The Suicide Club (23 page)

“I will. You going to your folks?”

Lindsey’s hesitation gave her away.

“You’re going to his place,” Shannon guessed. “Good. At least I’ll know you’re safe.”

“It’s a good feeling.”

“As I said, long overdue.”

“Call me.”

Shannon nodded. She threw the night latch on the door, holding it open as she switched on the porch light. Lindsey pushed open the screen, but before she could step out, Shannon’s question stopped her.

“Were you really serious about what you said?”

“About what?”

“That they might not have killed themselves.”

She could deny that’s what she’d meant. Or make a joke of it. That’s what Shannon wanted her to do.

Kids did stupid, impulsive things all the time. She had ten years of experience with them that proved that. None of it convinced her that Tim had written her a note, climbed up on a desk, put a noose around his neck, and stepped off.

“I guess it’s like that intuition that leads you to suspect someone of the church fires. Mine says Tim wouldn’t do that. Not to his father. Not to himself. And if
he
didn’t…”

If he didn’t, then Jace’s arsonist and her attacker had crossed the line to murder.

A
s soon as he closed the apartment door behind him, Jace loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He pitched his jacket, which he’d shed before he’d gotten back in his car, at one of the chairs as he walked over to the credenza that served as his makeshift bar.

He took a bottle of Scotch out of the bottom and poured a couple of fingers into one of the glasses. Then he downed the liquor in one gulp, feeling the burn all the way to the bottom of his stomach.

He hadn’t had to break the news of his son’s death to Walt Harrison, but he could imagine few things worse about his job than the interview he’d conducted with the grieving father. Maybe if Harrison hadn’t just been allowed to view the body…

He knew that with some of his questions he’d probably crossed the line between accusing the dead boy of knowing something about the arson and letting this pass as another troubled kid trying to find a way out of whatever was going on in his life. And other than infuriating Harrison, he couldn’t think of anything he’d gained from doing it.

His cell vibrated in the pocket of his shirt. Probably someone from the department notifying him of the complaint Harrison had filed with the Sheriff about that.

He fished the phone out, holding it up to read the number before he flipped open the case. “Where are you?”

“Leaving Shannon’s.”

Lindsey’s voice sounded remarkably normal, considering the afternoon’s events. Of course, the person with whom she’d been discussing Tim’s death wasn’t as personally involved as Walt Harrison had been. “You okay?”

“Compared to what?”

To what your life was like before I screwed it up…

“To normal,” he said aloud.

“I’ve forgotten what that was like. Where are you?”

“Home.”

The silence that followed lasted several seconds. She was waiting for him to invite her over. God knew he wanted to. He just wasn’t sure his reasons for wanting her here jibed with the reasons for which she would want to come.

“Are you in for the night?” she asked.

“Unless I get called out again.”

Another silence, this one more awkward.

“Have you eaten?”

Lindsey’s question reminded him that it had been a long time since the burger he’d grabbed at lunch. And the Scotch he’d consumed was reinforcing that realization.

“Not yet. Want to meet somewhere?” Meeting in public would be safe. Having her come here, given the effects of the alcohol, probably wouldn’t be.

“I thought I might pick something up and bring it home.”

Home.
Her use of the word in this context should have bothered him. It didn’t. She’d spent the last few nights at the apartment. He’d enjoyed having her here. And not only in his bed.

“Sorry,” she spoke into his hesitation. “I shouldn’t have said that. Your home. Not mine. It’s just…I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Me neither.”

That was the truth, he realized. He’d been looking forward to having her spend the night. Perhaps that was a confession he shouldn’t have made, not at this stage of their relationship, but he was too tired right now to play “relationship games.”

He wanted her. In more ways than just sexually.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Her voice strengthened on the next question. “Any preference?”

“Just food. Lots of it.”

“On the way. See you in a few minutes.”

He was surprised at the speed with which the connection was broken. She hadn’t given him time to say anything in response. Not even “Be careful,” which is what he’d been thinking.

He considered calling her back before he decided he was being paranoid. She was going to be in a public place buying food, probably by going through some drive-through out on the highway. Then she would come straight here. There was no reason for the anxiety he felt.

Too much Scotch on an empty stomach. Or too much death, up close and personal.

