CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They hurried down the mountain, trying to beat the rain that was threatening. They had taken time for coffee and a quick breakfast of two muffins that Chris had stuffed in her pack, which were nearly flattened beyond recognition. Neither mentioned the incident of the previous night, nor the nearly sleepless night both of them had endured.
The air was cool and damp, just enough to prevent them from shedding their sweatshirts. By the time they reached the trailhead, it was starting to sprinkle and thunder rumbled overhead. They both tossed their packs in the Jeep, which was still uncovered. Chris had removed the top for the summer and she turned the heater on now as she drove quickly to the cabins.
"I don't guess I could talk you into coming to my place first?" Chris asked. "I could use some help with the top and I don't think I'm going to beat the rain."
"Of course. I don't mind getting wet, McKenna. Why should you have all the fun?"
The canvas top was stored under her bed and Chris ran to get it as the rain fell harder. They were soaked by the time the Jeep was covered and the windows zipped up.
"Come on inside. We'll wait it out," Chris offered.
She found towels for both of them, then left Jessie on the sofa with Dillon perched importantly in her lap. Chris took a quick shower, then changed into dry clothes. Jessie and Dillon were still on the sofa when she returned.
"He likes me," Jessie stated as she pointed to the curled up cat in her lap.
"Well, don't get a big head or anything. That's his favorite position."
"And I thought it was my charming personality he was attracted to."
Chris smiled at the two of them, watching a relaxed Jessie as she petted the cat.
"Listen, if you want to take a shower, I can probably find some clothes to fit you. We're about the same size," Chris offered.
"That's okay. I can wait."
Chris shrugged, then opened the refrigerator and peered inside.
"I'd offer to fix you lunch, but it's kinda bare," she apologized.
Jessie startled her as she leaned over her shoulder.
"Beer, salsa, milk, more beer and . . . cheese?" Jessie teased. "Oh, and an apple. Like I said, you don't cook much, do you?"
"I can open a can of soup and I can do cereal," Chris stated.
"Do cereal? That's really not cooking, McKenna." Jessie reached inside and pulled out two beers. "This will do."
They sat quietly at the table, listening to the rain. Chris wondered when they would broach the subject of last night or if they ever would. Jessie's eyes were veiled, her words guarded. Perhaps she regretted the few minutes when she had let go the previous evening. Or maybe she was simply regretting the conversation about her childhood.
"You know, McKenna, I really didn't know how to act this morning," Jessie finally said.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I'm talking about," she stated. "And I'm not only talking about the episode out there in the moonlight. That was . . . nice. But there's not a single person in my life that knows about my childhood, except several therapists scattered in San Francisco and New York. Actually, there's not really all that many people in my life, period," she admitted. In fact, there wasn't really anyone.
"What do you mean?" Chris asked again.
Jessie turned cool, dark eyes on her. Eyes totally devoid of emotion.
"I have a problem establishing relationships, or so I've been told. I'm not exactly a nice person, McKenna" she said.
"You're not? I think you're nice," Chris said.
"But you don't really know me, do you?"
Jessie stood up and walked to the window, her back to Chris. No need to prolong this, she thought. Tell her what a bitch you are. Get it over with. Tell her how close you came to using her last night. There was no need to hang around here, pretending to vacation. She came to Sierra City to find Annie, to talk to her. No other reason than that.
But when she turned around, she collided with clear blue eyes that were filled with trust and understanding. Chris looked back at her, waiting.
"I . . . I use people, McKenna. For whatever I need. Professionally, personally." She shrugged. "For sex."
"And are you warning me or are you confessing?" Chris asked calmly.
"Look, McKenna, I'm just saying that I'm a taker. Not a giver. And for some crazy reason, I don't want to do that to you."
"Why?"
"Because that's just who I am, what I am. I don't know why."
"No. Why don't you want to do that to me? If you just use people for what you need then discard them, why are you warning me?"
Why indeed? Jessie turned back to the window, wrapping her arms across her chest. Because for the first time in so many years, she actually found someone she liked. And that scared her.
"Jessie, if you're upset about what happened last night, let's talk about it. I don't know about you, but it certainly wasn't something I planned."
"Wasn't it? Then why did you invite me along?"
Chris shrugged. "I like you."
Jessie groaned. No. She didn't want Chris to like her. God, nobody liked her. Why in the world would this woman be different?
"McKenna, if you knew me, trust me, you wouldn't like me."
