Starks' Reality (15 page)

Water flowed around and between them, warming
her skin and filling the air with heated sound. Too quickly, the excitement overwhelmed her. Erotic tingles ran up her spine and between her legs. She closed her eyes and let go.

Her body melted in
the sea of wet, steamy heat. Nothing but heat and hardness, and Jake’s body against hers.

Waves crashed over her
, pushing and pulling.

Lifting her up and drawing her under.

Until they ebbed.

Jake came quickly. She loved the power of his body in the throes of passion. The muscles in his arms tightened into hard bulges that shook with restraint. His breath was a series of muffled groans as he filled her completely with each thrust.

After the last push, he dropped his head onto the back of her shoulder.

“Damn,” he said, “that’s better than coffee.”

When he withdrew, she felt empty and a little shaky. But he didn’t abandon her. Instead, he turned her around and washed her body with tenderness that seemed strangely out of place, caressing every inch of her sensitized skin. Between soapings, he kissed her.

She didn’t want it to end. When he moved her under the water for a final rinse, he smiled as he joined her for one last scorching kiss. Then he released her and pointed her toward the end of the tub. “You’re clean.”

She turned around. “I want to wash you.”

He raised his eyebrows and glanced down. “Next time. I don’t think we’ll get out of here if you do, and I only brought one condom.”

Heather stared, shocked to find him aroused again. The only guys she’d had any experience with had always lost interest after one time. Gulping, she took one last long look at him. Then she turned and stumbled from the shower.

~~**~~**~~

By the time Jake finished showering, the hard-on had nearly faded. Good thing. He couldn’t imagine being able to go another round without dying in the process.

He pulled on his jeans, slipped on his T-shirt and his boots, and carried his revolver with him into the kitchen.

Heather held cups under the drip of the automatic coffee maker, filling them before the machine was finished. When she handed him one, he positioned it under his eyes, taking advantage of the steam as he sat at the table. Then he took large gulps of the heated elixir.

“Do you want some eggs or something?” she asked.

Jake glanced at the clock. Eight fifteen. They’d probably slept about four hours, and he was starving, but they didn’t have time.

“No, thanks, I’ll grab some doughnuts on the way to the office.”

She joined him at the table with her own mug of coffee. “I thought the doughnuts and cops thing was a joke.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I like doughnuts once in a while.”

She smiled. “Me, too.”

Even with
wet hair and puffy, red eyes, she was gorgeous.

“Jake.”

“Yes?”

She frowned at her coffee and blushed.

“What is it, Heather?”

“I was just wondering, I m
ean, do you always have so much…stamina?”

He laughed, which drew her eyes to him and caused her to blush even more. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the kitchen and left his cup on the counter, then
he stood behind her and leaned over.

She looked up at him.

He kissed her mouth, drew on her bottom lip, and kissed her nose.

“Stop by tonight
, he said, “and we’ll find out.”

She swallowed hard.

Jake walked to the door. “Will you be ready by ten?”

“Yes.”

He glanced back. She watched him, her puffy eyes sparkling.

God, he couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to carry her back to bed.

Instead, he winked and Heather smiled, and he forced himself to leave.

The day had warmed already. He walked the edge of the road, waving to
both cars that passed.

He had work to do before they left for court. He
wanted to verify his checking account balance, and make a few phone calls. And he still needed to talk to Red.

What he really needed was sleep. With any luck, he’d get a chance to grab a nap before Heather closed the bar for the night.

With any luck, he’d be tired as hell again tomorrow.

~~**~~**~~

Just sitting in the courtroom made Heather shake. Coop stood beside his court-appointed attorney: a young man in an oversized suit.

“Not guilty,” the attorney said.

“We’re asking for one-hundred thousand, your honor,” the prosecutor said.

Coop’s attorney
drew himself up. “Your honor, Mr. Cooper is a responsible member of the community with a business to run. This is excessive bail for—”

“All right, I get the picture.” T
he judge stroked one side of his white moustache with his fingertips. “Bail is set at fifty thousand.” He banged the gavel.

