The Cabin by Carla Neggers Page B

rich woods. A curving staircase led
    up to the second floor. There was a tiny, cramped, old

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    elevator, but Susanna had a sudden image of it getting
    stuck between floors with just her and Jack in there. She
    started up the stairs, leading the way, feeling his eyes
    on her as she moved quickly, unbuttoning her coat. She
    was hot, self-conscious, trying to regroup. He’d had
    time to get used to the idea of seeing her—to plot his
    strategy, the approach he’d take. She’d been caught off
    guard. It was her own damn fault. She should have
    known that message would get him on a plane.
    She took off her coat on the second flight and slung
    it over one arm, her scarf falling on the step. Jack
    scooped it up, tucking it back in with her coat. Every
    nerve ending she had seemed to be on fire. She picked
    up her pace, rushing up the third flight of stairs. She
    could hear his boots click as he maintained a steady pace
    behind her.
    She couldn’t get a decent breath. She staggered down
    the hall to her office, disgusted with herself. She did the
    stairs all the time. She ran, she lifted weights, she did
    yoga and tai chi. She was in good shape. It wasn’t the
    exertion that had left her breathless—it was having her
    husband on her heels.
    “This is it,” she said, as casually as she could man-
    age, and unlocked her office door, pushing it open. She
    motioned for him to go in ahead of her. “After you.”
    He gave her one of his quick, professional scans, but
    the twitch at the corners of his mouth was disconcert-
    ingly unprofessional. He was reading her breathlessness
    for what it was—him. But there was something else in
    his eyes, a hardness she hadn’t noticed before. He
    walked into her office, and she shut the door behind her.

    The Cabin
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    It was quiet, everything in place. Tess Haviland could
    come in here and notice that her friend’s life was out of
    balance, but Jack wouldn’t. He wouldn’t know what to
    look for, not here.
    “I can take your coat,” Susanna said.
    “No.” He looked back at her. “I won’t be staying long.”
    He was angry. She could see it now. On the one hand,
    she felt guilty because, really, she shouldn’t have left
    that message last night. On the other hand—an angry
    Jack wouldn’t want to tear her clothes off and make love
    to her on her new leather couch.
    Not necessarily, anyway.
    She groaned silently at herself. What was the matter
    with her? She flung her coat over a chair and adjusted
    her suit jacket, making sure her blouse wasn’t askew or
    her lacy silk camisole showing.
    Jack set his bag on the wood floor, placed his hat on
    top of it and walked over to the windows. He glanced
    down at the cemetery. “You like working with a bunch
    of dead people at your feet?”
    “John Hancock’s buried down there. You know,
    hero of the American Revolution, former governor of
    Massachusetts. Paul Revere, Sam Adams. Benjamin
    Franklin’s parents are down there, too. The victims of
    the Boston Massacre.” She pushed her hair back with
    both hands, finally catching her breath. “Mother
    Goose.”
    “You and I visited Old Granary when we were in col-
    lege.” He glanced back at her, nothing about his expres-
    sion softening. “In the fall.”
    “I remember. And we took the girls when they were

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    in kindergarten and we were up visiting Gran over
    spring break.”
    He didn’t respond. She wondered if he was remem-
    bering that day with the girls skipping out ahead of
    them amidst the shaded gravestones, or an earlier day,
    when they were students, madly in love—or neither
    day. Maybe he was just seething over her midnight call
    about Alice Parker.
    “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, knowing he’d
    follow her train of thought. “That’s why I left a message
    on your voice mail. It was late—”
    “When did you find out about Alice?”
    “Last night. Jack, I called you as soon as I could—”
    “What