Don't Cry Part 37

Audrey's heart skipped a beat. Emotion caught in her throat. Oh, Zoe, Zoe... Oh, Zoe, Zoe... "Thank you. I believe that's the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me." "Thank you. I believe that's the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me."

The old wooden church, built in the late eighteen hundreds, had stood vacant for a couple of decades. The back side of the roof had rotted and caved in years ago, leaving a gaping hole that allowed rain and snow to enter the sanctuary and aid in the slow, steady dilapidation of the pulpit, the altar, the baptismal font, and the once-st.u.r.dy wooden benches. Long abandoned and all but forgotten in the woods on the hillside, the former meeting place for the Holy Brethren held malevolent secrets that had been known by only a few.

He parked the white Lincoln behind the church, picked up the shopping bag, got out, and entered through a back door. Streaks of jagged lightning shot through the night sky; shortly after, a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Using a small flashlight to a.s.sist him in the moonlit darkness, he made his way carefully to the half-open door in the vestibule that led to the bas.e.m.e.nt. The precariously unsteady wooden stairs creaked ominously with each step he took. When his feet touched the solid floor, he released a relieved breath. The concrete block walls surrounding him wept with moisture. Mustiness, mildew, and decay created a stale, odorous air.

He took me to the church and made me go with him down into the bas.e.m.e.nt. He knew that no one could hear me down there, no one could hear my cries and pleas. My screams.

s.h.i.+vering as Regina's voice echoed in his head, he paused and took several deep, calming breaths.

I was only sixteen the first time. He had been so good to me. I trusted him. I never thought he would hurt me.

If Luther Chaney wasn't already dead, he would kill him for what he'd done. His actions had not only turned a fragile young girl into a woman capable of murdering her own child, but his cruelty to his niece had destroyed other lives as well.

Cody's life.

My life.

My first baby was born dead. I had a miscarriage when I was barely four months pregnant. He told me that it was punishment for my sins.

The sin had been his, all his, never hers. Even later on, when she had smothered Cody, the sin had not been hers. She had done only what she believed in her mother's heart was the right thing.

When the doctors told me Cody had leukemia, he said that, too, was punishment for my sins. I was bad. He wouldn't have done those things to me if I hadn't been such a bad person.

He shone the flashlight's beam against the wall of deteriorating wooden shelves. Five shelves reached from floor to ceiling, effectively covering both the wall and the camouflaged single door in the center.

There is a secret door behind the shelves in the bas.e.m.e.nt that leads to a large room used only by the church elders. My uncle was one of the elders. He took me to that room. He made me undress. He touched me. He did terrible things to me.

When he reached the back wall, he slid his fingers behind the middle shelf and pushed. The shelf creaked as the door behind it opened into the vast darkness. Putting his shoulder into it, he shoved the door wide open and entered the room where Regina had been repeatedly raped and tortured by her uncle decades ago.

Promise me that you'll go there and find Cody. I want him to be with me in heaven. Put him in my arms so I can hold him forever.

He had promised her, and he would keep his word. When she died, he had taken Cody to her and placed him in the coffin with her. And later, he had strewn their combined ashes around the small cottage where she had lived with her sons.

In an effort to fulfill his promise completely, he had reunited Cody with Regina three more times, allowing her to hold him and rock him and sing to him. And in the end, to release him from his pain as he released her from her pain.

His footsteps on the hard-packed earth echoed in the cavernous room as he walked toward the cradle. Yesterday, he had removed Cody from the wooden box where Regina had placed him for safekeeping until she could return. He had laid him in the large, wooden cradle, his body filling the bed from head to foot.

"I've brought you a new blanket, Cody," he said as he shone the light down on the sleeping child. "I'm going to bring Mommy home so we won't be so lonely. She'll rock you and sing to you. You'll like that, won't you?"

He removed the blue baby shawl from the shopping bag, and making sure not to awaken Cody, he carefully removed the tattered blanket covering his little body and replaced it with the pretty new shawl.

"I'm going to bring her home to us tonight. I know where she is now. I saw her and talked to her on Monday. It'll be nice to have her back with us, where she belongs, won't it?"

Audrey had offered Zoe a choice of pajamas or a gown. But she had declined. As if she had known she would wind up spending the night, Zoe had pulled out an oversized sleep s.h.i.+rt from her backpack.

