“Take your clothes off. I want to see if you’re wearing a wire.”
He didn’t move.
“Do you want to talk or not?”
He undressed. Sport coat, shoes, socks, shirt, pants. He laid everything on a chair. When he was down to his boxers, Dina said, “That’ll do.”
“Now tell me why,” he said.
“I don’t know why you think I can answer that question, but maybe I can help your thinking a little, provide a dispassionate perspective. For example, it might be productive to think about the explosive itself. If I recall, it was made with a blasting cap that was dead, yes?”
“You know it was.”
“So it couldn’t possibly have detonated. Now, it might be that the person who put it in your Bronco was simply stupid. On the other hand, it might be that it was never intended to hurt anyone.”
“Then why was it put there?”
Dina picked up her glass from the nightstand and finished the Scotch with a clink of ice against the empty glass.
“All right,” Cork said, addressing her silence, “let me do a little speculation. Let’s say the device wasn’t intended to kill anyone. What did it accomplish? It caused me to lose a lot of sleep. It certainly confused the situation. Were either of those the point? Or was it to separate me from my family, send them scurrying to Chicago? I’m thinking this because the night before the bomb was planted, Jacoby was at my house. He learned all about my family. Jenny and Northwestern, Rose and Mal in Evanston. He even knew Jenny was planning on using my Bronco the next morning. I’m thinking that a man like Jacoby believes he can manipulate anything and anyone to get what he wants. So he has someone-someone, let’s say, like you-plant a bomb-or a nonbomb-to scare me into sending my family his way so that he can be with them, comfort them when word of my demise reaches them. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I enjoy seeing a fanciful mind at work. Go on.”
“That’s what the hit was about, I think. To get me out of the way because another man coveted what I have. It wasn’t Lydell Cramer who wanted me dead. It was Ben Jacoby. And he used his brother Eddie to broker the deal. Now, your part in all this is still a little uncertain. What were you supposed to do? In the event that Stone couldn’t complete the hit, were you instructed to kill him, make sure he didn’t talk?”
“I was hired to make sure the investigation into Eddie’s death wasn’t mishandled. Period. When I came here, I didn’t know anything about Stone.”
“Then why this?” He shook the ski mask at her.
“You’ve overlooked something obvious. It could be that the point of the bomb-or nonbomb, as you appropriately call it-was to ensure that your family was out of harm’s way.”
“Is that what Jacoby told you? Or did you even care, so long as he paid you enough? Out of harm’s way, sure. And my wife right into his waiting arms.”
“Not every outcome of an action can be predicted. It seems to me that whether Jo stepped into someone’s waiting arms was entirely up to her, wasn’t it? And as for killing Stone, when I pulled that trigger, I pulled it for only one reason.”
In the little illumination that still fell through the window, he saw anger in her face, and perhaps hurt. He almost believed her.
“Tell me I’m wrong about Ben Jacoby,” he said.
“It’s an interesting speculation. Do you have any substantiating evidence?”
“He’s a thorough man, but I’m sure he’s slipped up somewhere. I’ll find out where.”
He went to the chair and began to dress.
Dina watched him. “What are you going to do?”
“Let Jo know who Ben Jacoby is. Then I’m going to figure how to nail him.”
“Be careful, Cork.”
He pulled on his shoes, tied them, and stood up. “You’re worried about me?”
“Your family’s safe. You need to think about yourself.”
It took a moment for him to weigh her words and her tone. Then he understood. “He offered you the contract on me, didn’t he?”
“If I wanted you dead, I’d have let Stone finish the job on Lamb Lake.”
He still held the ski mask. He threw it to Dina.
“I should have it checked for explosive residue, and I should have your luggage and your car checked, too. If I were a betting man, I’d bet we’d come up with something. But you saved my life. Consider my debt paid.”
As soon as he returned home, Cork called Evanston. Rose answered. Her “Hello?” sounded anxious, and when she knew who it was, her voice took a serious nosedive to a bleak octave.
“What is it?” Cork asked.
“I was hoping you were Jo.”
“Why?”
“Well,” Rose said hesitantly, “she seems to be missing.”
46
Rose explained that they’d come back from their day in South Bend to an empty house. Jo had left a note on the kitchen table saying she was going out to buy some wine, had an errand to run, and would be back before six. On the note, she’d put the time she left, five-ten. She still hadn’t returned. There was also a message waiting on Rose’s voice mail, from Ben Jacoby, left at five-fifteen, apologizing to Jo for having to cancel out. Something important had come up. He was sorry and promised to be in touch.
Jacoby again, Cork thought.
“Cancel out on what?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Cork.”
“Was she going to meet Jacoby?” he asked.
“She didn’t say a word to me about it.”
“Did you try her cell phone?”
“Yes. She doesn’t answer.”
“How about Jacoby? Did you call him?”
“We don’t have his number,” Rose said. “It was blocked on our caller ID, and when we tried directory assistance, they told us it’s unlisted.”
“I have it,” Cork told her. “I’ll call.”
“Oh, good. Let me know what you find out.”
In his wallet, he had the card Jacoby had given him when the man came to Aurora after Eddie’s murder. Only his business number was printed on it, but on the back Jacoby had written the number for his cell phone. Cork punched it in.
The phone rang at the other end. Jacoby didn’t answer. The recorded voice said the customer was not answering calls at this time but a message could be left. Cork left one telling Jacoby to call, it was urgent, and he gave his cell phone number.
After a minute or two of hard, desperate thinking, he called the Quetico Inn and asked to be connected with Dina Willner. She didn’t answer. He called the front desk.
Dick Granger told him Dina had just gone into the dining room. Should he page her?
“No. Just make sure she doesn’t leave before I get there.”
He called Rose and told her he’d had no luck with Jacoby, but he knew someone who might have a better idea how to get in touch with him. He’d let Rose know.
“How’re the kids?” he asked before he hung up.
“Mal and I are downplaying this, but if we don’t find her soon they’ll know something’s wrong.”
