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Jack and Bethany rose from the bed and looked down at the mass of still sopping clothes on the floor.
“Um, let me throw your things in the dryer and it won’t take them too long to dry.” She gave him a perplexed look, then turned and jogged into the bedroom across the hall. She returned with a pair of flannel pajama bottoms with a drawstring tie at the waist. Giving a shrug, she handed them to him, saying, “They’re clean. In fact, they’re new, never been worn.”
He lifted his eyebrow in question, wondering what man had been in her apartment. She saw his look and laughed. “It’s not what you think. Gram bought these in extra-large for dad last Christmas but by then she was unable to discern sizes or anything like that. They were on sale, and she was pleased. My dad is definitely not an extra-large man but didn’t want her to feel bad, so I just stuffed them in a chest and forgot about them.”
Mollified, he slipped the pants on, commando, as she pulled on dry underwear, yoga pants, and another t- shirt. She bent to gather the wet clothes from the floor when her arms were gently pushed away.
“Got ‘em, beautiful. Where do they go?”
He followed her downstairs and she loaded them into the dryer. Suddenly nervous, she fiddled with the knobs on the machine, afraid to turn around. What now? Talk? Eat? Does he want to hurry and get out of here?
“I can see the wheels turning from here, babe,” he chuckled as his arms wrapped around her from behind.
Smiling, she leaned back into his embrace. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re wondering what in the hell do we do now?”
She whirled around, his arms still holding her tightly and looked up into his eyes. Meeting his returned smile, she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and laughed again. Nodding slightly, she said, “Okay, busted. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He glanced around at the lodge’s empty room. “Anyone can come in here?”
“Yeah. In the old days, there wasn’t a TV in every cabin and people would gather here for games and conversation. Eventually Gramps had the TVs put in and then video players and then CD players, and then Wi-fi. The list keeps going! This room is rarely used, but Gram just never changed it, so it’s still a room that guests could come to if they wanted.”
“Can you close it?”
She looked at him askance, saying, “Why?”
He pulled her back so he could see her expression. “I know we have a lot to talk about, and I know that when my clothes are dry, I’m going to have to leave for a meeting this afternoon. But I hate the idea of you here by yourself with the door open and anyone can walk in.”
She glanced at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment with its little sign warning people not to go upstairs and knew he was right. Her eyes shot back up to his in concern and he grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He settled her on his lap, holding her face in his hands.
“What I told you upstairs was true. I want to see where this goes. I consider myself your man now and until this ends, I take that very seriously. I’ll never take over your life but I’m also in the security business and this place is a disaster for a single woman. Hell, it was a disaster for you and Gram when she was here.”
He glanced at the registration desk and then cut his eyes back to hers. “Placing a wall with a locking door over there would give you a large welcome area and make this room, the downstairs bathroom, and stairs secure. It would give you more of a two-story home feel and keep you safer from someone just wandering in.”
Licking her lips, she said, “Jack, I like what you’re saying, but I just took over. Up till now, I was just here to help out Gram. Dad has signed this place over to me and I’ve only been the new owner for about a week. I…I need to check on all the finances to see where we are and what I can do.”
His face grew hard, knowing he could have the wall put up in one day with one phone call, but he had to make that her play. “Okay, compromise,” he said. “Until that happens, you keep the front door locked unless you are letting someone in during the daytime hours. ”
“Okay, I should be able to take care of keeping me safe and if keeping the door locked makes me safer, then I will.”
He leaned forward, touching his lips to hers, capturing them in a soft kiss. Not of passion, but one of promise.
“Jack?” she whispered, trepidation in her voice.
His eyes piercing hers, he said, “Baby, you do not ever have to fear me. You want to ask, you ask.”
Nodding, she said, “I just wondered what happened that made you change your mind about us so quickly?”
Sighing deeply, he said, “Most of what I do, I can’t talk about. If I can tell you, I will. But because I travel, work on cases that often involve the lowest criminals, I always thought that trying to build a relationship and deal with that, just wouldn’t work. But you came along and knocked me on my ass and all I wanted to do was be the man you needed me to be.”
“But…” she prodded.
“You know the Saints are working on the serial killer case. I was in on the autopsy of the last victim. The one that was just in the paper.” He saw her eyes grow wide and he squeezed her hips just a little. “Tired, little sleep, bad coffee and then standing in there watching what had been a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed woman, who’d been murdered, be examined. Suddenly, I felt impotent. Felt like I couldn’t separate that world from yours. And you deserve only the best. So, I just gave up. Not on you…never on you. I gave up on me being able to give you what you should have.”
Her expression, a mixture of understanding and fear, tore at him. She held his gaze bravely and asked, “What about in the future? Other victims? Other cases? You say you want this but Jack, if I give my heart to you and we have our future, I don’t want to live in fear that you’ll decide to give up on us again.”
