Don't Tell

by Karen Rose

  Winters started across the room, weaving in and out of dancers, of kids standing around watching the basketball game on a TV suspended over the bar. Duke was playing Maryland and losing. He glanced at the mirror over the bar from the corner of his eye. Good enough. His wig was firmly in place as was the bushy mustache that made him look like a Milwaukee brewmeister. His own mother wouldn’t recognize him. Good enough.

  He approached the table carefully, sidestepping a puddle of what he hoped was beer.

  “Randy?”

  The boy looked up, and Winters had to admit he was surprised. No nerdy geek here, no gangly limbs or horned-rimmed glasses. The boy was muscle-bound, his dark hair long but clean, tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. Black eyes stared back, aloof.

  “Depends.”

  “I’m Trent.” Winters had never used the name before. Would never use it again. The boy cocked his head toward an empty place on the bench seat.

  “Make it fast.”

  “And make it cash,” Winters murmured. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Winters raised a brow. “Fine, then. I tell you what I want, you tell me how much it will cost. I want access to the personnel records at Asheville General Hospital.”

  Randy looked bored. “And then what?”

  “And then you find the current locations of all staff that worked the orthopedic ward nine years ago.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I pay you and you never open your mouth again.”

  Randy frowned. “No messing with records? No …” he shrugged. “No adding or subtracting from payroll? No alteration of certain prescriptions?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I didn’t say that. You want that?”

  Winters chuckled. If he wasn’t careful he might find himself actually liking this kid. “No. Just the records. Nothing more.”

  “A thousand.”

  “Five hundred.” He’d been prepared to pay a lot more than a thousand.

  Randy shrugged yet again. “The way I look at it, you need the info. I need the bucks. If you could, you would have picked up the phone and called the hospital and asked for what you want to know. You didn’t and now you’re here. You need me. One thousand.”

  Winters felt a grudging admiration for such steadiness in one so young. “Okay. When can I have it?”

  “When do you want it?”

  “Tonight.”

  Randy blinked and Winters got the distinct impression the boy was mocking him. “I’ve got a biology test tomorrow. I have to study.”

  Winters narrowed his eyes. “So break into the school’s database and give yourself an A.”

  Randy grinned. “Only a B. I wouldn’t want to look too greedy.” He rose and gathered his books. “I’ll meet you back here at one A.M.”

  Chicago

  Tuesday, March 6

  9 P.M.

  “You really don’t have to walk me up, Max.” Caroline hesitated as the two of them stood next to Max’s car, parked outside Caroline’s walk-up apartment building. “They don’t have an elevator.”

  Max looked up at the balconies jutting out from the old, plain brick building. It was a far cry from his own house. From any place he’d ever lived, for that matter. “Which floor are you on?”

  “Three.”

  “Two sets of stairs?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled, but it felt grim on his lips. “I can do that. If you’d said you lived on the fifth floor, you’d just be out of luck.” He took a step forward, but she stayed put. He looked over his shoulder to find her lips set in a firm frown. He half-turned to face her. “What?”

  “You don’t have to do this.” She stood by the door of his Mercedes that looked completely out of place in this neighborhood, her arms crossed over her chest in a gesture he’d already come to associate with a stubborn streak that hid amongst her charm and laughter. “I had a good time tonight, Max. A really wonderful time. You don’t have to hurt yourself to walk me to the door.”

  “Caroline, I have many faults, but dating etiquette is not among them.” Impatience, however, was and he felt his patience waning. “Will you hurry up and let me walk you to your damn door?”

  She stood frowning a moment longer, then suddenly laughed, her eyes lighting up once more. “Are we a pair or what? Come on, let’s go. When we get to the top, I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

  I was hoping for a bit more than coffee, he thought, making his feet move once she was at his side. I was hoping for a hell of a lot more. He’d been in a state of wholly frustrated semi-arousal from the moment they’d left Carrington. Which, of course, David had found wildly humorous. Max breathed a chuckle and Caroline looked up at him in question.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking about David.” Max left it at that. Telling her that his brother had made a great display of ordering more breadsticks, “baked hard,” from Moe when she’d disappeared into the ladies’ room was hardly appropriate. The encouraging, and almost debilitating, slap on the back accompanied by the “advice” Moe had given him as response was definitely off topic as well.

