Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [40]
“I’m serious.”
“Honest, Jo. It’s about three inches below where you got plastered with airsoft pellets.”
“You don’t have a clue where I got hit.”
“I do. It was on the video. The kid who put it up on the Internet had these red arrows point to where you got nailed.”
She sighed. “I’m never living this one down, am I?”
“Probably not.”
“Listen, Elijah.” She was calmer now, not so combative. “I figure you and A.J. aren’t telling me what Devin did or what you suspect him of having done because you want to give him a chance to make good on it. Am I right?”
He didn’t answer.
“I am right,” she said.
“You’re a Harper. You do love being right.”
It wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but she ignored him and put her hands on her slim hips. She was serious now. She looked out at the woods. “Your father knew this mountain better than anyone, except maybe you. He had a full pack. He was prepared—”
“No snowshoes.”
“The snow wasn’t that deep. He managed to get up the mountain in boots. His pack was located a few yards from where he died. That’s significant, Elijah. You know that. People suffering from hypothermia can become disoriented and exercise poor judgment.”
“We don’t know what happened.”
Jo scrutinized him as only she could. Finally, she said, “You don’t believe his death was an accident.”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Maybe he fell and dropped his pack before he began to suffer the effects of hypothermia,” she said. “He was experienced—he’d rescued enough people off the mountain to know he was at risk under those conditions. At the first sign of trouble, if he were able, he’d have dug into his pack for more clothes, pulled out whatever he had for emergency shelter—”
“Two trash bags.”
She nodded. “That’d work, but he never used them, did he?”
“No.” Elijah slipped his pack off his shoulder, got out his water bottle, uncapped it and took a long drink as he eyed Jo. “Do you want me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you down this mountain, or do you want to keep moving?”
“I don’t know. Throwing me over your shoulder could be fun.”
“Jo.”
She grinned at him, her eyes sparking, but she got moving. He recapped his water bottle and followed her at an easy pace. She put some distance between them, and he lost her on a steep downward turn. When he rounded it, she was there, planted in the middle of the trail with both hands up to block him.
“An ambush,” he said, amused, ignoring her intense look. “I think you tried this when you were twelve and I just picked you up and moved you.”
She was having none of it. “Listen to me, Elijah,” she said, her voice tight, low, as she placed her hands on his chest, pushed him back on his heels. “Even if your father had used everything he had with him, he still might have succumbed to hypothermia eventually. You know that. But whatever happened, he’s gone. Nora and Devin aren’t. If you have information to suggest either of them is in trouble—”
“I don’t. If I did, I’d tell the local police.”
She took his gibe without visible reaction. She nodded. “I believe you.”
“Do you?” As she started to take a step back from him, he caught her hands into his and heard her intake of breath as he drew her closer to him. Her fingers were cold, but there was nothing cold about her expression. Her lips parted, and she didn’t avert her eyes as he stared into them, let himself say what was on his mind. “We could be at the falls in twenty minutes. We could go swimming. The water’s freezing, but we could forget everything for a little while.” He smiled, aching to kiss her, to make love to her again. “Hell of an image, isn’t it?”
“How out of control are you, Elijah?”
He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Not out of control at all.” He winked as he released her. “Otherwise, sweet pea, we’d be peeling off our clothes at the falls right now.”
“You would. Not me. My skinny-dipping days are over.” She tucked her hands into fists at her sides and was serious again. “Elijah, Devin isn’t you at eighteen. It’s not your job to save him.”
Her comment rubbed him in all