The room with high-ceilings was paneled floor-to-ceiling and had local art hanging on its mahogany walls. What started as a bakery the 1970's when Jack first discovered Ocean Beach, had expanded to include a large dining room and patio area where vacationers gathered for strong coffee and casual breakfasts.
Rachel Doering, the owner of Rachel's Bakery, greeted McCoy warmly. After exchanging pleasantries, McCoy took his coffee and danish to a corner table facing the patio. Keeping his sunglasses and fishing hat on, he scanned the rows of umbrella covered tables and chairs.
The woman across from Weaver was concealing herself as well. The floppy hat and glasses made identification difficult. McCoy just wasn't sure. It had been too many years since he'd seen Diana Hawthorne. He remembered her bewildering revelation "I did it for my man". He could still recall the shock and revulsion he'd felt realizing the woman he thought he'd known so well was a complete stranger to him. A stranger who had deliberately an sent Andrew Dillard to prison out of misplaced loyalty and an absurd desire for McCoy's gratitude. Thirteen years and he still couldn't quite believe he could have opened his life and heart up to someone so deceitful, so needy.
He watched as Weaver handed the disc to the other woman, who promptly slipped it in the pocket of her grey suede jacket.
"Is this seat taken?"
McCoy looked up at the tall brunette. Dressed causally in a white denim pencil skirt, matching cotton tee shirt, and cranberry shawl collared cardigan, the bronzed woman was striking.
"Thank you for giving up your Saturday morning for this, Ms. Jeffries," McCoy said standing briefly as she set her coffee cup down while she took in the seat beside him.
"Not a problem. I've been trying to get Joe to take me to the shore since the weather turned nice," she joked. She extended a hand. "By the way, its Monique."
McCoy held the smooth, firm hand for a moment.
"Jack," he replied.
Jeffries glanced out the window as she took as sip of her coffee. She absentmindedly ran a hand through the mane of long tight curls, as the pale green eyes returned to McCoy.
"I see you found our girls."
"Can't be sure whether the one in the grey is Diana. With the hat and glasses…"
"I had our guy in Westchester run some plates - the tan Cutlass in the lot belongs to Hawthorne."
McCoy swore softly, shaking his head.
"All these years…what the hell could have possessed her to take up with someone like Samantha Weaver? To break in to my house…to tape…what the hell is she thinking?"
Jeffries could see the frustration in McCoy's face. She had met Jack McCoy briefly at Joe Fontana's retirement party. When Fontana had called her in the wee hours of the morning Jeffries had rolled her eyes, smirking as her partner filled her in on the call he'd received from Manhattan's second in command at the District Attorney's office. In the back of her mind she had thought McCoy a fool to have put himself in such a risky situation in the first place.
"Just be glad you have the real disc and not those two," Jeffries said keeping her tone neutral.
McCoy glanced at her, then quickly away.
"That disc is one thing, being in my house…my ex wife...my daughter could walked in when ever Diana…,"his voice suddenly stopped.
He flushed slightly, embarrassed as he realized the extent to which Fontana must have briefed his partner.
Jeffries could see his genuine concern for his family. She flushed with embarrassment, herself. Who am I to be judging anyone, she thought impatiently. I was forced out of Special Victims because of a damned one night stand… Jeffries pondered the night that changed her career path forever. The night she slept with a suspect in an on going investigation. A night that would eventually cost the former SVU detective the job she had loved and worked so hard to attain.
"Mr. McCoy? Jack. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Whatever her reasons, you have the upper hand now."
McCoy looked up into eyes that seemed to have softened.
"You must think I'm a real idiot."
Jeffries shook her head.
"Last night wasn't your finest moment. Nothing more nothing less. It certainly doesn't justify whatever these two are up to. We're just going to have to hope Joe lifts some good prints back at your place. We can use that disc to try to intimidate one or both of them into a confession, but you're a D A. You know better than I do the more hard evidence we have, the better the chances will be of a conviction in court."