Midnight Disclosures

He saw his best friend’s face as he lay wide-eyed in the dirt, Abe’s dirt-coated hand gripping Mark’s as he inhaled his last breath. And in his mind, he saw Abe’s wife, her face ashen with grief, the burning accusations in her eyes. Why had he survived when her husband had been taken?

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, grateful Claire couldn’t see his expression. No doubt his emotions were plainly written on his face.

Instinctively, he knew Claire was right. Abe wouldn’t want him to stop living or to blame himself for his death. But rational thoughts couldn’t absolve his guilt.

“Tuck those memories of your husband into a special place in your heart,” Claire said. “And keep them safe. But keeping those memories doesn’t mean you can’t make room for more.”

Mark studied Claire through the glass window. Was that what Claire had done? She’d put their memories into another place so she could make room for someone else?

It shouldn’t matter to him. In fact, he should be happy for her. Claire deserved the best.

What did he have to offer her anyway?

“That’s all the calls we have time for tonight,” Claire said, jazz music floating into the background, “but join us again Friday night. This is Dr. Claire Kos wishing you a safe night and a happy tomorrow.”

Mark stood, and watched as she organized herself and walked to the door. He was amazed at how well she maneuvered her surroundings with her cane. She must have counted the steps, memorized the layout. He admired her spunk and her ability to adapt.

But she was so vulnerable, a perfect target. What would happen if she was on a crowded street or in a strange building? What if someone followed her?

She would be virtually helpless, not knowing if they were even there….

“Great job, Claire,” Drew said as she approached. “The show went smoothly tonight.”

Claire sighed. “Thank goodness. When I realized it was midnight, I couldn’t help but worry.”

Drew began cleaning up the sound area, filing CDs. “Maybe your bad luck is over.”

Mark eyed him, knowing everyone in contact with Claire had to be treated with suspicion. According to his notes, this show had been Myers’s creative doing, so he most likely had a vested interest, either money-or careerwise, in making it a success.

Would Myers do something drastic to spike ratings?

Something like murder?

“Thanks for letting me sit in.” He shook Myers’s hand.

“I take it you’ll be back?” Myers asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Claire said.

He glared at her, then remembered she couldn’t see him. She must have sensed his reaction though, because she shook her head, an impatient gesture he’d seen so many times when she’d been frustrated.

“I’ll see you Friday, Drew.”

Drew said good-night, and Claire headed for the front of the station. Mark trailed behind her, allowing her the small victory by letting her lead. She would not win the war, though, and get rid of him.

Not until this killer was caught.

She halted at the front door and reached for her cell phone.

“Put it away, Claire, I’m driving you home.”

“That’s—”

“I know, not necessary.” He sighed. “Listen, Claire, it’s obvious you don’t want me around, but we’ve agreed this killer has to be stopped, so the sooner we start working together, the sooner we can accomplish that.”

She snapped her phone shut.

“Every moment doesn’t have to be a battle.”

“Then stop treating me like I’m an invalid.”

He couldn’t help it. Claire brought out all his protective instincts. And more.

“You’re being overly sensitive,” he said, aware his comment would irritate her. “And I don’t think of you as an invalid, but you have to cut me some slack. I’m just doing my job.” And trying to be considerate. Something you once would have admired.

She flinched as if he’d hit her, and he felt about two feet tall. “Fine, let’s go to the car.”

He glanced outside and noticed it had started raining. “Wait here, and I’ll bring it around.”

“I can go with you.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s pouring down rain, Claire.”

“I can hear the rain, Mark. I’m not stupid.”

“No, just stubborn.” His temper had reached its limits. He and Claire had never bickered over trivial things, had simply fallen into step together as if they’d been dancing all their life. Now, they were totally out of sync. “I’ll be back in a second.”

She folded her arms. “Pull up directly in the center, and I’ll meet you outside.”

He gritted his teeth, then jogged outside to the car. Her independence was a good thing, he reminded himself.

Unless it made her do something stupid, like put herself in the hands of the killer.

CLAIRE TOSSED and turned through a fitful sleep. When she’d first arrived home after her accident, she’d argued with her sister about moving to Savannah. Paulette wanted Claire to stay in Atlanta so she could take care of her. As if Claire really wanted to be indebted to her sister.

Once again, she dreamt that she’d been locked in the house with Paulette, forced to endure her condescending attitude and feel like an invalid, a burden to feed her sister’s martyr attitude.

That nightmare had drifted into one of her accident. The bloodred water had sucked her under. She’d struggled and fought, the iciness gripping her until she’d finally floated into a surreal state, blinded by a sharp light. Then someone had pulled her from its clutches, dragged her to the surface and tossed her ashore, as if she should go on. But she hadn’t wanted to go on.

Save yourself, Claire.

But she couldn’t…

Mark suddenly appeared, battling enemy soldiers and being shot, then falling to his death. She saw the blood, so much blood, but there was no red, only black. Her scream boomeranged her back to the hospital where she’d awakened with a throbbing emptiness swelling inside her. She was all alone. So alone.

Another cry escaped her and she jerked awake, only to finally fall fitfully back to sleep and dream of the women callers, begging for help, their final cries ringing in her ears.