Mercy Falls

  They hit Evanston around five-thirty and fifteen minutes later pulled up in front of Mal and Rose’s duplex. There was a faint glow in the eastern sky, but under the trees on the street where Cork parked, night still held solid. Most of the homes were dark. Upstairs in the duplex, a light shone behind the curtains.

  Mal opened the door and hugged Cork in welcome. Rose was right behind him.

  “Anything?” he asked. He’d checked in by phone only an hour earlier, but he still hoped that good news might have arrived.

  “Nothing,” Mal said.

  “This is Dina Willner.” Cork stepped aside. “She’s been helping with the investigation in Aurora. She offered to come along and make sure I didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

  “Won’t you come in?” Rose said to her warmly. “I’ve got coffee.”

  “Thanks. I could use a cup.”

  Inside, Cork asked, “The kids?”

  “Asleep,” Mal said. “The girls have been up most of the night but they finally conked out a couple of hours ago.”

  “Let them sleep,” Cork said.

  They sat around the kitchen table, hunched over the coffee Rose poured. Jo’s note lay in front of Cork. He could almost hear her voice in her carefully handwritten script.

  “I feel so helpless,” Rose confessed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Let’s start with what we know,” Cork said. “She left to meet Ben Jacoby, but before he called to cancel. Did you save Jacoby’s message?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me hear it.”

  Rose brought him the phone and punched in the number for voice mail. She tapped in a security code, then a code to replay the message, and handed the phone to Cork.

  “Jo, it’s Ben. I apologize, but something extremely important has come up that I have to take care of right away. I won’t be able to meet you. I’m hoping you haven’t left yet, but just in case you have, I’m going to call Phillip and let him know to expect you. You can certainly leave the painting, but I’d much rather you gave it to me personally. Again, I’m sorry to bail on you at the last minute. Honestly, this is business that can’t wait. I’ll be in touch.”

  Cork handed the phone back to Rose.

  “Time on the message is five-fourteen. And the note Jo wrote said she left at five-ten.”

  “Yes,” Rose said.

  “So he just missed her.” He looked at Dina. “You said you updated Jacoby about Stone. When did you talk to him?”

  “As soon as we came out of the Boundary Waters. Later I gave him a full update on what we learned from Lizzie Fineday.”

  “About Eddie’s murder?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know. Around five, I’d guess.”

  “And when you talked to him, you had the feeling things seemed to fall into place for him, right?”

  “That’s the feeling I got, yes.”

  “A few minutes later, he calls Jo, cancels their meeting, and rushes off to take care of something that can’t wait. Something that had to do with Eddie’s murder?”

  Dina nodded thoughtfully. “If I were you, that’s the first question I’d ask when I see him.”

  “Second,” Cork said. “The first thing I’m going to ask is ‘Where the hell is Jo?’”

  He stood up and took his mug to the coffeepot on the counter.

  “Okay,” he said, pouring himself a refill. “She was headed to Jacoby’s place. He has two residences. A townhouse near downtown Chicago and a home on Sheridan Avenue in Winnetka. Her note says she’ll be gone less than an hour. I’d say that eliminates the townhouse. During rush hour, it would take at least that long just to get there. So I’m betting it was the house on Sheridan.”

  “The uniforms who talked to Phillip said she hadn’t been there.”

  “Maybe Phillip lied.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s the only solid lead we have, so that’s where I’m starting.” He grabbed his yellow windbreaker from where he’d draped it over the chair back.

  “What are you going to do?” Dina asked.

  “Pound on the door, or on the kid, until I get some answers.”

  When Cork pulled off Sheridan onto the private brick drive that led to Ben Jacoby’s palatial home, the sky along the horizon above Lake Michigan burned with a warm orange glow that was dawn. The trees of the estate, a mix of yews and Catawba and maples, were eerily quiet, and Cork, as he stepped from the Pathfinder, realized that there were no birds in them and wondered where they’d all gone.

  Curtains were drawn across the windows. The panes reflected an empty sky. At the end of the drive, which circled a small fountain edged with dewy grass, Cork spotted the garage doors, three of them, each with a row of glass panes roughly at eye level. He walked to the doors, Dina a step behind him, and peered in. It was an area large enough to accommodate four vehicles. Currently it was full. There was a Mercedes, a Jaguar with a smashed front headlight, a Lincoln Navigator, and a blue Toyota Camry with Minnesota plates.

  “She’s here.”

  “And that’s Ben’s Mercedes,” Dina said.

  He went back to the Pathfinder, opened the glove box, and took out his Smith & Wesson .38 Police Special and a box of cartridges. He filled the cylinder and snapped it shut.

  Dina watched him. “You’re not going in shooting.”

  “If this isn’t a kidnapping, I don’t know what is.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “Cork, what if she’s here because she wants to be?”

  “If that were true, she would have called. She wouldn’t want Rose or the children to worry. Or me.”

  He approached the front door under the portico and tried the knob. Locked. He stepped back, looked left and right, turned toward the south corner of the house.

  “I’m going around in back, see if I can find an open door,” he said in a low voice.

  “Why don’t we just ring the doorbell?”

