by Cate Noble
They took off again. Erin noticed that Max grew quieter, more intense, the farther in they hiked. This was the place his uncle had died and it carried its own measure of emotion. Loss and grief were easy for her to understand; they were not only fresh memories for her; many patients had similar issues.
What Max was dealing with, however, was new ground. Personally and professionally. She’d worked with a few extreme cases, but what Max had endured and was still going through didn’t happen that often.
Telepathy. Mind reading. Brainwashing. The mental and physical abuse he’d suffered while imprisoned. Combined, it made a strong case for any number of psychoses.
But she didn’t believe Max was psychotic. She had experienced his powerful abilities to influence with that strange and erotic beach fantasy. And while at first she’d felt emotionally manipulated, she’d since come to realize that part of what she felt for Max was simply her own physical attraction. The man had rocked her world from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. That undoubtedly made her more susceptible to influence.
On another level she was also troubled by the notion that her father may have been involved in mind control experiments. Not recently. But back when she was a child. Winchette hadn’t exactly denied it, though he’d hinted that that type of research had been abandoned in the United States.
But what about elsewhere?
“Check it out,” Max said.
They rounded on the waterfall now, but didn’t stop as long as she would have liked to. The sparkling fall of water made her wish she had a camera.
As the ground took on a steeper incline, Erin had to concentrate on her footing. She found herself feeling edgy as they grew closer. If Taz was here, would he agree to return with them? What kind of physical shape was he in? Had he been troubled by headaches and seizures, too?
Just ahead Max stopped.
Erin shielded her eyes with her hands, following his gaze. She sensed they were close but where was the cave?
The canyon walls ahead were unusually bright, as if the sun hadn’t baked them to a lighter color yet. Her eyes drifted lower as she tried to follow the ground, to see the way ahead. Max said no climbing was involved, but the ground here looked impassible.
“Rockslide,” Max said.
His single word changed her view. The color difference she’d noticed in the wall, the brightness, the jagged edges, were all newly exposed rock. The old face of the wall lay crumbled in mounds on the ground.
“How do we get around it?” she asked.
“We don’t.” Max pointed. “It’s gone, Erin. The entrance to the cave is a good fifty feet under that pile of rock.”
She gasped. “Is Taz trapped?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that recent of a landslide.”
“Should we go closer, see if he left a note or something?”
Max didn’t answer. Instead he closed his eyes.
Was he recalling a memory? Or using telepathy? She knew now to simply wait. To watch for external signs of distress.
“He hasn’t been here, Erin.”
“We’ll leave him a message, then.”
“No. You don’t understand. This isn’t even the right cave.” His voice grew sharp. “Taz is headed to Colorado.”
“Do you know where in Colorado?”
“No. Damn it.”
Chapter 23
By the time they returned to the car, Max’s temper had evened out. He figured he owed Erin a dozen different apologies, but where to start?
Surprisingly, she’d kept up with his grueling pace without complaint. They’d come out of the canyon single-file, Max tossing the occasional “How you doing back there?” over one shoulder.
Her clipped “Fine” kept him moving.
While going downhill was easier, he’d left it up to her to call out if she needed a break. She hadn’t and that allowed them to return in less time.
Outside of monosyllabic answers, Erin had remained virtually mute after Max snapped her head off.
Over her one innocent: “Now what?”
Max didn’t have an answer, which royally pissed him off. Just the thought of having to say “I don’t know” again set his teeth on edge.
The stuff he didn’t know had piled up precariously, a veritable mountain of crap that only got bigger. The questions were profound: Where was Taz? What had Rufin done to them? What had they done for Rufin? Where were the missing pieces of Max’s memory?
How could he ever reclaim a life he couldn’t recall?
He looked at Erin now. She leaned against the trunk. In spite of the fact she stared away from him, he noticed that her cheeks and nose were red; she was sunburned and breathing heavily, as if fighting tears.
The toll she’d paid was painfully apparent. God, he was an idiot. Grabbing a bottle of water, he cracked open the cap and held it out to her.
“Drink.”
She glared at him and pushed his hand aside. “Leave me alone. I’m fine. Just unlock the car.”
He set the water on the roof and moved to open the passenger door. That’s when he realized how long they’d been gone. Jesus, it was nearly three o’clock and they hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Mr. Considerate, he’d stomped all the way back here, carrying the food on his back. That he’d been too angry to even think about eating was one thing. But totally forgetting her needs was unforgivable. He felt like such a shit right now. She had every right to hate his guts.
He turned to apologize. She had started to follow, to get in the car, but now stopped. He had seen her limp. It was evident that it hurt to take even a step. Now he felt worse than shit.
“I’m sorry, Erin.” He swept her off her feet. Ignoring her protests, he set her lightly on the trunk.
Loosening the laces of her right boot, he gently tugged it off and peeled away the sock. Two large bloody blisters marred the back of her heel, and another on her big toe and pinky toe. He cursed himself for not thinking about checking the fit of the hiking boots they’d got for her at the secondhand store.
