Chapter 4

It had rained all night and the morning brought no signs of it stopping. Charles Town was awash with water and mud from cars driving in from the surrounding land. Hillier was seriously glad he'd bought his boots with him – a last minute impulse grab, right before heading off to McDonald's for a breakfast on the move. He'd also remembered his umbrella and coat, but at this time of year, those were a must anyway. Given the way it had rained during the night, he was expecting to need them.

The stakeout the day before had been a bust, but he wasn't too cut up about it.

As it was, he was just enjoying the driving, with the windows open, smelling the freshness of the land after a major rainstorm.

That was right up until he sat in crawling traffic for an hour, passing by a three-car accident caused by the wetness, which snarled everything on the two-lane road.

When he finally pulled into Charles Town, his temper was not the best.

He went straight to the local cop shop, and flashed his badge at the desk sergeant, who straightened up when he saw it. He made a call and a minute later, an equally harassed-looking detective in an equally rumpled suit came out, with a plastic cup of what Hillier was sure was terrible coffee in it.

He gestured to Hillier to head back and held the door open for him.

"Detective Hillier? I'm detective David Hanson. What can we do for our cosmopolitan brethren today?" Hanson's voice was tired but clipped and precise and his use of language was enough to raise an eyebrow. His voice just didn't fit coming from the face it did.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Hanson. So, yeah, not strictly on the books here. I'm here on a more personal mission, checking out a hunch. I'm hoping you can help."

Hillier was guided to a seat next to a neat desk, with computer and phone, and almost nothing else. He raised his eyebrow at that, too. A cop's desk is NEVER clean.

Hanson noticed him looking and said, "All digital out here now, chief. Paper stays in trees. So what can we do for you?"

"Joe Sullivan," replied Hillier, with no preamble.

Hanson winced. "And what has Charles Town's finest Boy Scout done now?" he asked.

"So he's from here then? Score one for the hunch," smiled Hillier.

"Oh yeah, he's from here. The locals around here think he's some kind of wood fairy, and protect him from everything. He was involved in something a while back which got a kid killed. He got vilified by one of the kids, but then somehow he still ended up smelling of roses around here.

"I've had to pull him stinking drunk out of a bar one night – pure luck I happened to be there and see him take on a couple of redneck assholes that where harassing one of the girls in there to do karaoke. He absolutely decked those guys, although in the most clumsy way possible and I had to get him out of their before he did real damage to himself. He even had a pop at me, so I put him in the cells to sober up. He was extremely apologetic the next day."

"Sounds like our boy," said Hillier.

"So what's your need?" inquired Hanson.

"Just trying to track him down is all. He turned up dead on our turf. Was killed defending a woman from a mugging."

Hanson put down his drink. "Shit. That sucks. People around here are not going to like that very much. You get the killer?"

Hillier scowled. "No. Fucker got away. We know who he is and we got his two accomplices – the woman was doing a good job of defending herself and had put two down, but the other scum bag was behind her, pulled a knife, and that's when Joe got involved. He took him on, got stabbed, that's all she wrote."

"Oh shit. What a clusterfuck," sighed Hanson.

"So yeah, just trying to see where he came from. Looking to see if anyone needs to be notified, and because, well, I'm just really curious about this guy. He just seems a good guy, with a lot of shit poured on him. You know where the man laid his head?"

"Yeah, we had to drop him back there after the drunk tank that one time. He lives out in one of the cabins at Trolley Fields. It's just out of town. I'll give you the address."

Hillier sat back as Hanson busied himself on the computer, thinking to himself, 'It's always nice when a hunch pans out.' He considered texting April to let her know he'd found where Joe lived, but thought he'd wait till he'd actually been there. He owed it to any survivors first.

Hillier pulled into the mud lot of Trolleys Fields and parked in exactly the same spot that April had the day before. He was wearing heavy boots and as such didn't have to pick through the mud as April had, which was just as well since the rain had left the ground sodden and churned up.

He ran into the guest services cottage and found almost the same set up as April had the day before, only this time, the wizened fat man, was sound asleep in one of the easy chairs in front of the fire, hands linked over his belly and a half full bottle of Johnny Walker and empty glass on the table next to it. Hillier could smell the man's breath from the door, and it wasn't pretty.

