Chapter 10: Those Who Are Dead

Part 1

As soon as Roxanne had gone my head hit the pillow again, I needed sleep after everything that had happened the day before. Most of all nearly losing her, and that nearly killed me as well. I fell into deep, desperate sleep for a good hour or so, until I was startled back awake by a pounding to wood, distant, but forced. It was the door, front foyer, two levels down nonetheless. Trying to pull my lazy ass from the bed, I figured boxers would be wise, and glasses helpful to make it down the stairs, and from there walked carefully, hand wandering somewhere inside the front of my pants without a care in the world. I reserve the right…Roxanne didn't help. Chuckling off my habit of morning discovery, I rustled my hair a bit and moved through the foyer to grab the door, which would have been a perfectly fine answer to a knock on any other morning. But on this morning, it was the man who had prayed to put me away for three years of my life, stalked and searched my property in the hopes of me slipping up, and now, he was at Roxanne's door, and I had answered it in my boxers. Ah fuck. "Dave…"

"Mr. Rainey." The way he spoke alone pissed me off, made me want to take the nearest fire poker and just ram it up his stiff… "House sitting for Roxanne?" Fucking pain in the ass, he knows exactly why I'm here, and is just too damn proud to admit that the little Roxanne Hayden he remembers would be shacking up with his enemy. "Not quite, Dave. What can I do for you?" I slid through the screened front door and stood out in the warmth of morning sun, noting the other cop cars scattered in the open lawn, and a few of his comrades joining him. It was a sight to be sure. "Well, seems we have a little investigation on our hands, Mort. Lucas Hayes, high school senior was found here, on Roxanne's property this morning. Dead."

"Shit, is that right? Well you don't think that Roxanne had something to do with it, do you?" He looked at me with a pressing eye, as if he was communicating telepathically, telling me exactly what he thought.

"Is she around?"

I yawned, out of context but it still caused him to huff slightly, which did me good. "No…she uh, had to go back to the city for work, why?"

"Well we're gonna need the both of you for a while, just to answer some questions for us." I looked up to him again, seeing the glare in his eyes, that evil, stricken death wish he always had with me and me alone. "You know Mort…routine." Yeah fucker, routine when the town thinks you killed everyone within a two hundred mile radius…"Yeah, routine. Got it. Mind if I uh, put some clothes on for this little field day of yours? I'm a bit shy here in all my morning glory Dave…" Sarcasm was all I could grant him anymore, and I stroked my bare chest seductively with a grin towards Officer Cain, the only woman on the force, the one I knew was checking me out anyway. Hell, I'm aloud to be arrogant when someone wakes me up at quarter to ten for yet another murder case. As the good man says, routine…He nodded swiftly and replaced his shades, while I walked back inside, my mind scattering quickly. I couldn't text Roxanne at the office because my cell phone was back at the house, and if I called I would just be told to call back later more than likely, or be asked for an appointment time. No…it didn't matter, Dave was halfway to getting her information and work number anyway, I would just have to play this all out till she got here. I ran up the stairs again, not really in a hurry for Dave, just in a hurry for my own mind, my own thoughts boiling over. Lucas Hayes…Lucas Hayes…poor kid.

"Oh my god…Lucas…"

"Who?!"

"Rox, do you know this kid?" Eric pressed into my desk, glaring down at me, waiting. "I…well sort of."

"Sort of...that's re-assuring. Why the hell are you staying up there? It's dangerous!"

"Guys, I have to go make a phone call…" I grabbed the newspaper and shoved it under my arm, took my coffee, the sticky note from Lily, and made headway for the door. Taking the call in the conference room would be safest, so I jogged there as if my life depended on it, and maybe it did. Jack passed me in the hall and I nodded without apprehension to what he seemed to want, but when he shouted I could have sworn he said something about having a talk, who knows. I got to the room, locked the glass, sound proof doors, and lunged myself into one of the huge leather chairs nearest the phone. It didn't take long to dial, but my fingers shook as I did, and the phone even shook lightly against my ear, a shiver running my spine. Somehow they had gotten my work number…

Ring.

They knew all of my information, they knew all about me…

Ring.

What did they think I knew about the case?

Ring.

I hope they don't think that I…

"Tashmore Police Department, Sheriff Newsome speaking."

"Sheriff Newsome, it's…um Roxanne Hayden."

"Roxanne, how are you? I'm glad you called back."

