While You Were Dead (26 page)

“I can’t raise her.” He was too close, making the threat to Lizzie too real. It didn’t occur to her to lie. “You know about my mother. Insanity like that could be genetic.”

“So you gave her up, even loving her?”

She nodded.

“How far will you go to save her?”

Hope sprang wild in her heart. Was he offering her a chance? Her chin lifted with determination. “Anything. Please let her go, Vic.”

“Anything?” His forehead touched hers, trapping her completely. His breath hit her nose in short little bursts, smelling of spearmint. Her stomach roiled as if he’d sprayed her with fertilizer. She never wanted to smell spearmint again. She shut her eyes, kept her own breaths very shallow and retreated as far as the wall would allow, every muscle tense with revulsion. “How about it, Katherine? How far?”

The war was over in a split-second. Kat relaxed and opened her eyes. “Anything.”

“Interesting.” He released her right wrist, but brought her left hand between their bodies. His finger moved slowly over her ringless fourth finger. Only then did he straighten, pulling back far enough to see into her eyes. Kat met him fearlessly. “We shall see.”

He locked her in again and Kat sagged against the wall. She meant her vow, but she knew, too that intent and actions were sometimes hard to reconcile.

##

She didn’t see Lizzie again until dusk. Cap carried her in and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. He sported a split lip that was fresh since he’d brought lunch. Who had he fought? Kat watched for any sign of nervousness, a betrayal that things weren’t as they had been. Cap gave no clues. Once again, he left without so much as acknowledging Kat’s presence.

Still wondering, Kat curled up in the corner, lifting Lizzie’s head into her lap. She smoothed back her wild hair and wondered if the golden glints would catch the moonlight and betray her. The dirt on her cheeks was thick enough to hide her fair skin.

Could Lizzie make it over the wall with her injured foot?

When Cap returned with another sandwich a few minutes later, Kat stopped him and requested fresh bandages.

The guard gave one short nod. “I’ll see what I can do, ma’am.”

Ma’am? A cowboy-type then. But he didn’t look like a gangly cowboy. His sturdy body was thick with well-toned muscles. At least he’d noticed her this time.

He was back almost immediately, with a box of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment. Kat reached for the wound care articles but Cap didn’t give them to her. “I’m to change the dressing. I’ve had training.”

“I’m a doctor,” Kat protested, but she didn’t interfere. He unrolled the layers of dirty gauze swathing Lizzie’s foot, finally revealing toes stained orange and thick black stitches between Lizzie’s second and fourth toes. Lizzie hadn’t moved, even when Kat’s arms tightened around her convulsively. The same horror she’d felt in Detective Reicher’s stifling little interview room swept over her again and she shut her eyes. Then she’d had Max’s arms around her tight. Now. . .now she clung to his daughter and cried, silent sobs that wouldn’t be controlled.

“Doesn’t look infected.” Cap’s quiet comment sent her eyes flying back open.

His gun! Could she get his gun?

The rifle was slung to his back, its strap over his far shoulder. A snap sealed off the holster he wore at his waist. It seemed they all had two guns. She watched him apply a thick layer of antibiotic gel to the stitches. He seemed absorbed in his work, but absorbed enough not to notice if she got off the bed? Moved around behind him?

Her gaze lit on a raised, sore-looking contusion behind his left ear. She could see her gun slicing through the air, connecting with solid skull. She almost smiled. “Lizzie said they call you Cap.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He opened the box of gauze.

“How’d you split your lip, Cap?”

For the very first time, he looked her in the eyes. She caught one glimpse of intense determination and nothing else. “My busted lip was my reward, ma’am.”

“Reward?”

“For allowing you to take me down last night. Ma’am.” His second glance was delivered with the title. Both were salted with disdain. For himself or for her? She couldn’t tell.

Kat felt a flicker of remorse. He was young. No doubt Vic paid the men well. She still wanted his gun. Kat eased Lizzie’s head to the bed as Cap applied two gauze pads over the gaping hole where her daughter’s toe had been. She inched her own foot over the side of the bed.