"I came prepared. Just in case." Zoe had shrugged. "J.D.'s been fostering me off on you a lot and I figured you'd tell him to let me stay here tonight if he worked late."

Less than half an hour ago, she had checked on Zoe and found her fast asleep, her MP3 player resting on her chest and one arm hanging off the side of the bed. Audrey had quietly entered the room, placed the MP3 player on the nightstand, and gently lifted Zoe's arm back onto the bed.

If she had any sense at all, she would go to bed. It was past midnight and she was sleepy. Why was she waiting up for a man who probably either had already gone home or was spending the night in his office?

She had replayed those last few moments with J.D. over and over again. "If you don't finish up at the office until really late tonight, why not let Zoe stay here." Why hadn't she left it at that? Why had she felt prompted to add, "And when you leave the office, if you need somebody to talk to, you could stop by. I'm a good listener."

Good grief, Audrey, what if he misunderstood your offer? You were being kind. You were being your usual empathic self, right? You make a living listening to people, helping them sort through their problems and deal with their emotions.

"I may take you up on both offers," he had told her before leaving.

He had taken her up on the offer to let Zoe spend the night. A little before eleven, he had called Zoe. After their brief conversation, she had turned to Audrey and said, "I'm sleeping over tonight."

Apparently, he hadn't taken Audrey up on the second offer. Oddly enough, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

You are relieved. Do you hear me? You are relieved.

Then why hadn't she gone to bed?

Audrey walked through the house, turned off all the lights, set the security alarm, closed Zoe's bedroom door, and went into her own room. After was.h.i.+ng her face and brus.h.i.+ng her teeth, she slipped into a pair of peach pajamas and removed the pins from her hair. She shook her head and then combed her fingers through her hair from scalp to blunt-cut ends.

Just as she removed the throw pillows from her bed and turned down the covers, the doorbell rang. Her heart stopped for a split second and when she began to breathe again, her pulse raced wildly. Without taking time to put on house slippers or a robe, she ran through the house, turned on the overhead light in the foyer, quickly disarmed the alarm, and peered through the peephole.

She opened the door and stood aside to allow J.D. to enter, which he did hurriedly.

"It's really cold out there," he said. "It's only October and it's already dropping down in the thirties some nights."

"Would you like something hot to drink? Herbal tea? Hot chocolate?"

He looked at her then, surveying her from head to toe. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't asleep."

When he kept looking at her, she realized she wasn't wearing a robe and that the pajamas she wore were made of thin, wispy silk. "I should put on a robe." She glanced down at her bare feet. "And some house slippers."

"No need to on my account," he told her. "You look fine just the way you are."

"I...uh...I didn't think you'd be back tonight."

"You invited me, if I remember correctly."

"Well, yes, I did, but I-I-"

"You what? Wish you hadn't?"

"No, of course not. It's just that I a.s.sumed...It is after midnight."

He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture indicating weariness. "Yeah, it was d.a.m.n inconsiderate of me to show up so late and a.s.sume I'd be welcome."

"You are welcome." She huffed to release the tension that had coiled tightly inside her. "Let's not argue. Take off your coat and go sit down in the living room. I'll fix us both some tea-"

"Make mine hot chocolate," he told her as he shrugged out of his coat.

"Two hot chocolates coming up."

She made it to the kitchen door before glancing over her shoulder. She watched J.D. as he tossed his jacket on the back of the tapestry-upholstered accent chair. And then he turned on a table lamp, removed his gun holster, and placed it on the coffee table.

Once in the kitchen, working quickly, she mixed cocoa powder and sugar and placed the mixture into two large mugs before pouring milk into a saucepan to heat on the stove.

Vanilla. Geraldine always added vanilla to the milk before pouring it over the cocoa-and-sugar mix. Tam's mother was Audrey's domestic role model.

Just as she opened the cupboard where she kept her spices and flavorings, she sensed someone come up behind her. She held her breath, knowing it was J.D. and realizing that she hadn't heard him enter the kitchen because she'd been so focused on preparing the hot cocoa, wanting it to be perfect for him.

"Need some help?" he asked, his breath warm against her neck.

She clutched the bottle of pure vanilla flavoring in her hand as she turned around to face him. When she did, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushed against his chest.

Oh G.o.d...oh G.o.d...

