Chapter 18

Jamie was standing on the front porch, her cheeks wet from crying.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were going to do and where you would be?" she called, as she ran across to the car. "I'm frantic with worry. I just finished talking to Emily Ann. Oh, Carl, I don't trust her. I don't see why you had to go to her and not tell me."

She was crying again as I stepped out of the car and took her in my arms. "Come on, baby, buck up," I said. "Where's your father? I guess he went out with Peggy Sue, didn't he? I should have known."

"No, I should have known nothing I could do or say would stop him," she said, her body heaving with sobs. "But you left me alone for hours, and then I called everywhere in town trying to find you, and finally, Emily Ann called and said she'd spend the morning with you, and she told me everything."

"I made a mistake," I snapped and pried her from my body. "This is no damn time to argue, Jamie. We've got to move. Christ get hold of yourself."

She wiped her eyes. "Out to the fishing camp?" she asked. "Shouldn't we try calling first?"

I opened the door and shoved her inside. "You don't think they'd answer the phone, do you?" I asked, as I backed down the driveway.

"Do we have time to get to them?" she asked.

"There's a chance," I said, and pushed the vent to catch the rushing wind. "I don't think Peggy Sue will pass up the chance to taunt and tease your father some before dropping the bomb. Was Emily Ann nasty when she called?"

"No not at all," she said. "She couldn't have been nicer. I mean, under the circumstances. She seemed to be crying, and very sincere, which is why I don't trust her."

"She was sincere," I said, as we rushed through the meadow land and cane growth, dead still in the searing sun that threw shimmering heat mirages of water on the road ahead.

"I tried everything to stop him, Carl," she said. "I told him I was sick, really sick, even. Then finally I just told him he was a fool to go out with her, that she was planning something. I tried to shock him by telling him everything I knew, including my own experiences with the girls."

"And he went anyway?" I asked. "I mean, he didn't show any hesitation or concern? Not even about what had happened to you?"

"No concern in the least," she said, quietly and leaned forward into the rushing wind that tousled her blond hair. "But he never has, Carl. He never loved me. I was just something he used, an extension he could push socially to show the town how much power he had. I think he's crazy, Carl. I really do. The way his eyes looked when he babbled today, not that kind of intensity they used to have, but a strange, unfocused kind of burning stare."

"We'll be there in a minute," I said, to reassure her. "Everything will be okay, then."

"But when I pulled up in front of the fence in the swamp, there was absolutely no sign of another car. Jamie started crying once again. I drummed on the steering wheel for a moment, then got out of the car and climbed the fence. I found the phone by the door. I called the cocktail lounge where I where I had left Emily Ann.

"I decided to wait right here, in case you needed me," she said. "I had a terrible fight with some fat woman who wanted to use it. Did you find them? What happened?"

"I'm at the camp, and they're not here," I said. "What's the next most-likely spot?"

"I have no idea," she said. "Really I don't, Carl. You could any of the other fishing camps. Everybody in town practically has them. Don't forget, since I had that fight with Millie, I haven't been a part of the last-minute plans."

"I'll try them all," I said. "Look, you better call that fat deputy and tell him what's happening."

"Clyde Hilton?" she asked.

"Hell, I don't know his name," I said. "Call him and tell him everything. He wouldn't believe me. Will you do that, baby?"

There was a pause. "Yes, of course, I'll do it, Carl," she said. "I'll make sure he gets lots of men out looking for them. Then I'm going home. I want to tell my family myself about my part in this mess."

"Yes, that's best," I said. "But make sure you get that deputy. And thanks again, Emily Ann."

I hung up and ran back to the car, my clothes sticking to my body now. I climbed in, and peeled off my shirt and T-shirt and threw them into the back seat. Then I backed up as rapidly as I dared.

We tried the camps belonging to each of the girls, and also the Meadows' camp, but there was nothing. Twice, we were passed on narrow, twisting gravel roads by cars with red bubble-lights flashing on top. The deputies stared at us but did not stop us.

An hour later, I drove very slowly back to Jamie's. We were both near exhaustion. And I desperately needed a drink.

"Carl, we can't just go home," Jamie protested. "Surely there's something else we can do."