  Caroline laughed out loud. “Oh, Lord, that thing with Monika had to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Do you mind if I tell it to my best friend? She’d find it entirely vindicating.”

  They got up a small half-flight of stairs that was her landing and Max held open her door. “I take it that your friend is not part of Monika’s fan club.”

  Caroline’s smile was wry. “No, she’s not.” An elderly gentleman was sitting on the stairs as they walked in. “Hi, Mr. Adelman. How are you today?”

  The old man gave her a smile that almost buried his eyes in wrinkles. “Fine, just fine, Caroline. And yourself?”

  “Fine, just fine.” She almost sang it and the old man scooted over to make room for them to pass. “This is my friend, Max. Max, meet Sy Adelman.”

  Max shook hands with the old man and they continued. At the next landing two small boys sat outside a door, a collection of cards spread out between them. They were trading, apparently, and one of the boys looked up at Caroline with an expression of consternation.

  “Caroline, he wants to trade my holographic Pikachu for two ordinary cards.”

  “One’s a Mew Two!” the other boy exclaimed as if that meant something.

  Caroline bent down to take a look, glancing up at Max from the corner of her eye. She was giving him time to rest, he realized. Part of him appreciated the thought while part of him rebelled against the notion. Appreciation won out and he took the time she offered to get his breathing under control and relax his leg muscles while she settled the minor Pokemon trading card dispute.

  They started back up the stairs, and Max leaned over close to her ear. And shuddered. Her scent was driving him crazy. “You don’t have to let me rest. I can make two flights of stairs.”

  Caroline’s eyes opened and her lips parted. He was close, he realized and knew she knew it too. Close in proximity and close … well, to something else.

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice barely a murmur. “I needed to rest, too.”

  Max stopped and so did she. “What?”

  She blinked and the moment was gone. “I—I hurt my leg awhile back and had trouble climbing these stairs while it was healing. I rested every couple steps.”

  “How did you hurt your leg?”

  She shrugged and smiled, but not a bit of it reached her eyes. “I fell down. I can be remarkably clumsy at times.” She turned and headed up the stairs. He’d intruded on something, quite inadvertently. A memory perhaps?

  He continued until he reached the second floor. Caroline was standing in the hall, talking to a large orange cat.

  “So you’re back, Bubba-boy.” She bent over and scratched the cat behind the ears. “Such a fickle boy you are, comin’ around only to get fed.”

  Her accent thickened as she purred to the cat. S
he looked up and smiled and Max felt his heart stop. She was … beautiful.

  “He’s a stray, but I call him Bubba. He comes around only when he’s got an empty belly. Don’cha, boy? I feed him sometimes, as do the old ladies across the hall.” As if on cue, the door across the hall opened and a silver head popped out.

  “He’s eaten, Caro,” an elderly lady said, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t let him con you.”

  Caroline laughed and put her key in her door. “He will, Mrs. Polasky. He will, just like he cons you and your sister.”

  The old lady chuckled, then froze when she spotted Max standing a few feet away. “My, oh, my, Caroline, dear. When you bring home a stray, you really bring home a stray.”

  Caroline looked at Mrs. Polasky and followed the old lady’s gaze to Max. And coughed. Her eyes were laughing again, even as her mouth frowned. “Mrs. Polasky! What a thing to say!”

  Mrs. Polasky eyed Max up and down, making him feel very much like a side of beef in the supermarket. “I’m old, honey, not dead.” She met Max’s eyes head on. “We like Caroline, you understand? Everybody in this building.”