"Why are you so hard on yourself?"
"Because, goddamnit, I'm a bitch, that's why. I told you, I use people. And I'll use you, too. Because that's just the way I am."
Chris looked at the woman before her, the woman who was trying so hard not to be liked. Jessie Stone was an attractive woman. She was also a successful writer. Why then, was this woman standing with her arms wrapped around herself, so completely insecure and unsure of herself?
Chris walked over to her and unwrapped her arms, lightly grasping both of Jessie's hands.
"I'm sorry, but I just don't see it."
"McKenna . . .."
"No. I think you've led yourself to believe this and others have told you this so you assume it's true. But underneath all of that, I think you're a very nice, charming person. If you'll let yourself be, anyway."
Jessie wanted to laugh. What the hell did Chris know about it? They were practically strangers.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jessie stood on her porch, inhaling deeply, thinking there was no nicer smell than the forest after a rain. The sweet smell of Incense Cedar drifted around her and she couldn't resist a small smile. She finally gave into temptation and stepped off the porch, her boots silent on the wet ground as she walked over to the giant tree and shoved her nose against the bark. If there was one smell she wished she could bottle, this was it. It was one of the numbers of smells embedded in her memory from childhood.
She settled in one of the chairs on the porch, thinking she should go inside and shower and get into dry clothes, but she was suddenly too tired for even that. The quick trip she'd planned back to Sierra City was not turning out the way she envisioned. She hadn't planned on taking two days for a backpacking trip. And she didn't know why she found the prospect of seeing Annie so difficult. Perhaps because she really didn't know why she was going to see her in the first place. And McKenna. The woman was creeping into places that Jessie had kept off limits to everyone before. She really liked her, Jessie admitted. And what scared her more was that Chris seemed to genuinely like her, too. Why on earth, Jessie couldn't imagine.
As she'd told Chris, she wasn't a nice person. Hadn't Dr. Davies told her as much on her last visit?
Jessie wearily leaned her head back, wondering how she had come to this point in her life. She let the familiar depression settle over her like a blanket. When had it started? In high school? Before that, even? This heaviness had been with her so long, she couldn't remember a time that it had not followed her. Certainly as a child, she was happy. She must have been. Camping trips and fishing, he always made them fun. It was always just the two of them. She hadn't had to share him with anyone. Jack was her only friend.
When had that stopped? Why didn't they go camping anymore when she got older? Had they?
She shook her head. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chris was just finishing her first cup of coffee when her cell phone rang. She was hoping it would be Jessie, then panicked, thinking it might be Annie.
"McKenna?"
"Yeah." It was Roger.
"We've got a 10-50, with fatality."
"Who?" she asked quickly, her heart pounding.
"Not a local."
"Thank goodness." In the three months that she'd been here, she had gotten to know a lot of the people in this small town. They all accepted her without question and treated her as if she'd been there for years.
"It's out on County Road 12 and the sheriff's got a crew out, but according to reports, there should have been three people in the car. They've only got one body. They asked if we could give them a hand."
"They were probably thrown out," she said.
"Yeah. Well, they just found the accident about an hour ago. See if you can find Bobby and maybe Greg and meet me out there. Could have head injuries and they wondered off or something, who knows."
Thirty minutes later, they were on their way to the accident, south of Sierra City. The wrecked car was still there, some fifty feet down the side of the mountain, but the body had been removed. Roger came up to meet them, a grim look on his face.
"Very strange," he said. "Harold Jackson, twenty-two, was the only body found. From what they've found out so far, he and his brother, Jeffery, age twenty, and a girl, Wendy, don't have her last name yet, left a party in Sacramento after midnight."
"Alcohol?" Bobby asked.
"Drugs for sure. They found cocaine in the car. Sheriff thinks the car was pushed off. There are dents in the back bumper that he doesn't think were made on the way down."
"Jesus," Greg said. "Some car rammed them?"
"That's what it looks like. If the other two survived, they might have headed into the woods, scared. Hell, I don't know."
"Let me look around, see if I can find anything, tracks, broken limbs, anything that might indicate that they took off," Chris said.
"Okay. I don't want to start a major search here if it's not necessary. But the boys, their father is Harris Jackson."
"The Senator?"
"That's the one."
Chris slid down the hill, grabbing onto limbs to keep from falling. The car was sitting on it's nose, the engine shoved practically into the back seat. No way they could have survived the crash inside the car. They were either thrown out, or simply were not in the car when it went over the side. She remembered one accident similar to this, where the body was found nearly one hundred feet from the site, impaled on a tree branch.
