Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (128 page)

They reached the house by seven-thirty. With the sun low in the sky, Tobie brought Prince around, and when Jake and Robbi declined to ride, she mounted him bareback and took off, leaving them alone in the yard.

“So this is where you had your accident?” Jake asked.

She stared toward the trees. “Out there somewhere.”

“Feel like taking a walk?”

Robbi held back. “Not really.”

“Then we won’t.”

“What you mean is that we
should.”

“Sometimes it’s best to confront the fear before it gets a real foothold.”

“How’d I know you’d say that?”

His smile was reassuring.

She began to walk in the direction of the meadow. “We’d better hurry; it’ll be dark soon.”

________

Atop a large boulder Joe Eckker lay on his stomach, staring at the reflection of the setting sun in the water.

She was late. It occurred to him she might not come at all.

He had to see her.

He scrambled down from the boulder. At the bottom he paused, listening. Somewhere far below could be heard the echo of hooves. He started down the mountain.

________

As Robbi and Jake made their way through the woods, Robbi’s heart occasionally skipped a beat. She repeatedly pushed thoughts of the recurring nightmare away. Jake was with her, she’d be okay. There were no clouds, no chance of rain.

She tried to lose herself in conversation. She told him about her vision in the tub the night before; told him she suspected the killer had been stalking another woman before having a seizure in the bar. It was dusk when they reached the meadow.

Robbi stopped at the edge of the tall dry grass and stared toward the copse of trees on the other side.

“What do you feel?”

“From here? Nothing more than a little apprehension.” She pointed straight ahead. “It happened somewhere across the meadow, deep into that forest. I can’t say where exactly.”

Jake looked to the horizon, the jagged outline of the mountain. The sun had already set though it was still light.

“We better head back,” he said.

Robbi gratefully turned and led the way.

Every now and then Robbi stooped to pick up a pine cone, examining it first before deciding whether or not to keep it. She explained to Jake that she collected them for craft making.

When she could carry no more, Jake began to gather them. As they neared the rear yard, the lights from the house visible through the trees, several cones fell from her overloaded arms. She bent to pick them up and more tumbled out. She laughed as she retrieved one, only to lose two more in the process.

“What we have here is the case of the monkey with his fist in the jar. He traps himself out of sheer greed, refusing to open his fingers and let go of his meager cache.”

“Here, I can remedy the greedy-monkey dilemma,” Jake said. He dropped his armful of pine cones, pulled is knit shirt over his head, laid it out on the floor of the forest, and filled it with the cones. Robbi deposited hers on top. He brought two ends together to make a satchel. “There’s room for more,” he added.

Robbi looked around. A large ponderosa pine stood to her left. She circled the tree, searching. As she reached for a prickly cone, a rustling noise made her pause. A tiny dormouse scurried out from a mound of leaves and ran over her foot. Startled, she cried out and rose abruptly, only to be seized from above by low- hanging boughs.

She grabbed at her hair, trying to free the long strands.

“Here, hold still,” Jake said in an amused tone, reaching up to work at the branches.

Standing very close, he manipulated gently to loosen her hair. She felt a radiating warmth from his naked torso.

She wobbled, her feet unsteady upon a network of exposed twisted roots.

“Hold on to me,” he said softly into her ear.

She put her hands on his chest and felt curly, fine hair beneath her palms; heat pulsated into her fingertips. He smelled manly; he smelled of the sun and of the forest and of the lush natural elements surrounding them.

When the last trapped strands were free, he seemed reluctant to move away. His fingers, like the tree branches a moment ago, became buried deep in her thick hair.

He pulled his head back slightly to look into her eyes. In the remaining twilight she watched the pupils of his keen blue eyes grow large; his eyelids grew heavy, closing. She leaned into him as he used his body to press her against the broad tree at her back. His lips, when they met hers, were warm and supple.

The kiss was deep, sweet, and searching, their lips alive with a current that sang through her body and made her heart trip rapidly. Her mind reeled with the sensations of the moment. His smell, his taste, his warm skin beneath her hands. The only sound was the rushing of her pulse in her ears.

His mouth seared a path to her throat, his hands brushed over places that had suddenly sprung to life, places that cried out to be caressed. Her body grew warm, matching the incredible heat of his bare skin that penetrated her layers of clothes to her aching breasts beneath.

She wanted him. Here, now, on a bed of pine needles and maidenhair ferns, the warm night air permeated with the earthy aroma of all organic life around them.

Somewhere behind them a dry branch snapped.

________

Within yards of the house he came across two people leaning against a tree, embracing. Stunned, Eckker pulled up short. Tobie with a lover? Impossible! She was his
.
Rage exploded within him. If he couldn’t have her, nobody could. He would charge them, tear them to pieces, beat them with his fists until they were nothing but bloody, fleshy pulps.

He advanced several yards in a blind fury before the clopping sound of hooves echoing through the woods stopped him cold. He listened a moment, his pulse racing.

Tobie?

________

Jake’s lips came back to hers, his hands reached under her shirt to caress her feverish skin. He inched her shirt upward until flesh met flesh. She’d never made love in the woods before. The thought filled her with a tingling anticipation. A delicious ache throbbed in a feverish core low in her abdomen.

