Promises to Keep (18 page)

The drive
back to New Bern didn’t include conversation. There was no anxious need to fill
any silence. They were both comfortable, cheerful and at peace. Enjoying the
moment, they rode with the sunroof open, and tunes blasting on the stereo.

The
wind and sun quickly dried the seawater to a slightly itchy crust on his skin,
but Jack couldn’t care less.

He
didn't even mind all of the sand that had been tracked into his brand new Jeep.

The
little stuff just didn't seem to matter.

For
a long time now, Jack had lost all patience for bullshit. It was the war,
probably. When it came to life or death, the real priorities slapped you in the
face—they were so damned obvious.

Like
separating wheat from chaff, he knew what was really important in life. Good
friends, good food and family. Helping others and letting them help you. Being
grateful and thankful for the gift of being alive. These were the things that
made life worthwhile.

And
at the very top of his list? It was those rare and vital moments of connection.
Those times when there’s complete clarity—when you understand someone and they
understand you. Times when another person sees your flaws, but loves you
anyway. Yet, it was more than that.

Maybe
it was love.

Mere
words couldn't describe what that kind of connection was, but he’d found it
with Laura.

They
were a good fit.

They
were completely different, of course, but that was part of the excitement and
part of the fun. Like pieces of a puzzle or maybe Legos, they linked together
on all the essential points.

They
both continued to be silent, but that was OK. Based on the ear-to-ear,
shit-eating grin she had plastered on her face, Laura was happy.

He
recognized that grin because he had it, too. He couldn't help it.

There
was a tiny bit of remorse about Bob gnawing away in the back of his brain. Jack
knew he'd have to talk to her about it sometime, but not right then, not on
this day.

Today
was perfect the way it was.

However,
he'd have to come clean if he was going to let this situation go any further.

As
they drove on Highway 70, he realized that was exactly what he wanted. Only he
didn’t want to go
further
—he actually wanted to go
all the way.

Jack
surprised himself, because the very thought of it made him even happier. He
wouldn't have thought it possible.

They
stopped at the Trent River drawbridge, at the entrance of town and waited for a
double-masted schooner to pass underneath. Charmed, he reached out with a
solitary hand and gently stroked her sunburned cheek.

Laura
smiled, took his hand in her slender, distinctly feminine fingers, kissed his
wrist and cuddled it into the nape of her neck. She positively purred when she
did that.

Jack
was prepared to keep his hand there all day long.

With
much regret, when the bridge came down and the lights turned green, he gently
took back his hand and put the car into gear.

It
had been a long day at the beach with fish and fries, surfing, swimming,
romantic walks and passionate lovemaking. Jack’s mind and body remembered
everything. After such an extended sexual drought, he’d made love to Laura
twice.

When
they got back to her apartment, they would again.

Jack
smiled as his thoughts went back to the alluring and erotic view he’d had of
Laura in the shower. Only this time he really would be joining her.

Just
how many times they'd make love tonight was anyone’s guess.

Jack
felt like a love-struck teenager with way too many hormones. That was the odd
thing about sex. The more he had, the more he wanted. Like right now. He was
hard again—dammit. Just thinking of Laura affected him that way.

Jack
didn’t imagine he’d be getting over that anytime soon.

They
didn’t even need condoms. Lucky for him, Laura explained that she’d been on the
pill since after her accidental pregnancy. She'd also been tested for everything
known to man.

Jack’s
tests were clear, too, and since he hadn’t had sex in like—forever, he was also
safe. Riding bareback was a first for him, and a pleasure he could get used to.

The
sun was setting by the time they drove into the guest parking at Laura's
apartment building.

When
they pulled up, Laura leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek. "Thanks
for the day out. I really needed it."

He
smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "I think we both needed it."

"You
rat." She tapped him lightly on the side of his face and leapt out of the
car.

Jack
laughed and put his hand on his heart. “I cannot tell a lie. You were desperate
for me,” he said.

Hands
on her hips, Laura faced him. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she had a
half-scowl, half grin.

“What?”
he asked with mock innocence.

“Oh
never mind,” she said, but her lips kicked up in a slow, sexy smile. “We had
such a wonderful time. Everything was perfect.”

