While You Were Dead

by CJ Snyder

  She had hours to wonder as the light outside her window faded and Lizzie slept on, still wrapped snugly in Kat’s own black fleece jacket. Hours to plan, too. Once Lizzie woke up, she only needed to get her into the living room–the only room with a back door. Then Kat just needed a distraction large enough to garner the attention of all the guards, including Vic, while Lizzie escaped, over the back wall and into the night. That’s all. Just a miracle.

  Piece of cake, baby. Max’s voice. Kat almost smiled.

  “Piece of cake,” she whispered back, her brain whirling and then she really was smiling. Grinning. She found Lizzie’s cheek in the darkness and started to stroke it. “Wake up, Lizard. Time to go home.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lizzie fell head-first over the wall. She had only seconds at best and speed was her only friend. She used the tuck-and-roll method she’d learned in gym class. Not her most graceful dismount, but she was away.

  Behind her, the house was in chaos. Ahead of her the night was cold and still and dark. Filled with evil shadows. She headed for the first tree and didn’t look back. Kat’s suggestion had been to use the trees for cover until they ran out. From then on, she was to stay as low as possible, keeping to the shadows when she could, running as fast as she could when she had to be in the open. Kat’s voice was as clear in her head as Uncle Max’s had ever been.

  “When you need to stop, do. Be careful with your breathing. If they’re close, they might hear you. You can catch your breath quietly, it just takes a little longer. While you’re resting, listen. Everybody makes noise on unfamiliar ground.”

  Lizzie slid behind the third tree and stopped, risking a glance back. She could still see the wall, but barely. The house was already out of sight. She knew if she kept the lights of Denver’s weird airport behind her, and the four radio towers ahead of her, she’d get close enough to 120th to find her way. But what about Kat? It just wasn’t right to leave her alone there. Vic was going to be furious. She couldn’t go back, but Uncle Max could. And she could tell him how to go, if she marked her path somehow. But how?

  She leaned back against the tree and shoved her hands into the pocket of Kat’s fleece. It was too big for her, of course, but it was soft and warm and smelled like Kat did. Like lilacs. Lizzie frowned as her fingers closed around a clump of something smooth. With another quick glance behind her, she removed a wad of duct tape. She wrinkled her nose. Just what she needed–a reminder. Come to think of it, she had more. She’d stuffed the pocket of her jeans–back when she’d tried to convince herself she could get out on her own. She’d collected it for evidence.

  Lizzie smiled for the first time since she’d seen Kat’s wink at the house. Cool that she’d remembered her suggestion to use it as a signal. It made Lizzie feel. . .included, like she and Kat were partners. And partners never, ever left each other behind. She wasn’t a very good partner if she was going to just run out on her. But, if she went and got Max–that’s what a good partner would do. Especially an injured partner.

  Lips curling in distaste at the smell and taste, she chomped down on a piece of the duct tape, ripping it away from the wadded-up ball. She taped it to the tree, then faced the house to make sure she had the look of it down. “Be right back, Kat,” she promised.

  Twelve trees offered safe haven and perfect markers. Then the night opened out around her. A farmer’s field. Or a field of weeds. With stickers, she discovered shortly as she misjudged a step and fell. She risked one glance behind her, breath caught in her throat when she thought something moved. A stick waved in the breeze, mocking her. Lizzie gave a disgusted snort and stumbled back to her feet. She glanced at her watch when the moon peeked out behind a cloud. Ten-thirty. Except she had no idea how long she’d been gone. She hadn’t thought to look at her watch when she left.

  Was Kat okay? Would the man called Vic hurt her?

  Lizzie fell again. It was because of Kat’s shoes, of course. They were too big. But, as she picked another sticker out of her palm, she was glad she had them. She could feel her toes bleeding inside and she wondered again what they’d done to her foot to make it hurt so bad. Should have looked, back at the house, while she was alone. She’d started to, but the gauze had stuck and that was back when it hurt really bad just to move her foot at all. Good thing Kat hadn’t come for a couple of days.

