Out of Character. Diana Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ because of Kristen’s death.”

      “You never overreact, which means it isn’t stupid. So talk. Please.”

      Jillian set her glass on the mahogany end table and told Andy about being shoved tonight, as well as her earlier sense of being followed and that someone had been in her apartment.

      Andy listened, his face expressionless.

      “I know I didn’t imagine being pushed. Everyone had stopped for the signal, so it wasn’t an accident. Besides, it was a shove, not a bump. Coming on top of the chairlift and my car…” She rubbed her cheeks. “Do you think I’m being paranoid?”

      Andy tapped his chin with the knuckles of his fisted hand, the familiar gesture comforting. “God, I hope so. To be safe, let’s assume you’re not. Do you have any idea why anyone would want to hurt you? Anything happen at work lately?”

      “Nothing unusual.”

      “You didn’t get someone’s mail or e-mails or strange phone calls?”

      “Nothing.”

      Andy leaned back, his fingers laced on his lap. Despite his relaxed posture, he was completely focused on her problem. His deceptively low-key approach was an asset in his job as a prosecutor, and fooled many defense attorneys. “The first unusual thing was the shooting on the chairlift, right?”

      “That I noticed.”

      “What did you do in Keystone?”

      “What people always do on ski vacations. Ski and eat.”

      “The people Kristen was going to meet that night, do you know them?”

      “I met them that afternoon. Kristen went to law school with one of the couples, and the others were their friends. We skied with them during the day, then all decided to meet for dinner, but I was too tired, like I told you.” She drained her wineglass and set it on the table.

      “Did you meet anyone skiing?”

      “I took a class the first day.” Jillian pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders.

      “Was there anyone strange in the class?”

      Clutching the afghan together with one hand, she picked the wine bottle up off the wagon wheel table and refilled her glass. “No one. Except maybe Mark.”

      “Who?”

      “Mark Jefferson. I was with him when I was shot.” She carefully returned the bottle to the table.

      “He was strange?”

      “No, but after the shooting, he disappeared.” She couldn’t look at Andy and talk about Mark. She picked up her glass and contemplated its ruby depths.

      “Disappeared?”

      She swirled the wine like a serious connoisseur, trying to get it as high as possible on the sides of the glass without spilling. “Not exactly disappeared. I assume he gave the cops a statement, but he said he’d call me, and he never did. The manager of his townhouse said he’d checked out, even though he’d told me he was staying the week.” She kept her eyes on her glass. “Kristen and I decided the shooting convinced him to go home, maybe because he’s married.”

      “How well did you know him?” Andy asked sharply.

      “I’d met him at a lesson the day before and had dinner with him that evening.” She’d never lied to Andy, even by omission, but he didn’t need the details, especially if he had feelings for her.

      Andy didn’t pursue it. “Did you run into Mark the next evening or had you arranged to meet him?”

      “I arranged to meet him. Do you think this has something to do with him?”

      “Disappearing is definitely suspicious. What’s he do?”

      “He’s an accountant in New York City. He said he works for a small firm, but I don’t know its name.” Her fingers cramped around the stem of her glass. She set the glass on the table and finally looked at Andy. “You don’t think he’s involved in anything illegal, do you?”

      “Maybe. Or maybe he discovered something someone wants to make sure he doesn’t disclose.”

      “But why would someone blow up my car and shove me in front of a bus? I haven’t seen him since the shooting.” She shook her head. “It must be something else.”

      “Unless the shooter thinks you can identify him?”

      “I doubt it. It was nearly dark, and I was on the wrong side of the chairlift.”

      “I’ll contact the Keystone police and see if they’ve learned anything more about the shooting.” Andy refilled his glass.

      She made herself say the words. “I could call Mark and see if he knows anything, or if he’s had any trouble since he left Keystone.” No matter how logical, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

      “He might have been the target,” Andy said.

      “Maybe he’ll tell me why.” Jillian massaged her temples. “I should think of a reason to be calling in case his wife answers. She might wonder how I know him.” She dropped her hands. “I can’t believe I got involved in something like this.”

      “We don’t know you got involved in anything,” Andy said. “Besides, we all make mistakes. I’m certainly an authority on that.” He sipped his wine then set down his glass. “How about if I call Mark? I can pretend I’m officially involved in the investigation and have some questions.”

      “I’d appreciate that. But he never gave me his cell phone number.”

      “I’ll bet I can find him.”

      Jillian tossed the afghan onto the sofa and followed Andy into his study, a small room furnished with modern office furniture in black metal and cherry wood. Andy sat on the black leather desk chair and woke the computer. “Do you know what part of the city he lives in?”

      “He never said.”

      Jillian watched over Andy’s shoulder as he went into a bookmarked directory and entered Mark’s name, then waited. Two Mark Jeffersons lived in the New York City area, one in Brooklyn, the other in Queens, but both were in their twenties.

      “He said his family’s in Connecticut,” Jillian said. “Maybe he lives there. Or in New Jersey.”

      But Andy didn’t find a Mark Jefferson living within commuting distance of New York City in either state. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with accountants.” He typed in more information. “Still nothing. Firms and companies don’t always list their employees, so I’ll pull up a list of CPA’s in New York state. Why don’t you get the wine?”

      Jillian went to the living room. Andy had no doubt figured out she’d done more than have dinner with Mark, and she felt guilty. Although why should she? For all she knew, Andy had been with Tiffany or some other woman that night. She picked up the wine bottle and carried СКАЧАТЬ