InSight Page 15

  “Woman food too,” she said.

  They left the dishes, and Luke led her into the bedroom. They made love, made love again in the shower, and dried each other with crisp towels. He rubbed her hair dry, combed it, and kissed her some more, all over, until they were sprawled on the tile floor making love again.

  “I can’t keep my hands off you, Abby,” he said. “My lips, my tongue. I want to devour you.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said, but her words were lost because Luke was kissing her neck.

  After they dressed, she cleaned up the kitchen; Luke watched the news, close captioned. A bulletin caught her attention. She dropped the towel and moved along the counters to the wall and the living area. “Turn up the TV, hurry.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  …Police arrested Mrs. Grimes at her home early this morning. They found her sitting by the bedside of her dead quadriplegic son, Kenya Grimes, former Hub City High School basketball star, the victim of a tragic drive-by shooting last August. Mrs. Grimes told police that she finally gave in to her son’s wishes and turned off his ventilator. Neighbors and friends report the boy had begged everyone to do the right thing and let him go. Famed Atlanta attorney David Sales has offered to take her case pro bono.

  The announcer continued, but Abby didn’t hear anything more. “Oh, my God. That poor woman.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “I consulted with her son for an hour the morning Stewart picked me up. The boy wanted to die. He said he didn’t want to live like that, and nothing I said changed his mind. His mother was the one who needed counseling to handle her grief. I felt so sorry for them both. What she did took the pain out of her son’s life.”

  “Then you agree with what she did.”

  The question hung in the air for a moment or two. Abby weighed her answer. “Maybe not agree, but I understand. Hard to ignore a child’s constant pleas to end what he considered a tortured life.”

  “Was it?”

  “He thought so, and that’s all that matters. Sometimes the heart transcends the law.”

  * * * * *

  Relief overwhelmed Abby when she found out that Jonah Wall confessed his false complaint to the South Carolina Psychiatric Association. She received a letter stating they had exonerated her even before his confession, finding nothing to confirm his allegations. The actions she had taken on her own to eliminate any impropriety were proper and conscientious.

  Now if she could only clear up the rest of the mysteries in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Awe Struck Down

  At their prearranged time, Luke opened his instant message program to contact Matt Devon. He asked the reporter to set up an interview with a chemist who no longer worked for Synthetec. Devon replied that he’d check into it but doubted he’d find anyone willing to talk. Luke also wanted the name of the doctor who had treated Stewart Gentry before and after the shooting. Matt had done enough digging into Gentry family history to know the name immediately: Dr. Herbert Scanlon, head psychiatrist and principal at Scanlon Psychiatric Clinic.

  In his off time, Luke researched Scanlon, a beneficiary of the Gentry family’s deep pockets. Besides his position at the hospital, he held board seats on the Gentry-Serrano Foundation and Synthetec Pharmaceutical Company, and he maintained a close personal relationship with Carlotta Gentry.

  Luke wondered if he was in over his head. He’d always been a hands-on cop, not a Woodward-Bernstein-type investigative reporter. That fell into Matt’s sphere of expertise. But Luke sensed something far more sinister unfolding, and Matt’s near-death experience with his gas stove explosion proved it. Carlotta Gentry cast a powerful shadow. Prying into her business could result in grave consequences.

  Pete’s reaction to Luke’s suspicions bordered on incredulous. “You think someone in Stewart Gentry’s family made him psycho? Why?”

  “I don’t know, but the lab analysis of his pills proved they weren’t for treating psychoses. Quite the opposite. What do you say to that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to believe someone’s been plying him with drugs for eight years to keep him in a psychotic state.”

  “I think he stopped taking the pills and saw things more clearly. That’s when he screwed up enough courage to walk out of his prison and see Abby.”

  “Luke, eight years of the kind of mind-bending drugs you’re talking about would leave damage. You don’t just revert to normal. Ain’t happening. He’d have flashbacks, hallucinations, paranoia—a laundry list of physical symptoms. You’ve seen enough to know that.”

