No Way Back(Jack McNeal #1)(17)

Jack felt the same. He wasn’t surprised Peter had raised the issue. None of it made sense. The shocking nature of Caroline’s death. The widespread press coverage. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I just don’t get it,” Peter said.

“There were drugs in her system.”

“I’m not buying it. I’ve got a feeling about this. In my bones.”

McNeal nodded.

“I can’t quite explain it.”

“You don’t want to explain because it might upset me?”

Peter bowed his head. “That’s right.”

Their father fixed his gaze on Jack. “Maybe it was a tragic accident. That’s what they’re saying. It was a cry for help. But what are you saying, Jack? What do you think happened to Caroline? I don’t know about you, but I’m still struggling to accept that she would take her own life. I don’t believe she walked into the water and killed herself.”

McNeal took a small sip of the scotch and sighed. The liquor warmed his belly. “Sometimes we think we know people. I thought I knew her. But maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. She was away a lot. There was distance between us a lot of the time. She was hit hard by Patrick’s death. That’s a lot to deal with.”

“Caroline always struck me as a straightforward kind of girl, if you know what I mean.”

Peter nodded his agreement.

Their father went on, “I think it’s a stretch, a major league stretch, to believe she killed herself. What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I wish I knew. What do we know for sure? All we know is she was found floating in the Potomac. She was an avid jogger. She said she regularly jogged the trails that go past the Potomac. Maybe she fell in. I don’t know.”

Peter said, “Jack, you know how it works. I know you’re Internal Affairs now, and you know how I feel about that, but you were a cop once. A detective. Where are the DC police in this? Why haven’t they been speaking to you? Why the Secret Service? It’s like a lockdown situation. Everything is need to know. It’s weird.”

McNeal sighed, not wanting to drag his family into the whole sad saga. “All I’ve been told is that the Secret Service are leading on this. I assume they have their reasons.”

“Like what?”

McNeal stared at his headstrong brother longer than he wished to.

Peter flushed, embarrassed. “Jack, I love you, I didn’t mean any disrespect. Not at this time. Not ever. But why would the Secret Service be so prominently involved in this?”

“Well, for starters, the Diplomatic Security guys are involved because of her hard pass. Secret Service is there because her laptops were stolen.”

“Jack, listen to me. This is all very, very bizarre.”

“I know it is. I know how it looks. Better than anyone.”

Jack’s father said, “You know how long I was a cop?”

“A long time.”

“Too goddamn long. Forty years. Who serves forty years these days? No one. They wait until twenty and they’re done. But I’m telling you this, and I don’t have the fancy degree you’ve got, but I can tell you something is not right here. The way it came about. You being interviewed. Taken in the middle of the night to speak to the Secret Service officer in Brooklyn? You, as a suspect? I mean, what the hell?”

“I know exactly how this looks. I feel the same.”

“Question is, son, what are you going to do about it? As a family, we need answers. You need answers.”

McNeal agreed with both his father and brother. He knew something was wrong. The whole thing felt wrong. It was the nature of her death, the secrecy, the air of unreality. He sensed shadowy forces were at work. It was almost as if the chain of events had been carefully choreographed. But maybe he was just dwelling on the tragic and unforeseeable death of his beloved wife. Was he seeing things that weren’t there, magnifying heartfelt loss in an attempt to understand the shocking nature of events? Was that it? “I’ll get answers. But in my own time. I’m still pretty raw.”

“I know you are,” Peter said. “Listen, I know a guy down in DC. He might be able to find out more.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know people.”

“Not now. It’s important we don’t let our emotions, which are running high, carry us away.”

“I don’t mean do anything illegal.”

“You know what I do, Peter. I can’t overstep, not in my line of work. I need to operate strictly according to rules, jurisdiction, and the law.”

His father said, “I understand, son. I think Peter just wants to help you. You know we’d do anything for you. We all loved Caroline.”

McNeal smelled the distinct peaty aroma of the rare scotch in the tumbler. It brought back memories of a trip to the highlands of Scotland. A few trips to distilleries. The Isle of Skye. It was like a lifetime ago. The rain in their faces. The low clouds hanging around the Cuillin, an otherworldly mountain range. It was there, in a small cottage they had rented, where Patrick was conceived.

Peter said, “So, what do you suggest? That we just sit back and accept that we don’t know how your wife died?”

Jack slammed his hand down hard on the side of the armchair. “That’s enough! What is wrong with you?”