The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [108]
She took a step toward him, reaching out. He flinched. “Don’t.”
She faltered, stung by the rejection. She forced her hand down to her side, her gaze never leaving his face. He hurt, she knew he hurt. She could see it in the remoteness of his expression. Let me in, let me help a little bit if I can.
But he remained unyielding. She didn’t know anyone who could be as hard as he could be hard.
She took a deep breath. Her eyes stung.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I’m going to shower. You do . . . you do what you think is best.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“You’re the professional.”
THE MINUTE THE bathroom door closed behind Tess, J.T. retrieved a cigarette. He paused long enough to open the window and get hit by the solid New England chill. Then he brought the cigarette to his lips, lit it clumsily, and inhaled gratefully.
The open air was cold, the sky gray but bright enough to hurt his eyes. He stood there anyway, squinting, exhaling out the window and smoking the first cigarette down to a nub. Then he lit a second.
And then he picked up the phone.
His finger shook when he punched the number. He told himself it was the nicotine. Marion picked up on the third ring. For a minute he couldn’t find his voice.
“Hello? Hello?” She already sounded angry and she didn’t even know it was him. He contemplated hanging up, but didn’t.
“Hello, Marion,” he said at last.
She was silent. He used the opportunity to drag deeply on his cigarette. On the other end of the line, was she doing the same? That was a pretty picture—a brother and sister who couldn’t carry on a thirty-second conversation, but boy could they smoke.
“Are you speaking to me or not?”
“Give me one reason why I should.”
“It’s about Beckett.”
“Beckett?” She sounded suspicious. “What do you want, J.T.?”
“I’m not asking for me, Marion, I know better. Tess is asking. And let’s not forget that this is the kind of case that could build a career.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.
“You have two minutes to state what you need, or I hang up.”
“Information.”
“Information?”
“Beckett returned to Mass. He killed the cop who was watching Tess’s daughter and kidnapped her.”
“Oh, shit.” For a change, Marion’s voice was soft. Her shock sounded genuine.
“I think he has Sam stashed with some friend,” J.T. said quietly, “but Tess can’t think of anyone. The FBI are the ones who’ve been tapping phones and handling surveillance. Maybe there’s something there that will tell us where he’s gone, who might be helping him.”
“Maybe.” She was silent for a moment. “Why come to me, J.T.? Why not just contact the special agent in charge? I could get you a name if you want.”
“Is that what you want me to do, Marion? Contact the SAC?”
This time the period of silence was long. He forgot about his cigarette until it burned down far enough to singe his fingers.
“I’ll come,” she said abruptly. “Where are you?”
“Outside of Springfield in a motel.” He rattled off the phone number, careful to keep his voice neutral.
He wasn’t sure how to feel yet. Or if he should feel anything. “Ah . . . give us a call when you land at Logan. I’ll give you directions from there.”
“The shuttle flights are steady. I imagine I can be there by midday.”
“All right.”
He waited for her to say good-bye and hang up the phone. Or say she remembered something, maybe the good times. The hot summers they’d spent perfecting cannonballs into the swimming pool, or early evenings when he would watch her ride, thinking she must be the most graceful girl in the world to sit so perfectly on that huge horse.
She said abruptly, “Daddy’s dead.”
“Okay.”
“The funeral will be next Friday. He’s being laid to rest in Arlington with full military honors.”
“Huh.”
“Will you come, J.T.?”
“No.”
“You’re hatred is that pure, then?”
“Isn’t yours, Merry Berry?”
She hung up the phone and dial tone filled his ear.
HE INTERRUPTED HER shower. She halted, her hands shampooing her hair, her gaze questioning. He took in the sight of her body covered delicately with