by Rachael Yukey
Got to keep runnin’
Stormbringer comin’
He’s got nothing you need
He’s gonna make you bleed
Deep Purple, 1975
There’s movement on the broken, crumbling asphalt that gradually gives way to gravel. Eyes squint in the moonlight, but can make out no details until the shadowy figure approaches the wash of illumination from one of the few remaining street lamps that still function. An old man walking a dog, and taking his sweet time about it.
The watcher hunkers back down, pulling his jacket more tightly around his upper half. The delay is a temporary annoyance, no more. That painted-up whore will be out for a couple more hours, at the very least. He has plenty of time.
***
Watching Cindy Moen delicately trace Julie’s bottom lip with the tip of a finger, Nettie Hastings felt her pulse quicken. She reined in her excitement through force of will. Enticed though she was by what was taking place on her sofa, Nettie knew she and Hannah needed time to themselves.
Julie was gazing at her expectantly, the question about sleeping arrangements still hanging in the air.
“Ummm…” Nettie thought fast. “I think it’ll be me and Hannah in my bedroom. There are guest rooms down the hallway—just take whichever one you want. First door on the right has the biggest bed.” She thought it best to leave any implications unspoken.
Her eyes turned to Halee. “That goes for you, too, if you’re sticking around. I’m offering you a room of your own to crash in. Whether you use it or not, that’s your business.”
Halee grinned. “I get it.” She turned back to Julie and Cindy, a question in her eyes. Julie met her gaze with a smile. Cindy tipped her a wink.
Nettie stood, extending a hand to her lover. Hannah took the proffered hand and rose gracefully to her feet. “Good night, all,” said Hannah as the two women made their way towards the master suite.
“Night,” Julie called out.
“Sleep well,” Cindy chimed in.
Giving Nettie’s ass cheek a squeeze through her jeans, Hannah tossed a grin back over her shoulder. “Oh, we will,” she replied. “In an hour or two.”
“Come on, you,” Nettie growled, practically dragging the redhead through the bedroom door and pushing it shut behind her.
Halee was sitting forward in her chair, hand resting on her Coke can, eyes fixed on the two women on the couch. Julie caressed Cindy’s cheek; Cindy’s fingers lightly trailed across the back of Julie’s neck. They seemed to have eyes only for each other, and Halee felt a twinge of uncertainty. It seemed only moments ago that an invitation had been given, but had she misread the signs?
Then Julie turned to her, a smile on her lips. Patting the vacant cushion to her left. “Um, Halee? You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know.”
Confidence returning in a chest-loosening rush, Halee got to her feet and made her way across the room. She settled in next to Julie, boldly pressing her body against the older woman’s tall, lean frame, thrilling at her warmth. Her hand came to rest on the small of Julie’s back, bare millimeters above her ass.
Julie cupped Halee’s chin with her fingers, turning the girl’s face upwards to meet her gaze. “Is it really true you’re not a virgin, or were you just messing with your dad?” Her voice was low, husky, and intense.
“Oh, it’s true,” Halee replied, surprised at the unsteadiness in her own voice. “And I’m pretty sure he knows it, too.”
“Yeah,” Cindy breathed, reaching out to take Halee’s hand, which she clasped firmly. “I know Terry well enough to pick up on that. He knows damn well what’s gonna happen here tonight, and he told you straight out to have all the fun you want.”
“You guys don’t think it’s weird?” Halee’s fingers trailed downward to lightly caress the crack of Julie’s ass through her sundress, taking Cindy’s hand along for the ride. Julie shivered deliciously.
Cindy reached across Julie’s lap with her free hand, traced a finger lightly from the top of Halee’s knee and up her thigh. “Hon,” she said, “if you had any idea of the stuff we did at your age, and with who…”
The images that flashed through Halee’s mind were enough to push her into a frenzy of desire. Sliding her butt forward to the edge of the couch cushion and lying back, she grabbed the hand that was inching up her thigh and pulled it higher, a low moan escaping her throat.
