Carla Neggers - Abandon

Instead of telling authorities that Harris had sicced Jesse on him, Cal had joined forces with them and profited. When he realized he was in too deep and couldn’t get out, he hadn’t come to authorities and confessed, tried to work out a deal, but decided to pressure Harris to help him get Jesse out of their lives once and for all.

And if their plan backfired, he wanted to lead Bernadette to answers.

Mackenzie started to climb onto the sawhorse, but Rook touched her arm and shook his head. “No way, Mac.”

“Relax. I used to climb trees all the time as a kid.”

“Not with a knife wound in your side.”

“It’s healing -”

“You don’t want to end up with a fresh set of stitches. Besides, I’m taller. And,” he added with a smile, “I used to climb trees as a kid, too.”

He had a point. She stepped back out of the way. “Have at it.”

With an agility that surprised her but probably shouldn’t have, he climbed onto the sawhorse and reached up into the rafters. “What am I looking for?”

“Money? Anything that seems out of the ordinary for a lake house shed.”

He hooked one arm on an exposed beam and reached up higher. “Ah. What about an overstuffed dry pack tucked up in the rafters?” He glanced down at her. “I think this might be what Jesse was after, Mac.”

Rook lowered the dry pack down to her. She set it on the concrete floor and pulled open the drawstrings, peering inside. “It doesn’t look as if there are any kayak supplies in here, that’s for sure.”

She noticed a yellow-lined sheet of paper folded into thirds and clipped to some kind of folder on top of the rest of the contents. She lifted out the folder and removed the paper.

“Mac,” Rook said as he dropped lightly next to her.

“I know. I’m not wearing gloves. We can separate my prints out from any others, if prints are going to matter.” She unfolded the paper. “I’m guessing they won’t.” She recognized the handwriting, large letters in black marker. “It’s from Cal. ‘Dear Bernadette: If something happens to me, bring the contents of this bag to the FBI. I’m sorry. Cal.’”

Rook set another overstuffed dry pack onto the floor. “He made his deal with the devil, all right. He and Harris never should have gotten mixed up with blackmail.”

“When you’re in a hole, stop digging.” Mackenzie opened up the file folder and flipped through the papers inside. “Spreadsheets. Addresses. A document map to the rest of the contents of the bag. Looks as if Cal turned the tables on Jesse and found out just about all there is to know about him. That should help prosecutors.” She shoved the folder and the note back where she’d found them. “What’s in this other bag?”

Rook opened it up and gave a low whistle when he peeked inside. “Cash,” he said. “A hell of a lot of cash.”

Mackenzie let out a breath. “If Cal had just taken this stuff to us – to Beanie -” She didn’t finish. “He always thought he knew better. Information and access were his strengths. Now, they’ll help us unravel what this Jesse Lambert has been up to. Other victims and associates. Who knows.” Her gaze landed on her father’s old bloodstains. “Want to bet there are more violent crimes in his past?”

“Cal and Harris might not have realized they were dealing with a violent man until it was too late.”

“Maybe so.”

Suddenly restless, Mackenzie pushed out into the air and down to the lake, splashing into the shallow water. The loons were gone. She stood on a rock, the wind gusting in her face.

Aware of Rook on the shore behind her, she said, “When Jesse attacked me last week, I remembered his eyes. They were like something I’d conjured up in a nightmare.”

“Repressed memory.”

“I’ve always known I was in the woods the day of my father’s accident, but I never could remember the details.” She glanced back at Rook, but he wasn’t a man who was easy to read. “I must have conflated what I did that day – the actual events – with my nightmares. After a while, I couldn’t distinguish one from the other.”

Making it look easy, Rook jumped to the exposed rock next to hers without getting his feet wet or losing his balance. “You were a little kid,” he said. “This bastard manipulated you. He becomes other people’s nightmare.” Rook was silent a moment. “That’s what Harris tried to tell me.”

“He should have been straight with you.”

She heard a car in the driveway. More cops, she thought. But when she looked back at Bernadette’s yard, she saw Carine wave and break into a run. “Mackenzie!”

Nate was behind his sister, his wife at his side. He wasn’t here as a senior federal agent, Mackenzie realized, but as a friend.

Rook winked at her. “You do the talking.”

“Scared of Nate, are you?”

He grinned. “Not even a little.”

After all the various investigators – local, state and federal – had left, T. J. Kowalski joined Rook and Mackenzie at the lake. “Quite a place,” he said, settling into one of the Adirondack chairs in front of the stone fireplace. “I’ve never seen a loon, you know.”

Mackenzie smiled. “You might hear one tonight.”

“If I can stand the bugs and the cold.”

Rook had built a fire and pulled his chair close to the flames. The night was chilly, but Bernadette had old wool blankets just for that purpose. Mackenzie had one opened up on her lap. But T.J. didn’t look that cold to her.

“Long day,” she said.

He shrugged. “Not for me. I took a nice plane ride north and talked to a few people. You and Rook are the ones who did the heavy lifting.” He didn’t smile, and in the light of the fire, his eyes were without humor. “Sorry I wasn’t here to back you two up.”

“If Jesse had managed to get away from here, you’d have kept his plane on the ground.”

“We had him,” T.J. acknowledged without pride. “Just not in time to save Harris Mayer or Cal Benton.”

Rook tossed another log on the fire. “They made their deal with the devil.”

T.J. nodded. “What about Judge Peacham?”

“Doctors are keeping her at the hospital overnight as a precaution,” Mackenzie said. “They’re watching for infection – the knife wound nicked muscle. She says we’re all welcome to stay here and toast marshmallows and listen to the loons.”

But another car arrived, Nate and Joe Delvecchio walking down to the fire.

T.J. gave a low whistle. “Guess the marshmallows and loons will have to wait.”

“Welcome to life as a federal agent, Mac,” Rook said with a hint of amusement.

She smiled at them both. “Fine with me.”

On Sunday, after she was released from the hospital, Bernadette insisted on sitting out on her screened porch. It was a warm afternoon, with almost no wind. Mackenzie joined her, trying not to hover because, even after two years of marriage, Bernadette Peacham was a woman accustomed to her own company.

“New Hampshire isn’t going to give up Jesse anytime soon,” she said, sounding more like a judge than an injured victim. “They’ll want to try him here – for Cal’s murder.” But the words seemed to hit her like a fresh wound, and she faltered, although only for a moment. “Chances are you’ll have to testify.”

“I don’t mind,” Mackenzie said.

“It won’t be easy to see him again, but at least you’ll know he can’t hurt anyone else.” Bernadette flopped back against her wicker chair, her face ashen just twenty-four hours after her encounter with Jesse – after learning that Cal was dead. “All these years, Mackenzie, and I had no idea that your father’s mishap wasn’t an accident. I feel like such a sap.”