The Suicide Club (24 page)

“You need to eat something.”

“Before I pass out?” She suspected the light-headedness had little to do with food deprivation. Lack of oxygen, maybe. Or multiple orgasms.

He bent, pressing a kiss against her forehead. She opened her eyes again, finding his face still next to hers, their noses almost touching.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming here tonight. For this. For trusting me.”

She did trust him, she realized. If this had been anyone but Jace…“You were right. So…thank you.”

“Right about what?”

“It was consuming.” There had not been one second when she had had to think about anything other than what was happening between them.

“I told you.”

She nodded, wondering what they did for an encore. After all, there were physical limits to how long they could sustain this method of forgetfulness.

“Don’t.” He lowered his head so that his lips found the soft skin beneath her ear.

“Don’t what?”

“Think.” He whispered the word, his mouth moving upward until his tongue dipped into her ear.

Something hot and heavy moved low in her belly. As incredible as it seemed, given the number of times she’d climaxed, her body was once more responding.

“It’s too soon.” She hadn’t intended to voice that realization aloud. Because, of course, the physiological restraints were not hers.

“Speak for yourself.”

The breath needed to whisper those words stirred against the moisture his tongue had left on her ear. Sensation, pure and sexual, moved along all the sensitized nerve pathways of her lower body. Without any conscious direction on her part, her muscles began to tighten around his erection. Incredibly, he responded, making a mockery of her declaration.

Once more his hips began to move, the silken slide of flesh against flesh eased by their previous lovemaking. Despite that, she could feel the now so-familiar sensations beginning to build. She strained upward, her hips lifting into the downward thrust of his, trying to deepen his penetration.

She wanted all of him. As much as she could take. As much as he could give.

Jace lowered his chest so that muscle flattened her breasts. That sensation shivered erotically along overstimulated nerves. Her breath quickened as heat, molten, fluid, began to spread from her core throughout every part of her body.

Jace rocked above her, need fueling his driving tempo. She responded to each stroke with an exhalation, her breath sighing out of her lungs in increasingly short gasps.

And then, after a long time, her growing response became sound. Harsh. Wordless. Mindless.

An unbearable tension grew inside, screaming for release. “Too soon” echoed in her head, but this time in response to her own desire. She wanted…She wanted…

Her mouth opened, trying to express a need that seemed too cruel. Too demanding.

Then, without warning, she forgot to breathe. Forgot to seek. Forgot even what she’d been straining to achieve. Wave after wave of spiraling, cascading pleasure—dark and primitive and aching—flooded all her emptiness.

She was aware on some level that Jace still moved above her, but for an instant—an eternity—she was all alone. Removed from time and place. Lost in a distant reality that seemed totally disconnected from this.

And then, as Jace’s release began, sensation trembling once more through her ravaged body, she was connected to him again. Flesh to flesh. Exactly where she wanted to be. Needed to be.

When the last tremor had stilled, he put his forehead against hers. Once more she listened to his labored breathing, tracking it against her own. Matching the decrescendo of sensation as together they returned from the place the ancients had termed “the little death.”

She turned her head, her lips finding his hair even as she rejected those words. She knew death now. As did Jace.

This…This was the opposite. The antithesis of what had happened this afternoon.

This was life. Made more precious, perhaps, because of the knowledge they shared.

“Go to sleep.” His breath against her neck caused a shimmer of heat to slice through her veins like the last flicker of summer lightning after a storm.

Still he didn’t move, the weight of his body on hers not uncomfortable. She lay beneath him, feeling his heartbeat slow and then steady.

Like the familiar pulse a baby hears in the womb, it spoke of security. Protection. Love.

Love…

She couldn’t have pinpointed the moment when attraction had become something neither of them anticipated, but she no longer bothered to deny it. She was in love with Jace Nolan. Someone as different from who and what she was as night from day.

And despite the fact that tonight she would again sleep in his arms, she still had no idea whether his feelings mirrored her own.

