Among the Missing (2 page)

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Turning her head forward, she dipped a foot into the water.

"How is it?"

"Bearable, but only just."

Against the dark surface of the water, her body looked stark white. She had no tan lines. She might have been molded out of fresh snow or sculptured from ivory -- pure white from neck to foot except for the shadowed gray crescent between her buttocks.

As she waded slowly into the river, her white feet seemed to disappear into blackness. Then the black void climbed her white calves. As she moved forward, her arms out for balance, the black consumed the backs of her thighs, then her buttocks.

She turned around.

Her pure white front was dabbed with dark areas: her eyes, her mouth, her nipples. Below each breast was a crescent of shadow that reminded him of the crevice behind her. But these were horizontal, not vertical, and much smaller.

"Coming in?" she called.

"You bet!"

He dropped the blanket, gown and slippers into the sand in front of him, then took off his shirt.

"Nice chest, babe! Now let's see the rest!"

He let his shirt fall onto the pile. As fast as he could, he pulled off his boots and socks. Then he pulled down his jeans.

"Wow!"

"Wow yourself!" he called.

"I'm impressed!"

"You're not so bad either."

"Don't just stand there. Come on out and show me what you can do with that baby."

"Here I come, ready or not!" He stepped around the pile of clothing and headed for the water.

"Come and get me!" she cried out. Laughing, she dived toward him. The water shut over her and for moments the river looked deserted -- as if she had never been there at all. Then her face appeared, a pale laughing oval. "Ever do it in the water?" she asked, gliding closer.

"A couple of times."

"How was it?"

"Dry." He dived and swam toward her underwater. When he surfaced, she was close enough to reach. Standing shoulder-deep in the river, he found her hand and pulled her toward him.

"You got your hair all wet," he said.

"It'll dry." She rubbed herself against him.

"Not in an hour or so."

" 'So' can be a long time."

"It can be forever," he said. Below the surface, his fist shot toward her. Water resistance slowed the punch, robbed it of power, but his fist connected well anyway.

With the first shock of the blow, her eyes bulged. Her mouth sprang wide. She gagged, trying to suck in air but getting none.

He struck her again in the same place, dead center, just below the sternum.

Then he grabbed her behind the neck and pushed her down. Climbing onto her back, he rode her, hands around her neck, knees squeezing her sides. She twisted beneath him. She tried to roll. She tried to throw him off. Once, she managed to force the top of her head to the surface. Before her mouth could make it to air, he leaned forward, shifting his weight, and her head went down again.

After that, she seemed to give up.

He stayed on her, keeping her down while he counted slowly to three hundred.

Then he climbed off. Gripping her hair, he dragged her slowly toward the shore. When the water was waist-high, he ducked beneath her and lifted her onto his shoulder. He carried her up the beach, then dropped her onto the blanket.

He looked down at her. The breeze on his wet skin made him shiver.

She'd brought along that blanket. The bitch should've brought along a couple of towels, too.

He tried to dry himself using her nightgown. It was so small and so wispy that he had to wring it out a few times. But he finally managed to wipe most of the water off his body. He tossed the nightgown aside.

Then he walked to the foot of the trail. He faced the river, turned to the right, counted off ten paces, then dropped to his knees.

With both hands, he dug into the sand. The cold grains hurt his fingertips, but he continued to work. After a few seconds, he wondered if he had the location wrong.

Then he found what he wanted.

He pulled it out of the sand and stood up.

As he walked toward the woman's corpse, moonlight gleamed on the polished steel surface of the hacksaw swinging in his hand.

Chapter Two

The River Trip

Bass Paxton left a trail through the dew as he crossed the front yard to the house. He climbed the porch stairs and stopped in front of the door. His knuckles rapped it, shaking it in its frame. Through the screen, he saw Faye walking toward him across the shadowy foyer.

She pushed open the door, stepped into his arms, and kissed him.

Bass gave her a good squeeze. He patted her rump through the seat of her bikini pants. Easing her away, he said, "Good morning, doll."

"Good morning, stranger."

