James Moore - Blood Red

I can hope, she thought. I have to hope. He’s my little baby boy .

Maggie pulled up outside of Jason Soulis’s house and stared in awe again. The place was incredible.

As soon as she opened the door, the man was waiting at the threshold. He smiled as she approached, and she smiled back. Whether or not he’d meant to, Soulis had given her an opportunity that had proved to be very rewarding.

“Hello, Mr. Soulis.” She moved toward him and smiled. He watched her the entire time she came in his direction, and returned the smile. He stepped back from her as she entered the house, and gestured for her to move toward the dining room.

Another feast had been laid out.

“Please, my dear, call me Jason.” He pulled out the chair for her and waited for her to be properly seated. “You are well, Maggie?”

“I am, thanks for asking.”

She was dressed in casual clothes again and so was he. Well, what passed for casual with him at any rate. He was wearing a pair of navy Dockers and a burgundy turtleneck sweater that she suspected was extremely overpriced. He carried it off well.

“You look lovely.” His dark eyes drank her in with the patience and reverence of a wine connoisseur. She smiled back and gave a small nod of her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.

This time when she sat down to eat, he joined her. He ate only a little, but as with everything else, he seemed to savor the meal. Only when they were done and having brandy in the study did he discuss business.

“You have concluded your business with the Catholic Church?”

“Yes, and with the Lutheran pastor and the Baptist minister.” She wasn’t lying. The latter two had been arranged earlier in the day. Pastor Henderson had been a hard sell, but the Baptist minister had been only too eager to accommodate.

“Wonderful.” Once again he looked her over, his face almost expressionless and his eyes alight with pleasure. “You are a very resourceful woman, Maggie. I had feared you wouldn’t be able to accomplish the task I set for you.”

The conversation was a little surreal, but she did her best to take it in stride. “Well, there are still more names on your list, Jason.”

“True, but I think you’ve already proven to be up to the challenge. I had serious doubts about you managing to seduce the Lutheran minister.”

“Really?” She smiled a little, remembering how reluctant he had been. “Why is that?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that the man is homosexual.”

Maggie chuckled. “Well, that explains a lot, actually.”

“So, you wish to continue with our arrangement?”

“As long as you want me to,” she kept her cool. It wouldn’t do to sound too excited about the prospect.

Jason nodded and walked over to his desk at the far end of the room. He counted out a preposterous amount of money in hundred-dollar bills, and set them down on the small table where her empty brandy snifter now rested.

“That’s double what we had agreed to.” Not that she would complain, but better to be honest than lose out on the rest of the take.

“No, Maggie. That is the agreed-upon amount, with a bonus if you spend the night here, with me.”

“I was hired for the night anyway, Jason.”

“No. I hired your services from Tom, and that money has already been delivered. This is a different matter entirely.”

“I’m not one to turn down a generous offer, but aren’t you paying twice for the same services?”

“No, Maggie.” He looked her in the eyes, his stare intense enough to damn near hypnotize her. “No. I do not see the two as inseparable. Yes, I paid to have you here for the night. I did not pay Tom to have your sexual favors. That is a separate transaction, between you and me.”

“Not in his eyes.”

“His eyes are insignificant. It is your eyes that interest me. If you wish, you may stay with me and have a separate room for the night. That concludes any business I have with Tom Pardue.” He shrugged. “If you wish, you may also take the bonus I have offered you to be with me for the rest of the night. The decision is yours.”

The damnedest thing about it was that she knew he was completely serious. If she said she wanted to sleep in a separate room, he’d let her. “I want to stay with you, Jason.”

He smiled and held out one hand. She took it, marveling at the cool, soft feel of his fingers.

They poked and prodded Avery for over two hours before Alan told them enough was enough. He sent the doctors packing with their blood samples and their heart rate monitors. His boy was home and tired. That was all that mattered. He wanted to rest in his own bed, and Alan intended to give his son everything he could possibly want.

And even if he hadn’t wanted it that way, Meghan would have settled the situation. Had he waited much longer his wife would have gone down to his workshop and come up with his chainsaw, gunning the engine for all it was worth.

Avery was weak, but seemed unharmed otherwise. He was happy to be home and had almost become fused to his mother’s side. Alan couldn’t blame him. The poor kid had been gone for two days.

When the doctors were finally done and he’d shooed away the news people and even the police, Alan went up to tuck his wife and son into Avery’s bed. Meghan had made very clear that she would not be leaving her son alone for a few nights and that was just fine. He needed to get a little rest himself.

Meghan was still awake when he entered the room. Avery was sound asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing regular.

“You okay, hon?” He spoke in a whisper, just in case Avery had suddenly become a light sleeper.

“Yeah,” she nodded and started to tear up again. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips and then held her against his shoulder as she cried for a few minutes. He cried, too. The thought that he’d almost lost his son was enough to make him want to wither up and die.

“Yeah, baby. I’m good. I couldn’t be better.”

“I love you, Meghan. Get yourself some sleep.”

“You too, okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded his emphasis and wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, baby, I plan to. I’m just going to lock everything up.”

He left the two most important people in his world in each other’s arms, and turned off the light. Then he moved back down the stairs and systematically switched every light off that illuminated the lower level. He also checked every door and window, even going so far as to search the basement, because the one thing that Avery couldn’t answer so far was where he had been. The only thing he could tell them was that it had been very dark and there were other people down there as well.

So he wasn’t taking any chances. He checked everywhere twice before he went upstairs and into the empty master bedroom.

He was asleep before he even hit the bed. The last seventy-two hours had been hellish at best.

He was unconscious before the reporter from the local rag came snooping around outside of the house. He remained unaware of the attempt to open the locked doors.

Leo Marconelli was a busy man and he wanted to get a scoop that would rock the area. He didn’t have time to get into investigative reporting, but he was pretty sure he could make up a good tale. The panties had cost him a small fortune, but his source promised they belonged to Carla Whittaker. Once they were planted in the workshop he’d spotted when he was sneaking around the house earlier, he could point a finger at Alan Tripp and make sure that everyone knew it was his investigative reporting that caught her killer. After that, no one would give a good goddamn about a little kid that managed to get un-lost, or a corpse that disappeared from the hospital. Oh sure, later there would be all sorts of questions about how the panties had gotten there, and about how Leo had known. But that would be later after the celebrity had stuck to him, and he would deal with those situations as they arose.