Suspension of Disbelief

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 2

“Hey! Ow!” The Special Agent in Charge of the investigation turned toward the sharp cry of pain from the next room of the crime scene house. SAC Monte Wright’s hand dove into his jacket and yanked the Sig Sauer from the shoulder holster as he dashed into the front room. Sheriff Joseph Maxwell of the local police department was right on the agent’s heels, nearly plowing into him when he stopped suddenly. Special Agent Wright recognized the distressed voice and wasn’t surprised to see Alan Haver, but he was dismayed to see his team’s most valuable player struggling against a chokehold. Without hesitation or compunction, Wright pointed his weapon at the rookie cop who’d been left to guard the door. Haver stopped fighting, letting the deputy support his weight as Wright spoke. “Release that man immediately, or I will be forced to act.” “Easy there, Mr. FBI Man,” Sheriff Maxwell said, training his standard issue thirty-eight on the serial crimes team leader. “Don’t make me shoot you.” “This is Special Agent Alan Haver, my top profiler,” Monte Wright said. “He’s worth more than three of me, so you do what you have to do, but if your man doesn’t let go of mine, I will have to disable him.” “I understand, but you need to stop pointin’ that piece at my deputy. God knows Carson is a fuck up, but that’s a brand new uniform he’s wearin’ and I ain’t got a dry-cleaning budget.” “Tell him to take his hands off my man right now.” “Tell you what, I ain’t all that happy with the way you Federal boys waltzed into my crime scene,” Maxwell said, omitting how offended

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 3 he was that the Bureau had put an African-American in charge. “Maybe I ought a let ya shoot Carson, then I can shoot you and let the coroner sort it out.” “If you’ve got a medical examiner in this hick burg that knows a gin blossom from a petechial hemorrhage.” Wright had no delusions about the depth of the sheriff’s bigotry. “Petchiae occur on the eyes or eyelids as a result of asphyxiation,” the rookie said in a strained voice. “Gin blossoms are the broken blood vessels on an alcoholic’s nose and cheeks. You tellin’ me this clown’s one of your guys?” “Haver’s with my circus,” Wright confirmed through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna let ya go now, okay?” Dale Carson told his prisoner. “Settle down and act like a sane person and I won’t have to restrain you again.” It was Sheriff Maxwell’s opinion that Special Agent Haver looked like the type that would enjoy being handcuffed under the right conditions. There was something about the way Haver looked and moved that made him suspect in Joe Maxwell’s eyes. Men shouldn’t be that graceful, and Haver didn’t dress like any Fed Maxwell had ever seen. Instead of the typical dark suit and white shirt with tie, the serial crimes profiler wore olive drab cargo pants and a burnt orange sweater unraveling at the neck. Maxwell disliked the disheveled newcomer at first glance and smirked when Wright called the agent on the carpet. “What was that all about, Alan?” SAC Wright asked curtly. Alan Haver picked at a loose thread on his sweater. “That jackbooted junior storm trooper over there wouldn’t listen to me. All he was interested in was wielding his authority.” “That is such bullshit,” Dale began, before a glare from the sheriff silenced him.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 4 “Hold your horses, there, Hotshot,” Maxwell said. “Let the Federal BI go first.” Dale shot Alan Haver a glance full of resentment. Alan’s composed expression didn’t change as his gaze flickered between the rookie and his superior, but the brush of their eyes shook the young deputy to his core. With an effort of will, Dale managed to banish the image of Haver’s hooded topaz gaze marking him like a kestrel on the falconer’s wrist. “I got your message, Monte,” Alan said. “And I thought I should get here as fast as I could. I didn’t bother changing clothes, and I let the fact that my ID wasn’t on me slip my mind. I can apologize if you want, or maybe you’d rather focus on what’s important.” “I give you plenty of leeway Alan,” Wright said. “Frankly, I don’t care what you’re wearing, or what’s in your pockets, but I’m wondering about that scream. When the Dressing Room Killer put a four inch blade in your back, you never made a sound, but a hug from Barney Fife makes you squeal like a little girl?” “It seemed like the quickest way to resolve the situation.” “Damn it, Alan! I could’ve shot this deputy.” “It’s a risk I was willing to take.” SAC Wright stared hard at his star player, letting the young man know that he was about to step over a line. “Are you ready to go to work?” “Never, but since I’m here, I might as well have a look.” “Then let’s drop the nonsense.” Alan’s louche posture underwent a subtle change. “Yes, sir,” he answered.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 5 “Outstanding. As my text message said, it’s fresh. Almost nothing’s been touched, and except for us, no one but the kid that discovered the bodies has… What is it?” Alan’s eyelids were at half-mast as he turned to stare at the window to the right of the front door. “He came in through there,” the young agent said. “Looking for a place to burn a little weed. An empty house for sale is custom made for that purpose.” Wright smiled faintly. “You’re right on the money as usual. The kid lives at the north end of the road and he’s already been interviewed. At first, he said he broke in to drink beer, but as he told the story and relived the finding of the bodies, he got very truthful with us.” “Looking mortality in the face can be humbling.” There was a loud snort from Carson’s direction, but the deputy’s back was to the agents and they chose to ignore the wordless comment. “The victims,” Wright resumed, holding up two fingers. “Laurel Anne Landis, twenty-two years old, a real estate agent employed by the company that lists this property, and John Delaney ‘Jodie’ Patterson, twenty-eight, a local contractor hired to do some renovations. They were stabbed and slashed with a sharp blade like the previous victims, but these two were killed on site.” “They weren’t having a meeting. They were lovers,” Alan said. “Jodie and Laurel.” “According to gossip.” Wright nodded in the sheriff’s direction. “According to fact, Ms. Landis had just broken her engagement to Deputy Carson.” Alan turned his head to look at the rookie again. “That’s no murderer.” “You’re probably right about that, too. The breakup was amicable and Carson was on duty in plain sight of several other officers when the