“Your doubt cuts deep and that’s on me. I created those feelings in you and I’m the only one who can take them away. I promise you that I’ll work every day to make sure you know that we’re in this together.”
Smiling, she cupped his bearded face, pulling in his lips, this time offering more than a chaste kiss. And he was more than willing to participate.
Visiting the old homestead always made him cringe. The shutters hung askew on the windows. He glanced upward recognizing the roof needed new shingles. Maybe it’ll fall in on the old bat. Sighing, he moved through the front door, seeing that nothing had changed, of course. The old furniture, old rug, old everything. His mother sat in her familiar chair nearest the TV as it blared an old game show re-run.
Her eyes, sharp as always, looked up. “Didn’t say you were coming by,” she remarked.
“No, ma. I was traveling nearby and thought I’d see how you were.”
“Humph, like you care. You were probably out looking for some girl last night and couldn’t get lucky, so you came by here. ”
Gritting his teeth, he said, “Now, ma. You know I don’t do that. I had business to take care of.”
Her eyes looked him up and down. “Your father had business he used to take care of and don’t think I didn’t know he was cattin’ around town.”
“Well, that was dad, but not me.” He sat on the sofa, pretending to watch TV with her for a few minutes, all the while fighting the urge. His hands knotted into fists, wishing for the familiar feel of his knife. Well, dad's knife.
He had watched his old man filet fish from the time he could first remember. The sharp blade making an easy slit through the fish’s gut. A quick slice across the head. It seemed the older the knife was, the sharper it became. His dad took care of it—cleaning and oiling it when necessary. Such a delicate instrument. And so clean a slice.
Suddenly speaking again, his mom said, “If you’d followed in your dad’s footsteps, you’d be here all the time to take care of me.”
“Ma, you know fishing for a living wasn’t what I wanted to do. Anyway, you always fussed about dad not making enough money.”
“He barely made enough to keep this roof over our heads, and then went and spent it on his whores.”
Her words weighed heavily on him, taking him back to a time he did not want to remember. The first one. So pretty. I’d seen her around. Such a nice girl. Always smiled and talked to me when she saw me. One day walking into the shed on the back of their little property when his mom was at the store. The girl’s naked body as his dad bucked into her. I stood and watched for a while. She had huge breasts…much bigger than mom’s. Dad’s bare ass kept moving as her legs lifted in the air. I tried to be quiet, keeping my hand in my pants. My cock got hard, and I wanted to pound into her also. Dad had no idea I was there, but the girl turned her eyes toward me. At first, she looked surprised. Then she smiled at me and brought her hands up to her breasts, playing with them.
He had gone back into the house and when his mother returned, she took one look and knew he was hiding something. Pursing her lips, she bit out, “Your father was with some woman, wasn’t he?”
He did not answer, but she had already known. The silence stretched out between them. His mother finally, said, “I’d get rid of them if I could.” Spearing him with a stony gaze, she added, “At least that’d be something you could do right.”
Now, his mother, too old to do much on her own except wallow in her own misery, stood and moved to the kitchen. “Want some coffee?” she called out.
Grimacing at the thought of the bitter brew, he just said, “Sure, ma. That’d be good.” Fighting the urge, he rubbed his hand over his face. I need to find a new good girl.
The Saints once again gathered in the command center. As soon as they entered, they could tell that something had changed with Jack.
“Boss? You’re kinda scaring us,” Cam commented. Seeing Jack’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “You seem sort of happy.”
Jack caught the smirks of the others around the table and hung his head chuckling. “Okay, okay, have your fun.” Looking back at them, he said, “If you bunch of women want your gossip then here it is. I have approached Ms. Bridwell about renewing our relationship and she agreed. There. Now are you happy?”
The men offered congratulations accompanied with head jerks in approval before they got down to business.
Luke flashed on their tablets the latest list that he had compiled from all the data. “Let’s take a look at the victims because I have finally come up with a common thread among them all.”
The men eagerly looked at him, elated for the first opportunity to find a tie between the victims.
“Okay, bear with me,” Luke began. “We know the victims have had virtually nothing in common, from ethnicity, socio-economic backgrounds, jobs, majors, religions, grades…nothing. But the one word that popped up in every report from their friends and relatives—good.”
“Good?” Bart asked. Bart, known for believing in what he could see, hear, taste, and touch was not one for accepting things outside the measurable.
“Every single girl was described as a good girl by someone,” Luke continued.
“Yeah, but don’t you think that’s something that anyone would say about someone who’s died?” Marc asked. “You know, ‘Oh, he was a good man’, or ‘She was such a sweetie’.”
