Cold Pursuit

by Carla Neggers

“No!”

  Devin rushed to her side, and she realized she’d screamed. “I’m okay,” she said quickly, not looking at him. How could she even think such a thing? Her father could never kill anyone. That he could fall for a woman as horrible as Melanie didn’t mean he was capable of running over the friend who’d stolen his first wife from him.

  Her father loved Melanie, and that gave him even less reason to kill Alex.

  Her dad couldn’t possibly be a suspect.

  “You’re freaking me out,” Devin said.

  Nora pushed ahead of him out to the gravel turnaround. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Did something else happen, besides realizing your money’s missing? Did Melanie find out we’re checking her out?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  Melanie already knows I hate her. She knows.

  Nora set her pack down next to the car Alex had bought for her against her father’s wishes. It was a used Subaru; it wasn’t as if he’d given her a brand-new, expensive car. As irritating and demeaning as he could be, Alex hadn’t wanted her riding her bicycle on the hills and narrow roads of Black Falls, or hitchhiking, or relying on friends. In his own way, he’d tried to help her, even if his primary purpose was to keep her from bugging him. He would tell her that he worked so hard because he was dedicated to making the world a better place. How could she complain about him not coming to her high-school graduation ceremony when he was off saving the world?

  She was aware of Devin watching her, but refused to look back at him. If she could have sprouted wings and flown away, she would have.

  With a steadier hand, she opened up the front passenger door. She cried openly now, picturing Alex running across a busy Washington street, oblivious to the car coming at him, unaware that he was in the last moments of his life. He’d have been wearing a suit—he always wore suits in Washington. He’d have had his briefcase with him. Had he held on to it, or had it gone flying?

  What had gone through his mind? Had he thought about his wife, his ex-wife, his children?

  Had he thought about his stepdaughter up in Vermont?

  Had he thought about anything?

  Nora hefted her backpack onto the seat and shut the door hard. She knew she couldn’t bring herself to tell Devin about Alex. She just couldn’t do it.

  She turned to him and said softly, “I know you’re not a thief. I’ll be okay. We both will.”

  “Stay, Nora. Don’t do this.”

  “Just find out what you can about Melanie. Clients, travels—especially since April when she met my father.”

  Melanie had been in Black Falls when Drew Cameron went missing. Now Alex was dead in Washington.

  She was bad luck.

  “I’ll do what I can,” Devin said. “Where will I find you?”

  Nora pretended not to hear him and got into her car. She’d drive out to Black Falls Lodge and park at a trailhead. She had a good map and, even with the short days, she still had several hours of daylight to hike before she had to worry about pitching her tent.

  In another minute, she was backing out onto the quiet road. She had time to get a good way out into the woods, away from everyone before dark. She could think, and she wouldn’t screw anything up for anyone. She wouldn’t say something stupid, like her father had good reason to want Alex Bruni dead.

  He didn’t. He and Alex were friends.

  And she’d be safe on the mountain.

  Safe from whoever had killed Alex, because every instinct she had told her she wasn’t safe now.

  She had to trust herself.

  She had to run.

  Seven

  Thirty minutes after he’d left the Three Sisters Café, Elijah twirled the stem of a bright red leaf he’d scooped off the pile of leaves Vivian Whittaker had heaped up on the front lawn of her Vermont country home. Her husband, Lowell, was in the house, collecting himself, she’d said, after hearing about Alex Bruni’s death. She’d told Elijah the news in a clipped, straightforward manner, never pausing her raking. He’d run into the Whittakers a few times since his return home, but he only knew them to nod to on the street.

  He’d stopped at the guesthouse first. No Nora, no Devin. Then he’d spotted Vivian raking leaves and walked up to find out if she’d seen either of the teenagers.

  A.J. had called while Jo and her sister were still on their run. Devin hadn’t shown up for work at the lodge. Money was missing. Elijah had headed out to see what he could learn. He hadn’t considered that Nora’s stepfather would be killed in Washington.

