Don't Tell (23 page)

He leaned in closer. „I don’t think you’ll need a stepstool tonight.“ His thumb brushed against her breast and she caught her breath.

„How tall are you, anyway?“ she asked, aware her body had stiffened, but unable to make it relax. Nerves had taken over, chilling the heat that had nearly overcome her just minutes before.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her. Then he drew a deep breath and dropped his hands to gently rest on her hips. „Six-six,“ he answered and the stiffness in her shoulders dissipated. „So how short are you?“ he countered.

He’d backed away and she hadn’t even asked him to. He’d backed away simply because he’d sensed her discomfort. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t yelled. He didn’t even look angry. Her momentary fright had been just that. Momentary. Relief mixed with confidence. The combination was powerful and strange. „Five-four,“ she responded, her voice taking on that breathy quality that still surprised her. „But I’m thinking of buying some very high heels.“

His fingers tightened their hold on her hips momentarily before they relaxed and slid between the countertop and her jeans to hold her bottom again. „It’s ridiculous how the sight of a woman in high heels can turn a man on,“ he murmured and the heat began to build once again. It was insane how she responded, she thought, but then again insanity might not be all that bad. His hands ran down her legs, slowly, pausing under her knees to curve her legs around his waist before continuing to her ankles. The twin thuds of her shoes hitting the floor were the only sounds in her kitchen as he reached behind his back and gently rubbed a line down the sole of each foot through her socks, never taking his eyes from her face. Oh, God.

„It can?“ she whispered.

He bent to press a kiss right below her ear. „What can?“

Caroline shivered at his tone and at the way his tongue was tracing the exterior of her ear, and at the feel of his hot breath against her skin. „High heels,“ she managed. „Turn on a man.“

„Oh. Yeah. High heels make a woman’s legs very shapely.“ He released her feet and moved back to her calves, gently kneading through her jeans. „I need to go soon.“

Her eyes flew open. „Why?“

His low laugh was rueful. „Because I want to do a whole lot more than rub your feet and you don’t seem to be ready for that yet. And I’m not sure how much longer I can take this.“

„I’m sorry,“ she whispered, her mouth tilting down.

„Don’t be. It’s been less than a week.“ He gave her calves a friendly squeeze. „Besides, it’s been a full day for us both. Thanks for coming to my surprise party. You made it so much easier.“

„You didn’t need me; not really.“

„Yes, I did.“ He paused and rested his forehead against hers. „Caroline, I’ve not been the most jovial of family members. My family had every right to be… apprehensive about me.“

„But they love you and you set all their apprehensive minds at ease.“ She noted the flicker of surprise in the smoky depths of his eyes. „I can see what’s laid before me, Max. Your family started out nervous and curious, but hopeful. I could see it in every one of them when they ushered me down those stairs. They wanted to be one with you and in the end you didn’t disappoint them.“ She shook her head, pivoting against his brow. „The looks on their faces when you came down the stairs with Peter and joined them – like you’d never left. Then by the end, they were just curious.“

„But not nervous and hopeful?“

„No, I don’t think so. Not that I’m any expert on family, mind you.“

„You never talk about yours.“

Caroline swallowed. „I never had much of one.“ She heard the twang in her own voice and wasn’t able to stop the grimace.

„Why do you do that?“ he asked sharply.

„Do what?“

„Try to hide your accent.“

„Because I hate it.“ She watched his eyes flicker in surprise at the obvious venom in her voice.

„Why?“

She tried to pull back, but one of his hands had pressed to the back of her head, holding her in place against his brow. Her sigh was of resignation. „Because it reminds me of a time and place I’d rather forget. Max, your parents loved you, didn’t they?“

„Yes.“ It was a simple statement, said with such confidence it made Caroline’s eyes burn.

„Then you can’t understand. My parents didn’t love each other and they didn’t love me. Your father worked two jobs to support you all. Mine never held onto one for long. I was… poor. But being poor isn’t the end of the world if you have a home you want to come home to every day.“

„And you didn’t?“

„No. I didn’t.“

„Do you have one now?“

„With Tom, yes.“

He paused as they each drew a bolstering breath. „Do you want more?“

The tip of her tongue stole out to moisten her lower lip. „Yes.“

His eyes flashed with something indefinable. „Then that makes everything so much easier, doesn’t it?“ he murmured. „Because so do I.“

Greenville, North Carolina

Sunday, March 10

11:30 p.m.

