it is like a bad comedy portraying a cat-and-mouse burglary. I climb into bed with Greg, who pretends to be asleep. I can tell by his breathing that he isn’t. So I lay there for a long while, waiting for him to speak to me, to pick a fight, to initiate sex, whatever. Anything but the silent treatment. Inevitably, when I hear the familiar pattern of inhalation and exhalation, I scooch out of bed, grab the key card and my laptop, and head to the hotel dining area.
The lights are off, but the coffee is on. I pour myself a cup and take a seat. A night attendant cleans the glass on the front windows. I find the screeching comforting.
Opening my computer, I search through the details I’ve dug up on the case, hoping that reminding myself of what Mooney did might bring some clarity about what he might do next.
I scan the court documents and then read each page thoroughly one by one, practically memorizing the words on the screen. By the second pass through, I am numb, and I realize that I am not going to find anything I don’t already know.
It is several days before I hear from Alex. Radio silence makes me nervous, not only because I need to sell him a house, but also because I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and my hair has started coming out in clumps in the shower.
We don’t stay at the Holiday Inn a second night. We get the window fixed and set an appointment to have a security system we can’t afford installed, and that is that.
Another week and the girls will be out for winter break. Greg suggests getting away. He thinks we should visit his parents. I think we should go somewhere less expected. When I told him this, he scrutinized me with a penetrating look. “And just where do you think we can afford to go? The Bahamas? Bermuda?”
I hadn’t had an answer. Of course I hadn’t. But it isn’t like Greg to speak to me with such vitriol. It underlines the toll this is taking on all of us. And it reminds me I need to speak to Alex. If he and Benny can arrange to have Jack Mooney handled while we are out of town, all the better. It seems smart to put some space between us and whatever Benny Dugan is going to set up.
At the exact moment I’m about to give up on Alex, he returns my call. “Sorry,” he croaks, punctuating the apology with a cough. “I picked up the flu, and I’m on a tough case. I’m in court all day, and by evening, I crash. That, and I’ve been waiting on Benny.”
I listen raptly, expecting him to say more, but he doesn’t. “And?”
“He had to go out of town.”
“What do you mean he had to go out of town?” Shaking my head, I tell myself to calm down and stop parroting everything he says.
“Yeah, I don’t know.” He sneezes into the receiver. Once, twice, three times. “That’s the way Benny works. You don’t ask too many questions. It’s better for everybody that way.”
“Not for me. Jack Mooney broke into my house.”
There’s more coughing followed by a long pause. “I see.”
“Why are you still working cases if you’re sick? It’s not like you need the money.” The words fly out before I can shut my mouth and trap them in.
“Easy now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m going out of my mind. I just really need this taken care of.”
All I hear on the other end of the line is the sound of a hacking cough. He sounds terrible, and it makes me feel worse for biting his head off. “I know.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“Nah.” I hear the smile in his voice. He likes that I am concerned. “And to answer your question, I’m working for the same reason your perp is doing what he does…it’s the thrill of the chase.”
“But what are you chasing exactly?”
“Justice.”
My brow knits together. “Justice for who?”
“You see, that’s the thing. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, typing up a contract on a house while monitoring the girls, who are playing in the back yard. The large window that frames our dining area portrays a chilly afternoon. It’s overcast and windy, with a fine mist that appears every now and again.
The rain comes in waves. It’s been on and off for days, and we’re all experiencing a bit of cabin fever.