The Mark of Cain (42 page)

But yeah, so anyway
….
This part was
difficult to read. All of the blotches smearing the blue ink showed that he’d
obviously been crying when he’d written it.
I’ve come to the decision that
we have to let her go. We need to give her more alone time with Inac so he’ll
realize that he loves her. Then he won’t kill her. You’re gonna have to let her
go in order to save her life. If you really love her, you’ll make the sacrifice
….

With that, the letter ended. He was crying now just
as hard as he’d obviously done last night. He didn’t
want
to let her go.
He wanted her to realize that she loved
him
. It was a silly fantasy,
though; one that would never come true.

The letter was a little formal compared to what he
would usually write. Especially the last part, so for a moment he couldn’t help
but wonder if maybe Inac had really written it. But the handwriting was
definitely his. That meant that Tracker had to have written it. Which meant
that he had meant every word.

He didn’t know what had happened last night to make
him suddenly trust Inac, but he had to listen. Something had given him that
conviction. Searching his gut, he found the same feeling even though he didn’t
know where it stemmed from. And, even if it was wrong and got him killed, he’d
listen to it. After all, what other choice did he really have?

***

Inac was in Hara’s kitchen, making them homemade
vegetable lasagna at Hara’s request, when a tentative knock sounded on the
front door. Because Hara was in the bath—Inac’s orders to relieve stress—he
went to answer it.

“Tracker, it’s good to see you,” he said upon
opening it. He looked Tracker over, determining whether the kid had taken the
drug or not—he half expected the kid to have chickened out.

“Yeah, you too. Where’s Hara?” Tracker asked as his
eyes searched behind Inac’s bulk that was mostly covering the entryway.

“Taking a bath. She’s had a rough day.”

His eyes no longer flittering around, he asked,
“What? Why? Does she remember?”

“No. I just didn’t have an explanation for her
memory loss so I took her in for an MRI to make sure that she didn’t have a tumor.”

“How could—?”

Inac interrupted him as he hissed, “I did it for
you
.
And don’t you forget that. If you hadn’t screwed things as royally as you
did….”

Tracker winced, surprising him when he asked, “What
did I do?”

So maybe the kid had some guts after all.

“What do you know?” Inac asked, straightening
himself up as his anger melted away.

“I wrote a letter to myself. Basically, I just know
that I said some mean things so she slapped me.”

“Look, Hara doesn’t remember, so it’s no foul this
time,” he said as he let the kid in. When they were in the surprisingly large,
but still dumpy kitchen, and he was once again working on the lasagna, he went
on. “But, like I told you last night, I won’t help you again. Next time, you
and Hara are both gone.”

Tracker jumped up on the counter, nodding. “So what
did her MRI show?”

Shrugging, he said, “That she’s fine. The doctor
diagnosed her blackouts as stress related.”

“How’d you get her in so quick?”

“One of my sons grew up to become a neurosurgeon.”

Tracker’s eyes opened wide. “You still talk to your
kids?”

“No. Out of the kids I know about, he’s the only one
still alive. And it was an accident we even met.”

Dipping his finger in the marinara sauce and licking
it off as though they were actually friends, Tracker asked, “How’d you meet?”

Inac pulled the bowl of his homemade sauce away
before Tracker could stick his germy fingers in it again as he said, “He was an
undergrad at Yale. We were in the same class. I looked just like his father who
had ‘died’ in the war, so he thought I was a long lost brother. Soon he learned
the truth. He’s kept it quiet, though, and we talk about once a year. I never
was that good of a father to him.” Which wasn’t quite true. When he was still
with a family, Inac always lavished his children with attention. He was only a
bad one because of abandoning them.

“Why not?”

“I get bored easily and have to move on. I’ve ‘died’
numerous ways because I don’t want my families knowing that I abandoned them.”

“So you do have a heart,” Tracker said with a smile.

Inac laughed. “Maybe a tiny one; practically
microscopic.”

They were still laughing when they heard a voice
behind them. “And what’s got you two laughing so hard?” Hara asked with a
smile. Her hair was up in a plum-colored towel and she was wearing a tank top
and shorts that were really pajama bottoms. They were sweet. White with pink
and red hearts, some of which were only outlines and some shaded in.

“You look cute,” Inac said as she walked into his
open arms.

After a small kiss, she said, “Thanks. I bought so
many pajamas for the camping trip that I didn’t end up wearing these.”

“Why did you buy all new pajamas?”

“’Cause I usually wear nightgowns. I didn’t think
those were appropriate, though, with us sharing a sleeping bag.”

“Why not?” he asked with a chuckle, pulling the
towel off her head so he could play with her long hair. He loved how the wavy
tendrils left dark swirling lines on the white fabric over her breasts,
bringing focus to them.

“Because what if it rode up? You aren’t allowed to
see my underwear until
after
the wedding.”

“Mmm. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said before
kissing her again. He didn’t need to remind her that he’d already seen her bra
on their first date and her breasts their first morning in Yellowstone.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t let them go that far again since….

This time, when pulling away, she asked, “So? What
was so funny?”

Tracker said, “We were just joking about how tough
he tries to act.”

“Were you?” she asked with amused eyes.

“What?” Inac asked in mock offense. “I don’t
try
to act tough. I
am
tough. I’m the toughest mo-fo on the planet.”

“And now he’s all gangsta,” Tracker said, getting
them all laughing again.

“So did you two spend some quality time together
while I was in Israel?” Inac asked once the laughter had settled, as though he
had no clue they’d been fighting the whole time.

