“What!” Maggie looked at Zack.
“I was only teasing her,” he said. “I didn’t know she had issues.”
Mel’s eyes were still at the top of her head. “I’m never coming back in this store as long as I live. I wish I were in Egypt with Grandma and Papa. I wish I lived in Egypt.”
“Yeah,” Maggie said, thinking Egypt would be a nice place to visit about now. She and Mel could hide out in a tomb until the police caught up with Carl Lee. “Why don’t you and Zack grab a cart and help me,” Maggie said, “and we’ll be out of here in no time. You know what I buy.” She tore the list in half and handed it to her daughter. The look on Mel’s face was the same as when the dentist announced she needed braces.
Max and Jamie sat at a small table in Donnie Maynard’s sandwich shop, sampling his new brie and turkey wrap, as he waited breathlessly for their verdict. Every few minutes he darted a look at the front door, which had been locked and the shade pulled low. The turkey wrap had not yet been announced to the public. It was top secret. Max and Jamie had been forced to take an oath of silence until Donnie was ready to unveil his creation in the food section of the Gazette.
Jamie made a production of tasting his new sandwich and making notes in her purse-sized tablet as Max looked on in amusement.
“So, what do you think?” Donnie whispered. “Think folks will like it as much as Maynard’s Famous Meatloaf?”
Jamie touched her lips with the cloth napkin that Donnie had provided for their taste-testing pleasure, as well as actual dinner plates and wine goblets filled with iced tea. “Donnie, I think people will like your wraps even better than Maynard’s Famous Meatloaf,” she pronounced.
Donnie looked at Max who was smiling broadly and nodding his approval. “Very tasty,” Max said.
“Magnificent,” Jamie added. “The brie that you chose as an accompaniment to your turkey is subtle, yet has a distinct flavor that creates a unique coupling. The strawberry jam and butter spread enhance the culinary marriage, and the grapes and avocado slices on the side give your presentation a certain—” She paused and held her head to the side in thought. “Panache and sophistication,” she added.
“You wowed her, Donnie,” Max said.
“Holy mackerel!” Donnie staggered back, obviously dazed by Jamie’s high appraisal. He shook his head hard. “Can you remember to say all that in your food review?”
Jamie pointed to her tablet. “I’ve got it all down on paper.”
Donnie grinned. “It was worth it,” he said. “All those hours I put into it, trying to find the perfect ingredients to go into my jam and butter spread. Not to mention what I use to baste the turkey itself, all of which is a secret, of course. It’s all up here,” he added, pointing to his head.
“I want this thing to be big,” Donnie said. “I’m going to present it to the town next Saturday. I’m going to have free helium balloons and cookies. I’ve already set most of it up. I hired this lady, Mrs. Bakker, who hands out cookies at Bi-Lo, so she’s going to take care of dessert, and then I hired the musician from the parade today. Gave him some money up front so he could fix his speaker,” he added.
“So you want me to print the review on Friday?” Jamie asked, “and announce the little party you’re planning for the following day?”
“Yes, indeedy,” Donnie said. “Let me get these plates out of your way.”
“Oh, what do you plan to call this grand new addition to your menu?” Jamie asked.
He grinned. “That’s simple. I’m going to call it ‘Maynard’s Famous Turkey Wrap.’ ”
Jamie nodded as he hurried away. She looked at Max. “I knew that.”
He leaned close and took her hand. “You’re beautiful. I’m glad I married you. If I hadn’t married you I wouldn’t get the inside scoop on all this top secret stuff.” He paused and looked around. “I wouldn’t get all these free meals.”
Jamie nodded. “You just have to know the right people, Holt.”
He looked about the small restaurant. “Remember the first time we came here?” She nodded and he squeezed her hand again. “I was already hot for you.”
“No!”
“Oh, yeah. I knew you would be the one. I have great memories of this place.”
“Really?” she said softly. “How would you like to make a new memory?”
He pondered it briefly. “You know, I think it would be great, sweetheart, but I’m afraid Donnie might walk in on us.”
