The Cabin (32 page)

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nodded. “He was at one of the tables while I was talking

to my daughter. We mentioned Susanna’s cabin. Damn.”

“Draw me a map of how to get there, will you, Mr.

Haviland?” Temple’s manner was pleasant, but no one

within five yards of him would miss the underlying

sense of urgency. He shifted back to Davey. “I’m ready

whenever you are, sir.”

For once, Davey Ahearn didn’t have a quip. He got

his hat and his coat, and he and Sam Temple left.

The door shut, and the Tufts graduate students all slid

onto the floor in unison, faking a group swoon. One of

the firefighters at another table said, “I bet he eats meat,”

and the place erupted.

Jack could see it now.

He dumped a load of wood in the wood box and

looked at his wife and daughters bundled up under a

blanket together on the couch, watching the fire. They

had the place picked up, and they’d talked, he and Su-

sanna filling in the gaps of what Maggie, Ellen and Iris

knew about Beau McGarrity, Alice Parker, Destin

Wright and the unsolved murder of Rachel McGarrity.

Susanna was steady and straightforward, a rock for

her elderly grandmother and teenage daughters. And

for her husband, Jack thought. He’d never had his work

infect his family to the point they were huddled in an iso-

lated cabin in the Adirondacks, frightened and confused.

So much for his fucking fire wall.

But he saw it clearly now—Beau McGarrity walk-

ing into their kitchen was the catalyst for Susanna to

move north. It wasn’t the cause. The dry tinders were

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there already for McGarrity to ignite. She’d already

made millions and started keeping her secrets from him,

and he’d already let himself drift into silence.

He hadn’t liked the idea of her making so goddamn

much money.

He was an enlightened man. Harvard-educated, for

God’s sake. But he’d let the fact that she’d made millions

eat at him, let it undermine Susanna’s trust and confi-

dence in him—her satisfaction with a job well done.

The money wouldn’t change his life unless he al-

lowed it to. And he had.

Ten million. Damn.

Today he was reminded that his wife had her own

hardheaded and unyielding side, a toughness that he

sometimes forgot.

Even so, he knew what he had to say. He brushed

wood chips off his jacket, still feeling the cold from out-

side. Destin Wright and Alice Parker had checked out

of the Blackwater Inn. No one knew where they were.

“I want you all to come back to San Antonio with

me,” he said to his wife and daughters. “I can protect

you better there until we get this mess figured out.”

He hadn’t mentioned this idea to Susanna ahead of

time. She threw off the blanket, jumped to her feet

and stormed into the kitchen, opening cupboards,

pulling out food for dinner, generally slamming

around in there.

Maggie rolled her eyes at him.
“Dad.”

Iris got up from the table, where she’d been nursing

a mug of hot cocoa, and patted his arm. “You go on and

help with dinner. The girls and I will work on the puz-

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zle. We’d just gotten the topiary garden put together, but

that sneaky bastard this afternoon wrecked it.”

The girls reluctantly followed their great-grand-

mother’s lead and moved to the puzzle table, but they

were clearly more interested in telling their father what

he’d done wrong. But he knew. He’d told Susanna

something she didn’t want to hear.

He went to the kitchen counter and took over peel-

ing carrots and chopping onions on a worn wooden cut-

ting board. “You know I’m right.”

She hacked at chicken on the other side of the sink.

“I have a sharp knife in my hand.”

“Maggie was going to take on the burglar today all

by herself,” Jack said. “I think she gets that from you.”

“Which? That she’s a fighter or doesn’t know her

limits?”

He chopped off the end of a carrot and smiled at her.

“Both.”

“We’re up here on vacation.” She dragged out a pan

for the chicken and smacked it down on the counter.

“The local police are investigating the break-in here.

Alice and Destin probably realized they went too far and

took off—or Alice just doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Alice has to talk to me,” he said simply. “She with-

held critical information in a murder investigation.”

Susanna laid the chicken pieces in the pan. “Ah. Yes.

That sums it up. ‘She withheld critical information in a

murder investigation.’ It just happens to involve a rich

real estate developer stalking your wife in the days be-

fore his wife turned up murdered in their own damn

driveway.”

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269

He peeled his carrot, using a cheap paring knife. It

was dark outside, the window over the sink reflecting

his own image back at him. “I consider that understood.”

She reeled around at him, her green eyes hot and

angry—and scared. “That’s because you’re a law en-

forcement officer. You can distance yourself from what

you do. You spend your days rooting around in crime

and misery and violence—”

“Do you think that means what I deal with doesn’t

have an impact?” He turned on the water and rinsed off

his peeled carrot, knowing he meant what he said. “Su-

sanna, the day I don’t hate what I see on the job really

is the day I quit.”

She seemed stung. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant

that you’re a professional at this and I’m not. Jack, I know

you love your work. It’s what you do, it’s who you are.”

“You’re half right. It’s what I do—it’s not who I am.”

She put the pan of chicken in the oven and washed

her hands, tearing off paper towels to dry them. “You’re

not thinking of giving it up?”

“Would it shock you if I did give it up?”

She narrowed that smart, incisive gaze on him. “No,”

she said quietly. “No, you’d quit if I asked you to. That’s

one of the things that’s had you on the defensive these

past months—you were afraid that I
would
ask you, now

that we could afford it. But that would be wrong, just as

wrong as if you asked me to give up my ten million.”

He set down his carrot and moved closer to her. “I

thought it was
our
ten million.”

“Well, it is, but you don’t pay attention to money.”

