Cold River - Carla Neggers [7]
Kyle Rigby and Melanie Kendall were killers who were themselves now dead.
With a gasp for air, Hannah broke the cycle of images. Investigators believed Kyle and Melanie had been part of a sophisticated network that paired clients who wanted someone dead and were willing to pay with professional killers who’d do the job—a network that didn’t tolerate screwups. Elijah Cameron had shot and killed Kyle Rigby in Kyle’s do-or-die mission on Cameron Mountain. Hours later, Melanie Kendall was killed at Black Falls Lodge when a bomb went off in her car, presumably triggered, or arranged to be triggered, by her employer, for whom failure was not an option.
So many unanswered questions, Hannah thought as she burst through the swinging door into the kitchen. Dominique and Beth were on backless stools at the counter-height worktable. Beth, a copper-haired, high-energy paramedic a year older than Hannah, was willing to do anything to keep the café running but focused her efforts on maintenance and comfort food. Small, dark-haired Dominique was, at thirty-four, the eldest of the three “sisters” and decidedly not a local. Something of a mystery in town, she was an expert cook and the creative vision behind the café’s success.
Without a word, Hannah reached for a dark green canvas apron. Dominique and Beth each wore one, too. They’d agreed on evergreen as the café’s signature color. The kitchen was toasty warm. It was one of Hannah’s favorite rooms in the house. They’d kept the design simple, with an emphasis on efficiency, openness and food safety.
“Is Toby packed?” Beth asked, lifting a thick round of dough onto a baking sheet.
“He started packing his bike paraphernalia Christmas night. The rest doesn’t matter.” Welcoming the distraction from her post-trauma visions, Hannah filled a mug—also evergreen—with coffee. “He wants to get in shape for a big race in California in late January.”
Beth looked up from the worktable. “You should go out there for the race. While you’re at it, you can make Sean take you shopping on Rodeo Drive.”
Hannah laughed as she leaned back against the counter with her coffee. “What on earth would I buy on Rodeo Drive?”
“Five-hundred-dollar shoes,” Beth said without hesitation.
“To tramp through snowbanks when I got home? I don’t think so. Toby’s caught up in the excitement of getting to go mountain-biking during the winter. I don’t blame him. At least his host family in California wasn’t scared off by what happened here in November.”
Beth’s deep turquoise eyes darkened. She’d been on the search-and-rescue team that had gone up Cameron Mountain in November. She’d strapped Devin to a stretcher herself. He’d been injured after Kyle Rigby had taken Devin’s own walking stick from him and beat him with it—but not before Devin was able to warn Nora, giving her a chance to run and almost certainly saving her life.
“Sean will look after Toby,” Beth said, shoving the tray of plump buttermilk scones into the oven. “He’s every bit the hard-ass mountain man as Elijah is. Or A.J., for that matter.” She shut the oven and grinned. “Hell, or Rose.”
After two sips, Hannah set her mug on the counter. She’d come to rely on Beth’s restless energy and good humor to help her through the past five weeks. “The Camerons are all mission-oriented types. Not knowing who ordered their father killed and why is tough on all of them.”
“It won’t last.” Dominique didn’t look up from her bowl of cut fresh fruit as she spoke. “They’ll get their answers.”
Beth nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, they will.” She pulled open the freezer and turned to Dominique. “Wild blueberry muffins for a cold post-Christmas morning?”
Dominique, never one for surprises, frowned. “I hadn’t planned on making blueberry muffins.”
“All the more reason to get out the blueberries,” Beth said, grinning as she reached into the freezer for a container of wild blueberries she and Hannah had picked back in August.
Dispelling the last of her early-morning visions,