Cold River - Carla Neggers [22]
“Maybe I’m tired after my long hike and don’t want to talk.”
“You could just say so.”
She turned to him finally and smiled. “I’m tired after my long hike and don’t want to talk.”
He grinned at her. “Could have told me eight miles ago.”
She seemed to relax slightly. “I guess I could have.”
Not that she hadn’t made it obvious. He’d just ignored her signals.
He passed his sister’s little house and continued down to Harper Four Corners, the oldest settled section of Black Falls, where Cameron Mountain Road and Ridge Road intersected. On the corner to his right was a former early-nineteenth-century tavern, rumored to be haunted. To his left was an abandoned post-and-beam barn. On the corners directly across the road were a cemetery and a small, white-steepled church.
Sean turned right, onto Ridge Road, heading past snow-covered fields and stately, bare sugar maples that grew along stone walls constructed by long-ago farmers who’d cleared the rocky, inhospitable land.
He resisted the temptation to push the private, guarded woman next to him about her reasons for hiking up to the cabin—what they had to do with Bowie O’Rourke, why she wouldn’t just say what was on her mind. She’d never been one to knuckle under to pressure. It just had a way of getting her back up.
They came to Black Falls Lodge, a string of rustic buildings at the top of a sloping, snow-covered meadow dotted with evergreens. The views of the endless mountains, blue and white in the December afternoon, were the subject of countless postcards and tourist photographs.
On his most tortured nights since April, Sean would lie awake in his bed in Beverly Hills and picture standing with his father on the lodge’s stone terrace. Drew Cameron had lived in Black Falls his entire life, marrying there, pulling together parcels of land on the mountain named for his ancestors, opening the original lodge with his wife as a young couple. He’d never expected her to die first. He’d had enemies—people he’d irritated over the years—but Sean couldn’t think of anyone who’d hated his father enough to have him killed.
“Sean?”
He glanced at Hannah and realized she’d seen his pain. He quickly masked it and turned into the lodge parking lot, the truck’s tires crunching on the packed ice and snow as he pulled in next to her car.
A.J. and Elijah walked out the side door to the main lodge. They weren’t wearing coats, just heavy sweaters. Jo would be on the premises, and Lauren, A.J.’s wife. Lauren worked at the lodge, but it wouldn’t have mattered. A.J. had kept his family close since two hired assassins had turned up and been killed, one of them within sight of the lodge.
Hannah unfastened her seat belt. “Not going to complain about the cold in front of your brothers, are you?”
Sean looked over at her and laughed. “Not a chance.”
She touched the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. Stay warm. You’ll be back in Beverly Hills soon.”
Her tone was cool, reserved, and he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with her, not with his brothers watching, not with her on high alert. He smiled instead. “I can’t persuade you to stay for hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate and the third-degree. No, thanks. You all know where to find me if you have any specific questions. I have to check on Toby and his packing. He’ll remember all his mountain-biking gear and forget his driver’s license.”
“Toby’s old enough to see to his own packing.”
“So he is.” She pushed open the door, letting in the frigid air. Her gaze settled on a spot out on the plowed, sanded parking lot. “I wasn’t here when Melanie Kendall’s car blew up. It was after the search-and-rescue team brought Nora and Devin down off the mountain. I was with Devin at the hospital.”
“She had a bad end coming, but no one wanted to see her murdered.”
“Jo and Elijah witnessed the explosion. He got Nora out of Melanie’s car before it blew up. I hear from her every now and then—she’s in Washington with her mother. Her father, too. It’s tough, but she’s talking about going back to school.”
The blast that killed Melanie Kendall, Sean knew, could