Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

"I can't stand the tension, Sterling." She jumped back to her feet, her restlessness palpable. "I really can't."

He went around his desk and sat in his tall-backed leather chair, giving her room to pace. "I know. It's getting to all of us. I think today will be the worst day. Once we know what we're dealing with, we can adjust. It'll get better, Jodie. You know that."

She didn't seem to hear him. "I thought Louis was this smart security type. How did he manage to get himself killed? He should have been able to save himself-" She stopped, waving a hand at him as if to forestall the criticism she knew was coming. "I'm sorry. That's a terrible thing to say."

Sterling made no comment. Sometimes his wife's lack of compassion, her inability-or her unwillingness-to connect with other people, startled him. But usually it was momentary, and he never gave up hope that there wasn't a window into her soul.

She seemed slightly calmer. " Gary wants me to go uptoColdRidgeatleastuntilthepolicemakeanarrest. I don't know what I'd do up there all alone. Go crazy, probably. And I don't want to leave you down here-"

" Gary 's already told me he thinks I should go with you. I don't feel I can right now, but perhaps it's a good idea for you-"

"Why can't you? The police haven't said you can't leave town. If they need anything, they can call you in New Hampshire." She flounced onto the couch once more, stubborn more than upset. "We've done nothing wrong. I can't believe our lives are so turned upside down just because a murder was committed on our property."

"Jodie," Sterling said quietly, hearing the admonishment in his tone, "a man who worked for us is dead."

"I know. Oh, God, I know! " She groaned, shaking her head in frustration, fighting tears. "My reactions are all over the place. I can't believe-" She swallowed, looking down at he feet, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. "Who'd have thought something as small as a bullet could kill Louis Sanborn? He was so alive, wasn't he?"

Sterling felt a sudden sense of loss, although he hadn't known Louis that well. But he was so young, and now he was gone. "I know what you mean."

"I feel sorry for Carine." Jodie shook her head, displaying one of her rare tugs of real compassion. "Of all the people to find him. I hope she's gone back to Cold Ridge. She should just sit in front of the fire in that little log cabin of hers and relax for a few days."

"Manny Carrera is a friend."

"I know he is. There's just nothing good to be found in this situation, is there? I thought we were doing Carine a favor when we hired her. Now look. It's hard to believe Manny could murder someone, but I suppose we have to keep an open mind."

Sterling shook his head. "I can't do it, can you? Manny's no murderer. I refuse even to consider that he might be guilty."

"That's because you're fascinated by him," Jodie said. "Speaking of doing people favors-"

"Don't, Jodie. I won't take responsibility for Manny's situation. I didn't ask him to show up at the house when he did."

"Why was he there?"

"I have no idea. He's a good man, and I'm sorry he's under even the slightest cloud of suspicion. That doesn't make it my fault."

"No, of course not." She smiled abruptly, unfolding her legs and sliding to her feet. "But who are you trying to convince, hmm? Keep in mind that normal people don't jump out of helicopters to rescue people."

"Manny helped save our lives, Jodie."

"And how many times have he and Hank Callahan and Tyler North said we don't owe them a thing? They like what they do. They didn't rescue us because it was us-they rescued us because we were in a tight spot and they were in a position to help."

"Still-"

"Don't let your gratitude and respect affect your judgment."

He watched her walk across his office, her impatience less visible as she came behind his desk and kissed him on the top of the head. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "We'll get through this," he said.

"We just need to remember to take care of ourselves."

In a business situation, Sterling would know what to do to take care of himself. But this was different. He felt a spurt of pain in his temples. "I'm so damn tired. I keep picturing Louis-"

"Don't," his wife said. "It won't get you anywhere. I know, I've been doing the same thing."

She eased in front of him, then lowered herself to his lap, sinking against his chest. He could feel her exhaustion. "We'll get through this, my love," she whispered, but it seemed almost as if she was addressing someone else. "I'll make sure we do."

He leaned back with her, rocking gently, but he was aware that he had no physical response to her. Not that many years ago, he'd have cleared his desk and made love to her then and there. A tense, difficult situation wouldn't have stopped him. He'd have welcomed the distraction, the release. So would she.

But Jodie was different these days, or he was different, and certainly he'd never dealt with a murder before, the deliberate taking of a human life. A man he knew, a man he'd hired. It changed everything, and he was afraid, terrified to his very core, that his nonreaction to his wife was only the beginning, and ultimately the least of his worries.

The Mount Chester School for Boys occupied three hundred acres on the outskirts of the village of Cold Ridge, its picturesque campus dotted with huge oak trees still hanging onto their burgundy-and-burnt-orange leaves under the darkening November sky. Carine was almost relieved when Ty said he needed to stop at the school to check on Eric Carrera, Manny's son. It gave her a chance to get her bearings now that she was back in her hometown for the first time in months.

She'd said little during the three-hour trip north. There was no taking back what she'd initiated at her apartment. She'd wanted it to happen. Emotionally, she was over Tyler North. Physically-physically, she thought, he was a hard man to resist.

"Did you notice my abs?" she'd asked him during the drive.

He'd almost driven off the road. "What?"

"My abdominal muscles. I've been running and swimming, doing all sorts of calisthenics." She didn't mention she was trying to pass the PJ preliminary fitness test. "Chin-ups. Flutter kicks."

"Sure, Carine. That's what I was thinking. Gee, she's been doing flutter kicks. "

"Flutter kicks are the worst, don't you think?"

He hadn't said a word. Now, apparently as tense as she was, he used more force than was necessary to engage the emergency brake. "I'll be right back."

She watched him head up the stone walk to the late-nineteenth-century brick administration building, whose design was classic New England prep school, with its tall, black-shuttered windows and ivy vines, that died back in the autumn cold. If she'd lived, Carine thought, her mother could still be here, teaching biology to another generation of boys. Mount Chester was a solid private high school with a good reputation, but it didn't have the prestige of an Andover or Choate. Carine, her sister and her brother-and Ty-had all attended the local public school.

She knew sending Eric to Mount Chester had to be a financial stretch for the Carreras, but they believed it would be good for him to be on his own, although Carine suspected there was more to it than that.

She climbed out of the truck, immediately noticing that the air was colder, a nasty bite in the wind, but she could smell the leaves and the damp ground, not yet frozen for the winter. Fallen leaves covered most of the lawn, most already dry and brown, some still soft, in shades of yellow, orange, maroon, even red-although the reds tended to drop first.

"Eric'll meet us out here," Ty said, returning to the small parking lot.

Carine nodded, sticking her hands into her pockets, trying to acclimatize herself to being back in New Hampshire.