  She glanced back again. All clear. The duct tape piece she’d left on the last tree winked at her in the moonlight. Lizzie smiled, then looked down. She’d better start leaving more pieces. She had to turn soon or she’d end up in the back yard of the house she could see ahead. The turns were the trickiest, if she was going to lead Max back here. She’d better leave bigger pieces. Especially when she turned.

  Her foot hurt like crazy. No, like hell.

  Lizard!

  She stuck her tongue out at Max’s voice in her head and limped on. He wasn’t here and he couldn’t stop her from thinking it. Besides, it really did hurt like hell. She cast a longing glance at the dark little house as she snuck past. Kat had been adamant about that part of her instructions. No hitching a ride. No knocking at strange houses, at least until she’d reached the road.

  The road was up ahead, she could see it like a black strip of licorice. But it was dark, and deserted. Lizzie wasn’t to use it. Or the sidewalks next to it when they started up. Side streets, back yards if she had to, until she got to the businesses at 120th and Colorado. Unless she saw a police car. She dropped to her stomach in the weeds, winced at another sticker, but didn’t move until a car driving by was gone.

  You won’t know, Lizzie. Not until it’s too late. It’s gonna be tough, honey, and hard, and you’ll want to stop the first car you see, but you’ve got to remember, what if it’s them?

  Kat was pretty smart. The only thing they hadn’t talked about was how long it would take. Had Kat left that part out on purpose? Lizzie sighed, lined up the space between the second and third aerial towers and started out again.

  The scariest moment came when she had to cross the road. Her poor foot had been banged around so much it was throbbing, slowing her down. It would take her a long time to cross that road, and what if a car came?

  She crouched in a ditch next to the road, watching for the right moment. As soon as she stood, she knew she’d hear a car. What should she do? Crouch back down? Run for it? She had to be sure before she moved. Maybe there wouldn’t be a car at all.

  Cautiously, she lifted her head. Sure enough, headlights appeared on the horizon. Lizzie melted back into the ditch and froze. The car came to a stop at the intersection just to her right, where the road she had to cross turned to dirt. Was it her imagination, or was the car extremely slow in starting up again? She didn’t dare look. If she were lucky like Mandy Portson, she’d risk being seen and it would be a cop car. Mandy lived in a house overlooking the river and had her own room, her own playroom and a sister. Lizzie sighed. She wasn’t Mandy. She wouldn’t risk it.

  ##

  One hour and seventeen minutes. Long enough? Or not even close?

  Vic pressed hard on the burn on her arm. Kat visualized Lizzie, arriving at the gas station. Would they believe her? Send her away?

  Send somebody to help her, she prayed.

  “Where is she?”

  Same question. Same pressure on her arm. Same soaring streaks shooting agony up her arm, signaling an alarm in her brain. Same Vic. The man was boring. Kat almost smiled but it would have taken too much effort.

  “I know you can hear me, bitch! Where is she?”

  Yes, Vic, she thought wearily. I can hear you. And I can see my baby running to safety. To Max. To life. Her cracked and swollen lips didn’t move, but underneath, deep inside where Vic couldn’t see, she smiled.

  The ruse had been ridiculously easy to pull off. She’d pounded on the door until Cap came to answer it. With Lizzie pretending to sleep in her arms, she’d brushed right past him and into the living room, mumbling she didn’t want Lizzie in there alone. She then demand
ed something decent to eat and offered to fix it for them all. Vic was nowhere in sight. A guard from the front had appeared at the front door at Kat’s call, but Cap only asked him if he was hungry. Snitch, as Cap called him, looked like he’d been involved in a nearly-fatal accident about a week ago. One involving many, many fists. His right eye was still swollen nearly shut and she’d never seen so many colors on one face.

  Kat ignored him, until he caught her eye and smiled.

  “Doctor Jannsen. Bought any good copiers lately?”

