Honor

by Janet Dailey

  Kenzie looked toward her friend. Maybe, just maybe, Christine could answer that for herself.

  “Fine,” she said clearly. The single word echoed in the quiet room. Christine nestled back into the pillow and closed her eyes again.

  “How about that.” The nurse looked from Kenzie to Mrs. Corelli with a pleased expression. “Keep it up, you two.”

  They got Christine settled in for the night and were packing up to go. Alf was on his way.

  The Corellis felt a little easier about leaving their daughter these days. But Kenzie knew they still coordinated the times of their departures and arrivals carefully. There was never more than half an hour between one leaving and the other arriving.

  Mrs. Corelli picked up a tote bag stuffed with unopened cards and letters. “Oh my. I was going to put these around the room. Maybe we should save them for the rehab center.”

  “Good idea. I can open them,” Kenzie volunteered.

  “Would you? Thanks so much.” She handed her the tote bag.

  “There must be a hundred letters in here,” Kenzie said.

  “I didn’t count. But maybe there are.”

  They both paused in the doorway of the room for one last look at Christine, who had been sleeping through their low-voiced conversation. Then they moved down the hall to the elevators.

  “She’s really doing well, Mrs. Corelli.”

  “I know. But she’s not out of the woods yet.”

  The elevator arrived before they even pressed the button and Dr. Asher got out.

  “Hello, ladies. Heading home?”

  They didn’t answer, but launched into an immediate report on Christine’s progress instead. He laughed.

  “That’s wonderful news. Thanks for filling me in. I’ll stop by and see her.”

  Mrs. Corelli warned him that Christine might be asleep as they got into the elevator. They rode down to the lobby and parted affectionately, heading for different parking lots.

  Home was still at Hamill’s. Kenzie hadn’t worked up the nerve to go back to her own place yet. She’d had the mail held at the post office and she could pick it up anytime.

  She hadn’t for the last three days, just too busy.

  Back at her room, she greeted Beebee, who grunted in his sleep, blissfully happy that he was allowed on the new bed. She had bought a fuzzy blanket for him to protect the coverlet.

  Kenzie gave him a pat and reached for a DVD. The movie was lightweight and forgettable, exactly what she needed. She slid it into the DVD reader of the funny little TV she’d bought for herself. Jim hadn’t been kidding about keeping the direct deposits going.

  She clicked the remote and watched for a while, then dozed off.

  Beebee’s dog dream woke her—he must be chasing flying hamburgers, his legs twitching in his deep sleep. She moved, realizing she’d been lying on the remote. The movie was over and the TV screen was blue. Kenzie switched it off.

  She was definitely awake. But it was too late to call anyone, even to chat.

  For something to do, she reached for the tote of get-well cards for Christine. It was better than opening real mail. No bills, just good wishes.

  Most of it had come to the Corelli house, though a few had been sent directly to the hospital. She would save the envelopes. She wasn’t sure which addresses Mrs. Corelli had.

  She’d opened at least twenty when she came to one with something in it about the size of a credit card. But the envelope was the square shape of an expensive greeting card and addressed by hand. Probably someone had sent along a refillable coffee card or something like that as a gift.

  The handwriting was a little hard to read and feminine—it was from someone named Mary Dee. She glanced at the return address somewhere in Maryland. Kenzie didn’t know the person or the town.

  She opened the envelope and a small laminated card with rounded edges fell out onto the bed.

  Christine’s face was on it, smiling in a small photo next to gray block letters that Kenzie had seen before. SKC.

  Had she left her ID at a friend’s house? Nervous, Kenzie pulled out the greeting card the wrong way, looking at the empty white back with puzzlement before she turned it over to the front. The art was tasteless. The words Let’s Get Wrecked danced beneath a drawing of a smashed-up car.

  Feeling sick, Kenzie opened the card.

  Give the ID back to the bitch. She should be more careful.

  Carefully, she closed the ugly card and set it aside even though she wanted to rip it to shreds.

  She and the Corellis had agreed not to talk about the stalker unless it was absolutely necessary. For nearly a week after the roses there had been nothing.

  Not that long, she thought. The letters must have been in the tote bag for a couple of days. The stalker had sent the card a day or two before that. She looked at the return address. Mary Dee. M.D.

  MD was the postal abbreviation for Maryland. The street address wasn’t legible and the town was probably bogus. Dropped in a box somewhere in the state. The postmark was real. The whole thing looked believable enough to get someone to open the envelope without thinking.

  He had sent it to the Corellis’ home address. The stalker seemed to know more and more about where to find anyone who was close to Christine.

  She curled over, her stomach in a knot of anger and fear, clenching her fists. Beebee, still half-asleep behind her, was aware that she’d moved, and he shifted position. Kenzie collapsed next to him. His broad back was warm against hers. The sleeping dog felt like an island of safety.

  Kenzie didn’t want to turn off the light. She wouldn’t sleep. She stayed right where she was.

  Linc woke up late, feeling groggy. The SKC laptop sat on the desk where he’d abandoned it after midnight, its screen dark. He was half-tempted to give it back.

