Silver Falls (5 page)

“David,” she said in a calming voice.

“Don't talk! Don't say anything!” He couldn't seem to manage her clothes, so she lifted her hips
and pulled the boxers off herself, tossing them on the floor, and then leaned back, spreading her legs for him.

He was on her like a crazy person, yanking his trousers down, slamming his hips up against hers, and she lifted, waiting for him.

He was barely erect. Again. She reached down, to try to help him, but he shoved her hand away, grinding at her in desperation, his flaccid penis rubbing up against her.

She could have used her mouth to help him, but he didn't like that. When they made love he liked to be the one in charge, the giver of pleasure. That had all disappeared in his current panic. He kept pounding at her, trying to shove his way in, but it was useless. With a hoarse cry he rolled off her, lying on his back, beside her, panting.

She turned to him. “David,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, not sure what to say, not sure what had happened. “It'll get better.”

He shuddered, scrambling away from her. “Don't touch me,” he said in a choked whisper. “Don't touch me, don't talk, don't say anything.” He stumbled toward the door, his trousers down around his hips, and a moment later he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Rachel alone in the dark.

She got off the bed, found her discarded boxers
and pulled them back on, then grabbed the silk kimono she'd bought in Kyoto a decade ago and went after him. His bedroom door was locked, but she could hear him beyond the thick panel, hear the choking noise that sounded like muffled sobs, and it broke her heart.

Or it should have. “David,” she said through the wood. “Let me in.”

“Go away.”

“We need to talk, sweetie. Don't be upset. You were in too much of a hurry. We can try again.”

“Go away! Go away, go away, go away!” His voice rose to a shrill shriek. He'd moved, coming up to the door and pounding on it so hard it shook in the frame. “Get away from me!”

She backed away. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the walnut-encased clock strike three, and the rain beat a steady counterpoint to the throbbing of her heart. This was the third time he'd come to her, unable to perform, but he'd never been so frantic before.

She headed back to her bedroom, rubbing at her wrist. She'd have bruises in the morning, she thought absently. And she suddenly felt dirty. She closed her door behind her, then, at the last minute she locked it, before heading into the bathroom. She turned on the hot water, then began to pull off her clothes.

There were too many mirrors in the bathroom—she always hated the unexpected views she'd get of her less than perfect body, and she tried to avoid it, but it was close to impossible. She pulled the tank over her head, and then paused.

There was blood on her mouth. A smear of blood over her lips, and she realized he'd done it when he'd been trying to kiss her.

Now wonder he'd freaked out. David had a horror of blood—whenever he had some drawn for a medical test he fainted. The one time she'd scraped her knuckles grating cheese he'd left the kitchen in a blind panic.

She grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed at her lip. David's sensitivity was one of the things she loved about him.

But right now she was feeling more than a little annoyed. He was the one who'd made her bleed—he had no right running off like a scared little girl.

“Fuck it,” she said out loud, savoring the forbidden word, and climbed into the shower. Tomorrow morning she'd be solicitous and caring. Tomorrow her split lip would be almost healed and he'd come to her bed and finish what he'd started. For now, she was going to savor her solitude.

S
ophie dumped her school books in her locker just as Kristen caught up with her. “How was the guidance counselor?”

Sophie made a face. “She asked me if I masturbated.”

“Eww,” Kristen said. “I always thought she was a perv. Did you tell her you and I turned tricks every weekend down at the roadhouse?”

Sophie laughed. “If I'd thought of it, I would have. She wouldn't believe I wasn't having a full-blown meltdown, so I had to placate her with a few tears.”

“Speaking of which, why
aren't you
having a full-blown meltdown? Your best friend was murdered six months ago, and now another girl's been killed, and you seem to be taking it in stride. Don't you care? I'd be having hysterics.”

Sophie looked at her. “I thought you knew me better than that. I don't have hysterics.” She shoved
her locker shut, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder. “There's nothing I can do about it. It creeps me out that someone was murdered, it reminds me of Tessa. But that happened in San Francisco—there's no connection. I'm mostly worried about my mom freaking out. She goes into full protect mode and she's just as likely to throw me in a car and start driving without thinking it through.”

“Wouldn't that be a good thing? I thought you didn't like it here.”

“I like it here well enough,” she said with a shrug. “And my mom's really happy. She's so in love with David that she's not thinking clearly. She worships the ground he walks on.”

“That doesn't sound like your mother,” Kristen said doubtfully.

“She does it in her own way,” Sophie muttered. “At least she doesn't hang on him. But there's no other reason she would have just thrown everything away and married him. We had a wonderful life when we were traveling. I thought she loved it as much as I did.”

