With Cruel Intent (44 page)

“Not much further, just hold on,”

Seymour said.

As quickly as the bumping and

bouncing has started, it finally stopped,

and they came to rest on a small knoll,

with trees on either side of the truck.

Seymour reached behind the seat and

pulled out a flannel, plaid blanket, a

thermos and two mugs with cartoon

characters on them, the Tasmanian Devil

on one and Foghorn Leghorn on the other.

He showed them to Blanche, “You

can have your pick, as long as I get

Foghorn.”

He opened the door for her and

motioned for her to follow him up over the

small rise, his hands being full of the

items from the truck. As they crested the

hilltop, Blanche’s eyes focused on the

most awe-inspiring vision of earth and

nature that she had ever seen. She stood,

unable to move, taking in the scene that

stretched out for miles before her.

“Was I right, or was I right?” he

said, taking in the same sight and enjoying

the impact it was having on his beautiful

date. “This is going to sound so corny, but

it’s the God’s honest truth.”

“What’s that?” she said not taking

her eyes off the panorama before her.

“The first time I saw you and you

were just sitting at the desk with your head

down and I could see you and you hadn’t

noticed me yet.”

“Yes, I remember,” she said.

“Well, seeing you that very first

time made me think of this place, and I

swore to myself, if there was anyway that

you’d agree to go out with me, I’d bring

you here first. So, here we are. The only

thing more beautiful than this place right

here, is you, Blanche Delaney, and I mean

that,” he said, moving to throw out the

blanket before he made a bigger fool of

himself.

“Seymour, I'm afraid you've put

me on a pedestal that I’m not going to be

able to live up to, but for tonight, I think

I’ll stay up there for a while longer, if

that’s okay with you,” she said, kneeling

down next to him and running her hand

over his.

“Madam,” Seymour said, handing

a mug to Blanche. He unscrewed the top

of the thermos and poured each of them a

cup of hot chocolate. “Hope this is still

warm enough to drink.”

She took a sip, finding it almost

too hot, and blew over the surface of the

liquid.

“It’s fine, plenty warm,” she said,

still gently blowing the chocolate and

lifting it to her lips for another taste.

“Oh crap, I almost forgot the best

part, just a minute,” he said, dashing back

to the truck, returning with a bag of

miniature marshmallows. “Can’t have hot

cocoa without these.” He opened the bag

and took a handful filling both of their

mugs to overflowing before sitting back

down next to Blanche.

“Seymour, you’ve thought of

everything tonight. I’ve had such a good

time, you are truly a man of mystery aren’t

you?”

“I don’t know about that. I’m

afraid most the time I’m kind of a

bumbling idiot, but I know one thing for

sure, I like being with you, and the way

you make me feel when we're together,”

he suggested.

“Ditto Seymour, ditto,” Blanche

said, taking another sip of her hot

chocolate and staring across a picturesque

lake surrounded by lush forested hills and

valleys. The moonlight shimmering off the

gently moving water provided just enough

light to the scene, to bring the entire image

into perspective. Near the water's edge

she could make out the black shape of an

animal drinking from the stillness of the

lake and the sounds of crickets surrounded

them, playing nature’s own version of a

restful hymn. Fireflies danced above them

in the air, painting patterns in the sky.

“Blanche, try this,” he said, taking

the now empty mug from her hand.

He motioned for her to lay down

on the blanket, he did the same, their

bodies touching shoulder to shoulder and

knee to knee. The sky that stretched out

before them twinkled with more than a

million brilliant stars and lights. There

was no need for words, both could feel

what was happening, and they shared the

moment in silence for a time. Seymour

lifted his hands behind his head to act as a

pillow, and Blanche took the cue, moving

her head to rest on his muscular chest and

shoulder, their backs still firmly pressed

against the rigid earth.

“Can you see why I come up here

to think?” he finally said.

“Sure, really clears your head and

gives you some perspective. Thanks for

bringing me here. This is a special place.”

“If you’d like, I’d love to show it

to you in the daylight, not quite as

romantic but equally as beautiful.”

“You’ve got a date, anytime.” She

lifted up on her elbow, leaned down and

gave him a kiss that he returned, being

careful not to scare her off on their first

date. “Thank you so much Seymour

Wood.” She laid her head back down on

his comfortable, strong shoulder, staring

into the night’s sky and whispered ever so

softly, just beyond Seymour’s ability to

hear, “Thank you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

‘Sweet Home Alabama’ vibrated

the speakers and shook the decaying

chassis as the driver, parked a little more

than a block from the B&B, sang along

and tapped his hands on the steering wheel

to the rhythm of the rock classic. The time

on his watch read 8:47, the two hours he’d

spent sitting and listening to KRCK had

passed much slower than he would have

liked. Earlier in the morning he had

watched the dog walkers stroll along the

sidewalks, stopping occasionally to clean

up after their animals, depositing the

disgusting little bags in the nearby

receptacle. He could not understand why

city people wanted dogs, they were meant

to be outside, running free, and the owners

were certainly not supposed to pick up

their dog’s shit with their hands. Sickened

him, even though he had grown up with

cats, dogs and even a gator that lived in

their bathtub, until it was too big, and had

to be released back into the river.

