Cold Ridge

Six

Boston Public Garden, which dated back to 1859, was one of Carine's favorite places in the city. Its curving Victorian paths, lawns, gardens, statues, benches and more than six hundred trees were enclosed within arched, wrought-iron fences, making it feel like a retreat, as if she'd stepped back in time.

If only she could step back to yesterday morning, she thought. She could warn Louis not to go back to the Rancourt house alone-delay him, get in the car with him, talk him into watching the pigeons with her.

She crossed the small bridge over the shallow pond where the famed Swan Boats, a century-plus tradition, would cruise during warmer months. They were put away for the season, and now just fallen leaves floated on the water. But she didn't linger, instead took a walkway over to Tremont Street and the Four Seasons Hotel. When the Rancourts had people in town on business, they tended to put them up at the Four Seasons. Manny Carrera couldn't afford it on his own. Neither could she, but if she wasn't paying the tab, she'd stay there. Maybe Manny would, too.

She entered the elegant lobby and wandered over to a seating area that looked across Tremont to the Public Garden, its soft sofas and high-backed chairs occupied by a handful of well-dressed men and women in business attire. Carine felt out of place in her barn coat but didn't worry about it-she didn't plan to stay.

She spotted Manny on a love seat in front of a window as he drank coffee from a delicate china cup. He wore a dark suit with a blue tie and motioned for her to join him, shaking his head as she sat on a chair opposite him. "I saw you beating a path across the park. Got a brainstorm I was here?"

"It's not a park. You're not supposed to walk on the grass."

"Then what is it?"

"A public botanical garden. It was designed by Frederick Olmsted. He did Central Park, too, which is a park."

"Ah."

She leaned forward. "Manny-"

"I'm stuck here, Carine. You're not. Why don't you go home?"

"I am home. I live in Boston now."

"For now, you mean."

"Why are you stuck here? Did the police say you can't leave? You're not under arrest or you wouldn't be here."

He shrugged, not answering. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck-his suit was tight around his upper arms and thighs. He was six feet tall and strongly built. Carine doubted the PJ Physical Abilities and Stamina Test had given him any trouble. He and Ty both insisted a pararescueman didn't have to be big, but Manny was one who was.

"Manny, I'm not trying to interfere in your business. I just-" She sighed, uncertain how she could explain why she was here. "We both were there yesterday. I guess I just wanted to see you. I'm not having an easy time of it, and I thought-I don't know what I thought."

His dark eyes warmed slightly. "The police want to talk to me again today. I'm cooperating. If I don't, they'll probably find a reason to throw me in jail sooner rather than later."

"Why at all?"

"They have to do their thing." He leaned over to refill his coffee cup from a silver service set on the low table in front of him. "You know what's good about staying at a fancy place? You can pick out the cops. They fit in about as well as I do."

"There's a police officer here?"

"I'm under surveillance. I think it's supposed to be covert."

"Manny!" Carine found herself glancing around at the occupied seats, noticing an older couple, a middle-aged man reading a Wall Street Journal, a young woman tapping at a PalmPilot. "The woman?"

"Uh-huh."

"Manny, doesn't this bother you? Having the police waste their time on you, when you know you had nothing to do with Louis's death?"

He sipped his coffee. "Getting bothered isn't going to change anything."

"So, what're you going to do, sit here and do nothing?"

"Sure, why not? Enjoy the fancy digs while I can. Rancourt hasn't told me to clear out yet. So long as he's footing the bill, I can-"

"You can what, drink coffee out of a silver pot?"

His eyes didn't leave her. "I have to tell you, drinking coffee out of a silver pot suits me just fine."

She immediately regretted her words. Manny wouldn't bring it up, but he and North had been in Afghanistan and Iraq. Manny's last mission before he retired was to recover an aircrew killed in a training accident. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Actually," he added with a hint of a smile, lifting his pinkie finger from the too-small handle of his cup, "I'm drinking out of a china cup, not a silver pot."

Carine didn't know what to say. She could feel tension and frustration eating away at any calm she'd found during her walk in the Public Garden. "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing. Go back to Cold Ridge." He looked at her over the rim of his cup, his dark eyes unrelenting. "For all you know, I could be guilty. I could have killed Louis Sanborn."

"You had no motive."

He was motionless for a split second. "I had motive."

"What?" She lowered her voice, aware of the cop and her PalmPilot. "Manny, what are you talking about?"

"Why do you suppose the police have me under surveillance but not you? Come on, Carine. You don't know what I was doing at the Rancourt house yesterday."

She sat back, irritated with him for playing games with her. "I don't care. I don't care if you didn't think Louis was a nice guy or what you're doing in Boston, it's impossible-Manny, I'm your friend. I know you didn't kill him."

"You're my friend's ex-fiancée. That's a little different."

Carine's mouth snapped shut, and she stared at him. He'd obviously meant to sting her, and he'd succeeded. "All right. Why tell me Louis wasn't a nice man?"

