The Second Man (17 page)

Chapter 16

Jill gasped. The exterior door of her garage was wide-open. A dark sedan was sitting behind hers in the driveway. From the light of the streetlamp, she saw Andrew and a red-haired man in a leather jacket standing ten feet from her. The man had his hand in his right pocket.

“I was about to knock on your door. We need to talk.” Andrew took a step.

“Stay right there.” She slipped the house key between two fingers to make an impromptu weapon, just as her dad had taught her years ago. “Are you nuts? It’s the middle of the night! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be scared.” Andrew held up his hand. “I’m only here to bring you up to date on some things.”

“Who is your friend?”

“This is Irv, my company’s security director. He’s here to protect me, not hurt you.”

“Protect you from what?”

Andrew sighed and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go inside, okay? And you should remember to close your garage door at night. You’re inviting someone to break-in again.”

Don’t get in the car.

Her dad always told her that if someone accosted her, to stay calm, but not to go anywhere with bad guys.

Stand your ground. Yell like hell. But don’t leave with them.

Jill made a fist with the hand that held the protruding key. “I’m not inviting you in. In fact, I don’t want you on my property. Anything you want to say, say it right where you’re standing. And by the way, I’m on my way out to meet several people, and if I’m late, they’re going to come looking for me.”

“That couldn’t sound hokier if you tried. But we can do it your way.” Andrew pulled a sheaf of papers out of his jacket pocket and offered them to Jill. “You need to look at these documents.”

“What are they?”

“Evidence. I requested copies of Max’s car accident report from fifteen years ago. The police say there is no record of an accident involving Max on the night in question. The second item is a reply from the feds regarding my request for the address and background of Ingmar and Kari Kallstrom, Max’s parents. There are no records at all on those two. Not birth, death, work, or tax documents. And none I can find for Max.”

The news was unsettling, but it fit with what she had learned about Max’s father’s occupation from Professor Millard’s pilfered school records. Besides, she had seen the newspaper clipping Professor Millard had given Max. The accident was real. It was Andrew’s story that was suspect. “I’m not interested in any information you’ve got. I’ve got some of my own that is a lot more unbiased.”

“Oh?” Andrew’s arm fell to his side. “Do you have photographs? In particular those taken last week when Max Kallstrom met with a German national in Solvang. A man who is a fugitive, and who has been indicted for bank fraud and embezzlement in England and France?”

Jill’s mind churned.
Why is Andrew trying so hard to persuade me Max is a bad guy?
“What’s going on with this, Andrew? Are you trying to manipulate me? Maybe I need to do some investigating and find out why you care about my safety, or my mother’s nursing home bills. Maybe that Pandora’s box on your business card should be pried open so we can discuss a few things about you that you might not want known.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like you’re adopted? Who knows what other secrets are in your past.” She realized immediately that was a stupid thing to say.

“How do you know about that?”

“A little birdie told me.”

Andrew clenched both fists and took a step toward her. “Are you investigating me? You’re the most ungrateful, thickheaded woman I’ve ever met. I’m trying to protect you. I know you went through hell ten years ago, and I feel badly about the part I played in that. My interest in you is as innocent as that.”

“You don’t need to feel anything about me anymore, Andrew. Frankly, I thought you would be keeping yourself busy with Marissa. I hope you’ve told her about your vested interest in her brother’s death. She could get the wrong idea if she finds out you’re romancing her for ulterior motives.”

“I’m not sleeping with Marissa, if that’s what you’re insinuating. Some of us smarten up about who we sleep with once we grow up, Jill. You should consider it.”

“I want to know why you hate Max so much that you’re obsessively trying to get him in trouble.”

“I don’t hate him. No one hates Max, right?” Andrew inhaled sharply. “It’s stupid for you to put yourself in danger because of a past infatuation with a man you now don’t know a damn thing about. When this scandal breaks open it could ruin your reputation, and jeopardize your teaching career, if it hits the press.”

“What scandal? The one about Ben Pierce being killed by someone who might have been at college when we were? That is a terrible, horrible story, but you don’t have any reason to tie Max to it.” Jill stepped backward, bumping against the door. “I’m beginning to think everything you’ve told me is more about a vendetta than an investigation. Maybe you’re the one who needs to get over the past.”

“You’re naïve.” Andrew’s voice was vicious. “For your information, I’ve made my final report, and the agency that hired me agrees the evidence I’ve uncovered is strong enough to arrest Max Kallstrom.”

“For what?”

“For questioning in the murder of Ben Pierce, for one thing.”

“What?” Jill’s mouth was so dry she could hardly get the word out.

“Did you know Max was in France the day Ben Pierce was killed? And his investment company has been implicated in a widening scandal the ATF is investigating. There are other pieces of evidence that I can’t share with you. But use your head. The man’s past has been expunged, he claims he can’t remember things he should, and his present activities are the definition of suspicious. Something sinister is going on with him, and you’re being blind to it.”

She stuck out her chin. “Just because you can’t find an accident report doesn’t mean there’s a nefarious reason.”

“I give up.” Andrew held up his hands. “But for your information, the Santa Barbara police have a warrant to hold Kallstrom for federal agents. They’ve probably already picked him up.”

“Wrong again, Andrew.” Max’s deep voice boomed out from the edge of the driveway. He stepped into the garage from the shadows. “Jill, are you okay?”

Andrew snapped around quickly as the man in the leather jacket pulled a silver gun from his pocket.

Max narrowed his eyes. He was holding a gun, too, and his was quite a bit bigger. “Answer me, babe. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No. No, I’m okay.”