"I'm fine, Sheriff. Just a little…confused that's all."

"Well so are we, hon. You know it isn't every day we get a call about a body on your grandfather's property."On my property…did he really just say that?

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Lucas Hayes, his body was found in the North end of the lake, at the back of your property Roxanne, around nine o'clock this morning." It's not possible…they can't think…no… "Good boy, bright, took the football team to states three years running, ya know."

"Yes sir, I know. But I just can't believe that he…well, my property? How can that…you all don't think that I…Dave, I know the Hayes' family too well to even…I wouldn't…"

"Listen darlin' we aren't making any convictions, only doing some investigating. Now we've got a search warrant for your property, not the house, just the land. I'm out here right now, and we're also gonna need you to head on back from the city, answer some questions for us, okay?"

"Uh, yes of course, absolutely. I can be there by…um…" I glanced over to the clock on the wall, it was almost ten now. "Noon?"

"Noon's fine. You drive safe now, alright?"

"Yes sir." I dropped the phone to the receiver, took a strong swig from my Starbuck's cup, tapped a few fingers lightly on the glass table, and then pushed back the chair and headed out the door of the room again. Four or five different people tried to stop me this time, asking questions about music preferences, new movies, even the warrant for Paris Hilton's arrest. Warrant…oh god…my property…shit. I just kept walking, bolting back to my own office without even looking a single person in the eye. Jack even tried to stop me again, but I told him it was a family emergency, grabbed my purse and jacket and ran for the elevator. I couldn't think straight, my mind was running nearly as fast as my heels had, everything pointed to me and my own devices as it stood, everything about that poor kid's death was on my doorstep right now from what I knew, I was freaking out. A soft melody played inside the elevator, but I kicked the toe of my shoes anxiously and waited for the…DING…jumping out, scattering across the tiled lobby, and getting blown through the front doors and into the first cold breeze of New York fall.

Calm down Roxanne…everything is fine…everything is cool, you didn't do anything. No one did anything…the kid drowned or something…oh god, poor Luke. I stumbled out to where my car was parked at the meter, the stupid Mercedes my mother had convinced me to purchase, a symbol of New York city fortune, or whatever she said. I hated the car right now, just the sight of something that made me look better than someone who was found in Tashmore Lake dead, I hated it for that simple reason. But I got in, pulled out onto the street, and drove off. Past the museum, the library, city hall, and right down past the NYU campus, right in front of the place Lucas had wanted to go, the place I used to love.

"Good, just trying to get applications done for college. NYU…" He pointed to my sweatshirt with a gleam in his eye, "I'm hoping to go there next fall."

"Well in that case, let me know if you need a recommendation…"

"Fuck! No!" Before I even managed to get out of the city my hand hit the steering wheel, pounding it, and the tears stained my red cheeks. I turned the radio all the way up, took off onto the bridge going eighty, and wished I could have done something for him, wished I didn't have a heavy heart about such an event. I wished I didn't have my own unanswered skeletons.

They had swarmed like flies within an hour, cops, investigators, neighbors, the local news station, all sorts of nosy little shits. I tried to stay inside as long as I could, but eventually Dave came looking for me, and I went out to answer whatever questions were asked of me. And good god, did they have some excellent ones on this round of, "Convince Mr. Rainey He's Guilty".

Have you ever gone to a Tashmore High game?

Huh? "No"

Had Lucas Hayes ever crossed your property in his walks home from school?

Probably, what the hell? "A few times, but I don't mind."

Are you and Miss Hayden currently seeing each other personally?

Jesus Christ… "Will that help you solve the case?"

"No, not necessarily."

"Then why do you need to know?"

"Umm…" The little prick didn't have an answer for that one, so I just moved on to the next cop instead.

Mr. Rainey how well did you know Lucas?

"I knew his name and hair color, that's about the extent of it."

So you never had any reason to follow him home?

"No, never."

And what about Miss Hayden, was she close to the boy?

I didn't really know how to answer that one, I assumed she at least knew him through his family, but I wasn't sure about the proximity of their friendship. Of course I didn't have to worry about the question at the moment, because out of the corner of my eye I saw the hood of a glinting Mercedes pulling into the drive, not her old truck this time, but I didn't care, it's what was inside that mattered to me. God let me just see her face before they swarm…let me see her…And there she was, her brown hair falling in her eyes as she struggled from the car, wearily it seemed. But as I finally got a glimpse of her face I realized she wasn't in good spirits, from the distance of the porch and her car I could see her eyes red and swollen, her arms weak and slumped, and then she was shadowed by someone else, an older woman and that was that.

