Clara noted that although Becca said something now and then, neither Tommy nor Nate offered a word of conversation.
Emmy was silent throughout as well, keeping her head down as she ate.
Dinner seemed to last forever. And then it was over and Thor and Mike and Jackson spoke about sleeping arrangements and who would stay awake in the living room when.
Clara escaped to her room quickly and waited, certain Thor would come when he could; from the little bit of conversation she heard, he was keeping first watch.
She showered, paced and realized that she was growing tenser with each passing minute. She needed to breathe, to calm down and...stay sane.
Thor had taken a few hours of the first watch. She had to be patient.
She expected the ghost of Amelia Carson to make an appearance. She did not.
At last, there was a soft rap on the door. She started to open it, remembered that Kimball had been the one out there before, and waited until she heard Thor speak. “Clara, it’s me.”
Then she nearly jerked the door from its hinges, and when he entered, she barely let him in before she threw her arms around him.
Of course, after that first moment, she drew back slightly, thinking that she’d almost knocked him over, and she murmured, “I’m sorry, I...”
She didn’t finish. His arms were around her, his lips were crushing down on hers, and her limbs seemed to burn with the liquid heat that fired their kiss. She held back long enough for him to deal with his gun and holster and then, together, they began to divest clothing so that it lay in a tangle on the floor. She felt the fiery wet sear of his kiss as they fell upon the bed in the remnants of their clothing, a sweet, erotic pressure as his mouth moved from hers and over her flesh. The air was cold; his touch seemed to be thousands of degrees, and even as she clung to him urgently, he continued to caress her naked flesh with his tongue and lips and a feathery and then firm touch. She responded in like fashion, both of them reaching out to touch more of one another, and still he managed to move his lips over the length of her, down her midriff and torso, along her inner thighs, into and over her in such a way that she climaxed even as she grew aroused again. Time and space transcended. There seemed to be nothing more than the desperate and vital urgency to be together. He moved with such luxurious sensuality; his form seemed to be all that filled her, the room, the night, the world.
And then there were the moments afterward when they just lay there together, breathing. They didn’t speak then and it didn’t matter; they touched one another again and again...and the night went on.
They slept.
And then, Thor began to toss and turn.
Clara bolted up, trying to touch him, trying to stop him from his thrashing.
His eyes opened and he stared at her without seeing her. He said a single word.
“Mandy!”
“Thor?” she murmured. It wasn’t with fear or jealousy; she knew who Mandy was.
And Mandy was dead.
He blinked, seeing her, and he suddenly held her close. “Something is happening,” he said. “Something has happened!”
13
Thor was up with jeans on and Glock in his waistband in seconds; Clara was almost as fast.
He got to the door, but then stopped and turned back. She knew his sense of urgency—and knew as well that same sense meant he wasn’t leaving her, not for a second.
Wrapped in one of the Alaska Hut’s heavy terry robes, she was behind him in a split second.
They were down the hall and in the living room in a few breathless steps.
And there, Thor stopped dead, confused, worried.
Mike Aklaq was seated on the sofa, reading a magazine, sipping coffee.
An officer in uniform leaned against the wall. Light from the outside was streaming in; Clara reckoned that had to mean it was about six thirty or seven in the morning.
Mike stood; the officer pushed away from the wall.
“Where’s Jackson?” Thor asked.
The question had barely left his mouth before Jackson came down the hallway, as if he’d been mentally summoned long before words had been spoken.
“Thor?” he asked.
Thor nodded to his ex-partner and Clara realized they’d shared something again that others weren’t going to understand.
“Marc Kimball,” Jackson said, heading for the stairs.
“Mike, have you seen Magda and Justin yet?”
“No, I made coffee myself,” Mike said.
“Find them,” Thor said. He looked at the state policeman on duty and read his badge. “Officer Grady, check with the men outside. Find out if they’ve seen anything unusual—anyone around here at all, other than those supposed to be in the house.”
“Yes, sir!” the officer said, and went to do as bidden.
Thor was then headed to the doors in the hallway, banging on the door to Nate Mahoney’s room. When he heard Nate call out in startled surprise, he moved on to Tommy’s door.
Clara hurried past him to Becca’s door. She raised her hand to tap on it, but paused for a second; it was just a fraction of an inch open.