She looked around the site, shaking her head. It was another fifty feet, at least before it leveled off. If they were able to walk away, which she doubted, they would have had a hell of a time making it into the forest in the dark, even with a full moon, without sliding or falling off a rock the rest of the way down. She made her way down, past the car and looked for signs of rocks being dislodged or branches broken from someone pulling on them. She found nothing. She took her binoculars out and scanned the forest below, but still saw nothing to grab her attention.
She took her radio off her hip and called for Roger.
"Nothing. I just don't see it, Roger. They weren't in the car."
"Ten-twelve," he said and she waited liked he asked. "McKenna, come on back."
"Ten-four."
It took her nearly twenty minutes to climb back to the top and she was out of breath. She paused, hands on her hips as she breathed deeply. She scanned towards the forest, half expecting to see a body hanging from a tree.
"They found a body, a few miles back. Male."
"And the girl?"
"No. No sign of her," he said. "He'd been shot," Roger added.
Chris just stared at him. Murder? In Sierra City? This had to be a first. In this century, at least.
"Shot? Jesus," Bobby murmured.
"Yeah. My guess is drugs and they got mixed up with the wrong people this time. It's not our affair, thank goodness."
"What about the girl?" Chris asked.
"She'll probably turn up dead or else maybe she's the shooter." He turned to go then stopped. "Either way, it's going to be a big deal. Jackson is on his way out here now from Washington."
They went back to the station, silent on the ride back. She thanked Bobby and Greg for going with her, then went into her office.
Kay came in a short time later. "I've been listening on the police scanner," she said. "It's already all over the news in the city."
"Yeah, it's a big deal, for sure."
"You had a visitor this morning," Kay said. "A stranger."
"And?"
"There was a message." She handed her a white envelope with her name scrawled across the front. "I hope you don't mind, but she said you were friends. I gave her your cell phone number."
"Thanks." She waited until Kay left before opening it. It was an invitation to dinner at cabin number seven. She was surprised. When she had dropped Jessie off the day before, she was noncommittal as to when they might see each other again.
Chris got home late, having spent the day directing the media and other interested parties away from town. By two o'clock, Sierra City was buzzing and it looked like the Fourth of July, what with all the people milling about. The Rock House was doing a booming business and she couldn't even get close to Steve's gas station. They were to be on the national news at five and all the locals gathered at the Rock House to watch. Chris stopped by, too, joining Roger for a beer after such an eventful day. He was curious why she wasn't staying for dinner, but he didn't press.
Her hair was still damp as she drove to Jessie's. She was fifteen minutes late and Jessie was on the back porch waiting.
"You came," she said. Their eyes held for a moment, then Jessie looked away.
"Did you think I wouldn't?"
Jessie only shrugged. "I hear you had a busy day."
"A nightmare." Chris took the beer that Jessie offered and leaned against the porch railing. "It was a regular circus in town today."
"One of the benefits of not having a TV, I guess. Ellen at the grocery store told me about it."
"Everyone was quite excited about being on television tonight, though."
"You?"
She shook her head. "No, but it'll die down in a day or two."
Chris studied Jessie as she sipped her beer. Jessie seemed a little reserved, guarded. Chris took a deep breath, knowing it was none of her business, but unable to let it go any longer. Annie was her friend. A friend who she was scheduled to have dinner with Thursday night. And she was tired of playing games.
"Jessie, what are you really doing here?"
Jessie was surprised by the question and she looked away. Trust Chris to be direct. "I told you, my therapist says I've got issues here."
"Yes, you've said that. But what does that mean, exactly?"
"Exactly? What kind of question is that? I've got issues. If I knew what the hell they were, I'd do something about them."
Chris pushed off the railing and stood beside Jessie, thinking again that she should just mind her own business. But of course, she couldn't.
"I know Annie Stone," she said.
"You've heard of her?"
"No, I mean I know her. We're friends," Chris said.
Jessie's eyes widened. "Friends?"
"Roger Hamilton introduced me. You remember Roger?" she asked.
Jessie nodded, shocked. This, she was not expecting.
"Let's talk. Honestly, okay?"
"Honestly? McKenna, what's gotten into you? I invited you over for dinner and you want to have a heart to heart? This has nothing to do with you."
