“All right.” She was surprised at how calm she suddenly sounded. “Tell me what you want.”
He ran his thumb along the smooth edge of the blade. “You’ve alienated a lot of people, haven’t you, Judge? Your pretty marshal friend, for one.”
His eyes flashed, and with a deep sense of revulsion, Bernadette realized he was attracted to Mackenzie. “Mackenzie knows I care about her.”
“You don’t give her enough credit,” Jesse continued, as if they were teachers discussing a student progress report. “She’s good at what she does. She’s still new, but she has sharp instincts. I’ve seen them at work. Hell, I almost got my ass kicked because of them.”
“What do you want? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
The matter-of-fact tone vanished. “I want what your ex-husband stole from me.”
What? Bernadette pushed back her confusion and shock. And her fear. This man thrived on his sense of power and control over others. Over her. She had to use that to keep him talking.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said. “Cal and I live separate lives.”
“Think, Judge. Focus your mind. Your ex-husband’s in a tough situation.” Jesse paused, watching her reaction, relishing it. “If I’m not able to get back to him soon, he’ll die before anyone can find him. It’s a nice day, but he’s cold, wet, hungry and thirsty. He’s also scared. You don’t like that, do you? The idea that he’s scared?”
“I don’t know anything about your dealings with Cal. If you give me more to go on, perhaps I can help you.”
He nodded toward the open shed. “Let’s take a look in there. Okay, Judge?”
As if she had a choice in the matter. But she knew she had to do what she could to delay him. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been trying to think like Cal, and I figure he’d hide what I’m looking for in a place where he could secretly stick it to you.”
“But -”
Jesse shook his head. “No more stalling, Beanie.” He waved his knife at her in a threatening manner. “Into the shed.”
If he killed her, she thought, she hoped he’d make a quick job of it. If he was as skilled a fighter as he wanted her to believe, he could kill her instantly with a quick, targeted stab to the heart.
Don’t go quietly. Fight him to the end.
Surprised at her steadiness, she went ahead of him into the shed. Her knees were shaking, but not, she hoped, visibly. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble in fear.
She noticed the tools hung neatly on hooks and nails, each a potential weapon. She’d never attacked anyone before in her life, but she knew she could do it if she had to.
“I searched Cal’s condo,” Jesse said, remaining between her and the shed’s only door. “I went through your house in Washington. You didn’t even know, did you? You should have a better alarm system. It’s not 1950 anymore.”
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, but she manufactured a smile. “You’re probably right. Look, if Cal stole something from you, I don’t blame you for being upset.”
Jesse didn’t seem to hear her. With his free hand, he pulled something out of his shirt pocket – thick paper, folded in half.
A photograph.
He flipped it onto the floor in front of Bernadette. “Pick it up.”
She hesitated. Jesse wasn’t allowing himself to be distracted from his search for whatever it was he thought he’d find there. She knelt down slowly, the image on the paper at her feet taking shape.
It was a picture of Cal, the man with whom she’d once planned to spend the rest of her life, in bed with a pretty, fair-haired woman.
In my bed here at the lake.
The bastard hadn’t even had the courtesy to use one of the guest rooms.
“You took this picture?” she asked, angling a look up at Jesse.
“It was easy enough. If they’d been upstairs…” He shrugged, obviously pleased with himself. “That would have been more difficult.”
“Have you ever spied on me?”
“I wasn’t spying. I was collecting information – intelligence, if you will, that I could use when I saw fit. I don’t believe for one second that Cal feels inferior to you. You worried about that, didn’t you?”
Bernadette stared at Jesse as he spoke so calmly and rationally, as if they were best friends discussing personal matters over a beer. “I -” She couldn’t focus on what to say. “Jesse, please. Tell me why you’re here. What do you want?”
“He’s shallow,” Jesse said. “Your ex-husband. He doesn’t believe in anything but his own bank account and his pleasures. That kind of cynicism is tough.” He gave her a long look, as if he expected her to see something she hadn’t noticed before. “Why aren’t you cynical, Beanie Peacham?”
The voice…the eyes…
Bernadette clutched her chest and sank onto her knees. “Oh, my God.”
Jesse smiled and lowered his face to hers. “You remember me now, don’t you?”
Thirty-Three