Abandon - Carla Neggers [61]
Her car wasn’t in the driveway. He considered slipping inside the house and waiting for her return, but that was too impulsive, too dangerous. If he was wrong and Mackenzie was on the premises, she’d have him. She was on alert these days and she was armed. He wouldn’t get away a second time.
The house’s security system was unimpressive—one of the improvements that would likely come in time. Right now, there were no surveillance cameras on the property. It was a simple matter for Jesse to park in the shade and get out of his car. He’d grabbed a knife just like the one he’d used in New Hampshire—a straightforward Ka-Bar.
He cut a fat pink hydrangea blossom and left it on her doorstep.
“From a friend,” he said. “From someone who knows you better than you know yourself.”
To be sure she knew it was from him, he left his assault knife with the hydrangea.
Twenty-One
The list of J. Harris Mayer’s friends and associates wasn’t as long as it once had been, but tackling just the top half of names had taken Rook and T.J. late into the evening, with little to show for their efforts. People were far more alarmed to find the FBI at their door, asking about the disgraced former judge, than they were at his absence. According to those who knew him best, the disappearing act he’d done last week wasn’t unusual or out of character for him. He was long divorced, and his kids were grown. What was to stop him from taking off to the beach?
Or New Hampshire, Rook thought. He and T.J. were in heavy Beltway traffic, the perfect cap to their day. T.J. was at the wheel, just as frustrated.
When his cell phone rang, Rook had a brief urge to toss it out the window. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
He saw the readout. Mac.
He decided not to throw out his phone. “Hey, Deputy—”
“Rook,” she said. There was something in her voice.
“Andrew. Does anyone call you Andrew? You have brothers. They’re all Rooks themselves. It’d get confusing at family gatherings.”
“Mac?”
“Humorless, Rook. You are—”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m at my house.” She cleared her throat. “Someone left me a present. A wilted hydrangea and an assault knife. Cute, huh?”
“We’re on our way.” He looked over at T.J.
“I’ve called the police,” she added. “Well. You are the police. So am I, but—damn. What’s wrong with me? I know this guy, Andrew. I do. I just can’t remember how. And now he’s here, and he’ll hurt someone else if we don’t find him soon.” She sucked in a breath. “All right. Get here. I’ll—”
“You’ll take cover and wait.”
“Right. That’s what I was going to say.” She wasn’t offended. “Thanks.”
“Don’t hang up. I’ll stay on until the police get there.”
“How far out are you?”
“Fifteen minutes. Where are you?”
“Behind my car door. Not in the vehicle.” She sounded more herself now. “If he jumps me from the bushes, I’ll nail him this time. But he’s not here. He’s a slippery creep who’s trying to get under my skin. He left his little present and took off.”
“Likes his knives, doesn’t he?”
“Apparently. So, what does T.J. call you—Andrew or Rook?”
Rook wasn’t fooled by her manner. The flower and knife had shaken her. “Sometimes Andrew and sometimes Rook.”
“My deranged hiker—he links to whatever you’re working on,” Mac said. “It’s no coincidence that you both turned up at Beanie’s house at the same time.” She paused a moment. “Maybe you need to talk to me. Let me in.”
“Harris hasn’t told us anything actionable, Mac.” Rook heard the wail of sirens on her end of the connection. There wasn’t one thing he liked about having to hang up, but he had no choice. “You’ve got to go, I know. We’ll be there soon.”
“It’s a pink hydrangea,” she said. “No more pink for me, I swear.”
Even spooked, she drew on her sense of humor. She clicked off, and Rook loosened his grip on his cell phone. He filled in the gaps of his and Mackenzie’s conversation for T.J., who’d hit the gas and was navigating the traffic with ease.
When they arrived at the historic house, an Arlington police cruiser had landed on the scene. Showing ID, Rook and T.J. walked over to the porch, where Mackenzie