David Wiltse - Bone Deep

It was only then she came alive, rolling on top of him and grinding herself against his body, breathing hoarsely, seeking hungrily for her own moment. Tee tried to stay with her, grimly forcing himself not to withdraw, not to collapse. She gave him no pause, no chance to recover, made no concession to his need for a moment of complete inactivity. She tore at him, rasping against him the way she did everything physical, too hard, too relentless. Tee wanted to cry out, to push her off him, to make her stop, but he never did, he gave in to her will always and let her do what she had to do.

When she came at last with a muffled keening sound and collapsed atop him, her tiny breasts flattening on his chest, her cheeks were wet with tears. She lay on him, weeping gently, for that moment a different woman. He loved her most then, when her tears wet his body, and he would kiss her cheeks and engulf her in his arms as if to protect her from the world. For that brief time he did not feel like a clumsy lover, he did not feel inadequate. He felt strong and towering and gentle and he gripped her in his arms as if he could hold the feeling within his grasp for both of them and never let go of it. When he tried to ask her why she wept, she would always shake her head and turn away from him and not answer, so he no longer asked but allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that it was because of him, that he had touched her as deeply, moved her as profoundly as she did him.

From the trees at their back, a blue jay scolded, mocking him.

When she had dressed and run off down the hill on legs that seemed even lighter and more energetic than when she came, Tee sat alone atop the cliff, exhausted and overwhelmed with guilt. He didn't know why he did it, he didn't understand what compelled him to put himself through this time and again. He would leave disgusted with himself, filled with distaste for her. A day later he would be thinking about her, two days later he would long for her, and within a week's time he would be beside himself with desire again. He would risk exposure, climbing a cliff to lie with her in the open air, where if they were discovered, there would never be an adequate excuse.

He wondered if he was a masochist and was only now finding it out. He wondered if he was being punished in some way for the easy sex of his early marriage, when although he had not always been perfectly faithful, he had never gotten truly involved with anyone but his wife. He was involved now, and there was little that was easy, or even pleasurable about it. Next time, he thought, he might just pick up that small, strong body, lift it over his head, and hurl it down the cliff.

With the rolled-up blanket under his arm, he clambered awkwardly down the steepest part of the hill, clinging to rocks with one arm while he stretched to the next foothold. Like an old man, he thought. He was too old for any of this.

He walked through the replanted orchard again, pointing straight between the rows. They had located the absentee owner of the acreage, a retiree living in sun-soaked ease in Arizona. The land was leased to a nurseryman from Newtown, who supervised the annual harvesting of Christmas trees, the planting of new saplings, the semiannual clearing of brush. He was being thoroughly investigated by the FBI, as were his employees, the seasonal workers who took time off from plowing snow to cut and bind and sell the trees. They were all suspects and no one expected to find out much from any of them. The man they were after was much too smart to plant bodies in his own backyard.

When-he crossed the Saugatuck at the base of the hill, skipping heavily across the stream from stone to stone, he could just glimpse part of his car across the road. Someone was sitting on it.

Tee paused within the last fringe of trees bordering the road and sized up the situation. McNeil was leaning back on the hood of the cruiser, his head against the windshield, his face to the sun as if basking on the beach. As Tee watched, McNeil languidly turned his face in Tee's direction, pulling his sunglasses down so they rested on his nose like a man with bifocals. He stared for a moment, then pushed the tinted glasses back to cover his eyes and returned his face to the sun. For a foolish moment Tee thought of stepping back farther into the woods and waiting it out. Instead, he came out of the trees and crossed the road to his cruiser.

"You're out early," McNeil said without turning to face Tee.

"Sit on your own car," Tee said. McNeil's cruiser was parked a few feet behind Tee's, in effect imprisoning it against the cement wall of the reservoir.

McNeil slowly swung his feet around so that he was sitting up, pointedly taking his own time to get off the hood. He looked at Tee, his eyes inscrutable behind the dark glasses.

"I was looking at the orchard again," Tee said.

"Find anything?"

There would be nothing to find. The federal and state people had combed it very finely indeed.

"I was just looking for inspiration," said Tee, careful to keep his tone even and controlled.

"I thought you might be in the orchard," McNeil said. "I went looking for you."

Tee got into the car, avoiding McNeil's gaze. The sonofabitch was taunting him. He knows something is up, Tee thought, but he can't know exactly what. Give him nothing to work with, he told himself. Offer nothing.

"What did you want me for?"

"I saw your car," McNeil said. "I thought you might be in trouble… car trouble."

"I thought Metzger was on duty." 'I'm just coming to work," said McNeil. "Thought I'd do my Samaritan number. Looks like you're all right after all… Look a little tired though, Chief You got to get more sleep." Tee detected the trace of a grin. "Not as young as you used to be. You can't get up to your old tricks."

"Thanks for your concern."

"Leave some of that for the younger guys. That's what we're here for."

"I'm glad to know what you're here for, McNeil. Sometimes I wonder. What did you find out about the missing Schrag girl?"

"Who, the all pair?" McNeil shrugged. "The Hills say she took off for New York and just never came back. There's no sign of foul play, no report of any kind from the New York cops. I figure she just got bored being a baby-sitter and took off to see America. Or went home to Germany. Who knows? These kids are like that-this isn't the first time we've seen an all pair skip out of her job around here."

"Did she have a boyfriend?"

"Mrs. Hill says no, Mr. Hill thinks she did. I figure he wanted to get into her pants and when she said no he blamed a boyfriend."

"Is that just your take on human nature, or do you have any evidence to support it?"

"Hey, Chief, the girl is twenty-five, the husband is thirty-eight. It's natural he'd want to get some off the babysitter, isn't it?"

"Not all men are like that," said Tee.

"Oh yeah?" McNeil smirked. "We must know different men, Chief."

"How many all pairs have turned up missing in the past ten years or so?

Seven? Eight?"

"Not that many. Three, four. But they're an irresponsible lot. Hell, they're young, they're looking for something or they wouldn't come here in the first place, they're a couple thousand miles from home, they're stuck in a job wiping kids' noses all day-why wouldn't they take off It's a big country, easy to disappear."

"Stay on it."

McNeil shrugged again. "Sure."

"And report to me on it."

"Sure."

"You want anything else, McNeil?"

"Not if you don't."

"Then move your car so I can get out of here and go to work."

McNeil backed up his cruiser, then pulled it parallel to Tee's and leaned out the window.

"Oh, by the way, Chief. Don't forget your blanket," he said. McNeil removed his glasses and smiled knowingly at Tee. "You dropped it in the woods just before you crossed the road."