"Aren't you curious as to how I knew your name? Your books don't mention Jessie, just J. T."
Jessie shrugged. "It never occurred to me, really." And it hadn't.
"I was reading your book and Roger came over and saw it. He started telling me about you being from here and all. I was curious about you, I guess."
"Why?"
Chris met her eyes, but ignored her question. She wasn't ready to admit her infatuation over a picture. "Roger told me about Annie. I wanted to meet her."
"Why on earth?"
"I don't know why, I just did. And I like her very much," Chris admitted.
Jessie turned angry eyes to her. "How can you possibly like her? You know nothing about her."
"I probably know more about her than you do. I also probably know more about you than you remember yourself," Chris stated. She was getting into dangerous water, she knew, but the Annie that Jessie remembered was not the Annie that Chris knew.
"How dare you?" Jessie spat. "How dare you pry into my private life like that?" Then Jessie slapped Chris on the arm. "And how dare you let me pretend to be Jennifer Parker when you knew all along."
"What did you want me to do? I figured you had a reason."
"Look, I came back here because . . . because I don't know why, okay. It just seemed like the thing to do. I can't remember anything. All I feel is hatred and resentment for this woman who is my mother and I don't know why," she finished in a whisper.
"Jack had a lot of women, did you know that?"
"What? You believe what she told you? You didn't know him. He wasn't like that."
"Roger said the same thing."
"Jesus Christ! So you've been gossiping about my life?"
"It wasn't like that, Jessie."
Jessie gripped the railing and stared out, seeing nothing. She remembered that night, that night that Jack and Annie had been screaming at each other. Annie accused him and he denied it. She was the one who had a lover. She was the reason for . . . everything.
"Well, who could blame him? There was certainly no love waiting at home for him."
"How do you know that?"
"I lived there. I saw. She never spoke to him. She never did anything with us. She never went anywhere with us. She wouldn't even share a bedroom with him. She didn't love him. She didn't love me."
"Maybe she wasn't allowed to go anywhere with you. Maybe she wasn't allowed to love you."
"That's ridiculous. Is that what she said?"
"Why do you think she didn't love you?" Chris asked.
"She never talked to me. She hardly acknowledged that I was around."
"But you had meals on the table and clean clothes, all ironed for school?"
Jessie turned around slowly, a frown on her face.
"What about when you didn't come home for dinner?" Chris asked gently.
"Like when?"
"Fishing after school?"
Jessie thought back, then cleared her throat. "Jack would pick me up after school sometimes and we would go fishing. We'd cook them and eat them right there," she said in a distant voice, remembering.
"And when you got home, the table would be set for dinner and Annie would be waiting," Chris said.
Jessie looked away again, remembering the times Annie was sitting by herself at the table, dinner long cold.
"What then?"
"I would go to my room," she said quietly. She thought back, hearing her father laugh at Annie as she sat at the table. But she pushed that thought away. She was the one hurting, not Annie. But why?
"Jessie, there's more to it than you're letting yourself remember," Chris said, wondering how much she could coax from Jessie.
"So, do you and Annie just sit around and talk about me or what?"
Chris could tell she had lost her. The brief moment of uncertainty had passed and in its place was the anger. "No. We're just friends. She's been locked in that house for thirty-two years. She needed to talk."
"What do you mean?"
"They call her the 'hermit lady' around here. Ellen owns the grocery store and she's been here five years and has never even seen her. She doesn't leave the house. Roger brings her groceries a couple of times a month. But she has her hobbies," Chris added bitterly.
"Hobbies?"
"She paints. She reads," she said pointedly. She saw Jessie's head turn quickly, but she looked away again.
"I don't care about that. I don't care about her," Jessie said stubbornly. "And if you don't mind, I'm really not in the mood for dinner, McKenna."
"Jessie . . .."
"No. Just leave. I want to be alone."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I just wanted you to know about Annie. I didn't mean to upset you," Chris said.
"Well, you have, McKenna."
The dark eyes still sparked with anger and Chris lowered her own. She had said too much. She had delved into things that were not her business. And she had destroyed any friendship that she and Jessie had started. For that, she was sorry. But she wasn't sorry for bringing up Annie.
Chris left without another word and Jessie went inside, standing in her small kitchen with her arms wrapped around herself. But she refused to think. Her head was already pounding and she opened the bottle of wine that was to go with their dinner.
