Green Lake (16 page)

The sympathy she felt for her grandparents was heartfelt. Little knowledge about diet and health had been available to them. Her father, on the other hand, had been bombarded with the consequences of his actions for the last few decades and knew exactly what he was doing to his body and what medical lengths would be required should he succumb to illness. Still he was unwilling even to try and live healthy, if only for the sake of their mother. If anyone was selfish, Madeleine thought, it was him.

But then Jacqueline had always been Daddy's girl, not Madeleine, and since Jacqueline worked in the medical profession and was married to a doctor her father probably figured all his bases were covered in the care department.

Madeleine was nobody's girl. She usually found herself standing slightly apart from the others, an observer rather than a participant. She begrudged Jacqueline none of the pampering and attention she received, because Madeleine did not want it. She did not require any such attention and found it only too easy to separate herself from the people who had raised her. She did not miss her parents the way Jacqueline did.

She thought she might miss Jacqueline, if she were gone. A sister was different.

And Jacqueline was special, much more open and giving than Madeleine, warmer, more loving and affectionate. She gave and received so easily, causing envy in Madeleine's breast more than once in her life.

But she was still wrong about Sam.

Madeleine had given him every chance. She had taken everything on her own shoulders and waited patiently for him to recover himself, to show an ounce of initiative and the drive she had believed he possessed. How much more had she been expected to give to a man she wasn't certain she loved to begin with?

You may not even be capable.

Madeleine closed her eyes and let her head fall forward onto her hands as she sat at the kitchen counter.

There was a sharp pain in her middle as she thought of Eris. It intensified when she thought of him smiling at her, or touching her. She had never felt that with Sam. She had never felt anything but mild sexual arousal, nothing like what she experienced when Eris touched her. Nothing in her life even came close, not the anxiety-filled experimentations with a crude high school date, not the hot, hurried fumbling of a college boyfriend, and not the perfect Sam, with his smooth sexual expertise. No one had touched her as deeply as Eris, with his quaking limbs and unpracticed skills as a lover.

Even her natural modesty was overcome when he placed his hands on her. She did not automatically cower under a sheet or hide behind her arms while he looked at her. She wanted him to look at her.

Her breath on the counter was as warm as her thoughts and she lifted her head to get off the stool and get something to drink when the phone rang. She reached over and plucked the receiver from its cradle, expecting to hear Jacqueline again. “Hello?”

“Is this the woman who lives in the log cabin?” asked a muffled male voice.

“Who is this?” Madeleine replied.

“Someone who's watching you. I'd be careful, living up there all alone. Anything could happen.”

“Is that you, Russell?” Madeleine demanded.

The caller hung up.

“Damn you.” Madeleine slammed the phone down, and then her brows met as she realized her lie to Jacqueline had just become truth. She put on some sandals and stalked down to the swimming beach, determined to wait and see if Dale Russell would come by as Jacqueline had once predicted.

Russell wasn't there, but Bruce Beckworth and two of his friends were on the beach, talking to some teenage girls. When Beckworth saw Madeleine he hopped over the girls and came to stand before her, forcing her to stop or go around him. She stopped.

“How's that old truck runnin’?” asked Beckworth.

“Just fine, thanks. Do you mind?”

“Do I mind what?”

“Would you please move?”

“Don't think I will. Not for a snotty little bitch like you.”

Madeleine turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction, wondering why nothing in life could be easy. She groaned under her breath when she heard him following her, and she turned and said, “Just leave me alone. Please.”

“Don't want to,” said Beckworth, grinning at her.

She kept walking, wondering if he was bald under his cap. That might explain some of his young belligerence.

“Guess you live around here, huh?” he said behind her, and she nearly stopped again, wondering if his could possibly have been the voice on the phone.

No. He didn't even know her name, or the names of Jacqueline and Manuel. There was no way he would have the number.

Madeleine hurried her steps, and she heard him laugh and then speed up. When he gripped her by the arm and yanked her around, she was ready for him, landing a solid kick square in his crotch and shoving up on his nose with the heel of her hand. Before she could even look to see how effective she had been she was off and running, tearing up the path and not daring to look behind her.

As she passed Briar's Cove she saw the woman with the glass of tomato juice standing in her yard and watching. Madeleine ran straight to her and asked for help. The woman lifted the glass and took a sip before saying, “Get behind me. Here he comes.”

Madeleine glanced over her shoulder and saw the man in the cap, his face purple, coming after her.

“Earl Lee,” yelled the woman, her voice unaffected by the man running toward her. “Toss me that twelve gauge by the door.”

Beckworth was ten feet away from the women and closing in fast when Earl Lee opened the door and tossed out a shotgun. The woman dropped her tomato juice and had the shotgun in her hands as Beckworth skidded to a halt. Madeleine stayed well behind the woman, her chest heaving from the mad dash up the hill. She saw the woman lift the shotgun on a level with the brim of the baseball cap and heard her say, “You the one who messed with that little girl?”

Beckworth's eyes rounded. “What little girl? I ain't no—”

The shotgun lowered to point at his crotch. Over her shoulder, the woman asked Madeleine, “What do you think he was going to do with you when he caught you?”

“I don't know,” Madeleine breathed. “Hurt me.”

“Maybe we oughta hurt him.”

“Hey, goddammit,” said Beckworth. “I wasn't doin' nothin' but talkin' to this bitch when she unloads and kicks me in the balls.”

“You know him?” the woman asked Madeleine.

“No,” she said. “He accosted me once before and Officer Renard stopped him.”

‘‘You know Renard?” she asked, still holding the shotgun on Beckworth.