  Mitch. Kat gave him a cold smile. “Enjoy your ‘reward’, Mitch?” She watched his reaction only long enough to see his smile disappear. Max had based everything, everything, on Mitch’s letter and phone calls. But if he’d been part of Vic’s plan all along, why had he been ‘rewarded’? What did Vic have on these guys that they put up with his abuse? It had to be more than a good paycheck. No amount of money was worth getting dead.

  Cap lifted the walkie-talkie from his belt. “Crater, ask Mr. Fordon if the doc can cook for us.”

  “He’s out.”

  Cap smiled, the first genuine smile she’d seen. He really did look like the kid next door. “The kitchen’s all yours, Doc. What are you going to make?”

  Kat swallowed her grin of delight. “Depends on what you have.” There wasn’t much in the small fridge, but enough for goulash. She made a mean goulash. Too bad no one would be able to enjoy it. When she had the ingredients together, she called Cap into the kitchen to okay her choice. She made sure he entered first and then she glanced at Lizzie, who’s eyelids moved just the tiniest bit. She was really good at this faking-sleep stuff, Kat thought. Just before she turned around, she gave Lizzie one exaggerated wink. Lizzie’s hand moved, a natural I’m-sound-asleep-but-just-stretching move and for just an instant her thumb and forefinger formed a circle.

  Message received. Kat went back into the kitchen and started to pray. She kept Cap busy at her side, slicing vegetables while she fried hamburger. Lighting a giant mass of crumpled paper towels was a simple task, accomplished while he searched the cupboards for the can of tomatoes she’d hidden behind a sack of potatoes. One match and whoosh, the entire kitchen seemed to blaze. The burn on her arm was accidental. Cap’s reactions to the blaze were so quick he’d caught her arm between the hot frying pan and the fire extinguisher he seemed to pull out of thin air.

  Lizzie’s absence wasn’t noticed until the fire was out, which was far too quickly for Kat’s liking. Vic roared up ten minutes after that. Mitch and Cap had been immediately ‘rewarded’ and then sent to search for her, with promises of worse to come if they didn’t find and return her immediately. Vic had told his other thug–Crater–to find out what she’d done. He’d hit her twice, knocking her to the floor with each blow, and then Vic had noticed the burn on her arm.

  She’d bitten clear through her lip, in the beginning. But she hadn’t said a word, paralyzed by fear for Lizzie that was far greater than any worry over what Vic might do to her.

  That was an hour ago. With every second that passed, Lizzie seemed further away, safer, and Vic’s taunting bothered her less and less.

  Eventually he’d get tired of hurting her and then he’d kill her. Not a peaceful end. That didn’t matter. Lizzie was safe, with Max, who knew the truth about her now. She’d have a good life. A safe life.

  Her skimpy little top was ripped to shreds. Tattered strands of black lay across her breasts, moving when she breathed. Vic was too mad to notice she was nearly naked except for her bra. Cap’s replacement had probably rearranged her face so badly she didn’t have to worry about rape. She almost smiled again but caught it back just in time. Smiling was not a good idea. Sleep. Sleep was a good idea, and she could feel the darkness, hovering at the edges of her consciousness, waiting to pull her inside.

  Vic pressed on her burn again, yanking her back, sending the signals of danger back to her head. What were the names of the nerves? She used to know. Med school seemed like such a long, long time ago. . .but she hadn’t learned the names of the nerves in med school. Anatomy class. Senior year. Max. He’d helped her study for her final.

  Vic was talking again. Only he wasn’t yelling. Kat struggled back to awareness. She’d promised Lizzie. Vic wouldn’t surprise her again. She had to pay attention.

  ##

  Max shut Kat’s front door and switched on a living room light. A fruitful trip, but not fruitful enough. Viper had called in a tip. Kat’s car had been spotted at a diner down the street. Max had notified Reicher, but only after he’d promised Max could come along. Two waitresses verified that Kat had been there the night before, but they both swore she’d left, alone, about an hour later.

