Sleepwalker (Nightwatcher #2)(85)

Momentarily confused, he runs back through the scene that had unfolded after he learned of Zoe’s murder.

It had taken only a minute or two to get over to the Jenningses’ house. Ben was at the wheel, Mack beside him, Allison in the backseat. He’s pretty sure none of them said a word.

The cops met them out front.

Right. Talked to them, separated them, drove Mack back here.

So he was never in the Jenningses’ house.

He’s just so exhausted he’s losing track of the series of events.

But he’d better get them straight, because the last thing he needs is to contradict himself in front of the cops.

He yawns, going back further, trying to recall exactly what had happened earlier, back at the Webers’ house.

After Zoe and Nate departed, he left Allison and Randi in the kitchen and Ben watching TV, and he went up to bed alone. He didn’t take a Dormipram because he’d had a couple of beers and anyway, he felt exhausted. But that didn’t matter. Without the medication, for the first time in ages, it took a long time for him to fall asleep.

He remembers lying restlessly awake contemplating taking the medication after all—what was the worst that could happen?

But he didn’t take it . . .

Wait, did I?

He can picture himself getting up and going into the small bathroom to find the orange prescription bottle . . .

But that doesn’t mean it happened.

He can envision Zoe’s murdered body, too, but that doesn’t mean he saw it.

He yawns deeply and rubs the burning spot between his shoulders, again replaying the earlier events in his head.

Okay, so he must have finally drifted off, and then the ringing telephone woke him, and—

“Mr. MacKenna?”

Mack looks up to see Captain Cleary.

The other night, the man’s expression was neutral. Right now, however, it’s ice-cold.

“I’m Captain Cleary.” He flashes a badge. “We met a few days ago.”

A police officer flashing a badge—Mack is catapulted back in time to his apartment on Hudson Street, the one he shared with Carrie. Two cops at the door hand him a packet that contains all that’s left of his wife: a gold band engraved with her initials and their wedding date . . .

“This”—Cleary gestures at the man accompanying him, and Mack forces his attention back to the matter at hand—“is Detective Patterson.”

Under any other circumstances, Patterson would be just an ordinary-looking middle-aged man—short and round, almost bald, with thick glasses and a bulbous nose. Next to Jack Cleary, however, he appears downright homely.

Almost feeling sorry for the guy, Mack starts to rise to greet him, but Cleary jerks a vertical palm at him, gesturing for him to stay seated.

Settling back onto the couch, Mack notes with incredulity that there’s a uniformed—and armed—officer stationed in the archway, eyes trained directly on Mack himself.

They actually think he’s a dangerous criminal.

He opens his mouth to start clearing up this gross misunderstanding before they waste any more time on him while the real killer is still out there. But before he can speak, Patterson motions abruptly for him to be quiet.

Mack’s pity for him flies out the window, but he obediently clamps his mouth shut. The cops are hell-bent on calling the shots here—as they should be, in all fairness—and the last thing he needs is to start off on the wrong foot.

He nods when Cleary asks if he’s willing to answer a few questions, wondering whether he actually has a choice. Not that it matters. He has nothing to hide. Of course he’s going to cooperate.

“Would you mind turning off your phone, Mr. MacKenna?” Detective Patterson asks. “We don’t want any distractions.”

He obliges, grudgingly, and puts the BlackBerry into his pocket.

His thoughts race as he answers the first few questions—basic ones about where he and Allison have been staying since the Lewis murder, and how he knows Nathan and Zoe Jennings.

He knows damned well where this is leading. Maybe he should have a lawyer present.

Is it too late to ask?

He nervously bounces his right leg, heel hitting the carpet in a rapid-fire staccato—then stops when he sees Cleary and Patterson glance from his bouncing foot to each other.

“So you were out of touch with them until recently?” Patterson asks.

“The Jenningses, you mean? Until a few weeks ago. I first saw them again—well, Zoe—at a party. Nathan was there, too, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”

“And where was this party?”

“At Ben Weber’s house.” He wonders about Ben, whom he hasn’t seen since they arrived at the Jenningses’ house. Was he also questioned?

Mack hopes so. Ben is articulate and well-qualified to vouch for Mack’s character; he’ll be willing to help the cops straighten out this mess.

Mack just hopes he doesn’t mention the gun. He’s pretty sure Ben won’t—after all, he doesn’t have a permit for it.

It’s not as though Zoe was shot, but still . . .

It doesn’t look good for him to have a gun in the house—even though it’s still safely locked in his dresser drawer—and Allison will flip if she finds out.

“Tell us about your relationship with Zoe Jennings.”