Abandon - Carla Neggers [87]
“I tried that one on her. Didn’t work. She went on about honesty, keeping secrets from friends. She’s just embarrassed. That rat-bastard brought those women out to the lake knowing it’d humiliate her if she found out.”
“Then there was more than one. I figured as much, but I only saw him with a dark-haired woman.”
Gus seemed uncomfortable with the entire subject. “There were at least two that I know of, probably more. I drove by one day and saw him out on the dock with a blonde—young, pretty. I was tempted to stop, but I didn’t.” He added awkwardly, “Figured it wasn’t my business.”
Mackenzie picked up a notepad from his counter and handed it to him. “Write down a description. Everything you can think of—hair, eyes, height, weight, dates. Don’t censor yourself. I’ll take it with me when I meet with Detective Mooney this afternoon.”
“All right, Deputy,” he said with a sudden flash of amusement, taking the pad. “I’ll do that.”
“Thank you.”
He gave her a grudging smile. “It’s good to see you, kid. How’s the cut?”
“Healing well.”
She said goodbye and headed out, yesterday’s storms leaving the air feeling washed and clean, the mountains in sharp relief against a cloudless sky. Cold Ridge was home in a way Washington never would be, but, she thought, climbing into her rented car, why not have both?
Before she was out of range of any cell service, she checked her phone for messages. T.J. had called, asking her to get in touch with him. She dialed his number, and he picked up on the first ring. “Hey, T.J. What’s going on? Is Rook with you?”
“He’s on his way up there. Mackenzie, I’m in your guy’s condo.”
“You mean Cal?”
“No. I’m talking about your stalker-attacker. A part-time night doorman recognized him from the sketch you left. He leased a corporate condo on the floor above Cal Benton’s place.”
“Do you have a name?” T.J. didn’t hesitate. “Jesse Lambert.”
Mackenzie shook her head, as if T.J. was in the car with her. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Not at all. Any hard evidence it’s the right guy?”
“Just kitchen knives so far. The place is pretty sterile.”
“What about Cal? Any sign of him?”
“Not yet.” T.J. paused a moment, then went on. “Rook’s on his way to New Hampshire. He’ll be at your meeting this afternoon with the investigators up there. His flight’s just a couple hours behind yours.”
“He planned this all along, didn’t he?”
“He had his ticket before I arrived with the doughnuts this morning.”
Mackenzie sighed. “The man’s relentless.”
“I’m not going there,” T.J. said with a small chuckle. “Stay safe, Mackenzie. This guy—”
“I know. It’s that hydrangea. Creepy.”
This time, T.J. didn’t laugh.
When she hung up, Mackenzie debated waiting in the local diner and watching for black sedans, but she didn’t. She wanted to see Bernadette, and, she thought, the lake, the shed, the brush where her attacker had hidden, the route he’d taken into the woods. The entire scene, with fresh eyes.
Jesse Lambert.
The name didn’t do anything for her. It was still the eyes that seemed familiar.
Thirty-Two
Bernadette unlocked the padlock on the shed door. She’d walked down here, realized she didn’t have the key, then had dragged herself back to the house to hunt it down. She knew she was more annoyed than the situation warranted, but the padlock was another reminder of what had gone on here last week, when she was in Washington, oblivious. Just as she’d been when Cal had slipped up here with his women.
She felt violated. The lake was her refuge, but she could no longer pretend she could simply dismiss what had gone on here over the past few months.
With a burst of frustrated energy, Bernadette pulled open the shed door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d locked it. She’d never worried about burglars—there was nothing of real value inside. Occasionally, she worried about kids sneaking in and making off with the canoe or the kayaks and ending up drowned. But it wasn’t enough to make her change her habits. Kids had never been a problem on the lake.
Even Mackenzie,