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 6 killings occurred.” Wright glanced at the deputy. “He’s hiding something though.” “He sure is, but it’s not a taste for homicide.” Alan turned his gaze to the ceiling. “Before I go up, is there anything new about the crime scene since you messaged me?” “It’s not pretty.” Alan sighed, pushing his shaggy dark bangs back from his forehead in a weary gesture. “I’m ready any time.” SAC Wright turned to Sheriff Maxwell. “Agent Haver’s going to have a look at the bedroom now,” he called out. “Not by himself, he ain’t,” Maxwell said. “Take him upstairs, Carson.” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Alan said. “In fact, I don’t think the deputy should be here at all.” “I wasn’t talking to you, slick,” the Sheriff snapped. “I don’t give a God damn if the FBI has jurisdiction. You’re in my county and I’m gonna make sure ya do this right if I have to look over your shoulder the whole time.” “Don’t stand too close behind me, or people might talk.” Haver walked away with the deputy. “Fuckin’ smartass. What’s his problem?” Maxwell asked bluntly. “Childhood trauma,” Wright said just as bluntly. “Absent mother. Abusive father. Those are all the personal details you’re going to get.” “Think I ain’t got the stomach?”

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 7 “Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy hearing about it, but it’s none of your business,” Wright said, watching as Alan disappeared down the hall. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.” “This way,” Dale Carson told the profiler, raising his voice above the crackling of his boots on the makeshift tarp of garbage bags. “You don’t have to do this, deputy,” Alan said. “Laurel was a friend. I’ll do whatever it takes to find out who did this to her.” “Okay.” Alan nodded and didn’t speak again until they reached the bedroom door. “Mind if I go in alone for a few minutes?” “Take your time. I’ll be right here,” Dale said, taking up a position just outside the doorway. “Thanks,” Alan said as he stepped into the room where the bodies lay just as they’d been found on the blood-soaked linen, clothing in disarray, heartbreakingly vulnerable. Dale leaned on the jamb and stared at the wallpaper on the other side of the hall as the FBI investigator walked around the bedroom talking to himself. There wasn’t much to the profiler’s technique as glimpsed over Dale’s shoulder. All Haver did was stare at things like he was in a trance until his interest was pulled away for no discernible reason like a kitten in a room full of shiny things. “You okay in there, Special Agent Haver?” Alan didn’t answer, or acknowledge in any way that the deputy had spoken. Careful not to look at the bed, Dale turned completely around to watch the profiler. Haver’s gaze was fixed on the night table and the makeshift soda can ashtray. Dale almost told him that Laurel had given up smoking, but he held his tongue for the moment, reluctant to break whatever spell this weirdo was under.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 8 Alan never noticed the deputy as he took a last look at the dead woman’s pretty face, left untouched, though her torso was a welter of cuts and stabs. The pillow under her head was spotless, placed there after she was dead. An obvious clue, and taken together with Alan’s impressions of the crime scene, it pointed to someone that cared for Miss Landis. And that definitely did not fit the profile of the killer Alan was hunting. The manner of death was consistent with the pattern, but this was something different. Alan shook his head. It was no use trying to force it. “I’m done for now,” he said, moving toward the door. “What exactly did you do?” “I got a feel for the crime scene.” “You some kind a psychic or somethin’?” “That’s right.” “Bull fuckin’ shit.” “You don’t have to believe me.” “You’re damn right I don’t. What a load of crap.” Alan shrugged. “You’re entitled to your opinion.” Dale had promised himself that he wouldn’t look at Laurel again, but she drew his eye as Haver passed by on his way out. Her wide-open eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling reminded Dale of a deer strapped to a fender. The thought of her dead, slaughtered like a game animal, her vibrant spirit snuffed out, roused anger in him so intense that it made him dizzy and nauseous. “I’ll get him for you, girl,” he vowed as he said goodbye to the best friend he’d ever had. “We’ll catch him,” Alan said confidently when Dale caught up with him. “It’s not our perpetrator, by the way. This was done by

