Part 10 (1/2)
”The Pana Sea...pretty close to panacea, now that I think about it. A remedy for all diseases.”
”So they're obviously connected, then. They've got to be. Lucien owns the Pana Sea, you know.”
”I know.”
She frowned at him. ”You knew before or after I asked you about it the first time?”
He returned her frown. ”After. If I'd known, I would've told you. I only found out today, after making some phone calls.”
Her frown turned into a smile. ”You looked into it for me. You didn't have to. Thanks.”
”I know I didn't have to,” he said a little too defensively. Max looked away so she couldn't see the frustration in his eyes. Logically, he wasn't obligated to do anything for her, but he always did anyway. He had no G.o.dd.a.m.n willpower when it came to her. After he took a slow, measured breath, he said, ”I figured you'd find out anyway. I was curious.”
”Oh. Sure.” Val resumed drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. A minute of awkward silence later, she seemed to remember something and began riffling through the folder in Max's lap. He froze while she dug so close to...well, between his legs. Oh G.o.d, he felt himself growing. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, she still did it to him, and with embarra.s.sing ease.
She held a grainy printout of an old photograph up for him to see. ”Who does the guy in the back look like to you?”
”Um...” Swallowing hard, he took the photo at the same time he subtly pushed the papers closer to his stomach, hopefully hiding his erection. ”Which one?”
”Him.” She pointed at a figure in the third row of an old-timey black-and-white faculty photo. A placard on the bottom read, ”Universite de Montpellier, 1931.” The man in question had an unmistakable hawk nose and the sharp cheekbones of an aristocrat. A Christophe.
”A distant relative of Lucien's?” Max asked.
”I found it while looking for any possible relatives he might still have in France. That guy is Gerald Gahariet. I figured if Lucien got a medical degree in his home country, like most people do, then maybe he went to a university his parents or grandparents attended, which isn't uncommon. When I saw this picture, I a.s.sumed that man was a distant relative of Lucien's. Thing is, Gerald didn't have any children, or siblings. He fell off the grid somewhere around 1953. No death certificate.”
Max raised an eyebrow. ”Are you saying you think this is Lucien?”
She threw up her hands. ”f.u.c.k, I don't know. He makes weird drugs that do weird things. Maybe he found one for immortality.”
”That's a stretch...”
”He's also got a drug that can completely wipe a person's memory for at least twelve hours with no dizziness or side effects, something I know doesn't exist in modern medicine. And I saw him doing awful n.a.z.i-type experiments on Margaret. If he's been at it for more than half a century, maybe he did stumble on something that extended his life.” She gritted her teeth, then sighed. ”It's crazy. I'm crazy. I don't know. Forget it.”
Val grabbed the folder out of his lap and tossed it in the backseat. She fell silent and went back to staring at the bar.
He didn't think she was crazy, but definitely stressed. Max snuck a good look at her. She was still beautiful, but she also looked tired. Unnatural lines creased her face, her cheeks and lips a shade paler than normal. The aged jeans she wore looked looser than he remembered, as if she'd lost weight. Her eyes harbored a sadness that hadn't been there before.
”We'll find Margaret,” he said to her. ”If there's any chance she's alive, we'll find her.”
We-he hadn't meant to use the plural. It'd been a Freudian slip. She'd done the same thing at her house, the morning after the Blue Serpent party: We need to get to Margaret before Lucien kills her. They were in this together now, whether he liked it or not. As long as Ginger remained somehow involved in the woman's disappearance, he couldn't back out. Max had to s.h.i.+eld Abby from whatever her idiot brother was up to. And Val needed support. The case was obviously wearing on her. He knew her in a way no one else did. He wanted to be there for her-as much as he could, anyway, without crossing the line.
She met his gaze. A slow smile spread across her face as if she took in all the meanings of what he'd said. Her cheeks flushed, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the driver's side window. In a flash he saw her lying naked in his arms, felt the warm skin of her neck against his lips, her soft breast in one hand while he stroked her hair with the other- Max forced himself to look away and push the image out of his mind. Sweat broke out all over his body. He rolled down the window to get some air flowing, yanked up the arms on his long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt, and wiped his wet hands on his jeans. G.o.ddammit, this closeness was killing him. He'd accepted it was over and moved on from their relations.h.i.+p, even though doing so had nearly destroyed him. His plan to see her once more and get her out of his system was backfiring. With every second he spent in her presence, he felt the connection that bonded them together strengthening, his desire for her growing. And it would only get worse.
