Page 57 of Making His Bones

“The night we realized Delilah was gone, Narcissa approached a cop with a very weird story. She said there had been an Eddie Bauer suitcase in her driveway—why, I don’t know, she didn’t say she was going anywhere—and someone had stolen it. She had somehow gotten ahold of a note allegedly written by the kidnaper, but the cops—and I—instantly disavowed it, it was so bad. It was like she’d used her left hand instead of her right.”

By now, Gray was intrigued. He sat upright, treading water like me. “What did the note say?”

“Oh, it was full of typos, or I should say misspelled words. ‘Esponosa locked in stolin suitcase. Thrown in water on Bacheti Road and Whitehall Road. Signed, Witness.’”

Gray gaped. “What? So why did no one go after her?”

I couldn’t really explain it, either. “Maybe because they had a likely suspect in me. Maybe because she’s Bud Pitchfork’s granddaughter. Maybe because they dismissed the note and the suitcase as the ravings of an unstable mind. DeFreeze asked me if I thought Narcissa capable of anything like this. Of course I said no. When you picture kidnappings, especially sexually violent ones, you certainly don’t picture a twenty-something daycare provider.”

“Were the addresses correct? I remember we turned down Whitehall Road to reach the pond.”

“Yes, insofar as the pond has an address.”

“And nobody thought to wonder how she came across this intel?”

“Well, like I said, she was a woman, and known to be unstable, some sort of autistic spectrum disorder. At worst, we thought she might be covering for one of her male relatives, which is part of how I came to focus on Bud and Upton.”

“But I heard Upton tell Bud, ‘you took the test for him.’ Or maybe he said ‘your wife took the test for her.’”

“Hm. I’ll have to go back ten years and analyze that family’s samples again. There might be a duplicate, someone who gave their sample twice.”

“Yeah. To cover for this unstable menace to society. Is she still doing daycare?”

“As far as I know. We’re aware of a ‘warrior gene’ that’s present mainly in men. It’s linked to violent, impulsive behavior under stress. Since she’s capable of presenting as a man, she’s got androgynous genes to begin with. I wonder if she’s one of the few women who has this warrior gene.”

“Yeah,” spat Gray with disgust. “She was stressed out that day by a ten-year-old girl.”

I remembered then that we’d just said we loved each other, and I became shy. Dog paddling over to him, I wrapped my thighs around his hips and let him hold me aloft. I peppered his sweet, exquisite face with kisses. It was amazing how easily he held me up, like I was just a tennis racket.

“I do love you, you charming bastard.” I kissed his lips to prevent him from feeling he had to reply. “Now I do have something else for you to do.”

I stood and left the water. The large herd of fluffy deer barely registered recognition of me. I fell onto my beach towel and withdrew something large, plastic, and floppy from my bag.

A beach ball.

Devilishly, I started blowing it up. Gray emerged from the water like a god in a—I don’t know, a god commercial—water streaming down every ridge and valley of muscle, the outline of his glans evident under the soaking trunks.

He even manfully adjusted his package as he watched me blow. “What’s that for?”

“You’ll see,” I said, punching the plastic stopper into the ball. Next I pulled out a bottle of coconut oil. “I need you to oil me.”

Of course, Gray was all over that in a hot minute. He practically fell onto his own towel beside me, grabbing at the bottle.

“Not so fast. You need to go in a certain order.” A girlfriend in Illinois had explained this game to me during one of those silly womens’ happy hours. Not that I ever planned on utilizing it. “BINGO.”

“Bingo? Will I win squares?”

“No, you clown. Well, in a way. B stands for butt.”

“I’m all for that.”

“I stands for inner thighs.”

“I can do that.”

“Okay. Start.”

I got onto all fours as Gray kneeled behind me, as though ready to raw dog me. Of course, being a man, he nudged his plump erection into my ass crack. Not only did I not mind, I wiggled my hips. My pussy lips quivered like petals trying to catch a bee.