Loose ends

"Max is right," Maria added forcefully. "You really don't have to do this, honey. We can take care of this on our own, I promise."Liz was tempted to give in, especially if it meant not leaving the relative safety of the rented motel room, but knew that she had to resist that impulse if she ever wanted to feel like herself again. "No, you don't understand," she spoke out, trying, with mixed results, to keep her voice from quavering. "I haw to do this, myself. It might be the only way I can put this whole, awful nightmare behind me." A thin cotton blouse concealed the glowing handprint on her belly, but Liz could still feel it tingling against her skin, a tangible reminder of her inability to escape her traumatic memories. "I need to face my fears directly, just like Alex said."Are you sure, Liz?" Max asked gently. She sensed that, somehow, he understood what she was going through, and why it was so important that she take an active part in this investigation. "It could be dangerous," he reminded her.

Liz nodded slowly. "I know."Okay, then," Max said decisively, sounding very much like the deposed ruler of an alien planet. "Liz and I will search Mortons room, while the rest of you create a surefire distraction." He took Liz's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this together," he promised her.

Michael looked uncomfortable with this arrangement, but must have realized that Max's mind was set. Instead of arguing, he just shrugged his shoulders and muttered, Tine. Sure. But we still haven't figured out what kind of distraction."A sneaky smile came over Max's handsome face as an idea occurred to him. "I think I know just what will do the trick." He leaned toward the others as he whispered con- spiratorially. "Listen "Yes, can I have room #19, please?" Michael said into the cell phone. He waited with sweaty palms for the Motel 6 operator to co

"Hello?" Morton answered crossly. Michael recognized the gunman's raspy voice at die other end of the line. "Who is this?"My name doesn't matter, Mr. Morton," Michael stated in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. "The peint is what I can do for you."Wait a second," Morton barked, sounding increasingly agitated. "How do you know my name? Where did you get diis number from?"The temperature in the parking lot was unbelievably hot, but Michael kept his voice cool. "I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Morton. A Lieutenant David Ramirez?"Ramirez!" Michael could easily imagine Morton's shocked expression. "That's impossible. I never gave Ramirez this number!"Oops, Michael diought. Still, the mention of the compromised test pilot's name had definitely caught Morton's attention. "Perhaps you've underestimated Lieutenant Ramirez's resources," Michael hinted ominously.

The alien teen thought he heard anodaer voice babbling worriedly in the background. No doubt the u

"I understand you're interested in certain 'merchandise,' related to a certain 'aviation accident' that occurred fifty- some years ago." Michael hoped his vague allusion to the Roswell Crash would pique the gunman's curiosity. Two can play the cryptic references game, he thought vindictively; such seeming discretion helped him to pretend that he knew more about Morton's mysterious business than he actually did. "Isn't that so, Mr. Morton?"Michael deliberately mentioned the killer's name at every opportunity, the better to u

"Maybe," Morton said suspiciously. "But we shouldn't say anything about that, not now. This isn't a secure line." His gruff voice grew even more menacing. "Don't call this number again, you got that?"Sure," Michael said, "whatever." He refused to be intimidated. "Meet me at the De

17.

Max and Liz waited, hiding behind the ice machine, until Morton and the u

As III ever be, Liz thought, nodding once. Her heart was ticking faster than a Geiger counter at Los Alamos, and she felt another panic attack scratching at the back door of her mind. The memory of the shooting tormented her, so that she could practically smell the gunpowder again, hear the two men's dishes crash to the floor only heartbeats before Morton's wild gunshot left her bleeding on the floor. Not again, she prayed, reliving the dreadful moment for maybe the thousandth time. Please don't let it happen again! "You can always wait with Maria and Alex," Max reminded her, giving her one last chance to back out. Their friends were parked in the Jetta several yards away, at the far end of the Motel 6's parking lot, ready just in case she and Max had to make a speedy getaway.

"No," she told him, shaking her head. A tremor in her voice betrayed her unsettled emotions. "Lets go."She closed her eyes to compose herself, then looked up at Max as he rose behind the ice machine and hustled toward room #19. She followed close behind him, focusing on Maxs comforting presence as an antidote to the violent specters plaguing her memory. The shooting wasn't a completely negative experience, she reminded herself as they scurried together down the walkway in front of the motel. If not for that alarming brush with death, Max Evans would have never entered her life in such a profound and unforgettable way. We turned that near- fatal moment into a new begi