Carla Neggers - Cold Dawn

Rose came around a boulder. “Ranger, heel,” she said, and he immediately came to her side.

“Man,” Brett said. “I took a hell of a spill. There must be a spring under the snow. I hit ice and went flying.”

Rose knelt down in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah. I got the wind knocked out of me. I landed on my side against this boulder. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head. I’ll have a nasty bruise.” He sank back against the boulder, his hat crooked on top of his head, and grinned at Ranger. “I’ve never owned a dog, but if I did, I’d have you help train him. He’s a beauty, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Rose said. “What are you doing up here?”

“Taking pictures and checking the conditions. I thought I’d get some shots when you all run tubing up here. That’s what you’re doing, right? I was at the lodge earlier and thought that’s what I heard.”

“My brothers, Jo Harper and Nick Martini are on the way. We want to have everything ready for winter fest weekend.”

“The place I’m house-sitting is just up the road. I’m out in the woods all the time. I keep thinking…” Brett sat up straight, wincing in pain. “Maybe I will stick around after the daffodils start popping up.”

Rose laughed. “Maybe you did hit your head.”

He looked more sheepish and self-conscious than amused. She felt bad about her joke, but he rallied. “It’s not anything I’ll rush into. I know I’m still reacting to the fires. I saw Scott Thorne a little while ago.”

“Did he want to talk to you?”

“No, no. I’ve cooperated fully with the police. I meant I saw him drive by. I was already up here on the hill.” Brett’s hands shook visibly. “I saw a deer. It startled me. I think that’s why I missed noticing the ice. Usually I’m pretty careful.”

Rose stood up. “Which direction was Scott headed?”

“Up this way.”

Rose hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t stopped at the lodge as far as she knew. She frowned down at Brett, noticed that his pants were already wet with melting snow. “You don’t want to sit in the cold snow for too long.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You might be hurt worse than you think. Adrenaline can fool you.”

“I’m okay, really. Sorry for the drama.” He reached for his camera in the snow. “My pants are soaked. I know better, but I was so excited by the prospect of warm weather that I put on a pair of corduroys. Sort of mistake a rookie would make, huh? Elijah would have a fit. You aren’t as tough on people.”

“I don’t know about that. We both focus on what we have to do.”

Brett blew snow off his camera. “I don’t think I could do what you do, Rose. I have basic first aid training, but I’ve never dealt with anything more serious than a ski student falling face-first in the snow.”

“But you could,” Rose said, “and you would if you had to.”

“Maybe. You Camerons, though. Whenever I think about relocating here permanently, I don’t know. I don’t think I’d ever measure up, never mind fit in.”

“Make a place for yourself and don’t worry about the rest.”

Ranger moved to the edge of the rocks and barked. Brett looked slightly panicked. “Careful. There’s a cliff there. It’s hard to see. The Neals will want to avoid this section when they’re here for winter fest.”

Rose knew the spot well. She felt a breeze blowing through the trees, down the mountain. “The Neals?”

“Aren’t they coming to winter fest?”

“They are, but I don’t know that they have plans to hike up to the falls again.”

“Oh. I thought you would know.”

“Do you know their plans, Brett?”

“I’m hoping to be their guide. Actually, I was up here when they hiked up to the falls a couple of weeks ago. Marissa Neal in particular loved it. It’s so quiet this time of year.”

“It is,” Rose said, edging closer to Ranger.

Brett was shivering. Every other time she’d run into him, he’d been dressed for the conditions. It was no secret she’d been headed in this direction. Had he rushed to get here ahead of her?

“Jo Harper will be here for winter fest?” he asked.

“I would think so.”

“Marissa Neal must be forever in Jo’s debt for saving her from that fire when she was camping last fall. You heard about that, right?”

Rose nodded. “It wasn’t widely reported, though. You must be tuned in to the Neals. Did Robert or Derek mention them?”

“Yeah, probably. I don’t remember. There’s been a lot of talk about them because of Jo and their trip up here.” Brett dug a glove out of the snow and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t bring dry gloves. Another rookie mistake. And here I’m supposed to be a wilder ness expert.”

Wilderness expert? “I thought you were a ski instructor and photographer.”

“I am.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s on your mind, Rose? You look nervous. That’s not like you. I don’t scare you, do I?”

She’d maneuvered herself to where he’d fallen. There was no spring under the snow. No ice. She gave Ranger a subtle hand signal, and he immediately jumped up. “Ranger’s onto something,” she said. It wasn’t true but she wanted to get back down to the road. “I’ll see what he’s up to. Catch your breath.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

She moved to the edge of the cliff. “If you need help, give a shout. I’m right here.”

He stared at her. She saw he didn’t believe her. He and Robert were of a similar build. Had it been Brett in the ski mask, Brett who’d shoved Dominique into the cabin and left her to die? Brett who’d killed Robert—and Derek?

And Jasper Vanderhorn. Was Brett Griffin the clever, elusive arsonist the California investigator had been hunting?

“Rose.”

She heard Brett’s undertone of intimidation and anger.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he said, getting to his feet, wobbling slightly. “You’re afraid given all that’s happened.”

She had to act. She had no choice. She could stand there and be killed or take her chances and jump. Get away from him. Ranger was already charging down through the trees toward the road. Nick would be there by now. Elijah and Jo would be right behind him.

Rose pretended to slip and threw her arms up as if trying to regain her balance. She stepped off the edge of the cliff, doing her best to control her half dive, half roll in the deep snow.

She came to a hard, sharp stop against a tree.

Under ordinary conditions, she would focus on staying warm and wait for help, not take on the elements, but Brett Griffin would come find her.

Alive, he could pretend she’d been hysterical and he was innocent.

Dead, she wasn’t a problem at all.

Twenty-Six

North of Los Angeles, Southern California

Grit entered a large, square room at a remote training site for elite smoke jumpers. Sean Cameron was with him. They approached a good-looking, fair-haired man sitting alone at a cafeteria-style table.

“Trent Stevens?” Grit asked.

The man turned sharply. He looked scruffier than in the picture. “No. Don’t call me that. Who the hell are you?”

“My name’s Ryan Taylor.”

Two minutes ago, as Grit and Sean had arrived at the training area, Charlie Neal had called with a message that his sister Marissa had finally admitted she’d sneaked off to California last fall to see her ex-boyfriend.

Trent wasn’t happy about having company. “Damn. You’ve pulled me out of the zone. I’m immersing myself in this world.”

Sean gritted his teeth visibly. This was his world. He knew the ground, the people, the stakes of the work done here. “You went to see Nick Martini last fall, didn’t you? To ask him how you could go about doing research for a screenplay you’re writing.”