  Let Mike Warren take a crack at it. But, he thought irritably, he would have to tell him about the possible SKC connection to X-Ultra if he did. The lieutenant didn’t have the clout or the manpower to investigate a company that size. By Linc’s guess, Warren was about five years away from full retirement. Figuring out what the hell was going on at SKC could take ten.

  The accident scene tape hadn’t generated anything he would call solid data. Kenzie had said she’d look at it, but he didn’t have particularly clear images yet. He’d picked it completely apart, retrieving the embedded geotag coordinates to identify the location of the wreck. But after this much time, he knew investigating the site of the accident was a lost cause.

  Why in hell had he thought he could do it by himself? He was going to have to rethink his strategy.

  He pushed the coverlet halfway down his body and crossed his arms behind his head. Linc stared at the overhead fixture, his new best friend for the last several days—he’d actually felt like talking to it a few times.

  Kenzie had called but she hadn’t come over.

  During the day, she was at the hospital a lot, and she was needed there. Christine was making real progress. Linc felt guilty for not being able to do more.

  The evenings were another story. For the last week, Kenzie had headed back to the shooting range and disappeared behind its high locked gate. To see her, he would have to be let in, get the once-over from Norm—and she and that dog were now best buds.

  Worse, she hadn’t invited him there. The promise of the sensual kiss they’d shared still tantalized him. She had seemed so willing, so open. He’d responded, that was for damn sure. And stopped. He hadn’t wanted to take advantage just because she needed him.

  Being a gentleman was driving him crazy.

  Linc flung the covers completely away and headed for the bathroom to soak his head, disgusted with his own self-pity. He stepped into the shower and turned the water to hot. When he got out and got dressed, he reached for his phone and called her.

  He wasn’t going to mention one word of what he’d been thinking. Right now he wanted to hear her voice more than anything. Somehow that was what he’d missed the most.

&n
bsp; She picked up after several rings.

  “Hey, Kenz. It’s me.”

  “Hi, Linc.”

  He heard a background clamor that didn’t make sense. She was someplace that echoed. He heard a few shouts and yelps too. “What are you doing?”

  “Climbing the walls.”

  “Kenzie, you need to take a break and calm down. I keep telling you that.”

  “Hang on,” she said. “I’m sending you a picture. Wait for it.”

  She hung up. Linc looked at the screen in frustration. A few seconds later, the photo arrived. Kenzie had held the phone above her head with one hand while she clipped a safety rope to a climbing harness that strapped around her hips and thighs. There was a vertical rock face behind her, dotted with colorful hand grips and toeholds.

  He studied the picture. The harness was interesting—could be well worth his while to get a closer look. Been a while since he’d rock-climbed anything, real or fake. It was big fun. But she wasn’t smiling. He called her back.

  “I get it,” he said. “Guess we can’t talk if you’re heading up.”

  “Nope. That’s the idea.”

  He frowned.

  “All I want to do is crawl up a hundred feet. Inch by inch. You can’t think about anything else. Clears the mind.”

  “Yeah, falling off cliffs will do that.”

  She laughed without humor. “Don’t worry. This place doesn’t let anyone climb without a safety rope.”

  “Good. Mind if I stop by?”

  There was a pause. “It’s a public place.”

  He grimaced. Not exactly a sure-I’d-love-to-see-you.

  “I’m on my way.” Linc knew something was the matter with her. Just not what.

  When he entered the climbing gym and walked to the railed side area outside the towering walls, he saw her on the floor.

  The harness looked even better in person, cupping her curves from the waist down. Improving them, even. She unclipped the safety rope and handed the business end of it to an instructor to use for someone else.

  Linc’s gaze followed the rope to its secure fastening on a steel beam high above, then moved down to her as she walked over.

  “Hi,” she said tonelessly, adjusting one of the gloves that covered only her palms.

  “Good climb? You sounded like you needed a major workout.”

  “I’m not done.”

  “Mind if I watch?”

  “You’re here. Why not?” She wiped sweat from her face with chalky fingers that left traces of white. Her body was tense. Rock climbing tightened everything.

  He hadn’t been expecting a flirty conversation. Kenzie’s ability to focus was intense to begin with and all-consuming when she was doing this. She wasn’t thinking about him.

  So be it. He liked looking at her.

  The instructor came back with a different rope.

  “Want to go up again?” he asked her. He didn’t even look at Linc. Kenzie moved away from him, clipping the rope on.

  “See you in a bit,” she said over her shoulder.

  Linc waved.

  She pulled herself up with grace and strength to a double handgrip and went from there. The small bag of powdered chalk at the back of her harness bobbed as she found footholds, then began to climb in earnest. Shifting her weight. Bending her body backward to tackle a difficult overhang.

  He was mesmerized.

  Kenzie reached the top in her own sweet time. He had a crick in his neck from watching. Rappelling down, she bounced lightly off the wall to slow her speed. Enjoying the free feeling.

  But she still wasn’t smiling.

  When she landed again, she bent over with her hands on her knees, easing her lower back. Then she straightened and unclipped the rope for the instructor to take, strain evident on her face.

  More slowly this time, she walked back to Linc, taking heaving breaths that hollowed her midsection.

