Chapter 6

For a long time Adam sat at his desk, thinking. The feeling of rage still raced through him. He didn't for a moment regret working the kid over. He'd been so cocky, so sure of himself. It almost seemed that he'd been bragging, boasting about how cleverly he'd acted. The whole episode was so bizarre as be unreal. Yet Adam knew that it was real. The brazen little bastard had been telling the truth.

Gradually Adam's thinking straightened itself out. He frowned. There had been a discrepancy in the kid's story. In a moment he realized what it was. Bryant had wanted him, Adam, to be his alibi. He wanted Adam to state that he'd been in the coach's cottage that night, in case Nancy died.

But why? Bryant had stated that he'd carried Nancy's unconscious body to the hospital himself, so the doctors knew that he was aware of the "accident." Well, the answer to that wasn't difficult to figure out. Bryant had a cunning mind. If he were questioned, he'd simply say that he'd been with Adam and found the girl's broken body after he'd left the cottage.

Thoughtfully, Adam pulled his telephone in close and dialed the hospital.

"Mekins Hospital," a crisp female voice answered.

"I'd like to inquire about the condition of Miss Nancy Poole."

"Who's calling, please?"

"This is Coach Lombard at the academy."

"Oh, yes, coach. Miss Poole is doing as well as can be expected."

The standard answer. "How well is that?" Adam snapped. "I want to know her exact condition."

There was a pause. "Just a moment, please." Another pause. Longer. Then a click. A man's voice came over the wire. "This is Doctor Dana Gleason, coach." The medical man cleared his throat. "I was wondering how you knew that Miss Poole was here. We've notified no one, as yet. Her parents aren't home."

"Lafe Bryant, the boy who brought her in, told me. I'm his counselor here at the academy. He was pretty well shook up. He wanted to get it off his chest."

"I see. Did he also tell you that Miss Poole was pregnant?"

Adam hesitated. "How would he know a thing like that?"

"Well, she was having a miscarriage when he brought her in. Of course, I realize that the boy is young. Still, many young people do know about such things these days."

"What is Miss Poole's condition at present, Doctor?"

"She's still unconscious. I'm doubtful about her recovery. She was pretty badly beaten, you know."

"Beaten? Young Bryant seemed to think she'd been struck by a car."

"Oh, no. She was beaten. With a club."

Adam's mouth felt dry. "You're sure?"

"Oh, yes, we're sure."

"Have you notified the police?"

"Of course. They've already begun their investigation."

"Well, thank you, Doctor." Adam hung up and pushed the telephone away from him. He sighed deeply. Well, that was that. The first person the police would question would be young Bryant. They'd see that some one had worked him over. They'd ask him about it, and he'd have to tell them.

Adam sighed again. Well, there went his job and probably his future as a coach. And just when he'd won the solid respect of the team. He got up and paced the office. Maybe the kid wouldn't tell. Maybe he'd feel that Adam would blow the whistle on him. Adam suddenly found himself in a quandary. If he didn't blow the whistle on Bryant, and if the police found out that the kid was the culprit, Adam would be charged with being an accomplice. He swore out loud. Damnation! Doctor Gleason already knew that the kid had paid him a visit. He should call the police right now. Adam reached for the phone, but before he could pick it up, it rang.

It was Anne. She was excited, agitated. "Adam! I'm in a phone booth downtown. Something terrible has happened!"

With a growing sense of apprehension, Adam waited. "Adam?"

"Yes, darling, I'm here. What terrible thing has happened?"

"One of my letters-those you wrote me-is missing."

Adam's spirits sank. "You're sure? Couldn't you have misplaced it?"

"No. I know exactly how many there were. I kept them tied with a ribbon hidden beneath some lingerie in the bottom drawer of my bureau."

Adam smiled wryly to himself. It was the first piece of evidence that he had that Anne ever wore any undergarments.

Anne rushed on, "I know exactly how many--many there were. I count them every night, just to make sure. Adam, I know who stole the letter."

"Who?"

"That snoopy old Olive Quimper."

"Oh, Anne, I don't think that sweet old lady would stoop to such a thing."

"Sweet old lady, my ass. You should hear the way she talks to me sometimes. You wouldn't believe the language. She took it, all right. She's probably gloating over it right now, getting her jollies."

Try as he would, he could not picture the sweet old spinster poking through Anne's drawers, looking for something she didn't know existed.

"Couldn't it have been the housekeeper, Anne? Housekeepers feel they have a right to poke."

