Serial Love: Saints Protection & Investigation (28 page)

J
ack had been
gone for three days and Bethany missed him more each day. They talked on the phone, but it just was not the same. He was due in today, but said he needed to meet with his group first. Leaning with one elbow on the counter, her head in her hand, she watched as the weekend guests arrived.

Roscoe moved across her line of vision heading back from working on one of the cabins. He walked around to the back, assumingly to the shed.
I’ll have to check to make sure he locks up after he’s through. Years of no lock on the door left him in the habit of leaving it open.

“Mr. Malinski,” she greeted Horace as he came in. “I was surprised to see you reserve a cabin this weekend. You usually wait longer between visits.”

“Needed to…um…work,” he said with his typical nervous demeanor.

“I don’t have your usual cabin available since you booked so late, but I do have another one.”

His expression contorted and, for the first time, she saw emotion on his face. And it was not pleasant. “I’m sure it will be fine, Mr. Malinski. It looks exactly like the other one you’re usually in.”

He finished the registration process wordlessly and she found herself breathing a sigh of relief when he left the lodge.
What a weirdo,
she could not help but think.

She continued to check her guests in while taking phone calls from the wedding planner who was booking a full cabin rental for a weekend one month from now. It seemed that a popular wedding venue had overbooked and a desperate bride was looking for anyone who could handle her needs. It was certainly more than she had hoped for, but was ready for the challenge. The wedding planner assured her that she would send a contract over—the only thing Bethany needed to do was supply the cabins and the nearby vineyard would handle the wedding and reception.

“This is a great way to dip your toes in the business,” the planner enthused.

Bethany could not agree more, mentally calculating the profits from a full weekend, all cabin’s rental agreement in a month when she normally had few visitors. Grinning to herself, she could not wait to tell Jack.

Looking up, she was pulled from her musings as another group of fishermen came in to register.

*

Jack started the
meeting quickly, much to the grins of the men around. Each knew he wanted to get over to the woman that now was claiming his heart.

“We did a cross check of the fishermen who used one of the competing gas services, or both, and then went to exclusively using the Polaski’s service after Charlene showed up. Interestingly, the most satisfied customers of the Polaski’s competition stayed with them and, upon interviewing some that were still around, it was found that some of the men hated the way old man Polaski was exploiting his daughter. Bart hung around a bar that was close to the docks and found some old salts who were willing to talk with a few beers under their belts.”

“Good to know those years of boozing at your frat parties did you some good, bro,” Luke joked. The others joined in as Bart shook his head in mock embarrassment.

“Seems most of the men who used to fish had to eventually sell to corporate fishing companies. Their sons moved on, went to college, or just weren’t interested. A few passed down their boats and businesses, but they all remembered the days of Charlene Polaski’s murder. Most said they agreed at the time with the Sheriff’s idea that she went off with some drifter and got killed. But a few…” he glanced down at his report, “said that they always felt it was someone there.”

Bart continued, “I got two men to talk to me privately for a few bucks, and they told me that, while most of the fishermen would flirt with Charlene and may even ask her out, there were only a couple that seemed to be really interested. One was Zeke Barnham and the other was Jeff Jefferson.”

The double name elicited chuckles from around the table.

“Really? Jeff Jefferson?” Blaise asked.

Smiling, Bart nodded. “So, I went to talk to Zeke and he admitted he tried to get in her pants, as he said, but she never gave in. He even admitted to offering to pay her for sex or even a blow job, but she refused. Said it didn’t bother him too much because she was a good girl and, that back then he was young and cocky. Said he’d just given it a shot but wasn’t upset when she didn’t go for it.”

“Fuck, there’s that ‘good girl’ phrase again,” Monty growled.

Continuing, Bart said, “But then he noticed Jeff Jefferson seemed to be gettin’ some, as he called it. Said he went around to Jeff’s house one day and his wife was in a foul mood and told him to go look in the shed. So he walked around back and sure enough he heard noises. A glance through the dirty window showed a rutting Jeff on top of what looked to be Charlene. He didn’t go any further—but was disgusted and left. Said he was disgusted ’cause Jeff was married and because his wife seemed to know what was going on.”

“What the hell was happening in that town when this girl turned up dead? No one said anything?” Chad bit out.

“I asked him that very question. He looked me in the eye and said it wasn’t any of his business,” Bart said.

Luke, adding all of the information into his computer databases, continued to peck away as the others broke out in discussion.

Jack took over the reporting. “I went to visit Jeff Jefferson, but he’s dead. Appears that he died of natural causes about ten years ago.”

“So he isn’t our killer,” Monty noted under his breath.

