Cold Pursuit (9 page)

“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, which 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.”

“You don’t want to.”

He grinned suddenly. “No, actually, I don’t.”

That got her, and she let go. “Fifteen years in the army turned you into a real wiseass.”

“Your nose is red. Been crying?”

She sighed. “You don’t let up, do you? It’s the cold. I’m not used to it anymore. Did you know Ambassador Bruni?”

He shook his head. “I know he stayed at the lodge a few times. Not much impresses A.J., but an ambassador checking in got his attention. Then Bruni and the Whittakers became friends. What about you? Did you know him?”

“Not really, no. I’m not sure I was ever in town the same time he was. Elijah, the Whittakers said Nora took a wilderness-skills class you taught at the lodge. A.J. must have blackmailed you into that one, but never mind. It’s supposed to get into the low twenties tonight. Is she prepared to handle a hike in these conditions?”

“She bought all the right equipment, and I taught her what to do.”

“But she’s never actually pitched a tent on a frigid mountain.” Jo stated the obvious, then bent and picked up a small stone, rubbing it between her fingers. “I tried calling her cell phone, but I just got her voice mail.”

“Her father’s worried?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

Elijah picked up his own stone, immediately skipping it out across the cold, quiet water, away from the two ducks on the far shore. It skipped once, twice, three times. “What’s with you and Nora’s father?”

“Thomas? Nothing, really. We ran into each other cross-country skiing in February and realized we’re both from Washington.” She continued rubbing her stone, as if it might suddenly produce a genie and grant her three wishes. “We stayed in touch.”

“He’s from a prominent Virginia family.”

“Yes, he’s quite the gentleman.”

“Ah. No wonder you two didn’t stick. You like your bad boys.”

She ignored him and tried skipping her stone across the pond, but it went straight in. “I never have gotten the hang of skipping stones. You must have shown me how to do it a million times.” Using the toe of her running shoe, she scraped another stone free from the dirt. “Just to set the record straight, there was never anything between Thomas and me.”

“So you didn’t hit the self-destruct button because he got engaged?”

“I fell for a prank and intercepted a barrage of airsoft pellets. If I’d wanted to self-destruct, I could have picked a more efficient way than getting nailed with a fake gun.” She scooped up her stone and rubbed the dirt off it. “Elijah, if what you’re up to has anything to do with Ambassador Bruni’s death, I need to know.”

“Why?”

She narrowed a look at him and didn’t answer.

He asked, “Have you checked with your friends in Washington about what happened this morning?”

He noted a thinning of her lips as she curved her arm, reared back and tried again, flinging her stone with ferocity if not much finesse. It skipped once. An improvement. But she still didn’t meet his eye.

Elijah put two and two together. “You tried checking with friends. No one took your call.”

“It’s not that simple.” She rubbed her hands together, brushing off the dirt from her rocks. “Elijah, people in town say you’re not satisfied with the official explanation of your father’s death. If you have reason to suspect it wasn’t an accident—”

“I’m just here skipping stones.”

She steadied her gaze on him. “Take whatever questions you have to the police, Elijah. Let them get the answers.”

Her words hit him in all the wrong places. He picked up another stone and shot it across the water, getting close enough to the ducks for them to move toward the opposite bank.

He turned to Jo, looked her straight in the eye. “Maybe I’ll buy your dad a cup of coffee and tell him I’m thinking about sleeping with you again.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece jacket. “Go ahead, Elijah. Give me your best shot. I’m not a besotted teenager anymore.”

“Not a teenager, Jo. Still besotted.”

“Ha. Don’t you wish.” But he thought he heard just the slightest catch in her voice. She glanced around at the stone guesthouse, which, like everything on the estate, was bucolic, perfect. “Nora’s sense of trust must have taken a hit when her mother had an affair and then married one of her father’s best friends.”

“It couldn’t have helped when her father didn’t do anything about it.”

“Like what, shoot him?”

“He was passive.” Elijah started up the slight incline to a stone walk. He’d parked his truck in the turnaround on the side of the road. Time to get out of there, before he really did something he regretted. But he turned back to Jo and finished his thought. “Nora needed to see him stand up for himself. He didn’t have to fight. He could have forgiven her mother and Bruni. Instead he weaseled out of doing anything.”

Jo cocked her head back and gave him a knowing look. “Elijah. It wasn’t the same for us—fifteen years ago we were kids.”