"No! I know it was Quimper."

Adam sucked in his breath. The sound of Anne's voice was causing a warmth to steal through his body. "Well, let's not talk about it anymore over the phone. Can you come over tonight? We'll discuss it then."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"You know I do."

"Why?"

"You know that too."

"Say it." Her voice had become low and sultry.

Adam put his mouth close to the transmitter. "I want to fuck you."

She laughed softly. "And I want you to fuck me, darling. Just talking to you makes me horny as hell. Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I love you, Anne darling. Please come early. We have a lot to talk about-and to do."

Betty Walker couldn't sleep the night she got home from her weekend at Mekin. She rolled and tossed, lay still with her eyes tightly closed while she counted sheep. But sleep wouldn't come, and at last she gave in to the thoughts that had been nagging at her mind ever since she'd kissed Adam goodbye.

It had been a brief kiss, delivered in the living room of his cottage while her father waited patiently in his car outside. Adam had walked her to the car, shaken hands again with her father, kissed her briefly on the cheek, and stood back, waving them off.

On the drive back home, her father had given her one quick glance. "Lovers' quarrel?"

"Of course not." She laughed, but the laugh was a bit strained.

"What then?"

"Adam is worried because Mekins didn't win," she said to disguise her real reason.

"Mekins didn't lose either."

"Adam is stuck with that silly MacArthur theory, 'There's no substitute for victory.'"

"Well, there's the Grantland Rice philosophy, 'It's not whether you win or lose, but-' "

"I know. I know. I reminded him of that, but I'm afraid it didn't prove very comforting."

"Well, a good coach has got to learn how to take his losses with his wins."

There were some things Anne couldn't talk over with her father, so Anne changed the subject. During the rest of the drive she chattered gaily about the inn. The wonderful dinner they had enjoyed at The Terrace, about the lake and how much she liked those friends of Adam she had met.

Now she lay on her back, staring wide-eyed but unseeing at the ceiling. Now she allowed the thoughts that had been nagging at the back of her mind all day to ease themselves into her consciousness. Something was wrong. There had been something lacking in the brief times she had been alone with Adam. She hadn't any idea what it was, but she had sensed it, felt it.

She frowned. What in the world could it have been? It was an intangible something on which she couldn't put her finger. Adam had said the right words; when they were alone, he had told her that he loved her and had kissed her fervently with genuine feeling.

Betty's frown deepened. Fervently? As on many previous occasions, he had tried to pry her teeth open with his tongue and, as always, she had refused to allow him to do so. Was that what was bothering him? Bosh! She thought, they had an understanding about sex. They had agreed that sex would be more exciting and beautiful once they were married.

For a moment longer she let her mind dwell on the matter of sex. Several times Adam had put his hand on her breasts, and for the moment, before gently taking it away, she had let it remain there. The contact thrilled her more than she cared to admit. In those moments she guessed that she had wanted him as much as she imagined he wanted her.

Once, after she had taken his hand away, she had said, "Darling, do you think I'm an old stick-in-the-mud ? "

"Of course not. Once we're married, I'll be glad you didn't give in to my desires."

She hugged and kissed him. "Once we're married, it's going to be a wonderful joy giving in to your desires." And she had added with a tender smile, "It's going to work both ways, dear. I have desires too, you know. You're going to be surprised."

Well, if it wasn't sex, Betty thought now, what was it? There was something. Those headaches he had been complaining about. She had known Adam all her life, and he'd never once complained about a headache.

She thought of the rumpled bed, of his reluctance to let her straighten it up. A sudden chill took hold of her as the thought passed through her mind that there might be another woman. A sense of guilt drove the thought away. Not Adam! Not the honest upright Adam that she knew and loved.

The next day Betty tried and succeeded in being her usual cheerful anxious self. It was Mrs. Walker's bridge day, and after the older woman had gone, Betty dialed Laura Shelton's number. Laura was her closest girl friend. She was engaged to Paul Thornton, a dentist. She and Paul were to be married next month. Betty would be the maid of honor. The four of them, Laura and Paul, Betty and Adam, had grown up together.

Laura herself answered.

"Hi."

"Betty! So how was the weekend?"

"Glorious. Look, you're alone, aren't you?"

"Mom's joining your mother at the bridge club. Come on over. We'll talk about men. Two in particular."

"Be there in half an hour. Something important I want to discuss."

"Right. See you."

