Maverick

by C. J. Snyder

  She hated it even more when he had to feed her the soup he fixed. He propped her up on her backpack, and the dizziness left her reeling and without the strength to even lift the spoon. To top it off, he was sweet and caring. Maggie was beyond disgusted with herself. And with him.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He only smiled at her.

  She ate a third of the noodles and drank all the broth. Satisfied, he put the bowl on the little table, slid his hand behind her neck and carefully lowered her head back to the bed. She was pale again. She sighed and closed her eyes and Jack frowned.

  He touched her cheek. “Eyes open, Maggie.”

  She squinted up at him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I wish I was.”

  “How long?”

  “Another hour.”

  “But I’m tired.”

  The pain clouded her eyes. He rubbed her forehead and watched the clouds start to lift. “If you go to sleep I’ve got to wake you up—every half-hour.”

  That was better than staying awake for another interminable hour. “See you in thirty,” she murmured. Jack kept his fingers moving over her forehead and knew the exact moment she fell asleep. It didn’t take long. He checked his watch and picked up the flashlight again. Her spilled food had to be retrieved from the bed of the truck. He juggled the load back into the house, then remembered the last saddle bag—still in the cab.

  Back inside for the last time, he stirred the fire and unloaded the boxes of supplies. He woke Maggie—she gave him an irritated look and went right back to sleep. A slender foot had escaped the blankets. Jack tucked it back in and carried her backpack and the lantern to the table at the far side of the room by the fireplace. The backpack crackled when he set it down. He felt the bottom of it. Papers. One guilty glance confirmed she was sound asleep.

  Jack didn’t waste another second. He set a large leather pouch next to an envelope and a box. He opened the box first. His heart sank. Twenties, fifties and a few hundreds. If the serial numbers matched, there was no way he could keep her out of jail.

  “Damn it, Maggie.” he breathed. He counted quickly. Two thousand six hundred and ninety dollars. If this was all that was left she would spend the rest of her life in jail. His nose wrinkled and he lifted the box again.

  Beer. Old, stale beer. Jack smiled. Not robbery money after all. There wasn’t a law against being frugal with your tips. He tucked the money back into the box and replaced it in the backpack.

  The envelope was next. There was a small leather pouch inside, similar to the larger pouch still on the table. He opened it and found a heart-shaped locket. He worked the clasp. Two little girls smiled at him. Maggie and Melissa? The pictures were too tiny to tell.

  He returned to the envelope. He laid an eight by ten photograph next to the locket. A woman, a man and two girls. The woman wore the locket around her neck. The man had his arm draped possessively around the woman’s shoulder. All four smiled happily at the camera, posing in front of a shiny car. Maggie was the older girl—he’d recognize her I-dare-you pose anywhere. And Melissa’s eyes hadn’t changed. They were the girls in the locket. A family portrait.

  What kind of family? He wondered. Chambers was her maiden name—he’d found her birth certificate in Chicago. Her mother’s name had been Margaret also. Her father’s was Allen. They’d left Chicago when Maggie was ten and disappeared. Melissa would have been seven—about the ages they were in the photo in front of him. He shook his head. What kind of parents let their girls get involved with the likes of the Cormacks and Nathan Mitchell? He thought of his sister Jenny and frowned. Sometimes it just didn’t matter how good a job of parenting you did.

  Jack rolled his shoulders to dispel a sudden feeling that he was prying. He didn’t have the right to be pawing through her personal things—at least not without a warrant. Except that his curiosity had little to do with legalities. He frowned. Maggie Chambers was getting to him—even more now that he was with her in person. He didn’t like the feeling, but didn’t know how to stop it. His original plan was still the best. Sleep with her—just once. Good sex, hot and hard, and she’d be out of his system forever.

  He cast another glance at Maggie, still asleep in the bed, then at his watch. He had ten more minutes before he had to wake her again. He returned his attention to the envelope. An old, brittle map of Arizona. He set that aside. The classified ads. Jack smiled, pulling them out one by one. They were carefully dated, and even better, she’d written her location in the margin, too. Some of the places he knew, some surprised him. The biggest surprise was that she’d been here, in New Castle, for a year. She wasn’t on any of the state employment lists—hadn’t used her social security number in two years. Derek had to be paying her under the table. He catalogued that information, tucking it away in his brain for future use.