"Mr. Rainey? The question?"

"I don't know…what was it again?"

"Miss Hayden…was she close to Lucas Hayes that you're aware of?"

I don't give a fuck; I just want her close to me again…

I pulled in and immediately saw the scene, a disgusting thing on my lawn, this property that had been in my family for almost a hundred years, now a crime path. Once I was parked, I managed to quickly spot Mort on the front porch, surrounded by a few officers; more or less interrogating him I was sure. I jumped out, fumbling with my purse, and tried to take a quick breath before it all began. And so it did, but hardly the way I had hoped. Just as I was brushing back my tangled hair from my eyes, I heard her, the voice of the devil's messenger. "Oh God, Roxanne, darling!" Please, oh please someone tell me this is now a nightmare and any second I'm going to wake up in his arms again…please…when nothing happened and I could smell her Chanel no.5 wafting in the air, I knew I was screwed. She bolted in front of me while I was closing the car door, and threw her arms around me lovingly, in faux mother mode, the best she possibly could. "Baby, oh isn't this just terrible?" Squeezing, fuck she's squeezing too good. Someone…get…her…off…of…She pulled back, her hand stroking my cheek and eyes darting over my simple ensemble as it compared to her Fifth Avenue spree. "Now listen to me Roxanne, don't you say a word to these police officers, you have every right to your attorney. Do you hear me?"

"Why do I need an attorney, I didn't do anything, mom! Jesus…" I tried to brush past her, I wanted to get to the porch, I wanted to be with him and I could see his eyes again, watching me desperately. I could also sense my mother chasing after me in her heels, while mine cut through the dirt and grass towards the front steps. But before I could manage even one stair, Newsome caught up and stood in my way. "Little Roxanne Hayden, it's been a while darlin', wish this was under better circumstances."

"Hi, Sheriff." I shook his hand, but awkwardly, trying to ignore his voice. "Mind if I take you aside and ask a few short questions?"

"Um, yeah sure just…"

"Yes, she does mind!" Oh my god…this isn't happening to me. My mother stepped in between Dave and myself, her powdered face and pressed dress suit shimmering in the light, but her eyes fierce with a stunning heat only a New York CEO's wife could emit. My mother folks, the world's greatest bit- "Roxanne is not answering a single question for you Dave, not until we get a hold of her attorney!"

"Annie, it's just a few questions I assure you. Nothing harmful…" While Newsome was trying to talk some sense into my mother, I took the opportunity to sneak between them and take the five wooden steps to where Mort was, brushing past the other younger officer, and leaping into his arms arduously. As if he had been waiting for it, his arms wrapped around me strong, lovingly, and I could feel that he was doing all he could to pull me out of the situation, to shelter me. My feet fell back to where his were, but the embrace didn't end, it only deepened when I heard my mother's voice again, and I knew he could sense this. After everything I'd told him about my parents, especially my mother, I was glad now to have him there. "Roxanne! Roxanne, come here right now!" What does she think I'm twelve again…I let my lips linger at his ear as he hugged me tighter, "Don't leave me…whatever you do…don't leave me Mort." And he returned the gesture quickly with a kiss on my cheek, "I've got you. I'm here..." We pulled back from one another to face the crowd of curious officers and a few cameras. My mother stood in the middle, arms crossed in a disgust I was proud of, but the only thing I was focused on was the calm squeeze of a hand on mine. The hand of a man I needed. "Roxanne let's go, we're going to call your attorney."

"God mom, will you shut the hell up?!" I heard Mort try to stifle a laugh beside me and it only made me want to defy her more, "Dave, I'll answer whatever you want. It's fine." He nodded graciously, the tint of his glasses like something out of a movie, something I remembered him by from my childhood, and I squeezed Mort's hand hard and tried to pull him along as I followed. But Dave had other plans. "Uh, I hope you don't mind if I take Miss Hayden aside privately, Mr. Rainey?" I didn't like his tone with Mort, and I couldn't figure out why it was so mean, but I ignored it for now, nodded and turned around as Mort left another kiss on my cheek. "You'll be okay. I'll find you when he's done."