  Max nodded gravely. “Yes, ma’am.” He hadn’t a clue what she meant.

  “Good. We may be old, but everybody likes Caroline, and I for one have a firearm.”

  Caroline shook her head and reached over to pull Max by the sleeve. “Good night, Mrs. Polasky. Come on, Max.”

  She opened the door to her apartment and the orange cat sauntered in as if he owned the place. The television was on and a woman with red hair was curled up in the corner of an old couch, sound asleep. Caroline stopped and looked at the woman, her expression softening.

  “That’s my best friend, Dana. She worked all night last night,” she murmured, “for the second night in a row.”

  “What does she do?” Max murmured back.

  Caroline was quiet for a long moment, so long he wondered if she’d even heard him. Then she sighed, shut off the television and turned to her kitchen, gesturing for him to follow. He grabbed one of her dinette chairs as he passed the little table and sat the chair down in the corner of the kitchen. Gratefully he sank down, feeling his hip throb even before it met the chair.

  “Dana runs a shelter for runaways. She sometimes stays up all night with newcomers who need special help.”

  Max peeked out of the kitchen. Dana hadn’t stirred. “Why is she here?”

  Caroline looked up from scooping coffee into her coffeemaker. “She’s watching Tom.”

  Tom. Her son. His stomach tightened. He didn’t do well with kids. Maybe Tom was asleep. Maybe he wouldn’t have to meet the boy tonight. Maybe—

  “Mom.”

  Together Max and Caroline turned. A young man stood in the kitchen doorway. He filled it. This boy was fourteen? He had to be six-one.

  Caroline smiled uncertainly and Max remembered her saying men didn’t ask her out as often as he thought. Evidently finding a strange man in his kitchen was quite new for young Tom. It was the only thing that would explain the hard-edged distrust that filled the boy’s eyes, as expressive as his mother’s.

  Max stood and stuck out his hand. “I’m Max Hunter. You must be Tom.”

  The boy took his hand and shook it, eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his voice obviously polite and withdrew his hand. “Did you have a good time, Mom?”

  Caroline smiled again and this time it was a full reflection of the fun she’d had sharing dinner with him and David. “Yes, I did. Did you do your math homework?”

  Tom smirked and in that moment looked just like a tall version of his mother. Very tall. “I did. Did you bring me anything?”

  She snapped a dishtowel, narrowly missing him. Tom exaggerated his escape. “I guess that means no.”

  “It means no. Has Dana been asleep long?”

  Tom frowned. “Since she got here. And she talked in her sleep, too. She was having nightmares. Something about a baby’s feet.”

  Caroline sighed and Max had the feeling the dream either happened often or had some basis in reality. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Go on to bed.”

  Tom hesitated. “Can I eat first?”

  Without missing a beat Caroline reached into the refrigerator and tossed him an apple. “Bed.”

  Tom looked at Max from the corner of his eye. “Mom …”

  Caroline shook her head firmly. “It will be all right, Tom. Go to bed.”

  Tom hesitated, stared at Max another long minute, then turned for the back of the apartment.

  With distinct discomfort Max watched Tom retreat, then turned to Caroline who was simultaneously watching her son and worrying her lower lip. “Look, you’re tired and your friend needs her sleep. Why don’t I take a raincheck on the coffee for another time?”

  She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of too many things to sort. “Okay. I’m sorry—”

  He stopped her by laying his finger across her lips, the first time he’d touched her, really touched her, since that morning in his office. Immediately her eyes widened, her cheeks colored and her breath quickened. He felt his own pulse accelerate. By just touching her mouth. It was truly amazing.

  “It’s okay, really.” He brushed his finger across her lower lip, feeling her shiver cross the inches between them to course down his own spine. Whoa. This was serious electricity. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “I … can’t,” she whispered. “Tom has a game. I never miss them.”

  “Then Thursday night?”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  The need to kiss her lips was overwhelming him. But somehow he knew that would be too much, too fast. So he tilted up her face and dropped a chaste peck on her cheek. “Good night, Caroline.”