“Roger
that.” He couldn’t stop grinning. "I'll leave the boards on the roof and
run 'em though a wash before I take them back. I saw one of those
do-it-yourself, brush free ones a few blocks over."

"Might
as well come up for a shower and a change first. Feel like scrubbing my
back?" she asked with a coy arch in her eyebrow.

"I
don't think I'll find a better offer anywhere. Just let me snag my duffle
bag."

Pulling
it out of the back seat, Jack chased her up the walk. He pressed kisses onto
the back of her neck, along the hollow of her throat and behind both ears while
she tried to work the lock.

"Stop
that, you'll make me drop my keys."

"Then
you'll have to bend over and pick them up, won't you?"

"Oh,
now you're just being awful."

"Part
of my job, ma'am."

Smiling,
she finally got the door open. He followed her inside. They climbed the stairs
in a hurry
—
Laura taking them two at a time. She stopped abruptly at the
landing.

"Jesus…"
she breathed.

"What?"
Jack came to a halt beside her. "What's wro
—Christ
!"

The
hallway before them was a mess. Scattered in front of Laura's door, was a
newspaper, spread out as if someone had thrown it up high in the middle of a
hurricane.

In
several spots, the plaster from the wall outside of her apartment was caved in
with a half dozen perfectly fist-shaped craters and a single, rather ominously
head-sized dent. There were boot print scuffs on Laura's door but the lock and
frame appeared intact.

As
Jack took in the scene, the most disturbing sight
—
the one thing that
screamed out a warning and resonated in his brain
—
was the bright red
blood trail. It started at Laura's doorstep and went all the way down the hall.

Laura
must have seen it too, because she took off running.

"
Oh,
my God!
" she screamed, her voice high and panicked.

"Laura,
wait!
"

Jack
took off after her.

The
duffle bag was bulky and slowed him down so he threw it aside. She was a good
five feet in front of him but his longer legs enabled him to gain on her with
every step.

"
Laura!
Stop!
"

He
could hear her gasping for air as she ran, and see the soles of her shoes
flashing strobe-like in front of him, as she ran full speed down the hall.

Jack
closed in on her at four feet, and then three.

She
was almost within his arm's reach.

He
didn't have a clue what was at the end of the blood trail, but he knew it would
be bad. It wouldn’t be something he wanted her to dive into headfirst.

Jack
reached out for her. His hand was just inches from the back of her shorts, when
she burst through the very last door at the end of the hall.

He'd
been so focused on her that he hadn't noticed it was wide open. Laura obviously
had, because she didn't slow down a bit.

"Laura,
don't
—
"

“
No,
please—God!
” she called out. She screamed.

There
was a crash, a thud and a cry of pain.

Then Jack made it through
the door.

Jack
took in the scene. It looked familiar, like the aftermath of a war zone.

Crying,
Laura was curled up on the floor, blood all over her legs and chest and arms.
Blood.
She’d slipped on the pool of blood that coated the linoleum.

"Jesus,
Laura, are you hurt?"

He
scanned the room but saw nobody else, only one man and he was dead. Ron had
been his name, Jack recalled suddenly. With no immediate threat, he went into
first assessment mode and checked Laura for wounds.

Sobbing,
but breathing, physically Laura appeared OK. She just had a fall. The blood was
cold and congealed.

Not
hers, then. Thank God.

No
threats, the living unhurt, Jack turned his attention to the dead.

He'd
seen hundreds of dead men, women and children in the war. He could recognize a
lifeless body in an instant. It was the old man that spoke to him the other
day.

Jack
remembered him as a bit over-protective, but he now understood that the man had
his reasons. He lay in a tremendous puddle of his own blood, splashed and
disrupted by Laura when she skidded into it and slipped.

A
lot of it was on her, but even more was on the ground.

Ron
lay on his side, arm outstretched to the telephone that lay on the end table,
just beyond his reach. It wouldn't have done him any good, because the gash on
his neck was deep and had obviously severed his carotid.

Jack
was astounded that he'd made it that far.

"Ron,
I'm so sorry. My fault. My fault." Laura reached for the dead man.

"Don't
touch him," Jack said as he gently pushed her back. "He's gone. This
is a murder scene and the only way you can help him now is to help the police
find out who did this. We can't touch anything."

