Abandon (21 page)

J
esse shivered in the cold, early morning mountain air and crept across the bare rock to Cal, who hadn’t moved much in the past three hours. They’d made camp amid a cluster of granite boulders well off the main trails in the hills above Bernadette Peacham’s lake house. No tent or sleeping bags, just a couple of emergency blankets that packed up to the size of a deck of cards.

“Morning, Cal.”

Jesse pulled the gag from Cal’s mouth, not that Cal showed any gratitude. He coughed and spat. “You sadistic bastard. I could have
died.
”

“Died of what?”

“Thirst, choking on my own spit—I could hardly breathe.” He hacked some more, turning red. “Bastard.”

“If you were in danger of dying, I’d have woken up.” Jesse calmly cut the ropes on his captive’s hands and feet. “Give yourself a couple minutes for the circulation to return.”

He’d had three hours sleep himself, max. He’d picked up Cal yesterday after his little
tête-à-tête
with Mackenzie Stewart and took him out to the airport, stuffing him in his plane and debating whether just to shove him out over the Atlantic. For years to come, people could wonder whatever happened to Calvin Benton, Judge Peacham’s ex-husband.

Instead, Jesse fed and watered the turncoat and flew him up to New Hampshire, then dragged him into the hills. Clearly, nothing about the White Mountains calmed or rejuvenated Cal. He’d gone silent, tight and tense, obviously plotting his way out of the mess he was in.

The mountains had focused Jesse’s mind. Dragging Cal up there overnight maybe hadn’t been the greatest idea, but leaving him in Washington to cut his own deal with the FBI, or whatever, wasn’t an option. Now that Deputy Mackenzie and her FBI guy had found Harris, the police and the media were all over his death. She and Rook weren’t identified in media reports, but Jesse knew it had been them. They’d found the rooming house. Was it because of Bernadette Peacham? Her friendship with Harris?

Doesn’t matter.

Of course, the reporters were all saying Harris was murdered. Jesse considered what he’d done that night was self-defense at its most elemental and pure.

Cal slowly rubbed his wrists and ankles where the rope had cut deep into his fair skin. “I will die, anyway, won’t I?” His tone was surprisingly matter-of-fact. “Sooner or later, I’ll pay for my sins.”

“We all pay for our sins.”

With the passage of the cold front yesterday, the air was downright chilly. Jesse could have slept for hours, if not for Cal gagged and bound a few feet from him. Awake, Jesse had his assault knife to keep his prisoner in line. Asleep, he needed Cal quiet and immobile.

“Oh, God.” Cal abruptly rolled onto the knees and vomited into the dirt, moaning as he finished up and sat back on his heels, his face ashen. “Damn you to hell, Jesse. Harris was right about you. You are the devil.”

“We had a good arrangement, Cal. You profited, Harris profited, I profited.”

“But for how long? You’d never take your million and go way. You’d be back for more. You wouldn’t be satisfied, and I’d get in deeper and deeper, until one day I found myself in the middle of a scandal, just like Harris.” Cal’s voice croaked, and he spat again. He looked haggard, his lips cracked dry from the gag. “I didn’t want to end up like him.”

Jesse thought of the way he’d left Harris at the rooming house. “That I can understand, but you should have come to me, talked to me. Treated me like an equal, a partner, instead of something you wanted to scrape off the bottom of your shoe.”

“I don’t have any intention of keeping one cent of your money. The rest is just to make sure you go away and never come back.”

Jesse opened up a plastic water bottle and handed it to Cal. “Don’t drink too fast. You’ll throw up again.”

“Do you think I care?” But he drank, water spilling down his chin like drool, and he didn’t stop until he’d drained the bottle. He tossed it aside, not bothering to wipe his mouth. “I wish I’d run you over on the street when I first met you.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t,” Jesse said. “Stop thinking about jumping me now. You’re in no condition, and I’ll kill you.”

“If you kill me, you won’t get your damn money or anything else.”

“Your ex-wife—”

“Bernadette doesn’t know anything. Just leave her out of this mess.”

“You’re trying to make sure I don’t throw you over a cliff and rely on the sainted Judge Peacham instead. You don’t care what happens to her. Don’t pretend you do.”

Cal’s eyes darkened. “Did you kill that poor girl in Washington?”

“Your little blonde? Why would I kill her?”

“For leverage. If there’s one thing you understand, Jesse, it’s leverage.”

“True.”

Jesse reached into his pack and produced a protein bar—peanut butter and chocolate chip. Not his favorite, but he tore it open and took a bite. He had his knife tucked in his belt. One wrong move by Cal, and Jesse would cut him and enjoy doing it. The guy was scum.

