The Cabin. Carla Neggers

had a fun idea, but no real business plan, no profits—and wildly expensive tastes. Now he wanted to start over. With Susanna’s help.

      “Destin...”

      He held up a hand. “No, wait. Hang on. I’m not here to pester you about money.” He grinned sheepishly, as if he’d known he’d pushed her too far with his various comeback schemes. He was charming, energetic and incredibly self-centered, with a sense of entitlement that knew no bounds. He had on an expensive camel coat left over from his high-on-the-hog days. “I just wanted to tell you I followed your advice and wrote up a business plan. The whole nine yards.”

      “Good for you, Destin.”

      He scratched the back of his neck, eyeing her. “I was thinking you could take a look at it. As a favor.”

      Susanna shook her head, adamant. “You know I’m not getting involved in this project. I’ve told you. This isn’t what I do, even if I thought it was a good idea to help out someone from Gran’s neighborhood.”

      “One little look?”

      “No. I’m sorry. I can recommend people—”

      “I can’t pay anyone. Come on, Suze, you know the score. I need to do a deal, barter a little. I’ve downsized as much as I can. Hell, I’m about to have my BMW repossessed.”

      How he’d ever pulled together the attention span and backing to start a company in the first place was beyond Susanna. Luck, guts, flare, charisma, just enough skill. If he’d come to her sooner, she might have been able to help him save some of his personal wealth when the dot-com craze came crashing back to earth, but the same relentless optimism that had drawn Destin Wright into starting a risky business made him stick with it too long. He just hadn’t seen the bottom coming. When he hit, he hit hard.

      “I just need some angel money,” he said, unable to resist.

      “If you have a good idea, you’ll get it. But not from me.”

      “A hundred grand would get me off the ground—”

      “Not a dime, Destin.” She’d learned from hard experience that she had to be very clear and very straight with him. Subtle didn’t work with Destin. “I’m not changing my mind.”

      “You could be a founding partner. Suze, you’re bored, you know you are. This’d be exciting, a new company, your business experience and smarts hooked up with my ideas and energy.” He paused, obviously waiting to see if his words were having any impact on her. When they didn’t, he sighed. “Okay, okay. You’ve got a full well, and you don’t want me dipping in my rusting, leaking bucket. I understand.” He was remarkably good-humored for a man who’d been told no for at least the fourth time. He grinned suddenly. “I’ll just have to work harder to convince you. If you could take two seconds and peek at my business plan—”

      “I can offer you cookies and a cup of bad coffee,” Susanna said. “That’s it.”

      He dropped a shiny black folder on her desk. “If you get a chance,” he said, leaving it at that. He started for the door. “I’ll see you around the neighborhood. You know, people are starting to talk about how much money you have. I heard one guy say he thought it was at least five million.”

      “People like to talk.”

      “If you’re worth five million, you wouldn’t miss a hundred grand, even if you threw it down the toilet, and I’d—”

      “Destin.” She shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh. “Look, I’ll talk to some people. If this idea doesn’t work out, another one will. You’ll be okay.”

      But he barely heard her. He hadn’t come for a pep talk from her. He wanted free advice and money. He headed out, and Susanna sank back against her chair, wrung out. Destin never knew when to quit—and sometimes she wondered if she quit too soon.

      She thought of Jack, what he might be doing late on a Thursday afternoon. Would he quit on her? Had she already quit on him?

      Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and she quickly shut down her computer and packed up her briefcase, turned off the coffeepot. It had been a lousy day, but at least tonight was chowder night at Jim’s Place.

      Five

      Jack unlocked the door to his empty house and stood in the kitchen, staring at a picture of Maggie and Ellen on the refrigerator. He’d taken it over the holidays. They had their midwinter break coming up, but they were spending it in the Adirondacks at Susanna’s new cabin. Snowshoeing. Cross-country skiing. “Freezing our butts off,” Maggie had said less than enthusiastically in their last conversation.

      He could join them. He had that open invitation from his wife to see the cabin.

      He smiled, thinking of what Susanna would do if he turned up out of the blue with a pair of snowshoes strapped to his back. He’d made it clear it was up to her to come home and figure things out here, not up to him to go there. It wasn’t just a matter of digging in his heels and forcing her to toe the line—it made sense. Maggie, Ellen and Iris would all be distractions. He and Susanna needed time alone, on familiar turf.

      So far, that strategy wasn’t working. Whatever time they’d managed to have alone during this endless stalemate, they’d spent in bed. That suited him, but it wasn’t getting the job done—Susanna was still living with her grandmother in Boston. And he had to admit he was using his work to distract himself, taking the hardest cases, working the longest hours.

      He got a beer from the refrigerator and went out onto the patio and found a spot in the late afternoon sun. There’d been nothing on Alice Parker since she’d cleared out of San Antonio a month ago. Her former police chief boss said he hadn’t heard from her. She had no family left in the area. Her parents were drug addict transients who hadn’t been heard from in years. They’d abandoned Alice to the care of her paternal grandmother when she was twelve, a good woman by all accounts, but she died five years ago.

      “She’s probably feeding the kangaroos in Australia by now,” the chief had told Jack.

      He wasn’t so sure. Alice Parker had unfinished business in south Texas, and he’d be happier knowing where she was.

      Jack stared up at the vibrant, golden sunset. He supposed he should get some supper, but he didn’t want to move. He wanted to sit here a while and think about the Rachel McGarrity murder investigation, Beau McGarrity, Alice Parker, a contaminated crime scene, a fabricated witness and his wife.

      He had a mind to check with a travel agent in the morning and see about flying into the Adirondacks. What was the closest airport? Albany? Montreal? Burlington, Vermont? He’d rent a car, and he’d drive out to Blackwater Lake, find this damn cabin and surprise the hell out of one Susanna Dunning Galway.

      * * *

      Susanna slid onto a stool at Jim Haviland’s bar and ordered a bowl of clam chowder. The girls were with friends, and Gran had already been in and was home watching a game show, still trying to decide whether she’d come up to Blackwater Lake with them on Saturday.

      “Destin was in earlier asking for you,” Jim said, setting the steaming chowder in front of Susanna.

      She groaned. “I hope you told him I never come in here anymore. He’s driving me nuts. I’m tempted to invest in this new idea of his just to shut him up.”

      “Is it a good idea?”

      “I don’t know. I won’t let him tell me about it. Jim, I just can’t give him the kind of money he’s asking for—”

      He held up a big hand. “Hey, you don’t have to explain to me.”

      She sighed. “Destin’s not a bad guy.”

      “He’s an asshole,” Davey Ahearn blurted from the other end of the bar. He shrugged, apologetic, when Susanna looked at him. “Excuse my language. Ask Destin how much he gave back to the neighborhood when