Disclaimer: Roswell, and it's characters do not belong to me. Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox have that particular pleasure. I'm simply borrowing them until the Season 2 DVD's get released.

Tomorrow's Yet to Come

Chapter Five – Nancy Drew Strikes Again

"Where are we going to go?" Liz asked as Max backed the car out of it's parking space.

"I don't know, but we have to get out of here, fast," answered Max.

"Isn't it going to look suspicious if we turn up gone right after Fred was murdered?" Liz asked

"Probably," admitted Max. "But Steve said he'd try and come up with a reason why we disappeared. He said something about hacking into the school files and making it look like we withdrew from classes a week or so ago."

"But won't people remember us being in classes this week?" worried Liz.

"Maybe not. Most of our classes are lectures, in nice big impersonal lecture halls. Anyhow, it doesn't matter, we just have to figure out who the hell is after us," said Max.

"Well, we can't just drive, we have to have some sort of plan," said Liz. "Look, there's an all night coffee shop up the street. Let's stop there, and make some plans."

Max reluctantly pulled into the parking lot and shut the car off.

"I don't think this is such a good idea, Liz," he said.

"Neither is driving nowhere without even a hint of a plan, now are you coming or what?" snapped Liz.

"Well, we sure as hell can't go in there looking like this," Max snapped right back at her.

"I'm not stupid, Max!" shouted Liz. "I do know that much. Stop trying to treat me like I'm Isabel, because I'm not!"

Max took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"Liz," he said, his voice much softer. "Why are we fighting like this?"

"Maybe because one of the nicest people we've ever met, is dead, and it's because of us," answered Liz. "But you're right, our fighting isn't going to change that. We need to focus, not fight."

"And you're right too," said Max. "We need a plan. We can't just react. It's what they want us to do. "Whoever they are."

Liz reached a hand up to her hair, and I turned a dull dishwater blond color, and hung straight down on either side of her face, allowing her to hide her face behind a curtain of hair.

"Perfect," said Max. "Now me." He touched his head, and his hair changed to a dull brown. Next he touched his face, and a beard appeared, totally changing his appearance. He climbed out of the car, and came around to open Liz's door. When he shut the door, the car transformed from it's dark green to a faded gray color."

The coffee shop was surprisingly full for such an early hour, and both Max and Liz were glad, for they were able to blend in without anybody really noticing them.

"What will it be?" asked the tired looking waitress who approached their table.

After a quick perusal of the menu, they placed their orders and waited until the waitress was out of earshot.

"I think the first thing we should do is call Michael and the others," said Max. "Let them know what's going on."

"Right," said Liz. "You try them, I'll try Kyle and Ava, and whoever's done first can call Isabel and Alex." She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Kyle's number. The phone rang and rang, but he never answered.

"That's strange," she said to Max. "I didn't even get his voicemail. Did you have any luck?"

"None," Max said, his voice worried." "There was no answer at Michael and Maria's apartment, or his cell phone. I'll try Alex and Isabel now." He punched in their home number and waited, his frustration mounting as the phone rang, and nobody answered.

"Here you go folks," said the waitress. She put two plates in front of them, along with two cups of steaming coffee. "If you need a refill, just holler. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, I think we're set," said Liz. "Thank you very much. Max," she said as soon as the waitress was gone. "I'll be right back. I have to go to the car." Liz jumped up and ran out to the parking lot. Max saw her open the trunk and rummage around inside. She turned and made her way back to the coffee shop carrying an unwieldy bundle wrapped in the sheet from their bed.

"What is that?" he asked. Liz pulled the cover off, and Max's mouth fell open in shock.

"You brought that with you?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," replied Liz. "I had to, Max. Look at it, look at what it represents."

"I know what it represents, Liz," said Max, his voice gruff with emotion. "I was there, remember?"

"Well, I couldn't leave it, could I?" asked Liz.

"No, I guess not, but that doesn't explain why you brought it in here, now."

"Well, I kind of wondered if maybe Michael knew something was up, and left us a clue or something," said Liz.

"Liz, don't go all Nancy Drew on me here," said Max. "Do you really think Michael, our Michael, would have the presence of mind to put a clue to his whereabouts in a painting he sent us?" He bit into a french fry, and chewed methodically, while Liz searched the painting for a clue.

"Got it!" Liz cried, triumphantly. "Yes, I do believe that our Michael would leave a clue for us. Not in the painting, but on the back of the canvas. It's a phone number." She grabbed a pen and scribbled the number on a napkin and stood up.

"Where are you going, now?" asked Max.

"I'm going to use the payphone over there," Liz said. "There must be a reason why we can't reach Michael on his old cell. I'm going to play cautious and not use our phones either."

"Go for it, Ms. Drew," said Max. "This is your show."

Liz walked to the phone, and used her powers to nudge the coin mechanism. She rapidly dialed the number she had scribbled on the napkin and waited impatiently while the phone rang.

"Hi, you have reached WRComet Enterprises," said the unfamiliar voice on the phone. If you are calling about classes, press 1. If you are calling about your picture, please press 2."

Liz looked at Max, her expression puzzled, but she pressed 2 on the phone.

"WRComet picture division," said the voice. "How may I help you?"

"Who is this please?" Liz asked, cautiously.

"Chica, is that you? Listen, it isn't safe to talk, just go to the picture."

"Look, what's going on?" began Liz, but her only answer was a dial tone.

"Liz, what is it?" asked Max, when she returned to the table.

Liz took a large bite from her burger and chewed hungrily before she answered.

"The number took me to one of those automated phone thingies," said Liz. "You know, press 1 for this, press 57 for that. Anyhow, it was for WRComet Enterprises."

"WRComet Enterprises?" asked Max. "As in West Roswell High Comets? How lame."

"Not too lame," said Liz, taking another bite of her burger. She paused to wipe the away the juice that dripped down her chin. "God, this is good. It's been so long since anything has tasted this good. Anyhow, it said if you were calling about your picture, press 2, so I did, and Maria, or at least I think it was Maria came on the line. She called me Chica, said it wasn't safe, and to go to the picture."

"So, what do you think?" asked Max. He was careful not to make all the decisions; he didn't want to be anybody's king.

"I don't know," said Liz, dipping a fry in some ketchup. "I suppose it could be a trap, but we have to go somewhere and do something. At least if we're there, we're on our own turf."

"We should call the Sheriff," said Max. "Let him know what's going on, and that we're on our way home."

"Good idea," said Liz through another mouthful of burger. "Do you want to go make that call?"

Max said that he would. Liz watched as he walked to the phone, then lifted her hand to call over the waitress.

"Miss, if you have a second, could I get two more of these to go please?"