While You Were Dead (12 page)

Kat’s tears fell faster, her chest jerking with the effort to breathe.

“She’s fun–easy to be with. I love her. Since the moment I first saw her.” Max dragged the heels of his palms across his eyes and exhaled a groan.

She lifted a hand to brush his too-long hair out of his eyes. “We’ll find her.”

“No.” His hands abruptly fastened on her wrists, forcing her fingers out of his hair as he shoved her away.

Kat’s arms dropped numbly to her side, empty again.

“It’s been too long. Twenty-four hours.” She knew the averages, knew the chances of finding Lizzie alive after twenty four hours dropped to near zero. For her, it changed nothing. “And this,” he gestured vaguely to the tiny room, “is bullshit.” He got to his feet, moved to the door, ignoring her again. The door was still locked–a room where they interviewed suspects they wanted to keep contained. They weren’t suspects, or at least she didn’t think so, but they were most definitely prisoners. Detained with secrets and a horrible truth between them.

Slowly and methodically, Max began to pound on the heavy door. “Reicher!” The sound reverberated in her brain, and she was reminded for no reason of a doomed man’s footsteps, marking off his final walk to the chair.

Thud. “Reicher!” Silence.

Thud. “Reicher!” Silence.

Kat broke. She grabbed his right arm with both hands, heedless of the fist that could have knocked her cold. Max didn’t try to remove her hands. He didn’t stop either. His left fist connected with the door and a low moan slid up from her toes, through her heart and out into the room only to be drowned immediately.

Thud. “Reicher!”

The door swung open, out into the hall. Detective Reicher barely escaped a knock-out punch. Max shook Kat’s hands off his arm and she retreated to a corner. Max backed up just enough to let the shorter man into the room.

“Sit down, Max,” he ordered.

Max sat, but his eyes never left the detective’s impassive face. Hank Reicher glanced at Kat, still hiding in the corner. “You too, doc,” he requested. Kat shook her head. She couldn’t have moved if she tried.

“What’s in the box, Hank?” Max’s voice, so furious just seconds before, was calm and even. So were his features, she saw with astonishment.

Hank cleared his throat. “It’s a,” he stopped and glanced at Kat, then back at Max. “There’s no good way. . . “

”What was in the box?” He ground out each syllable, but never raised his voice.

“Her toe, Max. Lizzie’s middle toe.”

Kat heard someone scream. A woman. The woman cried, “No!” over and over and over and over. The screams underscored a picture of Lizzie, terrified, backing helplessly away from her captors as they reached for her little bare foot. Kat put her hands over her ears to block out the sound, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

Max, suddenly in front of her, hauled her forcibly into his arms and buried her head in his chest. The screaming died away almost immediately. The picture didn’t.

Time didn’t exist. Only Max. His arms tightened fiercely around her and she knew what that meant. But she couldn’t respond, couldn’t move, could only hang onto Max. His grip on her loosened and he cradled her head now, hands gently soothing, even as he continued to talk to the detective. She heard the rumble of his reply, but not his words. Slowly, far too slowly, the mental movie of Lizzie faded, replaced by the grey little room. Finally she sucked in a ragged breath and lifted her head, needing his eyes. After a single glimpse though, she shoved his arms away and wrenched out of his arms to face him fiercely.

“No.”

“Kat–“

”No.”

“Easy, baby.”

“No! She’s not dead, Max. She’s not.” Max wasn’t listening. The grief and guilt in his eyes were more than she could stand, so she turned to Reicher. “Show me.”

“Now, Doc, that’s really not such a good idea.”

“Show me. If you’re doing your job, you can’t. Lizzie’s toe is evidence and it should already be on its way to the lab. Cooled, of course to preserve it for testing. Is that where it is, Detective?”

He met her eyes, assessing, obviously not trusting the sudden change in her. “Yes, ma’am. It is.”

She gave one short nod. “CBI?”

“For starters. The Bureau handles all evidence like this. I gave instructions to go Fed if they’d rather.”

“Good. I’ll call Bruener. He owes me one.” The detective continued to stare at her. It was clear he still didn’t know what to make of her transformation from stunned hysterical woman to detached professional. Kat didn’t care what he made of it. She turned her back, dismissing him. Max sank into the chair she’d vacated earlier. His eyes were haunted now, he looked drained and defeated. He’d known somehow, that the news the detective was going to bring would be terrible. He’d started grieving over an hour ago.

Kat touched his shoulder. He didn’t look up, didn’t move at all. His pain hurt her so much she wanted to cry, but not for Lizzie. For Max. Definitely not for Lizzie. Lizzie was alive. Hurt, but alive. “Max.”

He straightened at her voice, although his voice was flat and when he stood it was without energy. “We have to go to the hospital.”

She waited. There was more, she knew, things she’d missed in her shock. There wasn’t a single thing he could tell her, however, that would make her believe her daughter was dead.

“There was a note, with her. . .inside the box. It said that Miriam’s next.”

##

Two hours later, Kat stood across her kitchen bar from an unspeaking Max. He’d insisted on personally making sure of Miriam’s safety, although Reicher had posted two additional officers at the hospital as soon as he’d opened the box. By the time they’d returned home to her house, Max was once again silent. He ignored the chicken casserole she’d placed in front of him, but she didn’t blame him for that. She couldn’t eat a bite either.

“Who did this, Max?” she asked finally, after he’d ignored all her other questions.

He surprised her by straightening and meeting her eyes for the first time since they’d left the police station. But he didn’t speak.

She decided not to let that stop her. Any response was welcome at this point. Her heart was breaking for him but stony, silent grief wouldn’t help them find Lizzie. “I figure it’s got to be someone with a grudge, either against Doug or Miriam.”

His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.

