Honor (31 page)

“Of course. She really likes you. We’ll stop by on our way out.”

“Thank you,” Christine said simply.

The dog’s nose moved to the floor and she followed it.

“Peach Pie,” Ginny called. “Let’s go.”

The dog strained against her collar in the opposite direction. Kenzie suddenly saw what Peach was after: There was a black disk lying in the corner.

Her heart tightened. She had one thought—it was a transmitting device. Not here. Not in this safe, sunny place.

But anyone could walk in here. Ginny had.

“Hang on.” She forced herself to stay calm as she moved the chair that held it in place out of the way. Then she bent down and picked it up. It was the top to a condiment cup from someone’s takeout meal.

“Just an old lid. The cleaning service must have missed it.” Kenzie smiled and tossed it in the trash, earning a mystified look from Peach. “Not for you,” she chided.

“If it has something to do with food, Peach will find it,” the handler joked.

“We’ll remember that.” Christine smiled again and waved as Ginny left with the red-jacketed dog. “She was nice,” she said to Kenzie.

“Yes. And Peach looks like a lot of fun. Better hide your lunch when she’s around.”

Christine sat back in the pillows.

“How are you feeling?” Kenzie asked.

“Better. Hope it lasts.”

Kenzie collapsed into a chair. She was so tired she was seeing things. A little piece of trash seemed suspicious. Linc had something to do with that.

“You okay?”

She nodded, propping her chin on her hand. “Sure. Just frazzled. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

The routine hubbub of a medical-care facility echoed in the halls. Kenzie heard the clank of trays being delivered to individual patients from a food cart. Judging by the sound, they had a little while before it reached them.

“Kenzie, tell me something,” Christine began. The brief happiness of meeting the friendly little dog had worn off fast. She seemed low again. “How long will I be here?”

“For a while. We all want to get you home.” Kenzie kept her replies simple.

“I know I was in an accident,” Christine blurted out.

Kenzie sat up. “What?”

Had the Corellis told Christine that? Kenzie seemed to remember that they’d planned to before the move to rehab. But she hadn’t been at the hospital every hour of the day.

As far as she knew, Christine had never asked. By unspoken agreement, there had been no photos of the black-and-yellow sports car among the others they’d shown her. One thing at a time. That was a big thing.

Christine reached under her pillow and pulled out a thick folder. Her medical file, Kenzie saw at a glance. “Mom left this at the front desk.”

“How do you know that?” Kenzie asked, startled for the second time.

“Someone brought it by when you weren’t here and said so. Stuck the whole file in that thing.” She gestured. “Some papers fell out, so I read them.”

Kenzie turned that way to glance at the clear plastic document holder attached to the door. It was empty. She looked back swiftly, suddenly afraid. “Who was it? A woman or a man?”

“A woman,” Christine added. “She was old. Not like Ginny.”

Kenzie extended a hand. “May I see the file?”

Her friend wrapped her arms around it. “No.”

“All right.”

Christine relaxed after a few minutes. “I know it’s about me. I can read some of it, but the words don’t stay still.”

“That’s okay. It’s really good that you can read.”

Kenzie was heartened, but Christine’s wavering voice gave away how she felt.

“I want to know what happened to me.”

Kenzie heard a quiet exclamation coming from the doorway. The Corellis had returned. She murmured a quick explanation of the file.

“Oh—I forgot to take that,” Mrs. Corelli whispered.

Their daughter stared at them with troubled eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“About what, honey?” her father asked.

“The accident.”

“It wasn’t time yet,” Mrs. Corelli answered straightforwardly. “And now—I guess it is.”

“I don’t remember anything about an accident.” She stopped, thinking. “I woke up in the hospital and you were all there.”

“That’s right,” her father said. “You were in the ICU for more than a week and we stayed with you.”

“What happened—well, it’s over.” Kenzie left it at that. She couldn’t think of the right thing to say. It was hard to bear the idea of Christine reliving a nightmare.

“I want to remember some things,” Christine said. “I think I do.”

“You will.” Again Kenzie hesitated, looking at the Corellis. “When we were looking at the photos, you knew the people. Where you were and who was with you—”

“Not the accident. I want to know.” Her insistence made her voice rise.

