Janet Evanovich - Full Speed

"Trust me, Dave, it's you."

"Excuse me, what are the two of you doing down there?"

Max paused and glanced sideways. Ward Reed was peering beneath the house. "Man, you've got some serious problems down here," Max told him.

Reed frowned. "What kinds of problems?"

"The wires have been chewed in various places," Max said. "Looks like a raccoon did it."

"That's ridiculous."

"That's what I thought, but there's a dead raccoon down here, and he looks like he's been fried."

"Come out from beneath the house and talk to me. And bring the raccoon."

Max and Dave exchanged looks. "I don't think that's a good idea," Max said. "He looks nasty."

"I want to see him. Now."

Max crawled out from beneath the house, dragging a plastic bag with him. Inside was a dead raccoon. He dumped it at Reed's feet. "It's yours if you want it, although I don't recommend hanging it over your fireplace mantel."

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

"I agree," Dave said, shuddering. He stepped back, eye twitching furiously.

Reed looked from Dave to Max. "What the hell is his problem?"

"He'll be OK," Max told Reed. "Just a small case of claustrophobia."

Reed sighed.

"I think maybe the raccoon was rabid and looking for water," Max said. "I noticed the pond has been drained. That would have been the first place he would have checked."

Reed shrugged. "There was a lot of algae in it, so we emptied it two days ago."

"This is the way I figure it," Max said. "We've had no rain to speak of; the creeks and rivers are drying up. If this raccoon was rabid and couldn't find water, he probably decided to look beneath the house where it's cooler. You know how crazy they get. No telling what kind of damage he did under here." He paused. "Have you ever seen a rabid coon?"

Dave gave Max his undivided attention.

Reed shook his head. "Fortunately, no."

"I'm surprised nobody noticed it," Max said, pointing to the animal. "I saw a tricycle out back, so I assume there's a child on the premises. This coon could have attacked the kid. Or worse."

Reed automatically stiffened. "Get rid of it. Nobody else is to know about this, do you understand? I don't want to hear another word about rabid raccoons on this property."

Max nodded.

"I don't care what you have to do to repair the electrical system—"

"We'll have to run new lines inside the house," Max said. "Might take a while, but Dave here is an expert."

Reed closed his eyes as if he was trying to muster up a little patience. "You'll have my full cooperation. Just get the job done as quickly and quietly as possible, and you might find a nice bonus in your check." He walked away.

Dave waited until they were alone. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you thought the coon was rabid?" he demanded.

"I was trying to make Reed believe it. The coon died because somebody ran over him.

You were there when we pulled him out of the road."

"Oh, Jesus."

"What?"

"You don't know the coon wasn't sick. And I'm pretty sure he scratched me when I was trying to help you get him into that bag." He held out his arm and pointed to a faint red line.

"There's no puncture wound, Dave. You probably scratched yourself crawling under the house."

Dave grimaced. "On a rusty nail, no doubt. Let's see, which would be worse, dying of tetanus, a fatal infectious disease marked by rigidity and spasms, or having my central nervous system attacked by rabies and suffering a horrifying drooling death?"

"You're going off on me, Dave. Noting the coon's flat-as-a-fritter body, I'm willing to take an oath that he was run over by a heavy piece of equipment, namely an automobile or truck. I mean, what does it take to convince you, man, tread marks?"

"You can make light of this all you like, but there is no cure for rabies. Once a—" He swallowed. "Once victims have been exposed they only have about seventy-two hours to be vaccinated so they can develop an immunity."

"What are the symptoms?"

"Headache and fever. Feels like the flu. It gets much worse after that, then you die."

"I'll make a deal with you. We'll watch the scratch carefully over the next few hours. If we see a change in it I'll personally take you to the ER. Now, we have work to do."

"I'm not climbing back into that hellhole," Dave said, backing away. "I'll give you instructions from out here, but I'm not going under that house."

"OK, fine, but you're going to have to calm down or you'll blow our cover." Max crawled beneath the house once more. He grabbed his headset and listened. "Dammit to hell!" he said.

Dave got on his knees. "What is it? Did something bite you?"

Max, tuned in to what was happening between Rawlins and Jamie, jerked off the headset. "Jamie just kissed Rawlins."

* * * * *

Nick Santoni put his car into neutral and let the engine idle. He had followed the pickup truck from Harlan's home, keeping himself at a safe distance. He'd followed the truck to Wal-Mart and waited while the woman had gone inside, and he'd followed her to a strip of dirt road where No Trespassing signs dared him to come any closer.

He pulled out a pair of binoculars and watched the truck turn into a driveway, watched the woman yank off a red wig and scratch her head furiously before finger-combing her shoulder-length blonde hair into place. He smiled, picked up the photo on his seat, gave it a cursory glance.

"Welcome to Sweet Pea, Tennessee, Miss Swift," he said, and drove on.

Holding her purse in one hand and the red wig in the other, Jamie climbed from her truck. Max and several men stood just outside the garage. Max introduced them. "These gentlemen are here to install Muffin inside the dashboard of the truck."

"What does Muffin have to say about all this?"

"She's raising almighty hell. Threatening to destroy her own hard drive." He paused. "So, if you won't be needing the truck for a while—"

Jamie noticed she had the men's full attention. Actually, they were gawking. She stared back. They quickly turned away as though embarrassed to have been caught staring. She tossed the keys to Max. "Go ahead. Just make sure Muffin doesn't think it was my idea." She headed for the house.

Max didn't take his eyes off her as he handed one of his engineers the keys. "Go at it, gentlemen."

"Yes, Mr. Holt," one of them said.

Max stepped inside the cabin a moment later and found Jamie's bedroom door closed. He tapped on it and walked in. He arched one brow when he found her stripping off her tank top. She quickly pulled it back on, but not before he saw the peach-colored bra. For a moment they simply stood there, staring at each other.

Jamie planted her hands on her hips. "What happened to waiting until you're invited before entering? You're lucky I don't clobber you."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Most women threaten to clobber me if I try to leave their bedroom."

Jamie did an eye roll.

Max closed the distance between them, raised a finger, and touched the strap to her tank top. When Jamie shivered, he looked up.

"OK," she said. "I give up. What do you want?"

He cocked his head to the side and smiled lazily.

"When pigs fly," she said. Still, that slow smile made her think of afternoons stretched beneath smooth sheets, legs entwined. Oh God, she was doing it again.

Max slid his fingers back and forth beneath the strap of her top. "I hope this doesn't have anything to do with Rawlins."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you did kiss him."

She snapped her head up. "How do you know about that?"

"Dave and I heard the whole thing. Unfortunately, by the time we hooked into the cameras you were gone, so we didn't actually get to see anything juicy."