Her tone was light, but when he put one hand on the

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Carla Neggers

counter on either side of her, he saw her teeth come

down on her lower lip, knew what she was thinking—

what she wanted. “That was when we didn’t have any

money.” He took another step toward her, pinning her

against the counter. Not that she minded. “Susanna, if

we were dealing with a money problem right now, I’d

listen to you, because you’re the one with the expertise.

I wouldn’t feel patronized or bossed around or left out

because—”

“Fair point.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “Then what’s

wrong?”

“If it were just the two of us, if Gran and the girls

weren’t here. Jack, I feel such a sense of responsibil-

ity—”

“I know.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if he’d said something she

hadn’t expected, and she nodded. “You do, don’t you?”

He touched her chin. “You’ve been carrying this

thing with McGarrity on your own for too long. Let me

in, Susanna. Let me take some of the load.”

“That makes it serious. If you’re not involved, I can

pretend—” But she stopped herself, sighing as she shut

her eyes a moment. “I can’t pretend anything, not after

the past few days.”

“But you’re not going to San Antonio?”

“That’s your fight or flight impulse kicking into

gear, as Maggie would say. Get us home, under your

protection—”

“That’s my professional opinion.”

“It’s your opinion as a husband and a father.”

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271

“And a Texas Ranger.”

She managed to put up both her palms and shove him

in his midsection. “You were doing well there for a

minute, Lieutenant Galway, not reminding me of what

you do for a living. Here we were, a normal couple hav-

ing a heart-to-heart discussion—”

“We’re not normal, Susanna.”

She smiled. “This is true.”

He stood back from her and resumed his place at the

cutting board, tackling another carrot. He grinned. “I

thought I did okay with the heart-to-heart.”

“You did,” she said softly. “Except for pitching me

into a snowbank.”

“You deserved it. You should tell Maggie and Ellen

I did okay.”

“Nope. I like it when they get on your case about not

communicating, being more romantic—they get on

mine for not cutting you more slack. As if that’d make

any difference.”

“They think I should buy you silk nighties.” Jack

picked up the paring knife, watching the color rise in his

wife’s cheeks. “I might after that getup you had on last

night.”

“That was my mountain woman nightshirt.” She

glanced at him, the spots of color deepening. “As I re-

call, it didn’t seem to bother you at the time.”

“That’s because it ended up on the floor.” He winked

at her. “Are you blushing again, darlin’? I think you’re

becoming a bit of a Yankee prude.”

She threw a towel at him and ran him out, saying

she’d finish a hell of a lot faster without him distract-

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ing her. He liked that. He wanted to distract her. But he

checked on Iris and the girls and their puzzle building,

then headed out to the porch overlooking the lake and

tried Sam Temple for the dozenth time.

This time, his call went through. “Can you hear me?”

Sam asked through the static.

“Barely. Where are you?”

“Some godforsaken place with mountains and snow.

Mass Pike, a few miles past the last toll booth. I got your

message.” Jack had given Sam everything he’d learned

in a succinct, brutal message on his voice mail. “I should

warn you—I’m coming after your wife. I’m duly au-

thorized, and I intend to drag her ass back to Texas for

withholding evidence in a murder investigation.”

“I already considered it. It won’t hold up.”

“It’s a bad sign, a woman not telling her husband

about a murder suspect showing up in her kitchen.”

“It’s our kitchen, not just her kitchen.”

“Jesus.”

“What do you have?” Jack asked.

“A Somerville apartment rented by our Audrey Mel-

bourne, aka Alice Parker, was broken into and searched.

A neighbor called it in earlier today. No leads. I went

over to the grandmother’s house. Likewise. They went

in from the back porch. Really tore up Susanna’s room.”

A little humor crept into his voice. “I know it was her

room because there were no pictures of you in it.”

“McGarrity.”

“Probably looking for the tape. My guess is Alice is

blackmailing him with it and told him Susanna still has

it. More valuable that way. It’s crazy, until you realize

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273

this is Beau McGarrity and Alice Parker we’re talking

about.”

“There’s more,” Jack said. “I just don’t know what

it is.”

“I hear you.” But Sam didn’t waste time on more

speculation. “McGarrity was within earshot when the

plumber and the bartender mentioned Susanna was in

the mountains. Local law enforcement on the case?”

“More or less.”

“McGarrity won’t be happy with Alice for lying to

him about the tape, shaking him down—if that’s what’s

going on.”

Jack knew no comment from him was necessary.

“What are you driving?”

“I broke down and rented an SUV.”

A huge sacrifice for Sam Temple, who hated most

trucks and SUVs and all rentals, period. Their crackle-

filled connection worsened. Jack gave him directions to

the cabin. “Crank up the heat and don’t get lost. It’s dip-

ping below zero here tonight.”

Sam swore and disconnected.

Jack looked out at the night sky, lit up with stars

above the lake. Maybe Susanna was right, and there was

something about being here that was meant to be. He

shook off the thought, decided the cold air was addling

his brain and retreated into the warm cabin.

Iris got up from the puzzle table and stood next to

him in front of the big windows that looked out onto the

lake. “You look tired, Iris,” he said, swinging an arm

around her and giving her a hug. She’d never been a frail

woman, but he could feel her age. “It’s been a long day.”

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“Blackwater Lake is bad luck for the Dunnings.” She

stared out into the darkness, past her reflection in the

window. Her voice was quiet, calm, convincing. “I hate

to think that way because it’s so beautiful here, and I