“You’ll hear them for Hannah and Sean sooner than you will Elijah and me. Elijah’s waited for fifteen years. What’s another year or two?”
She didn’t wait for Grit to respond—she obviously didn’t want him to—and left. Once she was out of sight, he called Elijah: “I think you should buy Myrtle’s house and turn the back bedroom into a nursery. A zoo theme would be cute.”
Elijah ignored him. “Nick Martini was attacked at Rose’s house. He took a snow shovel to the side of the head but he’s fine.”
“Ouch. That’s what he gets for going out there in the dead of winter. Who attacked him?”
“Robert Feehan, most likely. Whoever it was got away. The police have been looking for him since Derek Cutshaw’s death yesterday. He jumped Rose that morning.”
“She didn’t get a shovel to the head?”
“He said he wanted to talk to her. Nick showed up, and Feehan took off.”
“Lots of places to hide up there in the snow. All right. Thanks for the intel.” Grit got up. “When I’m in San Diego, I’ll stop at the zoo and buy a stuffed giraffe for the nursery.”
But Elijah was gone. Grit heard his seating area called. It was almost a six-hour flight across the continent.
Anything could happen while he was in the air.
Twelve
Beverly Hills, California
B eth Harper took a late-night swim in Sean Cameron’s heated pool. The temperature in Beverly Hills was cool by Southern California standards, but by Vermont standards—even in the summer, never mind late February—it was just fine.
She climbed out of the clear azure water and quickly dried off with a large beach towel and pulled on a soft terry-cloth robe. She was alone on the expansive patio, red bougainvillea trailing down a privacy wall.
She didn’t mind. Alone, she thought, was good.
She went through French doors into the quiet, spare house, heading into the guest room where she was staying. She thought she just might chuck going back to Vermont and apply for a paramedic’s job here.
Except Vermont wasn’t the problem.
She changed into a T-shirt and flannel boxers and climbed onto her bed, sitting against the pillows with her knees tucked up under her chin. Late nights were the toughest. That’s when she’d obsess about Scott stiffly packing his things and clearing out, the cab he’d called already waiting in the driveway. No warning. No discussion. He’d had enough of Beverly Hills and was going home.
What he’d meant was that he’d had enough of her.
They hadn’t talked since. A state detective had called to ask her about Derek Cutshaw’s death and Robert Feehan’s possible whereabouts, but nothing from Trooper Thorne.
“Bastard,” Beth muttered, sniffling back tears as she reached for her cell phone and dialed her sister in D.C.
“Beth, are you okay? What’s happened? Did Grit—”
“Everything’s fine. Sorry. I forgot about the time change. It’s late there.”
“It’s late in Beverly Hills, too.” Jo breathed out in relief. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Maybe, Beth thought, but Jo didn’t scare easily. “Elijah called a couple hours ago and asked Sean to fetch Grit at the airport. He’s there now.”
No response from Jo. After several beats, she said, “Just as well Grit’s not there on his own. Elijah won’t admit it, but Grit’s potentially out of control. He’s had a long recovery from his leg amputation, and he’s a Navy SEAL—he’s not used to being idle. I’d hoped this new job at the Pentagon would help.”
“I’m sure it will,” Beth said.
“Anything weird happens, you call me.”
“Are you asking me to be a federal informant?”
“I’m not speaking officially. Elijah and Grit are friends. I’ve become fond of Grit myself. He’s…different.” Jo changed the subject. “How’re you doing out there? Getting in much shopping?”
“Lots of window-shopping.” Beth smiled, trying to ease her tension—and her sister’s. “I bought socks and underwear on Rodeo Drive.”
Jo laughed. “Even that must have set you back. I wish I could be there with you and Hannah.”
“I’ve been thinking about heading home. Jo, you’ve heard—”
“Yeah. Poor Rose. I’m glad you didn’t have to respond to that fire yourself. You could use a break.”
“We all could,” Beth said.
Jo didn’t take the bait. “Did you call just to talk, or is there something on your mind?”
“Why is Grit in California?”
“Navy business, he says.”
“You think Charlie Neal’s been in touch with him again, don’t you?” Beth knew her sister wouldn’t give a direct answer and didn’t wait for one. “Charlie will be with his family for winter fest at Black Falls Lodge. I guess you know that, though.”
“I plan to be there myself.” She added, “For fun.”
“Are you keeping on top of yesterday’s fire? Could Derek have been involved in Lowell’s network? Do you think Robert’s just frightened—”
“Anything’s possible.”
Beth heard Sean arriving back at the house and hung up with Jo, then slipped into her robe and headed down the hall to the kitchen, all stainless steel and spotless chrome. It had a masculine feel despite the presence of Hannah’s raspberry-colored sweater on the back of a chair and Beth’s handbag on the kitchen floor.
Sean, tall and good-looking, walked in from the garage with Grit, black-haired, dark, wiry and relaxed, both men exuding masculinity and restraint.
“Hi, Grit,” Beth said cheerfully. “How was your flight?”
“Good. The plane landed.”
Beth noticed he moved a little unevenly as he set his bag on a stool at the breakfast bar. She suspected his injured leg had given him trouble on the long flight. It had to be his first since his medical evacuation to Bethesda last April.
He showed no sign of being in pain, or even noticing his difficulties. He glanced around the expensive house. “Not bad, Sean,” Grit said. “Life could be worse.”
“Help yourself to anything you need,” Sean said.
“Who am I to argue with a Cameron?”
“You wouldn’t win, anyway,” Beth said.
Grit directed his black eyes to her. “Good point. How’d you all find out about my flight? I figure Jo told Sean, or she told Elijah, who told Sean—or maybe told A.J. or their sister—or Jo told you, her sister.” He shrugged. “Lots of ways news travels among the Black Falls crowd.”
Sean paid no attention. “We’ve got a houseful,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind the small bedroom in back.”
“I thought I’d be on a chair at the airport bar until morning.” Grit remained standing. “Any news from the Green Mountain state?”
“I assume you know about the attack on Rose this morning and on Nick tonight,” Beth said.
“Sean filled me in. No stitches. No concussion. No deaths. I’m not minimizing, but I wouldn’t want to go up against his sister. Everyone in town loves her. Martini’s capable, too, right?”
“He’s good,” Sean said.
“Submariner.” Grit gave a mock shudder. “Submarines aren’t my favorite place to be.”
Beth had a feeling Grit had been on his share of submarines and had done fine. He was a man who took life as it came. She couldn’t say the same for herself. She was always trying to push life into what she wanted it to be. Was that why Scott hadn’t stayed with her?
She shook off the thought. “I just hope this mess isn’t all starting again.”
“Not starting again,” Grit said. “Continuing. Those your brother’s boxers?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re mine. They’re comfortable. Flannel.” She drew her robe shut, knotted the tie. “I’m not discussing my damn boxers with you, Grit.”