Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [107]
Just like now, he thought as he headed up the brick walkway.
The front door of the Asher house opened, and a woman who looked to be in her early forties stumbled out and ran down the steps. She stopped abruptly and stared down at pink and white impatiens drooping at her feet along the edge of the walkway.
Grit started to introduce himself, but without acknowledging him, without even looking at him, she said, “I played hopscotch with my daughter out here when she was three. I can see her now. She was such a sweet little girl. I remember one day when Thomas came home early and joined us. We laughed and laughed. Such a simple thing.” Tears shone in her eyes as she finally focused on Grit. “We were a happy family. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“You shouldn’t,” Grit said.
“You’re one of Thomas’s friends?”
“No, ma’am. My name’s Ryan Taylor. I know Elijah Cameron—”
“Elijah?” She seemed confused. “From Vermont?”
“That’d be the one.”
She took in a breath through her nose and collected herself. Carolyn Asher Bruni, Grit had learned, was successful in her own right, even compared to her second husband. But she held all that in check right now, clearly exhausted and grief stricken despite her self-control. “I only know Elijah by reputation,” she said. “I’ve met his brother A.J. and his sister, Rose. They’re lovely people. I’m sorry. I’m not myself. You’re not from Vermont, though, are you?”
“No, ma’am, I live here in Washington.”
She glanced back at her former house. “I threw away a good life, Mr. Taylor. I didn’t expect to come out here, but here I am. Do you know what I want right now more than anything else? Just to go back in time—to be here, playing hopscotch with my daughter.”
Unspoken was what was going on in Vermont. What had happened a few miles away in Washington. “If anyone can keep Nora safe,” Grit said, “it’s Elijah. I don’t know Jo Harper—”
But Carolyn Bruni wasn’t listening. “I stayed home with Nora the first few years. Thomas and I never had other children. We got caught up with other things.”
“I guess that happens.”
“Alex was so ambitious, so driven. I loved that about him. Thomas is more laid-back. I thought being here…” She took a step forward, her shoulders back as if she were steeling herself against a hard wind. “It doesn’t matter now. Alex is gone, and Thomas is no longer part of my life.”
“He’s still your daughter’s father.”
“Nora’s barely a part of my life anymore, either,” she said with a trace of regret, maybe bitterness, too. “She’s eighteen. She’s taking a break from school right now, but she’ll go back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Grit said simply.
“You want to know if I have a clue as to who killed my husband.” She got combative and raised her chin at Grit. “If I killed him. Isn’t that what everyone wants to know? I don’t, and I didn’t.”
“Mrs. Bruni—”
“Some days I wondered who wouldn’t want to kill Alex. I don’t mean that as an insult. He could be very intense, exacting, tough. He didn’t demand of anyone what he wouldn’t demand of himself.” She shook her head, some of the fight going out of her. “I’m so jet-lagged, and upset, obviously. I barely know what day it is. Maybe it’ll all turn out to be just a terrible accident.” She narrowed her tired eyes on him. “Why are you here?”
He wasn’t all that sure himself. “Just trying to help. Your daughter—”
“Nora knows what she’s doing. She’s very capable. She’s young, but she’ll find her way.”
“You’re not worried about her going off on this camping trip by herself?”
“I’m concerned about how she’s handling Alex’s death, but no, I’m not that concerned about her camping in Vermont. She’s very levelheaded. She and Alex got along all right, but they didn’t see that much of each other. If you’re wondering if she hired someone to kill him, that’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t know the first thing about how to do such a thing.”
“You just said she’s capable.”
“In the woods, not with hired killers.” Her cheeks reddened suddenly, but she