"Because he wasn't."

"That's not an answer."

"I thought it'd be enough to scare you into going home. A minute ago I thought telling you I'm under police surveillance would scare you into going home. Now I'm telling you I had a motive-"

"Stop saying that!"

"Listen to me, Carine." He set down his cup again. "I don't need your help."

"You're being an ass just to get rid of me."

He smiled faintly. "It's not working very well, is it?"

"What about Ty? Have you talked to him? He'd help you. You know he would."

"Ty's on a mission, not that I'd ask him for his help. He's still on active duty. He doesn't need to get mixed up in a murder investigation." Manny sat back, studying her for a moment. "That's what this is, Carine. A murder investigation. A man was killed yesterday. You need to back off."

"Yes," she said, "I'm well aware a man was killed."

His expression softened. "I'm sorry. I haven't forgotten you were the one who found him. How're you doing?"

"Okay."

"Sleep last night?"

"Not much."

He winked at her. "Now you're looking for trouble to distract yourself, aren't you? I know it's hard to figure what to do after something like yesterday."

"It was hard enough getting shot at last year. This-"

"Give yourself some time. And don't worry about me, will you? I'll be fine. If I need help…" He shrugged, deliberately not finishing.

"If you need help, you won't turn to a nature photographer, not with all the tough types you know." She gave him a quick smile and got to her feet. "Just stating the facts, not putting myself down. You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"The police asked me not to talk to anyone."

"Right. Like you needed their say-so to keep your mouth shut."

He rose, and she could see the lines at the corners of his eyes, the strain. He'd just gotten his son back on his feet, and now he was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a murder was committed-but he didn't let any of that show. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and admonished her one more time. "You don't have a dog in this fight, Carine. Stay out of it."

When she got back out onto the street, she made herself take three deep cleansing breaths before she decided what to do next. Her hands were shaking. Her stomach muscles were tight to the point of soreness, but at least she didn't feel as if she'd throw up-minor progress, but progress nonetheless.

She fished out her cell phone and dialed Gus's number. "Gus? It's me. The police have Manny under surveillance. Can you believe it? They think he killed Louis. Why don't they think I killed him?"

"What the hell were you doing talking to Manny Carrera?"

"Relax. He's at the Four Seasons having coffee." She sighed, starting down Tremont Street toward the intersection of Arlington Street, the Public Garden across from her, people passing her on their normal routines. "Manny's in trouble, Gus. He won't admit it, of course. He's going to have ulcers and heart disease in a few years from keeping it all under such tight control."

"Carine-"

"I'm thinking about calling Ty. Do you know where he is?"

"Why do you want to call him? Manny can take care of himself."

"Manny's not taking care of himself. You should see him. Maybe Ty can talk to him. He must have heard about what happened."

Gus hesitated. "He heard."

Carine stopped abruptly, a man in a suit nearly crashing into her as he rushed past. Gus was being evasive, and that wasn't his nature. He'd been evasive earlier, and she'd let it go. Normally he was the most straightforward person she'd ever encountered. "Gus?"

"What, honey? You sound stressed out-"

"Gus, where is Tyler? Is he on leave? Manny said he was on a mission."

"You haven't seen the news, have you? Well, you'll find out sooner or later-North and I pulled three prep school seniors off the ridge yesterday."

"So, he's there. I'll call him at home."

"Try his cell phone."

She frowned. "Gus? Gus, what is it you're not telling me?"

"Ah, shit, honey, I'm losing the connection. I can't hear you. Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you fine."

"What? Carine? Are you there? These goddamn cell phones."

"Gus-"

He disconnected.

And she knew. Ty was en route to Boston or already there. The fact that Gus didn't want to tell her meant North had come because of her. Gus wouldn't like it either way-Ty in Boston, her there on her own.

" Mission, my ass."

Manny had to know. He must have contacted Ty and put him up to keeping an eye on her-probably to take her back to Cold Ridge, since that seemed to be the general consensus of what she should do with herself. Go home. Stay out of trouble. Don't cause any trouble.

She didn't feel warm and safe and less isolated, less vulnerable, as if her family and friends were trying to do right by her after she'd had a shock.

"Ha," she muttered. "I know better."

She'd been conspired against by her own uncle, by Manny Carrera-and North. They'd obviously believed she couldn't resist meddling.

She could see herself standing in the library door yesterday and relived the jolt of awareness that had warned her something was wrong. She saw the blood. Louis's hand. She felt herself running in panic out of the house, into Manny Carrera's arms.

If she hadn't been there, would Manny have slipped away before the police arrived?

Was it her fault he was under suspicion?

Louis Sanborn was not a nice man.

Maybe not. But Manny hadn't shot him in cold blood.

She dialed Gus's number. "When did Ty leave for Boston?" she asked him.

"Can't hear you," her uncle said, and hung up.