The protein bar was dry and purely utilitarian. He loved the stripped-down life the mountains required. No distractions, no excesses. The ability to survive was all that mattered up here. He took another bite of the bar and drank some water.

“Don’t think I don’t know you, Cal,” he said. “I’m a great observer of people. That’s how I make my money. You’re bored.”

“I’m fighting for my life and you think I’m bored?”

“You brought your women to New Hampshire because you were bored with the status quo. Bored with yourself. You let your boredom turn into anger and recklessness. Why do you think you hooked up with me in the first place?” Jesse took another drink, then gestured at Cal with the water bottle. “Boredom.”

“No, Jesse. I hooked up with you because you and Harris threatened to expose me. I wish the hell I’d let you. You didn’t want money from me—you wanted access and information. You’ve been squeezing Harris for years, but the very weaknesses you exploited finally got the better of him. So you pressured him into getting you someone new.” Cal touched a fingertip to a cracked spot on the corner of his mouth that had turned bloody. “Me.”

Jesse shook his head. “You didn’t walk away, did you? And you know why?”

“Boredom?” Cal snorted. “I’m not bored, you son of a bitch. I’m scared. If you don’t kill me, the damn FBI will toss my ass in prison.”

“Have a little faith.” Jesse felt his smile become distant, nasty. “Lucky you didn’t try to make your own deal with the FBI.”

“Harris…” Cal turned pale, and the cockiness went out of his voice. “Jesse—what have you done to him?”

Jesse didn’t respond. Harris and Cal’s betrayal had set off something in him. But that wasn’t all. Being in Cold Ridge had tripped a switch deep inside him, reminding him of the first time he’d come to the White Mountains as an isolated, angry, frightened young man. He’d had to get control of the violence that raged inside him. He’d had to find a way to make it work for him.

And here he was again, taking risks, telling himself he had to be bold—that boldness had always worked for him.

He thought about Mackenzie Stewart and felt an urge to see her, talk to her, hear her voice. He pictured her blue eyes, her creamy skin, the spray of freckles across her nose. How could she have become a marshal?

“Never mind,” Cal said quietly. “I don’t need to know about Harris.”

Eventually, Harris had recognized Jesse’s capacity for violence, but not Cal. The dossier he and Harris had put together on their partner in crime didn’t include that aspect of Jesse’s life.

Even after spending a night tied up and gagged, Jesse thought, Cal Benton would find a way to believe he had the upper hand and was dealing with a man who, ultimately, would make a deal with him.

“You need to pull out,” Cal said. “Go back to Mexico and let me wire you your money. It’s too risky now to force me to do anything. You’ve got the FBI, the marshals and local and state police on your ass. Trust me to keep up my end of our bargain.”

“
Your
bargain. I never agreed to anything.”

“Come on, Jesse. It’s an easy million for you—”

“Not easy. I worked for that money. It’s
mine.
”

Cal gulped in a breath. “Things have changed. For both of us. We need to reassess our situation.”

“You’re arrogant, but you’re not as smart as you think you are. You like the action, Cal.” Jesse finished the last of his protein bar. “You’re like me in a lot of ways.”

“What you’re doing now will destroy both of us. Jesse, you’re a smart man. You’re good at what you do. Why risk everything?”

“My million’s here in New Hampshire, isn’t it, Cal?”

He didn’t respond. Squinting, he gazed out across the mountains, a cold breeze lifting the ends of his thin air.

“I was right to come up here last week.”

Cal looked at him, even paler now. “What?”

Jesse got up, wishing he’d had more sleep last night. Three hours would have to do. “On your feet, Cal. We’ve got some rough hiking to do before we get to the lake.”

“Jesse—was Harris right?”

“Am I the devil, you mean?”

“It
was
you who attacked Mackenzie.”

“Don’t be so taken aback, Cal. She fought hard. I underestimated her. In fact, if she hadn’t just come from the lake, she’d have had me.”

Cal didn’t seem to be breathing. “Then you are violent.”

Jesse smirked and said, “We’re all violent.”

R
ook listened to the water run in the shower as he put on coffee. What could be more normal on a summer Saturday morning? But nothing was normal. Not today. Mackenzie had slipped out of bed early and logged on to Brian’s computer to buy an e-ticket for a shuttle up to New Hampshire. T.J. was on the way. They had work to do. As of yesterday afternoon, J. Harris Mayer had become a priority.

Last night, Rook’s brothers and father had all described incidents where they’d faced similar intransigence, arrogance and manipulation on the part of a conflicted source, with a bad outcome of one kind or another. In his own case, the outcome was as bad as it could get. Harris was dead.

T.J. turned up with a bag of doughnuts. “I figured you could use a shot of sugar this morning.” As always, he looked as if he’d stepped out of an FBI recruiting ad. But he raised an eyebrow. “Mackenzie?”