He laughed. "Stranger, huh? It hasn't been that long, has it?"

"Two days is long. Very long. The way I miss you."

"Well, business before pleasure."

"My ass," she said, and smiled up at him. "Anyhow, it's nice to have you back."

"The pleasure's all mine."

Turning away from him, she stepped back into the house. "I'm almost done making the picnic lunch. Would you rather have mustard or mayonnaise on your turkey sandwich?"

"Tough call."

"Or both?"

"Mustard. That'd be fine."

"Mustard it is."

He followed her toward the kitchen, watching her. The sleeves had been cut off her white T-shirt. So had its lower half. The shirt ended just below her ribcage, leaving her bare all the way down to her bikini pants. She wore the skimpy pants low around her hips. They clung to her tight, firm buttocks, and moved with every step she took. Her legs were slim and tanned. Her feet were bare.

"You're sure looking good this morning," Bass said.

She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Thank you, thank you."

In the kitchen, she stepped up to the refrigerator. "Wine or beer?"

"Beer."

"Natch." She opened the refrigerator and lifted out a six-pack of Budweiser. She handed it to Bass. "I believe I'll stick with wine," she said, and pulled out a bottle of Chablis. Then she took out mustard and shut the refrigerator door.

"Can I give you a hand with anything?" Bass asked.

"No, that's fine. Just keep me company. I'll be done in a jiff."

So he stepped back and leaned against a counter and watched Faye prepare the sandwiches.

She was awfully good to watch.

Probably the best-looking woman he knew, if you didn't count Pac. And he tried not to count Pac, since she was married to his best friend.

He wondered how Pac might look in an outfit like this.

I'll never find out, he thought.

But she couldn't look much better than Faye. Nobody could.

Soon, she finished preparing the lunches. "Ready when you are," she said.

"The river's waiting," Bass said. He picked up the picnic basket and cooler, and headed for the front door. Faye walked behind him. Before leaving the house, she grabbed a couple of beach towels and her big, cloth purse.

After following him onto the porch, she shut the main door and locked it. As she eased the screen door shut, she asked, "How far are we planning to go?"

"All the way down to the lake," Bass said. He trotted down the stairs.

"From where?" Faye asked.

"The Bend."

"We're going all the way from the Bend to the lake?"

"It's only about twenty miles. I've got a borrowed car waiting down at the marina so we can drive back."

"But twenty miles? Isn't that an awfully long way to paddle a canoe?"

"It's not so far. Besides, it's all downstream. The current'll do most of the work for us."

"Even still . . ."

"You'll love it. You'll want to do it every Saturday."

"All I can say is, it's a good thing I brought my sun block."

"Yeah," Bass said. Approaching the trunk of his ancient Pontiac Grand Prix, he ducked to keep his head from bumping the stern of the canoe lashed to the roof. He set down the basket and cooler.

His trunk hadn't worked right since he'd come back from a canoe trip a few weeks earlier and found it broken open. He didn't know what sort of valuables the thief had expected to find in there. But it was a mighty large trunk, so the jerk probably figured it was sure to contain a wealth of goodies.

He'd stolen nothing except the spare tire -- a tread-less old thing of no use to anyone.

But he'd done lasting damage to the trunk's latch and lock.

The key no longer did the trick, so Bass didn't bother to try it. Instead, he pounded the trunk's lid with his fist. The latch released. Stepping back, he watched the lid rise.

Then he stowed away the basket and cooler. "Anything else you want in here?" he asked Faye.

She shook her head. "When're you going to get that thing fixed, anyway?"

"Maybe never. I sort of like it this way."

He needed two attempts at shutting it before the latch caught and held the trunk closed.

The rough, dirt parking area above the river was deserted except for a single car, a blue Jaguar parked near the garbage barrel.

"Bet they didn't haul a canoe over here on top of that," Bass said.

"Doesn't seem likely."

He and Faye climbed out of his car.

Faye stood back and watched.