“We’re going to have a baby, Max.”
Lydia pulled into her driveway and pressed the button attached to her visor. The garage door lifted slowly, and she pulled inside, pressed the button once more and waited for it to close. She had followed her instructions to a T.
“Bastard,” she muttered. Without wasting a second, she grabbed the pharmacy bag and went inside. The house was quiet. In the master bath, she took one of Ben’s syringes, a foil pack containing an alcohol swab, and went in search of her husband. The first floor was empty.
She started upstairs, paused and took a deep breath, and continued on. She gasped when she found Ben bound and gagged in one of the guest rooms. “Oh, my—” Her eyes filled with horror. She raced forward and yanked the cloth from his mouth. “Are you okay?” she whispered frantically.
“You don’t need to be up here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. Just give me the injection and go.”
“Any symptoms?”
“I’m thirsty. Lydia, please.”
She cleaned the rubber tip at the top of the vial. Her hands shook so violently it slipped from her fingers. She bent to retrieve it, swayed, grabbed Ben’s arm to keep from falling.
“Sweetheart, you need to calm down,” he whispered.
“I saw Maggie.” She choked on her tears. “I should have warned her, Ben. I should have said something. He’s going to hurt her, I just know it.” The words tumbled from her mouth rapidly and in no order. “I’m not thinking straight. I almost ran off the road several times. He’s pulled the drapes. Nobody will be able to get to him. He’ll kill you if he suspects someone is out there.” Her cheeks were wet. “Tell me what to do! Please—”
“Give me the injection.”
Lydia swabbed both the rubber tip and his arms with alcohol. She drew insulin into the syringe and put the vial in her pocket. She raised the needle. Ben’s expression changed. She turned.
Carl Lee Stanton stood in the doorway. “Why are you up here?” His voice was low but as threatening as the gun in his hand.
“My husband needs his insulin.”
“Step away from him.”
“What!”
Carl Lee pulled back the hammer on his gun.
“Do as he says,” Ben told his wife.
Lydia moved aside. “Mr. Stanton—”
“Shut up,” Carl Lee said and walked over to her. He took the syringe. She frowned.
“Where is the vial of insulin?” he asked.
“What?” She stared at him for a full minute. “The pharmacy was closed when I got there. I had to use what little was left in the old vial.”
“You’re lying.”
“Look in the bathroom trash. I just threw it away. I need to go back out. I need to call his doctor. The Wal-Mart pharmacy will still be open.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“No, Lydia, you don’t understand.” He pressed the syringe, and the insulin spurted out.
Zack parked Maggie’s car as close to the back door as he could. “Hold tight for a few seconds,” he said, hitting the master lock as he climbed out. He and Bill searched the area.
In the backseat of the car, Mel sighed. “This is so dumb.”
Maggie did not try to mask her annoyance. “It’s not dumb. What’s dumb is that I didn’t make you go to Charleston. I should have hauled you right up there and forced you to do as I said instead of letting you talk me into staying here. That’s w
hat is dumb, Mel. And tomorrow, I am going to take you to Charleston if I have to drag you every step of the way.”
“What!”
“I’m calling Cheryl tonight and arrange it. You will do as I say or you will face serious consequences.” Maggie had to stop and suck in oxygen. It had happened. Her daughter had driven her over the edge.
“I hate living with you! I wish I could live anywhere but here.”
Maggie twisted around in her seat. “That is great news,” she said loudly, “because you are going to be living with Cheryl for a while. And then when you get home you can live in your room for a while. And I have even better news. By the time I let you out you’ll be old enough to date.”
The locks on the doors clicked, and Maggie jumped. Tension knotted her stomach. Zack opened the door and stuck his head in. “Hello, ladies,” he said, giving them a smile even as they glared out their windows into the darkness. “You know, Bill and I were just saying what a great thing it is that a mother and daughter are able to communicate so freely.”
“Is it safe for us to get out of the car now?” Mel grumbled.