“I should tell you, Ma’am.” Cap’s voice was calm, abnormally conversational. “Should you want to try anything similar while I’m dressing the little girl’s wound here, my orders are to kill.” He gave a small smile, sounding for all the world like the cute college kid who lived next door and changed her oil for her. “I’m not to touch you though, ma’am. Mr. Fordon,” another smile, this one clearly forced. “He gave strict orders about you. I’d rather not hurt either of you, ma’am.” He started to wrap Lizzie’s foot. Kat rested one hand protectively on her daughter’s cheek and tried not to shudder.

Why wrap her foot and try to stave off infection if he planned to kill her? Why feed her? What did Vic want?

She had hours to wonder as the light outside her window faded and Lizzie slept on, still wrapped snugly in Kat’s own black fleece jacket. Hours to plan, too. Once Lizzie woke up, she only needed to get her into the living room–the only room with a back door. Then Kat just needed a distraction large enough to garner the attention of all the guards, including Vic, while Lizzie escaped, over the back wall and into the night. That’s all. Just a miracle.

Piece of cake, baby. Max’s voice. Kat almost smiled.

“Piece of cake,” she whispered back, her brain whirling and then she really was smiling. Grinning. She found Lizzie’s cheek in the darkness and started to stroke it. “Wake up, Lizard. Time to go home.”

Lizzie fell head-first over the wall. She had only seconds at best and speed was her only friend. She used the tuck-and-roll method she’d learned in gym class. Not her most graceful dismount, but she was away.

Behind her, the house was in chaos. Ahead of her the night was cold and still and dark. Filled with evil shadows. She headed for the first tree and didn’t look back. Kat’s suggestion had been to use the trees for cover until they ran out. From then on, she was to stay as low as possible, keeping to the shadows when she could, running as fast as she could when she had to be in the open. Kat’s voice was as clear in her head as Uncle Max’s had ever been.

“When you need to stop, do. Be careful with your breathing. If they’re close, they might hear you. You can catch your breath quietly, it just takes a little longer. While you’re resting, listen. Everybody makes noise on unfamiliar ground.”

Lizzie slid behind the third tree and stopped, risking a glance back. She could still see the wall, but barely. The house was already out of sight. She knew if she kept the lights of Denver’s weird airport behind her, and the four radio towers ahead of her, she’d get close enough to 120th to find her way. But what about Kat? It just wasn’t right to leave her alone there. Vic was going to be furious. She couldn’t go back, but Uncle Max could. And she could tell him how to go, if she marked her path somehow. But how?

She leaned back against the tree and shoved her hands into the pocket of Kat’s fleece. It was too big for her, of course, but it was soft and warm and smelled like Kat did. Like lilacs. Lizzie frowned as her fingers closed around a clump of something smooth. With another quick glance behind her, she removed a wad of duct tape. She wrinkled her nose. Just what she needed–a reminder. Come to think of it, she had more. She’d stuffed the pocket of her jeans–back when she’d tried to convince herself she could get out on her own. She’d collected it for evidence.

Lizzie smiled for the first time since she’d seen Kat’s wink at the house. Cool that she’d remembered her suggestion to use it as a signal. It made Lizzie feel. . .included, like she and Kat were partners. And partners never, ever left each other behind. She wasn’t a very good partner if she was going to just run out on her. But, if she went and got Max–that’s what a good partner would do. Especially an injured partner.

Lips curling in distaste at the smell and taste, she chomped down on a piece of the duct tape, ripping it away from the wadded-up ball. She taped it to the tree, then faced the house to make sure she had the look of it down. “Be right back, Kat,” she promised.

Twelve trees offered safe haven and perfect markers. Then the night opened out around her. A farmer’s field. Or a field of weeds. With stickers, she discovered shortly as she misjudged a step and fell. She risked one glance behind her, breath caught in her throat when she thought something moved. A stick waved in the breeze, mocking her. Lizzie gave a disgusted snort and stumbled back to her feet. She glanced at her watch when the moon peeked out behind a cloud. Ten-thirty. Except she had no idea how long she’d been gone. She hadn’t thought to look at her watch when she left.

Was Kat okay? Would the man called Vic hurt her?

