Carla Neggers - Cold Pursuit

“Do you have search-and-rescue experience?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Are you working with a team?”

“Like I said, I know what I’m doing. I’m here to get Nora Asher safely back to her family. That’s it. I don’t doubt everyone here will cooperate to make sure that happens.”

“Did Thomas give you any update on the investigation into Ambassador Bruni’s death?”

“No, but that’s not why I’m here. Sorry, I don’t have a lot of time. Sunset’s around 4:00 p.m. and the forecast calls for a fair amount of snow at higher elevations in the next couple of days. Nora’s inexperienced and very upset. It’d be good to find her.” He dipped a big hand inside his jacket, withdrew a business card and handed it to Jo. “Call me on my cell phone if anything comes up. Leave me a message if I’m out of range.”

“I’ll do that. Where are you staying?”

“The second apartment in the Whittakers’ guesthouse. They insisted through Mr. Asher that I stay there. It’s decent of them.”

“Were you there last night?”

He shook his head. “I dumped my stuff off before I drove out here. I’d hoped Nora had come back during the night.” He shrugged. “But she didn’t.”

“What’s your plan now?”

He ignored her question and walked back to his car. Jo remained on her step and watched him drive off down the dirt road, the sun higher now, glistening on the lake. Then she directed her attention to the trees behind the next cabin, where she’d noticed a slight movement.

Elijah stepped out from behind a hemlock with a.30-06 rifle balanced comfortably on one shoulder. “Off the case, are you?”

“There is no case. Thomas has a right to hire someone if he wants to.” Jo crossed her arms to keep herself warm. “Elijah, is that a freaking machine gun?”

“Rifle. You know the difference, Ms. Secret Agent.”

“Secret Service agent. Which you know.”

“It’s almost deer season. I was cleaning my hunting rifle.”

“You’ve never gone deer hunting in your life.”

“Once. I was thirteen.” He stayed close to the woods, the morning sun glinting on the rust-colored oak leaves behind him. “I went up on the mountain with my father, and I got a buck in my sights-a big guy.”

“You didn’t fire,” Jo said. “I’d have heard the story if you had. Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. My father didn’t understand, either, but I never took to hunting. That was years before he left you this property.”

“So it was.”

“He was a good man, but he never gave people something for nothing.” Elijah’s eyes, with their piercing Cameron blue, settled on her. “I figured he owed you.”

“If he did, it was in his own mind, not mine.”

“Maybe so.”

Jo wasn’t about to tell him about his father’s vision of the children they’d never have; that part of their conversation was between her and Drew. But she couldn’t help wondering how much her response to Elijah last night-the taste of him, the feel of his body hard against hers-had to do with her visit with his father. For the past seven months, she’d been thinking about Elijah in a way she hadn’t before Drew Cameron had turned up at her Washington apartment.

But such thinking wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and she dropped her arms from her chest. “Take your rifle and go home, Elijah. I need to get back inside. My hair’s turning to icicles.”

“Cold morning for a shower in a barely heated cabin.”

“At least there is a shower, although sometimes it’d be nice to have a tub.”

“I have one at my place if you ever-”

“Thanks.” She cut him off quickly. Today, she’d promised herself, would be different. Her life was complicated enough right now without kissing her neighbor and one-time lover. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You could always borrow my bathrobe if you didn’t bring one with you.”

“No way do you have a bathrobe, Elijah.”

He looked amused. “You don’t think so?”

She opened the cabin door, sorry she’d brought up the subject. But he didn’t move, just stood there with his rifle still on his shoulder. She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Picturing what kind of bathrobe you have.”

“I don’t own a bathrobe.”

It was the wrong answer. He grinned at her. “Even better.”

“Go drink a gallon of coffee, Elijah. You need it.”

But his grin faded, and he said seriously, “Put a pot on. I’ll be back in ten. I need to talk to you about your new best friend in Washington.”

“My new…” Jo took a breath. “Charlie Neal? Elijah-”

“He’s fine. Has a hell of an imagination. Coffee, okay?”

He headed back through the trees to his house, and she shut the door hard behind her, wishing she weren’t even a little attracted to him. But she was a lot attracted, not so much a shock as a pointed reminder of why she should have resisted coming back to Black Falls.

Assassins.

Only Charlie.

Jo shook her head over coffee with Elijah in her cabin. They sat at the table with the vase of lilies Charlie had sent her. “He has an active imagination. He reads, plays video games and has fantasy airsoft firefights. He doesn’t sit in on White House briefings.”

Elijah gave her a steady, measured look that reminded her he was an experienced Special Forces soldier. “So, you don’t know anything about assassins?”

“If I knew anything about an assassination team at work in Washington or Black Falls or anywhere else, I wouldn’t be sitting here having coffee with you and talking about a sixteen-year-old kid-even if he is the son of the vice president. Charlie doesn’t believe his father or any of his father’s friends are targets, does he?”

“We didn’t get into it.”

“Elijah…” She got up with her coffee mug. The cabin felt warmer, but she doubted it was. “Does he think I’m here undercover?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Anything’s possible with Charlie. He’s manipulative and very smart.”

“He’s not so smart that he didn’t talk himself out of that airsoft prank, but he’s smart enough to have sent you flowers.”

“It’ll take more than flowers for me to warm back up to him.”

“Nah. You like that kid. You’re a soft touch, Agent Harper.” But as he rose to his feet, Elijah’s tight expression suggested that Charlie Neal had gotten to him, too. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out the front door. The only door, I should say.”

“You’re familiar with search-and-rescue protocols. If you plan to find Nora and Devin, the best starting point is to figure out where they were last seen and to interview the people who’ve talked to them most recently-friends, family, coworkers. Charging into the mountains willy-nilly by yourself isn’t the smartest course of action.”

“Willy-nilly?” He grinned as he headed for the door. “I don’t know as I’ve ever heard anyone use willy-nilly in a sentence. See you, Jo.”

After he left, Jo waited until his truck passed by her cabin before she put on her fleece jacket over her sweater and headed outside. The sun sparkled on the lake and frosty grass, a picturesque scene, if different from the blazing colors of early October or the rich greens of summer. She did a quick check of the cabins in daylight, but they all looked fine-no sign of intruders, campers, picnickers or even wild turkeys.

She thrashed through the woods over to the trail up to the lodge and dialed Mark Francona from a rock with a particularly beautiful view of the lake. He picked up on the first ring. “Too cold this morning for canoeing?”

“I can see the breath in front of my face, if you consider that cold.”