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 9 someone close to her, someone who loves her, someone who can’t control his rage.” “You a mind reader, too?” “It goes with being psychic. Why do you ask?” “I was just thinking about how crazy mad I am that someone did this to Laurel,” Dale said. “And Jodie.” “I think all people experience that pure rage that makes you feel like you’re going to burst into flames at least a once or twice in our lives, but something inside keeps most of us from acting on it. We somehow find a way to cope with the things we can’t control.” “You’re a shrink too, huh?” “Would it surprise you if I had a PhD in psychology?” Dale looked at the other man for a long moment. “No, I guess it wouldn’t. Do you? Have a degree in shrinkology, I mean?” “No.” Alan started down the hall again. “But I’m working on it.” “Hey, listen,” Dale said, before they reached the living room. “I apologize if I used too much force earlier. I over-reacted a little.” “A little.” Alan rubbed his neck. “Sorry I tried to get my boss to shoot you.” Dale chuckled. “Wright seems like an okay guy. My boss is an asshole.” “You’re kidding.” Alan smiled and the other man smiled back. “Carson!” Sheriff Maxwell bellowed. “Where the hell are you? I got an important assignment for you. Get your narrow ass over to the diner and bring back all the doughnuts and coffee they got. If Delilah

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 10 squawks, tell her I’ll come by and square up with her later. Go on now. Quick like a bunny.” It was a long day for Dale, following a double shift and a birthday barbecue for another cop. Called in before he’d gotten any sleep, he was tired and a little hungover, and Maxwell was thrilled to have another opportunity to torture him, making him work another full shift and treating him like an errand boy in front of the visiting Feds. Between running around fetching food, office supplies, and whatever else the sheriff could dream up, Dale hadn’t seen much of the actual investigation since escorting the profiler to the scene. He knew that people had been questioned, and he had a good idea who they were, but he didn’t know what had been learned and it ate at him. When his radio brayed at him around six p.m., he snatched it up with more force than necessary, positive that Maxwell was about to send him for pizza. To his relief, the dispatcher told him to knock off for the night. He thanked Jess and the next thing he knew, he was picking his head up from the steering wheel. The patrol car rocked in the wake of a tractor-trailer passing by with a prolonged blast of its air horn, as Dale rubbed his face and looked around. He was on the shoulder of the highway, just barely off the road, explaining the semi driver’s annoyance. In front of him was the billboard for the Café Risqué roadhouse up by the interstate. It was the hour between day and night that some people call dusk and some call twilight, that time when light and dark are balanced in a grainy sort of glamor to delight and deceive the eye. Dale looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight according to the usually reliable timepiece. It should be dark except for the moon and stars and oncoming headlights. Something was not right here. Not right at all. He looked up again and it struck him that the strip club billboard had been taken down over a week ago. When he’d still been engaged to Laurel. Dale shook his head. He needed to go home and recharge, get a good night’s sleep in his own bed. The key turned smoothly in the ignition and the powerful engine turned over, ready to do his bidding. He pulled onto the deserted two-lane blacktop and headed into town, passing

