Abandon - Carla Neggers [88]
Bernadette let her gaze drop to the old bloodstains on the concrete floor. If only she could go back in time and warn Kevin Stewart about his saw, tell him to inspect it for problems.
If only she could go back in time and find him herself, and keep his eleven-year-old daughter away.
But how many times had she looked at a defendant in the courtroom and known he was running a litany of if-only scenarios through his head? Not all defendants had regrets, or regrets for the right reasons, but some did.
She propped the door open with a rock she kept nearby just for that purpose. She wanted to stay focused and keep moving, hoping activity would renew her spirits. She’d slept poorly, and as much as she’d appreciated Gus’s concern for her, she couldn’t stand having anyone around her right now. It wasn’t him. It was her—her fatigue, her mounting sense of doom and depression.
Maybe she should just grab her garden tools and dig weeds for the rest of the day.
But she pictured Mackenzie fighting for her life in front of the shed. And Harris, five years ago, coming to the lake to tell Bernadette in person that he was in trouble. He’d found her in the shed, looking for her favorite kayak paddle.
This place is bad luck.
As she stood on the threshold, she realized she’d forgotten why she’d even decided to open up the shed. Not nostalgia, that was for damn sure.
I’m losing my mind.
She stepped back out into the sunlight. Ordinarily, the cool, bright morning would have had her out on the lake by now, kayaking, swimming, watching the loons, but not today.
“Hello, Judge Peacham.”
A man emerged from the tangle of brush and small trees between the shed and the lake front. Startled, Bernadette almost fell backward, but she maintained her balance and stared at the man, recognizing him—the dark hair flecked with gray, the pale gray eyes. He wore expensive hiking clothes and boots but seemed at ease in his surroundings.
He smiled at her. “Beanie—that’s what they call you up here, isn’t it?”
It took a moment for her to place where she’d seen him before and remember his name. He wasn’t from Cold Ridge. “Jesse,” she said. “Jesse Lambert, right?”
“That’s right, Judge.”
His tone was calm, controlled, but something about his manner unnerved her. She took a step back from him, but remained polite and nonconfrontational. “We met a few months ago…”
“That’s right. At a boring Washington party. It’s much nicer up here.” He breathed in the pleasant air, but his eyes—such strange eyes—never left her. “I love it, don’t you?”
Bernadette felt a pang of real fear. She remembered now. Cal had introduced them at a cocktail party they’d both attended, separately. As she recalled, he’d indicated that Jesse Lambert was some kind of consultant with a small company based in Virginia. She’d run into him on at least two more occasions, but she hadn’t really paid any attention. She had many casual acquaintances and hadn’t thought twice about Jesse Lambert.
“Did you come up here with Cal?” She struggled to keep her tone light. “If you two want to borrow a canoe or a couple of kayaks, by all means—” But she broke off abruptly. The way he stared at her was as frightening as anything she’d witnessed in her years as a prosecutor and a judge.
“That’s not why I’m here. You know that, Judge.”
“I only know you’re a business consultant of some kind.”
“Cal and I did a few deals together. And Harris,” Jesse added with a cold smile. “Oh, wait. Let’s be accurate. J. Harris Mayer. Always a stickler for accuracy, your friend Harris.”
Bernadette gasped, her knees weakening. “I haven’t seen Harris in ages.” She didn’t dare say she knew he was dead. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
“He’s the one who introduced me to Cal.”
She was too shocked to respond. What else didn’t she know? Yesterday, she’d learned about Cal taking women here to the lake