Felix had phoned him late the night

before, congratulating him on a job well

done. It appeared they -- whoever ‘they’

were -- appreciated the extra effort and

risks he had taken and wanted him to lay

low for a few days. He was happy to take

them up on the offer; having his hinny

hanging in the wind was not his idea of a

good time. The last outing had taken ten

years off his life and most likely Rascal’s

as well. The night before, troubled him

greatly; first a colored and now this,

Blanche taking up with a schoolboy.

Lester had followed the couple to the

restaurant but grew weary of waiting for

them and had finally gone home, seething

with anger. As with Virginia May, he

could not fully identify the focus of his

rage. Blanche would soon enough

recognize the important role he would

play in her life, but he would need to deal

with these distracters first.

Since the Mr. Muscle competition

a scenario had been forming in Lester’s

mind, and an evolution was taking place,

massaging and forming the plan into

something that would take care of both of

these hounds hot on Blanche’s scent. It

would take timing, skill and cunning. Over

the coming week he would devote as much

time as it took to learn their routines, and

act when the stars aligned, and his plot

could be set into motion. He was starting

with Blanche, the work schedule was

easy, she worked five days a week

including a couple of nights. He’d enjoyed

the time watching her from the shadows

and his disguised ventures into her

domain. Today was his first chance to

observe her 'day off' behaviors, and he

came well prepared, binoculars, camera

with high-powered telephoto lens, and the

stolen .38 caliber pistol tucked into the

front of his pants.

* * *

Blanche

deliberately

avoided

breakfast, knowing that Felix, aka

‘Clueless Wonder’, would be there trying

to put the moves on her, and she just

couldn’t imagine putting up with his crap

after the lovely evening she’d spent with

Seymour. The couple had stayed out much

later than he had originally planned but

still managed to get her in the door before

Caroline called the police. When she’d

gotten home there was a message on her

phone from Holly wondering how her date

with ‘Woody’ had gone. She returned the

call

knowing

the

two-hour

time

differential would still have Holly awake

playing games on the computer or

watching a movie with her family. The

educated guess was correct, they were

w a tc hi ng,
The Town That Dreaded

Sundown
, a true story of a killer that

stalked a small town’s youth, killing as he

went and was never caught. The

librarian’s closest friend did love her

horror movies. Blanche relished the

chance to talk about her date. She’d had a

wonderful time but didn’t realize how

meaningful it was until she heard herself

reliving it again with her dear friend.

Blanche slept peacefully, her mind

void of conflict and worry. In the morning

she laid in bed lazily, remembering the

strength in Seymour’s shoulder and chest

as she’d used him as a pillow, and the

softness of his lips when they shared their

first soulful kiss. He wanted to see her

again tonight, forcing Blanche to explain

the previous promise made to Jasper, but

he was so very understanding, something

she’d not seen before in the opposite sex.

After the good nights sleep and taking it

easy until 9:00 a.m. she decided a run

would do her good, get her body in sync

with her psyche. She donned a tight fitting

sports bra, lycra shorts and running shoes,

pulled her hair back into a ponytail and

bounced down the stairs. In the entryway

of the older home she stretched, twisting

and lengthening her muscles before she

ventured out. Mrs. Muir was reading in

the parlor and could see her young friend

getting ready to run.

“Blanche, did you have a good

time last night?”

“Oh, hey Mrs. Muir. Yeah, had a

great time, ate Indian food for the first

time, it was awesome. What are you up

to?” she said, continuing to bend and

warm up her muscles.

“Just catching up on some reading,

the paper this morning has some

interesting things on that stalker out by the

base. Have you been following that?”

Mrs. Muir leaned over a bit to get a better

view of the runner.

“Somewhat, mostly what you’ve

been telling me, along with Seymour.”

“He’s sure having an impact on

our local economy.”

“How so? Thought he was just

stealing a few things and frightening

people,” she said, moving closer to the

older woman so she could hear well.

“I guess the gun stores have

completely sold out of handguns and most

are to women, and the housing, especially

in that area, is in a mess. There are all

those new condos across from Moody and

they can’t give them away, number of

people even looking at them is down

70%.”

“Crazy how the actions of one

person can have so much impact on so

many others, just not very fair is it?” she

offered.

“No, it’s sure not. The boy you

were with last night, he seems very nice,

such a polite, well-mannered, young man.

We certainly don’t see that very often any