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 11 the Ford dealership and the feed and seed hardware store as though floating down a river of tar. The white painted boards of Calvary Primitive Baptist and the gravel parking lot of the bait shop glowed like an afterimage in the diffuse half-light, revealing their discreet charms to one that had driven by them his whole life without seeing them. Up ahead, the cool green neon of the Holiday Motor Court sign winked on. As he’d done more than once after putting his ring on Laurel’s finger, Dale pulled around the motel and parked in the back. He got out of the prowler, locked the door out of habit, and walked by the ice machine to the concrete stairs. The climb to the second floor strained his tired muscles, but he ignored the burn. He was too excited to care about small aches and pains. In just a few minutes he would be with… Dale froze with his fist raised to knock on the door of room 211. What was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was waking up by the side of the road. He let his hand drop back to his side as he tried desperately to recall how he’d ended up at the place Laurel liked to refer to as the love shack. The door opened and Dale had a Twilight Zone moment until he recognized the lithe figure haloed by the light behind him. “Don’t stand on the doorstep. The neighbors are nosy,” Alan said. “What are you doing here?” “This is my room and I’m trying to get some badly needed sleep. What can I do for you, deputy?” “Swear to God, I don’t know. I was just… I don’t know.” Alan looked into the deputy’s glazed eyes. “Come in,” he said, in a voice that wouldn’t brook any arguments. Dale glanced at the sky as he obeyed. “Shouldn’t it be night?” he said.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 12 “It’s almost one a.m.” “Sorry.” Dale’s gaze sharpened for a second as he glanced around the motel room. “I used to meet Laurel here.” “Let me look at you,” Alan said, moving over to the lamp. Dale came into the light, but not fast enough. Alan took hold of his wrist pulled him forward. As soon as they touched, an aura flared around the deputy, visible only to those with eyes that saw such things. Alan gave himself over to the infinite, letting his gift, a legacy of a shaman ancestor, bloom outward. Instantly, he linked with the entity trying to make contact through the medium of Dale Carson’s flesh. Dale shivered and moaned in Alan’s ear, a nickname, and a request. “Jodie. Hold me?” “I’m here, Laurel Anne,” Alan said, putting his arms around the other man. Dale sighed. “I’m really not being a tease. I want to make love with you. It means an awful lot to me that you don’t care about me and Dale. It ain’t his fault he’s that way.” “Whatever way he is has nothing to do with you,” Alan said truthfully. “I haven’t even told anyone we’re getting married yet. Except for Dale… and Daddy, of course.” Of course, Alan thought. Daddy. “What are you waiting for, Jodie?” Dale put his arms around Alan’s neck. “I don’t want to wait one minute longer to make love to you for the first time.”

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 13 “Me either,” Alan said, easing Dale to his back on the mattress. “We may never pass this way again and we should take every chance for happiness that comes our way.” Dale smiled up at Alan. “I love you so much,” he drawled in Laurel’s accent. Things blurred for Alan at that point. His attraction to Dale Carson and the phenomenon they were enmeshed in blended in his head. This had never happened to him before, but he could stop a flash flood more easily than this force that swept him up. He realized then that this was more than a simple possession, that his attraction to Dale went deeper than the physical, and it was this bond that gave the cheated ghost so much power. The knowledge was welcome, but no help in breaking free from the willful spirit. Dale touched Alan’s cheek, his blue eyes soft with longing, offering his mouth for a kiss. Alan was drawn like iron to a magnet, covering the other man’s lips, filling the open mouth with his tongue. The profiler felt the moment when Dale surrendered completely to the inevitable, hungry and aching for the mystery to unfold, unable to separate Laurel’s feelings from his own. The force that moved them told them they were meant to be together and the negligible barrier of flesh would not keep them apart; they would use it as a bridge and a conduit for the emotion that ran rampant in them. The psychic pulled his lips from the heady wine of Dale’s mouth just long enough to pull his shirt over his head. Resuming the sliding, sucking lip lock, he danced his fingers nimbly down the row of buttons on Dale’s uniform, unfastening them all, until he reached the zipper of Dale’s trousers. Rubbing his nose and cheeks against Dale’s in a passionate nuzzle, Alan reached in through his fly and the leg hole of his briefs to touch his bare dick. Dale’s eyes flew open and he focused on the man between his thighs as Alan Haver mouthed the head of his cock. It felt so damn good that Dale swallowed the words that rose to his tongue and let his mind go blank as Alan forged a warm, wet trail down his balls. Tensing and relaxing as Alan fondled him, he waited in a kind of floating fever dream for the main event.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 14

