While You Were Dead (13 page)

Kat moved the mail to the kitchen counter, started to sort it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Max’s stiff back, listening to his phone call.

“Ghost, it’s Ice.”

Kat shuddered. Ice? She listened while Max explained his situation to the man? woman? spectre? Max called Ghost.

“Has to be...Colorado, I assume...someone’s here, someone who was caught on the hospital tapes...yeah, I was hoping you’d say that...thank you, Greg.”

A man, then. And a friend, for at the end she’d heard the affection in his voice for Greg, the man called Ghost. She shook off another shudder at the implications of the code names. All that mattered was that Max would find the men responsible for Lizzie’s disappearance. When he did, he’d discover Lizzie was alive. That’s all that mattered.

Max was focused intently on the computer now, so Kat kept busy, doing dishes, vacuuming until he growled at her to knock it off. She picked up a file folder with some medical reports for an upcoming case but couldn’t concentrate. Finally she just sat on a bar stool, watching his strong shoulders, marveling at that amazing determination that shut out everything but the task immediately before him. That part of him hadn’t changed. As her professor, he’d been entirely focused. When he worked out, whether it was a game of basketball in the park or a furious session in the gym, that’s all he did. His concentration was unlike anything else she’d ever experienced. And when it was her turn, when he concentrated solely on her. . .. Kat nearly shivered at the memory. Yes, he’d find Lizzie. Kat just had to stay out of his way while he figured it out.

The doorbell startled her. She barely had time to look up from her file before Max was at the door. Seconds later, he slammed her car keys down on the counter next to her. Then the anger disappeared and he traced the bandage on her forehead with a puzzled look.

“What?” she wondered, but he shook his head and went back to the computer. Before he sat down, the doorbell rang again. This time when he closed the front door, it was with his foot. He held a case in his hands.

“I’ve got to go out for awhile,” he stated, but didn’t offer anything more.

Had he found Lizzie? That fast?

Kat leaned against the hood of her SUV and watched Max kneel in front of the case he’d received. Other than to give her directions, he didn’t speak on their trip out of town. At least he didn’t object to her request to come along. She watched him open the box, but her eyes scanned the empty fields for a glimpse of Lizzie, of a house, of something.

Only there was nothing here. A deserted field, hidden from the dirt road by rolling hills with one scraggly tree trying to survive a football field away. Jets roaring overhead proclaimed their proximity to Denver International Airport, but the pointy canvas peaks of the landmark weren’t visible. Nothing was visible.

Max removed a cloth, spread it out on the ground and began to remove the contents of his mysterious delivery, his broad shoulders blocking her view. Kat sighed and surveyed their surroundings. Was Lizzie here? Close by? She knew better than to ask Max. She didn’t remember his silences lasting so long, or being so dark, but there were silences in the past, when he concentrated. When Max wasn’t talking, it was useless to do anything but wait.

So, she waited, her attention drifting from Max to the clouds scudding overhead while she worried about Lizzie. They’d cut off her baby’s toe. She tried to suppress the hard, angry shudders that welled up inside.

Lizzie wore a toe ring, Max told her later, on her middle toe. The ring had been in the box, too. Another fact she’d missed while she fell apart in that stark, airless little room. She’d called Bruener at his Colorado Bureau of Investigation office to request he rush the mitochondrial DNA typing on the evidence. What Max believed to be proof of death, she’d turn to proof of life as she’d also requested a special test to tell if the toe had been cut from living flesh. The test wasn’t always conclusive, but she’d take any help she could get to convince Max Lizzie wasn’t dead. Her requests were made with a cool detachment even Max would have been proud of, but now, with nothing but Max’s silent determination for company, tears stung her eyelids.

Max suddenly strode away, carrying a single sheet of paper, headed for the lone tree. She glanced down at the cloth and her breath caught in her throat.

A rifle. Skinny, strange and evil looking, like any pretenses of nicety had been removed. The stock was merely a frame, no decorative wood. The machine in front of her had but a single purpose and it screamed it for the world to hear. Kat shuddered again.

Max returned, without the paper, and now he spared her a long glance. “You wanted to come,” he reminded her. Kill or be killed. Miriam was next. Yes, she wanted to be here. For the first time, she was glad there for the other Max, this cold and distant Max, who knew who to call, how to get an evil tool delivered inside an hour. Kill or be killed.

Kat nodded. “Will you teach me?”

Max didn’t blink. Or hesitate. “Once I’ve got it zeroed.” Like a tiger, he stretched on his stomach at her feet, and lifted the gun. She followed the direction of the barrel, out to the tree, and saw he’d left the paper there. A target. A tiny scrap that fluttered in a faraway breeze. He could hit that?

For a long time, Max didn’t move. Kat kept her eyes on the scrap of paper, wondering if the rifle was as loud as the gun she’d shot once before. A jet roared overhead, masking a solitary pop. Four more rapidly followed and by the time the jet’s noise had faded, Max was making quick adjustments. Again he waited, until another plane appeared to the west. A single shot this time, and then he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Still want to?”

Kill or be killed. Lizzie. “Yes.”

She lay under him, his body like a glove around hers, even his leg thrown over her own. He fitted the rifle to her shoulder, peered through the scope with his cheek next to hers, so close his breath tickled her ear. Kat only hoped he couldn’t feel her heart pounding because there wasn’t a thing she could do about that. She forced the tremors from her fingers, memorized his instructions and waited for him to give the order to shoot. Amazing herself, she didn’t blink when she pulled the trigger, didn’t flinch at the recoil and knew she’d hit the paper at least once.

“You’re a natural,” he proclaimed minutes later. He held out his hand to pull her to her feet.

