While You Were Dead (18 page)

“Yes.” Kat glanced down at her hands. Her amazing memory had nothing to do with her recollection of her mother’s words. “Before it started, she said the movie taught some good lessons. She wanted me to watch for them. She said, ‘You just never know how your actions will affect those around you. Even the world.’ Then she said, ‘And you really never know what you’re capable of until the moment arrives.’” Kat shuddered. Not minutes later, her mother had provided a very clear demonstration of her lesson.

Max caught her hands, drawing them across the table, drawing her back to now. “What files could Mitch have?”

She shook her head at him, sad he didn’t understand. “There aren’t any files, Max. Mitch wants money. Mama’s new secret weapons always want money. You know how wealthy Daddy was.”

“What about you then? Your clients? Your cases?”

Kat shut her eyes. Her coffee wasn’t helping to ward off a bone-deep weariness and she could feel a dark cloud of depression following right on its heels. Where was Lizzie? These questions weren’t helping. Max’s suspicions only made everything more bizarre. “Yes, I’ve helped to put some terrible people away, but none of them know about Lizzie. There’s just no way they could.”

“Who drew up the adoption papers?”

“A judge in Denver. He was a friend of Doug’s. It was all done in private, just Miriam, Doug and I. The papers were filed and sealed that same afternoon. The judge was old, and he died two years ago. Until today, the only people on earth who knew were Miriam and me.” She opened her eyes to find his angry and bitter.

“How about Vic?” His voice was flat. Emotionless.

Kat wasn’t fooled. “Vic and I didn’t get that personal.”

Rage flashed and then disappeared, almost before she could recognize it in his eyes. “I’ve got an ocean-view in Bluff River Falls I could sell you to go along with that.”

“We didn’t!” How dare he? It wasn’t any of his business, but she’d tell him anyway. “We barely even slept together, Max. I tried, but I—I couldn’t.” Anger at her failure to make her marriage succeed built like steam fueling an old freight train. Max’s irritation and resentment only added heat. It was his fault dammit! She hadn’t disappeared. Or died. “Our wedding night was a disaster. The next night I drank wine—lots and lots of wine. I thought it would help. It didn’t. He—he. . .” A too-familiar chill brushed over her skin then penetrated, sinking deep. Revulsion. Fear. Pain. Disgust for Vic, but more for herself. Legally, she was Vic’s wife, but she belonged to Max forever. Kat grabbed her empty coffee mug and held on with both hands, grounding herself in the present. “He was angry. Who wouldn’t be?” Her fingers showed white against the blue mug. “I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, throwing up and crying. He spent the next six months apologizing. But it wasn’t his fault, not really.”

Her eyes, when she finally lifted her head, held a barely restrained challenge. Max was ready to kill over what he thought he’d just heard, but he didn’t accept her dare. Not Vic’s fault. Not Kat’s fault. He should feel sorry for poor Vic, but he didn’t. He knew how the guy felt though. It was the one thing they had in common. Wanting Kat, with every fiber of his being, until it consumed everything else. With no outlet. If Vic was here, right now, he’d tear him limb from limb. But Vic was no longer part of her world, she’d said so herself. The best Max could do was hope the guy met a violent, bloody death sometime in the future.

He watched her play with her dessert, lifting her spoon to create a waterfall of creamy, melted liquid. Hearing her voice tonight as she’d shared her memories, watching the emotions play so fluidly, so vividly over her features, her eyes. Oh, yeah, he knew what it was to want. . .to need. . .her. She was his, but he couldn’t have her. Just like the thousands of other nights, tonight he’d have to shut it all up again.

If there were bugs inside Kat’s house, last night’s show was all the watchers were going to get. Short of driving up into the hills and going at it in his truck like some love-starved teen, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it tonight.

Except hold her. She looked so sad, defeated somehow. Like she blamed herself for everything that had happened, everything that was happening now, even while she calmly pointed out she couldn’t be the catalyst for any of it. He’d do anything to blot out the misery of her memories.

