Beautiful Triad (22 page)

“FBI, Dr. Heaton.”

The cool voice sounded familiar. Jesus, what was the guy’s name…Manzetti…no, Marzetti…crap. Ben took in a breath and calmly unlocked the door, opening it a crack. Yes, the very one: dark hair, short, Italian written all over him even without the name. The conservative suit, even in this heat, the impassive expression…the man’s clothes were rumpled, he noted, and he looked grim.

Not a promising sign. Ben and Marzetti had crossed paths before.

Which one was it? Virginia Marcum…that’s right. The insomniac that was fished out of the reservoir.

Ben opened the door wide and smiled. “Agent Marzetti.”

“You remember me.”

“How could I forget? I’d heard, now that my wife’s purse was found in another state, the locals had called in federal investigators.”

Ben glanced at his watched pointedly. “But isn’t it a little late for a chitchat? I’m surprised the sheriff didn’t tell you he has all the information I have to give them.”

“I was headed over here earlier, but got a call to a crime scene.

Can I come in?”

Crime scene
. Wordlessly, Ben stepped back and let him through the door. Marzetti glanced around and said succinctly, “Nice. Where can we talk?”

“In here.” Ben stepped past him and led the way…not where he’d been working, but toward the formal dining room—yes, how stupid was it to have a formal dining room in a vacation house? It had a nice collection of booze on the sideboard, though, and he motioned his Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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visitor to take a chair while he casually moved to where the crystal decanters sat next to a collection of glasses. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

He had his usual, the scotch smoky and sharp.

“Aren’t you curious about the crime scene, Dr. Heaton?” Marzetti had settled into one of the carved chairs and looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

Ben fought the urge to clear his throat. “I assume if you were talking about my wife, you would have started this conversation out differently. Any other crime scene doesn’t interest me.”

“Did you know a Ms. Karen McKenzie?”

“No.” Honest answer. No problem there.

“Her car was found about twenty miles from here at an interstate rest stop. The attendants reported it when it hadn’t moved for a few days. No sign of her.”

How could the look on Marzetti’s face be described? Gloating?

Ben wasn’t sure, but that did seem an appropriate word. “Am I supposed to understand what you are talking about? I just said I didn’t know her.”

“Didn’t?”

“
Don’t
know her. For God’s sake, you said her car was abandoned at a rest stop and you used the term ‘crime scene’. Do you mind telling me why you showed up here at this hour? I assumed you had news that concerned Regina.”

“Karen McKenzie was a mistake, Doctor.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m saying you finally fucked up.”

Son of a bitch
. “How so?”

“No doubt about it, I’m going to link you to Miss McKenzie’s disappearance. The crime scene unit is going over that car so carefully that if whoever abducted her left a thread from his designer jeans or part of the imprint from the sole of his expensive Italian shoes, we’ll find it.”

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Ben felt a slick sweat break out in a ripple all over his body. The expression on Marzetti’s face would make anyone, innocent or guilty, shit their pants. Implacable seemed the best word to describe it. Ben took a compulsive swallow of his drink and stifled a cough as it went down too quickly. “I think you’d better clarify the purpose of your visit, Agent Marzetti. If you just stopped by to use inappropriate language and attempt to intimidate me, I feel convinced that isn’t proper FBI protocol.”

“We’re also bringing a dive team out to start searching this lake for your wife’s body, and though it might take a while, they’ll find it.”

Marzetti’s voice was even and pleasant. “Her sister claims your wife was about to divorce you. True?”

Dead in the water
…

“Like I told Sheriff Parker, my sister-in-law is a virulent bitch who hates my guts. I am sure you checked public records already and have found Regina hadn’t filed for as much as a legal separation.”

“Is it true about the divorce?” Marzetti asked again as if Ben hadn’t just spoken, his dark eyes intent.

“No.”

First lie of the interview.

But not the last, he had a feeling.

He couldn’t let this interfere. Things were going so well. The book was flowing from him in that way that just didn’t happen often.

He knew the signs, felt the power, and he just couldn’t stop. Not now.

It was going to be damned good.

“Your graduate student, Matthew Bonham, did confirm you had dinner with him the night your wife disappeared.”

“Thank you for reminding me my alibi is solid.” Ben gave him an ironic smile.

“Not perhaps as solid as you think,” Marzetti said matter-of-factly. “Your sister-in-law informed us your wife suspected you have a relationship of a sexual nature with this young man so his weight as a witness is compromised if that’s true. You know, Dr. Heaton, the Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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internet is quite a convenient tool for law enforcement in this day and age. I pulled him up on one of those sites so many people use to display information and pictures. Quite frankly, I won’t know until I show the picture to Lauren Hanes, but he seems to fit the description of the man she saw take out your boat. Short blond hair, prominent nose…I wonder if he drove down here from Louisville recently. It would be easy enough to go on to Georgia, maybe plant evidence to throw us off. After all, if Miss Hanes hadn’t seen him in your boat, we’d be looking for your wife in another state.”

A sick sensation twisted in his stomach. Ben poured another scotch. A double this time with the amber liquid halfway up the glass.

“I wouldn’t know if he’d gone anywhere. My relationship with Matthew is strictly professional and Regina never mentioned any such suspicion to me.”

Second lie.

“I’m heterosexual, for your information,” he added. Not
quite
a lie. He was, mostly. His love/hate relationship with women is what gave him the idea of the book in the first place. Not exactly

“physician heal thyself”—more like psychologist
understand
thyself.

“Bonham isn’t. It was there on his page for all to see. Sexual orientation: gay. And you know what? He likes to dress real nice according the pictures he has posted there. Like the kind of guy who wears a shirt and tie.”

“His clothes, his sexual orientation…all entirely his business.”

God damn Matthew
,
dressing like a GQ cover all the time
. “Any more questions, Agent Marzetti? I think you’ll find I have cooperated fully with law enforcement in every way, but unless you have some reason to arrest me, I’d appreciate it if you would be on your way. It’s late and I have work to do.”

“Oh, I’ve have
reason
to arrest you, but just not enough proof as of yet. But we’re working on it, rest assured.” Marzetti stood, but didn’t turn toward the door. “I heard you interviewed Lauren Hanes.”

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Ben lifted his brows and hoped his visitor didn’t see his hand shaking as he held his glass.

“For your new book?”

“For my new book,” he confirmed.

Without another word, Agent Marzetti turned on his heel and left the room. A moment later, the front door clicked shut.

In the resulting silence, Ben found he was sweating profusely, his armpits soaked. The crash of exploding glass jolted him and he stared at the wall, seeing the amber liquid run down the imported paneling.

His hand was empty, he realized.

He must have thrown his glass of scotch, but didn’t remember doing it.

* * * *

“I can’t sleep. Guess you’re in the same boat.”

Rob looked up at the sound of her voice. “Yeah,” he said quietly,

“I’m pretty wound up over this. Want a glass of milk?”

He stood in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of jeans, and if the situation was different, Lauren would have appreciated the view of his nicely-muscled bare chest, but she was too upset. She shook her head.

“No thanks.”

“Drew asleep?”

“He seems to have fine-tuned the ability to be able to drift off, no matter what is going on, if he needs the rest.” She leaned against the counter and rubbed her forehead. “It’s probably some pilot thing. I, on the other hand, can worry myself into insomnia with the best of them.

I wish we knew something.”

“You and me both,” Rob agreed with feeling, his hazel eyes somber.

“Stop feeling so responsible.” She said it quietly.

“Karen came down here because of me. I think that makes it at least partly my fault.”

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“She left because of
me
.” Lauren brushed her disheveled hair back. “Indirectly, I suppose, but you haven’t cornered the market on guilt, Rob.”

“I suppose not, though I wish if we can’t sleep, and feel so bad about this, it would help the situation.”

One of the things she loved about him was he was a sensitive person through and through. Rob Hanson was a nice guy. A nice
sexy
guy, which was even better. She couldn’t blame Karen for being upset it hadn’t worked out. Her smile wobbled but at least she made the effort. “I don’t think a lack of sleep ever helped anyone but Lindberg on that first flight across the Atlantic.”

He laughed. It wasn’t much, but at least she lightened the mood.

The sharp sound of someone knocking on the French door to the front deck made them both start. Considering it was past one in the morning, they both swung around and stared.

Heaton stood there, his figure dark against the illumination from the room, but his face recognizable. The gleam of the lenses of his glasses caught the light.

“Seriously?” Rob muttered, catching her arm as she started for the door. “I’ll go. What the hell does he want at this time of night?”

“I don’t know…oh my God.” As Lauren stared, their neighbor pressed a bloodstained hand against the glass. “Rob…look.”

“I see.”

As she watched he went to the door, flipped the lock, and slid it open. “Professor Heaton? What’s—?”

The shot was loud, startling, like in every movie she’d ever seen, and when Rob staggered backwards, Lauren didn’t at first understand what happened. Until she saw the blood, his hand pressed to the welling wound in his chest. He stumbled into the back of a nearby chair and rasped out one word. “Run.”

What?

“Don’t try it,” Heaton stepped inside, the gun in his hand now pointed right at her. In frozen shock, Lauren didn’t even look at him Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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but stared at where Rob now grasped the chair for support, blood streaming through his fingers.

“Oh, God.” Her muscles finally unlocked and she did run, past Heaton toward Rob, only to find herself stopped before she could even get there by a brutal grip that twisted into her long hair and the cool feel of something round and metal pressed against her temple.

“No screaming,” Heaton hissed in her ear. “Where’s Fletcher?”

The hold on her hair hurt but she didn’t care.
Rob is shot. Rob is
shot
.

The refrain went through her mind like a chant and she heard someone sobbing, realizing only vaguely she was the one making those inarticulate sounds of grief.

“Where is he, Lauren?” Heaton gave her a little shake.

“Upstairs. Sleeping,” she managed to say, to her horror seeing Rob give up the fight to stay on his feet and slide to the floor, his eyes shut. There was a froth of red on his lips and by this time—what felt like a lifetime but was probably only a minute or two—his shirt was soaked in blood. His tall body, so athletic and strong, looked vulnerable sprawled on the polished floor.

“Come on.” Heaton dragged her literally out the door onto the shrouded deck because her legs wouldn’t work properly. She stumbled, and he mercilessly kept her upright with his cruel hold the entire way down the steps. The night was dark, drifting clouds obscuring the moon at intervals and the crowding trees hung thick black shadows as he forced her down the path toward the lake.

Is this happening
?

“If you fight me, you will regret it.” The words were a low promise in the dark as he forced her to walk onto the dock.

“Understand? Now, get in the boat.”

A second boat was moored next to the one owned by Rob’s uncle she saw, the shape of it dark and sleek in the uncertain light. “What do you want?” she managed to ask in a shamefully thin, shaking voice.

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“Just to continue our interview, Lauren. Now, get in the boat.”

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168

Kate Watterson

Drew blinked, sat up, and registered the time displayed on the alarm clock next to the bed. A little after one in the morning and he was alone in the big bed, no sign of Rob or Lauren.

Had that woken him? He wasn’t sure.