"I...no, thanks. I don't need-" She looked up into his black eyes and there was no doubt in her mind what he intended to do.

"You don't need what?" He lowered his head.

"I don't need any help." Instinctively, her body swayed closer to his and she tilted her face upward, bringing her lips into contact with his.

Whether she kissed him or he kissed her, she didn't know. Lips touched. Mouths opened. Tongues explored.

Audrey grasped his shoulders for support, trapping the bottle of vanilla between her half-open palm and his body.

J.D. grabbed her b.u.t.t and pressed her hard against him.

A spewing, splattering sound behind them brought Audrey out of the sensual haze. She suddenly realized two things-that she wanted to have s.e.x with J.D. and that the milk in the saucepan had boiled over onto the stove.

"The milk," she said as she pulled backward and away from him. She set the vanilla aside and then picked up an oven mitt, grabbed the saucepan handle, and removed the overflowing hot milk from the stove.

"It was my fault," he said. "I'll help you clean it up."

"No, please." She gestured with her hands. "Go back in the living room. I'll take care of everything in here."

He looked at her, uncertainty in his dark eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. Now, go. Please, J.D."

She was grateful that he didn't insist on helping her. The moment he left the kitchen, she began cleaning the stovetop. And all the while she kept asking herself what the h.e.l.l had happened. Had she kissed him? Had he kissed her? Did it matter? No, not really. What mattered was how quickly the kiss had gotten out of hand, going from lips touching to tongues plunging and aroused bodies straining for closer contact.

How could she go into the living room and face him? What if he expected her to invite him to stay the night? What if he thought she wanted him to make love to her? What if she had misunderstood and he really didn't want her?

d.a.m.n it, Audrey, stop a.n.a.lyzing this thing to death. It is what it is. You and J.D. kissed. You both got hot and bothered. That's as far as it went, as far as it's going to go.

Ten minutes later, with the stovetop cleaned and two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands, Audrey exited the kitchen and walked into the living room. Just act as if nothing happened. Be calm and cool and friendly. But not too friendly. You can do this. Be brave. Just act as if nothing happened. Be calm and cool and friendly. But not too friendly. You can do this. Be brave.

She stopped and stared at the man lying on her sofa, his head propped up on the sofa arm and his feet dangling off the opposite arm. After placing the mugs on coasters atop the coffee table, she inspected him closely and realized that he was sound asleep.

He must be exhausted to have gone to sleep that fast.

There was no need to wake him, no reason he couldn't sleep on her sofa. After a quick trip to the hall linen closet, she returned to the living room with a pillow and a blanket. She gently lifted his head and slid the pillow underneath before she covered him with the blanket. And then without giving any thought to what she was doing, acting purely on feminine instinct, she reached down and caressed his rough cheek. When he mumbled and stirred ever so slightly, she jerked her hand away.

Don't be a fool, Audrey.

She turned off the table lamp, reset the security alarm, and went to her room. Sometime before three o'clock, she finally dozed off, her mind filled with images of the man sleeping on her sofa.

Chapter 29

Somer Ellis's head hurt. Maybe she should get up and take a couple of aspirin. But she was so sleepy she didn't want to move. She could wake Quint and ask him to get the aspirin for her. He wouldn't mind. He loved doing things for her. And she loved him for always being so kind and considerate.

"Quint," she mumbled his name in her half-awake/half-asleep state.

He didn't answer. Maybe she hadn't actually called his name out loud.

Was she still asleep and dreaming?

She tried to turn over and found that she couldn't. And when she struggled to lift her arm, intending to throw it around Quint and cuddle against his back, she discovered her arm wouldn't move.

Her eyes flew open.

Darkness.

A pale light somewhere behind her was too weak to illuminate the room, but enough to show that she hadn't awakened in complete darkness. She couldn't see anything in her bedroom, but she knew where everything was. The chest, the dresser, the nightstands. But she didn't see even the shadows of any furniture.

She tried again to move her arms and suddenly realized that she could lift her elbows only an inch or so, but no higher because her wrists were tied to something. Flexing her fingers, she felt beneath them and found a hard, solid surface, which she gripped tightly.

Her wrists were bound to the arms of a wooden chair.

I'm dreaming. I'm having a nightmare.

Wake up, Somer, d.a.m.n it, wake up.