Myrtle sputtered. “What sense of humor?”
“Come on,” Grit said, rising. “Let’s go back to Black Falls and pack. You and me on a road trip, Mom.”
“Call me Mom again and I’ll run us off a cliff. I’m driving.”
Elijah was quiet. Grit understood why. Jo was gone. He said, “She’ll be back.”
“Maybe we went too fast,” Elijah said, half to himself.
“Myrtle and I will look her up in D.C. and figure out what’s going on. Jo needs to be back in her old life. She needs to be sure that who she is and what she wants will be the same when she’s back in D.C.”
“What did Charlie want?”
“To help find these killers. It’s past time, Elijah.”
Elijah didn’t budge. He’d had his own dealings with Charlie Neal. Charlie had called him about paid assassins in November, after Ambassador Bruni’s murder. “Charlie didn’t make the effort to come up here without specific intel,” Elijah said. “You know what he’s like.”
“Your brother Sean and his partner are smoke jumpers. They fight some bad wildfires.”
Elijah’s eyes narrowed, and he showed no emotion whatsoever.
Which told Grit that he had his friend’s full attention. “We have a lot of dots. Not all of them will connect.”
“Did Charlie mention Bowie O’Rourke as well as my brother?”
“Jo leave you out here in the cold? Need a ride? We can talk on the drive back to Black Falls.”
Twenty-Two
January 2—Beverly Hills, California
Devin Shay fished debris out of the pool with a long-handled net while Sean stood on the patio of his Beverly Hills house and buttoned his jacket. Another black-tie event tonight. He hoped it’d be a distraction. It was all wrong that he was in California. Yesterday he and Devin had dropped Toby off at his host family’s house outside Malibu. The place was spectacular, but all Toby had wanted to do was get out on the trails with his bike.
All Sean wanted to do, then and now, was to get back to their sister.
Her brothers clearly missed her. They didn’t want to show that they did, but it was obvious. Whether or not any of the Shays—including Hannah—would admit it, she was a second mother to them. Given the gap in their ages, the bond between them would have been different, anyway, but Devin and Toby had lost their mother as young boys and Hannah had stepped up to keep them together as a family.
Sean had been so preoccupied with what she was up to with his father’s cabin and Bowie O’Rourke, with the force of the sudden, surprising, no-win attraction he had to her, that he hadn’t fully considered the emotional turmoil this separation would cause for her and her brothers.
Meanwhile, he was in close touch with A.J. and Elijah. Jo hadn’t let up on finding out exactly what had happened in the cemetery, but she was on her way back to Washington. Elijah was being circumspect and was obviously miserable.
Devin reached out to the middle of the sparkling pool with his net. “I’m worried Hannah’s going to end up a spinster hanging judge,” he said abruptly.
Nick Martini, stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool, nearly spit out his beer, but after three days with Devin as a houseguest, Sean had come to expect such blurts from the eighteen-year-old. He’d start work tomorrow at the Cameron & Martini high-rise offices on Wilshire Boulevard, which, Sean thought, should prove interesting. Nick had turned up fifteen minutes ago in shorts and a T-shirt. He was the son of a navy submarine captain and a former submariner himself, with prematurely gray hair that suited him in a boardroom, a ballroom or the middle of a wildfire. They’d met ten years ago as young smoke jumpers and formed a partnership that had profited them both and suited their personalities.
“Careful, kid,” Nick said. “Spinster? Those are fighting words.”
“I know. I don’t care. Facts are facts.”
“Her marital status shouldn’t matter. Being a hanging judge, though…” Nick gave a cheerful shudder. “That matters. Wouldn’t want to step out of line with her.”
Devin nodded eagerly in agreement. “You’re not kidding. She likes telling Toby and me about Royall Tyler, this Vermont judge who sentenced a pirate to execution. Cyrus Dean. Ten thousand people showed up for his hanging.”
“I don’t sympathize with pirates,” Nick said.