  Vivian raked a patch of grass with such force she took up dirt along with the last of the fallen leaves. She was a tall, thin, fair woman in her mid-forties. A trust-fund type, according to Sean, who knew such things. Her family’s money came from a New York-based investment bank. Lowell was some kind of money type himself, although not as rich as his wife. Even as well-off as Elijah’s younger brother Sean was, the Whittakers had to be, by far, the wealthiest landowners in Black Falls. For as long as Elijah could remember, the “farm” on the rolling hills above the river had been owned by out-of-staters.

  “It’s colder than I expected today,” Vivian said, not looking at him. “I’m glad I wore gloves. They’re just garden gloves, but they keep my hands warm enough.”

  Elijah thought it was a fine November day. The cool air felt good to him. Helped him get his head together. He figured Jo couldn’t have known about Bruni back at the café, not because he didn’t think she could control her emotions, but because she wouldn’t have continued to sit there eating a scone and looking at the river. Given the kind of week she’d had—given the type of person she was—she’d latch on to news of a dead ambassador whose stepdaughter was in Black Falls. No question in Elijah’s mind.

  She’d probably found out by now. He wasn’t sure how long he had before she turned up. If she didn’t have a reason, she’d think of one. He wasn’t about to break any laws, but he was accustomed to a certain level of autonomy and wanted to do things his own way. Go from there. He wanted to find Devin and confront him about the missing money.

  He didn’t need a Secret Service agent throwing up roadblocks.

  And he hadn’t anticipated Nora’s stepfather turning up dead.

  But he saw tears glisten in Vivian’s eyes and reminded himself the woman had just lost a friend. “I’m sorry about Ambassador Bruni,” he said.

  She quickly brought herself back under control. “Yes. Well. It’s unfortunate. I only hope his death turns out to be a horrible accident. The idea of someone targeting him is beyond my comprehension. He was such a good man.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Lowell spoke to Thomas Asher, Nora’s father.” She dipped her rake under a sugar maple, one of a half dozen that dotted the lawn, and scraped the tines over exposed roots. “He called while we were out here working in the yard and left a message. Lowell listened to it. He said it was obvious from Thomas’s tone that something was wrong. He had already spoken to Nora and given her the dreadful news by the time Lowell reached him.

  Then Nora knew about her stepfather’s death.

  “The police are investigating, of course,” Vivian said, briskly raking her fresh batch of leaves over to the pile. “Alex dedicated himself to diplomacy and public service. It’s difficult to believe he had enemies.”

  “Do you know where Nora is now?” Elijah asked.

  “You just missed her.” A gust of wind whipped up leaves and lifted Vivian’s fine, pale blond bangs back from her forehead. She paused, breathing hard from her manic raking. “I waved her down as she was leaving. I was raking at the end of the driveway. I didn’t know about Alex at that point. Lowell had just gone inside. Nora was clearly upset, but I didn’t think much of it. She said she was going on a camping trip.”

  “What kind of camping trip?”

  Vivian stood her rake up on end and picked bits of leaves and debris from the tines. “She didn’t go into detail—an overnight trip, though. I assu
me she’ll be gone a couple of nights. She obviously didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t push her for details. She assured me she knows what she’s doing.”

  Elijah settled back on his heels. Knowing what to do wasn’t the same as doing it, and Nora had just taken an emotional hit with her stepfather’s death. “Did she leave her route with you?”

  Vivian shook her head. “Not with me. I urged her to tell someone exactly where she was going and how long she planned to be out. I also warned her not to hike alone. She’s an adult. Lowell and I enjoy having her here, but we can only do so much.”

  “You mentioned she was upset.”

  “Visibly so, yes. If I’d realized Alex had been killed, I’d have discouraged her from going anywhere.” She squinted out at the vista of mountains, her mouth compressed as she inhaled through her nose. “If Alex was run over on purpose, that’s murder. That’s rather frightening, isn’t it?”

  “Did you know him well?” Elijah asked.

  “We met him here in Black Falls a year ago, not long after we bought this place. We’ve had him and Carolyn up here several times. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.” Vivian flipped her rake back over and dragged a few stray leaves to her pile. “I doubt the police will want to talk to us, but I suppose they could.”

