With her free hand, Jo scooped up snow from the top of a wooden table and, ignoring the cold on her bare fingers, formed it into a small ball as she flashed on countless snowball fights she’d had with the Camerons. Drew would often participate. He’d loved the snow.

She tossed her snowball off the end of the terrace and watched it plop into the fresh snow and disappear.

“You met Thomas in Black Falls in April,” Jo said. “Had you been here before?”

Melanie shook her head. “No, never. It was my first visit.” She turned, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets as she faced Jo. “Why?”

Jo didn’t answer her. “Did you know anyone from here?”

“No.” She smiled. “Agent Harper, please. Just tell me what’s on your mind. I can see something’s bothering you.”

“I want to know how you ended up in Black Falls four months after you ran into Kyle Rigby in Colorado. Did you pick it at random? Did you know someone who’d been here?” Jo paused. “Did Rigby suggest Black Falls?”

“Oh, I see where you’re headed.” Melanie frowned and returned her gaze to the sparkling, endless view. “Kyle mentioned Vermont, but I can’t remember if he said anything specifically about Black Falls. He told me he’d hiked here often and loved it.”

“He knew where Drew’s cabin was,” Jo said, watching Melanie.

She seemed surprised. “Really? Are you sure?”

Jo didn’t give her a direct answer. “The police are already checking with local inns and motels to find out if Rigby was in the area in April when Drew died.”

Melanie gasped. “I could throw up. Do you think he followed me here?” She shuddered, tucking her bare hands up into the sleeves of her jacket. “I realize now that he was a horrible, manipulative man. I don’t understand any of this. I just feel so guilty, but I suppose that’s natural. Victims often blame themselves.”

“You still haven’t told me how you picked Black Falls.”

“I was working night and day and needed a break, and I started looking on the Internet. I saw good reviews of Black Falls Lodge. I made a reservation.”

“Had you been in touch with Rigby, or he with you, since December?”

“No. I’d filed his card under people who could be good to know and didn’t think of him again until Nora went camping after Alex’s death. Thomas was so upset. It just made sense to call Rigby.”

“Then he shows up here and ends up nearly killing four people out of the blue? I don’t buy it. I don’t think you do, either.”

“He engineered this whole thing. He obviously lied, manipulated-I don’t know why. I’m not a detective. Maybe he was just a crazy killer who seized the moment.” Melanie was defensive now, even angry. “I’m cold. I’m going back inside.”

Jo didn’t stop her, instead followed her into the dining room-no sign now of the two Cameron brothers and their cop pals-and down the hall to the lobby, where Thomas was in a wingback chair in front of the massive stone fireplace. He had Nora in his lap, holding her as if she were five again.

Obviously at a loss, Thomas barely acknowledged Melanie and Jo as he hugged his traumatized daughter. “I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Oh, Nora. Sweetheart. We’ll get through this ordeal together. I promise.”

Nora lifted her eyes to Melanie. “What about her?”

“She wants to help.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Thomas looked pained, almost stricken. “Nora.” There was just the slightest edge to his tone. “I wish I knew what to say.”

Melanie’s mouth thinned, but she smiled cheerfully as she plopped down onto the sofa across from them. “Hey, guys. You’re the smart ones, staying here where it’s warm.”

Nora slid off her father’s lap and moved to another chair, and pulled her knees up under her chin, curling herself into a tight ball. Jo had learned from Lauren that Carolyn Asher Bruni would be arriving in Black Falls soon. Nora had indicated overnight in the cabin just how much she dreaded seeing her mother. Then she’d have to confront the reality of Alex’s death and the days ahead. A funeral, an investigation, her mother’s grief-and her own. Alex Bruni had been a strong force in Nora’s life.

Thomas, ashen now, blinked helplessly at Melanie. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She gave a little shake of the head. “Don’t worry. Please. Nora’s been through an awful, awful time.”

Jo left the three of them by the fire and headed back to the dining room. No one was around-Camerons, cops, guests. She felt her own emotions well up, her fatigue gnawing at her. And questions, she thought. So many unanswered questions.

A.J. and Elijah emerged from the kitchen, A.J. carrying a golden-crusted pie, Elijah plates and forks. They set them on the first table they came to.

“Over here, Jo,” A.J. said. “You never could resist apple pie. I picked the apples myself.”

“You did not.”

He smiled at her. “It’s good to have you back home.”

She approached the table, steam rising out of the pie and the smell of apples and cinnamon filling the air. “A.J., could Kyle Rigby have stolen the money from the shop’s petty cash box? To frame Devin. It would have been easy to get the money out of Nora’s kitchen, and even the café. Could he-”

A.J. was having none of it and shook his head. “I don’t want to think about that son of a bitch crawling around here, near my family, our guests.” His Cameron blue eyes held hers for an instant, his anger and his fierce love for his wife, his kids, his life in Black Falls radiating out of him. “Later, Jo.”

She nodded. He cut three thick, warm slices of pie and set them on plates.

Elijah stood next to Jo and slid an arm around her waist. “Sit before you drop.”

She shivered, not with cold this time, but with the awareness that she’d done it to herself again. Or maybe just had let herself reawaken what had been there all along, buried deep, dormant. Dangerous, even.

She loved Elijah Cameron, and she had since she was a girl.

Thirty-Four

Myrtle dropped Grit back at the hotel where she’d picked up him and Charlie and took off again. The only reason he’d let her go was that he’d spotted his new FBI pals, and he thought he might need their help after all. As he walked toward their black sedan, he hit the redial button on his cell phone. This time, Elijah answered. “Storm over?” Grit asked.

“Long night. What do you have?”

Grit gave him the news. “Alexander Bruni was on his way to meet Thomas Asher for breakfast. Asher must have phoned in the tip about the messenger. They now have more specifics on her identity.”

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways.” Best not to tell Elijah about Charlie and his cousin switching places. Grit didn’t want to put Elijah in the position of having to lie to his Secret Service-agent girlfriend. “I’m about to get into a car with a couple of FBI agents. I could be a while. If you don’t hear from me in six months, come find me.”

“Will do,” Elijah said without hesitation, and Grit knew he meant it.

“What’re you up to, anyway?”

“I’ll fill you in later. Right now I’m eating apple pie.”

“ Vermont,” Grit said and disconnected.

The back door of the FBI car opened, and he climbed in, ignoring a sudden tightness in his left foot. The cute female agent was driving this time. She glanced in the rearview mirror at his reflection. “Who were you just on the phone with?”

“Elijah Cameron.”

From the narrowing of her eyes, Grit guessed she hadn’t expected a straight answer, but she got her FBI face back on fast-just not fast enough. Whatever had been going on in Vermont while Elijah was incommunicado, she knew about it.

“Let’s go see Myrtle Smith,” Grit said, snapping on his seat belt. “She just dropped me off. But I figured I might need your help. You know where she lives, right?”

“Where have you been?” the beanpole agent asked him.