Larger than Life Read Free Page B

STRETCHED between them for long moments. Then Travis spoke slowly and thoughtfully.
    “The past—anyone’s past—is important only in that it shaped the present. Can you accept that I need to know about your past in order to understand your present?”
    “I certainly can. I just can’t accept the necessity of seeing my past in print.”
    “It doesn’t have to be seen in print. As long as
I
understand what’s gone before, I can put the present into perspective.”
    “No. Not my present.”
    “Because without your past, there isn’t a present?”
    She smiled slightly and gently shook her head. “Travis, try to understand how I feel about this. Certain … events in my life over which I had little or no control shaped me into who and what I am. We could get into a long discussion over the importance of pasts, but right now, in this moment of my present, I’m very tired. And my past doesn’t seem important to
me
, much less to the world.”
    “You avoided answering my question,” he said softly.
    She sighed. “I suppose I did. I’m not quite up to your weight tonight, I’m afraid. So I think I’d better go up to my room; I have an early plane tomorrow.”
    He rose to his feet as she did. “I’m not giving up.”
    “I wonder why that doesn’t surprise me,” she said dryly.

    It wasn’t difficult to discover what Saber’s travel plans were—not, at least, for a man experienced in unearthing information. In fact, by ten the next morning, Travis knew that Saber’s band members were on a commercial flight to Detroit, her manager on one to Los Angeles. He knew that Saunders was cutting short his participation in the tour with two performances left to go because of business appointments in L.A. And he knew that Saber would fly to Detroit in a small private jet.
    It was a bit more difficult to get himself aboard that jet before she arrived, but he managed, conscious of his own wry amusement at what he was doing. He had realized during the night that his interest in Saber was no longer purely literary, but he was more than a little surprised to discover that his growing fascination was almost wholly due to her eyes. Or, more correct, what shone in her eyes. Beneath the silver-gray serenity of her gaze lay something else, something that had reminded Travis irresistibly of a wild thing crouched in waitingbehind iron bars. There were secrets imprisoned behind those cool, serene eyes, secrets and a powerful but elusive part of her that Travis suspected had been born during the year of her disappearance. He was positive that the published accounts of her life up until she’d begun singing were wholly fictional, but of that missing year not even a
fictional
report had been given. Saber the performer had ceased to exist; Saber the woman, he felt intuitively, had walked through some kind of metaphorical fire.
    He meant to find out exactly what had happened. And he was bemused to discover that his professional interest in that question had become very personal indeed.
    He shelved that thought for the time being as he slipped aboard the jet and hid himself in the tiny bathroom. His patient wait consumed three-quarters of an hour before he heard Saber’s low, cheerful voice speaking to someone else. He listened to the noises of the jet’s engines and of the door being closed. The jet taxied for a bit, paused,then taxied again before increasing speed and lifting from the runway.
    Travis waited until the aircraft had leveled off before he quit his hiding place. Out in the cabin, however, he experienced a considerable shock. It was empty. No Saber. No anybody else. If she wasn’t here … Frowning, he gazed toward the closed door leading to the cockpit.
    When he opened the door and squeezed his way inside, he found Saber Duncan alone and at the controls.
    She swung her head around to stare up at him, surprise widening the silvery eyes. “What’re you doing here?” she asked.
    “I think it’s called stowing away.”