I shook my head. "If you can name anything, I'll do it. No, Jamie, we should get back there on the outside chance your father comes back, or calls.. . . "

"You mean whatever is going to happen can't be prevented," she said. "Out there somewhere in those swamps probably, something is happening with my father and Peggy Sue, or has happened, and we're totally helpless."

"To put it bluntly, that's right," I said, as I turned into the driveway. 'Things may still work out somewhat Peggy Sue may not tell him. He may react differently than we think. After all, you said he's been behaving in an irrational way, and you can't predict reactions of an irrational man."

"I can predict what my father will do when that smirking, teasing little girl convinces him that no matter what happens, he will lose the fight for the freeway on his land," she said.

I parked and we got out, and walked very slowly into the house. The maid was standing in the door.

"What's happening, Miss Jamie?" she asked. "I don't understand what all this means, but I know it can't be anything good."

"It's Daddy," Jamie started. "He may be in some trouble."

But she couldn't go any further. Huge tears cascaded down her cheeks. She turned to me and buried her face against my chest.

"Mr. Meadows has been working hard lately, and is somewhat distraught," I said, choosing the words carefully. "We think he may be lost out in the swamps. The sheriffs office has men out looking for him."

"Oh, my Lord," the maid said. She shook her head. "I knew something was wrong with him lately. He's been acting very strangely. Can I do anything to help, Miss Jamie?"

"No, there's nothing to do but wait," I said. "Well, you could take some ice into the library."

"I'll do that right away," she said, and left.

I half carried Jamie into the library and put her down onto the couch. The intense spell of crying had a sobering effect on her, and by the time I had her vodka and tonic mixed, she was sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"I have such an ambivalent feeling about him," she said, as she took the drink. "I truly do dislike him, resent him, blame him for so many things. I truly don't think I love him. Yet I do, and I'm so worried."

"The contradictory feelings are natural," I said, and sat down beside her and put my arm around her.

And thus began one of the longest afternoons of my life, as we sat in the library and drank, and though we talked there were long periods of silence in which small sounds like the buzzing of a bee in the garden seemed loud out of any proportion.

Finally, Jamie broke a long silence and climbed to her feet. "I think I'll go upstairs to my room and lie down," she said. "I'm absolutely dead tired, and yet my insides are wound up like a watch. How about you?"

"I feel just about the same way," I said. "But I sure as hell don't want to he down. Maybe another drink. Maybe I'll take a walk through the garden."

"How about escorting me upstairs, sir?" she asked. "To make certain I don't collapse on the way."

I put my arm around Jamie and we walked slowly up to her room. She opened the door, stepped inside, and reached back with a hand which tugged me inside, also. I saw a large room with lace-white curtains and antique furniture and a couple of stuffed animals on the chest of drawers.

Then Jamie was pressing against me, her breasts heaving, her hands clutching my back. "Don't leave me alone, please," she begged.

Her kiss was open-mouthed and sucking, her tongue wet and twisting, and I squeezed her buttocks and shoved her body tighter against mine.

"No, I won't leave you alone," I gasped, through the sucking kiss, and moved my hands under the skirt to claw at the undulating buttocks. Her nails lacerated my neck and back, and she bit my tongue.

Then she forced a hand between us and unzipped my pants and gripped my hard prick and I groaned at the sensation. She stroked it expertly, and I slid a hand around to fondle the damp lips of her burning vagina. . . .

The ringing seemed strange and far away. We both stiffened, withdrew our hands, stepped apart.

"The phone," I gasped.

"No, it's the doorbell," she said, as she shoved a strand of damp hair from her face. "Oh, Carl. I'm so frightened."

The maid was calling from downstairs. I took Jamie by the arms and shook her very gently and she sniffled and tried to smile.

"I'm okay, I think," she said. 'Though I must look a mess. Here, you wait here just a minute, darling."

She ran out and I heard her talking to the maid. I couldn't make out everything, but there was something about the sheriff. A moment later, she dragged herself slowly into the room and leaned against the wall, as though her legs would no longer support her.

'There's somebody from the sheriffs office down there," she said. "He says it's important. He's waiting in the library."

