Cold River - Carla Neggers [35]
Grit Taylor had saved her life.
In his limited experience with Myrtle, Sean had learned she didn’t like the cold, never mind that she couldn’t seem to stay away from Vermont. She was fiftyish, tiny and black-haired, with perfectly manicured red nails and lavender eyes. She’d arrived in Black Falls with Grit in November, returned to Washington in early December, then came back before Christmas.
“They say you burn more calories in cold weather,” she said, eyes on the terrain as she carefully navigated icy patches. “I hope so, because I’m frozen.”
Rose’s mouth twitched, and Sean was relieved to see his sister display at least some hint of amusement.
Myrtle continued down the lane. “It’s too damn dark for me to be hanging out in a cemetery, but Grit and I saw all these cars and had to stop. Old reporter’s habit. Otherwise you wouldn’t catch me here except in broad daylight.”
Elijah turned to Jo, his mind clearly not on Myrtle’s complaints. “Can you give Sean and me a minute? Take Myrtle and Grit and check the crypt. Whatever.” Then he shifted to Rose. “You can go, too.”
Rose gave him a cool look. “As you wish.” She smiled at Grit and the other two women. “My brothers want to confer on their own. I vote for going back to the lodge for hot chocolate with real whipped cream over checking out a crypt, but it’s up to you.”
“I had warm apple pie at lunch,” Myrtle said, her Southern accent more pronounced than Grit’s. “If I indulge in whipped cream, I’ll have to go cross-country skiing or something at the crack of dawn and burn it off. It’s supposed to drop below zero tonight.”
“Best weather for investigating a crypt,” Grit said.
“A first time for everything,” she said without enthusiasm.
Rose’s golden retriever flopped in front of the entrance as Grit and then the three women entered the crypt. Sean didn’t notice any indication of stiffness or a limp in Grit’s gait. He’d had a long, difficult recovery, but he was almost back to his pre-injury fitness level, a remarkable achievement given what that had been as a SEAL.
Once Rose and the non-Camerons were inside, Elijah narrowed his eyes on Sean. “What the hell’s going on? Bowie turns up at the café. Hannah hikes up to see Pop’s cabin. Now this.” Elijah lifted the shovel and stirred the heap of debris, jagged chunks of rock, bits of mica catching the beam of the flashlight. “As far as I know, Bowie hasn’t been in trouble since he got out of jail. He’s only been back in his house for a few days, and already there’s a drama involving him.”
“Where did he stay while he worked on the culvert?” Sean asked.
“He roomed with a cousin in Ludlow.” Elijah blew out a breath at the charcoal-colored sky. “The guy’s good-looking, rugged and familiar, and he knows how to knock heads together. He and Hannah share a past that we can’t understand.” He turned to Sean, the cold having no apparent effect on him. “No wonder she’s defensive about him.”
Sean hardly noticed the cold, either. “She’s on the defensive. It’s not easy to get through to her when she’s got her shield up.”
Elijah managed a half smile. “Threaten to send in Jo.”
Rose stepped out of the crypt, not giving any indication she’d overheard her brothers. “I’m not stepping foot into another crypt until I’m embalmed.”
Elijah grinned at her. “And you think you’re tough.”
“You’d sleep in a crypt, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I have.”
Ranger got up onto all fours and yawned. Rose scratched his head. “We should go home, huh, boy? Get away from these macho brothers of mine.” Still bent down over her dog, she looked up at Elijah. “I’ve had a lot of requests for information on dogs