Falls peered through the windshield. The road stretched out. “You’re giving me no reason to trust you.”
“You’re private security, which means you’re probably ex-cop. You don’t trust me, and you won’t. Nothing I say will change that, so let’s not waste time. I want to see Julian. You say I need to speak to Mrs. Vane first. Fine. She’s agreed to see me. Let’s get on with it.”
“Fair enough. I need you both to step out of the car.”
“Why?”
“Just because I’m unwilling to pat you down on the side of a public road doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” Outside, in the cool of the woods, Michael let Falls pat him down. The man was thorough and quick. “I apologize,” he said to Elena.
“It’s okay,” Michael told Elena, and watched Falls frisk her, too. He was just as thorough, and unapologetic.
“You can get back in the car.”
They climbed in, and when Falls turned, his mouth was an uncompromising line. “There’s no statute of limitations on murder in North Carolina.” He squinted, looked from Michael to Elena and back. “I want to make sure you’re aware of that.”
“I don’t understand.” Elena leaned forward.
“He’s talking about what happened at Iron House.” Michael let a few seconds slip by, not taking his eyes off Falls. “He’s threatening me.”
“Advising you.”
Michael smiled a thin smile, no light in his eyes. “We both know there’s no warrant with my name on it. No indictment. Nothing in the system.”
“Yet, the police spent a long time looking for you.”
“Twenty-three years ago and half a state away.” Michael leaned a bit closer. “No one is looking for me, Mr. Falls; and we both know the deeper truth of why that is.”
They measured each other for ten seconds, and Falls broke first. “Just don’t push me, young man. I take my job seriously.”
“I love my brother,” Michael said.
“Then we should have no problem.”
The guesthouse was a stone cottage on a low knoll that overlooked the lakes and house. It had iron boot-scrapes by the door, a covered porch, and green shutters with black metal hinges. A lawn swept down to the water, and dense trees crowded against the back.
“Wait here.”
They watched Falls step onto the porch, then open the door and disappear. The house was small and looked as if it had been there forever. The roof was heavy slate stained green in the cracks. Blue sky shone in high windows; the low ones were black. A beat-up Land Rover Defender was parked at the entrance. Michael watched for movement inside, saw none. Elena took his arm, worried.
“Is it true, what he said? Can they really arrest you?”
“It won’t happen.”
“Because of the deeper truth?” Michael squeezed her shoulders, and she said, “What does that even mean?”
“It means the pursuit of justice is rarely perfect or fair.”
“Don’t be cryptic, Michael.”
“It means no one here wanted publicity around Julian’s adoption, not with Hennessey dead on a bathroom floor. The media would have eaten it up, so the senator kept it quiet.”
“He can do that?”
“He has money, power. It’s not like Hennessey had family.”
“What an unbelievably cold thing to say.”
“It’s the world in which we live.”
“But why would they even care?” She gestured at the far mansion. “You told Julian to say you did it. He was in the clear.”
“Scandal has been known to assume a life of its own, given the chance. Besides, I doubt Julian was entirely convincing. He’s never been a good liar. His heart is too close to the surface.”
“The police didn’t believe him?”
“Let’s just say the senator spent a lot of money and political capital to keep them from looking too deeply.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I made it my business to find out.” She frowned, and Michael nudged her hip. “Trust me, Elena. With all that’s happened in the past few days, a decades-old investigation is the last thing you need to worry about.”
“Promise me you won’t be arrested.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Thank you.” She leaned into him, looked across the lakes. “Is this what you expected?”
She was talking about the estate, everything. “There’s more security than I thought, but that’s good.”
She sighed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m just sad.”
“Why?”
She stared at the soft grass and the far mansion, then took his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “This could have been your life.”
Jessup found Abigail on the sofa in the living room. “Is he here?” she asked.
“Outside. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Abigail looked down. Her hand cupped a small photograph. It was black and white, very old.
“Is that Michael?” Jessup asked.
“From his file at Iron Mountain.” She tilted it so he could see. The boy was young, maybe eight. He had wild hair and a smile that looked forced. “It’s the only picture of him I’ve ever seen.” She touched the photograph. “I missed him by minutes, Jessup. I missed his entire life because we were slowed by a storm, by a thing as simple as wind and frozen water.”
“He killed a fifteen-year-old boy. He put a knife in his throat and left him dead on a bathroom floor. People like that don’t change. I’ve seen it. I know. That storm saved you a lifetime of misery.”
“He would have had a reason for what he did.”
“Then he should have stayed and explained.”
“He was a child, and frightened.”
“That’s no reason to trust him, now.”
“Of course not, Jessup. I’m neither a fool nor a romantic.”
“Then why let him into your life at all?”
“Because Julian would.”
“He’s dangerous, Abigail. I’m telling you this is a mistake.”
“He’s dangerous, how?”
“He carries a concealed weapon, for one. And I ran his plates. The car is stolen. He said he
