“Rose,” he said, gulping in a breath, “I have to talk to you.”
“You need to talk to the police.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
She didn’t like his panicked tone, and took a step back toward the lane. “All right. Let’s go back to the lodge.”
“No, we talk here.” He grabbed her wrist, clamping down hard on bare skin. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want—”
“Let me go, Robert. Then we can talk.”
He tightened his hold on her wrist and nodded down the hill. “I’m going to take you down there. Out of sight.” He was agitated but seemed to have himself under control. “Then you can go.”
Not a chance, Rose thought, quickly debating her options.
He yanked her into the deep snow under the tall, gnarly hemlock. Shaking visibly, he lifted her wrist and pressed her forearm against her chest, pushing her into the prickly boughs of the hemlock. “What happened? Why is Derek dead?”
“There was a fire—”
“I know there was a fire. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know any more than you do.”
“The police think I was involved, don’t they?” He sniffled but didn’t ease his hold on her. “This damn town’s been nothing but bad luck for me.”
“Robert,” Rose said, forcing herself not to tense under his grip and waste energy, “you have to let go of me. Don’t make things worse for yourself. I know you’re upset. I know you and Derek were friends.”
“He cared about you. He never would have hurt you.”
Rose didn’t argue with him. “We hadn’t had anything to do with each other in a long time.”
Robert’s grip on her softened. “Rose, did someone kill him? Was he murdered?”
“A state trooper was just at the lodge. He can’t be that far—”
“I saw his cruiser go up the road. I waited for it to go by again.” He kept his voice low, but he practically spit his words. “I’m an outsider around here. I don’t know anyone. It’d be easy for someone to set me up, blame me—come after me.”
“Brett Griffin’s in the same position you are. He talked to the police.”
“Brett’s not sharing a house with Derek. He’s kept both of us at a distance since last year.” Robert glanced up at the lane, then back again at Rose. “What if someone did kill Derek? What if I’m next?”
“All the more reason to talk to the police.”
“They can’t help me. What’s with you and this guy from California?”
His question took her by surprise. “Nick? What do you know about him?”
“Nothing. Derek was all freaked out about him.”
“When?”
“Last night. He stopped at the house and got his camping gear and took off. What’s this Nick character doing in Vermont?”
“He’s my brother Sean’s business partner. Why would his presence freak out Derek?”
“He didn’t say,” Robert said, suddenly loosening his grip on her. “I have to go.”
Rose started to pull her wrist free, but Robert shoved her backward into the hemlock and bolted up the hill. She twisted away from the tree and its sharp, dried-up lower limbs, and sprawled into the snow, breaking her fall as best she could with an outstretched arm.
She rolled onto her hands and knees.
“Rose!”
It was Nick, swooping down the hill toward her. Robert must have spotted him through the woods. She scrambled to her feet, but Nick caught her by the elbows and stood her up. “I’m going after him,” she said.
“Hold on,” Nick said, his dark eyes on her, intense. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” She shuddered at the shock of cold as snow melted on her face, into the heels of her hands, into her ankles—down her back. “Robert Feehan just shoved me and took off through the woods, toward the road. He must have seen or heard you.”
“I saw him. I didn’t realize what was going on.”
“I’m going after him,” Rose said again, pulling herself out from Nick’s hold.
He shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
Rose realized her hands were shaking from cold, anger, fear—and Nick. His presence, his touch, his hard gaze. She pushed past him in the deep snow. “Lauren’s on the way to the sugar shack. You should go there. I’ll meet you—”
“Not a chance, Rose.”
She didn’t respond and followed Robert’s footprints past a pine tree. She heard Nick sigh and cut up the hill, intercepting her just as she reached the dead-end lane. He was in boots, too, not on skis or snowshoes, and wore his lightweight jacket from yesterday. Again no hat, but he didn’t seem cold.
“Robert Feehan is Derek Cutshaw’s friend,” she said without looking at Nick. “The one the police are looking for. He wanted to talk to me.”
“Did he attack you?”
“Attack is too strong a word. He wanted to talk to me alone. I told you—he didn’t hurt me. I just got snow down my back.”
“Now there’s an image,” Nick said, his voice husky, but his humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you want to call 911, or one of your friends in law enforcement personally?”
“Robert was agitated—”
“He knows the police want to talk to him and took off when he saw me. What does that tell you?”
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
Nick’s dark eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone.”
It was what she’d have done in his place. Rose wiped melted snow from her cheek. “Robert didn’t have to run.” She exhaled, feeling calmer. “I’ll try Scott first. I have his cell number and he was just at the lodge.”
“Can you get a call out?”
“I don’t know. Cell service is spotty. Robert lost a friend yesterday. He’s upset, understandably. He said Derek knew you were in Vermont and was freaked out.” She pulled off her gloves and withdrew her cell phone from her jacket pocket, her fingers stiff, red with the cold. She found Scott’s number, not looking at Nick as she dialed. “I don’t know if the call will go through. The signal’s pretty weak.”
Scott answered on the first ring. “What’s up, Rose?”
“Robert Feehan just paid me a visit,” she said, then briefly told him what had transpired between them.
He listened without interruption. “Feehan pushed you?”
“Yes, but it was no big deal. I’m not hurt, just cold and irritated.”
“Where are you now?”
“Nick Martini and I are on our way to meet Lauren at the sugar shack.”
“Good. Wait for me there.”
Rose disconnected and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She turned to Nick. “Did you see Lauren and the kids before you left?”
“They were just starting out across the meadow.”
“They should be there now. I don’t want Robert backtracking through the woods and harassing them.”
She climbed over a snow bank at the end of the lane. Nick stayed with her, and she led him to a narrow path, the snow disturbed only by the occasional deer and wild turkey tracks. Just past a curve, she saw the old sugar shack through leafless, graceful deciduous trees.
She found herself smelling for smoke, but the air was clear, clean and cold.
Nick moved ahead of her as they came to the small field where the sugar shack, constructed of rough-cut lumber, grayed now with age, was situated above a stream, just through the woods on the edge of the expansive, open meadow behind the lodge. A few days ago, she and Lauren had shoveled out the area in front of the entrance, exposing an outside stone fireplace.