Night Tides (18 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F
IFTEEN MINUTES
later they stood naked, holding hands, at the edge of the lake in Hudson Park. The bushes shielded them from view, and mosquitoes swarmed their salty skin. It was an overcast night, and occasional heat lightning sheeted across the clouds.

Rachel smiled nervously up at Ethan. The sweat made highlights on his chest and abs; the smooth curves of his shoulders and biceps gave him a Greek-statue look. “I’ve never done this before,” she said as shyly as a nude woman could.

“A guy always likes to hear his date say that.”

She stepped close to kiss him and felt his arousal announce itself against her belly. Knowing she had brought him to life again so soon sent a thrilling sense of power through her. “I should warn you, I really don’t know what will happen.”

He caressed her hair and shoulders. “And you never will, standing here.”

She nodded, then stepped into the water. He followed. She moved with the authority of experience, while he tottered awkwardly on the uncertain bottom. The night was silent except for the lapping of the small waves on the lake and the city noises that served as a dim, omnipresent backdrop.

E
THAN FELT
momentarily foolish with his erection preceding him, but one look at Rachel’s silhouette in the night made it the only possible response. He could see her perfect breasts, the nipples dark and erect. The swell of her hips below her narrow waist made him tingle deep inside.

The water rose to their knees, then their hips, then the middle of their chests. Finally Rachel stopped and turned to face him, expression lost in shadow.

She put her arms around his neck. Her breasts were soft against his chest. “Are you sure about this?” she said softly.

He shifted his weight on the silty bottom until he was steady, then slid his hands up under her arms, simultaneously lifting her and kneeling. She spread her thighs. For an awkward moment the correct position eluded them, and neither had a free hand to help. Then he found her and lowered her onto him. She wrapped her legs around him and made a sound halfway between a growl and a sob as he entered her. For a long moment neither one moved.

R
ACHEL WAITED
for some indication of the lake’s approval. The water engulfed her lower body but did not form the hands, lips, and other things that meant the spirits were present. Was she doomed yet again to the awful frustration?

But the immediate feeling of clinging to this iron-strong man as he impaled her intimately pushed any doubts aside. Even if she couldn’t come, this moment was something to cherish. “Oh, God,” she breathed, kissing his neck and shoulders, rolling her hips forward and back against him. His hands cupped her rear, effortlessly supporting her weight.

The slow grinding gave way to harder undulations, more-demanding thrusts. Water shot up between them and drenched their faces. The splashing sounded unbearably loud, and she feared at any moment flashlights from shore would pick them out, followed by mocking catcalls. But she couldn’t stop.

Please let this happen
, she begged the spirits.
I’m not abandoning you, I’ll never leave you, but I need this
.

As if in response to her unspoken plea, the unmistakable feeling built within her, making her gasp and strive harder to reach it. “Oh, my God, Ethan, I’m so close,” she whispered, and took his earlobe in her teeth for emphasis. Her cries changed from grunts of carnal effort to pleading, keening whines of desperation. Nothing the lake did for her could compare, truly, with the hot physical presence inside her. Would they know this and prevent her from reaching the moment of ecstasy hovering just beyond reach?

Please
, she implored.
Please…

A
LL
E
THAN
could do was stand and let her pound against him, which was more than enough for him. Despite their earlier activity, he was just as hard and realized he was also getting close. Worse, he’d neglected to bring any protection, so he was completely dedicated to resisting his own orgasm. The need grew stronger with each moment, though, and he knew he was doomed to lose. He’d never wanted to come inside a woman the way he wanted it now.

Her movements grew more urgent, and the waves lapped at them like extra hands coaxing them on. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her ankles locked around his thighs. She grunted a little with each slam of her pelvis, and the sensation built around him until he almost couldn’t breathe.

“No condom,” he whispered urgently, his body straining for control. “Trying not to—”

And then he could tell:
It
happened. Suddenly Rachel’s muscles tightened, her limbs clamped around him, and her spine arched, creating a tension that held her immobile. Only her hands moved, alternately raking and grasping his shoulders. He couldn’t see her face, but he heard her little choking gasps, as if she could barely catch her breath.

H
ER EYES OPENED
wide as the longest, most powerful orgasm of her life raged through her. Not even the lake spirits had brought her to this height. It was no mere physical response centered between her legs either; this was something that took over her whole being, the way a man in the electric chair responds to the surge of voltage. She had no idea she was even
capable
of this feeling, and it seemed to choke all but the most necessary breath from her.

Finally, with a cry, she went limp. Her arms hung uselessly down his back. She was exhausted, spent, and nothing mattered at all.

