“Did the ogre tell you how this started?”
“No.”
“I busted Barker’s nose all to hell.” She actually laughed, but John added, “His heavy was dispatched to your house today because of me.”
“Lord, John, don’t apologize. Telling you the truth has done more for me than years of counseling. Fear kept me bottled up about those two. I needed this catharsis. So I don’t blame you. I thank you.”
“I swear to you that I’m gonna get the sons of bitches.”
“How?”
He huffed a dry laugh. “I have no idea. But, listen, it might get hairy for anybody even remotely connected, so stay vigilant.”
“Actually we’re leaving town for a few days.”
“Good idea. But if the ogre and Barker are ever brought up on charges, I could use your backing. Would you be willing to tell a prosecutor everything you’ve told me?”
“With pleasure.”
After hearing Isabel’s account of Billy Oliver’s last few hours, neither John nor Beth had much of an appetite, but when the lasagna was ready, they sat down at the table and went through the motions of eating.
With half his portion still left, he pushed his plate aside, propped his elbows on the table, and pushed all ten fingers into his hair, holding his head between his palms. “I’ve got the same problem I had this morning after learning about Billy’s dyslexia. Who do I go to with this information about what led to his suicide?
“If I confront Barker and the ogre, they’ll know it was Isabel who talked, and that could mean serious repercussions for her. In addition to concern about Carla, now I’ve got the safety of Isabel’s family to worry about, too. I should wear one of those international signs around my neck, warning anybody I approach that I’m a biohazard.”
“You can’t take all this on by yourself, John. You’ve got to bring someone else onboard.”
“Who do you suggest?”
“The police superintendent.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Then the FBI.”
He scoffed. “The feds wouldn’t put much stock in anything I have to say. I’m a hot-headed burnout who assaulted his superior, and I’m on the hunt for an unidentified suspect who gets off on all things mystical.” He imitated the professor’s finger waggling. “I’m sure that would inspire the feds’ confidence.”
He tilted his chair back on two legs and looked up at the ceiling. “What a damn mess. Barker will go to any lengths to protect his hide. He’s without scruple. And the ogre is cutthroat, literally. I don’t see a way out that doesn’t put other people in jeopardy.”
She looked down into her plate of lasagna, which didn’t look anything like the picture on the box. Slowly, softly, she said, “If you had it to do over again, would you stop me from boarding that flight back to New York?”
The front legs of his chair hit the floor. “No. No. That’s not—”
“Or going farther back, would you decide to stay in bed and forgo meeting me in the bar?”
“Beth, I regret my inability to nail this fucking case shut and get justice for the people who deserve it. I don’t regret that meeting.”
Even more slowly, more softly, she said, “I think you do, John. I think I do because I dragged you into this damn mess.” She picked up her phone and pushed back her chair. “I’m going to try Max one more time before it gets any later.”
He didn’t say or do anything to stop her from leaving the room. That was telling. He’d denied having regrets, but how could he not wish he’d stuck to his guns and refused to get involved. He’d told her the Crissy Mellin case had had an H-bomb effect on his life. It hadn’t been going great guns when she’d appeared on the scene, but since her intrusion, his situation had become a thousand times worse. That pained her.
In the bedroom, she sat down on the bed and took a moment to lay aside her personal dilemma and to organize her thoughts about the Crisis Point episode. If she got through to Max, there was much to catch him up on. She decided to start by giving him bullet points, so he would have the whole picture immediately, then go back and provide details as he asked for them.
She tapped in his number. As soon as he answered, she didn’t even give him time to speak before demanding, “Why haven’t you called me back?”
“Beth?”
“Richard?”
“Whose number is this?”
“None of your business. What are you doing with Max’s phone?”
Chapter 25
You’re a butthole. A horse’s ass.”
Mutt went on sniffing around the base of a tree, unmindful of John’s litany of self-incrimination.
After cleaning the kitchen, he’d decided to take Mutt out for the last time of the night, and also to take a look around. In light of today’s events, he was even surer that he would have a bull’s-eye on his back if Barker and the ogre ever located him.
He made a circuit, checked the garage and the boat’s hiding place. “The ogre would sink my boat, but they could have other people searching the swamp. Think anyone could find us?” The dog looked up at him, then sat down to scratch his ear with his back paw. “Right. Why worry?”
While listing all the people whose safety he was worried about, he hadn’t had time to tell Beth that she topped that list. Stupidly, he’d babbled about all the ways his life had become more complicated since she’d entered it. He hadn’t meant it that way but had realized too late how it would sound to her. He knew he’d hurt her.