“Let go of me,” she said.
He yanked her toward him until her breasts were pressed against his chest. His hot breath brushed her neck, and she knew his gaze had dropped to her full cleavage.
“Step inside,” he ordered.
His voice had a smoky quality that made her tingle a little. Every time they fucked, it was always so good.
Thrusting her lip out into a small pout, she flicked her head back as she traced her finger down the center of his chest. “What are we going to do inside?”
“Find out.”
He turned and went into the cabin, confident that she would follow. And she did. She liked what the wild woods did to him and what he then did to her.
The interior was dark except for several flickering candles on the hearth of the large woodstove that dominated the cabin’s single room. He closed the door behind her and took her hand in his. He pulled her toward the small bed in the corner of the room, and she willingly lay down and angled her body up on pillows. The moonlight caught the contoured edges of his face as he straddled her. She ran her hands up and down his hard thighs.
“I don’t have long,” she said.
“This won’t take any time at all.”
Before she could question him, he’d wrapped his hands around her neck and had begun to squeeze. They had played games like this before, but this time was different. He was rougher, and there was a darkness in his gaze she had never seen before. “What are you doing?”
He smiled and squeezed tighter. “Killing you.”
She waited a beat to see if this was just another twist to one of their past fantasies. But as the pressure grew tighter and her air supply stopped, survival instincts took over. She arched back, connecting her knee with his groin.
He grunted while his grip slackened enough for her to roll toward the edge of the bed. “This is not funny,” she gasped.
“It’s not meant to be.” Pain strained his voice, even as he recovered quickly.
As her feet hit the floor, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back. “Stop it! You’re hurting me.”
“You never complained before,” he said. He was enjoying this.
“You were never like this before.” Panic echoed from every syllable. She struck out, connecting the flat of her hand with his jaw.
He grinned and pinned her arms down with his legs. She tried to sit up, determined to bite and scratch to stop him. She just needed to get out of there and to her car.
“What the hell?” she shouted. “Why are you doing this? We are on the same side.”
“I can’t have you telling.” He punched her hard in the mouth, snapping her head back. The pain was blinding, and she could feel her grip on consciousness slipping along with the pain.
The blow stunned her. Her anger vanished as fear took hold. She tried to free her hands to claw his eyes, but he drove his knees deeper into the flesh of her arms.
His hands came around her neck again, and this time she felt him grow hard. Was this a game for him? He’d had trouble getting it up the last time. God, she prayed it was a game.
But his grip banded her neck like a vise, and again her airflow stopped. She stared into his eyes, seeing a grim determination. As the seconds passed and the pressure intensified, she realized she had gambled with the devil and lost.
He stepped outside the cabin, his heart striking his chest like a boxer’s fist. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he thought about Jessica and his hands around her throat. “Damn, it was better than sex.”
He hurried to the trunk of his car and grabbed three gallon-size plastic jugs of gasoline and then started in the bedroom, carefully dousing her face and body with the gasoline before he trailed a stream of it through the living room and out onto the porch. He opened all the cabin windows, knowing his fires fed best on a large supply of fresh air.
“You pushed too hard, Jessica,” he said. “You made too many demands and forgot who was really in charge.”
He stood over her lifeless body, perhaps a little sorry he did not get some before offing her. Gently, he lifted her hand and stared at the ring that he had used to convince Lana they were on the same side, so she’d stay quiet.
Once outside, he backed up a good dozen feet and lit the gasoline trail. The blue-and-white flame sprinted along the accelerant up the porch stairs and into the open front door. He fished a camera from his car and trained it on the fire, documenting the way the flames grew taller and angrier.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Missoula, Montana
Thursday, September 10, 2020
6:00 a.m.
“A call came in from Darren Halpern,” Becca said over the phone.
Gideon shifted the phone to his left hand as he rose up out of his bed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. On a typical day, he should have gotten another half hour of sleep, but typical was rare in his line of work.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What did he say?”
“His wife is missing, so he said he drove up to the family cabin in the hills. Instead of finding her, he discovered the cabin had burned to the ground.”
“What?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “When was he there?” The cold from the floor crept into his bones.
“About two a.m. He had to drive to the nearest gas station to get cell service. An officer is bringing him into town.”
“Good. Keep him at the station. I’ll be out as quickly as I can.”
He dressed in minutes and, when he emerged from his room, walked down to Kyle’s room. He crossed the boy’s bedroom floor, littered with yesterday’s discarded clothes, socks, and shoes, and sat on the edge of his bed. The boy lay on his belly, his arm flung over the side with his mouth open. His face was relaxed, as if he had not a care in the world.
Gideon rubbed him on the back. “Kyle, you’re going to have to get up. Got to take you to Aunt Ann’s.”
“I’m sleeping.”
“I know, buddy. I got a call.”
He yanked the pillow over his head.
Gideon tugged back his covers. “Rise and shine.”
“Can I stay with Joan?”
“No. Aunt Ann.”
The boy’s groans of complaint followed him as he strode out of the room and flipped on the light.
As Gideon hurried down the stairs, he was hit by the scent of coffee. Joan, never a good sleeper, was addicted to the brew.
Leaning on the kitchen counter, she stared at the pot, probably willing it to work faster. His attention shifted to her bottom, still as round and firm as he remembered.
Gideon cleared his throat.
She straightened, turning as if he was interrupting a private moment. “Your little apartment has a good bed but no coffee.”
“How did you get in the house?”
“You have a set of keys in the apartment. I had to try three before the back door opened. You really should consider color coding them. They all look alike in the dark.” She had drawn back behind her trademark humor and sarcasm.
Maybe she was right. Distance was better for everyone. He reached for his phone and texted Ann. Her reply was quick. She would be glad to drive Kyle to school. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“The house rises early.”
“I got a call.” He did not hesitate to fill her in. “Jessica Halpern is missing. Darren drove to his cabin last night and discovered it burned to the ground.”
She folded her arms and blinked. “Really? And where is Mr. Halpern now?”
“An officer is bringing him into town. I’m headed to the cabin to survey the damage.”
“I want to come.”
No may I or please. “I leave in fifteen minutes. First stop is Ann’s so I can drop Kyle off.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“You ride with me. Hate to lose you in the dark up in the mountains.”
He reached around her for his travel mug. She smelled like the lilac shampoo left behind by Christie, a gal he had dated when he lived in the apartment. The scent had always suited Christie but smelled too fussy on Joan. Something spicy would have befitted her.
Gideon grabbed the travel mug, and as he reached for the pot, she did not shift out of his way, and his arm brushed against hers. Under the soft knit sleeve was sculpted muscle. He was not sure if she was just lost in thought or wanted him to touch her. That was the way it was with Joan. She always had him in a pretzel of emotion.
As if she had made her point, she pushed away from the counter and crossed to the refrigerator. She hefted the gallon-size jug and jostled the remaining contents around. “Does Kyle take milk with his cereal?”
“Yes.”
She replaced the milk without taking any.
“Go ahead and drink it. I can make him toast.”
“No, I’ll save what remains for him. It doesn’t feel right disrupting his routine. It’s his world. Not mine.”
No truer words. She was a visitor in his world, and he would be smart to remember it.
As Gideon drove, Joan watched as the sun rose above the eastern horizon and remembered her first winter in Missoula. It had been miserable. She had always thought Philly winters were brutal, but out here, the weatherman measured snow in feet rather than inches, and extreme wind drove temps well below zero. She had never really gotten warm that first winter, and by late January, she had been compiling transfer applications to colleges in Florida, Texas, and Arizona.