Cold River (24 page)

S
ean had collected Elijah out at his house on the lake just as the sunrise consumed the sky in shades of red, orange and lavender, which made his life in Southern California seem very far away. His brother wasn’t in a good mood as they drove up Cameron Mountain Road to their sister’s house. “Hannah’s got to live in Black Falls after you go back to Beverly Hills,” Elijah said.

“Who’s to say I didn’t sleep on her couch?”

“I’m just saying. Be careful.”

“Elijah—”

“She doesn’t have to explain herself to me, and neither do you. People in town know her better than she gives us credit for, or better than she realizes. That bar fight in March changed things for her. She’s been off balance, wondering if people think those bastards were telling the truth about her.”

“I wish I’d shut them up sooner.”

“Yeah. A.J. and I do, too. Instead we let Bowie tear their damn heads off. All in all, I think he was restrained. Doesn’t mean he should have done it.”

Or, Sean knew, that any of them should have, either. Hannah lived in Black Falls, and she’d just slept with a
Cameron. People liked to talk about her. Last night they’d given them fodder.

“Hannah’s a private person,” Elijah said.

“I got out of there as early as I could. Maybe I made a mistake staying last night, but I wasn’t leaving her there alone.”

His brother gave him an unwavering look. “What’s between you two is your business. You’re old enough to take care of yourself.” He grinned. “Hannah can take care of you, too. I don’t worry about her.”

“She has more friends in this town than I do.”

“Than any of us. She’s got backbone, she’s a hard worker and she’s a gentle soul.”

“I don’t intend to break her heart.”

Elijah was silent a moment. “I didn’t intend to break Jo’s heart.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“Nope.”

They climbed out of the truck into the dry, heart-stopping cold of January in northern New England. The front had blown in overnight. It was Sean’s favorite kind of winter day. Why hadn’t he just grabbed Hannah and pulled her back under the blankets?

Elijah looked at his younger brother as they walked across their sister’s frozen driveway. “This is your show.”

Sean nodded without argument. “What if she’s not up?”

“Then we get her up,” Elijah said.

They found Rose already out in the snow with Ranger. Sean saw from her expression that she knew they weren’t there to help her fill her wood box or sand her walks. He didn’t give her a chance to adjust. “A California arson investigator named Jasper Vanderhorn was killed in a fire last June. How well did you know him?”

She glanced at Elijah, then looked out at her dog paw
ing in a snowbank. “Not well. I know what you’re asking. Yes, I’m just afraid my distractions helped cause his death.”

Sean shook his head. “There’s no evidence of that. The fire was still hot. It shouldn’t have been. That’s not your area of expertise.”

“Does Jo suspect Jasper’s a potential victim of these killers? Or do you?”

Sean didn’t back down. “What happened in California?”

“Nothing that matters. Please don’t ask me anything else, Sean. If the police have questions for me, they can ask them. Pop’s gone, but you and Elijah and A.J. aren’t his replacements. You’re my brothers.”

“You weren’t in town in November,” Elijah said.

She was silent.

Sean steadied himself against the bitter cold.

“I hired Bowie,” Rose said. “It’s not a secret. It’s just none of your business.”

Elijah stabbed a toe into a snowbank. If he was patient with Hannah, he wasn’t with his sister. “He’d just gotten out of jail. He’s on probation—”

“I know. He also fixed my stone wall.”

Sean nodded to the fading sunrise. “Nice view of the lodge from here.”

Rose wasn’t as combative now. “I think Hannah noticed, too. Other people have been up here. Judge Robinson, the McBanes, Lowell Whittaker. Dozens of people could have inadvertently mentioned the view to the wrong person. We don’t even know the bomb was triggered here.”

“We’re done,” Elijah said, turning to his sister. “You’re not staying here alone.”

“My house isn’t the only point on this road the killer could have used.”

Elijah ignored her. “The lake, A.J.’s, the lodge. Pick one. Pack. Let’s go.”

Ranger sat on Rose’s foot, as if he wanted to get as close to her as possible. She didn’t back down. “Maybe I’ll fly to California and stay at Sean’s house and swim in his heated pool.”

Elijah didn’t back down, either. “That’d work.”

