The Bone House - Brian Freeman [58]
Mark sensed her unease and embraced her. His presence was strong and comforting, and a little sensuous, too. He kissed her forehead and slid a fingernail down the damp skin of her chest between the silk folds of her robe. He had graceful hands. That wasn't why she'd fallen in love with him, but it was a bonus.
'You look good,' he said.
She heard the erotic rumble in his voice. 'That's for later. Right now, let's go to dinner.'
'I'm not hungry,' he said.
'Yes, you are. Go take a shower while I get dressed.'
He patted her ass and stripped off his T-shirt as he headed for the bathroom. 'Your hair's still wet,' he called. 'You could join me.'
'Go,' she repeated.
Hilary padded behind him in bare feet to their bedroom, which was a twelve-by-twelve square, painted in burgundy, with cracks in the old walls. The hardwood floor was cold, and the first thing she did was sit on their queen bed and put on socks. She stuck her legs into bikini panties as she stood up, then shrugged off her robe. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door: topless, panties, black athletic socks.
'Sexy,' she muttered aloud, shaking her head.
By the time she had finished dressing, Mark was out of the shower his hair dripping on the floor. He was naked, just as she'd been earlier. She eyed the bedroom window, where the blinds were up, as they always were. They'd become casual about their seclusion, to the point of not even thinking about other people when they were in their home. For a woman who used to close the bathroom door when she was alone in a hotel room, she'd become unselfconscious in a few short years. She dressed, undressed, showered, peed, and had sex, all in the belief that there was no one to see her.
Oddly, right now, staring at the window, she didn't feel alone. The sensation dogged her like an unsettling dream. Gooseflesh rose on her skin.
'Let's go,' she murmured when Mark was dressed.
They took coats and headed out into the frosty night. She noticed that Mark didn't switch off the house lights and locked the front door behind them. As they drove, steam fogged on the glass, and she found herself shivering in the cold interior. She cupped her hands in front of the vents, waiting for warm air. Mark was silent beside her. She knew the arrival of Cab Bolton had left him shaken.
'You want to talk about it?' she asked.
Mark didn't reply immediately. He flicked on the high beams to light up the twisting stretch of road.
'I think I should tell Bolton I was out on the beach,' he said finally.
Hilary shook her head. 'No way.'
'If the DNA matches where Glory scratched me, Bolton will find out anyway, and he'll think I have something to hide.'
'You remember what Gale told us? There's no case if they can't prove you were on the beach. Period. You can't give up your best legal advantage, Mark. We have to be practical about this. For all we know, they won't be able to recover any DNA because Glory's body was in the water.'
Mark's eyes strayed to the rear-view mirror. 'Glory was talking about fire on the beach,' he told her.
'What do you mean?'
'She was humming that Billy Joel song when I first saw her. "We Didn't Start the Fire." She mentioned the Robert Frost poem, "Fire and Ice", and talked about the world ending in fire. She asked me - she said, why didn't I want to play with fire? It kept coming up.'
'So maybe it's true,' Hilary said. 'Maybe something happened in Florida that was connected to the fire.'
'Harris Bone?'
'It's possible. He's out there somewhere.'
'If I told Bolton what Glory said, maybe he'll realize I'm not the only game in town.'
'I know how you feel, but we can't say anything that might put you at risk. Look, I'll find out whatever I can about the fire. I'll try to get Peter Hoffman to talk to me. Harris Bone was his son-in-law. He may know something that would help us figure out if Bone could have been in Florida. If I find something, I'll give it to Bolton. OK?'
There was no answer from her husband. She realized that his eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror.