Cold Pursuit

Thirty-Eight

Elijah entered the Harper kitchen for the first time in more than a decade, but it hadn’t changed. He wasn’t surprised. Wes Harper had a dozen canning jars of applesauce lined up on the round oak table. He’d let Elijah come in. Elijah took that as a positive sign. It was five days since his ordeal on Cameron Mountain with Jo, Nora and Devin.

Most of the reporters who’d descended on Black Falls in the first twenty-four hours after Kyle Rigby and Melanie Kendall had died on Cameron land had departed.

There’d been no official mention of paid killers at work.

Jo was still on the lake, running every morning, consulting with her law enforcement colleagues. Her Secret Service boss had flown in and out again in one day. Mark Francona had struck Elijah as a serious hard-ass. Elijah had offered him use of his canoe, in case Francona and Jo wanted to paddle across the lake before it froze solid. Francona didn’t seem to think that was funny.

Grit Taylor and Myrtle Smith had arrived the morning after the storm and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. Grit had set up in the most isolated and removed of Jo’s rundown cabins. Myrtle had checked in to the best room at Black Falls Lodge. Her presence was just the distraction A.J. and Lauren needed-Myrtle loved the idea of a luxury spa at the lodge.

The younger Cameron siblings had returned home. A.J., Elijah, Sean and Rose had sat up last night in front of the fire at the lodge and talked until dawn.

When he’d left for the lake, Elijah had known what he had to do. He didn’t care that Jo had been back in his life for just days. In a way, she’d always been there, for as long as he could remember.

“I’d like to talk to you, sir,” he said to Jo’s father.

Wes Harper had a black permanent marker in one hand. “Drew was right,” he said as he wrote the date on the cap of one of the applesauce jars. “I never cut you a single break.”

“Because of Jo.”

“Yeah.” He looked up at Elijah with eyes that were darker than his daughter’s but still bore a resemblance. “I didn’t make up reasons to get in your face, but I was harder on you than I ever was on anyone else, before or since. Maybe you’ll be the father of a teenage girl one day and be able to forgive me.”

Elijah shrugged. “I forgave you a long time ago. You probably saved my life. You probably made it possible for me to ask your daughter to marry me.”

Harper’s hand stopped in midair.

Elijah didn’t falter. Not this time, he thought. Not ever again where his love for Jo was concerned. “I’d like your support.”

Harper set the marker on the table and steadied his cop gaze on Elijah. “It would be an honor to have you as a son-in-law-if Jo’s crazy enough to have you.” Still, he didn’t smile. “If she won’t, Elijah, then that’s it. Never again. Let her go for good this time.”

“She’ll have me.”

“Yeah.” Harper almost smiled. “I know.”

“I realize we haven’t been together that long.”

“Fifteen years, Elijah. Longer. She had her first crush on you when she was six. Hopeless.” But Wes Harper wasn’t a man for a lot of talk, especially about matters of the heart, and he grabbed up his marker again and said, “Those two killers-Rigby and Kendall. There are more where they came from.”

It wasn’t a question, but Elijah nodded. “Yes.”

“Jo?”

“She won’t tell me, but I think she’s working the investigation.”

Her father sighed. “I don’t mind telling you this whole business scares the hell out of me. To have a daughter in the Secret Service…”

Elijah recognized the fear of a father for a child. “Jo’s a chip off the old block, Chief Harper. She doesn’t cut anyone slack, either.”

Harper gave a satisfied smile. “Good.” Then he added, “And it’s Wes, son. Just Wes.”

It was cleaning night at the Three Sisters Café. Jo had scrubbed the stainless steel sink in the kitchen and was about to start on the counters, but then quiet, lovely Dominique pulled a tray of scones out of the oven and that was it. “Time for a break,” Jo said, and she, Beth and Scott grabbed scones, plates, silverware and small pots of butter and jam and took them out to the dining room.

Hannah and even tireless Dominique promised to join them in a few minutes. For the first time in days, their lives weren’t centered on the close call on Cameron Mountain. Even Devin, recovering rapidly from his injuries, had taken Toby to a movie, an act of normalcy that their older sister obviously welcomed.

But as Jo broke off a piece of scone, her cell phone rang. She winced at the intrusion and expected it was Mark Francona, who had sentenced her-his words-to a few more weeks, at least, in Vermont. Francona didn’t care about her getting Charlie Neal by the ear anymore. He was more interested in finding assassins. He had seized on her presence in Black Falls and figured it was meant to be, a product of his intuition and brilliance. “Buy a snow shovel,” he’d told her. “You’re going to be in the frozen north for a while.”

But it wasn’t Francona’s voice she heard on the other end of the connection. “Special Agent Harper?”

Jo sat up straight, recognizing the deep male voice. “Yes, sir.”

“This is Preston Neal. Charlie and Marissa’s dad. I just want to say…” Clearly emotional, the vice president paused for a moment, then gave a little cough and continued. “Thank you, Jo. Thank you for what you did for both of them.”

“Just doing my job, sir.”

