Not that he had any intention of letting her stay at her house by herself.
He was restless, not even remotely tired when he entered his room. He hadn’t talked to Sean since he’d called on his way with Grit Taylor to the canyon where Jasper had died. Nick gritted his teeth and dialed his friend’s number.
The heat was clanking and hissing, the room too hot.
As soon as Sean picked up, Nick said, “I’ve been out to the river three times now, and I’m still trying to picture what happened in January. Hannah really flung herself into the snow a split second before the bomb went off in the backseat of her car?”
“That’s what happened,” Sean said, tight.
“What a spitfire. She’s lucky. If the bomb didn’t kill her, the snow, cold, rocks and tree roots could have.”
“Nick,” Sean said, “what’s going on?”
Nick stood by the double windows and filled him in on the scene at the Whittaker guesthouse, then said, “It’s possible Feehan camped out there last night and took off first thing this morning, before any of us arrived.”
“And he killed Cutshaw over drugs?”
“No one’s going that far. Not yet.”
“His story about Cutshaw taking off when he found out you were in town could all be BS meant to mislead the police.”
Nick had considered that possibility, too. “How’s Hannah holding up?”
“She’s worried about Rose more than ever. Beth is, too.”
“And you,” Nick said. “Would you be less worried if I came back to L.A.?”
“I’d be less worried if Rose wasn’t so—” Sean broke off with a small grunt. “I don’t need to tell you.”
“Rose is as hardheaded and independent as the rest of you. What’s going on there? Where’s Grit Taylor now?”
“Staring at the pool trying to figuring things out. He’s Elijah’s friend. He’s self-confident, and he doesn’t quit. He didn’t like finding that woman today. Jo’s not happy with the situation, either.”
“Are she and Elijah on their way out there?”
“I won’t know until they show up in my living room. Everyone’s being tight-lipped.”
“You can use my place for spillover company if it gets crowded. That’d give Jo a handy excuse to have a look around and make sure I’ve been straight with everyone.”
“She doesn’t need an excuse. She’ll get a warrant.”
She would, too, Nick thought.
“Is anything Jasper told you making sense now, or setting off alarms?” Sean asked.
Nick moved back from the windows and sat on the edge of the bed, the comforter folded up at the foot. “No, but something about my trip out here’s triggered what’s been happening. Any news on the actor?”
“He hasn’t turned up. I emailed you a photo of him. He hasn’t had much of an acting career. Apparently he’s working on several screenplays.”
“What did Marissa Neal see in him?”
“I’m not in the loop with the Secret Service,” Sean said stiffly, “but as far as I can tell he was something of a departure from the straight-and-narrow for her. High energy, big dreams, big ego. Good-looking, too.”
Nick knew the type. After he disconnected, he checked his email, but he didn’t recognize Trent Stevens from the photo Sean sent. He took his BlackBerry and headed back to the lobby. A woman at the front desk informed him Rose was in the ballroom.
Ballroom?
He got directions and went down a hall and around a corner to a large room that jutted out of the main building, windows on three sides with what in daylight would be breathtaking views of the meadow and the surrounding mountains.
Rose, A.J., Zack Harper and Myrtle Smith were gathered at a long table.
Lauren was on her feet, her daughter on one hip as she welcomed Nick. “Help yourself,” she said, nodding to the end of the table, which was spread with glasses and bottles of wine.
Nick thanked her and splashed wine into a glass. A.J. and Zack’s concern for Rose was evident, but they were circumspect with him, as if the white gas and old kerosene lamp at the guesthouse had confirmed he’d brought an ill wind and bad luck to town.
Maybe he had.
He showed Lauren the picture of the missing actor, without saying who it was.
“A.J. and I see a lot of people in our work,” she said. “I don’t remember this man.”
Her husband joined them and glanced at the actor’s smiling face. A.J. didn’t recognize Stevens, either. “We have the Secret Service breathing down our necks as it is with the Neals coming for winter fest.” His expression turned flinty. “Unless they cancel, given this latest violence.”
