No Way Back(Jack McNeal #1)(53)

“Why didn’t you sock it to him?”

“For what purpose? I’m on sticky ground. I had the riot act read to me by my boss.” McNeal quickly outlined the conversation he’d had with Buckley.

“Bob Buckley said your pension might be at risk? Seriously?”

“I need to be careful.”

Peter sighed. “I think you do too.”

“Forgot to say, there was something else. When I got back here, the alarm had been deactivated and all the lights were on. Nothing taken. No sign of a break-in. I was starting to doubt myself. Maybe I forgot to put the alarm on and turn off the lights.”

“Easily done.”

“I’m fucking careful about stuff like that.”

“What do you think happened?”

McNeal sighed. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“And?”

“Someone is fucking with me. Playing mind games with me. They’ve got me starting to doubt myself.”

“Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Graff. Feinstein. I don’t know. People that work for them, more likely. Then the weird call from Graff.”

“This is starting to sound like a bit of a stretch.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I’ll always believe you. You’re my brother. But why would they do that? For what purpose?”

“Psychological warfare. Think about it. They want me to think that I’m not in control. That I’m losing it. They’re fucking with my head.”

“Slow down, man.”

“Don’t you get it? They’re doing this so I react, and by reacting, they hope I’ll make a bad decision.”

“You’re making it sound like a low-level war of attrition.”

“That’s exactly what it is. They want to unsettle me. Want me to know that they can get to me. It’s subtle. What am I going to do? Call the police and say someone has broken in and done this? No. Why? Because the police would think I’m nuts. By doing nothing, they exert pressure on me. Quietly.”

“Sounds like goddamn KGB tactics.”

“More like the CIA. Straight out of their playbook, right? That’s exactly where Graff or Feinstein comes in.”

“I’ve got to say, I’m worried about you, man.”

“Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just worried about you. I care about you.”

“Remember I told you about the break-in at Caroline’s psychologist’s office? And the prowler outside Caroline’s house in DC? Now this. It’s a pattern.”

“It ain’t good, I know that. I’m going to come up and spend a few days with you, if that’s okay.”

McNeal picked up his empty glass, swished around the melted ice. “Look, I’ll get through this. I’ll deal with this.”

“I know you will. But I want to be there for you now. I want to talk.”

“What about?”

“About how we’re going to deal with this.”





Thirty-Seven

The following morning, after a restless sleep, McNeal got a text from Peter saying he was on his way. He got up, showered, put on a fresh shirt and jeans, and headed downstairs. It wasn’t long before Peter rolled up in his Ford with his Labrador, Charlie, in the front seat.

McNeal hugged his brother tight. It felt good to have Peter with him.

“You okay with the dog?”

“Not a problem. Put him in the backyard. Plenty of space for him to run around.”

McNeal poured them each a fresh cup of coffee and served pancakes with maple syrup. He headed out to the backyard and put some dog food in a bowl.

McNeal and his brother walked down onto the deserted sand of Compo Beach.

Peter spoke first, collar up against the chill, hands in pockets. “You look like you’ve lost weight. You’re stressed, man. I can tell. You used to get like that when you were studying for your goddamn finals. Sitting up half the night studying, calling me the following day. You were driving me out of my mind.”

McNeal laughed. “I was kinda driven.”

Peter wrapped a huge arm around him. “Nothing wrong with that.”

McNeal walked on as the sand continued to get whipped up by the wind. He relished the cold breeze off Long Island Sound. “I miss this. The space. The water. The sense of calm. You don’t get that in Manhattan, that’s for sure.”

“Especially in that tiny little apartment you’ve got.”

Jack loved having his brother beside him. It had been years since they’d had time to talk and shoot the breeze, just them. No one else. Not wives. No kids. No dad. Just them.

“I’ve been having flashbacks again.”

“I didn’t realize.”

Jack nodded. “I haven’t had them for a couple of years. All of a sudden, they’re back in the last few days. With a vengeance. Having nightmares too. Don’t know what’s going on with me.” The memories were still there. He still saw his son, dead, in Caroline’s arms. And then his partner lying dead in a pool of blood, gunned down by him.

“I’m guessing being under such acute stress is bringing all those things back to the surface.”