“Yes, I do.”

Beckworth's lip was curling. “So do I. Tell that jerkoff my fine was a big hundred dollars. Paid it out of my pocket and had dinner with the judge at my dad's house later that night.”

“Must have a little dick,” said the woman to Madeleine, and Beckworth's head jerked up to stare at her. She continued, “Men with little dicks got all kinds of things to prove to people, mainly that a little dick don't matter as long as you can beat up who you want and buy what you want.”

Beckworth opened his mouth to say something to the woman, but a look at the shotgun changed his mind. He pointed at Madeleine. “This ain't over yet. Count on it.”

He turned around then and walked down the way he had come. The woman with the shotgun started laughing, and she went on laughing even after Beckworth turned and threatened her, too.

Madeleine stared at the stout woman and saw that her amusement was genuine and that she seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the entire exchange. Madeleine moved to extend her hand and introduce herself.

“My name is Madeleine Heron. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Madeleine. My name is Gloria Birdy. That's my husband, Earl Lee, standing ready at the window in the house there.”

“Earl Lee Birdy?” Madeleine said, and Gloria shrugged.

“His mama had rocks in her head. She thought it was funny.”

‘‘You handled that rather well,” Madeleine had to say.

“Just like old times,” said Gloria. “Me and Earl Lee worked as corrections officers for years.”

Madeleine lifted her brows in surprise. “You were a prison guard?”

“I worked honor camps, mostly. Earl Lee worked the hot house.”

“The hot house?”

“
Leavenworth. He did Lansing, too, just before he retired. We're pretty much used to walking trash you could say.”

“He didn't frighten you,” observed Madeleine.

“Not hardly,” said Gloria with a snort. “You see as many damned crybabies behind bars as I have and you tend to rethink the whole male macho thing, if you know what I mean.”

Madeleine smiled and Gloria bent to pick up her fallen glass of tomato juice. Half the juice was still in the glass.

“You see his face when I said what I did about his dick? Nailed that one, I could tell. His hands started twitching like they wanted to cover it up.” Madeleine laughed out loud, and Gloria laughed with her. “You wanna come in?”

“Yes,” said Madeleine, surprising herself. “Thank you.”

She followed Gloria inside the house and found herself being introduced to Earl Lee, who was every bit as tall as Eris, but twice as big around. The man took her hand and shook it, his huge hand surprisingly gentle.

“Have yourself some trouble down at the bay today?” he asked, and Madeleine briefly told them both what had transpired before she rushed up the hill. While she was still thinking about it, she mentioned the disturbing phone call and saw both Gloria and Earl Lee shake their heads.

“Bad business going on at the lake this year,” said Gloria, and the conversation took off from there, with Madeleine contributing what she knew and then trading gossip back and forth about the various lake residents—chief among them, Sherman Tanner.

Gloria made a face of disgust. “Have you caught him in the graveyard yet?”

“I've seen him out there,” said Madeleine. “I wasn't sure what he was doing. I went to look the next day, but I couldn't find any overturned earth.”

“Did you find any sticky stuff decorating the markers?” asked Gloria, and Earl Lee groaned and turned away.

“Sticky stuff?” asked Madeleine, and Gloria made an obscene gesture with her hand over her crotch. Madeleine blinked. Her stomach turned.

“You're kidding.”

“Nope.”

“The man is sick. How disgusting.”

Gloria grinned. “Maybe you'll help me, Madeleine. I'm always threatening to go out there with a camera and catch him at it. Next time you see him up there, call me. I've got the right equipment. We'll get a frontal shot and post copies of it all over the park.”

It was past dark before Madeleine got up to leave, and she assured both the worried Birdys that she would run all the way home and scream at the top of her lungs if anyone threatened her.

At home she found not Eris waiting for her, but Dale Russell, and she marched onto her porch and asked him just what the hell he thought he was doing.

He got up from the step and smiled. “Whoa. I guess you haven't seen Renard. I told him to tell you I was just kidding around with you about the fish. I got a license for you and everything.”

“You weren't kidding and both of us know it. Why the sudden turnaround, Dale? What are you up to?”

He held up a hand and looked slightly annoyed. “Hey, I'm just trying to be nice here. I was doing my job, for one thing, but for the record, I was joking. Come on, Madeleine, give me a break.”

“Did you call me today?” she asked. “Was that another joke?”

He stared at her. “Call you? No. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't tell me that. What did they say?”

“He said I should be careful, living up here all alone.”

“It was a man?”

“Yes. He had something over the phone to disguise his voice.”

Russell looked around himself. “Has to be somebody who knows you.”

“He said he's been watching me.”

“It could be Renard,” said Dale with a smile. “Ugly fool's probably got a thing for you. It happens, you know.”

Madeleine said nothing. Her mouth tightened.

“Can I come in?” asked Dale.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, I'm not interested. And I happen to be very tired right now and in no mood for conversation.”

She wouldn't tell him about the idiot in the ball cap. She would tell Eris, but not Dale Russell.

“What is it, Madeleine?” he complained. “What the hell have you got against me?”

Madeleine turned on him, wondering what it was going to take to be rid of him. “I get it,” she said. “You're one of these men who wants only what he can't have. Because I've rejected you, I'm fair game in the forest, is that it?”

“What else is worth wanting?” said Dale with a sudden smile. “I hate it when things come too easily. I like to be told no on occasion. It's good for me.”

“Glad I could be of help,” she said, and she opened the door and slipped inside before slamming it shut behind her. For good measure she turned the deadbolt and waited, breathless, until she heard him leave.