Cold River - Carla Neggers [76]
“You two really engaged?” Sean asked.
“I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.” Elijah didn’t look up from the flames. He’d been pensive since Sean had found him there. After a long silence, he continued, “It was close up on the mountain. Rigby could have killed us all.”
“You and Jo didn’t let that happen.”
“I almost lost her.”
Sean nodded. Elijah wasn’t a brooder, but he was thoughtful. Down the hall, A.J.’s four-year-old son and two-year-old daughter squealed and laughed in the main dining room, both parents with them.
“What’s on your mind, Elijah?” Sean asked.
“Maybe by killing Rigby I lost the chance to stop more murders.”
“We can’t second-guess ourselves,” Jo said, walking down the hall from the dining room in a sweater, jeans and boots. “We did what we had to do to get off the mountain alive.” She narrowed her turquoise eyes on Sean. “Get anything more out of Hannah?”
“No, but I’m doing this because of her, not for any other reason.”
“Understood.”
Grit Taylor walked in through the lodge’s main door and headed over to the fire. He put his hands out toward the flames. “Hannah Shay’s here. Her car’s stuck on ice on that mess you all call a parking lot. She’ll spin her way out of it and be in a fine mood by the time she gets in here.”
Elijah regarded his friend with a mix of amusement and respect. “Any theories about what’s going on, Grit?”
Grit’s gaze settled on Sean and then shifted back to Elijah. “Plenty. Doesn’t mean any of them is worth spit.” He opened and closed his fingers, the fire glowing in his dark eyes as he glanced again at Sean. “Are you still planning to head back to California tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Got a New Year’s party to attend?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m going back.”
“Fire season’s already peaked, hasn’t it?”
“It normally peaks in October,” Sean said, “but fires can flare up anytime if the conditions are favorable.”
Grit adjusted his stance, as if his leg hurt. “You still get out there, jump out of a plane to fight fires?”
“When needed.” Sean eased back away from the massive fireplace. A giant stuffed moose—a fake one—stood in the corner. “You did SEAL training in Southern California. You must know about wildfires in remote areas.”
“Yep. Some. Your partner—he’s a smoke jumper, too?”
“That’s right. Doing research, Grit?”
“Me? Nah. Just yakking while I warm up and wait for Hannah. There’s nothing the cops don’t know about any of us by now. Hell, if we put a tack on our teacher’s seat in fourth grade, Jo and Company know about it.”
Jo had gone very still but didn’t speak. Sean figured Grit’s questions had sparked her interest, too. Maybe things had gotten to the point that none of them could make idle talk without drawing suspicion, but Grit wasn’t even being subtle.
Elijah eased in next to the man he’d fought with—had almost died with. “Has our friend in Washington been in touch again?”
“Some people don’t like to leave well enough alone,” Grit said cryptically. He nodded at the main door as it opened. “What do you know, here comes one who does just that.”
“Hannah’s fearless,” Jo said. “It’s what scares me about her.”
“That I understand.” Grit pulled his hands from the fire and shoved them into the pockets of his jacket. “I’ll go make myself scarce. Let me know if you three can’t handle our would-be prosecutor and need my help.”
He headed down the hall toward the sounds of the young, squealing Camerons. Hannah entered the lodge, her coat unzipped, her head bare, her long, fine hair pulled back. Sean noticed that some of the anger had gone out of her, but