by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
Back in the kitchen, she crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. She forced down juice, toast and yogurt, mulling over the trip ahead. What would Max do when they found Nola, would Linnet feel able to support his plan, and if not, what could she do to stop him?
After packing a carry-on bag for the flight, she filled the empty time until noon with a cleaning frenzy. Aside from clearing out Deanna’s stuff, she hadn’t touched the house in a week. She hoped the noise of the vacuum cleaner on the hall carpet might spare her the task of waking her unwanted guest, but no such luck. How could he possibly doze through the roar of the machine less than twenty feet from his bed? Maybe he’d taken a sedative. How dare he turn her inside out, set her up for a hectic night and then sleep like a hibernating bear? Or, rather, an estivating snake.
When the alarm finally buzzed, Linnet pressed her ear to the door, listening for any movement. She heard no sign of life, just the racket of the clock going on and on. After about two minutes of it, she had to admit Max wasn’t going to switch it off himself. She eased the door open.
He lay on his back, covered with the sheet up to his waist. The visible half of his body was bare. Ordering herself not to speculate about the hidden half, she tiptoed to the bedside and hit the off button. In the abrupt silence, she waited for him to open his eyes. Nothing. He hadn’t lied about his sleeping habits.
Okay, that means I have to get him up so we don’t miss the plane. With her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the heavily curtained room, she glanced around, postponing the moment when she would have to face him. Aside from the man in the bed, the room showed few traces of occupancy. He hadn’t disturbed a thing, just folded his clothes over the back of the desk chair instead of letting them lie where they fell like the average male. Next to the chair, his bag sat on the floor.
Linnet’s eyes circled the room and veered back to that bag. With Max dead to the world, she had a chance to find out a little more about him. She slunk over to the bag and unzipped it, wincing at the loud rasp. A quick look at Max showed that he hadn’t stirred, though. She fumbled through the contents. Underwear, socks, shirts, a pair of slacks, and a small travel kit that contained the standard toiletries, plus a bottle of factor-thirty sunscreen lotion. Sunglasses. A soft-brimmed, khaki hat such as a man might wear for golf or fishing. A paperback spy novel. A couple of crossword puzzle magazines and a ballpoint pen. He would be the type to work puzzles in pen, she reflected. A bill from a Washington hotel, indicating that he had checked out the day before. He’d apparently told the truth about the uncertainty of his plans. A side pocket held a few letters with Anthony’s return address. For a second her eyes stung with tears.
She wiped them with the back of her hand and closed the zipper, mentally scolding herself for snooping through his personal things. Still, he hadn’t made a move yet, and she might as well get the full benefit of her rudeness while he lay there oblivious to her intrusion. She dug into a pocket of his black jeans and pulled out his wallet. To read the contents, she had to move over to the window and part the curtains an inch.
Credit cards, about a hundred dollars in cash, and a Colorado driver’s license in the name of Maxwell Tremayne. The photo matched the face of the man she knew as Anthony’s brother. No pictures, though, not even a single snapshot of Anthony. So what had she expected to find? A secret identity? If he had one, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to carry around evidence of it. Her face burned as she stuffed the wallet back into the pocket and straightened the clothes the way she’d found them.
Time’s flying, she reminded herself. If Max wouldn’t wake on his own, she had to get him moving. Maybe she could accomplish that goal without touching him. She drew the curtains.
When the sun poured in, his eyelids twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes or make a sound. She wondered if he really was drugged. Approaching the bed, she examined his motionless body in the improved light. The glossy black of his hair made a striking contrast with the pale skin, further accentuated by the thick brows and long lashes of the same shade. On his chest the fine, dark hair grew in an inverted triangle whose point vanished under the sheet.
Linnet touched his shoulder with her fingertips. “Max? Time to get up.” No response. Even with that slight contact, she noticed how cool his skin felt. Maybe he suffered from some chronic illness? No, that theory didn’t match the energy he’d displayed chasing Fred through the woods. And although thin, Max looked far from weak.