T
here was a message from Dave waiting on her answering machine when she got home the next morning. Fearing her mother might be trying to reach her, she’d punched the button before going back to her bedroom to get dressed.

As soon as she’d heard what her boss had to say, she dialed Jace’s cell. He’d still been asleep when she’d left the apartment, but this was something he needed to know.

While she waited for him to pick up, she realized there might be nothing he could do about this. Still, if nothing else, she wanted to talk to someone about it. Normally that would have been Shannon or someone from school. Now that Jace was in her life—

“Hello?”

It sounded as if he’d been awake, which made her feel marginally better about calling. In her rush to get home and dressed for school, she hadn’t had time to think about the discovery she’d made last night.

It was too new to talk about, to Jace or anyone else. It was almost too new to examine inside her own head.

“The superintendent cancelled school for the rest of the week. Dave left a message on my machine. I guess they began calling everybody on staff last night as soon as the decision was made.”

The school had an automatic notification system that could be used to call both students and staff with emergency announcements. That Dave had called personally had been a courtesy to his faculty.

Jace didn’t say anything for a moment. Maybe he was unsure if that was all she wanted to tell him. Or maybe, she realized, he didn’t understand why she’d called him.

“I think this is the worst thing they could have done,” she said, trying to fill up the silence, “but then they didn’t ask me. And possibly none of the other teachers. They never do.”

“You’re concerned about the effect this has on the kids.”

“I don’t know that the grief counselors that they sent out before did much good, but just to let them stay home alone and stew about Tim…” She shook her head at the stupidity of that.

“You want me to contact the superintendent?”

It was the natural assumption for him to make. That she had called because she wanted him to do something.

“I just wanted to tell somebody. Even if you did call, I’m not sure how much listening they’d do. To you or anyone else. Maybe they talked to the counselors. Maybe this was a consensus. But my God, after two suicides—”

“Your friend came by last night. I forgot to tell you.”

“My
friend?
” Only then did she make the connection to what she’d just said about counselors, which must have reminded him. “Shannon? She came to your apartment?”

She knew why Jace had forgotten to tell her. There hadn’t been a lot of conversation between them last night. She’d pitched the two sacks of food they’d never gotten around to eating into the Dumpster this morning on her way out to her car.

“She said to tell you she’d decided to take your advice, but she needed to check something out first.”

The only advice Lindsey could remember giving Shannon was that it was time to tell Jace, or someone in authority, if she really believed someone in the program was capable of setting the church fires. As for checking something out…

“Did she tell you what?”

“That’s all she said, Lindsey. I’m just passing on the message. Belatedly.”

“I need to call her.”

There was a small pause, and then Jace said, “For what it’s worth, I agree with you.”

Not about calling Shannon. He was agreeing with her about the stupidity of closing the school.

“Then if you want to contact Dave, you can use my name. Tell him I told you what they’d done and that I’m concerned.”

“Let me talk to the sheriff first. This may have come from somewhere other than the superintendent’s office. I can’t imagine they’d make that decision without talking to us.”

It was possible Jace was right. Who was she to think she knew better than the experts?

The one who, in the aftermath of Andrea’s death, had “counseled” Tim Harrison’s class.

“I didn’t think about that. Maybe they’re right,” she said, fighting her sense of despair and incompetence. “I honestly don’t know what’s right or smart anymore.”

“Are you okay?”

An echo of the times he’d asked her that last night. Obviously, he was worried about the state of her mental health. Maybe he was afraid she was coming unglued under the pressure.

Maybe he’s right.

“I’m okay. It’s just that…All the way over here I was psyching myself up to handle the kids. The closing came as a shock. I guess I needed to vent to someone, and yours was the first name on the list.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out.”

She shouldn’t have expected any expression of appreciation from him because he’d been the one she’d turned to. That he hadn’t responded to her confession was only a guy thing.