“You saved Marissa’s life. And Charlie. I need to spend more time with him. It’s amazing how fast the years pass by. He’s sixteen…”

“He’s a great kid.”

“Thank you. His mother and I think so, too.”

Jo was aware of Scott Thorne glowering at her from across the table, as if he could guess whatever she was up to was about to complicate his life. Beth sat next to him. She glanced at Jo, then distracted her trooper boyfriend by putting a dot of butter on the end of his nose. Scott laughed, probably for the first time since he had trekked up the north side of Cameron Mountain after the season’s first snowstorm. The investigation into Kyle Rigby and Melanie Kendall and their murderous network had only just begun. It would be long, thorough and painstaking.

So far, it looked as if Charlie Neal had been dead-on.

But not about everything.

The vice president took a breath. “Jo?”

“Sir,” she said finally, “your son needs to understand that what happened to his sister was an accident. It had nothing to do with this other business.”

“This network of assassins,” Preston Neal said. “Charlie helped?”

“Yes. He has a sharp eye, but he’s a kid. He should be playing lacrosse and acing calculus tests.”

“The challenge for Charlie is that he can do those things and stick his nose in other people’s business.” The vice president spoke with a father’s mix of love, pride and pure frustration. “But you’re okay, Jo? You’ve done so much for my family. Don’t forget to live your own life.”

She thought of Elijah. She’d heard his truck out on the road in front of her cabin at dawn as he’d headed back from what she’d known had been a long night with his sister and two brothers. Jo was already up stretching for her run. The night before, Grit Taylor had decided to join her, saying he could keep up with a girl Secret Service agent, no sweat. He’d told her to be ready at sunup. Since he was the type to dump her out of bed, Jo had been ready. He’d teased her some more as they’d set off. He had kept up with her, too. When they returned to the cabins, Elijah was out skipping stones into the lake.

“The difference between Cameron and me is this,” Grit had said quietly, unusually serious. “I lived and wished I hadn’t. Elijah never thought he’d live, but he’s glad he did. Because of you.”

Then he’d gone inside, leaving Jo to her cold cabin.

Preston Neal went on, as if he could read her mind, “I understand there’s a certain Special Forces solider…”

“We grew up together.”

“Sergeant Cameron is a hero in my book. So is his friend Ryan Taylor. And so are you, Jo. Please. You all be careful.”

“We will, and thank you, Mr.-” She stopped herself, aware of the people around her. “I appreciate the call.”

After she hung up, Jo avoided the questioning looks of her tablemates and finished her scone as she experienced a jolt of reality. What had she been thinking? Life could never be normal for her again in her hometown. She’d left at eighteen, and she now had a job to do. Even if everyone suspected that she’d been given a role in the investigation, she had no illusions. She didn’t belong in Black Falls.

Then her sister kicked her under the table. “Smile, Jo. Lighten up. You’ll catch the bad guys. The good guys didn’t do so bad this round.”

“If we’d managed to take either one of them alive…”

Scott shook his head. “You know better than to second-guess yourself that way, Jo. Rigby had 120 rounds on him. You and Elijah had no other choice. As for Kendall -” Scott shrugged. “She was playing with a rough crowd.”

Beth leaned forward over the small table. “Jo, if you and Elijah hadn’t acted, Nora wouldn’t have survived.”

Jo understood. Her sister had been the first of the medical personnel on the scene after the explosion and had witnessed what it had done to Melanie Kendall. Investigators had concluded that a simple pipe bomb constructed of smokeless gunpowder, black powder, two thin strands of copper wire and a cell phone had been placed under Melanie’s front seat. Someone had called the cell phone, and the electricity from the call was just enough to ignite the lethal charge.

Nora had gone back to the Georgetown home that her mother had shared with her second husband. Thomas was cooperating with police. Detectives were going through Nora and Devin’s research into her father’s fiancée and had already discovered that one of her potential interior decorating clients had turned up murdered. They had travel records to investigate. DNA results would be coming back on both her and her partner in killing. They’d test everything they’d collected in Drew’s cabin for a match.

Jo grabbed her scone and rose, realizing she’d just reminded everyone of what they’d been trying to forget, at least for a few hours. “I should go.”

But Scott pointed at her. “Sit down. Finish your scone.” He smiled. “Some tough Secret Service agent you are, eating scones.” He reached over and slung his arm across the back of Beth’s chair; she settled against him. His smile faded, his eyes still on Jo. “Come on. Sit. We all need to talk. Why should you be any different?”

Hannah and Dominique joined them from the kitchen, and Jo returned to her seat. Beth dived into her second scone without any hint of guilt. Hannah took a tiny nibble of her scone and offered up her theory. “These killers went to a lot of trouble to try to make it look like two kids got in over their heads with each other and died on the mountain.”

“That’s more or less what they did with Drew,” Beth said quietly.

“Do you know what that tells me?” Hannah looked out the window, although it had been dark several hours. “Whoever hired them didn’t want attention focused on Black Falls.”

Scott gave a low whistle. “You’ll make a hell of a prosecutor, Hannah.”

She turned to him with a small smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I hope I’m wrong. Either way,” she added, “those of you in law enforcement have your work cut out for you.”