  “You wait here,” he said. “And don’t ring the doorbell. Not yet.”

  He started across the lawn, the heavy dew soaking his shoes and the cuffs of his pants. He tried to move carefully, to keep his breathing steady while he battled fear and a mounting rage. Though his brain was fried from exhaustion and worry, he kept focused on the one thing he knew absolutely: Jo was somewhere inside this house, and she was not there because she wanted to be.

  He turned the corner and lost sight of Dina. Trimmed bushes grew against the length of the house and Catawba branches reached above him. It seemed as though he’d entered a long, dim hallway that opened at the end onto the back lawn.

  He’d gone less than halfway when shots rang out, two of them. Without thinking, Cork dove for the cover of the bushes and lay in the dirt, gripping his .38. He scanned what he could see of the estate, which wasn’t much. In his mind, he replayed the sound of the shots. They’d come from ahead, from somewhere behind the house, out of his line of vision. He decided that they were probably not meant for him.

  The quiet had returned immediately, pressing so heavily on Cork that he felt as if he were underwater. He forced himself to move and in a crouch went forward. At the back corner, he peered around the edge of the house. The yard was empty. He saw a pool, a small pool house, stairs that led up to a veranda. A black robe hung over the back of a lounge chair beside the pool.

  He hugged the wall, edging his way toward the stairs. He finally pushed from the house and swung his revolver toward the veranda, which proved to be as empty as the yard. He looked at the pool, at the rose-colored stain spreading across the water. He crept nearer and bent over the edge. The body lay on the bottom, eyes closed, two dark plumes rising from somewhere underneath, near the middle of the back.

  He didn’t hear her but felt her presence. He turned his head and there she was, gripping a white robe closed over her breast, her hair a tangle, her feet bare, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.

  “Oh, Cork, no,” she w
hispered.

  He was so happy to see her, he wanted to cry.

  “Jo,” he said, “I came to bring you home.”

  48

  “HEY, CORK. Long time no see.”

  Adam Gabriel closed the door and offered Cork his hand. He stood six feet tall and was slender, with curly blond hair and a serious look in his face.

  “What are you doing here, Adam? I thought you were with Highland Park.”

  They were in an interview room of the Winnetka Village Police.

  “I’m also assigned to NORTAF. We float all over.”

  “That’s right. I remember Boomer saying that.”

  “Good old Boomer.” Gabriel allowed himself a brief smile, then sat down across the table from Cork.

  “Good to see a familiar face,” Cork said.

  “They’ve been rough on you?”

  “Just doing their jobs. You’ve got yours, too. They send you in to play good cop?”

  Gabriel gestured toward the Styrofoam cup that held coffee, which was cold now. “Want something besides that?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look like you could use sleep. I understand you drove all night.”

  “A lot of ground between me and Jo to cover. I’d love to be with her right now.”

  “She’s in good hands, Cork. With someone from SANE. Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner program.”

  “I know what it is.”

  “Sure.”

  “How’s Lucille?”

  “Back in school. Almost fifty and she’s finally finishing her degree. Never too late, huh?” He folded his hands on the table. “So this is what I understand. You came down here because Jo disappeared. You went to Jacoby’s because of the message on Rose’s phone. By the way, I didn’t know she’d moved back down here. Happy to hear she’s found a good man.”

  “We all are.”

  “So you and Willner head to Jacoby’s. You see Jo’s car in the garage, ring the bell—”

  “We didn’t ring the bell.”

  “Did you knock?”

  “No. I tried the door.”

  “Which was locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you started looking for another way in. You were on the south side of the house when you heard the shots and dove for cover in the shrubbery. Because you thought you were being shot at?”

  “That’s right.”

  He nodded in an understanding way. “Skittish. After that business on the reservation in Minnesota, it makes sense. How’s the ear?”

  “Doesn’t bother me anymore. Stitches’ll be coming out pretty soon.”

  “How long did you stay there in the shrubs?”

  “Couple minutes.”

  “No more shots?”

  “No.”

  “Then you continued to the backyard, which was empty.”

  “Except for Jacoby on the bottom of the pool.”

  “You saw no one leaving the scene?”

  “No one.”

  “You told the other detectives that you thought Jacoby was dead. You think about pulling him out, checking for a pulse?”

  “No.”

  Gabriel seemed a little troubled with that. “You know dead when you see it?”

  “Jo came from the house at the same time. I was more concerned with her.”

  “And besides, you figured it was Jacoby who’d kidnapped her, right?”

  “I didn’t want him dead. I just wanted Jo back safely.”

  “But things got out of hand. I can understand how that might happen.”

  “Look, Adam, I know you have to do this. I didn’t shoot Jacoby.”

  “But you did have a gun.”

  “Which I didn’t fire. Winnetka Police can easily confirm that. They swabbed my hands for residue. They decide to have it analyzed, it’ll show negative. But I’m sure they told you all this already.”

  “Cork, they’re searching for gloves.”

  “Gloves?” He thought about it a few seconds and understood. “They found the gun that killed him. Let me guess. A throw-down?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Adam, you know me. You know I’m not a dirty cop.”