He deliberately banged the door to try and wake the man up, and when that didn't work, he walked over the desk and banged the bell several times. That had the same effect. Hillier waited a couple of moments, just in case this amazing specimen of man hood was not the desk clerk and when no one came, he went over the man and just shook him until the man came out of his alcoholic slumber.

The man fell off the chair, landed on the floor, swore and started to lever himself up. He got up and looked around with the bleary eyes of someone not yet completely awake or aware, mumbled something and shuffled off to the desk, ignoring Hillier's presence.

Once he was behind the desk, looking a little more awake, and using both hands spread out to keep himself up right, he slurred, "What can I do for you, sir? Do you need a cabin for the weekend?"

Hillier just looked at him, went straight into it and said, "Joe Sullivan. Which cabin is his?"

"And why should I tell you?" said the man, trying to look haughty and just looking sad.

Hillier flipped open his badge. The man could barely focus on it, but said, "Fine. Cabin 37. Sure is one popular guy recently. Two people looking for him in two days?"

Hillier had been on his way out when he stopped and turned. "Two?"

"Yeah, the hooker the other day. Pretty girl. Would have liked some of that myself. She might even still be there. Apparently Joe is quite the man, if you know what I mean." The man was making gyrations with his hips that made Hillier sick to his throat.

Then Hillier's eyes narrowed. "Blond? Well put together? Driving a convertible?"

"Yeah, sure sounds like her. Veeery cute. I can just imagine..."

Hillier snorted and walked out of the cabin. April Carlisle was here! She'd found him, and before Hillier had too! Cheeky cow. Oh, words would be had, no question.

Hillier pulled in next to April's Nissan Z, meaning she was still here. He trudged up to the front door of the cabin, kicking his boots on the porch to dislodge mud and then went straight in, without bothering to knock.

April was sitting in front of the fireplace, where there was a low fire going – just embers. There was the smell of coffee in the cabin and she was wrapped in a blanket. There was a black Labrador dog at her feet, who was now on his, barking for all he was worth.

Hillier stopped in the doorway, wondering what to do. Should he get his piece? Was the dog dangerous? He just looked for a second, and while the dog was going nuts yelling at him, it was only walking back and forth.

Hillier looked at April, who looked back at him, a weak smile on her face. He noticed her makeup was extremely smeared, with streaks of mascara down her face. She'd evidently been crying.

She looked down at the dog and said, sharply, "Max, can it."

The dog stopped barking and turned and looked at her, questioning. "On your bed Max. Off you go," she said, just as hard.

The dog turned and ambled off to a large cushion on the floor by the stairs to the upstairs loft. He curled up on it and laid his head down, not taking his eyes off Hillier.

Hillier held up his hands and said, "Ok to approach the bench?"

April gave him another weak smile and said, "It took me hours to hit on the right phrase for him. Got it in the end though. Joe would never have a dog he hadn't trained."

Hillier walked in and sat down on the small couch next to the easy chair and studied her. "So, you found this place first? Clever girl. I'd love to know how you did it."

April put got up abruptly, throwing down the blanket and walked over to Hillier. She bent down, took his face in both hands and kissed him hard.

It was completely unexpected for Hillier. She was a very attractive woman, out of his league and it was shocking. It didn't stop him from kissing her back, but it was so out of left field he didn't feel he did a good job.

She finished the kiss and stood back, looking down at him. He didn't voice any of the number of question that were running around his head.

"Ambrose, I know this is unexpected, but I need you to take me to bed. Right now. Please. I need to feel something other than I feel right now. What I've read, it breaks my heart and I can't keep feeling that. Take me upstairs right now and do it. Please."

There was a quiver in April's voice, like she was really close to breaking, and Hillier had to weigh up this unexpected request. Should he do this, and give her short-term relief, but then have to deal with the fact that it happened, and she might be pissed at him for 'taking advantage', or should he respectfully refuse, hope to take the moral high ground and hope she understood down the line? Choices choices...

Screw it, he was a guy and he'd not gotten laid in months. He stood up, and she took his hand and took him upstairs to the small bedroom loft. There was a queen-sized bed, with a fake animal skin bedspread on it. It was comfortable and looked clean.

They didn't waste any time – April didn't even bother taking her clothes off, she just hitched up her skirt and pulled off her panties. She had Hillier's belt unbuckled and his pants unzipped – and noticed he lived dangerously, going commando – in seconds. Even Hillier was surprised at her agility with the removal of clothes.