Jo didn’t comment. Dominique shuddered, and they continued in that vein for a long time, until the entire tray of fresh scones was gone. By the time Jo drove back to the lake, she figured she’d have to run a marathon in the morning to burn off her share of the scones.

It was a crisp, clear, late-autumn evening, quiet and downright cold in her cabin. She tried twice to get a call out on her cell phone, but it just wasn’t going to work. Finally she gave up, grabbed her flashlight and walked out the road to Elijah’s house in the woods.

She saw him up on his deck and called to him. “There’s a bat in my cabin.”

He ambled down to her in his canvas jacket and baseball cap. It was bad, she thought. Even the way he walked struck her as sexy. He said, “I warned you about the bats.”

“You’re handy. Think of something.”

He smiled. “Already have.”

Of course, there was no bat. When they got to her cabin, he didn’t bother to look for one, just grabbed her in his arms and fell onto the old iron bed with her. They tore at each other’s clothes-coats, sweaters, wool socks, everything going, tossed onto the floor. Jo felt as if she was eighteen again, bursting with the need for him, wanting nothing more than to make love to bad boy Elijah. But the air was colder than those hot June days and nights fifteen years ago, and she wasn’t eighteen or twenty-five or even thirty-but it didn’t matter. He skimmed his palms over her bare skin, setting it on fire, and she knew she was as in love with him as ever.

“I should have answered your letters,” he whispered between kisses. “Jo. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have written. I should have let you go.”

“No.” He gave her a long, tender kiss, even as one hand drifted over her hip. “I kept the picture you sent me of us together here on the lake.”

Her heart almost stopped. “Elijah…”

“Maybe it wasn’t smart, hanging on to a picture of an old girlfriend, but I kept thinking it was bad luck to throw it out.” He raised himself up, his eyes locking with hers in the dim light. “I’d have died without you. I know it.”

She held back tears. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

She draped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, their mouths meeting as she lowered her head back against the pillow. His hand eased over her hip, and she parted her legs for him, arching toward him as his fingertips, then his fingers, worked an erotic magic on her. She slipped a hand between them and touched him, stroked him, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside her.

“Jo.” There was a catch of pure desire in his voice. “Ah, Jo.”

And she guided him into her, welcoming the feel of him as she eased both arms around his back and smoothed her palms up his hard muscles. He thrust deeply into her, and she responded, moving with him, not holding back even a little as she abandoned herself to the heat pulsing through her, the sweet ache of wanting him.

Then she couldn’t think anymore. Every fiber of her mind and body-her soul-was caught up in the feel of him, his powerful strokes, the way he drove her to the edge, then pulled her back again.

She’d never wanted a man as much. She’d never loved a man as much.

She buried her face in his shoulder when the spasms started. He didn’t relent, and she didn’t want him to, and when she cried out, she heard him say her name, over and over, and realized they were in unison, their timing perfect as they spun into a long, almost endless release.

“Jo,” he said softly again when it was over, as he lay next to her.

She smiled. “I like hearing you say my name.” And she propped up her head on one hand and looked down at him. “Elijah, Elijah, Elijah.”

“You couldn’t even talk there a minute ago.”

They both laughed, and they got dressed again, drawn, as if by an invisible force, back outside and down to the lake. The air was still but very cold, and the water sparkled in the moonlight. Jo’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. She didn’t miss the city lights.

Elijah stood very close to her, their toes almost in the water. “Right here or at the falls. My deck. The lodge. Washington. I don’t care.” He turned and brushed a knuckle gently across her cheek. “I love you, Jo.”

She grabbed his hand into hers and took a breath, and she tried to speak but couldn’t get any words out.

He kissed her hand. “I want to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives.”

“Elijah…”

“The rest doesn’t matter. What we’ll do, where we’ll live-it doesn’t matter, so long as we’re together. Jo, I’m asking you to marry me.”

She couldn’t get a decent breath.

He smiled. “Speechless, are you?” With his free hand, he dug into his jacket pocket, producing a diamond ring. He held it between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know what happened to the little box it came in. Maybe there wasn’t one.”

“You’ve been chasing bad guys, Elijah. When have you had time-”

“I bought this ring for you the day you graduated from high school. I helped old Pete Harper cut cordwood out here to earn the money. I didn’t buy it in town. I knew your father would shoot me if he knew. It’s not expensive, but I thought for now…”

“Forever.” It was all she could think to say. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Jo. I’m sorry I never answered your letters.”

She blinked back tears. “I’m sorry I hung on. Elijah…” Finally, she laughed, squeezing his hand. “Nothing’s changed after all, has it? I love you. I always have. I’ve never stopped. I never will stop.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger and put his arm around her, pulling her close to him as he kissed the top of her head. “Can you picture it, Jo? Our kids. Out here. I can see them now.” He laughed as if he could, indeed, see them. “We’ll have our hands full.”

“We will,” Jo said.

Elijah’s arm tightened around her as a breeze stirred, floating down from Cameron Mountain and across the moonlit lake, and she leaned against the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember.