The Stranger Inside, page 18
part #4 of Stranger Series
But she was also lonelier than she could remember ever being.
An hour after her mother left, Alexa had finally texted her.
ALEXA: Why does Rick have a gun and a roll of cord in his glove compartment?
Her mother had taken exactly four minutes to respond.
DIANE: Personal protection and to tie things down. He hauls a lot of stuff. Why, Alexa?
Alexa wasn’t sure if her mother was burying her head in the sand or not . . . but the fact that Rick had those things did seem pretty creepy, especially in light of everything else. But right now she had to put all of that out of her mind, because Lance was there.
She hurriedly gave herself one final inspection in the full-length mirror. Her new jeans actually fit her well, and she liked the way her shirt hung. She’d even managed to whip her blonde hair into submission.
He knocked on the door and Alexa took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
She opened the door and was greeted by a big smile—and she was knocked off balance again by just how hot he was.
He stepped in and looked around. “Nice place.”
He was just being polite, of course.
She closed the door behind him, in disbelief that a guy as good-looking as him was in her apartment . . . there to see her. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he scanned the room. Then he turned to her and smiled, holding up the brown paper bag.
“I brought refreshments.”
She smiled, hoping he meant alcohol.
“Come see.” He walked to the kitchen table and started pulling out its contents: a two-liter bottle of Coca-Cola and a pint of Jack Daniel’s. He looked at her, and a grin inched across her smooth face. “You won’t tell your mom, right? I could get into a lot of trouble for this.”
“Of course not.” She grabbed two cups from a cabinet.
As he poured their drinks, Alexa caught the smell of whiskey on his breath. He’d already started drinking. She was a little surprised, considering he was a cop and he’d been drinking and driving.
She could hear his phone vibrating in his pocket, but he made no effort to check it. She thought again about what Trish had texted about him . . . about how weird he’d acted with her . . . but quickly pushed it aside when he handed her a drink, then held his own up high.
“To a great night with a good friend,” he said.
A good friend?
She smiled and clinked cups with him. Then gulped down as much as she could swallow.
The whiskey made her feel warm; better and more relaxed.
“So . . . I think we should have some tunes. What do you think?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She went back to her mattress and found her phone. She pulled up her Pandora app and started looking for a station. “What do you like?”
“Something mellow,” he said softly, and she watched his eyes slide over her. It made her knees weak.
“Here. You find something,” she said, feeling self-conscious.
He took the phone from her, and she took more sips of her drink. She still needed more to completely relax.
“How’s mellow/acoustic/indie sound?” he asked.
“Great,” she said, although she was pretty sure she would have said that no matter what he’d suggested.
A Ryan Adams song started playing.
Lance got up and refreshed her drink, filling it to the rim again, then he sank back into his seat. “So thank God the holidays are over, huh?”
She nodded.
He finished half his cup, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t care much for this time of year.”
“Yeah, me either.” Actually, she didn’t care much for any time of year. It was all hard to stomach. He squirmed in his chair and made a face. “Sorry, but these chairs are uncomfortable. How about we go over there?” he said, pointing to her mattress.
She bit down hard on her lip. “Yeah . . . um, sure.”
He walked over to the mattress, kicked off his shoes, and grabbed two pillows, using them to make a backrest. Then he scooted back on the mattress until he was sitting up against them. Alexa followed him and sat at the foot of the mattress, putting as much space between them as possible.
“My brother . . .” His voice trailed off as he took a sip of his drink. “He killed himself this time of year. Two years ago.”
She remembered him mentioning something about that. She watched him fashion his hand into a makeshift gun, put it up to his head, and pretend to fire it—and the horrible memory of her father flashed into her mind.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know that sucks.”
“Understatement.”
They talked for a little while. About his brother. All the reasons why the holidays sucked. When she got up to make another drink he placed his hand on her stomach to stop her, and his touch sent an electric jolt through her body so strong she could hardly breathe.
“Let me get it for you, beautiful.”
Beautiful? Her breath quickened.
He made himself another drink and topped off hers again.
This time her drink was even stronger, which was fine with her. She drank it, and they both listened to the music without saying a word.
It was nice, not having to try to be clever. Or even normal. But even though she wasn’t talking, the wheels in her head were still churning at breakneck speed. What was going to happen? Was he going to try anything? After all, he was sitting on her bed, so—
As if to answer her questions, Lance suddenly reached out and cupped the back of her head. Then he pulled her face close to his and kissed her.
Hard.
She’d never been kissed that way before. It felt good. Exciting. A flush of heat rushed through her body. He stared into her eyes as he caressed her hair. It felt good to have someone touching her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had, unless she counted the awkward hugs from her mother.
He slipped his hand across the small of her back and pulled her forward. Her breath hitched and another wave of electricity passed through her, this one even more intense. He kissed her harder, then he slid his hands beneath her shirt and yanked it over her head.
Cool air hit her stomach and back as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra.
“I, uh . . .”
“It’s okay. I just want to see you,” he said, unhooking her bra and pulling it away from her body, exposing her breasts. She trembled, partly with excitement, partly out of fear. She felt self-conscious and exposed and unsure as he stared at her breasts. But when he smiled hungrily at what he saw, she felt something she’d never felt before . . . desired.
In one sudden movement, he laid her back on the bed, then crawled on top of her. He kissed her hard again.
And again.
And she kissed back.
This time just as hard. Her face stung from his rough kisses but she didn’t care.
He began unbuckling her jeans.
IT WAS OVER before it really even started. When Lance was done, he rolled off her and lay quietly. She noticed that they were no longer touching.
And she sensed he was avoiding touching her.
She pulled the covers up over her exposed skin and tried not to think about the burning between her legs. Her raw cheeks from where his face had scraped hers.
The silence was broken by the sound of his phone vibrating. He groaned and got up. He pulled his pants back on and slipped on his shirt without even looking at her.
“I’ve gotta run,” he mumbled.
He pulled on his coat, grabbed his keys and his phone.
And before she could figure out what to say, or if she should even say anything at all, he was gone.
CHAPTER 30
DIANE LEFT FOR the crisis center ten minutes early. She was going to put in for a leave of absence before her shift. Josh had developed a respiratory infection and she needed to take care of him. Plus the thought of the creepy caller phoning in again was too much for her to handle. She wanted nothing more to do with him.
Again she wished Alexa had taken her up on the offer of staying at the house. Yes, she was upset with her for her behavior during the New Year’s Eve party . . . and for going through Rick’s things and making those claims, especially aloud, where some of her guests could hear. But Alexa’s safety was far more of a priority for her . . . and she really wanted her home.
She’d spoken to Rick at length about Alexa’s allegations. The dishonorable discharge. Photos of a scantily clad woman. And he’d explained everything to her satisfaction. He’d been given a dishonorable discharge due to an assault and battery charge filed by a superior. They’d both been drinking one night, and his commanding officer had become belligerent with him and a small group of buddies. After several minutes of being on the receiving end of some choice words, Rick said he lost his temper and hauled off and punched the guy. He said it would have been just another fight except the guy was his commanding officer. He said he was unceremoniously court-martialed and discharged for it. And that he wasn’t proud of it. That it had been a mistake. Albeit a rather big one.
The photo was of an ex-girlfriend. He said it must have been tossed in with all of his other keepsake letters and documents when he moved in. The drawer stayed locked because it contained important documents. She’d also asked him about the gun and the cord that Alexa had seen in his glove box. Those were easily explained away, too. As far as Diane was concerned, all of his answers sounded honest. And she believed him.
Arriving at the crisis center, she parked and hurried to the door. When she was just a couple of feet away, it swung open and Lance walked out. “Hi, Diane,” he said, his face spreading into a smile. He held the door open for her.
It had been weeks since she’d seen him. Her pulse quickened. “Lance. Can we talk?”
His smile dimmed. He glanced at his watch. “Sure. But we need to make it quick. What’s up?” He stepped outside with her.
“Look. I know things have been a little strange between us. But I just wanted to apologize for the weirdness on Thanksgiving,” she said, hugging herself against the brisk wind.
Lance looked confused. “Weirdness? I don’t understand.”
“You know, Thanksgiving night. Right before you left.”
Lance laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wasn’t making this easy.
And she didn’t believe him.
“Sorry.” His smile reappeared on his lips, but his eyes didn’t seem to be smiling. “Look, I’ve got to go or else I’ll be late for my shift at the station. I’ll see you around, okay?”
He was blowing her off again, just as he had with the text messages. She was disappointed.
She watched him head across the parking lot. When she walked in, Mary Kate was on the phone. She gave Diane a wave, then started talking with whomever was on the other end of her line.
Diane decided to talk with her after her shift about the leave of absence, so she grabbed a cup of coffee. On her way to her cubicle, she noticed two police officers sitting at a table in the back.
What are they here for? she wondered. She glanced back at Mary Kate, wanting to ask, but she was still on the phone.
Not two minutes later, she took her first call. “This is Sally. How can I help you?”
There was no response.
“This is Sally. How can I help you?” she repeated.
Still nothing.
“It’s okay. You’re safe to talk.”
She waited. Staring up at the clock on the wall, she prayed for a normal voice to respond. A desperate soul needing to reach out. A college student crying. An elderly woman at the end of her rope. Someone human. A normal call. Anything but that mechanized voice.
It was the mechanized voice. “I hurt people. I don’t want to, but I can’t stop. I did . . . for a while. But I don’t think I can anymore. My brain isn’t working right anymore. I’m. Having. A. Crisis.”
The hairs rose on the back of Diane’s neck. Then something caught her attention. Distorted but somewhat familiar music coming from the other end of the line.