H
E FELT HER
shuddering, possibly sobbing, but he had his own problems. He had only moments of control left.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he whispered, his voice shivery. “Really, I’m not kidding… .”

She leaned back enough to look into his eyes. “Don’t try,” she said raggedly.

“Are you sure?” he gasped. He was there, right there, ready. It was time to fling her away or—

“Yes!” she choked out.

And then it didn’t matter; he couldn’t have held it back if he’d wanted to. He came inside her, furiously and with more intensity than even back at her apartment. It was as if that earlier time hadn’t even happened, he was so full and desperate. She shuddered in his arms as he poured forth; then she spasmed tight again, keening into his shoulder to muffle the cry as she, too, came again.

T
HEY STOOD TWINED
together for a long time, their breath coming in gasps. When she moved to stand, their sweaty skin stuck together and pulled loose with a slick, muffled
pop
.

She peered up at him. He looked dazed, and Rachel was certain she did as well. Her legs could barely hold her, and she was glad he was sturdy enough to lean on. She said, “That was …,” then trailed off. No words seemed adequate.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She caressed his arms and shoulders, her cheek against his chest. His heart rumbled like some powerful engine. “I don’t know how to explain—”

“No,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

She swallowed raggedly. “Will I ever see you again?”

“I…” She could tell he was struggling to find something to say, some way to put into words what he was feeling. Her own emotions swelled at the knowledge that the transcendence had been mutual. Finally he shrugged and said with a smile, “Yes. Yes, you will.”

It was enough. Rachel stood on tiptoes in the mud and kissed him as if the world might end.

F
IGHTING THE GIGGLES
,
they reached the bank and retrieved their clothes. Before she pulled on her shirt he kissed her again, hard and possessively, luxuriating in the way her breasts pressed against his chest. Then they scrambled back to his truck.

O
NCE AGAIN
,
neither noticed the
other
truck, parked on the street behind a Saab belonging to one of the huge, expensive lakeside homes. The figure inside the truck had witnessed, though not completely comprehended, their tryst in the water and seethed with fury and frustration as Rachel covered her bare skin. As the lovers drove away, the figure sat pondering, knowing that the final aspect of the plan must be implemented soon, for sanity’s sake if no other reason.

CHAPTER TWENTY

M
ARTY
W
ALKER GAZED
at the report on his desk, his eyes slightly unfocused. It was the coroner’s preliminary results from the autopsy on Ling Hu, and it put everything he thought he knew about the case into limbo. He was forcing himself to go back to square one, to look at the disappearances of Faith Lucas and Carrie Kimmell as unrelated crimes instead of the sequel events he, and everyone else, assumed they were.

Because Ling Hu had not been murdered.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Julie Schutes said as she approached. At this time of night, the rest of the squad room was empty, except for one man at the far end playing solitaire on his computer.

Marty stood, and they shook hands. “Awfully late for a pretty girl to be downtown alone, isn’t it?”

She sat on the edge of his desk. “I’m no ‘girl,’ Detective. But thank you for the rest of it.”

He returned to his chair. “What brings you around?”

“Maybe I just wanted to talk to an old friend. We don’t see each other much these days.”

He smiled knowingly. “Is that really it?”

“Partially, yeah. I really have missed you and Chuck. But it’s also work-related. I know you’ve gotten the autopsy results on Ling Hu by now.”

“And why do think I’d let you see them?”

“Because I’m irresistible, even to gay men. And you know eventually they’ll be made public, so holding them back is just petty.”

“Julie, you are a piece of work. Most people would be home watching TV by now.”

“Most people, Marty. Not us.”

“Besides, the final report will be out for all to see in a day or two. Why do you want to see the preliminary one now?”

“Because news goes bad faster than Chinese food. No offense.”

“I’m not Chinese.”

“So can I see it?”

He shrugged and nodded toward the file. “I didn’t show it to you.”

“I found it in the garbage,” she agreed as she perused the report. He watched her frown, then scowl. “So she
wasn’t
murdered?”

“Died of an acute asthma attack. She didn’t even drown; she was dead before she hit the water.”

“And she had a recent, partial tattoo.” She paused and frowned again. “Who gets
a partial
tattoo?”

“As you can see from the photographs, it was going to be pretty extensive. I’m guessing that it takes more than one session to color in that whole design.” He shook his head and added sadly, “Guess she won’t be making those appointments, huh?”

“Recent ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She’d been tied up multiple times. That’s something.”

“Or not.”

“How do you mean?”

“Her boyfriend—one of her boyfriends, I should say—told us she liked things a little rough. Enjoyed being tied up, coerced, that sort of thing.”