A guard escorted
Coop from the room. He glanced at them, but didn’t smile.

Heather fol
lowed Jake from the courthouse.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You’ll need five thousand for the bond.”

She took a deep breath. Five thousand was more than she had to her name. “How much will I get back?”

“None.
It’s a fee for putting up the bail.”

It didn’t matter how much it cost; she’d do anything to get Coop out of jail. Maybe she could offer the house as collateral.

The bail bondsman, Emile Corrales, was an overweight, sweaty man in a cotton suit. He filled out the form with hasty indifference, and then looked up.

“Where do I know you from?” he asked Jake.

“Dallas?”

“You were in Dallas?”

“With DPD.”

“O
f course. You helped me catch a jumper, Joseph Whitley, about ten years ago. Whitley and his brother snatched a purse, and you and your partner chased them down. I remember that. Saved me a bundle.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, are you involved in this case?”

“
Bill Cooper’s a friend of mine.”

Corrales narrowed his eyes, glanced at Heather, and leaned forward in his chair. “I see.” He scratched through something on the form,
and then turned it around for Heather’s signature. “How about five percent?”

She glanced at Jake and he nodded. Twenty-five hundred dollars left her enough money to
at least get a start on the semester. She signed the paper, filled out a check, and slid it across the desk.

Corrales folded the check in half and shoved it into his jacket. “I’ll trust
that it’s good and start the paperwork right now. If we don’t get bogged down, your father should be out in a few hours, Ms. Cooper.” The man rose. “I suggest you get some coffee or something. No point hanging around.”

Jake shook Corrales’s
hand then followed Heather out.

“Lucky break,” he said.

She nodded.

“Hungry?”

“Very.”

“There’s a diner around the corner,” he said. “I hear the food’s not bad.”

She wished for Jake’s arm around her waist, but dressed in his uniform, he kept a respectable distance between them as they walked.

~~**~~**~~

By the time they left the county jail, it was well past six. Coop climbed silently into the car.

Heather climbed into the back, but
sat forward and rested her hand on her father’s shoulder.

“Anything come back to you?” Jake asked.

Coop shook his head.

“Were there any trailers
at the boat launch that night?”

The man
narrowed his eyes and stared out the window for a while. “I...don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

They didn’t talk the rest of the way
back to Port Boyer.

Jake dropped them off at their house. Coop walked slowly inside
as Heather came around to the driver’s window.

“Are you going to open the bar?” he asked.

“Yes. Skeet’s probably there already.”

He wanted to taste her mouth.

“Jake, thanks for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for any
thing.” Then he reached up, grabbed the front of her blouse, and pulled her down for a kiss.

She opened her mouth to him willingly and made a soft sound that caused his heart to race. Before he released her,
he held her face close to his.

“Tonight,” he said, “if you can make it.”

She smiled and nodded.

As he backed out of the driveway, Jake glanced up at the house
where the kitchen curtain swayed and then fell into place.

He made a quick trip to the office to pick up Tran’s autopsy report, faxed over from the coroner’s office, anxious to see if it held any clues. Here it was Friday evening already, and he’d made no progress on the case.

Surprisingly, he found Red walking out of the office. The man raised his hand in greeting and waited for Jake to approach.

“Hey, there, Chief. How’d the arraignment go?”

“As expected. Coop’s out on bail.”

The redhead nodded. “Good.”

“Red, where were you on Tuesday?”

“When?”

“When Helen tried to get you, about four-thirty.”

“Four-thirty?” He frowned in thought for a moment. “That must have been when I was up at
Radisson’s.”

“Tanner
Radisson’s?”

“Yep. He thinks he had a burglary attempt on his house.”

“Did you write it up?”

Red’s eyes widened just a little. “Uh, no, not yet. I mean, it was probably just his imagination. You know them fancy alarm systems. They’re always going off for no good reason.”

“Well, just in case, write it up this weekend.”

“Sure thing, Chief.”

Jake started for the door, but stopped and turned back. “Kenny said you were having radio problems.”

