Carla Neggers - Cold Pursuit

There had been times when he’d gone too far. When he’d hurt her-shamed her-and made her do things she didn’t want to do. To him, to herself. But that fear, pain and humiliation ended up only adding to the pleasure and intensity-the risk-of their next encounter.

Not that Kyle had ever been aware he’d gone too far or had ever apologized. That would have required a level of introspection he simply didn’t possess.

That afternoon, he’d been particularly ruthless and selfish, but he’d taken a certain amount of care not to leave any visible redness, bruises or scrapes. He was aware that she was going back to Thomas.

After she and Thomas were married, Kyle would have to find someone else.

The thought of another woman crying out for him didn’t sit well with Melanie at all.

He could be in Black Falls by now. Whether or not Thomas had agreed to hire him, Kyle intended to be in Vermont tonight. He had gone up there several times in the past couple of weeks since Nora had first become a problem-watching her, formulating a strategy.

Kyle was, after all, the planner.

Melanie tried to quiet her mind as Thomas snuggled closer to her and flopped an arm over her middle. She extricated herself from him and rolled closer to the edge of her side of the bed. She couldn’t bear for anyone to touch her right now. After she’d returned to Thomas’s house, she’d tried to relax in the library, flipping through magazines for ideas for their New Year’s Eve wedding. She wanted it to be elegant and romantic.

She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. She loved everything about her life with Thomas. It was the life she’d been meant to lead: privileged, quiet, elite, sensible. Her family was concerned that Thomas was fifteen years older than she was, but otherwise they were delighted. He was everything they’d ever wanted in a son-in-law.

They’d never met Kyle. They wouldn’t. Her almost year with him had been a detour. It wasn’t the real Melanie Kendall. But it had made her a stronger person; she’d be a better Mrs. Thomas Asher because of it.

She turned onto her side, her back to Thomas as he slept soundly, snoring faintly. Kyle had stayed at a roadside motel outside Black Falls in April. They’d hiked up the north side of Cameron Mountain from an old, remote logging road that was at least a ten-mile drive around the base of the mountain from the Camerons’ lodge. No one had seen him before or after they’d left that old man in the cold. Kyle would have been equally careful on subsequent trips to Black Falls. If he had any concern someone would recognize him when he showed up to look for Thomas’s daughter, he would plan accordingly. But Kyle understood, as Melanie did, that they had to deal with Nora Asher.

Melanie felt a prick of fear, but this time it wasn’t mixed with excitement. She and Kyle couldn’t fail. They had to deal with Nora. She wasn’t just a potential problem anymore. She was a real problem.

We’ll do what we have to do.

Thomas would miss Nora at first, but with her and the dangers she posed out of the way, Melanie could focus on her future husband and help him through his grief.

All would be well.

She closed her eyes, picturing her New Year’s Eve wedding.

She smiled, relaxing again. She’d wear white. Why not? It would be her first-her only-wedding.

When she arrived back at the lake, Jo got out her cell phone and walked up the path behind her waterfront cabin for a better signal. The only light was a single beam through the trees from Elijah’s place-not enough to help her, but it was a clear night. The stars and half-moon were out, creating shadows and silhouettes on the dark, wooded hillside.

She tried Mark Francona, but he didn’t pick up. She didn’t leave a message and dialed Harry Watson, a friend in Washington who worked with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. As she waited for the call to go through, she noticed eight or ten wild turkeys pecking in the low brush at the edge of the woods and tried not to scare them. They warbled and fluttered, slowly making their way toward three cabins tucked in the trees higher up the hill.

Harry answered on the second ring. “I heard you were in New Zealand,” he said.

“That’s the backup plan. What do you know about Ambassador Bruni?”

“Why?”

He wouldn’t tell her anything if she wasn’t straight with him. “His wife’s ex-husband asked me to check on his stepdaughter.”

“The one in Vermont? Harper. You’re not…”

“I’m in Black Falls. I grew up here. Nora Asher works at a café co-owned by my younger sister.”

“I have frequent-flyer miles you can use for New Zealand. Call me if you need them.”

He disconnected, and Jo slipped her cell phone into her jacket pocket. If Harry knew anything, he’d have told her. She shuddered against a breeze off the lake. She wanted to take a few moments to let her mind sift through the events of the day, but not out here-it was too damn cold. She’d go make her salad and head over to Elijah’s.

She heard a noise behind the more secluded cabins farther up the hill and went still on the narrow footpath. The turkeys flapped their wings and scurried deeper into the woods, away from the cabins, their shuffling making it more difficult for her to identify any other sounds.

Devin? Nora?

Jo crept toward a particularly dilapidated cabin on the far edge of the clearing behind the main cabins along the lake.

A branch snapped in the darkness.

Someone-something-was up there with her.

She waited for a few minutes in the darkness, listening, peering up into the trees for any sign of movement. But animal or human, whatever was out there didn’t make a sound.

Or was gone, she thought, giving up.

Without a flashlight, she didn’t investigate further and walked back down to her cabin. When she opened the rickety door, she knew instantly someone had been in there. None of the cabins had decent locks and hers apparently hadn’t caught when she’d left earlier in the day.

She switched on the dull overhead and scanned the room. Everything appeared to be intact. The lilies Charlie had sent her were still in the middle of the table. Her exercise clothes from her morning run were still on the bed. Her old coffee cup was still in the sink.

But she smelled…something. Not cologne or soap. She couldn’t place it.

Then she recognized what it was. Stirred-up dust. Whoever had been there had gone into places she hadn’t yet.

Bats?

She pulled open the utility closet by the kitchen area.

No bombs.

What was she thinking? She’d probably just interrupted some kids looking for a place to party who panicked and ran when they realized the cabin was already occupied.

Telling herself she was being thorough not paranoid, Jo grabbed a flashlight and went back outside. She squatted by the front steps and angled the beam of light under the cabin, but she didn’t see signs of a hidden incendiary device or anything else that didn’t belong there.

She stood up, breathing hard.

Elijah.

Had whoever been through her cabin gone through his place as well?

Had she heard him in the woods?

It had been a long, strange day, and she supposed she could have heard a stray turkey after all and no one had searched her cabin. But she didn’t think so.

Another breeze gusted up from the lake and, once again, Jo wished she had a Vermont-worthy winter coat-or even a hat and gloves. She drew her hands up into her sleeves and ignored the biting cold as best she could as she headed up the road, the gravel crunching under her fast steps.

She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the top of Elijah’s steep driveway. A solitary light shone in the sliding glass doors on the deck. In the months since she’d inherited her lakefront property, she hadn’t been this close to her neighbor’s house. It looked as sturdy and solid as the man who’d built it.