Wake to Darkness Page 13

  “I should at least pretend I’m not going to eat those,” I said.

  “Nah. I think skiing burns off more calories than you could eat if you tried.”

  “You haven’t seen me try.” I took a brownie, dipped it in my coffee and involuntarily said, “Mmm” as I bit off the soggy end.

  He shifted a little, then reached for his own mug and took a sip.

  “I really didn’t expect we’d spend our first night here in bed together,” I said.

  He choked on his coffee, and I grabbed a few tissues from the box on my nightstand and handed them to him.

  “Thanks.”

  I leaned over and grabbed my laptop off the floor where I’d left it. “So, where do we begin?”

  “Let’s search the net.”

  “Search terms?” I asked, opening the lid and signing on to the internet, pleasantly surprised by the speedy connection.

  “Organ transplants, August of this year.”

  “Got it.” I clicked keys rapidly and clicked the search button. “Hmm, over eight million hits, beginning with several from the UK.”

  “Yes, but now we narrow them down by hospital. We have the list from last time of every hospital where Eric’s organs were sent.”

  I searched, but I wasn’t finding what we wanted. “Most of this is official stuff. Statistics and so on. We need personal.” I typed in the word fund-raiser with the rest of the terms, including the dates and hospitals, and sure as shit, names popped up. Actual names of actual people. Perfect. I turned the screen toward him, and he nodded.

  “You’re brilliant.”

  “Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing.”

  “Now we cross-check the names with the specific organs and the hospitals where they were sent, and voilà, we have our list of potential victims.”

  “But the patients wouldn’t necessarily live in the cities where the organs were sent.”

  “No, that’s true. The organs go to the transplant center closest to the victims. But if the fund-raiser is within a hundred-mile radius and the dates are right, we’ll consider it a potential hit.”

  I nodded. “I’ll bet not all of them had fund-raisers.”

  Most of them did, though. We found fifty-seven newspaper articles about fund-raisers for transplant recipients and knew we were on the right track when the results included the two victims so far. As I looked at our growing list, I nodded. “You know, Mason, I’ve been meaning to tell you that despite everything, I’m glad you gave me Eric’s corneas. I like being able to see.”

  “But not what came with it.”

  I lowered my head. “No, being in the heads of the people who continued Eric’s crimes after his death was no fun. And I’ve gotta tell you, being along for the ride with the recent victims was torture. But it happened. And there has to be a reason.”

  Tipping his head to one side, he studied my face with his gorgeous brown eyes. “Careful, Rachel. You sound like you’re starting to believe in your own philosophy.”

  “Maybe I am, a little bit.” I shrugged. “If my suffering through these...visions...can save someone’s life, then maybe it’s worth it.”

  “And maybe if we can find this person, stop him, it’ll finally be over for you.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  He reached out, dragged a forefinger across my cheek. “You got some brownie on you.”

  When he shifted his hand away, I took it in mine and brought it back, and he flattened his palm against my cheek. I closed my eyes and rubbed against it just a little. “I really like how I feel when you touch me,” I said.

  “It’s mutual.” But he drew a deep breath and took his hand gently away. “But right now we have lives to save. Including yours.”

  “And Marie’s,” I added with a nod. “And that poor woman’s been through enough for one lifetime. Maybe two.”

  “Yeah. She’s shaky. I’m worried about the boys, too.”

  I nodded, and got back to our lists. We’d made our way halfway down them with no new matches when I said, “I’ve got a Stephanie Phelps, fund-raiser for a tendon transplant. I didn’t know they did that.”

  He ran his finger over his list. “Nope. The only listing for Eric’s tendons is Johnson City. Close to home.”

  I kept going on my list, reading the pertinent info aloud. “Richard Kenner has been moved to the top of the list for a lung transplant, but the surgery is expensive and insurance won’t cover it all...blah blah blah, fund-raiser will be held...yada yada.” I looked for follow-up pieces under his name, town and “lung transplant,” and found the mother lode on Facebook. I nodded. “Richie received his new lung on August 17. The day your brother died.”

  “There’s a good chance it’s Eric’s, then. Find his home address and I’ll give you another brownie.”

  “Way ahead of you, pal.” I had already started, and as it came up, I pointed at the screen, where the man’s name, address and phone number appeared. “You can find anyone on the internet.”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  “As you well remember.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Good. But then he got back to business, scribbling all the information into his notebook. “That’s one. We’ve got dozens to go,” he said softly.

  “I know.”

  “We can’t let ourselves...get distracted.”

  Damn, damn, damn. “You’re right.”

  “If you keep flirting with me, we’re going to.”

  “Flirting with you? You’re kind of full of yourself, aren’t you, Mason?”

  I started to swing off the bed, but he clamped a hand on my arm to keep me in place and said, “No. I’m full of you. You’re close, and you smell good, and I’m having trouble focusing on anything except peeling that T-shirt over your head and—” His eyes were on my boobs, until he closed them and sighed. “I need you to help me stay focused. Just until we catch this guy, and then...”

  “And then?” My voice sounded all whiskey and cigarettes, like Lauren Bacall.