Licking and nipping at tender skin, Alan reached his goal by a circuitous route. He blew lightly on the puckered opening, making it flex, circling it with a teasing forefinger before spreading Dale’s cheeks and pressing his lips to the musky port. Holding tight to the deputy’s hips to keep him in place, Alan darted his tongue in and out, leaving behind a gleaming coat of saliva when he lifted his head. Resting his cheek against Dale’s inner thigh, he nudged the spit slick aperture with a fingertip. He responded to the other man’s moans by taking hold of the possessed deputy’s handsome cock and pumping it as he worked his finger deeper. “You are so beautiful,” Alan breathed as he found the key to unlock his partner’s release. “Come for me.” Pressing firmly, he rubbed figure eights around and over the springy bump in the front wall of Dale’s sheath. He pulled Dale’s arousal toward his mouth and lapped at the tip as he stroked the shaft in a steady rhythm. Dale’s hips moved of their own volition, thrusting into Alan’s fist, Alan’s finger beckoning him closer and closer to bliss. Lifting his head from the pillow, Dale met Alan’s eyes in perfect rapport. Alan got to his knees and lifted Dale’s legs, letting the muscular calves rest on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, Alan nuzzled the tip against the other man’s ass. Dale moved restlessly, his burning gaze locked on Alan’s, as Alan leaned in. “I love you,” Alan murmured against Dale’s lips. “And we’ll be together forever.” As Alan entered Dale, he felt the wind of wild wings beating the air and the rush of pure joy as a soul unfettered from the bonds of this world. Dale came powerfully as soon as the hard length of flesh dragged across his prostate, but he stayed hard. Alan put a hand on Dale’s trembling abdomen, smearing come over the flat belly as he withdrew and pushed back in at a languid pace, content to do this as long as time and flesh held out. Dale quivered as though he’d grabbed hold of a live wire and each thrust of Alan’s cock made the deputy twitch convulsively in reaction.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 15 The spiral of pleasure was coiling in his groin again, ratcheting tighter with every thrust and though he was no longer under the influence of an outside force, he felt no desire to stop. Getting the sole of one foot against the mattress, he lifted his buttocks, joining eagerly in the action. Alan wrapped his fingers around Dale’s dick and shuttled them rapidly up and down. Dale’s body arched as he climaxed again, his opening clamping down on the rod of flesh that stretched it. Alan groaned deep in his chest, bending Dale double as he increased his speed and force, rocking into the other man in short rolling jabs. He gave a choked cry as he tumbled from the peak, every nerve alight and singing as he fell into heaven right here on earth. Dale grunted, but took Alan’s weight gladly as the agent collapsed atop him. With a smile of utter satisfaction, Dale gathered Alan into his arms and went right to sleep. Alan whispered a one-line prayer in a language the white man had nearly eradicated, saluting the wronged soul that had left this plane, happy that Laurel Landis had found a lasting peace. Her spirit hadn’t lingered seeking punishment for her killer, but to complete the bond of love with her soul’s mate. Alan Haver was not so forgiving. He knew the identity of the one that had robbed Laurel Anne and her true love of a life together and he would see that the killer paid for the crime. One way or another. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Dale woke with the exquisite little aches that signaled a love hangover and cracked his eyelids to see who lay next to him. The sheets were familiar: the kind used by the motel where he’d tried and failed to ignite a spark of lust for his fiancée. He wondered just how crazy drunk he was last night and how many people had seen him with whoever he’d picked up. The face of the FBI profiler strobed in Dale’s mind and he rolled out of bed.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 16 His uniform was neatly folded on a chair, his boots stood side by side near the door, and they were his only companions. He could feel the emptiness of the room, knew without looking that there was no one in the bathroom. He was alone, but well-fucked to judge by the ache in his ass and the crust of dried jizz on his belly. He wished he could call Laurel; she was the only person that really knew him and she was gone beyond his recall. Deep in thought, he jumped about a foot when the phone rang. “Hello?” he said uncertainly. “Dale? It’s Jessica in dispatch. Agent Haver asked me to give you a wake up call. Said you been run ragged and needed the rest. Sheriff says you can have the rest of the day off. Without pay, of course. The mean old sonuvabitch.” “Thanks, Jess. Is Haver, I mean, the FBI agents, are they still there?” “Nope. They wrapped up the case already. Should a told you first off. This town is gonna be buzzin’ for a while. Larry Landis confessed to killin’ Laurel.” “And Jodie,” Dale said numbly. “Right. Can you believe it, though? Laurel’s own daddy! Gossip is gonna be fierce. I feel for you, bud. Your name is surely gonna be tossed around some.” “Don’t seem all that important to me right now. I’m gonna grab a shower and see if it makes me feel human.” “All right then. See you at the salt mines.” Dale hung up and went to stand under hot water without moving for a long time before he reached for the complimentary soap. After rinsing off, he let the shower run cold for a few seconds, feeling his pores snap shut. His head was a lot clearer as he wiped the beaded layer of steam from the mirror and checked his beard. Without a razor there was