She intended to place that hand on her mound, but Cindy stopped short just centimeters below the target, letting her finger gently tease the inside of Halee’s thigh. “Getting a little excited there, sweetie?”
Halee’s response was to thrust her hips forward, desperately trying to close the gap between those taunting fingers and the place she needed them to go. “I feel like I’m gonna come in my pants,” she moaned.
Julie grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Standing abruptly, Cindy bent down, slipping one arm behind Halee’s back, the other under her knees. She straightened, effortlessly hoisting the girl up along with her. Being cradled by the muscular young policewoman, the feel of that well-toned body against hers, heightened Halee’s arousal even further. A delicious shiver rippled through her.
“Wanna get that first door on the right, Julie?” Cindy intoned, her voice thick and husky. Julie was on her feet in an instant, scooting down the hall and fumbling with the doorknob in her excitement. Cindy was right behind her, arms full of trembling girl. Julie hit the light switch, illuminating a queen-sized bed against the far wall.
Cindy deposited Halee on the dark blue comforter, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Then Cindy plopped down beside the girl, nimbly undoing the button of Halee’s jeans as she caressed the teen’s bottom lip with the thumb of her free hand.
Halee captured that thumb between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue as Cindy pulled the zipper down, insinuating her fingertips beneath the elastic of the girl’s panties. Then Julie was there on Halee’s other side, hand delving beneath the fabric of her t-shirt, tracing the cleft of the navel, then moving upward to caress a budding breast, stroking a taut nipple with teasing fingertips.
Halee threw her head back, dislodging Cindy’s thumb from her mouth. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Please!”
“Gonna come in your pants, are you?” Cindy whispered, her mouth now close to Halee’s ear. Julie leaned in from the other side, barely parted lips tracing the jawline, moving lower to nuzzle her neck.
Just when Halee thought she was going to lose her mind, Cindy’s fingers traversed the last couple of inches to the girl’s aching cunt. “Girl, you are dripping,” she breathed as she slid her fingers between the gooey folds.
Halee gasped, thrusting her hips upward as Cindy’s middle finger brushed her clit. “Oh, my god…” She was cut off as Julie’s mouth captured hers.
Cindy went to work, her fingers moving furiously. The effect was immediate and powerful, and Halee knew it would all be over for her in a minute or two. She twisted her head to the right, breaking off her kiss with Julie in order to draw in a great gulp of air, an instant before a jolt of pleasure made itself felt.
“Oh, God!” she cried. “OH! Oh my—” Her words trailed off in a shuddering gasp. Julie’s lips closed over her ear, nibbling it gently, then moving lower to graze the neck with delicate little love bites. Cindy slid her hand lower, easing the middle finger into Halee’s dripping hole, just up to the second knuckle.
The next wave of pleasure was so intense Halee almost passed out, and another followed right on its heels. This wasn’t going to be an orgasm, it was going to be a nuclear explosion.
“Oh, holy God!” the girl wailed. “Oh Jesus, I’m g-gonna… OH!”
“Come in your pants?” Cindy breathed. “Sounds good… come for me…”
That’s when it hit. Halee thrashed helplessly, tiny gasps escaping her mouth. It was almost too much to take, fireworks showering from her core in a dazzling display that practically overloaded her pleasure centers. Julie was nuzzling her neck like a hungry wildcat, Cindy’s hand moving in time with the wild thrusts of Halee’s pelvis.
Finally, after a small eternity of purest rapture, her climax began to subside. Halee was gulping desperately for air, almost sobbing. Her sex grew too tender to touch, and she tugged on Cindy’s arm, pulling the hand up and out of her sodden panties.
Julie’s mouth found hers again. Halee met her with enthusiasm and lots of tongue, giving the kiss serious attention this time. Cindy leaned in, nuzzling her jawline. “You really did come in your pants, didn’t you?” she mouthed into the girl’s ear.