He
reached for her bloody hand and softly guided her up and back out of the door
and into the hall. "My phone is in my bag. Let's go over here and sit you
down while I call."

"My
fault," Laura repeated.

"No
it isn't," Jack insisted. “It's not your fault. You weren't even here. It's
some sick fuck's fault and we're going to help the cops catch him. Just sit
here and let me call."

He
wasn't sure exactly what she meant about Ron's murder being her fault. Friends
and survivors had so many odd ways to blame themselves for the death of a
friend, as unreasonable it might have seemed.

‘Survivor's
guilt,’ it was called and many people had it. It was illogical and emotional
—
that
is, Jack thought to himself, if it wasn't actually true.

Jack
gently sat her against the wall and dug his phone out of his bag. He didn't
even have to think about dialing "911." All he had to do was mash the
emergency call button on the keypad and the little electronic brain did the dialing
for him.

The
operator seemed a little bored. "911-what is your emergency?" she
asked in a deep southern drawl.

Jack
was firm and tried to speak as calmly and clearly as he could without letting
the nervousness creep into his voice.

"This
is Jack Curren. I need police and an ambulance at
—
Laura, what's the
address here?" She mumbled out the street and number and he relayed it to
the operator.

"Honey,
just what is going on down there?" The operator didn't seem too impressed.
"Why you think you need all of that in that little old quiet corner?"

"Lady,
I got a hallway full of blood and a dead guy with his throat cut ear to ear and
I just walked into the God forsaken place. So please don't give me any crap
because I’m not up for it. Get police and paramedics down here right fucking
now!"

"Holy
shit!" Now, the 911 operator sounded more interested. Jack had a mental image
of her spilling coffee on herself, as she yanked her feet off the desk. "How
many people hurt? Is there still a suspect at large?

Suspect
at large? How much TV did this lady watch?

"One
man dead and I don't know. How the Hell would I know? Just send me some cops."

As
he hung up the phone, he could still hear the operator sputtering and
stammering through the speaker.

He
pulled Laura to him and held her tight while they waited. The way the blood had
clotted, whoever cut the old man was long gone by now and he wasn't worried about
him, or them, at the moment.

The
sound of sirens pierced the air.

New
Bern was obviously a small town and it was apparent that stuff like this
certainly didn't happen every day.

When
Jack looked out the window on top of the landing and saw a half dozen cop cars
and three ambulances roar up to the front door. Two or three even bumped
fenders when they stopped.

Instantly,
a swarm of armed policemen rushed the front door and piled up the stairs. They
surrounded Jack and Laura, guns drawn, and shouted at them to lay on the floor.
Jack continued to hold Laura and jerked his head in the direction of Ron's
body.

"He's
over there, we just found him. The guy was her friend so give us a break for
Christ's sake."

A
gaggle of younger officers stomped down the hall and, by the braying sounds
that swiftly came back, had found the body. They were as excited as a pack of
hounds on a new scent.

Much
more shouting ensued and much more running back and forth.

Jack
and Laura were forgotten after the EMT came by and gave them a clean bill of
health. The EMT recommended that they just throw away their clothes
—
the
stains would never come out.

After
that, they just sat there and nobody paid them any attention
—
they were all
too busy dusting for finger prints here and laying police tape there.

Jack
doubted they would have this much excitement for a long, long time and they
obviously wanted to make the most of it.

Eventually
someone came to get their statement. Unlike the young and excited cops, this
one looked like he'd been on the beat since the Emancipation Proclamation.

A
couple inches shy of six-feet, and maybe one-hundred and fifty pounds, his
clothes hung loosely upon his slim frame. His weathered walnut-brown face
looked as if he’s seen
everything,
and many things more than once.

If
it wasn’t for his glasses, Jack would have said the man reminded him of an
older version of Colombo. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere than here at
this crime scene.

"Detective
Frank Dewitt. I'm with homicide, or what passes for that department around here
anyway. I also cover drugs and auto theft. So. Mind if I ask you two a few
questions?"

"Sure,"
said Jack.

Laura,
clearly still in shock, just nodded.

Jack
was worried about her. Particularly as she obviously knew what was going on and
she had a good idea about why Ron was dead.

Jack
had no doubt that Laura had vital information toward solving the crime. The
question was, how would he feel when he found out what she knew?