Kathleen Creighton - Memory of Murder

Reaching under her, he drew her more closely against him and seated himself even more deeply inside her, and felt her move with him as if she were truly part of him, not a separate person at all. He didn’t ask himself, How can this be? How is it possible I’ve never made love with this woman before? Not then. It was only later that it occurred to him to wonder, and ask: Where was the strangeness, the getting-to-know-you awkwardness that went with having sex with someone for the first time?

But just then, at that moment, he could only go with it, immerse himself in it as she did.

They moved together in the same rhythms for an unmeasured time, letting their bodies set the pace, tuned to each other as if they listened to the same music. And when the music rose finally to its crescendo, they rode it out together, bodies arching, swelling, pulsing and clenching in tandem. They clung together, first in something akin to terror, then exhilaration, and finally, a kind of thankfulness…and sweet relief.

Afterward, they lay intertwined and uncovered, bodies slick and humid where they touched, already beginning to feel the chill where they didn’t. Even so, when he took his arm away from her to reach for the covers, she gave a little growl of protest.

He laughed softly and kissed her forehead, and when he had them covered up, gathered her close again. He heard her sigh, and for a few minutes more, let himself drift in the kind of contentment he hadn’t believed himself capable of. But as his body cooled, inevitably so did his mind. Reason returned. And responsibility.

Still holding Lindsey close to his side with one arm, he lay back on the pillows and swore, muttering under his breath.

From her nest on his shoulder the murmur came, “Regretting it already?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. Regretting my own stupidity, I guess. And no-” he raised up to touch a kiss to her forehead “-I didn’t mean that, either. What I mean is, I didn’t even think about protection. I’m sorry. I think I even have a couple of condoms over there in my wallet. I just…forgot.”

“You can’t get me pregnant,” she said after a moment. “And I haven’t had sex since my divorce. I think I would know if I was…you know.”

“And I was tested fairly recently-got sliced up by a suspect in a domestic abuse case, so they tested me as a precaution. But that’s-”

“Is that what this is?” Her fingers traced the newly healed scar on his side, making him wince involuntarily. “Oh-sorry,” she cried. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t. But what I was going to say was, that’s no excuse. I should have remembered.” He let out a breath. “Well-”

He stopped, but the words he’d been about to say hung there between them, unspoken: Next time…

Would there be a next time? Tonight…maybe. Even probably-or today, since it was already Sunday. But beyond that? He couldn’t see it.

Her voice came, quietly and without much expression. “You do regret it, don’t you.”

“How could I regret what was probably one of the most amazing experiences of my life?” He felt exasperated, cornered, unnerved by his own unprecedented honesty.

She was silent for a moment, absorbing what he’d said. Then she drew a shaken breath and said, “It was for me, too. But I’m betting you’re not thinking the same things I am right now.”

“For instance?” It was a growl of futile belligerence.

“You don’t want this-what just happened between us-to happen again.”

“Not true.” Again…futile. His body was already calling him a liar, and she knew it.

“I don’t mean tonight,” she said, with both a smile and sadness in her voice. “You said once, this-us-is a bad idea. You still think so.”

“It’s not a matter of what I think, or want,” he said slowly, as if speaking to someone of limited intelligence. “It’s just what is .”

“Why? Is it because I’m part of a case you’re working on?”

“Partly.”

“What, is it against the law for a police officer to be involved with someone connected with an open case? Even if she’s not a suspect?”

He stirred restlessly, his thoughts becoming scrambled…scattered. Fatigue, he wondered, or the distraction of her body lying warm and round against him. “No, not against the law.”

“Department policy, then?” She stirred, too, and he felt her hand move, innocent of design, across his belly.

His voice seemed to come from there-deep in his belly. “Yeah, probably. Ethically…”

“So-it’s your policy. Your ethics.”

His laugh was harsh. “God, that makes me sound like such a prick.”

Her hand grew still. “I don’t mean for it to. I’m trying to understand. You’re a man of principle-I understand that. It’s one of the things that makes me…” She didn’t finish it, and instead, after a long pause, drew an unsteady breath. “So, what about when it’s all over? What then?”

“Lindsey…love.”

And there it was, the pet name he’d been looking for. Lindsey-love. And now realized had been there all along, only he’d been too afraid to say it out loud. Why? he wondered. Afraid it might be true?

He took refuge in a tried and true cop-out. “It’s not that simple.”

She raised herself on one elbow and looked down at him, her bewitching eyes only smudges in the darkness. After what seemed an endless silence, she said very softly, “You think my father is guilty, don’t you? And you think I’ll blame you…hate you…for bringing him down.”

“Lindsey…”

In a quick, almost violent movement, she sat up, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her voice sounded breathless and muffled. “I wouldn’t, you know. Even if he were guilty. Which I know he’s not. But if he were, I wouldn’t blame you.” Her head swiveled toward him. “How could I? You’re only doing your job. In fact, doing what I asked you to do. How could I blame you? ”

He heard the anguish in her voice as she emphasized the last word and thought, Yes, there it is. “You would,” he said gently, raising himself on one elbow. “Or maybe more than that, you’d blame yourself. Whichever way it goes, it’s always going to be there between us.”

Again, a flurry of movement in the darkness as she shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be. People have overcome worse things. It’s only an obstacle if you let it be. And maybe-”

He heard a sharp intake of breath, as if she’d stumbled, and when she continued there was a new note of breathlessness and pain in her voice.

Which was just what it was like, he thought-stumbling over the truth. Like stubbing your toe in the darkness.

“Maybe you want it to be. Because…maybe what you want is an excuse.”

“An excuse?” he said. “For what?”

“An excuse not to try again.” She paused, and he caught a furtive movement-her hand, brushing her cheeks. “Like me. I know what it’s like, you know-to be so afraid of getting your heart broken, you won’t let yourself take another chance.”

I had gone there to kill her-to finish the job I started. When I found she had no memory, and then they told me she was pregnant… How could I justify killing a child? And she didn’t know me, didn’t recognize me at all…

Excerpt from the confession of Alexi K.

FBI Files, Restricted Access,

Declassified 2010

Alan was a homicide cop; he was accustomed to listening to confessions. He knew not to interrupt with questions at this point, but simply to listen…and wait.

In the neutral, nonjudgmental darkness, Lindsey paused to gather her courage, and after a moment, went on.