Honor (4 page)

“I wish there was something I could do. Do either of you want anything?” she asked in an unsteady voice. “I mean, like coffee or a sandwich? The hospital cafeteria is open twenty-four hours.”

“No, honey. Not now. Alf or I will run down later.” Mrs. Corelli rose and made an infinitesimal adjustment to the blanket that covered Christine.

There was nothing more to be said. Kenzie took a last look at her best friend and turned to go.

Linc offered her his arm and she took it, leaning on him as they walked out into the corridor to the elevators.

She let go to jab at the button panel once they were inside the car, then leaned against the back wall. She avoided Linc’s gaze. “What time is it?”

“Two, maybe three
A.M.
,” he said. “We were in there a while.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

Linc nodded in understanding. “Do you want to get a bite to eat?”

“Probably a good idea.” She straightened away from the wall and pressed the button for the cafeteria. The doors opened at the lobby, then closed. They went down one more floor.

The cafeteria was far from empty. Looked like mostly staff refueling for long shifts. Scrubs predominated, with the occasional white coat. There was a scattering of civilians. Linc suspected that he and Kenzie looked just as forlorn as they did.

She didn’t even step out of the elevator, just shrank back. “Too many people,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t deal. Let’s go someplace else.”

“You got it.” No one looked their way as the doors closed again. He knew the reality of the accident was sinking in. They walked quickly from the gleaming lobby to the parking lot.

“She’s stable,” Linc said quietly as he slipped behind the wheel. “Focus on that.”

Kenzie stared straight ahead. “Stable but still critical,” she amended. “And in a drug-induced coma.”

Those were the facts. Linc turned the key in the ignition.

“She’s in good hands, Kenz. Guilford General is an excellent hospital.”

Kenzie didn’t reply.

“Where to?” he asked gently.

“The diner on Third,” she answered after a beat.

When they entered they got a few curious looks from long-haul truckers getting started on giant platters of bacon and eggs at the counter. Linc put a hand at the small of her back and walked her to a booth that was more private.

“Thanks.” She clasped her hands together on the printed paper tablemat, not saying a word. An older waitress came over with a fresh pot of coffee and didn’t say anything either.

Linc was infinitely grateful for the woman’s instinctive tact. No cheery small talk, no rattling off the specials of the day. She turned over the coffee cups on the saucers with her free hand, poured, reached for a cream-and-sugar stand from the next table, and left them alone.

Kenzie circled her cup with both hands, just for the warmth, he suspected.

“Just like that, your world gets turned upside down,” she sighed. “Christine and I really are like sisters. Mrs. Corelli wasn’t wrong about that.”

Linc nodded.

“I wish I knew what happened with the car. Maybe she swerved to avoid hitting an animal. That’s what she would do.”

“Could have been that or something else. Mechanical failure, maybe.” He didn’t want to say what he was thinking. Another driver could have caused the crash.

She fell silent for a while, then sipped her coffee. “She can’t talk. She can’t tell us anything.” Kenzie shook her head. “I guess I should go look at the car today.”

“Whoa.” Linc wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. Not just yet. “You don’t have to inspect it. Let the insurance adjuster do that.”

“He will anyway. I want to see it for myself,” she insisted.

Linc knew better than to argue with her. “Then I’ll go with you when you’re ready.”

“After I drink this.”

“Kenzie, you haven’t had any sleep.”

“I don’t care.”

The impound lot was a depressing place. The wrecks were in a separate area from cars that had been towed for other violations, and they were the only non-uniformed visitors in it. There was an inescapable smell—part metallic, part scorched plastic—that made him feel sick to his stomach. He had to wonder how many people had crawled out alive from the twisted frames and shattered windows.

In the opposite space, about fifty feet away, Linc glimpsed a man who seemed somehow familiar. Not a friend. Then he remembered the TV reporter’s face. He picked up on the guy’s surly remarks to an impound clerk. Seemed that the reporter’s car had been towed from the scene of the accident and the nosy bastard was out several hundred in fees. Tough luck.