  The last thing in the envelope was a picture of him, from the press conference two weeks after she’d held the gun on him. Jack’s smile broadened to a grin.

  Except for the family picture, he had an envelope just like this at home. Only his had her pictures in it. And pages and pages of clues he’d gathered over the two years. Jack put the envelope back in the backpack and went to wake her up.

  This time she stretched and smiled at him. He kissed her forehead, smiling back at her. “G’night, darlin’.”

  “Night, Jack,” she whispered, sound asleep again immediately.

  “Make up your mind, baby,” he whispered back. “I could get real attached to this side.” He straightened reluctantly and went back to the table.

  He unbuckled the large leather pouch and flipped open the flap. He started to reach in. A glance at the top paper stopped him. He swore and set the open pouch down on the table. Bearer bonds.

  From the Connecticut Federal Savings and Loan Bank.

  Now that he’d seen them, here in her possession, he’d have to testify against her.

  Chapter 8

  Jack started to return the leather pouch back to her backpack but left it on the table instead. When she was able, the time had come to talk. He retrieved the box and the envelope from the backpack and left them on the table, too. The fight wouldn’t be pretty, he’d damn well bet on that, but at least up here in the mountains she couldn’t run away.

  Time to wake her again. Then he’d check in with the doctor—make sure her memory lapses weren’t anything to worry about. She smiled again when he woke her. Two out of three. He was on a roll. He picked up his phone and went out to the front porch.

  The sky was alive with bright, brilliant stars. Their radiance brought home to mind—camping with his father on the ranch. But even there the stars weren’t so close—so brilliant. Awesome was the only suitable description. He sucked in a deep lungful of the crisp, clean night air.

  The doctor confirmed that memory lapses were nothing to be concerned about. He was encouraged she’d eaten without negative side effects. “She should be out of the woods by morning. You’ll need to check her every hour or so throughout the night, though.”

  Jack checked his voice mail next. Six messages. One from Frank, who offered another apology for the interview and the ‘startling’ information that someone had purchased nearly everything on Maggie’s tell list in a small town called New Castle in Colorado. Her tell list detailed Maggie’s likes and dislikes. Once he compiled a tell list on a fugitive, it was fed into a national database of purchases for comparison. To his knowledge, Maggie had purchased only three items on her list in the two years she’d been missing. Frank, in charge of keeping track for the investigation, had missed all three of the purchases.

  Jack shook his head. “Now he gets good,” he muttered, punching the REPLY button. “I bought the stuff, Frank. Keep a lid on it. Find Kevin.” There were five messages from Melissa. Each sounded increasingly concerned. As her concern mounted, her coherency faded. Jack smiled and dialed the number for Shipwrecks. Melissa answered immediately.

  “Hi, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t ge
t back to you sooner. Maggie took a spill on the bike and has a bump on her head, so I wanted to get her settled in for the night before I called. She’s going to be fine, though.”

  “Oh. She’s asleep already?”

  “Out like a light. I’ll have her call you tomorrow. You going home with Derek like I asked you to?” “Yes.” She didn’t sound thrilled. Poor Derek.

  “Did he explain things to you?”

  “Yeah. But I have a lot of questions. That woman—on the TV—she said Maggie was dangerous. Maggie’s not dangerous.”

  “I know,” Jack soothed. “We’ll get it all straightened out, honey. You just go home with Derek and be good. Does Emily know where you are?”

  “She has the number here. But she hasn’t called. She’s supposed to be watering my plants. I hope she didn’t forget.” “I’m sure she didn’t.” Emily was in the hospital, in a coma. She’d been found in Melissa’s apartment. And if she had the number for Shipwrecks, it was a safe bet Kevin Cormack was on his way to New Castle. “You stick close to Derek until Maggie and I get back, you hear?”

