club with him. As he held open the passenger door of his
Jag, he stepped close to her and laid his hand along her cheek.
"Do you have to go back to that stuffy old courthouse this
afternoon?"
"I'm afraid so. I have work to do."
"It's a gorgeous day."
She pointed at the sky. "You liar. It looks like it's about
to rain--or snow."
He bent his head and kissed her quickly. Leaving his lips
in place, he whispered, "Then an even more pleasurable way
of passing time indoors comes immediately to mind."
He kissed her more firmly, and expertly parted her lips.
But when his tongue touched hers, she recoiled. "No, Junior.
'' She was angered by the impropriety of his kiss and
shocked by its failure to stir her sensually.
His kiss didn't cause her veins to expand and her blood
to pump through them with a new, feverish beat. It didn't
cause her womb to contract with a craving so severe she
didn't think it could ever be appeased. It didn't make her
think that, God, if he didn't become a part of her, she was
going to die.
About all Junior's kiss did was alert her to the fact that he
had misinterpreted her friendship. Unless she stopped it now,
some dangerous groundwork, disturbingly reminiscent of the
past, would be laid.
She eased her head back. "I need to work, Junior. And
I'm sure you've got work to do, too.'' He mumbled profanely,
but conceded with good humor.
It was as he stepped back so she could get into the car that
they saw the Blazer. It had crept up on them, and was now
only a few yards beyond the hood ornament of the Jag.
The driver, whom they could see through the windshield,
had his hands folded over the steering wheel and was watching
them from behind opaque aviator glasses. He was sitting
dangerously still and unsmiling.
Reede pushed open the door and stepped to the ground.
"I've been looking for you, Alex. Somebody told me you'd
left the courthouse with Junior, so I played a hunch and came
here."
"What for?" Junior asked touchily, laying his arm across
Alex's shoulders.
"We've located Fergus Plummet. One of the deputies is
bringing him in now."
"And that gives you the right to interfere with our date?"
"I don't give a shit about your date," Reede said, his lips
barely moving. "She said she wanted to be there when I
questioned Plummet."
"Will both of you please stop talking about me as though
I'm not here?" The tension that had arisen between the two
of them because of her was untenable. It resembled the triangle
between them and her mother too well. She shrugged
off Junior's arm. "He's right, Junior. I want to hear what
Plummet has to say for himself."
"Now?" he whined.
"I'm sorry."
"I'll come with you," he said brightly.
"This is official. Duty calls, and I'm on the state payroll.
Thank you for lunch."
"You're welcome." He gave her a soft peck on the cheek
and said, loud enough for Reede to hear, "I'll call you later."
'"Bye." She rushed toward the Blazer and climbed in,
though her high heels and slender skirt posed some problems.
Reede pretended to be impervious to her difficulties. He sat
behind the steering wheel glowering at Junior while Junior
glowered right back. The second her bottom landed in the
seat, Reede floored the accelerator.
When they reached the highway, he swung onto the macadam
with enough impetus to plaster Alex against the passenger
door. She gritted her teeth and hung on until he
straightened out his turn and they were speeding along the
center stripe.
"Have a nice lunch?"
"Very," she answered crisply.
"Good."
"Are you upset because you saw Junior kissing me?"
"Hell, no. Why should I be?"
"Exactly."
Secretly, she was glad he had arrived when he had. The
interruption had relieved her of having to turn Junior down
flat. Feeling a trifle guilty over that, and trying to set things
back on a professional track with Reede, she asked, "Where
did they find Plummet?"
"Right where I suspected. He was hiding inside one of his
deacons' houses. He came up for air, and one of my deputies
nabbed him."
"Did he come peaceably?"
"He's no idiot. He's only being questioned. We really
can't make a formal arrest yet. They should beat us to the
courthouse by just a few minutes."
As moods went, Junior was in the black hole of Calcutta.
There was no peace to be found anywhere, though his Jag
streaked through the streets of town at an indiscriminate speed
in pursuit of it.
Angus was on his back. His mother was on his back because
Angus was. Last night she had sternly commissioned him to
get off his ass--not in those terms, exactly--and do something
that would make his father proud.
Sarah Jo found the idea of having Reede Lambert back at
ME untenable and, using a harsher tone than she had ever
used with him before, told her son that it simply must never
happen.
"Angus wants you, not Reede."
"Then, why did he offer him a job?"
"To wake you up, darling. He's only using Reede as a
subtle threat."
Junior promised her he'd do his best. But when he had
called Alex and asked her to have dinner with him, she'd
turned him down, saying she had a headache. She did agree
to meet him for lunch today. And then, when everything had
been going great, Reede had showed up and snatched her out
of his grasp again.
"Business, my ass," he muttered as he pulled into the
wide, circular driveway of the judge's home and brought the
car to a jarring halt. He jumped the flower bed and landed a
hard blow on the front door with his fist.
Stacey didn't get to the door quite fast enough to suit him.
