Rising Storm

everything to him and at least had a shower.

She hadn't felt this much like an importunate intruder since her first interview at MIT.

Well that was nothing, Wendy told herself, squaring her shoulders, and I'll get through this. After waking up to find one of her heroes blown to pieces in front of her and the police after her for the murder, one overbearing woman shouldn't be too hard to take. But, oh, how she longed for John.

She took a deep breath and rapidly gave John's mother a succinct report. By the time she finished she was slurring her words in exhaustion. Just then a motherly-looking woman came in with a tray of food.

John's mother cleared a section of the desk and said something in Spanish. The woman gave Wendy a thorough looking over and a slight smile.

Wendy could feel her color rise. She'd never felt—she'd never been so grubby in her life. She actually smelled! Tired as she was, the embarrassment she felt was almost too much. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked down, hoping to hide this final humiliation from John's hard-assed mother.

I will not cry! she thought fiercely. I will not.

Sarah poured juice into the glasses, glancing at Wendy from under her lashes.

The kid looked like she was going to break down and bawl at any moment. My

God, what a wuss! What did John see in her?

She handed Wendy a glass of juice and the girl took it with an almost inaudible

'thank you.'

Sarah sat down and took a sip from her own glass, watching Wendy take careful sips of the juice. 'Not thirsty?' she asked. 'You don't have to drink it.'

The girl glanced up, then looked down again. Yes, her eyes were red and her eyelashes moist, a real crybaby.

'I haven't eaten or drunk anything for a while,' Wendy said at last, her voice sounding surprisingly strong. 'And I'm nervous, so I'm just being careful.' One corner of her mouth lifted and she raised her eyes to meet Sarah's. 'I wouldn't want to be sick all over your parquet floor.'

'Thank you,' Sarah said, her chin resting on her fist. 'It's not my floor, but I appreciate the thought.' She straightened up and crossed her legs, taking a sip of her juice. 'What I don't appreciate is that you're here, and why.'

Wendy dropped her gaze to her drink and went absolutely still as once again, color flooded her cheeks. She tipped her head to one side. 'I guess'—her eyes met Sarah's—'that we thought you might be able to tell me what to do.'

'Because of being unjustly accused and all?' Sarah asked with a wave of her hand.

Wendy nodded, her gaze unwavering; something in her eyes told Sarah that she had caught the sarcasm and didn't like it.

'To be honest,' Sarah said, picking a speck of lint from her skirt and smoothing down the fabric, 'I don't think I've ever been unjustly accused.'

She grinned at Wendy's undisguised astonishment. 'I've done it all.' she said breezily. 'I've bombed, I've run guns, I've smuggled drugs. Extortion, bribery, destruction of property- assault and battery.' She ticked her crimes off on her fingers. 'I'm guilty, guilty, guilty. I've never killed anybody—anybody human—

I've never been involved in a kidnapping—not that I didn't have opportunities—

and I've never sold myself. But other than that…' She shrugged, watching for the girl's reaction.

'Even better,' Wendy said after a moment's pause. 'If you're guilty of all that and you're still not in jail, you could probably write a book on the subject.'

Sarah was taken by surprise. So, maybe the kid does have a spine, she thought.

She hoped so if John was in any way involved with her. Still, she'd come here in trouble and so possibly dragging trouble behind her. 'One of the ways we've stayed out of jail is by not allowing people being chased by the police to come directly to our door,' she said pointedly.

'Nobody knows where I am,' Wendy said. 'The closest anyone could trace me is Sao Paulo.'

'That's closer than I like,' Sarah snapped.

'Look,' Wendy said carefully, 'I didn't stop driving once I left Sao Paulo. I bought a bunch of food, which ran out the day before yesterday, and juice, which ran out last night. I haven't stopped or spoken to anybody since I left the border

except three times to buy gas. And since I got lost twice on lonely roads with no human beings around for as far as the eye could see, and since from here that's pretty far, I seriously doubt I was followed. Okay?'

Sarah felt herself relax marginally. She chose a sandwich and started to nibble.

To her amusement the girl seemed to take it as a signal that she, too, could begin eating and chose one for herself. Well, I suppose she's right. I don't approve of her being here after all.

'Nonstop?' Sarah said, raising her brows. 'All the way from Brazil?'

'Yes.'

'Quite a drive,' Sarah commented.

'Especially if you get lost,' Wendy agreed, nibbling delicately at the home-baked bread.

'Did you have to ask for directions?' Sarah asked casually. Wendy looked up at her, impatience briefly plain on her face. 'No,' she said carefully. 'I worked it out by myself.' She put the sandwich down and then looked Sarah full in the he face. 'I would never do anything that might cause John the slightest risk.'

The two women locked gazes and Sarah felt a sinking feeling in her middle. No doubt this is how every mother feels when her son gets his first serious girlfriend. And, if anything, Wendy, here, appeared deadly serious. I wonder how John feels about her? Was he going to be thrilled to see her, or was he going to react as though she was a stalker.'

That thought sent another spasm of uncertainty through her gut. After all, she had only Wendy's word that she'd been framed. And do I know anything about her? Nooo. John had barely mentioned her name. She waggled her foot thoughtfully. He could be shy about confiding in his mother about it, or he might be as surprised and dismayed as she was to find out that he had a girlfriend.

And… there was a time when I was a student with a part-time job, too. And then my world fell apart.

Well, she'd find out when he got home. In the meantime…

'You look exhausted,' she said. Wendy looked up at her. 'Why don't we take this'—she stood, wincing slightly at the pull of the healing wound, and picked up the tray—'upstairs. I'll show you your room for tonight. There's a bathroom en suite, so you can have some privacy. Just leave the tray outside the door when you're finished.'

Wendy stood, still a little wobbly. 'Thank you.'

Sarah glanced at her. The kid was dead on her feet. I know what that feels like.

She'd felt that way often at the end of a hard trip. We'll see, she thought, and turned to lead the way upstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

VON ROSSBACH ESTANCIA

Wendy couldn't sleep. She had, perhaps, dozed a bit, but for the most part she had simply lain still, too tired to move, too wide-awake to truly rest. Her cramped body felt as though she was still in motion. Very distracting.

She had heard people moving about downstairs for some time, and an occasional voice speaking Spanish. But things had quieted down now that darkness had fallen.

I wonder what time it is. Not late, she thought, perhaps nine o'clock. But for farm