Lizzie fell again. It was because of Kat’s shoes, of course. They were too big. But, as she picked another sticker out of her palm, she was glad she had them. She could feel her toes bleeding inside and she wondered again what they’d done to her foot to make it hurt so bad. Should have looked, back at the house, while she was alone. She’d started to, but the gauze had stuck and that was back when it hurt really bad just to move her foot at all. Good thing Kat hadn’t come for a couple of days.

She glanced back again. All clear. The duct tape piece she’d left on the last tree winked at her in the moonlight. Lizzie smiled, then looked down. She’d better start leaving more pieces. She had to turn soon or she’d end up in the back yard of the house she could see ahead. The turns were the trickiest, if she was going to lead Max back here. She’d better leave bigger pieces. Especially when she turned.

Her foot hurt like crazy. No, like hell.

Lizard!

She stuck her tongue out at Max’s voice in her head and limped on. He wasn’t here and he couldn’t stop her from thinking it. Besides, it really did hurt like hell. She cast a longing glance at the dark little house as she snuck past. Kat had been adamant about that part of her instructions. No hitching a ride. No knocking at strange houses, at least until she’d reached the road.

The road was up ahead, she could see it like a black strip of licorice. But it was dark, and deserted. Lizzie wasn’t to use it. Or the sidewalks next to it when they started up. Side streets, back yards if she had to, until she got to the businesses at 120th and Colorado. Unless she saw a police car. She dropped to her stomach in the weeds, winced at another sticker, but didn’t move until a car driving by was gone.

You won’t know, Lizzie. Not until it’s too late. It’s gonna be tough, honey, and hard, and you’ll want to stop the first car you see, but you’ve got to remember, what if it’s them?

Kat was pretty smart. The only thing they hadn’t talked about was how long it would take. Had Kat left that part out on purpose? Lizzie sighed, lined up the space between the second and third aerial towers and started out again.

The scariest moment came when she had to cross the road. Her poor foot had been banged around so much it was throbbing, slowing her down. It would take her a long time to cross that road, and what if a car came?

She crouched in a ditch next to the road, watching for the right moment. As soon as she stood, she knew she’d hear a car. What should she do? Crouch back down? Run for it? She had to be sure before she moved. Maybe there wouldn’t be a car at all.

Cautiously, she lifted her head. Sure enough, headlights appeared on the horizon. Lizzie melted back into the ditch and froze. The car came to a stop at the intersection just to her right, where the road she had to cross turned to dirt. Was it her imagination, or was the car extremely slow in starting up again? She didn’t dare look. If she were lucky like Mandy Portson, she’d risk being seen and it would be a cop car. Mandy lived in a house overlooking the river and had her own room, her own playroom and a sister. Lizzie sighed. She wasn’t Mandy. She wouldn’t risk it.

##

One hour and seventeen minutes. Long enough? Or not even close?

Vic pressed hard on the burn on her arm. Kat visualized Lizzie, arriving at the gas station. Would they believe her? Send her away?

Send somebody to help her, she prayed.

“Where is she?”

Same question. Same pressure on her arm. Same soaring streaks shooting agony up her arm, signaling an alarm in her brain. Same Vic. The man was boring. Kat almost smiled but it would have taken too much effort.

“I know you can hear me, bitch! Where is she?”

Yes, Vic, she thought wearily. I can hear you. And I can see my baby running to safety. To Max. To life. Her cracked and swollen lips didn’t move, but underneath, deep inside where Vic couldn’t see, she smiled.

The ruse had been ridiculously easy to pull off. She’d pounded on the door until Cap came to answer it. With Lizzie pretending to sleep in her arms, she’d brushed right past him and into the living room, mumbling she didn’t want Lizzie in there alone. She then demanded something decent to eat and offered to fix it for them all. Vic was nowhere in sight. A guard from the front had appeared at the front door at Kat’s call, but Cap only asked him if he was hungry. Snitch, as Cap called him, looked like he’d been involved in a nearly-fatal accident about a week ago. One involving many, many fists. His right eye was still swollen nearly shut and she’d never seen so many colors on one face.