The Cabin (15 page)

was in full investigation mode, all his training and ex-

perience not focused on strangers but on his own fam-

ily. It unnerved her. It scared the hell out of her. She felt

exposed, raw, vulnerable.

She didn’t want to think about Rachel McGarrity

shot dead in her own driveway, or Beau McGarrity push-

ing open her patio door and walking into her kitchen.

She wanted to go up to the mountains and snow-

shoe, build a fire in the fireplace and enjoy this last

winter vacation before Maggie and Ellen went off to

college.

She threw a couple of dollars onto the bar. “I can see

I’m doomed.” She tried to be good-natured about it.

“Jim, can you dip me up a quart of tonight’s soup? I

don’t want to cook.”

“It’s corn chowder,” Davey said, “but Jimmy put

curry in it. Tastes like shit. He’s trying to please the veg-

etarian graduate students.”

Jim sighed. “I tried a new recipe. God forbid.” He

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turned to Susanna. “What time you leaving in the

morning?”

She grabbed her soda and took a sip, hoisting her

handbag higher onto her shoulder, pretending not to be

paying attention.

Davey wasn’t fooled. “Well, well, Jimmy. Our Suzie-

cue is skipping out on Jack Galway, Texas Ranger.” He

clicked his tongue behind his teeth. “I’ll be damned,

Suzie, I never took you for a coward.”

“Never mind the soup,” Susanna said, pushing her

still half-full glass toward Jim Haviland. “I’ll pick up

fast food on the road.” She slid off the bar stool, her

knees faintly weak under her. “You can tell Jack what-

ever you want to tell him.”

“Don’t tell him a damn thing, Jimmy,” Davey said.

“He might shoot up the place.”

Susanna buttoned her coat. She’d never taken it off,

which probably had clued Jim and Davey in that she

planned to deliver her message and sneak out, not

chance having Jack show up early. “For once,” she

said, “Davey has a point. Jack won’t shoot up the

place, but I have no right to ask you to do my dirty

work for me. Don’t tell him anything. He can find out

on his own.”

Davey glanced over at her, his big handlebar twitch-

ing as he shook his head at her. “You know, kid, some-

times discretion’s the better part of valor.”

“You mean I should give in and do as Jack says,

meet him here?”

“Oh, horse hockey, Susanna, you know damn well

this has nothing to do with getting your back up because

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your husband asked you to meet him here. This is about

you not wanting to confess.”

“Confess? Well, there you go. That says it all. Like

he’s the interrogator and I’m the guilty perpetrator—”

Davey shrugged. “Yeah, that’s it.”

No, it wasn’t it, Susanna thought. She was rattled by

Alice Parker’s presence in her neighborhood—her sub-

terfuge—and completely and totally undone by Jack

showing up in Boston. She couldn’t think straight. She

was so rational in every other area of her life. When it

came to the safety of Gran and her daughters and her

relationship with Jack, sometimes she had to act on

basic survival instinct. Or thought she did. Maybe

Davey had a point.

“Come on, Davey,” she said, struggling to smile,

“you know I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” He picked up his beer glass, his bowl

of curried corn chowder still full. “What have you got

to lose?”

Jim grunted knowingly. “An hour’s head start.”

��

Eight

Alice was sweating inside her parka, hat and gloves.

Destin had already shut off the heat in her car, which

didn’t work that well, anyway. She pulled off her gloves,

aware of Destin fidgeting next to her. They’d cooked up

a hell of a scheme, but so far he hadn’t gotten cold feet.

They were parked across the street from Iris’s house.

Susanna had just left with Iris and the girls, off to the

mountains for a week. Iris had talked to Alice about

whether she should go or not go—she hadn’t been back

to Blackwater Lake since she left with her son over fifty

years ago.

“We can’t just go into this blind,” Alice said, not

looking at Destin. “We have to have good information.

Susanna’ll blow us off if we screw up one little thing.”

Their plan was sketchy at best. Now that Susanna,

her grandmother and daughters were safely out of town,

Alice figured she and Destin could sneak into their

house and have a look around. They could plow through

Susanna’s financial records. Destin would know what

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125

to look for, and then they could decide on the best ap-

proach to take with her—and how much they could

squeeze out of her and still have her think it’d be easier

to give them the money instead of going to the author-

ities. The pain had to be enough, but not too much. Des-

tin wanted to know what “leverage” they’d use with

Susanna, but Alice figured she’d think of something

once they had more information.

The car was cold again, and Destin started fiddling

with the heat. He had already complained about not

being able to buy a new car because he couldn’t afford

to replace his BMW. “You don’t know what it’s like to

have a BMW repossessed,” he said.

“No, Destin, I do not,” Alice told him. “That’s for

darn sure.”

“I mean, you watch your stock go into the tank and

all those zeroes in your net worth disappear—but getting

your Beemer repossessed, that’s reality. That’s concrete.”

The man was making her head throb. A locked cell

was reality, Alice thought. A year in the slammer as a

corrupt police officer was concrete.

He banged the heat controls. “I fucking hate winter!

A year ago, I could pop down to the islands for a week-

end and get a break. Now—” He slumped against his seat.

“I have to put everything into getting back on my feet.”

“That’s right, Destin. Let’s focus on that.”

Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her

parka, knowing it was Beau McGarrity. No one else had

the number. Her throat tightened, and she could feel her

hands getting clammy, the fear gnawing at her insides.

She couldn’t let Destin see it. He needed to believe she

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was tough and in control, up for the course they were

setting out on. She couldn’t afford to have him weasel

out or, even worse, think he needed to run things.

“I’ve decided you’re not going away,” Beau said.