  Down across the lawn, Elijah noticed Jo’s car pull between the stone posts that marked the entrance to the Whittakers’ long, paved driveway.

  Vivian followed his gaze but didn’t comment on Jo’s arrival. “You didn’t come out here because of poor Alex. You weren’t aware of his death until I told you just now. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m looking for Devin Shay.”

  “Devin? I haven’t seen him, but he and Nora have been spending a lot of time together.” She paused, leaning on her rake. “Do you mind if I ask why you’re looking for him?”

  Jo parked along a hedge of arbor vitae, got out of her car and fired a look straight at Elijah. He decided he’d be smart to keep in mind that she had ten years as a Secret Service agent under her belt. A few days ago, she’d willingly dived in front of what could have been real bullets heading for the son of the vice president. They hadn’t been, and that was damn funny—but the rest wasn’t.

  She was a serious professional with a serious job, and that was something Elijah did understand.

  With one eye on Jo marching toward them, he said, “If you run into Devin, tell him I want to talk to him.”

  Vivian gave him a distant smile. “Is that an order, Elijah?” But she hesitated, shivering, not from the cold, he thought, so much as the shock of her friend’s sudden, violent death. “I worry about Nora. She’s so young. She and Devin both look up to you, Elijah. You know that, don’t you? You’re the black-ops soldier—our own Rambo in the heart of the Green Mountains.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere, but either way, he had no intention of responding. “Did Nora give any indication Devin was joining her on her hike?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Vivian nodded to her four-foot-by-four-foot pile of leaves. “I planned to have Nora bag up these leaves. That’s part of the deal we have. She stays at the guesthouse in exchange for doing odd jobs like bagging leaves, washing screens and gassing up the cars. It was her father’s idea. Of course, Lowell and I never ask her to do anything that conflicts with our yard or cleaning services. We don’t want to take work away from them.”

  Elijah started to respond, but Jo came around a sugar maple, most of its fallen leaves in Vivian’s pile. “I’m sorry about Ambassador Bruni,” she said simply, her expression grim as she addressed Vivian. “I know you were friends.”

  “Yes. Thank you. We’re all sorry.” Vivian laid her rake onto the mound of leaves. “I can’t believe this.” She shook her head. “Whether it was an accident or deliberate, it’s ridiculous for such a man to die that way.”

  “Nora’s father asked me to check on her,” Jo said.

  Elijah’s brow went up. Thomas Asher and Jo knew each other?

  Vivian said, “I just told Elijah that Nora’s gone on a camping trip.” She winced and did a neck roll, then stretched her shoulders back. “I’m so stiff, but I wouldn’t give up raking leaves for the world. I love November in Vermont, how the landscape opens up with all the leaves off the trees.”

  If her comment struck Jo as odd, Elijah couldn’t tell. It did him.

  Lowell Whittaker pushed a wheelbarrow down from the house. He was the picture of a contented country gentleman in his barn jacket and wellies. He looked a lot like his wife—tall, thin, fair. But he was quieter, more cerebral, more likely to wrap his head around a friend’s sudden death by taking a few moments to himself than by madly raking.

  “Agent Harper, Sergeant Cameron—Jo, Elijah. It’s good to see you both, although I wish it were under less difficult circumstances.” Lowell set the wheelbarrow down and smiled sadly. “Don’t you have an urge to forget everything and take a running leap into the leaves? I can see the two of you jumping in leaves as kids.”

  “It was something to do,” Jo said, but her voice was tight, her mind obviously on the hit-and-run of the Whittakers’ friend in Washington.

  “I adore Vermont,” Lowell said. “What a wonderful place to grow up.”

  Elijah tossed his leaf onto the pile. He figured Jo had started plotting how to get out of Vermont at about the age of five, but she didn’t meet his eye, and he wondered if she was remembering how as kids they’d all taken turns jumping out of a maple tree in the Harper yard into huge piles of leaves. Elijah had pushed Jo out of the tree a few times, but he’d never hurt her. That, he thought, hadn’t come until much later.

