Abandon (18 page)

Brian Rook met her in the hall. “I put some towels out for you in the bathroom and, uh, cleaned up a little.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged, heading off to his room. He was obviously shaken by Cal’s visit and the reaction to it—and he had doubts. Tough to admit to doubts about anything to an uncle as confident as Andrew Rook. Mackenzie started to follow Brian and talk to him, but stopped herself. The kid was nineteen. Doubts, even for a Rook, were probably a good thing.

W
hen she heard Cal stumbling into the house, Bernadette threw off her covers and ran downstairs, pleased she’d had the good sense to wear her L.L. Bean pajamas to bed.

She confronted her ex-husband as he poured himself a large glass of Scotch in the kitchen. She remained in the doorway, arms crossed on her chest, but she’d never been able to intimidate Cal. Whatever his faults, she’d always admired that about him. “Where’s Harris?”

“Harris Mayer? I have no idea.” Cal took a long drink, eyeing her with a frankness that she used to find appealing, sexy even. “He’s your friend, not mine.”

“He’s taken off.”

“So? He’s a grown man. He can take off without telling anyone.”

She could see she wasn’t going to get anywhere asking Cal about Harris directly. “Why did you stop at Andrew Rook’s house tonight?”

He faltered only slightly. “Nothing you need to concern yourself about.”

“No? Where are you right now, Cal? You’re in
my
house. I have a right to know if you’re mixed up with something that’s going to backfire on me.”

“You’ve done nothing. You’re pure, Bernadette.”

“Do you think it’ll matter if I’ve done nothing and you have? Do you think
anyone
will care? Appearances—”

“Appearances won’t land you in prison.” He gulped the Scotch and banged the glass on the counter, refilled it. “I’m going to bed. I’ll be out of here this weekend. Then you can start pretending we were never married.”

“I’ve already started,” she said, regretting her acidic comment immediately, if only because it would put him more on the defensive. “Cal—please. I don’t want to argue with you. If you’re in trouble, you know what to do. You’re a capable attorney.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Thanks for that, Judge.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” She stepped toward him. “What’s happened to you, Cal?”

“Do you believe in the devil?”

Her heart jumped. “What?”

He abandoned whatever he’d started to say. “You’ll be gone in the morning before I get up. Have a good trip to New Hampshire.” He managed a small smile. “Say hi to the loons for me.”

“Cal—”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Bernadette. I never have.”

He walked away from her, taking his drink with him. She debated following him, but what good would another fight do? He was stubborn and secretive by nature, qualities that had their advantages, as well as their liabilities. But she’d never been able to penetrate the hard shell that he’d developed to protect the most vulnerable parts of him, where his insecurities lived. She’d gotten tired of trying. If he gave in to his compulsions instead of rising above them, what could she do?

Get out of range when they backfire,
she thought.

But she knew better. She adhered to the judicial code of ethics as strictly as any of her colleagues, but that wouldn’t help her when it came to appearances. If Cal was in trouble, she had no idea if their divorce would protect her from public backlash, or if she’d end up like Harris Mayer, disgraced and ostracized.

No charges were ever brought against Harris, but that didn’t make him innocent, she reminded herself. Regardless of his personal culpability, he’d had a hand in some shady dealings.

Most people she knew appreciated her unwillingness to completely cut off an old friend, even if they didn’t understand it. But would they understand if she’d unwittingly paired Harris and Cal, and they’d cooked up some fraudulent deals?

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” she said aloud, looking around at her empty kitchen. Cal would be gone when she returned from New Hampshire. She’d have her life back. She smiled suddenly, surprising herself. “Thank heaven.”

She headed upstairs, replacing visions of unpleasant imagined headlines with real memories of the lake, the mountains, the feel of cold dew on her feet on a late summer morning, memories, she thought, of home.

M
ackenzie noticed a fat spider scurry in front of Cal Benton’s shoe into the lush greenery of the “natural” courtyard of his condominium complex on the Potomac. Cal had called her on her cell phone, reaching her just after she’d had her stitches removed. He’d asked her to meet him privately as soon as possible. Since she’d allowed for more time than she’d ended up needing for her appointment, and had her own reasons for talking to him, she’d agreed and drove straight to his condo. He’d met her in the lobby and brought her out to the courtyard.

He was visibly tense, sweat already glistening on his upper lip as he stood on the cobblestone walk in the shade of a clump birch. The air was dead still. Nothing but the spider moved. A perpendicular walk led to an air-conditioned glass breezeway that connected the main building with the parking garage. Cal was undeterred, apparently, by the oppressive heat, dark clouds and rumble of thunder.

The spider disappeared, and Mackenzie tilted her head and gave Cal a long look. He was dressed casually, appropriate for a blistering Friday in August—not to mention his impending move. “Not going to give me the grand tour of your new condo?”

“Another time, perhaps.”

Meaning never, she thought. “Bernadette’s on her way to New Hampshire?”

“I assume so. She left before I got up this morning.” He nodded to the sky. “I hope she can make it to the lake before this line of storms reaches her.”

