Point of Attraction (22 page)

“Slow and easy here,” someone
said.

“Fuck that! Extreme prejudice here,” a
deeper voice said. “Inside the car, Portland police. Come out,
slow, hands empty where we can see them.”

The pause was long and
torturous.

“Oh, man,” Mason’s voice finally came
through, and Nick bolted to his feet. He snatched the phone from
its base, to take it off speaker.

“Nick!” Georgie shouted, trying to take
back the phone, but he was so tall, he easily held it way out of
her reach. “Either give me my phone or put it back on the
speaker!”

“God, but you’re a
stubborn...”

He jammed the phone into its cradle and
Mason’s voice came through. “He’s dead, George.”

“What?” Georgie gasped and dropped into
the chair.

“I’m Sorry,” Mason said.

“Oh, my God.” Jeffery dead? It was as
though she was inside some else’s body, her skin felt so tight,
suffocating her. “No. It can’t be...”

“Looks like he left a note,” Mason was
saying through the voices in the background. “But we have to wait
for Crime Scene Techs to get here. I’m sorry, George.”

“How?” Nick asked, both hands on the
table.

“One round to the right temple. Hand
gun.”

Chapter eighteen

Georgie bolted from her chair and ran
through the laundry room, desperate for the cold outside air. Daisy
and Max followed.

He’s dead,
George
.

From her patio, she stared up in the
direction where the police were still working the area they had
found Raggs. Off to the side, on the road, she caught sight of
headlights making their way down, mere flickers through the shrubs,
but she was certain they were headlights. They disappeared behind
the trees still bearing leaves. Daisy barked and Max yawned, his
ears twitching, checking out the sound.

He’s dead,
George.

Reaching behind her, Georgie found the
oak patio seat and dropped into it. Her outside lights flicked on,
their yellow glow adding a deeper, brighter tone to the leaves
sailing across the yard.

A flash of memory, a snap shot in
time... Jeffrey smiling into the mirror as she cut his
hair.

It will be so strange not to see that
shy smile, she thought, and dropped her face into her hands. Had
she had any clue her dismissal of his attentions would do all
this... bring them all to this end...

No, she thought, whipping her head back
to let the breeze catch her hair, swat her face. She couldn’t be
that wrong. No. Something wasn’t right here. Think, Georgie, think.
It’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit here. Why? And where does it
fit? What is it about this whole thing that’s off?

She looked up into the dark trees,
listening to the whispering breeze. Nothing. There was no answer to
be heard.

What had the police done
with Raggs, she wondered? Though she fought it, images of Raggs
being manhandled by invading, uncaring hands haunted her. What was
it Brandy said?
She’s probably in the arms
of a little girl right now
. Georgie rubbed
her fingers across her forehead, then pushed back her hair. How she
wished Raggs were in the arms of a little girl right now instead of
inside that plastic bag with...

“Why a plastic bag?” she
murmured.

“What?” Nick asked, handing her another
glass of orange juice. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Come
inside. It’s damn cold out here.”

But Georgie saw where he was looking.
Lights were still moving throughout the slope. Nick nodded. “At
least they’re being thorough.”

She took the glass and sipped. It was
biting as it went down, but she muffled the cough. She was grateful
for the pungent taste of what she hoped would buffer the pain.
Shivering, she touched Nick’s arm and got up to go
inside.

“Come on. Daisy, Max, inside. Come on.”
At the door she turned. “You too,” she said to Nick. “Come
on.”

He nodded and followed her in, but not
before giving one last look to the slope. As she closed the door
behind them, she too gave the moving flashlight beams one last
glance. Pressing her palm to the door, she turned the lock and dead
bolt.

“What were you saying out there?” he
asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“How did Mason get my number?” she
asked, not quite ready to share her ill-fitting-puzzle question. “I
never gave it to him. Remember?”

“Clue number one: you’re in the phone
book, which is not a good thing. Shop? Okay. Home? Not okay. Number
two: he’s a cop. They have their ways. Law and order, and all that
crap.” Georgie just looked at him, and he shrugged. “You have a
phone, they can get the number. For this? They can get
it.”

“Hmmm.” Georgie took another sip of her
drink.

“You were talking to yourself out
there.”

She thought a moment, then decided, why
not bounce her doubts off Nick. “I was just wondering. Why put
Raggs in a plastic bag?”

“What are you talking about?

Georgie labored on how to
word her puzzle pieces. What
was
she talking about?
Come
on,
she thought,
verbalize it. Maybe it will make sense
.

She started out slowly,
trying to listen to her own words. “If someone were going to... to
do what they did to Raggs? Why go to the trouble of sealing her in
a plastic bag? Why bother? It wasn’t a white trash bag, or... or
even an ugly green thing, but a see-through bag. I don’t know. It
just gave me the feeling of protecting Raggs... with... care. You
know? But,
protecting
from what? And why with such care? Such a mixture.” She
looked to her one open palm. “Protect her without
demeaning
her.” Then
held up the other hand. “Then to just... just... do something like
that to her... an ice pick...” Both hands shot up then down with a
smack on her thighs. “I don’t know what I’m thinking... what to
think?”

Nick’s brown eyes met hers,
his brow puckering as he took hold of her hands and brought them
together in a caring grip. “Has it occurred to you, you might be
over thinking this? The quirky mind is a hard thing to understand,
Georgie Girl. No two
strangees
are the same as to rhyme or reason.”