He was practically frothing at the mouth by the time she
answered.
"Junior!" she exclaimed gladly when she saw him. "This
is a sur--"
"Shut up. Just shut up." He slammed the door behind
him, rattling every piece of china and glassware in the house.
Taking Stacey by both arms, he backed her into the wall of
the foyer and covered her stunned, gaping mouth with his.
He kissed her roughly while his hands attacked the buttons
on her blouse. They scattered like BBs across the marble floor
when he got too impatient to work them out of their holes
and ripped them open.
"Junior," she gasped, "what--"
"I gotta have you, Stacey," he mumbled, plunging his
face between her breasts. "Please, don't give me a hard time
about it. Everybody gives me a hard time about everything.
Just shut up and let me fuck you."
He flipped up her skirt and slip, worked down her panty
hose, and then opened his trousers. He rammed into her dryly,
and she cried out.
He was causing her pain. While he knew it and hated
himself for hurting her when she didn't deserve it, he was
glad, in a dark part of his soul, that somebody else besides
himself was suffering. Why should he be the only person in
the whole freaking world to be miserable?
Everybody picked on him. It was time he got to pick on
somebody. Stacey was available . . . and he knew he could
get away with it.
Her dismay, her debasement made him feel powerful. His
release came from subjugating her, not from the sex itself.
When it was over, he collapsed against the wall, sandwiching
her between himself and the floral wallpaper.
He regained his breath and his reason gradually. He eased
away from her and stroked her cheek. "Stacey?" Slowly, she opened her eyes. He gave her a disarming smile and a soft kiss. Realizing that she was dressed up, he asked, "Did
I keep you from going somewhere?"
"A meeting at church."
The dimple in his cheek grew deeper as his smile widened.
Playfully, he tweaked an exposed breast. "You don't look
much like going to a church meeting now."
As he knew she would, she responded to his caresses,
which got bolder. "Junior," she whimpered breathlessly
when he pushed her blouse off her shoulders, yanked down
her brassiere, and fastened his mouth to her raised nipple.
She chanted his name, interspersing it with avowals of love.
He moved his head down her body, pushing aside clothing
as he went.
"Junior?" she asked timorously when he dropped to his
knees.
He smiled up at her beguilingly as he slipped his thumbs
between the lips of her sex and spread them apart.
"Junior! Don't. No. I can't. You . . . can't."
"Yes, I can, honey. What's more, you're just dying for
me to." He licked her lightly, enjoying the taste of himself
on her, the musky smell of aroused female, her uneasiness.
"Still want to go to church?" he whispered, nuzzling her
with his mouth. "Huh, Stacey?"
When her orgasmic sobs echoed off the walls of the empty
house, he pulled her down to straddle him as he lay on his
back on the cold marble floor. He emptied himself into her
again. Afterward, when she was curled against him like a rag
doll, he felt better than he had in weeks.
When he moved to sit up, Stacey clung to him. "Don't
go"
"Hey, Stacey," he said teasingly, "look what a mess I've
made of you. You'll have to spruce up, or the judge will
know the mischief you've been into while he was at work
today."
He stood, readjusted his clothing, smoothed back his hair.
"Besides, I've got work to do myself. If I stay a minute
longer, I'll cart you off to bed and waste the entire afternoon
there. Not that it would be a waste, mind you."
"Are you coming back?" she asked plaintively as she
trailed him to the door, covering her nakedness as best she
could.
"Of course."
"When?"
He frowned, but concealed it from her by turning to open
the front door. "I'm not sure. But after the other night and
today, you don't think I could stay away, do you?"
"Oh, Junior, I love you so much."
He cupped her face and kissed her lips. "I love you, too."
Stacey closed the door behind him. Mechanically, she
headed upstairs, where she bathed her aching body in warm
water and scented bubble bath. Tomorrow, she'd likely be
black and blue. She would cherish each bruise.
Junior loved her! He had said so. Maybe after all this time,
he was finally growing up. Maybe he had come to his senses,
and realized what was good for him. Maybe, at long last, he
had expunged Celina from his heart.
But then Stacey remembered Alex, and the calf eyes Junior
had had for her at the Horse and Gun Club. She recalled how
closely he'd held her while they twirled around the dance
floor, laughing together. Stacey's insides turned rancid with
jealousy.
Just like her mother, Alex was what stood between her and
total happiness with the man she loved.
Thirty-two
As soon as Reede and Alex arrived at the courthouse, they
went into the interrogation room, followed by a court reporter.
Fergus Plummet was seated at a square, wooden table. His
head was bowed in prayer over an open Bible, his hands
clasped tightly together.
Mrs. Plummet was there, too. Her head was also bowed,
but when they came in, she jumped and looked up at them
like a startled deer. As before, her face was void of makeup
and her hair was drawn back into a severe knot on the back
of her head. The clothes she wore were drab and shapeless.
"Hello, Mrs. Plummet," Reede said politely.