Carla Neggers - Abandon

But he hadn’t. He was in a free fall.

He got to his feet and took a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. At least it was fresh. If it’d been stale, he’d have felt damn pathetic.

When he filled two glasses with tea and turned back to the table, Brian had already stuck his earbuds in place and tuned into his music again.

Jesse entered the small campus auditorium just as a panel discussion on current issues in legal ethics – he liked that – let out. Four middle-aged men rose from chairs at a cheap table. Calvin Benton was on the left end, facing the audience of about fifty law students and professors. He shook hands with his fellow panelists, the polite applause fading quickly as people started filing out.

Despite the intense police search for him in New Hampshire, Jesse had done nothing to conceal his identity. Beardless, clean, dressed in expensive clothes, out of context, he doubted even Mackenzie Stewart would recognize him, at least not from a quick glance. Up close, the way she’d been on Friday, was another matter. He could still see her now, in her bright-colored swimsuit, water dripping down her face as she’d tried to figure out what had caused the noise she’d heard.

Stop, he told himself, pushing the image from his mind. He stiffened, shielding himself against any further intrusions of the redheaded marshal. She’d captivated him, but Deputy Stewart would love to put him behind bars, a fact that no amount of wishful thinking on his part could change.

He walked down the center aisle and crossed in front of the stage to a side entrance. Cal, visibly pale, reluctantly joined him.

“You’ve got nerve.” Benton ’s voice was a low hiss, and he glanced behind him, as if making sure no one could see them together. “What are you doing here?”

Jesse shrugged, enjoying Cal ’s discomfort. “Sorry I missed the discussion. All finished now? No book signing?”

“I don’t have a book.”

“Your fellow panelists do.”

“We’re not here to sell books.” Cal ’s biting sarcasm and unrelenting arrogance were, Jesse figured, a fairly transparent attempt to conceal his fear. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Caught you by surprise, did I? I just want five minutes of your time. You and I have unfinished business.”

Another panel member squeezed past them, saying good-night and complimenting Cal on his portion of the talk. Cal managed to return the compliment, but when the other man was out of earshot, he growled to Jesse, “Not here.”

Amused by his discomfort, Jesse walked down the corridor to a corner and stood in front of a window overlooking a courtyard, where students, divided into small knots, ran through the rain. “Decent crowd for a hot summer night,” Jesse said mildly. “They’re all summer students?”

“Not all – most. They’re participating in a special six-week program. As if you give a damn. Where’s Harris? I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“Missing him, are you?”

“He’s a coward. He’s probably gone into hiding until you and I have sorted things out ourselves. Unless you…” Cal narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I should just call the police and let them find Harris.”

Jesse withdrew his cell phone from his pants pocket and held it out. “Go right ahead. I’ll wait.”

Cal took in a breath, held it, then exhaled with a huff. “Bastard. You’d better hope no one with a cell phone is taking a picture of us right now. A stranger coming up to me. Tempting.”

“You have to love Washington,” Jesse said. “Afraid you’re under surveillance?”

“By whom? I’ve done nothing.”

“You know Harris went to the feds.”

The last color drained from Cal ’s face. He cleared his throat and looked out the window evasively. “I don’t have any control over him. He’s as slimy as you are. I want to be rid of you both.”

“We make a nice trio, don’t we? Our mutual friend met with the FBI last week. With a Special Agent Andrew Rook.”

“If Harris gave the FBI anything, they’d be on us by now.”

“I heard the feds searched his house today.”

That got Cal ’s attention. “Harris’s house?”

“Apparently, they’re getting worried about him.”

“Fine,” Cal said, rallying. “If he got cold feet and took off, that buys us more time to conclude our arrangements. The feds can spin their wheels looking for him all they want. They have no cause to dip into my affairs. And they don’t even know you exist.”

Jesse pressed a fingertip to the window, as if trying to touch a raindrop.

Cal gulped in a quick breath. “Go to Mexico, Jesse. Don’t risk Harris ratting you out to the FBI – never mind what I have on you. I can’t put you in prison. They can. Get out of Washington.” He was on a roll now, almost arrogant again. “Once I’m confident you’re holding up your end of our deal, I’ll hold up mine. I’ll wire you the money. I’ll stay out of your life.”

“What about my identity, Cal? Can you wire me that?”

“Your ‘identity,’ Jesse, is my insurance policy that you don’t ever darken my door again.” Cal gave him a cold look. “Did you have anything to do with the attack on Mackenzie Stewart in New Hampshire?”

“What attack, Cal?”

His face reddened, anger mixing with the arrogance now. “The police say a deranged drifter knifed her and another woman, in two separate attacks.”

“Do I look like a deranged drifter?”

Cal ’s shoulders seemed to slump, as if he couldn’t maintain the arrogant-Washington-insider act another second, and he shook his head. “If Harris is playing games with the FBI, why don’t you and I just back off and leave each other alone? Call it a draw, Jesse. You have your leverage against me. I have mine against you -”

“I don’t believe in draws.” Jesse made himself sound almost bored. “I believe in winning. You should know that, unless you haven’t found out everything about me, after all.”

For a split second, Cal seemed ready to wilt, but then his experience and discipline clicked into gear, and he straightened, squaring his shoulders. “I wish I didn’t know anything about you. I want you out of my life. That’s all.” Cal kept his voice low, but he was visibly shaken, tense. “I don’t even want to know everything about you. Just drop out of Washington and go live your damn life. I’ll get you the money – trust me. I have no reason not to get it to you.”

“It doesn’t work that way. I don’t like to be leveraged.”

“You have a vivid imagination,” Cal said. “It’s one of the reasons you’re good at what you do. Me? I’d never imagine that some of the people I’ve helped you ‘leverage’ over the past few months would be capable of doing the things they’ve done.” Cal maintained his outward self-control. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”

Jesse didn’t let himself be distracted. “I want whatever evidence you have on me. Computer files, hard copies of files, accounts, recordings, videotapes. Whatever it is, I want it. All of it.”

A fat old man was making his way up the hall with a push broom. Cal stepped back from the window, but said nothing. He was overestimating his power. If he believed that Jesse was the man who’d attacked Mackenzie and the hiker last week, the nonfatal outcome worked in his favor. Cal would mistake it for weakness and inefficiency.

Jesse went on calmly. “And I want my money. Now. Not later.”

A muscle worked in Cal’s jaw. “How many times do I have to say it? You’ll get your damn money once you’re out of my face. When I’m out of any danger that this entire mess is going to backfire on me. I don’t want your million dollars – it’s not worth it to me to risk not holding up my end.”