Her scars stung. Her heart froze. Not again. Oh, God, she couldn’t go through this a second time, or she would surely lose her sanity.
Max took in the scene in an instant. She saw it through his eyes: the fluid soaking into her skirt, the lighter, Virgil’s sneer as he held her helpless. The panic that seized her was nothing compared to the terror that coursed through him. He held up his palms and stepped forward. “Let her go, Virgil.”
“Stop!” He flicked the lighter. Flame sparked to life. He waved it over Delaney once in warning, then took his thumb from the flint wheel and let it subside. “Don’t come any closer.”
Max halted. “It’s me you want to hurt, not her. She’s done nothing.”
“She’s yours, isn’t she? I’ve got the right one this time. I’ve been watching you, boy.”
“What did you do? Break out of the pen just to spy on me?”
“Didn’t have to break out. I’m dying. They opened the door and let me go.”
“You should have kept going. You don’t belong here.”
“This used to be my home, you little prick. Look what you did to it.”
“Yeah. It took years to get rid of your stench. Why’d you come back?”
“I’m on the Lord’s business. I’m here to make sure you pay for your sins.”
“Which ones? I’ve lost count.”
“You turned my woman against me. It’s your fault she died. It’s your fault I’m sick. My insides never healed right after what you did to me.”
“My mother’s dead because you murdered her. You got liver cancer because you’re a drunk. If I’d killed you when I’d had the chance, those things wouldn’t have happened, so it’s true it’s my fault. Your problem’s with me. Let her go.”
“Sure. First, you pick that up.” He nodded to the can he’d left on the table. “There’s still plenty in the bottom.”
Delaney kept her gaze on Max so that she couldn’t see the lighter, but she began to tremble anyway. She knew how fast skin and hair ignited. Her throat was swelling from the solvent fumes. It was hard to draw breath.
Max skimmed his thoughts over her midriff and the tightness in her lungs eased. Hang on, Deedee. The cops are on their way. I won’t let him hurt you. I promise.
“Go on, you chickenshit,” Virgil said. “Do what I say, or I’ll light her now.”
Max snatched the can off the table. “Fire’s not your style, Virgil. I didn’t think a shovel was, either. Why don’t you use your belt?”
“This is better. You deserve to burn in hell. Was damned handy you had all this turpentine.”
“What’s better than the feel of that belt? You like to beat defenseless women and children. That’s easier than taking on a man.”
“Quit stalling. Pour the rest of that stuff on your clothes.”
“Remember how good it was? All that power in your hand?”
“I’ve got power now.” He waved the lighter back and forth in front of Delaney’s face. His thumb was poised on the wheel. “Go on.”
Max tipped the can toward his chest. Turpentine flowed down his shirt. “That belt whistled before it hit. That’s how I knew when it would happen. It made a noise like a snap when it hit the middle of my back and a crack when it hit my shoulder.”
“More,” Virgil ordered. “Douse yourself like your girlfriend.”
“The noise was duller when you drew blood.” Max upended the can over his shoulder. The liquid spread down his arm and dripped from his fingers to his pants. “Was that why you didn’t do it every time? It wasn’t loud enough?”
“You had it coming, just like your mother.”
“You squealed like a pig when I did the same to you. Do you remember that, Virgil?”
Delaney heard the scuff of a footstep on the stairs. She coughed again, hoping to mask it. Virgil didn’t react. He didn’t seem to notice that Max was moving closer, either.
Max shook out the last drops from the can and flung it aside. “I do remember. That’s why I don’t own a belt. I liked it too much.”
“You caught me when my back was turned. I could’ve taken you.”
“A fair fight’s not your style either, Virgil. Where’d you steal the car you used at the park?”
Virgil laughed. “I didn’t need to steal it. I borrowed it from the preacher who got me out of the pen. He knows I’m doing God’s work.”
“You still can’t drive worth shit.”
“You got lucky.” He tightened his grip on Delaney’s blouse. “It was because of her.”
She tensed, gathering her feet beneath her, expecting the flames to start clawing her at any second.
Max squeezed her fingers. She felt it even though her hands were numb. Almost there.
“This is better than running you down,” Virgil said. “I get to see your face when you lose it all. An eye for an eye.”
Uniformed figures rushed from the staircase. “Police! Freeze!”
Virgil jerked. He flicked the lighter. Sparks danced off the flint.
Before they could ignite, Max launched himself at his stepfather. With a cry that sliced through her mind even before she heard it, he snatched the lighter from Virgil’s hand and drove his fist into his stomach.
The force of the blow lifted Virgil from his feet and propelled him toward the open window. The backs of his legs struck the sill. He flailed to regain his balance, but his momentum carried him through the screen. There was a cry, followed by a thud.
Max didn’t even glance outside. He was already on the floor beside Delaney. His mind was still open. Emotions too huge to name tumbled into hers. Are you all right?
Feel for yourself.
