Cold Dawn

by Carla Neggers

  Great, he thought without enthusiasm.

  Then again, if he went headfirst into the snow, Rose could rescue him.

  He smiled at the thought and plunged down the hill, navigating an icy patch with ease. He only just made the curve without going down. He paused at the bottom of the slope, in the shadows of a tall oak under a clear blue sky. He’d hoped that eight months apart from Rose would lessen his attraction to her, but no such luck.

  Then he’d hoped coming to Vermont, seeing her on her home turf, would do the trick.

  No luck there, either.

  He followed the groomed tracks along the edge of the woods and cut back across the middle of the meadow toward the lodge.

  In January, when Sean and Hannah had confronted Lowell Whittaker and nearly became his latest victims, Nick had worried about the impact of their close call on Rose. When he met Hannah in Los Angeles, she made it clear she suspected something had gone on between him and her friend. He’d admitted to nothing. He’d promised Rose to keep their night together a secret.

  A bundled-up couple he’d seen at breakfast passed him, going in the opposite direction, laughing as they moved haltingly on their skis. Nick stopped on top of an open knoll. He could see a trail that wound down the steep hillside to the lake where Elijah Cameron had built a house.

  The Camerons were a tight-knit lot. No question. A.J., Elijah and even Sean wouldn’t be pleased, Nick thought, that he’d hopped into the sack with their little sister at a vulnerable moment for her.

  He’d never convince them he’d been vulnerable, too.

  Not that he’d ever convince himself.

  If nothing else, staying at Black Falls Lodge had crystallized the differences between Rose and him.

  Nick headed back to the lodge and returned the skis before going up to his room. He took a shower, changed clothes, checked his email and made a few calls. When he ventured back to the lobby, there were no guests by the fire.

  No aging golden retriever, either.

  He settled onto a comfy sofa facing the massive stone fireplace and let himself become transfixed by the flames, let them take him back to the moment he and Sean had realized a hot spot had flared up and Jasper was trapped.

  The hot spot had had help flaring up. It hadn’t been an accident.

  But suspicions weren’t evidence.

  A. J. Cameron dropped into the chair next to him and stretched out his legs, his boots scuffed, worn. “How was the skiing?”

  “Good. You don’t stay cold cross-country skiing.”

  “I know what you mean. Lauren and I are twisting Rose’s arm to have dinner at our house tonight. She’s been spending a lot of time alone lately, and with what happened yesterday and this morning…” A.J. cast his steely eyes on Nick. “She needs to be with family.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You’re welcome to join us.”

  Nick took it as a grudging invitation. “Thanks, but another time.”

  A.J. leaned back in his chair, but there was nothing casual about his mood. “Sean says you’re solid but you can be thickheaded.”

  “That sounds like Sean, and Hannah tells me he’s the charming Cameron.”

  A.J. didn’t respond with even a hint of humor. “Rose doesn’t want to stay here again tonight. I think it’s partly because of you. If she told you to get lost, you’d leave her alone, right?”

  Nick listened to the fire hissing as a hunk of bark burst into flames. “I can take no for an answer if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “If she asked you to go back to Beverly Hills?”

  “She hasn’t. I don’t know what’s on your mind, A.J., but I can see it’d take a strong man to fall for Rose with her three big brothers ready to pounce.”

  “Consider the situation,” A.J. said grimly.

  “There’s always a situation to consider, isn’t there?”

  A.J. got heavily to his feet. “Not one involving a man burned to death.”

  Two men burned to death, Nick thought—Jasper Vanderhorn and now Derek Cutshaw.

  The firstborn Cameron seemed genuinely concerned for his sister’s well-being. Nick tried to lighten the dark mood. “What’s for dinner? You aren’t going out to shoot a moose, are you?”

  A.J. glanced down at him. “Derek Cutshaw isn’t dead because of you, is he?”

  “I hope he’s not dead because of anyone. I hope his death was an accident.” Nick could feel the heat of the fire. “Did Rose agree to meet you for dinner?”

  “I’m picking her up myself,” A.J. said.

