“He didn’t call me. He called a friend of mine up here in the cold.”
“It’s seven o’clock in the morning, Harper. Do I want to know where you are?”
She looked down at her nightshirt and her cold feet and thought of last night. “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” Francona said, then blew out a breath. “By the way, your young friend got a sixty-eight on a calculus test yesterday. That’s the kind of grade I’d get. He always aces his tests. Doesn’t matter what subject. He doesn’t get D’s.”
“Did someone ask him about it?”
“Yeah. He said it was a D-plus.”
Francona disconnected, and Jo poured herself more coffee and headed for Elijah’s bedroom and a pair of his socks. But his phone rang again. She snatched it up and said a tight hello, expecting her boss or Charlie on the other end.
“Elijah isn’t answering his cell phone,” a man with an easy Southern accent said. “Special Agent Harper, I presume?”
“And you would be—”
“Elijah’s friend Grit.”
She eased back onto the bar stool with her coffee. “The SEAL.”
“Yes, ma’am. I saw your Internet video. You’re as cute now as you were at seventeen.”
“How would you know?”
But he’d hung up.
Jo slipped back into her clothes, grabbed her Sig, left her bath salts and got out of Elijah’s house before she gave in to temptation and looked for old pictures of them together. Not only would it be a violation of trust, she didn’t want to know. What would be worse, finding out he’d carried her picture off to war, or finding out he hadn’t thought twice about her after he’d left Black Falls?
She had to remind herself she wasn’t that hurt teenager anymore.
Maybe his SEAL friend had just decided to have a little fun with her and didn’t have a clue what she’d looked like at seventeen.
She returned to her cabin, which was much colder than Elijah’s house, and took a quick shower, got dressed and pondered whether she should have regrets about last night. She decided she shouldn’t. It had been inevitable, she and Elijah in bed together. She’d known it would happen, on some level, the moment she’d spotted him walking down the road with Charlie’s lilies.
On her way up to the ridge road above the lake, she listened to the forecast on her car radio. Snow was expected to start by midday and continue on and off through the night. It wouldn’t be a huge storm by northern New England standards, but higher elevations could get up to a foot of snow.
Black Falls Lodge was quiet, just a few cars in the parking lot. Jo recognized Thomas and Melanie’s rental. She pulled in next to Elijah’s truck and climbed out. The air was close with the drop in pressure and rise in moisture, signaling the approaching storm. Skiers and snowshoers would welcome the snow. Devin—and Elijah—wouldn’t care one way or the other. Jo wasn’t as sure about Nora. Did she even know a storm was on the way?
As she crossed the lot to the lodge, she noticed A.J. out on the stone terrace. He gave her a curt wave and walked down to meet her. He had a mug of coffee with him and wore a canvas jacket, but no hat or gloves. “Thomas Asher and his fiancée just took off for the falls trail,” he said.
“Everyone’s up and at it, I see. Rigby?”
“He left early. Said he’d try up by the falls first. He’s convinced Nora won’t want to get too far out from the lodge.”
“A lot of nervous people, A.J.”
He cupped his mug in his hands and glanced across the road at the mountain, blue-gray under the clouds. “Elijah’s gone up there.”
“I know.”
Just the barest smile from Elijah’s older brother. “I thought you might.”
“A.J…. your father…”
His gaze darkened. “Whatever happened up there in April, it had nothing to do with my brother living or dying in that firefight.”
A.J. obviously wasn’t looking for moral support from her, but Jo nodded anyway. “Agreed.”
He frowned at her. “You’ll need gear if you’re going after Elijah. Go see Lauren. She’s down at the shop. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, A.J.”
He dumped the dregs of his coffee in the dirt. “I called Scott Thorne, just in case. He’s on his way up here.”
Jo nodded and said nothing.
“Stay safe,” A.J. said, and headed back inside.
Twenty-Six
Nora knew she needed to calm down and keep herself from sweating in order to retain body heat, but she couldn’t help herself. She broke into a run, her heart pounding with excitement. For the first time since she’d started up the mountain, she didn’t care about the weight of her backpack. She’d found it—she’d discovered what Drew Cameron had been up to on the north side of Cameron Mountain.
It made sense now…why he’d asked for Devin’s help, why he’d come up here in April.
She made herself stop running and hold her breath to the count of three, then exhaled slowly as she crept up the last few yards to a small cabin—a tiny little house, really. It was obviously new, not quite finished, built on what appeared to be an old foundation. If she imagined the land cleared and a well and some roads and maybe a neighbor closer than there were any now, the location, on level ground just beyond a quiet, beautiful cluster of tall evergreens, was perfect.
With the dense woods and all the contours on that side of the mountain—the dips and sags and knolls and gullies—Nora could see why no one had come upon the cabin in April. Devin had found Drew’s body at least two hundred yards through the trees near the trail down to the old logging road. It might as well have been a million miles.
Forcing herself to breathe normally, she pushed open the solid wood door and entered the cabin. It was small, smaller, even, than her room at home. The interior smelled of fresh wood. It had brand-new glass windows on one side of the front door and on each of the side walls and the back wall, but the walls themselves were unfinished. Open beams crisscrossed in the ceiling, and there was a second door on the back wall.