”Where's my invitation to the wedding?” she asked, a slight grin still on her face.
That's right-he was getting married to another woman in two months. s.h.i.+t. Max wiped sweat from his brow that'd gathered underneath his baseball cap. ”It's in the mail.”
”Liars go to h.e.l.l, Max.”
He let out a wry laugh. ”You really wanna hang out with four hundred of Abby's closest friends and relatives?”
”No, but I want to eat free fancy food. Wow, four hundred on her side? For real?”
”A big chunk of that number are her father's business a.s.sociates. Why pa.s.s up an opportunity to make more money just because it's your daughter's wedding?” f.u.c.king greedy b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Patrick Westford reminded Max too much of his own father-Lester, not Dean. Luckily Max wasn't marrying Patrick, and didn't intend to spend any more time with the man than absolutely necessary, despite Abby's desire for the two to become besties.
A hint of a frown played across Val's lips as she seemed to consider his words, and what he actually meant by them. Val could accurately guess what he was thinking. She knew him better than anyone. ”How many total?” she asked.
”Four hundred and three, plus or minus two.”
”Come on.” She gave his arm a playful slap. There was that electricity again. Ignore it, Max. ”Who'd you invite?”
He puffed out a breath of air. ”Let's see: Michael Beauford, the CFO of Carressa Industries-you've met him before-and Juanita, my father's longtime housekeeper, and...Yeah, that's it.”
”What about all your new charity circuit pals?”
”They're Abby's friends, not mine. I can't stand most of them. Bunch of boring blowhards.”
Val laughed. ”Oh, Max. Still as antisocial as ever.”
He cracked a smile. ”I can't help that n.o.body likes me.” His smile fell into a frown. ”I thought about inviting Josephine, but decided that would be weird.”
Val lifted her head off the gla.s.s. ”Does she know?”
He shook his head. ”I don't think she ever will. She won't talk to me.”
”Do you want me to talk to her? I could-”
”No. It's...better this way.” He wasn't sure it really was better, but it was what it was.
They were quiet once more, until Val slapped his arm again. ”Tell her in code. Send her a series of puzzles of increasing difficulty that spell out 'I am your brother' in Latin. As your sister, she'll be helpless to resist trying to solve them.”
He snickered. ”Or I could rent a biplane and write it in the sky with smoke.”
”Or hire a singing telegram lady.”
”Announce it on the Jumbotron at a Mariners' game.”
”Perfect solution-rent out time on a cable access channel, hire a professional ch.o.r.eographer, and have dancers perform 'The Secret Connection between Maxwell Carressa and Josephine Price' in interpretive dance.”
They belly-laughed together until they ran out of breath. ”I think that's the worst idea I've ever heard, for anything,” Max said, wiping tears from his eyes. d.a.m.n, it felt good to have a real laugh with someone. He could do this all day...they could do this all day, if Val wanted to...No. She didn't want to be with him. She'd made that clear. His usual frown settled back into place and he stared out the window, striving to look at anything that wasn't her.
”Max,” she said, and he glanced at her again. She gazed at him with wide, wet eyes, her lips parted, breath shallow.
”Yeah?” His heart leapt into his throat. She's going to tell me she loves me. She's going to ask me to not marry Abby. And I'm going to...I'm going to...Jesus, I'm going to say okay- A burst of cackling laughter broke the spell between them. Val sat up in her seat, her attention snapped back to the bar.
”Son of a b.i.t.c.h,” she said. Ginger had just emerged, alone and without the package. He waved at somebody still in the bar behind him, then got back in the cab. When it began to pull away, Val didn't start her car.
”Aren't you going to follow him?” Max asked, knowing he was about to get an answer he wouldn't like.
”I wanna know what's in that box.” She opened her car door and stepped out.