He sat in the dark hallway for a few moments, too disgusted with himself to move. Only the thought that Max would be heading out any minute now finally motivated him to get out of there.
The elevator took an incredibly long time to arrive, so long that Logan began to think it had gone out of service. But at last it showed up, stopping with a groan several inches above the floor. Quickly he tipped the chair back and jumped it up into the elevator, sighing with relief as he turned to face the closing doors. Now all he had to do was make it back to the car and he could start putting some distance between him and the all-too-vivid memory of Max's fury.
He was just reaching up to rub his tired eyes when the elevator jerked to a halt. His hand flew up in the air, knocking his glasses off. He heard them hit his shoes. "Damn," he swore irritably, groping at his feet with one hand and grabbing a wheel with the other. The elevator doors were as unpredictable as everything else in Max's building. They might stay open half the night, or they might close in seconds ... where were his damned glasses ... the only thing worse than getting stuck in the elevator for another ride upstairs, and maybe running into Max, would be hearing the crunch of glass and metal under his wheels ... damn it ... Just as the door gave a warning screech, his hand closed around the glasses, dangling precariously from his left foot. He grabbed them, threw them in his lap, and gave one huge push that sent him shooting out into the lobby -- right into a blurry female figure.
"Hold up there! Where you going in such a hurry?" demanded a familiar voice. He slipped his glasses on and Original Cindy came into focus, hands on hips, looking extremely annoyed. "Ain't it bad enough I missed the elevator without you taking off a coupla my toes?" she continued, then stopped. "Uh-oh," she said thoughtfully, seeing the expression on Logan's face. "Something tells me there might be a reason you haulin' ass out of here like that."
"Yeah," said Logan shortly, not meeting her eyes.
"You wanna talk to Original Cindy about it?"
What was the point? He already knew what Cindy would say: You got no one to blame but yourself. And she was right ... but his pride had taking all the butt-kicking it could handle for one day. All he wanted to do was get out of there.
"No," he said, and rolled out the door before Cindy could say another word.
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He woke up the next morning on the couch. At first he had no idea what day it was or why he wasn't in bed, and then everything came back in an unpleasant rush. He had returned from Max's apartment too upset to sleep ... or so he had thought. But half a glass of wine had knocked him out for the night. You're in pathetic shape, he chastised himself, feeling his shoulders ache as he stretched. You need to start working out again.
With a sigh, he headed into the kitchen and made coffee. When it was ready he took it to the window and watched the city for a few moments. I wonder what Max is doing now, he thought. I wonder what she did last night. I wonder if she told OC anything ...
"Stop," he said to himself, setting the cup down.
The sound was very loud in the quiet apartment.
After a minute he couldn't stand the silence any more. He didn't want to think about last night. Maybe I should call Bling, see about scheduling a workout. Not that he could afford a lot of Bling's time any more, but he could certainly scrape up enough for one good session, to get him started again. And he owed Matt Sung a phone call. He wouldn't let last night's humiliation stop him from finding out what Lydecker was up to with Zack, if for no other reason than his own safety. Grabbing his coffee cup, he headed for the office, feeling very relieved to have something to do.
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Matt Sung did have news, so Logan arranged to meet him in the parking lot of an abandoned trucking company on the outskirts of town. They had met there once or twice before, when Matt was giving Logan confidential information he had gathered through contacts in the police department. The last thing Logan wanted to do was risk the safety of another informant, and phone calls, no matter how cryptic, were too easy for someone to overhear or trace. It was not hard for both Matt and Logan to be sure they hadn't been followed to the parking lot, however, and should anyone happen to stumble on them, it was easy enough for Matt to pull out his detective's shield and say he was on police business.
Logan was grateful for the distraction, and grateful for the chance to get out of the apartment. Bling had come by that morning to supervise a workout. Logan had been glad to see him but Bling had been his usual forthright self, telling Logan how out of shape he was and how much work he had ahead of him. Logan had been a good sport about it until Bling asked how Max was doing. Then Logan got quiet -- okay, evasive, he admitted to himself -- and Bling got suspicious. To make matters worse, Cindy had called twice during their session, leaving messages that further provoked Bling's curiosity. "Wanna tell me what's going on?" Bling asked as they finished up, and Logan gave him the same answer he'd given Cindy the day before.
"No," he said, draping a towel over his sweaty head.
"Suit yourself, man," Bling answered cheerfully, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water
After Bling left Logan had considered calling Cindy back, but when he heard the message from Matt, he told himself there wasn't time. Instead he had arranged the meeting, then headed for the shower.
