“But, then why? Why would you get involved with her? And Steve…God, when Steve finds out…”
“I know.”
“You’ve got to put a stop to it, Cary.”
He just looked at her, a tortured look in his eyes. “I don’t think I can.”
“Oh, dear Lord.” Summer stared at him, shaking her head, and then she spun, dashing out of the barn.
Cary caught up with her a few strides later. He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Wait, Summer. Please. You’re right. I know you’re right.” His jaw clenched, and he dropped his grip on her arm. “I want you to know…I care about her. This wasn’t…this isn’t something cheap or dirty. I really have feelings for her.”
“And what? How’s that going to end? Are you going to marry her? Or are you her summer fling until she goes off to college next year?”
“Stop it,” Cary ordered, shaking his head. “Don’t make this ugly. It wasn’t like that.”
“But that’s what it will look like to her father. Have you thought about that? Have you thought about him? Cary, for God’s sake…you work for the man. He trusts you. This will break him.”
Cary nodded. “I know. God, I know.” He closed his eyes and resigned himself to what had to be done. “I’ll end it.”
*****
Steve returned from taking Pop to town. He pulled into the drive and parked around back. He reached for the door handle, grabbing the bag off the seat as he slid out of the truck.
Pop got out and met him at the front of the truck as they both headed into the house. Nodding toward the bag in Steve’s hand, he asked, “Do a little shopping in town while I was at the eye doctor?”
Steve looked down at the bag in his hand. “Just a little something I picked up for Summer.” He still had a hard time thinking of her as CJ.
When he didn’t say anything further, Pop let it go and just nodded.
They walked inside. The kitchen was empty, so Steve headed upstairs in search of her. Glancing in her room he saw it was empty. A sound coming from his room drew his attention down the hall, and he followed it. Pausing in the doorway, he saw Summer bent over his bed, smoothing the sheets she’d obviously just changed.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching her finish the simple chore. His eyes slid over the curves of her hips and ass appreciatively, and a smile pulled the corners of his mouth. His grip tightened on the bag in his hand, and the paper crinkled.
At the sound, Summer’s head swiveled around as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Steve,” she said, straightening. “You’re home.”
He nodded. “Um hmm.”
“I was just putting clean sheets on your bed.”
“I see that. Thank you.” He pushed off the doorjamb and strolled toward her. Stopping in front of her, his hand reached up, his fist nudging her chin up as his lips brushed hers.
It wasn’t enough.
He tossed the bag to the bed and took her face in both his hands deepening the kiss. His tongue delving deep as his fingers threaded into the hair behind her ears. He heard her groan, felt the vibration through his mouth and broke off the kiss. Another minute and he’d have her down on the bed, pinned beneath him.
He looked down at her flushed face, watching her pull her breath in raggedly and smiled. “Maybe you could help me mess those sheets up tonight,” he suggested, his glance going beyond her to the bed.
She followed his gaze.
He saw her eyes land on the large bag. “I bought you something.”
She looked up at him. “You did?”
He let her go and reached for the bag. Handing it to her, he acknowledged, “Um hmm.”
Taking it, she peered inside. Frowning at him, she reached inside to pull the items out. There was a set of paintbrushes, a blank stretched canvas, and what looked like a small wooden cigar box.
He watched as she set the canvas and brushes down on the bed and opened the hinged box.
Inside was a set of tubes of oil paints. She ran her hand reverently over the rainbow of colors. “Oh, Steve.”
He shrugged. “I thought you might want to give it a try.” He’d had to search the whole damn town until he’d finally found these buried in the back of an office supply store. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and he swore it was all worth it.
“Thank you.” Her lip trembled.
He wanted to cut it short before she broke down in front of him, so he chucked her under the chin and winked at her. Then he walked out.
Summer ran her hand over the paints again and smiled.
*****
Jessie walked out of school that afternoon and headed across the parking lot to her car. She unlocked the door and climbed inside, tossing her book bag in the backseat. Jamming her keys in the ignition, she glanced through the windshield and froze.