"My life's a fucking mess," she whispered to the empty cabin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Chris was assisting the Sheriff's Department the next morning, along with Matt and Roger. It turned out the missing girl was Wendy Dearborne, granddaughter of Phillip Dearborne, the famous San Francisco District Attorney. Needless to say, the case had top priority, and all those around Sierra City cursed the fact that the accident had happened in their area. Heads were rolling, from the top down, and now they were participating in a search, starting where Jeffrey Jackson's body had been found and covering the forest between there and where the car went off the road. Another group was starting at the accident site and Greg and Bobby were helping them.
Chris was trying to concentrate, looking for any evidence, but her mind kept wondering back to the night before. She had handled it poorly, she knew, but it was too late for that. She could have just ignored the whole thing and gone on like they had been. Have a little fun while Jessie was here, someone to have dinner with, maybe more, she thought. But she liked Annie too much. The woman didn't deserve to suffer any more. And Chris knew that if Jessie would just go talk to Annie, to get everything out in the open, maybe they could repair the damage that had been done all those years ago. But what damage? Even Jessie didn't know the answer to that.
They walked until noon, then stopped to rest and eat the lunch they had brought. She and Matt sat on a downed tree and Roger leaned against a rock.
"We're not going to find anything. I can feel it," Matt said.
"Yeah. I agree," Chris said. But they were just following orders.
"We'll be out of it after today," Roger said. "The Senator has the FBI on it. Then we can get back to our menial duties of managing the forest."
Chris noticed the bitterness in his voice and knew he hated the fact that his office had been taken over. She did too.
"Where the hell is Hatcher, Roger? Why isn't he out here?"
"McKenna, don't start with me. You know damn well where he is."
"You know he doesn't like to get dirty, McKenna," Matt said with a grin.
"Somebody had to stay at the office, the phone was ringing off the hook," Roger said. "Might as well be him."
Chris just shook her head, remembering how Robert Hatcher had nearly fallen over himself when the FBI showed up.
"Kay said that his father and the Senator are friends. You'd think he would be out here looking, too," she said.
It was another couple of hours before they met up with the other search group. No one had found a thing.
They all stood in a group as the Sheriff addressed them.
"I want to thank you all for helping out. Roger, thanks for lending your S.A.R. team. The Senator has asked the FBI to take over the investigation so we'll just be assisting them if they need us."
Chris and Roger exchanged glances. So, even the Sheriff was being dismissed.
It was after 5:00 when Chris got back. She wanted a shower and a cold beer. She had told Matt she would meet him at the Rock for dinner. Anything was better than sitting at her cabin alone, even one of Dave's surprises. Dillon met her at the door and she scooped him up and kissed him before filling his bowl with food. She took a beer from the fridge on her way past and undressed as she went. Her clothes were scratched, stained and sweaty and she piled them in the clothesbasket in the corner of her room. It was time to hit Roger up for dinner so she could do laundry, she thought. She stood naked in the bathroom, downing her beer before stepping under the hot spray.
With her head tilted back and the water pounding against her breasts, she thought of Jessie and wondered what kind of day she had. Chris was tempted to drive to her cabin and check on her but she didn't want to take a chance on getting thrown out again.
She changed into clean jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was still wet and she opened the Jeep window and let the cool breeze dry it as she drove. It was too long, she noted. The bangs were hanging in her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently.
The Rock House was busy for a Tuesday night and she spotted Matt and Bobby sitting at a table with Roger.
"Hey guys."
"McKenna.'
She caught Martha's eye before she sat down and raised her hand. "A beer, Martha. Please," she called.
"Yeah, yeah, you and everybody else. Keep your shirt on, McKenna."
"Why does she abuse me?" she asked.
"Abuse? Hell, she's being nice tonight," Roger said.
"But she's not sweet like Donna," Bobby said.
Chris flicked her eyes at Matt and grinned and he pleased her by blushing slightly. But she stopped her teasing there. Matt still had not worked up the nerve to ask Donna to dinner.
Martha brought her a draft beer, sloshing some on the table as she usually did.
"Dave wants to know what you want tonight," she said.
"Look, let's just be safe, okay. How about a baked potato? A little sour cream and cheese?"
Martha grinned. "You're learning, McKenna."
"Bring us another round, too."
"I only have two hands, Roger. Wait your turn."
"If she knew how many damn miles we walked today," Roger mumbled.
Chris laughed. "And you're the jogger in the bunch."