  “Yes, Jack.” Melissa sighed. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just stay at Clint’s though.” “Because Derek agreed to help Maggie. She’s in trouble now, because of that show this morning.”

  “Everyone’s talking about it. No one can believe it.”

  Jack thought of the bonds. He hadn’t really believed himself until he’d seen those. He scowled. There was more to Maggie Chambers than he knew.

  “It’s all because of Billy and Nathan and the boys, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is. Don’t worry about it, Melissa. We’ll take care of it. Your part is just to stick close to Derek and do what he asks you.”

  “Everything he asks me to?” He could hear her sly smile.

  “I’ll leave that up to you, darlin’. I’ve got to go check on your sister now. We’ll give you a call in the morning.” “Not too early. We’re going to be up pretty late.”

  “How about noon?”

  “That should work. I’m glad you’re with her, Jack. She needs somebody like you in her life.” “Night, Melissa.” He phoned headquarters next. “9EX249. Maverick. See what you can locate on a Megan Chase in—“ he strode back inside and rifled through her copies of the ads. “Duluth, Minnesota; Provo, Utah; Saint Charles, Utah—“

  ”They won’t find anything.”

  Jack jumped guiltily and swung to face her. She lay on her side, facing him, her features hidden in the darkness.

  ”I didn’t use Megan Chase in those places.”

  “Cancel that request. Thanks for your assistance.” Jack hung up the phone. He wished he could see her face.

  “You went through my things.” She didn’t sound surprised, or even angry. Jack nodded. If she weren’t injured, he knew exactly how he’d proceed. Emily in the hospital should convince her she had to trust him. He just wasn’t sure handing her that kind of a jolt with a concussion was the right thing to do. “The doctor said you’re doing well.”

  “How the hell would the doctor know that? Is he outside or something?” She could pack more venom into a whisper than anyone he’d ever known. “You ate. You wake up when I call you.”

  “You went through my things.” He needed to see her eyes. He carried the lantern across the room and set it on the small table on the far side of the bed. Maggie didn’t turn over to face him. She didn’t move at all. He didn’t know quite what to do next. He opted for light and friendly. If that didn’t work, he had other options. There was still time. They had all night. And all day tomorrow. They had as long as they needed, thanks to Derek.

  “Nice family picture.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice sounded bitter. “It was a helluva trip.”

  “Where are your folks now?”

  “Arizona.” The words were cold. She rolled slowly to her back, fingers rubbing at her head. “Did you bring whiskey?” She sat up, bracing herself on her left arm. “I have to go outside.” She paid an extreme price for every word. He could hear the cost in her voice. “I’ll need your help. Then I want to drink your whiskey—unless I can have some aspirin—until my head stops pounding. After that I’ll try to answer some of your questions.”

  It was exactly what he wanted—except for her drinking whiskey. He wasn’t sure Dr. Brockman would okay that. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Jack ignored her protest and picked her up. He left her with the flashlight in the outhouse and darted inside the cabin for one of her blankets. When she pushed the door back open, she was standing, but shaking with the effort. He folded her into the blanket and carried her back inside.

  She didn’t protest when he laid her back on the bed. “Aspirin?”

  “Not until morning.”

  “Then dig out the damn whiskey. You can tell me how you talked Derek into ratting me out while I drink.” Her voice was still whisper-soft—out of deference to her head, no doubt. Each word was delivered with a thick coating of ice.

  He didn’t mind the ice. He couldn’t take the pain in those brown eyes. He pulled a whiskey bottle from the box on the table. Two hours since she’d had soup—plenty of time to know her digestive system was okay. “Just a little,” he warned. The calm statement was a boldfaced lie. He’d give her whatever she wanted—even aspirin. Anything to rid her eyes of that haze.

  She choked down two healthy swallows and he watched the pain fade. Now he could clearly see the anger burning in her eyes. A fair trade. If the situation were reversed, he’d be livid. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d helped the Cormack brothers and Nathan Mitchell rob that bank in Connecticut.

  “Tasted better last time.”

