“Yeah.”
“Fun, because after we talk to Lincoln, we’re going to Vermont. You’re a one-legged SEAL and I’m a lonely reporter with cat pictures in her wallet. Let’s go see that other ghost you’re friends with-Cameron-and talk assassins.”
“I like Vermont maple syrup,” Grit said. “That’s about it.”
He had to slow down for her on the walk to the memorial, then a couple of times up the steps to the massive statue. It wasn’t a lack of fitness on her part, he knew. It was the fire at her house. The Russian. Assassins. Maybe Charlie Neal.
He was on the top step when he felt Moose ease in next to him, but when Grit turned to say something, his friend and teammate-the man who’d saved his life-was gone.
Thirty-Seven
Jo found Nora on the floor in front of the stone fireplace with her knees tucked up under her chin as she stared, motionless, at the flames. Lowell Whittaker had just called A.J. to let him know that Nora’s mother had arrived in Black Falls and he and Vivian were driving her up to the lodge.
With his fiancée and best friend dead on top of not mentioning his breakfast with Alex Bruni, Thomas was still with the police. Dozens of law enforcement vehicles stretched down the ridge road. The local police, the Vermont State Police, the FBI, ATF, federal prosecutors, state prosecutors-they were all there.
So was Wes Harper, the recently retired Black Falls police chief.
“Mind if I join you?” Jo asked Nora and, without waiting for an answer, sat on the floor next to her. The fire was roaring. Everyone who passed it seemed to toss on a log. “I could sleep here, I think. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Some cocoa.”
“Me, too. It’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess. Devin…How is he?”
“He’s back home with his sister and brother. He’s banged up, but he’ll be okay.”
She sniffled, but her eyes never left the fire. “He saved my life. I wish I’d saved his instead.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I wish I’d done something.”
“You did. You trusted your instincts, and you ran after Alex’s death.” Jo spoke quietly but firmly, believing every word she said. She was aware of Elijah behind them, close enough to hear, far enough not to intrude. “Drew Cameron came to Washington in April two weeks before you and your father were up here.”
Nora didn’t respond. She seemed unaware of the tears streaming down her face, over her mouth and chin, onto her knees.
“Did you see him?” Jo asked.
This time Nora answered. “He stopped by Alex’s office. We’d just had this big, awful fight about colleges. Dad hadn’t met Melanie yet. Drew walked in-I’d seen him in Black Falls but didn’t really know him. He looked like…” She sucked in a breath, her nose running now, too. “I thought he looked like such a hick.”
Jo smiled. “He’d like it that you thought that.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. Drew would have hated anyone to think he actually belonged in Washington. Did he say anything?”
“Just that he wanted to talk to Alex. Alex wasn’t very nice but let him in.”
“You weren’t very nice, either?”
If possible, Nora sank her chin deeper into her knees, her guilt and regret palpable. “He told me that when I was his age, I’d know that the people I loved and who loved me would matter to me more than a fight over which college to attend. I made fun of him.” She buried her face in her knees and said, her voice muffled, “He was about to die, and I made fun of him.”
Behind them, Elijah said nothing. Jo felt the heat of the fire and her own fatigue, her own regrets. “Drew was also a wise man, and he’d have understood that you were eighteen and trying to figure out your life. He had a lot on his mind, more even than I realized. He didn’t tell me everything. It’s clear now that he’d figured out something that posed a threat to some very dangerous people.”
Nora raised her head off her knees, but still didn’t look at Jo. “He asked for Alex’s help. I don’t know about what-I didn’t hear any specifics. But Alex was mad at me, and he took it out on Drew. Now they’re both dead.”
“I guarantee that the reasons they’re dead have nothing to do with you or your behavior that day.”
Elijah finally came closer, and he got down next to Nora, tucked one finger under her chin and raised her eyes to him. “Listen to me. Okay?” He waited until she nodded, then dropped his hand and continued. “My father didn’t die because of you. He and then Alex died because they got too close to a network of paid killers. Melanie and Kyle were a part of that network. We don’t know all the particulars yet. We might never know.”
“Melanie…”
“Her own people killed her. She screwed up by getting involved with your father. That complicated things for them.”
“Because Devin and I started checking her out-”
Jo broke in. “No, Nora. Because Melanie was who she was. If she’d just been an interior decorator, she wouldn’t have cared all that much about what you and Devin were up to.”
Nora didn’t respond right away. Then she sat cross-legged, her fatigue and distress evident in the dark circles under her eyes, in the tremble of her lower lip. She addressed Elijah, speaking quietly. “If Alex and I hadn’t had that fight, maybe he’d have listened to your dad. Maybe they could have stopped these guys.”
“If my father had known he was onto a bunch of paid assassins,” Elijah said, “he’d have gone to the police, not to your stepfather. Whatever he knew got them nervous enough to kill him.”
“That awful woman…Melanie…” Nora paled when she spoke the name of her father’s dead fiancée. “What she said about your dad…”
“There’s no question in my mind that my father would have exchanged his life for mine without hesitation. It’s not what happened, but I hope he died believing his death meant I would live. I hope he had that consolation.”
“He was a good man. My mum and dad…”
“They’ve made their mistakes. Right now, your father, especially.”
“I don’t want to go to Alex’s funeral.”
“Go,” Elijah said bluntly. “Give yourself that chance to say goodbye.”
Thirty-Eight
Elijah entered the Harper kitchen for the first time in more than a decade, but it hadn’t changed. He wasn’t surprised. Wes Harper had a dozen canning jars of applesauce lined up on the round oak table. He’d let Elijah come in. Elijah took that as a positive sign. It was five days since his ordeal on Cameron Mountain with Jo, Nora and Devin.
Most of the reporters who’d descended on Black Falls in the first twenty-four hours after Kyle Rigby and Melanie Kendall had died on Cameron land had departed.
There’d been no official mention of paid killers at work.
Jo was still on the lake, running every morning, consulting with her law enforcement colleagues. Her Secret Service boss had flown in and out again in one day. Mark Francona had struck Elijah as a serious hard-ass. Elijah had offered him use of his canoe, in case Francona and Jo wanted to paddle across the lake before it froze solid. Francona didn’t seem to think that was funny.
Grit Taylor and Myrtle Smith had arrived the morning after the storm and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. Grit had set up in the most isolated and removed of Jo’s rundown cabins. Myrtle had checked in to the best room at Black Falls Lodge. Her presence was just the distraction A.J. and Lauren needed-Myrtle loved the idea of a luxury spa at the lodge.
The younger Cameron siblings had returned home. A.J., Elijah, Sean and Rose had sat up last night in front of the fire at the lodge and talked until dawn.
When he’d left for the lake, Elijah had known what he had to do. He didn’t care that Jo had been back in his life for just days. In a way, she’d always been there, for as long as he could remember.
“I’d like to talk to you, sir,” he said to Jo’s father.