Christmas Stalking. Jo Leigh

it. The door opened silently and she edged into the darkness of the garage and held the door until it closed.

      The cold concrete was worse than the floor inside and she stumbled forward until she bumped into the car. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she thought he’d dropped her purse on the floor on the front passenger side.

      With shaking fingers, she felt her way around the car. The hood still held a hint of warmth from their trip, but the rest of the metal was cold.

      When she reached the passenger door, she touched the frigid handle and took a deep breath. She planned her actions—open the door, climb in and hit the locks, then grab the purse, dig out the cell phone and dial 911. The Virginia police could triangulate the phone, and she could hold Max off with the mace.

      She let her breath out with a whoosh and opened the door.

      As it registered that there was nothing at all on the floor of the car, the garage suddenly flooded with light. Max stood in the doorway, her purse in one hand and the gun in the other, pointed right at her head.

      His eyes were more sad than angry, and so was his voice, when he said, “Are you looking for this?”

      Chapter Three

      Dinner was a glum affair. Max had hauled a pair of handcuffs from his luggage, and Jade found herself eating her meat loaf dinner with only her right hand, her left shackled to the chair arm. She was aware that Max had stuck his gun under his butt, where he could grab it if she made so much as a move. Despite her attempts to get him talking, he’d been sullen and silent since he’d pulled her in from the garage.

      Max, looking even more haggard, gnawed at the fried chicken. He avoided her glances. The television droned in the background.

      She ate, even though the meal tasted like cardboard. She hadn’t had a TV dinner in years, but they couldn’t actually taste this awful. Fear tainted everything, including her taste buds.

      As she forced another spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth, Jade noticed there was a third fork partially hidden by a stack of paper napkins. It wasn’t much, but it was something. If she could get it. She pushed her cup forward. “Could I have more coffee?”

      Max grabbed her cup and went behind the counter to fill it. “That’s one Sweet ’n Low?”

      “Please.” She was surprised he’d remembered, but it didn’t slow her down as she grabbed the extra fork and slid it uncomfortably in her bra. She had to push it to the side so it wouldn’t be noticeable, and it poked her just under the armpit.

      Max set the cup near her and resumed his seat, eating silently and staring at the table.

      “You can’t blame me for trying to escape.”

      Max looked at her, bleary-eyed. “No, I can’t.

      “I could get you money, legal help.”

      Max laughed wryly. “How long have you been in D.C., Jade?”

      “My whole life, basically.”

      “And you’ve been around politics all that time, right? Directly involved for what, ten years or so?”

      “What’s your point?”

      “I’ve kidnapped a senator’s daughter. The odds of my getting a break legally lie between zero and none. Even presuming you’re not lying, the best I could hope for would be not getting shot as I turned myself in. Not to mention that if the Geotech people think you’re working with me now, I’ve endangered your life, too.” He stared at his plate for a long moment, then looked back at her. “If you are innocent in all this I’m sorry for that part.”

      “Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

      “C’mon, Jade. Money and power is what drives the government. Why would a man making millions run for president to make a couple hundred thousand a year? Power. Your father’s also a powerful man, and there are hundreds of millions riding on his vote. Hell, wars have been started just so people could make money. What’s a few deaths to these people?”

      Jade shook her head vehemently. “You don’t know my dad.”

      “I wouldn’t count on that. At the very least, I know another side of him.” Max put his fork down and pushed away his half-finished meal. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Tomorrow I’ll show you what evidence I have. It’s enough to at least make you listen.”

      “Why tomorrow? Show me now.” Of course she still didn’t believe he had anything that would indict her father, but if she could keep him talking, gain his trust…

      “No, we both need to get some rest.”

      Jade craned her neck uncomfortably to look over her shoulder at the single bed, the fork digging into her side. “Uh, about that. I’m assuming there isn’t a guest house? A separate bedroom in the attic?”

      “We’re stuck together.” Max looked at the double bed, then back to Jade. “I told you before. This wasn’t planned. I wanted to talk to you.”

      She jiggled her shackled wrist. “So you just happen to have handcuffs in case of random kidnapping emergencies?”

      He met her gaze again. “I got them in a sex shop when I did a story a few years ago. It was about suburban kink.”

      “Oh boy. I feel much better now.”

      “Don’t worry. I’m way too tired to bother you even if I wanted to. Hell, I’ve been following you for two weeks.”

      “I had the feeling someone was stalking me.”

      “Stalking.” He winced. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

      “I have news for you, Max. Kidnapping sounds a lot worse.”

      “Kidnapping. Murder.” He laughed, a hollow sound. “You’re my only hope. How’s that for ironic?”

      “I see your point, but I swear, I can’t help you.”

      “No?”

      She sighed with disgust. Delusional but earnest, she’d give him that. But his conviction made him dangerous and she had to remember that, too. “How did you avoid the detective?”

      “Some of it was luck. But I’ve been an investigative reporter for a long time. Generally I know what I’m doing. Although for the past few weeks, I’ve felt as if I’m in a David Cronenberg film. Very Kafkaesque, if you know what I mean.”

      “Yeah, I’m a little out of my reality zone, myself. I should be home, wrapping presents. Sipping a cup of sugar-free cocoa.”

      He looked over at her TV dinner, shook his head. Opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he got up, tossed his dinner in the trash bag under the sink and then unlocked the handcuffs.

      When she stood, he moved the chair in front of the television and then re-cuffed her. Then he pulled the desk chair next to her so that her cuffed hand was closest to him. He looked tired, exhausted. As if he wouldn’t make it through the opening headlines. “Pay attention,” he said yawning. “Maybe you’ll catch your fifteen minutes of fame.”

      Her interest piqued. God, she hoped it had been reported that she was missing. “Just for my own edification, how long do you plan to hold me prisoner?” she asked, her attention fully on the tube.

      “As long as it takes me to prove Geotech paid off your father and give the cops another direction.”

      “Besides you.”

      “Wait.” Max raised his hand as his image appeared on the screen.

      “…new development in the Werner Edwards murder that shocked the capital.”

      His picture flashed on the screen. He looked like a normal guy, a nice-looking man, in fact. Not in the least crazy.

      “Nice