Now here he was an hour and a half later, pulling cautiously into the old parking lot. The Aztek bumped over the cracked blacktop as Logan circled and finally stopped behind a long-abandoned trailer, now rusted out and leaning to one side. A moment later he heard the crunch of tires and Matt's car pulled up beside him. Then, just for a second, Logan thought he heard something else. He glanced around, but the overgrown weeds surrounding the lot were perfectly still. He looked down at Matt.
"Hey," Matt said, glancing around as he spoke. "I need to make this quick, but here." He reached up, passing an envelope up to Logan. "These are the directions to a farm about five miles out of town. Local cop was sent out there last week to investigate a disturbance. The family told her their nephew, who's been under psychiatric care, came to stay with them and had an emotional outburst. Apparently there's an attendant watching this kid --"
"Matching that description I gave you?" Logan interrupted. Male, blond, middle-aged, glasses. Likes black clothing.
"Yeah. Anyway, the family assured the cop they had everything under control, had the kid on meds and under constant supervision. The cop asked to see the kid and he seemed fine, just a little doped up, so she left."
Logan slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket. "Thanks, Matt. I owe you one."
"You owe me more than one by now," Sung said with a smile. "Take care, Logan." Glancing around again, he pulled away.
Logan waited. Two cars leaving the lot right behind each other would be too suspicious. Better give Matt a head start ... after two or three minutes, he cautiously pulled up to the edge of the trailer, in the opposite direction from the one Matt had taken, and looked around. Seeing nothing, he turned the corner and then stopped abruptly.
Directly in front of him was a glossy black motorcycle. Leaning against it, in a leather jacket and with arms folded, was Max. She looked a lot like she had the night she was in heat, except that this time she wasn't trying to be seductive. This time she meant to challenge him.
Meeting her stare, though his heart had begun to pound wildly, he pulled up and opened the window. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
Max shrugged. "Well, you know, I had a delivery in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd just take a moment to stop and appreciate the beauty of nature ... What do you think I'm doing here? I followed you. I want to know what you're doing here."
"You've been watching me?"
Max snorted. "You know, for some reason I just can't put my finger on, I don't trust you. So I thought I'd better keep an eye on you." She pushed away from the bike and walked up to the car, casually leaning on the frame of the open window. "So," she said, looking around the interior of the car, "tell me again what those thingies there do?" She pointed to the hand controls. "Didn't you say something about the, uh, carburetor?" Her voice dripped sarcasm.
Logan felt his face turning red. He was very quickly forgetting his misery of the previous night because he was very quickly getting angry. There was no way he was going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that, though. "Those are hand controls," he said evenly. "That's how I give it gas. Like this," he said, pressing the accelerator without warning. The car shot forward.
An ordinary person would have been knocked off her feet, but of course, Max's excellent reflexes saved her. The instant the car began to move she pulled her arms away and stepped back almost casually. She took her time coming back to the window, and Logan realized she was inspecting the bullet holes she had noticed the day he brought her back from the hospital.
"Wanna tell me about these bullet holes?" she asked.
"Not really."
Max raised her eyebrows. "What did that cop give you?" she asked.
Logan hesistated. If he lied, she would know it instantly, and he was already in enough trouble. But telling her truth might very well get her in trouble. She would be on her bike, heading off to confront the people he suspected were Lydecker and Zack, without having any idea of how dangerous that might be.
There was no telling what she would do to Lydecker. Logan was sure she had no memory of the uneasy truce they had called before the Manticore raid. Lydecker might be dead and Zack escaped before he could do anything about it. It would be in everyone's best interests for him to lie ... but he just couldn't.
Sure, Max was still furious with him, but it wasn't the first time. How many times in their year together had she shouted, slammed the door, walked out on him? Yet she had always gotten over it. He had seen so many signs, this last few weeks, that despite her lost memories she was still basically the same Max. Still independent, still brilliant, still devoted to her family. Which meant that there might also still be a part of her that could still love Logan ... or at least feel a little affection for him ...
At last he looked up and met her eyes. Was it his imagination, or did her gaze soften just a tiny bit? Could she see any of what he was feeling? He took a deep breath, and before he could regret it, said, "I may have a lead on your family. But let's find someplace safer to discuss it." He felt like his eyes were pleading with her in spite of his pride.
She considered for a moment, then said, "Yeah, okay. Your place?"
"Meet you there."
She hopped on the bike without another word and took off. He followed her out of the lot slowly.
Don't be too pleased with yourself, the voice in his head warned him. She still thinks you're a lying creep. You have something she wants, that's all.
But that was exactly what had kept her near him once before ... maybe it would work again.