The Summerland (20 page)

“
Please, call me Adam. You say Dr. Porter and I start looking around for a patient.” He grinned, his smile lighting up the room like a beacon. “Do you want the textbook or the layman’s version?”

“
Layman’s please. I may have taken some community college courses in my twenties, but nothing that even begins to measure up to this.”

“
Okay. Dissociative personality disorders go far beyond the traditional Stockholm Syndrome definitions. I guess to start I should describe Stockholm Syndrome. It got its name in a 1974 bank holdup in Sweden where two armed robbers held four employees captive for almost six days. During those five-plus days, some of the hostages became sympathetic toward their captors, and one of the female captives even fell in love with her abductor.

“
Obviously, this by no means started in 1974. People were affected by these symptoms long before then, and their cases are documented as far back as 1944, during World War II. In a nutshell, Stockholm Syndrome is created when a captive can’t escape, is isolated and threatened with death, but is shown token acts of kindness. In most cases, it only takes three or four days for the psychological shift to take place.”

Josie shook her head. “C’mon. I’m not buying it. Are you trying to tell me that a perfectly healthy adult would begin to side with the bad guy after only a few days?” She continued to shake her head, ebony curls bouncing against her shoulders.

“
That’s exactly what I’m telling you. It may seem far-fetched or hard to believe, but it really happens, and happens in almost every case where the circumstances are right. I can see where it might begin to impact this case, but until I read the FBI’s report, I’d like to reserve judgment. What do you say we both read the report, then get together this evening, maybe over dinner?”

Josie grinned wickedly, “Sure. I’m already the talk of the town. I might as well get a little mileage out of it by being seen with you. How about some nasty, greasy burgers from the Cone Shop at about seven, then we can go to the park where no one can overhear us?”

Dr. Adam Porter returned her grin. “Sounds like a plan to me. Seven it is.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Arden’s return to Mariposa was triumphant and bittersweet. She could have had her car driven back to L.A. at almost any time, but she was sure that she’d subconsciously left it in Mariposa for one purpose only, to see Bill Ashton again. Even though she’d already made up her mind that their relationship would remain purely Samantha-related, she simply couldn’t resist the urge to see him again, hear that rough, velvety voice in person just once more.

The Air Force actually let her leave the base once it had been made clear to them that she was in no danger. She had a sneaking suspicion that Major Allen had wanted her out of the office more than he wanted her in it. True, in the eight weeks since her injury, she’d never once let her personal life overshadow her professional one, but she certainly wasn’t the sharp-as-a-tack officer she’d been before this mess all began. The day the Office of Special Investigations had cleared her from further danger he’d ordered her out of the office, telling her to report in within a week to update him. With that she was on an airplane, on her way north.

She rolled under the gently swaying banner proclaiming it to be “Fair Days,” then continued up the two-lane highway into the heart of town. Until she passed the Sugar Pine and the Stage Stop and approached the Maple Street Inn, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the little town, and the old-fashioned residents that gave it it’s heart.

It was a glorious September afternoon, hot as hell, but it was a clean, searing heat that burned right down to the soul. The sky was shockingly blue, with cotton-puff clouds dotting the horizon. The town bustled with life, catching the incoming County Fair goers and the last of the summer tourists. Row upon row of Harleys lined the boardwalk in front of the Gold Coin Saloon, reclining on their kickstands like obedient attack dogs brought to heel. Maintaining an uneasy truce with the hogs were beaten and abused ranch trucks, their owners in town for Labor Day sales, a Coke and some cotton candy.

Not quite trusting herself to see the Sheriff yet, she motored up to the Maple Street Inn, grinning in anticipation as she caught sight of the overflowing parking lot across the street. The air was redolent with the smell of corn dogs and fish and chips. Shriner’s mini-cars were jammed into the lot like rainbow-colored sardines and children dashed back and forth leaving a trail of balloons, metallic streamers and gleeful laughter. It seemed she couldn’t have come back at a better time, even if it was to search for her sister and convalesce.

Her arm was almost as good as new, with only a twinge now and then. Her lack of activity over the past two months had added almost ten pounds to her lanky frame, giving her curves and a softness she’d never had, even before basic training. She was still well within the military’s weight guidelines, but felt uncomfortable in this new body. It was more voluptuous, more feminine. It wasn’t a feeling she was accustomed to.

Mindy Turner greeted her with an enthusiasm bordering on mania, settling her in the room where she’d spent a memorable three days. Arden could hear the grapevine buzzing with her return before she even closed the door. Walking through that door was like coming home. She hadn’t even begun to settle in when the telephone rapped out a strident demand to be picked up. Sighing inwardly she picked up the receiver, knowing who she would hear on the other end of the line.

“
Hello Arden. How are you feeling?” His rich, rugged voice washed over her, sounding awkward and tired and oh-so close.

“
Bill. I see it didn’t take them long to start. I’m feeling fine, much better as a matter of fact. How are you?”

“
Well,” he began slowly, “I’m tired and I’m pissed. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I would’ve come to get you at the airport. You didn’t have to drive all the way up from Fresno by yourself.”

“
I needed the time away from everyone, even you. Two hours in a car gives you a lot of time for soul searching. Especially when the scenery is as dismal as it is along Highway 99.” She answered with a smile. “So, Fair Days, huh?”

She could actually hear the grin that spread over his face through the telephone line. “Yup. I can guarantee you’ve never seen anything like it. Picture this. Tonight we have the Demolition Derby. Chris Mather is our reigning champion and one helluva driver. Right next to the grandstand we have the beer gardens, which offer a breathtaking display of tap beer. You have a choice between Coors and Bud. After a few drinks and your required intake of cotton candy and corn dogs, we’re off to the midway, where the Ferris Wheel boasts the best view in the county. So, L.A. woman, does that sound like an evening that would interest you, or are you too citified for us country folks?” He delivered the last line laughingly, but Arden could hear the real question in his voice.

