“You’re more like Jo than you think,” he said, matter-of-fact, and looked back at Sean. “Want to join me in a glass of whiskey and walk through this thing?”
“It’s five o’clock in the morning your time,” Sean said.
“Okay. So I’ll have two glasses of whiskey.”
Hannah entered the kitchen. She was dressed in a flowing coral nightgown and robe that Beth knew she hadn’t brought with her from Vermont. She eased onto the stool next to the one where Grit had left his bag and stared at her hands.
Sean seemed to struggle not to say anything, but Beth didn’t have that problem. “You seem preoccupied, Hannah. What’s on your mind?”
She looked up. “Rose is so proud. Bowie knows that, too. If our keeping her secret has endangered her—”
“Cutshaw’s the one who’s dead.” Grit stood back, obviously gauging the reaction in the room. “Ah. I see my comment isn’t going over well.”
“Your bedside manner sucks,” Beth said.
“Pot, kettle,” Grit said, unperturbed. “You really are a lot like Jo, never mind that you stayed in Black Falls and she left the first chance she got.” He turned back to Hannah. “So, what happened? Did Cutshaw sexually assault Rose?”
Hannah went pale and didn’t answer. Sean tensed visibly as he got out a bottle of whiskey and glasses and set them on the counter. Beth forced herself to keep her mouth shut. She’d had inklings of something between Rose and Derek, but only inklings—not enough to raise the subject with Rose, who was even more private than Hannah.
Hannah twisted her hands together. “Rose said that what went on between her and Derek…that his behavior wasn’t criminal.”
Sean ripped open the whiskey but didn’t respond.
Clearly uncomfortable speaking about her friend, Hannah nonetheless continued. “Rose said Derek was a mistake that she wanted to keep to herself. I wouldn’t be talking about it now except she said to.” She raised her pale blue eyes to Sean. “I don’t think she wanted to have to tell you and your brothers herself.”
“When did you find out?” Grit asked.
“In January, after Lowell’s arrest.” Hannah reached down the counter for the glass of whiskey Sean had poured for her. She pulled it toward her but didn’t drink any. “I figured it out. Rose didn’t tell me. She never would have said a word if I hadn’t confronted her. As it is, she didn’t tell me much.”
Beth picked up an empty glass and held it out to Sean. “Just a splash.”
He complied, but she could see his jaw was clamped tightly shut, presumably with thoughts of his sister, and probably Nick, too. Beth took a too-big swallow of the whiskey. It was smooth, smoky and expensive.
Grit looked over the rim of his glass at her. “How much of this mess with Rose and Cutshaw did you know or guess?”
“Next to none of it,” she said truthfully. “Derek always struck me as a bastard, but I didn’t know him that well—just to say hi to. I didn’t want anything to do with him after the fight at O’Rourke’s.”
“Rose never mentioned him?” Sean asked, his voice low, tense.
Beth shook her head. “She never said a word to me. She’d been burning the candle at both ends. Maybe she was vulnerable to a guy like Derek. Good-looking, great skier, partier. He didn’t care about anything more serious than snow conditions and having a good time. There’s nothing wrong with that, but he was also a self-absorbed ass.”
Hannah stared into her drink. “I don’t see him camping out in a cold, uncomfortable shed in the middle of winter. He must have had a compelling reason.”
Sean remained quiet, sipping his whiskey. Grit tried his and nodded with satisfaction. “Good stuff. How long were Rose and this Cutshaw character together?”
“I don’t know that she’d describe them as ever having been ‘together,’” Hannah said.
“Think they could have been meeting at the shed, seeing each other on the sly—”
“No.” Hannah’s tone was curt to the point of unfriendly. “Why are you here, Grit?”
He shrugged, no sign that Hannah’s irritation with him affected him at all. “Navy business.”
Yeah, right, Beth thought, but she could tell no one else in the room believed him, either.
“What about Rose and Nick Martini?” Grit asked.
That was too much for Sean. He sprang to his feet and collected Beth’s empty glass and his own and brought them to the counter.
Beth realized she was gaping at her friend. Hannah, who had barely touched her drink, was even paler now. Her expression said it all. “Hannah—you’re kidding.” Beth couldn’t contain her shock. “You mean there’s something between Rose and Nick?”
“I don’t know anything. Nothing. I just…” She looked at Sean. “It’s none of our business. They’re adults.”
Sean obviously had to pry his teeth apart to talk. “I’d trust Nick with my life. I have trusted him with my life.”
“That doesn’t mean you’d trust him with your sister,” Grit said.
Sean didn’t respond.
“Would you trust anyone?” the Navy SEAL asked.
“Not the point,” Sean muttered, and moved down the hall.
Hannah exhaled and picked up her whiskey. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s guessed about Nick and Rose. He’s just in denial. Rose would only tell me that Nick was a sexier mistake than Derek.” She winced. “It’d just kill her if she knew we were here discussing her love life over whiskey.”
Beth pushed to her feet. “Not her love life. That’s the problem. Maybe she’s the smart one. Have a fling and walk away. Not everyone has a soul mate out there.” She retied her robe. “Back to bed with me.”
She marched down the hall, shutting her bedroom door hard behind her. She wasn’t the crying type but she found her eyes brimming with tears. She blamed the late hour, the news from home, the whiskey, but she knew it was Scott.
She glanced at her cell phone. He worked odd hours as a trooper. He could be up for all she knew.
“He can call me,” she muttered, brushed the tears out of her eyes and climbed into bed.
Grit finished his whiskey alone in the kitchen. The house was quiet. While he had regarded all the women of Black Falls as sisters since first venturing to Vermont in November, he did entertain a moment’s surprise at his reaction to Beth Harper as she’d tightened her robe over plaid boxer shorts and a tight little T-shirt.
All that up and down the mountains of northern New England had kept her in shape.
But she was clearly worried about what was going on in Black Falls.
He headed to his assigned bedroom in the back. It wasn’t that small. It had its own bathroom. He was used to rats and cockroaches at the apartment he’d given up in D.C. before moving to Myrtle’s place. Before that…
Before that, he’d been someone else.
His leg ached when he took off his prosthesis. The long flight had taken its toll, and probably the whiskey, too. He distracted himself by thinking about firebugs and Beth Harper in her flannel boxers.
Just because he’d thought of her as a sister before didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t his sister.
No, she was the sister of Elijah’s fiancée and on the rebound from her state trooper.
Out of reach. Out of bounds.
Didn’t mean she didn’t have great legs.
“Give it up,” Grit whispered to himself, and emptied his mind. Time for sleep. He had work to do after daylight.
Thirteen
Black Falls, Vermont
R ose stood at the top of her driveway in the soft, gray morning light and watched Ranger run into the snow after a tennis ball. She noticed he looked stiff in his hindquarters. He was a good dog, eager and fit, but, in-arguably, he was slowing down. She couldn’t face his approaching infirmities now, and whatever his future as a search dog, he still had plenty of life left in him.