Hillier wasn't hard yet, so she looked at him with a gleam in her eye, licked her lips and crouched down, taking his expanding member in her mouth. He tasted clean and was cut, which was a blessing, but at that moment, April would not have cared.

She needed him hard and she needed him in her and she needed to feel something more than the desperate emptiness she felt after reading Julian Sullivan's Journal. That so much shit could come down on one person. So many bad things – so many betrayals, all at the hands of those he trusted and loved. And every time he tried, something else crashed down. He couldn't even save another's life without being made the villain. It was so desperately unfair and wrong. And then he'd died, saving her life.

On top of her survivor's guilt, it was too much. And she needed Hillier now. More than ever in her life, she needed a cock inside her, - any cock, - that could make her feel something.

Hillier was still dazed. Here he was, in the cabin of a dead man he'd been tracking down, with a beautiful woman at least ten years his junior, with her mouth on his cock, doing wonderful things to it – her mouth was like velvet, no hint of teeth, and what her tongue was doing was just amazing. She had his cock grasped firmly at the hilt, forcing more blood into it, and his erection was happening extremely fast, yet it didn't seem to stop her deep throating it. Whatever else April might be, she was one HELL of a cocksucker.

In the end, he had to physically pull her off, not that he wanted to. But he also wanted to give a good accounting of himself, and blowing his load in her mouth in the first ten minutes was not going to do that.

She looked up at him, and he was surprised at the pure lust in her eyes.

"Fuck me," she said, and pushed herself down on the bed, on all fours, pulling her skirt up around her waist.

So Hillier did. No preamble, he got behind her, held the tip of his rock-hard cock, and positioned it so it was in front of her opening and slid in, right to the hilt.

He couldn't believe how hot it was inside April. She was wet and he just slid in, no fuss and no hitches.

April sighed and arched her back, so the angle was even more acute and he was even deeper in her. He started thrusting, in and out, trying to work up a rhythm she would accept. He was pounding her for almost ten minutes, when he slapped her ass, hard, and heard her yip "ow", but in a "give it to me again" way. So he did it again. And she reacted again.

"Harder," she said. This was raw fucking and feeling. There was no emotion, just Hillier ramming it home and holding on to April and spanking her, and her accepting and offering it up.

So for the next ten minutes, he spanked April, while fucking her as hard as he could. Eventually, he just had to change positions – his thighs were on fire, since this was not something he expected and he was out of shape for this.

They tried several more positions – missionary, which Hillier really liked because he got to watch April's face, as she bit her lip, face all scrunched up, with the look of someone on their way to coming but not there yet. On her side, her on top, reverse cowgirl, everything he knew to try. And she knew two that he'd never done before. The Wheelbarrow was a new one on him.

She didn't meet his eyes at any point, but that was ok. He also noticed that he was doing all the work, but that was ok too. She needed this, not him. Although, no, he did need it. Big time.

She murmured and groaned and occasionally gave him direction with timing, until both of them where sweating, and she made him stop, just so she could shuck her clothes, that were now writing wet and sloppy. He did the same. Then they resumed, back with her on all fours, but with him standing next to the bed, pounding at her for all he was worth.

By his count she had come twice, and was on her way to a third.

Eventually, though, he could hold off no longer and he exploded in her, filling her with his jizz, with an almost five-month load. He could feel it blow, when he was at his fullest extension, that most awesome of feelings. Knowing it was deep in a willing woman.

He stumbled backwards, then fell on the bed next to April, who also collapsed sideways.

Suddenly he realized what he'd done – unprotected sex– that was a no no! and his eyes widened. April was looking at him enough to see it and said, quietly, "Don't worry. I'm safe. I'm sure you are too."

Hillier relaxed and laid back on the bed and just tried to catch his breath, while April watched him, through lidded eyes.

When they were done later that afternoon, after a second, lazier and slower lovemaking session, April had gotten up, wrapped herself in a sheet and gone downstairs to make more coffee. She'd found Max, halfway up the stairs, looking at her and whining softly. From the lack of dog hairs upstairs, April guess he wasn't allowed up there in the bedroom, but he was curious and testing boundaries with the new people. She sent him back down stairs and he went, tail down.

She got the coffee on and Hillier appeared, tucking his shirt into his pants.

"We gonna talk about this?" he asked hesitantly, dropping into one of the two chairs at the very small breakfast table.