  “That was ten,” she announced.

  “You went up the face ten times?”

  “Maybe it was twelve.”

  “Take a break.”

  She nodded. “I guess I should. Nothing like going up a fake rock and coming back down. Over and over again. It’s just like life. Only here I get to be in control. Not the stalker.” Her voice cracked.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked in a low voice.

  Kenzie smacked the chalk off her hands before she wiped the sweat from her forehead. There was still a residue that left a mark. He wanted to reach out and take it off himself with a wet thumb.

  Then he realized the mark was partly smeared blood.

  She was inspecting her palms. “I didn’t even feel that.”

  Linc looked over the railing and saw the split in the skin as she flexed her fingers down. She’d come here to push herself past her limits.

  “Enough. Get out of the rig. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  “No. I had someone else in mind.”

  He knew who she meant. “Go change. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Kenzie didn’t argue.

  They stopped at a drugstore first, to buy salve and a roll of gauze for her palm. Back in the car, he wrapped it deftly and managed a decent-looking flat knot to hold it in place.

  “Thanks.”

  Then she told him about the card.

  “I let myself think he was gone for a while, Linc. He’s never going to be gone. He won’t stop. I was terrified. I still am.”

  At least she was able to say so.

  “You can’t take it out on yourself.”

  She turned her eyes, intensely green, to him. “I feel a little better.”

  “Don’t say that. Your hand is a mess.”

  “It will heal.”

  Linc gave a sigh of pure frustration. “Kenzie, listen. And don’t swing at me if I ask you a question—”

  She cut him off instantly. “I haven’t told anyone besides you, but I will. Mike Warren can have the card to keep with the roses.”

  “And the Corellis?”

  She reached for her purse. “I’ll call them right in front of you. Is that enough?” Her bandaged hand snagged on the strap of her purse and she flinched. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

  He could see blood beginning to seep through the white gauze. Linc caught her wrist as gently as he could, but she pulled it away with a low cry.

  “Listen to me, Kenzie. You’re not a human shield. You can’t protect the Corellis or Christine by putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  “That’s not my intention. Not anymore. I admit I did try to do that at first, but—”

  “But what?”

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Now you’re here.”

  Kenzie twisted herself into his arms and stayed there, her face buried in his shirt. He stroked her hair and soothed her as best he could. “Yes, I am,” he said softly. “For as long as you want me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Linc slid a zip-locked baggie across the diner table to Mike Warren. “There’s the card and the envelope. Kenzie’s fingerprints will be on both. She didn’t realize what it was until she opened it.”

  Mike read the words on the front through the clear plastic. “Looks like the bastard’s having fun.”

  “In his way.”

  The lieutenant turned the baggie over to get a look at the back. “Did he sign it?”

  “No. The envelope had a fake name.”

  “You said she found it in a tote bag that Mrs. Corelli gave her. I assume the other cards were legit.”

  Linc nodded. “I think so.” He took a smaller baggie out of his shirt pocket. “Almost forgot. Here’s Christine’s missing ID.”

  “Another piece of the puzzle.” The lieutenant slipped the baggie into the inside pocket of his jacket before the waitress came over. The place was quiet. In fact, they were the only patrons.

  “Menus for you two?” she asked.

  “No thanks, Louise,” the lieutenant said. “Two javas will do it.”

  She g
ave him a smile and went off to fill the order.

  “She knows I tip the same for a steak dinner or a cup of coffee,” Warren explained.

  “Nice of you,” Linc said.

  The lieutenant grinned. “I believe in good community relations.”

  And he was wearing a wedding ring when he said it, Linc thought.

  Warren waited for the two coffees to arrive before he spoke to the business at hand. “I’ll have the lab dust the envelope and the card, check the flap glue for spit and shed cells, see if we can pull some DNA. He’s starting to leave a trail we can follow.”

  “Speaking of that—did you ever get out to the scene of the accident?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact.”

  “Find anything new?”

  “Not at the site. The detective and I decided to walk north and south of it, a half mile each way.”

  Linc raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “Nothing to the south. But we found an area on the shoulder to the north that was interesting. This would have been about a quarter of a mile from where the accident happened. I took a bunch of pictures.”

  Linc had noted the lieutenant’s roundabout way of making a point before. He sipped the coffee, which was strong but fresh-tasting, and let the other man talk.

  “You might not know what I was looking for,” Warren began.

  “Try me.”

  “Ha. I didn’t delete them off the camera, got it right here.” He patted the pocket of his jacket. “My wife looked at them, wanted to know why I took so many. I told her, you know, art shots, fall colors.”

  Linc nodded patiently.

  “Anyway, the area caught my eye because it was shaded by maples, but only in that one place. South of there, toward the accident site and after, it’s mostly scrub oak and pine. Looks like hell. The vines are choking it all to death.”

  Linc was familiar with the rampant greenery along I-95. The highway maintenance crews didn’t whack it back until it started to grow over the signs.

  “The maples caught my eye because they were so yellow, but they still had all their leaves. We got closer, I could see they were the Norway type—they grow close together. Like a giant umbrella, know what I mean?”