  “And then whatever you say, Rache. Whatever you say, I’m there.”

  I lowered my head to hide the rush of absolute pleasure that swept up into my face. I could really get in deep with this guy. My inner bitch was right about that. It wasn’t just sex. I could put off the sex. But the rest of this, whatever this was, it wasn’t put-offable. He was getting under my skin. Deep. I hadn’t really understood that before, had I?

  Not like I did right now.

  “Okay, Mason. Okay.” I moved his hand away, cursing the fact that it was necessary. Then I reached behind me for the little silky robe on the bedpost and draped it over me like a blanket. A thin silk blanket. “I’m a little chilly,” I said.

  “Yeah, I could tell.” He met my eyes, and his were full of mischief.

  Damn, maybe I was already into him deeper than I’d known. I picked up a brownie and shoved it into his mouth, then dragged my focus back to my laptop. “Let’s see who’s next.” As I searched, finding names, addresses and organs, and gaping over the personal details people shared online, I asked, “What are we going to do with this information once we have it? I mean, we’re up here safe and sound. But they’re out there like sitting ducks.”

  “I’ve got that covered. The chief knows we’re piecing together this list. If we finish before he gets his warrant, I’m gonna fax him our list. He’ll contact the local cops in each area, and have them go out and have a frank talk with the potential victims, suggest they leave town for a while and keep their whereabouts to themselves until we get this guy off the streets.”

  I nodded, glad no one was trying to play this close to the vest when there were lives at stake. “Does he know you have the master list of which organs went to which hospitals?”

  “I didn’t tell him. He didn’t ask.”

  “But if he had, you could’ve been in trouble.”

  “Not as much trouble as those organ recipients might be.”

  I nodded and looked at him. Just looked. At his cheekbo
nes, his jaw, the dark whiskers coming in that would feel like heaven on my skin. “You’re really just a good person, aren’t you?”

  “You say that like you’re surprised.”

  “No, I mean a really, truly good person. There aren’t that many, you know.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re a little bit of a cynic, Rache. There are more of us than you think there are.”

  “Not in my experience.”

  “No? Well, let’s count, shall we? You have your sister, her husband, their girls. They’re all good people, aren’t they?”

  “The best.”

  “And then there’s your assistant. Amy’s good people, too, right?”

  “It’s safe to say all the people in my life are good. They wouldn’t be in my life otherwise. But out there—” I looked toward the window “—it’s different. Out there everybody has an angle, everybody wants a piece of you.”

  “Of you, you mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that makes them less than good?”

  “Well...yeah.”

  He just nodded.

  “Why, you think it doesn’t?”

  “Rachel, there’s a light in you. You tend to keep it shaded in person, but it shines bright in your books. That kind of light draws people.”

  “And insects.”

  He smiled. “I think there’s a part of you way down deep where this stuff you write is coming from, and I think it’s real. But it’s your most vulnerable side. You protect it. You hide it behind the tough, sarcastic Rachel you pretend to be. I don’t think people want to douse that light. I think they just want to bask in it a little bit. They just want to soak it up.”

  I was looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head, because he was talking about me as if I was some kind of saint or angel or something, and I wasn’t. Far from it.

  Was that how he saw me?

  Was that really who he thought I was?

  Because if that was the part of me he was attracted to, then he was attracted to a lie. I was not that person. I wasn’t even very nice, deep down.

  I lowered my head, and my throat tightened up for no damn reason.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I think...the person you think I am bears very little resemblance to the real me, Mason. And that bugs me, because for some screwy reason you’re the only person I want to see the real me, not some idealized version you made up in your head, or the public persona I made up in mine.”

  “Your sixty million readers made her up, too?”

  “I made her up for them.”

  “Then she came from you. I think the only one who’s not seeing the real you is you.”

  I closed my eyes, gave my head a shake. “Can we get back to work before you give me a migraine?”

  “Yeah. Who’s next?”

  Wednesday, December 20

  When I woke, someone was pounding on my bedroom door and Mason was gone. I’d fallen asleep at some point, and I was pretty sure I’d at least been trying to snuggle—surreptitiously, of course.

  I frowned, looking toward the open bathroom door. He wasn’t in there. And our sheafs of papers and notes were gone. My laptop was closed and sitting out of the way on the dresser across the room. Yeah, he’d slipped out on me. The dirty rat.

  The knocking came again, and I groaned, “Go away, I’m sleeping.”

  “Come on, Aunt Rache! Get up.” It was Misty, sounding far too cheerful for this ungodly hour. “Everyone’s getting ready but you.”

  Getting ready for what? was the question.

  I flung my covers back and dragged my pajama-clad ass to the bedroom door, shoving my hands through my hair, which was probably standing on end as it tended to before the first comb of the day. Yeah, tangles entrapped my fingers. Ugh. Finally I opened the door, leaned on it and yawned in my niece’s face.

  “What’s the emergency, Misty?”

  “We’re going to the Northstar for breakfast, and then we’re skiing.” She said it like one would say, “We just won the lottery!” when, in my opinion, the appropriate tone would have been more “We’re going to the dentist.”

