She squinted at him, clearly not sure about the idea.
“Look at it this way. Either I’m staying here or you’re staying at my place. If it’s not me, you know it’ll be Nate, and why would you want that? He has a new house and a pregnant wife. He’s a senior deputy.” Rook smiled. “He’s not as good-looking.”
“I don’t know, Rook, Nate’s pretty good-looking. Of course, there’s T.J. He’s so good-looking he’s been known to stop hearts.” But she couldn’t sustain her humor, and blew out a breath. “Honestly, there’s no need for you to stay -”
“Then grab a toothbrush, Mac, because I’m not leaving you here alone.”
She shoved both hands through her hair, then let them drop. “All right. Give me two minutes.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“And I’m taking my car,” she said. “No way am I having Chief Delvecchio catch me getting dropped off at work in the morning by an FBI agent.”
Rook could see her point. “I’ll send T.J. on ahead to buy the pizzas, and I’ll ride with you.”
“Fine, but I’m driving.”
The woman was relentless, but as Rook watched her head back into the house, he noticed a slight wobble in her steps. Tonight had gotten to her. From what he’d seen of the investigators, the hydrangea and the knife had gotten to them, too.
When they reached Rook’s house, Mackenzie got to her backpack before he did, slinging it over her right shoulder and following him to the door. She’d said little in the car. He didn’t know if she was more preoccupied with what she’d found on her porch step or with the prospect of spending the night at his house.
Brian opened the door. “There you are.” He ran a hand over his head, a gesture that suggested something was up. “I was just about to call you. Some guy stopped here looking for you.”
Rook stepped inside, frowning at his nephew. “Some guy? Who?”
“I don’t know. I asked him his name, but he wouldn’t say. He just said to tell you he’s sorry he missed you.”
Mackenzie walked past Brian and set her backpack on the floor next to the stairs. “Can you describe him?”
“Late fifties, gray hair, well dressed.” Brian shrugged, regarding her with the mix of nonchalance and curiosity only a nineteen-year-old could pull off. “What else?”
“Was he dark or fair -”
“Very fair.”
“Cal Benton,” Mackenzie said.
Brian obviously didn’t recognize the name. “What’s up? This some fed deal? Is he wanted?”
“Hang on a sec, Brian,” Rook said. “Mac -”
But she’d already bolted out the door, and he charged after her, surprised she’d moved as fast as she had. She spun around to face him. “I can do more on my own. I’m not working a case.”
“T.J. will be here in another minute. He’ll stay with Brian. We’ll go together -”
“I’m friends with these people,” she said, climbing into her car.
“You’re friends with Judge Peacham. Cal Benton -”
“I won’t stay long.” She smiled up at him. “Save me some pizza.”
As she backed out of the driveway, Brian ambled out of the house and stood next to his uncle. “You can go after her if you want. I’ll be fine here.”
Rook shook his head. “I’ll wait for T.J.”
“We could always call Dad and have him intercept her.”
Rook grinned at his nephew. “Now you’re thinking.” But he watched Mackenzie’s car turn up the street, and sighed. “Mac knows what she’s doing.”
“You hope so,” Brian said.
“Yeah. I hope so. Come on. Let’s go inside, and you can tell me every word this guy said to you.”
“I wrote it all down.”
“No kidding?” Rook cuffed his nephew on the shoulder. “Good for you.”
Twenty-Two
Mackenzie almost backed out of Bernadette’s driveway two seconds after pulling into it. But the house was lit up, suggesting whoever was there – Bernadette alone, or Cal, or both of them – hadn’t gone to bed yet.
By the time she climbed the steps to the side entrance, the door was open. Bernadette, barefoot in a flowing black caftan, stepped aside. “You can talk to me upstairs. I’m packing for New Hampshire. I leave in the morning.” She turned, then stopped abruptly, glancing back at Mackenzie. “Stairs won’t bother you, will they?”
“Not at all. Is Cal here?”
A coolness came into her eyes. “No.”