Encouragement soared. Time for another direct question. “How well did you know Miriam’s husband?”

“It’s not Doug.”

Her heart sped up. A verbal response! And somewhere in the back of his eyes, light glimmered. “Why not?”

“Because it’s me.”

Kat laid one hand down flat on the cool tile of the island. He’d already thought it through. As usual, he was a step ahead of her. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you’d damn well better figure it out.”

Max straightened then and picked up his fork. He began to eat, not quickly, but with a definite determination. Somewhere in his mind, a decision had been made, but what kind? A decision about what?

Kat cleared her throat when it seemed he’d go back to ignoring her. “What are you going to do?”

“Figure it out. Find whoever’s responsible.” And take them out.

He didn’t speak the words, but his eyes shouted them. Kat felt a sudden cold fury inside. This was the stranger who’d accused her–only two days ago–of taking Lizzie. This was the man who’d left her, pregnant and alone while he traipsed all over the damn planet. This was the man who’d held her daughter for seven years, while she ached for them both. And it would take this man to find Lizzie, now. Lizzie was all that mattered. “I’ll help you.”

He surprised her again with his nod. “I hoped you would.” He used his fork to point at her plate. “Eat. We’re going to be busy.”

Kat ate, until the phone rang. She grabbed it up breathlessly. Never mind that it wasn’t his cell phone. Any call could be news. Detective Reicher had her number, or could get it, and Max had told him where they’d be.

“Dr. Jannsen, we’ve got your car ready. Shall we deliver it?”

She closed her eyes, disappointed. “Yes, please. If I’m not home, just lock the key inside. I have another.”

“We’ll be there inside an hour, ma’am.”

“I appreciate you taking care of this on a Sunday.”

“Not a problem, doctor. See you shortly.”

Max’s eyes were steel question marks. Kat shrugged. “My car.”

“What about your car?”

“I had two flats on Saturday, on the way home from the airport.”

“Two flats?”

She gave him a grimace. “Two blow-outs, actually, as I accelerated around a corner. It was a very, very bad day.”

Her attempt at humor seemed lost on him. He was suddenly focused on her forehead. “What happened to you?”

She frowned until she touched the spot he stared at. She’d forgotten the butterfly bandage there–forgotten the convenience store hold-up completely. A sheepish smile replaced the frown. “Observant today, aren’t we? I’m a hero. Busted up a convenience store heist.”

“Where?”

“Down the street.

“When?”

“While you were asleep.”

He looked puzzled and then seemed to brush it away. “I need your computer.”

She gave a quick nod. The change in him, from silent grief to fully-charged energy, was a little scary. The sudden purpose in his every movement revealed dark, disturbing undercurrents. “What are you going to do?”

“Research.” He reached for his cell phone and turned his back on her. “Viper. It’s over. I need a kit. Call me.”

Kat had reached for his nearly empty plate when he turned away, but she froze at his words. Viper? A flood of cold shivers deluged her spine. When he stood, she planted her hands firmly on the counter. “It’s not over, Max. Lizzie is not dead.”

He didn’t believe her. It was obvious from the set of his chin and the glint in his eyes. She knew he wanted to push her away, get on with whatever it was he was determined to do, but there was enough of Max, her Max, left to have him turn and touch her cheek. His gaze was full of sympathy now, and pity. “Kat, baby, I–“

”No!” She jerked away from him. “She’s not dead, and you’d damn well better not give up on her! She needs you now, Max, to not give up. To find her.”

“I will find her.” The low growl made her jump. He thought she was accusing him. Well, wasn’t she? She wouldn’t let him give up. She couldn’t find Lizzie on her own. She had connections, but not like his. Connections. Right now that was the key. How far-reaching were his?

“What did you do in the Special Forces?”

Still angry, he glared at her. “I was a sniper.”

Kat felt suddenly so cold she was amazed her breath didn’t come out in ice crystals. Her suspicions were true. She didn’t know Max at all. Unless she misunderstood. “A sniper?”

Max knew what she was asking. At another time, like two days ago, he might have softened his answer. But not today, when grief for Lizzie clamored for his absolute attention. Attention he couldn’t afford to give right now. His gaze locked firmly on hers. He made sure the message in his eyes was clear. He’d tell her once, only once. “This world is full of terrible, evil people, Kat. Like the ones who killed Lizzie.” She paled at his words and he knew she wanted to protest, but when he caught her arm in a grip so tight he knew it hurt, she subsided. “My job was to keep civilians safe. By the time they called me in, anything less than extreme force had failed. Yes, I killed people. In cold blood. Deliberately. I was very, very good. I had to be. It was always, always, kill or be killed. So I never had any remorse. I left my family, left you. . .to finish my last mission and then I walked away.”

Until now.

Unspoken, the words nevertheless hung between them.

“Anything else you need to know?”

There wasn’t a drop of blood left in her face. He wanted to snatch the words back, or at least his callous delivery, but he couldn’t. Emotions didn’t belong. Not today. Maybe not ever again. Miriam was next. He’d save his sister. Find his daughter.

“N-no,” she stammered.

His phone gave one soft beep and he snapped it open, turning his back. Viper didn’t waste any time. Everything Max needed would be delivered within the hour. Everything but the location of Lizzie’s murderers. That was up to him. He strode to Kat’s desk, located in one corner of the living room, aware she followed even before she snatched up a stack of mail, and then a few file folders, making room for him to work.

He asked for her password and logged onto the internet, then completely tuned her out. They’d taken his niece, while she was in his care. Now they threatened the only family he had left. Their message was clear, all signs pointing directly at him. But he had to know who, before he could find out where. Why might lead him to who. If not, it didn’t matter. Not anymore. He reached for the phone to make one more call.