“Sure,” Luke agreed, “but take it a step further. None of the evidence supports any of these victims as partiers. None of them hung around bars, went clubbing, were in a sorority, visited frat houses. Not one.”
“Okay,” Chad said slowly. “What are you thinking?”
“From what we can gather, they were all doing something out of character,” Luke replied.
Suddenly, Blaise said, “Karen usually studied at the library—almost every night. Her roommates said you could set a clock by her with her study habits. But the night in question, she changed her routine and went to a bar with friends. What if someone had watched her and then followed her?”
“But that would take time,” Bart argued. “Time for someone to watch and then act.”
“Most serial killers take that time,” Jack said. “It would only take a few consecutive evenings watching a library to notice the same girl leaving late, giving the impression that they had been there studying. Even if they haven’t, the killer could easily make that assumption. One night they’re not and something flips his switch.”
“Or he actually follows and sees them go to a bar or somewhere that he doesn’t think fits the good girl in his mind,” Cam added.
“I’m not buying it,” Bart insisted. “It’s not logical.”
Monty quickly dialed the FBI profiler and had Luke set her up on video conference again, while Cam and Bart argued the merits of the theory .
“Shirley, thanks for joining us again,” Monty greeted, effectively shutting up Cam and Bart.
She laughed and said, “I caught some of that. You have to remember what is logical to you is not necessarily going to be logical to a serial killer.”
Chastised, Bart nodded, as Monty quickly explained their theory to her.
Excited, she said, “That’s actually a very possible scenario. You see, if the killer is fantasizing about a good girl, he doesn’t have to necessarily prove she is a good girl by watching her for long periods of time. And of course he could have his own definition of a good girl. Maybe just someone he saw. Maybe someone he has determined does not party. Who knows what his definition is? A few trips out of the library could be enough to prove to him that she is good and then a trip to a bar would make her not good, or whatever it is in his mind that gives him the urge to kill.”
“What about the tie-in with a fishing filet knife?” Jack asked.
Shirley thought for a moment and said, “Well, it could simply be that he has a knife readily available to him as a weapon or it could signify something more psychological.”
“Psychological?” Chad prodded.
“Yes, some trauma or experience with a fishing knife.” Shirley looked down at her notes before glancing back at the computer camera. “There is the possibility he keeps the fingers as souvenirs.”
“Like a kidnapper sending something that proves they have the person?” Bart queried .
“No. In the case of a kidnapper, you’re right, it is for proof. In a killer, it could be that this is the keepsake, if you will, for that victim. Many serial killers like to keep a memento of the person they choose to sacrifice.”
Shaking his head, Cam leaned his large frame back in his chair. “This shit just keeps getting crazier.”
Thanking her, Monty disconnected and looked around the room, his eyes landing on Jack. “Now what, boss?”
Rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, Jack replied, “Keep digging. I want that photograph of the man from the bar shown around to more possible witnesses. And we need to plot out the locations again. Why did he start out in some campuses that were further out and now has localized?”
Divvying out assignments, including a few new security contracts that had come in, the men moved upstairs once more.
As soon as they hit the first floor, Jack’s front gate alarm rang. Checking the panel, he saw a familiar face in an old sedan smiling at him. Pressing the controls, he allowed her entrance. Moving through his men, he opened the front door and watched as she drove into view.
Seeing him through the windshield, Bethany grinned nervously as she glanced at the other vehicles parked around. She hoped this impromptu visit would not anger Jack but decided to test his ability to accept her into his world. At least for cobbler.
He met her at her door when she parked and assisted her out. She bent over and he was forced to tell his cock to obey when her jean-clad ass was perched right in his line of vision. A quick glance at the front porch revealed the smiles of his men. All seven of them. One glare from him had them laughing.
Bethany shimmied back out of her car, her hands filled with another dish. “Apple cobbler this time,” she declared.
He took the heavy dish from her, escorting her up his front steps. The men who had been ready to leave now headed back into the house and straight into the kitchen.
By the time he set the platter on the counter, all seven had plates and forks ready. Looking at her in mock sternness, Jack growled, “Do you have to bake for me when these vultures are here?”
Laughing, she shrugged. “I had no idea who would be here, so I baked enough for all.”
The group dug in heartily, murmurs of pleasure as well as thanks were voiced all around. Each of the men seemed to accept her in Jack’s life, for which she was grateful. During their conversations, she enjoyed their camaraderie and banter and began to discern the different personalities of Jack’s Saints. And friends.
Jack watched her as she fit in well with his group and realized once again that he had been a fool to toss her aside for his own fear of failing. Before she left, she walked right into his arms and he escorted her to her car, he knew he would work harder than ever to give her the white picket fence she deserved.