  She swallowed. “Good night, Max.”

  “Good night, Caroline,” a wry voice echoed, mockingly singsong.

  Max whipped around to find the leggy redhead sitting on the edge of Caroline’s tiny dinette table, her arms loosely folded across her chest, one russet eyebrow raised in obvious interest even though her eyes were heavy with fatigue. His own brows snapped together in annoyance at being spied on when he was trying to be a gentleman.

  “And you’d be Max Hunter,” she continued, as if she weren’t a very rude woman. “I’m Dana Dupinsky, Caroline’s friend.”

  “So I’m told,” he responded dryly. “As well as a teen-sitter with a narcolepsy problem.”

  Dana grinned and Max found himself charmed in spite of himself. “I’m just here to protect Tom from marauding Avon ladies, should they be so foolish to ring the bell. Beyond that, the kid’s pretty capable of sitting himself.” She glanced over at Caroline whose eyes were still wide with shocked embarrassment. “She doesn’t think so, because she’s still Tom’s mommy.” Her eyes had started to wake up and were now bright with amusement. “So Tom and I go along with it to please her and sometimes work in a Bruce Willis flick or a hand of five-card draw. Don’t play poker with the kid. He’s pretty damn good.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  She settled herself more comfortably on the edge of the table and her face quieted slightly as her mood seemed to shift. Max frowned, feeling her eyes probe his as if she were searching for something in particular. He was about to make a rather rude comment himself when she looked past him to Caroline.

  “Okay,” was all she said.

  Max turned to Caroline, his frown deepening. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “It means you have kind eyes,” Dana answered for herself. He looked back at her to find her in the same position, her expression now serene. “That’s all.” Then one russet brow shot up again and one side of her wide mouth quirked up. “I’m also in charge of prospective boyfriend monitoring in addition to my teen-sitting duties. I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

  Max had the unsettling feeling that she was, indeed, very serious. At least she hadn’t declared him some mutant serial killer or something
. That was a very good thing as Dana Dupinsky evidently had a great deal of influence in Caroline’s life.

  He shifted on his cane, pointing his body toward her front door. “I need to go now,” he said pointedly, hoping Ms. Dupinsky would make herself scarce so he could have a few more minutes alone with Caroline. “It was nice to have met you, Dana.”

  Dana grinned once again. “My cue to exit, stage left.”

  “Stage right,” Caroline muttered from behind him. “You need to powder your nose.”

  “But, Caroline, hunny.” Dana was practically laughing aloud. “I’ve never powdered my nose in my life.”

  Caroline took a step forward, pulled her friend to her feet and sent her towards the end of the hall, presumably to the bathroom. “So you have a lot of powdering to make up for. Go now.” The last was hissed and with a chuckle Dana complied, but not before lightly chucking Caroline under the chin.

  “You were right.” Dana looked over at Max, waggled her brows, then bent to whisper very loudly in Caroline’s ear, “Book ’em, Dano.”

  Max swallowed what was sure to have been a snort of laughter at the murderous expression on Caroline’s normally happy face even as a warm feeling bloomed inside his chest. She’d talked about him, very favorably if her scarlet cheeks were any indication. It was a good sign.

  “Dana,” she barked. “Bathroom. Now.”

  “Yes, Mommy. You’ll tell me when it’s safe to come out won’t you?”

  “Unlikely. Go.” Caroline pointed to the door as if directing a recalcitrant child.

  Dana did laugh aloud at this, but finally moved her feet in the indicated direction. “Okay, okay. It was nice to meet you, Max,” she called over her shoulder.

  The bathroom door slammed. “I’m safely out of the way!” she called, loudly enough to be easily heard.

  A beat of silence followed. Caroline cleared her throat. “Some people say insanity runs in her family,” she said, then turned to face him, her dimple in full relief. “Dana’s about the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. I hope you can excuse her.”