The Cabin (14 page)

ples he had were pretense, for show, a means to an

end. He did what he had to do to fit in and get what

he wanted.

“No problem,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere and

talk, Miss Alice Parker Audrey Melbourne.”

If not for the translucent door and thoughts of John

Hancock and Benjamin Franklin’s dead parents—

Mother Goose, for God’s sake—Jack figured he’d be

making love to his wife on her leather couch instead of

walking in the cold February wind.

The temperature had dropped with the sun. As he

walked by, a trio of construction workers entered Jim’s

Place, followed by what were obviously university stu-

dents. The pub hadn’t changed much since Jack was a

student. Neighborhood protocol, however, dictated that

he pay a visit to Iris Dunning before stopping in for a chat

with Jim Haviland about his new regular from Texas.

He rang the doorbell on Iris’s glassed-in porch. At

first she wouldn’t let him in. “I thought you were a

hoodlum,” she said when she finally opened the door.

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Jack smiled and kissed her cheek. “Hoodlums don’t

wear white cowboy hats.”

“Nobody wears white cowboy hats up here.”

He laughed. “I don’t know, Iris. Things change.”

She had on stretch pants and a fuzzy pink sweater

that made her look like a sweeter old lady than Jack

knew his wife’s grandmother to be. This was a woman

who’d lived most of her life on her own, raised a son

alone, made a place for herself in a strange city. She

looked life square in the eye, and seldom did anyone un-

derestimate her a second time.

He followed her inside, where little had changed

since he’d first come here at twenty, so in love with

green-eyed Susanna Dunning he couldn’t see straight.

The house was the same—so was his love. He felt an

emotional tug, an urge to protect Iris, his wife and his

daughters, yet knowing all four of them were the type

who liked to run out into the street.

He noticed the three pairs of snowshoes lined up in

the front hall. They still had their tags. The cabin in the

Adirondacks. It definitely rankled.

Iris went into the living room and sat on an over-

stuffed chair, its back covered with one of her crocheted

afghans. “I suppose you’re here about Audrey,” she said

when Jack joined her. “Or should I call her Alice? Jack,

I’ll tell you—I haven’t been taken in like that in a long,

long time.”

“She never should have come up here. She knows

that. I’m sorry, Iris.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault. Audrey comes across so gen-

uine and sweet, you find yourself wanting to like her.

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She has a very engaging personality. But you say she’s

a former police officer?”

As if being genuine, sweet and engaging was anti-

thetical to being in law enforcement. Jack smiled, famil-

iar with Iris’s prejudices. “She was a small-town police

officer I investigated for official misconduct and witness

tampering.”

“She fouled up a murder investigation, I understand.”

He nodded, taking in the signs his wife and daugh-

ters lived there. Books they were reading, videos,

scented candles and hand lotion. Maggie and Ellen had

clamored to spend a year with their great-grandmother

in Boston—or on their own in Paris. That Jack under-

stood. But Susanna—she should be in Texas with him.

It was that simple.

“Do you have any idea where Alice Parker—Au-

drey—lives?” he asked.

“Not far from here, I know that much. She says she

has a job, but I don’t know if that’s true.” Iris looked up

at him, her green eyes intelligent, alert. “Does Susanna

know you’re here?”

“Yes.” He left it at that. “Where are the girls?”

“They’re at the grocery. They don’t want to get to the

mountains and find out there’s nothing there to eat.

You’d think we were taking off for the moon, the way

they act. It’s not
that
remote up there.” She sank back

in her chair, smiling as if at a distant memory. Then she

focused again on Jack. “I’m going. Susanna won’t want

to leave me here alone until she’s figured out what this

Alice Parker woman is up to.”

“Susanna’s not figuring anything out. You all are

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staying away from Alice.” But he realized how dictato-

rial he sounded and softened his tone. “Iris, this is seri-

ous business. A woman was murdered. Alice spent a

year in prison.”

Iris nodded. “I know, Jack. So does Susanna. She un-

derstands her limits.” She paused, studying him, and

added quietly, “Trust her.”

Jack wasn’t going there, not with Iris Dunning. “I

don’t know why you all are trekking up to the Adiron-

dacks when you can come down to San Antonio for the

week.” He knew he was goading her. Iris didn’t like to

travel, and she especially didn’t like Texas. That her

only son and granddaughter had both taken up resi-

dence there galled her. “It’s a lot prettier there in Feb-

ruary than it is here in the frozen north.”

“I’m not fond of Texas.” She pursed her lips, certain

of her opinions. “I was there in August that summer

when Maggie and Ellen were born, and it was like being

in hell. And you’re always executing people.”

Arguing politics and Texas weather with Iris Dun-

ning was to jump headfirst into quicksand. There was

no winning, only getting back out onto firm ground

again. Jack had learned that a long time ago, not that he

always resisted. “That’s pure prejudice, Iris. Texas is a

big state with a diverse population—”

“It’s too big.”

“Good. Let’s carve it up. We can have Texas A, B, C

and D, each with its own two senators—”

She waved a hand at him, biting back a smile.

“You’re incorrigible. You always have been.” But Iris’s

mischievous mood didn’t last, and she shook her head,

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117

looking disgusted with herself and very old. “I’m afraid

I told Audrey—Alice—too much. She’s so easy to talk

to, and I just yammered on about the neighborhood,

Kevin and Eva, you and Susanna, how proud I am of

Maggie and Ellen heading off to college. Oh, Jack. I

never thought I’d turn into an old fool.”