He tossed the lighter to one of the policemen and untied the rag that bound her wrists so he could check her skin for damage. The grafts were still whole. He followed her thoughts to probe gently through her body, found the aches he’d missed earlier, and drew them into himself. He was after me, not you. I should have guessed it.
You couldn’t have known. We were both looking in the wrong direction.
When I saw that face . . .
A remnant of despair drifted into her mind from Max’s. It was so deep it brought tears to her eyes. It’s all right. It’s over.
I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I can’t lose you, Deedee.
You won’t, Max. I’m here to stay.
“The ambulance should be here soon. Do you folks need some assistance?”
The policeman’s voice cut through their haze. More voices came from outside. A siren wailed in the distance. Max shoved himself back to his feet and helped Delaney to stand. Two more officers stood at the window Virgil had gone through. One spoke on his radio. The crackled response was a blur until one phrase floated free from the rest.
“Budge is dead.”
Max jerked. His chest heaved as it had when he’d been running here, as if he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. She curled her thoughts around his to steady him.
“Better wait for the paramedics, Frank. The drop wasn’t that far.”
“No, he’s dead, all right. He hit the edge of the deck and snapped his neck.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Max said hoarsely. “I finally did it.”
The policeman lowered his radio. “We all saw what happened, Harrison. It was accidental.”
“That’s right. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was trying to save—” His voice broke. A long-forgotten thought rose from his memories.
On the very day he had decided to take a life, his destiny had been to save one.
Max folded Delaney into his arms. Images streamed from his mind to hers. The pond where he’d first seen her. The cement block step in front of the trailer where he’d last seen Virgil. The fire from six months ago, and the fire that Max had stopped from happening today. Something shifted into place, like a puzzle, like two halves at last fitting together to form a whole, like . . .
Like destiny fulfilled.
EPILOGUE
&nb
sp; “THE SWELLING WITHIN MISS GRAYE’S SKULL HAS GONE down.” Dr. McFadden made a note in the chart he held as he spoke. “Her body is healing well, due in part to her excellent physical condition.”
Delaney stepped around the extra shelf they’d placed in the room to accommodate all the flowers Elizabeth had received. Cards and gifts had been pouring in from the Grayecorp staff, although so far only one friend had come to Willowbank to visit her. Edgar and Pete, on the other hand, had been swamped with well-wishers. They were both expected to make a full recovery from Virgil’s attack. “Has she shown any signs of waking up?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She continues to be unresponsive.”
Max squeezed Delaney’s shoulder. “Go ahead and talk to her. Sometimes people in comas can hear what’s going on around them.”
“That’s been true in rare cases,” McFadden said. “However, whether it’s true in Miss Graye’s case or not, she might benefit from sensory stimulation of any kind.”
“There’s still hope, then?”
“There’s always hope, Mrs. Graye.”
Delaney moved to her stepdaughter’s side as the doctor left the room. She took her hand. It was completely flaccid, proof of her condition, because she would have yanked it away if she’d been capable of it. With her hair loose around her shoulders and her face bare of makeup, she appeared softer, younger, nothing like the driven executive she’d been a week ago. “I wish I could reach her mind the way I can reach yours, Max.”
“Doesn’t work that way, does it?”
“No, but think of how much we could help her if it did.”
“You’re incredible.”
“Why?”
“You’re just so . . . good.”
She smiled. “Sometimes it pays to look on the bright side, you know. I was right about her. She didn’t try to run me down. All she did was try to be her father’s daughter.” She massaged Elizabeth’s limp hand. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Bethie. I want you to know that the man who did this to you is dead. He was the one responsible for the hit-and-run you were suspected of, although I never did want to believe you would want to hurt me that much. It turns out he wasn’t aiming for me anyway; he was aiming for Max. I mean John.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “Too bad I hadn’t seen it.”
“A very good friend of mine once told me there’s no explanation for evil.”
He trailed a kiss across her mind. It was a taste of what would come later.
Five days had passed since Virgil’s death. It was wrong to say the event had changed Max. He was the same man he’d always been, as she’d often said. The only difference was that he was learning to recognize it.
No, that wasn’t the only difference, she thought as he continued the mental caress. The nights since the first time they’d united themselves completely had brought one discovery after another. They’d only begun to explore the potential of their special bond. Max had been applying himself to the pleasurable aspects of it with impressive enthusiasm.
Her lips quirked. There were advantages to having a lover with a vivid imagination.
“Delaney, John. I’m glad I caught you.”
At Leo’s voice, she returned Elizabeth’s hand to the blanket and turned toward the doorway.
Leo bustled in, his ever-present briefcase tucked beneath his arm. “Congratulations, John. You’re officially a free man. The police have dropped the attempted murder charge.”
Max snorted. “Took them long enough.”
“That’s wonderful, Leo,” Delaney said.
“Detective Toffelmire insisted on processing the evidence first. It was overwhelming. The imprint of the belt that was taken from Mr. Budge’s body matched the mark on Miss Graye’s back perfectly. The police had been hoping to find that belt and her purse during their search.”
“Idiots,” Max muttered.
“Her rental car was found abandoned near the lake, along with her purse. Mr. Budge’s fingerprints were on both. They believe he did attack her on the assumption she was you, Delaney.”
“It still doesn’t make complete sense to me,” she said. “He wanted revenge against Max. Why go after anyone else?”
“He liked to hit women,” Max said.
“Actually, there could be more involved,” Leo said. “The preliminary autopsy reports indicate Mr. Budge’s cancer had spread to his brain. He may not have been completely sane.”
“He never was.”
“Budge’s fingerprints were also found on a fragment of glass that was collected from your driveway, John. He was responsible for the vandalism.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that out.”
“Unfortunately, Detective Toffelmire is remaining firm in his stance that the damage to the interior of your home during its search was accidental.”
“Naturally.”
“Do you think it might help if I offered to pay for the surgery to have his nose fixed?” Delaney asked.
Max laughed, but Leo shook his head. “Some things are better left alone.”
“Not always,” she said. “The past needs to be dealt with before we can move forward.”
Leo glanced past her to Elizabeth and cleared his throat. “About that . . .”
She waited, but he seemed hesitant to continue. “Leo, what is it?”
“I hope you will understand that I’ve always had your best interests at heart, Delaney. While my methods may have been harsh, everything I’ve done, I’ve done in the name of friendship.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve been—”
“Wait, please let me finish. I’ve admired your courage during your long climb back to health. I truly believed your amnesia had been a blessing. Your insistence on recovering your memories distressed me more than I can say.”
She opened her mouth to interrupt again but was stopped by Max’s mental tap against her lips. He looped his arm around her shoulders. He’s choking on something. Let him spit it out.
Leo shifted his briefcase to both arms, holding it across his chest like a shield. “I’m sorry, Delaney. Elizabeth didn’t send you the photographs of Stanford; I did.”
She stiffened. “You what?”
“It was to discourage you from remembering and also to encourage you to initiate the countersuit. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I may have been overzealous in my efforts, and it may seem cruel in retrospect, but I believed it was for your own good.”
“For my own good? That’s ridiculous. It would have been kinder to simply tell me about Stanford’s affairs in the first place.”
“Protecting you from his infidelities wasn’t the main reason I didn’t want you to recover your memories. It was because of Elizabeth’s lawsuit.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was concerned you might remember something about the accident that would make defending you, ah, problematic.”
It took her a moment to grasp what he meant. “You thought she was right, didn’t you? From the beginning, you believed I did cause Stanford’s death.”
“I suspected there might be something more serious than your marital troubles that had caused your mind to block those memories. I didn’t want to know what it was. I didn’t want you to know, either, because then you would likely feel obligated to tell the authorities.”
She hesitated.
Max gave her another mental tap against her lips. Don’t.
“And as I’ve said before,” Leo continued, “certain things are best left alone.”
“When it comes to my husband’s death, I happen to agree with you.”
“Thank you, Delaney. I hope that means we can put this unpleasantness behind us.”
“Sending those photographs was more than unpleasant, Leo. It was horrible.”
“Please. You were willing to forgive your stepdaughter when you thought she might have done it, so I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“There’s no excuse . . .” She paused when she realized what she was about to say. Sh
e’d been willing to excuse everyone else. Leo was a loyal friend. He didn’t deserve to be condemened without a chance.
Don’t forgive him, Deedee.
He didn’t mean any harm, Max, she sent back. Everyone makes mistakes.
Come on, let me hit him for you. I hate lawyers.
Don’t you dare!
It would help him get rid of his guilt. I’d be doing him a favor. See how miserable he is?
This wasn’t funny, yet after everything else that she and Max had gone through, it did seem trivial. “It’s Elizabeth you should be apologizing to, Leo. No one deserves to be accused unfairly.”
“Yes, of course. I will. Thank you, Delaney. You’re an exceptional woman. I—” He stopped and glanced at Max. “Speaking of unfair accusations, I’ve begun the process of clearing your name, John. It will take time, but we do have the statements from the police who overheard your conversation with Budge. Combined with the other evidence, I believe we have cause for optimism.”
MAX WAS QUIET ON THE DRIVE HOME. THE DAMAGE THE police and Virgil had done to the house had been repaired days ago, yet faint traces of turpentine lingered in the air when he unlocked the door. The scent didn’t disturb Delaney, because it would always remind her of Max. He dropped his keys in the ceramic dish. That sound reminded her of him, too. In fact, practically everything made her think of him these days. That wasn’t surprising, since he had taken up residence in her heart.
Before he could move past the living room, she slid her arms around his waist and leaned back to look up at him. “You’re mulling about something. What’s going on?”
“Come upstairs, and I’ll show you.”
“Have you been thinking about what Leo said?”
“You guessed it.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I’m going to make sure the local newspapers carry the story, even if I need to buy the page space.”
“He wouldn’t want it made public.”
“I meant the review of your conviction, not his confession.”
“He didn’t confess. He took one look at me, and he chickened out.”
“What are you talking about?”
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