Blue Twilight (10 page)

“You guys are making this up.”

Max moved closer to her, her expression serious and concerned. “Look at your blouse, Stormy.”

Stormy looked down at the front of herself, seeing the slight tears in the fabric of her blouse and the distinct paw print atop one breast. Her brows drew together. Her lips trembled. “Oh, my God.”

“You…you reached out. You petted the wolf,” Max told her. “It was the damnedest thing I ever saw. You petted it, and it stopped growling. It dropped to the ground and ran away.”

Stormy's eyes, wet now, met Maxie's. “Why don't I remember?”

“I don't know, baby. I don't know. That's what we're here to find out.” Max slid her arms around the other woman, held her for a second. “It'll be okay, though. We're here for you.”

Stormy straightened, but the defiance was long gone from her face and her stance. There was stark fear in her baby blues now. Fear and confusion.

“I wonder what language that was?” Max asked as they moved toward the emergency room entrance.

Lou shrugged. “I don't think it was any language at all. Just gibberish. Does Storm even speak a foreign language?”

“Nope,” Max said.

“I do so,” Stormy said, a hint of weak humor in her tone. “I speak Spanish.” They all knew her grasp of Spanish was pitiful, at best.

“Was that Spanish, Storm?” Max asked.

Sighing, she lowered her head. “No. It's nothing I ever heard before. And I don't remember saying it, or anything about any wolf. Jesus, you'd think I would remember a wolf.”

Max nodded. “You passed out cold right after. Stayed out almost all the way here. That would account for being disoriented.”

“Just get checked out, huh, Storm?” Lou asked. “For our sakes, if not your own.”

“I agree with them,” Jason added. “It's only logical to make sure you haven't developed some side effect from the bullet or the coma. A blood clot or a hemorrhage or whatever.”

She closed her eyes, nodded once. “All right. We're here, we might as well. I'll get a quick X ray. Have them send the films back to my doc in White Plains, just in case. Okay? Will that get you all off my case?”

“It sure will,” Lou said. Then he moved past her and opened one of the double doors, held it wide as Stormy and Max walked inside, with Jason bringing up the rear.

The place wasn't busy. Five minutes in the waiting area and Stormy was ushered into a treatment room, while Max continued filling out forms in the waiting area. She'd just finished with the forms when Jason appeared with three cups of hospital-stale coffee. He handed one to Lou, took another to Max.

Max accepted it and looked up at him. “I'm sorry I snapped at you back there, Jay. I was shaken up, that's all.”

“I understand. I've been pretty shaken up myself the past couple of days. It's forgotten, okay?”

She clutched his hand in one of hers, squeezed it. “Okay.”

Lou tried to pretend his grimace was due to the taste of the coffee, even though he had yet to take a sip.

Two hours and several cups of mud later, Stormy returned, with a forced-in-place smile and a clean bill of health. Max seemed relieved but not surprised. Lou couldn't believe it.

As they all trooped out to the waiting vehicles, Max walked close to him, and, leaning up, she whispered, “I told you it wasn't physical.”

“You can't be a hundred-percent sure of that. Not until her head doctor in White Plains reviews the tests.”

Max shrugged. “That phrase she muttered back there. The one you jotted down. You still got that?”

He sent her a narrow-eyed glance. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

He dug the scrap of paper from his pocket. She took it from his hand and jammed it into her own pocket with a quick glance at Jason and Stormy, who were walking a few feet ahead.

“What are you up to, Maxie?” Lou asked.

“Gonna try to get it translated.”

He shook his head. “It's gibberish.”

“Maybe. But what if it's not?”

“How could it be anything else? You said it yourself, Max. She doesn't speak a foreign language. Even her high school Spanish is a running joke. There's no way she could just start spouting sentences in a language she doesn't know. It's not possible.”

She looked up into his eyes and shook her head slowly. “Lou, haven't you learned by now that anything is possible?”

E
ven as they reached the vehicles, Max's cell phone bleated.

She frowned as she dug in her purse for it. “What do you know? It's working again. I didn't even realize it was still turned on.” She hit a button and brought it to her ear. “Maxine Stuart,” she said.

Brisk and businesslike—if the person on the other end had never met her, he would never realize he was talking to an impulsive hellion with a huge imagination, Lou thought.

Stormy and Jason stopped walking and turned around. “Guess we have reception again, huh?” Jason asked, while Max covered her free ear and hunched over the phone as if she were having trouble hearing.

“Maybe it's only inside Endover the reception dies completely,” Stormy said, and the look she sent Lou told him she was starting to adopt Max's penchant for conspiracy theories. Hell, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do I need to come back there, Officer Gray?” Max was asking.

Lou looked at her sharply. “What's going on, Max?”

She held up a hand. “All right. Thank you. Yes, I'll check in as soon as possible.” She hit the cutoff and dropped the phone back into her purse, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “There was a break-in at the house.”

Lou swore softly. “Someone probably saw you moving out and wanted to look for any valuables you might have left behind,” he said.

