Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

"You two? " Carine gaped at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"You did plenty."

Ty rolled to his feet. "Relax, Carine, he's just irritable because he's sweet on the local egg lady, and he knows it's stupid."

"Stupid-hell, it's insane. She's got hanging beads for doors." He sighed, switching on the oven to Preheat. "Do you know how many different kinds of chickens there are? Ask her. She'll tell you."

Carine went over to him, slipped her arm around his lean waist and hugged him. "I love you, Uncle Gus."

"Yeah, kid, I know. It won't stop me from chopping your head off if you and North here-"

She changed the subject. "Bats and mice moved in whileIwasoutoftown.Ty'sbeeninstallingpest-chasers."

"They're not working. He's still here."

Ty rolled his eyes without comment.

Gus put the lasagna in the oven, then went to the back door and yelled for Stump. "Come on, boy. Come inside."

"Gus!" Carine charged to the door, hoping to head off Stump before he got into her kitchen. "There's not enough room in here for Stump-"

But the big dog burst into the kitchen, excited from his romp outside, and he slid on the wood floor all the way into the great room, then crashed into the unlit woodstove. Once he regained his balance, he jumped on the couch and panted.

"I'll get a bottle of wine," Ty said into Carine's ear. "You negotiate house rules with Gus and Stump."

"Stump hasn't been here in a while. He's forgotten," Gus said, then snapped his fingers. "Stump! Off the couch, boy!"

Stump ignored him, and he ignored Carine when she ordered him off the furniture. She finally had to get him by the collar and drag him down to the floor. Abruptly calmer, he slunk under the kitchen table and collapsed.

"He likes to push the limits," Gus said as he returned to the kitchen. "Antonia and Nate both called. Antonia said to tell you Hank would check on Val Carrera tonight. Nate was making sure I knew he'd told you to go mountain-climbing today. He's flying up here tomorrow. I think he knows something."

Carine sank against the counter. "Gus, how did we end up with a doctor and a U.S. marshal in the family? Why not three nature photographers?"

He smiled. "Because you all three were pains in the ass and each had to be the best at something. Come on. Relax. You look like the weight of the world's on your shoulders. It'll be good to have your brother up for a visit. It's been a while. Hey, here's North with the wine."

"I grabbed a merlot." Ty gave a mock shudder. "I won't tell you what I found down in the cellar, but bats and mice-they're nothing."

Sterling picked up the phone several times to call Carine Winter and Tyler North and try to make up for his abysmal behavior yesterday. He was embarrassed. Whatever had possessed him? But he didn't make the call, and now Jodie was crying nonstop, ripping his heart out because he could, again, after all, feel sympathy for her. He was shocked by how quickly he'd switched from blaming himself for her infidelity to blaming her. Now he didn't know who-what-to blame.

She staggered into the living room, trembling, visibly weak and overwrought. Her face was red and raw from tears, her eyes puffy, her nose running. She joined him in front of the bank of windows that looked out to the mountains. They could see for miles, but it was dark now, the glass reflecting their own images back at them.

Sterling hit the remote control that shut the shades, their hum the only sound in the sprawling, empty house.

Jodie sank onto the sectional couch. She looked ugly to him, pitiful. He turned away, wondering what in God's name had happened to them. How had he come to this state of affairs? A murdered employee-a man who'd tricked them, lied to them, betrayed them. Sterling wondered, now that he was calmer, if Louis San-born or whoever he was had played on Jodie's weaknesses, used herinone of the worst ways possible.

And Turner. That stupid bastard. Asleep at the switch at best.

Manny Carrera wasn't technically an employee, but there was no doubt the police suspected him of murder. Sterling had read that in the faces of the Boston detectives last night when they interviewed him and Jodie about the pictures. Separately, of course.

Pictures of his wife with another man were now in the hands of the police. They'd promised to be discreet, but he and Jodie were a wealthy, prominent couple- the media would eat up the pictures.

"Dear God," he whispered.

Carine and Tyler…two people he admired. They had to hate him now. Hank, Antonia. They'd have nothing to do with him after his behavior, after this horrible scandal.

Once again, Sterling thought miserably, he'd failed to rise to the occasion.

"Manny Carrera did it." Jodie spoke quietly, stoically, as if she didn't have the strength for any more emotion; but her voice was hoarse from crying. "He killed Louis. All these people-Tyler North, Hank Callahan, Carine Winter. They'll ruin our lives in an attempt to prove Carrera's innocence."

Sterling stared at the blind-covered windows. "They want the truth to come out, Jodie. That's all."

She shook her head, adamant. "No, no, Sterling, you're being naive as usual. The truth, maybe, but how much of it? How much of our privacy will be sacrificed in their effort to deny the reality that their friend killed a man in cold blood?"

"Jodie-Jodie, please don't do this. I'm too tired."

"They'll rip our lives open, just because they can't deal with the fact that Manny Carrera murdered a man."

"That's why we have an attorney."

"It won't matter." She cleared her throat, but her voice remained hoarse. "Manny's a pararescueman. A war hero. He doesn't commit murder. If he kills, it's justified."

Sterling shifted to look at her and wondered if it would be cathartic to cry and scream, fall down on the floor and thrash as she had. Then maybe he could come to this place of calm and certainty. "For all we know at this point, it was justified. We don't have enough information."

"Don't we?"

She tucked her feet under her, her robe falling open and revealing the swell of her breasts. Were the police, even now, examining his wife's naked breasts under a magnifying glass? How much of her could they see in the pictures?

"Sterling?"

With an effort that was almost physical, he shook off the image of gloating, drooling detectives. Of Louis Sanborn banging his wife. It was a beautiful, old house with a long history. Were they the first to have illicit sex in the library? Louis was the first murder to occur there. That much Sterling knew for certain. It was a blot-a permanent stain that he knew he and Jodie would never overcome even before he'd learned about her affair.

"Sterling!"

With her voice as hoarse as it was, she hadn't managed much more than an annoyed croak. He sighed. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I'm saying that Manny was at the house on Wednesday. He was in Boston to get you to fire Louis. What if that wasn't good enough? What if he saw-" She hesitated, placing her hand on a polished toe peeking out from her robe, staring at it as if it had her total attention. She took in a breath, then went on. "He could have decided to capitalize on the situation and grabbed Carine's camera, took those pictures, called me-"

"How could he have called you? He was under police surveillance."

Her brow furrowed, but she didn't let go of her theory. "He'd make it look like an innocent call. The guy's not stupid, Sterling. He'd figure out a way."

He sat on a chair at a diagonal from her. "You're jumping way ahead of yourself."

"No, I'm not. What more do the police need? Why don't they arrest him?" She fought back a fresh, sudden wave of tears, sobbing hoarsely at the ceiling. "I can't stand it! I can't!"