Abandon - Carla Neggers [65]
“Talk to him, anyway.”
“I’ll change the locks on the house if that’ll make you more comfortable.”
“That’s not it.”
She tossed the socks into her suitcase. “Then what is it, Mackenzie? What would make you barge into my house at this hour? Do you want to upset me?”
“Harris Mayer and Cal know each other. Harris has disappeared—”
Bernadette straightened, adopted her courtroom manner. “Choose your words carefully, Mackenzie. ‘Disappeared’ is a rather strong one.”
“Taken off, then.” Mackenzie couldn’t pretend that she could dismiss the friendship between her family and Bernadette and adopt some kind of manufactured objectivity. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re one of the kindest, most generous people I know.”
“And that makes me weak and stupid?”
It sure didn’t make her easy, but Mackenzie kept to her point. “No, it makes people like me care about you.”
Bernadette sank onto the edge of the bed, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I just know—oh, Mackenzie. I just know I’ve brought this awful mess onto your shoulders. That man. That disgusting man who attacked you…” She shook her head, using the back of one hand to wipe her tears. “I just know it’s my fault that he was on my property.”
“If you know anything specific—”
“Damn it, Mackenzie, I know what to do. I don’t know anything.”
Mackenzie almost smiled. “Okay.”
Bernadette sighed through her tears. “I swear you are the most resilient person I’ve ever encountered. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” She got to her feet, waved a hand at her suitcase. “I’m not even sure what I’ve packed. Scarves and mittens, for all I know.”
“I should go,” Mackenzie said.
“If I see Cal before I leave, I’ll talk to him. Promise. But right now I don’t have a clue why he’d turn up at Andrew Rook’s house.”
When she returned to her car, Mackenzie fought an urge to head north, back to New Hampshire. She could fulfill everyone’s expectations and just drop out of the Marshals Service. Go write her dissertation. Carine had offered her the use of her studio, a tiny place just up the road from the 1830s brick house where she, her husband and their baby lived.
“You’re going to pass out, Deputy Stewart. Think of what I’m going to do then.”
How long would she be looking over her shoulder for this man? Moving back to New Hampshire wouldn’t solve anything. He’d still be out there, and she’d still have to wonder when he’d jump out of the bushes again, when he’d call her in the middle of the night, when he’d leave her some creepy present.
What she had to do was find him.
She took two wrong turns on her way back to Rook’s house. Denial, she thought when she got there, raising her hand to knock on his front door. But it opened, and he stood there in jeans and a T-shirt, looking so damn handsome she had to give herself a mental slap. Falling for him all over again wouldn’t help her find her attacker.
“Save me any pizza?” she asked.
T.J. was at the kitchen table with Brian Rook, who immediately excused himself and headed upstairs. He referred to his uncle as Andrew. Not Andy or Drew—just Andrew—and Mackenzie supposed she’d gotten herself into a bad habit, calling him Rook.
He put a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it to her at the table. “It’s warm, not hot.”
“It’ll be fine. Thanks.”
T.J. pushed back his chair but didn’t get up. “We got hold of Cal Benton and talked to him. We’ll talk more tomorrow. He apologized for not giving Brian his name.”
“Did he say why he decided to stop here?” Mackenzie asked, taking a bite of her pizza. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. It seemed like a week ago that she, Juliet and Ethan had stopped for a quick bite before checking