Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [120]
“He was onto you and Rigby,” Jo said. “That’s why you and Rigby killed him.”
Elijah stayed in front of Nora by his truck, but Jo could feel how much he wanted to go after Melanie. “I’d already been wounded,” he said. “Maybe my father was tuned in to my pain and maybe he wasn’t. You and Rigby killed him for reasons that didn’t have a damn thing to do with his fears for me.”
As he spoke, Jo took a step toward the car. She was about fifty feet away.
Melanie was still enjoying herself. “The moment Drew saw Kyle and me, he knew he was dead and there was nothing he could do.”
“You had guns,” Elijah said. “He didn’t. Never mind his fears, any connection he had with me. You killed him. You got his pack off him and made sure he’d freeze to death up there.”
Jo didn’t go any closer to the car. “Open the door, Melanie. Step out of the car. Do exactly as I say.”
Fear sparked in her eyes. “If I cooperate—”
With no warning, the car erupted into flames and smoke. Jo felt herself being blown backward, off her feet, as a heavy double thump ignited the gas tank, sucking the air out of the immediate area. The car jerked off the ground and then slammed back down hard in a flaming heap.
She felt the ground hard under her, then became aware of Elijah leaping toward her as she fought for air, her chest tight. She rolled onto her stomach, shoving her bare hands into the snow up to her wrists. The shock of the cold helped revive her, and she jumped up.
Elijah was there now, and he grabbed her. “There’s nothing we can do. She’s gone.”
“Elijah, what the hell—”
“It was a remote-controlled device. Not on a timer. Maybe a cell phone.”
She nodded, the acrid smoke filling her nostrils, clogging her throat. “Then someone’s close enough to have set it off. We need to get moving.”
A.J., Scott Thorne and Beth ran out of the lodge with fire extinguishers. But they, too, quickly saw there was no hope for Melanie Kendall. The explosive device had very clearly been set near—probably under—the driver’s seat. She hadn’t stood a chance.
“Her own people killed her,” Jo said.
Elijah nodded grimly.
Thomas Asher walked tentatively out the main entrance of the lodge. He hesitated as he took in the scene, then descended the steps and pushed his way past A.J. and Scott, breaking into a run as he yelled not for his fiancée but for his daughter.
Elijah grabbed him and brought him over to Nora, who was curled up, not moving. Her father dropped to his knees and held her, sobbing. “Nora, thank God. My baby.”
“We need to see if we can locate whoever set this thing off,” Jo said to Scott Thorne.
He was already on his radio, calling in a fresh surge of state troopers. Jo fell in beside Elijah. A.J. was there, too. But she could tell from their expressions that they all knew what she did: they wouldn’t find the paid assassin who had just set off a remote-controlled explosive device and killed one of their own.
Thirty-Six
Grit entered Myrtle’s favorite D.C. bar, which had pale pink walls and a lot of pictures of movie stars from before his time. He found her in an ornately carved wooden booth with a lit votive candle in the middle of the table. She was drinking Perrier with lime and obviously hating it. “Hey, Myrtle,” he said. “Got a place to stay tonight?”
She shrugged. “Here. The owners like me. I can sleep under the table.”
“Bet you booked yourself a room at the Four Seasons.”
“Not me. I hate spending money on fancy hotels. But I’m not sleeping on your sofa, so don’t invite me. I couldn’t take the rats.” She tipped back her glass and took a big swallow of her water, then set it down and stared at it as if it had answers. “The arson investigator says the fire started in my office. Probably electrical.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
“No, but killing me wasn’t the main goal. A bonus, maybe.” She peeled the little lime off its toothpick and dropped it back into her water. “I had a lot of source material that