Sean noticed the barest flicker of pain in his sister’s eyes as she shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t work. Elijah, I’ll stay with you. I know it must be lonely for you without Jo.” She immediately gasped and said, “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

Elijah grinned at her. “Nah. You just stated a fact. It
is
lonely without her.”

“You and Jo were by Melanie Kendall’s car that day. You’d just grabbed Nora out of the front seat. She’s an innocent teenager. She could have been blown up. You and Jo…” Rose inhaled. “If whoever set off that bomb did it here…I don’t care if he was used or paid off, if Bowie was involved—”

“First things first,” Elijah said. “Get your dog biscuits or whatever you need. Sean and I will drop you off at the lodge with A.J.”

Five minutes later, they were on their way. Rose drove her own car, and Elijah and Sean followed her out Ridge Road. Sean called Hannah, but she didn’t answer her cell phone. He tried the café, but she wasn’t there.

A.J., Lauren and their two young children were just arriving at the lodge. Sean saw Elijah’s tight expression and knew his brother shared his fear. “A.J. didn’t bargain for killers turning up in his backyard,” Elijah said.

“You can stay, and I’ll go on,” Sean said. “I’ll be fine.”

Elijah shook his head. “A.J. and Lauren know what to do. Rose’s head’s not screwed on straight. It hasn’t been for a while. Even if she knows what to do to protect herself, it doesn’t mean she’ll do it. Sometimes,” Elijah added, “people just get reckless.”

Sean didn’t argue. They gave A.J. a brief update, and as Rose got out of her car with Ranger, Sean saw that their baby sister was as pale and withdrawn as he’d ever seen her. He tried to speak to her, but she just muttered about needing to walk Ranger. A.J. fell in next to her as she and her golden retriever headed off into the snow by the stone terrace.

When Sean and Elijah were back on Ridge Road, Elijah dug out his cell phone and made a call. “Do you and your pals in law enforcement have Rose’s place down as a spot where whoever triggered that bomb could have seen Melanie Kendall get in her car?” He listened to her answer. “Get off this task force, Jo.” He disconnected and dropped the phone back in his pocket.

“What did she say?” Sean asked.

“She told me to go throw a log on my woodstove.”

“When you suggested she get off the task force—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Elijah said, then shrugged, unperturbed. “She hung up.”

“I would have, too,” Sean said. “Let’s have another look at the crypt.”

“We’re on the same wavelength,” Elijah said. “Melanie Kendall’s car was parked at the lodge most of that day. Someone could have placed the bomb in it while it was there.”

“Then went up to Rose’s and triggered it.”

“Not a stranger. A.J. was on high alert while Jo and I were on the mountain. He’d have noticed strangers.” Elijah glanced over at his brother. “The bomb had to have been made somewhere. The black powder, the gunpowder, the copper wire—they had to be stored somewhere, or maybe in several places so as not to draw suspicion. That’s what I’d do.”

When they stopped at the cemetery, Sean knew they were both thinking about Bowie. They headed down the lane. Theirs were the first prints in the fresh snow.

Elijah knocked the stick out of the latch and entered the crypt.

It wasn’t empty this time.

Sean went inside with his brother. A bright ray of the cold winter light struck a roll of thin copper wire. Next to it were number-ten cans. Elijah peeled back lids, revealing several inches of gunpowder and black powder.

“Our guy’s back at it,” Elijah said.

Sean nodded. “It doesn’t matter if he planted this stuff for us or if he’s arrogant enough to think we wouldn’t come back here.”

Elijah headed out of the crypt. Sean fell in next to him as they headed back down the lane to the truck. “You can wait here for the police,” Sean said. “I’m going after Hannah.”

“I’m going with you.” Elijah climbed in behind the wheel and glanced over at Sean. “We’ll get to her in time, brother.”

“It’s obvious?”

“Since Thanksgiving for me.” Elijah stuck the key in the ignition, his hand steady. “Jo saw it earlier. She’s tuned in to these things now, but don’t tell her I said so.” He nodded to his brother. “Call A.J. Have him get in touch with the police. If we call them…”

“They’ll have us wait here, which will waste time. Jo?”

“She’s a federal agent, Sean. We don’t want to disobey a direct order from her, either.” Elijah threw the truck into gear. “A.J. can call her, too.”

January 4—Washington, D.C.