I took her hand and pulled her from the wall. "Nothing is worse than waiting," I said. "Let's go down quickly and get it over with."

She nodded and let me lead her downstairs. In the library we found the the fat, red-faced deputy, who stood by the bar with his hat in his hand. He glanced at me, nodded at Jamie.

"Miss Meadows, I'm Clyde Hilton from Sheriff Carson's office," he said. "We had this telephone call about your daddy." He stopped, and glanced at me again, as though he didn't know how to go on.

"Jamie knows everything," I said, and put my arm around her waist. "What happened to her father?"

He sighed. "Miss Meadows, your daddy.. .your daddy is dead," he said, as though he himself didn't quite believe it.

"My God, not that," Jamie blurted. "I didn't think he'd die out there. That was the last thing I'd have thought." Her body trembled and she blinked back tears, but she did not really cry, as though she had no tears left. "Who killed him?" she asked, abruptly and bitterly.

"Ma'am, best as we can figure it out, he killed himself," the deputy said. "Well, Miss Meadows, I'm not sure at all I ought to go on, not right now when you're so upset. Maybe it would be better if you had some time alone first, then maybe somebody you know real well could.. . "

"Dammit, tell me what happened," she said. "I want to know everything." She looked up at me. "Isn't this best, Carl? To find out everything now and get it over with?"

"Yes, it's best, Jamie," I said. "You're just making things worse, Hilton, by dragging it out."

"Lord, I reckon I am," he said. "I'm no good at all at this kind of thing. Hated it when I was in the army in Korea. Well, okay, I'll give it to you best as I can, ma'am. Seems he went out with the Conway girl, they went way out in them swamps. Took us a helicopter to find them. Well, seems he'd been seeing the Conway girl, they lots of details not important, but seems there was some things happened a man wouldn't be proud of, and the Conway girl sort of give him a hard time, and said she was going to tell everybody in town, and going to accuse him of rape and all kind of things." He paused and took out a wrinkled blue handkerchief and mopped his face.

"Don't stop now," Jamie said. "Go on, please."

"I'll sure do that very thing, ma'am," he said, and put the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Seems like with all this freeway fight going on, they was an important meeting tonight, to determine what route the thing would take. And seems that was awful important to your daddy. Awful important. And he knowed he'd lose the route no matter what happened when the Conway girl got back to town and started talking. Now mind you, won't nothing be official until the coroner's report. But seems, he dragged the girl out into the swamps and raped and strangled her."

Now Jamie did cry, hysterically, and her knees buckled. The deputy helped her over and put her down gently onto the couch. She brushed at her face and looked up at us.

"But how can you be sure? You must be just guessing. Maybe that's not what really happened. How could Emily Ann know that, why, she wasn't there, and how do you really know.. . . "

"Ma'am, of course we talked to her and she told us lots of things," he said, speaking slowly, reluctantly. "But your daddy himself told us most of it. You see, he wasn't quite dead when we got there. Died before we could get him to a doctor."

"How badly was he hurt?" she insisted and tried to get up.

I gently but firmly forced her back down. "Easy, darling," I said.

"Ma'am, sheriff would have my hide if he thought I was going into details about this thing," he said. "It's not very pretty."

"Just tell me," she hissed, through clenched teeth.

"He shot himself in the stomach with a shotgun," he said. "There was no chance of saving him. It's as though he wanted to die that way, as though he picked the worst way. He was kind of incoherent, of course. Kept talking about the town wouldn't have any kind of victory over him, while he lived. Only after he was dead. That kind of thing."

"Did he say anything about me?" Jamie asked.

The deputy looked at me, took out the handkerchief, mopped his face. "I was coming to that," he said. "The last five minutes of his life he talked about you, ma'am. About all the things he wished he'd have done, and how he'd spent too much time with business and not with you. That kind of thing. Course, like I said, he was a little incoherent, so some of it didn't make too much sense, but I think the one thing he wanted most was to see you before he died."

Jamie became pretty hysterical again and we got a doctor and got her upstairs. The doctor gave her something that made her sleep. Finally, I went back downstairs to the library, where the deputy was waiting.

"Guess I owe you an apology," he said.

"Forget it," I said. "How about a drink? I think we could both use a big one."

