Stranded

Maggie’s face and added, “He was worried.”
    “Now I know I’m dreaming.”
    Gwen smiled but it didn’t last.
    “I should have seen it,” she told Maggie, and suddenly her eyes had strayed to the far windows and the flickers of light. “I should have known Otis was lying.”
    “Don’t be silly. How were you supposed to know?”
    “I’m a psychologist, for God’s sake. I should be able to tell when someone’s lying.”
    “Jack would have found another way,” Maggie said. “Even without Otis. He’s been stalking me for over a month. Ever since we found Gloria Dobson’s body outside that burning warehouse in the District. He brought me all the way to the Iowa farm just so he could watch me dig up his handiwork. Did you know he was there? At the farm with us?”
    Gwen nodded.
    “He actually helped us unearth the garbage bag. He watched the CSU tech pull out the receipt he’d left. The one for the orange socks.” Now that she thought about it, Maggie laughed, but there was no humor in it. “The bastard went out with us for drinks afterward. And I didn’t know. I have a master’s in behavioral scienceand ten years of profiling and I didn’t know that a serial killer was sitting across the table from me. And you think you should have known that Otis was lying to you?”
    They both went silent. The doors to the trauma center opened and a yellow-gowned surgical staff member came out and then disappeared down the hall.
    Gwen laid her hand on top of Maggie’s and she said, “Thank you for taking care of R.J.”
    “Otis saved us. And a great deal of it was because of you.”
    “Me?”
    “You were kind to him. You reminded him of the only person who had loved him unconditionally.”
    “I guess we all should be grateful to Miss Helen.” Then almost as an afterthought, Gwen asked, “Do you think Otis was lying when he said Jack had more dump sites?”
    Maggie shrugged. She didn’t want to think about that. Right now she needed to concentrate on the survivors, and not just Tully.
    Gwen’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID and Maggie saw something pass over her face—dread, anxiety, fear—she couldn’t tell for sure, and Gwen, aware that Maggie was watching her, quickly gave her a tight smile.
    “I have to take this.”
    “Is everything okay?”
    “I’m sure it is. I just didn’t expect this call on a Sunday night. Excuse me.”
    Gwen hurried away too quickly, as if she were running to answer a landline phone at the other end of the waiting room rather than the cell phone in her hand. It occurred to Maggie that Gwen simply wanted privacy. She shouldn’t worry, except that initial pained look on Gwen’s face left Maggie concerned.
    She watched Gwen disappear down the hallway and then shesaw Ryder Creed walk into the room. They noticed each other at the same time. The short distance between the door and her chair seemed to take Maggie’s breath away, and she wasn’t the one walking.
    He had changed clothes, showered, and washed away all the blood and dirt. He smelled like fresh cotton pulled right out of the dryer. His hair was still damp and tousled, and without warning all the intensity she had felt in that Manhattan, Kansas, hotel room came swirling back as he sat down next to her. He looked straight ahead and when she glanced over at him, she realized he felt it, too.
    “How’s Tully?” he asked, avoiding her eyes.
    “Still in surgery.” She hated how good it felt to see him, to have him here. And suddenly she found herself telling him, “Thanks for being here.”
    “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Tully.”
    She could see him smile and remembered she had used that exact line on him while they waited during Grace’s surgery.
    “How’s Bolo?”
    “He’s actually doing good. Surface wound.”
    Creed looked tired. The cuts and bruises on his face looked raw.
    “Maybe you can come see him before you leave town. Grace, too.” Finally he looked at her and this time held her eyes.
    Before she could respond, Gwen was back. Her face was pale, her eyes dazed. She sat down on the other side of Maggie without a word. She didn’t even seem to notice Creed. She had the phone still gripped in her hand.
    Maggie put a hand on Gwen’s arm.
    “What is it? Are you okay?”
    “No, I guess I’m not,” Gwen said. “I have breast cancer.”

TUESDAY, MARCH 26

CHAPTER 75

    MANHATTAN, KANSAS
    This time Maggie had called Noah Waters from the airport. His father had almost