Mean Streak(99)

“What about the other woman?”

“Jeff didn’t tell me anything about her except that she’s inconsequential.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Oddly I do. I can’t see him being governed by passion.” Looking down at her hand, she turned her wedding ring around her finger. “Love wasn’t his motivation for trying to kill me. I’m not sure love was ever in the equation between us.”

He didn’t press her for an explanation, but his silence invited her to provide one if she wished.

“I told you how dear my parents were to me. I mourned their deaths for a long time. Even after becoming established in Atlanta, I was still vulnerable, a bundle of raw emotions. When we were building the clinic, my friend Alice introduced me to Jeff.

“He was charming and urbane, but also the epitome of pragmatism. Controlled, cool-headed. Even when I was seized by a crying jag or homesickness for my parents, he didn’t buy into my grief. He kept himself apart from it.

“At the time, I told myself he was exactly what I needed, someone who would make me bear up, carry on, get over it. I told myself that if he tried to comfort me, I would reject his attempts as insincere.

“But he never tried. He never offered a single word of consolation. I see now that his detachment wasn’t out of consideration for me, but because he simply couldn’t be bothered.” She gave a rueful laugh. “The qualities that initially attracted me to him are the qualities that are so repellant to me now.”

She waited several seconds, then looked at him directly. “It seems I prefer my emotions raw. I didn’t realize how much until that night with you.” She reached across the space separating them and laid her hand on top of his, where it rested on the back of the chair. “Despite what Agent Connell alleges, I don’t believe you killed eight innocent people.”





Chapter 34



Were you still up?”

“Jeff?” Alice said a bit groggily. “Up? No. I was in bed, but not asleep.”

He didn’t care if he’d roused her from a coma.

“You sounded strange when I called earlier,” she said. “Why didn’t you call me back? I thought you’d be coming by to get Emory’s car. Did you make it back to Atlanta okay?”

“Nothing’s okay.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t even know where to start. But the upshot of it is, Emory is gone again.”

“Gone?” Suddenly she sounded wide awake.

Half an hour earlier, Sergeant Grange had joined the party. Using cop-speak and acronyms, Knight and Jack Connell filled him in on the latest development. Meanwhile, dozens of other officers were outside trying to pick up Emory’s trail. Snow was beginning to accumulate, making the search for tire tracks and footprints even more difficult.

They had, however, discovered two sets of prints just beyond the front door of the neighboring suite. The imprints of Emory’s riding boots didn’t indicate there had been a struggle or even any hesitancy on her part. Gauging by the distinctive outlines of the soles of her boots, Knight’s assessment had been that she had gone willingly with the much larger set of prints, and Connell had agreed.

It was requiring every ounce of cool reason and self-control for Jeff not to pound something or tear his hair out. But he couldn’t allow rage to overtake him. He must continue to think calmly and practically.

Almost without their taking notice, he’d excused himself to call Alice. “If Emory contacts anyone, it will be her,” he’d told them. But Alice’s astonishment had doused that faint hope.

“About half an hour ago, she split. We believe she went with that man from the now-famous cabin. His name finally came to light. Hayes Bannock.”

“Oh, Jeff.”

Her soulful groan set his teeth on edge. People were saying the dumbest, most unhelpful things to him tonight. “You don’t know the half of it. She and this man were accomplices in a crime.” He told her about the burglary.

“I can’t believe that of Emory!”

“I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“Did they charge her?”

“No. They figure she was coerced to participate, though I’m not convinced coercion was necessary. There was this girl.” He went on to tell her about the family of Floyds and how they factored in.

“This is all so bizarre,” Alice murmured.

“Even more bizarre is where these people live, although subsist would be a more accurate word.” In disparaging terms he described the state road by which they’d reached Bannock’s cabin. “Backwoods is an understatement of how rustic it is. The Floyds are his nearest neighbors and that isn’t by happenstance. Apparently Bannock already had the brothers in his sights over some past grievance. God knows what. Some tawdry mess, I’m sure. Connell said—”

“Who is Connell?”

“Oh, that’s the best part. He’s the effing FBI.”

“How did the FBI become involved?”

“Hayes Bannock has been eluding Connell for years. Something to do with a mass shooting.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid so. His fingerprint was lifted in the cabin. Connell was notified. He rushed right down. Twenty minutes after meeting him and telling him about her mountain adventure, Emory bolted, almost surely with Bannock, and, as we speak, their trail is being obscured by snow.” He paused and took a breath. “I think that’s everything.”