“Probably safer than it is for the two of you to remain inside with each other.”
Zack had already disabled the alarm; he and Bill saw that Maggie and Mel were safely inside the house before the two men headed back out to unload groceries. Mel crossed the kitchen toward the hall.
“I’ll need your help putting away the groceries,” Maggie said, trying to sound calm even though she wasn’t sure she remembered what it was like. She had been insane to keep Mel there, to put her own child at risk. She should have yanked the kid out of school the minute Jamie told her the news. She should have put the girl, kicking and screaming, in the car and driven her straight to Cheryl’s. What had she been thinking? What had she been thinking!
She and Mel were quiet as they put the food away, using the light over the stove and a large candle. In the living room, Zack was in the middle of a phone conversation, his voice so soft she couldn’t make out the words.
“Is it okay if I go to my room now?” Mel asked once they were done.
“After you set the table,” Maggie said.
“You’re going to cook now?” Mel said.
“Yes.” Maggie was determined to put a hot meal on the table even though it was well past the dinner hour.
“I’m not hungry,” Mel said.
“Then you can provide interesting dinner conversation while Zack and I eat. But set a plate for yourself in case you change your mind.” Maggie gave her best smile. As though everything were perfectly fine, even though they could have been a poster family for dysfunctional homes.
Mel stared at her for several seconds. Finally, she went to the cabinet and pulled out plates and salad bowls. She quickly set them out, along with the flatware and salad dressing, and without a word went to her room.
Maggie put a large pan of water on the stove to boil, grabbed a bag of chopped broccoli from the freezer and stuck it in the microwave to thaw while she gathered the ingredients for a broccoli casserole: fat-free cheese, reduced-fat cream of mushroom soup, and light mayonnaise. She mixed it all together, and slid the casserole dish into the oven that had been set on a high temperature.
Zack came into the room as she was tossing a salad. “You’re cooking?”
Maggie smiled and nodded. “Mel looked surprised too,” she said, “but I’m tired of sandwiches. It won’t take long. I picked up a rotisserie chicken at the grocery store.”
“Is Mel in her room?”
“Yes. She’s in the process of making a list of reasons to hate me. Or maybe she’s on the phone with the Department of Social Services.”
“Why does she hate you?”
“Other than the fact I’m mean and don’t want her to have any fun? Because I’m sending her to Charleston in the morning, even if I have to request a patrol car and have her handcuffed. I’m furious at myself for waiting so long.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Maggie,” he said, coming up behind her and massaging her shoulders. “I know why you didn’t send her away. You wanted to keep a close eye on her. In case I haven’t told you, you’re a pretty awesome mom. And—” He paused and grinned. “Mel is a pretty awesome kid.”
“She can be,” Maggie said softly. “Mel and I have never had this much trouble between us, and I don’t think she takes this situation with Carl Lee seriously. Maybe because of all the waiting and nothing happening,” she added.
Zack stepped closer and worked his fingers up her neck, pausing at the base of her skull, his thumbs pressing gently, drawing small circles. “Things will settle down once this is over. Wow, you’re tense.”
Maggie almost groaned in pleasure as he kneaded the tight muscles in her neck. “I should write myself a prescription for Valium. I should start drinking. Oh, crap, I should start exercising again.”
They became silent. “I’ve been thinking about last night a lot, Maggie,” he said softly. “And no, it wasn’t all about the sex part.”
Maggie had been thinking about it too, and she had to admit she had thought a lot about the sex part. But sex with Zack was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to escape this place,” she said, trying to make a joke because talking about their lovemaking made her head spin and her stomach flutter. Obviously, it made the muscles in her neck tense too.
“I was thinking maybe when this is over I could visit you and Mel once in a while. Maybe you guys could come to Virginia.”
“The water is boiling,” Maggie said, stepping away from him. She pulled fresh corn on the cob from the refrigerator and gently dropped it into the pot.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“That’s a great thought, Zack, but you’ll probably have an assignment waiting when you return to Virginia, and there’s no telling where you’ll be or how long you’ll be away.”