  “I kissed you last time. Got you used to it.” She didn’t ask him to repeat the gesture. He wasn’t surprised. She tilted the bottle again, nearly gagged, then handed it back to him. “Just give me a minute.” He fought back the urge to help her as she lay down. He helped himself to a swallow of the whiskey instead. But when her fingers pushed at her forehead, he brushed them aside and soothed her head himself. She sighed and he sat down on the bed next to her, fingers still moving.

  “We don’t have to do this tonight, Maggie.”

  “I do.” She blew out a deep breath. “I know you told me, but—is Melissa safe?” “She’s with Derek. He won’t let her out of his sight. I talked to her a while ago and told her you’d call her in the morning.”

  Maggie digested the information, pleased the words all made immediate sense. Her earlier lapses bothered her. So did some barely remembered dreams. But now wasn’t the time for memories. “Melissa’s in danger.”

  “I know.” Jack nodded calmly. “So are you.”

  “Not if they can’t find me.”

  “You’re found, darlin’.” He smiled, and his voice was gentle. “I’m right here.”

  “I wasn’t only hiding from you.” She watched the surprise on his face and a ghost of a pleased smile crossed her features. He didn’t know everything, after all. “You’re the law. You never scared me.” Not the complete truth, but close enough. “It’s the Cormacks and Nathan I’m worried about.”

  “The Cormack brothers and Nathan Mitchell.” “Yeah,” she breathed. She held out her hand, requesting his assistance to sit. He ignored the gesture, gathering her close, supporting her head with a firm hand behind her neck as he hugged her upright. She scooted back in the bed gingerly and leaned against the wall. “It all started with Billy.” She frowned. “He’s dead, you know.”

  Jack knew. “Mitchell’s dead, too.” Fear bubbled inside her, spilling out into the room like a foul witch’s brew overflowing its cauldron. Nathan Mitchell had kept the Cormack brothers in line. Without him—Kevin was as crazy as Billy. Maybe worse. “When?”

  “Two weeks ago. In Jersey City.”

  “Where’s Kevin? And Paul?”

  “We don’t know. But we’re on it. We’ll find them.”

  “When might that be? A couple of years from now?”

  Her s
neer didn’t seem to bother him. “Soon. They’re a higher priority for the force than you were.” He picked up her left hand, slowly stroking her palm. “You were pretty much always just my priority, anyway.”

  She pulled her hand away from his. “Paybacks.” She nearly cringed at his grin. “Paybacks,” he agreed amiably. “But not until you’re healthy.”

  Maggie held out her hand for the whiskey bottle. His eyes had a distant smile that bothered her. It reminded her of a not-so-distant dream she’d had. “If you knew Nathan and Kevin and Paul were in Jersey City, why didn’t you arrest them?”

  Jack hesitated, watching her force down the whiskey. He had to keep her talking without jeopardizing the case. “Evidence. A pretty little girl took off with the key. We know they committed the robbery. But, except for Billy, we can’t prove it.”

  “I can.”

  Jack nodded, still not releasing her eyes. He’d never doubted it.

  Now her eyes were faraway. Her head swung, slow and careful. “Too dangerous,” she whispered. “They’ll get Melissa.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Kevin and Paul are the only ones left, Maggie. Billy and Nathan are both dead.”

  She shook her head again. “Kevin’s crazy. I don’t know Paul as well, but Kevin’s crazy. Maybe crazier than Billy.” Questions screamed inside him. What were you doing with them? You’re not crazy. Why in the world would you get involved with all-time losers like the Cormacks? He clamped his lips shut and swallowed the questions. Between the whiskey and her concussion, he had the feeling one wrong word from him and their conversation was over.

  Maggie closed her eyes and continued. “Nathan kept them both in line—as much as he could.” He watched her fight a mental battle. “There’s too much danger.” “You’re going to jail, Maggie. That’s dangerous too.”

  “I know.” She’d reached a decision. It didn’t look like one that favored him.

  He set the whiskey down out of her reach and faced her squarely. Maybe he could shame her into trusting him with the truth. “That gun you held on me that night—it was a forty-four.”