Abandon - Carla Neggers [26]
Rook swooped up the lock. “Can’t hurt, in case our guy decides to double back here.”
“Of all places,” Mackenzie said quietly. “Beanie’s philosophy is waste not, want not. She wouldn’t have had this shed built if the previous one hadn’t basically fallen apart. She hired my father to do the job.”
“Mac—”
“He was working out here alone one day. His table saw malfunctioned. The blade—” She stopped, pushing back a wave of dizziness, then resumed. “I don’t know what happened, exactly. I was eleven. I found him. I was supposed to be helping him, but I was goofing off, chasing this toad that had caught my eye.”
“You were a kid.”
“He lost an eye, parts of several fingers. He had severe internal lacerations.” She cleared her throat, staring at the shed door. “It was a mess in there, I can tell you that much. I didn’t want to leave him, but I remember thinking that if I didn’t, he would die. I ran up to the house and called the police.”
“Where was Judge Peacham?”
“She was in town. It was just my dad and me here most of the day. When I hung up after talking with the police, I didn’t want to come back down here. I thought he was dead. I didn’t want to see the blood.”
“But you did come back, didn’t you, Mac?”
She nodded. “I stayed with him until the ambulance arrived. I was so covered in blood, the paramedics initially thought I’d been injured, too.”
“That’s a tough memory to have.”
“It could be worse. At least my father lived. He had a long, painful recovery, and he’s never really worked again. But he and my mother have a good life. They’re doing a house swap with an Irish couple—they’re in Ireland right now. All’s well that ends well, right?” She smiled. “That’s one of Beanie’s favorite sayings.”
“Today ended well, Mac. The police will find this guy—”
“I don’t like the shed. I used to have nightmares that monsters lived in there.” She snatched the padlock from Rook and snapped it into place on the latch. Dusk was coming fast now, and the lake was still, mirroring the darkening sky. “I should have nailed that bastard before he got near me.”
“Do you think he intended to kill you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. He didn’t hurt Carine, but he didn’t have his knife with him, either.”
“Thanks to you. Carine—she was fully prepared to defend herself and her baby with a rock.”
“That’s Carine. The Winters are all like that.” Mackenzie couldn’t summon the energy even to smile. “If anything had happened to her, because of me…”
“Nothing did,” Rook said.
“You don’t recognize his description?” she asked.
“No.”
Then maybe her attacker wasn’t someone involved in whatever investigation had brought Rook to New Hampshire after all. Or Rook hadn’t identified him yet as anyone of interest. Or Rook was lying, but somehow she didn’t think he would be a good liar. “I know I’ve seen him before, but I can’t pin down where, who he is. Maybe I just saw him in line at the grocery.”
“He recognized you.”
“I haven’t been in Washington that long. More likely he knows me from here.”
“He referred to you as Deputy Stewart.”
“My career change has been a topic of conversation around town for several months. ‘The college instructor who heads off to train as a deputy marshal.’”
Rook slipped an arm over her shoulder. “You did well today, Mac.”
“I got in one good lick. Big deal.”
“You also got his knife away from him.”
“My training kicked in. If he’d attacked Carine, or if Bernadette had been up here and he’d attacked her…” But Mackenzie knew better than to spin off into what-ifs, and didn’t go further. “Next time I go swimming, I’m wearing jeans and sneakers.”
“Not as much fun as your little pink swimsuit.”
“Rook, just because I’ve got twenty stitches in my side doesn’t mean I can’t elbow you in your gut.” But she appreciated his humor and felt herself leaning against him as they headed to a trio of Adirondack chairs and Bernadette’s open fireplace. Even if he’d dumped her and was a snake, at least