Chevy Stevens - Still Missing

Holding his arms above his head, our foreheads touching, I lay still on top of him and rested my lips just slightly over his, feeling his hot breath moving in and out, mixing with my own. His skin was burning, feverish, and a fine sweat coated both our bodies. At first his breathing was ragged, but he smoothed it out, holding it in check, for me.

Lifting myself up onto my toes, I opened my legs, then shifted down, sliding myself onto him. He didn’t enter me, I took him.

His breath caught in his throat, and I paused, heart fluttering, waiting for him to lose it, to flip me on my back and pound at me, to thrust up, to do something . But he didn’t. And I wanted to cry. At his gift.

As I slid up and down on him, he never moved. Stroke after stroke, his breath was my only monitor of the fierce struggle going on within, and knowing I had this strong, confident man on his back made me move harder. Faster. Rougher. Daring him to try to touch me, I took my anger out on his body. Using my sex as a weapon. And when he came, his hips still didn’t lift, didn’t thrust, only his hands flexed in my own as his whole body tightened, and I felt exhilarated. Powerful. I continued to ride him until it must have been painful. But he still didn’t touch me. Finally I stopped, turning my face to the side and releasing his wrists. Only then did he lift one hand to cup the back of my head as he rocked me slightly in his arms. And then I cried.

Afterward we lay side by side on our backs, staring at the ceiling while we tried to catch our breath. Neither of us said a word. It was so much the opposite of my experience with The Freak, total control versus no control, I’d actually been able to keep The Freak’s memory out of the room, out of the bed, out of my body. But my haze began to lift as I sobered up and I thought about what was really going on in my life, and what I’d just done. Gary started to say something, but I interrupted him.

“This was the first time that I… did what we did since I came home. And I just want you to know I’m glad it was with you, but you don’t have to worry—I don’t have any expectations or anything. I hope this doesn’t change things between us.”

The rhythm of his breathing broke, paused, and resumed. He turned his face toward me, opened his mouth, but I cut him off again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any regrets or anything, and I sure as hell hope you don’t, but I don’t want to have some big talk about it, okay? Let’s just move on…. What’s the next step in the investigation?”

I felt his eyes burning into my face but I kept my gaze focused on the ceiling. In a low voice he said, “After I question the hotel people tomorrow with the sketch and the mug shot that was faxed to me, I’ll be heading to the next town. Kinsol.” I had forgotten how close I was to Kinsol. It’s not a big town—probably only has one or two motels—and most of the population work at the prison.

I laughed and said, “You could’ve said hi to my uncle, but he was just released.”

Gary propped himself on an elbow and looked down at me. “What uncle?”

I assumed he’d have known, but Mom and my uncle have a different last name, so maybe not.

“My mom’s stepbrother, Dwight? He robbed a couple of banks. He was just in the paper—you guys want him for questioning in another robbery. But we don’t have anything to do with him, so can’t help you there.”

Gary rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but I’d learned that leaning on him didn’t get me answers.

“Is there anything I can do to help my investigation?” I said.

“Just try to stay clear of everyone for now. I have to do some more digging but should have more information tomorrow, and I’ll let you know how we’re going to proceed from there. If you find out or remember anything that might help, call me right away. And you can call if you just need to talk too.”

His voice was starting to drift and I knew he’d fall asleep soon, so I said, “I should get going. Emma’s at home.”

“I’d like it if you stayed.”

“Thanks, but I can’t leave her all night.” Truth is, I didn’t trust myself to lie quietly beside him with the bedding all tangled around us—would have been hard to explain why I was in the closet in the morning.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving alone on the roads this late.”

“I made it here, didn’t I?”

In the dim room he raised an eyebrow at me, so I tucked my face into the warm groove between his shoulder and neck and said, “I’ll have a shower, okay?”

After a quick shower, which I spent trying not to think about what I’d just done, I tiptoed by his sleeping form on the bed and slipped out. The streets were empty on my drive home and I was in my own little world. Had Emma been with me, I’d have just kept on going.

My mind floated back to my conversation with Gary, and I wished I hadn’t told him what Mom heard about Christina and Luke. Cops look for ulterior motives in everything. Not that I wasn’t just as guilty of that myself. But I knew those two wouldn’t hurt me. Still, I felt like there was something I should be seeing but wasn’t. My mind turned over everything I knew, but I just couldn’t put my finger on the missing piece of the puzzle.

It was a long night. I slept in the closet but tossed and turned, as much as you can turn in a closet, and woke up early this morning. Groggy, I sat out on my back deck with the cordless near me, waiting for Gary to call and tell me what he’d found out.

I’d forgotten Luke was coming by to drop off receipts and some books he was lending me, so I was surprised when I heard a truck pull up. When I looked out and realized it was him, my legs turned to rubber. Pulling myself together, I opened the door. He tried to hug me but I barely hugged back.

“Everything okay?” he said.

“Sorry, I’m just tired—didn’t sleep very well last night.” I aimed for light and casual, but my voice sounded strained. I avoided his eyes.

“Find out anything more about that picture you identified?”

I mumbled something about Gary looking into it. Then I dropped one of the books he’d brought over, and when I bent down to pick it up, we almost knocked heads. When I jumped back, he gave me a searching look, so I quickly offered him a cup of tea. Praying he’d drink his fast, I gulped mine back.

I’ve never felt like such a fraud as I did in that moment, talking about our dogs and his work while I waited for the phone to ring and wondered what I would do if Gary called while Luke was still there.

Our conversation was riddled with pauses and he barely touched his tea before he said he had to go. When he gave me a hug at the door I forced myself to hug him back and wondered if he could feel guilt through my skin.

“Annie, you sure you’re all right?” I wanted to confess everything. I couldn’t confess anything.

“I’m just really bagged.”

“Well, get some rest, okay? Doctor’s orders.” He smiled.

I forced a smile back. “Yes, sir.”

After he left I knew I could never tell him what had happened between Gary and me. I also knew I could never get back together with him now. Luke belonged to the woman who was abducted, not the one who came home.

An hour later the suspense was killing me, so I called Gary, but he didn’t answer and his cell phone was off. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that he finally called back. I wish he hadn’t.

The Freak’s real name was Simon Rousseau, and he’d have been forty-two at the time of his death. He grew up in a small town in Ontario, moved to Vancouver in his early twenties, but eventually settled on the island. The mug shot was taken when he was arrested at thirty-nine for beating a man so badly he was hospitalized for weeks. The Freak, who claimed the wife hired him to do it because her husband was cheating on her, cut a deal. A year later his conviction was overturned based on the RCMP having mishandled some evidence. Upon his release from Kinsol prison he moved back to the mainland and dropped off the police radar until I identified his mug shot.