There, fluttering in the wind, trapped under the wiper, was a piece of paper. She threw the door open, set her foot on the pavement and twisting out through the wedge of the door, she snatched the paper up and got back into the car. Slamming the door, she opened the folder piece of paper.
Meet me in the alley behind Margie’s. Now.
Jessie crumpled the note, her fist clenching, and she glanced nervously around the parking lot. She knew immediately who had written the note. He didn’t need to sign it and he knew it. Was he here? Was he watching her? Oh, God! If she didn’t do what he said, what would he do?
With a shaking hand, she slid the gearshift into reverse and pulled out of the lot. Five minutes later, she found herself sitting at a red light at the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. She stared through the windshield at Margie’s half a block down on the left, debating, biting her lip. Then her arm lifted, and she flipped on her left turn signal.
The light turned green, and when traffic cleared she turned left and then immediately right, turning into the alley. Her eyes took in the alley. It was empty, except for the squad car parked half a block down. She crawled to a stop about a car length behind it.
Deputy Wilcox was leaning against the side, his arms folded. His head was turned her direction. His eyes were covered with mirrored aviator sunglasses, and even though she couldn’t see them, she knew his eyes were intent on her.
She slid the gearshift into park as he straightened and headed toward her. Studying him as he walked, she noticed he was hatless, his blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. As he got closer, she saw a smile pull on the corners of his mouth. He stopped next to her door, reaching for the handle and pulling it open. Leaning one arm on the roof of her car and one arm on the top of her doorframe, he leaned down toward her.
“I’m glad you follow directions so well, Jessie. I would have hated to have had to chase you down the highway and pull you over,” he said with a grin. And there it was. She had her answer to what he would have done if she hadn’t shown up.
Swallowing, she asked, “What do you want?”
He straightened, and she saw him reach up into his breast pocket. He pulled out a stack of photos and squatted down between the door and car. Holding the pictures out to her, he said, “I wanted to show you these. Let you see how pretty you are.”
Jessie looked down at the stack like he was holding out a snake to her, her eyes wide. She didn’t want to take them.
“Look at them,” he ordered, his voice deepening, and his smile disappearing. Reaching out a shaking hand, she complied. She flipped through the stack quickly, bile rising in her throat. He reached out his hand, grabbing her wrist, and stopped her on one particularly vile photo. “That one’s my favorite.”
She shoved them back at him.
He took them and smiled at her. “I see we aren’t all coinsurers of this art form.”
“I’ve seen them. Can I go now?”
Standing, he reached forward unbuckling her seatbelt, his face coming just inches from hers. She gasped, shrinking back, not wanting him to touch her. When the belt was out of the way, he hooked his arm across her knees and swept her legs out the door, until her feet were on the pavement, and her body was turned toward him. She had a little summer dress on, and her skirt rode several inches above her knees. She gasped again. Squatting in front of her, he ran one hand up over her knee, until the tips of his fingers were just skating under the hem. Jessie grabbed at his wrist, trying to stop him. She knew she really had no hope of it. He could easily overpower her. “Jessie.” His soft-spoken word had her eyes darting up to meet his. “Let go.”
“Please. Don’t do this.”
He smiled. It was an evil smile. “Four o’clock tomorrow. Room 108.”
She shook her head. “No. I won’t. You took your pictures. I did what you said. Now leave me alone.”
He nodded. “You did do what I said. You were a very good girl. Now you’re going to be an even better girl, and you’re going to keep doing what I say.”
She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “No. I’m done.”
“Jessie, Jessie.” He shook his head. “You’re done when I say you’re done. You’re going to meet me. Because if you don’t, those pictures will end up on the Internet, or maybe I’ll mail them to some of the boys in your high school.” He grinned. “I bet they’d appreciate them.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why are you doing this? Please, don’t do this.”
He reached up a hand, gripping her chin. She tried to pull away, but he yanked her head around. “Buck up, princess. A few more times, and maybe I’ll let you go.”
She watched as he stood and walked back to his squad car, got in and pulled out. Shaking, she shut her door and put her head down on the steering wheel, breaking down into sobs.
Chapter Twenty
Steve was in the living room, watching the evening news. Summer was sitting on the couch, looking through a recipe book. The weather report came on, and Steve sat forward on the edge of the easy chair, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them.
