Twisted Creek

Chapter 28

Monday

September 30

0100 hours

Jefferson’s Crossing

Luke stood on the porch and watched the last of his new drug-fighting force leave. A heartbroken banker, a bossy old woman, a Pollyannaish old maid, two kids-one who wanted to kill himself with drugs and another who seemed to be trying just to die before he had to become an accountant. Luke almost laughed out loud when his mind added one stinky fisherman and Nana, who didn’t even grasp that there was a problem. If this had been a work assignment Luke would have turned his supervisor in for cruel and unusual punishment.

He’d made the suggestion to Dillon of helping because he thought it might be good for the boy’s ego to know that there was more to life than football. The quickly formed plan had been simple: Luke would ask Dillon to describe the drug dealer while Allie drew. With luck he’d have a likeness to work from. Once he caught the snake, Dillon would be proud of his involvement in a drug bust within his father’s territory.

But he’d been blindsided by all the others forcing their way in. He couldn’t make them understand that this wasn’t a scavenger hunt. What he planned to do was dangerous. People got hurt sometimes. He got hurt sometimes. If the bullet five years ago had been an inch to the left it would have exploded his heart.

From the moment he suspected drugs, he’d been trying to protect the people here, not recruit them.

But it appeared that heroes come in all sizes and ages. And smells. Luke smiled, remembering the way Mrs. Deals sniffed Willie before she’d let him back inside even after he’d changed into clean clothes.

In truth, it wasn’t a bad idea for them all to keep an eye out for someone acting strange. The ATF didn’t have enough men to send out agents to this small community in hopes of catching one dealer doing one buy. That kind of bust usually didn’t even earn the bad guy more than a few months in jail, if any. With the sheriff writing off the last fire as lightning, there was a good chance no one higher up would send backup even if Luke did turn in a report tonight.

The last time he’d gone into the office, his boss had suggested Luke let the old man rest in peace. The department had cases backed up. Jefferson Platt’s death was so far down in the order of importance it would never be investigated-unless Luke took the time. And for Jefferson, he’d do just that.

Luke might be wrong, but he felt somehow the drugs and the fires and Jefferson’s death were connected. And in his line of work, he’d learned to trust his gut.

Leaning his head against the wall, he tapped a tin sign. It rattled in his ears like doubts coming to call. He had to be careful. Put none of them in danger. Keep them quiet about what they were doing.

Dillon, of all the people plotting around the potbellied stove, would be the one who might break. He might brag to his dad. He’d gone home sobered with coffee and swearing he wouldn’t say a word, but Luke wasn’t sure what the boy would do if his father interrogated him. And, after all, Luke had only asked him to give a description of the drug dealer.

How dangerous could that be? Common sense told Luke the sheriff should know; after all, it was his jurisdiction. But something didn’t settle right in his mind. Fletcher seemed more about counting the days to retirement than wanting to join in on a bust. A drug deal in his county would look bad, not good for him. No crime gathered more votes than a long arrest list.

The lights went off one by one in the house. Allie and her Nana were going up to bed. He heard her slide one of the upstairs windows open. The storm had left everything newborn and fresh. Luke closed his eyes and breathed deep. The smell of the land and lake seeped into his soul.

Memories of his times with his grandfather here blended as thick as today’s problems. Maybe that was why Nana always talked of the past and the short time she’d spent once on a lake. After more than sixty years, she might not be able to remember where the lake was, or how to get to it, but her living out here now brought those few days back, a breath away from reality.

Luke was seven again, learning to fish. He’d stuck a hook so deep in his thumb he’d bled and fought down tears.

He’d just turned ten and his father let him build the fire and sleep out on the sand still warm from a summer sun. The sounds of the lake kept him awake all night.

He was fifteen and had heard that if you grab a water moccasin by the tail and pop real fast you can snap off its head. He’d tried. He’d been sick for three days and still bore the tiny bite scar on his wrist. He’d been fast, but the snake had been faster.

He was seventeen and playing quarters with a group of kids from the Baptist summer camp. The liquor was so cheap it stung his nose when he had to drink. He’d French-kissed his first girl that night, but his tongue was so numb from the drinking he couldn’t remember how it felt.

Luke smiled. He’d lived months, years away from the lake. He’d gone to school, worked, dated, yet his memory’s core seemed right here. Like everything really important happened with the smell of fresh water in the air.

“I’m told horses sleep on their feet,” Allie whispered. “I never thought people did.”