Hara pouted. “Tracker wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Why not?” Inac asked Tracker.

“I guess I was just upset about you two getting
married. I don’t want to lose Hara.”

“Track, just because I’m marrying Inac doesn’t mean
that you’re going to lose me. You’re my
family
,” she said from her place
in Inac’s arms—he was talented enough to make the lasagna with one hand, which
he could tell was a turn-on for Hara. He liked reminding her of how easily he
could take care of her. It turned her into moldable butter….

“And,” Inac said, “I don’t intend on taking her
away. In fact, I think you two should have one night a week for just the two of
you. And then Hara and I can have one for just us. What do you say to that?”

Hara was beaming, every feature on her pretty face
bright with her excitement. “That’s a
wonderful
idea! Let’s see, I work
Friday through Sunday. This semester study group is on Tuesdays, and I usually
volunteer at the soup kitchen on Wednesdays. So, unless you want to volunteer
with me—which would be great because we could always use more people—that
leaves Mondays and Thursdays: one for each of you.”

“I’ll let Tracker pick first.”

Tracker smiled at getting her first for once. “How
about Thursdays?”

“Okay,” Hara said, lightly brushing a hand down
Tracker’s arm.

“So I guess I’ll take Mondays. If you ever need to
switch, Tracker….”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call ya,” he said as he jumped off
the counter and started going through the fridge, presumably looking for
something to eat since Inac was guarding his ingredients.

Inac didn’t know what was up with the kid today. He
really seemed to
like
Inac all of a sudden. Maybe he should have drugged
the kid up
months
ago….

Inac said to Hara, “I have to finish this lasagna,
so why don’t you two go sit down and talk. Make up from your fight.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea.” After kissing Inac
again, she turned to Tracker, taking his hand like children getting ready to
play Ring Around the Rosies. “Come on Track. Come sit with me.”

Tracker seemed eager to go. Once they were in the
living room giggling over who knows what, Inac set himself to finishing the
dinner—which Tracker stayed for. Inac was glad he’d listened to the brilliant
idea his mind had concocted. Now that he’d made sure that Tracker had his own
time with Hara, the kid would again allow Inac some alone time with her. He
couldn’t exactly get her in bed with Tracker right there, now could he? For
some reason, the kid seemed to trust Inac after last night. Too bad he was dead
wrong in that. He may enjoy Hara, but the moment she was corrupted, Inac
wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

***

“So what are we doing tonight?” Hara asked as she
let Inac into her house.

“Well, I figured we could go out and do something.
We really haven’t been on an official ‘date’ yet.”

She giggled at him, tossing her long, thick waves as
she did. He was pretty sure she didn’t know she did that.

“What do you mean? We’ve been on dates.”

“I guess dinner on the yacht could be considered a
date. But, other than that, we’ve just studied at your house.”

“Or went camping, had a picnic at school, made meals
together….”

“Those weren’t ‘dates,’ though. I’m not saying that
we haven’t spent tons of time together, just that we haven’t gone out.”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Okay. I guess those
don’t count. So what are we doing for our ‘date’ then?”

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” For
some reason, he wanted to give her everything she wanted before she died.

“Ice skating.”

“You’ve never gone ice skating?” he asked,
unbelieving.

She shook her head, her waves flouncing as they
spilled over her shoulders and down her back like Niagara Falls.

“Nope.”

“But you grew up in the country. Surely there was a
pond or something?”

“Nope. Just the creek. I hadn’t even been to town
until I was sixteen. And then, it was only because I’d already received my GED
and was working for the orphanage and went to help get supplies. And even then
we didn’t do anything except what was on our to-do list. That’s the only reason
why I got my license, too. None of the other kids who grew up there got theirs.
Well, except for Tracker, but that was only ’cause he stayed on to work at the
orphanage, too.”

No wonder she was so innocent and marveled at
everything. She was
literally
experiencing things for the first time.

With a peck on her nose, he said, “Well let’s go ice
skating then. Go change into jeans and grab a sweater. We’ll buy other things
to keep us warm at the rink.”

It didn’t take long once they got to the rink to
pick out a scarf, a pair of knit lavender mittens, and a snow cap for Hara. The
mittens were the kind where the mitten part could button on the back of the
hand, leaving fingerless gloves. Her scarf was a plaid of dark colors: purples,
greens, yellows, and blues. It went well with her plum cardigan set over a
white tank top and dark skinny jeans that showed off her long, shapely legs.

Inac didn’t get gloves or a scarf for himself.
Instead, he wore an ash-hued T-shirt over fashionably distressed jeans—with all
the training he’d put his body through, he was impervious to the cold.

Wearing black hockey skates with white laces, Inac
got onto the slick, pale blue ice first, taking a deep whiff of the delicious
frigid smell. He then turned around and put out his hands for Hara, who took
them before gingerly stepping onto the ice herself. She moved forward a
fraction of an inch, so unsure on her legs that he was reminded of a newborn
fawn taking its first steps. To help her, he skated backwards, holding her up
with his upper arm strength. Despite this, she soon teetered and fell, bringing
him crashing down along with her, both laughing as young children sped by like
pros.

He easily got back up, but it took a few tries to
get Hara to a firm standing position—
with
his help. After about another
twenty minutes full of falls and laughter, Hara finally found her balance and
they were able to skate around a little more quickly. However, if he wasn’t
loaning her one of his hands, then she would immediately fall, so he left it in
hers.