Snowfall

by Sharon Sala

  “I already challenged Amato on that. He swears it didn’t come from them, which got me to thinking, which is why there’s a ladder in your living room and why I need a screwdriver.”

  “I don’t follow you.” She blinked and stood abruptly. “There’s a ladder in my living room?”

  “We talked about her…about Juanita Delarosa,” Mac said.

  “Yes, but no one was here.”

  “But someone could have been listening.”

  “I don’t—” Waves of color flushed her cheeks as her eyes sparked in anger. “Do you think my home has been bugged?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac said. “But considering what’s been happening to you, it’s something I should have checked when your security system was installed.”

  “Oh my God,” Caitlin muttered, then snatched up the screwdrivers. “Show me!”

  Mac was encouraged by her behavior. Mad was healthy, and Caitie was one of the best he’d seen at venting fury.

  “Lead the way,” he said, pointing to the living room. “I’m starting with the heat and air vents. And while we’re looking, talk about anything…the snow…your book…Anything except what we’re really doing.”

  They found it in the chandelier, lying inside a small glass globe beside a pair of dead flies and a spider that had long since fried from the heat of twenty-four candelabra bulbs.

  Mac dropped it into her hand and then put a finger to his lips. She nodded, holding it carefully as he climbed down from the ladder.

  More? she mouthed.

  He shrugged, then took it out of her hand and dropped it into his cup of cold coffee.

  “Do you think there are more?” she whispered.

  “We’ll soon find out,” he muttered, and headed for the next room, dragging the ladder.

  But after a thorough search that lasted another two hours, Mac was convinced that the place was clean.

  “Looks like that was the only one,” he said. “Would you please call Mike and tell him I’m going to set the ladder out in the hall? They can come get it at their convenience.”

  Caitlin hurried to do as he asked, glad there was something positive she could do. When she came back, Mac was on his cell phone, talking to Sal Amato.

  “Yes, I owe you an apology,” Mac said.

  “Where did you say you found it?” Amato asked.

  “Living room, in a light fixture. It was the only one.”

  “It was enough, wasn’t it?” Amato said. “And thanks for letting us know.”

  “Amato…I know this is asking a lot, but would you do something for me?”

  “Depends,” Amato said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “For now, don’t tell anyone what I found. Let this be just between you and us.”

  “Now look here,” Amato began, “you’re—”

  “Just for a couple of days,” Mac said. “We don’t know where we’re going with this, and the tighter the coil, the less likely it is to come unwound.”

  He heard Amato sigh.

  “Yeah, all right,” Amato said, and then added, “Have you seen the evening paper?”

  “No.”

  “Be prepared,” Amato said. “There’s a big story linking the letter bomb to what’s happening to Miss Bennett.”

  “I’m surprised the phone hasn’t been ringing off the wall,” Mac said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Yeah, don’t mention it,” Amato said. “Take care.”

  With that, he hung up, leaving Mac to face Caitlin once again.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “The evening papers…they’ve connected the explosion at Aaron’s office to what’s happening to you.”

  “Oh, great,” Caitlin said. “I’d better call Kenny.”

  She disappeared into her office, leaving Mac with growing concern. This standoff couldn’t last forever. Eventually the killer would tire of killing substitutes and reach for her instead.

  He glanced at the front door, certain that he’d locked it after he’d put the ladder in the hall, and then went to check it again. It was locked safe and sound, and the alarm system was set. His shoulders slumped. This wasn’t good. Now he was second-guessing himself. With Mike in the lobby and limited access to the penthouse through the special elevator, she should be safe enough here. But he couldn’t take that for granted. He’d done that before, and it had cost an old woman her life.

  As he waited for Caitlin to return, another fear surfaced. Had he and Caitlin talked about moving Aaron to David’s? He couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t take the chance that they had. At that point, Caitlin came back.

  “Kenny is on the job,” Caitlin said. “He’s the reason I haven’t been bugged by a bunch of reporters. All the inquires have been going through him, and nothing has gone out except what is basically public record.”

  “Good for him,” Mac said, then opened his arms. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a hug.”

  “Always,” she said, and went into his arms. “Mac?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what, baby?”

  “For being here. You didn’t have to, and yet you came.”

  “Aaron is a hard man to refuse,” he said, nuzzling his chin on the top of her head.

  “Is Aaron the only reason you came?”

  “I told myself so in the beginning, but you and I both know it’s not the truth. When he told me you’d been hit by a truck, I couldn’t think past the last time I’d seen you, laughing at something Aaron had said and then making a face at me.”

  “I didn’t.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, actually, you did. It was on the balcony of Aaron’s apartment. Remember? It was last Fourth of July, and we were watching the fireworks going off over the river.”

  “I remember being at Aaron’s. I do not remember making a face. What had you done to me?”

  He laughed. “So, we’re assuming it was something I did?”

  “Wasn’t it always?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. Looking back, I must have been like some little six-year-old boy, in love for the first time and not knowing what to do with all those emotions except insult you.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “Thank you, my love.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Caitlin looked up.

