Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

Jodie had remained at their South Shore home this morning. She said she didn't want to see or speak to anyone unless she had to-as far as she was concerned, if the police wanted to interview her again, they could drive down to Hingham and find her.

She knew nothing, Sterling thought. None of them did. Louis Sanborn had been in their lives for two weeks. That was it.

Manny Carrera couldn't have killed him. Manny saved lives. He only took a life when he came under enemy fire and had no other choice. Sterling had read up on PJs and their heroic work, although Manny and Tyler North would be the last to call what they did heroic. It wasn't false humility- Sterling would have recognized it if it were.

He and Jodie owed Manny Carrera their lives. But if the police wanted to waste their time pursuing him, that was their choice. There was nothing Sterling or anyone else could do.

"Mr. Rancourt?"

Gary Turner walked down the hall, his nearly colorless eyes and extremely pale skin disconcerting, off-putting even before anyone had gotten to the point of noticing the missing fingers. But he was quiet and supremely competent, and Sterling knew better than to underestimate him because of his strange appearance. Jodie said she found him fascinating, even sexy in a weird way. He wasn't ex-military or ex-law enforcement- Sterling suspected he was ex-CIA. Whatever the case, his credentials in private and corporate security had checked out. He hadn't said a word when Sterling hired Manny Carrera as a consultant. Either he was too self-disciplined to criticize his employer's decision, or he approved. Sterling hadn't asked him his opinion.

"Carine's on her way?"

Turner nodded. "She doesn't know what to do with herself."

"A shock reaction. She'll rally. It just might take a little more time than she wants it to. I've met her brother and sister-and her uncle-and they're all strong, resilient people."

But he could tell concern over Carine Winter wasn't why Turner was here. The man shifted slightly, lowering his voice although there was no one within earshot. "There's been a new development. Tyler North is in town. I just saw his truck on Comm. Ave. "

" Tyler? Interesting." Sterling didn't share Turner's sense of drama over this news. Of course Tyler would be here if was able to. He'd known Carine since childhood and had almost married her in February, and Manny was a friend. They'd gone on missions together. "He must be on leave-he'll have heard about Manny's predicament. Word like that travels like wildfire."

"I don't think he's here because of Mr. Carrera. Not directly."

Sterling nodded, sighing. "Of course. Carine." He pictured Tyler North, a compact, rugged man, incredibly loyal despite being something of a loner himself. "Well, she won't like it, but I suppose having him here will be a distraction for her."

"What do you want me to do?" Turner asked.

"About Tyler?"

Sterling thought a moment. He hated the situation he was in, how out of control it felt. Boston 's best homicide detectives were on the case, but he wasn't involved-they didn't answer to him. A man, an employee, had been found murdered in a house he owned. Everything about him and his life was fair game. Yet the murderer was probably a drifter, a petty thief or a drug addict, who'd wandered in after Louis stupidly left the door open and, for reasons that might never be known, decided to shoot him.

The police had no motive, no murder weapon, no suspect in custody. Until they did, Sterling thought, he and Jodie, Gary Turner, Carine Winter, Manny Carrera- none of them would have much room to maneuver.

" Tyler 's a friend," he told Turner. "Do nothing."

Boston Public Garden, which dated back to 1859, was one of Carine's favorite places in the city. Its curving Victorian paths, lawns, gardens, statues, benches and more than six hundred trees were enclosed within arched, wrought-iron fences, making it feel like a retreat, as if she'd stepped back in time.

If only she could step back to yesterday morning, she thought. She could warn Louis not to go back to the Rancourt house alone-delay him, get in the car with him, talk him into watching the pigeons with her.

She crossed the small bridge over the shallow pond where the famed Swan Boats, a century-plus tradition, would cruise during warmer months. They were put away for the season, and now just fallen leaves floated on the water. But she didn't linger, instead took a walkway over to Tremont Street and the Four Seasons Hotel. When the Rancourts had people in town on business, they tended to put them up at the Four Seasons. Manny Carrera couldn't afford it on his own. Neither could she, but if she wasn't paying the tab, she'd stay there. Maybe Manny would, too.

She entered the elegant lobby and wandered over to a seating area that looked across Tremont to the Public Garden, its soft sofas and high-backed chairs occupied by a handful of well-dressed men and women in business attire. Carine felt out of place in her barn coat but didn't worry about it-she didn't plan to stay.

She spotted Manny on a love seat in front of a window as he drank coffee from a delicate china cup. He wore a dark suit with a blue tie and motioned for her to join him, shaking his head as she sat on a chair opposite him. "I saw you beating a path across the park. Got a brainstorm I was here?"

"It's not a park. You're not supposed to walk on the grass."

"Then what is it?"

"A public botanical garden. It was designed by Frederick Olmsted. He did Central Park, too, which is a park."

"Ah."

She leaned forward. "Manny-"

"I'm stuck here, Carine. You're not. Why don't you go home?"

"I am home. I live in Boston now."

" For now, you mean."

"Why are you stuck here? Did the police say you can't leave? You're not under arrest or you wouldn't be here."

He shrugged, not answering. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck-his suit was tight around his upper arms and thighs. He was six feet tall and strongly built. Carine doubted the PJ Physical Abilities and Stamina Test had given him any trouble. He and Ty both insisted a pararescueman didn't have to be big, but Manny was one who was.

"Manny, I'm not trying to interfere in your business. I just-" She sighed, uncertain how she could explain why she was here. "We both were there yesterday. I guess I just wanted to see you. I'm not having an easy time of it, and I thought-I don't know what I thought."

His dark eyes warmed slightly. "The police want to talk to me again today. I'm cooperating. If I don't, they'll probably find a reason to throw me in jail sooner rather than later."

"Why at all?"

"They have to do their thing." He leaned over to refill his coffee cup from a silver service set on the low table in front of him. "You know what's good about staying at a fancy place? You can pick out the cops. They fit in about as well as I do."

"There's a police officer here?"

"I'm under surveillance. I think it's supposed to be covert."

"Manny!" Carine found herself glancing around at the occupied seats, noticing an older couple, a middle-aged man reading a Wall Street Journal, a young woman tapping at a PalmPilot. "The woman?"

"Uh-huh."

"Manny, doesn't this bother you? Having the police waste their time on you, when you know you had nothing to do with Louis's death?"

He sipped his coffee. "Getting bothered isn't going to change anything."

"So, what're you going to do, sit here and do nothing? "

"Sure, why not? Enjoy the fancy digs while I can. Rancourt hasn't told me to clear out yet. So long as he's footing the bill, I can-"

"You can what, drink coffee out of a silver pot?"

His eyes didn't leave her. "I have to tell you, drinking coffee out of a silver pot suits me just fine."