“Not my point,” Devin said, his attention apparently focused on a tiny leaf a few yards out into the blue water of the pool. “Hannah looks mild-mannered. Kind of mousy, even. Like Donna Reed in It’s a Wonderful Life. You see that movie? Hannah makes Toby and me watch it with her every year at Christmas. She makes butter cookies.” Devin paused a moment, staring at the water. “They’re good. Her butter cookies.”
“That’s the movie with Jimmy Stewart and the town who takes him for granted after he sticks around and helps them, and then he ends up thinking he was happy?” Nick drank more of his beer. “I hate that movie.”
“Donna Reed didn’t end up a spinster because of him.”
“She’d have been better off.”
Sean grinned. “What about their kids?”
“Now you’re getting too complicated.” Nick nodded to the pool and said to Devin, “Take a swim. It’ll get your mind off hanging. You’d have to chip ice to swim in Vermont.”
Devin rallied with a smile. “That’s true.”
Nick sighed. “Quit worrying about your sister. She’s smart. She’ll be fine.”
Devin slowly dragged his net back across the water toward him. “Sean, you talk to Hannah lately?”
“Not since we left Black Falls. Why?”
“I worry about her being there alone, without both Toby and me.”
“She’s a grown woman, Devin. She can take care of herself. Worry about getting on with your own life.”
“It’s not that.” He lifted the net out of the water and shook out the contents onto the tile next to him. “If she doesn’t start doing something fun once in a while, I don’t know. I’m serious. She’s going to end up being a hanging judge or one of those prosecutors that goes for the jugular every time.”
Nick shrugged, philosophical. “Maybe that’s what she wants.”
Devin glanced at Sean. The teenager’s eyes were flat, but it wasn’t hard to see his pain. “Since we left Vermont, Bowie’s been coming by at night to work on the cellar. I called a little while ago and Beth picked up, and she told me. Hannah and Bowie aren’t seeing each other. I don’t mean that. Just—there’s just something about him.”
“Is Beth concerned?” Sean asked, his collar suddenly feeling tight.
“Yes and no.” Devin turned back to his work, his contained emotions reminiscent of his older sister. “Hannah won’t talk about the fight at O’Rourke’s. I heard these ski bums insulted her, and you got her out of there before she could get hurt.”
“Or hurt someone,” Sean said.
“That, too.” Her younger brother scooped up debris with his net. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come out here now. I could have waited.”
“For what?” Nick asked.
“Hannah’s got too much on her mind right now,” Devin said. “That accident in the cemetery threw her.”
“Being in a cemetery at all would throw me,” Nick said.
“So did going up to see the cabin where I was almost killed. Elijah, Jo and Nora, too.” Devin’s voice was steady, low, as he eased the net back into the water. “All of us.”
Nick was silent now. He had voiced his suspicions about the death of Sean’s father early on, refusing to believe that a seventy-seven-year-old man who’d been hiking on Cameron Mountain his entire life had become lost and disoriented in a snowstorm, ultimately dying of hypothermia. Nick had been blunt: either Drew Cameron had decided to check out in a spot he loved or foul play was involved.
“Now Hannah’s talking about flying out here to California sooner rather than later.” Devin angled a look back at the two men. “My sister spending that kind of money? Not normal. She’s not herself, S
ean. You know how tight she is with a buck. You should hear Beth and Dominique going on about how the café wouldn’t be as successful as it is without Hannah’s money sense.”
“Maybe her money sense is why she can afford to fly out here,” Sean said.
“If she comes out here and goes shopping on Rodeo Drive,” Devin said, “then I’m going to start thinking she and Bowie O’Rourke are robbing banks together.”
Nick propped up one knee, making himself at home on his lounge chair. He had a condo in Beverly Hills, but he’d spent a lot of time on submarines. He was content anywhere. “Sounds as if you’re nervous because you left your sister alone in Vermont with this guy Bowie.” He glanced up at Sean. “Is Hannah pretty, or does she look like Devin here?”
Devin managed a grin, Nick’s humor penetrating his worry. “Sean? What do you think? Is Hannah pretty?”