She looked surprised when he switched to her side of the booth and settled an arm around her. But she didn’t protest, even when he pulled her closer and urged her head onto his shoulder.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” she murmured.

“Sure we are. We’ve covered lots of ground where the answers aren’t. We’ve got to be getting close to where they are.”

A hint of a smile hovered over her lips. “And here I was thinking you’d make such a great attorney. What else do you want to know?”

“If you’ll dance with me.”

That brought her head up. “Dance with you?”

He nodded. “At your house. It’s the best way to run a sweep without alerting whoever may be watching or listening that you’re on to them.”

“You still believe my house is bugged?”

He nodded. “For the next,” he glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes or so, yes, definitely.”

“And we’re going to dance?”

“Just dance. I’ll probably kiss you, once or twice.” His let his mouth cover hers, but only for an instant. Any longer and he’d be out of control. “Then I’m going to sleep in your spare bedroom. After our big fight.”

Her eyes sparkled. “This is all assuming you find something?”

“Correct.”

The sparkle spread to her mouth and became a grin. “Can I start the fight?”

##

She should have let him start the fight, she thought the next morning. Maybe then it would have remained a staged fight—not the full-fledged war that raged now.

Max had indeed danced her through the house, keeping a small, plain-looking electronic device concealed between their bodies. When they’d waltzed through every room in the house, he smoothly danced her outside, into the chilly darkness, where he released her long enough to ease the door closed behind them. Then he took her hand and pulled her along until the sky was hidden above the branches of the old oak. Once there, he didn’t speak, just dropped the device to the ground and wrapped his arms around her.

Kat started to shake as the meaning of his actions settled over her like icy-hot jolts of electric shock. The knowledge came in waves, each one more menacing, more evil, more invasive. Someone invaded her house. Someone listened to her conversations. Someone watched her. That someone had Lizzie. Kat shuddered, feeling violated. Emotionally raped. She buried her face in Max’s strong shoulder and just hung on until she could stop the flood. “Where?” she asked finally, pulling back when she thought she was strong enough to handle the answer.

Max didn’t let her go. “Everywhere. Every room. Audio and visual.”

Sudden fury only made her trembling worse. She shoved away from Max and swung around, determined to find each and every camera and smash them with her bare hands. If that didn’t work, there was a hammer under the kitchen sink. Max stopped her, grabbing her shoulders and backing her up into his strong, solid body.

“You don’t want to do that, baby.”

“I sure as hell do!”

“Then they’ll know that you know.”

Lizzie! Kat sagged back against Max, truly thankful he was there for the very first time. She had to let them continue to spy on her until she and Max found Lizzie. Otherwise. . .. “Can you trace it backwards?”

“Eventually. With the sophistication of what they’ve got in there, I doubt it will help us determine their actual location.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, Max!” She wanted to scream. To hit something. To inflict vicious, violent harm. Underneath the rage, though, she wanted Max to put his arms back around her and make it all just go away. He ran his hands down her arms to her wrists, soothing goosebumps she didn’t know she had.

“It will. We’ll find them. I’ll take care of it.”

For the first time she was suddenly—frighteningly—aware of how tense he was. How his muscles shook also, with barely restrained rage that was greater than her own. His wasn’t tempered by fear. Not for her. Not for himself. Not even for Lizzie. Kat shivered again. He was comforting her, soothing her, and underneath, the sniper was planning his attack, as surely as she breathed. Max wasn’t two people. The man she knew and loved was one with the cold-blooded killer. The knowledge held her motionless in his arms.

“What do we do?”

“I have a plan. Don’t worry.”

Impossible. Worry, doubt, anger and rage took assigned turns at the forefront of her mind and heart. Last night it had been easier to trust him, to cherish the memory of the long, deep kiss he’d given her before they went back inside the house, to meekly obey when he told her she needed to sleep, to swallow the sleeping pill he gave her, to participate mindlessly in the stupid argument he picked.