“Yeah, that damned radio has a short in it somewhere. It’s always going out.”

Jake nodded. “Make sure you take it in first thing Monday.”

“Will do.”

Red raised his hand again, turned, and strolled across the street to his truck.

Jake hurried in and picked up the report from his desk. Helen had placed it in a brown folder with a hand-written note on top that said, “Dave Tucker called. Wants you to call him. Have a good weekend.”

He cringed, suddenly remembering the dinner invitation for the night before. Folder in hand, he left the station. He’d call Tucker when he got home.

Maybe he’d still have time for a quick nap.

In his kitchen, Jake spread out the folder on the table and read the report three times.

Tran had died from trauma to the brain. In other words, he’d been beaten to death. The time of death was estimated between eight p.m. and two a.m. The coroner believed the weapon used was about
seven centimeters in diameter, but saw nothing to suggest material. That meant the weapon was smooth.

Seven
centimeters. He didn’t know kilograms, but he remembered centimeters from all the coroner’s reports he’d read. With two and a half centimeters per inch, that worked out to a little less than three inches in diameter. Just right for a baseball bat, or a large pipe.

He picked up the second page,
a report from the doctor who had examined Coop. The doctor believed the bruise had been caused by a blow from a “blunt object,” but couldn’t say if the object hit Coop’s head, or if his head hit the object.

That didn’t help.

He rose from the table, filled a glass with water, and was about to drink when he heard footsteps on the front stairs, followed by frantic knocking.

Jake abandoned the glass on the counter and yanked open the door. Heather stood in the yard, pale and
shaking.

“Please, I don’t know what to do,” she said. “It’s Coop.”

Grabbing his revolver, he ran out behind her.

CHAPTER
12

H
eather led Jake through the house to Coop’s room and stopped at the dark doorway.

Jake reached in and flipped on the overhead light.

Coop sat in a corner, his back to the wall, holding a machete in both hands. With wild eyes, he searched the floor around him.

“Coop?” Jake stepped into the room.

Heather followed him, trembling, terrified of what lay ahead.

“Stay back!” Coop yelled. “They’re all over the place. Watch out!” He swung the blade and hit an area of op
en floor. “Got you, you bastard.”

“Coop, what did you get?” Jake crouched
just out of reach.

“That’s the biggest damned cobra I’ve ever seen. He’s right there. Can’t you see him? Don’t let one of them get you. They’re all over the room.”

Jake turned toward Heather. “Wait at the door.”

This time, she did as he said and stepped back into the hall, but she moved where she could see inside.

“Coop,” Jake said.

Coop continued to search the floor, holding the machete aloft.

“Coop!”

Coop looked up at him.

“You know who I am?”

“
You’re the chief.”

“
You know I wouldn’t lie to you, right?”

The man shrugged. “I guess.
”

“Listen to me, Coop. There are no snakes in here.”

Coop’s eyes widened. “How can you say that? They’re—”

“Coop, you’re hallucinating. There are no snakes. I swear to you. Look, I’m sitting on the floor. Would I do that if there were snakes in here?”

“I…I don’t know.”

H
er father’s face slowly filled with horror until he looked like a pathetically lost and frightened child.

Heather
stepped into the room and knelt beside Jake. “Please, Coop, listen to him. There aren’t any snakes.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Jake moved forward. “Will you give me the machete now?”

Coop looked at the weapon in his hand as if surprised to find it there. He lowered it to the floor and pushed it away. Then he dropped his face into his hands and began to sob.

Heather hurried forward and wrapped her father in her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, holding him.

He cried and shook for a long time, and then he raised his head. “No, Deuce, go away. Please. I don’t want…please go.”

Heather sat up and started to argue, but Jake grabbed her arm. “Come on,” he said, quietly. “Why don’t you make a pot of coffee?”

She jerked her arm free and glared at Jake. “Go to hell. He’s my father.”

“And he doesn’t want you to see him like this. Dammit, have a little respect for the man, will you?”

Heather’s chest tightened at his words. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room.