  “Skiing, huh?”

  “Yeah, Aunt Rache. Skiing. We’re at a ski resort. People come here to ski. You bought all your new ski-bunny stuff for just that purpose. Remember?”

  I swallowed hard. “Far be it from me to ruin everyone’s good time. You all go on, and I’ll see you around lunchtime.” I started to close the door.

  Misty pushed back, preventing that. “I told Mason you’d try to weasel out of it, but he says you promised to do everything together for the entire trip.” She grinned. “I thought you two had a little something-something going on.”

  “We do not have anything-anything going on.”

  She thinned her lips and tilted her head to one side.

  “All right,” I said, “there might be a very small thing in its formative stages, but—”

  “I never even got a chance to see the clothes you bought. Did you shop where I told you?”

  “Yes.” I closed my eyes, but she was pushing her way into my room now, opening my closet.

  “Who helped you?”

  “I don’t know. Some redhead.”

  “Char. Great, Char knows her stuff and— Ooh, is this it?”

  She pulled out my brand-new ski outfit, black and white, and very much what a seasoned and competent skier would wear. It would look ridiculous tumbling down the hill with me inside it. It would probably go on strike after day one, if it had any self-respect.

  She threw my ski pants and jacket on the bed. “Where’s your hat and scarf?”

  I just pointed. She went to the dresser, opened the top drawer and pulled them out. “Red. Perfect. Just the dash of color you need with this.” She tossed them on top of the rest. “Look, the jacket has red zippers and pulls. This is super-cute, Aunt Rache. You’re gonna make Mason’s eyeballs pop.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be amazed at my grace.”

  “Don’t be too worried. He can’t ski, either.”

  I looked up, hope lighting a match in the darkness of my heart. “He can’t?”

  “He’s been having the same fits you’re having. All worried about looking stupid in front of you. Not that he said that out loud, of course, but I could tell. You two can laugh at each other. It’ll be fun.”

  Four hours later I had to admit that it had been fun. I’d burned off enough calories to eat whatever I wanted the entire time we stayed, which was gratifying, because, in case it’s not obvious by now, I like to eat. And after an hour on the bunny slope, Mason and I managed to stay upright going down some hills that were a little bit more challenging.

  It was hard to keep the kids in sight, since Jeremy and Misty were experts, at least compared to us. They went whooshing past us on a regular basis. Jeremy had even been smiling once or twice, and it seemed they’d hooked up with another young couple on the slopes, because I saw the four of them together more than once.

  Marie and Josh had opted to stay at the water park down at the lodge. Mason hadn’t liked it, but Marie’s arguments had been logical. They were safe up here. No one knew where they’d gone. They were surrounded by other guests. Angela and Rosie and Marlayna were there to back her up.

  Mason had a chat with Finnegan Smart, the head of security, as an added precaution, asking him to keep an extra eye on Marie and Josh. That was a man I wanted to wrap up and take home, just so I could listen to his brogue day and night.

  We were on yet another run, and I was literally exhausted but couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face with sandpaper. I was doing it! I was skiing, leaning left and right, balancing with ease, speeding—for me—down a moderate slope beneath the bluest blue sky I had ever seen, with the cold air kissing my face and the smell of pine filling my lungs.

  Mason came up from behind and was zooming along beside me, and I glanced his way, saw that he was grinning like a loon, too, and got stuck on him for a heartbeat t
oo long.

  Next thing I knew I was tumbling ass over applecart, as my mother used to say. He tripped over me, and then he was tumbling, too. We came to a stop eventually. I couldn’t believe both my skis were still on as I sat there in the snow, pushing my fallen—but cute—hat up off my face.

  Mason was pushing himself up. He rolled over and looked at me, and his face was covered in snow. I burst out laughing before he brushed it away.

  He was laughing, too.

  Then he got up, got his skis underneath him and made his way over to me. He reached down, I grabbed hold of his gloved hands and he hauled me upright and brushed snow out of my hair, tucking it back under my hat where it belonged, still laughing. My eyes locked on to his, and laughter got stuck in my throat. His hands on my shoulders pulled me just a little, and his head came down. I closed my eyes, and he kissed me. It was slow, and tender, and it lasted a long time, yet not long enough. And then he straightened and said, “You okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You want to call it a morning, head down to the lodge for some lunch?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll get hold of the kids, then.”

  “Mm-hm.” What had happened to my power of speech? What the hell had that kiss been about? Hadn’t he just told me last night that he didn’t think the timing was right? That he had to make sure we got this killer first, and that—

  He pulled a walkie-talkie out of somewhere. “Where’d you get that?” I asked.

  Right, your ability to speak is finally restored and that’s the question you ask?

  “It’s Josh’s. He loaned one to me for the morning. Jeremy has the other one.”

  “Smart thinking.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll grab another set, maybe two sets, if they have them in the ski shop. Handy as hell. But these are meant for kids. Not much range.” He depressed a button. “Jer, you read me?”

  He waited a few seconds, then tried again.

  This time Jeremy replied. “Gotcha. What’s up?”

  “Ready to head down for a lunch break?”