But what was it?
She strained to hear but couldn’t make out the words. But she knew she’d heard it before. She felt a stab of pain in her head. The onset of a rare headache.
“Hello?” she said, holding her head. “Are you still there?”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER 31
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Diane snapped her laptop closed and thought back to what the anonymous caller had said. As soon as he’d hung up, the two police officers she’d seen earlier brought her into the back office, and not five minutes later, Detective Chavez arrived and there were more questions. He also told her they’d gotten a recording of the call.
Diane went to the living room and stoked the wood in the fireplace. It cast a warm, orange light over the cabin. If it weren’t for a low-grade sense of disquiet buzzing in her head, being at Rick’s would feel cozy and safe. But something new was bothering her, had been since her shift at the crisis center. She had the sense that her mind was rejecting something. But what?
Rick was in the shower and Josh was sprawled out on the couch, wearing headphones, taking a catnap. His respiratory infection had flared for a couple of days, but fortunately had gotten much better. She watched him sleep, happy that he felt completely at home at Rick’s. It was a good thing, considering they were seeking shelter because of another power outage at her place.
She was also pleased to see that he was wearing his wrist brace. In fact, he’d been taking extra-good care of himself this past week, slowing down when his body asked him to . . . and also taking a little break from his gaming, which had always been such a difficult thing for him to do.
Biscuit seemed at home, too, lying on the kitchen floor, gnawing a new beef bone, again compliments of Rick. Over the weeks, Rick had managed to gain Biscuit’s trust, and next to Diane, Rick had become the dog’s favorite human. She’d noticed that Rick seemed to have that kind of effect on almost everyone he met. It was easy for others to warm up to him.
Diane picked up her Kindle. She’d just downloaded a thriller she’d been wanting to read. It had been a long while since she’d been able to simply sit and enjoy a book. But then she remembered she needed to change over the laundry.
She went to the laundry room and pulled a load of Rick’s laundry from the dryer. He’d been nice enough to let them stay at his house and use his washing machine, so when she’d finished her own laundry, she’d decided to help him with his.
After she loaded the machine, she noticed something had fallen on the floor between the washer and dryer. A folded piece of paper. She picked it up and unfolded it. It was an address.
512 Oakton Ave
She went into the kitchen and tossed the paper on the kitchen counter in case it was important. As she was walking back into the laundry room, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway, thinking it might be the power company.
“Hello, Ms. Christie? This is Happy Maids.”
The housekeeping service she’d used.
“You used our services one time in early December.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“I’m Stan Vinditti, the manager. Our receptionist just found an incident report from that visit that had been misplaced.”
Diane was confused. “Incident report?”
“Yes ma’am. And, um, this one is a little different than the usual ones.” Stan cleared his throat and spoke in a professional tone, as if he was reading the report verbatim. “‘Happy Maids representative Maggie Lucent reported finding a dead duck in the backyard of the property while taking out the trash. Unsure what to do and thinking it might be a family pet because she’d seen you feeding it, she placed it in a plastic bag and hung it on a hook by the back door with a note. She didn’t want an animal to find it first and . . . well, you know.”
A wave of relief rushed over Diane as Stan continued.
Good news for once.
So the duck’s death hadn’t been anything malicious. She remembered again how the female duck had been moving slower than usual on Thanksgiving morning. Maybe she’d simply been sick and died of natural causes.
“We make a point of following up on incident reports. I apologize it’s taken me so long,” Stan continued. “I hope Miss Lucent’s actions were acceptable to you.”
Diane was only half listening. “Huh? Oh. Yes. I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure what happened. I found the duck but there was no note. But it had been windy, so it probably just blew away. Please tell Miss Lucent thank you for me.”
She hung up, feeling lighter. Amid the murders, the anonymous phone calls, and everything with Alexa, at least she could rest a little easier knowing what had happened to the duck.
Rick emerged from the bathroom in a clean T-shirt and shorts, toweling his damp hair.
“Who was that?” he asked.
Diane shook her head and told him what she’d just heard.
“Well, I’m happy to hear the good news,” he said.
“Me, too.”
He gave her a big hug and kissed her. As always, a shiver of pleasure passed through her.
Josh sat up and thumbed something into his phone. Without looking up, he said, “I hate to break up the lovefest, but can I go to Bruce’s house?”
Diane frowned. “Are you sure you don’t need more rest?”
“Mom. I’ve been resting all week.”
She examined him, noting that the dark circles beneath his eyes hadn’t gone away. But that would probably still take a day or two.
“I feel fine, Mom. I promise. And if I start feeling bad again, I’ll come back. Scout’s honor.”
“Sure. Go ahead.” Diane had barely gotten the words out before he was headed for the door.
“I think we cramp his style,” Rick joked. But he didn’t look well, either. His face was tight, and he looked tired.