Alice licked her lips, chapped from the cold and the

dry heat in her old car. “I wouldn’t say that. Once I get

the money, I plan to go all the way to Australia.”

“Jack Galway left for Boston today. You’re in Bos-

ton. I’ve got Sam Temple, another Texas Ranger, sniff-

ing around.” Beau’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Alice

knew better than to think this was a casual call. “If

you’re trying to trick me—”

Alice stiffened. “You’re one to be talking. You tried

to pin a murder on me, Mr. Beau. I don’t appreciate that.

I’m willing to let bygones be bygones—”

“For fifty grand.”

“That’s right.”

He paused, not saying anything for three whole sec-

onds. Alice counted. She thought the connection had cut

out, but then he said, almost distracted, “I’ve never

trusted Susanna Galway.”

Alice could feel the car heat blowing hot on her face,

drying her skin, her nostrils. Destin was still fidgeting,

tapping his kneecaps and staring out the window. She’d

rubbed snow and dirt on her Texas tags, in case Jack

Galway walked down the street. She’d spotted him ear-

lier knocking on Iris’s door.

“Look,” she said, “maybe it was a bad idea, me stop-

ping at your place that day. I was fresh out of the joint,

and I wasn’t thinking—”

“Get the tape.” Beau’s voice was steady, thoughtful.

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127

“I want to know why Mrs. Galway didn’t destroy it or

give it to her husband. I want to know why she kept it.”

“Answers aren’t part of the deal. Look, Mr.

Beau—” Alice tried to sound cheerful, full of bluster

and self-confidence. “You don’t owe me a thing until I

produce on my end.” She didn’t want to say she was

after a tape, in case Destin was actually listening for

once. He usually didn’t tune in to a conversation unless

it was about him. She hadn’t told him about Beau and

the tape—she didn’t want to scare him off. Destin could

be her way out of this mess. “For all I know, she did get

rid of it, and this has all been a waste of my time. But

I’ll find out for sure, okay?”

“You do that.”

He clicked off, and Alice breathed out, the sweat

trickling down her back. She shut off the car heat. She

wondered how long she had before Beau McGarrity

took matters in his own hands now that Jack Galway

was here on her trail. She glanced at Destin. “I don’t

know if we can wait until Susanna’s back from the

mountains. We might have to go on up there and press

our case. Time’s getting critical. You’ve got your mon-

keys on your back, and I’ve got mine.”

Destin nodded, excited. “The Adirondacks are awe-

some. I thought about buying a place in Lake Placid, but

I opted for a condo in the White Mountains instead—I had

to sell it to raise cash. Took a loss. What I want’s Aspen.”

What Alice wanted was to belt the guy. “Iris gave me

a key to her house. I was supposed to water the plants

and bring in the mail while she was gone. She must have

forgotten I have it. She didn’t ask for it back.”

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Carla Neggers

“Oh, yeah, so that’s good.” He grinned, looking less

and less as if he would bolt any second. “We can just

unlock the door and walk in. It wouldn’t even be break-

ing and entering.”

Well, it would be if they tossed the place, but Alice

kept that to herself. “You game?”

Destin didn’t even hesitate. “You bet.”

Even before he entered Jim’s Place, Jack knew he’d

made a tactical error with Susanna. Several, in fact. He

hadn’t called ahead to tell her he was on his way to

Boston, he hadn’t made love to her in her office, and

he’d given her that order to meet him. All of which, to-

gether, had to have her head spinning and her defenses

on overdrive.

He did know his wife.

He stood at the bar. “She gave me the slip?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jim Haviland said.

Davey Ahearn shifted on his stool at the end of the

bar. Jack thought the plumber had been sitting in that

same spot twenty years ago, when he’d first checked out

the neighborhood. Davey ate most of his suppers there

but never seemed to have more than one beer a night.

That he and Jim Haviland remained pals with Kevin

Dunning, Susanna’s artsy father, amazed Jack.

“I saw her tear out of here about forty-five minutes

ago,” Davey said. “Iris up front with her, Maggie and

Ellen in the back seat, the car loaded. They must have

packed in record time.”

“Do you know where this cabin of hers is?” Jack

asked, tight-lipped.

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129

“Blackwater Lake,” Jim said. “That’s all we know.”

Jack nodded and left the bar without another word.

On his way out, he thought he heard Davey Ahearn sigh

in relief.

The temperature had dropped precipitously with

nightfall, but he didn’t notice the cold. He walked up to

Iris’s house and used his key in the front door. He should

have waited with Iris until Susanna and the girls came

back, then gone about his business. Instead, he’d

stopped briefly at the bar, checked with the local police

to see if they had anything on Alice Parker or Audrey

Melbourne and called Sam Temple.

The house was quiet and cold, the heat turned down

while they were out of town. Jack turned on the hall light

and headed up the carpeted stairs, figuring he’d start

with Susanna’s bedroom in his search for information

on her cabin. He wanted an address, a number, a sense

that his family was safe on Blackwater Lake. Then he’d

decide if he needed to go to up there himself, or if he

needed to stay here and find Alice Parker.

He hadn’t even seen his daughters yet.

He paused on the landing and dialed Susanna’s cell

phone, but got a recording that she wasn’t available.

Bullshit. She’d turned it off.

She had the front room down the hall, where they al-

ways stayed on their visits north. He wondered if she

lay alone in the double bed, thinking of the times they’d

made love there, quietly, whispering in the dark, believ-

ing nothing would ever get in the way of their love for

each other—not work, not money, not kids. Nothing.

What the hell had happened?

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He eased into the bedroom doorway. The shades were

pulled, little of the dim downstairs hall light reaching