Abandon (Cold Ridge/U.S. Marshals #6)

“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 – and Harris’s murder, she thought. She’d tried not to envision him lying dead in the run-down rooming house, but rather how he’d looked during his many visits to the lake with his wife and children, in happier days, before he’d let his compulsions dominate him. Or maybe they always had, but he just hadn’t been caught and exposed.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I know Harris?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Just tell me what you want.”

Jesse pointed at her, almost with glee. “I know Harris because of you.”

“I don’t understand. I didn’t meet you until Cal introduced us -”

“I know. Complicated. But Cal and Harris are irrelevant right now.”

His stark words jolted Bernadette. “Jesse,” she said, her voice cracking, “where is Cal?”

Ignoring her question, he glanced at the shed, the brush, as if he hadn’t noticed them before. “I heard about the marshal attacked out here.”

It was you, you bastard.

Bernadette could see that he was enjoying manipulating her. As surreptitously as she could, she took another step back. She knew the lake, the woods around her house. If she could get away from him, she’d have at least a chance to run, elude him until she could get help.

But if she was right and he was the man who’d attacked Mackenzie last week, he could know the area as well as she did.

Get to your car. It’s your best hope. And keep him talking until you can make your move.

She tried to steady herself. “Jesse, why are you here?”

“I’m like you. I don’t want to get bit by what Cal’s into.”

She faked a laugh that sounded even more hollow and weak than she’d expected. “You’re a wealthy, respected businessman. How could anything in which Cal might be involved hurt you? And he and I are divorced. I’m not worried -”

“If you cooperate, he’ll live,” Jesse said abruptly. “If you don’t, it’s simple. He’ll die.”

Bernadette went still. She felt the blood draining out of her head, but tried to force herself to assess her situation objectively. She needed a weapon. There were tools in the shed. The sticks she used for toasting marshmallows near the fireplace. Rocks.

But before she could figure out what to do, Jesse produced an assault knife, pointing it at her in an obviously well-practiced move. “No one’s protecting you, Judge.” His tone was mild, even matter-of-fact. “No one can save you. You have to deal with me and only me.”