  “Am I, Mac? Am I your love?”

  “Yes.” Then he cupped her face in his hands. “What about me, Caitie? Am I yours?”

  A quick shimmer of tears came into her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back.

  “Yes, Connor McKee, you are my love. More than you know. More than I can say. Even if my money appalls you. Even if someone wants me dead.”

  Mac’s stomach turned at the thought of her picture winding up on the wall of Amato’s office along with the other victims. He couldn’t bear to lose her. And then it hit him. If he didn’t change his attitude, he would lose her anyway—when this was over. Was his pride worth more than their love? He felt shame for even considering the thought.

  “Nothing about you appalls me except what you’re going through. I’m sorry for what I said about that. Forgive me?”

  Caitlin’s heart lifted. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “If you are referring to the fact that I refuse to live without you in my life, then yes.”

  Caitlin smiled while Mac’s fear increased. Please God, help me keep her safe.

  Too moved to say more, he hugged her then, satisfied for now that she was safe in his arms.

  “Mac?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I’m getting really hungry, and there’s not a lot of food in the place. Do you want to order in or go out?”

  “Order in, I think, if it’s all right with you.”

  “Sure. Do you want to do it, or shall I?”

  “Let me,” he said. “I need to make another call, as well. It also occurred to me that we might have given away the fact that Aaron’s going to David’s when he�
��s released from the hospital. He and David need to know so they can take precautions. I don’t want to put either one of them in jeopardy again.”

  “Oh, no…you’re right,” Caitlin said. “Go call now! Aaron is going home today, remember? Tell David to take the guys from the security firm with him. They can stay on the payroll until…until the problem is solved.”

  “Will do,” he said. “But about the food. What do you want to eat?”

  She smiled. “I don’t care. Surprise me.”

  He grinned. “Don’t I always?”

  She laughed. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to take that piece of cheesecake out of the freezer. It will be our dessert.”

  “Honey, you’re the dessert. But go ahead and thaw the thing out, just in case you run out of steam.”

  He could still hear her laughing as he closed the office door.

  Buddy poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and then went back to his desk. Several calls had come in while he was out and he needed to return them before the end of the day.

  “What did you find out?”

  Buddy looked up, wondering as he did why women colored their hair. Hers wasn’t just red, it was brassy.

  “Not much,” he muttered. “I’ve got to return these calls first, and then I need you to do something for me.”

  She nodded. “Yes, all right.”

  He sifted through the messages, making himself focus on their topics. These days, his mind had a tendency to wander more than usual. Picking up the phone, he made the first call. It rang once, then twice, then an answering machine came on. He left his name, then laid that message aside and picked up the next. He smiled then, his thoughts on everything but his work. It was time to quit playing around. Once Caitlin Bennett was out of his mind and six feet under, his promises would be kept. It wouldn’t fix what had been broken, but it was the only justice he could ever have.

  Not much longer now, Mother. Soon she’ll have to pay.

  Caitlin was in the middle of her second piece of pizza when she suddenly jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “Mac! I just remembered something!”

  “Are you going to eat that?” he asked, pointing to the pizza she’d left on her plate.

  “Yes,” she said, slapping his hand away. “There’s more in the box, for Pete’s sake. Leave mine alone.”

  “Just asking,” he said, pulling out his fourth slice. “So…what did you remember that’s so exciting?”

  “Charles Abernathy, Daddy’s lawyer. He might know even more than Juanita would have known.”

  “But the police have already checked with your firm. They didn’t know anything.”

  Caitlin was all but dancing. “No, no. Not them. Abernathy was before.”

  Mac swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and dropped his pizza onto his plate.

  “Before what?” he asked.

  “Bernstein and Stella have only been representing us a little less than ten years. Before that, it was Mr. Abernathy. Oh, Mac, what if he’s no longer alive? I haven’t talked to him in years. He must be eighty-five, at least, maybe older.”

  “Do you know where he lived?”

  “I did once, if only I can find it. I know! It would be in one of Daddy’s old address books. I think they’re in a box in the office closet.”

  “Finish your pizza before it gets cold,” Mac said. “We’ll look in a few minutes.”

  “I like cold pizza,” Caitlin called, already on her way out the door.

  “You would,” Mac muttered, eyeing his slice with regret. Taking one last big bite, he followed her out. If she was right, and the old man’s faculties were sharp, they might get the break they’d been needing.

  Seventeen

  Caitlin leaned over the seat back and patted her chauffeur on the shoulder.

  “Uncle John, are you sure we’re on the right road?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I know where we’re going. My sister was in the same retirement home.”

  “Okay,” Caitlin said, smiling as she sat back in the seat. “It’s quite a coincidence that your sister and Mr. Abernathy wound up in the same place.” Then she looked at Mac, savoring the skip her heart made when he winked and reached for her hand.

  “Oh, it’s no coincidence, missy. I used to bring your father to visit Mr. Abernathy. Later, when Sylvia needed a place to stay, we naturally thought of Glen Ellen Village. Of course she’s long since gone.”

  “My father came here?”