  Nick stood up. “Maybe I’ll head into the village and check out the Black Falls nightlife.”

  A.J. grinned slightly. “That won’t take long.”

  Nick parked in front of the Black Falls library across from the town common. It was open, lit up against the dark night.

  Looked cozy.

  He took a sanded, shoveled walkway through the middle of the picturesque common and crossed Main Street to Three Sisters Café. It was closed, but lights were on and he could see Myrtle Smith and Dominique Belair with a patchwork quilt spread out over a couple of tables they’d pushed together. They had needles and thread in hand and were doing what appeared to be a few last-minute stitches.

  Nick didn’t think he’d ever actually seen anyone quilt anything.

  He wondered if Rose could quilt any better than she could knit.

  He left the two women to their sewing and continued down Main Street. The temperature had dropped fast with nightfall. The village was dark and quiet, but O’Rourke’s appeared to be filled with people. He could hear raucous laughter inside as he mounted the sanded concrete steps.

  A three-person band was setting up opposite the bar and nearly every table was filled with Vermonters and tourists enjoying their drinks and the hearty food.

  Nick sat on a high stool at the bar. Liam O’Rourke took his order. “Sean’s told me about you,” Liam said. “You two have been friends for a long time.”

  “Ever been to Beverly Hills?” Nick asked him.

  “I like winter.”

  “You could come in summer.”

  “Too hot.”

  “That’s Arizona. Most of the time Beverly Hills is relatively mild.”

  “Then why the fires?”

  “It’s dry.”

  “Fire season’s over out there?”

  “Fires can happen anytime, but the peak season is September and October. We’re relatively wet and cool right now. That helps keep fires down.” That was the short answer. Nick doubted Liam wanted the long answer. “It’s good you like Vermont. Is your cousin Bowie here?”

  “I don’t have patience with troublemakers.”

  “You mean Bowie or me?”

  “I mean anyone who makes trouble.”

  Did that include Hannah Shay? Derek Cutshaw and his friends? Rose?

  “Have you seen Robert Feehan today?” Nick asked as Liam set a frosted beer glass in front of him on the worn bar.

  “Not in a week or more. Same as what I said yesterday when you were here with Rose.” In case you’re testing me, Liam’s tone said. “I told the police the same thing, so don’t think you’re being subtle.”

  “I’m not the subtle type.” Nick glanced at a narrow, vertical menu. “I’ll have the beef stew.”

  “Salad?”

  “No, thanks.” He grinned. “Stew’s got carrots and onions.”

  Liam didn’t seem amused.

  Another big guy who looked a lot like Liam entered O’Rourke’s. The stonemason, Nick thought. Bowie O’Rourke, currently on probation after taking on Derek Cutshaw right here in his surly cousin’s bar.

  Liam made what passed for introductions, handed his cousin a Coke and moved down to the end of the bar. Bowie stood next to Nick. “How’s Hannah doing in California?”

  “Loves it,” Nick said.

  “Is Sean spoiling her?”

  “Trying, but she’s stubborn and self-sufficient.”

  “H
er brothers? They like it there?”

  Nick knew Devin Shay, the older of Hannah’s two younger brothers, better than he did Toby. “They like California even more than Hannah, at least for now. Devin’s working for Sean and starting on the road to becoming a smoke jumper. Toby’s mountain biking to his heart’s content. He likes being an exchange student. I think he’ll end up finishing his senior year there.”

  “Hannah still studying for the bar?”

  “Every day by the pool, but I don’t know if she’s signed up to take it yet.” Nick sipped some of his beer. “She seemed happy to have Beth come for a visit.”

  Bowie nodded, not touching his Coke. “Hannah’s like a sister to me,” the stonemason said, making it sound like a warning. “We grew up in a hollow out past the Whittaker place.”

  “So I hear. What about Rose Cameron? Is she like a sister to you, too?”

  Bowie glanced sideways at him. “What difference does it make to you?”

  Nick took no offense. “I’ve been trying to figure out why Derek Cutshaw might have gone to the Whittaker place when he did. I’ve picked up an undercurrent around here. I think he had something going on with Rose, and you knew. You weren’t just keeping him from spouting off about Hannah last year in that fight, were you?”

