Tears filled her eyes. When Rosa died, Liz had never seen her body. She could never bring herself to look, even to say good-bye. Now she had no choice. Whose body was this? Why wouldn't Valenti just tell her what had happened?
Who is it? Liz's feet moved toward the drawer. Papa? Mama? She couldn't stop herself from going over there. She couldn't stop herself from looking down at the body She couldn't see much through the plastic, but she could tell that the corpse wasn't anyone she knew.
White-hot fury ripped through her. She whirled toward Valenti. "How could you do that to me? You let me think that…" She couldn't finish. If she said one more word, she knew she would start crying. And she wasn't going to give Valenti the satisfaction.
Valenti didn't answer. He took the top of the plastic sheet in both hands and pulled it halfway down. "What do you make of the marks on this man?" He sounded as if he were just making casual conversation, as if he had no idea he'd just put her through the most terrifying moments of her life.
Or as if he didn't care.
Liz stared at Valenti. She saw her own face staring back at her from the mirrored lenses of his shades. She felt as if she had fallen into some strange dream. Nothing made sense. Valenti was asking her to help him study a stranger's corpse? Why?
"The marks," Valenti repeated.
I have to do this, she thought. It's the only way I'm going to get out of here. She slowly lowered her eyes to the corpse. The first thing she saw was two handprints on the man's chest-iridescent silver handprints. She knew that if she placed Max's hands over those marks, they would be an exact match.
If he can heal with a touch, can he kill with a touch?
I guess I have the answer to that question, she thought. Sour bile rose in her throat.
"I… I've never seen anything like them before," Liz stammered. She needed time to think, time to figure out what to do. Maybe Max had a good reason for killing this guy. Maybe the guy was attacking him or something.
She forced herself to look at the corpse's face. The man looked about her father's age. His brown eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. His lips were frozen in a grimace of pain.
Liz gagged. How could there be a good reason for killing this man? For killing anyone?
"That's interesting," Valenti said. "Because my son, Kyle, mentioned that he had seen similar marks on your stomach."
"He was wrong. It was just a temporary tattoo." She ripped her shirt out of her jeans and held it up. "See. No marks." She smoothed the shirt back over her stomach.
The handprints had been fading a little at a time. If Valenti had brought her in one day earlier, she wouldn't have been able to back up her story.
"Can we go now?" Liz asked. It came out sounding a little too much like a plea, but she couldn't help it.
Valenti ignored her. "I've seen marks like this before," he said. "They are made by the touch of a particular race of alien beings."
Liz's mouth dropped open. "You believe in aliens?"
What had happened to her nice, orderly world? The world ruled by the periodic chart? A week ago the only people who believed in aliens were tourists. Suckers who would go gaga over a photo of a melted doll. Now she had absolute proof that aliens existed. And the sheriff-Mr. Ice Man-was telling her he believed in them, too.
Valenti reached up and slid off his sunglasses. He shouldn't have bothered, Liz thought. His eyes were a cold gray that revealed nothing of what he was think-
"I am going to tell you something that I have never told a civilian-not even my own son," Valenti said. "But you're a smart girl, and you can help me. I am an agent for an organization called Project Clean Slate. Our purpose is to track down alien beings living in the United States and make sure that they pose no threat to the human population."
Liz gazed at him, trying to ignore the emotions rushing through her. Max killed someone, Max is an alien, Max is dangerous. Max loves me.
"This organization was formed in 1947, the year of the crash. That was the year we realized that aliens exist, aliens with the technology to travel to another galaxy."
"But everyone knows that UFO was a downed weather balloon," Liz said weakly.
"Don't play games with me, Ms. Ortecho," Valenti answered. "I know you've had contact with an alien. I suspect this alien somehow survived the 1947 crash, perhaps as a child who was still incubating. And I want to know what you are going to do about it."
Liz shook her head. "I don't know what you-"
"The alien who healed your gunshot wound killed this man," Valenti interrupted.
"I wasn't shot. I fell. I broke a bottle of ketchup." I wish that story were true, Liz thought. I wish I could go back to living in the safe little world where I knew all the rules, and there were no real surprises.
"That alien will kill again," Valenti continued. "Can you live with that? I saw your face when you thought it was someone you loved lying under this sheet. If you continue to protect the alien, one day soon someone will be standing right where you are, identifying the body of his mother, his father, his sister, or even his child.
"You can stop that from happening. All you have to do is tell me where to find the alien."
Liz took a deep breath. Then she pulled the sheet up so that it covered the dead man's face.
"I don't believe in aliens," she said.
Liz stood in the parking lot and stared at the school. She felt as if she'd been picked up by a tornado, viciously whipped around, and then set back down in exactly the same place she started.
She couldn't believe it was only lunchtime. Less than two hours ago she'd been worried about a history test. She started for the quad, then made a sharp right and headed for the main building. She needed a quiet place where she could sit down by herself and think. Think about what she was going to do.
Keeping Max's secret was probably saving his life. But if Max was killing people… Those words just didn't go together-Max and killing-but Liz forced herself to continue the thought. If Max was killing people, Liz had to do whatever it took to stop him. Which meant turning him in to Valenti.
Liz pushed her way through the double doors and started up the stairs. She'd go to the bio lab. Maybe it would help her think precisely and dispassionately, like a scientist. Whatever decision she made could have life-threatening consequences.
As Liz approached the lab she heard someone moving around inside. Damn. She really needed to be alone right now. Who had discovered her favorite place to escape? She peeked inside.
Max was sitting on one of the high stools at their lab station.
Liz stepped back and leaned against the wall. Maria would probably call this a sign from the universe, she thought. But what does it mean?
She so wanted to believe that she could trust Max. But he had been keeping a secret from her all the years that she'd known him. A huge secret. And she'd never suspected.
What if he was still hiding things from her? What if everything he told her at his house was lies-just different lies? What if humans were like lumps of meat to him? What if killing a human was like eating a hamburger or something?
"Everything's going to be all right," she heard Max say softly.
Wait. Did he know she was out there? Had he lied about being able to read her mind?
"I know you're not feeling well, but I'm going to fix you up."
Maybe there was someone in the room with him and she didn't notice.
Liz edged up to the door again. She saw Max crouching next to the mouse cage. He opened the cage door and gently took out Fred, the little white mouse. "You're going to be just fine," he murmured soothingly.