Murdered…
She wondered if her father was as upset by Alex’s death as her mother was. Everyone had thought her dad would hate Alex, but he didn’t.
No one would think about how she felt. The in-the-way stepdaughter.
It was all so surreal.
She picked up her pace, already debating whether she needed everything in her pack. It was so heavy. She felt a sudden, blinding anger toward her father for telling her about Alex the way he had, calling her on her cell phone, just blurting out that he was dead. Deep down, though, she knew there was no easy way to give someone such news. She could imagine how awful it must have been for Devin when he’d found Drew Cameron. He’d hiked up the north side of the mountain alone and had been forced to leave Drew’s body up there in the snow while he hiked down again, got back to his truck and drove out to where he could get a cell signal and call for help. At least he hadn’t actually been the one to give the Camerons the terrible news. The state police had done that part. And Drew Cameron’s death had been an accident. As much as she didn’t like Alex, it sickened Nora to think that someone could have run him over on purpose.
My dad, for one.
“No!”
Devin rushed to her side, and she realized she’d screamed. “I’m okay,” she said quickly, not looking at him. How could she even think such a thing? Her father could never kill anyone. That he could fall for a woman as horrible as Melanie didn’t mean he was capable of running over the friend who’d stolen his first wife from him.
Her father loved Melanie, and that gave him even less reason to kill Alex.
Her dad couldn’t possibly be a suspect.
“You’re freaking me out,” Devin said.
Nora pushed ahead of him out to the gravel turnaround. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Did something else happen, besides realizing your money’s missing? Did Melanie find out we’re checking her out?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Melanie already knows I hate her. She knows.
Nora set her pack down next to the car Alex had bought for her against her father’s wishes. It was a used Subaru; it wasn’t as if he’d given her a brand-new, expensive car. As irritating and demeaning as he could be, Alex hadn’t wanted her riding her bicycle on the hills and narrow roads of Black Falls, or hitchhiking, or relying on friends. In his own way, he’d tried to help her, even if his primary purpose was to keep her from bugging him. He would tell her that he worked so hard because he was dedicated to making the world a better place. How could she complain about him not coming to her high-school graduation ceremony when he was off saving the world?
She was aware of Devin watching her, but refused to look back at him. If she could have sprouted wings and flown away, she would have.
With a steadier hand, she opened up the front passenger door. She cried openly now, picturing Alex running across a busy Washington street, oblivious to the car coming at him, unaware that he was in the last moments of his life. He’d have been wearing a suit-he always wore suits in Washington. He’d have had his briefcase with him. Had he held on to it, or had it gone flying?
What had gone through his mind? Had he thought about his wife, his ex-wife, his children?
Had he thought about his stepdaughter up in Vermont?
Had he thought about anything?
Nora hefted her backpack onto the seat and shut the door hard. She knew she couldn’t bring herself to tell Devin about Alex. She just couldn’t do it.
She turned to him and said softly, “I know you’re not a thief. I’ll be okay. We both will.”
“Stay, Nora. Don’t do this.”
“Just find out what you can about Melanie. Clients, travels-especially since April when she met my father.”
Melanie had been in Black Falls when Drew Cameron went missing. Now Alex was dead in Washington.
She was bad luck.
“I’ll do what I can,” Devin said. “Where will I find you?”
Nora pretended not to hear him and got into her car. She’d drive out to Black Falls Lodge and park at a trailhead. She had a good map and, even with the short days, she still had several hours of daylight to hike before she had to worry about pitching her tent.
In another minute, she was backing out onto the quiet road. She had time to get a good way out into the woods, away from everyone before dark. She could think, and she wouldn’t screw anything up for anyone. She wouldn’t say something stupid, like her father had good reason to want Alex Bruni dead.
He didn’t. He and Alex were friends.
And she’d be safe on the mountain.
Safe from whoever had killed Alex, because every instinct she had told her she wasn’t safe now.
She had to trust herself.
She had to run.
Seven
Thirty minutes after he’d left the Three Sisters Café, Elijah twirled the stem of a bright red leaf he’d scooped off the pile of leaves Vivian Whittaker had heaped up on the front lawn of her Vermont country home. Her husband, Lowell, was in the house, collecting himself, she’d said, after hearing about Alex Bruni’s death. She’d told Elijah the news in a clipped, straightforward manner, never pausing her raking. He’d run into the Whittakers a few times since his return home, but he only knew them to nod to on the street.
He’d stopped at the guesthouse first. No Nora, no Devin. Then he’d spotted Vivian raking leaves and walked up to find out if she’d seen either of the teenagers.
A.J. had called while Jo and her sister were still on their run. Devin hadn’t shown up for work at the lodge. Money was missing. Elijah had headed out to see what he could learn. He hadn’t considered that Nora’s stepfather would be killed in Washington.
Vivian raked a patch of grass with such force she took up dirt along with the last of the fallen leaves. She was a tall, thin, fair woman in her mid-forties. A trust-fund type, according to Sean, who knew such things. Her family’s money came from a New York-based investment bank. Lowell was some kind of money type himself, although not as rich as his wife. Even as well-off as Elijah’s younger brother Sean was, the Whittakers had to be, by far, the wealthiest landowners in Black Falls. For as long as Elijah could remember, the “farm” on the rolling hills above the river had been owned by out-of-staters.
“It’s colder than I expected today,” Vivian said, not looking at him. “I’m glad I wore gloves. They’re just garden gloves, but they keep my hands warm enough.”
Elijah thought it was a fine November day. The cool air felt good to him. Helped him get his head together. He figured Jo couldn’t have known about Bruni back at the café, not because he didn’t think she could control her emotions, but because she wouldn’t have continued to sit there eating a scone and looking at the river. Given the kind of week she’d had-given the type of person she was-she’d latch on to news of a dead ambassador whose stepdaughter was in Black Falls. No question in Elijah’s mind.
She’d probably found out by now. He wasn’t sure how long he had before she turned up. If she didn’t have a reason, she’d think of one. He wasn’t about to break any laws, but he was accustomed to a certain level of autonomy and wanted to do things his own way. Go from there. He wanted to find Devin and confront him about the missing money.
He didn’t need a Secret Service agent throwing up roadblocks.
And he hadn’t anticipated Nora’s stepfather turning up dead.
But he saw tears glisten in Vivian’s eyes and reminded himself the woman had just lost a friend. “I’m sorry about Ambassador Bruni,” he said.
She quickly brought herself back under control. “Yes. Well. It’s unfortunate. I only hope his death turns out to be a horrible accident. The idea of someone targeting him is beyond my comprehension. He was such a good man.”
“Who told you?”
“ Lowell spoke to Thomas Asher, Nora’s father.” She dipped her rake under a sugar maple, one of a half dozen that dotted the lawn, and scraped the tines over exposed roots. “He called while we were out here working in the yard and left a message. Lowell listened to it. He said it was obvious from Thomas’s tone that something was wrong. He had already spoken to Nora and given her the dreadful news by the time Lowell reached him.