He scooped up her hands, brown with age spots and

lined with prominent veins, but her fingers were still long

and graceful, reminding him of the old pictures of her in

the dining room with her chestnut hair and youthful

smile. She had worked at Tufts University for years, then

took in students after she retired. She maintained her

house, volunteered, had a wide circle of friends. That

Alice Parker had undermined an elderly woman’s confi-

dence in her own good judgment didn’t sit well with him.

“Iris, listen to me,” he said as gently as he could

manage through his anger. “I don’t want you worrying

about whatever you told Alice. You thought she was

your friend. Your openness and kindness have helped

you far more in your life than they’ve hurt. Susanna and

the girls will be fine.”

“They’re why you’re here?”

“You all are.” At least Iris recognized that he was here

because of them, not just his work. He patted her thin

hands. “I don’t want you blaming yourself. You did

nothing wrong.”

“I saw myself in her,” she said. “That was wrong.”

“That was human, not wrong.” He winked at her,

adding, “Susanna telling me this whole story on voice

mail—now, that was wrong.”

He released her hands, and she shook her head. “You

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two. This separation of yours has gone on long enough,

you know.”

“I know.”

Her green eyes twinkled. “I think that other Texas

Ranger’s idea about the handcuffs was a good one.”

Jack laughed. “I’ll tell Sam you approve.” He glanced

at his watch. Almost six o’clock. He needed to get busy.

“Do me a favor, Iris. Tell Susanna to meet me at Jim’s

Place at seven-thirty.”

“Of course, I’ll tell her. Where are you going?”

“Just checking out the lay of the land.” Jack started

into the hall, glancing back at Iris through the open

doorway. “And tell Susanna it’s not a good night to

make me hunt her down.”

Susanna slid onto her favorite stool at Jim’s Place

with a full hour to go before she was to meet her hus-

band—something she had no intention of doing. Gran

had already told her she was being pig-headed for ig-

noring Jack’s summons, and maybe she was. She

couldn’t seem to stop herself. Events were careening out

of control, and she didn’t know what else to do.

“Jim, has my grandmother ever called you pigheaded?”

He was getting her a Coke. “About once a month.”

“It’s kind of an old-fashioned word, don’t you think?

Pigheaded.”

“It works. Why, is that what you are?”

“That’s what I’m being,” she corrected. “It’s not

what I am.”

“Why are you being pigheaded?” Jim asked, setting

the frosty glass in front of her.

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“I can’t seem to help myself.” She knew what Jack

would do if she waited around until seven-thirty. He

would read her the riot act. She, Maggie, Ellen and

Gran would all need to stick as close to him as possible

until he decided that Alice Parker truly meant them no

harm. When he was satisfied, then they could all do

what they wanted. He might even nix their trip to the

cabin. Susanna sipped her Coke, aware of Jim and

Davey Ahearn both watching her, Davey on his stool at

the opposite end of the bar. “You’d recognize my hus-

band, wouldn’t you?”

“Jack? Of course. Big guy. Texas Ranger.”

“White cowboy hat,” Davey chimed in.

“He’s a serious professional,” Susanna said.

Davey shrugged. “So am I, and I have to make sure

I keep my pants pulled up.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“We all have our stereotypes to fight,” he replied

loftily.

Jim stepped into the conversation again, shaking his

head. “Ignore him, Susanna. Jack turned up after you

called him about this Alice character, didn’t he?”

She drank more of her soda. “Yes, he did.”

“Did you tell him about the stalker while you were

at it?” Jim asked.

She could tell from his tone that he knew she hadn’t,

but she shook her head anyway, confirming his worst

suspicions. “Not yet. I will, though. Don’t you and

Davey go jumping the gun.”

“Suzie-cue and the lieutenant,” Davey said, appar-

ently addressing no one in particular. He turned to Su-

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sanna, rubbing one finger on his carefully groomed han-

dlebar mustache. “You’re a couple of lifers. I think this

whole separation thing is just a way to spice up your sex

lives.”

“Davey!” She almost fell off her stool. “My God, no

wonder your last three dates have stormed out on you.

Jim—” She stopped abruptly, noticing that Jim Havi-

land was wiping down his bar, which was spotless, put-

ting effort into the job, concentrating on it. Then she

knew. “Oh, I see. Jack’s been here already. You and

Davey just weren’t going to tell me. You were going to

distract me for an hour with speculations about my sex

life and—” She could feel heat rushing to her cheeks.

“Well, damn if men don’t stick together.”

Davey snorted. “Like women don’t?”

“He was here a little while ago,” Jim said. “I learned

more about what’s going on in talking to him for five

minutes than I have in over a goddamn year from you.”

Susanna could feel herself going pale. “Jim, you

didn’t tell him what I said on New Year’s Eve—about

the stalker—the man who killed his wife—”

He shook his head, and Davey said, “That goes against

Jimmy’s code of conduct. It doesn’t go against mine, but

he’d throw me out if I opened my big mouth. Jimmy

thinks a wife should tell her husband about stalkers.”

“I do, too,” Susanna said, “under normal cir-

cumstances.”

“There are no normal circumstances when it comes

to stalkers,” Davey said.

“I told you—it wasn’t like he was a real stalker. He

didn’t break any laws. I just…”

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“He scared the blue blazes out of you.” Davey’s voice

was soft, and she wondered if he understood.

She wasn’t going to answer Jack’s summons. She

didn’t care if she was being pigheaded. Right now, she

didn’t even care if she made any sense. She knew she

couldn’t explain her reasoning.

She was the one who’d been sleeping with Jack for

twenty years. No one else had to understand her

reasoning.

Her heart was racing, her head was throbbing, and

all she could think about was getting out of there, as far

from Alice Parker as possible—and Jack, now that he