She would like nothing better than to spend the evening running around the fair like a carefree teenager, but that inner voice drew at her. The one that asked her the same tired question over and over again. How could she enjoy herself when Samantha was missing, maybe even dead? Then, in an unsettling flash of insight, she knew what was really bothering her, deep down. It wasn’t her unprecedented attraction to the Sheriff. No, it wasn’t that at all.

She was afraid she would have a good time and forget why she was in this town in the first place. When she’d been here last, no one had known where Samantha was. Now it was almost certain that the same psychotic who’d already murdered five other women had kidnapped her. How could she, in good conscience, dare to enjoy herself, relish the scintillating presence of the Sheriff, revel in the fact that she was alive?

Bill heard the hesitation and cursed himself for pushing her too hard, too fast. “Listen Arden, I’m sorry. Come by the station when you feel up to it and we’ll go over what we’ve got so far.”

It was the tone of his voice that decided her. It was cool and firm and businesslike and had ‘hands off’ written all over it. No matter what else in her life went to hell in a handbasket, she’d be damned if it would be any kind of relationship with this man. It had been too long since anyone had made her feel special or wanted or all warm and tingly. Samantha or no, kidnapping or no, what was wrong with pursuing something with this appealing, handsome man?

Above all, she needed to apply the lesson she’d learned in a dusty courtyard not too long ago. Live as if every day were your last. She’d almost been one of those examples, living for family and country, but never for herself. Enough.

“
I don’t think so. Did you think you could brush off an Okie girl that easily? Your fair had better be pretty special to even begin to compare to ours. We kicked ass.”

“
Shit,” he drawled, enthusiasm broadening his voice, making it even more extraordinary. “You ain’t seen nothing yet! I’m not on duty tonight, but I’ll definitely get to break up a few brawls. Let’s drink too much beer and ride the Zipper until we barf.” The smile in his voice was back and beaming. “How does 8:30 sound? It’s too damned hot to breathe until then.”

“
Sounds perfect. I’ll see you at 2030 sharp.”

“
2030? Oh, yeah, right, military time. Very funny. See you tonight Arden. I’m looking forward to this.” She could see him in her mind’s eye, leaning back against that spectacularly cluttered desk, his long, jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle, ending in those scuffed old cowboy boots, Stetson pulled low over his forehead, with just a lick of light brown hair escaping the front. It had definitely been too long since she’d seen him. Her mouth watered.

“
Arden?” he broke her silence with a questioning tone.

“
Um, yeah, sorry. See you at 8:30. I’m looking forward to it too.” More than you’ll ever know, she thought to herself, firmly pushing the doubts and insecurities she had about relationships in general into the farthest reaches of her mind.

* * * *

Arden didn’t know why she was surprised. The restored convertible idling in the parking lot was exactly like Bill Ashton. It was just unusual enough to catch your eye and looked nice and civilized on the outside. Then you popped the hood and were surprised by the raw power and intricacy that lay beneath.

He was leaning up against the slick cream paint of the classic car, looking the way she’d pictured him during their conversation, long and lanky and utterly comfortable. Good enough to eat. She didn’t question the impulse that drove her. She just went straight to him and into his arms without a second thought. And felt like she’d come home.

If her greeting surprised Bill, he didn’t show it. He just cradled her in the warm security of his arms, returning her embrace, reveling in the trust she was silently giving him. Tipping her face up, he brushed a light, feathery kiss across her forehead. “Well hello there lady. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“
Hi,” she murmured, looking up at him, her gaze skipping across his features, taking in the way his nose sat just a little crookedly on his face and the hairline scar that barely grazed his temple, then disappeared under the hatband of his old Stetson.

“
God, I missed you.” She heard the dreaminess in her own voice and with a start realized where she was, and the fact that she was nestled in the vee of his thighs in the middle of a public parking lot. While she’d never been a shy person, the blush that crept up her face was painfully bright. “Sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

“
I do.” Bill said, continuing to hold her even when she began to slide away. “I missed you too.” He leaned down, settling his mouth over hers carefully, denying his absolute need to taste her, to feel her quicken against him again. He contented himself with just the feel and smell of her, for now. Just as she began to soften against him, return his kiss in earnest, he straightened, put an arm around her shoulders and just held her. They stayed like that for a moment, with the setting sun and the impatient growl of the muscle car as a backdrop. Then he released her, slowly, reluctantly, cherishing the way she fit against him perfectly.

Reaching out to run a thumb across her cheekbone he forced the want, the need out of his eyes and attempted to replace them with a mischievous twinkle. “Well L.A. woman, are you ready to see the sights, smell the corn dogs and win me a great big stuffed animal?”

Searching his eyes, Arden found the confirmation she was looking for, the mirrored uncertainty and desire, and answered him with a slow smile. “Hey, haven’t you heard? I’m the best shot west of the Mississippi. Consider that big pink elephant yours.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Fair was everything he’d promised and then some. Chris Mather was as good as the legend that preceded him, and was more than happy to share a beer with the Sheriff after the Derby. After all, they were schoolmates. He also wanted a look at the woman he’d heard so much about over the last two months.

The three of them sat on a scarred plastic picnic bench in the beer gardens, sipping from a tub of flat Budweiser and rerunning the Demolition Derby crash by impressive crash.

Bill had been right. This fair was much better than her hometown gathering in Oklahoma, maybe because it was such a small town and everyone seemed to know each other. It intensified the family feeling she’d observed since coming to Mariposa in June. Ironically, now that community-wide intimacy seemed to encompass her. She’d stopped counting the number of well wishers and curiosity seekers who stopped by their table under the guise of congratulating Chris.