An Ice Cold Grave (Harper Connelly #3)

An Ice Cold Grave (Harper Connelly #3) Page 18

There was one more thing I needed to do. As a last-minute precaution, I backed the car up the sloping driveway and parked it parallel to the road. It wasn't a neat job since I was driving one-handed, but least we wouldn't have to negotiate an iced-over slope. I locked the car and went down the driveway and up the steps, moving carefully. The first licks of moisture were in the air.

Ted Hamilton came over a little later to make sure we'd heard the news about the weather. His wife, Nita, came with him, and she was just as small and slim and spry as her husband. They both seemed pretty excited by the prospect of the oncoming ice storm.

Tolliver had brought up so much wood that I thought we might have to leave Twyla some money to pay for it. The older couple nodded approvingly and settled in for a nice conversation. We unfolded the remaining two chairs, which had been leaning up against the wall. They were cloth spectator chairs, and they smelled a little off, but at least there were chairs. I could only offer the Hamiltons bottled water and a chocolate chip cookie, after we'd thanked Nita for her wonderful casserole, which we planned on finishing up for supper.

"Oh, no, we're fine," Nita said, speaking for Ted and herself after a glance in his direction. "You know, we've always been worried about that pine growing behind this cabin."

"Why?" I asked.

"Pine roots are so shallow, and it overhangs this cabin," Ted said. "Pretty poor planning. I said something to Parker about it last summer, but he just laughed. I hope he's not sorry he didn't listen."

Okay, they were that kind of people.

"We're out here year-round, not like the people who just come here when it's good weather and everything's going well," Nita said. As if they were the people who really stuck with the poor lake when things weren't going so good. The true friends.

"We'll just have to hope the pine can handle the ice," Tolliver said. "Thanks for making us aware of it." He maybe spoke a little dryly, because Ted's face tightened up a bit.

"I hope it stays up, too," Ted said. "Hate for something to happen to you two. Specially since you're visiting."

"We're lucky to have you two out here," I said, to smooth over Ted's ruffled feathers. "I think I'd be scared if we were out here by ourselves."

That made Ted and Nita both happy. "We'll be right next door; don't forget to call us if you need us. We got all kinds of emergency gear, anything you might need."

"That's really good to know," I said, and they finally, thank God, rose. We kept assuring each other we were so happy to have the other there until they were really down the stairs and on their way back to their own cabin.

We had brought in a radio we kept in the trunk, and we turned it on. The weather news was still the same. The police news was still the same. I guess I'd harbored some wild hope that they'd arrest someone, some secret suspect. Or maybe someone would just walk in to confess, unable to bear the burden of guilt any longer. I said as much to Tolliver.

"A guy that could do this so often, to kids he knew," Tolliver said, "he's not going to walk in and say he's sorry unless he craves the attention. He's going to be pissed off that he can't do it again, that he has to relive all his old good times instead of making new ones. And you're the one responsible for that."

I stared at Tolliver. This was what had been griping him.

"I don't think so," I said, as calmly as I could. "I think he came to the motel in a fit of anger, sure enough. But I'd think right now he'd be most concerned about keeping his skin intact and remaining at large. He's not going to do anything that would draw him to police attention. He's going to lie completely low."

Tolliver thought that over; I'll give him that. "I hope so," he said, sounding unconvinced. He went to the window and looked out into the darkness. "Can you hear it?" he asked.

I went to stand beside him at the window. I could hear a plink-plink-plink as the ice hit the glass. In the light that spilled from the window and the big security light, considerately aimed straight down, that the Hamiltons had fixed high on a pole, we could see tiny bits of ice hurtling toward the ground. It was eerily pretty. I had never felt so isolated in my life.

It didn't stop while we got ready for bed. I was tired, but not nearly as achy as I thought I would be. My head was okay now, and my arm was at least much better. I was able to cope with getting undressed and into my pajamas with less help, though Tolliver still had to do the bra-unhooking. We both read for a while; as Tolliver remarked, if we still had electric light we should use it. He was reading an old Harlan Coben, and I was reading Gavin de Becker's The Gift of Fear. Finally, I got too sleepy to keep my eyes open, and the bed had gotten warm around me, and I laid down the book and closed my eyes. Some time later, I heard Tolliver snap off the lamp between the beds, and then the only light that came in the room was a faint glow from the Hamiltons' security light. I'd been too exhausted to notice it the night before, and I didn't really think about it now...until I woke some time later and that light had vanished. The cabin was in absolute pitch darkness. The wind was howling around the corner of the cabin like a banshee, and I heard an odd sound in the wind.

"What is it?" I asked, and I heard myself sounding terrified.

"It's the frozen branches brushing together," Tolliver said. "I woke a few minutes ago and I've been listening. That's what I decided."

I scare pretty easy where Mother Nature's involved. "Okay," I said, but I didn't sound any calmer.

"Come over here, I'm closer to the fire," Tolliver said. "Bring some blankets."

I got out of the bed faster than I would have believed possible. My bare feet thudded on the boards as I yanked the blankets off my bed and brought them over to Tolliver's. I tossed them over the bed awkwardly. I slid in beside him and could hardly wait until the covers settled back over us. My teeth were chattering with cold and fear.

"Here, here," he said, and put his arms around me. "You were just out of the covers for a second or two."

"I know," I said. "I'm a chicken. I'm a wuss." I burrowed into his warmth.

"You're the bravest person I know," he said, and when I pressed my face into his chest, he said, "Are you listening to me?"

I pulled away enough to say, "Yeah, I'm listening."

"I'm not your brother," he said, in an entirely different voice.

For a second, I didn't hear the roar of the wind around the cabin or the ominous shaking of the ice-laden branches. "I know," I said. "I know that."

