No Way Back(Jack McNeal #1)(35)

Twenty-Five

The conversation with Sam Daniels played in a loop in Jack McNeal’s racing mind. He got back to his hotel room and called his brother. Peter, although temperamentally more charged than Jack, had always been a useful sounding board.

When he’d finished outlining what Daniels had said, Peter was quiet. Jack prodded him along, adding, “By the way, I meant to ask earlier, how’s Dad holding up?”

“Not great. He’s taking Caroline’s death hard. It’s not like him. Nothing seems to rouse him. He’s really down about it.”

“We’ll get through this. Try and keep his spirits up.”

“I’ll do my best. He said to give you the number of an old friend of his. Might be able to help in some way with Caroline’s death. He knows a lot of people.”

“You talking about O’Brien?”

“That’s the guy. Down in Florida. You got a pen handy?”

“Sure.” Jack scribbled down the number. He let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. “You still there, Peter?”

A long sigh. “Jack, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just ask O’Brien some questions. Nothing illegal in that.”

“I don’t know. I can see how this is going to go.”

“And how’s that?”

“The investigation is going to drag you down. I’m worried about that aspect.”

“Put that aside. What are you thinking?”

“What am I thinking? The whole thing is fucked up. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: This is a mess. And it seems to be getting murkier and darker the more we learn. I don’t like it. I think you need to consider pulling out.”

McNeal was surprised that his brother would advocate such a move.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

McNeal wondered if his brother wasn’t being unnecessarily cautious. Peter’s instincts were usually to get his head down and plow forward when things got tough. “I can’t walk away from this. My wife is dead. I’ve gone to the Feds. I’ve reached out to a cop I trust. Whoever killed Sophie Meyer may have been involved in Caroline’s death. Maybe the people Meyer hung around with. She clearly knew too much, and it got her killed. Maybe it was her husband. He was a person of interest, Henry Graff. But the DC police investigation didn’t go anywhere.”

“What else do we know about him?”

“Enough to put him on my radar. But I’m going to need to do a lot more digging on him. Doesn’t seem like you to get cold feet.”

Peter stammered, “No one’s getting cold feet. Don’t fucking say that. But I just have a bad, bad feeling about this. I feel like you’re being dragged, bit by bit, into something no one understands, least of all you. There are shadowy elements at work here. I’m talking intelligence agencies, you know what I’m saying?”

Jack knew exactly what he was saying.

“Maybe you need to back off, turn around, and head back home.”

Jack realized Peter’s response was the correct one. It was a calibrated response, not to mention the legal and smart response. It was also the response of a family man with responsibilities. Jack understood that. But the truth of the matter was, Jack was seriously conflicted. On the other hand, his default position was one of caution. He would always stay within the law. But something deep within Jack was gnawing away at him. Was he just going to walk away? Was turning the other cheek the right thing to do here?

No. The right thing to do—the only thing to do—was to find out the truth. Could he really just forget everything that had happened? Was he going to rely on the FBI to find the truth and bring the culprits to justice? There had been no justice for Sophie Meyer. Why the hell would there be for Caroline McNeal?

McNeal’s rational mind began to kick in. He needed to think of his job. He would be fired if it was revealed he was pursuing a lone-wolf investigation. He could also face charges. The humiliation. Was that how his career and life would be defined?

All his life he’d played by the book. Adhered to the letter of the law. That was his way. But something, he didn’t know what, had pulled him into a deadly quagmire. Maybe it was love, maybe loyalty to his wife, maybe vengeance—whatever it was, it burned inside Jack McNeal.

He felt it in the very depths of his soul. The love, the rage, and the terrible sadness that had been reignited. It had lain dormant for five long years. The death of his son, Patrick. The son he grieved. The pain and guilt. The self-imposed isolation. But recently, the sense of desolation and the suicidal thoughts, something he had tried to keep at bay, had crept back into his psyche.

Tears spilled down his face. He had never felt more alone. The memory from that darkest night years earlier began to play out. His mind flashed images of Patrick’s last moments.

His thoughts switched back to his investigation. He sensed this was not the end but the beginning of the end.

He knew if he headed down the path of natural justice, it would end in tears. Blood. And death.

Peter cleared his throat and snapped Jack’s attention back to the call. “You’ve gone real quiet on me.”

“I don’t know. The smart thing to do would be to just forget it all. But here’s the thing: I can’t. I can’t let this go. Imagine if it was your wife, how would you feel?”