Gone again. All of it. The unit was gutted. And he supposed he was no worse off than he’d been before. But he felt worse off. He’d have been happier never getting close—close enough to feel his old life, to taste it. Freedom. From confinement, from guilt, from constant doubt and unending pursuit and mind-bending questions. Sweet freedom.
So close.
He thought about turning the car around and pulling into the rental place, maybe taking a look around in the debris. But he knew better. The cops probably had it under surveillance, or would at least be going by to check it out periodically. They would expect him to go there. They probably thought he was the one who’d burned it.
He ought to let his lawyer know he hadn’t. Not to mention the little fact that there had been a body there. Brown wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t like it a bit, as he’d been the one with the key. It would implicate him, wouldn’t it?
If Arty’s body had been found in the burned-out unit, River thought Cassandra would have heard about it by now. So it must not have been. And there was no point in his going back there to look for it now and getting caught. It was either long gone before the fire started, or in police custody. It wouldn’t still be there at the site either way.
So he forced himself to keep on driving, and resisted the almost irresistible urge to go back. He drove until he came to Burlington, and then he parked Cassandra’s car a half mile from Ethan’s house, in a small pull-off along the edge of a side road.
He didn’t leave it running. That would only draw attention. He pocketed the keys and got out. Tugging his collar up over his ears, he trudged through the snow. He had a few tools in his pockets—things he’d scavenged from the house and from Cassandra’s car. A tiny screwdriver, needle-nose pliers, long pieces of wire. But he didn’t think he’d need them.
He knew his way around Ethan’s house as well as he did his own. It rested at the end of a pretty, winding lane. Its driveways were always perfectly plowed, its walkways perfectly shoveled. Out back there was a manmade pond with geese who’d become so fat and lazy they didn’t even fly south anymore, but wintered right there, living on handouts from the Melroses.
Victoria would have the place decked out for the holidays before too long, he thought, as he stood outside the sprawling white Georgian. It was aglow now, its specially placed outdoor lights beaming from the ground level up onto the house to show it off. But for the holidays, oh man, it would just glitter. She had to hire extra men to get her Christmas display ready to go. She used to hire Arty every year, and would drive all the way down to Blackberry to give him a ride in to do the job.
Poor Arty…he wouldn’t be helping out this year.
Work on the holiday display would begin soon—the gala light show had to be ready to be turned on after Thanksgiving dinner. As soon as the table was cleared. It was Victoria’s tradition.
River sighed, imagining the way the house would look in a couple of weeks when those lights came on, and remembering the last Thanksgiving before Steph had died. They’d had dinner here, with Ethan and Victoria. God, how he missed them.
Sighing, he walked up the driveway, right to the house, staying in the clear, paved driveway and the perfectly spotless sidewalk to avoid leaving any prints. He went to the garage, rather than the house door, wondering if Ethan had fixed the problem he’d discovered summer before last. River tugged on the automatic garage door. It shouldn’t have moved at all. But it rose almost a foot before it stopped and refused to go further.
River shook his head. “Such a minor adjustment, pal. You’ve got to get this thing fixed.”
He lay down on his back and slid underneath the door and into the garage. Then he got to his feet, closed the garage door and gave his eyes a minute to adjust to the dimness inside.
It took a while, but gradually, things took shape. Neither Ethan’s Mercedes nor Victoria’s Miata were in their spots, but the Mercedes ML-500 SUV held court, taking up the third slot and then some. River walked to the door that led into the kitchen—a door without any alarm system and one they rarely kept locked. No need when the garage door was supposed to be secure. He hoped he wouldn’t run into a housekeeper working late. But he didn’t think he would. Vicki didn’t have live-in help, and there were no other vehicles around.
He stepped into the kitchen—the door to the garage was unlocked, as usual. God, for such a smart guy, Ethan was pretty stupid about his home security.
The kitchen gleamed, chrome and black and white. Black range and side-by-side refrigerator-freezer and dishwasher and convection oven. White cupboards. Black-and-white ceramic tiles on the counter, and white marble veined with black on the floor. He’d always loved this kitchen. He could almost smell Victoria’s turkey baking in the oven just being here again. Well, Miranda’s turkey—the cook did all the work.
He moved into the dining room, trying to walk lightly, making very little noise just in case—and tried, too, to prevent himself from being distracted by memories. He continued through the living room, noticing with a stab of pain that the blown-up photo of him and Ethan, arm in arm, at the age of thirteen, was no longer hanging over the mantel. It hurt that it was gone.
Swallowing the pain, he moved on. There were several parts of the house he meant to check out before he left here tonight. Ethan’s den, his home office and his bedroom.
And if he didn’t find what he needed there, he’d check out the rest of the house, too. It was big, but it was empty. He could take his time.
