men had descended upon Stephen, most of them fighting to restrain him as he twisted and whirled.

A small, wiry man clung to Stephen’s back like a monkey. Another man leapt at him, and another, all of them piling on. Stephen jackknifed forward, throwing two of them over his head. They rushed him again, flying at him, dragging him down. He fought furiously, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Arms locked around his throat, torso, and legs, anchoring him. His arms were pinned back.

Lise pulled the car to a stop, bursting out just as Buck Thompson drove his fist savagely into Stephen’s midsection. Stephen reared up with a violent sound, and it took all six men to hold him down. Buck lashed out again, landing blow after brutal blow. Stephen convulsed and doubled over.

“Buck! All of you!” Lise screamed. “Let him go!
Now!
.”

Heads turned and Buck grinned insolently. “I ain’t gonna hurt your boyfriend, Lise. I’m gonna annihilate him!”

He whirled and jammed an elbow into Stephen’s ribs.

Lise heard the sickening crack of bone and sinew as Buck followed the elbow with a fist.
“No!”
she cried as Stephen sagged to his knees.
They were going to kill him!

She spotted what looked like a wooden rifle butt sticking out of the pickup truck’s bed. A gun? It was her only chance! Seconds later she had Buck Thompson’s ugly face fixed in the sites of a hunting rifle. The rifle made an explosive sound as she cocked it.

“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop or I’ll
shoot
!”

Several of the men whirled in Lise’s direction and froze. The rest halted where they stood. “Let him go,” she said.

Stephen slumped to the ground as the men released him. Fear stabbed at Lise as she tried to determine how badly he was hurt. He lay prone, bruised and smeared with blood, perhaps even unconscious.