Winters crushed his cigarette in his empty McDonald’s coffee cup, put his car in gear and pulled out behind the white Ford Taurus as it left the hospital parking garage. Susan Crenshaw carefully checked her rearview mirror and made a minor, unnecessary adjustment. Her left blinker went on, the same as the day before. Same as the day before that. Tracking Crenshaw down had been fairly simple after all, a relief as he wanted to keep any inquiries to a minimum. Thatcher was asking way too many questions. If he didn’t find Mary Grace soon, Thatcher might actually manage to concoct something that could hurt him. Winters scowled at the very thought, his only comfort the knowledge that he did know where Thatcher lived.

Winters made himself concentrate on the immediate matter at hand. Crenshaw’s white Taurus was exiting at the road to her mother-in-law’s house, on her way to pick up her baby. Her husband worked nights and his mother watched their little tyke when Susan was on second shift. He followed her into an older neighborhood. Grandma’s next-door neighbor had an old sofa on the front porch and a car on blocks in the front yard. Grandma’s house itself was very well kept up with a pretty little garden in the front. He could admire a nice garden. That was one of the things Mary Grace had done well, come to think of it. They’d always had bright flowers. Until her accident. At that point she wasn’t able to do diddly-shit. A big zero on all counts.

The white Taurus pulled into Grandma’s driveway and Winters parked a few houses down. Red Riding Hood Crenshaw was completely clueless, unlike the careful Nurse Burns. Red could learn a thing or two about self-defense, specifically being aware of her surroundings. He’d been following her for two days and she never once noticed his existence. Red disappeared into the house, emerging a few minutes later with her son and all his baby crap. She tucked him in his car seat and rained kisses on his cheeks. The white Taurus was again on its way.

Almost time. Crenshaw was cruising along, suspecting nothing, approaching the Tar River. It had been an incredibly wet spring and the Tar was ready to overflow its banks. He knew from his trip yesterday and the day before that the river rushed hard here.

Almost… time. Winters reached for his light, rolled down the window and fixed it to the roof of his unmarked car. Let the siren squeal for a few seconds. She looked in her rearview mirror and realized in the same moment that he was signaling to her and that mere was no place to pull over. She’d need to cross the bridge. Perfect.

The white Taurus pulled over, like the good citizen she was. Nary a traffic ticket to her name. But she’d had a hard time with this baby, her neighbor had confided to him in low tones when he’d poked around her house while she and hubby dear were at work on Thursday. Post-partum blues. She’d rocked the baby and cried. But she really was a good mother, the neighbor had insisted.

He pulled up behind her and turned off his light. Pushed it under the seat and got out of his car, his wig kit safely stowed in his trunk. Today he wore no disguise. He wanted her to recognize him. To remember what he was capable of. He wanted her to fear him like she’d never feared in her life.

He approached the car and watched her window slide down. Watched her watch him from her side mirror. There was a nice place to pull over here. He’d chosen it carefully. The county was widening the road and the construction guys had cleared a wide space on this side of the bridge. She’d pulled over safely, out of traffic’s way. No one would need to slow down if they passed. Not that he expected anyone to pass. This time on a Saturday night this road was almost deserted.

When he got close enough he paused just behind the driver’s door. She craned her neck to see him, but his face was in the shadows. She’d figure it out in due time.

„Officer? What’s wrong?“ She twisted around to look at him. „I know I wasn’t speeding.“

No, she hadn’t been speeding. If anything, she’d been going too slow. Bugged the hell out him, drivers going too slow.

Deliberately he pulled on the passenger door, directly behind her. It was unlocked, just as he’d assumed. It was an older car, made before the locks engaged automatically when the car exceeded fifteen miles per hour. God knew she wasn’t careful enough to lock her doors. By the time she’d launched herself from the front seat, enraged, he had Baby Red out of his car seat and snuggled comfortably in his arms and was walking toward the bridge.

„What the hell are you doing?“ she exploded. He glanced over his shoulder with what he hoped was his most patronizing look. What an idiot. He hoped he never was unlucky enough to get her as his nurse. She’d probably connect his leg bone to his head bone.