  “Oh, yes. Once a month, regular as clockwork.”

  “Why didn’t I know that?” she muttered.

  “Your father…he was a very private man,” the chauffeur said.

  “Yes, he was,” Caitlin said. “I think, more than I knew.”

  “We’re here,” Mac said, pointing to a large entrance gate and to the facilities beyond. “It wasn’t such a long drive after all.”

  “At the foot of the Catskills, you know. You should see it in the fall when all the leaves begin to turn. A rare beauty it is,” John said.

  The car rolled to a stop, and the old man got out, grabbing the door before Mac could move.

  “Mac, let him do his thing. He likes to be needed.”

  “Don’t we all,” Mac said as the chauffeur opened the door, then stepped back, giving Mac room to get out. Once Mac was out, he turned and took Caitlin’s hand, helping her onto the front walk, where the snow had been shoveled away.

  “You give Mr. Abernathy my best, missy.”

  “I will, Uncle John, and we shouldn’t be long.”

  “Take your time. Take your time. It’s a nice enough day. I’m just glad to be out of the house.”

  Mac took Caitlin’s hand. “Okay, honey. We’re off to see the wizard.”

  “We hope,” Caitlin said.

  “Don’t give up before we’ve even talked to him.”

  “You’re right,” Caitlin said. “But let’s hurry. I keep feeling like I’m being watched.”

  They reached the front door. Caitlin paused long enough to fiddle with her hair.

  “How do I look?”

  “Good to go,” Mac said, and gave the stray lock of hair over her left eye a tug.

  Minutes later, they were escorted to the room that Charles Abernathy now called home.

  “Mr. Abernathy, you’ve got visitors,” the nurse said, and then motioned for Caitlin and Mac to go in. “He’s a little hard of hearing, but sharp as a tack.”

  Mac gave Caitlin a quick wink, as if to say, I told you so, and then followed her inside the room.

  Caitlin had retained a mental picture of the man who’d been her father’s lawyer, but this old, withered gentleman wasn’t him. Charles Abernathy had been well over six feet tall and portly. This fellow was bone-thin and wizened. In fact, he looked as if his body had crumpled, leaving him in the wheelchair like a discarded piece of paper. She quickly moved to the window where he was sitting and pulled up a chair so that she could face him as she sat.

  “Mr. Abernathy, I’m Devlin Bennett’s daughter, Caitlin. Do you remember me?”

  The old man squinted, staring for a long silent moment at Caitlin’s face. Then he suddenly smiled, and she saw the man that he’d been.

  “Why, Caitlin, of course I remember you. I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I couldn’t attend the services, you see. I hope you don’t think less of me for not going.”

  She clasped his hands and felt a very faint warmth from the blood persistently pushing through what was left of his veins.

  “Of course not, and I’m the one who should be apologizing for not visiting you. You were one of my father’s most trusted friends.”

  “It’s not proper to mix business with pleasure, you know. But Devlin and I did have a friendship that transcended that of lawyer to client. I miss his visits. We used to talk of the old times.” His smile withered as his eyes grew dim. “There’s no one left, you know, who remembers those times.”

  “I’m sorry,” Caitlin sa
id.

  Abernathy shrugged, as if shaking off a bad dream.

  “Where are my manners? You there…young man. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “It’s Connor McKee, sir. Is there something you need?”

  “Another chair for you. There’s one at the desk. Please be so kind as to pull it up by us and seat yourself.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  Caitlin bit her lip, uncertain how to broach the subject of her father’s past, but time was not on their side. And judging from the blue cast around the old man’s mouth, time was not on his side, either. Oddly enough, before she could figure out how to ask what she’d come to ask, the old man beat her to it.

  Once Mac was seated, Charles straightened his lap robe and then lifted his head, looking Caitlin square in the eye.

  “You must have come for a reason. How can I help you?”

  Mac smiled to himself. At one time, Abernathy must have been a fierce courtroom competitor.

  “You’re right,” Caitlin said. “I’m in a terrible dilemma.”

  “I don’t practice law anymore, you know. Too old. It’s a damn shame when the body wears out before the mind. I can still think, but my legs don’t remember how to walk.”

  “It’s all right,” Caitlin said. “I don’t need a lawyer. I need you and your memory.”

  He slapped his leg with a smile. “Then you’ve come to the right place. What do you need to know?”

  She hesitated, looking to Mac for guidance, but he only gave her a nod, as if to say the floor was hers. She sighed. He was right. Only she would know what to ask.

  “Before I ask you any questions, you need to know why I’m asking. Do you know that I’m a writer?”

  “Oh, yes. I listen to your books on tape quite often. I’m especially fond of Detour.”

  Caitlin hid her surprise. “Why, that’s…marvelous. Thank you,” she said, then went on to explain. “For the past six months or so, I’ve been receiving some very disturbing letters from what I assumed was a disgruntled fan. Recently we learned that he’s not just disgruntled, he’s deadly. He’s tried once to kill me and failed, and in what we think is frustration, he’s begun killing women who look like me, instead.”