Cold River - Carla Neggers [41]
And why should they worry? If it hadn’t been Bowie O’Rourke in the cemetery, would Sean have bothered to call Jo and Elijah? Would she have reacted the way she had?
When she entered the kitchen, Dominique and Beth were there, still working. They’d laid out a dozen chocolate and vanilla cupcakes on the worktable and had piles of assorted decorations and little bowls of icings in different colors.
Beth eased off her high stool. “Yikes, what happened to you?”
“I fell up at Four Corners cemetery. It’s a long story. I just need some ice.” Hannah opened the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice cubes, tucking them in a flour-cloth towel, which she put to her swollen cheek. “You’d think ice is the last thing I’d want after being outside most of the day.”
“Hiking up Cameron Mountain,” Beth said. “We heard. Is that how you hurt yourself? Here, let me take a look.”
“I didn’t get hurt on the mountain.”
“Sean followed you up there,” Dominique said.
Hannah could see that her friends had been kept in the loop, at least up until the incident at the crypt. “Yes, he did,” she said, feeling the cold from the ice penetrate the towel. “A.J. and Elijah were at the lodge when we got back, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to them.”
“Chance?” Beth snorted skeptically. “You mean you got out of there before they could pin you down about what you were up to, hiking up to their dad’s cabin by yourself.”
Hannah smiled. “Yes, that’s what I mean. I stopped at Four Corners to give the McBanes the goodies, and I had a bit of an accident at the cemetery. Bowie was there checking on the culvert. He had some rock and debris piled up….” She noticed that her hands shook. “That’s how I got hurt.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re leaving a lot out.” She sighed. “Might want to put some ice on your wrist, too.”
“It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“Not now, maybe. Later it will. Clean it, too.” Beth sighed. “And pour yourself a stiff drink. The Camerons on your case. A fall in a cemetery at dusk. Damn. Pour two drinks, one for me.”
Hannah set the ice pack on the counter and turned to the sink to wash her hands. Her wrist was puffy and turning multiple shades of blue, but she doubted it would bother her for more than a day or two. Beth stood next to her. “Indulge me. You’re so damn stoic, Hannah, you could have a broken wrist and just not notice your pain.”
“Or not want to trouble anyone,” Dominique added quietly behind them.
“Have a look, then.” Hannah leaned back against the sink and let Beth examine her wrist. “Thank you.”
“Sean took a look, too? He’s an EMT.”
“You’re assuming he was at the cemetery.”
“Was he?”
It would be a mistake, Hannah knew, to think that Beth’s good nature meant she wasn’t as sharp, skeptical and relentless as her federal agent sister. “Yes.” Before either Beth or Dominique could respond, Hannah continued. “So, what’s the verdict on my wrist?”
Beth grinned at her. “Bruised. Ice is the best thing.”
Hannah washed her hands and retrieved her ice pack, putting it on her wrist, figuring she could alternate with her bruised cheek. “What’s with all the cupcakes?”
“Myrtle Smith suggested we have New Year’s cupcakes,” Dominique said. “We’re experimenting with designs. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s one of the few reporters left in town but she has a personal stake in the investigation. I suppose we all do.”
“I should tell you,” Hannah said, “Jo might be stopping by. In fact, she probably will be stopping by.”
Beth tapped a fingertip onto a little pile of edible silver stars, three of them sticking; she carefully placed them atop a vanilla cupcake with bright blue icing. “With my sister on the way, does that mean that whatever happened