Julie came up for air grinning, her face flushed. “Wow, did she ever!”
Halee placed a hand on the back of Cindy’s head, pulling her in to crush their mouths together. Cindy kissed her back with a desperate hunger, then pulled away, her breath ragged. “Okay,” she mouthed, “I’m gonna come in my pants if something doesn’t happen here.”
Halee didn’t need to be told twice. Gripping both sides of the t-shirt that read Franklin County Sheriff’s Department, she tugged it suggestively. Cindy obligingly raised her arms, allowing the girl to pull it over her head and off. Halee flung the shirt across the room, then reached behind Cindy’s back, deftly unclasping the strap of her bra and letting it fall into the policewoman’s lap. Cindy plucked the bra up and cast it to the floor with a flick of the wrist.
For a moment, Halee could only stare, feasting her eyes on Cindy’s generous breasts before burying her face between them. Her tongue emerged to lick as she reached out to tweak and caress two very stiff nipples. Cindy let out a long, low, moan that evolved into a growl.
As Halee began kissing her way down Cindy’s firm, flat belly, hands never ceasing to caress and knead the supple flesh of the luscious tits, Julie moved in to engage her old friend’s mouth in an impassioned kiss.
Releasing her hold on those glorious breasts, Halee blindly reached for the waist of Cindy’s jeans, fumbling a little as she worked the button loose. Cindy lifted her butt, and Halee wriggled her pants off, taking the panties along for the ride.
Cindy swung both legs up onto the bed and spread them apart, putting her delicious nudity on full display. Julie stretched out alongside, taking a nipple into her mouth. Cindy let out one of those low, lusty moans again, hips churning to a rhythm only she could hear.
Gripping a smooth, well-muscled calf in each hand, Halee settled down between them. Her fingers trailed up over the top of Cindy’s knees, then teased the inside of her thighs. Finally she swooped in like a hawk, her open mouth covering the smooth-shaven mound, her tongue caressing the hot, dripping flesh beneath.
“Oh, honey,” moaned Cindy, “you really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
Halee glanced up to take in in the two older women smiling down at her, lust in their eyes. She flashed them a wicked grin. “Bet your ass I do.”
She returned to kissing and nuzzling Cindy’s mound, exploring its every nook and cranny with an eager tongue. Cindy’s hip motions were becoming more frantic, her breath shorter and increasingly ragged. Halee was dimly aware of Julie going back to work on those full, ripe tits. She brought her right hand into play, trailing a finger through Cindy’s folds, teasing the dripping entrance.
“Oh, God, just fuck me,” Cindy moaned.
Happy to oblige, Halee slid a finger inside, quickly following it up with another. She reveled in the gooey warmth of Cindy’s cunt, feeling her own heat rise again at the slick, wet sounds of vaginal penetration, enhanced by the rich scent of arousal.
She took a moment to enjoy the view of Cindy’s gorgeous pussy, with its prominent inner labia and protruding clitoral hood. The glistening moisture coated her fingers like warm honey as she withdrew them, then abruptly thrust them back in.
“Oh, holy shit!” Cindy got out, her voice rising to a squeal on that last word. With that, Halee settled in for a wild ride, planting her tongue right on that needy clit. She wasted no time, licking the swollen nub in a rapid back and forth motion that elicited an instant, rapturous response. Cindy was moaning with every breath, wildly thrusting her hips. Halee rode with it effortlessly. Then those moans were muffled, and Halee glanced up to see Julie and Cindy kissing again. At some point Julie’s sundress had disappeared, and Cindy’s hands were clumsily playing across Julie’s smaller but perfectly formed breasts.
Suddenly Cindy thrust her hips up from the bed, thighs clenching Halee’s head. Halee couldn’t have extricated herself even had she wanted to, so she kept licking as if her life depended on it. The woman’s vaginal muscles clenched and released, clenched and released against her buried fingers. With an enormous gasp, Cindy broke her kiss with Julie, her head thrashing from side to side as she drew in short, sharp intakes of breath. Then she went limp.