"Okay." And I let him go, following Dave off inside the house, and my mother somewhere screeching behind us. "Damnit Dave, Roxanne…" The house didn't feel the same anymore; it was colder all of a sudden, lonely, spiritless. I didn't feel my grandmother anymore, I couldn't hear my grandpa like I once could, nothing, just sadness. I led Dave in through the kitchen, explaining about the remodeling I was doing, of which my mother had input in as well. "Your grandmother would roll over in her grave if she saw this mess in her house…dear lord…"

"You would know mom, you put here there." She stumbled in past me, and I sat beside the Sheriff, letting her rifle through my dirty dishes and the spaghetti from the night before, holding back my amusement. "Okay Rox, it's pretty simple really. I just want to get a little information from everyone." There's that name again…Rox…it just doesn't sound the same. "That's fine Sheriff, I'll answer whatever I can."

"Good, alright so exactly where were you between…oh say noon and about five o' clock yesterday?"

In any other instance this would be a perfectly logical answer to come up with, except the place where I was, the man I was underneath, the floor I was sprawled out on…not very respectable in front of two people who had known me my whole life…damn.

"Well, I left just after noon to walk over to Mort's house. He had an old armoire of his aunt's he wanted to show me, for the parlor I'm fixing up." I pointed in the general direction, he nodded, and noted it. "And you were there until five?"

"Yeah at least, we took his boat out on the lake till the sunset or later…." I wasn't about to say anything to him on my near death experience, or Mort being a hero, so I just went on normally, "So yeah, we headed over here around six or so to make some dinner, spaghetti."

"Ah huh." Another nod. Another note. "In fact the proof is in the pot my mother is trying to grieve over right now…" We both turned to where she stood over the pot and its contents, laughing together as he continued. "That's fine. How about Lucas, you two were close, huh? Knew each other well enough?"

"Well sure, he was a great kid I mean you know that Dave. I've known his parents for years, he was only like eight or so when I went away to school, but when I came back last month the two of us caught up."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, he was so excited about graduating, said he was uh…filling out all his applications for college." I giggled a little at the thought of Lucas' smile the day before, "He wanted to go to NYU, and I told him I'd write him a recommendation and everything."

"Well that was sweet of you."

"Yeah…I liked Lucas. I just…god…" The tears were coming and I couldn't stop them, I didn't care either. "I can't believe someone would do that…to him. And here, on this property. It's sick."

"I agree completely, and I feel awful having to do all of this, but we just need to know."

"I understand."

"I've just got one more quick question for you…" Without saying a word I nodded lightly and looked back up at him, wiping the tears away. "Could you just explain to me really, how close are you to Mort Rainey?" Again, this would have been a logical moment to just lie, it wouldn't matter in the case at all, so just do it. My mother was drawing in closer now, interested as usual, and waiting for me to give the answer she dreaded. Dave was almost sinister in his interest as well, and I couldn't quite place why. I had to tell them exactly what was going on, it shouldn't matter to me…It's my business who I sleep with, it's my business who I decide to….

"I'm very close to Mort, Sheriff. I really like him, and he cares for me a lot." Just as I began to get giggly over my answer, I noticed both of Dave's eyes shift curiously, almost as if he couldn't believe me, so I felt obligated to assure him. "Mort's wonderful to me, a total gentleman, and just perfect, I promise."

"I see."

"Roxanne Sunshine Hayden, you had better not be falling in love with this man!" It was the first time my mother had used my middle name in fifteen years, so I took it as a sign.

"And why's that? Why do you care so much who I happen to share my time with? Just because he doesn't own a company or run a state?"

"Because Roxanne…because…he's not safe!" She's officially on drugs, or something very close. Botox side effects perhaps. God knows, but Mort not being safe was the stupidest thing I'd heard yet today. Mort was the safest place I had ever known, the only safe place I had anymore. "You don't even know what you're talking about, he's safe to me."

"Sheriff Newsome, tell her so I don't have to please. I can't bear to even mention it."

"Roxanne…" He began quietly, as if he was about to state facts that I should keep with me at all times from here on out, almost as if he was about to tell me a secret. "I spoke with your mother before you got here, and I feel it's only fair to warn you especially. Mort Rainey may look very appealing, and gentle at the surface, I understand, but he's not quite as innocent as he lets on…he's in a pretty big heap of trouble with the law, although we haven't quite caught up with him entirely yet."