Nora looked around for nests—mice, bats, squirrels—but didn’t see any. There was no insulation, no wiring, no generator—no outhouse, even. A simple black woodstove stood against the windowless wall, but it wasn’t hooked up yet. Lengths of round metal stovepipe for a metal chimney were stacked neatly next to the stove, and Nora wondered if Drew had been on his way up here in April to install it.
Why hadn’t he ducked in here for shelter? She couldn’t imagine him getting lost, even in the snow. She hadn’t really known him, but he’d struck her as a man as rugged and competent as his sons, just older.
“I can’t wait to tell Devin,” she whispered.
He was searching in another spot on the other side of the evergreens. They’d agreed to take a look around for what Drew had been building, then go on back down the mountain and talk to Jo and Elijah—one or both of them—about Melanie. Nora had obsessed all night and finally came to her senses. Her concerns about Melanie were real, she’d decided, but she had to keep them in perspective.
And of course her father wasn’t involved in Alex’s death.
Alex had often warned her against speculating ahead of the facts.
He was right. Searching for what Drew had been building up on the mountain and knowing Devin was there and they had a plan had helped her feel less out of control. She’d awakened before dawn and smashed Devin’s cell phone in a panic at the prospect of someone tracking them. It seemed crazy now.
When she’d spotted the cabin, she’d spiraled right up again, not panicked and crazed this time but excited. She’d have something to show for her two nights on Cameron Mountain. She’d be able to give Drew’s children some closure on what had happened to their father. He hadn’t just wandered up here. He’d had a purpose.
She set her pack on the plywood floor. She was dirty and smelled, and she wanted hot water, hot food, a hot fire. But she could see snow falling in fine, tiny flakes and wasn’t sure no
w that she and Devin should risk descending the mountain in the middle of a storm. They could take the trail down to the old logging road, but it wouldn’t do them any good; they’d still have to trek miles to get to civilization. If one of them had left a vehicle there, that would have been a sensible option. On foot, they’d get to warmth, electricity and running water faster if they headed back to the lodge the way they’d come.
And now that she’d smashed Devin’s phone, they couldn’t just get to a spot where there was service and call for help. Not that there was one close by, anyway.
We could sit out the storm, Nora thought, surveying the dry, cozy cabin.
She and Devin had enough supplies to last at least another day, and maybe he could figure out how to install the chimney and get the woodstove working.
Nora liked the idea that no one else would be able to find the cabin, either. They’d be safe there.
She’d get Devin, and tell him her idea.
As she started back for the door, she heard someone moving fast in the evergreens out in front of the cabin and went still, stifling a startled scream.
“Nora!”
Devin.
“Run, Nora, run! Hide!”
He was yelling frantically, and she could hear the terror in his voice. Her heart jumped, a painful jolt of adrenaline surging through her as she gulped in air. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have a weapon or know how to fight or anything.
“Stay away from her!”
Devin, Devin, Devin.
Nora bolted for the cabin’s back door, tore it open and scrambled outside, over scrap lumber and an old tarp slick with snow. She dived into the trees and crouched down low, snow whipping into her face and down her neck, sharp branches clawing at her.
My backpack…
She’d left it in the cabin. She had on her hat and gloves, but her tent, her sleeping bag—all her supplies were in her pack. She couldn’t turn back, and she moved fast down a short incline into a steep, shallow gully.
The leaves were wet and slippery under the snow. One wrong step, and she could fall and break an ankle, knock herself out on a rock. Even if she was able to get right up again, she didn’t want to lose her head start.
Devin, where are you?
She kept moving. She didn’t call him, didn’t say a word. She tried to make as little noise as possible as she descended the short, very steep hill into the crevice of the gully. She couldn’t hear the sounds of running anymore—just her own panting, and, she swore, her thumping heart.
The sky seemed to disappear, become a part of the endless trees towering over her. The snow came down nonstop. She looked up at it and felt as if she were in the middle of an all-white kaleidoscope that just kept whirling and wouldn’t let her out.
Choking back tears, too frightened to cry, she stumbled and fell onto one knee. The deep, sopping leaves and evergreen needles immediately soaked through her pants. She got up, shaking now.
Rotting fallen trees and huge boulders, some taller than she, littered the crevice, offering places to hide. Nora knew she had to stop, or whoever was chasing Devin would hear her, see her, follow her footprints…find her.
I need to help Dev.
But what could she do? She was defenseless, helpless. She didn’t know where he was. Who was after him.
Maybe it was just a bear chasing him, and he’ll be all right.
She dropped behind a massive boulder, into snow and brown, wet leaves. She sank as low as she could, squeezing herself between the cold granite behind her and the gnarly roots and trunk of a tall evergreen in front of her. She curled herself into a tight ball, trying to make herself as invisible and as hard to find as possible.
She knew it wasn’t a bear chasing Devin.
She realized her hat had come off and pulled up her hood, which she should have done sooner to keep the snow from going down her neck. She thought of Elijah explaining how to trap body heat. Wind and cold, wet conditions were the enemy.
