The Lake

THIRTY-TWO

Leigh looked at the lights sweeping down to the Bay, twinkling like stars in the darkness.

She smiled and said softly, “What a wonderful view. Know something, Mace? I’m one lucky gal.”

Mace grinned. “Sure you are, Leigh. The luckiest. Fabulous house. Great restaurant. Looks. Style. Smart kid—and me.”

Facing her in the tub, he traced swirls through the bubbles on her left breast. Fascinated, he watched her nipple emerge as he teased the foam with his forefinger.

His other hand caressed her thigh.

She lifted her head and took a deep breath. The warm night air was balmy on her wet skin.

She met his eyes and smiled.

Bathing together in the hot tub had been an idea she’d played around with all day.

Well, at least from lunchtime.

After identifying Nelson this morning, hot tubs, not to mention fun and games with Mace, had been a million miles from her mind.

Later, she’d reneged on that.

Why not chill out in the redwood tub?

With Mace…

Could help to clear my mind of Nelson.

The remains of Nelson, she corrected herself.

On the way over to the morgue, Mace told her to think objectively. “It’s a corpse we got here,” he’d said. “Not a human being. All you gotta do is identify some itty-bitty thing—a signet ring, clothing, anything on the body you recognize as belonging to Nelson.”

One look at the gray, sodden, eaten face with holes for eyes, the chewed, ragged hands, and she’d gagged, found herself folding to her knees. Mace caught her and held her tight. She leaned into him gratefully.

As she fought back vomit burning her throat, her gaze returned to the sheet-covered body. The chewed stringy arms lay outside the sheet.

She saw a gold ring—Nelson always wore one on the forefinger of his right hand.

Except now it clung perilously to a flimsy gray stump that used to be the forefinger of the corpse’s right hand. Dumbly, she nodded. As far as she could see, this was Nelson, all right.

Mace took her home and poured out a brandy. He stood by while she drank it down.

Surprisingly, Leigh wasn’t feeling as wrecked as she’d expected. At least seeing Nelson’s remains meant she and Deana could put him, and his sick little games, behind them now. Reluctant to leave her alone, Mace asked, “Sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. No worries,” she answered with a brave smile. Seeing his concern, she added, “Really, Mace. I’ll be okay.”

“You make sure you rest, now. I’ll drop by later. Check you out.”

As good as his word, Mace arrived after dinner—complete with Dom Perignon champagne.

Deana pouted when she saw him, and stomped off to her room.

Shit.

Screw Mace.

It would have been nice to spend just one evening alone with Mom!

She switched on her TV, channel-hopped for a while, then decided on a rerun of Friday the 13th.

She’d seen it before.

But tonight, especially tonight, Friday the 13th suited her mood precisely.