<h2 title="Chapter Seven"><SPAN name="p69" id="p69"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>69<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2>
<p>In the glow of the headlights, the car swallowed
the road voraciously and they moved toward the
north country - not, he noticed, on route 87. They
had not been seen leaving the city, nor had they
been seen packing the car. The garage had a door
that led into the kitchen, and Nick had laid on the
back seat floorboards until they were in the
country. Now, sitting in the front seat, he wondered
vaguely if Beth, in her joy at having him
home, had given herself away to her friends. He
hoped not. He glanced sidewise at her and noticed
that she drove with a smile on her face.</p>
<p>“Is it far to the cabin?” He asked.</p>
<p>“Not now. We’re almost to the turn off.”</p>
<p>He lapsed again into silence, the old questions
still whirling about in his mind. Who were the men
who were after him? What did they want? How
much had the FAA learned of the plane? Had they
found something to pin it on him? What were these
tiny, fleeting thoughts that cropped up in his mind?
Was his mind trying to tell him something via the
nightmares? And what of his best friend, Nolan
Brice. Where has he been?<!-- TN: original reads '.?' --> What is he up to?
It struck Nick as odd that he had not encountered
the detective yet: surely he and Beth had been
close the past year. How close? Suppose Brice
stumbled upon Andy Hocum. Would the old man
talk?</p>
<p>Feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in
his life, at least the life he remembered, Nick
stared at the road until Beth turned off on another
road that was little more than a wagon track beside
a small creek. A few minutes of bouncing over
<SPAN name="p70" id="p70"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>70<span class="ns">]
</span></span>ruts and stones, and she turned off again, parking
beside a grey, frame cabin.</p>
<p>“Here we are, darling.”</p>
<p>They got out, each taking a box from the back
seat, and Nick followed her up the stairs to the
porch. Beth set her box down and found the key.
A moment later the lock clicked and she shoved
the door open.</p>
<p>“Wait’ll I find the light, Nick,” she whispered.</p>
<p>A moment later, the light snapped on and a soft
glow filled the front room of the cabin. They took
the boxes to the kitchen and set them on the table,
then went back into the front room<!-- TN: original reads 'roon' -->. Nick studied
the place.</p>
<p>He liked the room a lot; there was a rugged
manliness in the stone fireplace and the knotty
pine walls, mingled with just a touch of Beth’s
femininity to make it neat. All in all, it was a
well laid out place. He was attracted to the oil
paintings that hung about the walls.</p>
<p>“Like it?” Beth asked.</p>
<p>He nodded.</p>
<p>“But it doesn’t bring back any memories?”</p>
<p>“No. Hell, honey, I can’t even remember what
I did for a living.”</p>
<p>She smiled sadly. “Want to see?”</p>
<p>When he nodded, she motioned him to the other
side of the front room and opened the door. She
flicked on the light and he stepped into a small
study filled with the trappings of an artist. Tubes
of paint lay on small tables, beside cans of turpentine,
lacquer and old paint rags. A half finished
nude adorned one of the heavy easels. There were
a few water color sketches laying around as well
as several oils.</p>
<p>“Want to see some of your favorite models?”</p>
<p><SPAN name="p71" id="p71"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>71<span class="ns">]<br
/></span></span>He nodded numbly, and she drew open a drawer
in the table and pulled out four fairly large oil
paintings done on commercial painting boards.</p>
<p>The first two were of Beth, one a nude and the
other a semi-nude, with only her lovely breasts
exposed. The second two paintings were of a girl
who was not familiar at all. In the first picture,
a portrait, she was seated before a table, contemplating
a vase of flowers. A rather good looking
girl with jet black hair and a soft, warm looking
face. The next painting was of the same girl, but
this time she had been painted as a Hawaiian
dancer and her skin was a trifle darker. She was
a pretty girl, but her face and nicely formed body
didn’t ring a bell.</p>
<p>“Who is she?” He asked.</p>
<p>“Her name is Janet Holman. She lives about
four or five miles from here, on her father’s
farm.” Beth nodded toward the green filing cabinet
in the corner. “You have her file over there
with your records. Doesn’t any of this ring a bell,
darling?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>She looked at him sadly, her face mirroring the
way she felt. “I hope it’ll come back, darling.”</p>
<p>He reached out and pulled her to him, holding
her tight. “It’ll come back,” he whispered.
“C’mon. I want to build a fire in that fireplace.
It’s cool in here, even if it is summer.”</p>
<p>They went back out into the front room and,
while Beth found some kindling, Nick wadded up
some newspapers and stuffed them in the fireplace.
When she brought it in, he lighted the stuff and
after it was going good, he added a couple of logs.
He snapped off the light and grinned at her.</p>
<p>“I like firelight,” he told her. “It’s restful.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="p72" id="p72"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>72<span class="ns">]<br
/></span></span>She smiled back at him. “Restful? I think it’s
sexy.” She had kicked off her pumps and was lying
before the glow of the hearth on the thick rug. He
arranged the mesh screen before the fire and laid
down beside her.</p>
<p>“Sexy, huh?”</p>
<p>“Uh huh. I don’t know, darling ... the warmth
of the fire warms me up, I guess.”</p>
<p>He grinned and dropped his head to the cushions
of her breasts. Her fingers played in his hair.</p>
<p>“I’m glad,” he told her.</p>
<p>“You used to be. That used to be our favorite
way of spending an evening.”</p>
<p>“Laying in front of a fire?” Nick asked.</p>
<p>“Not just <em>any</em> fire, darling. This particular
fire, sans clothes.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like fun,” he mused and rolled over to
kiss the ripe redness of her lips. Her tongue
stabbed a blade of passion at him and her arms
pulled him close; then, after a moment, she
shoved him away and stood up.</p>
<p>He propped himself on one elbow and looked
at her. Her smile was impish as she unfastened
the buttons of the white blouse and pulled it
from the waistband of the navy blue skirt. Her
fingers unhooked the snaps of the bra and dropped
it to the floor beside the blouse. The firelight
was golden against the swelling lift of her breasts
and the flat expanse of her stomach. Nick felt
the thundering beginning again to slam through
his veins with the holocaust of a napalm bomb
exploding against the ground as she unzipped the
skirt and dropped it into a puddle on the thick
rug. He watched in pounding fascination as she
stepped daintily from the whorl of the skirt,
clad only in the pinkish transparency of her
<SPAN name="p73" id="p73"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>73<span class="ns">]
</span></span>panties. Then they too were a thing of the past,
and Beth was smiling down at him, passion
spearing from her eyes.</p>
<p>“Will I still do?” She asked.</p>
<p>“Do what?” He croaked.</p>
<p>“You know?” She laughed at him, kneeling
on the rug. “Will I still do as a model?”</p>
<p>He laid down flat and chuckled. “A model,
sweetheart, is a small imitation of the real
thing. You don’t look imitation to me.” He
reached up and grabbed her arm to pull her
down with him onto the rug, but she jerked away.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, you don’t. You have to undress too.”</p>
<p>He grinned at her and peeled off his clothes
quickly. She came into his arms then and they made
love, letting the glowing warmth of the fire
caress them hotly. His hands smoothed her
breasts while his mouth worked at the fire that
was coming to life throughout her body.</p>
<p>“Just like old times?” He asked, softly.</p>
<p>“Better, darling ... much better.”</p>
</div>
<div class="chapter">
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />