Cold Pursuit by Carla Neggers

the drive up to the lodge, she’d decided it’d been inevitable. Now that it was out of the way, she could concentrate on other things.
    Like what was going on with the Camerons.
    She parked next to Elijah’s truck and soaked in the scenery as she got out of her car. The air was colder, the breeze stiffer. She crossed the parking lot on the edge of a wide meadow that, in spring and summer, would be afire with wildflowers. Evergreens and rust-colored oak leaves provided color in the otherwise bare, gray landscape.
    A corner of the lake was visible down in the hollow below.
    Her red-tailed hawk was patrolling the graying sky.
    It was the slow season—even the mountain bikers weren’t out. The leaf peepers had gone home, and the cross-country skiers and snowshoers hadn’t arrived yet. Snow was in the forecast, but it was still early for winter recreation.
    The lodge would do a good business over Thanksgiving, but it was quiet now. The property consisted of the original rustic-style lodge, a new recreational building with an indoor pool, racquetball court and health club, a half-dozen separate cottages and a shop that sold and rented bicycles, cross-country skis, snowshoes, canoes and kayaks—never mind that the lodge wasn’t on a lake or river frontage.
    Jo followed a stone walk to the back of the lodge and stepped up onto a terrace, its tables and chairs unoccupied on the chilly November afternoon. Drew Cameron had pulled together parcels of land to reclaim Cameron Mountain and get Black Falls Lodge started, but what it was today was A.J.’s doing—his hard work, and his dream, now shared by his wife, Lauren, who, according to Beth, had talked A.J. into agreeing to build a top-notch spa on the premises.
    A.J. came out onto the terrace from the French doors that led into the lodge’s main dining room. His hair was a shade darker than Elijah’s, and he was a little shorter—but he had the Cameron blue eyes. They all did, including Rose.
    “It’s been a long time, Jo,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “How are you?”
    She was immediately suspicious. “Did Elijah tell you to stall me?”
    He grinned at her. “You two. Nothing ever changes.” He nodded toward the doors. “Come inside.”
    Jo didn’t budge. “What’s he up to, A.J.?”
    “It’s cold out here, and I’m not wearing a coat. You’re used to Washington temperatures.” He motioned for her to go in ahead of him. “Let’s go inside and talk in front of the fire.”
    Definitely he was stalling, but Jo acquiesced and went ahead of him into the dining room. It, too, was unoccupied. A.J. led her down the hall to the lobby, where, indeed, a fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace. The furnishings were sturdy, done in mountain colors—dark green, burgundy, brown. A huge stuffed moose—fake, not real—stood in a corner.
    Jo welcomed the warmth of the fire, but she remained on her feet. She hadn’t run into A.J. since learning his father had left her the lakefront property. If he was bitter about his father’s will, he didn’t let it show as he reached for a black-iron poker. “I heard you were in town,” he said.
    “I figured you had. That’s Elijah’s truck I’m parked next to, isn’t it?”
    “You know it is.”
    “He’s here, then.”
    It wasn’t a question, but A.J. shrugged. “Looks that way.”
    She recognized the flicker of stubbornness in his eyes. When Camerons didn’t want to talk, they didn’t. They were independent, tight-knit and honest, but that didn’t mean they played by the rules.
    “Okay. So is he in here somewhere? Is he preparing another wilderness-skills class? Hiking? Teaching your little ones to light fires with their fingernails? What?”
    A.J. seemed to realize she was being only half sarcastic. The other half was totally serious. He pulled back the screen on the fire. “You got yourself into a mess in Washington. I hope you’re not here looking for ways to restore your reputation.”
    “I’m