Cold Dawn (16 page)

"Myrtle can run you up to the lodge," she said as she opened up the back for Ranger. "I have something I want to do."

"You're going back out to the Whittaker place to check on Bowie. I'm going with you." Nick eased up next to her and reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out her keys. "My turn to drive. It'll be fun navigating all the potholes and curves around here."

"What if I want a private moment with Bowie?"

"You can have one. I'll make myself scarce."

"Oh, sure. Make yourself scarce where? Behind a snowbank?" Ranger hopped up into the back of the Jeep. "All right, Nick. Go right ahead. Drive."

Nick had no trouble with her Jeep or the roads, not that Rose had expected he would. When they reached the Whittaker estate, he continued down to the guesthouse turnaround and pulled in next to Bowie's van.

Rose released Ranger from the back and let him run off into the snow, down to a small, frozen pond. "This is such a beautiful place," she said as Nick joined her. "I hope the Whittakers weren't here long enough to ruin it for someone else."

"People will remember the good more than the bad."

"I hope so."

"You all rose to the occasion and rooted them out."

They went around to the other side of the van. Bowie had the side door open and was rummaging in a wooden box on the floor. He stood up, watching Poe charge down to the pond with Ranger. "Maybe Ranger will rub off on him. Better than the other way around, I guess. What's up?"

"Dom said you'd be out here," Rose said.

He glanced at Nick, then at Rose again. "I haven't seen Feehan, if that's what this is about. I'm not getting sucked into this business. I want to get my stuff and be gone."

Nick watched the two dogs roughhouse with each other, but Rose knew his attention was focused on her and Bowie. She wasn't even sure why she'd come out there. Maybe Bowie had a point. Maybe she was worried he'd get sucked into whatever was going on. "Actually," she said. "I've been meaning to ask you if you'd like to help with winter fest at the lodge."

Bowie's eyebrows went up. "Quick thinking, Rose. All right. What could I do?"

"You could help with sugaring. We have trees to tap and more to do on the shack. There's an old stone fireplace you could look at for us."

He slid the van door shut. "Yeah, sure, put me to work."

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious. I can do sleigh rides, too."

Rose smiled. "I thought you'd find a way to be out of town that weekend."

"That was the old Bowie." He grinned back at her. "The new Bowie is downright sociable."

"Does that mean we'll see you at the dance at the lodge?"

"In a suit with shiny shoes?" He laughed. "Well, you never know."

"I've seen Dominique's dress. It's gorgeous. She has a great sense of style."

Nick headed onto the walk to the stone guesthouse. Poe charged for him. "Poe!" Bowie yelled. "Get your four-legged self over here!"

His dog abandoned Nick and came running. Rose made a hand signal for Ranger to come, too. He responded immediately. Bowie just shook his head in amazement, opened up the van's front passenger door and got Poe inside.

Bowie sighed and nodded toward Nick. "What's with you and this guy?"

"Nothing." As if that explained everything. "I assume you have a key to the guesthouse?"

"Yeah. I'm leaving it for the lawyers after I clear out trash and a few tools and supplies I left behind."

She followed him onto the walk and mounted the steps to the guesthouse porch. The strong winds had blown snow into the corners. Shades were pulled on the front windows.

Nick had the storm door open and tried the solid main door, which wasn't locked, either. He glanced back at Bowie. "You didn't lock up after you left this morning?"

"I never went in," Bowie said, moving to one side of Nick. "Dom distracted me when she stopped by. I only had a few minutes. I had to get out to the lake. I figured I'd come back this afternoon."

"What about Dom?" Rose asked. "Did she go in?"

"No. We both were here and gone within fifteen minutes."

"Wait out here," Nick said, entering the guesthouse.

He stiffened, stopping abruptly in the entry. Bowie grimaced. "Something's wrong," he said.

Rose slipped past him into the entry. Nick grabbed her and pulled her close to him. The guesthouse had been divided into two side-by-side apartments, the door to the one on the right half-open. She could see a sleeping bag unfurled on the hardwood floor. Arranged next to it were packets of freeze-dried camp food, a water bottle and a small camp stove.