April smiled and handed him a cup of hot coffee. "No. It was a one time thing. I hope you understand that. There is no relationship here. I just ... needed you. And you were there. I hope you aren't upset? We aren't in love because we fucked one time."

"Twice," murmured Hillier as he took a sip of scaldingly hot coffee, "it was twice."

April smiled gently and sat down opposite him.

"I'm sorry. Big day for you?" she teased.

"Shut up," replied Hillier in a flat voice, but his smile belied his tone.

April's chuckled. "Well, speaking as someone with experience, you aren't half bad. If you aren't doing it twice in an afternoon very often, then you need to get back in the saddle, my boy. You can make a woman quite happy, you know."

Hillier arched his eyebrow at that, but didn't ask the obvious question. He didn't think he wanted to know the answer.

"So what now? What got you so upset?" he enquired, trying to put concern into his voice. He didn't want to return April to the condition she'd been in when he got there, but he wanted the answers.

"Joe wrote a journal. It was something he picked up as a task from his therapist. It's ... horrible reading. The man was so abused by everyone he trusted and loved, Ambrose. I don't honestly know how he didn't just put a gun to his head and end it all. He was fucked by the Military, by two wives – both of whom cheated on him, in the worst possible way – and then by the family of kids he saved from drowning. And what did he do? He tried to help other people instead. And he's killed saving me from being stabbed. The guy wasn't a boy scout, he was Jesus Christ himself returned to earth. I came here looking for answers and what I got was an ocean of guilt to add to the pool of it I already had."

April ran her hands through her hair.

"I just can't get over what these women put him through. The second one is even worse than the first – she knew what he'd already been through and did it anyway."

"Can I read this? I think this might be evidence, April. I may have to take this. If there is wrong doing detailed in there..."

April was good. Her eyes didn't flicker to where the book lay, on the side table. She just simply said, "No."

Hillier's eyebrows went up. "No?" he repeated. "April, this is almost a crime scene."

"But it's not one. And you are out of your jurisdiction anyway, so don't be so high and mighty."

Hillier shrugged. "Sure, but one phone call..." He left that hanging.

"Ambrose, I'm fine with you taking the journal. But not yet. There are things I need to do with it first. I have plans. If you feel anything for this man, let me have it. I can do things you can't. Things that need to happen. There needs to be retribution and restitution and I can make that happen. Legally." She added that last word. "Let me do this."

"Legally. You sure about that?"

"Oh yes. Completely. Ethically up the wazzo, - although you could say it's extremely moral – these bitches need a lesson in humility and hurting people - but legally? Of course. I need this. I need to do this. Joe needs this."

April could already see that Hillier was wavering. She imagined that her entreaties along with the way they'd spent the afternoon were getting to him.

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, thinking. Then he said, abruptly, "What the hell. It's not official anyway. Sure, go ahead. Get it out of your system. But I want to read this soon, ok? I want to know this guy too."

April smiled, jumped up and ran around to Hillier to hug him. As she did so, she felt his now stiffening erection.

"Again? You stud you!" she said, admiringly. "For an old guy, you keep up!"

"Fuck you," he said, laughing. He knew that the rest of the afternoon could go several ways depending on what he did next, but he decided not to push it. He'd had fun – twice – and now it was time to be a nice guy. "Go on, sit down. I can't let you rape me again. I've got carpet burns already."

April raised her eyebrows at him, and but went and sat where bidden.

"So what next?" he asked her.

"Well, firstly, I'm buying this place."

"You are what?" said Hillier, surprised.

"Yeah, Joe got it for a song. It was in such disrepair that the guy at the front – that lovely human being, Ted, you met him yet?" Hillier nodded. "Yeah, him. He sold it to Joe for ten thousand, for exclusive use for life. On the condition that Joe fix it up and also act as maintenance engineer for this place. You wouldn't know it, but all of the cabins are in excellent shape because of Joe. So he did. He got somewhere to live where his ex-wives could never find him. I figure if I offer fifteen k, well Ted got paid twice and he's not out anything that he already wasn't."

Hillier laughed at that. "Smart man. Wish I'd done something like that."

"I don't think you quite understand Ambrose. He wasn't hiding from them because they wanted something. He was hiding because they wouldn't leave him alone. Tara – his first – finally came to her senses and understood what she'd done to him and kept trying to find ways to make it up to him, not at all understanding that there IS no way to make up something like that. Her desperate need to forgive herself lead to her hounding Joe.