“Christine, do you mind if I go outside with your mom and dad?”

She shook her head, still hanging on to the file. Kenzie and the Corellis closed the door behind them and conferred in the hall.

“I wish I could talk to her doctor first,” Mrs. Corelli said worriedly. “But it’s the end of the day. He must be gone.”

“If you’re worried about what she knows, the file doesn’t give particulars,” Alf said. “I read through it, made sure everything was in order.”

“Thank heavens for that,” his wife replied.

“For now Christine doesn’t need to know anything other than that she was in a wreck and suffered a head injury,” Alf replied. “Agreed?”

He looked from his wife to Kenzie. They both nodded. No one spoke as they went back into the room.

Mrs. Corelli sat by Christine’s bed and tried to explain. Finally, she let go of the file with some reluctance.

“Do you want to eat something?”

The tray of food that had been left on a side table for her hadn’t been touched.

“No,” Christine said. “I’m tired.”

Kenzie stayed near the door. Her mind was racing. In the last several days, she’d learned an awful lot about brain trauma. Recovering her full memory could send Christine into emotional shock. Kenzie didn’t need a social worker to explain why.

She thought again of the man’s eyes. Mesmerizing her with the power of his hate. Had Christine seen them up close?

If she didn’t remember him, that was a mercy. They had to do more to catch him. Not the Corellis—she and Linc.

Kenzie would go to the police sketch artist as Linc had suggested. She had to try. Not that seeing the stalker’s face on an eight-by-eleven-and-a-half sheet of paper would cut him down to size. He’d terrified her on a laptop screen.

She was afraid that the sudden knowledge of the accident would make him appear in Christine’s dreams.

Her sleep had never been peaceful once the drugs were withdrawn. But Christine had never seemed to remember if she’d had a bad dream.

It bothered Kenzie beyond belief that family members weren’t allowed to stay the night here—the rehab center had different rules on that. Tonight, Christine would be alone for the first time since the accident.

Kenzie saw the social worker and psychiatrist, a young woman and a gray-haired man, heading down the connecting hall, coats on.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly and dashed after them, out of earshot of the Corellis.

She literally took them both by the sleeve, pleading to break the rules.

“Just once. For tonight. Not the whole family—one of us. She’s upset—please.”

The rest of the conversation was hushed, but the two others finally agreed. Dr. Liebling left written orders at the front desk for the night staff.

Kenzie went back to tell Mr. and Mrs. Corelli.

Alf went out around seven
P.M.
to buy an inflatable mattress. He drove to the nearest gas station and took it out of the box, attaching it to the nozzle of the air pump and feeding in quarters. No one there looked twice.

He returned to the rehab center and managed to get it through the door. The nurse at the front desk looked up from her magazine as he approached.

“Evening,” he said.

She kept a straight face. “Hello, Mr. Corelli. I saw the doctor’s orders. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” The air mattress wobbled under his arm as he walked away. She looked after him, smiling faintly, and went back to her reading.

Christine laughed when he entered her room, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “That looks like the one we took to the beach.”

“It’s firmer than that,” he said.

“Let Kenzie stay,” his daughter begged.

That hadn’t been decided.

“Please.” Christine’s voice was shaking.

“All right,” the older Corellis said in unison.

Kenzie couldn’t sleep. The air mattress had a soft, flocked cover, but it smelled strongly of new vinyl. There were no sheets. She didn’t give a damn. Christine had drifted off, but not before giving her a blanket from her bed.

There had been no more talk of the accident before her parents left for the night. But Kenzie’s fears on that score were realized hours later. Her friend began to thrash, crying out as if someone was attacking her.

Kenzie struggled up from the sliding mattress on the floor and went to her. Christine’s eyes were wide open, gleaming in the darkness just before dawn.

“Shh,” Kenzie soothed. She put a hand on her friend’s forehead. Not hot, but beaded in sweat. “Shh. I’m here. What’s the matter?”

“Bad dream.”

“It’s over.”

Christine sat up in bed, clutching the covers and burying her face in them. “It seemed so real.”

“It wasn’t. Dreams are only dreams.”

