Page 10 of Hidden Truths

Kellen sank into the chair where she had first sat to listen to Max. Today had been good; she’d helped a baby. But here she was face-to-face with what she would lose when life vanished from her body.

Her daughter. Her darling girl. Rae would go on. She would remember Kellen with sorrow and affection. But Kellen wouldn’t be here to see her grow and mature. She wouldn’t be here to help her, advise her, fight with her, exalt with her. She wouldn’t hear her sing (badly), or help her with her homework (not the spelling). All the good parts and bad parts of Rae could never be a part of Kellen. Kellen would be gone.

Kellen also knew Rae would be okay. She had her grandmother, who she adored. She had her father, the bulwark of her life. She had the whole loud, loving Di Luca family.

It was Max Kellen really grieved for. He loved her. He had loved her when she had been abused, homeless and afraid, nothing more than a shadow of a woman. He had loved her when she vanished from his life, and he had stayed true to her for all the years she’d been gone. He had loved her when he found her again, and he’d loved her through all their adventures, troubles and trials. He loved her in a coma, and he would love her past death.

Maybe someday he would find a woman he could live with. Maybe someday he would marry again. But Kellen was the love of his life, and she knew she held his heart. Forever.

Truly, it was Max she was abandoning. It was Max Verona cried for.

As would Kellen. If she could cry.

For the first time, Kellen looked down at her hands, pale and transparent, and wished things had been different.

Not much more time on earth.

Max, please hurry back. No matter what, please hurry back. I don’t know how long I can wait.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MAXMADEITback to the prison on time.

Neither Warden Arbuckle nor Assistant Warden Korthauer seemed surprised, but neither one said anything about his grimy hands, either, and Max chalked that up as suspicious.

Assistant Warden Korthauer excused herself from the viewing.

Max wanted to ask if she was headed out to slash another one of his tires.

Warden Arbuckle led him down the corridor and into a small room with a long glass window. “The window was installed in the sixties as a safety measure after one of our prisoners attacked his mother and badly injured her. It’s three inches thick and reinforced with wire, impossible to get through. You can understand our caution.”

Max took one look at the dark-haired woman behind the impenetrable, wavy glass, and said in disgust, “I can’t clearly see her. I can’t identify Mara Philippi if I can’t see her.”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you. It’s her!” Warden Arbuckle threw out his hands. “It’s Mara Philippi. Who else would it be?”

“Maybe it’s someone who looks like her.”

“Are you accusing me of—”

“I’m not accusing you of anything except obstructing my search for the truth.”

This place, this situation, stank of collusion.

“I want to see Mara face-to-face. If there must be bars between us, so be it.” Max piled on the sarcasm. “I assume you still have bars in this prison?”

Warden Arbuckle was breathing hard, as if he wasn’t used to being challenged so blatantly. “Yes. We have bars in this prison.”

“Then let’s go.” Max gestured at him. “Get her in a cell, make sure there’s adequate lighting, let me see her. Let me speak to her. Let me hear her voice.”

“She could very well refuse to speak to you.” A capitulation.

“Mara Philippi?” Max remembered her, her outgoing personality, her constant challenges, the way she seemed so normal. Then they’d found the stash of stolen antique books and the carefully curated dehydrated hands. Not normal. Not at all. “She’ll speak to me.” She would rage at him.

“Tomorrow morning,” Warden Arbuckle said.

“Tonight,” Max countered.

Warden Arbuckle spoke as if he wanted to grind his teeth. “We can’t make it work tonight. There are regulations concerning the handling of prisoners, especially dangerous prisoners.”

---