“Not until I’m on the mend,” he said. “I could show you and Mel a great time in Virginia.”
Maggie checked the casserole, found it bubbling and took it from the oven. She pulled the still warm rotisserie chicken from the carton. “It really does sound nice, Zack, but I have a practice to run, and Mel’s in school all week, during which time she plans her weekend to the nth of a second. Plus, I’m on call every other weekend.”
“Is that a maybe?”
Maggie looked at him. He was smiling, but she was not. She could feel the frown between her eyebrows. “I can’t think about that right now. Good grief, I can’t even think about five minutes from now.” She searched his face. “You’re accustomed to dealing with dangerous people, but Mel and I aren’t. We’re just average citizens, Zack.”
“You and Mel are anything but average,” he said with a chuckle. “The two of you are pretty special, Maggie.”
She avoided looking at him because she knew she was wearing a wimpy expression. “Would you please tell Mel dinner is ready?” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
Mel dipped half a tablespoon of the casserole onto her plate and refused Maggie’s offer of baked chicken or corn on the cob. Maggie gave Zack a look that told him to ignore it.
“Did you check to see if Butterbean was okay?” Mel asked Zack. “Or if she’s even here?”
“She’s sleeping like a baby,” he said. “It’ll probably take her a couple of days to catch up on her rest.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Mel went on, “that she can’t be around Jamie’s dog. Nobody cares or takes it seriously because they’re animals. But dogs and goats have feelings too.” She picked at her broccoli. “I don’t blame them for running away.”
Maggie saw that Mel was itching for a fight. She wanted to send her evil-witch-dictator mother on a first-class, all-expenses-paid guilt trip. Only Maggie wasn’t buying. She had to stop getting wrapped up in Mel’s stuff. Her thirteen-year-old hormone-induced dramas would drive Maggie nuts if she let it. She gave a mental sigh. If thirteen was going to be like th
is, fourteen and fifteen was going to be hell on wheels and kick Maggie’s butt.
Maggie was going to protect her butt. She looked up and smiled at her daughter. “More broccoli casserole or are you full?”
Maggie lounged on the sofa reading her People magazine by candlelight while Zack napped in the big overstuffed chair nearby. The house was quiet. Mel had been in bed for a couple of hours. Maggie had showered and put on her favorite Victoria’s Secret signature pajamas, pink satin with black piping. Understated elegance, the caption had read. She decided that look was perfect for a single mother and doctor who hadn’t had a man in her bed since long before the warranty on her mattress had expired.
Maggie closed her magazine, her weekly update of who was sleeping with whom in Hollywood. There was a whole lot more sex going on in Hollywood and New York than in Beaumont, South Carolina. Not many people in Beaumont had affairs. There was only one really seedy motel, and Abby Bradley passed it on her way to and from the ice-cream parlor each day so fooling around was risky.
Maggie sighed. She was restless and wide-eyed awake. Three-hour naps had a way of doing that to a person, she thought. She wanted to move around. She wanted to go outside and breathe in the night air and feel it on her skin. She wanted to walk barefoot through the cool grass and gaze at the stars. Even jogging sounded palatable at the moment.
She did not want to sit in a dark living room and think about the sad state her life was in.
She needed to throw off the crap that was dragging her down. She needed to be positive. She needed, um, cake! She tossed her magazine aside and started to get up.
“Maggie?”
She turned to Zack, still sprawled in the chair, head back, eyes closed. “I thought you were asleep,” she said quietly.
“FBI guys don’t sleep. We take short breathers.”
“You slept last night,” she said. “I heard you snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You snore.”
“You’re bored, aren’t you?” He grinned. “How can you tell?”
“You sigh a lot when you’re bored.”
“Really?” Maggie hadn’t realized. Her mother sighed a lot. Mel sighed a lot. And all three of them muttered under their breath when they were annoyed, and they had this eye-rolling thing going on. Their gene pool had to be one weird swimming hole.
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