“I talked to his widow,” Jack said, “and this is where it gets interesting. Seems that she’s just as unpleasant now as reported thirty years ago. She grumbled about the corporations taking over the fishing. About how her husband never could hang on to his money. You name it, she griped. I asked her about Charlene and her demeanor changed immediately. If I thought she was nasty before…she turned even nastier. Called her a whore. Said everyone thought she was nice but she knew she was a scheming whore. And a few other choice words.”

“Did she admit that she knew her husband was having an affair?” Jack asked.

“No, not directly. But then she said, ‘Everyone gets what’s coming to them and she certainly did.’ I asked her if she knew anything about the murder and she wouldn’t respond.”

“So another dead end?”

Jack grinned. “While she was puttering around in the kitchen when I first got there, I saw a family picture on the mantle. It was her, a man I assumed to be Jeff…and a boy. A teenage boy.”

Monty picked up on this quickly, turning to his computer to get into the FBI files. “We need to find Jeff Jefferson’s son.”

“I asked her about him,” Jack replied, “but she grimaced and said he was dead.”

“Fuck!” Monty cursed, about to slam his tablet down.

“Hold on,” Luke cut in. “Jack had me look. His name was Stan Jefferson, but there’s no death certificate on record for him. He disappeared after his high school graduation and dropped out of sight.”

Bart shook his head, “No one disappears. He’s gotta be somewhere.”

“If the dad was banging Charlene in the shed on their property and the wife knew, then perhaps the son saw it as well.”

Monty, thinking out loud, said, “Teen boy sees his dad screwing a girl he knew. He’s excited. Maybe gets his rocks off or at least fantasizes. He hears his mom complaining about his dad’s whores, so he equates this girl with whores. If dad’s a fisherman, he’d have grown up around the knives used in the trade.”

Jack nodded, “Gotta tell you, I wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Jefferson to actually tell her son to get rid of the girl. Or, if she knew her son had killed Charlene, she certainly wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“That would put the kid at about forty to forty-five years old now, which would be the right age for the photograph from the bar with Karen Solter.”

“So why now?” Chad asked. “And why the college girls?”

“There’s no death record of Stan Jefferson and the people I asked about him all said they remembered he left town because he didn’t want to have anything to do with his father’s business. What if he went to college? False name, everything. And maybe killed there for the first time.”

“Tries to get into some girl’s pants, she shoots him down, pokes him with her finger and he goes off again. He’s killed once, why not again?”

“We gotta find Stan Jefferson,” Jack stated. “Bart and Chad acquired his dental records while we were there.” This statement elicited several grins from the other men. “Luke, see what you can come up with. Monty, get the Bureau on this and see what they can find. Gentlemen? I have a feeling we may be getting close.”

With renewed enthusiasm, the men got to work.

*

Why is she
sleeping around? She was such a good girl. Just like all the others. Tramps. Whores. Stealing men with their wicked ways.
He watched carefully as the light went out after the man entered the room. The urges were coming more often.

He grimaced, palming his cock. His head was pounding, the headaches coming more frequently. Stepping back into the shadows, he unzipped his pants and worked his cock until he came against the building. Looking around to make sure no one had witnessed, he tucked himself back in. Glancing down at his watch, he knew if he did not get back soon, he would be missed.

Slipping deeper into the shadows, he turned and hurried away.

*

The morning sun
peeked through the curtains covering the windows in Bethany’s bedroom, sending shards of light shining down on the couple in bed. Jack gazed at the woman in his arms as she stirred awake, her eyelids fluttering open. He leaned over capturing her lips in a kiss, the memory of the previous night’s lovemaking on his mind.

“Morning,” she mumbled against his lips just before he plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth. She expected a chaste morning kiss, but the white-hot, all-in Jack morning kiss sent a zing straight to her core. Meeting his tongue thrust for thrust, she could tell her panties were already wet.
Wait, I’m not wearing panties!
Rubbing her thighs together, she could feel the moisture pooling between her legs.

That was the last conscious thought she had before he took over, sending her senses into hyperspace.

His fingers found their way through her slick folds, deep into her pussy, tweaking the places that he learned made her writhe, moan, and ultimately come on his command. And he was in total command.

“Dump your shirt, beautiful,” he ordered softly and she gladly jerked her t-shirt over her head tossing it to the side. Her breasts bounced with the motion and he grasped one distended nipple in his mouth as his fingers continued to work their magic. It did not take long before she was hurling toward her orgasm. Pressing on her clit with his thumb, she screamed her release and he felt her pussy walls grab his fingers as he nipped her breasts.

Sliding down her body, kissing as he went, he slipped between her legs lifting each one over his shoulders. She leaned up, saw his eyes twinkling at hers before he clasped his mouth over her dripping folds, lapping loudly.

“Oh, my God. Are you trying to kill me? Death by orgasm?” she breathed.

He lifted his head just long enough to growl, “In the mood to eat you then fuck you, baby. Is that okay with you?”