Cold River - Carla Neggers [95]
Hannah hesitated, but decided to take Rose’s lead in changing the subject. “They love it.” She watched Ranger return with his stick, clumps of wet snow clinging to his tail and undercoat. “They both say Sean’s place is nice.”
Her friend laughed unexpectedly. “I’ve been there. It’s incredible, is what it is. Are you afraid Devin will get spoiled? Sean won’t let him. He’ll make him work. He didn’t get rich robbing banks.”
Hannah smiled but said nothing. Her father had served time for robbery.
Rose petted Ranger, praising him for a job well done, then squinted down through the gloom at Lowell, still at the bottom of the driveway. “He’s heading home soon. He’s cold. How’s he going to take care of a dog if he can’t handle a little weather?” Her tone was only half-teasing. “I won’t say anything to him, of course.”
“Of course not. You’re the nice Cameron.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed.
“Sorry,” Hannah said quickly.
“It’s okay. I understand where you’re coming from. We can be a hardheaded lot. Lowell says his wife is freaked out about what happened here. I don’t know that having a dog would make her feel more secure, though.”
“Maybe a bomb-sniffing dog would,” Hannah said, and realized she wasn’t joking. Ranger was an air-scenting dog, trained to find people in an area versus tracking a specific person, but Rose was an expert in every kind of search dog.
Lowell picked his way through puddles and patches where the rain had washed away the sand, exposing ice. “Ranger is a well-behaved dog, Rose,” he said, clapping his thick gloves together as if his hands were cold in spite of them. “He’s also handsome. I don’t know if I can ever talk Vivian into a dog, but I’d love to have one—just as a pet. The work you do requires an enormous commitment.”
“It does,” she said, “but owning any dog takes a certain commitment.”
He sighed. “Yes, I understand your point.” He turned to Hannah and smiled. “What a welcome surprise to see you here. You and Rose don’t look the least bit cold. Now, why is that, I wonder?”
“Warm clothes,” Rose muttered.
He had the grace to laugh. “You’re native Vermonters. A little cold weather doesn’t bother you.”
A cold breeze penetrated the fog and intermittent drizzle. “If you go up to the lodge,” Rose said, “A.J. and Elijah will outfit you with winter gear that’d hold you through any dog outings in the Vermont winter.”
“They won’t want anyone in Black Falls to freeze to death,” Lowell said.
Rose narrowed her blue eyes on him. “That’s correct.”
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Your father—”
“He didn’t die of hypothermia because he wasn’t dressed properly for the conditions or was in over his head in that storm.” Rose’s voice was steady, without any obvious emotion. “He died because he was murdered.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s true. Awful.” Lowell glanced at Ranger as the golden retriever bolted back up the driveway with his stick. “What a remarkable dog. I should go, though. A nice hot fire awaits me at home.”
“How long will you be staying in Black Falls?” Hannah asked.
“As long as Vivian wants to. At least a few more days. We’re overseeing the work on the guesthouse. It’s going well. Bowie O’Rourke keeps to himself and seems to be doing an excellent job. How’s work coming on your cellar?”
“He’s almost done.”
The wind and drizzle picked up. Lowell said goodbye, patted Ranger and headed for his car. After he was down the driveway and back on the road, Hannah picked up the stick again and threw it for Ranger, who looked eager for more fetching. He ran after it with just as much energy as the last time. Hannah watched him, aware of the drizzle dampening her hair, collecting on her jacket.
“You were last in California in June,” Hannah said without looking at her friend.
“That’s right. I was there training firefighters in handling search-and-rescue dogs.”
Hannah curled her fingers into fists to help keep them warm. “Did something happen?”
Rose stared out at the white-and-gray landscape. “I was preoccupied with my father’s death. I could have missed