“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said. “Just hold me. Please?”
He held her. Water beat out a rhythm around them, steam rose, and he held her. Then he moved, and the friction of their bodies against each other created a new kind of comfort. She was slick and vibrant, electric in his arms. He felt as if heat infused him. Thunder echoed in his head and in his loins. She pressed her lips against his neck, his chest. He slid his hands down the length of her spine, then lifted her, and the water continued its cascade of liquid fire as they made love, her back against the tile.
Eventually, pent-up emotion overrode everything physical, and they rose to a volatile crescendo together, climaxing in one another’s arms. He could have stayed that way forever, but she smiled a real smile at last, then kissed his lips, but lightly. “People are waiting for us, and I still need to finish washing my hair.”
“I can help you.”
“Out! Or we’ll never make it to dinner,” she said.
Regretfully, he set her down on the floor of the old tub and left. He toweled off, found his clothing and dressed, then headed back downstairs.
He cursed himself as he reached the bottom of the stairs. They had forgotten to lock the front door. He locked it then, as pointless as it seemed, and as he waited for her, he walked around the lower level, checking every window to make sure it was locked.
He went to the top of the basement stairs and looked down into the darkness. There was a switch near the door, and he flipped it. Nothing happened. He dug through the cabinets until he found a flashlight and, turning it on, he went down.
The basement was empty other than the crates Sarah had mentioned, which had been stacked into something resembling stairs. He trained the light on the torn screen through which she had escaped.
Anyone could have entered the house at any time through that window, he thought—especially with that makeshift stairway saving them from the long drop to the floor. He needed to make sure no one could use that window moving forward. He would have to board it up or put bars across it—or get Sarah’s friend Gary to do it.
He trained the light around until he found the fuse box. He walked over and opened it, and saw faded cursive writing labeling the different fuses to indicate which sections of the house they were linked to. He found the fuse for the basement. It had been switched to “off.”
He turned it back on, then rearranged the crates, wedging them tightly into the window opening.
It wasn’t a perfect job, just a jerry-rigged solution until something more permanent could be done, but it made him feel better.
Then he went back up to the kitchen and made certain the basement door was closed and locked behind him. For good measure, he went to the dining room and got a chair, then wedged it under the doorknob. If anyone managed to get in while they were gone, he would know.
He had just finished when Sarah came back down the stairs. “All set?” she asked.
“Not really. Hang on one minute.”
He went back upstairs and went through every room, checking every window. Houses weren’t evil—but they could definitely be used for evil purposes. He made absolutely sure that the upstairs was empty and locked, then took another cursory run through the ground floor.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked him.
“Making certain we’re alone,” he said.
She grinned. “A little late, don’t you think?”
“Better late than never,” he said lightly. “Besides, at some point, we’ll actually need to sleep, and I don’t want to worry about anyone getting in.”
They left the house, and he watched as she locked the front door. They were halfway down the front walk when she said, “You went out to see Floby about the dead woman on the beach, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We’ll talk later. Right now I’m starving, so let’s get going.”
“You know,” Caroline said, sitting back and pushing her plate away, “I like Hunky Harry’s, but we could expand our horizons. Eat somewhere else.”
“But it’s such a nice central place to meet,” Renee said.
“Yes, but we could meet here, maybe have a drink, then wander on to another restaurant,” Barry pointed out.
“We could,” Will said. “But why?”
Sarah was happy to see that the conversation was light and trivial. Caleb was an investigator, but there was nothing the rest of them could do about the ongoing disappearances other than try to stay safe.
Except for her. She had discovered so much today. And while she hadn’t been ready to talk to Caleb about her experience earlier—she was still sorting it out in her own mind, now—she found herself anxious to talk to him. Alone.
She picked up her rum runner and sipped quickly. She was frightened suddenly by the intensity of the relationship they had developed so quickly. If she had any sense, she would step back.