And here she was, tucked against cold, wet rock and sitting on cold, wet ground, both of which would suck the warmth out of her and send the cold straight in.
It was snowing. Hard.
At least I’m out of the worst of the wind.
Without her pack, with her pants already wet…
She started to cry, but she could hear Elijah warning the class not to waste energy and body heat panicking.
And she didn’t want whoever was out there to find her.
She drew her knees up under her chin and watched the snow collect on the spruce needles and dead leaves.
Now she knew how Drew Cameron had died up here.
He was murdered.
Just like Alex.
She strained to hear even the slightest sound out above the gully, but all she heard was the howl of the wind whipping through the trees.
Don’t think.
Nora squeezed her eyes shut tight and silently repeated her mantra.
Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think…
Twenty-Seven
Three hours after he’d left the lodge, Elijah was well onto the north side of the mountain and figured Jo was probably fifteen minutes behind him. He’d spotted her a while back. She’d catch up with him eventually. She was fit as hell.
He remembered the feel of those strong legs of hers last night.
How to mess with a man’s situational awareness. He refocused on the steep, rough trail. Light, wet snow clung to the evergreens around him and slickened a stretch of exposed rock, but the storm was just starting. It would get worse. He’d be spending the night out in it.
He’d made good time and hadn’t run into anyone or seen any sign of anyone on the mountain. If Devin and Nora had taken another route and gone back to the lodge, all the better. Elijah figured he and Jo could have a snowball fight and heat up cocoa over a hot fire.
Given the conditions, he estimated he was still a half hour out from where his father had died. They’d come this way dozens of times when Elijah was a boy. Day hikes, overnight camping trips. His father could hike for hours without a break and could sleep anywhere—on rocks, roots, pine needles, in the middle of ferns, on the side of a mountain. Elijah had inherited—or learned—those same abilities, which had come in handy during his years of military service.
The trail leveled off and narrowed even further as it curved sharply along the base of a rock-faced knoll. With a near-vertical wall of granite to his right and a sharp drop to his left, Elijah decided to stop thinking about Jo’s legs and focus on not falling off the damn mountain.
He heard a scraping sound directly above him and then a hissing as small stones and dirt let loose and cascaded down onto him. He put up an arm, deflecting a baseball-size rock, and jumped back, maintaining his footing on the slippery ground.
More rock and dirt piled onto the trail in front of him.
He quickly retraced his steps back to where the trail had leveled off, then charged up through dense spruces to the top of the knoll. The mini landslide hadn’t started spontaneously, when he happened to be on a tricky section of the trail. One wrong move, and he’d have gone right off the trail—at least a forty-foot drop.
But Elijah didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anyone over the sound of the wind. The falling dirt and rock and the noise of his own running through fallen leaves and evergreen needles had covered any sound his attacker had made in retreat.
He stepped over a decaying, moss-covered oak stump to the edge of the rock face where the rock-and-dirt slide had started and saw footprints—almost certainly from a man’s boots—fast disappearing in the accumulating snow.
He squinted out into the trees and falling snow, which was coming down faster, more heavily. Even in the storm, it was a hell of a view out across the mountain peaks from up here—and a perfect spot to lie in wait for someone down on the trail.
His hand stung where he’d bloodied his knuckles dodging the mini landslide. Served him right, he thought, for not wearing his gloves. He f
ocused his attention on the scene and noticed a walking stick on the ground, partway beneath a knee-high boulder that, obviously, someone had tried to dislodge, setting off the rock-and-dirt slide.
Elijah picked up the walking stick. It was Devin’s—had to be. Had that skinny little bastard just tried to knock him off the mountain? But Elijah didn’t think so. He clutched the thick walking stick. Devin had left it behind before his tumble at the falls yesterday. Jo had just fetched his pack back to the lodge.
Pushing back a spark of fear for the teenager, Elijah concentrated on the immediate problem. The main purpose of the attack hadn’t been to kill or disable him—there were more efficient ways to accomplish either one—but, more likely, to interrupt him, delay him, slow him down.
And, possibly, to implicate Devin at the same time.
A diversion.
From what?
Elijah debated tracking his attacker, but only for a half second. Jo was right behind him, and she needed to know what was going on.
The snow was several inches deep as he headed back to the trail. He dropped down onto it just as Jo came around the curve. He felt a dangerous rush of emotion. He had no regrets about last night, he decided. Not one. But that didn’t mean it had been sane to make love to her.
She fastened her turquoise eyes on him. “What happened to you?”
“Someone tried to play King of the Hill with me.”
“You were attacked?”
“That sums it up.” As he eased his pack off his shoulders and set it down in front of him he gave her a quick rundown of what had transpired.
“You don’t know who it was?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Have you seen anyone else out here since you started up the mountain?”
He shook his head. “Just me and the chickadees. And you, of course. Didn’t like being left behind, did you?”
She ignored him. “I haven’t seen anyone, either. Let me look at your hand. Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“Yes, but all my hand needs is a glove. It’s damn cold out here.”
“Elijah—”
Cold Pursuit Page 24