He removed the other boot, found more blisters there. Grabbing the bottle of water, he rinsed her feet. She drew in a sharp breath. He knew they hurt like hell.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She pulled her foot out of his grasp. “I was afraid you’d leave me.”
“I’d never—”
She cut him off. “You’d have sent someone out to get me—but you’d have been long gone. I realized you were pissed. I also kept hoping you’d calm down.”
Max stepped away to grab the backpack. Erin shifted as if to climb down.
“Stay put,” he said.
“I’m not a damn dog, Max. Stay. Drink. Roll over.”
“Please, Erin, don’t move. I just want to grab the first aid kit.” He shifted back to her, preventing her from sliding down. The anger had drained from him, but not from her. And rightfully so. “I owe you an apology. I was an inconsiderate ass back there. Hell, I was probably one before that. I’ve dragged you into something terrible and now you’re paying a painful price.”
He set the white plastic kit with the big red cross on the trunk beside her and flipped it open. He’d bought it in case Taz needed attention—he hadn’t thought of Erin then either.
He grabbed the antibiotic salve and several bandages.
“These blisters will need to be cleaned with peroxide. This will help until we can find a drugstore. You’ll need a pair of flip-flops, too. You won’t be in shoes anytime soon. Are you allergic to aspirin or ibuprofen?”
“Now who sounds like a doctor?”
“Quack, quack.” Finished with the last bandage, he released her foot and leaned back in close. Cupping her chin, he looked her in the eyes. “This will sound insane given how I’ve mistreated you coming back down the trail, but I do care about you, Erin. And I could cut off my own hand that I let you get hurt. I also apologize for snarling when you asked me about what to do next. It’s no excuse, but it pissed
me off to have had to say I don’t know. At the same time, I did learn something valuable.”
“About Taz?”
He shook his head. “About me. Being pissed at you actually felt good because I didn’t get that awful backlash of pain that’s been hounding me. I didn’t even realize it till just now. I can worry about you, get angry at you.” Fantasize about you. “And not get zapped.” It sure as hell beat counting to thirteen thousand and beyond.
“Now there’s something every girl wants to hear.”
He laughed and realized it was the first time he’d done that in a long time, too.
She smiled and he knew she had accepted his apologies. That all was forgiven felt ridiculously good.
“Let’s head back,” he said before scooping her back up in his arms. “We’ll get some food and a room. We’ll get cleaned up and take care of your feet. I feel like I have no choice but to call Dante again, see if they’ve had better luck finding Taz.” He knew she wanted to ask, “And then what?” so he added: “And then we’ll figure out the rest of it.”
They had just turned back onto the paved highway when the hair on the back of Max’s neck prickled.
Alert, he straightened. Looked around.
Except for a tan SUV that had shot past in the opposite direction as he pulled out, the road was deserted.
He concentrated on his thoughts. The sensation had been different, yet oddly familiar. An internal radar. He’d felt it before. But when? Had Taz tried to reach him, perhaps?
So far, Max thought that he’d been doing all the work, sifting the airwaves, seeking a connection to Taz. But what if Taz was seeking him? Was this a psychic knock-knock?
Damn it, Taz, where the fuck are you?
Erin had her head leaned back, eyes closed. He’d gotten her to eat an energy bar and take two ibuprofen. Besides having sore feet, she had to be exhausted. They had slept in vehicles the last two nights.
As soon as they got back to town, he’d find a motel. Tonight they were sleeping in real beds.
And what about tomorrow? He didn’t have a clue.
Max felt the tingling again and glanced in the rearview mirror. The tan SUV that had passed them earlier was behind him now.
And closing in.
Danger. Run.
“Hold on, Erin!” Max gunned the engine.
The SUV sped up, too.
“What’s wrong, Max?” She turned around, having picked up that someone was after them.
“The SUV. Do you recognize the driver?”
She pushed her sunglasses up, squinted, tried to focus on the face. “No. It’s probably an unmarked police unit.” Her voice sank. “Remember, we are driving a stolen vehicle.”
Max saw the other driver smile as if enjoying the game. “It’s not the police.”
Stomping on the gas pedal, Max passed a slower vehicle. The road ahead was clear. Behind him, the SUV passed the same car and kept accelerating.
Chasing them.
The stolen Taurus was no match for the SUV’s more powerful engine. By rights, they should be losing ground, but the SUV had backed off. Pacing them, biding his time.
There were no cars in front of Max, but an oncoming semitruck prevented the SUV from pulling up beside them and running them off the road. Which Max had sensed was the driver’s intent.
They were on a straight stretch of highway now but not too far ahead was a curvy section with sheer drop-offs. That’s what the SUV was waiting for.
Max backed off the gas just a little as he eyed the oncoming semitruck, estimating its speed. Just a few more yards…
Counting under his breath, Max swerved into the left lane, directly into the path of the semitruck.
Erin screamed, but he ignored her. The semi’s driver hit his brakes and began blasting the air horn. Speeding up, Max cut sharply to the right, darting around the jackknifing trailer.
The driver of the SUV had slowed, clearly disbelieving, but Max caught a glimpse of the handgun at the same time Erin did.
“He’s got a gun, Max!”