“Maybe she was ready to settle down.”

“I guess. But why did she have to pick David?” She couldn't keep the dislike out of her voice.

“I still don't understand why he bothers you so much. I've always thought he was pretty cute. Are
you sure you're not doing that jealous thing? Most daughters don't want to see their mothers remarried. They don't want to share.”

“She was never married in the first place. And I'd be happy to share her. Just not with David Middleton,” Sophie said firmly.

“And you don't have any solid reason why you don't like him?”

“Nope. But as long as my mother thinks I'm happy, I'm going to try not to worry about it. As long as I can keep my distance, I'll be fine.”

Kristen looked at her admiringly. “You have such a Zenlike calm. How long did you spend in India?”

Sophie laughed. “Three months. I think I get it more from the six months in Nepal. Mom says I was born with an old soul. My mother's always been impulsive—one of us has to be the calm one. So to get back to your original question, yes, the murder bothers me. Yes, I still mourn Tessa. But flailing around doesn't help. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kristen said, easygoing. “Wanna come home with me?”

Sophie shook her head. “My mother's going to need to fuss for a while. I'll call you later.”

“Good luck, man. You're going to need it.”

Sophie started toward the door just as the final bell rang. For a moment she was alone, and she closed her eyes, and thought of Tessa, the last time
she'd seen her, happy and full of life. And of the photo in the newspaper of her corpse, the one she wasn't supposed to have seen.

She let the pain dance in her heart for a moment, and then she pushed it away. Her mother was waiting for her, and she had enough to worry about. Plastering a calm smile on her face, she headed out into the early afternoon rain.

 

Rachel had pulled her Volvo up outside the high school, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel. It had taken all her self-control not to run over to the school and snatch Sophie out of it, but for once she controlled her impulse. The more emotional a fuss she made, the harder it would be for Sophie. Going through Tessa's disappearance and murder had been horrible enough. It was just nasty that their lives had to brush up against something like that again.

She left the motor running—if she didn't the windows would fog up and it would take forever for them to clear, and she wanted to grab Sophie and get her home as quickly as possible.

Sophie came out of the redbrick building with Kristen, her pale blond hair barely contained in turtle-shell barrettes. She looked normal enough, and Rachel wondered whether she was imagining the shadows in her eyes.

“Hi, babe,” Rachel said as Sophie slid into the front seat of the car, dumping her books on the floor.

“I know about the murder. How are you doing?”

“Maggie said she'd told you. I wanted to come over but she said you were already asleep.” She still couldn't rid herself of her guilt.

“You saw Chief Bannister last night? Why did she talk to you?”

“Not to me. To David and his father. And his brother.”

“David's got a brother?” Sophie looked less than thrilled. “Is he as boring as David?”

“Behave yourself, babe,” Rachel said. “David isn't boring.”

“You taught me never to lie—you're setting a bad example. David is very nice but he's boring as hell. So is his creepy father.” She managed a ghost of her usual grin. “At least I've got Kristen and the math program—they're more than enough to offset two old men. Or is it three? Tell me about my new uncle. Is he the killer? Is that why Chief Bannister was questioning him?”

“God, Sophie!” Rachel shuddered. “Don't be so ghoulish. No one suspects anyone. It was probably a lovers' quarrel—that's the usual reason women are murdered. That's even what happened with Tessa. She was seeing someone and not telling anyone about it.”

“Except me,” Sophie said, any attempt at light ness vanishing. “She told me about him. I should have said something.”

“I've told you a hundred times that it isn't your fault, angel,” Rachel said firmly. “The man who killed Tessa was some kind of monster. A young girl is no match for someone like that.”

“I would be,” she said in a quiet voice. “I would be now.”

“There are no monsters in Silver Falls.”

“Then who killed that college student?”

“I don't know, but whoever it is, he must have moved on.”

“If you say so,” Sophie said breezily, but Rachel wasn't fooled for a moment.

“I wish you'd called me last night.”

“No need, Ma. I told you, I'm fine. So tell me about David's boring brother. How come we never heard of him before?”

“He's not boring. It might be better if he was.

He's the black sheep of the family.”

Sophie immediately brightened. “Cool. Is he staying with us? What's brought him back home?”

“God, no! I don't know where he's staying. As for why he's back, maybe it's just bad timing.”

“I wanna meet him. Is he a hottie? Most black sheep are.”

Rachel snorted with laughter. “And just how many black sheep have you known, baby girl?”

“Only in books…But they sound delicious.

Unless he's an old goat like Stephen Henry.” She shuddered dramatically.

Rachel grinned. “He's not like your grandfather.”