“No, Kenzie. He was there.”

“Who?” She knew the answer before Christine said it.

“The man who hit me. When I was in your car.”

C
HAPTER
15

A
nother session with the SKC laptop yielded nothing. Linc was done with cudgeling his brains and was about to switch on the television when his cell phone rang.

Good old Mike. He debated the wisdom of answering, then told himself that something could have happened to Kenzie or Christine.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Got the soil analysis back.”

Linc drew a blank for a second. “Huh?”

“From the double set of tire tracks we found north of the accident site,” the lieutenant said patiently. “Under the maples.”

“Right. They were Norway maples.”

“Awww. You remembered,” Mike said.

“So what did the lab say?”

“Got a pencil?”

Linc looked around. “No.”

“I’m at work, Linc. I can’t drop off a copy. There’s three new cases on the board, and one is a double homicide. The chief’s breathing down my neck.”

He clicked some keys, opened up a new document on his screen. “Okay. Blank doc ready to go. I’m putting you on loudspeaker.”

“You can touch type?”

Mike’s voice sounded tinny but he could hear him.

“Yeah.”

Mike read from the lab report. Linc got the gist of it down.

“So the tires on the wrecked car had dirt, seeds, you name it, from both places.”

“That’s right,” Mike replied. “But keep in mind that the dirt and road grit samples from both were very similar. There’s only a half mile between the accident site and the spot north of it, under the maples where the tire tracks didn’t get washed away.”

“Got it. Go on.”

He could hear Mike rattle the papers he was reading from.

“However, the vegetable matter in the samples—seeds, like you said, leaves and that kind of stuff—was very different.”

“So it looks like Christine did stop under the maples first. Before the car crash.”

“Yes. And don’t forget the tracks. Not fresh, not perfectly clear, but we were able to identify the type of tire on the other car.”

“Nothing that would be unique to those tires? You know, like wear patterns, tread damage?”

Mike sighed. “No. Just the type.” He told Linc what it was. “You can look it up online if you want.”

“I will. Anything else?”

“Backtrack. You told me about the vests but not the visit to SKC. So tell me. I promise not to insult you.”

Linc stopped typing and leaned back in his chair, picking up the cell phone and taking Mike off speaker.

He took a few minutes to fill him in on his visit to SKC. “I tried to get video with a microcam, but it didn’t work too well. Bought a bunch of X-Ultra vests for my nefarious purposes, and listened to Lee Slattery for two hours. The guy’s a talker.”

“That’s good. Keep him talking,” Mike said. “Sounds like he took a shine to you.”

Linc shrugged, even though he knew Mike couldn’t see him. “I had someone at the agency call and vouch for me before I showed up. He was impressed. And I spent a lot of money.”

“Not yours.”

Linc laughed. “You know where I’m living. I got a grant, put it that way. My boss okayed it.”

“All right. Don’t tell me more.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Linc replied.

“Any other breaking news?”

“Uh, besides that, I’ve been hanging out with Kenzie.”

“Keep an eye on her. Someone has to. How is Christine doing?”

“They moved her to a rehabilitation place,” Linc said. “Kenzie said she’s adjusting pretty well.”

“At some point she might start to remember the accident.”

“Not yet. When Christine came to, her mom and Kenzie started using pictures to help her talk. As in one word at a time. I understand she’s making progress, but she has a long way to go.”

Mike was silent for a few moments. “Give my regards to the Corellis when you see them. They’re good people. Can’t wait to catch the bastard who did that to their daughter. We are going to catch him.”

“Damn straight,” Linc said.

Mike didn’t say anything more. Linc could hear the everyday noise of a police station in the background.

He came back. “Gotta go. Thanks for the update.”

Mike hung up before Linc could say good-bye.

The information on the tires and what had stuck to their treads was good, a few more pieces added to the puzzle. But there were still an awful lot of gaps.

Linc thought for a few minutes and started a new search online.

It was time to go back several years, find out more about how the huge SKC complex had been financed. Transparency wasn’t a mandate in the closed world of military contracting. Despite Lee Slattery’s backslapping friendliness, Linc suspected that SKC followed the same unwritten rules.