“She seems more vulnerable than she is,” Sean said, figuring that he needed to say something; if he took the Fifth, he was doomed altogether. Devin and Nick would know for sure he was falling for her and fighting it.
“She’s got no clothes sense,” Devin said. “Dominique could go into Hannah’s closet and come out looking great, and Hannah—you know what I mean, Sean. She ends up looking frumpy.”
Now Sean did take the Fifth. “I’m not going there, Devin.”
Nick drank some of his beer. “You and your brother shouldn’t have to worry about your sister. She wouldn’t want that.”
“She worries about us. She’s never had a life. Toby says so, too. She sacrificed herself for us. She’d argue with us if she heard us saying that, but Sean knows I’m right.”
Sean let his gaze drift to the red bougainvillea spilling over the wall behind his pool and the bright Southern California late-afternoon sunshine. He understood why Devin was going on about his sister. It wasn’t just idle worry, and he was very far from home. Yet this was his home, a buff-colored, multilevel stucco house in Beverly Hills with a pool, expensive landscaping and a three-car garage. He didn’t know why he owned three cars, but he did.
Well. Three vehicles. One was an old pickup truck he used as a smoke jumper and took up into the mountains to camp, hike, bike.
Devin had been asking him and Nick questions—mature, serious questions—about smoke jumping since his arrival in Southern California. The long route to becoming a smoke jumper didn’t seem to dampen his interest.
Sean pictured going off with Hannah into the California mountains and shook off his own worries about her. A kiss among the cobwebs and a million questions unanswered aside, his life—his work—was out here in California.
He looked at Devin. “Sure you don’t want to borrow a suit and head over to the Beverly Hilton with me?”
“Thanks, but I’ll stay here. Anything you need me to do?”
Sean shook his head. “Finish up with the pool and relax.”
“Would you mind if I used your weight room?” Devin asked tentatively.
“Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“I have to go,” Sean said. “Nick, you coming?”
“Nope. Going involves a suit. I’ll send a check.”
Sean headed through the gate and down a stone walk to the garage. He climbed into his car and sank against the cool leather seats. It’d only been a few days since he’d left Hannah in Vermont, but at least it was a new year. No one on the task force investigating the murders-for-hire had slacked off for the holidays and they wouldn’t now, but they needed a break—a new lead. It would be easy for everyone—including Hannah—to let Bowie and old stonework and whatever had gone on at the cemetery become distractions.
Sean remembered his father railing about Hannah after her mother had died. “That girl has no business trying to raise those two boys. A foster home would be better. She’s just a kid herself. Hell, though. No one’s ever been able to tell Hannah—or any Shay—what to do.”
In March, he’d admitted he’d been wrong. It was just after Bowie’s arrest, before Sean had returned to California. “Hannah would do anything for her brothers, and they’d do anything for her,” his father had told him. “Devin and Toby wouldn’t have been better off in a foster home. I’d just like to see her smile more. Cut loose a little, you know? She’s a good soul. You should have her and her friends out to Beverly Hills for a visit.”
Sean smiled at the memory. His father had hated Southern California. The weather’s nice, he’d say, but that was it. Sean had never taken his father’s comments as a condemnation of his choice to move west. Drew Cameron had just always been a man to state his opinions. Agree, disagree, argue, don’t argue—he didn’t care.
Sean started his car. He envisioned Hannah in an evening gown next to him, smiling as they headed out together for a night on the town. Her pale blue eyes would be gleaming with excitement, and all her troubles would be behind her.
No question, he thought. The woman definitely had him tied up in knots.
When he reached the hotel lobby, Sean dug out his cell phone and dialed A.J. Enough, already. He had to stay focused on his real mission, and it wasn’t having Hannah on his arm for a fancy Beverly Hills event. “You and Elijah keeping an eye on Bowie?” he asked his older brother.
“As best we can,” A.J. said. “Elijah’s in a bad mood with Jo in Washington. He’s not talking, or can’t talk, about what she’s up to.”
“Bowie’s been stopping at the café at night to work on the cellar.”