* * *
“We’d all given up hope by then,” Ethan said. “Everyone had stopped searching for the little runt, except for River. Hell, as the night wore on, we were starting to get more worried about him than we were about the pup. But then River comes dragging in, an hour and a half past curfew, mud from one end of him to the other. And Dad starts yelling at him for being late, and being filthy, and all of a sudden I realize that the mud-covered lump under his arm is wiggling. And these eyes open up and look at me, and Dad just breaks off, right in the middle of one of the best heads of steam he’s ever worked up.” Ethan shrugged. “Well, for River anyway. He was always pissed at me for one reason or another, and yelling like a lunatic. But hardly ever with River.”
Jax studied him, sensing a little bitterness, a little pain in him just then. “Why is that, Ethan?” She wanted to hear the rest of the story, but more, she wanted to know what made this guy tick.
He shrugged. “Ah, River was a jock. So was Dad. He played football in college. Got drafted into the NFL right out of his senior year—they gave him nice money, too. But he was injured during the first game of the season. He never played again—not professionally, anyway.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It is. He wanted a jock for a son—someone to do what he couldn’t. I was…well, a nerd. Something of a disappointment.”
“I seriously doubt that, Ethan.”
“You shouldn’t. I think he saw River as the son he would have wanted.” He closed his eyes. “I used to be so jealous of that.”
“Used to be?”
He lifted his head, nodded. “Dad was furious when River decided to become a cop instead of pursuing a career as an athlete. River insisted he wasn’t that good—Dad argued that he could be if he would just give it all he had. River didn’t want to do that, and so on and so on.” Ethan shrugged. “Once they started fighting over it, I realized it wasn’t me who’d disappointed my father. And it wasn’t River. Dad wasn’t going to be happy with any of us because we couldn’t give him back his lost career, or help him reclaim that glory. We never would have been able to, even if we’d tried. He was unhappy with himself.”
She smiled slowly. “You are so insightful. You know, you’d make a good psychiatrist.”
He smiled back at her, looking slightly more relaxed. “That’s a really good idea.”
“I distracted you from your story,” she said. “River came home late, got yelled at and had a muddy something under his arm. Was it the missing puppy?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah. It was Oliver. I never thought we’d see him again. He’d dug his way out of his kennel and wandered into a swamp a mile from home. I don’t know how the hell River found the runt, but he just wouldn’t quit looking. Just wouldn’t give up.”
She sat there staring at this man, wondering if he honestly loved River as much as he seemed to, or if he was just very good at manipulating people into seeing what he wanted them to see.
“You full?” Ethan asked.
She glanced at her empty plate and then to her watch. She needed to kill more time. “I am stuffed, and was planning to demurely turn down dessert—but I’ve got to tell you, that chocolate concoction they’re having at the next table is giving me second thoughts.”
He put a hand over hers. “I would really like to take you somewhere else for dessert,” he said. “What do you say?”
“Where did you have in mind?”
“You’re gonna have to trust me. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
“Well…” She pretended to think it over, then nodded and said, “But only if we can take your car. I’m not in the mood for driving, and frankly, I love the feel of a Mercedes.”
“You’ve got it.” He waved to the waiter, who quickly came to take his credit card. Ten minutes later, they were getting into his vehicle.
It was already running. He’d started it from inside the restaurant. Its headlights were on and its heated seats were warm and waiting. “Damn,” she muttered, as she ran a hand over the supple leather. “I’ve got to get one of these.”
Ethan smiled. “You like it?”
“It’s fabulous. Not likely I’ll ever afford one on a cop’s salary, but hell, a girl can dream.”
“My wife has a Miata, but frankly, she drives this whenever she gets the chance. I think she’s wishing she’d chosen luxury over sporty good looks.”
Jax blinked in shock. She had not been expecting him to mention his wife—thinking he’d been—well hell, coming on to her. Now she didn’t know what to think.
More and more the guy was seeming like he really was the nice, decent human being River kept describing to her.
He drove, and it was only a good distance later that she realized they were heading toward Burlington. God, she thought, please don’t get the notion of stopping by your house. Don’t, don’t, don’t.
* * *
River went through every likely spot in the house, but he didn’t find any files on Stephanie. He didn’t find much of anything at all, until he went into the den—Ethan’s inner sanctum. It was the place where the guys hung out after a meal, where they gathered to have a cigar after dinner, or to catch a baseball game. Ethan wasn’t big on sports, but tolerated them as excuses for social gatherings. As long as it wasn’t football. River supposed he could understand that.
Victoria had no interest in the den. She never went in there, hated the stench of cigar smoke. River remembered her wrinkling her nose whenever she’d had to stick her head into the room, the pretty face somehow even prettier with that grimace on it.
Stepping into the den brought back memories. And the pictures on the walls brought back more. The blown-up image of him and Ethan, the one that used to hang in the living room, was here. So were shots of River and Steph, and others showing all four of them together.
He got a little dizzy, closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his head to silence the familiar buzzing that was going on inside. “Jesus, not now,” he whispered. He did not need a blackout now.
He clutched the back of the chair nearest him, struggled to stay focused, and shot a look across the room at the door on the far side, the one that led into the backyard. Better to get out of here now, he thought, and took two unsteady steps toward the door. And then his vision went. And his will went with it. He sank onto the floor as every thought evaporated, and his legs folded beneath him.