“In the shower,” Rook said.

“Sure you know what you’re doing?”

“She’s heading to New Hampshire today to see Judge Peacham.”

T.J. pulled a glazed doughnut out of the bag. “She should leave the investigating to the rest of us and go read a book.” He sat at the table. “Maybe you should, too.”

“If you’d been attacked on the lake where you grew up, would you be reading a book?”

“I wouldn’t have been in a pink swimsuit when I was attacked, that’s for sure. I’m not criticizing. I’m just saying what I think.”

“Understood.” T.J. bit into his doughnut. Rook picked out a plain one. Too much sugar and he’d be bouncing off the walls. Mackenzie hadn’t invited him to fly to New Hampshire with her. He’d awakened before dawn and watched her sleep, realizing that a part of this woman he’d made love to was still up north. She’d lived in New Hampshire all her life. No matter how committed she thought she was to her new work, he could tell she wasn’t convinced yet it was where she belonged. It wasn’t just other people’s doubts. It was her own.

She entered the room, dressed in jeans, a summer jacket and a shoulder holster. Her wound had stood up to their gymnastics last night. Rook had tried to be careful, at least when his mind wasn’t totally elsewhere.

“Don’t you two look ready to climb tall mountains and slay dragons this morning,” Mackenzie said cheerfully, the ends of her hair still wet from her shower. “You don’t have much of a blow-dryer, Rook.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted the doughnut bag. “Ah. Doughnuts. You didn’t bring just two doughnuts, did you, T.J.?”

He grinned at her. “I’m a trained, experienced FBI agent. I knew you’d be here.”

She smiled, the freckles standing out against her cheeks. “Good thinking.” She plucked out another glazed doughnut. “My cab’s about to pull up. I’ll wait outside. Thanks for letting me leave my car here, Rook.”

“Not a problem.”

“See you tomorrow night. Let me know if there are any developments here.”

“We’ll tell you what we can,” T.J. said.

She obviously didn’t like that, but didn’t argue. “I’ll do the same.”

She picked up her backpack, which she’d dragged into the kitchen first thing, as if she’d wanted to avoid going back to the bedroom with T.J. there. But Rook wasn’t convinced he knew everything about how Mackenzie thought, what drove her. For answers, he suspected he needed to spend more time in New Hampshire, where she’d lived her entire life before packing up for the training academy.

He heard the cab arrive, then pull back into the street.

“You could you have stopped her,” T.J. said.

“Uh-huh. I have more guns. And you’d back me up.”

“No way. I’m staying out of whatever you two have going on. When I see sparks, I get out of the line of fire.” T.J. finished the last of his doughnut and rinsed off his fingers. “So when are you going up to New Hampshire?”

T.J. could read people better than anyone Rook had ever worked with. He sighed. “My flight leaves two hours after hers.”

“Then let’s get rolling.”

They headed straight to Cal Benton’s condominium complex. If he hadn’t returned overnight, someone there might know where he was.

A different doorman greeted them in the lobby, young, rail-thin, with a calculus textbook open on his desk. “You the ones who left that sketch?” he asked.

“A colleague did,” Rook said.

“I think I know the guy.”

Rook suppressed any reaction. “From your work here?”

“Yeah. I’m on part-time, mostly nights and weekends.” He pushed back his chair and yanked open a drawer, pulling out the crumpled copy of the sketch of Mackenzie’s attacker. He thumped a finger on it. “Yeah, he’s the guy. I saw him getting on the elevator just the other night. Two, three days ago.”

“Was he visiting someone here? Do you have a log—”

“What?” The kid seemed to be confused. “No, he wasn’t visiting anyone that I know of. He’s got a place here.”

T.J. straightened, and Rook couldn’t hide his surprise. “Where?” he asked.

“Sixth floor. It’s a corporate condo. He’s leased it for six months. I don’t remember the name of his company. It’s Virginia-based, but he’s not from here—works for them, or he owns it. I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“What’s his name?” T.J. asked.

The kid shrugged. “No idea.”

Rook nodded to the sketch. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure. It looks like him. I don’t know if I’d have recognized him if I’d just seen the sketch on TV, but I figured there’s a reason you guys brought it by.”

“Why didn’t the doorman who was here yesterday morning recognize him?”

“This guy’s not around a lot.”

“Call up to his condo,” Rook said. “Let’s see if he’s home.”

There was no answer, nor was there any answer at Benton’s condo. Rook and T.J. thanked the young doorman and stepped back outside. T.J. gave a low whistle. “We’re going to be busy this morning.”

Rook agreed. Time to get a couple of search warrants. Fast.