Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [136]
“Don’t you understand?” she whispered, her voice dry, her soul black as the darkest corner of hell. “They found her car and a body, a woman’s body. It—it could be her, Thane.”
Reaching forward, he dragged her into his arms and, despite her protests, held her close. Tears rained from her eyes and she wanted to fall into a million pieces. Pain and desperation clawed at her heart, ripped through her soul. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Mary Theresa was still alive. She had to be. And yet Maggie was sobbing, clinging to Thane, her fingers curled into fists.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Maggie, darlin’, it’ll be all right.”
“No! No! Oh, God, no!” she wailed. “It’ll never be all right.”
His fingers twined in her hair, and he rocked her gently, pressing her head into his shoulder as his other arm held fast to her waist. “Slow down, Maggie. Tell me what Henderson said.”
She tried. Through the blinding pain, she managed to repeat most of the conversation.
“We don’t know anything yet, then. Nothing’s certain.” But his voice was dead, as if he were lying. “Come on, let’s get a move on.”
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered over and over as she dressed as quickly as she could, throwing on jeans and a sweatshirt, not bothering with makeup or jewelry, just barely able to slip into running shoes.
Thane, too, yanked on his jeans and wrinkled shirt before finding both their jackets.
They were on the road in five minutes.
The police station was a madhouse, as the press had already gotten wind of Marquise’s accident. “I’ve got to call Connie and warn her before Becca turns on the television and sees this,” Maggie said, horrified at the swarm of reporters who were collecting at the station. She didn’t ask, just reached for Thane’s cell phone, gave her sister-in-law a quick rundown of what was happening, then spoke briefly to Becca.
“Hi, honey.”
“Have they found Aunt Marquise?” Becca demanded. “I saw something on the news last night.”
“All I know for certain is that they’ve located her car,” Maggie hedged, upset that Becca was getting information from other sources. She had to level with her daughter and give her straight facts—just as soon as she had them herself. Fingers tightening around the phone, she said, “But we’re at the police station and going to talk to the detective in charge of finding Mary Theresa. The minute I know anything I’ll call.”
“Promise?” Becca, the tough kid, sounded scared.
“Scout’s honor. I already told Aunt Connie the same thing. Now try not to worry.”
There was a hesitation, and Maggie’s heart broke. “Okay,” Becca finally said, her voice breathless as if she was fighting a losing battle with tears. Maggie felt horrible. She wanted her daughter with her, should never have let her go to California. “Look, honey, I’ll call you back once I get to the hotel. Do you have the number?”
“Yeah.”
Maggie’s heart tore. Becca was too far away. Mary Theresa was missing. She’d made love to Thane and her entire world was tilting badly, her life falling apart. “Love ya.”
“Me too.” Becca said meekly and hung up, leaving Maggie holding the receiver and wishing she could reach through the wires and hug her daughter. Becca was usually a pretty strong kid, but all the worries about Marquise seemed to be getting to her as well.
“Let’s go,” she said, clearing her throat as she handed Thane the phone and reached for the handle of the door.
Together they walked toward the front of the police station, where the crowd of reporters swarmed. At the sight of Maggie there was a stir. Several cameramen advanced toward her.
“Hang in, this might be rough,” Thane said. One arm surrounded her shoulders as he hustled her up the steps. Three microphone-wielding reporters accosted them, shouting questions, following them up the few concrete stairs to the double doors of the station.
“Marquise? Is that Marquise or her double?”
“Please, just one word.”
“It’s the sister—”
Maggie ducked her head. Thane was more forceful, helping her up the steps and shouting, “No comment, we don’t know anything yet,” over