When All The Girls Have Gone(40)

"Well, it was just a thought," she said. "I'll go take my shower."

She started to turn away.

"Charlotte."

She stopped and looked at him.

"Thanks," he said. "It's a logical approach to the problem. The obvious approach. Hell, I should have thought of it myself."

She realized then that he thought he had somehow failed to do his job; failed to live up to his own personal code.

She smiled. "The only reason you didn't come up with the plan is because you're too close to the situation. You're emotionally involved. Perfectly natural under the circumstances."

"No, it's not. I should have thought of the lawyer-to-lawyer angle."

"Cut yourself some slack, Max. You've got a right to some very complicated emotions when it comes to family. Everyone has complicated emotions when it comes to family."

He crossed the room to the doorway where she stood and stopped a few inches away. He raised his hands, gripped the doorjambs on either side of her and leaned in very close.

"My feelings about the Decaturs may be complicated, but my feelings about you are not complicated."

She held her breath. "Really?"

"Talking to you helps me clarify my thinking."

Okay, not exactly a declaration of love, but coming from Max it seemed like a major statement of some kind. Before she could request a little clarification herself, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn't one of the slow, drugging kisses that left her clutching at his shoulders. It was a quick, deliberate, intensely intimate kiss. It was, she mused, the kind of kiss that a man gave a woman when he considered himself to be in a close relationship with that woman.

Or maybe she was reading far too much into a kiss.

He released his grip on the doorjambs and stepped back.

"Charlotte-" he said.

He stopped and just looked at her. She thought she saw a question in his eyes. Probably just a trick of the dawn light, she decided.

"We'd better get started on that road trip to the coast," he said. "I think we really need to talk to Victoria Mathis as soon as possible."

Charlotte raised her brows. "Something wrong?"

"Just got a feeling. It happens like that sometimes in a case."

Charlotte did not ask any more questions.





CHAPTER 46




"Thank goodness, Victoria is here," Charlotte said. She hadn't realized just how tense she had been during the long drive from Seattle until now. "There's a car parked in the driveway in front of the trailer. It must be hers. You were right, Max. This is where she came to hide out."

"It seemed reasonable," Max said. "When people get scared, they often retreat to familiar territory, someplace where they feel safe."

"I don't mind telling you I was getting a little nervous about what we would find when we got here," Charlotte said.

She had steeled herself against the possibility that they would not find Victoria at the end of the journey. Now, at least, they might get a few more answers.

Max stopped the car halfway up the drive and hit the horn a couple of times.

Charlotte glanced at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You said she had a gun and she knew how to use it. If she's running scared, the last thing we want to do is take her by surprise. She won't recognize this car."

They had made the trip in his gray sedan.

"Good point," she said.

He leaned on the horn a couple more times: quick, nonthreatening blasts designed to announce their arrival in a friendly manner.

Charlotte watched closely, but as far as she could tell there was no movement inside the trailer. No one peeked out from behind the curtains. The door did not open.

She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. "I'll get out and let her see me. She doesn't know you, but she has no reason to be afraid of me."

"Unless she thinks you're conspiring with Jocelyn to steal her share of the profits from the Keyworth buyout," Max said.

"Crap. I can't believe she would think that Jocelyn would want to kill her. I can't believe any of them would believe it. I'll try to talk to her-let her know that we think Louise's death may be linked to something in the past."   





 

"All right, but keep the door between you and the trailer. Tell her who I am and why I'm here."

Charlotte climbed out. The sharp winds of the storm moving in off the ocean lashed at her hair and sliced through her jacket.

"Victoria, it's me, Charlotte Sawyer," she called. "I know you're scared, but I'm scared, too. I can't find Jocelyn. I've got a private investigator with me. Max Cutler. He's trying to help. Please talk to us."

There was no reaction from the trailer. Charlotte held her whipping hair out of her eyes and leaned down to look at Max.

"I'm going to go knock on her door," she said. "She won't shoot me in cold blood."

Max did not take his eyes off the trailer.

"Get in the car."

It was an order.

"We can't leave," she said. "Not after having come all this way."

"We're not leaving. Get in."

Something about the grim set of his jaw told her that there was no point in arguing. She slipped back into the passenger seat and closed the door.

"You think something's wrong, don't you?" she asked.

"If she's in there and if she's okay, she should have at least looked out the window to see who was coming up the drive."

Charlotte did not respond. A bone-deep dread settled on her. Please, she thought, not another one gone. Not like Louise. Not dead.

Max drove the rest of the way up the drive and stopped in front of the trailer.

"I'll take a look," he said.

He got out of the car and glanced back briefly when Charlotte opened her own door and started forward to join him. She knew he wanted to order her to get back into the vehicle. She just shook her head. He didn't like it, but he didn't fight it.

He went up the three old metal steps and rapped sharply on the door. There was no answer. He tried the handle.

"It's locked," he said. He paused, his attention focused on the aluminum panel beside the door. "Shit." His voice was very soft, very cold.

He vaulted down from the top step and pried open the panel. Charlotte caught a glimpse of mechanical apparatus, but before she could ask any questions Max was issuing orders again.

"Get back," he said.

Bewildered, she retreated a few steps. Max picked up a fist-sized rock and smashed it against the nearest window. Glass shattered.

Charlotte could have sworn that she heard the trailer take a deep, gasping breath. Max smashed another window and then he kicked the door again and again. There was a loud crack as the old lock snapped.

"Stay out here," Max ordered. "Call nine-one-one."

He took a deep breath and rushed inside the trailer. He reappeared seconds later with Victoria draped over his shoulder. He hauled her down the steps and put her on the ground.

Charlotte examined her quickly while she waited for the emergency operator to respond. There was no sign of injury. Victoria was alive, but she was deeply asleep. Unnaturally asleep.

Charlotte looked up, horrified. "Another overdose?"

"No," Max said. "Tell the operator we've got a woman unconscious from carbon monoxide poisoning. And tell her to send the cops as well as the medics. This was attempted murder."





CHAPTER 47




"Someone tried to murder Victoria by rigging the trailer's old heater box so that it didn't vent to the outside," Max said. "Carbon monoxide is odorless. The trailer didn't have a detector. Victoria went to bed and went to sleep. Over time the gas built up inside. Old trailers are notorious for that kind of accident."

Charlotte shuddered. "But this wasn't an accident, was it?"

"No. Someone who knew what he was doing sabotaged the heater. Went out of his way to make it look like an accident."

They were sitting in a small café at the edge of town. Victoria was in intensive care at the regional hospital. No one knew when she would wake up-if she woke up. And even if she survived, her memory of events would probably be foggy.

The local police had not been convinced that they were dealing with attempted murder. Charlotte had overheard one of them comment that old trailers were prone to carbon monoxide disasters. Someone else had remarked that the trailer had fallen into disrepair after the owner had moved to Seattle. Another officer had pointed out that it was possible some transients had moved in for a while and messed around with the heater in an attempt to make it function more effectively.

"If we hadn't arrived when we did, she would have died and the authorities probably would have blamed the death on a faulty heater," Charlotte said.

"Probably. She's still in grave danger. You heard the doctor. There's no way to know how long she'll be unconscious."   





 

"At least she's got a chance," Charlotte said. "Thank goodness we decided to drive out here early today. If she lives, it will be because of you, Max."

But he wasn't listening. She could tell that his attention was fixed on something else now.

"She's been here a few days," he said. "But evidently the heater didn't go bad until last night."

Charlotte watched him closely. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that the killer showed up yesterday."

"How could he sabotage the heater without alerting her?"