A.J. was silent a moment. “I know. I haven’t said anything to Hannah. It wouldn’t do any good. Elijah and I hiked up to the cabin and took a look at the foundation ourselves. We have a fair idea of Pop’s capabilities, but who the hell knows if he had help, didn’t have help, needed any. No wonder Hannah didn’t want to say anything.”
“It does sound nuts,” Sean said, “but if Bowie advised him on rebuilding an old dry-wall foundation, then he could have put the pieces together and figured out what Pop was up to. Bowie would have had more of an idea than most people about where the old cellar hole could be.”
“He could have hiked up the mountain one day and found it.”
“Then told the wrong person. He ends up in jail, and Pop’s killed—”
“And here we are.” A.J. sighed heavily.
“I’m not out to get Bowie,” Sean said, “but I’m not assuming he’s just misunderstood, either.”
“Same here. I’m keeping an open mind.” He paused, then added, “Hannah’s not.”
Sean gripped his phone, watching well-dressed men and women pass him in the hotel lobby. What was he doing here? “I shouldn’t have come back here, A.J. I should be there.”
A.J. grunted. “Yeah, well, you’re not. I should warn you—Elijah will be calling.”
Two minutes later, he did. “Tell me about an arson investigator named Jasper Vanderhorn. And tell me about Nick Martini. We’ve never met.”
Sean stepped out of the path of two actors he recognized and their entourage. “Elijah, what’s this about?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I didn’t know Vanderhorn. He was killed in June.”
“Rose was out there then.”
“Yes, she was,” Sean said, feeling a strange coolness run down his spine.
“Jo and Grit are onto something,” his brother said curtly. “I can’t explain. I’m asking you to understand that.”
“Fair enough. Nick’s a friend. I’d trust him with my life.”
“With our sister? Scratch that. I’m speculating. I don’t know anything.”
Sean skipped his event and got back into his car. He shut his eyes, seeing in his mind every detail of the canyons, not that far from Beverly Hills, where Jasper Vanderhorn had died. A hot spot had flared up in the high winds and dry conditions and blazed out of control, jumping a fireline and trapping Vanderhorn, an experienced firefighter himself as well as an arson investigator.
Nick and Sean had tried to get to him and failed.
Rose had been
there, close enough to be in danger herself but helpless to save Vanderhorn.
The land was still charred, but Sean had noticed signs of life when he’d last gone out there. Green shoots poked up out of the ground. The air didn’t smell as foul as it had.
When he got back to his house, he headed straight to his bedroom and dragged out a suitcase. He packed his warmest clothes. His head was spinning with questions, but if he knew one thing, it was that January in Vermont would be cold.
And Hannah would be there.
He zipped his suitcase shut and looked out the tall bedroom windows. Devin was sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. Nick was still stretched out on a lounge with a glass of ice water.
Sean dialed Elijah’s cell-phone number, but it was Jo who answered. “I ended up with Elijah’s phone,” she said. “I’m in D.C.”
“Fight?”
“No. Damn, Sean. No.”
He heard the anguish in her voice and felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry.”
“You’ve talked to him,” Jo said.
“Yes.” No fool, Jo was. “I gather we’re all on a need-to-know basis with whatever you’re up to. How are you and Elijah, Jo?”
“Arguing about the fate of the cabins. He’s all for getting a bulldozer out there. He’s not sentimental.”
“He saved that engagement ring he bought you. Still wearing it?”
“Forever, Sean.”
“You’re both a couple of romantics under a tough shell and wearing guns.”
Jo waited a moment before she spoke. “Do you want to tell me about Hannah? She’s why you called, isn’t she?”
“I shouldn’t have left her.”
“She’s not alone. You just think she is because you’re a rock-headed Cameron who doesn’t—Never mind. Your relationship with Hannah’s none of my business. The unanswered questions are getting to everyone. It’s just the way it is. We all have to deal with it.”
“Who are we talking about here, Jo?”
“How was New Year’s in Beverly Hills?”
Sean sighed. Jo wasn’t going to give him anything. “Chilly. I had to wear a sweater.”
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