Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [73]
“D.C. or up here?”
“We’re at Reagan National. We’ll be in Black Falls after dark. The Whittakers have invited us to stay with them. Alex and Carolyn loved it there. I…” His voice caught, reminding Jo that he’d lost a friend, never mind his and Alex Bruni’s complicated history. “Carolyn’s on her way home. I can’t imagine what she must be going through right now. For Nora to act out—” He broke off, then said more calmly, “I don’t approve of her solo camping trip, of course, but Kyle has assured me there’s no reason to sound the alarm.”
“How did you find him?”
“Melanie recommended him. They met skiing in Colorado last winter and exchanged business cards. It’s strange how that can happen. Serendipity, she calls it.”
“Then you’ve never met him?”
Thomas didn’t answer.
“You haven’t,” Jo said.
“He can handle the Vermont terrain and find my daughter. That’s all I care about. Not that I don’t trust you, Jo, but you’re not objective. You’re from Black Falls. You have preconceived ideas about the people there.”
Jo leaned forward in her chair, the flames hot on her face. “Thomas, do you suspect someone up here was involved with Ambassador Bruni’s death?”
“No. Good heavens, Jo. Listen, our flight’s boarding. I have to go.”
Jo decided not to tell him about Devin and the missing money, his friendship with Nora, taking off on Elijah. Let Rigby tell him what he knew. She wasn’t working for either one of them.
She finished her chili and returned her empty bowl to the dining room, then headed back outside and checked down at the shop. But it was closed and locked, and there was no sign of Devin. No sign of anything.
Had Elijah let Devin give him the slip and get away with it? Where was Devin going?
And what was Nora’s plan?
Were she and Devin together? Planning to meet somewhere? Avoiding each other?
Jo hoped they both would hike down the mountain before Thomas arrived in Vermont later tonight.
In fact, maybe they were on their way down now. But she didn’t think so.
An hour later, after hiking back down to her cabin for her car, Jo stood in the kitchen of her childhood, watching her father cut up apples—northern spies, a late variety that kept well—into a bubbling pot on the stove. Her mother was spending the day at the outlets in Manchester. Her grandmother was reading a book in the front room.
The smell of cooking apples filled the air, as it had every autumn in the rambling old Harper farmhouse for as long as Jo remembered.
Retirement seemed to agree with her father, but she knew he was still tapped into the goings-on in town. She seldom discussed her work with him. But Alex Bruni’s likely murder yesterday and his stepdaughter’s flight—or whatever it was—onto Cameron Mountain had nothing to do with her work.
Charlie Neal’s talk of assassins did, but only peripherally, because he was trying to get back into her good graces after his prank. What he didn’t understand was that he didn’t need to be in her good graces. He just needed to be safe.
She grabbed a paring knife and an extra cutting board and lifted an apple out of the sink. As she cut it into pieces, she ran everything past her father—except the part about kissing Elijah Cameron. That, she decided, wasn’t anything Wes Harper, former town chief of police, needed to know. Whether he could guess on his own or not was another question.
He listened without interruption, then batted ideas around with her, asked her questions, examined her options. But he offered no advice.
Finally, he put down his knife and leaned back against the counter. His hair was almost white now, but he was still the vibrant, strong man she’d loved—and battled—her entire life. Neither of her parents had wanted her to move away. No matter how many visits she made back to Black Falls, she wasn’t down the road like Beth or Zack. They’d hated her postings in faraway places and had been relieved at her assignment to Washington eighteen months ago.
She’d never told them about Drew’s visit in April.
She told her father