  “I know. He’s a ticking time bomb. That’s why Abby’s staying with me. I’m sure Stewart isn’t her attacker, and so is Abby. That means something else is on our intruder’s agenda.”

  Pete stroked his chin. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me either, but whatever the reason, it goes back a long time.”

  “There’s no doubt Gentry pulled the trigger on Abby and her daughter.”

  “No doubt. But who was in control when he did it?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Luke said, “but I’m beginning to have some ideas.”

  * * * * *

  Luke drove Abby to work in the morning and picked her up at the end of each workday, ushering her to and from the off-street parking garage. In the evenings, they shared dinner chores. Luke did most of the cooking, which suited her fine. Abby settled comfortably into the small house in Duncan Park. Maybe too comfortably.

  Luke didn’t require ego stroking or a woman’s constant presence. She had her own way of doing things and sensed that he resisted any temptation to help. They tiptoed around each other until they found the right tempo.

  “I’m exhausted,” Abby said. “I spent the afternoon going over the files you put into the laptop.”

  “I bet you put all your classmates to shame when you were in school, working the way you do.”

  Abby flashed back to those first terrifying days of school and the student guides who helped her learn her way around. “I didn’t have a choice. What was my alternative?”

  “Taking an easier path. Most people in your situation would have quit. I’m in awe.”

  Heat flashed through her. “Don’t say that. Don’t,” Abby snapped. “I don’t want anyone to be in awe of me. I did what I had to do. It wasn’t special or inspirational or anything thousands of others aren’t doing every day.”

  She got up—angry she lost her cool—tripped over the leg of the sofa table and fell to the floor. Her outstretched hands broke the fall, but she went down hard and fast. The chaos of the last couple of months swirled in her mind like a pinwheel caught in a gust of wind. Stewart’s resurrection, Lucy’s deception, and Luke’s misplaced adoration. She wanted to crawl into a hole where Luke couldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

  He rushed around to the other side to help her up, but she shrugged him away. Then it all erupted. She faced in his direction, pronouncing every syllable, so he wouldn’t miss a single word.

  “Do you know what it was like for me that first year? Do you? You said you wanted to eat your gun. Oh, how I understood that. I’d wake up every morning and think when I opened my eyes the nightmares would stop. I kept seeing that last day of Macy’s life like a visual broken record. Only in my nightmare, I got to her in time and held her in my arms. It seemed so real, so perversely real. I would have gladly gone back to sleep forever to see her one more time. To hold her in my arms.”

  Luke sat on the floor next to her. He put both hands on the sides of her face so she knew he was focused on her words.

  “Oh, Abby, I—”

  She held her finger to his mouth and shook her head. “I want you to understand that I’m no different than you or any of my patients, certainly no one to be in awe of. In the beginning, I lay in bed reciting a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t get up. I wondered how I’d make it through another day swishing a fucking ca
ne to keep from walking into doors or falling down a flight of stairs. Another day of feeling so goddamn helpless that I sat with my prescription pain pills clutched in my hand and debated swallowing all of them. I did that every day in the beginning.”

  She reached out and stroked her hand down the side of his face. “We hold those things inside because no one wants to hear them, but there are times when anger or frustration or self-pity surfaces, usually not in a pleasant way and hopefully not when anyone else is around. But it comes out no matter how much we rationalize that this is the way life is always going to be and we can’t change it. I understand those feelings inside me. I understand them in my patients. I understand them in you.”

  Luke tilted up her head. “You’re the strongest person I know, but even the strongest person has to let go sometimes.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way because I can’t say that what just happened won’t happen again. When I miscalculate and walk into something, I’m usually alone and don’t have to inflict my rage on anyone else. The problem is you’ve never seen that, but I want you to know it’s there. I won’t apologize for it.

  “Now, are you still in awe of me?”

  “Come here.” He pulled her up and encircled her in his arms. “In awe and in love. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept that.”