Jace had a job to do, one that had been made more difficult by the events of yesterday. He’d comforted her last night when she’d really needed it. She couldn’t expect to keep going back to that particular well or it was likely to dry up very quickly.

“Thanks. I’m going to call Shannon and see if the counselors were part of the process in reaching that decision. I’d feel better if that’s the case.” Besides, she wanted to ask about the message Shannon had left with Jace.

“Okay, then. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before she could say goodbye, the connection was broken. He had probably taken her saying she intended to call Shannon as a sign she wanted to end this conversation. Another of those natural assumptions, but this one left her feeling that the call had been unfinished. Especially since there had been no mention of when the “talk” he’d promised would occur.

She brought the phone down from her ear, vowing not to invite herself over to his apartment tonight. After Tim’s suicide, no explanation would be required if she showed up at her parents’ house.

The thought was tempting. Maybe she would head over there after she’d talked to Shannon.

Before she did either, however, she needed to get out of the clothes she’d been wearing for the last twenty-four hours and grab a shower. Once she had, she might feel more hopeful about the long, empty day, as well as the possibility of an equally long and empty night, that stretched before her.

After splashing water on his face, Jace glanced up into the mirror above the lavatory. He’d gotten a decent amount of sleep last night, but his eyes were bloodshot. The beard that darkened his cheeks added to the look of exhaustion. He needed a shave and a shower, not necessarily in that order, and then he needed something to eat.

He’d pretended to be asleep this morning when Lindsey slipped out of his bed. He’d lain there, eyes closed, listening to the sounds she made as she dressed.

He wasn’t sure why he had hidden the fact he was awake. Because he wasn’t up to dealing with the inevitable “morning after” dregs of emotion? Or because he thought it would be better if they both had some time—and some space—to think about what was happening between them.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he allowed his eyes to examine the reflection of the puckered scars that marked his chest. A reminder, if he’d needed one, that there was no room in this job for emotion. Not of any kind.

He’d learned only later that the kid holding the gun in the drug deal gone wrong had been thirteen. He’d looked younger. Too frigging scared to ever pull that trigger.

Jace had had maybe half a second to make that determination. Instead of blowing the kid away, he’d screamed at him to drop the gun. The kid had put two bullets into Jace and one into his partner before they’d taken him down. Geoff hadn’t made it. And there had been many times during the next year when Jace had wished he hadn’t.

It had been a hard lesson. One he had believed he’d mastered. Until he’d let himself become involved with Lindsey.

Until this was over, that involvement was something he needed to rethink. His first reaction when she’d told him about the school closing had not been to wonder how that would affect his investigation, but to worry about how it was affecting her.

There were any number of ways he could justify the relationship he’d allowed to develop between them. Lindsey was someone he’d once believed possessed information he needed to solve the arson. Then, with the two attacks, she had become someone who might have been targeted because he’d deliberately singled her out. Someone deserving of his protection. All of those were still legitimate concerns, which made it difficult to put a necessary distance between them. At least until this was over.

Given the deaths of two students in her program, he didn’t need further confirmation that he’d been right about her students being involved. He wasn’t sure, however, that he had enough evidence to make a case to the sheriff that Lindsey should be assigned protection. If he couldn’t, he’d have to figure out how to provide that and at the same time disentangle their developing personal relationship from their professional one.

And maybe you ought to start by not sleeping with her….

The lips of the man reflected in the mirror flattened until they almost disappeared. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so deeply involved. All he knew was that until he figured out what the hell was going on in this town, he didn’t need the distraction Lindsey had become.

Explaining that would be a bitch, but if he put the brakes on now, without making some attempt to do so, she’d believe exactly what his intent
had
been when he’d asked Campbell to arrange a meeting. That he’d been using her. He wasn’t proud he’d intended to do so, but it was part of who and what he was.

