Carla Neggers - Cold Pursuit

“By the way, Beth and I borrowed yours the other day.”

“So I saw. Anytime. Happy to share. Lake ’ll freeze soon, though.”

“Not before I’m back in Washington.” She ripped open her refrigerator, realizing he was right about her pent-up energy, even if he didn’t understand all the reasons for it. Neither did she. “I don’t know why I’m looking in here. I’m not even hungry.” She shut the door again. “I think I’ll go over and search your place.”

He shrugged. “Go ahead.”

She called his bluff and headed outside and up their shared road, paying no attention to how dark it was. Elijah followed at an easy pace, probably considering whether or not he had any illegal weaponry or pictures of girlfriends on his dresser.

She took the steps up to his deck two at a time and left the slider door open for him when she went in.

She started her search downstairs with a back bedroom and bath, which he obviously used, then charged through the small kitchen and headed up the spiral stairs to two unfinished bedrooms and a shared bath. She didn’t do a thorough job. She did just enough to prove her point, although she wasn’t sure just what her point was. That she could give as good as she got? That Drew Cameron had been an old man filled with fears and regrets when he’d come to see her, and his talk of the children she and Elijah had never had was just that-talk? Not a premonition. Not some unfulfilled promise of something that had been meant to be.

When she finished looking around, she returned to the front room, a little out of breath. Elijah picked up a box of wooden matches and opened up the woodstove. Jo pointed toward the back of the house. “You didn’t make your bed this morning.”

“I don’t make it most mornings.”

“And your windows need washing. There are fingerprints all over them.”

“A.J.’s kids were here raising hell the day before you showed up in town. I figured I’d worry about keeping them alive and never mind the windows.”

She smiled, imagining little Baylee and Jim Cameron racing through the sturdy house and running circles around their Green Beret uncle. “Probably a good idea, seeing how they’re Camerons.”

Elijah struck a match and set the flame to the edge of a rolled-up newspaper. “They’re a couple of live wires.”

“Elijah…” She dropped onto the edge of a sectional sofa and pulled herself together. “I don’t want to screw up your life. If I’d known you were here-”

“You’d have bought a plane ticket to Paris?”

“ New Zealand,” she admitted. “Maybe Australia while I was at it.”

He shut the stove lid, and behind the glass front the kindling quickly caught fire, sparking, crackling. “Maybe Nora wishes her father was marrying you instead of his fiancée, and she’s staged this little drama to throw the two of you together.”

“That’s not what’s going on.”

“I don’t like Rigby,” Elijah said.

“Neither do I, but Thomas is self-protective. I can see he might want someone up here who answers only to him. I have conflicts that someone private doesn’t.”

“I think you should stay here tonight.”

“Why, are you afraid to be here alone?”

“Shaking in my boots, if that’s what it’ll take. I know you’re a tough federal agent and all that, but I still don’t like the idea of you being alone out here.”

Jo settled into the sofa and glanced around at the comfortable room. It would have good views of the trees and lake during daylight, a perfect spot for a man fresh back from war-for Elijah, who’d always loved Black Falls.

He adjusted the dampers on the stove. “Fetch your toothbrush, Jo. You’re not staying alone, and this place has better heat than your cabin. I’m not into freezing body parts.”

She studied him, noting the serious-even professional-look that had come over him, reminding her that he wasn’t an aimless nineteen-year-old any longer. For most of the past fifteen years, he’d been doing the important, multifaceted work of a Special Forces soldier.

Finally she said, “There’s more, something you’re not telling me.” She watched him lift a log from his rustic woodbox. “Elijah, has Charlie Neal called again?”

He set the log upright on the brick hearth in front of the stove. “He has names.”

“Names-” Jo stopped herself. “I can’t hear this.”

Elijah ignored her. “Charlie combed the Internet for unsolved homicides that appear to be out-of-the-blue hits with no obvious motive. Two names struck him as being of particular interest. An arson investigator in southern California named Jasper Vanderhorn was killed in a fire in June. In August, a Russian diplomat named Andrei Petrov was poisoned in London.”

Jo gritted her teeth. Charlie, Charlie.

“Charlie says he has other names pending. The victims aren’t connected that he’s been able to figure out so far-it’s the manner of their deaths that got them on his list.”

“That’s not enough to suggest there’s an assassination network involved.”

“It’s enough for Charlie and my friend in Washington.”

“Is your friend a conspiracy nut?”

Elijah didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“Military?” Jo asked.

“SEAL.”

“One of the ones from April?”

He didn’t answer, but his expression-a mix of regret, resolve and pain-took the wind out of her. But it didn’t last. It was there, almost imperceptible, then gone again.

He opened the lid on the stove again, picked up the log from the hearth and dropped it on the fire.

“Elijah, if you ever want to talk about what happened-”

“I don’t.” He turned to her, his eyes the color of midnight now. “Marissa Neal.”

Jo didn’t react. “She’s in good hands. She’s fine.”

“You saved her life.”

“Whatever I did or didn’t do was my job. Charlie needs to stay out of this, Elijah. He’s smart, but he’s still a sixteen-year-old kid. The police won’t jump to conclusions about Ambassador Bruni’s death. They can’t. They’ll follow the evidence.”

“I’m not the police.”

The log caught fire, the flames hissing. Jo got to her feet. “You and Charlie and your SEAL friend in D.C. need to back off.”

“And you, Jo? What do you need to do?”

She didn’t respond, just started for the sliders.

Not that Elijah had given up. He tossed her a flashlight. “Don’t forget your toothbrush.”

She didn’t mention there was only one bed in the place. Obviously he already knew. She just switched on the flashlight, went out onto the deck and shivered in the sudden cold.

But it wasn’t just the cold.

The brisk wind helped clear Jo’s head while she walked back to her cabin. She was listening to an owl out across the lake when she saw car headlights down the road, and in another minute, a sedan stopped in front of her cabin.

The headlights went off, and Thomas Asher got out on the driver’s side. “Jo,” he said, his voice croaking with emotion as she lowered her flashlight. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

Before Jo had a chance to answer, a pretty, black-haired woman climbed out on the passenger side, walked around the hood of the car and stood next to Thomas. “I’m Melanie,” she said, shivering even as she smiled pleasantly. “I’ve heard so much about you, Special Agent Harper. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”

“Same here,” Jo said automatically. “Thomas, good to see you, although I’m sorry about the circumstances. We can go inside, if you’d like.”

Thomas shook his head. He was wearing just a sweater and looked cold, and clearly distraught. “We can’t stay. Lowell and Vivian have dinner waiting. We’re staying with them. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help. But Nora? There’s nothing new?”