As if moving under its own power, her hand skimmed along his collarbone and down his chest. She couldn’t resist stroking the hair, like a cat’s fur under her palm.
His eyes opened.
With a gasp, she snatched her hand back. His eyes, violet highlighted by gleams of silver, captured hers. Did they actually shine? No, that part had to be her imagination.
Rolling over, he pulled the sheet up to his ears. “Close the curtains!”
She had to suck air into her lungs before she could speak. “We have to leave soon, and I don’t want you going back to sleep.”
“I won’t,” came the muffled reply. “Close them, damn it!”
She obeyed. When she turned toward the bed again, Max flung off the sheet and sat up. Linnet didn’t look away quickly enough. She wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when she saw the navy blue running shorts he’d slept in. They revealed more than enough—lean hips, muscular legs that went on forever, and a discreet bulge under the cloth.
Her nipples tingled. Painfully aware of her reaction, she blushed hotly and fled from the room. She caught the sound of soft laughter as she scurried down the hall.
A few minutes later Max appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed, as she ate a sandwich. Along with it she gulped a tall glass of orange juice. She couldn’t account for her unusual thirst, unless it had been caused by overimbibing the night before. Alcohol led to dehydration, of course, but should a few glasses of wine have such an effect?
Avoiding Max’s eyes, she offered to fix him a quick breakfast.
“Just milk.” Apparently noticing her quizzical look, he said, “I suffer from a wide range of food allergies. When I’m away from home, I keep my diet simple.”
When she handed him the glass, she blurted out, “Thanks for staying.”
He frowned. “Pardon?”
“Staying here instead of leaving without me. You probably could have.”
He flashed her a brief smile. “What, and risk your having me arrested?” His sardonic tone left her uncertain whether he meant the remark seriously.
So that’s the only reason? Well, what did she think? That he’d undergone a sudden change of heart about her right to help him pursue her niece’s murderer? That the kiss he had treated as a mistake had actually meant something to him? Not that she wanted it to, of course. To her relief, he didn’t try to converse while she finished her lunch and cleared the table. She called her mother’s house and left a vague message on the answering machine to forestall curiosity about why she wasn’t home. Finally she scooped up her bag and headed to the door. Before twelve-thirty she and Max got on the road to BWI Airport. He slathered sunblock on his face and hands, put on sunglasses and his hat, and slumped down in the passenger seat of the rental car as if hiding. He gave her the keys. “You drive.”
“Okay, if you insist.” She glanced at his face, half-hidden under the hat brim and dark glasses. “Are you allergic to the sun, too?”
“Astute observation.” He flashed her a smile. “Driving in daylight gives me a blinding headache. Besides, you’re familiar with the area, and I’m not.”
He pulled the hat farther down over his eyes, apparently prepared to doze off during the drive, but she didn’t intend to let him get away with that. Since he couldn’t escape from her in the car, she could worm some more answers out of him.
As soon as she pulled onto the freeway, she said, “Okay, tell me what you know about Nola Grant.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t play dumb. You
obviously know a lot more about her than I do. You said she’s a distant relative of yours. What did she really collect all those teenage followers for, if she wasn’t selling them drugs? From what you said, it was more than sex.”
Max emitted a long sigh from under the hat brim. “Very well, but you won’t like it. She led a blood cult.”
“Yeah, I remember you said something about that to Fred, but what exactly does it mean?”
“She’s a blood fetishist. They allowed her to cut them and taste their blood.”
Linnet’s stomach churned. “Then Deanna—” She swallowed a couple of times and turned up the air conditioner.
“I warned you. But it isn’t as bad as you think.”
“How much worse could it be?” She caught herself bearing down on the accelerator and eased off to the legal sixty-five.
“She didn’t take any significant amount from each donor. Her habits may have been unsavory, but they weren’t dangerous.”