He reached over and shoved her head toward her knees. “Get down!”
Just then the SUV disappeared from sight as the now sideways moving semitruck blocked both lanes of highway.
Max couldn’t tell the extent of the damage, but the SUV didn’t come after them. It had come to a stop, with part of its front end crumpled. Hell…the car might still be drivable.
At the next intersection Max turned and headed west.
“Who was that?” Erin asked.
“We’ll figure that out after I’m sure we’ve lost him.”
Max switched roads several more times, mostly heading north.
No one appeared to be following, but now they had a higher risk of the Taurus being targeted by police if it had been reported by the semi driver as the causative factor in a car accident.
“I’m worried about the truck driver,” she said.
“The trailer stayed upright on the road,” he said. “It’s unlikely the driver was injured.”
“But what about the guy in the SUV? He had a gun, Max! What if he shoots the truck driver?”
“The driver of the SUV isn’t looking for random targets. He was after me. And he clearly wanted me dead—or incapacitated. Whatever I’ve forgotten must be incriminating as hell.” Max cast a look at her. “I’m even beginning to wonder if Dr. Winchette was involved. I remember catching a few of his thoughts and realizing he didn’t want me to awaken.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Bull. And as much as this is going to piss you off, I can tell you’re wondering the same thing. What exactly do you know about Winchette’s activities, especially concerning me?”
He’d been trying to read Erin’s mind since the accident, but just as he had problems reaching Taz’s mind, he was also having trouble probing hers.
Her expression told him a lot though. She looked angry. But when she suddenly started to cry, he panicked. Tears were Kryptonite.
He melted. “Ah, hell, sweetheart. I don’t mean—”
She cut him off. “No. You may be right. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Start at the beginning. How did you and Dr. Winchette become involved in this?”
Seeming overly self-conscious of her tears, she wiped them away. “We were called in to treat Dante Johnson when he first returned last March. I’d just come back to work after taking leave following my father’s death. We gained valuable experience working with Dante and I assumed that history was why we were called in to consult on your case. But when I saw pictures of that machine Taz was found in—I recognized it. I think Dr. Winchette did, too.”
“Recognized it from where?” Max listened as she explained seeing a similar machine in her father’s lab as a child.
“I was very young, Max. I may not be recalling it correctly.”
“Did you ask Winchette about it?”
“Yes, but he was so evasive in his answer. Then, I overheard him talking to someone. He mentioned a patient going brain-dead, and I assumed it was you or Taz because he mentioned Travis Franks’s name.”
“What exactly did he say about Travis?”
“Not much. Something like ‘Travis Franks agrees’—but I didn’t catch all of it.”
“And now Winchette is dead. Killed in my room, by the way, which has the word ‘framed’ written all over it.” Max shook his head. “I’m not saying someone at the Agency’s not behind this—but Travis Franks? I’m not buying it.”
Max trusted Travis. Or used to. Had something happened in the last two years to change Travis? Something he thought Max knew? Or Dante? Or Harry?
“There’s more, Max. I believe my father was murdered. The official cause of death was suicide. An overdose. Which I never really believed. But I was working a temporary internship at a Canadian hospital, so I was gone in the months before he died.”
“What makes you think murder?”
She drew a breath. “When I went
to scatter his ashes at his lake house, I found a letter he’d left me. It was left where he’d planted a tree with my mother’s ashes thirty years ago. He didn’t go into detail, but he clearly expected to die and wanted me to get certain papers to a colleague of his. He felt he was being watched and couldn’t send them himself. But that colleague was killed in an accident. And I haven’t found the papers my father mentioned.”
“Did Winchette know all this?”
“No. My father warned me against telling anyone. That he didn’t instruct me to take the papers to Dr. Winchette was telling. They’d been close, until just before my father resigned.”
Max reached over and squeezed her hands. “I’m sorry about your dad, Erin. But I think you’re right. This is all related in some manner.”
He turned into a gas station and turned toward her. “Right now I need to know how they found us.
They may have found the stolen camper by now and discovered this vehicle missing. But the odds of one person spotting us randomly is slim. I suspect something we brought from the hospital is bugged, maybe the bag from Dante, maybe your purse. We’ll have to ditch all of it. But first I want to call Dante. See if he knows why the Agency has its crosshairs on us.”
Chapter 24
Bangkok, Thailand
September 24
Harry needed a better place to stay. Certain he hadn’t been followed, he retraced his steps back to the cheap warehouse he’d rented.
While he preferred five-star ratings, those places were too visible. And expensive. They would also be the first place Minh Tran would look for him.
Shifting the bags of food to one hand, Harry let himself in. Lucy, I’m home. He set the food on the table then untied Rufin.
The scientist’s eyes were red. He’d been crying again. What a wimp. All brains, no guts.
But were his tears for Bohdana? Or for himself?
After learning what Rufin had done, or tried to do, to secure his own future, Harry realized everyone had underestimated Dr. Rufin. They heard his stutter, saw his slight frame, and promptly forgot the scientist’s underlying genius. Maybe the little guy’s balls could be seen without the aid of a microscope.