“Not my grandfather.”

“You'll probably find Caleb Middleton fascinating. He has that cynical, world-weary air that susceptible females find romantic, and you'll probably be no exception.”

“Cool,” Sophie said again. “How about you?

Are you susceptible?”

“Hardly. I'm a married woman. Besides, I've al ways kept clear of bad boys—I'm too smart and too stubborn for them.”

“I don't know, I think a bad boy might be just what you need. David's awfully tame. I know he's your true love and all that, but don't you wish you had a little more excitement in your life?”

“I've had more than enough excitement to last me. Tame is good in a husband and father.”

“
Not
my father,” Sophie said. “You're not going to let him adopt me, right?”

“I promised I'd wait until you were more comfortable with the idea. But you're happy here, aren't you, baby? You're glad we're not wandering the
globe anymore? You like David?” Sophie was the only human being on this earth who could make her feel anxious. She wanted so desperately to make it right for her daughter that she would have done anything, married anyone to give her the normal home life and the opportunities she deserved.

“Of course, Ma,” Sophie said cheerfully. “I'm just yanking your chain. David's great, and he never tries to boss me around or be too chummy. And even if Stephen Henry's a pain in the butt he's nice enough. You did great, Ma. You love David and he adores you. So it's all good.”

She sounded like she meant it. It would be nice if Sophie took to David the way she'd probably react to Caleb, but the truth of the matter was, David was boring. Good, solid, dependable. Far from perfect—he was a little vain, with just the barest trace of a control freak that he mostly managed to keep under control.

No, Sophie would find Caleb much more interesting. After all, she was her mother's daughter.

“Uh…Ma? Don't you want to get home?”

Rachel jerked. “Sorry, babe. I was just thinking too much. Yeah, let's go home. I think I need chocolate.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sophie said cheerfully. And only a mother would have recognized the strain beneath her young voice.

 

By the time they got back to the house the day had turned unseasonably warm, almost muggy, and the omnipresent clouds only magnified the sense of impending doom. The air was thick, and Rachel could practically feel the mold forming on her skin. How did people live like this?

She turned on every light as she walked through the house, making a mental note to go out and buy hundred-watt lightbulbs to replace David's muted lighting. Sophie headed into the family room at the back of the house to work on her homework. It was as far from David's library/office as possible in the spread-out house, the only room that had a television, and Sophie had claimed it for her own. Apart from the studio, it was the only room where Rachel really felt comfortable. That would change, of course, once she lived here longer. She'd talk David into brighter colors, more comfortable furniture. In the meantime she'd have to make do with music livening the place up.

She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, reached over and turned on the radio, loud. David preferred new-age music so bland that it was practically Muzak. Rachel found an oldies station and turned it up full blast. How could bad things be threatening when the Beach Boys were singing “Wouldn't it Be Nice?”? She could close her eyes
and almost imagine she was in the bright Southern California sunshine, Sophie beside her, surrounded by the crash of the waves, the smell of suntan oil and hot dogs. Here she was, thirty years old and she'd never learned to surf. It would take an earthquake to move David from this town where he'd lived his entire life—if she intended to stay married to him then surfing, and any other kind of adventure, would be out of the question.

And what kind of thought was that—
if
she stayed married? She wasn't a quitter. She'd made a commitment, a choice for her daughter's future. She wasn't going to change her mind and go chasing after lost chances. She'd had plenty of years to follow her heart. It was time to follow her head.

Sure enough, the Beach Boys finished and Aretha came on, singing “Chain of Fools.” Maybe if she listened long enough she'd find the answers to all her problems.

And why the hell did she have problems? She had a daughter she adored, a kind husband, a new life. So she was just the tiniest bit bored. So what? She'd spent most of her life being much too impulsive, grabbing Sophie and heading out for new adventures. It was past time to grow up, do the sensible thing. And she'd done it. She was hardly going to renege now. Besides, she'd always hated whiners—was she becoming one herself?

Neil Diamond was next, and she reached over and turned it off. There was a limit, and Neil Diamond was way past it. She was heading for the refrigerator when the sound of Sophie's bright voice filtered into the kitchen.

Who could she be talking to? David never came home early, and Rachel had yet to meet anyone in this buttoned-up town who was likely to just drop in unannounced with the possible exception of Maggie, and she was kind of busy right now. The sound of the deep voice, answering her daughter, was enough to send panic lancing through her.

She slammed out of the kitchen, practically skidding into the family room where Sophie sat on the floor, legs crossed, her books scattered around her, her laptop spread out on the coffee table as she carried on an easy conversation with Caleb Middleton.