The Girl in 6E
Page 35
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More than a cop, or a father, he was my friend—someone I could always count on for advice, help, and support. There aren’t enough words in the world to describe how much I miss him.
Now, driving down the dark highway, with a gun beside me, I wish he were here. It would have been really great to have a friend in all of this.
CHAPTER 44: Carolyn Thompson
Carolyn stood in the hall of the station, filling a plastic cup with water from the fountain. She watched the flow of clear liquid, the cup getting heavier and heavier. The moment when too much had gone in, and the overflow started, a seeping around the edges swelled into a flood of water, the entire cup in danger of spilling from her hand. Something entered her peripheral vision, and a hand reached out, taking the cup from her.
“Carolyn. Let me take that for you.”
She looked up, meeting John Watkins’ eyes. “John. Thank you. I must have gotten distracted.”
“Understandable.” His southern drawl was soothing, bringing back so many memories of easier times. “Carolyn, can we step outside? I’m dying for a cigarette and could use the company.”
She looked over at the office that had been their prison for the last six hours, the edges of Henry’s wheelchair visible. “Just for a bit. I could use some fresh air, but I don’t want to leave Henry too long.”
He smiled, the gesture not reaching his eyes. “Great.” He pushed on the exit bar and opened the door, holding it open for her. She stepped out, the sun harsh on her unprotected eyes.
The police station sat on an unassuming corner of Brooklet, at the far end of Main Street. The small size of the town meant that only a handful of stores lined the one block street, and she could see a number of people on the town’s only street of commerce. Out here, life was ordinary; people were going about their everyday business, seemingly oblivious to her situation. To a woman that had every aspect of her life crumbling, the proof of normal life seemed painfully unfair. She leaned against the building, folding her arms and turning her face to John. “What is it? Did they find her?”
He looked over at her, surprised. “What?”
“You quit smoking six years ago. Bitched and moaned enough that folks in Screven County probably heard the news. So you brought me out here, away from my husband for something. What is it?”
“Feds called. They’ve gotten a bunch of calls on the hotline number. Most of them are useless, but one of them, a young girl, she called about Michael.”
Carolyn stiffened, her back leaving the white brick. “Michael? My brother?”
“Yeah. Only this girl didn’t call him Michael—she called him Ralph. The Amber Alert doesn’t say where Annie disappeared from, just says the vicinity of Savannah. So for this girl to call and mention Michael, it’s strange, you know?” He studied her face, sitting back against the hood of the closest car, an old black and white cruiser.
She clenched and unclenched her hands, taking measured breaths. “What did this girl say?”
“That he’s had a bunch of phone calls with her—sexual ones. That the calls always center on fantasies he has with a young girl. One named Annie.”
The world closed in on her with one black swoop that darkened her vision and had her legs collapsing beneath her. He stepped forward, caught her arms and pulled her to her feet. “Carolyn, Carolyn. Be strong. Stand up. I need you with me.”
She pushed against him, moving to the car and sitting on the hood, her hands shaking and gripping her dress, scrunching the fabric and then smoothing it out. “Jesus.”
“The call might be bogus. Could be some girl with a grudge. Do you think … do you know anything about him that we need to know? About his sexual preferences?
She shook her head rapidly. “I don’t know. I was older … he never … not that I ever knew. No. I would never suspect Michael of that. Never. Christ, he’s spent time with her. Alone! It can’t—”
“Carolyn.” His voice was strong, and she held on to it with all of her remaining sanity. “It could be nothing. Don’t worry just yet. But we have to check it out. You know that. It’s nothing against you or your family—”
“Enough!” She jerked to her feet, surprising him, and he took a step back. She held up a hand. “Don’t insult me, John. Annie is the focus here. I could give two shits about any inconvenience or offense that is put on my family. If Michael is responsible for this, I’ll be the only person you’ll need to arrest, because I will kill him myself. And I mean that, with every fiber of my being.”
CHAPTER 45
Jeremy is above me, his handsome face intense, worshipping me with his eyes. I arch my back, offering myself, and he groans, lowering his head. He takes me into his soft mouth. His rough hands caress and squeeze my br**sts, pushing them up and into his mouth as he moves from side to side, breast to breast, driving me crazy with his lips and tongue.
I am wet, incredibly ready and wanting, the need throbbing between my legs so strongly—more than I have ever experienced. His touch, masculinity, the breath on my skin—all sensations my body has forgotten, every experience magnified by my time away. I moan, pulling him to me, his hand traveling down. The incredible sound of a zipper reaches my ears.
I wake up, real life bombarding my senses all at once. I gasp, shocked into reality, my subconscious trying to understand the strange setting, sideways, dark truck, a rest stop parking lot.
Asleep. My head nodding, I had fought sleep for over twenty miles, blaring music and rolling down the windows. It hadn’t worked, the truck veering off the highway twice before I pulled into a rest stop and set my phone timer to fifteen minutes, hoping to recharge in that short length of time. Sleep had come instantly, my eyes closing as soon as I had pressed Start on the timer. And dreamed of Jeremy. It was my first dream in a long time that hadn’t involved mayhem and blood. Dr. Derek will be pleased. I roll my neck and start the truck, watching the dash as it comes to life.