“No, not that house. The house in Maine. The mansion. The alarm system Morgan had installed alerted the Easton PD, and an Officer Sandy Gray went out to investigate. The front door had been forced open—that gorgeous stained-glass oval broken all to hell and gone. The place was rifled. Computer's missing. They're not sure what else. They want me to come back and take inventory as soon as possible.”

Lou frowned, a million questions running through his mind. “Why would someone go after your computer, Max?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. To sell it, I guess.”

“Good thing I had the laptop with us,” Stormy said. “Don't worry, Max, there's nothing on your hard drive that we don't have backed up.”

“Gimme the phone.” Lou held out a hand.

Max handed it over, and he hit the incoming calls log button to get the number, then pressed Send.

“Easton Police, Officer Gray speaking.”

Lou introduced himself as a fellow cop and a friend
of Maxine's, and proceeded to fire questions at the cop. By the time he hung up he had a better handle on things. “The televisions, VCRs and jewelry were undisturbed, as far as Gray can tell,” he said. “They left the computer monitor, the scanner, printer, all that. All they took was the tower. The break-in happened earlier today—they've been trying your cell every couple of hours since. Got the cell number off your business cards. The files were rifled. Not much else. Whoever did this was after something specific. Something they thought they would find in your files.”

Max frowned. “Well, it's not like I have any top-secret information in there, aside from the…”

She stopped there, her eyes widening. “The DPI files,” she said. “The CD I stole five years ago from the burned-out ruins of that so-called research lab in White Plains. It had the case files of hundreds of vampires on it.”

“You never copied that onto your hard drive,” Stormy said.

“No, but there were copies packed in our stuff. I never took the time to put them in the safe. We…we barely unpacked. What if someone got it?”

“You think it was Frank Stiles, that bastard who shot me and tried to murder Dante?” Stormy asked.

Jason was staring from one of them to the next, his eyes wide. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Vampire files? DPI? Who the hell is Frank Stiles?”

Max sighed, lowering her head. Lou could see the worry in her eyes, the regret. Hell, he didn't blame her
for it. If those details about the undead fell into the wrong hands, a lot of innocent vampires might die.

Innocent vampires. Hell, life since Max came into it was freaking surreal.

“Let's get back to the motel,” Max said. “Lou, you drive Stormy. I'll ride with Jay. He's got a lot of catching up to do.”

Lou nodded. “Okay. Fine by me.” He reached for Max and snagged one arm around her waist, tugging her against him. It was the only way he could think of to get her close enough to warn her. Bending his head until his mouth was close to her ear, he whispered, “Be careful what you tell him, Max. I don't trust him.”

“Damn,” she whispered back. “And here I thought you just wanted to hold me.” When she said it, her lips moved so close to his neck that they brushed his skin, her breath caressing, warm. It heated his blood. He felt a pulse in his throat beating harder. He
did
want to hold her, goddammit. What the hell was the matter with him?

“I don't want to leave this case to go back there, Lou,” she whispered, successfully changing the subject.

He looked down into her face, her sincere, frustrated eyes, so wide and green. Her perfect, round cheekbones that always seemed to be begging to be touched. Traced. Kissed. He realized belatedly that his arm was still wrapped around her waist. He liked it there. She fit in the curve of his embrace.

With no small surge of regret, he let his arm fall to his side. “You don't have to go back. Call Lydia. She'd be glad to drive up there and take care of this until we
can get back. You tell her where you left the CDs, and she can check to see if they're still there.”

She lowered her eyes. “Lydia. I don't know, it seems like a huge favor to ask.”

He nodded. “Look, I know you haven't known her that long. But she's your birth mother, Max. She's nuts about you. And she's a good friend of mine, has been for years. Believe me, it wouldn't be overstepping the bounds of your brand-new relationship with her. It really wouldn't.” He shrugged. “I tend to think she'd move up there with you if you asked her.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “She loves you, Max.” And damn, he thought, what was not to love?

She nodded slowly. “Short of calling Morgan back from her honeymoon, I guess I don't have anyone else I can ask.”

“I'll call her on the way back, before we lose cell reception again.”

“Thanks, Lou. You always know what to do.” She slipped her arms around his neck, pulled his body close and brushed her lips over his jaw. Then she lowered herself and hurried over to Jason's Jeep.

He watched her go, wondering why he was such a confused mess where she was concerned. At least she didn't seem angry at him anymore. But just when he thought their friendship was safe, she went and pushed it a little further, leaving him turned on and ready to run, all at once.

He turned and started for the Bug. Stormy caught up
before he reached it. “Looks like you're finally falling for her, huh?”

“For who?”

“Max. That hug you gave her before she left—” She broke off, probably because he winced a little when she said it. He'd only hugged her so he could whisper his warning without Jason Beck overhearing it. He supposed that quick kiss she'd given him in return was her idea of payback.

“Don't tell me,” she said. “It wasn't a real hug.”

“It was real enough.” Even though he hadn't meant it to be, it had certainly
felt
real. A little too real, he thought.

“Don't play with her, Lou. Not unless you mean it. She couldn't take it.”

He frowned at Stormy, but she only turned and opened the passenger door to get into the car. What the hell was she talking about? Maxie was the toughest female he'd ever met. He couldn't think of anything she couldn't take. Besides, she'd given up on trying to seduce him despite that little display a moment ago. She was glad he was around. He understood that, because the feeling was mutual. No big deal.

