Carla Neggers - Abandon

An outside light came on as she and Rook took the moss-lined brick sidewalk to the side entrance. Bernadette, still in a wrinkled, gray suit she’d obviously worn to the courthouse, opened the door and gave Mackenzie a sweeping, critical once-over. “You don’t look as bad as I expected. A little pale. I’m so relieved this lunatic didn’t stab you to death.”

“Me, too,” Mackenzie said, then motioned behind her. “Beanie, I’d like you to meet -”

“Special Agent Rook.” She stood to one side and smiled coolly, eyeing him. “Am I right?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Judge Peacham,” he said, his tone neutral.

“Yes. Well, come inside.”

She led them past the kitchen and down the hall to the family room. Her Washington house was the polar opposite of her simple lake house in New Hampshire, and if Mackenzie hadn’t known better, she’d have thought this was the wrong Bernadette Peacham. Expensive antiques from various periods mixed with traditional fabrics and colors, and artwork from her travels all over the world. Cal had taken his favorite pieces from Peru and Japan, but most were from Bernadette’s life before their brief marriage.

“I can’t wait to be out of here,” she said. “It’s so damn hot!”

Mackenzie remained on her feet. She didn’t plan to stay long. “I don’t blame you. When do you head for New Hampshire?”

“Friday. I know it gets hot there, but not like this. And if it’s hot, I have the lake right outside my door.”

“Are you worried about being there -”

“With this lunatic on the loose? No, of course not. He’ll be long gone by then, or in custody, one would hope. I’ve never worried one second when I’ve been at the lake on my own, and I don’t intend to start now. You needn’t fret. Gus will check in on me, no doubt. He’s like a mother hen sometimes.”

Of all the images that came to mind when Mackenzie thought about Gus Winter, a mother hen wasn’t among them. Not even close. “I left some food in the refrigerator. Nothing that would spoil before you get there. There’s a half bag of marshmallows in the bread box -”

“Marshmallows? Mackenzie, you know they’ll attract ants.”

“I wrapped a rubber band around the bag. It’s so tight an ant can’t possibly get in.”

Bernadette waved a hand, dismissing the subject of marshmallows and ants. “You’re the one who was attacked. We should all be worrying about you.” She softened slightly, sinking into a wingback chair. “How are you? I heard you were lucky the knife didn’t penetrate deeply.”

“It’s a superficial wound. Painful, but it’ll heal. Every day’s better.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t just luck that you weren’t hurt worse. You’ve always been a good fighter.”

Mackenzie was aware of Rook lingering in the doorway, but he didn’t seem eager to jump into the conversation. “I had him, Beanie,” she said, “but I couldn’t hold him.”

“You’d been stabbed. Even more experienced officers have faltered in similar situations.” Bernadette’s tone was matter-of-fact more than reassuring. “Give yourself time to heal. Don’t push yourself, or you’ll end up delaying your recovery.”

“That’s why I didn’t head back here until tonight.”

“Good. Now, this man – you recognized him?”

“He seemed vaguely familiar.”

“Vaguely? That’s not the kind of thing one wants to hear in a courtroom.”

The state police detectives, FBI agents and deputy marshals investigating the two attacks in New Hampshire hadn’t wanted to hear it, either. They wanted specifics, and Mackenzie couldn’t provide them. The eyes, she’d said. They’d solidified the sense that she’d seen him before. She hadn’t been very helpful – and she was convinced they’d all downplayed, if not totally disregarded, her statement because of her knife wound and initial round of pain medication.

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” Bernadette asked.

“I’d know it was the same man. I’m not sure it’d help me figure out where I’ve seen him before.”

Mackenzie didn’t flinch as Bernadette studied her with a frankness that anyone who knew the exacting judge got used to. Bernadette was blunt and straightforward, but also unfailingly generous, intelligent and fair-minded. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I wish this attack hadn’t happened. I wish I could at least help find the perpetrator. I’ve seen enough lowlifes come through my courtroom. But I’m clueless. I’m not good with sketches. I don’t think I’d recognize myself in one.”

“What about Cal?”

“ Cal?” An edge came into Bernadette’s voice at mention of her ex-husband. “Why would he know anything?”

Mackenzie gave Rook a sideways glance, but he remained impassive. She turned back to Bernadette, shrugging. “No reason.”

“I hardly ever see him anymore, although he’s still living here.” She added quickly, “He has the downstairs guest suite.”

Mackenzie had stayed there often enough herself on her visits to Washington over the years. Bernadette had always been a welcoming hostess, although less so after her marriage to Cal Benton. Mackenzie wasn’t sure if he didn’t like company or didn’t like her; perhaps he’d just sensed she didn’t like him.

“When’s he moving out?” she asked bluntly.

Bernadette seemed to take no offense. “This weekend. When I get back from New Hampshire in September, he’ll be out of my life for good.”

“Did you talk to him about the attacks in New Hampshire?”

“Of course. He suggested your assailant could be someone I’ve helped out at some point.”

“One of your ‘three-legged puppies’? Isn’t that his phrase?”

Mackenzie’s cool tone drew a glance from Rook, but he didn’t comment. Cal, who hadn’t known her as a child, nonetheless had made it clear he considered her one of his wife’s “three-legged puppies.”

“ Cal doesn’t realize how offensive he is sometimes,” Bernadette said. “I think it’s just his way of trying to be funny. He doesn’t recognize this man, from the sketch or the description, either. The police seem to think he’s a deranged drifter, and I tend to agree. Maybe you just saw him buying something at Gus’s store one day.” She gave Mackenzie a pained look. “Or an assault knife.”

“Gus doesn’t carry that kind of knife at the store.”

“I didn’t mean that literally.” Bernadette rose, kicking off her flats and standing in her stocking feet. “I can see you’re tired. I wish I knew something that could help you find this man.”

“The police aren’t giving up yet,” Mackenzie said. “Are you okay here? I don’t want to scare you, but the man was on your property.”

“Your marshal friends swing by from time to time. I hate having anyone at my elbow day and night. In any case, you’re the one who was knifed, even if it was on my property. Do you have round-the-clock protection?”

Mackenzie almost smiled. “I’m not a federal judge who can’t shoot.”

“I hate guns. Your point’s well taken, but I’m not worried.”

Mackenzie wanted to ask her about Harris Mayer but resisted because of the FBI agent standing in the doorway. Let Rook ask if he wanted to. She didn’t have enough information, but if she barreled her way into an ongoing investigation, she would be back in Cold Ridge and out of the USMS before she got a scratch on her badge. Even Nate Winter wouldn’t be able to help her.

Bernadette walked past Rook and into the hall. Mackenzie noticed how closely he was observing the judge, but he continued to maintain his silence. She followed Bernadette, brushing by him. “Where’s Cal now?”

“I have no idea.” Bernadette’s mouth tightened as if she was trying to hold back unwanted emotion. “Why all your questions?”