She worked the weights for thirty minutes and then spun the stationary bike until her legs burned.
When she got back to her room, Speaker was there, pacing, dressed and stressed, talking frantically into a cell phone. When she stepped into the room he said, “Goddamn it! Don’t ever do that again without leaving a note.”
She felt like shit.
He was absolutely right.
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
He must have read something in her voice because he immediately softened and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Sorry,” she said again.
He nodded.
“No problem.”
She showered, packed, put a note on the nightstand, and then quietly slipped out of the room. The note said: Larry. Thanks for protecting me last night. Sorry again for the brain-fart.
She headed back to her apartment but found yellow crime tape on the door and didn’t know whether she should enter even though it was her place. She decided she probably shouldn’t and drove to Einstein’s for coffee and a bagel instead.
Then her cell phone rang.
Christina Tam’s voice came though.
“Are you still alive?”
Aspen grunted.
“As far as I can tell. Why? Do you have your eye on my office?”
“God, no. Your office sucks.”
Twenty minutes later Christina showed up, waved, got in line to buy a coffee and then joined her. She wore tennis shoes and a short white skirt that emphasized smooth golden legs.
“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me,” Christina said, slurping at the cup.
“What’s that?”
“About whether Rachel Ringer had a lover,” she said.
“Meaning what? She did?”
“No,” she said, pushing her glasses up. “But a thought came to the surface while I was trying to go to sleep last night. I saw Rachel once, at a restaurant, having lunch with Blake Gray. I was going to go over and say hello, but their body language told me they wanted to be alone, so I stayed back.”
Aspen considered it.
She didn’t find it particularly compelling.
“Probably discussing a case,” she said.
“Could be,” Christina said. “But I didn’t get that impression. They were in this real private booth, way in the back of the restaurant. I didn’t see any briefcases or papers with them. And Rachel had this look on her face as if she was about to slip under the table and give him a blowjob.”
Aspen laughed.
“Rachel never struck me as the blowjob type.”
“Maybe, but she had the blowjob look,” Christina said.
Aspen cocked her head.
“There’s a look for that?” she asked.
Christina nodded.
“Show me,” Aspen said.
Christina paused at first and then put on her best blowjob face.
Aspen couldn’t help but laugh.
Then Christina got serious and said, “I have an idea.”
Draven stayed at the cabin Saturday night, mounting Mia Avila before he went to sleep, and once again in the middle of the night. She didn’t mean anything to him, emotionally that is. Gretchen-who thought he was on an all-night stakeout on an important case-was the one.
In fact, he even thought of her when he came.
He slept late Sunday morning, having downed a little more Jack than he probably should have. Then he finally crawled out of bed, threw water on his face, dressed, and jogged all the way down to Highway 119 and back.
Pine scent hung thick in the air.
The early autumn Colorado sky didn’t have a single cloud.
There wasn’t a wisp of wind.
The temperature was nice.
By the time he got back he was wide awake, energetic and very glad to be alive.
When he walked into the bedroom, Mia Avila watched his every move.
“Do you want a shower?” he asked.
She nodded and mumbled as if asking him to remove the gag.
He did and she immediately gulped for air.
“Don’t say a goddamn word,” he said. “Otherwise it goes back on.”
She stared at him, sizing him up, not daring to utter a single syllable. He warmed the shower, untied her, and then marched her in. He let her close the curtain but stayed in the room. She didn’t come out until the hot water turned to warm water and the warm water turned to cold water. Then she turned the faucet off and opened the curtain just a touch, enough to stick her head out.
“Can I have a towel?” she asked.
Draven threw her one. She dried off behind the curtain, wrapped it around her body and then stayed there.
“Get out here,” Draven said.
She pulled the curtain open, sized him up, and must have decided that he wasn’t playing around, because she stepped out. Her hair dripped on the floor.
Suddenly Draven felt hungry.
“You want some breakfast?” he asked.
She nodded. “That would be nice.”
He sat her in one of the orange vinyl chairs at the kitchen table and said, “Put your hands on top of your head and leave them there.”
She hesitated, but then complied.
He kept a good eye on her, made two bowls of cereal, carried them over and put one in front of her. She started to bring her hands down and he said, “Not yet.”
She kept them up.
The towel unwrapped and fell into her lap.
She knew better than to reach down.
He got the coffee pot started then sat down and told her she could eat now.
She brought her hands down and immediately covered up.