"You never met a man who needs a drink worse than I do," he said. 'Til take a large shot of bourbon on some ice, if you don't mind."

"You were lying through your teeth, when you said Jamie's father talked about her at the end," I said, as I mixed the drinks.

"Well, buddy, there are some situations when nobody gets hurt by a lie," he said. "I figure you tell folks what they most want to hear. And Miss Meadows, I figured that it was awful important for her to think of her daddy like that. Course, he never mentioned her."

He took the bourbon and downed it in a swallow. He took the next one I offered, also. But he declined a third.

"Got to get back to work," he said. "Sheriff is next door now, with the Con ways. This thing is going to blow the lid off this town. Girls from the best families messed up in things like that. And that rape thing with the Perkins girl."

He left and I had a couple of drinks alone. Then I fell asleep on the couch.

We had to hang around Harrisville several days, and they were pretty grim ones. Jamie had two particularly bad days, and the second day she really went to pieces.

She got drunk and vowed she could be as strong and independent as her father. She vowed to stay in town and somehow get that freeway on the land she inherited and mostly to make Millie and the other girls pay and pay for what they'd done to her and her father.

It wasn't difficult to convince her of the absurdity of this drunken vow. I forced her to leaving, I told her I had to take care of some business downtown.

I let her keep the belief he had died regretting he hadn't loved her more, spent more time with her, seen her before he died. The deputy was right. That was a lie I'd keep from Jamie.

There was one more he I allowed myself. After the ordeal of the funeral and the legal wrangles, we got out of town as quickly as possible.

I spent almost every minute of that time in town with Jamie. But on the afternoon before leaving, I told her I had to take care of some business downtown.

And I drove out to Emily Ann's fishing camp.

She was waiting for me, sitting contritely on the bed, her eye much better, a beautiful sight in tight shorts and a tight, blue cotton sweater.

"I was so afraid you wouldn't come," she said. "And I'm all prepared for the sacrifice of the virgin."

"You're sure you want to do this?" I asked, my heart racing, my prick alive and straining.

"I'm very sure, darling," she said. "I hope this marks my official entry into the world of living people, of grownup, normal, everyday women."

I sat down on the bed beside her. "Emily Ann, you're very special," I said. "You'll never be an everyday woman, believe me."

She cupped my face in her hands, and kissed each of my eyes, then the tip of my nose, then my lips, a brief, gentle kiss.

"Oh, I have a message for you," she said. "When you finish with me, Kerry asked that you please get in touch with her, and show her how to be a real woman, too."

"Afraid not," I said. "Kerry's all right, but she's not you. I love Jamie. I'm making one exception, because I owe you a favor. And because next to Jamie, you turn me on sexually more than any damn woman I ever met."

"Well, in a couple of ways, I'm more of a woman," she said. "God, what would it be like to be flat-chested?"

"Baby, you'd be devastating sexually if you were flat-chested," I said. "But be thankful you're not. Christ, I'm thankful. Am I thankful?"

And I grabbed those enormous mounds through the thin sweater, and squeezed them until Emily Ann sighed and the nipples hardened in tune, it seemed, to the frantic hardening of my prick.

But she pulled my hands away. And smiled impishly. "No," she said. "Take me without touching my breasts, Carl. Please. That's my great wish, kind sir. To be deflowered, without having my rather overworked and over pampered breasts take part. Lord knows, Carl, my poor vagina must feel awfully neglected."

"It's your deflowering," I said. "I'll do it any way you want."

I stroked her thin thighs and she sighed, and then I peeled the shorts off. She wore no panties, and I stared at the small vagina beneath the patch of curly blonde hair. But just touching those lips caused them to quiver and I felt the stickiness, and Emily Ann was groaning and kissing my lips and ears.

'The first time, be gentle," she said. "And the second, kind of rough. I'm a pretty clever girl and by the third time, I think I'll surprise you with what I've picked up and what I can improvise."

"Jesus," I muttered, and already, as I slid a finger into the lips and felt those quivering pieces of hot, sticky flesh working, I could tell she was improvising.

And she was right-she did surprise me that afternoon. But that's another story, and has nothing to do with the evil virgins whose story ended in the swamps....