Picture Me Dead (6 page)

“Right, let's get back there,” Karen said. “And you, Ashley, start talking to Mario. Talk shop if you have to.”

“I'm in the police academy, not fire rescue.”

“It's almost the same,” Karen insisted.

Ashley discovered that she was actually able to have a nice conversation with Mario, who was somewhat shy and reserved. He was married and was just out with his single friends for the weekend because his wife was in Connecticut for two weeks visiting her folks. He was relieved to tell her about being a newlywed, since his friends had been afraid he was going to ruin a fun night for them.

Ashley told him about the accident they had witnessed, and he told her stories about calls they'd taken on I-95, some tragic, some simply bizarre. When the others rejoined them at the table after dancing, she found herself repeating the story, knowing Len might be interested, since it had occurred in their neck of the woods.

“Ashley, you're going to see things like that more and more often,” Len said. “Bad things happen on the highways.”

“Hey,” Karen said. “We all decided we were not going to focus on that awful scene.” She stared at Ashley, who hadn't even realized she had a pen out, or that she was sketching the highway scene on a cocktail napkin.

“Ashley is an artist,” Karen announced. She kept her eyes glued sternly on Ashley and flipped the napkin over.

“An excellent artist,” Jan said. “Draw a face, Ashley. Draw Kyle.”

Ashley obediently began a sketch of the firefighter. The others rose and stood behind her, staring over her shoulder as she drew.

“Wow!” Kyle said, looking at her with new respect. “That's great. Sign it. I want to keep it.”

“Will you do one for me, too, please?” Mario asked.

“How about Karen and Jan?” Len asked when she was finished, handing her a stack of napkins.

“I've drawn them dozens of times.”

“But maybe Kyle and I would like to keep them,” Len said.

Karen covertly jabbed her. “Of course,” Ashley said.

She finished the pictures and passed them out. Kyle shook his head. “So…Len says you're going to be a cop, right? I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a cop but…these are great.”

“And she has a photographic memory. Draw someone from today—show them,” Jan insisted.

Karen placed a hand over Ashley's. “
Not
the highway,” she said.

Ashley shrugged. “All right.”

“You go ahead, I'll get the check,” Len said.

“Hey, Len, that's not necessary.”

“You've fed me plenty of times, Ash, at Nick's place.”

“That means my uncle fed you,” she protested.

“Don't argue with an officer of the law,” he teased and walked to the bar. Ashley watched him go, shook her head and set her pen to the paper. She hesitated, then started another face. She was startled herself when she saw what she was doing. Strong, craggy features, dark hair, dark eyes, square jawline, high, broad cheekbones, and the mouth…drawn into something of a tight line, but a good mouth…

“Wow. Cool. Who is it?” Karen asked, picking up the napkin.

“The guy I spilled the coffee on this morning.”

“Good-looking son of a gun,” Karen murmured.

“See, photographic memory,” Jan said, pleased.

“Not really. But I like to draw faces. I always have,” Ashley said to the two firefighters. Kyle whistled softly. She stared down at her own drawing, oddly stirred by it.
Good-looking son of a gun.
Yeah, he had been. Walking aggression and testosterone, but…hmm. There was something about him. A beckoning power or strength or sensuality. Maybe all of them. She hated the saying, but
animal attraction
might just be the right phrase to describe him.

He did have something that…

Something that, for her, Len just didn't.

Don't you ever just want to have sex?

She looked back at her drawing. His type probably had lots of sex. He wasn't the kind of man with whom she would ever want to become involved. Not that she wanted to be involved.

With luck, she wouldn't even run into him again. Literally or otherwise. Even though he did seem to know Nick, and she had actually seen him around the place before. Lots of customers came and went, some of them frequently, some of them not so frequently.

“You're good. You shouldn't waste this kind of talent,” Kyle said, interrupting her introspection.

She exhaled, glad to return to the present. “Thanks,” she said, then crumpled up the napkin.

“You destroyed it!” Mario protested.

“She didn't like him very much,” Jan said, grinning.

Len returned from paying the check. They talked as they exited the dance hall, Len expressing his regret that they were heading back the next afternoon, since Mario and Kyle went back on duty the next day.

They parted outside to head for their respective hotels, but not before Kyle and Jan exchanged numbers. As they walked back, Karen suddenly linked arms with Ashley and let out a soft whistle. “Wasn't it a great evening?”

“Yes, I had a good time, and I really hope you and Len do keep seeing each other.”

“Yes, a guy like Len shouldn't go to waste,” Jan said. “And, Ashley, your guy was mature…a little scary. But…appealing.”

Ashley stared at her, frowning as she arched a brow. “Definitely a nice guy. And married,” she informed her.

Karen laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “I don't think Jan means the firefighter. She means the guy in the sketch.”

“He isn't my guy!” Ashley insisted, startled.

“Oh, yeah? You should have taken a good look at that picture you drew. You saw something in that guy,” Karen told her.

“I don't even know him. And with any luck, I won't.”

“There's nothing like a mystery man,” Jan teased.

“Oh, yeah, right, nothing like one.”