Nick slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I hope the police will have some definitive answers by then.”
The flintiness didn’t let up. “You attend fancy parties in Beverly Hills. Could you have run into this actor at one of them?”
“Possibly, but I don’t have any specific recollection of ever having met him. I’m not great with faces. Sometimes Hollywood types come to us for information on smoke jumping and wildland fires.” Nick sipped his wine and observed Rose, her eyes a deep blue in the ballroom’s soft light as she, Myrtle and Lauren went over logistics for the silent auction. He turned back to A.J. “I wish I could be more help.”
“I spoke to Sean. He and Grit Taylor went up to the site where the arson investigator was killed. His death is the reason you came out here, isn’t it?” A.J. didn’t give Nick a chance to answer. “Could Robert Feehan be this serial arsonist you’re after?”
“I’m not with law enforcement, A.J.,” Nick said. “I’m not here on any kind of official business. If my presence is putting anyone in danger, I’ll clear out. I won’t stay.”
The eldest Cameron seemed satisfied. “Fair enough. If Feehan’s mixed up with illegal prescription drugs, that could explain why he’s avoiding the police.”
“He could also be afraid he’s next on the killer’s list.”
A.J. sighed heavily. “If he’s innocent, running only makes his situation worse. He needs to talk to the police and get it over with.”
The two little Camerons were now racing around in circles in the wide, open space. Lauren kept a watchful eye on them. A.J. went to them, handing his wife a glass of wine. Nick watched the young family, pushing back a wave of regret and guilt that he knew would get him nowhere. He had anticipated a certain amount of awkwardness on his trip to Black Falls, given his situation with Rose, but he hadn’t expected to run into violence. He’d figured he’d talk to the lead investigators into Lowell Whittaker’s network about Jasper’s death, check out the Whittaker estate and Cameron Mountain.
Instead not only had he run into violence, he could very easily have caused it just by coming here.
Zack Harper scooped up a glass of wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Looks as if your theory about Coleman fuel in a kerosene lamp’s right on target. Some poor unknowing bastard wanders by with a match and that’s it.” He drank some of his wine. “Not pretty. Feehan must have figured the Whittaker guesthouse was the last place anyone would look for him.”
“Assuming what we found wasn’t planted there,” Rose said, holding a glass of wine in one hand as she joined them.
“Is that what you think?” Zack asked.
“I’m just trying to keep an open mind.”
“You don’t have to. You’re not investigating the case.”
Brett Griffin entered the ballroom, still wearing his parka. He looked tentative, his fair cheeks and nose red from the cold. “The woman at the front desk said you all were down here. I just finished talking to the police. I was taking night shots up at Four Corners.” He didn’t seem to be addressing anyone in particular. “I’d heard rumors about drugs but I had nothing to go on. No evidence to take to the police. I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble over rumors.”
Zack drank some of his wine. “Think that’s what all this is about? A fight between friends
over drugs?”
Clearly it wasn’t what Zack believed. Nick glanced at Rose, but she just kept a tight grip on her wineglass and said nothing.
Brett shifted to her. “There’s one more thing I wanted to mention. I didn’t want to get into it before—but now…” Red spots blossomed high on his cheeks. “Derek told me he blamed you for how he lost control last year at O’Rourke’s. The fight hurt his reputation. He felt bad Bowie got arrested. I didn’t want to say anything before now because it just didn’t seem to matter. There was no point.”
“Are you suggesting he wanted to get back at me for what happened?” Rose asked quietly.
Brett glanced around the ballroom as if he were looking for someone to help him.
“Brett,” Rose said, prodding him.
“If Derek felt under pressure—threatened for some reason—I think he’d have tried to strike back at you if he could.”
Rose maintained a neutral expression. “Yesterday morning Robert said Derek didn’t want to hurt me. He said Derek was upset because Nick was here.”
Brett’s cheeks reddened even more. “He would say that, don’t you think? He’d want to divert attention from himself. Never mind. I’m not making any sense.”
Nick noticed perspiration on Brett’s forehead but he kept his coat on. “Does Feehan have the knowledge and capability to pull off the fire that killed Cutshaw?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know,” Brett said in a low voice.
“What about Cutshaw?”
Brett turned ashen and didn’t answer.
Zack Harper shrugged and polished off the last of his wine, setting the glass on the table. “How much knowledge does it take to set yourself or someone else on fire?”
Rose turned to Brett, and Nick noticed she was slightly pale herself. “Do you have any idea where Robert could be now?” she asked.
Brett wiped his sweaty brow with the heel of his hand and shook his head. “I told the state detective who interviewed me that I’d let them know if Robert contacts me, or if I remember anything else—friends, favorite spots.”
Rose stayed focused on him. “How well did you all know the Whittakers?”
“I didn’t know them at all. I’m not sure about Derek or Robert.”
“I suppose it’s possible Robert stayed at the guesthouse but the Whittakers left the old kerosene lamp there, and he just used it. Did any of you have a key?”
“I didn’t,” Brett said.
“The apartment where we found the camping gear is the one Kyle Rigby used in November. Could Rigby have given Robert or Derek a key?”
“I don’t remember ever running into Rigby,” Brett said, frowning. “The police asked me about him. Robert, Derek and I talked about what happened in November. Of course we did. I don’t think they knew Rigby, either.”
“What about contacts in California?” Nick asked.
Brett seemed surprised by the question. “We all know people in California. We’ve all taught skiing out West. I’ve taken up enough of your time. You all have a good night. I’m sorry about all this. I wish I’d known what was going on and had found out a way to stop it from happening.”
Nick set his wineglass on a tray as Brett Griffin and Zack Harper left together. Rose rejoined Myrtle at the table and consulted drafting paper they had unfurled with drawings for how to set up the ballroom for the winter fest auction and dance. Nick had no doubt Myrtle had listened in on as much of the conversation as she could.
Lauren Cameron smiled faintly next to him and nodded to her husband across the room, their children chasing him, giggling as he let them catch him. “A.J. hates for any of us to be out of his sight.”
“Understandably,” Nick said.
“Maybe so,” she said, “but I refuse to live in fear. I did that before I moved up here. A.J.’s actually the one who helped me get past my fear. I was escaping a difficult relationship. I thought I had it well behind me, but it had an insidious effect on my ability to trust myself. Here I was, a strong woman…” She didn’t finish. “Matters of the heart sometimes require the greatest strength of all.”
“You fell for a bastard?”
A twitch of humor played at the corners of her mouth. “I did, yes.”
“And we’re talking about Rose here, too, aren’t we?”
“Could be,” she said diplomatically.
“Wasn’t your fault. Sometimes you can’t see a bastard coming. The really good ones know how to charm you, reel you in. You just have to fight your way out of the net and move on.”
“You’re not terribly controlling, are you?”
“Only person I can or want to control is myself.”
“Rose is strong, but she’s also very proud,” Lauren said, her eyes warm with emotion. “Her missteps seem magnified with three older brothers. I had no idea about her and Derek. A.J. didn’t, either. Nick…are we safe? You’d tell us if you had reason to believe we weren’t, wouldn’t you?”
He wanted to reassure her, but wasn’t sure he could. “Law enforcement knows everything I know.”
She acknowledged his words with a quick intake of breath, then a nod as she continued. “Beth was with Grit this morning.” Lauren seemed to struggle to find the right words. “I saw Scott earlier. He was as stoic as ever, but Beth discovering that poor woman with Grit can’t have gone over well with him.”
A.J. had scooped up both children and perched one on each arm. Lauren mumbled something to Nick and returned to her family. A.J.’s expression softened as she approached him. He looked less flinty, less fearful and angry.