CHAPTER 15
“You were right,” Jax said, scraping the last of the chocolate syrup from the banana split container. “I can’t believe you found banana splits in November.”
“You just have to know where to look. Riv and I used to work here, summer before our senior year. I cooked, he waited tables.”
“Seems like you got the tougher job. I can say that, having done both myself,” she said.
“River was a draw. Girls always flocked to him. It was better for business having him out front with the customers.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” she said. She didn’t, not really. He was awkward and stiff, which seemed to be his normal state. Still, it didn’t hurt to make nice. And then move on to a safer subject. “Where are we going now?”
Ethan gave her a smile. “I just have a quick stop. I’m not up to anything, I promise.”
A little chill settled in her belly and Jax tried to squelch it. “I believe you. I just…” She looked at her watch for effect. “I really ought to be getting home.”
“I’ll get you home before you know it.”
She wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying, because he had pulled the car into a curving lane, and the headlights bathed a house that was beyond magnificent. Huge, sprawling, immaculate. Oh, God it couldn’t be—
He stopped the car and shut it off. Her throat went dry. “Is this…your house?”
“Yeah. It’s even nicer on the inside. I wish Vicki were home so you could meet her, but—no matter. Come on in, I’ll just be a minute.”
She didn’t want to go in. She wanted to lock the car doors and keep him from going in himself, force him, somehow, to leave. But she couldn’t come up with a believable reason. God, she hoped River wasn’t still there. Please, she thought, let him have found what he needed and got the hell out of there by now.
Ethan climbed out of the car and she followed, moving with deliberate slowness. The wide door was of dark wood, framed in stained glass panels, with a brass knocker that looked antique. He inserted a key, and swung it open, then waited for her to go in before him.
Jax did, almost on tiptoe, holding her breath as she strained to hear a single sound in the house. Ethan came in behind her and punched some buttons on a panel. A security system. Hell, how could River have managed to get inside without setting off its bells and whistles? Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
Lights came on. She hadn’t even heard Ethan hit the switch, and the sudden brightness startled her. And then she watched him watching her, and realized she probably ought to show some interest in her surroundings. She took a quick survey of the room, nodded in approval when she couldn’t care less what the place was like. “Nice,” she said. “So what was it you needed to pick up?”
“My PalmPilot. I’m lost without the damn thing. Amazing how dependent we get on technology, isn’t it? Makes you wonder what we’d do if we suddenly lost it all.”
“You thinking Armageddon might come, Ethan?”
He laughed. “God, I hope not. Have a seat. You want a drink or—”
“No, just grab the thingie and let’s go.”
He frowned at her. “You uncomfortable here for some reason, Jax?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering what your wife would think.”
The line, delivered deadpan, seemed to bring him up short. “You’re right, she’d probably jump to all the wrong conclusions.”
That statement made Jax wonder if the woman had reason not to trust her husband, but she didn’t ask.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He started down a hall. She couldn’t wait where she was; she had to know what was going on. If he walked in on River—hell, that wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen. No one’s luck was that bad. Either way, she had to be with him. So she followed, and Ethan stopped, turned and frowned at her.
She shrugged. “I just…get to see more of the house this way.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “It’s in the den, right over here.”
He walked throu
gh a set of double doors, went to the desk that sat on the far side of the room, not bothering with a light, and opened a drawer. “I could have sworn it was right—”
He reached to the desk lamp as he said it, flicked it on.
At that instant River burst up from behind the desk, knocking Ethan flat on his back. At least she thought it was River. She could barely tell with the knit cap pulled down over his face, a couple of holes torn in it for vision’s sake.
He spun around, lunging toward the glass door in the back, but froze as he spotted Jax standing there.
She waved a hand at him, urgently telling him to go. And he did, but by then Ethan was pulling himself up onto his feet again, cussing aloud. River flung the door open and bolted, and Ethan lunged outside after him.
It was only as Jax burst outside behind them both that she glimpsed the gun in Ethan’s hand. He must have had it in the desk. Hell.
“Ethan, wait!”
He didn’t even pause, just stopped running and leveled the weapon.
“No, dammit!” She slammed into him even as the gun exploded, spitting fire into the night. He stumbled at her blow, but didn’t fall. Jax yanked the gun out of his hand, casting a panicked look toward where River had gone. But she didn’t see him.
“What did you do that for?” Ethan demanded, clearly pissed off.
“What did I—Jesus, Ethan, you can’t shoot an intruder in the back when he’s running away. That’s way beyond self-defense. You want to do time? Lose your license to practice medicine to boot?”
He pursed his lips. Jax started off in the direction River had been heading, but stopped and turned sharply when Ethan came behind her. “Go on back to the house and wait. I’ll check this out.”
“I can’t let you go after a burglar alone—”
“I’m a cop, Ethan. I do it all the time. Besides,” she said, lifting his firearm, “I’ve got your gun.” She also had her own, but she wasn’t about to mention it. He might think it meant he could have his back, and there was no way in hell…
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