G
rit met Jo in the lobby of Alex Bruni’s building a few blocks from the White House. Her badge got them into the elevator. On the way up to the fourth floor, she told him about the goings-on in Vermont. Elijah hadn’t called and updated her, Grit had noted. Trooper Thorne had. She didn’t seem mad—more like she’d expected it and would have done the same in Elijah’s place.

“The crypt’s a good choice to assemble a bomb,” Grit said. “Last place I’d look.”

“If you were caught—”

“You’d want to be someone who could explain being in a Vermont cemetery on a cold winter day.” He glanced at her. “Please tell me that’s not everyone in Black Falls.”

She ignored him. “There was nothing in the crypt after Bowie and Hannah were hurt,” she said. “I should have thought to test for gunpowder and black powder traces.”

“Elijah has a point. Maybe our bomber tucked supplies in different spots all over your cute Vermont town. He might not have had explosives in the crypt until now, or he might not have assembled the bomb in there.”

“So, what happened with Bowie and Hannah out there last week? The voice, the falling rock—”

“O’Rourke didn’t start work on the culvert until after Rigby and Kendall were killed. Our guy could have left something behind at the crypt and went back to get it. Maybe it was the first real chance he had. O’Rourke turns up, then Hannah. Our guy knocks over the rock and escapes.”

“Why call Hannah’s name?”

Grit raised his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you? Cemetery. Dusk. Cold. Relentless woman about to discover you. You whisper her name and figure she’ll beat a path out of there.”

“Not Hannah,” Jo said.

“Then later, when our guy figures he’s got to take action again, he thinks what the hell, I’ve got to blow something else up, might as well go back up to the crypt, assemble the bomb and implicate Bowie O’Rourke while I’m at it.”

“That’s devious thinking. Most criminals aren’t that complicated.”

Grit shrugged. “We’re not talking about most criminals.”

She tensed visibly. “Blow ‘something’ up means blow ‘someone’ up, Grit.” She sighed. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Anymore? Who says any of us ever know anything to begin with?”

She gave him a curt smile. “True.” She sighed again. “This is one damn slow elevator. What’d you do last night?”

“De-roached my apartment. Leave and they take over. You?”

“Cleaned.”

“Sleep?”

Her tight shake of the head was her only answer.

“Myrtle’s meeting with carpenters this morning,” Grit said cheerfully. “She’s thinking about selling her place after
people forget it was set on fire. I think it’s safe to say she won’t be moving to Vermont.”

“She likes her independence.” The elevator dinged when it came to the fourth floor, and in that split second before the doors opened, Jo said, “So does Elijah. All the Camerons are that way. They do their own thing and you can follow or not.”

“Aren’t you doing your own thing?”

“Elijah isn’t law enforcement, Grit.”

“You barely are.”

She held the elevator door open with one hand and turned her turquoise eyes to him. “Are you going to keep rubbing salt into my wounds?”

“What?” He was mystified.

“I’m breaking the rules coming here alone—having you here—”

“Did you tell Deputy Special Agent in Charge Mark Francona?”

She stepped out of the elevator into a carpeted hall. “No.”

“Relax, Agent Harper. Ambassador Bruni’s secretary likes me.”

“You’ve met?”

“No, we haven’t met. Not yet.”

Jo didn’t say anything as they entered the elegant office. The secretary did like him, but she was also married. Young and pretty, she was packing boxes to close up the office now that the police had finished with it. “The ambassador’s wife and stepdaughter are stopping by later this week,” she said, all professional. “I told the police everything I know.” She was obviously still shaken even after more than a month. “I’m just closing up his office now. My last day is in two weeks. Then I’m taking a vacation and trying to forget.”

“Did you listen at keyholes when the ambassador was alive?” Grit asked.

Jo’s eyebrows went up, but she kept quiet. The secretary got huffy. “Of course not.”

“He was a prickly guy,” Grit said. “I wouldn’t have been able to resist. Did he unload on you? You know, did you sit here after hours with a bottle of wine—”

“Ambassador Bruni was loyal to his wife.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t have a glass or two of wine with his secretary, does it?”

“Sometimes…” She sniffed. “
Twice
. He worked late and had to go to a dinner, and in between—it was never more than one glass of wine.”

“You’d talk?”

“Some. About my goals and policy opinions. I love all that. He hated talking about work unless he had to.”

“What else did you talk about over your one glass of wine?”