Kenzie was silent as they walked, concentrating on finding her car. She finally spotted it in a corner and headed that way. It was right side up now, but crumpled, the roof caved in and the windows reduced to pebbled fragments. He guessed at a glance that the steel side frames had been strong enough to keep Christine from being crushed, but they too were bent.

Kenzie walked around it, studying the wreck from several angles. Linc let her think, looking at her more than the car.

There was a fierceness in her beautiful eyes that he’d never seen. Then her mouth tightened into a frown that tensed her fine jawline.

“That’s a sideswipe,” she said, pointing to a deep, irregular dent that ran the length of the driver’s side of the car.

“Could be.”

She shot him an angry look. “Think I’m wrong?”

He held up both hands in a peacemaking gesture. “I didn’t say that.”

“I have a feeling this was a hit-and-run,” she said with low fury. “A drunk driver, or maybe some kid who just got his license. Someone who had a reason to drive off.”

“What did the cops say?”

Kenzie shrugged. “Nothing about that. I didn’t speak to any of them directly. They left several messages about the wrecked car. The last one gave the location of this place.”

“So there is no investigation—” He broke off, feeling the impact of her glare. “I mean, no investigation yet,” he finished.

“Not as far as I know,” she snapped.

Linc looked at the car again. The damage was so extensive it was hard to make out anything definite. A utility pole could have made that long dent in the side if Christine had lost control and careened against it at high speed. That was a reasonable guess. There would be others. He knew zip about accident forensics.

“Kenzie, it’s been less than twenty-four hours,” he said. “Give it time. Let the experts figure it out.”

“Oh, yes. The experts. They know everything. I’m just a girl,” she said mockingly.

“Take it easy, Kenzie. I’m on your side. All the way.” He kept his tone as calm as possible. She was beyond exhausted at this point. He intended to get her home and see that she got some sleep. If she let loose with a few jabs at him, so what? He had a thick hide.

She turned her back to him, walking away from the car as if she’d seen enough. Linc followed a few steps behind. Her body language conveyed a clear message. Hands off.

The clerk was talking to some cops about departmental business and didn’t see them go.

Kenzie reached his truck and got in before he could open the door for her, slamming it hard. He went around to his side and slid in, glancing at her profile. Her features were composed, but he sensed that she was ready to blow from a volatile mix of nervous exhaustion and fear. She had to have been afraid when she’d examined the wreck.

It could have happened to her. It had happened to her best friend.

One reassuring touch might get him a wildcat scratch in return.

They drove back to her apartment without either of them saying a word. As they entered her building from the parking area, Linc cast a glance toward the door to the stairwell, remembering the shadows he’d seen for a second or two, then dismissing the thought.

The day had dawned bright and clear after last night’s rain, and the morning light brightened the interior. She headed straight for the elevator.

Linc hesitated. She hadn’t asked him to come in, but he was reluctant to leave her alone. He knew she needed someone with her even if she didn’t.

Kenzie punched the Up button and waited until the single door slid open. She entered without looking back at him—but she did hold the door with one hand to keep it from closing.

The gesture was all the invitation he needed. He set his hand higher than hers on the elevator frame and she let go of it. “Got it. Thanks.”

Kenzie folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the elevator paneling without looking at him. Linc pressed Three.

They got off on her floor and went down the hallway together in silence. She opened her door with her key just as the cell phone in his pocket sounded the ring tone he’d assigned to Deke.

His brother was probably going to give him hell for disappearing last night. Too bad. Deke would have to wait longer for an explanation.

“Go ahead and answer,” she said.

“Not necessary.”

She shrugged and he entered with Kenzie, looking around her apartment but not following her into the kitchen. He heard the clink of ice cubes falling into a glass and water running over them. Cabinet doors opened and closed. She was probably looking for aspirin.

“Who was it?” she called. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“My brother Deke. We usually text.”