"What…what do you mean?"

"Well what I mean is…"

"He's a murderer! A serial killer, Roxanne!" My mother's interruption caught me off of every guard I had, threw me into some strange alternate world, and as I looked to her, hands on hips now, eyes glaring with forced fear, I too became afraid. Afraid of just about everything in that moment.

"No…no, he's…safe. I'm safe with him…" I was afraid to keep sitting, afraid to move, afraid to walk through this house now, afraid to do anything but the one thing I knew I instantly needed to…I had to prove it to myself all over again, I had to remind myself of the truth. So I bolted from the kitchen, and ran as fast as I could to find my safety net, to find the arms that kept me from the every bit of harm. It all became a blur in that moment, everything disappearing into the path I was running, through the front door, down the steps, across the lawn, I could only hear myself yelling above the sound of my world shifting, "Mort! Mort!" The ground wouldn't stop moving, my ears wouldn't stop ringing.

PART 2:

Twenty minutes or so had passed since Roxanne had gone inside with Newsome, her mother following in behind, only after she gave me a snarl and grunted something under her breath. It didn't bother me, I'd heard about Mrs. Hayden, her lifestyle, and how she viewed her daughter's choices, and it was no surprise to me that I wouldn't be welcomed with anything but what I was given. A cold shoulder would have been more inviting than that woman's eyes. I remembered that it had been quite some time since I'd been home, and that Riley was probably starving and desperate to go out, so I assured the detectives I'd be back and went back to the cabin. By the time I made it back though, a good number of police officers and neighbors had barreled out, leaving Roxanne's lawn a bit more solitary than it had been. They were still anxious to question me further, insisting on showing me the path down to where the body was found, and explaining what evidence they could, all in hopes of catching me in a lie that didn't even exist. But I agreed.

"His body wasn't mangled too badly, just a simple bullet wound to the chest. The coroner said it happened sometime between noon and about five yesterday, but you say that you were at your house, correct?"

"Yeah, cleaning out my attic."

"Spring cleaning in September, Mr. Rainey?"

"Just cleaning Carter, what difference does it make?" Again, they had shoved the inexperienced cop off on me for the afternoon, the one who hardly knew the case enough to even have the authority to be here. Carter had been a good guy when I first moved up here with Amy, a few beers here and there, a few laughs, but now I wanted nothing more than to show him what his gun could really do. "Do you have any firearms, Mort?"

"No…err well a small pistol, but it's registered for protection."

"Protection?"

"Yeah Joey this is still America. Look…are you just going to keep asking me the same questions you've been asking me for three years, or can I go back inside?"

"Well I…" Just as he attempted to make an even response, I heard something distant, nearer the house, my name. "Mort! Mort!" At first I thought I was imagining it, forcing myself to hear her, but it got louder, clearer, more desperate, and my head turned to see Roxanne running from the side of the house, running towards me. "Mort!" I didn't know what he'd said to her, or what her mother had done this time, something worse. I stepped away from Carter as she lunged into me, differently than before, this time in tears, unable to breathe. "Mr. Rainey, can I please…"

"No!" I growled at him, Roxanne's face burrowed against my chest, "We're done!" He nodded off nervously and walked back towards the house, with the other detectives all looking on curiously. I ignored them and rubbed her back, kissed her head, did anything I could, even though I didn't have a clue what to do. Her breathing was increased, almost spastic when she finally pulled back to look at me, her eyes swollen, nose dripping, hands trembling. I cupped her face in my hands, checking for invisible bruises, cuts, anything, I didn't know what the hell had happened to her, she sounded so weak, so unlike Roxanne. "What's wrong, are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine…I just…need…"

"What? Tell me what to do?" A pause came, strong, thick from her eyes to mine. "Will y-you get me out of here?" I stroked back her curls, the few tears at the corners of her eyes with my thumbs, and her nose to my shirt, then lifted her from the ground, her legs wrapping around my waist, arms at my neck. Nothing was said as I carried her off to where my Jeep was parked near the front porch.

"Mr. Rainey!" Dave yelled, I ignored him and settled Roxanne into the front seat, running around to the other side.

