Her reflection made her grimace. She peered into a mirror that Hannah and Beth had found at a yard sale and saw that she had smudges of soot on her face. Her skin was windburned but pallid, with dark shadows under her eyes that showed the strain of the morning.
Figured no one had told her she was a mess.
She cleaned up and slipped into the kitchen. Dominique was alone, her cheeks flushed as she pulled a pan of steaming roasted vegetables from the oven.
Rose tried to stay out of the way. “How are you doing?”
“How am I doing?” Dominique slammed the pan onto a cooling rack on the counter. “A man is dead, Rose. I’m lucky I’m not dead.”
“Dom, you and Robert weren’t—”
“We weren’t anything. He’d come in here. I’d see him. Same with Derek. Not often.” She tossed her pot holders onto a pile by the stove. “I told the police.”
“Were you friends?”
“Friends? What’s a friend? Lowell and Vivian Whittaker used to come in here, too. They acted as if we were their friends. We were all taken in.” Dominique washed her hands in the stainless-steel sink. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
“Something’s going on with you, Dom,” Rose said quietly. “Whatever it is was there even before you went out to the lake this morning.”
Dominique briskly dried her hands with a soft cloth. “Nothing’s going on. Forget it. I have work to do. Please excuse me.”
“Dom—”
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time this morning. I surprised Robert. He panicked.” She snatched up a long-handled spoon and stirred the vegetables. In summer, she’d use fresh local produce when she could. “If he and Derek were preying on vulnerable young people, selling them prescription drugs…”
“Were you trying to expose them?”
“I’m not a police officer. I’d heard rumors. Bowie had, too. I told the police everything I know, which, fortunately or unfortunately, is very little.”
Dominique set the spoon on the counter and returned to the worktable, making it clear she didn’t want to talk, but Rose continued to press her. “You were at the Whittaker place yesterday and the cabins this morning—”
“I know where I was,” Dominique said irritably.
“Why were you there, Dom? I’ve never known you to run out at the lake.”
“I signed up for a half marathon in June. Jo and Beth Harper run there. Beth showed me their route.” She stared down at her hands on the butcher-block table. “And because I wanted to talk to Bowie. I wanted to see if we could figure out where Robert was.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to convince Robert to talk to the police before he ended up like Derek.”
“Then you don’t think he killed Derek and accidentally killed himself?”
Dominique, calmer, shook her head.
“Robert could have fooled everyone,” Rose said. “He could have pretended to be a carefree ski instructor when, in fact, he was one of Lowell Whittaker’s killers. He could have realized he was caught and went out the way he wanted to.”
“I don’t know whether it’s more frightening to think that Robert was one of Lowell’s killers, or that he wasn’t. If he wasn’t, there’s someone else still out there.”
Rose leaned back against the counter. “You tend to stick close to home.”
“I’ve been working on my house.”
“You hardly ever go out, Dom.”
She raised her brown eyes. “Are you suggesting I’m hiding something?”
“Asking.”
She twisted her hands together. “Nothing that matters.”
“Whatever you’re hiding, Dom, people are going to find out. It’s hard enough to keep secrets around here when things are normal.”
Dominique shut her eyes briefly, then spoke without looking at Rose. “I was married for about five minutes four years ago.” She paused, rubbing her fingertips over the butcher-block tabletop. “He had money. Has. He’s not from around here. Cleveland. He’s an alpine skier, though. He loves Vermont. He took lessons from Derek. I did, too.”
“Dom, as far as secrets go…”
“I got involved in prescription drug abuse,” she said quietly. “I’m clean now. I have been for four years. Belair’s my maiden name. I found myself in cooking—and here,” she added, her voice cracking, “with you all.”
Rose steadied herself against Dominique’s admission. “Bowie knows?’
She gave a small laugh. “Bowie knows everything that happens around here, I swear.”
“True,” Rose said, still not satisfied. “Where’s your ex-husband now?”
“Still in Cleveland. He’s remarried. He’s not a bad guy, we just weren’t right for each other. We were both spoiled.”
Rose saw it now. “You come from money.”
Dominique’s eyes lowered. “I’m what you all would call a ‘trust fund baby.’ I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to be known for myself, for who I am.”
“Don’t we all, Dom? Give us a little credit.”
“I do now. It just became easier to keep not saying anything.”
Rose felt her energy sagging. “I can’t argue with that,” she said softly. “The police know?”
“Everything, yes.”
“Bowie?”
“He guessed,” Dominique said.
“He’s good at keeping other people’s secrets.”
“Maybe we ask too much of him, or he asks too much of himself.” She stood back from the worktable. “I really do have things I need to do.”
Rose smiled. “Cook to your heart’s content, Dom.”
When she reached Main Street, Rose noticed the air was warmer, above freezing. Nick would be back at the lodge by now.
No sooner did she have the thought than he called. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
She spotted Bowie’s beat-up van down the street. “Thanks, but I’ll get a ride. Be back soon. What are you doing?”
“Thinking and making calls. I brushed Ranger. He didn’t like it.”
“He never does.” Rose didn’t ask any follow-up questions and disconnected, walking down to Bowie’s van. He was climbing in. “What’re you doing in town?” she asked him.
“Stopped to see Liam to see what he knew about the fire. He said I just missed you.”
“Have you talked to the police?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Then you know Dominique was attacked?”
“I stopped by to check on her, but she was busy. I talked to her for two seconds, probably while you were with Liam. She’s pretty shaken up.” Bowie narrowed his eyes on Rose for half a beat. “You are, too.”
“I don’t deny it. Can you give me a ride up to the lodge?”
He nodded. “Where’s Ranger?”
“Nick hiked back up to the lodge. Ranger went with him.”
Rose shoved stuff off the van’s front passenger seat and got in. The interior smelled like mud and cold, wet stone—at least not like gas, she thought.
They passed the police station. “Every cop in town must be out at the lake,” Bowie said.
“Probably so.” She stared out the side window at the familiar landscape of her hometown. Snow had melted into her wool socks. She’d unzipped her coat, but she was still too warm. “When you were in that fight at O’Rourke’s, did you ever imagine Derek and Robert would be dead in less than a year?”
“I wasn’t thinking about the future. I was locked in to the idea that I needed to punch Derek in the head.”
She couldn’t help but smile at Bowie’s irreverent tone.
But his eyes were serious when he glanced over at her. “That fight’s in the past, Rose. It’s not why Derek and Robert are dead.”
“You protected me last year.”