And part of the job he’d undertaken. This—whatever was between them now—wasn’t. But unless he did something about it—

His phone rang, vibrating so hard that it jumped against the hard tile of the counter. He picked it up, peering at the number before he flipped open the case. “Nolan.”

“Looks like we’ve got another one,” the sheriff said. “Corner of Oakmont and Locust. You need to get over there.”

“On the way.” And then, because he knew enough about the kids in Lindsey’s program to want to know, “You got a name?”

“They’re still waiting for an ID. Maybe by the time you get over there, they’ll have one for you.”

Lindsey listened to the rings, counting them until Shannon’s voice mail message came on again. When it did, she brought the phone down, taking her gaze off the road long enough to punch the “End” button.

Maybe she’d decided to sleep in this morning. With the cancellation of school, there was no reason for her not to.

And she’s probably muttering curses from under her pillow every time I call her.

That very logical explanation for why she was getting no answer didn’t quell the nagging anxiety she’d felt since she’d left the first message. Shannon didn’t have a landline, so she slept with her cell on the bedside table. She had always answered it in the past. Even the times Lindsey had called before she’d managed to drag herself out of bed on a weekend.

Like last Saturday. The morning she’d confessed to mixing alcohol and Klonopin. If she’d done something like that again…

As she maneuvered her car along the narrow, tree-lined streets of the old neighborhood, she fought those circling thoughts. The ones that had fueled the apprehension that had driven her out of the house and on what she had told herself over and over was a wild-goose chase.

Shannon was fine. She had been okay emotionally when Lindsey left her house last night. And she’d come by Jace’s apartment to leave a message, which meant she hadn’t reacted to Tim’s death the same way that she had to Andrea’s.

Maybe they’d become too accustomed to that kind of news. Callous to the tragedy it represented. Or maybe—

As she turned onto Locust, she could see two cars parked along the curb near the end of the block. Within a couple of seconds, she’d identified the nearer one as a county cruiser. As she neared the house on the corner, she saw the emergency vehicle in the drive, its rear doors standing open.

The terror she’d managed to hold at bay during the last forty minutes flooded her mind. Her heart lodged in her throat and her hands trembling on the wheel, she guided the Honda to the curb on the near side of the drive.

A sheriff’s deputy was leaning against the side of the patrol car. Although he was facing away from her, it was apparent he was talking on a radio. And the paramedics…

Her gaze flew back to the house. A dark rectangle marked the location of the front door. Also open.

From force of habit, she turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. Although her knees felt too weak to support her, she fumbled for the handle of the door.

The deputy talking on the radio turned when she slammed it. She ignored him, her sole focus on putting one foot in front of the other until she’d crossed the lawn and gotten inside that house. At some point during that journey, she began to run.

“Hey! Hey, you! You can’t go in there.”

She heard the words, but their meaning was totally disconnected from the dark rectangle that beckoned her. She needed to find Shannon. She needed to know what was going on.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! You can’t go in there.”

This time she stopped, turning to watch the deputy sprint towards her across the lawn. “What’s going on? What’s happening in there?”

His face changed as he took in her state. He slowed, his mouth opening and then closing. Finally he shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I really am, but I can’t let you go inside.”

As she turned and again started toward the house, he reached out, catching her elbow. She tried to wrench her arm away, but his hold was firm.

“Ma’am. I’m really sorry, ma’am.”

She was no longer listening. Instead she was watching as a man in uniform began to back out of Shannon’s front door. He felt for his footing as he stepped over the threshold, carefully pulling a wheeled stretcher out with him.

Lindsey stopped struggling against the deputy’s grip. Her world had narrowed to the two men maneuvering the unwieldy stretcher through the door and down the front steps of Shannon’s house. As they made the turn to head toward the emergency van parked in the drive, she could see the pale blue fabric that covered whoever they were bringing out of the house. A corner of that sheet, along which Lowen County was stenciled in faded black letters, trailed through the grass, its edge darkened by the morning dew.