Halee crawled up to collapse next to Cindy, throwing an arm across the blonde woman’s body, resting her head on those amazing tits and closing her eyes. Her own breath was ragged and shallow; she’d come herself only minutes earlier, yet she was ready to go again!
She gradually became aware of hard, hissing breath that wasn’t hers. Oh, yeah – Julie. No one’s gotten her off yet. Better do something about that. Her energy renewed, Halee struggled into a sitting position.
But Julie was already being taken care of. Opening her eyes and lifting her head, Halee was treated to the sight of the now-naked woman on her knees, legs wide, furiously rubbing her own clit as Cindy finger-fucked her from below. Julie’s mouth hung slack, lips quivering. Her breath hitched and tore. Sweat beaded her forehead.
Halee got up on her knees, noting that she was the only one still wearing any clothes at all. That was okay—she didn’t really want to take her shirt off anyway. She had grown self-conscious about her scars.
Leaning forward across Cindy’s voluptuous body, Halee briefly captured Julie’s trembling lower lip between hers, caressing it with a stroke of the tongue. She drifted lower, nuzzling and nibbling the line of the jaw, then turned her head to the side, raining kisses across the woman’s neck. Hardly conscious of the act, Halee slid a hand into her own panties, engaging her clit, shuddering and moaning as the first wave of pleasure made itself felt.
She was nibbling Julie’s earlobe when the dark-haired lady suddenly wrapped her free arm around Halee’s head, pulling their cheeks tightly together. Julie’s ragged breath had turned to soft moans, which grew shorter and high-pitched as she fell over the precipice into the sweet void of orgasm.
Julie’s spasms carried Halee along for the ride, the teen inhaling in explosive gasps as she rode the wave of her second climax of the evening.
Finally spent, the two of them collapsed almost simultaneously, one on either side of Cindy. As the panting lovers nestled in beside her, the blond policewoman gave Halee a sidelong glance. “Is that twice now you’ve come in your pants tonight?” she said, a feral grin on her lips. “Maybe you should think about taking ‘em off.”
***
Nettie all but dragged Hannah into her bedroom, slamming the door behind them. The lithe redhead was both delighted and bemused. She was finally at Nettie’s house, the two of them in her bedroom.
Hannah was almost overcome with excitement, but there was a nagging undertone that interfered with her pleasure. The conversation about Nettie’s time in Dickson as a child was chewing at the back of her mind, demanding just a little bit of houseroom for consideration.
Nettie had never mentioned any kind of childhood trauma, and you didn’t have to be very bright to pick up on the ripple of discomfort that had flowed through the room at the mention of it. There was something unexplained here, something that all her senses told her she very much needed to know about.
As Nettie pressed her against the door, engaging her lips and tongue in a heated kiss, Hannah thrust that annoying little voice aside, at least for the time being. Her cunt was on fire, throbbing with a deep-banked intensity that couldn’t be ignored. Looping her hands around Nettie’s neck, she met the kiss with enthusiasm.
Nettie’s hands were scrabbling with the button of Hannah’s jeans. Her frenzy was infectious, and Hannah found herself suddenly overcome with impatience, her need too great to be contained. Pushing the clumsy fingers aside, she undid her own pants and shoved them down with a single thrust. Nettie was frantically unbuttoning herself, her breath hissing through gritted teeth.
Moments later their bodies crashed down upon the bed, the petite redhead atop her lover’s tall, muscled frame, faces buried between thighs in a delicious sixty-nine. Neither had bothered to remove her shirt.
Hannah came first, lifting her head long enough to let out a keening wail. Then she re-engaged, licking her partner’s clit at blinding speed. It took Nettie only another thirty seconds or so before her orgasm kicked in.
***
Heather comes awake all at once, thrashing hard against a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, and a muscular arm pinning her body to the bed.