  At least now they had a rough sketch of Victor Fordon. He was older than Max had thought and yet there was something familiar about him. He looked like a college professor with his neat beard, tinged with grey. On a hunch, he pulled up the alumni website for Kat’s alma mater. No Professor Fordon. No one who looked like the man Kat had married.

  He hadn’t stayed at the diner to watch them tow Kat’s SUV away. Her GPS unit was missing, ripped from the dash. Reicher assured him the fingerprinting and crime lab analysis would get top priority. Max was certain they wouldn’t find a thing. He stared at her young, smiling picture on the computer screen. Where was she? If she’d left the diner alone, where had she gone?

  Walking into the diner had been almost as tough as returning to the hospital cafeteria. He could feel Kat at the diner, see her drink her black coffee as the waitresses described her, just as clearly as he could still see Lizzie, sitting alone at that table. He’d accomplished both tonight, and a short visit with Miriam, who’d just taken her sleeping pill. For Kat’s sake, he hadn’t told her about Lizzie. It seemed too much of a betrayal at the time. So, when she’d asked about her daughter, Max had murmured something noncommittal and left. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  He’d always been so good at waiting, excelled in it, actually. But waiting for a target was nothing like this. Waiting for a target had purpose. Meaning. Waiting to hear that they’d found a body–or two–was going to kill him.

  He flipped open his phone to call Viper and give him an update. Across Kat’s now-cluttered desk, her phone rang. Max lifted the receiver and waited for the caller ID to kick in.

  Cell phone CO.

  Bingo. This time Vic was going to tell him everything he needed to know.

  He said hello and heard a strangled, snuffling sound. Every muscle in his chest tightened in response. His heart raged painfully against his ribs. This was either the cruelest trick imaginable, or. . .he clenched the phone so hard it nearly squirted from his suddenly slick palms. “Lizzie?”

  “Uncle M-Max.”

  A fountain of relief started in his heart and splashed outward. Max sobbed and gulped air. He could hear her crying. Terror swallowed the relief.

  “Where are you, Lizard? Tell me where!” Panic edged the words.

  “S-safe,” she cried and gave him the name of a gas station.

  He almost didn’t hear it. Safe! But how? He grabbed up his car keys. Was she really safe?

  Twenty minutes later, he squealed to a stop in front of a convenience store. He saw her through the window and the tears he’d fought since he’d first heard her voice busted the dam he’d erected to be able to drive.

  “I c-can see you,” she whispered in his ear through the phone, and now he could see the tears she’d cried all during their long conversation. She looked dirty, filthy in fact, but he’d never in all his life seen a more beautiful sight.

  He’d promised the kid behind the counter fifty bucks to let Lizzie use his phone to talk to Max on his cell until he arrived. She still clutched it like a lifeline, even as Max threw open the door and yanked her into his arms. He cursed the tight bandages around his ribs. They kept him from holding her close enough, feeling her tension-wrought, shuddering body next to his own. His arms couldn’t get enough and he couldn’t stop crying, kissing her tangled hair, hu
gging her tighter, closer and whispering, “thank you.”

  Lizzie didn’t object to the over-long hug, but she was getting a little frustrated by his inattention to her words.

  “Max!” she whispered directly in his ear–for the tenth time. “You have to listen to me.”

  He pulled back far enough to really look at her. “All right, Lizard. I’m sorry. Are you really all right? Except for your toe? How’s your foot?”

  “You know? How’d you know?” She shook her head, exasperated with the questions. “I have to tell you.”

  “How’s your foot?”

  Lizzie gave a grunt of frustration. “It hurts, okay? My turn.”

  Max couldn’t stop his grin. “Your turn, Lizard. I’m listening.” He sat back on his heels. She was filthy, coated with grime and weeds and heaven only knew what, but besides doing a credible flamingo imitation, resting her left heel against her right calf, she seemed fine.

  “Come here!” she demanded with a glance at the kid behind the counter, who was eagerly eavesdropping. She wrapped her arms around Max’s neck again.