The steady beat in her body migrated to her head. She heard it pounding in her ears like the hoof beats of a horse, felt the ground beneath her feet vibrate. It slowly dawned on her that was exactly what she was hearing— the hoof beat of a horse—Tobie’s horse.

“Yoo-hoo. Hello?” her sister’s voice called out.

Without releasing her, Jake loosened his hold on Robbi, allowing her shirt to slide down. His mouth nuzzled her ear as he said, “She’s a sweet kid, but I hate her.”

She laughed lightly. His mouth covered hers, muffling the sound.

Robbi and Jake turned their heads to see Tobie astride the black stallion. She glanced at them, looked away, a shy smile on her face.

“Oops,” Tobie said. “Sorry. Mom sent me out to get you, Robbi. I could tell her I couldn’t find you.”

Jake smiled and stepped back. He took hold of Robbi’s hand and pulled her away from the tree. Together they went to where his shirt was spread on the ground. Robbi tossed several pine cones on top of the others, Jake lifted the makeshift satchel, and, without a word, they headed back toward the house, the horse and rider following.

Jake dumped the cones into the bed of his pickup, then shook out the shirt and put it on again. Robbi took him around to the back and they went in through the kitchen. She plucked pine needles and chips of bark from his shirt.

“Looks like you’ve been rolling in the forest,” she whispered.

“Don’t I wish,” he whispered back as they joined her mother in the living room.

Lois Paxton insisted they stay for one cup of tea. She smiled as she glanced from her daughter to Jake, as if pleased they were seeing each other again. Yet nothing was said on the subject. Forty-five minutes later Jake and Roberta said good-bye and left.

In the truck, halfway down the long driveway, Jake looked over at Robbi. He laid his hand on her thigh and gave it a slight tug. Robbi slid over close to him. He shifted gears and as he did so the backs of his fingers brushed maddeningly along the inside of Robbi’s bare thigh.

“Come home with me,” he said.

Her answer was to press his hand down on her leg and to lay her head on his shoulder.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

At Jake’s high-rise condominium, Robbi stood in the middle of the living room and took in the surroundings. The furniture was modern. Glass, brass, and leather in a color scheme of off-white, black, and gold. Here and there a bit of bright peacock blue emerged. Large paintings by Vasques Q. in strong, bold hues of black and white accented the light walls.

While Jake fixed drinks, Robbi took her time looking at wall photos of Jake and his family and their two-story frame house. The front porch, the old fashioned kind right out of
Mayberry R.F.D.,
with its porch swing and wicker chairs, seemed to be a favorite spot for family picture taking. Dates, in five-year increments, were inked in at the bottom. The earliest showed five females and three males. Jake, skinny as a stick, was the only boy child. Roberta felt a strange tugging in her belly. She moved on to the next photo. Now only four females on the porch—the mother had died. In each successive photo the children grew, became adults, had children of their own. The last picture was dated the spring of the present year. Eleven adults and over a dozen kids crowded on the porch. A reunion.

Roberta crossed the room and let herself out onto the balcony. Four floors up, the view of the tree-lined river and the downtown buildings caught her breath. With a full moon reflecting on the river and the casinos brilliantly lit, the view was spectacular.

A cricket chirped in the brush below. The night air smelled of grass and juniper. Roberta leaned on the rail, listening to the rushing river. Sparks of white flashed where the water broke over the jutting rocks and logs.

“Sure you’re not hungry?” Jake asked, coming up behind her. He handed her a glass of chilled white wine.

She shook her head, took the glass, and thanked him. “Are you?”

He smiled that boyish smile and moved his head slowly from side to side. “Not for food.”

He set his glass on the rail and turned to her. She followed suit. They melded into each other’s arms, their lips meeting in a stirring kiss that seemed to pick up where the kiss in the woods had left off. Within minutes Robbi’s smoldering passion, passion that on the drive home had been kept alive by his exploring hand on her thigh, was rekindled.

Jake pulled away and silently led her into the deeper shadows of the balcony. He reached inside the sliding glass door and flipped a switch that extinguished all the lights. Across the river, twinkling lights reflected brightly in the moving water. Jake slipped his feet out of his shoes, then he crossed his arms, took hold of his shirt, and peeled it off.

“I like watching you do that,” she said, low in her throat.

“Taking off my shirt?”

“Ummm.”

He gingerly tugged at her T-shirt. “Show me how it looks.”

Staring into his eyes, Robbi took hold of the hem of her shirt and, gathering it in her fingers, slowly pulled it up and over her head. She rested her wrists on top of her head, letting the shirt drop to the floor.

Jake stepped closer. “That was nice.” He brought his hands up as if to caress her breasts, but instead he stroked the insides of her raised arms. His fingertips went as far as her elbows, then traversed back down, under her arms, along her sides, to pause at the waistband of her shorts.

Robbi’s fingers went to the catch at the front of her bra, snapping it open. She parted the silk cups, arched her chest to loosen the straps from her shoulders. The bra dropped to the floor with her shirt.

Jake gazed down at her. His hands gently cupped her breasts, his thumbs lightly brushing across her nipples. He leaned down, kissed them, his tongue tracing their contours, their texture, tasting, teasing.

She sighed.

He took her hands in his and backed up, pulling her along until they were inside the condo. Scarcely clearing the threshold, he caught her to him, the crisp hair of his chest tickling her sensitive breasts, and kissed her again.