This morning, the memory of that kiss warred with the cold, harsh stranger who’d greeted her with a cup of weak coffee, already sugared and creamed, and the order that she had fifteen minutes to get ready or he was going without her.

She didn’t dare ask if he’d found anything. No sooner had she slammed the truck door behind her then he floored it, roaring out onto the street. He ignored her then, despite her increasingly frequent glances at his scowling features. He’d showered but not bothered to shave before he woke her up. His eyes were red-rimmed, giving him a slightly crazed look that wasn’t the least bit reassuring.

The grey and gloomy day didn’t help to dispel the feeling she was trapped in some sort of horror movie. Rain spattered sporadically and the streets were as slick as they’d been yesterday. She took one more glance at Max and frowned when he turned off the highway. She knew now where they were headed. Knew, too, she had to stop him.

“Max.”

“Don’t start.” Max didn’t take his eyes from the road.

“I will start. She’s Lizzie’s mother. She’s fighting for her own life right now. You saw her—you’ve called the hospital practically every hour over the last two days. You know she’s not in any condition for you to tell her Lizzie’s dead. Especially when she isn’t! We should be on our way to find Lizzie right now, not going to destroy Miriam.”

“Give it up, Kat!” He spared her exactly one thunderous glare before he accelerated around a corner. “She’s dead. Miriam is her mother. She has a right to know.”

“But you don’t know. Not for sure.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Her heart actually stopped at his low growl. Kat let out a soft cry, searching his face. “What?”

“I just know, okay? I saw the ring. I don’t need blood tests or DNA.”

Kat’s fury returned with a vengeance. He’d scared her to death because of what? A feeling? A hunch? “Pull this truck over!” she demanded.

Max ignored her.

“You can’t do this, Max. You could kill her and because of what? Male intuition? Never heard of it. “

Max stopped at a light with a snort of disgust. “This from little Miss Denial. Get over it, Kat. The sooner you do the sooner you can help me figure out who they are. Where they are.”

“I am not in denial.”

Max faced her fully for the first time. “I died, Kat. You never got through denial with that one.”

“That was not denial!” She knew she was shouting, sounding like a typical hysterical female, but she’d never felt so out of control, so borderless, so terrified. Lizzie wouldn’t be in this mess except for her. She would not put Miriam through all this without cause.

“Denial.” Max revved the engine again, done talking to her.

“You weren’t dead! Lizzie’s not either.” She tried to reign in her voice, yank back her scattered emotions. “My father died, Max. I dealt with it fine. I dealt with your death, too, just not with the loss of you. Lizzie is not—”

Kat never saw the eighteen-wheeler plow into her side of the truck. She saw the entire accident, though, in real time, played out in vivid detail on Max’s horrified features. The split-second of indecision to hit brakes or gas. A thrill of acceleration when he chose to floor it. Desperation when he knew he couldn’t avoid the accident. An eternity as his hands left the steering wheel, his arms closing around her, wrenching her towards him as he tried to put himself between her and the forty tons of angry metal ripping through her side of his truck. She didn’t even have time to scream.

She heard the squeal of brakes, the sickening crunch of metal on metal, and Max’s soft grunt of pain as the daylight disappeared.

Her head hurt. And her back. Somewhere behind her metal shifted, groaned. Kat forced open reluctant eyelids, disoriented and dazed. Pinned to Max’s chest, she could see his eyes were closed but when she tried to straighten, he grunted a warning.

“Don’t move, baby,” he begged. “Not yet.”

Kat lifted only her head, seeing first the white lines of strain around his lips. Next her gaze drifted out the mostly-shattered back window. The bed of the Max’s truck was permanently fused with the engine of a huge semi. Max’s truck was bent, directly behind her she’d find the cab of the semi. If she twisted around, which she couldn’t.