Bernadette about-faced and headed down the hall, leaving Mackenzie to pull the door shut behind her and find her way to the front of the house. She took the sweeping staircase to the second floor, remembering how much she used to love to visit Bernadette in Washington – especially before Cal. Mackenzie had tried to be neutral about him, although none of Bernadette’s other friends seemed to bother. Certainly no one in Cold Ridge did. He just wasn’t a favorite. But everyone wanted Bernadette to be happy, and if Cal made her happy, who were they to criticize?
She had a suitcase open on the floor at the foot of her four-poster bed, the custom-made, champagne-colored comforter pulled back, as if she’d tried to sleep but had given up and decided to pack. “I’m going to drive,” she said, grabbing a stack of lingerie out of the top drawer of an antique dresser. “I’d planned to fly. Gus offered to pick me up at the airport, but driving should help clear my head.”
“Beanie, I don’t know that driving is wise right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. For heaven’s sake, I’ve been at this job for a while now, and I’ve never had a thing happen until…” She waved a hand in dismissal and dumped the lingerie into her suitcase. “Never mind.”
“Until I became a federal agent, you mean.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not the least bit concerned about my own safety.” She turned back to her dresser and pulled open another drawer. “But you’re not here to talk about my travel arrangements, are you, Mackenzie?”
Mackenzie stood on the soft, cream-colored carpet, took in the champagne brocade drapes, the simple elegance of the room. Should she have come here, disturbed Bernadette’s preparations for her vacation in New Hampshire? But Mackenzie knew better than to try to back out now. She’d never get away with it. Bernadette knew her too well and would insist on an explanation.
She didn’t even try to be subtle. “Why would Cal stop at an FBI agent’s house?”
“Why would Cal – what?” Bernadette spun around, cradling a trio of hiking socks. “You’re talking about Andrew Rook, aren’t you? Cal stopped to see him?”
“That’s right. A little while ago.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And why would this be of any concern to you, might I ask?”
“Beanie…” Mackenzie fought to find the right words. “Talk to Cal.”
“I talked to Cal from the day we met three years ago until the day our divorce was finalized eight weeks ago. Now, I only talk with him when I have no other choice. I’m done, Mackenzie. I can’t do it anymore. I married the man I thought he was – maybe the man he wanted to be. That’s over now. We’ve gone our separate ways. When I get back here in September, at most I might run into him at a cocktail party.”
“Talk to him, anyway.”
“I’ll change the locks on the house if that’ll make you more comfortable.”
“That’s not it.”
She tossed the socks into her suitcase. “Then what is it, Mackenzie? What would make you barge into my house at this hour? Do you want to upset me?”
“Harris Mayer and Cal know each other. Harris has disappeared -”
Bernadette straightened, adopted her courtroom manner. “Choose your words carefully, Mackenzie. ‘Disappeared’ is a rather strong one.”
“Taken off, then.” Mackenzie couldn’t pretend that she could dismiss the friendship between her family and Bernadette and adopt some kind of manufactured objectivity. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re one of the kindest, most generous people I know.”
“And that makes me weak and stupid?”
It sure didn’t make her easy, but Mackenzie kept to her point. “No, it makes people like me care about you.”
Bernadette sank onto the edge of the bed, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I just know – oh, Mackenzie. I just know I’ve brought this awful mess onto your shoulders. That man. That disgusting man who attacked you…” She shook her head, using the back of one hand to wipe her tears. “I just know it’s my fault that he was on my property.”
“If you know anything specific -”
“Damn it, Mackenzie, I know what to do. I don’t know anything.”
Mackenzie almost smiled. “Okay.”
Bernadette sighed through her tears. “I swear you are the most resilient person I’ve ever encountered. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” She got to her feet, waved a hand at her suitcase. “I’m not even sure what I’ve packed. Scarves and mittens, for all I know.”
“I should go,” Mackenzie said.
“If I see Cal before I leave, I’ll talk to him. Promise. But right now I don’t have a clue why he’d turn up at Andrew Rook’s house.”
When she returned to her car, Mackenzie fought an urge to head north, back to New Hampshire. She could fulfill everyone’s expectations and just drop out of the Marshals Service. Go write her dissertation. Carine had offered her the use of her studio, a tiny place just up the road from the 1830s brick house where she, her husband and their baby lived.
“You’re going to pass out, Deputy Stewart. Think of what I’m going to do then.”