A little voice inside reminded him that he'd been starting to doubt that was all there was to it. Ever since her passionate claim that she had never seen him as too old or worn-out to respond to her teasing, he'd been wondering, what if it wasn't teasing at all? What if it was for real?

Hell, he couldn't deal with that possibility, because
he didn't know how. Truth was, he was afraid of her. Imagine that. A veteran cop who'd seen just about everything there was to see, afraid of a pretty, spunky sprite like Maxie.

Well, stranger things had happened.

 

Max was still warm all over from Lou's embrace—and still stinging with disappointment that it hadn't meant a damn thing. Not that she'd thought for one instant that it had. Okay, maybe just for one
brief
instant—that moment when he pulled her hard against him, and her heart reared up on its hind legs and took off at a full gallop.

God, if she closed her eyes she could still feel him, holding her to him, hard and tight, as if—

“So the research lab in White Plains wasn't really a research lab,” Jason said. “I got that much.”

His voice reined her ecstasy to a halt, and she forced herself to pay attention to him as he drove. “Actually, it was. Just not for cancer. It was the headquarters of a government organization called the Division of Paranormal Investigations.”

“DPI,” he said, nodding. “And they researched…vampires?”

She nodded. “Sounds insane. But it's not. It's real, Jay. When you and Stormy and I sneaked in there to check out the place, right after the fire, I found a CD. It was full of information, case histories of vampires. How old they were, who sired them, where they'd last been seen. Some had been captives in that place, used as guinea pigs for their research.”

He shook his head. “You know, when I got that flyer, saw that you were investigating supernatural-type stuff, I thought—hell, I don't know what I thought. Goth kids playing dress-up and drinking blood for kicks, I guess. Maybe a little ghost-busting on the side.” He sent her a brief, probing look. “But this stuff can't be real, Max. I mean…vampires?”

“I've met them. I've seen them. Hell, some of them are my friends.” She didn't tell him one of them was her own sister. She might want to trust Jason, but wanting to trust wasn't trust itself, and she knew Lou had a point in advising caution.

“It's hard to believe. What are they…what are they like?”

She sent him a look, sensing more to his question than what rested on the surface. “Just like anyone else, I guess. Some are good, some are bad. Some are freaking insane.”

He licked his lips. “But not
just
like anyone else. Not really. I mean, they're different. Physically, right?”

She tipped her head to one side. “They can't go out in the daylight. They need blood to survive.”

“What do they look like?”

She fixed him with a steady gaze. “Why? You think you've seen one?”

He laughed at that, but it was a nervous laugh. “No way. But I'd like to know if I did.”

Max shrugged. “Paler than we are. Otherwise, not much different.”

He nodded. “What about…powers?”

“What about them?” She was none too comfortable discussing this with him, all of a sudden.

“You know, the stuff you see in the movies. Changing into bats. Talking to people inside their heads.” He sent her a sideways glance. “Any of that for real?”

She nodded slowly. “They're pretty good at the mental conversations. I've heard some can shape-shift, but I've never seen it happen.”

“Unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “So how do you kill them?”

Max didn't gasp, but it was close. She didn't know how to answer, and while she was searching her mind, he went on.

“Crucifixes? A wooden stake?”

“It's, um…it's never come up.”

“Do you think—” He stopped himself. “No. It's crazy.”

“Do I think what's going on in this town is connected to the undead? That's what you were going to ask, isn't it, Jay?”

He thinned his lips, nodded once.

“I don't know. I didn't think so, but now…hell, whoever broke into the house was after those files. That's my gut feeling, anyway. And if they knew I was away, it might be because they knew I was here.” She paused, drew a breath, decided to plunge ahead. “I might be able to figure this out, Jason, if you would tell me everything.”

He swung his head toward her fast. “What do you mean?”

“Why all the questions about vampires? Do you have some reason to think one is involved in this?”

“No. Of course not. I was curious. Hell, Max, it's not every day you talk to someone who claims to have personal experience with something like that.”

She sighed. “I think you're holding something back, Jason. I think you know more than you're saying.”

He faced front again, his jawline seeming to harden. “I've told you everything I know.”

“Including how you got those bruises?”

He said nothing.

“It wasn't from a fall. Those came from a beating, Jay. Someone attacked you.”

He licked his lips, nervous, trying hard not to appear to be. “All right. I was upset. I was in a bar asking the locals if they'd seen Delia, and I had a few too many. Ended up in a brawl. It was nothing.”

“So why did you lie about it?”

“I got my ass kicked. I was embarrassed, okay?”

“And that's all? There's nothing else?”

“There's nothing else.”

“Chief Fieldner had skinned-up knuckles, Jay. How do you explain that?”

He slanted her a quick look. Barely missing a beat, he said, “He landed a few blows when he came to break up the fight. That's all.”

She sighed, certain she would get no more out of him, hoping that was because there was nothing more to get.

Jason cleared his throat. “He's strong, Max.”

“Who is?” She frowned at him. “Chief Fieldner?”