He frowned at her, not understanding. She sat on the bed beside him and twined her fingers with his. Her forehead crinkled with pain.
Then he felt it. Electric prickling, like a numb limb coming to life, a release of energy from his body to hers. Agony swirled out of him as if she'd pulled the stopper on a drain. Her face went ashen, but her grip on his hand tightened, as if that connection were all that was holding her upright.
He jerked his hand out of hers, and she whimpered.
'Stop it!' he growled, shifting into a sitting position.
He had to get out of here.
'Let me finish.' she whispered, reaching for him again.
He gently pushed her hands away. 'No.'
She closed her eyes, her chin dropping to her chest. She was breathing hard, as if she'd just run a race.
'This is why you fell down in the street yesterday.' he said past the lump in his throat as he watched tears spill down her cheeks.
'It's what you were doing at the beach when you held Celia's hand. That's why she wanted to see you, isn't it? Because she felt what you could do.'
Her voice cracked. 'You think I'm a freak.'
He didn't know how to answer. It was just so-impossible.
She stood up, swaying slightly, her slender body like a reed in the wind. 'It's okay. You're not the first.'
His heart twisted as if hands had reached into his chest and wrung it dry. He tamped down the feeling, hiding the pain from himself. From her.
He let silence fall between them, as heavy as the dread settling over him as he watched her cry. For several minutes, only the harsh sound of his own breathing and the damp whisper of her tears intruded on the quiet. Then, slowly another sound filtered into his consciousness.
Sirens.
Chapter Nine
Maddox turned to Iris, dread sitting heavy on his chest. 'Did you call the cops?'
She looked at him, wide-eyed. 'No.'
Maybe the cops were just passing by, he thought, trying to ignore the voice inside him warning him trouble was on the way.
Iris crossed to the balcony, holding on to the door frame to keep her balance. She peered out at the beach road beyond. 'They're coming here. Maybe someone reported your fight.'
He pushed himself off the bed, blackness rimming his vision as agony unleashed itself on his injured ribs. He groped for the walk taking care not to touch Iris, He spotted a couple of Mariposa police cruisers, as well as a fire truck and an emergency ambulance.
'Maybe an accident or something.'
'What if that guy was hurt worse than he looked?' Iris glanced over her shoulder at him. 'Maybe he passed out.'
'Listen, you stay right here. Okay? I've gotta go get something' He'd left the food boxes out in the hall. If the police came through this section of the hotel and spotted them, they might be curious enough to start knocking on all the doors.
He went down the hall and picked up the boxes. They were wrapped in clear plastic sheeting, which had kept them from spilling their contents when he dropped them to the carpet. The food was probably a mishmash now, but he didn't think either of them was hungry anymore.
He knocked on Iris's door. 'Me again.'
She let him in. 'What's in the boxes?'
He managed a pained grin. 'I was feeling a little hungry'
'Two lunches?'
He smiled at her skeptical tone. 'I thought I might find a pretty tourist to share a little chow with me. Know anybody like that?'
She managed a half smile. 'Sorry, no.'
He flashed her a wicked grin. 'Come on. Sure you do'
Her smile faded and she stepped back. He stepped toward her, regretting his words. When was he going to learn to shut his mouth?
'Iris?'
'Quinn.' she said. 'That man-you called him Quinn. And he knew your name, too.'
He sighed. So she'd heard that.
She stared at him. 'You know him, don't you?'
He hesitated, well aware that he couldn't tell her who Quinn really was. But he didn't like lying, either. 'Sort of'
'Who is he?'
He debated a couple of lies but finally opted for the truth. 'I can't tell you that.'
Her brow wrinkled, 'What do you mean, you can't tell me?'
'I can't explain. I'm sorry.'
'That's insane! That man just broke into my room and beat you up, and you can't tell me who he is?' Her gaze darkened. 'Who are you protecting?'
A knock on the door interrupted. They both turned and stared at the closed door.
'Who is it?' Iris asked.
'Mariposa police.'
Damn it. Maddox looked at the gun lying on the dresser. He actually had an island gun permit, but not for that Beretta. He pushed himself to the dresser and put the Beretta in the middle drawer, tucking it under a pair of silk panties. 'I'll wash up.' he told Iris, heading into the bathroom.
He ran water and grabbed a washcloth, wincing as the wet, rough terry cloth brushed across the abrasion on his cheek. He didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere else, but his whole body felt as if he'd been trampled by elephants. Quinn shouldn't have been able to get the first punch in. He'd lost his edge over the past three years.
He heard the low' murmur of voices outside but couldn't make out any words. He laid the washcloth on the sink and opened the bathroom door, bracing himself for whatever came next.
A pair of detectives in street clothes sat in matching chairs at the small table near the balcony, Maddox recognized the taller of the two-Melvin Lively, a round-faced Mariposan with a ready grin and an extensive vocabulary of profanities, he used with abandon whenever he was losing at pool, which was often. He gave Maddox a small nod of recognition.
Iris sat on the bed, her back ruler-straight. Her dark eyes met his. 'Celia is dead.'
Maddox's knees buckled for a second. He caught himself on the edge of the dresser. 'What? How?'
Iris looked at the two policemen. They remained silent, 'Mr. Kipler gave the police my name.'
Maddox sat next to her on the bed, glaring at Lively. 'You're not suggesting-'
'No, we're certain Ms. Shore was killed by someone rather larger than she was, which Ms. Browning is not.'
Left unsaid, however, was the fact that Maddox was larger than Celia. The hint of accusation lingered in the brief silence, adding to Maddox's growing sense of dread. 'How was she killed?'
'We're trying to establish a timeline.' The shorter of the two detectives ignored the question. He was European in background, his local accent slightly tinged with the clipped cadence of the Dutch. 'Ms. Browning says that she was with you from the time she left Ms. Shore's room, except for a few minutes while you were downstairs getting lunch.'
Maddox looked at the two unopened boxes. 'That's right.'
'Can you verify your whereabouts from the time you left Ms, Browning's hotel room until you returned?'
