Society Rules (20 page)

Baker
began
to
whistle
tunelessly
as
he
studied
the
man’s
cheaply
framed
photos
hanging
on
the
wall.

“I—I’ve
heard
about
you
guys
 . . .
you’re
 . . .”

“No.”
Will
gripped
the
man
by
the
throat,
and
deftly
sank
something
small,
sharp
and
shiny
into
the
side
of
Richard
McKinney’s
neck. “You
haven’t!”

The
subject
watched
his
field
of
vision
shrink
into
a
tiny
pinpoint
of
light.
The
last
thing
he
saw
was
the
younger
man,
who
produced
a
pair
of
dangling
ear
buds
with
a
wink
and
a
Vegas
lounge-lizard
style
point
and
shoot
of
his
right
index
finger
as
he
turned
toward
the
door. McKinney
could
just
catch
the
sound
of
the
music
from
the
man’s
IPod;
“
Slow
Ride,”
he
thought
sleepily. “I
love
Foghat.”

He
smiled
for
a
moment
before
sinking
into
peaceful
oblivion
as
the
terrifying
strangers
faded
from
view.

Upon
awakening,
the
man
would
find
his
house
in
perfect
order,
all
electronic
equipment
in
place
and
neatly
reinstalled,
minus
any
and
all
footage,
documents
or
commentary
relating
to
any
otherworldly
encounters.
His
memory
would
be
foggy,
but
he
would
remember
the
fear,
and
the
threat
that
came
with
the
unwelcome
guests
that
morning.

Will blinked as his exit appeared before him, and swiftly moved his truck down the ramp.

Thank God for his family, he thought with a touch of desperation. They were the only thing keeping him human.

He twisted his way through the winding back roads that led home, letting his truck lead the way. His mind was still filled with the look on the subject’s face when he’d said his child’s name.

Pulling into the driveway, he sat for a moment, mentally stuffing away his misery before dragging himself wearily from the cab; briefcase filled with homework in hand.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and walked up the stairs.

Chapter 12

Indie flitted around the house, manic; doing nothing, but moving constantly. Max followed her uneasily for a while, before finally hiding himself under the couch.

She was terrified at what was coming, but it had to be done, and afterward, it would all be okay . . . right?

It had to be.

And she knew she had to be with Jackson, the sooner the better, but how to do it? Indie hated unpleasantness and confrontation, and this was about to be the worst of both worlds.

She looked at the clock. Two agonizing hours before the kids were due home, and fifteen minutes or so after, Will would be here too. She would only have a few moments with the twins before she had to face her husband.

Actually, she was more afraid of her children’s reactions, regardless of what Jackson had said about Will’s hurt. It was still impossible to believe that Will would be devastated by her loss.

“Maybe I could just sneak out the door tonight after supper,” she thought dejectedly. He may never notice.

Well, not until he ran out of clean clothes and groceries, anyway.

Indie looked all around at the home where she had lived for the last two years. Her stuff, his stuff, mingled intimately.

She felt her throat tighten. She was going to start sobbing if she wasn’t careful. Instead, she grabbed a small suitcase, and started placing the few items that she really cared about inside. The phone rang, and she ignored it. Indie had no wish to speak to anyone right now.

Well now, that wasn’t quite true was it?

She tried an experiment.

Jackson,
she whispered from the confines of her brain, feeling supremely stupid.

Yes,
love?
Was the immediate response. Relief washed over her, making her weak.

Where
are
you?

I’m
not
far.
If
you
need
me
 . . .

No,
no,
it’s
okay.
This
is
just
going
to
be
so
awful!

I
know.
I
could
try
to
do
this
with
you,
if
you
wish.
Even in thought, he sounded doubtful.

Indie indulged in a fit of panic.

Oh sure. That would be swell.

Indie could just picture that little showdown.

“Hey
Will,
I’d
like
you
to
meet
the
guy
I’m
leaving
you
for.
Jackson,
William,
and
William,
this
is
Jackson
 . . .
so
nice
to
meet
you!”

Easy
Indie,
just
stop!
She heard his dismay.
You’re
getting
hysterical!

Oh?
Does
it
sound
that
way
to
you?

The thought of her impending domestic demise
was
making her want to scratch the skin from her bones.

No,
Jackson,
I
don’t
think
that
you
showing
up
would
be
a
good
idea
at
all!

She could feel his sigh echo through her head.

I
think
you’re
right.
I
would
hate
for
things
to
get
 . . .
out
of
hand.

Indie shook with fear at the idea of Jackson and Will getting into some sort of brawl. Over her!

It was unthinkable. Her brain spoke to her again.

Hey,
Indie,
what’s
it
like
to
trip
and
fall
face-first
into
the
rabbit
hole?
She gripped her forehead, covering her eyes as she tried to shut off her inner-sarcasm.

But she couldn’t even begin to imagine that degree of passion coming from Will, although Indie knew he would be no pushover in the brawling department. He was a well-trained military man, and still in excellent shape. And Will was only thirty-five years old. It suddenly hit her that Jackson was older than Will.

It didn’t seem possible.

In comparison to Jackson’s youthful appearance, Will was definitely grown, and looked the part; right down to the few gray hairs beginning to sprout around the temples mingling with the blond, and the faintest beginnings of a receding hairline. He was still a very attractive man though, Indie realized.

But even so, how could he compete with someone born to be her perfect match? She had already determined that he could not.

Jackson,
please
 . . . Indie began.

His response was instantaneous.
I
won’t
listen
to
what
takes
place
tonight,
or
rather,
I
won’t
hear
the
words.
I
will,
however,
feel
the
emotions
 . . .
I
can’t
escape
that,
and
I
will
have
to
be
strong
enough
to
suffer
your
pain
with
you.

Indie didn’t know how to respond to this, so instead, she asked a question.

Jackson
 . . .
when
you
said
that
my
senses
would
not
be
complete
until
I
was
with
whom
I
belonged
 . . .
well,
are
they
complete
yet?
Laughter.

No,
not
yet.

Why,
then,
she wondered to him,
can
I
hear
your
thoughts
so
completely?

Because,
he was responding slowly,
we
HAVE
made
contact,
and
that
begins
the
transition,
but
you
won’t
have
complete
use
of
your
senses,
your
 . . .
gifts,
if
you
will,
until
after
the
commitment.
Commitment?

Like
marriage,
you
mean?

His thoughts sounded like nervous laughter.
Something
like
that,
he answered mysteriously.

Okay,
Indie thought into her newly discovered messaging system.
I
need
you
to
hang
up
now,
because
I
have
to
figure
out
how
I
will
get
through
this.

Silence.

Are
you
there?
Absurdly she panicked, even though she had just asked him to leave her thoughts.

I
am.
I
was
just
thinking
how
I
wish
I
could
do
this
for
you.
I
can
feel
your
heart
breaking,
and
it
goes
against
every
fiber
of
my
being
to
allow
this
to
happen.

This was too much. Indie was not used to anyone being concerned for her thoughts, feelings or her heart, for that matter.