Julie closed the file. “I didn’t know that,” she said with genuine surprise. “That’s not how her friends described her to me.”

“There’s friends, and then there’s friends.”

“What about the
boy
friends?”

“One was at home chatting online at the time she disappeared. Not a suspect. The other was a football player and might be, but my instinct says no. And if you keep reading, you’ll see there’s no evidence of either sexual assault or consensual sexual activity within the twenty-four hours prior to her death.”

She put the file down and chewed her lip thoughtfully. “So
is
this related to the other disappearances?”

Marty shrugged. “Ling Hu was a wild girl. I’m inclined to think she was sneaking around behind both boyfriends’ backs and things got out of hand. Whoever the guy was, he panicked and dumped the body. We’ll catch him and charge him, but not with murder.”

Julie sighed and shook her head. “So much for the next Ed Gein.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She stood and smoothed her skirt. “You never disappoint me, Ethan.”

“Marty,” he corrected.

She controlled her expression but could not restrain the blush. “Sorry. Marty.”

“Any message?”

“For Chuck?”

“Or anyone else.”

She smiled. “It’s nothing personal, I always wear my Freudian slip with this skirt.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks for not showing me the report, Marty.”

“Anytime,” he said, watching her go.

He picked up the phone and started to call Ethan, then saw the clock. It was after midnight. Whatever Ethan was up to, Marty knew he wouldn’t want it interrupted this late.

Then he opened the file on Ling Hu. Something nagged at him about it. There was no disputing the cause of death, but some detail wasn’t quite right. It would come to him eventually, he knew. But he had three other missing girls to worry about first.

E
THAN AND
R
ACHEL
lay in her bed after a giggly shower together, kissing and touching. Finally Ethan asked, “Do you want me to go home?”

“No, that’s silly. It’s nearly one in the morning.”

“If it’ll make you more comfortable—”

“Stop. If I wanted you to leave, I’d tell you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “This has been a heck of a first date, I’d say.”

“Would you?”

“Will there be a second one?”

“Are you sure you want one?”

He ran his thumb over the end of one nipple. “Pretty sure.”

“Even if it’s not as intense as this one?”

“I was having a good time
before
we took our clothes off too.”

She nestled against him, his arm around her, her leg draped across his. After a few minutes his steady breathing told her he’d fallen asleep, and, shortly, light snoring confirmed this. In the dim light she watched his features soften, which made him look positively boyish. She wanted to awaken him for another round of kissing and fondling, but that seemed thoughtless given all he’d been through. He’d certainly earned a few hours’ respite from her attentions.

Rachel, though, found she couldn’t rest. Elation, and energy, and a new vivid knowledge of herself coursed through her, and she was wide awake. She lay perfectly still, tried meditation and mental relaxation exercises, but sleep simply would not come. When the clock on her nightstand read 2:00 A.M., she gave up.

She carefully disengaged from him and padded into the kitchen. Tainter glared his puritanical disapproval. By the light of her cell phone, she wrote on a Post-it,
Gone for a walk. Nothing’s wrong, just too wired to sleep. Back soon
. Then she tiptoed back and put it over the numbers on the clock, so he’d be sure to see it.

She paused and looked down at him, at the unbroken line of skin visible from ankle to shoulder as he rolled onto his side. His muscles had softened with sleep but still stood out beneath his skin. Normally she couldn’t abide bulky gym-rat men, but the memory of how strong he was, how he’d borne her weight and exertions with no apparent strain, made her grateful for his dedication. A weaker man, a man more like her ex-husband and the others she’d dated, would have never been able to stand it. And a lesser man never would have joined her in the lake in the first place.

She realized her hands were absently rubbing her thighs. She smiled, risked waking him with a soft kiss on the shoulder, then dressed and slipped out into the night.

She barely felt the pavement beneath her feet as she ran along the empty sidewalks. The big houses were mostly dark, except for two where she glimpsed shirtless young men playing computer games. She wanted to laugh, she was so happy, but she kept silent due to the hour.

She dashed across Hudson Park and down to the water. She whipped off her shirt, tossed it and her shoes into the bushes, then stepped out of her panties and shorts. She dove into the water, heedless of the loud splash, and swam with limbs that should have ached from her earlier exertion. She’d never felt so strong, though.

She reached the drop-off and stopped. She sank slowly, arms and legs spread, looking down into the great black space where her other lovers dwelled. She’d promised never to leave them, and she wanted them to know she meant it.

For one long, terrifying instant, she feared she’d been abandoned. She heard uncharacteristic silence in her head and was afraid to let out that final breath. Surely, if they disapproved, they would’ve let her know, wouldn’t they? That couldn’t possibly have been their good-bye, could it?