She ran behind him, slipping a little on the red mud, slick from all the rain. „Wait! Stop! Give me back my baby! Please!“ The last was uttered on a sob, as if she finally figured out what was happening.

Winters continued his walk onto the bridge, stopping about ten feet from the edge. The water was higher today. Better still. He shifted the now squalling baby in his arms. Cute kid. Eight months old and dressed for spring. His lip curled. Definitely not dressed for swimming.

She was crying now, reaching for her kid. He held the baby closer and shoved her back, just a little harder than necessary. He leaned against the bridge. It wasn’t a tall bridge, just an ordinary little bridge, built in the same style as the railroad trestle that crossed the river fifty feet upstream.

„Who are you? What do you want?“ Her eyes had grown wide with fright and she was shivering. Good.

„Susan Crenshaw.“ It wasn’t a question.

„Yes. What – who are you?“

Actually her first question might be a little closer to the truth. What was he? Hopefully her worst nightmare come to life.

This woman was responsible for his losing seven years of his son’s life. Hatred no longer burned. It was now stone cold.

„You volunteered at Asheville General Hospital nine years ago. You worked with an old nurse.“

She nodded, still not understanding. Idiot. Still not recognizing him. „Nancy Desmond. Yes, I volunteered that summer. Please give me back my baby. I’ll give you anything you want.“

He raised an eyebrow. „Please remember that offer, Miss Crenshaw.“ She’d kept her maiden name. That always pissed him off when women did that. The guy was good enough to marry, to shackle for the rest of his life, but not good enough to take his name. They wanted to have their cake and eat it, too, these Feminists. It was enough to make him sick.

„You want money? I’ll get my purse. Just don’t – don’t hurt my baby. Please.“

„I don’t want money. I want information. Mary Grace Winters. Do you remember her?“

He saw her eyes glaze. „No, I don’t remember. Please…“

„Try to remember. She was the wife of a local police officer. She’d fallen down some stairs. She was in Asheville General recuperating.“ He watched her closely, saw the moment she remembered Mary Grace. Saw the moment she remembered him. Elation flared high. She was terrified. His pulse took a swing upward as adrenaline surged.

„Oh my God,“ she whispered. „You… oh, God. Please, please, give me back my baby. He’s just a baby. What do you want from me?“ It was a pitiful cry now. Progress.

„Nurse Desmond. You assisted her.“

Her arms reached for the baby and he smiled thinly.

„Miss Crenshaw, the water is very high here today. It would be a shame if your child were to… fall.“ Her face drained of any remaining color. „I see you now understand. Nurse Desmond. You assisted her.“

„Yes. I was only eighteen. I don’t know what you want.“

„What were your duties nine years ago, Miss Crenshaw?“

„I…“ Her hands flexed, trembled, reached for the bridge to hold her upright.

„You followed Nurse Desmond around. All the time. You heard what she told the patients. You listened. You were there to learn. I want to know what you learned. You were also friendly with the patients. My wife specifically. You gave her a statue.“

„Yes, I did---“ Crenshaw whispered. „I remember.“

„Good. We’re making progress. My wife disappeared seven years ago.“ He watched closely. „You remember the circumstances?“

„Yes.“ Her voice was hoarse. „Mr. Winters, please – “

Winters jerked back from her reaching hands, holding Baby Red over the bridge’s edge for a split second. Long enough for Miss Crenshaw to scream. It didn’t matter. They were quite alone. „It’s Detective Winters. Nancy Desmond told my wife where to hide, didn’t she?“

The woman opened her mouth, but no sounds came out.

„Don’t even think of denying it, Miss Crenshaw. Your baby…“ He glanced over the edge. „So much rain lately.“

„You’ll be caught. Arrested.“ Wildly she looked around for help. No one was around. It was Saturday evening. Anybody that lived along this road would be snug in bed about now. The factories that stretched from here to the next town were just starting into second shift. Nobody would be coming for some time.

„I don’t think so, Miss Crenshaw. I’m not entirely patient. I’m waiting for you to answer my question.“

„I’ll tell the police that you stole my baby.“

He shook his head. Stupid bitch. Did she think this was a spur-of-the-moment impulse? Did she think he hadn’t planned this down to the last detail? „I don’t think so, Miss Crenshaw,“ he repeated. „Your baby’s becoming heavy.“