The Bone House (48 page)

    She
almost quit right there. She almost didn't open the door, so she could run
downstairs and let herself out the front of the house before Jensen made his
way inside through the kitchen. Instead, she twisted the knob and pushed her
way into the last bedroom, and immediately something was different.

    She
smelled a pungent mix of sweat, urine, and perfume. It all added up to fear.
Someone was here in the darkness.

    Hilary
turned on the light, and her hands flew to her mouth. She was there.
Spread-eagled, tied to the bed. Gagged. Eyes wide. Pleading. Awake. Alive.

    Amy.

    In
the dark shelter, Mark heard only the hushed in-and-out of Tresa breathing and
the rustle of her clothes as she shivered. They were both wet and freezing.
Sharp pain shot from his ankle to his calf the longer he stood, and when he
couldn't lean against the metal wall anymore, Tresa got up and forced him to
sit down. She sat down again too, balanced on his knee. She wrapped her arms
around his neck and buried her head in his chest. He couldn't see her at all.
She was invisible. He could only feel her huddled against him, her fingers
clinging tightly to his skin, her damp hair nestled against his chin.

    'I'm
sorry,' she whispered. 'This is my fault.'

    'Don't
say that.'

    He
didn't think anyone would hear their low voices through the stone walls. They
were in a black cocoon, just the two of them.

    Tresa
was silent, and then she said, 'I still think about it, you know. You and me.
On the beach.'

    Mark
knew exactly what she meant. Weeks before Delia Fischer found her daughter's
diary, before his life began to crash down, there had been the kiss. It had
happened not far from here. They'd been on the beach in the moonlight behind
his house, warmed by flames licking from a fire pit. Hilary had left them there
as it got late and gone to bed. She trusted him, the way she always did, more
than he trusted himself. He and Tresa had talked for two more hours, well past
midnight, although Tresa was the one who did most of the talking. She told him
about her dreams, fantasies, life, guilt, hopes, fears, and loneliness. Then,
as they stood up and he poured dirt on the fire, she'd stood on tiptoe and
kissed him, not a girl's kiss, not an innocent kiss, but a kiss with all the
eroticism a teenager could bring to it.

    She'd
said what she wanted: 'Will you make love to me?'

    Now,
holding her, he could feel her arousal again, the heat through her clothes.
This was romance to her, not life and death. Her rescuing him. Him rescuing
her. He felt her shift on his lap, and though he couldn't see her face even an
inch away from his own, he knew that her cool lips were about to find him with
the same urgency, the same passion, as they had a year earlier. She wanted him
to touch her. Undress her. She wanted to be the heroine in the novel.

    He
stopped her with a gentle pressure on her cheek. 'We can't.'

    Tresa
tensed. He felt her disappointment. She eased away from him and stood up in the
cramped space.

    'I've
tried not to love you,' she murmured, 'but I can't help myself.'

    'Tresa,
don't.'

    'I'm
not a kid. This isn't a crush. I know I can't have you, and I know I'm a fool,
OK? I never meant to hurt you and Hilary. That was the last thing I wanted.
Really. Except here I am, doing the same thing all over again.'

    Mark said
nothing.

    'At
least tell me you were tempted, huh?' she went on. 'A little?'

    'Tresa,
there isn't any way that I would have let something happen between us. It's not
just that I love my wife, and it's not because you aren't a sweet, beautiful, amazing
girl. It's because I care about you too much. A girl like you falling in love
with your teacher is absolutely innocent. A teacher who perverts that love for
his own ends is sick. I wouldn't do that to you.'

    'Oh,
shit, you think I'm a child,' Tresa murmured, with a grievous hurt in her
voice, as if it were the worst thing he could have told her.

    'That's
not what I mean.'

    'You're
wrong,' she told him. 'I'm not innocent. Do you think I didn't know exactly
what I wanted on the beach with you?'

    Her
voice grew loud and he worried she would be heard outside.

    'You
read what I wrote in my diary,' she said. 'I know the positions, OK? I know
where things go. I know I was asking you to cheat on your wife. I still am, and
I hate myself for it. I don't care. I'd take off my clothes for you right now
and get on my knees. That's me being innocent, Mark.'

    He
realized he was making the same mistake with Tresa all over again - treating
her like a girl in woman's clothes when it was the other way around. She could
be naive and seductive all at the same time. Just like Glory.

    'All
right, yes, of course, I was tempted,' he told her. 'I'm human, but I wasn't
going to wreck both of our lives. OK?'

    'Say
yes now.'

    'You
know I can't do that.'

    'It
doesn't have to be anything more than right now. One night.'

    'Tresa,
no.'

    He
felt her bitterness and disappointment emanating out of the darkness. When she
spoke, her voice was thick with betrayal. 'Were you human with Glory?'

    'What?'

    'Did
you say yes to her?'

    Mark
heard the echo of Glory whispering to him on the beach.
No one will ever
know.

    'Nothing
happened between me and her.'

    'You
were out there with her, though, weren't you? Just like everybody said. You and
Glory. Together.'

    'It
wasn't like that.'

    'Be
honest with me.'

    'Yes,
I saw her on the beach,' he admitted. 'That's all.'