“Stop struggling.” The whisper is harsh in her ear. A face looms large before hers, features she can barely make out in the darkness. The shades are drawn against the moonlight. There’s menace behind that voice, and Heather feels what little fight she has evaporate into nothing as cold fear envelops her. She goes limp.
“Good girl. Now, I’m going to take my hand away. If you scream, if you move without my say-so, if you do anything I don’t tell you to do first, I’ll cut your kid sister with the big-ass knife that’s in my other hand. She already knows—don’t you?” The shadowy head jerks in the direction of the back corner of the room, and Heather can just make out Gina, hunkered down against the wall. The cowering shape begins to whimper softly.
“We have some walking to do,” the guttural voice informs her, just barely above a whisper. “So you’re gonna get your shoes on, and you’re gonna be quiet while you’re doing it. Off the bed, now. Let’s go.”
***
Mallory Kalvornek cautiously descended the stairs, amused at her own pointless attempts to step quietly on the ancient hardwood. The place was bigger and nicer than the house she’d been raised in, and the stairs correspondingly wider, but they were steeper than modern construction, and creaky as a two-dollar violin. Even a small person like herself couldn’t sneak around in a house like this.
She was wearing a bathrobe, a distinctly feminine-looking one that had been hanging from a hook on the door to Terry Wilder’s closet. It was much too long, the back of it brushing the steps as she made her way to the ground floor, and she found herself wondering if it belonged to Nettie. Always sensitive to personal cues, Mallory had picked up within minutes that Terry and Nettie had some kind of history. Fairly recent history, if she was any judge.
Reaching the ground floor, she glanced around to orient herself. Terry had mentioned before drifting off that the bathroom was down the hall and to the right, so she made off in that direction.
She found the bathroom easily enough, took care of her business, then emerged into the hallway. She and Terry had gone straight upstairs from the foyer, so she had yet to take the tour. The hallway spilled her out into a dining nook, with the living room just beyond. To her right she could see another, narrower staircase, and to her left the kitchen was visible through a red-brick archway. Classy, in an old-fashioned rural American sort of way.
She paused there for a moment, taking it in, then traversed the creaky old floor, passing a family-sized dining table and taking the single step up into the living room. There was a substantial stereo system against the opposite wall, and Mallory padded across the room to it, looking it over with admiration and a touch of envy. She’d become an audiophile as a child under the tutelage of her older friend Jamie, and as she and Julie’s combined income had grown, she’d indulged accordingly—but this stuff was a couple of levels above anything she’d be likely to afford anytime soon.
Terry was a mystery to her. On the surface he was garrulous, well-spoken, and unfailingly cheerful, exactly as Nettie had described him… but she sensed an undercurrent of turmoil there, and wondered at its source. Mallory was not a gregarious person, but she possessed a sixth sense about others that rarely steered her wrong. Terry had fucked up her radar right from the word go.
Of course, the man had recently undergone a major ordeal, seeing his daughter shot in the chest and then becoming a captive himself, all at the hands of his ex-wife. But she’d met him a week or two before those things had happened, at the funeral for Nettie’s father, and sensed it then, too.
Here you go again, Mallory-girl. How come on those rare occasions you encounter a man you want to sleep with, it’s always someone who’s got demons running around loose in his head? She chuckled, managing to startle herself at how loud it sounded to her ears.
It occurred to her that she wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to Terry’s bedroom. The place was huge, and she’d never been that great with spatial orientation to begin with. Her colleagues liked to joke that she was the only professor who could get lost trying to find her own office.
Demons or no, one thing was for sure: Terry WIlder knew how to fuck. Her cheeks warmed slightly as she thought back over the past hour or so, at the playfulness and passion of his foreplay and the raw intensity of his lovemaking.