In her own room, she fell onto the bed, hugged
her pillow, and cried. She wanted, with all her heart, to help her father and she couldn’t.

~~**~~**~~

Jake waited for Coop’s breathing to slow. The man shivered, even in his sleep.

Shaking his head, Jake rose slowly and tiptoed from the room. Coop had made a brave decision to quit drinking. Now came the price.

Heather wasn’t in the kitchen, and she hadn’t brewed coffee. Jake walked quietly down the hall and found her in her bed, her back to the door.

“Heather?”

She didn’t answer, so he sat carefully on the edge of her bed. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her fingertips.

“Heather.”

“Go away,” she said.

“Come on, don’t do that.”

She rolled onto her back and glared at him through red, swollen eyes. “Don’t do what, get offended whe
n you send me out of the room? He’s my father. I should be the one to help him, not you.”

Jake studied her face, hurt by the pain he saw.
It was time for a little honesty, but the thought terrified him.

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “How many times have you had D.T.’s?”

She stared at him in silence.

“Heather, I’ve been through what Coop’s going through. It’s not easy, and it’s even tougher to watch. He’s ashamed right now. You have to give him a little space. He wants you to be proud of him, but it’s going to take a while. He’ll need a lot more of your help than you know.”

She wiped her eyes again.

“He wants to quit drinking.”
Jake frowned down at his hands and then met Heather’s gaze. “You need to be ready. He’ll have some bad days. But the hardest thing to understand is that he’ll be a different person.”

She sat up, leaning back on the brass headboard. “I’m ready.”

“I sure as hell hope so.” What he thought was more along the lines of,
I doubt it
.

“Oh, Jake.” Heather hopped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck.

He held her and stroked her back until she pushed away.

She looked steadily into his eyes and touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

Her innocent excitement made him smile. He pressed a kiss into her warm palm and then rose.

“You know where I am if you need me,” he said.

“You don’t want to stay?”

Jake
shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“What if Coop
has more hallucinations?”

“I don’t think he’ll wake up anytime soon. He hasn’t slept in days. But if he does, call me. I’ll write my number by the phone.”

Heather nodded, and then followed him to the kitchen.

Jake scribbled his
cell number on a note pad. “Are you going next door?”

“Yes.” She wiped her eyes again
and pushed her hair back from her face. “I left Skeet alone nearly an hour ago.”

He
crooked his arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you over.”

Heather slipped her arm through his and they strolled out, along the edge of the roa
d, and through the parking lot.

~~**~~**~~

Although annoyed at being left alone for so long, Skeet was more concerned about Coop. When Heather explained what had happened, and how Jake had helped, Skeet frowned strangely and shook his head as he returned to his work without comment.

Before long, she’d caught up on drink orders and bills, and gotten into the swing of the Friday night shift. The place stayed relatively crowded, almost as if nothing had happened. Coop had been right; people quickly forgot.

By midnight, Heather had run out of steam and wouldn’t have been able to function without a cup of coffee within reach. She started brewing a fresh pot as more customers strolled in.

“Well, now, bro, look who’s tending bar tonight.”

Heather’s heart skipped a beat and she swung around.

Lou and Casey Johnson sat on bar stools, grinning.

“How...what are you doing here?”

Lou shrugged. “There’s this thing called bail.”

She reached back and grabbed a water pitcher, ready to swing at whichever Johnson came within reach.

“You can’t be in here,” she said.

“Why not?” Casey leaned forward. “It’s a free country.”

“Not in here,” she said. “This is my bar, and I want you out.”

“Now, that ain’t no way to be.” Lou shook his head slowly. “We come by to see if you missed us.”

“Skeet!”

Lou rose. “You don’t need to worry. We’re just here for a beer, that’s all.”

Heather felt Skeet walk up behind her.

Casey rose to join his brother.

“I’m not serving you two,” Heather said. “If you’re not off my property in one minute, I’m calling the cops.”

Lou glared at her, and then glanced up at Skeet. “That ain’t very nice,” he said. He turned and left with his brother at his heels.

