Fireproof

CHAPTER 31

“Where did he get all these photos?”

Maggie didn’t feel angry as much as betrayed and a little sick to her stomach.

“What’s the cocktail-dress occasion?” Racine had stayed on the line and they watched together as Jeffery Cole revealed Maggie’s life for the world to see. He even had a photo of her father and mother.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” Racine said when Maggie failed to answer.

“It was a New Year’s Eve party for my ex-husband’s law firm. They were congratulating me that night, welcoming me to the firm. Greg got me a job as their claims investigator.”

“You wanted to investigate lawsuit claims?”

“No, not at all. I had no idea. It was supposed to be a surprise. Greg hated my being an FBI agent.”

“Maybe he just hated your playing rough-and-tumble with killers.”

“He hated that he couldn’t control me, keep me neat and tidy like the rest of his life.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“You look totally hot in that little black dress.” Racine’s attempt at humor only made it worse.

Years ago Julia Racine had made a pass at Maggie. Somehow they had managed to get past it and become friends. Part of their journey to friendship had to do with Racine saving Maggie’s mother from a suicide attempt and Maggie saving Racine’s father from a killer. Both women had grown up without one parent; perhaps it was this absence, this sense of loss that continued to bring them together.

Now that Maggie thought about her mother she couldn’t help wondering if that’s where Jeffery Cole had gotten some of the photos.

“Why do you suppose he’s doing this?” Maggie asked.

“You ruffled his feathers. Piqued his interest. I didn’t know you were a forensic fellow at Quantico. Impressive. They don’t even have that program anymore, do they?”

“Is this legal? Can he do an exposé like this on an FBI agent?”

“Your ex-husband might know.”

“Very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. He might actually know.”

“It’s too late. They’re already airing it.”

“Yeah, but it could stop part two.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“No, really. Tomorrow night is part two. The whole thing runs back-to-back this weekend. I figure I’ll tape it.”

“Unbelievable.”

“So here’s something interesting.” Racine must have sensed it was time to change the subject. “Cornell Stamoran used to be an accountant with Greevey, Miles and Holden up until eleven months ago. They’re one of the major financial consulting firms in the District. Their client list reads like a who’s who directory.”

“So how did he get his passport stolen?”

“Don’t know. He wasn’t home to ask. Landlord said he ducked out on his rent months ago. Nobody at the consulting firm knows where he is either. Greevey said he just didn’t show up one day. Said he had a bit of a drinking problem.”

“Any chance it’s his bashed-in skull that was found inside?”

“Anything’s possible.”

Maggie’s phone beeped.

“I have another call coming in. Autopsy still on for the morning?”

“Stan said nine o’clock. I’ll see you there.” And Racine clicked off.

Maggie checked her caller ID, saw that it was Benjamin Platt, smiled, then connected.

“Do you still have that little black dress?”

It wasn’t exactly the greeting she expected. She felt the annoying but pleasant flip in her stomach.

“Racine already beat you to that punch line.”

“Goes to show we both have impeccable taste.”

She thought about telling him how sexy he looked this morning in his dress uniform. For some reason she stopped herself, stood up, and began to pace the living room. She glanced out the patio door, the glass still rain-streaked. It was coming down harder now.

“How are you holding up?” Ben asked.

Of course, Maggie realized, he was worried about her. That was the real reason for his call. Not such a bad thing, she reminded herself.

“Jake got out again this afternoon,” she said, changing the focus from her. “He hasn’t come back yet.”

“You want me to take a look around for him?”

“Patrick checked all over for him.” Suddenly it occurred to her that Jake probably wouldn’t come to Patrick’s voice or command. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? Maybe if she went out and called for him. “It’s late,” she told Ben. “And it’s raining.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I can be there in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

From the patio window Maggie could make out the ridge at the back of the property, beyond the privacy fence. Pine trees stood like sentries guarding the corners. Streetlights didn’t reach back that far. Her subtle landscape lighting was only enough to create shadows.

“Lucy says he’ll be fine. That he’ll come back on his own. I can’t keep racing after him and dragging him home.”

A spot of light flashed on the other side of the fence. She could see it through the wood slats. It flickered, then moved along her property line. As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.

Maybe it was a reflection? Maybe her imagination was playing tricks on her.

She rubbed the back of her neck, fingering the sutures. Patrick’s wine had actually settled the throbbing in her head. It was quiet, contained for the time being, but her neck ached.

“Lucy’s probably right,” Ben finally said, only Maggie had already forgotten what it was that Lucy might be right about.

She shut off the lamp and paced from window to window, trying to see the light again. The house was dark except for the muted television. Red and blue reflections of her life according to Jeffery Cole lit up the corners of the living room. Maggie moved to the kitchen and the back door. That’s when she saw another flash.

“I’ll have to call you back,” she told Ben. “I need to check something.” She clicked off before he could ask any questions.

The spot of light bounced behind the fence and skipped a path to the edge of the ridge. Despite the mist, Maggie could see the silhouette of a person following the beam of light.

“What’s going on?”

Patrick’s voice made her jump. He stood in the entrance to the kitchen in pajama bottoms, nothing else.

“Someone’s out there,” she whispered, noticing that her heart had already started hammering in her chest.

Patrick was looking over her shoulder before she said, “It’s probably nothing. Someone looking for a lost dog.” The exact thing she was contemplating doing just minutes before.

“Or that asshole neighbor tracking Jake.”

He spun around and darted for the stairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting on some clothes and shoes.” He stopped halfway up the stairs just long enough to add, “Bring your gun.”