Laura was petite, with chestnut brown hair, ample breasts and good-looking legs. Paul had once described her as the sexiest-looking broad he'd ever met which, he always added with a grin, was the only reason he was marrying her.

The two girls greeted each other affectionately and went into the living room. Laura sat on the sofa and Betty in a chair nearby. Laura took one close look at her friend and stopped smiling, as she asked, "So what happened up at Mekins? Adam ask for his ring back?"

Betty shook her head. "No. But something happened. I wish I knew what it was. That's what I want to talk about. Adam acted-well, he acted almost indifferent."

"I know. He tried to screw you and you wouldn't let him."

Betty took no offense at her friend's remark. Laura was outspoken and outgoing. Betty was used to it. They had often discussed sex freely and with no holds barred.

"Laura, be serious. Adam was somehow withdrawn. I got the distinct impression that he was relieved to see me go."

"I am being serious, darling. Haven't you ever gone to bed with Adam?"

Betty blushed. "No. You know I haven't."

"I've always been hopeful that you'd tell me you had."

"Why?"

"It isn't right for two people to marry without first finding out if they're sexually compatible," Laura offered as her opinion.

"You've said that before, and I still don't get it. I can't think of anything more exciting and beautiful than the first night in bed with the man you love, on your honeymoon."

"Great. But what if you find out that you don't dig each other with the sex bit. What if he's hot and you're cold or vice versa? Then it's too late. You're stuck with each other. I suppose you believe that Adam's never screwed another girl."

"I like to think that he hasn't."

"Darling, how naive can you be. Show me a guy who hasn't banged a broad or two before he falls in love, and I'll show you a freak, a man who isn't worth having." Laura crossed her shapely legs. Her short skirt rode halfway up her thighs. "Suppose-just suppose-that Adam's found a girl up there in Mekins that he's screwing. They both like it. Where would you get off?"

Betty gave a little shudder. Involuntarily, she thought of Adam's rumpled bed. She said, "Have you and Paul ... ? " She left the sentence unfinished.

"Has Paul ever screwed me?" Laura laughed. "Dozens of times." She patted the sofa. "He's going to give me a quickie right here this afternoon on his way home from the office. I can hardly wait. He get what he wants. I'm not taking any chance of losing that big hunk of handsome man."

Betty found that she had begun to breathe hard. "I had no idea . ... "

"You never asked. You've been spending your time trying to be so goddamn pure. Darling, you're missing one of the biggest thrills of life: Satisfying your man and letting him satisfy you."

"Do you really believe that Adam wants to-wants to screw me?"

"Well, if he doesn't, he's a fool. You're really built for a good stiff cock. By, the way, what color panties are you wearing? Pink, I'll bet."

Betty nodded. Her thoughts were racing. Laura flicked up her skirt, revealing the skimpiest, sheerest pair of black panties that Betty had ever seen.

"See these? Black. Men like black underclothes on a girl. Panties, slips, bras." Laura laughed again. "Whenever Paul lets me wear a bra." She flicked her skirt back down. "Get with it, Betty. Screwing the man you love doesn't mean that you're going to be cast into hell. Go back up there to Mekins, crawl into bed with the guy, give him what he wants and make him beg for more. That way, you'll both know what you're getting into."

"Oh, Laura, do you think I should?"

"I know you should. It's the only way. And don't act as though you're making the great sacrifice. Be as aggressive as he is. Use the right words. The four-letter words."

"I-I don't know the four-letter words-all of them," Betty confessed in embarrassment.

"Then I'm going to tell you what they are right now and what they mean."

Laura talked and Betty listened, absorbing every word. Her breathing was ragged. Her body felt warm all over. There was a moistness in her crotch.

The front doorbell rang. Laura leaped to her feet. "That's Paul!" She ran into the hall.

When Betty passed them on her way out, they were locked in each other's arms, their bodies pressed close together, hips grinding, mouths working against each other. At the door, Betty glanced back. Paul had freed a hand and was fondling one of Laura's breasts.

Betty went out quietly. She ran to her car and got in behind the wheel. She was still breathing hard. She had never felt so excited or sexually aroused-not even when Adam had made violent love to her. That, she knew now, was because she had steeled herself against arousal. She'd been a fool. For a moment she sat still, gripping the wheel, trying to control her emotions. But she found it almost impossible to do so, because her mind was filled with a vivid picture of what was right now happening on the sofa in Laura's living room.

Betty didn't go home at once. Instead, she drove to the town's garment district and entered a lingerie ship.