Abandon - Carla Neggers [64]
But she’d already bolted out the door, and he charged after her, surprised she’d moved as fast as she had. She spun around to face him. “I can do more on my own. I’m not working a case.”
“T.J. will be here in another minute. He’ll stay with Brian. We’ll go together—”
“I’m friends with these people,” she said, climbing into her car.
“You’re friends with Judge Peacham. Cal Benton—”
“I won’t stay long.” She smiled up at him. “Save me some pizza.”
As she backed out of the driveway, Brian ambled out of the house and stood next to his uncle. “You can go after her if you want. I’ll be fine here.”
Rook shook his head. “I’ll wait for T.J.”
“We could always call Dad and have him intercept her.”
Rook grinned at his nephew. “Now you’re thinking.” But he watched Mackenzie’s car turn up the street, and sighed. “Mac knows what she’s doing.”
“You hope so,” Brian said.
“Yeah. I hope so. Come on. Let’s go inside, and you can tell me every word this guy said to you.”
“I wrote it all down.”
“No kidding?” Rook cuffed his nephew on the shoulder. “Good for you.”
Twenty-Two
Mackenzie almost backed out of Bernadette’s driveway two seconds after pulling into it. But the house was lit up, suggesting whoever was there—Bernadette alone, or Cal, or both of them—hadn’t gone to bed yet.
By the time she climbed the steps to the side entrance, the door was open. Bernadette, barefoot in a flowing black caftan, stepped aside. “You can talk to me upstairs. I’m packing for New Hampshire. I leave in the morning.” She turned, then stopped abruptly, glancing back at Mackenzie. “Stairs won’t bother you, will they?”
“Not at all. Is Cal here?”
A coolness came into her eyes. “No.”
Bernadette about-faced and headed down the hall, leaving Mackenzie to pull the door shut behind her and find her way to the front of the house. She took the sweeping staircase to the second floor, remembering how much she used to love to visit Bernadette in Washington—especially before Cal. Mackenzie had tried to be neutral about him, although none of Bernadette’s other friends seemed to bother. Certainly no one in Cold Ridge did. He just wasn’t a favorite. But everyone wanted Bernadette to be happy, and if Cal made her happy, who were they to criticize?
She had a suitcase open on the floor at the foot of her four-poster bed, the custom-made, champagne-colored comforter pulled back, as if she’d tried to sleep but had given up and decided to pack. “I’m going to drive,” she said, grabbing a stack of lingerie out of the top drawer of an antique dresser. “I’d planned to fly. Gus offered to pick me up at the airport, but driving should help clear my head.”
“Beanie, I don’t know that driving is wise right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. For heaven’s sake, I’ve been at this job for a while now, and I’ve never had a thing happen until…” She waved a hand in dismissal and dumped the lingerie into her suitcase. “Never mind.”
“Until I became a federal agent, you mean.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not the least bit concerned about my own safety.” She turned back to her dresser and pulled open another drawer. “But you’re not here to talk about my travel arrangements, are you, Mackenzie?”
Mackenzie stood on the soft, cream-colored carpet, took in the champagne brocade drapes, the simple elegance of the room. Should she have come here, disturbed Bernadette’s preparations for her vacation in New Hampshire? But Mackenzie knew better than to try to back out now. She’d never get away with it. Bernadette knew her too well and would insist on an explanation.
She didn’t even try to be subtle. “Why would Cal stop at an FBI agent’s house?”
“Why would Cal—what?” Bernadette spun around, cradling a trio of hiking socks. “You’re talking about Andrew Rook, aren’t you? Cal stopped to see him?”
“That’s right. A little while ago.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And why would this be of any concern to you, might I ask?”
“Beanie…” Mackenzie fought to find the right words. “Talk to Cal.”
“I talked to Cal from the day we met three years ago until the day our divorce was finalized