Kat didn’t smile at the praise. Of course she was a natural. Killing was in her blood, wasn’t it? “Vic said the same thing. He took me to a firing range once–he loved guns–and said I couldn’t come again or they’d recruit me. Personally, I think I’d rather have a knife. One strike, if you know where to put it.” Now where had that come from? She glanced at Max, but if he thought her comment strange, he didn’t look it.

“Too messy. But exactly the same reason I use this.” The rifle sat snug in his fingers, as if it belonged.

It did belong. Kat shivered. “Obviously more things than we know can be inherited.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “How is your mom?” He knelt in front of the cloth, blocking her view. She wondered if he’d shoot again, but he’d begun to reload the case.

“The same. She won’t talk to anyone with anything remotely related to psych in their background. She’s still convinced she’s not insane.”

“Whatever happened with her appeal?”

Ellen wasn’t her favorite subject, but at least he was talking to her again. “She’s run through them all, unless we can get her to undergo an evaluation. It’s her only way out at this point.”

“And she refuses?”

“Adamantly. And, of course, it’s my fault, because I refuse to believe she’s innocent.”

Max snapped the case shut, surprising Kat with how quickly he’d broken down the rifle. He set the case in her back seat and then held out his hand for her keys. “So she hasn’t changed much?”

“Not a bit. She looks really good, considering. She’s furious with you, though, still.”

“With me?” For a moment he looked surprised, then a glimmer of a smile showed in his eyes. “I dropped my investigation into your dad’s death.”

Kat slid into the passenger seat. “And then you had the nerve to die. She’s still convinced you were her best chance to get out.”

Max climbed in beside her and started the engine. “Is she still playing musical lawyers?”

“As often as possible.”

“And you’re still paying for it?”

Kat shrugged and turned her gaze forward, out the window as they backed out of the field. “It’s her money, Max–Dad’s money. It was never mine.” And that was enough on that subject. “What’s next?”

“Back to your house. I’ve got to figure out how to tell Miriam I killed her baby.”

##

Unfortunately, Max wasn’t kidding. Back at her computer, he composed lists. Lists of names, locations and dates that meant nothing to her, and lists of ways to best tell Miriam that Lizzie was dead. Kat paced, cleaned both her bathrooms, and finally sat on the couch, scared of him, of that fury she sensed boiling just under the surface.

If she believed, even for an instant, that Lizzie was dead, rage would consume her. But Lizzie was alive. It wasn’t that she hadn’t ever seen Max’s anger. He’d always had a temper, a fierce one, but never once had he directed it at her. There’d never been a need. In the full, rich time they’d spent together, they’d only had a few arguments. All but one had been over children. He’d wanted a dozen, he told her–for starters. She’d told him she couldn’t have children, but then relented and told him the truth. Wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have children–couldn’t do that to a child, what her mother had done to her. And he knew about genetics, knew there weren’t any answers. So, no. She wouldn’t have children. Surprising her, Max had dropped it and made love to her like never before. Her cheeks flushed now, just remembering the intensity of their passion.

She should tell him the truth, that Lizzie was his, not Doug and Miriam’s. But it seemed so cruel, especially when he so firmly believed she was dead. Kat closed her eyes, unable to find a clear way out of the lies she’d concocted to save her baby.

Like the first, their last argument had been her fault. It had happened right before he left. She couldn’t. . .wouldn’t. . .give him what he wanted. And then he’d gone, first from her, then from all who knew him, and finally from life. What if she’d said yes? Would it have changed anything? Stopped him from leaving on his last mission? Eyeing his shoulders now, she wondered. It would have given him Lizzie. Kat curled deeper into the couch, fighting to keep her tears hushed. Her victory brought no pleasure.

Max continued to work in silence.

Kat continued to watch.

Just when she was about to give up her lonely surveillance, his cool demeanor began to crumble away. The sun had faded slowly outside while he’d worked and now the only light came from the computer monitor. He’d been able to shove his grief away for much of the day, but it wouldn’t stay out any longer. Kat was waiting when his shoulders slumped and his head dropped.

“Enough for tonight, Max,” she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind with a prayer that he wouldn’t shut her out again.

“It isn’t enough,” he whispered back. “I don’t know where they are.”

“But you will. And we’re going to find her. Alive.”

For once he didn’t argue and he allowed her to turn the swivel chair. She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled his head down to her shoulder–just the way she’d comfort Lizzie if she were here.

She held him until the last of the stiffness eased from his body, and when he lifted his head and looked at her, there wasn’t a trace of that other Max left. No, the eyes that stared back at her belonged to her, forever, and he told her that without a word. “Lay with me,” he urged, as his hands slid up her back to her shoulders and down her arms. He pulled her to her feet and then up against him, holding her as he had the night before with his cheek resting atop her head and his arms a secure haven around her. Tonight she had neither the inclination or the will to protest.

“This isn’t laying,” she murmured, lifting her head to find his eyes.

“I’m trying to figure out how to skip the couch and get you in bed.” For all that his voice was calm, his eyes were still anguished. She couldn’t refuse him anything.

“Teach me,” she whispered. “How to concentrate like you do. How to put it all away. It’s too much and I need. . .I need–“

Max quieted her words with a barely veiled sample of exactly what she needed. Kat threw herself from desperate worry over Lizzie to the equally intense emotions his kiss invoked. When he pulled away moments later, it was with a groan. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Wild, hot need tumbled over a solid bed of the same everlasting love she saw reflected in his eyes. The two together stole her voice, her very breath, so she nodded, hoping her eyes would speak for her. Max gave a single nod in response to hers, and swept her up into his arms. “Tonight we’ll do us,” he said, and started down the hall with her. It sounded like a promise, but could she? Somewhere out in the chilly evening, Lizzie was alone, for the second night in a row.