While You Were Dead (27 page)

Kat ignored him, until he caught her eye and smiled.

“Doctor Jannsen. Bought any good copiers lately?”

Mitch. Kat gave him a cold smile. “Enjoy your ‘reward’, Mitch?” She watched his reaction only long enough to see his smile disappear. Max had based everything, everything, on Mitch’s letter and phone calls. But if he’d been part of Vic’s plan all along, why had he been ‘rewarded’? What did Vic have on these guys that they put up with his abuse? It had to be more than a good paycheck. No amount of money was worth getting dead.

Cap lifted the walkie-talkie from his belt. “Crater, ask Mr. Fordon if the doc can cook for us.”

“He’s out.”

Cap smiled, the first genuine smile she’d seen. He really did look like the kid next door. “The kitchen’s all yours, Doc. What are you going to make?”

Kat swallowed her grin of delight. “Depends on what you have.” There wasn’t much in the small fridge, but enough for goulash. She made a mean goulash. Too bad no one would be able to enjoy it. When she had the ingredients together, she called Cap into the kitchen to okay her choice. She made sure he entered first and then she glanced at Lizzie, who’s eyelids moved just the tiniest bit. She was really good at this faking-sleep stuff, Kat thought. Just before she turned around, she gave Lizzie one exaggerated wink. Lizzie’s hand moved, a natural I’m-sound-asleep-but-just-stretching move and for just an instant her thumb and forefinger formed a circle.

Message received. Kat went back into the kitchen and started to pray. She kept Cap busy at her side, slicing vegetables while she fried hamburger. Lighting a giant mass of crumpled paper towels was a simple task, accomplished while he searched the cupboards for the can of tomatoes she’d hidden behind a sack of potatoes. One match and whoosh, the entire kitchen seemed to blaze. The burn on her arm was accidental. Cap’s reactions to the blaze were so quick he’d caught her arm between the hot frying pan and the fire extinguisher he seemed to pull out of thin air.

Lizzie’s absence wasn’t noticed until the fire was out, which was far too quickly for Kat’s liking. Vic roared up ten minutes after that. Mitch and Cap had been immediately ‘rewarded’ and then sent to search for her, with promises of worse to come if they didn’t find and return her immediately. Vic had told his other thug–Crater–to find out what she’d done. He’d hit her twice, knocking her to the floor with each blow, and then Vic had noticed the burn on her arm.

She’d bitten clear through her lip, in the beginning. But she hadn’t said a word, paralyzed by fear for Lizzie that was far greater than any worry over what Vic might do to her.

That was an hour ago. With every second that passed, Lizzie seemed further away, safer, and Vic’s taunting bothered her less and less.

Eventually he’d get tired of hurting her and then he’d kill her. Not a peaceful end. That didn’t matter. Lizzie was safe, with Max, who knew the truth about her now. She’d have a good life. A safe life.

Her skimpy little top was ripped to shreds. Tattered strands of black lay across her breasts, moving when she breathed. Vic was too mad to notice she was nearly naked except for her bra. Cap’s replacement had probably rearranged her face so badly she didn’t have to worry about rape. She almost smiled again but caught it back just in time. Smiling was not a good idea. Sleep. Sleep was a good idea, and she could feel the darkness, hovering at the edges of her consciousness, waiting to pull her inside.

Vic pressed on her burn again, yanking her back, sending the signals of danger back to her head. What were the names of the nerves? She used to know. Med school seemed like such a long, long time ago. . .but she hadn’t learned the names of the nerves in med school. Anatomy class. Senior year. Max. He’d helped her study for her final.

Vic was talking again. Only he wasn’t yelling. Kat struggled back to awareness. She’d promised Lizzie. Vic wouldn’t surprise her again. She had to pay attention.

##

Max shut Kat’s front door and switched on a living room light. A fruitful trip, but not fruitful enough. Viper had called in a tip. Kat’s car had been spotted at a diner down the street. Max had notified Reicher, but only after he’d promised Max could come along. Two waitresses verified that Kat had been there the night before, but they both swore she’d left, alone, about an hour later.