And he kissed me.

I'd loved him for so long. Though everything might change, would change, I couldn't help but kiss him back.

It was a long kiss, a hard kiss. I'd seen him walk out so many doors with other women, and finally he was with me.

He started to say something, but I said, "No, don't." I kissed him again, my own initiation. That seemed to answer his question, if that was what he'd been going to ask. "It's you," I said, as he kissed my throat. I had my good hand under his sweatshirt, touching the precious skin of his back, his ribs, the almost flat nipples. I rubbed my face in the hair on his chest and his breath caught in his throat. His hands were not idle, either, and when they found my breasts he made another, altogether different noise. I thought I would weep with joy.

"The shirt's got to come off," he said, and we worked to do that. "Your arm?" he asked.

"Okay, don't worry about it," I whispered. "Just don't lie on it and it'll be okay." I felt like I could get hit with a shovel all over again and I wouldn't care right now. My body and my heart were fully engaged for the first time. His hands seemed to know where to go and what to do when they got there. We knew each other so well in every other respect, it seemed only natural that we would easily understand each other's desires in this new activity. We already knew the appearance of each other's bodies, but not the textures or specifics; now we set out to learn those. His phallus was long, not as thick as some I'd encountered. He'd been circumcised. He had a slight upward curve. He was very sensitive around his balls. I loved touching him in places I'd never had the right to touch him before, and he loved being free to touch me between my legs. He loved it, and his fingers could be very clever.

"I wish I could see you," he said, but I was glad for the dark. It made me a little braver, and I concentrated on my sense of touch, so I didn't have time to think. If I'd had time to think, it wouldn't have gone nearly as wonderfully as it did.

As it was, when we'd finally gotten off enough clothes, when I was sure neither of us was going to back down, when he finally entered me, it was the happiest moment of my life. I let go of my safety, and I said, "I love you."

And Tolliver said, "Always."

Chapter 9

"I wish you had some Kleenex," I murmured. I was resting on his chest. Our clothes were somewhere under the covers with us, or at least most of them were.

"Just use my sweatshirt," he said in a lazy voice, and I stifled a giggle.

I felt around us, maybe tickling him a little in the process, and located what felt like his sweatshirt. "I hope you weren't teasing, because I'm going to use it," I said.

"Go right ahead." He kissed the top of my head.

So I dried myself off a little, and patted him, too.

"Hey, be careful, that's my favorite body part," he murmured.

"Mine, too," I said, and he laughed. I felt his belly heave up and down. It was wonderful.

"I didn't think we'd ever do it," he said, sounding suddenly serious.

"Me, either. I thought I'd keep on watching you go off with waitresses."

"Or that cop, the one in Sarne. He really scared me. To say nothing of Manfred."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, the piercings and the tattoos, that's a lot to put up with, but he's so gone on you. And his grandmother won't live forever. I had a feeling Manfred would say that when Xylda passed away he'd be free to escort you around, and you'd want me to have the normal life you're always trying to shove on me, and you'd dump me and hire Manfred to be your manager, and I'd have to go find a job somewhere away from you."

"That's not going to happen, right?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. And I do, right?"

"I believe I remember telling you how I felt about you."

"I could stand to hear it again."

"Uh-uh. You first."

"I love you. I don't love you like I should love a sister. I love you like a man loves a woman. I want to be inside you again, right now. I want to have sex with you over and over."

I had to stop myself from squeaking, Really? I took a deep breath. "Why?" I said, which might have been worse.

"Because you're beautiful and smart," he said instantly. "Because you always try hard, no matter what you're doing. Because you're honest, and because I've wanted to see your boobs for years now, and damn it, it's dark in here and I can't."

"I got to see your dick one time, when you got out of the shower and the door wasn't shut tight," I said. "It was a year ago."

"Oh, and you been dreaming about it ever since," he said hopefully.

"Well, actually...yes. But don't get a swelled head."

"That's not the head that's swelling."

"So I feel." I licked my thumb and ran it over the lower head.

"Oh, God."

I did it again.

He just drew in his breath this time. "Keep doing that," he said.

So I did, and then he found something to do to me that I liked, and we traded like that until we were ready to join again. This time was even better, and we reached the climax at the same time. I thought we would pound each other into pieces. This time he fell asleep almost as soon as we were through, and after I'd used his sweatshirt again, I did, too.

I was so deeply asleep the huge crash came as a complete surprise to me. In fact, it scared me so much I almost started screaming.

"Tree came down," said Tolliver. "It was a tree. Hold on, baby, it wasn't on us."

We scrambled into all our clothes. Tolliver rejected the sweatshirt with the simple remark "Damp," and found his suitcase by patting the area where it was supposed to be. He fished out another one, he told me, and I heard him fumbling around further. I'd gotten out of the bed on the other side and I was feeling the floor for my boots.

With lots of "Oops" and "Where are you? I found the flashlight," we finally connected and went to the window. Tolliver switched the flash on, and we looked outside. It was one of the big searchlight kind, and he'd gotten it at Wal-Mart that afternoon. It showed us that the pine tree the Hamiltons had been so worried about had indeed fallen under the weight of the ice. But due to some force we couldn't fathom, it had fallen at an angle and blocked the Hamiltons' driveway instead. I had an awful feeling their car was under it.

"Does their roof look okay?" I asked. But we couldn't tell.

"I guess I have to go to over and check on them," Tolliver said.

"I'll come," I said.

"No, you won't. Not with a broken arm, you're not getting out there to walk around on slick ice. If there's something wrong over there, I'll come back and get you," he said. "Hey, how's your arm feeling? We didn't bump it too much?"