Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

  Something sparked in his eyes, and a smile made his moustache twitch. “I can handle that.”

  “In your car.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “It’s cold out there.”

  “Not with you beside me.”

  He nodded slowly, that smile returning. “You did say you wanted to make love in a car, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes. With you, but I didn’t tell you that part.”

  He regarded her for a moment, probably again wondering what had gotten into his old Maxine. But she was staying true to Maxine-the-first—the woman had loved Sam, too. No way was she giving Sam up, not for any reason. Give him space she could do, but not forever. If they could just get past this Jennie thing, they’d be fine.

  He stood, extending his hand to hers. “Let’s go.” When her hand was snugly in his, he lifted it to his face. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” he said softly.

  She’d forgotten that she’d put it on her left hand. “I switched it in the fridge. I thought maybe you’d know that I was leaving a message to you if…well, if I didn’t make it.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. In those eyes of his, she could see so many things. Sorrow, confusion, and a softness that gave her hope the same way that little crack had in the fridge.

  He poured the remaining coffee into a thermos, brought a soft blanket and a pillow. “It’s not easy making love in a car,” he warned.

  Making love. She inhaled those words into her heart. “Sometimes the good things in life aren’t easy.”

  “So they say.”

  He found a cozy place on a knoll just outside the city. She didn’t ask how he knew about this place. She knew the past didn’t matter; if only Sam could see that. He shut off the engine and put the radio station on something soft and romantic. He turned to her, running his fingers down the length of her arm. She had taken off her coat as they’d come to a stop, and Sam had taken off his jacket soon after.

  “I want this to be…right,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “No ghosts?” she dared to ask.

  “No ghosts.”

  She saw his willingness, but also the fear that the ghosts would win. Jennie’s ghost. He was going to love her for who she was now. She had to believe that. He pulled her close, his eyes drinking her in before he closed them and kissed her. His lips rubbed against hers, stirring warmth in tendrils throughout her body. Her own hunger for more than his gentle touch made her open her mouth, and Sam joined her in a wet, wonderful dance that went on and on.

  His fingers grazed her cheek, slid through her hair, then down her neck. He unbuttoned her long shirt—Sam’s long shirt, actually—and slid his hand down over the curves of her breasts. She lifted to his touch, feeling her breaths deepen and filling his hands with her. Her stomach quivered as his fingers danced over the surface, and then lower. She closed her eyes against the wild sensations that turned into a raging fire, licking at her senses.

  His moustache tickled along the skin of her neck as he answered her every moan with a rumble of his own. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, relishing every sensation that rocked her, wanting it to go on forever.

  Her body instinctually moved in unison as his fingers slid over her slick surfaces. She felt herself rolling toward that edge, and with one final stroke, she fell over it. Her breath caught in one final catch as rockets exploded inside her. Sam continued to explore and perhaps revel in what he’d done to her, making her toes curl until she couldn’t handle anymore.

  “Sam, you’re driving me crazy,” she said on a rush of breath.

  “Ah, then we’re even,” he said, his breath warm on her ear.

  She knew there wouldn’t be a problem keeping warm as the steamed windows indicated. With trembling fingers, she pulled his shirt over his head, then worked on the tight buttons on his pants. Finally he maneuvered out of them, and she put him through the same sweet torture until he said on a raspy breath, “If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to either.”

  She didn’t want that, but she ran her fingers over that velvety skin at his tip once more, reveling in the shudder that rocked his body. This time she’d remembered the pot handle theory, and it had worked quite well according to Sam’s labored breathing.

  They shifted awkwardly, but she didn’t care. This was a long time fantasy, and Sam was the only man she wanted to fulfill it. She moved around the steering wheel, lying fully down on the bench seat with her feet tucked to the side.

  “Told you this wasn’t going to be easy,” he said, holding himself above her as she slid into position.

  “I don’t care. It’s an experience, and I want to experience everything life has to offer. With you.”

  His thumb stroked the very tip of her chin as he looked at her for a moment. He left a trail of kisses from her stomach to just beneath her chin where his thumb had been, then slid his tongue into her mouth at the same moment he plunged into her. Her legs slid naturally around his waist, anchoring him against her. She marveled at the sensations she would have missed out in her earlier life. She wanted everything, and she wanted it with Sam.

  She dared to open her eyes, but his face was in shadow above hers. His eyes were closed, and she felt a tug at wondering who he was seeing in his mind.

  “Sam,” she whispered, then smiled when he opened his eyes.

  Did she imagine the haunted look in them? He ducked his head and continued the rhythmic slide that carried her upward despite her doubts. Her fingers tightened over his shoulders, and she let out several guttural breaths as the rockets exploded and rained down sparks all around her.

  A moment later, his body shuddered, then tightened. He rocked his head back, then leaned forward to kiss her silly. His mouth swept hers up time and again, relentlessly. Maybe it had been all right then, she thought as his kiss deepened in the kind of passion that should preclude lovemaking, not wind it down.

  She let him carry her up on a tide of passion until he ended it several minutes later with kisses that gentled. He leaned over to the glove box and pulled out some tissues, then helped her to sit up straight.

