“It is nice, isn’t it?” Cassie said brightly, as she went over to the side table where a selection of glasses and bottles stood. “It’s very difficult to find a place to live here in Denver, so I was lucky to hook up with Vicki. She’s my roommate. Please, have a seat. Your drink will be ready in a minute. We’re having pot roast by the way. I hope that’s okay… I went looking for steaks, but they didn’t have any. That’s how it is in stores now. You take what you can get.”
“I love pot roast,” Hale said truthfully, “and I haven’t had any in years.”
“I like it, too,” she agreed as she brought his drink over. “Although it takes quite a while to cook. That gives us time to talk though.” She sat next to him on the sofa. “So, what did you do with your afternoon?”
Hale took a sip of his drink and told Cassie about the line, the people he’d met, and his failure to learn anything regarding Susan’s fate. That led him to the trip back to the ranch, what he had discovered there, and the journey with Tina and Mark. They were on their second drink when a slow dance by the Ink Spots came on the radio.
Cassie stood and held out her hands. “You’re a nice man, Nathan,” she said as he put his drink down. “A lot of people would have left those children to fend for themselves. Now, come here… I want to dance.”
Dancing of any kind was at the top of the list of things that terrified Hale the most, but the opportunity to hold her in his arms was too good to pass up. So he got up from the chair and took her hands.
Moments later he was somewhere else, lost in the fragrance she wore, and the softness of her body. His feet moved, but not very much, as the two of them swayed to the music. Hale nuzzled Cassie’s hair, reveled in the soap-smell of her, and held her close.
Then, when Cassie looked up into Hale’s golden yellow eyes, it was as if an unspoken agreement had been reached. He kissed her, her lips melted beneath his, her hands came up to caress the nape of his neck, and their bodies seemed to meld.
At some point the dancing stopped, as hands explored, and important discoveries were made.
“Please,” Cassie whispered into Hale’s ear, “please.”
Hale swept Cassie off her feet, carried her into the bedroom, and was about to lay her on a single bed when she said, “No, Nathan… The other one.”
Which bed made no difference to Hale, who lowered her onto the white bedspread, and took up where he’d left off. Women’s clothes—especially evening clothes—were something of a mystery to him, and it was necessary for Cassie to help from time to time. But the process was very enjoyable, and by the time the black dress lay on the floor, Hale was half-naked himself.
“You aren’t my first,” Cassie said softly. “But it’s been a long time.”
Hale understood and kissed her concerns away as he removed the last of her clothing. Then he paused to look at her. The only light in the room came from candles, and one half of her face was in flickering shadow as she peered back. Her coral-tipped breasts were small but pert. He reached out and drew a line between them down to her belly button. She smiled dreamily.
“Do you like what you see?”
Hale answered the question with a series of kisses that wandered from place to place until Cassie’s breathing quickened and her fingers began to fumble with his belt buckle. Then it was Hale’s turn to help as he stood long enough to get rid of the uniform trousers before taking his place between Cassie’s long slender legs.
The bed was too narrow for them to lie side by side, but that was fine with Hale as Cassie’s hand found him and pulled him in. It had been a long time for both of them, so Hale was careful to take his time, nudging his way into her wet warmth, their mutual passion building. Cassie made little sounds in the back of her throat and wrapped her legs around his torso as she urged him on.
“I want you, all of you,” she growled softly as the age-old rhythm began to build. Then they were there, climbing to the very peak of passion, before falling into an ocean of pleasure.
The intensity of the moment was beyond anything Hale had experienced before, and once it was over, Cassie continued to shudder beneath him. Then she began to cry.
That was a development Hale wasn’t prepared for and he felt a wave of concern.
“Cassie? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Cassie replied softly, as her chest heaved. “Women cry for all sorts of reasons.”
“Oh,” Hale replied. “I understand.”
But he didn’t, not really, and he was glad when the crying stopped. They lay there for a while, happily entwined in each other’s arms, as the afterglow gradually faded away. Then came a shower, which they chose to take together, and it might have led back into the bedroom, had there been more time.
After toweling herself off, Cassie threw on a terry-cloth robe, and went into the kitchen. The candlelit dinner was consumed at the kitchen table. Hale had thrown on an olive drab tank top and his uniform trousers, but his feet were bare. The wine was good, the pot roast and vegetables were delicious, and he thought it was the best meal he had ever been lucky enough to eat.
But time passed quickly, and suddenly it was 0200 hours, which left Hale with only an hour to summon a cab, and make the trip to the airport. Both of them did what they could to keep the conversation light as Cassie put in a call for a taxi and Hale finished dressing.
Fifteen minutes later the cab was waiting in the street below, Hale was kissing Cassie goodbye, and the magical evening was over.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Hale promised as he looked into her eyes.
Cassie smiled, or tried to, as she straightened his tie. “I’ll be here.”
But both of them knew that nothing was certain, that everything was in doubt, and that the evening together might well be the only such time they would ever have. Cassie stood at the window and watched as Hale went out the front door and entered the spill of light from a nearby streetlight. He turned to wave.
Then he was inside the taxi, it was pulling away, and Cassie was alone.
“I’m sorry, Nathan,” Cassie said, as she thought about what had been done to him. And was being done to him. “So very, very sorry.”
Cassie went to bed after that—and sought to lose herself in sleep.
But when the sun rose, and sent streamers of light down into the bedroom, Cassie was still awake.
CHAPTER NINE
Rolling Thunder
Washington, D.C.
Tuesday, November 27, 1951
The skies were clear, and a cold wind was blowing in off the Atlantic, as President Grace’s Chief of Staff, William Dentweiler, climbed the narrow stairs that led to a small one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a nondescript apartment building.
An FBI agent was there to greet him. His name was Milt Wasowitz. He wore a gray snap-brim fedora, a dark blue trench coat, and a pair of very shiny shoes. He had heavy brows, a broad face, and pendant jowls. The two men had been working together for the better part of a week by then, and were on a first-name basis.
“Morning, Bill,” Wasowitz said cheerfully. “You look like hell warmed over.”
Dentweiler winced. “And I feel worse than I look. Older women can be extremely demanding, Milt. They know what they want, and won’t give up until they get it.”
Wasowitz smiled sympathetically. “I’ll have to take your word for that, Bill. Maggie and I have five kids, and by the time I get home, the only thing she wants is a back rub and a glass of wine.”
Both men laughed as they entered the apartment. It was furnished with pieces of mismatched furniture, and bereft of personal photos, knickknacks, and personal items. Dentweiler had seen hotel rooms with more personality.