“What are you talking about? What about AIDS?”
“There’s no evidence of its being transmissible in that way.”
“Then who knows what other horrible diseases—”
“Nola wouldn’t have tolerated disciples who weren’t disease free, any more than she would have accepted those who took drugs.”
Max’s calm tone made Linnet want to slap him. “How would she know?”
“She had ways of evaluating them.”
“Why can’t you give me a straight answer?” She heaved several deep breaths, still fighting queasiness. Succumbing to hysterics wouldn’t get them to the airport any faster or safer. “Okay, she was rich. She could’ve hired detectives to check out those kids. But she still couldn’t be sure. If I’d known about that, I would’ve done anything to get Dee out of that woman’s clutches. It’s my fault, everything that happened to her.”
Max reached across to pat her shoulder. She flinched at the touch and had to make a sharp correction with the steering wheel. “We’ve already been over this,” he said. “Deanna was an adult. You couldn’t have stopped her, any more than I could have controlled my brother.”
“I could have paid more attention. Maybe Robin was right. I let her daughter run wild. If I had just taken the time to talk more with the few friends from Nola’s gang Dee brought home, like that girl Jodie—”
“The one Fred mentioned?”
“He said Nola took Jodie with her. What for, I wonder?”
“Doubtless Nola had her favorites, and this Jodie was one of them, along with Deanna and Fred. When the murders forced Nola to abandon her harem, so to speak, she must have taken her remaining favorite along. She wouldn’t want to cut her losses and have to start over completely.”
“I don’t understand how any human being can be so warped!” Linnet shook her head. “We have to make her pay somehow.”
“I am open to suggestions.”
“First we have to get close to her, right? I have an idea about that.”
“Another idea? Pray enlighten me.”
She gritted her teeth until her flare of anger at his sarcasm died down. “Have you and Nola ever met?”
“No.”
“But I bet she’d recognize you right on sight anyway. You look a lot like Anthony. It didn’t take me long to guess who you were.”
“Your point?”
“One look at you might spook her. But if I go to her first, after we find her address, that might catch her off guard, the way we did with Fred.”
“Nola wouldn’t recognize you?”
“I don’t see how. I picked up Deanna at her house once and saw her from a distance, but we’ve never met face-to-face. And I know what she looks like, because Dee sketched a few drawings of her.”
“And when you make contact, what do you propose to do with her? I thought you accepted the fact that we have no way to deliver her to the authorities?”
“I want her to admit what she did, that she murdered my niece and your brother. And I want her to tell me why.” Her chest constricted at the thought of facing a woman who could order two people slaughtered.
Max sat up, pushed back the hat and stared at her. “You expect a confession?”
“There has to be a way to get that much out of her. If only in private, even if I can never use it against her. At least I will know why this happened.” She accelerated above seventy to pass a van, then steered into the exit lane.
“Very well. That is what I want, too.”
Though Linnet didn’t quite believe his suddenly cooperative attitude, she didn’t have the energy to probe further at the moment. The traffic approaching the airport demanded all her attention.
After returning the rental car, they rode the shuttle to the terminal and hurried to the gate. Max’s stride lengthened with renewed energy as soon as they got inside, out of the sun. He set a rapid pace through the main concourse and past the giant stained-glass crab, which he gave an incredulous glance before hurrying on. He insisted on carrying Linnet’s bag as well as his own, so they wouldn’t be slowed down. She was panting by the time they reached the check-in counter.
She got a fresh surprise when they boarded the plane. They had first-class tickets. Linnet suppressed a groan. Still determined to repay Max for the flight, she hated to imagine the months of scrimping she would need to cover the price of her seat.
Shoving that worry under the stack of more immediate ones, she tried to relax and enjoy the new experience. Two seats abreast instead of three, plenty of legroom—she could see why Max, with his height, had expended the extra money. Free drinks, with a midafternoon snack that, although not quite gourmet fare, tasted as if it had come from a restaurant menu rather than a supermarket’s frozen-diet-entrée shelf.