"Jogging is not climbing over boulders and around trees."
"I think you're getting soft in your old age," she teased.
"Soft my ass. I can still run circles around you, McKenna."
"Sure you can."
Chris suffered through three men going on and on about their steaks as she ate her baked potato, trying her best to ignore them.
"Why are you a vegetarian, McKenna?" Bobby asked.
She opened her mouth to give a politically correct statement when Roger chimed in.
"A woman," he said. "I think she was trying to impress her."
"Girlfriend?" Matt asked.
"Wow, McKenna. You'd give up steak for a woman?"
Chris glared at Roger before addressing the questions.
"She was a girlfriend at one time, years ago. And yes, I did give up steak for her, Bobby." Then she grinned. "It was well worth it."
"And where is she now?" Roger asked.
"You know damn well where she is."
"Where?" Matt and Bobby asked in unison.
"She decided she liked a millionaire's son better and married him," Chris said.
"Guess she liked meat after all," Bobby said innocently.
Chris nearly spit her beer out for laughing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jessie grabbed a blanket and a bottle of wine and headed out. The trail would be treacherous at night, but she didn't care. She couldn't escape her thoughts and she desperately needed answers. It was only when the moon went behind a cloud that she remembered she had no flashlight. But it didn't matter. She didn't care.
She stumbled along the trail, her boots hitting unseen rocks and she would have walked into a tree had the moon not shown itself again. She finally found the ledge and blindly jumped across the break, landing only feet from the edge.
So many years ago, her father's life ended right here. She stared out over the canyon into the darkness below. Why had he jumped?
She sat down and let her feet dangle over the edge, part of her knowing she was far too close but she didn't move back. Instead, she reached into her bag for the bottle of wine.
"What happened?" she whispered.
She took a swallow from the bottle and shoved it between her legs, letting childhood memories flood her. Camping. Just the two of them in the tent. Fishing, him teaching her to tie flies. Hiking the trails, she running ahead of him, then him chasing her, finally catching her and swinging her around. Annie was never there. She wasn't there for either of them. Jessie closed her eyes. Annie didn't love him. She remembered him telling her that. Annie wasn't there for him.
Then the tent. It was so hot, he told her she didn't have to put her pajamas on. Jessie took another swallow from the bottle. Annie wasn't there for him. But Jessie was. She was always there.
"Oh God," she whispered.
"Jessie, you're my best girl, aren't you?"
How many times had she heard those words? The best girl. And because Annie wasn't there, she had to be.
"No."
"It's okay, Jessie. It'll be our little secret."
"Oh, no," she sobbed and clutched the wine bottle to her. "No."
Forgotten memories hit her full force and she cried for her lost innocence. The tent. It was so hot. Oh God, and it hurt. It hurt so bad. But he had soothed her, told her it would be better the next time. It wouldn't hurt so much. She was such a good girl.
"Goddamn son of a bitch!" she screamed through her tears. She rocked back and forth, the bottle of wine her only comfort on this dark, dark night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chris drove back to her cabin with the Jeep window open. The night was cool but the fresh air felt good after sitting in cigarette smoke for the last few hours. She glanced toward the parking area for Ridge Trail like she always did and slammed on her brakes. Jessie's rental car shone in the moonlight.
"Jesus! What the hell is she doing?"
She parked beside the car and felt the hood. It was cold. She let out a heavy sigh.
"Oh, man."
After hiking all day, the last thing she wanted was a quick trip up Ridge Trail. It took her nearly thirty minutes to negotiate the trail in the dark, even with her flashlight. She topped the ridge and stopped to catch her breath and relief washed over her as she saw the lone figure sitting on the ledge. The moon cast enough light for her to see Jessie huddled in a blanket, a bottle of wine sitting next to her. She turned the flashlight off and walked over to her.
"Jessie?" she called softly. There was no answer. No movement. "Can I sit with you?" Still nothing.
Chris took one long stride across the crack in the ledge and sat down behind her, moving the nearly empty bottle of wine away. She spread her legs on either side of Jessie and put her arms around her, pulling her back against her chest. Jessie didn't resist, instead laid her head back against Chris. Chris felt her take a deep breath, then release it slowly.
"You okay?" Chris whispered.
"No."
"Want to talk?"
"No."
Chris only nodded and held Jessie to her, rocking her gently in her arms. After a few moments, she felt rather than heard Jessie crying. Chris kissed the back of her head gently and tightened her hold.