    'Did
you arrange to meet her?'

    'No.
It was an accident. I went for a walk, and I found her there.'

    'Did
she try to seduce you?' Tresa asked quietly.

    Mark
hesitated. 'Yes.'

    'That
bitch. I knew it.'

    'She
was drunk. She was upset. It wasn't deliberate.'

    'What
did she do to you?'

    'It
doesn't matter.'

    'Did she
kiss you? Did she go down on you? What?'

    'No,
nothing like that.'

    He
could hear the rattle in her voice as she battled between anger and tears. 'You
know what, Mark? You know what I really think? I think you fucked her, and you
don't want to admit it to me.'

    'That's
crazy.'

    'You're
lying, aren't you?' she demanded breathlessly. 'Glory got whatever she wanted.
It's true, isn't it? Everybody's right. You had sex with her, and then you
killed her to cover it up.'

    'No.'

    'I
don't know what's worse. The idea of you killing my sister, or the idea that
you wanted to have sex with her, not me.'

    'Tresa,
listen to me. Stop and listen. You're wrong. I didn't have sex with Glory. I
didn't kill her.'

    'So
what happened to her?'

    'I don't
know.'

    'Do
you think I killed her myself? Are you trying to protect me?'

    'You
didn't kill her.'

    'If I
saw the two of you having sex, I swear I would have strangled her.'

    'I
know you, Tresa,' Mark said. 'I know you didn't do this.'

    Tresa
sobbed quietly. She shuffled closer, bent down, and threw her skinny arms
around his chest. 'I'm sorry. I'm such a complete fool. I'm saying whatever
comes into my head.'

    'Tresa,
you have to believe me. I didn't kill Glory.'

    'I
know. I'm just as bad as everyone else. I'm the one who's supposed to trust
you, and I was ready to say you did it, too.'

    'I
was in the wrong place at the wrong time,' Mark said. 'That makes me the only
suspect, at least until Hilary gets back from Green Bay.'

    Tresa
stiffened and pushed away. It was as if she hadn't heard him. 'What did you
say? Why is Hilary in Green Bay?'

    'There's
a man there who was in Florida last week. Apparently he's got a sexual history
with teenagers, and he may be involved in a girl's disappearance. Hilary thinks
the police should be looking at him.'

    'He's
in
Green Bay
?'

    'That's
right.'

    Tresa
climbed off his lap and paced between the tight walls of the stall.

    'What's
wrong?' Mark asked.

    'I don't
know. I guess it's just a creepy coincidence.'

    'What
is?'

    Tresa
stopped and squatted in front of him and held on to his knees. He could feel
her entire body trembling. 'A girl disappeared there? What's her name? Who is she?'
'Amy Leigh. Hilary coached her in high school in Chicago.'

    'Amy
Leigh,' Tresa repeated, rolling out the name as if she was searching her memory
and coming up with nothing.

    'Do
you know her?'

    'No,
I've never heard of her.'

    'Tresa,
tell me what's wrong.'

    'Nothing.
I just can't believe—'

    'What?'

    Tresa
reared back so hard and fast that she stumbled against the metal door. 'Wait a
minute, you said Hilary coached her? This girl's a dancer?'

    'That's
right.'

    'Was
she in Florida?'

    'Yes,
she's on the Green Bay team.'

    He
heard Tresa breathing open-mouthed.

    'Oh,
shit,' she murmured, it has to be her.'

    'What
are you talking about?'

    Tresa
ignored him. 'How did Hilary get mixed up in this? Please, tell me what happened.'

    'Amy
called Hilary yesterday. It sounded like she thought her coach might have had
something to do with Glory's death. Now Amy's missing, so Hilary drove down
there to talk to the police. She's worried this guy may have grabbed her.'

    'This
guy you're talking about, is he the Green Bay dance coach?'

    'I
think he is, why?'

    'What's
his name? Do you know? Is it like Jerry something?'

    'It's
Gary Jensen.'

    'Oh,
shit, that's him, that's him. I forgot all about it. I'm so stupid! Peter
Hoffman said I'd want to see it because I was a dancer. Shit!'

    'Tresa,
you're not making any sense.'

    Her
voice was urgent. 'Mark, we have to get out of here. Please, we need to go. We
have to warn Hilary.'

    He
felt his adrenaline and fear accelerate as he heard Hilary's name. 'Warn her
about what?'

    'She
has to stay away from there,' Tresa moaned. She crumbled, losing control.

    'Tresa,
Hilary's not going anywhere near Gary Jensen.'

    'No!
No, no, no, you don't understand. What have I done?'

    The
metal door swung open, and Tresa rushed out of the stall. Her panicked sobs
bounced between the concrete walls as she stumbled for the way out. When she
found it, she tore open the outer door and let it bang shut behind her. Mark
chased blindly in her wake, heading into the woods outside the shelter, where
the rain and wind swallowed the noise.

    'Tresa,
stop!' he hissed, it's not safe.'

    For a
moment, somewhere close by, he heard her running footsteps and the choked gasp of
her cries, but he couldn't see through the darkness to follow her. Soon he
didn't hear anything at all.