“Go ahead. I just want to sit by myself in the kitchen for a little while.”

“I understand.”

Linc took the phone out and tapped at the screen, reading Deke’s text message.

So u took off. NQA.

That was brotherspeak for No Questions Asked. Good, because Linc didn’t have answers.

Newlyweds deploy to paradise at 0900 hours.

Right. Big brother RJ Bannon and his bride were headed for Hawaii. Also good. They didn’t need to know about the accident and Christine.

Going back to sleep.

Not alone, Linc was sure.

Over and out.

He slipped the phone back in his pocket without texting back, settling down on the sofa. His sleepless brain was beginning to race. To calm himself, he started putting the few facts he had about the accident into a mental grid to look for connections, a habit of his.

The first responders had been focused on getting the victim to a hospital. Skid lines, debris from the chassis or hubcaps—had any of that been obtained on the scene? Thousands of cars and trucks must have driven down the highway since then. Vehicular accidents weren’t Linc’s area of expertise, and he didn’t have a right to put questions to the cops, but he could speculate.

In his head. He didn’t think Kenzie wanted to talk.

He marshaled a few more facts, visualizing the aftermath. It hadn’t been raining during the brief broadcast, but it was more than likely that the TV reporter and camera crew had been all over the road asphalt and the shoulder. So had the paramedics and the police.

With all that commotion and the downpour somewhat later, most if not all of the on-scene evidence had most likely been trashed.

That left the wrecked car at the impound lot. It wasn’t like he could go back there and gather evidence for himself. There was one witness—so far. Christine. She might not remember anything about the crash, if and when she returned to full consciousness.

Linc looked up as Kenzie came into the living room. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“Stay focused and not think.” She gazed at him steadily. “I told Mrs. Corelli that I would contact SK Corp—that’s where Christine works—and tell them about the accident. But I don’t think they’re open yet.”

SKC. The initials rang a faint bell. Military suppliers, he thought. Of what, he didn’t know. “Probably not.”

She wandered around her apartment, lost in thought, for another minute or two. “I’m not going to work today, that’s for damn sure.”

“You should rest.”

“Yeah. As if I could.”

“Try.”

Kenzie turned suddenly to face him. “Linc, can you stay here for a while?”

He hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “Ah—sure. If you want me to. I can make a few calls and explain that I’ll be working outside the office for a few days.” He stretched out his hand and indicated the cushion next to him. “This is fine.”

“I meant stay here in Ridgewood,” she said hastily. “Not here in my apartment. I only have one bedroom. And I—I have to have some downtime. By myself.”

Linc could have kicked himself for instantly assuming he’d be on the couch.

“There’s a motel about five blocks from my building,” Kenzie ventured. “It’s right on the main road, but—”

“I’ll check it out,” he said. He wasn’t committing to a plan of action when she didn’t have one.

“Sorry. I should have been clearer,” she said politely.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kenzie began to pace. “I’ll wind down. Might take me a while.”

He was curious. “How do you do that? Seems to me that you don’t have an off switch.”

She smiled faintly. “It doesn’t work too well. I usually exercise until I’m ready to drop. Or watch TV. Right now, I don’t want to do either. So let’s talk.”

Another request he hadn’t expected. He nodded, though. “All right.” He’d let her start the conversation.

“What do you do, Linc?” The question came out of nowhere. “You never really told me anything specific.”

It was a hell of a time to get into that. But she’d asked, so he’d answer. She didn’t need the details about Project 25, though.

“Special projects, technical, out of Fort Meade. Usually classified. Mostly army. Sometimes they send me over to Langley.”

“Oh. The agency.”

He nodded again. He knew she understood. Army intelligence maintained a major presence in Fort Meade, Maryland, along with the National Security Agency, and they had an off-and-on reciprocal arrangement with Central.

“I’ve done investigative work for both. The world got a lot more complicated ten years ago and it isn’t getting any simpler. We do what we can.”