He needed a shower and to get out of these clothes, which seemed to hold the smell of the morgue. He pulled off his tie as he headed to the back of the apartment. By the time he got to the bedroom, he’d stripped off his dress shirt and T-shirt.

When he turned on the light, he saw that Lindsey had made the bed before she’d left. Another bit of domestic tranquility that would normally have set his teeth on edge. The only effect it had tonight was to cause him to hang up his slacks and put his shoes on the floor of the closet. He carried the shirt and underwear with him to the bathroom, throwing them into the hamper before he stepped into the shower.

He’d been under the pulse of hot water only a minute or two, not long enough to have bothered yet with the soap, when the doorbell rang. Maybe Lindsey had gotten supper before she’d called. Or maybe she’d decided she wanted something more substantial than fast food.

He turned off the faucets and stepped out of the enclosure. Wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him, he headed to the front door.

Despite his state of undress, he never thought about checking the peephole. Instead he opened the door, prepared to let Lindsey in and return to the shower he’d begun.

Shannon Anderson stood on the threshold. Her eyes widened slightly before they crinkled with amusement. And then changed again with some other emotion he couldn’t read.

“Obviously I’m interrupting something,” she said.

“Just a shower.” He’d realized by now that Shannon knew about the change that had taken place in his and Lindsey’s relationship. If she expected him to be uncomfortable, she was in for a disappointment. “You looking for Lindsey?”

“Is she here?”

“Not yet. She’s picking up dinner. You want to wait?”

He didn’t invite her to join them for the meal. It wasn’t that he objected to the idea. He just figured that since she was Lindsey’s friend, she should issue any invitations.

“No, that’s all right. Give her a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell her I’ve decided to take her advice. I just need to check something out first.”

“She’ll know what that means?”

Shannon smiled. “She’ll figure it out.”

Lindsey had said she was leaving Shannon’s when she called him. This must be something related to the conversation there. If so, the cryptic message would probably be clear to her.

“You got it,” he agreed.

“Thanks.”

“Sure you don’t want to wait?”

“No, I’m gonna go before you shrink the carpet.”

“Look, you’re welcome to stay. I didn’t mean to be inhospitable. I just wasn’t expecting company.”

“Other than Lindsey. Or isn’t she company anymore?”

He didn’t answer, simply holding her eyes.

“Okay, forget I said that,” Shannon said, looking a little embarrassed that her teasing had fallen so flat. “I apologize. It’s been a really bad day.”

He nodded. The air conditioner, set low because of the heat outside, chilled his wet skin. He didn’t give a damn whether Lindsey’s friend stayed or went. He just wanted her to make up her mind.

“I’ll let you get back to your shower. Just give Lindsey my message, please.”

This time she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. Jace wondered if Lindsey was going to be pissed he’d let her leave. He stepped into the doorway to call her back, but Shannon had already rounded the corner.

He closed the door, and from force of habit, turned the dead bolt and secured the chain. He hadn’t yet given Lindsey a key, so he’d have to let her in.

Maybe the drive-through she’d chosen would be as slow as those places normally were. If he was lucky, by the time she got here, he’d have finished his interrupted shower. And if he hadn’t, maybe he could talk her into finishing it with him.

Lindsey juggled her purse and the two heavy sacks she carried so that she could free one finger to stab the doorbell. Reaction had finally set in as she’d climbed the stairs to Jace’s apartment.

This afternoon’s adrenaline had faded, leaving her feeling as if she’d been run over by a truck. On top of that, she’d skipped lunch, hoping to find Shannon in the lounge. And the sense of camaraderie she’d felt at Shannon’s had long ago evaporated. Everything, the emotional as well as the physical, seemed to be catching up with her. Fighting inertia so intense it felt like illness, she lifted her arm and punched the button again.

“Coming.”

Her heart lifted just to hear Jace’s voice. Which sounded remarkably normal. But then he was a professional, long accustomed to the kind of violent death she’d encountered for the first time this afternoon.

She listened to locks being manipulated before the door swung inward. Jace was wearing threadbare jeans and a faded navy polo, both of which emphasized the strength of his body.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes drinking in the sight of him.