At least now they had a rough sketch of Victor Fordon. He was older than Max had thought and yet there was something familiar about him. He looked like a college professor with his neat beard, tinged with grey. On a hunch, he pulled up the alumni website for Kat’s alma mater. No Professor Fordon. No one who looked like the man Kat had married.

He hadn’t stayed at the diner to watch them tow Kat’s SUV away. Her GPS unit was missing, ripped from the dash. Reicher assured him the fingerprinting and crime lab analysis would get top priority. Max was certain they wouldn’t find a thing. He stared at her young, smiling picture on the computer screen. Where was she? If she’d left the diner alone, where had she gone?

Walking into the diner had been almost as tough as returning to the hospital cafeteria. He could feel Kat at the diner, see her drink her black coffee as the waitresses described her, just as clearly as he could still see Lizzie, sitting alone at that table. He’d accomplished both tonight, and a short visit with Miriam, who’d just taken her sleeping pill. For Kat’s sake, he hadn’t told her about Lizzie. It seemed too much of a betrayal at the time. So, when she’d asked about her daughter, Max had murmured something noncommittal and left. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He’d always been so good at waiting, excelled in it, actually. But waiting for a target was nothing like this. Waiting for a target had purpose. Meaning. Waiting to hear that they’d found a body–or two–was going to kill him.

He flipped open his phone to call Viper and give him an update. Across Kat’s now-cluttered desk, her phone rang. Max lifted the receiver and waited for the caller ID to kick in.

Cell phone CO.

Bingo. This time Vic was going to tell him everything he needed to know.

He said hello and heard a strangled, snuffling sound. Every muscle in his chest tightened in response. His heart raged painfully against his ribs. This was either the cruelest trick imaginable, or. . .he clenched the phone so hard it nearly squirted from his suddenly slick palms. “Lizzie?”

“Uncle M-Max.”

A fountain of relief started in his heart and splashed outward. Max sobbed and gulped air. He could hear her crying. Terror swallowed the relief.

“Where are you, Lizard? Tell me where!” Panic edged the words.

“S-safe,” she cried and gave him the name of a gas station.

He almost didn’t hear it. Safe! But how? He grabbed up his car keys. Was she really safe?

Twenty minutes later, he squealed to a stop in front of a convenience store. He saw her through the window and the tears he’d fought since he’d first heard her voice busted the dam he’d erected to be able to drive.

“I c-can see you,” she whispered in his ear through the phone, and now he could see the tears she’d cried all during their long conversation. She looked dirty, filthy in fact, but he’d never in all his life seen a more beautiful sight.

He’d promised the kid behind the counter fifty bucks to let Lizzie use his phone to talk to Max on his cell until he arrived. She still clutched it like a lifeline, even as Max threw open the door and yanked her into his arms. He cursed the tight bandages around his ribs. They kept him from holding her close enough, feeling her tension-wrought, shuddering body next to his own. His arms couldn’t get enough and he couldn’t stop crying, kissing her tangled hair, hugging her tighter, closer and whispering, “thank you.”

Lizzie didn’t object to the over-long hug, but she was getting a little frustrated by his inattention to her words.

“Max!” she whispered directly in his ear–for the tenth time. “You have to listen to me.”

He pulled back far enough to really look at her. “All right, Lizard. I’m sorry. Are you really all right? Except for your toe? How’s your foot?”

“You know? How’d you know?” She shook her head, exasperated with the questions. “I have to tell you.”

“How’s your foot?”

Lizzie gave a grunt of frustration. “It hurts, okay? My turn.”

Max couldn’t stop his grin. “Your turn, Lizard. I’m listening.” He sat back on his heels. She was filthy, coated with grime and weeds and heaven only knew what, but besides doing a credible flamingo imitation, resting her left heel against her right calf, she seemed fine.

“Come here!” she demanded with a glance at the kid behind the counter, who was eagerly eavesdropping. She wrapped her arms around Max’s neck again.