  “Rose wasn’t even in Black Falls then.”

  “Hannah’s one of her closest friends, and she was here. So were all three of Rose’s brothers. If Cutshaw was out of control and lied or exaggerated about her in front of everyone—or even told the truth, shared a secret—”

  “Now you’re the one going too far,” Bowie said darkly.

  “I don’t care about any history between Cutshaw and Rose. If you intervened to keep him from embarrassing her, then good for you. It’s a small town. She’s entrusted with people’s lives. She didn’t need some drunken idiot carrying on about her. I only care that she’s safe.”

  Bowie relaxed slightly. “Derek was an SOB, especially when he’d been drinking. He was manipulative, controlling and self-absorbed. Everything had to be his way.”

  “Was he potentially suicidal?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t hesitate.”

  “Correct, I didn’t.”

  Nick drank more of his beer. “Cutshaw was from somewhere out West?”

  Bowie nodded. “Colorado, I think. I don’t really know. Not California, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “What about Robert Feehan?”

  “I don’t have a clue. From what I’ve heard, Feehan and Brett Griffin hung out with Derek because he was always up for anything—skiing, partying, driving up to Burlington or down to Boston at the drop of a pin. Feehan stuck with Derek after the fight here. Griffin got out.”

  “You seem to have good insights into people.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Bowie shrugged, glancing at the band as they finished setting up. “I’ve just had to figure things out to survive. I haven’t kept track of Derek and his friends since last year. I can’t afford to mix it up with anyone again. I’m on probation as it is. I stay busy with work.”

  “Do you come in here often?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t drink or get into it with anyone. I’m working on my house out on the river.” He frowned at Nick. “What are you doing, playing arson investigator?”

  “I’m just a friend.”

  “Rose has helped a lot of people with her work. People are alive now who’d be dead without her. If she needs anything, I won’t be the only one who’s there for her.”

  “Anyone good enough for her?”

  Bowie didn’t hesitate. “Probably not.”

  Nick thought he could get along with Bowie O’Rourke.

  “I didn’t kill Derek if that’s on your mind. I didn’t wish him well, but I didn’t kill him. I heard about Feehan this morning. I haven’t seen either one. We don’t operate in the same circles. I expect you already know that.” Bowie tapped a thick finger on the bar. “You’re looking for trouble. I know the signs. Pull back.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  Bowie seemed to give up on the idea of eating anything and left with a curt farewell to his cousin. Nick didn’t have high hopes for his beef stew but it was fine—rich, thick, just what he needed after cross-country skiing and raising the hackles on the Black Falls natives.

  He finished his stew and left as the band started on their first set. Even in the village, the stars and half-moon stood out against the black night sky. When he arrived back at the lodge he passed a young couple and their curly-haired daughter, who couldn’t be more than ten, playing Scrabble in front of the fire.

  The kid was about to nail her folks with a seven-letter word.

  Nick headed upstairs. His room was toasty warm. He stood at the window, the drapes open to a view of the moonlit meadow, and called Sean. “Derek Cutshaw and Rose—what does Hannah know?”

  “None of the details,” Sean said, obviously not completely taken aback by the question. “She doesn’t want to talk about Rose behind her back.”

  “These aren’t ordinary circumstances, Sean. Rose is a perfectionist. She doesn’t like to make mistakes.”

  “I have a feeling Derek Cutshaw was a big mistake.”

  Nick backed away from the cold air seeping through the window. “Bowie O’Rourke knows something, but whatever it is, he’s keeping it to himself.”

  “Rose wouldn’t keep anything germane from the police.” Sean sighed. “Hell, Nick. She would hate owning up to falling for some weasel like Cutshaw to A.J., Elijah and me. It’s her own pride. We wouldn’t do anything. We’ve made enough mistakes of our own.”

  “None of you Camerons likes to make mistakes,” Nick said, leaving it at that as he hung up. He wouldn’t lie, but he had no intention of discussing his night with Rose last June with Sean or anyone else.

