Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

relationships never worked out for me. It was hopeless."
    "Jon . . ." I yawned noisily. "We need to talk about this but not now. There's too much happening right now. I can't cope with anything else."
    "I know this is not a good time. There never was a good time. I'm not asking anything from you, Ashley. Just that we go on being friends. I'm going to be the best friend you ever had."
    "You are already," I said and smiled at him.
    He sat up.
    "Don't leave," I said. "Is everyone asleep?"
    "Yes. And I'm not leaving. I'm just taking off my shoes."
    He folded the blanket back and slipped in beside me. "I'm going to hold you. Here, put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep."
    I snuggled close, felt his strong, solid body, smelled his good, clean smell through his clothes. He smelled like Jon, a very familiar and comfortable smell.
    "Thank you for this," I whispered. "I don't want to be alone."
    "You'll never be alone as long as I'm on this Earth," he said.

26

    A flash of light woke me. Had someone opened the door then closed it? Melanie? Melanie come to check on me? And she'd find me with Jon. But she wouldn't think anything of it; Melanie was very open minded.
    Jon was sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped around me tight. I wiggled free, looked at the digital bedside clock. Almost three a.m.
    Then I heard a faint rustling sound. What was it? The sound of soft footsteps on the carpet?
    "Melanie?" I sat up. At least my head was clear. I didn't feel groggy any more.
    "What?" Jon woke up, startled. "Hey, you okay?" he asked and lifted his hand to stroke my back.
    " Ssshh ," I whispered. "I heard something."
    Suddenly the room was bright with light. I blinked, blinded. Jon raised a hand to cover his eyes. "What . . . ?"
    J.C. Lauder was standing near the door, one hand on the light switch. The other hand held a gun!
    Jon bolted from the bed.
    "Don't move!" J.C. cried. "Do only as I tell you." The gun was aimed at me. "I'll shoot her if you make one threatening move."
    Jon raised his hands, palms open. "Take it easy, man. What are you doing here? What do you want?"
    "Don't play coy with me! Now both of you, get up slowly. We're going for a little walk."
    I never realized before that J.C.'s arrogant aristocratic looks were actually a cover up for a cruel and savage expression. "But I'm not dressed," I protested. "I'm in my pajamas."
    "That is of no consequence to me. Now get up, and get moving. You first, Campbell. Out into the sitting room, then we'll go out on the deck and down the stairs."
    "Well, let me put on my shoes," Jon said.
    He wasn't acting afraid at all. Should I follow his cue? Yes, I decided. Thank goodness my head was clear. It had been so hard to think with cotton wool wrapped around my brain.
    "You don't need shoes," J.C. snapped. "We'll be on the sand. We're going for a little moonlight stroll to the Oceanic Pier. Should suit you two lovebirds just fine," he sneered. "And you acting so holier than thou, Ashley, but here you are with your husband away defending his country and you're snuggled under the covers with loverboy . A hypocrite like your mother. She thought she was too good for me."
    "And she was!" I declared. "Don't you dare soil my mother's memory with your arrogant self- righteousness. You have no right!"
    "Oh, don't I?" he chuckled evilly. "Okay, now loverboy , get a move on." He gave Jon a push with his foot. His balance and coordination were amazing for a man his age. Then I remembered seeing him practicing the Yoga tree pose. He was an advanced Yoga student. I had seen him practicing asanas out on his deck every morning.
    Jon moved into the lighted sitting room but kept his pace slow. Was he stalling for time? The house was quiet, everyone asleep. What if I screamed?
    "Hold out your hands," J.C. told Jon.
    Jon did as instructed. J.C. pulled handcuffs out of his baggy trouser pockets.
    "No!" Jon cried and stepped back.
    "I told you I'd kill her and I meant it. I'm a crack shot. I'll shoot if I have to. I've got nothing to lose; I'm an old man. It's all or nothing."
    Jon cooperated docilely. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Was he sending me a message?
    J.C. saw it. "No, she won't run. She's too smart for that. Because if she runs, you get it. Got it?" He laughed at his joke.
    And if I screamed for help, he'd shoot Jon. Oh, he had us all right.
    For a moment his back was to me as he handed the cuffs to Jon and instructed him to put them on his wrists.
    The two of them stood