“Steve, what do you think about pot roast for dinner tomorrow?” Summer asked, still thumbing through the pages, not looking up at him.
“Quiet!” he snapped.
She looked up, startled and then followed his eyes to what was on the screen. A weatherman was standing in front of a radar display.
“We’re seeing a large series of storms forming to the west and moving in sometime in the next couple of days. This is a large front, with possible hail and severe winds. Computer models are showing this tracking east, southeast and crossing the state line late Thursday, early Friday. Of course, folks, that’s two days out and things could change. We’ll be keeping a close eye on this. Jim, back to you…”
Steve jumped up and headed to the kitchen. Summer followed him, standing in the doorframe between the kitchen and dining room, the forgotten cookbook clasped to her chest. He picked up the receiver off the wall phone and punched in a number.
“Did you see it?” he asked without preamble when the person on the other end picked up. He turned, pacing. “I know. Tomorrow, first light…and see if you can get the Collins kid.” He ran his free hand through his hair and his eyes met Summer’s. “Okay, thanks.”
He hung up the receiver and brushed past her. She turned and watched him walk over to Pop’s downstairs bedroom. He knocked on the door and opened it a crack. She heard him say something to Pop in a low voice and then close the door. He headed back past her and into the mudroom. He was putting his jacket on when she stopped him.
“Steve, where are you going?”
He turned around. “Storm’s coming. We start bringing in the crop tomorrow at dawn. We’ll probably be at it around the clock for the next couple of days. We’ll only have time for sandwiches, if at all, so don’t make any big meals. We won’t have time to come in to eat them.”
“But, you have to rest sometime, and-”
He cut her off. “Summer, look…just do what I say, okay?” He stopped when he saw the look on her face. He walked over to her and put his hands on her upper arms and squeezed gently. “I don’t mean to be sharp with you, babe. I’m just going to need you to do what I tell you. It’s going to be a stressful couple of days, so I’ll apologize ahead of time if I snap at you.” One corner of his mouth pulled up in a hint of a smile. “You with me?”
She nodded and returned his smile. “I’m with you.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “I have to go check the equipment.”
“Okay.”
He turned, jammed his hat on his head, and walked out the door.
Sure to his word, work began at the first streaks of light. Summer made them sausage and biscuit sandwiches to take into the field with them. And she had prepared a couple of thermoses of coffee for them. They were gone all day, never stopping for lunch. When Jessie finally got home from school, it was dinner time and Summer sent her out to the field with sandwiches for them.
All that day and into the next, the men worked.
And the temperature dropped steadily.
Steve had scheduled several trucks to pick up the harvested crop. As soon as one truck was loaded and pulling out the drive, another was pulling in. They would have to store whatever they couldn’t get trucked out, in the shed until the storm passed.
As the second day progressed, the weather was deteriorating rapidly. The skies were darkening and chilly winds were really starting to pick up.
Cary waved the last truck out. The driver had told him that the trucking company had called them off the job because the weather was getting too bad. He glanced to the west acreage. Steve was still out there. He could see the headlights of the harvester dimly glowing in the falling darkness as it slowly made its way across the field.
The banging of the screen door brought his head around, and he saw Summer running across the yard toward him, her body buffeted by the strong gusts, her hair flying around her head.
“Cary!” He knew she’d practically yelled the word, but the wind took most of the sound.
He grabbed her by the arms. “What’s wrong?” he yelled back.
“There’s a tornado crossing the county line. The weather report says it’s headed this way.”
Cary pulled the two-way radio from his belt and put it to his mouth. Pressing the talk button, he yelled into the mouthpiece, “Steve! Can you hear me? There’s a funnel headed this way.” He released the button and waited for a response. There was just the crackling of static. He tried again. “Steve, you need to get to the cellar. There’s a tornado coming!” Again, no response. He looked toward the fields, hoping to see the harvester turning for home. It was still plodding along in the opposite direction, a plume of dust rising behind it, almost obliterating the glow of the headlights. “Damn it!” Cary lifted the radio to try again.