Bass untied the bow and stern lines anchoring his aluminum canoe to the front and rear bumpers of his Pontiac, then unbuckled the cloth straps that latched it to the roof rack.

"Could you give me a hand lifting it down?"

"I don't know, Bass."

"It's not very heavy."

"Not for you, maybe."

"All those work-outs you do, you shouldn't have any trouble at all holding up one end of this little thing."

"Well, I'll give it a try."

Bass took the bow and Faye took the stem. "Okay," he said. "Ready?"

"Oh, I guess so."

"Now!"

They both lifted the canoe off its rack. Holding it high, they sidestepped away from the car.

"This isn't so bad," Faye said. "I thought it'd be a lot heavier."

"You're stronger than you think."

"Maybe so."

With her arms raised, the bottom slopes of her breasts showed beneath the ragged edge of her T-shirt.

"Ready to carry it down to the river?" Bass asked, enjoying the view.

"How far is the river?"

"At the bottom of the hill behind you."

She gave him a thin smile. "Pardon me if I don't turn around and look."

"You wouldn't be able to see it, anyway. Too many trees in the way."

"I don't know how far I can carry this thing."

"Just do the best you can."

"Holy Moses, you didn't tell me this would be an endurance test."

"You're doing just fine."

"Why don't we carry the other stuff down first? The light stuff?"

"Do you think that'll make things easier?"

She grinned. "Sure."

"We'd have to set down the canoe. Then pick it up again."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind. Let's, okay?"

It made no sense at all, putting down the canoe at this point. But he didn't want to start an argument. Forcing himself to smile, he said, "Okay. Let's set her down."

Slowly, they lowered the canoe to the dirt. Then Faye straightened up. She brushed strands of short blond hair away from her brow and took a deep breath. "Whew," she said. "Glad to have that done with."

"We'll just have to pick it up again in a few minutes."

"It'll give me time to rest and recuperate."

"Ah. Okay." Bass stepped to the trunk of his car and pounded on the lid. The latch opened and the lid swung up. Reaching in, he grabbed the towels. He tossed them to Faye, throwing them high to make her reach. "Catch," he called.

She leaped for them, her cut-off T-shirt rising above her breasts for a moment before she snagged the towels out of the air, laughing.

"Nice catch," Bass said.

"Nice throw."

He lifted out the picnic basket, set it on the ground behind his car, then ducked into the trunk and hauled out the cooler chest.

"Do you think I should leave my purse in the car?" Faye asked.

"Might not be a bad idea. In case we capsize."

"Wonderful. Capsize?"

"It isn't likely."

"Are you taking your wallet?"

He patted the rear pocket of his cut-off jeans. "I need mine. I'll have to drive after we get to the lake."

"Oh. That's right. Okay, I'll leave my purse here. Do you think it'll be safe?"

"Probably. Just hide it under the front seat."

"What about my cell phone?"

"You'd better leave it, too. You definitely don't want that going into the river."

"I don't want anything going into the river."

"More than likely, nothing will. Just our paddles."

"I hope so."

Faye removed a plastic bottle of sun block from her purse, then opened the passenger door, bent down and shoved her purse under the seat.

"All set?" Bass asked.

"Yeah." She locked and shut the door.

Bass shut the trunk. Its latch caught on the first try. As he picked up the picnic basket and cooler, Faye started on ahead of him with her sun block and the towels.

"That's a long way down," she said.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'll just bet." With a laugh, she started down the trail.

Bass walked behind her. He didn't try to catch up, but walked steadily with his load, watching her. In spite of her complaining, she seemed eager and happy about being here, doing this.

She hurried down the trail, stopped, turned around to smile at Bass and wait for him to get closer, then chided, "Slow poke" and hurried on.

"I'm saving my energy for the canoe," he called.

She turned her head and grimaced at him. "I know! Let's forget about the canoe. Why don't we just leave it up at the car? We can swim in the river, instead. Lie in the sand, soak up the sun, have our picnic right here on the beach."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Oh, we might think of something."

"You stay if you want. I'm taking the canoe down to the lake."

"And leave me here without you?"