Which was exactly where he wanted her. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling her wonderful, if dusty, scent, until her urgent whisper stopped him cold. Then he closed his left hand around her arm and jerked her away to stare at her. “How do you know it was her?”

She looked utterly disgusted for just a moment and then smiled. “You made her chili. And from the look on her face that wasn’t all you were cookin’ that day.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of a torn, dirty jacket and lifted. “This is hers. And these shoes. I think they took my shoes. We couldn’t find them.”

Max knees smacked hard, right on the cold concrete floor of the old gas station. It didn’t occur to him to reprimand her for her inappropriate comment. He touched the black fleece that fell nearly to Lizzie’s knees. She’d told Reicher she was going to get Lizzie. “Where is she?”

Lizzie positively beamed. “I can show you.”

He shook his head, brain whirling. Was Vic with her? Helping her? “Tell me.”

She shook her head right back at him. “Can’t. It’s down a street, and through a field, and another field, and across another a street, and then there’s twelve trees and then you get to the wall–“ She smiled smugly at his look of bewilderment. “See, I told you. I have to show you. We’re like partners. My job is to get you. And we have to hurry. Vic’s gonna–“ She frowned when Max’s hand bit into her arm. “Ow, that hurts.”

This time Max didn’t apologize. “Vic?”

Lizzie nodded again. “Vic. He’s the bad one.”

Max bit back the curse that boiled up inside. Lizzie wasn’t finished.

“He’s gonna be real mad when he finds out I’m gone. I’m afraid he’s gonna–he’ll hurt her.” Her eyes flooded again and Max yanked her back into his arms. Why hadn’t he brought his rifle? He bent to lift Lizzie in his arms and spied the toes of his boots. It would have to be enough. Lizzie was right. They had to hurry.

Max bought milk, donuts, a flashlight, and with another glance at Lizzie’s foot, a bottle of extra-strength pain medicine. He paid the kid behind the counter his fifty bucks and drove Lizzie back to the last field she’d crossed, parking close enough to the last street light that he could see her, but far enough away that the car wasn’t clearly outlined.

Lizzie was eating like she hadn’t been fed in days, and he waited until she slowed down, enjoying just the sight of her, even while worry for Kat loomed larger and larger. The entire time he drove and enjoyed and worried, he gathered information, translating Lizzie’s offhand comments into solid data. Four guards rotated duty inside the house. Walled compound. Rifles. Hand guns. And Victor Fordon running the show.

“She is pretty, Uncle Max. I like her.”

Max watched Lizzie lick gooey white filling from a finger after her fifth Twinkie. “Me too.” He cleared his throat. “We should have washed your hands.”

“We should be going. What’s Kat’s house like? She said you were staying with her. Is it nice? This is her fleece. She gave it to me so my t-shirt wouldn’t shine.”

“Lizard.”

“What?” She flashed him the most guilty smile he’d ever seen.

“Button it, would you? I’m trying to figure this out.”

“The rescue?” At his glance, she lifted her fingers to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Tell me about the yard.”

“I only saw the back. There’s the house, then another building more toward the front. I don’t know what’s in front of that. They knew our code, Max. Did I tell you that?”

It shouldn’t have surprised him. He should have figured she wouldn’t just go with a stranger. But he hadn’t. “How did they know?” The question was out before he could stop it. He was asking a ten year old for the answers now? Time to go.

“I don’t know. Kat was surprised, too, when I told her. Course she didn’t know about the code. She doesn’t have kids. Do you think she wants any?”

Max placed one finger over her perpetually moving lips, and then eased the rebuff by stroking her cheek. “Missed you, sweetheart.”

“I missed you, too. But we need to go get Kat now.”

“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to make two phone calls, and then you’re going to sit right here, with the doors locked, holding my phone, until I come back.”

“But--”

Max shook his head. “No buts. Quiet now, while I call.”

Viper first. He got voice mail, but Viper called him back even before Max could dial Reicher. He rapidly filled him in, gave him the approximate location of the compound.