“His frustrations with Nora. His stepdaughter. Normal stuff—he really tried to do right by her. He knew she was angry at him and her mother for what they did to her father. That’s how she saw it.”

Grit realized Jo was letting him loose, but he avoided her eye just in case she changed her mind. “He looked to you for advice because you’re young and female?”

“Ambassador Bruni wasn’t a man who looked to anyone for advice. He was just venting over a glass of wine. He wanted to do right by Nora. Really, he did.”

“What about his visit from Drew Cameron in April?”

“He was murdered, too. I can’t believe…”

“Ambassador Bruni didn’t know Drew had been murdered before he himself was killed,” Jo said.

“I think…at the end…” The young secretary fidgeted. “I think the ambassador was getting suspicious about something. I remember the day Mr. Cameron was here. The ambassador was especially frustrated with Nora. She was a high school senior. You know how that can be. All the
angst and drama. She was here, too, and he bit Mr. Cameron’s head off.”

Grit nodded sympathetically. “It’s tough being a stepdad.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said, warming up again, less fidgety. “Right before he was killed in November, he said he wished he’d been nicer and listened, because he thought Drew—that’s what he called him was onto something in Black Falls. They both loved Black Falls. Ambassador Bruni said it was the one place he could truly relax and be himself, not such a bastard. He’d been going up there for several years. He stayed at the Cameron family’s lodge.”

“He and the Whittakers became friends after they bought their place in Black Falls,” Jo said. “He stayed with them a few times.”

“I almost forgot, but yes, that’s right.”

“What did he say about the Whittakers?” Grit asked.

“Not much. Nora was living in their guesthouse. Ambassador Bruni remembered that Drew Cameron had asked about them.”

“Asked what?”

The secretary looked awkward and blushed.

“Ha,” Grit said. “You did listen at the keyhole.”

“I did
not
. I just—I just didn’t remember when the police asked me. I don’t want them to think I’m holding back.”

“Just tell us what you remember now,” Jo said.

“Ambassador Bruni was drinking wine, sitting here on the corner of his desk. It was as if I wasn’t here. I think that’s why I didn’t think of it—it seemed so in passing. He was just thinking out loud. Mr. Cameron had come in here specifically to ask him what he thought of Lowell and Vivian Whittaker and Thomas Asher. ‘Who are these people?’ he’d asked.”

It was Jo who asked the next question. “Did Drew say why he wanted to know?”

“Not really.”

“What do you mean, ‘not really’?”

The secretary scrunched up her face, remembering. “Mr. Whittaker had helped him or he had helped Mr. Whittaker. I don’t remember which.”

“Something about stonework?” Grit asked. “An old foundation, maybe?”

“An old cellar hole,” Jo said.

“That’s it. An old cellar hole.” The young woman was clearly pleased with herself. “It’s not a phrase I use. He was interested in old cellar holes in the area. Old stonework. Mr. Whittaker was, too. Mr. Cameron had a project—it was a few months earlier. We’re talking more than a year ago. It can’t be relevant, can it?”

“We’ll find out,” Jo said. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Is that all?”

“For now.”

Jo walked out into the hall with Grit. “Drew had his doubts about Lowell Whittaker. Not enough for the police or to tell Rose and the boys.”

“Maybe Lowell didn’t want the scrutiny and knew Drew would keep digging. He was like that, wasn’t he?”

“A Cameron. Lowell nipped his questions in the bud. Bruni’s, too.”

“Yeah,” Grit said, pressing the elevator button. “You call Elijah a boy? Really?”

“Grit…”

His comment sparked a smile in her, and that was good. When they got downstairs, Myrtle was out front. She’d come on her own. “I talked to a window washer who remembers Drew from April,” she said. “Useless.”

“Sometimes there are no worms under the rocks we turn over,” Grit said philosophically.

Jo was pensive. “I knew Drew had stuff on his mind in the weeks before he died. Elijah. The two of us. But there
was more, and we saw the cherry blossoms together and he never told me.”

Grit shrugged. “He didn’t know what he had would get him killed. He’d stepped on a land mine. It just hadn’t gone off yet.”

Jo was dialing Black Falls. “Sean and Elijah can’t be freelancing,” she said. “They need to get the police in there.”

“They armed?”

“Grit. It doesn’t matter. It’s not a war zone.”

He and Myrtle looked at each other, but neither said anything.