He leaned forward to relieve her of the sacks. At the same time his lips brushed the side of her cheek. As kisses went, it wasn’t much. The kind people in the South gave all the time in greeting or in saying goodbye.

Tonight it said welcome home. And after her screw up on the phone, that was something she had very much needed to hear.

“Hey, yourself. Smells good.” Jace turned and started toward the kitchen.

She hovered in the doorway, too emotional to make small talk about the food. When he reached the door on the other side of the room, Jace realized she hadn’t followed him. He turned back, his expression quizzical. “Is there something else?”

He meant more food. Maybe out in the car. She shook her head and stepped inside.

“Lock it,” he ordered.

She took the opportunity to try to gather control. Once the chain was in place, she turned and found him watching her. She managed a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked

“We had this conversation.”

“That was a while ago.”

“So if anything, I should be better, right? Not worse.”

“It doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes it takes a while for things to sink in. Want a drink?”

She shook her head. “I’d probably pass out.”

“You can do that, too, if you want, but you ought to eat something first.”

She nodded, reluctantly moving toward him. He didn’t turn and go on into the kitchen as she’d expected. Instead his eyes examined her as they had at the school this afternoon.

With that memory she was suddenly back in that classroom with that limp, lifeless body swaying in the draft from the air conditioner. Sickness curled in the pit of her stomach, so strong she was forced to swallow against it.

“Did you find out about the note?” she asked.

“Yeah. No mystery there. Harrison left it for you. He just wanted to clear the air. He said—”

“What?” Whatever else Walt had said, Jace clearly didn’t want to tell her. She could see the regret that he’d started this in his eyes, but she needed to know. If it would make sense of any of this…

“Tell me, Jace. Tell me what he said.”

“That you were Tim’s favorite teacher. He didn’t want—”

She didn’t know what her face revealed, but Jace reacted to it immediately. He set the bags on the hall table and opened his arms. That was the only invitation she needed. She walked into them as if that were the most natural thing in the world. As if she belonged there.

He smelled of soap and deodorant and shampoo. Clean. Alive. Normal. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell. Savoring the feel of soft knit under her cheek and the strength of his arms. Willing the other images in her head to disappear.

“Don’t think about it,” he said.

“How do you do that?”

“You just don’t think about it. You concentrate on something else. Something good.”

So, is he any good?

Think about something good. Something like Jace.

“Easier said than done.” She didn’t move her head from his chest. She felt as if she never wanted to move again.

“But it
is
possible. I promise.”

“Help me,” she whispered.

She felt his chin brush against the top of her head as he nodded. Having his arms around her was therapeutic. Feeling the solid warmth of his body against hers—

“You hungry?”

She shook her head. She knew she ought to eat, but she was unwilling to give up the security of having him hold her for food. She couldn’t think of anything right now that was more important or more tempting than to be in his embrace.

“I know you’re emotional right now. And vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of that. You need to say if—”

“Take advantage? Like…Do you mean what I think you do?”

“I’m thinking of a time-tested way to make sure you don’t have to think. Not about anything.”

Something devoutly to be wished for right now. She pushed slightly away from him, keeping her palms against his chest so that she could look up into his eyes.

“I don’t want to think, Jace. Not about anything.”

“Good. Because neither do I.”

Jace lifted his torso, propping himself on his forearms. She could hear his breathing, ragged from the strength of his climax. She was reluctant to open her eyes, afraid the oblivion he had promised—and had delivered—would vanish if she did.

Tonight had been nothing like the other times they’d made love. There had been no preliminaries. No foreplay. No courtship. Jace had simply taken her, his lovemaking hard and fast and controlling. And she knew now, though she hadn’t at the start, that this had been exactly what she needed.

“You asleep?”

She opened her eyes to find him looking down into her face. Their bodies were still joined, their skins wet with sweat.

“No, but give me a minute.”

She could feel his heart rate beginning to slow. The frantic pulse of hers was also returning to normal. She closed her eyes again, blowing upward a breath that stirred the damp, disordered hair on her brow.

What had just happened had been beyond the scope of her experience. A little rough. Almost painful. And her reaction had surprised her almost as much as his total dominance. She would never have thought she’d be the kind of woman who would respond to that. The kind who
could
respond to it.