"And, nice guy that he was, he couldn't make her leave him alone. The fact that he was still in love with her made it especially difficult. Add to all that the fact that he just didn't know why she'd done it – her explanations are in a different realm of existence from his, he simply had no frame of reference to understand them. He blamed himself, but didn't even know what he was supposed to change. He needed to leave, crawl away and lick his wounds forever. So he found this place, where he could be anonymous and be alone."

"Jesus. This guy's life..."

"It's all in the Journal, and from what I've gathered from finding this place. I've met both the wives – both pieces of work, let me tell you – his therapist, his old landlord, the whole shebang."

"Yeah, I was going to ask how you got here before me, Miss Therapist? Therapist my ass. What is it you really do?"

"Let's just say I work for an 'agency', and leave it at that, ok? No questions, no lies."

Hillier snorted, but left it alone. It wasn't worth the aggravation.

"So you've got yourself a new weekend cottage. Then what. What about the wonder dog down there?"

April's eyes gleamed. She looked over at Max and whose head jumped up off his cushion at seeing her glance at him.

"Max and I are sticking it out. He's my new boyfriend."

"Does your apartment building allow dogs?"

"What a strange question to ask. But no, they don't. But you know what?" April cocked her head at him. "I think I just decided to buy a house. My lease is up next month anyway and I've considered it a couple of times. Yes, time to settle down. Time to buy a house. Fuck it."

"You'd buy a house just so you could have a dog?"

April's eyes flashed dangerously. "No, I'd buy a house to have JOE's dog," she said, in a low voice.

Hillier backed off. "Ok, so what next?"

April smiled, danger averted. "Well, first, a shower, then time to make Mr. Universe an offer, then I have some people to see. And a funeral to organize."

April had a busy couple of days. The negotiation for the cabin took longer than she anticipated, and the disgusting owner of the cabins wanted more than she was willing to give. He kept hinting about "Get-togethers" and she kept wanting to vomit.

In the end, it cost her seventeen thousand dollars, but she now had exclusive use of the cabin for life. The only two regrets that Ted had were that he didn't get to fuck April, and that he was out a maintenance guy.

She took Max home with her, and even though the apartment complex did not allow pets, she bribed the doorman to look the other way for the next month.

She stopped in at work and had a few words with the R&D department, who confirmed what she had already suspected – that Aaron Glasso was not Mark Glasso's son. That he was, in fact, Joe Sullivan's son. The DNA sample she'd gotten, coupled with a sample from Joe's body – being the one paying for the funeral home had its uses – had spoken. There was no doubt, not that there had been the moment April had seen both Aaron and Mark in the same room. If she has seen it then she idly wondered how no one had commented on it to Mark?

At the end of the day, she knocked on the door of Penny and Mark Galsso's apartment. She had timed it so Mark would already be home – or should be – and she was greeted by Penny at the door, who recognized her immediately.

"Mark! It's that legal lady, the one about the will!" Penny smiled at her and gestured for her to come in.

April pushed open the door and in doing so, made Penny stumble back.

"Hey, you didn't have to push so hard." Penny glared at her.

"And you don't have to be quite as much of a disgusting whore slut either, Penny, but you are and so there we are."

There was a stunned silence.

"Wh ... what? What did you say?"

"I called you a disgusting slut Penny. Now sit down before I make you sit down."

"I think ... I think you'd better get out..." stammered Penny, looking very distressed.

"What's going on here?" demanded Mark, stepping into the room and looking from April to Penny.

"She's ... she's insulting me, Mark. Calling me a whore."

Mark looked at April angrily, who just shrugged and said, "Well, she is. You know that. You married her. And fucked her for almost a year while working for her husband, who had no clue. You are quite the douchebag yourself. Let's be honest. The pair of you do deserve each other."

Mark's eyes went wide and he stepped up to April, clearly very angry and squared off.

"What the FUCK makes you think you have the right to come in my home and say things like that? I'll fucking..."

"You'll what?" interrupted April, not in the least bit intimidated. "What will you do Mark? Hit me? You're a fucking wife-stealing pussy, who is too much of a chicken shit to even find his own woman. No, you just get in the middle of someone else's marriage and fuck that up, and take someone's business with them. What kind of man does that? Oh wait, a man like you. A small-minded pissant with a winning smile and a malicious mind. Christ, what a prize you are. You must be so proud, Penny."