“She’s been making that trip for a lot of years.”

He lowered his eyes. “Yes, she has. Mackenzie—I’ll be blunt.” He raised his gaze to her, his expression serious, but she thought she detected a measure of embarrassment, too. “I have no intention of telling Bernadette about what you saw earlier this summer. If you weren’t in Washington and seeing her regularly, you wouldn’t consider telling her, either.”

“That’s not true—”

“It’s not that you feel she needs to know as much as it is you don’t like keeping something from her. You’re worried what she’ll think of you if she finds out you knew about this situation and said nothing.”

Mackenzie didn’t let him get to her. “The attack on me at the lake changes the equation. It happened on Beanie’s land, and that puts her under scrutiny. The police, the FBI, the marshals—reporters, even—will look into her background for any evidence she has a history with this man. The longer they can’t find him, the more likely her life at the lake will go under the microscope.”

“That means my life, too,” Cal said quietly. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”

“Cal, she can’t find out about your brunette from the police or reporters. She needs to find out from you.”

“You saw me with a woman with dark hair?”

“Yes—shoulder-length dark hair. I was canoeing. You two were on the screen porch. There’s no need to—” She broke off midsentence and grimaced. “Oh, hell, Cal. She wasn’t the only one. There have been other women.”

He took in a sharp breath through his nose. “You have no right to judge me.”

“Just stating the facts.”

“I’m normally not that promiscuous,” Cal said. “The divorce affected me more than I thought it would. I guess I was sowing my wild oats ahead of the official paperwork. I’m hardly the first man to give in to…” He trailed off, waving a hand as if Mackenzie was free to finish his sentence for him.

She wished the spider would poke back up out of the decorative grasses and crawl across Cal’s foot. “I wish I’d gone canoeing someplace else that day. If you believe word of your affair—or affairs—is about to come out, will you at least tell Beanie before it does?”

He nodded. “I will. Right now, it’s not my biggest concern—or yours, I would think.” Clearing his throat, he reached into a side pocket of his pants and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He opened it carefully, then showed it to her, revealing the police sketch of the man who’d attacked her a week ago. “Is this a decent likeness?”

“Except for the eyes,” she said. “It’s hard to capture just how soulless and eerie they were. Why? Do you recognize him?”

He flipped the paper over on the fold, as if he wanted that face staring up at him. “I don’t know.” Cal seemed to regain some of his natural arrogance. “When I first saw the sketch last week, nothing hit me. But I keep thinking about it.”

“Keep thinking what, Cal?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.” He thrust the sketch at her. “Do you suspect he’s one of the people Bernadette’s helped?”

Mackenzie took the paper but didn’t unfold it. She didn’t need to. “I have no idea.”

“You still haven’t been able to place where you’ve seen this man before?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Cal he didn’t wait for her to reply. “I’ll call the detectives in New Hampshire and let them know he seems familiar to me, too. Maybe it’ll help, maybe it won’t.”

“I’ll follow up and let them know we’ve talked.”

He gave her a cool look. “Of course. If Bernadette did help this man, it’s more likely it was before I was in her life. She’s become more circumspect. I keep telling her she doesn’t need to engage in direct charity. She can give money to organizations and lend her credibility to her favorite causes.” He took out a folded handkerchief from his back pocket and blotted the sweat above his lip. “As she did with the literacy fund-raiser last week.”

Mackenzie tried not to show just how irritating and condescending she found him. “Beanie’s a generous person.”

“It’s odd, don’t you think, for someone who’s as tight with a dollar as she is?”

“Makes perfect sense to me. Charity isn’t always about money.”

“That’s because you’re from Cold Ridge, too. You all think alike up there.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”

“Cal—”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You asked me here just to tell me you weren’t going to level with Beanie?”

He didn’t answer, simply shot up the walk toward the breezeway. Mackenzie, feeling the ninety-plus degree heat herself, stepped into the shade he’d vacated and debated whether to follow him and push him for more answers. Why he’d stopped at Rook’s house last night. What he knew about Harris Mayer’s whereabouts.

But she heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned, she saw Rook and T.J. making their way up the walk from the lobby door in their FBI suits. She dropped onto a stone bench.

“Special Agent Kowalski, Special Agent Rook,” she said, stretching out her legs. “If you’re looking for Cal Benton, he went that way.” She pointed toward the breezeway. “He’s got about a minute’s head start. He must have seen you, because we were having this nice conversation about three-legged puppies and—”

“I’ll go,” T.J. said, heading off at a light run.

Rook sat next to Mackenzie on the bench. “You look hot, Deputy Stewart.”

“I am hot. Cal hogged the shade.”

“Get your stitches out?”

“I did. Before you know it, I’ll be able to run, jump and shoot without pain.” Feeling sweaty, she looked up at the sky, but it was unchanged, no sign of the front moving through. “Cal’s trying to manipulate me. I can’t figure out why.”

“To save his own skin, probably.”

“I think he enjoys it.” She glanced at Rook, who didn’t seem to be sweating at all. “Did the doorman tell you we were out here?”

“You should have seen T.J.’s face when he mentioned a redhead,” Rook said.

“Cal called me. I didn’t just turn up. Why are you two here?”

“To follow up on last night. Time to get some answers from Benton.” Rook settled back on the bench. “I’d have told you T.J. and I were headed over here if you hadn’t sneaked out this morning while I was in the shower.”

She shrugged, pushing back a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the courtyard. “You didn’t have the kind of doughnuts I like.”

“I didn’t have any doughnuts.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She pointed toward the ornamental grasses. “There are spiders in there. Big ones. Of course, you’re from this area, so you’re probably used to them.”

“Mac—”

“Cal wanted to talk to me about a private matter.”

Rook leaned closer. “What private matter?”

She told him about Cal and his woman-of-the-moment at the lake, and her conclusion that there’d been other incidents. Rook listened without interrupting, and when she finished, she said, “It’s sordid behavior, but not illegal.”

“Did you recognize the woman he was with?” Rook asked.

“No.”

“How long has Cal known you saw them together?”

“Since I moved to Washington—about two weeks after I saw them. I considered pretending I hadn’t seen anything, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t trust him not to raise the stakes. I figured at least if he knew he’d been caught, he’d knock it off.”

Rook didn’t respond right away.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you sure you didn’t feel violated yourself? You grew up on that lake. Judge Peacham’s been a strong figure in your life—”

“Sure. I felt violated, too. So?” But she pressed ahead, not wanting to delve into her childhood on the lake. She opened up the sketch. “Cal now thinks our guy looks familiar.”

“Do you believe him?” Rook asked.

Mackenzie shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be more manipulation, but it doesn’t make sense that he’d lie. It doesn’t make sense he’d take a woman to Beanie’s lake house, either.”

“Why not? It’s quiet, isolated. Your parents are in Ireland. Most of the other people out there would be tourists. And if you like the idea of secretly sticking it to your soon-to-be-ex-wife—”

“That’s a sick way of thinking.”

“Who else might know about Cal’s flings?” Rook asked.

“Gus, maybe. He looks after the place when Beanie’s not there. But I haven’t said anything to him—to anyone except Cal, and now you.”

T.J. returned, not even remotely winded. “He took off. We can try him at his office.”

“He wasn’t dressed for the office,” Mackenzie said. “Of course, it’s Friday. I suppose he could stop in. He didn’t tell me where he was going.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby, where it’s air-conditioned and there’s cover if there’s a tornado,” T.J. said.

The bench was starting to feel very hard, but Mackenzie figured she’d let Rook and T.J. be on their way, then be on hers. But Rook didn’t move. She glanced at him. “Thinking?”

“Yeah. About last weekend at the lake. Did you put me in the room Cal and his brunette used?”

“I don’t know which room they used. I assume they used the downstairs bedroom.” In other words, Bernadette’s room. Mackenzie grinned at Rook and said, “I put you in the room that gets the bats.”

After T.J. and Rook left, Mackenzie returned to the lobby of Cal’s building, where the doorman, who had to be at least seventy, gave a low whistle. “You better take a few minutes and cool off.”

“I’m red?”

“Tomato-red.”

She made a face, although she wasn’t surprised. During training, she was known for getting red and splotchy during physical exertion. No matter how fit she was, heat had a way of turning her red. “It’s about a million degrees out there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He seemed untroubled. “Need some water?”

“I’ve got some in the car.” She opened up the sketch and smoothed it out on the desk in front of him. “Any chance you’ve seen this man?”

He studied the drawing. “I don’t think so. Maybe.”

“Take your time,” Mac said.

“Does he live here?”

“You tell me.”

But the doorman frowned, straightening. “Are you a cop?”

“I’m a federal agent.” She showed him her credentials and gave him her name. “You’re…”

“Charlie. Charlie West, ma’am.” He glanced back at the sketch, rubbing his chin with one hand. “What’d he do?”

“He knifed two women in New Hampshire.”

His hand dropped from his chin. “We don’t have anyone like that around here, Agent Stewart.”

“Deputy Stewart, sir. Just focus on the face. Is it familiar?”

“I don’t know.” He held up the paper. “Mind if I keep this?”

“Not at all. But if you see this man, don’t approach him. Call the police. You should consider him armed and dangerous.” She handed him her card. “If you have any questions or think of anything, call me, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“Do you know why Cal Benton insisted on meeting me in the sweltering courtyard instead of up in his condo?”

The doorman grinned, but quickly turned serious. “He had painters coming this morning, but he canceled them. I was supposed to let them into his place. They were on my list.”

“When did he cancel them?”

“I found out this morning—early. Right after I got in at seven.”

“He called you?”

“He came down here.”

“Was he alone?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yes, ma’am, he was alone.”

She thanked Charlie West for his time and headed out into the heat, just as thunder cracked and lightning flashed over the river. She ducked into her car, leaving the door open to the breeze, and dialed Joe Delvecchio’s number. When he answered, she told him everything that had transpired since her arrival at the condominium complex, leaving out only her exchange with Rook about the room with the bats.