Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [103]
“Tell me, Mag Pie.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay. I heard from her about an hour before you showed up at the ranch in Idaho.”
“Convenient.”
“The truth, damn it!” She yanked hard on her arm, but his fingers surrounding her wrist only tightened their manacle-like grip.
“Since then?”
“Nothing…well, I did hear from her when I was sleeping but…” She shook her head. “But I’m pretty sure that was just a dream.”
“Jesus H. Christ.”
“It’s true, damn it. Believe it or not.”
“Okay,” he drawled, “just for the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you, then what about before? When did you hear or whatever you want to call it…uh, receive messages from her?”
She took in a long breath and wished she could call back all the words. No doubt he’d think she was a looney. But it was too late. “The first time it happened was the night Mitch…Mitch and Mary Theresa were drunk, um, in the hot tub and then again the night he died. Another time was when you came to the house and announced that you and she were going to get married, and, then, the last time, after years of silence, believe it or not, I heard her again. Just a little while before you showed up at the cabin. She was desperate and scared and pleaded with me to help her.” She tilted back her head, lifting her chin in challenge, blatantly defying him. “Go ahead, tell me I’m lying or that I’m crazy.”
“Either you’re lying or you’re crazy.”
“Wrong. It’s what happened,” she insisted, finally able to pull away from him and rub her wrist. Oh, God, this sounded so lame, so damned lame. “But the last time…the last time she threw her voice at me and…and it had to have been after she was already missing, after the police found the suicide note, after her disappearance, so you see, she isn’t dead. Couldn’t be. Or else she couldn’t have sent the message!”
“If she did.”
“Why would I make this up?”
“I don’t know.” He stared at her as if he thought she was insane, as if she didn’t have a rational thought in her head.
“And what did she say in this message?” he asked.
“Just that she needed help,” she lied, unable to accuse him of a crime she didn’t understand.
His jaw clenched. A muscle worked near his temple. Disbelief registered in his eyes.
“Say it, Walker.”
“You’re making this up.”
“Why?”
That was a damned good question. Thane didn’t want to trust her, had learned long ago never to believe a woman, any woman; but with Maggie it had always been different. As it was today. “Because it doesn’t make sense.”
“Does anything”—she made a wide, sweeping gesture with her arm, encompassing the entire house in that one motion—“anything about this make sense? You know, Walker, if you want me to trust you, you’d damned well better trust me!”
Her green eyes snapped with fire, her cheeks were flushed a bright, indignant hue, and the corners of her mouth drew down into a small pout that he found fascinating. “Do you, Maggie?” he asked, trying to ignore the fact that she still got to him. As no other woman ever had. “Do you trust me?”
“No.” The answer was quick. Emphatic. Cut like a knife. “But I’m trying, damn it. I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna sit around and let the police do this in their own sweet time.”
He felt the first warning of a new kind of trouble. “What do you mean?”
“I worked for a private investigator for a few years, learned the ropes, and I think it’s time I figured out what happened to my sister. Whether you believe me or not, she called out to me, Thane, and it was after she was supposed to be missing.”
“That’s crazy.”
“So I’ve been told. The police, if they dig deep enough, are going to find out that I saw a psychiatrist, not once, but twice. The first time was years ago, after Mitch died and you and Mary Theresa got married; I went to college, but was treated for depression.”
He was surprised. Maggie was one of the sanest, most down-to-earth people he’d ever met in his life.
“And the second time was about a year ago; my marriage was failing, my daughter was becoming estranged, and I