Heather heaved a huge sigh of relief. Skeet’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and she looked up. He studied her with concern.

She squeezed his bulky hand, wishing she could tell him just how much she truly appreciated him, but she knew he’d just be embarrassed. “Thank you.”

He nodded and returned to the kitchen.

Heather checked the clock. Twelve-fifteen. Another forty-five minutes and she could run everyone out and close up.

Why were the Johnson boys out of jail? First thing in the morning, she’d call Jake and ask.

God, she hated being scared out of her wits.

~~**~~**~~

After another sleepless night, Jake felt as though he were on the verge of collapse. He’d missed Heather’s warm body against his, but that wasn’t the problem. As soon as he’d closed his eyes, the nightmares had started with a vengeance. This time, he’d pulled the trigger and watched the girls’ chests explode. He’d bolted out of bed, stumbled through the dark to the bathroom and thrown up. Then he’d stayed up with a paperback, afraid to chance another round of dreams. Sometime around sunrise, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa.

Heather called at eight. He was glad to hear her voice, but furious that the county had released the Johnsons. He promised to help her get a restraining order first thing Monday, and to have a talk with the brothers in the meantime.

Then Tucker called.

“Okay,” Tucker said, “I’m over being pissed at you.”

“Good.” Jake rested his elbows on the table. “I need all the friends I can get right now.”

“You always have.”

“Yeah.”

“Look,” Tucker said, “I’ll give you a chance to make up for forgetting about me. Come over for lunch and you’ll be forgiven. Oh, and bring Heather.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

Tucker usually had something up his sleeve when he played coy. “All right, as long as you promise not to embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you? You’ve got to be joking.
You do that all by yourself.”

“I swear, Tucker, I’ll pop you in the mouth, chair or no chair.”

Tucker laughed on the other end. “I believe you would. See you at noon?”

“All right.”

Jake snapped the phone shut. He hurriedly shaved, dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, and attached his thirty-eight to his belt. He had a few things to do before lunch.

It wasn’t difficult to find Tanner
Radisson’s place; only one road led in the right direction. Jake drove with the windows down, enjoying the rich morning breeze that carried scents of frying bacon and seawater.

Radisson’s
house grew more impressive as he approached. An expansive one-story L-shaped building had been constructed of limestone block, and a waterfall in front ran into a large swimming pool surrounded by potted palms and lounge chairs. A black iron fence enclosed the whole complex.

Jake pulled up to the gate and pushed a button on the code pad.

A man’s voice blared through the speaker. “Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Mr.
Radisson,” Jake said.

There was a long silence, then, “Drive in,” and the gate rolled open. Jake parked behind a green Mercedes.

Before he could reach the front door, it opened and Radisson appeared clad in a white pool jacket and carrying a cup of coffee. He closed the front door quickly behind him.

“Chief
Starks isn’t it?” he said, extending his hand.

“Yes.”

Radisson motioned toward a covered table beside the pool. “What can I do for you?”

Jake sat in an iron chair facing the house and
Radisson sat across from him.

“We’ve had a rash of minor burglaries recently,” Jake said, exaggerating just a bit, “so I thought I’d stop in.”

“Oh? I don’t understand.”

“Because of Tuesday.”

The man looked clearly confused.

“The burglary attempt?”

“Oh, the burglary attempt.” Radisson nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “Yes, I’d forgotten. They didn’t get anything.”

“They?”

“Hmm?”

“You said, ‘they didn’t get anything.’ Did you see more than one person?”

“Uh, no. Actually, I didn’t see anyone. The house alarm went off, so I called your office. Officer Daily came out and looked around. I don’t think he found anything.”

The front door opened again and Eileen Murphy emerged. She wore a dark green house robe that swallowed her, but the color looked good on her. She walked out to the table and rested one hand on
Radisson’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Ms. Murphy,” Jake said.

“Sheriff, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, “but I’m not the sheriff. I’m the chief of police.”

“Oh,” she said, “I always get things mixed up. Tanner gets so frustrated with me. Don’t you, dear?”