Her attention shifted to his music collection. Racks of CDs affixed to the walls, shelves filled with records below. There certainly was a great deal of it, and it appeared to be entirely made up of classical titles. Fingers lightly brushing the record sleeves, she found herself impressed by the scope of his interests. Alongside the usual suspects, the Mozarts and Chopins and Bachs, was also a half dozen or so Salieri titles, some Buxtehude, and what looked like a complete collection of Fernando Sor. She was pleased to know that his interest in her upcoming album was most likely genuine, not induced by a desire to get inside her unmentionables.
Hearing footsteps on the narrow staircase leading into the dining area, Mallory swiveled her head in time to see Terry emerge, wearing sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, his shoulder-length hair somewhat mussed for once. He paused, looked left then right, gave her a small wave, and retreated down the hall to the bathroom. She turned her attention back to his collection, not really looking this time, waiting for him to emerge. The door opened, footsteps approached, and then Terry was behind her, hands on her waist.
He nuzzled her hair, planting a soft kiss on the back of her head. “Find anything you like?”
She turned to face him, craning her neck to look up into his eyes. Her lips twitched in a smile. “Nice collection. There’s stuff in there I don’t even have, and I play this sort of music for a living.”
Terry stepped to her side, gently turning her by the arm to face the shelves full of vinyl. “The greatest musical minds of the western world, captured on wax and contained in a small corner of my living room. I built this collection piece by piece, and standing here looking, even I find it impressive.”
Giggling, she nudged him in the side. “The whole damn house is impressive. How many square feet?”
“Six thousand, give or take.”
Mallory let out a low whistle, then gave him a sidelong glance. He didn’t seem terribly talkative, and although their acquaintance had been brief, it struck her as being out of character. Unfortunately, while she was good at reading people, drawing them out was not amongst her strong suits.
It dawned on her to get him sitting down and chatting. “Say, can a girl get anything to drink around here?”
Terry smirked. “Are we contemplating something to drink, or did you have fruit juice in mind?”
A laugh escaped her. “How about fruit juice with something to drink in it?”
The smirk became a full-blown smile. “I think that can be arranged. Would a screwdriver be sufficient, or do you require something a bit more refined?”
She grinned back. “You figure I’m a girl and a college professor, so I’ll only drink stuff with little umbrellas sticking out of the top?”
Terry pursed his lips. “I try not to make assumptions,” he said, a teasing note in his voice, “but it seems that every college professor I know—and I do know a few—only drinks coffee if a single cup costs at least five dollars and is full to bursting with caramel, chocolate, and Cool Whip. Their taste in alcohol tends to be remarkably similar.”
Mallory turned to face him, challenge in her eyes and a smile on her lips. “When you get up early to make my coffee in the morning, I’ll have you know that it needs to be black and strong. And in a non-disposable cup.”
A delighted grin on his face, Terry leaned in, placing a kiss on her half-open mouth. “Aren’t we the presumptuous one. Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll only be a moment.” He strode off in the direction of the kitchen.
“Oh, and by the by,” she called to his retreating back, deliberately tossing out a turn of phrase she’d heard him use earlier in the evening, “only barbarians put Cool Whip on their foo-foo drinks. Whole dairy toppings are the choice of sophisticates everywhere.” Terry let out a guffaw, then disappeared into the kitchen.
Still smiling, Mallory crossed to the sofa, settling herself against the left arm and curling her legs under her. She could hear the fridge open, and the clink of glass. Then his returning footsteps behind her. He handed her the drink en passant, holding one for himself in the other hand.
Her eyebrows raised. “Thought you were a whiskey man.”
Terry settled onto the cushion next to her. “Since I’m drinking with a sophisticate from the mighty American university system, I thought it perhaps better to try a little cultural elevation. Cheers.” He raised his glass. She touched it with her own, then sipped. And raised her eyebrows—it was a strong screwdriver. The vodka warmed her throat as she swallowed.
“You know,” she pointed out, “we’ve already had sex. Do you really feel the need to get me drunk?”