Next to it was a metal canister of liquid fuel for the stove.

White gas.

"My stuff's all in the other apartment this morning," Bowie said, stepping inside the guesthouse. "I didn't do any work in here."

Rose eased back from Nick's embrace and turned to Bowie. "There was snow overnight," she said. "Did you see footprints when you and Dom were here this morning?"

"I don't remember. I was focused on making a quick stop and getting to work." Bowie pointed at an old, dusty glass kerosene lamp on the floor just inside the apartment. "Some sick son of a bitch set Derek on fire."

Nick directed his hard gaze at the stonemason. "If you know anything else, now's the time."

"Rumors. That's it." Bowie rubbed the back of his thick neck. "I've heard talk that Derek and Robert have been providing illegal prescription drugs to some of their ski students. Pain pills, mostly."

Rose bit back her shock. "Bowie, you're not--"

"No. I'm not involved. I told the police everything I know."

Nick pulled her even closer, his dark eyes intense. "We need to get them back out here."

Sixteen

W
ind howled down from Cameron Mountain, as if Drew Cameron himself were up there, trying to warn his only daughter--about dangers, Nick wondered, or about him? It was dark by the time they arrived back at the lodge. Small white lights draping the evergreens along the walk twinkled, casting long shadows as he and Rose headed to the main entrance.

"Do you trust Bowie?" Nick asked quietly.

Rose seem startled by his question. "Yes, I trust him. Did you think I didn't?"

"I hadn't thought about it one way or the other."

"Do you trust him?"

"I don't know him. I have no reason to trust or not trust him." Nick paused at the door and looked out at the sky, clear and black against the stars and moon. The air didn't seem as cold as last night. "Bowie and Hannah grew up together in difficult circumstances. Have you always been close to them?"

"Hannah and I have been friends since junior high. She's not that easy to get to know. Then she was so busy with school, work and raising Devin and Toby. She's very smart and driven. She and Sean have that in common."

"And Bowie?"

"He was like another big brother when we were kids. I guess he still is in a way."

"Then you and he--"

"No, never," Rose said, not letting Nick finish. She reached past him and pulled open the lodge's heavy door.

He didn't take the hint. "Have you left any broken hearts here in Black Falls?"

She pretended not to hear him and went into the warm lobby. A half-dozen guests were gathered in front of the roaring fire, reading books, playing Scrabble, drinking hot cocoa.

Lauren Cameron rushed out from behind the front desk. Nick left Rose to explain their discovery at the Whittaker guesthouse and headed upstairs to his room. Half his things were still at Rose's house. He had a feeling she wouldn't want him sleeping there again tonight. Or she would, but wouldn't admit it, which amounted to the same thing.

Not that he had any intention of letting her stay at her house by herself.

He was restless, not even remotely tired when he entered his room. He hadn't talked to Sean since he'd called on his way with Grit Taylor to the canyon where Jasper had died. Nick gritted his teeth and dialed his friend's number.

The heat was clanking and hissing, the room too hot.

As soon as Sean picked up, Nick said, "I've been out to the river three times now, and I'm still trying to picture what happened in January. Hannah really flung herself into the snow a split second before the bomb went off in the backseat of her car?"

"That's what happened," Sean said, tight.

"What a spitfire. She's lucky. If the bomb didn't kill her, the snow, cold, rocks and tree roots could have."

"Nick," Sean said, "what's going on?"

Nick stood by the double windows and filled him in on the scene at the Whittaker guesthouse, then said, "It's possible Feehan camped out there last night and took off first thing this morning, before any of us arrived."

"And he killed Cutshaw over drugs?"

"No one's going that far. Not yet."

"His story about Cutshaw taking off when he found out you were in town could all be BS meant to mislead the police."

Nick had considered that possibility, too. "How's Hannah holding up?"

"She's worried about Rose more than ever. Beth is, too."

"And you," Nick said. "Would you be less worried if I came back to L.A.?"

"I'd be less worried if Rose wasn't so--" Sean broke off with a small grunt. "I don't need to tell you."

"Rose is as hardheaded and independent as the rest of you. What's going on there? Where's Grit Taylor now?"