Then, with a surge of relief, she felt the water solidify around her, cradling her and pulling her onto her back. Hands moved over her, caressing her in the darkness in the same firm yet gentle manner. Her weary body somehow found the strength to respond, and she was soon lost in a semiconscious haze of sexual satiation. But the voices spoke with an uncharacteristic urgency completely at odds with their languid manner. The words barely penetrated her fuzzy brain.

You must find strength
, they seemed to say.
You must reach out to the man who treasures you as we do. You must calm your fear and trust your love
.

She writhed and moaned as the spirits managed to wring one more climax from her satiated body. It was a small one, a gentle rush that drew her body taut like a satisfying stretch first thing in the morning. Only as it faded did their uncharacteristic urgency register, and she could not recall exactly what they said.

When she emerged from the lake, her legs literally wobbled. She was thoroughly, utterly
spent
and knew she would now sleep like a baby when she crawled in beside Ethan. Just the thought of that made her smile, and she put the spirits’ odd words down to her own fuzzy brain. She simply must have heard them wrong.

As she slid her panties up her legs, a bright flashlight sprang on directly in front of her, blinding her. She dropped the rest of her clothes and crossed her arms over her chest. She waited for the official voice and frantically ran down in her mind all the excuses she’d accumulated over the years for just such an emergency. She said demurely, “I’m sorry, Officer, it was just such a warm night I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

But the light did not move, and no one spoke. Mosquitoes and midges danced in the beam. “Officer?”

She felt a sudden chill of utter terror as she realized the truth.
Oh, my God, this is
him. It was the man from the burgundy Ford truck, who had kidnapped the others and killed at least one of them. Now he had her at his mercy. She was naked, and alone, and far, far from home.

“No, please,” she whispered, and began to tremble.

“Turn around,” the man holding the light said. His tone was flat and Midwestern—the voice of ninety percent of Madison. “And keep quiet.”

“Hold on a minute, please,” she said, trying to buy time. “I’m not as young as you think, I’m no college girl—”

Something metallic clicked behind the light. She saw no gun but recognized the sound. “Turn around and shut up, or I’ll leave you dead in the mud. I’ve got no patience left tonight.”

She did as instructed. She gazed out across the water, its surface dark and shimmering. There was no wind, so the ripples were small and quiet. Even the waves that lapped at the bank sounded muted, as if the lake was also afraid. Her own shadow, cast by the light, stretched out ahead of her before it, too, blended with the darkness. “Help,” she whispered to the spirits.

Strong hands grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back. Her assailant wrapped duct tape firmly around her wrists, then spun her around to face him. She squinted into the light, blushing from shame and terror and rising fury. Before she could say anything else, he slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth. “If you try to fight or make any noise, I’ll kill you. Nod if you understand.”

What could she do? She nodded. Insects drawn to the light pelted her face around the tape.

He turned out the light. Before her eyes could adjust, he bent and threw her over his shoulder. More tape quickly bound her ankles. Her abductor was short and thin and struggled for breath as he carried her up the hill. He did not grope her or seem at all interested in the fact that she was nude except for her panties. Maybe that came later.

She looked around for any movement, any sign she’d been seen and might be rescued. There was nothing. The upside-down houses were dark and the streets empty. She strained with all her strength against the tape at her wrists, but it held fast.

He tossed her into the bed of his pickup. She landed heavily on the metal, and what felt like nails or thumbtacks jabbed her skin. The truck’s suspension creaked with her weight. When she looked up at her captor, he tossed a blanket over her. It smelled of urine, sweat, and indefinable terror. Then something pressed down on either side of her as he used cinder blocks to hold the blanket in place.

The tailgate slammed shut. When the engine rattled to life, the panic really hit.
I’ve been kidnapped
, she thought in a panic.
I’m going to be raped and killed and dumped in the lake like that Chinese girl!
She twisted her wrists, fingers straining to find an end of the tape. She tried to spread her ankles enough to work her feet free. But both efforts were futile. She struggled to wriggle out from beneath the cocoonlike blanket, but it held fast. Claustrophobia kicked in, but her screams were muffled beneath tape, fabric, and engine.

She could not tell the truck’s direction once it made the first couple of turns. She only knew she might never see her diner, or the lake, or Ethan Walker ever again.

The visions came back to her vividly: the girl on the lakeshore, naked just as Rachel was now, and Patty Patilia’s screaming face, eyes wide above the same sort of duct-tape gag that now muzzled Rachel.

Cry now
, she told herself.
Get it over with. You’ll need to be strong later
.

So she did.