Now, driving down the dark highway, with a gun beside me, I wish he were here. It would have been really great to have a friend in all of this.
CHAPTER 44: Carolyn Thompson
Carolyn stood in the hall of the station, filling a plastic cup with water from the fountain. She watched the flow of clear liquid, the cup getting heavier and heavier. The moment when too much had gone in, and the overflow started, a seeping around the edges swelled into a flood of water, the entire cup in danger of spilling from her hand. Something entered her peripheral vision, and a hand reached out, taking the cup from her.
“Carolyn. Let me take that for you.”
She looked up, meeting John Watkins’ eyes. “John. Thank you. I must have gotten distracted.”
“Understandable.” His southern drawl was soothing, bringing back so many memories of easier times. “Carolyn, can we step outside? I’m dying for a cigarette and could use the company.”
She looked over at the office that had been their prison for the last six hours, the edges of Henry’s wheelchair visible. “Just for a bit. I could use some fresh air, but I don’t want to leave Henry too long.”
He smiled, the gesture not reaching his eyes. “Great.” He pushed on the exit bar and opened the door, holding it open for her. She stepped out, the sun harsh on her unprotected eyes.
The police station sat on an unassuming corner of Brooklet, at the far end of Main Street. The small size of the town meant that only a handful of stores lined the one block street, and she could see a number of people on the town’s only street of commerce. Out here, life was ordinary; people were going about their everyday business, seemingly oblivious to her situation. To a woman that had every aspect of her life crumbling, the proof of normal life seemed painfully unfair. She leaned against the building, folding her arms and turning her face to John. “What is it? Did they find her?”
He looked over at her, surprised. “What?”
“You quit smoking six years ago. Bitched and moaned enough that folks in Screven County probably heard the news. So you brought me out here, away from my husband for something. What is it?”
“Feds called. They’ve gotten a bunch of calls on the hotline number. Most of them are useless, but one of them, a young girl, she called about Michael.”
Carolyn stiffened, her back leaving the white brick. “Michael? My brother?”
“Yeah. Only this girl didn’t call him Michael—she called him Ralph. The Amber Alert doesn’t say where Annie disappeared from, just says the vicinity of Savannah. So for this girl to call and mention Michael, it’s strange, you know?” He studied her face, sitting back against the hood of the closest car, an old black and white cruiser.
She clenched and unclenched her hands, taking measured breaths. “What did this girl say?”
“That he’s had a bunch of phone calls with her—sexual ones. That the calls always center on fantasies he has with a young girl. One named Annie.”
The world closed in on her with one black swoop that darkened her vision and had her legs collapsing beneath her. He stepped forward, caught her arms and pulled her to her feet. “Carolyn, Carolyn. Be strong. Stand up. I need you with me.”
She pushed against him, moving to the car and sitting on the hood, her hands shaking and gripping her dress, scrunching the fabric and then smoothing it out. “Jesus.”
“The call might be bogus. Could be some girl with a grudge. Do you think … do you know anything about him that we need to know? About his sexual preferences?
She shook her head rapidly. “I don’t know. I was older … he never … not that I ever knew. No. I would never suspect Michael of that. Never. Christ, he’s spent time with her. Alone! It can’t—”
“Carolyn.” His voice was strong, and she held on to it with all of her remaining sanity. “It could be nothing. Don’t worry just yet. But we have to check it out. You know that. It’s nothing against you or your family—”
“Enough!” She jerked to her feet, surprising him, and he took a step back. She held up a hand. “Don’t insult me, John. Annie is the focus here. I could give two shits about any inconvenience or offense that is put on my family. If Michael is responsible for this, I’ll be the only person you’ll need to arrest, because I will kill him myself. And I mean that, with every fiber of my being.”
CHAPTER 45
Jeremy is above me, his handsome face intense, worshipping me with his eyes. I arch my back, offering myself, and he groans, lowering his head. He takes me into his soft mouth. His rough hands caress and squeeze my br**sts, pushing them up and into his mouth as he moves from side to side, breast to breast, driving me crazy with his lips and tongue.
I am wet, incredibly ready and wanting, the need throbbing between my legs so strongly—more than I have ever experienced. His touch, masculinity, the breath on my skin—all sensations my body has forgotten, every experience magnified by my time away. I moan, pulling him to me, his hand traveling down. The incredible sound of a zipper reaches my ears.
I wake up, real life bombarding my senses all at once. I gasp, shocked into reality, my subconscious trying to understand the strange setting, sideways, dark truck, a rest stop parking lot.
Asleep. My head nodding, I had fought sleep for over twenty miles, blaring music and rolling down the windows. It hadn’t worked, the truck veering off the highway twice before I pulled into a rest stop and set my phone timer to fifteen minutes, hoping to recharge in that short length of time. Sleep had come instantly, my eyes closing as soon as I had pressed Start on the timer. And dreamed of Jeremy. It was my first dream in a long time that hadn’t involved mayhem and blood. Dr. Derek will be pleased. I roll my neck and start the truck, watching the dash as it comes to life.