  Nick thought of her alone in her isolated little mountain house. He agreed with A.J. that she wouldn’t stay at the lodge again tonight if she could get out of it. A.J. and Lauren lived on Ridge Road, a few miles from her. She had friends she could call if she wanted company or protection.

  Nick grabbed his coat anyway and headed back down to the lobby. The Scrabble players were still in front of the roaring fire. The kid was killing her folks, who seemed surprised she could spell that well. Lively piano music emanated from the bar, laughter from the dining room. Nick could have had a warm, enjoyable evening on his own, but he slipped outside.

  His car had cooled off. He’d left his gloves in his room, and the steering wheel was irritatingly cold. He cranked up the heat as he drove along the dark road and turned onto Cameron Mountain Road up to Rose’s house.

  There were no other cars in the driveway. He assumed she was still at dinner with her family and parked in front of her garage. She hadn’t left on any outdoor lights.

  Nick wasn’t even sure the place had outdoor lights.

  As he got out of his car, he noticed the glow of a green tennis ball in a snowbank. Ranger’s doing, undoubtedly. Nick smiled, thinking of Rose out here playing fetch with her golden retriever, and started up the stone steps to the front door, which surely she had locked.

  He’d check, anyway.

  He heard a sound in the evergreen shrubs by the door and reacted instantly, dropping back down a step, but he already knew he was too late. A man sprang out of the darkness, wielding a snow shovel. Nick raised his arm in an effort to minimize the blow, the shovel glancing off the side of his head. He landed a fast, hard, low kick, striking his attacker below the knee, catching the soft tissue just above a thick boot, forcing him to drop the shovel.

  The man groaned and leaped down the steps, bolting onto the driveway.

  Nick felt blood trickling into his mouth, tasted it. He jumped off the steps but saw headlights through the trees and heard an engine. He grabbed the shovel, reaching the bottom of the steep driveway just in time to see the rear lights of the car disappear on the narrow, twisting road.

  He swore an
d turned back up to the house. The driveway seemed icier and more treacherous than on the way down. His head throbbed as he mounted the stone steps and checked the front door.

  Yes, indeed, Rose had locked it this time.

  He descended the steps once more and got back in his car, turned on the engine for the heat and dialed Sean in California. He didn’t give his friend a chance to speak. “What’s A.J.’s number? Never mind. Call him.” Nick wiped blood off the side of his face. “Tell him not to let Rose come home alone. I’m at her house. I don’t want her on the road by herself.”

  “Nick, what the hell—”

  “I just surprised some jackass breaking into her house. We scuffled. He took off. He had a car parked out of sight. I’m calling the police next.”

  “Got it.”

  “Do you know where Rose keeps her spare key?”

  “She usually doesn’t lock up.”

  “I know.”

  “The gutter by the back door,” Sean said. “Stay in touch.”

  Nick got out of the warm car. He hadn’t switched on the headlights, and his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He found the key stuck in the base of an icy gutter, above another bright green tennis ball. He let himself in through the back door, flipping on lights, checking for any sign the intruder had gotten inside.

  He dialed 911 as he moved into the kitchen. He dug a dish towel out of a drawer and pressed it to his bloody head. He got ice from a small freezer and explained the situation to the dispatcher, who clearly knew Rose.

  The dispatcher instructed him to stay in a safe place.

  Yeah, good idea.

  Nick put ice on his scrape and sat on a chair in front of the cold woodstove. It was a cute house. Little. Nice location, except some SOB could walk in and toss the place without worrying about nosy neighbors. Rose didn’t have an alarm system. His condo had twenty-four-hour security, cameras, proper locks, alarms.

  Rose felt safe here because this was her hometown, and because until Lowell Whittaker had picked Black Falls for his country home, she had been safe here.

  The ice was damn cold. Nick pulled it off his head and considered standing up, but what if he passed out? What kind of rugged smoke jumper would he be to the Vermonters about to descend? He’d fit Rose’s stereotype of some rich Southern Californian who couldn’t make it in the mountains of northern New England.