  They sat there staring out through the streaks of fog on the windshield for a few moments as she tidied herself up and got dressed. The top button on his jeans was still undone, as was his shirt. He leaned over and ran his fingers beneath her chin, and though the gesture was touching, there was something missing. At first she decided she didn’t want to know, but the more Sam seemed to wrestle with something, pulling further and further from her, the more she had to know.

  “Jennie again?” she asked, feeling colder at the mere mention of the name.

  He didn’t meet her eyes, staring straight out at absolutely nothing. “Yes. Both of you, actually.” Finally he did turn to face her. “It’s too weird. I’m such a jerk, a bastard…” He shook his head. “I can’t even think of the right word to describe the way I feel. Something nasty and vile—”

  She reached over and touched his arm, silencing his recriminations. “You’re none of those things. You’ll get over this. I promise you will.”

  “But it’s not fair to you in the meantime. I can’t put either one of us through this anymore. I want you to stay the night with me tonight. But tomorrow…I need some time alone, a few days to sort through things.”

  She bit her lower lip, meeting his pained gaze with a matching one of her own. “Whatever you need to do, Sam.”

  “You’ll be okay, I promise. Sally’s being charged with attempted murder and first degree murder for Floyd. She’s being sent to a psychiatric ward for evaluation, which should keep her in until her lawyer can work the insanity plea. Armand’s getting treated for his own mental maladies. You should be safe. If either are released for any reason, Dave will come by and take you into protective custody. I’ll call you while I’m gone.”

  “Gone?” The word stuck her right in the heart.

  “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave in the morning, but this made up my mind for me.” His thum
b stroked over her lower lip, forcing her to stop chewing it. “Maybe I can sort through this.”

  “Maybe?”

  “That’s all I can give you right now.”

  She nodded, though she had a hard time understanding. “I’ll take that then.”

  He leaned back against the seat. “You know what was strange? Earlier after you called, I was sitting there trying to relax. Trying because I couldn’t. I was thinking about you, but suddenly Jennie’s face appeared in my mind.”

  Maxine’s heart ached at the name again. “Jennie,” she said, resignation lacing her voice.

  “But it wasn’t the usual Jennie, I imagine. She looked scared. That’s when I decided to call Dave at the station to see why the police were out there questioning you and Sally and found out they weren’t.”

  “What do you think it means?” How bizarre could this get?

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Let’s go home.”

  During the drive, she kept trying to ignore that bad feeling that had haunted her before. It was all this bringing her down, nothing more, but it didn’t feel like heartbreak. It just felt…bad.

  Sam stood there the next morning and watched Maxine sleep in the tangle of sheets his bed now was. Her expression looked troubled—all his fault. She loved him. Something in that warmed him and stabbed him at the same time. He didn’t deserve her love, but he didn’t want to lose her either. He’d come damned close to that. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her, but if he didn’t work through this confusion, he’d go crazy and probably take her with him in the process. No, he had to leave for both their sakes. It was only for a few days.

  He’d told her to stay at his place if she wanted and had given her a key. She’d already agreed to watch Romeo, which had taken no convincing at all. Her hero. His hero, too. That dog had saved the life of the woman he loved. He felt his heart skip a beat. Had he thought that? Maybe he’d get over this after all. He did love her, but it was all twisted up with Jennie, and that made it less than what Maxine deserved. He owed her a love that was as pure as her own.

  He forced himself to get a duffle bag from the top shelf in the closet and throw some things into it. After one more glance at her, he walked to the kitchen and called the airline to book a flight. He wrote the flight information down on the pad and ripped the piece of paper to stuff in his pocket. Time to go so he could make that early flight to Miami, and then onto Key West after that. Some warmth and sunshine and maybe a few margaritas might do his soul a lot of good. If he felt right about things, he could even fly Maxine down later to join him. That thought warmed him more than the thought of sunshine.

  He gave Romeo a goodbye pat on the head. “Take good care of her, buddy,” he whispered. He looked around the apartment. It felt good knowing she was in there. Because she felt right there. He was close to conquering this, he could feel it. Just a little time away, that was all he needed. He walked out onto the landing and headed out into the cold morning air.

  Maxine heard the ringing of the phone in the far distant corner of her dreams. She pushed through the cobwebs to the surface of consciousness, feeling the sharp disappointment at finding herself alone in bed. She was still wearing Sam’s shirt, and she rolled out of bed and made her way to the phone sitting on the counter. The answering machine picked up just as she reached for the phone. Then she realized this wasn’t her place.

  She let the machine get it, turning toward the bathroom in hopes of finding the light on to indicate Sam was in there. It felt too quiet, though. He was gone, just as he’d said he would be. Romeo padded over to her, his tail a sweet greeting on a bittersweet morning.

  A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Sam, this is Dave down at the station. Sam, if you’re there, pick up, man.”

  Maxine picked up the phone. “This is Maxine. Sam’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “He took off for a few days. What’s up?”