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 17 nothing he could do about the two days’ worth of reddish stubble, and anyway, he kind of like the way it looked, contouring his cheeks, giving him years he hadn’t earned yet. He grinned at himself, checking his teeth, but he didn’t have a toothbrush anymore than he had a razor. He should just get on home but he was oddly reluctant to leave this room that he couldn’t remember entering. Refreshed by the shower, he turned his energy to finding clues to the identity of his one-night-stand. Sometimes gals, or more rarely guys, would scribble down their number and leave it under an ashtray, or a pillow, but not this time. There was nothing but a few stray pubic hairs between the sheets and an elusive scent like old incense. When he caught himself thinking about getting the fingerprint kit from the cruiser, he called a halt to the madness, buckled on his gun belt, and went to the door. When he pulled it open, his double was standing there, fist raised to knock, looking like a zombie. Slamming the door, Dale reeled back until he encountered the bed and sat down hard. His hat fell from nerveless fingers as the dam of memory broke open and he was inundated with a mental slide show of the night before. Tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks as the compressed emotions slammed through him, leaving him empty and yearning, raw as an open wound, hollowed out by grief and on the verge of collapsing inward. A gentle hand touched Dale’s bowed head and he looked up, but there was no one there. “Laurel?” he called softly, feeling a little foolish, but calling for her anyway. No one answered. Laurel was really gone. But in his heart, Dale knew that it was all right, and that he was sad because he missed her, not because she was suffering. Thanks to his father, he had never in his life believed in anything beyond what he could touch, taste, or smell, but he knew he had just experienced something that he couldn’t explain, or deny. There was some clear space now between what he called reality and the things he was starting to take on faith.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 18 He admitted that he didn’t really want to be a policeman; that was his father’s dream, not his. He admitted that he liked sleeping with men a whole lot more than women. He admitted that he was mired in his boyhood and his hometown. He felt a little better and was optimistic that he would be better yet. He had a feeling that Alan Haver could help; all he had to do was be brave enough to ask. Dale’s cheeks grew warm at the mental image of himself with his legs in the air and Haver pounding into his ass. The two of them had a lot to talk about once they got over the awkwardness of what had happened. Of course, for all he knew, Haver did this all the time. Anxiety crept in like a mouse and began gnawing on Dale’s nerves. Unable to be still a minute longer, he hurried out to his patrol car. Dale saw the bit of white stuck under the windshield wiper from across the parking lot and nearly broke into a run. Snatching up the folded sheet of paper, he looked at the bottom edge and checked the signature: Alan, no last name, as if they were friends. Unlocking the car, Dale slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine and the air conditioning, and sat back to read the note. “Dear Dale. I didn’t want to wake you up. Spooky shit like we went through can really take it out of you. I know you’ve got around a million questions about said shit, and I’m looking forward to answering as many as I can. Anything to keep you around. There, I’ve tipped my hand. I want to see you again, and get to know you as well as you’ll let me. Maybe it’s because of what happened to us, but there’s more to it. I can’t stop thinking about you. I swear I can smell you on my fingertips and Monte is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind because I keep sniffing them. I’d better go before he asks me why I’ve got so much to say to you. Here’s my address and phone number. Call me, or better yet, come find me. I’ll be waiting. Alan.” The warm glow that suffused Dale might have been from the sunlight through the side window, but he knew better. It was the kindling of a new fire in his heart and he was going to let it burn until the shadows were gone from his life. No more hiding. He was going to get up and get out like he and Laurel always said they would as soon as they graduated.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 19 She’d be staying here now, at least some part of her would, but the untamed spirit would be going with Dale Carson, wherever he might wander.

The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 20 Other titles by Connie Bailey

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The Suspension of Disbelief by Connie Bailey 21 ©Copyright Connie Bailey, 2008 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc. [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June, 2008 Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which is only suitable for mature readers.