“No, not a thing. I’ll never forget how he met her. He was taking one of his very rare vacations, a long weekend really, and she was there at the hotel, some sort of manager, and there was the fire in his room and she came to apologize. And, well, they were married one week later. I was very surprised, as was the rest of the world. They kept it all very private.”
“They were together for five years,” Nicola said, remembering Cleo Rothman’s voice, her incredible talent for organization and management. The staff had loved her.
She said, “I remember wondering why John hadn’t married until he was, what? Nearly forty?”
“That’s right. He and Cleo were married when he had just turned thirty-nine. Didn’t he tell you? Well, he fell in love with a girl in college-this was at Columbia. Her name was Melissa and they were going to get married when they graduated. Our father was against it, of course, because John’s life was planned out for him, and that included three years of law school, and a nice long wait until our father could find him the right sort of wife, you know what I mean, but John didn’t care. He wanted Melissa and he wasn’t going to wait.”
“What happened?”
“She died in an auto accident at the end of her senior year. John was distraught, didn’t recover for quite a number of years. Actually, I don’t think he recovered until he met Cleo. But look, Nicola, it’s only been three years, and he wants to marry you. That is a miracle. He is very much in love with you, don’t you think?”
“So much tragedy,” Nicola said, aware that she wanted to cry, that her throat hurt so badly she didn’t think she could speak another word. She was so hungry she wanted to gnaw her own elbow. She wanted to get out of there, she wanted to go home and curl up in her own bed. And she didn’t want anyone at all to come into her condo and see her naked in the bathroom.
“I’m so tired, Albia. I believe they’re going to release me soon.”
Albia rose. “Yes, I’ve taken care of it. If you’d like to dress now, I’ll take you right home.”
“Thank you. I would like that very much. But, Albia, I want to go to my own place. I’m just not ready to move in with John.”
NINETEEN
Dane had volunteered to drive the two hours up to Bear Lake to see what they could find out about Weldon DeLoach from the staff and, they hoped, from his elderly father. “Hey, maybe,” Flynn had said, “old Weldon will be hiding in one of the rest home’s closets.”
Dane pulled onto the freeway, then turned to Nick. “I forgot to tell you. Flynn got a search warrant and went over to Weldon’s house. Unfortunately they didn’t find anything to either implicate DeLoach or give a clue as to his whereabouts. And just before we left, Delion checked in with Lieutenant Purcell. They haven’t caught up with Stuckey yet, so we have no gun. There wasn’t anything in Milton McGuffey’s apartment either that gives us a clue to the man who called Stuckey. But it’s early days yet.”
She nodded, stared down a moment at her clasped hands. She had a jagged fingernail and began worrying it. “I wanted to tell you that I was really sorry I couldn’t be with you at the cemetery. I wanted to say good-bye to Father Michael Joseph, too, but they rushed me off so fast I didn’t have a chance to speak to you about it.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t come, too. At least the media didn’t catch up with you. But you can bet some enterprising souls are trying their best to put this all together. Something will leak soon from the studios, if it hasn’t already. Then it’s going to be really rough, with you at the epicenter.”
She looked, quite simply, terrified.
Dane, impatient, said, “Look, Nick, you know this is an international story. For God’s sake, you’re the eyewitness to my brother’s murder.”
“Not really. I haven’t been any help at all.”
“We’ll see. Now, the media thing. It’s going to happen. You really need to reconsider telling me what’s going on with you.”
“No, I don’t.” She still hadn’t come to a decision about what to do. She knew she couldn’t be a homeless person forever; it wasn’t any sort of solution at all, but what she would do, she just didn’t know yet. “You made a deal. Keep your questions to yourself.”
He shrugged, and she knew he was irritated, probably more than irritated. He changed lanes to avoid being stuck behind an eighteen-wheeler. He looked over at her, his expression serious. “I’m sorry, but the shit will hit the fan. It’s coming. Okay, no more questions, but when you’re ready to tell me, just let me know.”
She said nothing, just stared at the dashboard.
“I want to thank you, Nick, for the way you’ve stuck with me over the last days. It’s-it’s been difficult, and you really helped me.”
She nodded. “It’s hard to believe that so little time has passed. It’s been very hard for you.”
“Yes.” He was silent, to keep control. Damnation, it was so hard. He said, “It’s been difficult for you as well.”
She said, surprising him, “I remember when my father died-it was in a hunting accident-some idiot took him for a deer up in northern Michigan. Death like that, so sudden, so unexpected, you just can’t figure out how to deal with it.”
“Yes,” Dane said, eyes on the road in front of him. “I know. How old were you when your dad died?”
“Nearly twenty-two. It was really bad because my mom had died just two years before. Sure, I had lots of friends, but it’s just not the same thing.”
He said slowly, “I never really thought of you as a friend.”
She felt a punch of hurt at his words. “I would have thought that we’ve been through enough to be friends, haven’t we?”
“You misunderstand me,” Dane said. “No, I didn’t think of you as a friend precisely, I thought of you as someone who was there for me, who understood, someone important.”
She was silent for a moment, but to Dane it seemed an aeon had passed before she said, “Maybe I agree with you.”
Dane smiled as he slowed for a car coming onto the freeway. “Hey, you got any relatives at all?”
“Yes, two younger brothers, both Air Force pilots. They’re in Europe. All these questions. Are you trying to trip me up? Is this one of your famous FBI strategies to make a perp spill her guts?”
“Nah. If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d be so subtle, so consummately skilled that you wouldn’t even be aware of what I was doing.”
“I’ve also got two uncles who drill for oil in Alaska.”
“I’m sorry about your folks.”
“Thank you. I think they were both surprised when I ended up with a Ph.-Well, that’s not important.”
Yeah, right, he thought. “What do you think of Savich and Sherlock?”
“Sherlock showed me a photo of Sean. He’s adorable.”
“Sean is nearly a year old now, running all over the place, jabbering a language that Savich claims is an advanced code used in rocket science. I’m Uncle Dane, only it doesn’t come out that way.”
“They’ve been here less than twenty-four hours-it’s like I’ve known them for much, much longer. Sort of like you, only not exactly.”
“I know what you mean.”
“How long have you been an FBI agent?”
“Six years now. I came out of law school, went to a big firm, and hated it. I knew what I wanted to do.”
“A lawyer. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“You mean I don’t look slimy?”
“Close enough.” A lawyer, that was all she needed. Both a lawyer and an FBI agent. She’d nearly spilled the beans about her Ph.D. It looked like he didn’t even need to exert himself particularly to get information out of her.
Nick didn’t tell him anything more about herself, eventually just looked out her window at the passing