As soon as they reached the suite, they headed for bed. But Ashley couldn't sleep. When both Karen and Jan were deeply out, she was still wide awake. So she closed the door over to the bedroom, went out to the living area to make a cup of tea, and picked up her sketch pad from the coffee table.

 

When the three men reached the room they'd rented for the night, Len suddenly drew back as Kyle fumbled with the plastic card that had replaced the use of keys at most hotels.

“Hey, you know what? I'm suddenly dying for a burger.”

“You want us to come with you?” Mario asked. “I guess I could eat a burger.”

“Hell, no, you don't really want a burger, and I don't need help to take a ride to Denny's,” Len said cheerfully.

“You sure?” Mario asked. He yawned. “Hell, I'm beat.”

“Get to sleep. I won't be long, and I'll try not to make a racket when I get back.”

“Last man in gets the cot,” Kyle reminded him.

“Yeah, well, one of us had to get it, right?”

He grinned, turned and headed back for the car.

He didn't drive to Denny's. He turned his car toward the girls' hotel and parked.

Karen had given him their room number, and mentioned that they'd wound up on the first floor, so the sliding glass doors at the back opened up to a little courtyard and garden area.

He headed for the courtyard and figured out which room it would be.

The lights were on. One person was moving inside. He knew it was Ashley.

The drapes were thin, the light behind them bright. He could see her every movement. She walked around, paused by the window, drew the curtain back and looked out.

He flattened himself against a gardenia tree.

She was holding a cup of something, just gazing out. She was wearing a long T-shirt that clung to her. In the artificial light, her hair blazed. The wavy ends seemed to curl protectively around her breasts. The knit shirt hugged the length of her. She never could have imagined just how provocative she looked.

His fingers wound into his palms, and tension streaked through the length of him.
You don't know just how well I know you, Ashley,
he thought.
I knew you'd be the one who was awake, I knew I could come here and see you. And one day, Ashley, you'll find out just what you've made me feel all this time.

One day.

The sliders were open, only the screen in place, letting in the breeze.

That one day…

Could be tonight.

No. Not tonight. Tonight, he would just watch.

But soon. Soon she would know. He'd make her know.

 

The night was beautiful. Just beautiful. But not even the stars in the sky or the soft glow of moonlight on the exquisite little garden could draw her attention.

She stepped back into the room and went over to the desk. She'd already taken her sketch pad out.

She started to draw. First, the body…the body on the highway.

A man, young, muscle structure taut beneath…the spatters of blood. His hair covering his face, a soft ash blond.

Around him…the officer who had arrived on the scene. The police car. The two drivers. Their cars. The traffic slowing, veering…nearly hitting the median.

The median. The opposing traffic…

The figure across the expanse of lanes.

She sketched, shading in until, even in black and white and shades of gray, the scene was eerily real. And everything detailed except…the figure. The vague figure across the many lanes. For the life of her, she couldn't remember any details…

It was all as she had remembered it, how the camera in her mind's eye had frozen the image.

Everything so specific—except for the dark figure who seemed to be watching…looking…

For what?

Assurance that the man—the poor, pathetic man, near-naked and bloodied—was, indeed, dead?

A chill suddenly swept over her.

A breeze…

More than a breeze. Something that made her slightly…uneasy.

She turned quickly, then felt foolish. Even so, she walked over to the doors, then closed and locked them. She looked at the thin drapes, frowning, thinking that the sun would come rushing in the next morning.

The next morning. It
was
morning, and that sun would be coming soon.

Pulling the light draperies back, she saw the set of lightproof draperies, pulled them, then checked the lock once again and went to lie down on the couch.

She closed her eyes, but the image of the body on the highway still haunted her.

Swearing, she pounded her pillow. Counting sheep had always seemed like such a ridiculous thing to do….

And yet she was desperate.

She counted horses instead.

 

Strange dream. There was fog and sunlight. She was walking toward him in the dream. Sometimes they were on a beach, and sometimes she was moving toward him in the cabin of the
Gwendolyn.
Hair spilling down her back, flesh…yeah, naked flesh, all of it being touched by the sun and by the shadow.

Nancy…

He'd dreamed often that she'd been there, with him, trying to tell him something. Except that it hadn't been like this. Before, they'd just been talking. Discussing the case. The frustrations, the dead ends. But she'd known something. Reckless, restless, unhappy in her married life, she was determined to throw her heart into her work.

They were good partners.

Not good enough. There had been something more, something she had suspected, something she had thought of doing to break the wall they were up against.

Then he dreamed of her face as it had looked, on the autopsy table, after they had found her. And that would always strike such a chord of horror in his heart and mind that he awakened.

Not tonight, though. Tonight that image didn't appear.

He couldn't see her clearly. Her hair wasn't dark; it was red in the light.

It wasn't Nancy. Just someone like her. Who moved something like her…

It was Nick's girl. Walking with a slow, confident, easy rhythm. She reached him. The dream progressed. Memory faded, the now took hold. She was different, very much alive, real, vibrant. She was…reaching him. Touching him. She was…

He awoke abruptly, in a cold sweat. The alarm was ringing.