“Would you flip on the garage light? I’d like to be able to see more than the whites of everybody’s eyes.”

Jill flipped the switch and everyone but Max blinked in the harsh fluorescence.

“How’s it going?” Max asked the man in the leather jacket. “Did you ever find your dog?” His voice was grim.

The gunman said something under his breath and Andrew scowled.

Max took a step toward him. “Put the safety on the gun, friend, lay it on the ground and kick it under Jill’s car. And then put your hands on your head.”

The man kept the gun pointed at Max.

Max moved his hand higher and put his thumb on the trigger.

Every nerve in Jill’s body twanged as the scene in front of her unfolded like a surreal art movie with villains, guns, and her dark-haired lover. Max, with his past full of secrets, had a look in his eye that said he would shoot if the man did not do what he said.

She inhaled and wondered for a fleeting moment who she should be more afraid of.

“Do what he says, Irv,” Andrew said.

The man clicked the safety, put the gun on the ground, and kicked it across the floor. Slowly he folded his hands on top of his red hair.

For a moment no one said anything.

“Why don’t you and your buddy take off, Andrew. I think Jill meant it when she said she didn’t want you on her property.”

“We can’t let them leave!” Jill said. “We should call the police.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Andrew said. “I would like to be here to see your boyfriend arrested.”

Jill met Max’s eyes. He still held the gun.
What should I do? Can I trust you?

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” Max’s face hardened. “Innocent men don’t fear the cops.”

“Here, drink this.” Max set a cup of steaming tea in front of Jill.

She was huddled in a kitchen chair, a blanket thrown over her shoulders. She was shaking so hard she sloshed tea out of the mug as she brought it to her lips. She took a gulp and looked at Max.

His expression was calm. “You going to be okay? I locked the garage door. But I’m sure those two aren’t coming back.”

“You’re sure we should have let them go?”

“I’m sure Denton’s man has a permit for the gun. And he said he found the garage open. What would the police arrest them for?”

Jill frowned. He’s right. Maybe the police would have arrested Max, however. Andrew didn’t sound like he was bluffing about a warrant being issued for him.

Where the hell did Max get a gun? And why?

Jill took another sip, her hands gripping the warm stoneware. “How much did you hear of Andrew’s story?”

“Enough to know Ben Pierce was murdered. How long have you known that?”

She swallowed and focused on her mug. “For a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You don’t remember Ben. You don’t even remember me. Why would I have told you?”

“I thought we were growing closer.” Max blinked. “I thought I was getting to know you, but right now I don’t feel like I do.”

“Join the club.” There was more hurt in that comment than she wanted to reveal. And she saw that Max heard it.

“What can I do to make you trust me like you once did?” he asked.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “You seem to forget what happened to me sometimes. How you dumped me without a word of explanation. I was devastated, particularly because I felt like a fool, like I was blindsided.”

“Jill, I said the first night I understood that. And how sorry I am . . .”

“Stop.” She raised her trembling hand. “I know you didn’t hurt me on purpose fifteen years ago. I know that with my brain.” She rested her hand on her chest. “But in my heart, the wound is still tender. Raw. What I can’t get past is that, once you were well, that you didn’t think to reach out to the college, and ask them to help you reconnect with your friends.”

“I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you had, I might never have married Andrew.” Max hung his head and sighed. “I can’t undo the past. I would if I could.”

So would I
, Jill thought. “What made you decide come over here tonight?”

“I was uneasy after seeing that guy in your driveway the other night. I thought I would drive by, maybe park the car for a while. Make sure you weren’t disturbed when you came back from seeing Carly.”

“You weren’t planning to knock on my door?”

“I have some self-control, but I won’t lie. I would have if everything seemed normal.”

“So we could have sex?”

His eyes narrowed. “So I could make love to you.”

“Nice words.” She turned her head. “I mean those words.”

She shook her head.

“You and I have a lot of work to do. I’m sorry I’ve rushed things,” Max said. “I’ve not considered how big a deal the past still is. But I’m right here. Talk to me.”

As usual, when things hurt too much to think about, Jill pushed them away. She pointed at the counter. “Where did you get that gun?” The pistol lay gleaming on the granite, as threatening as a rattlesnake.

“I travel with it.”

“What? How do you do that? Are citizens from other countries even allowed to get on planes coming to the US if they are armed?”

“I keep it in my checked luggage. It’s legal if you have a permit from your country.” Max’s eyes darkened. “Which I have.”

“Why?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

She set the mug down with a bang. Her shivering stopped, but she felt as if her arms were weighted down.
I’m in shock.
She remembered another time her body’s aftermath reaction to the adrenalin rush that came from a near-brush with disaster.

It was the night a decade ago when Andrew Denton had pulled a gun out and waved it around, the night she had shot him.

“Don’t you dare tell me you can’t discuss something that important. What the hell job do you really have if you’ve got a permit for a gun? You said you’re a financial consultant, and trust fund investor for touchy-feely causes. Are you carrying a gun because you have millions of dollars in cash in your suitcase?”

“Please try and calm down.”

“Do not tell me to calm down.” Her eyes blazed. “This makes me rethink everything Andrew said about you.”

“Does it? Do you think I killed Ben Pierce?” His voice was steely.

She drew back. “No. I don’t think that. But were you in France when he was killed?”

“I am in France many days during any given month. Do you know what day Ben Pierce was killed?” He stepped closer to her. “Or why? It didn’t sound to me like anything Andrew was saying to you was much of a surprise.”