Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

"Can I take these socks?"

"Take?"

"I'm unemployed."

"You're self-employed. There's a difference."

She dug in her coat pockets, looking for money. "The police must be putting the thumbscrews to Manny. It's got to be killing Ty not to know what's going on. He doesn't say anything-"

"He won't. It's not his style. And it'd take more than thumb screws to get Carrera to talk if he doesn't want to."

"Why wouldn't he want to?"

"I didn't say he doesn't. Just don't you worry about it. He can take care of himself. I know, I know-so can you." He rubbed his booted toe over Stump's hind end, the dog wagging his tail in appreciation. "Something like this happens, it's like you're a little kid again. I can't help it."

Carine pulled a few quarters out of one pocket. "It's comforting to know there's someone in my life who cares as much as you do."

"Honey-"

"Don't go there, Gus. Ty's been a perfect gentleman. It's okay."

"Gentleman? Sure. I believe that."

"I'm handling being around him." She set the quarters on the counter. "I don't have my wallet with me."

"You can owe me."

"Do I at least get a discount?"

He offered ten percent. She argued for thirty and settled for twenty. When she tried to throw in new cross country skis and socks for Ty, he shooed her out the door.

It was dusk, the sun dipping behind the mountains in a pink glow as Carine made the familiar three-quarter mile walk up the hill to her uncle's house. She smelled smoke from a fireplace in the neighborhood. She kicked through dry, fallen leaves on the sidewalk, and when she got to the house, she sat on the top step of the front porch. She could see herself and Ty as kids up in the maple tree in the side yard, still sweating and panting from raking up the huge pile of leaves under their thick branch. He threatened to push her if she didn't jump on her own.

Saskia North had never come up to Gus's house. Not once, not even to pick up her son. Ty had been on his own for a long time. It was what he knew, and Carine wondered if she'd been crazy to think he'd ever really let anyone in.

North dropped Manny's son off at school with his bag of leaves and a full head of worries. But there wasn't much Ty or anyone could do to ease the mind of a fourteen-year-old boy who knew his father was in a mess- who knew his father hadn't called to reassure him and probably wouldn't.

For which Ty could cheerfully strangle his friend. But on one level, he understood. Manny, in his own particular, annoying way, was doing his best to protect his son. He'd put everyone on a need-to-know basis. They could worry, they could get mad, but if he didn't think they needed to know something, he wasn't going to tell them.

Carine could try her burning bamboo shoots on Manny Carrera, too, but they wouldn't work.

Carine. Hell, she'd had no idea Louis Sanborn wasn't Louis Sanborn. It'd been obvious from her reaction. The guy she'd found dead-the guy she'd liked -wasn't who he said he was. If Manny had found out, it would explain why he'd headed to Boston to recommend Sterling Rancourt fire him. Rancourt couldn't employ someone who'd lied to him-especially for security.

"Not to mention screwing the poor bastard's wife," Ty muttered to himself.

But had Manny known that?

North turned onto Gus's village street, and although it wasn't even six o'clock, Cold Ridge was already engulfed in darkness. Gus's house was all lit up because Carine was there-otherwise, her uncle would have just the kitchen light on. Ty pulled into the short driveway, his cell phone ringing, and he just barely made out Val Carrera's voice through the static. "You must have some kind of mother radar, Val. I just saw Eric. He's worried about Manny, but he's okay."

"Is he eating?"

"Not much from the looks of him, but he had his meds with him. He was coughing, but lungs sounded pretty clear. The house parents at his dorm were waiting for him when we got back-"

"Got back from where?"

"Town. We were leaf-collecting."

"I should-never mind."

"I know it's hard, Val, but he'll make it through this thing. We all will."

"What other choice is there?" She was grumbling, worried and out of sorts, but she didn't sound as fragile as she'd been six months ago. "Manny's not talking to you, either, is he?"

Instinctively, despite his own frustration with his friend, North found himself offering a defense. "Manny doesn't have a lot of room to maneuver."

But Val wasn't one to cut anyone, herself included, much slack. "How much maneuvering does it take to dial a goddamn phone? Okay, never mind. That's not why I called. Look-I'm driving myself crazy here with the computer. You don't happen to know his password?"

"Why would I know his password?"

"I don't know. He tells you things he doesn't tell me. I thought if he knew he might be in deep trouble, he'd maybe clue you in on how you could help him if he really got in over his head."

"I don't know how to help him, Val. I wish I did."

"He's hamstrung. He can't do a damn thing except smile at the cops."

If I can't function…I've got computer files…you'll remember.

Hell, North thought. Only Manny. "Try I love Val. "

"What?"

"For the password. Manny said something to me yesterday at the hotel. It didn't make sense at the time-"

"What, that he loves me?" she asked in that wry Val tone.

"No, that he felt the need to mention it. Christ, Val, you can be irritating."

He heard her tapping her keyboard. "It didn't work, so there. Wait, let me try-" She gulped in a breath.

"Bingo! I'll be damned, North, that's it! I used a u for love and one v. I'm in. I-l-u-v-a-l. "

"Val-"

"I knew you'd know. I wish I'd thought of you ten million failed passwords ago. I'm surprised this thing didn't self-destruct like in Mission Impossible, just start smoking."

"Val, what's on the screen-"

But it was as if her mind was inside the computer. "I'll call you back if I find anything interesting. Watch, it'll just be a spreadsheet of how much he's won in the football pool. He loves those damn spreadsheets."

She clicked off, and Ty could have thrown his phone out the window. He adored Val-everyone did, just like everyone adored Manny. They were straightforward, high energy, fighters. But both of them could drive Ty straight up the wall if he let them.

I love Val.

Why hadn't the big oaf just said it was his goddamn password?

The cop with the PalmPilot, probably. Manny wouldn't want to tip her off. But if he had anything on Louis Sanborn, anything that could help his situation, he needed to be spilling it to the damn police, not making cryptic remarks to a PJ buddy.

Maybe whatever was in the files didn't help his situation.

Or maybe there was nothing in his files, North thought, and he and Val were just grasping at straws, trying to help a friend and husband who may have lost it two days ago and blown a man away. It'd been a rough year for Manny. He shouldn't have retired. He needed a couple more years to get Eric out of school, Val back on her feet and in a new job. Starting his own business-it was a different world for Manny Carrera, unfamiliar territory.

But he hadn't lost it. He hadn't blown Louis San-born-or whoever he was-away in Boston on Wednesday.

Ty rousted Stump out of a hole he was digging in the backyard and joined the Winters in the kitchen, the uncle and the auburn-haired, blue-eyed niece arguing over butternut squash. Bake or boil. Nutmeg or cinnamon. Real butter or the soft stuff made with olive oil. Boiling won out, because there wasn't enough room in the oven with the clay pot.

Carine retreated with Stump to the front room to sit by the fire, and Ty wondered if he looked as agitated and frustrated as he was, as ready to get into his truck and charge down to Boston.