"Roxanne, you come back here right now…!" Her mother stood at the porch as it began to slowly rain, yelling, begging for a daughter she hardly knew, but I knew her. I had to get her out of there, and we took off through the mud. I didn't know where I was driving, or where we could go, and all I could think about was what wasn't being said between us. The things I was afraid Dave had told her, or at least convinced her of, the case, the missing people, the Mort Rainey the town thought they knew. I was so scared to even say a word, to give her any other reason to worry, so instead I took her hand in mine as I drove, and waited for her to speak first.

A blur of trees and road, rain, water, images of light and cold, darkness and those eyes kept covering me as he drove on. I sat still, trying not to appear out of sorts, but hardly achieving it. "He's a murderer! A serial killer, Roxanne!" NO, I thought, he can't be. It's just Mort, and he's safe and wonderful and…I dipped my head back to the seat looking at him, his focus on the road entrancing, and then turned back to my own window, the rush of yellow road lines, grass and foliage, memories I thought I had buried away, bad choices I thought I had lived through. "I don't love you anymore, can't you see that! Leslie is the woman I love, we're over Roxanne!" His eyes were so angry that night, his knuckles white with the tension of not being understood. Max and his other interests, my fiancé with a secret agenda. Leslie…every woman's nightmare. "You proposed to me…and now you're leaving me?" I couldn't stop seeing it all, his stupid blue tie, the one I bought him for his birthday, his cell phone ringing with her name, that dinner I had made. All of it…coming back. Mort's hand was soft around mine, his index finger stroking lightly against the inside of my palm, and I pulled it away nervously, not meaning to but needing to.

"You will never be the woman I need; never…you can never be…"

"Pull over!"

"What's wrong…?"

"Just pull over Mort, please!" He did immediately; the Jeep toppling into the slick grass at the side of the small one lane road, there was nothing but us around. My hand went to the door handle, pulling, struggling to get out, "Rox, what the-? Where are you…" I was out before he could stop me, my heels sliding from my feet, bare toes meeting mud and wet wildflowers, and my mind running nearly as fast as my body had picked the pace for. Just run…go…keep going Roxanne…don't stop….run from it…"Roxanne! Roxanne, stop!" He was calling after me, why? No one ever chased after me? No one ever cared before…? I wanted to stop, to fall into the road, let the rain wash me away, just give up….but I kept moving as best my feet would allow on the asphalt.

"You'll never be Leslie…you'll never be your sister…you'll never be…"

"Roxanne!" I heard his voice one last time, barreling through the rain behind me, causing my knees to weaken, legs to stop as he caught up. A shiver ran up my spine when he threw himself around me again, still protective, warm, secure, and I let it all go, every inhibition falling with my tears. I held onto him as if I might never come up for air again, as if it would be the last time anyone held me that way, and maybe it is…maybe this is it. "I-I…have to…t-tell you…" My teeth clattered against his soaked shirt, trying to find the confidence to tell him what I had done, the things I had done before in my life that no one ever knew. I wanted Mort to know, because a part of me was beginning to wonder if he knew all along, if he sensed it and if maybe we were more alike than I had guessed. "Mort…I…I need to t-tell you…" Drawing back from him, the loose material of his white shirt clutched in my hands, the rainwater covered my eyes, his face, neck, both of us. "Tell me what? What is it?"

I was choking again…the breath caught in my lungs and I coughed it back with another stream of tears and turned away. Yet not sooner had I made a beeline for the road again than he had grabbed my arm with meek force and pulled me back, holding my shoulders nervously, his eyes glaring down at me with a desperate need, he can sense it…he knows already… "Tell me Roxanne, please! Just talk to me!" With a sudden shake of urgency I stopped crying, and held a contented stare, my lips beginning to move without my invitation…and I couldn't stop it, the word vomit…Oh god… "You need to…go. You have to go, you shouldn't be with me." Thunder rumbled at the mock of my words, the rains growing stronger and Mort watching me without sarcasm, without even a syllable to go on. Ripping my arms away from him I stumbled back, my jeans curling beneath my feet in inches of water, a helplessness washing over me. "What are you talking about?"

"It…it doesn't matter. You just…just go! Go Mort please and don't bother with me…"

"Wait, come here." He stopped me before I could make it past him, "Just tell me what's wrong."