  She stuck to the issue at hand. “Does Nora have friends here she could be meeting up with? Anyone from college, anyone she’s met in town—friends from high school who’ve visited?”

  Lowell reached into the pile of leaves and grabbed as many as he could in both arms. Several escaped, but he let them go as he dumped the rest in his wheelbarrow. “Nora and Devin Shay seem to get along,” he said thoughtfully. “She likes your sister and the two other women she works for at the café. They’re older, of course, but if Nora was upset and wanted to talk to someone, I think she’d turn to them.”

  Vivian peeled off her garden gloves with sudden energy. “She might just want to be alone after getting such awful news. I can understand that. I didn’t realize you and Thomas were friends. I’m so pleased that he and Melanie have decided to get married. Have you met her?”

  “Not yet, no,” Jo said.

  “She’s lovely,” Vivian said. “Lowell and I don’t know Thomas as well as we do Carolyn and Alex, but…” She bit back tears. “I let myself forget for a split second.”

  “Alex was a good man,” Lowell said quietly, as if he was giving a eulogy. “Smart, driven—it’s hard to believe all that energy of his is gone now. He’ll be missed.”

  Vivian nodded. “We enjoyed his visits here. He and Carolyn were wonderful together. Such bright, intelligent, gifted people.” She smiled awkwardly, tears shining in her pale eyes. “I can see Alex now down at the pond. He wasn’t one for relaxation, but he enjoyed watching the ducks.”

  “Come, dear,” Lowell said softly, taking his wife’s gloves and placing them atop the leaves in the wheelbarrow. “We haven’t had lunch. Let’s take a break and forget about work for the rest of the afternoon. Elijah, Jo—if there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Vivian turned stiffly to them. “We have no reason to be concerned for Nora’s physical safety. She’s an experienced day hiker and has been eager to try out the skills she learned in your class, Elijah. Of course, she should have delayed this trip under the circumstances, but the fight-or-flight response can be very powerful after such a shock.”

  The wind picked up again, blowing leaves out of the wheelbarrow. Vivian seemed to force herself to resist going after them and continued about the characteristics of fight-or-flight syndrome, wh
ich Elijah took as his cue to leave.

  He headed back down to the guesthouse. The sky was clear and a deep blue above the gray landscape.

  It’d be cold tonight. If Nora Asher wasn’t prepared, she’d be in trouble.

  And if Devin had gone with her?

  Elijah shook off the thought. If Devin had any sense, he would be back at the lodge doing his job and working out terms with A.J. for any money he’d “borrowed.” But he was eighteen and smitten, and that didn’t make it easy, as Elijah knew from personal experience, to have any sense.

  A few minutes after he reached the duck pond, Elijah saw Jo coming down the lawn at a fast clip. She’d always been able to move quickly. How many times had he given up the chase when she’d provoked him as a kid and he’d gone after her?

  Finally, at nineteen, he’d caught her. Held her. Loved her. Vowed never to let her go, never to disappoint her, never to hurt her—but he’d done them all.

  He wasn’t one to look back, but Jo being in town was messing with his head.

  She didn’t slow her pace until she stood next to him and grabbed him by the upper arm. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Elijah felt her fingers digging though his canvas jacket into the muscles of his arm. Her eyes were steady, focused—not shining with the sincerity of the eighteen-year-old whose heart he broke but with the determination of the dedicated, experienced federal agent she was now.

  Time to get his head screwed back on straight. Fifteen years had passed since he’d left Jo in Black Falls and headed to basic training. He’d covered a lot of ground since then.

  His father was dead, and now Alex Bruni was dead.

  Elijah reminded himself he had a job to do.

  “Jo,” he said calmly, not at all nastily, “I’m not some nut who’s threatened the vice president’s family.”

  She didn’t release him. If anything, she tightened her grip. “No, you’re the Special Forces soldier who doesn’t know what comes next in his life.”

  “I’m the guy who could get your hand off me if I wanted to.”