Gerard finished getting dressed for the open house at Breakwater and told himself that Steve Eisenhardt was burned out, insane, paranoid or all of the above. Alicia’s death must have affected him more than anyone had realized.
But Gerard couldn’t ignore a gnawing feeling in his gut that told him that Eisenhardt was on the level. What if something was going on under the surface and he was being shut out? He’d been fighting a growing sense of uneasiness about Ollie ever since the kidnapping. Yet, over and over again, Gerard would tell himself that he needed to let any investigation take its course. Ollie Crawford was too high-profile, too wealthy, too invested in the system to do anything totally outlandish.
Denial.
Gerard climbed out onto the marina dock, the wind having finally died down. A dozen gulls had clustered around a small fishing boat. The sun glistened on the water. He loved this spot for its lack of glamour, its simplicity, but often found himself restless here for the same reasons.
“You’re never happy. You’re always striving.”
His wife’s words. He could hear her voice, sad more than angry, resigned more than accusatory.
What would happen to him if he lost everything? He’d already lost his wife. He didn’t see his children nearly often enough. The family life he’d envisioned for himself had been a myth. All he had now was his work. His reputation. His ambitions.
If Ollie had gone over the edge in some way, if trouble was brewing, Gerard knew that his own name and reputation would be tarnished. Guilt by association. He and Ollie had been friends for twenty years. There was no way to downplay their friendship.
He pushed back the glum thought. He hated the fear that gripped him. What wasn’t he being told? What more did Steve know?
And Quinn, what did she know?
Gerard knew he had enemies. Rivals. People who resented his access to power, his success. People who wanted his job. People who wanted the jobs he would have after the Justice Department, who’d slice and dice him now, just to get him out of the way.
He had never imagined that Ollie would be his downfall.
Out on the parking lot, a Breakwater Security SUV waited to take him to the open house.
Before he headed across the parking lot to meet his ride, Gerard took out his cell phone and dialed the number he had for T.J. Kowalski. He’d tell the FBI agent about Steve’s visit. Then truth would prevail.
But Gerard had no illusions.
If Oliver Crawford was under investigation, he was under investigation.
34
Huck half thought Quinn would change her mind and head back to Washington, or go visit her grandfather in her party dress, but he spotted her Saab coming toward him and directed her to a parking place.
She got out of her car, strappy high heels in hand. “I can’t drive in these things,” she said, kicking off a pair of water shoes. She scooped them up and dumped them on the back seat of her car, then put one hand on the driver’s side door as she lifted a bare foot and slipped on the high-heeled sandal.
Huck noticed that somewhere between dancing with him last night and now, she’d painted her toenails a dark red.
“You don’t want to lean against your car.” He grabbed her hand as she balanced herself to put on her other sandal. “You’ll get your dress dirty.”
If she noticed his mix of irritation and pleasure at seeing her, she pretended not to. She stood up straight and smiled. “Thanks.” She adjusted her shawl over her shoulders, polite, as if last night hadn’t happened. “I had to pop my trunk at the gate. No Uzi in back, no gate-crashers in the trunk.”
“Why aren’t you in Fredericksburg?”
She cocked her head. “Do I hear a string quartet?”
“It’s for the party-”
“Well, then. That settles it. You have no reason to worry, Mr. Boone. Nothing can possibly happen at a party with a string quartet playing.” She teetered a bit in her strappy shoes. “Whoa. I forgot how high these heels are. And skinny. I might sink in the grass. But, with all you security guys here-”
Something about her was off. Heady. She was on the verge of spinning out of control. “Quinn-”
“If you can…” She paused, obviously debating just what she wanted to say. “You might want to talk to Special Agent Kowalski.”
Hell. “Quinn-what’s happened?”
Before she could answer, Vern Glover arrived with Gerard Lattimore, who just about jumped out of the SUV before it came to a full stop. Quinn greeted her former boss warmly, and he slipped an arm over her shoulders, telling her that he needed to talk to her. He was intense, stiff.
“Sure. Now?”
He nodded and the two of them went off together, along the brick walk to the main house.