“I have to think the alcohol from earlier in the evening has worn off,” Terry replied with an air of nonchalance. “Given that any woman who is both intelligent and sober is unlikely to share my bed, it seemed prudent to impair your judgment sufficiently for a second round to be negotiable.”
Mallory couldn’t help but laugh again. “Wonder how things are going back at Nettie’s.”
Terry shrugged. “If there’s a god in the heavens, roughly the same way they went here.”
“I’ll drink to that.” This time Mallory raised her glass, and Terry clicked his to hers. They both drank.
“Speaking of Nettie,” Terry said, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, “I didn’t realize till today that the two of you had childhood history.”
“About a year’s worth,” she replied, taking another sip. “We’ve kept in touch, but I can’t say we’re particularly close anymore. How long have you known her?”
“A little over three years. She conducted a skills training session when I was gearing up to take my EMT psychomotor exam. That was roughly a year after I moved to town. I was the only one to show up, and we became friends.”
Mallory pursed her lips. “More than friends.” It wasn’t a question.
Terry shrugged. “On and off, until recently. But rest assured, the ‘more than friends’ part is now quite firmly in the rear-view mirror.”
“By your choice, not hers.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re quite the perceptive one, aren’t you?”
“On and off.”
He sipped at his drink. “Nettie is my closest friend, and I love her dearly. But if I were to tell you she can be a difficult person to maintain a relationship with, I doubt I’d be saying anything you don’t already know. She’s not necessarily to blame for that, but it doesn’t change the fact.”
Mallory nodded, taking a swig of her own. She could feel her buzz returning, and was surprised to discover she’d already polished off half the glass. “There are—well—issues. From when she was a kid. I’m not sure how much I should say, because I’m not sure how much you already know.”
“If you’re referring to her sister’s death, and both her parents’ subsequent institutionalization, of course I know.”
“I wasn’t sure. She hasn’t always been particularly forthcoming about it.”
Terry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I found out from her. I know because I’ve lived here for four years, I’m fairly active in community affairs, and it’s a damn small town. Hell, I even know where her sister is buried; it’s in the same boneyard where we planted her dad a couple of months back. But never once has she breathed a word about it to me.”
Mallory tossed back the rest of her drink in a gulp, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. She’d fretted about Nettle off and on down through the years, but now she wondered if she should have worried more. Damn it, Mallory-girl—you really should have done a better job keeping in touch.
Terry regarded her empty glass with raised eyebrows. His was still three-quarters full. “Another?” he ventured.
Raising an eyebrow, Mallory gave a low chuckle. “Ha—no way. I’m onto your game now.”
“Dammit,” said Terry. “All my elaborately-laid plans, reduced to nothing.” They both laughed, but sobered quickly.
Mallory shook her head. “That doesn’t worry you—I mean, that you’ve known her all this time and something this fundamental has never come up?”
Terry drew in a long breath, then blew it out slowly. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer. “I do worry about her,” he said at last. “Quite a bit, actually. She has terrible nightmares—I mean, the kind of shit where you soak the sheets with sweat and scream in your sleep. And we’ve shared a bed often enough for me to have noticed a direct correlation between the frequency of the nightmares, how actively she pushes people away, and her drinking habits.”
He hesitated, took another sip from his glass. “I know, because I’ve been told by others, that when her parents went off the deep end following Annamarie’s death, Nettie got shipped out for a year or thereabouts to live with relatives. I didn’t know until tonight that it was Julie’s family she stayed with. I imagine you must have known her pretty well.”
“Yeah.” Furious with herself, Mallory felt tears lurking close to the surface. She plucked the drink from his hand, took a sip, and forced a grin as she handed it back to him. “You’re obviously having trouble finishing that. Thought I’d help.”
“My gratitude knows no bounds.”
