program. She hit Enter. About three seconds later the driving directions appeared, and she hit the print button. “Jay, it looks like it’s about four and a half hours from here. Allowing time for us to pack a bag or two, we can be there by 5:00 a.m.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Lou said. “Jason, these two have already driven close to eight hours today. And not without incident,” he said with a sharp look at Stormy and Max when he sensed they were about to object.
Max sighed. “He’s right. We shouldn’t be driving without a few hours’ sleep.”
She didn’t surprise him. He knew her concern for Stormy would be the one thing that would outweigh her rush to help out an old friend.
“How about we get a decent night’s sleep and leave first thing in the morning? We could still make it by noon.”
Lou hadn’t realized he’d said “we” until he felt Max’s eyes on him, and by then it was too late. Then Jason voiced the question he was already asking himself.
“What do you mean, ‘we’? Look, Lou, I don’t want the police involved in this.”
“I’m not the police. Not anymore. Retired a few months ago, kid. Any other reason you don’t want me in on this thing?”
The suspicion and the hint of inexplicable animosity in his tone were not entirely unintended. He couldn’t seem to keep them out, and he didn’t particularly want to. This guy on the phone was sending up so many red flags, Lou could hear them flapping in the breeze.
“Of course not,” Jason said. “The more help I have on this thing, the better. Noon tomorrow will be fine. Thank you, guys.”
“You’re welcome, Jason,” Maxie said.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Stormy added.
Jason hung up without a goodbye. Stormy reached to hit the disconnect button, but Lou held up a hand. Sure enough, the second click came, just as it had before. They both heard it, and he saw their eyes widen. Then he nodded, and Stormy hung up.
Stormy looked at Max, then at Lou. “Something is wrong with him.”
“His sister’s missing,” Max said. “It’s like he said, it’s amazing he can form a coherent sentence. You know how he adores her.” She snatched the pages off the printer and took a look at the driving directions.
“Seemed like more than that,” Lou said.
“Hell, Lou, you barely know him.”
“That makes me more objective. Besides, I’m a cop, remember? “
“Ex-cop,” she corrected.
“Once a cop, always a cop. And I’ll tell you, kid, after twenty years, you get to know when something’s off, and something about your friend Jason is definitely off. Way off. And then there are the monitored phone calls.”
“You can’t be sure that’s what that extra click was,” Max said.
He nodded, conceding that. “Can’t be sure it wasn’t, either.”
She shrugged. “I can be sure of one thing, though.”
“Yeah? What’s that, Nancy Drew?”
She met his eyes and smiled the most triumphant, smug little smile he’d ever seen her wear. “You’re planning to come with us.”
He couldn’t even argue with her. Instead, he sighed and lowered his head.
“I need more pizza,” Maxie said. She walked out of the office, a little bounce to her step on her way to the kitchen, where they’d left the extra slices in a box on the island.
Lou watched her go and tried to quell the little voice that told him it was a mistake to give in to her yet again. But there was an even bigger feeling, one that was far more important. It sat like a brick in the pit of his stomach, and it told him that something very bad was waiting for Mad Maxie Stuart in Endover.
6
Lou didn’t follow Max to the kitchen right away. He didn’t like the way Stormy looked: pale, shaky, shielding her eyes with a hand, as if the light of the computer monitor was too bright to bear.
Except for the kitchen, every other room in the place was cluttered with still-packed boxes and crates. Not this one, though. It was huge, fireplace on the far wall, French doors with the small patio just beyond, overlooking the rolling lawn all the way to the cliffs and the sea far below. It held two desks, though they’d all been gathered around one. The second one faced it from the opposite side of the fireplace. Its surface was still empty. No computer, no phone.
On the wall was a large oil painting of Max’s twin sister, Morgan, and her beloved Dante. She wore a scrap of gossamer with thin straps, and sat in a fur-covered chair with her legs folded beneath her. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. Lou got lost while staring at the portrait for just a moment. Morgan’s facial structure, her deep-set green eyes, coppery-red hair and her smile—so much like Maxie’s. And yet she was pale, had been even before the change. Skin like porcelain. Hair straight and sleek. A body so waif-thin he wondered if she actually cast a shadow. Not that she would be spending any time in the sun from now on. She was frail. A hothouse orchid. Max was a wild rose. Tough, thorny, strong.
“Hard to believe they’re twins, isn’t it? I can’t think of two women more different,” Stormy said, looking over his shoulder.
“I was thinking the same.” He dragged his gaze from the portrait to Stormy. “You all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I just … I hate waiting.”
“You’re exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep? Give yourself a break.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I will.” She hit the keys that would shut down the computer, then slid out of her chair as the machine whirred and clicked and finally went dark. “So I take it you’re staying over?”
“Max isn’t giving me much choice.” He drew a breath, sighed deep and long. “My bag still in your car?”
“Nope. I brought it in.” She reached under the desk and hauled out the black satchel. “Are you mad?”
“Hell, what’s to be mad about? Even smuggling my bag couldn’t force me to stick around with you two if I didn’t want to.” He shook his head. “Max thinks she’s playing me, but I’m only here because I want to be.”
“She’d sure love to hear that.”
“No way. I’m not giving her any more ammo to fire at my head.”
“I’ve got news for you, Lou. It’s not your head she’s firing at.” She studied him, tilted her head to one side. “How do you feel about her, anyway?”
“How do I … feel about her?” He shrugged, averting his eyes. “I like her. I’ve always liked her.”
“As a friend?”
He shrugged. “More like a guardian.” Stormy’s eyebrows shot up so high he thought he must have shocked her, so he tried to explain. “I always feel as if she needs looking after, you know? She tends to just charge headlong, straight into trouble, without thinking first.”
“So you see yourself as her … protector.”
“That’s one way to put it. Sure.”
“Like a big brother,” Stormy said.
“More like an uncle. I’m too old to be her brother.”
Stormy put a hand on his shoulder. “Lou, she doesn’t want you to be her uncle. You do realize that, don’t you?”
He frowned at her. “Oh, come on. You’re not telling me you take all her teasing and flirting seriously, are you?”
“Don’t