Carla Neggers - Abandon

Probably true, but Jesse was unmoved.

“If Harris decides to come out of hiding and talk to the feds -”

“I’m not worried about Harris,” Jesse said.

“Fraud, bribery, blackmail, extortion, conspiracy. Those aren’t light charges. Be smart. Get out of Washington now while you can. I’ve profited from other people’s sins. I’m not even disgusted with myself. Some of the dirty politicians, bureaucrats and lobbyists you and I squeezed saw themselves in a new light and stopped what they were doing. Some of them have reformed out of fear. They’re looking over their shoulders, scared of what comes next – who else might know their secrets?”

Jesse almost laughed. “Oh, so noble, Cal. You helped me because you had no choice. I had your balls in a vise.”

Sweat erupted on Cal’s brow, and he stank of it. “And so we blackmail each other. What I have on you is more damaging than what you have on me. So I had an affair while Bernadette and I were technically still married. Who’s going to care now that we’re divorced? Even she wouldn’t.”

“You had your affair at her house in New Hampshire.”

“It’s not anything I’m proud of, and I don’t want it to get out – but it’s nothing compared to the material I have on you. If the feds had to choose between nailing your ass and nailing mine, they’d choose yours.”

Jesse reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew a color printout of a digital photograph. “Take a close look. You’ll notice that’s you with the hairy legs and the saggy ass.”

Cal frowned, as if confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You think I only know about the brunette you humped in New Hampshire back in June. Take a close look, Cal. That’s not your brunette. That’s your blonde, a high-level congressional aide who had a weekend of wild sex with you at the summer home of a respected federal judge. But you tell me. What do you think?”

Cal crumpled up the picture, sweat pouring down his temples. “You’re disgusting.”

“You can see her face. You recognize her, don’t you? I believe we blackmailed her boss.”

“Not we – you.”

“Oh, you helped. You and Harris got me the information, the access. Rich SOB he is, too. You’d think you’d have stayed away from New Hampshire after I already caught you with the brunette.”

Cal didn’t say anything, just looked sick.

“What was the blonde doing – having sex with you in exchange for you keeping quiet about her? Or did she give you the information about her boss in the first place?”

“Stop -”

“She came to a bad end about two weeks ago. I guess you know that.”

“Jesse, don’t. She overdosed on pain pills. She had a problem back. Her death was an accident.”

“There are whispers it was suicide, because she was upset about a man.”

Cal took a sharp breath. “You’re disgusting!”

“I’m disgusting? I like that.” Jesse yawned. The Washington heat made him sleepy. If only he could have stayed in the mountains longer. “The police are still investigating the accident.”

“How many pictures do you have?” Cal asked.

“Pictures and a recording. If I leave them with the feds, they’ll dig deeper, and they’ll hang you high. Even if they can’t prove you were blackmailing her.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Look at our friend J. Harris Mayer. He was never prosecuted. You’ll be ruined, Cal. Judge Peacham will be ruined, too. Even if people believe she wasn’t involved in your treachery, they’ll wonder how it could happen under her nose.”

“Bernadette doesn’t deserve that. We were separated -”

“That’ll matter? You’ll go down and your ex-wife will go down. And your girlfriends.” Jesse paused deliberately, for effect. “The media will trot them out one by one.”

More than angry, Cal looked tortured, but he straightened, sniffed like the high-powered lawyer he was. “Threatening me doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Jesse said.

“Drag me down and I drag you down. That’s the way it is.”

“Double-crossing me wasn’t a smart move.”

“Ditto. I won’t go to the feds with what I have on you. You won’t go to the feds with what you have on me. You’ve done worse, Jesse. You attacked a federal agent.”

“Good night, Cal. I’ll be in touch.” He tapped his pictures. “Just wanted you to know the score.”

Cal opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead marched down the hall, the crumpled photo of his blond lover in bed with him still in his hand.

Jesse waited in the dim light until Cal disappeared. The janitor pushed his broom toward the supply closet, and Jesse smiled at him, then went on his way, back to the parking lot, the heat, the smells of the city. His BMW was still faintly cool. He sat behind the wheel, remembering the night he’d taken the picture of Cal Benton and the very attractive, very corrupt aide. It probably hadn’t occurred to Cal that anyone would ever catch him in bed with her – that it was that big a deal, a little sex in exchange for him doing good by her. Sneak up to his soon-to-be-ex-wife’s place in the country, and not worry about the prying gossips in Washington.

Even if he couldn’t be tied to the blond aide’s death or blackmail, the scandal would sink Cal Benton, and it would sink Bernadette Peacham.

The man was a fool, but Jesse hated seeing the tight control he’d once had over their operation unravel.

The car cooled to a temperature more to his liking. He glanced in his rearview mirror and thought of Mackenzie Stewart in her pink swimsuit. The curve of her breasts, the shape of her legs. Would he have killed her last Friday?

Oh, yes.

Jesse glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock. Plenty of time, he decided, for a quick trip out to Arlington. Mackenzie was back in town. He wondered if she’d gone to bed yet, or if she’d be up, staring at his sketch and trying to figure out where she’d seen him before.

With just her desk lamp on in her darkened living room, Mackenzie peered at the eyes of the man in the police sketch. She couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about Rook and how she should have just waved goodbye in the rain and distracted herself from her desire for him with a stiff drink.

Except she didn’t have any liquor in the house.

She had regrets, she decided. Not for herself – she’d be fine. She was fine, her body still humming, suffused with the aftereffects of their near lovemaking. Whatever it was that had gone on in the kitchen…

Her regrets – her fears – were for him. He was obviously in the middle of a sensitive investigation that involved people she knew. He was ambitious, driven, good at his work.

With a hiss of frustration, Mackenzie shook off that line of thinking, and said aloud, “Rook knows what he’s doing.”

That was what she should keep in mind.

She turned her attention back to the sketch. The drawing didn’t capture the strangeness of her attacker’s eyes. She tried to understand why she’d focused on them. Did they truly hold the key to why he seemed familiar to her?

Why had he attacked her and not Carine? Was it, at least in part, because he’d known Carine wouldn’t recognize him? But he hadn’t seemed concerned that Mackenzie would. He’d even taunted her, using her name.

Why?

The telephone rang – the house’s hard line. Since she was there only temporarily, Mackenzie hadn’t bothered getting a line in her name, relying instead on her cell phone for personal calls. She picked up.

“Burning the midnight oil tonight, are you?”

It was a male voice, hoarse and unrecognizable. “Who is this?”

Click.