"No! I would never…I can't…no…you're going to hate me, you hate me." My eyes were burning with the sting of acid, the pain of my past draining from every pore, the way I had laid it at his feet while he watched me struggle. Seeing him now meant it was only a matter of time before he ran, before he took off, knowing who I was, who I….Oh my god…what have I done? Clasping my hands to my mouth I moaned forcefully towards him, closing my eyes to avoid the inevitable and waiting, listening for the sound of an engine in the storm. "Roxanne!" He yelled it at a close distance, a waver of my eyelids to see him again, I dropped my hands to my sides. "I don't hate you…I could never, god. I love you!" The thunder continued on, seizing the blood in my body from coursing through my veins, his words…that one word…love. No he can't, how can he love me?

"Y-you…no! You can't love…"

In a split second I lost my balance when his arms lifted me from the ground, the hard crash of his wet lips against mine, rough fingertips creeping beneath my wet tank top, another lost in my hair as my legs clung to his hips, arms tugging his neck as close as it could. I could taste the truth in him, this side he had been hiding among the others, the forlorn, repressed side of love. Coiled into his arms, he staggered back to the Jeep, tongue twisted against mine, my breasts growing hard, shivering against the warmth he was capable of emitting in fifty degree rain. Once at the car, he pressed my back harshly against the side, grinding his firm dampness into my center, proving to me it wasn't a dream anymore, this was real, and this was it. The other times we had been together had felt almost too thrilling to be taken seriously, but this was serious, this was his body's follow through on the admittance of his heart. "I do love you…I need you Roxanne." He spoke clearly as his tongue left my mouth, and he reached for the handle of the car door. Once open he pushed me down onto the stretch of backseat, jumping in on top of me while I lay breathless, "I-I believe you…"

And I did.

Our feet dangling out of the open door, Mort's thighs straining between mine as he lifted my shirt away, he kissed every piece of flesh, the raw heat of his mouth carrying me away, my legs shaking, begging him to take me, I needed to feel him inside of me, I needed the reassurance finally. I stripped his back of the white shirt, throwing it into a molding ball on the floor of the car, each tip of my fingers grazing into wet skin, the blades of his shoulders loosening at my touch, hips sharpening into pleasure. I felt the inside of my mouth grow swollen and weak at the service of his tongue, giving my mind the focus of his jeans button and zipper once mine had been undone and pulled away to the floor. Plunging my cold hand deep inside of the opening, between skin and the cotton of his boxers I found what I had been in poverty of for too long, the tight, stirring flesh of his growing desperation, and I pulled it out to rest teasingly against my lower stomach. I wanted it, but I waited for him, knowing this was his moment now, his chance to show the vigor of his proposal to love me.

I watched his eyes intently as he stroked my cheek, pressing down into my opening, teasingly with a smile. If Mort Rainey could play a rouge then so could I, and I lifted my head slightly to meet the sensitive skin beneath his jaw line, nipping it between my teeth, and being taken aback myself when at the startle of my action he thrust quickly inside of me, filling me on impact with all he could give, all I could take. My head dropped back to the cushion of the seat, his resting just off to the side of mine, his breath hot in my ear, gasping, writhing against the ache of what my body was capable of doing to his. "Ah…fuck!" He shouted into my neck with a clench of his teeth, mine seething with the claiming moans I had yet to hear myself ever give a man, "Rox…god…" Hips jumping to meet his speed, his pressure, inflamed tug at my waist, I wanted to take him completely this time, I didn't care what happened, I didn't care what may come of it, I wanted everything he could give me. He loves me…Mort…oh god…he loves me. "Mort!" I screamed, preparing myself for his rush, the thickening, the spinning energy high above, and could feel my body dance around his, clench in mode of transpiration, and without a single care in the world I tugged at the short curls of his neck, pulled his head back into the starch air around us, "I love you too." It must have been his hope to hear these words, with seconds later sending a jolt of charging heat and fluidity through me, every bit of his containment for the last twenty hours, everything I had left him with in bed that morning, the fruit I had skipped out on was finally being granted to me, and with a loose beg, a careless moan into his mouth I collected it greedily.

And as he fell against my chest, inaudible whispers of passion, of ardor, I realized what it was I needed to do. One confession to follow another, an admittance to follow a sentiment, but it was essential now. Running my fingers through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, his cheek and chin, I pulled his face back a ways to peer into my eyes. "Mort, I need to tell you something."

He didn't say anything, only stroked lightly the swollen pink below my lip, waiting for me to go on. Do it Roxanne, now's your only shot, tell him what you did, tell him exactly why your mother and Newsome's warning broke your balance…exactly why.

"I've killed someone."