"Staring at the pool trying to figuring things out. He's Elijah's friend. He's self-confident, and he doesn't quit. He didn't like finding that woman today. Jo's not happy with the situation, either."

"Are she and Elijah on their way out there?"

"I won't know until they show up in my living room. Everyone's being tight-lipped."

"You can use my place for spillover company if it gets crowded. That'd give Jo a handy excuse to have a look around and make sure I've been straight with everyone."

"She doesn't need an excuse. She'll get a warrant."

She would, too, Nick thought.

"Is anything Jasper told you making sense now, or setting off alarms?" Sean asked.

Nick moved back from the windows and sat on the edge of the bed, the comforter folded up at the foot. "No, but something about my trip out here's triggered what's been happening. Any news on the actor?"

"He hasn't turned up. I emailed you a photo of him. He hasn't had much of an acting career. Apparently he's working on several screenplays."

"What did Marissa Neal see in him?"

"I'm not in the loop with the Secret Service," Sean said stiffly, "but as far as I can tell he was something of a departure from the straight-and-narrow for her. High energy, big dreams, big ego. Good-looking, too."

Nick knew the type. After he disconnected, he checked his email, but he didn't recognize Trent Stevens from the photo Sean sent. He took his BlackBerry and headed back to the lobby. A woman at the front desk informed him Rose was in the ballroom.

Ballroom?

He got directions and went down a hall and around a corner to a large room that jutted out of the main building, windows on three sides with what in daylight would be breathtaking views of the meadow and the surrounding mountains.

Rose, A.J., Zack Harper and Myrtle Smith were gathered at a long table.

Lauren was on her feet, her daughter on one hip as she welcomed Nick. "Help yourself," she said, nodding to the end of the table, which was spread with glasses and bottles of wine.

Nick thanked her and splashed wine into a glass. A.J. and Zack's concern for Rose was evident, but they were circumspect with him, as if the white gas and old kerosene lamp at the guesthouse had confirmed he'd brought an ill wind and bad luck to town.

Maybe he had.

He showed Lauren the picture of the missing actor, without saying who it was.

"A.J. and I see a lot of people in our work," she said. "I don't remember this man."

Her husband joined them and glanced at the actor's smiling face. A.J. didn't recognize Stevens, either. "We have the Secret Service breathing down our necks as it is with the Neals coming for winter fest." His expression turned flinty. "Unless they cancel, given this latest violence."

Nick slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I hope the police will have some definitive answers by then."

The flintiness didn't let up. "You attend fancy parties in Beverly Hills. Could you have run into this actor at one of them?"

"Possibly, but I don't have any specific recollection of ever having met him. I'm not great with faces. Sometimes Hollywood types come to us for information on smoke jumping and wildland fires." Nick sipped his wine and observed Rose, her eyes a deep blue in the ballroom's soft light as she, Myrtle and Lauren went over logistics for the silent auction. He turned back to A.J. "I wish I could be more help."

"I spoke to Sean. He and Grit Taylor went up to the site where the arson investigator was killed. His death is the reason you came out here, isn't it?" A.J. didn't give Nick a chance to answer. "Could Robert Feehan be this serial arsonist you're after?"

"I'm not with law enforcement, A.J.," Nick said. "I'm not here on any kind of official business. If my presence is putting anyone in danger, I'll clear out. I won't stay."

The eldest Cameron seemed satisfied. "Fair enough. If Feehan's mixed up with illegal prescription drugs, that could explain why he's avoiding the police."

"He could also be afraid he's next on the killer's list."

A.J. sighed heavily. "If he's innocent, running only makes his situation worse. He needs to talk to the police and get it over with."

The two little Camerons were now racing around in circles in the wide, open space. Lauren kept a watchful eye on them. A.J. went to them, handing his wife a glass of wine. Nick watched the young family, pushing back a wave of regret and guilt that he knew would get him nowhere. He had anticipated a certain amount of awkwardness on his trip to Black Falls, given his situation with Rose, but he hadn't expected to run into violence. He'd figured he'd talk to the lead investigators into Lowell Whittaker's network about Jasper's death, check out the Whittaker estate and Cameron Mountain.