  “It’s not good. The Santini woman escaped as she was being transferred to the psychiatric ward last night. There was a mix up in communication, and the people at the ward thought she was coming in this morning, so they didn’t miss her. We found her guard tied up in the van. Sally’s been out there most of the night. We need to get you into custody for your own protection. Where is Sam?”

  “I don’t know.” She felt so lame at those words. “He needed some time to sort things out.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “This morning. You don’t think…” She didn’t even want to say the words.

  “Yes, Sam could be in danger, though I think you’re in more danger than he is. We’re going to send a car over for you right now. Stay put until the officers get there, all right?”

  “Okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll be here.”

  She paced after hanging up the phone. Where could he have gone? Train, plane, automobile. That’s when she saw the note on the pad addressed to her. She lunged for it, hoping he’d told her where he was going. He didn’t.

  Maxine,

  I left this morning, didn’t want to wake you. Here are the keys to my car; thought you could use transportation until they find your car. Stay at my place as long as you want. I’ll be in touch.

  Love, Sam.

  Her fingers wrapped around the keys, pushing the sharp edges into her skin. Then she remembered something Sam had once told her about a case he’d been on. He’d lightly penciled over the pad of paper to see what had last been written on it. He’d written this note to her, of course, but maybe there was something she could find. She made fine strokes over the ridges of the next sheet of paper, revealing the letters of his note to her. But there was something beneath that, meshing slightly with the last words of the note. Delta, Flt 464. She glanced at the phone, wondering whether to call Dave and let him know, but she didn’t know exactly where he was. Still, she didn’t have time to wait for the car, so the least she could do was leave a message for him, which she did.

  “I’ll be back,” she said to Romeo, locking the door behind her and taking the steps two at a time. She watched carefully for anything that looked suspicious. She even checked the back seat of the car, but everything looked normal. Her hands slid over the seat where they’d made love the night before. She turned the car onto the street and headed for the airport.

  She got lucky with a good parking spot and ran into the airport, so glad for legs that worked. He was probably all right, she told herself. Sally was after her, not him. Still, that bad feeling clung to her soul and sped her pace even more.

  “Sam, be all right,” she said as she passed through the crowds looking for his tall, blond frame.

  Then she saw him standing off to himself near the windows. His hands were in his pockets as he stared out at the gray skies and the airplanes. Relief flooded through her, though she was too far away to call his name out. An elbow shoved her sideways, pushing her into a nearby column. When she looked to see who had been so rude, her heart stopped. It was Sally, holding the same gun she’d had last night—and it was aimed at Sam.

  “Nooooo,” Maxine screamed, but it was drowned out by the sound of gunfire. She saw Sam lurch as a spray of blood covered the window in front of him. He fell forward without even looking to see who had shot him. “Sam!”

  Several people tackled Sally, but Maxine only cared about one person. She made her way to him, shoving two other gawking people out of the way. Security guards had the area under control immediately. Maxine dropped down to the floor next to Sam, pulling his head into her lap. Her hand trembled as she smoothed the hair from his pale face.

  “Sam, please talk to me.” Her voice was choked with tears.

  “Help is on the way, ma’am,” someone said from behind her.

  “Do you hear that, Sam? Hang in there.”

  This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t lose him this way. She wouldn’t let him die. She closed her eyes and prayed the way she had in the fridge. Then she looked back down at
Sam, and at the blood that seeped through his shirt. She pressed the palm of her hand over the bleeding, so damned close to his heart.

  The sound of the gunshot still echoed through Sam’s mind, but it was becoming overpowered by the pain in his chest. What had happened? Had the world exploded? He could hear his heartbeat, slow but steady. And a voice, a soft, sweet voice pleading with him. He opened his eyes, finding the simple motion taxing.

  First a blur. Then two eyes, round with fear. Then he saw…Jennie, holding his head, her eyes filled with tears. She was crying. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how, not when the world was becoming dark and pain engulfed him. Jennie. What was she doing there? It was too dangerous. Or was she on the other side waiting to bring him home?

  “Sam,” she was saying, leaning closer. A smile filled her face, a scared smile. “Oh, Sam, don’t leave me.” Her voice was choked with tears and pain, and it penetrated the foggy mist threatening to surround him. “Don’t die,” she urged in a hoarse voice. She grabbed at his hand, and though he couldn’t move, he could feel her fingers squeezing around his own. “Stay with me, Sam.”

  No, she wasn’t calling to him. She didn’t want him to leave this world. Slowly, images from behind her became focused. People crowding around them, voices shouting in the distance. Sirens. He’d heard sirens enough lately. He was still at the airport. And he was looking at Jennie. When he thought he must surely be dreaming, one of her tears splashed down onto his cheek, as hot as fire on his cool skin.

  It was Jennie. For real this time. Her voice trembling with fear, her face red-streaked through her tears. He reached out to her with his other hand, and her cold hand clamped onto that one.

  “Jennie?” he asked, wishing his mind could put it all together. She only hesitated a moment, then he felt her hand squeezing his again.

  “Yes, Sam. It’s Jennie. I’m here.”

  As he looked at her, she transformed. One second she was Jennie, the next, Maxine. Yet, beneath their very different faces lie the same…soul?