“Anyway—yeah. It was either late January or early February when I was in the sixth grade; I remember that because we had the first rehearsal of the band that became 80 Proof when Nettie and Anna were still missing. Nettie came down to stay with Julie’s family a week or two after the funeral. My parents had just split up, Mom was starting tech school, Julie and I were already a couple—I was spending as much time at their house as anywhere else. Nettie was really messed up when she first got there, and it took months for things to get even a little bit better. She moved back in with her mom right around Christmas, if I remember right.”
“It’s amazing that it got better at all,” Terry remarked, stroking his chin. “She’s done remarkably well, all things considered.”
“But it’s not over for her, is it?” Mallory felt a single tear spill out of each eye, powerless to stop them. “Dammit.” she dashed them angrily away with the back of her hand. Terry laid a hand on her forearm, plucking Kleenex from a box on the coffee table with the other.
Taking the tissue gratefully, she dried her eyes, then found her voice again. “It’s still sabotaging her relationships, from what you’re telling me. It’s still messing up her sleep. I think maybe the scariest thing is that she still keeps it inside. I’m pretty sure Hannah doesn’t know. Did you see her expression when Nettie living in Dickson for a year came up?”
Terry nodded. “Indeed I did. I have a feeling our lovely lady doctor is going to have a question or three over the next few days. I hope to god Nettie doesn’t fuck that up. I like Hannah, and I think they’re really good for each other.”
“Yeah.” Mallory turned her gaze to the ceiling as more tears gathered beneath her eyelids.
She felt another light touch on her arm. “You okay?” he inquired gently.
“I feel a little bit responsible. Julie and I—we did try to keep up with Nettie at first. But you never knew when you were going to hear back from her, so we kind of started letting it slide. Then we both went into demanding fields of study—you know how it is. I feel like we should have done more.” She sniffled, but managed to hold the tears back. Barely.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Terry. “You were separated by distance, and an ever-increasing span of time. There’s a limit to what can be accomplished under those circumstances.”
Sniffling again, she gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Here,” he said, pressing what was left of his screwdriver into her hand. “You look like you need it more than I do. Besides, you were right—I lack the sophistication for this stuff.”
Despite everything, Mallory had to smile. “I thought I told you this trick wasn’t going to work.”
He chuckled. “No trick. It would be rather unseemly to attempt seduction under the present circumstances, don’t you think? After you’ve polished that off—or dumped it down the sink, your choice—we’ll go to bed, where we need do nothing more than sleep.”
Snatching another Kleenex from the box, Mallory blew her nose. She tossed back the remainder of Terry’s drink in one gulp, set the glass down on the coffee table with a satisfying clunk, then looked up at him, wearing a grin.
“Fuck that,” she said, loosening the sash of the bathrobe in what she hoped was an alluring gesture. “I need something to take my mind off all this. Got any ideas?”
Terry’s eyebrows buried themselves in his hairline. “Oh—I might be able to think of a thing or two.”
***
Two terrified girls are herded through the seldom-used back door of their ramshackle trailer. Make that never-used; there aren’t even any steps attached. Theirs is a corner lot, and this secondary door leads to a side yard only about ten feet from the trees, so their movement is largely shielded from prying eyes. Heather hesitates at the precipice, and receives a sharp blow to the back of the head. Whimpering, she jumps to the ground, loses her footing, and tumbles headlong onto the grass. Gina drops to the ground next to her, landing with somewhat more grace.
Then he is beside them, bending down to jerk Heather to her feet. Gina huddles against her, clutching at her pajamas, face tracked with tears. Rough hands separate them, that harsh whisper grates once again on their ears. “Into the trees. Move.”
On to Chapter Four!
It was Didi’s birthday — her little girl, twelve years old! Valerie Viteri had prepared a suitably impressive celebration for her daughter.
When I finished my hospital shift, I had about ten minutes to make the three PM bus for home. If I missed that, it was a half hour wait for the next one. It wasn’t so much the wait that bothered me, it was the fact that the three-thirty PM stopped at two schools on the way. Then the bus was crammed with loads of school kids, all competing to see who could make the loudest racket. Christ almighty, I hated that bus.