A Marked Man by Stella Cameron Page B

normally go there had got in that way before eleven and waited for her, those prints would be gone.” A defeated feeling came and went, almost quickly enough. He had felt a setup closing in on him, but he couldn’t allow himself to go there, not unless he eventually had to.
    “You’ve got that right. Gator’s were on the inside from openin’ up this mornin’. That’s all. He propped the door open.”
    A car approached, passed the triangular section of grass, trees and grimy plastic holiday statues in the center of broad Main Street. The car, a red Volvo, swung to a stop behind Spike’s cruiser. Max deliberately turned his face from the window.
    “Max?” Spike raised his eyebrows and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Want to share anythin’?”
    “Why didn’t we do this at the department?”
    “I told you, informal appeals to me, particularly when I have pretty much nothing to go on. I thought we’d be more relaxed here.”
    Max didn’t feel relaxed. Anything he said had a chance of being overheard. “You’ve been checking me out, haven’t you?” He heard a car door slam. Annie, her hands crammed with bag handles, came toward Hungry Eyes.
    “Yes.” Spike’s blue eyes stared steadily into Max’s. “You understand why I’m real worried here? Either you’re a serial killer, or you’ve made a serial killer real mad.”
    He wasn’t being funny.
    Max had never felt more serious.
    “We have to find Michele,” he said, the start of panic curling in his belly. He looked directly into Spike’s eyes. “This hell has been going on since I was in college. I don’t want the folks around here to find out about the accusations that were made against me. One of the reasons I decided to stay here was because after months, no one had ever mentioned my history. And they would have if they’d known about it. Michele comes first, of course, but I have to stick here, Spike. If I run again, I’m…Hell, I’m scared sick someone else will die. I’m scared Michele’s already dead.”
    “Uh-huh,” Spike said. “Can’t blame you for that.”
    “You think the same thing, don’t you?” Max said.
    Spike pursed his mouth a moment then said, “I’m not into guessing. Until we’ve got a body, dead or alive, I won’t be givin’ a definite opinion. The longer the woman’s missing, the worse our chances of finding her get.”
    Suddenly he was convinced of what he must do about Annie. He had to see her and make sure she was okay, then he would find a way to tell her both how he felt about her, and why he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
    “Michele wasn’t on her plane today—not that I thought she would be,” Spike said.
    “Damn. I didn’t expect her to be either, but I hoped.” He felt as if he’d been kicked, again.
    “She had a purse with her when you picked her up?” Spike asked.
    Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “She must have. She did. Kelly and Roche were there. They’ll back me up.” He thought about the four of them sitting around a table in the glass-walled restaurant at Rosebank. Michele laughed a lot and looked pretty when she did.
    He didn’t see Annie come into the shop, but he knew she had.
    “You picked her up, spent the afternoon with her and your brothers and took her to dinner, where?”
    Max wanted to turn and look at Annie. He listened for her voice and heard her respond to Wazoo’s enthusiastic greeting. She sounded cheerful, too cheerful.
    “We had dinner in the restaurant at Rosebank,” Max told Spike. “They do a great job there.”
    Spike was too focused to acknowledge the weak joke. “When did you first know Michele was missing?”
    “At Pappy’s, yesterday lunchtime. Gator and Doll Hibbs came by and told me.”
    Spike stared at him for a long time. “From what was said by the people in New York, they knew she was coming here. I’ve waited as long as I can to call them and confirm she’s missing.”
    Max buried his face in his hands. “When you