He opened one eye and frowned at her. The moonlight played in her damp hair. She smelled fresh from the shower. “I wasn’t asleep,” he managed to say when he realized she was waiting.

She didn’t look like she believed him, but she leaned into the wall beside him, brushing his shoulder as if it were something natural to do. She even crossed her arms over her chest just as he had.

“What were you thinking?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you weren’t sleeping, you were bound to be thinking.”

“I was thinking about French-kissing.” He smiled at her reaction. “Don’t move away, I’ve no plans to attack you tonight. I was just remembering.”

She didn’t close the distance. “I’ve no plans to attack you tonight either. I don’t even know who you are. In there just now, and before with the hurt fisherman, you were different. You wear authority too well not to have had the suit fitted.”

“I’m Luke Morgan,” he answered. “I thought you knew. Remember me, I scared you that first day and you thought for sure I was the mad lake killer of your nightmares.” He smiled. “Remember me. You love fighting with me, ordering me around when you get the chance, and touching me whenever you’re within three feet of me.”

He tapped his first two fingers against his own chest. “It’s me, Allie, Luke. You’ve seen me dive off the dock nude. You know me.” He couldn’t stop the slight change in his voice as he added, “I’m the one you don’t bother to listen to when I tell you to stay put. You have to follow Little Miss Muffet out into the storm.”

She responded to his tone more than his words. “I don’t know you and I don’t take orders from anyone.”

This wasn’t the way he wanted to end the night. He’d thought about her all day-thought about the way they’d kissed. Thought about how she’d felt pressed up against him.

He lowered his voice and rolled his shoulders toward her. “You know me, Allie. You know the feel of me.”

He half expected her to storm off, but she shifted to face him. Now their breath mingled in the night. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew the anger had left her as quickly as it had left him. “I only told you to stay because I was worried about you. The wind almost knocked me out of the boat during the storm. It could have carried you away.”

“I’m not fragile. I can take care of myself,” she answered, anger still salting her words. “And I’ve already been to Kansas so storms don’t frighten me.” She placed her hand over his heart. “Now, Luke Morgan, tell me about you.”

Luke could never remember a woman’s light touch affecting him so. Allie made him feel young. Even though he was only thirty-four, he’d felt old for a long time. “I’ll trade a fact for a kiss.”

“A good fact, not how many fish you caught yesterday.”

“A good kiss, no peck on the cheek.”

“Fair enough. You start.”

Luke spread his hand over her fingers resting on his chest. “I live down the shoreline in a cabin that belonged to my grandfather. When he died, since my father was already dead, I inherited it. It’s one room with a loft big enough for one. Two if they sleep very close.”

“Fair enough.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. A nice good-night kiss, nothing more.

“I’m not married.” He liked the game. “Never have been. Never even close.”

She stretched again, only this time the kiss lingered and the tip of her tongue sliced against his lips, but didn’t enter.

“I went to college in Austin. Loved college, hated school, but managed to finish.”

She waited.

“I majored in girls the first two years and worked as a dispatcher for the campus police my last two years.”

This time when she moved he met her halfway and the kiss deepened. For a moment, he thought he’d tell her anything if she’d keep up this game. Then she pulled away and waited.

He tried to remember his own name. All he could think about was kissing her. Correction. After that kiss he could think of a great deal more to do with her. “I…”

“Brain damage?”

“Something like that.” Surely he could think of one thing that wouldn’t give too much away. But for Luke his work was his life.

“We’ll continue this game some other time. I have to go up.”

She turned to leave and made it two steps before he caught her and pulled her back against him. When she opened her mouth to protest, he leaned down to her mouth.

The game was over. No more questions, no more talking. His kiss was hungry with need as he crushed her between the wall and his chest. She reacted as he knew she would, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. They might not know all about each other, but he knew Allie Daniels was as attracted to him as he was to her.

He felt himself melting into the softness of her, taking in the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. His hand slid down her back and over her hip as he pulled her close. Her fingers dug into his hair and she moaned as he kissed her like a man dying for the nearness of her.

When they were both out of breath and panting, she lowered her head and rested against his shoulder. “You’re not what you seem, Luke. And knowing your name or where you went to school isn’t knowing you.”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, “but what’s between us is real. This attraction I feel for you, this need to be near, goes all the way to my gut. On some level, I already know you and you are part of me. You believe me, Allie?”

She nodded.

“When the trouble on the lake is over, we’ll sit down and play your damn questions game all night, but right now I want you to know that…” He brushed her mouth with his. “…this is not a game. What is between us is authentic. Maybe the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”