Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [34]
“Is there anything I should know about your father’s death?” she asked bluntly.
A.J. gave her a steady look. “It was a tragedy.”
“I know that, A.J.”
“Do you, Jo?” He turned back to the fire, staring at the hot, glowing coals. “You must have wished him a rough passing.”
“No. Not ever. Even at my most brokenhearted and angriest, I understood that he did what any father who cared about a son like Elijah would have done—at least any father with guts.”
“He cared about you, too,” A.J. said quietly.
She nodded. “Yes, I know that now. I didn’t at the time. Elijah did well in the army, despite the hardships he faced. And things worked out for me. I’m happy.”
“Are you?” A.J. gave her a brief glance, then looked back at the fire. “Elijah always wanted to come back to Vermont. Assuming he lived. Not you. You wanted out of Black Falls, Jo, and you got out.”
“You make living here sound like a prison sentence.”
“Isn’t that what you thought?”
“For five minutes at seventeen, maybe. Not anymore.”
“Elijah didn’t want to hem you in.”
“Hem me in? A.J., it’s been fifteen years. Elijah and I went our separate ways a long time ago.”
A.J. moved back from the fire. “I think he always envisioned you being here when he got home. One way or the other.”
“That’s romantic B.S., and you know it.”
He grinned. “You’re tough as nails.”
But she felt Elijah’s mouth on hers, saw the spark of desire in his eyes…a kind of soul-deep longing that she knew was mostly her imagination at work. She warned herself against reading too much—anything—into an impulsive kiss.
She stiffened, refocused on why she’d come up to the lodge. “Why is Elijah looking for Devin?”
“Okay, I give up,” A.J. said, not particularly harshly. “Elijah’s on the falls trail. Go ahead. Try to catch up with him if you want.”
“You figure you’ve bought him enough time.”
“No, Jo.” He gave her a small grin. “I figure Elijah can handle you.”
“Before I leave here today, A.J., you and your brother are going to level with me about what’s going on.”
“Don’t get lost.”
Jo left through the front entrance. The wind went right through her fleece jacket, and she almost reconsidered the pie, the book and the fire. Hunching her shoulders against the cold, she walked over to the edge of the road. The lodge trails were part of a network of recreational trails on state, federal and private land. Nora Asher could go for miles—days—if she wanted to. She’d started out a few hours ago. Who knew where she could be now?
Cameron Mountain rose up above the open fields across the quiet road. Jo hadn’t spent much time up here in recent years—and she’d repressed a lot of memories, since most of them involved Elijah.
She heard laughter behind her and turned, seeing Lauren, A.J.’s wife of five years, who was businesslike but not as flinty as her husband, and their four-year-old son and two-year-old daughter. The little ones were running in circles on the grass, the wind catching the ends of their blond hair, their cheeks rosy red as they squealed in delight.
They made an abrupt ninety-degree turn and bolted back toward the lodge. In an instant, Jo saw why, as A.J. walked out and scooped up his children.
She felt a tug of emotion she didn’t expect.
“I wake up on cold mornings and see the grandchildren you and Elijah should have had…”
Jo got out of there, quickly crossing the road, making her way onto a beaten-down grass path that would take her through the field and out to the falls trail. She wasn’t equipped for a full-fledged hike in the mountains, but she’d do her best to pick up Elijah’s trail.
Nine
Ryan “Grit” Taylor stood in front of the hotel where Alexander Bruni had met his end six hours ago. Cabs, limos, delivery trucks and regular cars packed the street now, but Grit knew the cops hadn’t all disappeared once they’d released the scene. He didn’t see them, but there was no question they were there. The D.C. police, the FBI, maybe even a Diplomatic Security Service or Secret