I could get used to this. Sitting next to the window, since Max had claimed the aisle seat, she watched the landscape below until it disappeared under the clouds. Max refused the food in favor of a Scotch on the rocks. She couldn’t help getting annoyed with him for reading his paperback with such apparent calm. Her mind wouldn’t fix on the pages of her own novel for more than two minutes straight.
“Hey, talk to me,” she finally whispered.
“About what?” He frowned in her direction. “Would you please close that blind?”
She pulled down the window shade. “Okay, there. I’ve been thinking about why Deanna would get involved with Nola.” She lowered her voice, not wanting the flight attendants to mistake her for a dangerous maniac. “What possessed those kids to let that woman drink their blood?”
“Besides the common youthful rebelliousness that delights in outrageous acts? Or the equally common desire to look daring in the eyes of their peers?”
“Besides those,” Linnet hissed.
“The image of the vampire holds a certain glamour for many young Americans. Surely you’ve noticed that?”
“Yeah, but I’ve never understood it.”
“From what little I saw of her drawings, your niece understood that allure.”
“I guess so.” Linnet smiled at a memory from Halloween two years past, before Deanna had joined Nola’s clique. “One time she hauled a bag of vampire videos into my living room and made me stay up into the wee hours watching them with her. I have to admit, some of those guys in capes are pretty sexy.” She blushed, reminded of her dream the night before. Thank goodness Max couldn’t read her mind. “But those are just movies. If vampires existed, they wouldn’t be like that.”
“Ah, but how do you know? Many people imagine that the vampire’s embrace would be quite…erotic.”
The purr-growl of his voice made her skin prickle. “Movies are a long way from actually drinking—” She remembered to whisper again. “From what they were doing.”
“In a few especially privileged cases,” he said, “it was probably mutual. Fred certainly tasted Nola’s in return.”
“Blood. I’m surprised they didn’t get sick to their stomachs and swear off the ‘thrill’ forever. The human digestive system is
n’t designed for that.” She glanced around to make sure nobody was listening to the peculiar discussion.
“The quantity would have been too small to cause such problems.”
She stared at him, wondering how he knew so much about Nola’s bizarre habits. He only gazed back at her with a faint smile playing on his lips, holding the book open in his lap with an air of patient indulgence.
“You don’t think any of them believed she was really a vampire, do you?” she asked.
“Probably not, however much they might have wished to believe it.”
Linnet shook her head. “Wish? No way. Not Dee, anyhow. She was a little wild, but she wasn’t that unbalanced.”
Max shrugged and pointedly returned to his spy novel. With a sigh, Linnet gave up on conversation and forced her attention back to her own book.
They landed in San Francisco around three-thirty California time. Still not quite recovered from the night before, she braced herself to slog through the weary hours until local bedtime. “Now what?” she asked, trotting down the concourse in Max’s wake. “We rent a car and drive to Monterey?”
“We’ll get a car, yes, but I don’t plan to travel any farther until nightfall. I can’t face two hours of daylight driving, and we both need rest. We’ll check into a hotel.”
Though impatient to get on with their search, Linnet couldn’t help feeling relieved at the mention of rest. While Max arranged for a car, she stopped into a ladies’ room. Washing her face and combing her hair restored a little of her energy. Upon emerging, she headed for the car-rental outlet. When she came within sight of it, she saw Max, his back toward her, talking with a woman behind the counter. Linnet threaded a path in that direction among the travelers scurrying up and down the concourse.
Along the way, one figure that didn’t fit the overall pattern caught her eye. Instead of rushing to or from a gate, this person, a thin girl in a black leather jacket, cut diagonally across the stream of foot traffic, then ducked into the archway leading to a coffee shop. There she leaned against the wall, facing toward the car-rental counter but half concealed in the shop’s entryway. When she stopped, Linnet got a good look at her mop of pale blue hair.