Blood Red

Chapter 7

The Cliff Walk carried the scent of the ocean and scrubbed away the filth of the city beyond its edges. The breeze was invigorating, and Alan Tripp normally loved to spend his time walking along the edge and feeling the air rush past. It was enough on most occasions to make his problems dwindle away into nothingness.

Some problems are bigger than others.

Avery Tripp was still missing, and it was killing Alan. He thought for certain that he would go absolutely insane if he didn’t know what had happened to his son, one way or the other.

The stranger who walked past him nodded amiably as he watched the waves crashing against the black stones of the cliff. He nodded back out of reflex, and felt a twinge of disappointment when the man stopped not far away to look out at the ocean. He wanted to be left alone.

“You’ve lost your son, haven’t you?” The man’s voice was deep and calm, with a faint accent.

Alan nodded his head.

“Don’t worry. He’ll come back to you.” The man smiled briefly, and Alan looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. “I have a good feeling about your boy.”

Another well-wisher: Alan knew the man meant well, but he was not thrilled with the idea of any more false hopes. “Thank you.”

“I’m very serious, Mister Tripp. Your son will come home soon. I can feel it.”

Alan closed his eyes and ground his teeth. If the man didn’t leave him alone, he was going to have to get angry.

When he opened his eyes again, the man was gone. He looked around and saw no sign of him. There was not a place for a hundred yards where the man could have gone except over the side of the cliff.

He stood up and double-checked. No. There was no body down there.

“Perfect,” he sighed. “Now I’m fucking hallucinating.”

He left the Cliff Walk and slowly headed for home. Something about the man he’d met stuck with him, his earnestness, perhaps. Or maybe he was just tired of looking for his boy and not finding him.

Whatever the case, long before he reached home he was running, his legs pumping and his feet slapping the ground roughly; his heart wanted to explode and his lungs burned, his side felt fiery twitches, and his brow was covered in sweat. Alan wanted to push the thought aside, but he was certain that the man had been right: Avery would be coming home, maybe even waiting for him when he got there.

And then the dread set in, crushing the wings his legs had grown and extinguishing his hope. What sort of pathetic lunacy had captured him? A perfect stranger was telling him that his boy would be coming home soon and in his mind he’d already painted a thousand different fantasies in which Avery was there, waiting just ahead of him and around the corner of the neighbor’s house.

Alan stopped himself; his hands on his knees and his head lowered; he gasped and gulped for sweet oxygen until he felt less lightheaded and more like a rational adult again. Sore and tired, his legs still protesting his sudden jaunt into energetic adolescence, Alan Tripp rounded the final corner to his house.

He found his son waiting for him at the front door and suddenly believed in miracles.

Avery Tripp was all over the news broadcasts that night. Every local channel in the area tried for an exclusive interview and instead got the same fifteen-second sound bite of the boy mumbling that he was glad he was home. It wasn’t the best they could have hoped for, but it was newsworthy. Naturally, every station felt obliged to rip open old wounds and remind the world at large that Black Stone Bay had been lucky this time. Three of the four local stations made a point of retelling the story of Carla Whittaker in graphic detail; two of them ran specials called “Remembering Carla.” Both thought they were being original. The fourth failed to give blow-by-blow descriptions of the body parts and when they were found, instead merely making mention of the tragedy.

Kelli was happy that Avery was back, but could find little to be excited about otherwise. First they said that Teddy was dead and now they said they couldn’t find the body. The hospital was in a complete panic, and the Listers were in an unholy outrage. Currently the Tripps were explaining in vivid detail how completely and utterly the hospital staff had fucked up when they lost the son of two lawyers.

Until the situation was resolved, they’d asked her to stay on, just in case Teddy should be found alive.

She hadn’t planned on leaving before then, anyway. He was a part of her life and had been for over two years.

She tried studying and gave up in disgust within twenty minutes. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything other than Teddy’s disappearance, and she refused to accept that he was dead until she saw a body.

Avery had come back, hadn’t he?

Teddy could come back, too.

She had to hope. Kelli looked out the front window of the house and stared at her neighbor’s place. A car had just pulled up and moved up the driveway all the way to the distant front door. She couldn’t see who it was that got out, aside from the fact that it was female and shapely.

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.

“Excuse me, mister?”

Marconelli didn’t actually let out a shriek. It was more of a squeak.

He turned to see who was behind him and almost wet himself when he saw the kid. Not the one from this house, but the one who was supposed to be dead.

“Holy shit, kid! What are you doing, trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I’m lost. Will you help me?”

“Yeah, of course I will.” He tried to smile in a friendly manner. “You bet I will. What’s your name?” He knew, of course, but he needed to confirm.

“Teddy Lister.”

“Well, Teddy, why don’t we get you home. I’ll drive you.”

The Lister kid backed up a bit, looking nervous. “I don’t need to go home. That isn’t what I lost.”

“Yeah? What did you lose?” He was afraid of going home. Suddenly Marconelli was glad he hadn’t managed to slip the panties into the Tripp house. The Lister kid’s family was already sounding like a juicier target. If the kid didn’t want to go home, there had to be a good reason.

Teddy Lister smiled for his new friend, his eyes blazing in the darkness. “I lost my soul. Can I have yours?”

Marconelli never even had a chance to scream before the kid was all over him. Small, powerful hands grabbed his mouth and clamped it shut with enough pressure to burst the reporter’s lips. When he tried to pull back, the boy added more pressure until he felt his cheekbone crack and fracture from the force.

He punched the kid in his sweetly smiling face and almost broke his own hand. The kid didn’t even blink. He just squeezed even harder, until his fingers suddenly pressed together in the shattered ruin of the reporter’s lower jaw and sinus passages.

Marconelli was lucky. He wasn’t awake for the rest of what was done to him.

Ben waited until the sun rose before he went to sleep. Maggie didn’t make it home.

He tried not to think about that too much as he slipped into his own bed. He had no claim on her. There was nothing that had happened between them that gave him the remotest right to be upset when she didn’t come home.

But he was upset, just the same.

He’d left the lights on to savor every moment. He told her as much as he disrobed her. At first it was just the same as always, there was no connection, no difference between Jason and a hundred others she’d been with before. That suited her just fine. She didn’t want to experience anything different.

That changed when he went down on her, starting at the back of her neck and working his way slowly down her spine to her buttocks and then her sex. He did things with his tongue that left her shuddering, every muscle in her body drawn taught and her skin almost feverish with arousal.

She lost track of all time after a while and gave herself over to the sensations. It wasn’t love or even a parody of love; it was pure carnal knowledge and she reveled in it.

She was normally in control of what happened, but he never gave her a chance to take command. He assaulted her again and again with sensations that seemed to almost go beyond physical. It wasn’t like with the priests. That was different from this. That was natural. Whatever it was that Jason did, it seemed to defy reason and mock what she knew of the realms of possibility.

Eventually, he tired of foreplay and the actual sexual encounters began. Jason screamed several times and Maggie joined him. She didn’t drift into sated sleep; she was knocked into unconsciousness by the experience.

When she woke in the morning, Jason was making coffee. She knew she should have been tender at the very least, but she felt wonderful. It was nice to relax for a while before he came into the room and served her breakfast in bed.

She drank the coffee eagerly, almost scalding her tongue but not minding in the least. Her mouth tasted funny; a taste that she thought she knew but couldn’t place.