  “I told them that. But they don’t know you, Cork. They’re looking at a guy who believed his wife had been kidnapped, who believed Jacoby was responsible, and who charged in on his own, thinking he’d save her. On top of that, he’s a guy who’s currently suspended from his duties as sheriff pending psychological evaluation.”

  Cork sat back, weary to the bone.

  “It would have helped if you’d told them about that last part.”

  “They ready to charge me?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Timing and motive are strong, but they don’t have any physical connection between you and the throw-down. Plus, you’ve been extremely cooperative.”

  “Are they going to hold me?”

  “No. But they want you to stick around for a while. You know the drill.” Gabriel breathed a deep sigh. “There’s something else, Cork. Phillip Jacoby came in a while ago with his lawyer, Lawrence Blumenthal. He’s admitted that he had sex with Jo, but says it was consensual.”

  “Consensual?” Cork almost leaped from his chair.

  “That’s his statement. He says his father came home, found them together. Jo had had too much to drink and had passed out. Jacoby was extremely upset and sent Phillip to stay with an old friend who just happened to be Lawrence Blumenthal, one of Chicago’s best defense attorneys. Blumenthal insists that Phillip was at his home when Ben Jacoby was murdered.”

  “Money makes everything so much easier, doesn’t it?” Cork said bitterly.

  “When Boomer called me yesterday, I wish I’d known what all this was about. I’d have been happy to help.”

  “That was yesterday, Adam.” He reached across the table and shook Gabriel’s hand. “And you have helped.”

  Dina Willner was waiting for him.

  “You look like the walking dead,” she said. “Why don’t I give you a ride back to your Pathfinder. We need to talk.”

  While the police were questioning Dina, one of her operatives had delivered her car to the village police station. It was a red Ferrari, and she fit into it as if she’d been born in the driver’s seat.

  “I saw Phillip at the police station, but they wouldn’t let me talk to him,” she said.

  Cork told her what he’d learned from Gabriel.

  “Consensual? That’s ludicrous.” Her voice was pitched with anger.

  “Adam says his attorney’s one of the best in Chicago.”

  “Blumenthal’s good, but Phillip’s got a history of date rape. The Jacobys hired me last year to make a Rohypnol situation go away.”

  “Do the police know that?”

  “The police know all about the Jacobys, but money’s an enormous protective moat.”

  She stopped at a light. The Ferrari purred under her like a contented lion.

  “There are things I haven’t told you, but now that Ben’s dead, I think I should.”

  The light changed. She shifted and accelerated with a roar of the powerful engine.

  “I can understand why you thought it was Ben who was responsible for Stone trying to kill you, but you’re wrong. He didn’t know anything about it. Eddie was mostly all about Eddie, except where Ben was concerned. He looked up to Ben, desperately wanted his approval, wanted to feel like they were true brothers. The trouble was, he was the kind of guy who fucked up everything he did.

  “Eddie knew about Ben and Jo. When he turned up dead and Ben went to Aurora and heard about the ambush on the reservation, he didn’t believe it was just a coincidence that Eddie was there when it happened. He was afraid Eddie might have done something stupid, like arrange the hit. I wasn’t hired just to make sure the investigation was handled correctly. I was hired to find out if what Ben feared was true.”

  “And if it was?”

  “My first priority was to make sure you and your family were safe. Then, if Eddie
was responsible, identify the person he hired for the hit and intervene discreetly. Dissuade that person any way I could and keep the Jacoby name out of it.”

  “Tall order.”

  “I’m well paid.”

  “So I was wrong about Ben Jacoby wanting my wife?”

  “I don’t know about that. Ben always struck me as a man who never had a handle on happiness. If Jo made him happy once, maybe he would have given almost anything to get her back. He might even have been just fine if it had to be over your dead body, so long as he wasn’t responsible, but he wasn’t the kind of man who’d have had you killed for it.”

  “You seem to know Jacoby pretty well.”

  “In my business, people tell me their secrets.”

  “You’re paid to keep those secrets. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Call it a moral imperative. Anyone who’d care is dead. Ben, Eddie, Stone. And with everything that’s happened to you and your family, I think you deserve to know the truth. But if you ask me to testify in court, I’ll refuse. You understand?”

  “Sure.”

  “However, I can give you the name of the girl and her family in the date rape incident. I’d bet it wouldn’t take anything at all to make them turn on the Jacobys.”

  They were on Sheridan, not far from Ben’s place.

  “So who killed him?” Cork said.

  “Until you told me about Blumenthal, I’d thought it might have been Phillip. An argument, maybe.”

  “If Blumenthal’s telling the truth, Phillip’s off the hook. From what I’ve gathered, Jacoby was probably shot with a throw-down, so that would indicate a planned killing.”

  “Ben was a powerful man. I’m sure he had enemies. Maybe his murder didn’t have anything to do with the rest of this business.”

  Cork shook his head. “Think about it. After you called him with your report on Lizzie’s interview, he canceled his meeting with Jo and went somewhere. You said it yourself, that he put something together. What was it he figured out? That might be clear if we knew who he went to see.”