With a great sigh, Georgie
freed herself of Nick’s gentle plea for her to understand. She
shook her head again, but the theory wouldn’t set itself right. The
sentences were still all jumbled and making no sense. Shivering,
she rubbed her arms, got up and turned up the thermostat. Knowing
there was nothing she could do, nothing
to
do, she still looked about in
search of something... something left undone. But there was
nothing, only her loud deep breath. “I need to take a shower. I
need to, to... I don’t know. I just need to be clean.”

“Sure,” Nick said. “I’ll keep an eye
out for Mason.”

~~0~~

Georgie let herself relish the sharp
spray of warm water while the suds of the shampoo offered a
fragrance of ocean breezes, a sea of forgetfulness. But when the
hair dryer did away with the last bit of moisture, the truth of the
evening returned; Raggs stabbed and impaled by Jeffrey who was now
dead, apparently by his own hand. Nothing had been magically washed
away.

When Georgie came out of her bedroom
with a fresh set of sweatpants and top, Daisy was gone. She could
hear the Schnauzer whimper in the laundry room, now and then
scratching at the door, and there were low voices coming from the
kitchen. This time, she would not hide and listen. What they
discussed in whispers, they could say in front of her.

Mason had returned with Officer Roberts
and Tonie. While Mason sat at the table with Nick, Roberts and
Tonie remained standing.

“And?” Georgie asked them.

After a moment, it was Mason who spoke.
“He wrote a note telling you he was sorry.”

“What?” Georgie wanted to shake her
head, wanted not to believe it, but there it was. How could she
deny it? She had to sit down. “He actually admitted it?” She looked
at them, wanting someone to offer some small seed of doubt, but
they didn’t. Neither Mason nor Roberts said anything. Mason’s eyes
carried a sadness while Roberts’ remained cool and
professional.

“Man was a weasel,” Tonie said, her
mouth pulling in distaste, her eyes lacking any sympathy, and
Georgie felt bad that Tonie was so cold. But then, in her
profession, perhaps it was a defense mechanism.

“Officer Clark,” Roberts
said.

Georgie didn’t even want to consider
Roberts’ terse manner toward Tonie. She just wanted this to be over
with, leave it all behind her, move on to the next book, new
characters, new plots. Only Georgie hadn’t gotten the punch line to
this story, no climatic ending to satisfy the reader.

“What’s going on in that head of yours,
Georgie Girl?” Nick asked.

She didn’t realize she was pulling at a
hair strand until Mason took hold of her hand. “George?”

No, Georgie thought. No. And she turned
to Officer Roberts. “Is there a chance I could see the inside of
Jeffrey’s house?”

“Uh, I don’t see how that can happen,”
Roberts said. “It is a crime scene, after all.”

“Actually it’s not,” Georgie said. “His
Durango at Upper State Park? Yes. But his house? And for a
suicide?”

“I don’t see it happening,
Mrs. Gainsworth. It’s
part
of the investigation. CST will never go for it,
and suicide is something for them to determine. It’s only
conjecture at this point, given what we know.”

Georgie thought for a moment before
taking a deep shuddering breath, her lower lip catching between her
teeth. “Okay. Are they checking it out now?”

Roberts nodded. “Should be. I’m sure
the search warrant’s been taken care of. Why?”

“I’m not insinuating that your people
aren’t capable or anything like that, but could you make sure they
check out something?”

“Depends. What are you
after?”

Georgie shrugged. “Ash trays. Gun
cabinet. Ammo.”

“Search already in progress for weapons
permit.”

“In all the years I have known Jeffrey,
I never saw him smoke. I never smelled smoke on him or his clothes,
let alone in his Durango, or in his hair.” Georgie looked Roberts
in the eye. “You smoke. I get a whiff of it, now and then, from
you. So does Officer Clark. I got a tinge of the odor in her hair
when I cut it the other day.”

“I don’t try to hide it,” Tonie said,
her voice calm, though curt.

“That’s what I mean. Why would Jeffrey
hide it?” Georgie argued. “There was no reason for him to.” She
turned to Roberts. When he remained stoic, his face a chiseled
mask, Georgie would not budge. “He didn’t smoke. Ask his
employees.”

“Your point being what?” Roberts
asked.

“There were cigarette butts near Raggs.
Nick even thought he could smell it earlier this
evening.”

She looked to Nick, and he nodded.
“It’s what made me go up there in the first place.”

“We don’t know that those cigarette
butts are even connected to Jeffrey and the doll,” Roberts
reasoned. At her doubting glance, he added, “not for sure,
anyway.”

Georgie accepted his pittance of
agreement. “And a gun. I can’t... I just can’t see Jeffrey and a
gun. I don’t think he even hunted.”

“A lot of men don’t hunt, but own a
gun,” Nick said. “To some men, it’s an extra p...”

Georgie held out a hand to stop
him.

“George,” Mason said in a soft voice.
“You should prepare yourself to accept that Jeffrey did all this.”
He pushed a wayward hair strand from her face. It was so like a
caress, and Georgie wanted so badly to enjoy it instead of
listening to what he was saying. He cupped her chin so she made eye
contact. “Sometimes we don’t know people as well as we think or as
well as we want to.”

“But... if only I’d known or
seen...”

“Georgie Girl, you’re not taking the
blame here.” Nick’s tone was flat and firm. “None of this is your
fault. You understand? None of it. A wacko chooses his own highway.
You just happen to be a road sign that caught his
attention.”

“I guess,” Georgie heard herself say,
then asked Mason, “Do you think I could at least see the note he
wrote? I mean, he wrote me enough checks.”

Mason pursed his lips and handed the
question over to Officer Roberts.

“It’ll go to handwriting analysis
first,” Roberts said. “They’ll catch anything not right.” He turned
to Tonie. “I’ll see you out in the car.”