"Paranoia is healthy if there really is someone after you," I said.
"Me, I'm beginning to think the guy was wacky," Marino replied.
I did not care about their theories. "I smelled cyanide in the morgue," I reminded them as my patience wore thinner.
"He didn't gas himself before going into the river, or he would have been dead when he hit the water."
"You smelled cyanide," Wesley said, pointedly. "No one else did, and we don't have tox results yet."
"What are you implying, that he drowned himself?" I stared at him.
"I don't know."
"I saw nothing to indicate drowning," I said.
"Do you always see indications in drownings?" he reasonably asked. "I thought drownings were notoriously difficult, explaining why expert witnesses from South Florida are often flown in to help with such cases."
"I began my career in South Florida and am considered an expert witness in drownings," I sharply said.
We continued arguing outside on the sidewalk by his car because I wanted him to take me home so we could finish our fight. The moon was vague, the nearest streetlight a block away, and we could not see each other well.
"For God's sake, Kay, I was not implying that you don't know what you're doing," he was saying.
"You most certainly were." I was standing by the driver's door as if the car were mine and I was about to leave in it. "You're picking on me. You're acting like an ass."
"We're investigating a death," he said in that steady tone of his. "This is not the time or place for anything to be taken personally."
"Well, let me tell you something, Benton, people aren't machines. They do take things personally."
"And that's really what this is all about." He moved beside me and unlocked the door. "You're reacting personally because of me. I'm not sure this was a good idea."
Locks rushed up. "Maybe I shouldn't have come here today." He slid into the driver's seat. "But I felt it was important. I was trying to do the right thing and thought you would do the same."
I walked around to the other side and got in, and wondered why he had not opened my door when he usually did. Suddenly, I was very weary and afraid I might cry.
"It is important, and you did do the right thing," I said.
"A man is dead. I not only believe he was murdered but think he might have been caught up in something bigger that I fear may be very ugly. I don't think he deleted his own computer files and disposed of all backups because that would imply he knew he was going to die."
"Yes. It would imply suicide."
"Which this case is not."
We looked at each other in the dark.
"I think someone entered his house late the night of his death."
"Someone he knew."
"Or someone who knew someone else who had access.
Like a colleague or close friend, or a significant other. As for keys to get in, his are missing."
"You think this has to do with the New Zionists." He was beginning to mellow.
"I'm afraid of that. And someone is warning me to back off."
"That would implicate the Chesapeake police."
"Maybe not the entire department," I said. "Maybe just Roche.
"If what you're saying is true, he's superficial in this, an outer layer far removed from the core. His interest in you is a separate issue, I suspect."
"His only interest is to intimidate, to bully," I said.
"And therefore, I suspect it is related."
Wesley got quiet, looking out the windshield, and for a moment I indulged myself and stared at him.
Then he turned to me. "Kay, has Dr. Mant ever said anything about being threatened?"
"Not to me. But I don't know if he would say anything.
Especially if he were frightened."
"Of what? That's what I'm having a very hard time imagining," he said as he started the car and pulled out onto the street. "If Eddings were linked to the New Zionists, then how could that possibly connect to Dr. Mant?"
I did not know, and was quiet as he drove.
He spoke again. "Any possibility your British colleague simply skipped town? Do you know for a fact that his mother died?"
I thought of my Tidewater morgue supervisor, who had quit before Christmas without giving notice or a reason.
Then Mant suddenly had left, too.
"I know only what he told me," I said. "But I have no reason to think he is lying."
"When does your other deputy chief come back, the one out on maternity leave?"
"She just had her baby."
"Well, that's a little hard to fake," he said.
We were turning on Malvern, and the rain was tiny pinpricks against the glass. Welling up inside me were words I could not say, and when we turned on Cary Street I began to feel desperate. I wanted to tell Wesley that we had made the right decision, but ending a relationship doesn't end feelings. I wanted to inquire after Connie, his wife. I wanted to invite him into my home as I had done in the past, and ask him why he never called me anymore. Old Locke Lane was without light as we followed it toward the river, and he drove slowly in low gear.
"Are you going back to Fredericksburg tonight?" I asked.
He was silent, then said, "Connie and I are getting a divorce."
I made no reply.
"It's a long story and will probably be a rather long drawn-out messy thing. Thank God, at least, the kids are pretty much grown." He rolled down his window and the guard waved us through.
"Benton, I'm very sorry," I said, and his BMW was loud on my empty, wet street.
"Well, you probably could say I got what I deserved.
She's been seeing another man for the better part of a year, and I was clueless. Some profiler I am, right?"
"Who is it?"
"He's a contractor in Fredericksburg and was doing some work on the house."
"Does she know about us?" I almost could not ask, for I had always liked Connie and was certain the truth would make her hate me.
We turned into my driveway and he did not answer until we had parked near my front door.
"I don't know." He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands on the wheel. "She's probably heard rumors, but she really doesn't listen to rumors, much less believe them." He paused. "She knows we've spent a lot of time together, taken trips, that sort of thing. But I really suspect she thinks that's solely because of work."
"I feel awful about all of this."
He said nothing.
"Are you still at home?" I asked.
"She wanted to move out," he replied. "She moved into an apartment where I guess she and Doug can regularly meet."
"That's the contractor's name."
His face was hard as he stared out the windshield. I reached over and gently took one of his hands.
"Look," I said quietly. "I want to help in any way I can. But you'll have to tell me what I can do."
He glanced at me, and for an instant his eyes shone with tears that I believed were for her. He still loved his wife, and though I understood, I did not want to see it.
"I can't let you do much for me." He cleared his throat.
"Right now especially. For pretty much the next year. This guy she's with likes money and knows I have some, you know, from my family. I don't want to lose everything."
"I don't see how you can, in light of what she's done."
"It's complicated. I have to be careful. I want my children to still care about me, to respect me." He looked at me and withdrew his hand. "You know how I feel. Please try to just leave it at that."
"Did you know about her in December, when we decided to stop- He interrupted me, "Yes. I knew."
"I see." My voice was tight. "I wish you could have told me. It might have made it easier."
"I don't think anything could have made it easier."
"Good night, Benton," I said as I got out of his car, and I did not turn around to watch him drive away.
Inside, Lucy was playing Melissa Etheridge, and I was glad my niece was here and that there was music in the house. I forced myself to not think about him, as if I could walk into a different room in my mind and lock him out.