Jessie relaxed into the comfort of Chris' arms, letting her tears fall silently. She had thought that she was cried out, but for the first time in so many, many years, secure arms held her, offering solace, nothing more. And it felt good. But she knew she didn't deserve it. She had nothing to give back. She was just an empty shell of a woman. And emptiness was something she was very used to.
She felt Chris kiss her hair, felt her arms tighten and she squeezed her eyes shut against the feelings that settled over her. She didn't deserve this. No, she deserved to hurt, to feel pain.
She turned her head suddenly, pressing her lips into Chris' neck, then moving to her lips, kissing them hard.
"No, don't say anything," she whispered. "Please. I know you want me. I can see it in your eyes."
She pushed Chris back on the ledge and straddled her, her hands roughly cupping Chris' breasts before her mouth claimed Chris again.
Chris didn't know what was happening but she had no time for thoughts as her mouth opened and Jessie's tongue entered, driving out any resistance she may have had.
Jessie took what she wanted and Chris became a nameless, faceless woman, like so many before her. Just someone she could use to drive out her thoughts. She laid her full weight on top of Chris, pressing her hips hard into the soft body beneath hers, hearing Chris' low moan as her kiss turned hungry. She refused to think, letting her body take over as her hands moved between them, unbuttoning Chris' jeans and slipping easily inside. Her fingers found their target, only briefly acknowledging the wetness she knew she would find. She shook off the hands that cupped her face, denying the tender kiss that Chris placed on her lips.
"No."
The eyes that Chris found in the moonlight were hard, dark, emotionless.
"Jessie . . .."
"No."
Jessie covered her mouth again then roughly grabbed Chris' hand and shoved it inside her own jeans. She rolled over, pulling Chris on top of her, opening her legs.
"Please, take me," she whispered before guiding Chris' mouth back to her own.
Chris tried to pull away, her mind fighting with her body over her desire for this woman. She could take her, right now. But for pleasure? No, it would just be a quick fuck. Jessie's eyes were blank. There was no pleasure there. But Jessie grabbed her hand again, pushing it inside her jeans. Fingers felt wetness and Chris moaned, wanting to be inside her and she let her body win.
Jessie raised her hips, shoving fingers deep inside her. Her eyes closed as familiar feelings gripped painfully at her heart. Her hips moved roughly against fingers that tired to give her pleasure. She didn't want pleasure. She wanted to hurt.
"Harder," she whispered.
"No, Jessie, look at me."
"No. Please, just fuck me." She closed her mind and saw nothing, only blackness. Then he was there, so big, so rough, callused hands touching her soft skin. 'It's alright, baby, daddy's here.'
Chris saw the tears fall, felt Jessie go limp and she finally pulled her hand away. She stared at her, wondering what had just happened, why she had let it happen. This isn't what she wanted between them.
"Jessie?"
Jessie shook her head as sobs racked her body. She felt Chris pull away from her and sit up. Jessie curled into a fetal position and cried. She cried harder when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Jessie, please. Tell me what the hell is going on."
"I just wanted . . . I wanted,"
"I know what you wanted. I want to know why. Why did you do that to me?"
"I tried to warn you," Jessie whispered.
"Warn me?"
"I use people, McKenna. It's the only thing I'm good at."
"Goddamn you, Jessie. I'm not some bimbo you picked up in a bar to take home for a quick fuck. I liked you."
Liked. Past tense. Jessie nodded. This, she was used to.
Chris stood and pulled her jeans up and buttoned them. Never in her life had she been this humiliated. She had thought, maybe, that Jessie liked her, that Jessie wanted to be with her as much as Chris wanted to be with Jessie. But no, she just used people.
"Come on," she said.
"No."
"Yes. I'm leaving and so are you. Get up."
Jessie wanted to argue, but she knew Chris would not leave her here alone. Despite the fact that she had hurt her. Yes, Jessie hurt her. Intentionally. This beautiful woman with such kindness in her eyes, Jessie had turned their mutual attraction into a game. She was very sorry, but she couldn't find the words to explain, so she said nothing.
She followed Chris silently down the trail, several steps behind her. At the trailhead, Jessie stopped at the Jeep but Chris opened the door and climbed in. Their eyes met and Jessie saw none of the warmth that she was used to seeing in her blue eyes. She saw hurt and pain and a hint of anger. She didn't blame her. She stepped aside as Chris pulled away and walked numbly to her car.