Third Degree

“You’re not just storing this stuff as a favor. The reason I know that is because I found these.” He held up a stack of what looked like stock certificates, bound with a tight paper band. “Bearer bonds. Two hundred thousand dollars’ worth, if I’m doing my conversion correctly.”

Laurel blinked in confusion.

“These are just like cash,” Warren said. “Totally liquid. You have them, you own them. They’re illegal in the U.S. now. But these, conveniently, were issued by a Guatemalan company.”

“I’ve never seen those before, Warren. I don’t even know what they are.”

He laughed. “That’s odd, don’t you think? They’re hidden in our house, and I’ve never seen them before. If you didn’t hide them, how did they get here? The bond fairy? Santa Claus?”

“Kyle must have hidden them here. He’s setting you up for something.”

“You’re right about that. And you’re helping him.”

Laurel knew there was no point, but she shook her head anyway. Warren reached out and closed his hand around her windpipe. “Stop denying it, Laurel. Stop lying. And maybe-just maybe-you’ll live through this.”

“Tell me what you want. What do you want me to do?”

He pursed his lips. “I want to know how you feel when you suck Kyle’s cock. Do you like knowing fifty women have done it before you? Or that he just pulled it out of Vida an hour before he saw you?”

Laurel shut her eyes and began to cry. This was what happened when you decided to break the rules. She hadn’t wanted any of this, but her acts had made it all happen. By reaching for Danny’s love, she had drawn this nightmare around herself. She had put her children’s lives at risk.

God forgive me, she thought.

“You like degrading yourself, don’t you?” Warren said. “This life we have, this perfect life…you hate that. You need drama, don’t you? You need to feel low. It gets you off. Like that porn in your computer. The nasty stuff gets you off. It must have something to do with your father, the preacher. Did old Tom give you a little private Communion after Mom went to sleep at night? A little wine and romance?”

“Baptists drink grape juice at Communion.”

Warren barked a laugh. “That’s in public. In private they do it all, don’t they?”

Crying was making her throat swell, and that made it still harder to breathe. “Please take this off my neck,” she gasped. “I really can’t breathe.”

“I will take it off,” he said, smiling strangely. “You know why? Because you’re about to make a phone call.”

“Who am I going to call?”

“Kyle, of course.”

“Kyle? What do you want me to say?”

Warren thought about it for a moment. “You want an afternoon quickie. You’re horny. You can’t go another minute without it.”

Laurel couldn’t believe his words.

“You were watching your porn, but it’s not enough. Use your imagination. I’m sure he’s fucked you right in our bed and loved every second of it. As much because of me as you, probably.”

Warren left the guest room, then quickly returned with two cordless handsets. He must have the phones hidden somewhere, she thought. Laurel lay still as he unlocked the cable, loosened it a little, and then, to her horror, shut the lock again. He had no intention of releasing her from this torture device.

She watched him dial a number on one of the handsets, then hold the phone up to her face. He put his head against hers, crushing the phone between, so that he wouldn’t miss a word Kyle said.

With his other hand he stuck his pistol against her ribs.

When Auster’s cell phone rang, he assumed it was Vida returning his call to her cell, but the LCD said WARREN SHIELDS. Auster breathed a heavy sigh of relief, though he wasn’t sure why talking to Shields should calm him down. Maybe because they were both in the same boat, even if Shields didn’t understand how leaky the boat was.

“Warren?” he answered. “Where are you, man?”

“Kyle?” said a female voice that Auster thought might belong to his girlfriend, but then he decided against it. This woman sounded more mature.

“This is Kyle. Who’s this?”

“Laurel.”

Laurel Shields? What the hell? “Laurel? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’ve been thinking about you, that’s all.”

Auster sputtered in confusion. “You have?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What about me?”

“You know. What we’ve been doing together.”

“What we’ve been doing?”

“Yes. You know.”

“Ah, I’m a little confused, Laurel. I like your tone, but why don’t you help me out here?”

“I want you to come over and fuck me. Now. The kids have a birthday party, and they’re not here now.”

Auster was stunned speechless.

“I want you to do me the way you did the last time. Can you handle that?”

The last time? “Laurel…this is some kind of joke, right? Like Candid Camera or something. Punk’d or whatever?”

“No joke, Kyle. You know me better than that.”

“What I know is that I’ve dropped hints for years, and you’ve kept me at arm’s length the whole time. What’s changed?”

There was a long pause, during which Auster sensed a hand pressed over the mouthpiece on Laurel’s end. He’d downed several shots of Diaka, but through the vodka-generated fog it struck him that since Warren had not come in to work today, he might be home now. He might even be on the phone with Laurel, though Auster couldn’t imagine what they might be playing at.

“Kyle?” Laurel said plaintively.

“I’m here.”

“What do you think? Don’t you want me to suck you off?”

Auster was about to hang up when a new scenario struck him. What if Warren had been cheating on his wife? God knew he’d been acting screwy for the past couple of months. Longer, really. If he was cheating on Laurel, and she’d found out about it, maybe she was out for a little revenge. This wasn’t the best time for it-with Biegler on the way, it would be insanity-but he’d had his eye on her for a long time. Laurel Shields was a thoroughbred. She made his latest girlfriend look like a plow horse (despite Shannon’s being ten years younger than Laurel) and Vida Roberts like something destined for the glue factory. Laurel had class, and there was nothing better than a woman with class looking in the gutter for revenge.

“Ah…I can’t say I would turn that down. What do you have in mind?”

“Just drive over here. Pull into the garage, and I’ll be waiting for you. Bring some Viagra with you. I need a serious workout.”

The mention of Viagra pushed back the fog a little. Then he thought he heard another voice, heavily muffled. “What about Warren, babe? Where is he?”

“Warren’s not at work?”

“He never came in today.”

“Huh. I don’t know, then. And I don’t care. I know what I want.”

Auster felt his sluggish blood pumping faster.

“Don’t worry about Warren,” Laurel said. “He never comes home during the day. Maybe he’s playing golf.”

Auster closed his eyes and forced himself to think beyond the moment. Biegler was driving hell for leather from Jackson to shut down the office. Vida would be getting back any second. Yes, nailing Laurel seemed like the ideal escape from all that, but what it really amounted to was professional suicide. He would have to walk away this