Nick saw Rose noticing, too. Her eyes connected with his, and she quickly grabbed her coat and moved out into the hall.
Her brother’s gaze lifted over the towheaded curls of his daughter, and Nick saw that the eldest Cameron was ready to go after her. Nick left A.J. with his wife and children and followed Rose.
He caught up with her in the parking lot. “I figure you didn’t wait just so you could get me out here in the cold without a coat.”
“Why would I wait for you? I’m going home.” She nodded toward the lodge. “Go back and enjoy the fire. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. You deserve a bed tonight.”
“So I do.”
She obviously realized her mistake and got out her keys. “I’m not a target if Derek and Robert were fighting over drugs. I’ll lock my doors. Ranger will alert me if anyone tries to get in.”
“And what will you do, hide under the bed? You’re alone up there.”
“What difference does that make? Robert’s had his chance if he wanted to hurt me. Maybe he just wanted to hurt Derek and now that he’s succeeded, he’s on the run.”
“Rose.”
She sighed and shook her head at him. “Remind me never to sit across a conference table from you. All right. Thank you for your concern for my safety.” She seemed to make an effort to smile. “Go get your coat. Take your car. That way Ranger and I don’t have to come back here.”
“You’re in denial about what’s going on.”
“I’m not in denial.”
Nick didn’t argue. He returned to his room and grabbed his coat. He could be on a plane in the morning and in his condo by tomorrow night.
He headed back outside to his cold car.
A state cruiser was in Rose’s driveway when Nick pulled in behind her Jeep. She had Ranger at her side and was talking with Scott Thorne at the bottom of the front steps. The trooper glanced at Nick but was grim, distracted. “I tried calling Beth,” Thorne said. “Have you talked to her, Rose? I just want to know she’s all right.”
“I spoke to her, Sean and Hannah earlier this afternoon,” Rose said. “Beth’s okay.”
“Grit Taylor’s still there?”
“Yes, as far as I know.”
Thorne kept his attention on Rose. “I wish Beth had gone shopping with Hannah instead. She went out there to enjoy the so-called good life. Beverly Hills is fine for a visit, but I have no desire to live there. I don’t know mu
ch for sure, but I know I’ll never be rich, or live in Southern California.”
Nick wasn’t offended. He’d said the same thing when he’d enlisted in the navy a year out of high school.
“Do you think that’s what Beth wants?” Rose asked.
Thorne shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” He sighed, clearly uncomfortable with his reasons for being there. “I should go.”
“Beth’s coming back.” Rose gently rubbed Ranger behind an ear. “Black Falls is home for her. Beverly Hills isn’t what’s come between you two, anyway. You think you both work in the same sandbox. Jo being back in town just brought it all home to you, but she’s a federal agent—Beth’s a paramedic. Her work’s not the same as yours.”
“Thanks for the analysis,” Thorne said through gritted teeth.
Rose wasn’t intimidated. “You’d prefer if Beth were a kindergarten teacher, or just worked at the café full-time.”
“Good night, Rose.”
Thorne nodded curtly at Nick, returned to his cruiser and drove off.
Rose sputtered at the retreating cruiser, then spun around and marched up the steps. Ranger waited for Nick and walked up with him. Once inside, the golden retriever yawned and flopped onto his bed by the woodstove.
Rose peeled off her coat, hat and gloves and kicked off her boots. “I should wipe Ranger’s paws and brush him, but I’ll do it in the morning.”
Nick kept his coat on, remained standing as she started a fire in the woodstove, her movements sure, automatic. As she added kindling, got it going, then laid on some small sticks, he could see her alone on her hilltop on quiet winter evenings.
“You’re self-sufficient,” he said. “You don’t need anyone, do you?”
“I manage.” She turned to him, her cheeks flushed from building the fire. “Any plans to quit as a smoke jumper?”
“Not yet. I only work seasonally or when needed. I’ll keep it up as long as it makes sense to.”
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