Part 22 (2/2)
Bowie sighed and nodded toward Nick. ”What's with you and this guy?”
”Nothing.” As if that explained everything. ”I a.s.sume you have a key to the guesthouse?”
”Yeah. I'm leaving it for the lawyers after I clear out trash and a few tools and supplies I left behind.”
She followed him onto the walk and mounted the steps to the guesthouse porch. The strong winds had blown snow into the corners. Shades were pulled on the front windows.
Nick had the storm door open and tried the solid main door, which wasn't locked, either. He glanced back at Bowie. ”You didn't lock up after you left this morning?”
”I never went in,” Bowie said, moving to one side of Nick. ”Dom distracted me when she stopped by. I only had a few minutes. I had to get out to the lake. I figured I'd come back this afternoon.”
”What about Dom?” Rose asked. ”Did she go in?”
”No. We both were here and gone within fifteen minutes.”
”Wait out here,” Nick said, entering the guesthouse.
He stiffened, stopping abruptly in the entry. Bowie grimaced. ”Something's wrong,” he said.
Rose slipped past him into the entry. Nick grabbed her and pulled her close to him. The guesthouse had been divided into two side-by-side apartments, the door to the one on the right half-open. She could see a sleeping bag unfurled on the hardwood floor. Arranged next to it were packets of freeze-dried camp food, a water bottle and a small camp stove.
Next to it was a metal canister of liquid fuel for the stove.
White gas.
”My stuff's all in the other apartment this morning,” Bowie said, stepping inside the guesthouse. ”I didn't do any work in here.”
Rose eased back from Nick's embrace and turned to Bowie. ”There was snow overnight,” she said. ”Did you see footprints when you and Dom were here this morning?”
”I don't remember. I was focused on making a quick stop and getting to work.” Bowie pointed at an old, dusty gla.s.s kerosene lamp on the floor just inside the apartment. ”Some sick son of a b.i.t.c.h set Derek on fire.”
Nick directed his hard gaze at the stonemason. ”If you know anything else, now's the time.”
”Rumors. That's it.” Bowie rubbed the back of his thick neck. ”I've heard talk that Derek and Robert have been providing illegal prescription drugs to some of their ski students. Pain pills, mostly.”
Rose bit back her shock. ”Bowie, you're not-”
”No. I'm not involved. I told the police everything I know.”
Nick pulled her even closer, his dark eyes intense. ”We need to get them back out here.”
Sixteen.
W ind howled down from Cameron Mountain, as if Drew Cameron himself were up there, trying to warn his only daughter-about dangers, Nick wondered, or about him? It was dark by the time they arrived back at the lodge. Small white lights draping the evergreens along the walk twinkled, casting long shadows as he and Rose headed to the main entrance.
”Do you trust Bowie?” Nick asked quietly.
Rose seem startled by his question. ”Yes, I trust him. Did you think I didn't?”
”I hadn't thought about it one way or the other.”
”Do you trust him?”
”I don't know him. I have no reason to trust or not trust him.” Nick paused at the door and looked out at the sky, clear and black against the stars and moon. The air didn't seem as cold as last night. ”Bowie and Hannah grew up together in difficult circ.u.mstances. Have you always been close to them?”
”Hannah and I have been friends since junior high. She's not that easy to get to know. Then she was so busy with school, work and raising Devin and Toby. She's very smart and driven. She and Sean have that in common.”
”And Bowie?”
”He was like another big brother when we were kids. I guess he still is in a way.”
”Then you and he-”
”No, never,” Rose said, not letting Nick finish. She reached past him and pulled open the lodge's heavy door.
He didn't take the hint. ”Have you left any broken hearts here in Black Falls?”
She pretended not to hear him and went into the warm lobby. A half-dozen guests were gathered in front of the roaring fire, reading books, playing Scrabble, drinking hot cocoa.
Lauren Cameron rushed out from behind the front desk. Nick left Rose to explain their discovery at the Whittaker guesthouse and headed upstairs to his room. Half his things were still at Rose's house. He had a feeling she wouldn't want him sleeping there again tonight. Or she would, but wouldn't admit it, which amounted to the same thing.
Not that he had any intention of letting her stay at her house by herself.
He was restless, not even remotely tired when he entered his room. He hadn't talked to Sean since he'd called on his way with Grit Taylor to the canyon where Jasper had died. Nick gritted his teeth and dialed his friend's number.
The heat was clanking and hissing, the room too hot.
As soon as Sean picked up, Nick said, ”I've been out to the river three times now, and I'm still trying to picture what happened in January. Hannah really flung herself into the snow a split second before the bomb went off in the backseat of her car?”
”That's what happened,” Sean said, tight.
”What a spitfire. She's lucky. If the bomb didn't kill her, the snow, cold, rocks and tree roots could have.”
”Nick,” Sean said, ”what's going on?”
Nick stood by the double windows and filled him in on the scene at the Whittaker guesthouse, then said, ”It's possible Feehan camped out there last night and took off first thing this morning, before any of us arrived.”
”And he killed Cutshaw over drugs?”
”No one's going that far. Not yet.”
”His story about Cutshaw taking off when he found out you were in town could all be BS meant to mislead the police.”
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