  She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, comforted by his words, secure in his warmth. She raised her face to him. “I hate losing control, and I hate that you saw me do it.”

  “It’s not losing control, it’s being human, and you don’t have to apologize.” He kissed her. “Come on,” he said, “the track’s lighted. Let’s go for a run. Best thing in the world to blow off frustration.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Invading the Domain

  Luke picked up Abby from work. “I’m leaving in an hour or so to go to Charlotte. The CPD got wind of a meeting at a restaurant between a major meth cooker and a dealer. They asked me to lip-read in hope I can tell them the location of the lab supplying North and South Carolina.”

  He could see the frown on Abby’s face. “I’ll be out of sight. They won’t see me.”

  “I know you. If you get the details, you’ll want to be in on the bust.”

  Damn, she knew him so well. “You got me started on this lip-reading career.”

  “I know. I also noticed you didn’t disagree with me about the bust.”

  “I might not even get the details. The owner of the restaurant said he’d seat them where I’ll be able to see. Besides, the cops won’t let me go.”

  “You’ll find a way.”

  “This one’s important. Meth is a major problem. I’ll do anything to stop the spread. I’m as much a victim of the damn stuff as if I took it myself.”

  Luke remembered his last day on the streets, the gunshot that took his hearing and the explosion that almost killed him. “You’ll lock the doors and I’ll turn on the siren. Pete said he’d send a patrol car around to keep watch.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s one night, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Maybe Lucy can keep you company for the night. She can sleep on the daybed.”

  “I think I’d rather be alone. Besides, I have Daisy.”

  Luke rubbed the dog’s neck. “It’s one night. Lucy will be happy you asked.”

  “She sure will. I think you’re being overly protective, but okay. I’ll call her. Don’t set the siren, though. The patrol will be around.”

  “Good. That’s settled.” He pulled into the driveway.

  Inside the house, Abby ran her fingers over his face like a sculptor surveying her work. “I’ll miss you. I’m getting used to having you around.”

  He felt the same way. Her touch turned him on in a way no other woman ever had. He wanted to close his eyes and let the electricity pass through him, but he didn’t want to miss a word she said.

  “Have I ever told you that your touch turns me on?”

  “It’s the way I see you. I feel the expressions on your face like I read Braille. I know by the crease in your brow if you’re frowning, or if your eyes are crinkled and your cheeks are raised I know you’re smiling. I feel your twitches and grimaces. Not like visually seeing the signs, but it’s all I have.”

  Her hands moved down to his chest and her fingers slipped through the opening in his shirt. “When I put my hand here, I feel your heartbeat and know if it’s rapid or slow.”

  “What’s it doing now?” he managed to ask, barely able to follow her words.

  “It’s beating very fast.”

  “That’s because you’re driving me crazy. Jesus, Abby.” He took her in his arms, kissed her hard on the lips, across her cheek, and into her neck behind her ear. His tongue skirted around her ear and into the crevices. He nibbled her lobe. He felt her warm breath on his neck.

  “I know you said something, but I was too busy to watch your lips. Do you want me to finish this?” Abby nodded in a way he couldn’t miss. “Good, because I couldn’t leave now if I wanted to. I’ve got a world-class woody that’d make the drive very painful. I’ll make up the time.”

  She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, caressing her seeing hands over his chest and back. Unfastening the closure of his slacks, she worked them down. Then his boxers while rubbing his already-erect penis. She got down on her knees and sucked him, while kneading his swollen scrotum. Luke felt the vibration of an uninhibited silent moan escape his throat. She drank the hot surge that erupted while he shivered from sheer bliss.

  He got down to meet her, pulling her onto the floor, his hands all over her, his mouth working his way to her opening. His tongue stroked her sex, wet with anticipation, caressing, feeling the contractions. She wrapped her legs around him. He positioned his hands under her buttocks, thrusting her up, licking and sucking and penetrating into her, until her body arched and arched again, stiffened and then relaxed. She clutched his hair and rubbed his head and fondled his ears. He looked up and saw her words.

  “Oh, God.”

  And he felt like King of the Universe.

  * * * * *

  Abby breathed a sigh of relief that Lucy’s arrival coincided with Luke zipping his pants. Any sooner and it would have been a disaster. But then, Abby thought, this was Lucy. Her mother would probably applaud if she knew what went on before she arrived. Luke left in a hurry. Abby wondered if his face was flushed with the afterglow of sex. Was hers?

  “Did I interrupt anything?” Lucy asked.

  “No, we were just saying goodbye.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said with a tinge of sarcasm. “This worked out well. Meyer insisted I take time off from caring for him. I’ll put the dinner I brought to cook in the kitchen. Maybe we can eat on that nice screened porch. There’s a great view of the lake. A WPA project during the thirties. The lake’s not very big, but it’s pretty.”

  “I’d forgotten about the lake. I ran around it a few times. I parked at the Y or the tennis courts and ran the two-or-three mile perimeter. What’s the interior of his house look like, Lucy? Pictures worth a thousand words mean nothing to me. I need the thousand words.”

  “Well, it’s neat, I’ll say that for him. The house itself is a little dated, but most of the ones in this area were built in the fifties and sixties.”

  “I know what’s here, but I don’t know colors or styles. I don’t know pictures or books. It’s frustrating. I want to know him better.” Lucy took her hand and Abby felt Daisy right beside her, protective as always.

  “Okay, let’s see. Everything’s simple, not too cluttered with junk or personal objects. Nice furniture, no woman’s touch. The whole place is painted a warm taupe with white woodwork. White wood blinds, hardwood floors covered with oriental rugs—machine made, but nice—nothing fussy or frilly. Fracé signed and numbered prints on the walls.”

  “Is that good?” Abby asked, feeling ignorant of her mother’s business.

  “A well-known wildlife artist. Most of his art pieces are so technically realistic, the
y’re almost photographic. These are signed and numbered. Prints run anywhere from a hundred on up, within the range of a cop if he’s a collector, which he appears to be. He has some nice ones too. Hmm, good framing. I wonder where he got them done.”

  Abby heard Lucy take one off the wall. “I guess he bought them that way.”

  “Couldn’t resist, could you?”

  “Of course not. Curious if he took them to a competitor.”

  Abby shook her head and grinned as they walked into the bedroom. Luke was right. Her mother was a piece of work. She was glad Lucy came.

  “Taupe walls and sheets with a black and taupe comforter and a couple of woven throw pillows. Black leather chair and ottoman with a modern reading lamp. Very simple, very neat, very masculine. Nothing out of place. Clothes arranged neatly in the closet, next to yours. Not a lot of them but good quality,” she said, poking through.

  “God, Lucy, I can’t believe we’re doing this. I feel like the worst kind of voyeur.” She couldn’t help herself. Being at a disadvantage made her curious to know more about the man with whom she shared a bed.

  “Any woman in your situation would do the same thing, Abigael. How else would you know? Now if an ordinary woman like me did this, it would be inexcusable, but not you. Anyway, this is kind of fun.”

  “I bet you did it in Meyer’s house, didn’t you?”

  “Absolutely not. I would never do such a thing.”

  “You did, didn’t you?” The hesitation gave her away. “You did. Come on, fess up.”

  “Well…just a little. He wasn’t home. I know. I’m awful.”

  Abby laughed out loud. “I’m worried, Lucy. You’re becoming predictable.”

  “Do you think I’m growing up, Abigael?”

  “I hope not. I’ve kind of gotten used to you the way you are. Anything else I should know?”

  “Well, there’s a full bookcase. Let’s see, biographies—mostly of presidents or generals—books on politics and war. Oh, here’s an interesting one—The Letters of John and Abigail Adams, Abigail spelled with an i. How unoriginal. No sexy stuff, though. Bummer.”