Cold Dawn Part 37

Trent laid out the photos side by side on the table and frowned. "Wow, this is weird. Neither one is Feehan. Who are these guys?"

"They both were just killed in fires in Vermont," Sean said.

"The Feehan I met is about the same age as these two." Trent suddenly seemed to be a little in shock, trying to absorb the bad turn his morning had just taken. "He's tall, thin. Quiet. Kind of tentative. I was surprised he knew as much about wilderness skills and firefighting as he did."

Sean turned to Grit. "Whoever this guy is, it's not the Robert Feehan who died yesterday. We need to get in touch with Jo. Marissa Neal's in danger."

Grit nodded. "So is everyone else in Black Falls."

Twenty-Seven.

Black Falls, Vermont N ick stood next to Rose's Jeep and squinted up the steep hill at a trail of footprints. Then he saw a streak of gold, and Ranger leaped off a boulder to him.

"Where's Rose?" He had no idea what the dog understood and opened up the Jeep, grabbed a scarf she'd left on the front seat and let Ranger smell it. "Find Rose."

The dog ran up into the dense woods. Nick grabbed a mallet from the Jeep. It was old, chipped. It had seen a lot of use among the waste-not Camerons. He tucked it in his jacket pocket. The mallet wasn't a gun but it would do as a weapon if he needed one. He'd talked to Sean on his way out there: "Whoever pa.s.sed himself off as Robert Feehan had to be close in build and have access to Feehan's ID, as well as the have the freedom to move around the country."

Nick had pulled Robert Feehan's body out of the burning cabin. He'd been tall and lean, with long hair with a bit of a wave.

Very much like his and Derek Cutshaw's quiet friend.

"We need to find Brett Griffin," he'd told Sean.

Nick followed Rose's retriever. They were off-trail, but footprints led in several different directions. Ranger bolted away from the tracks, down a narrow ravine. The snow was deep, and evergreens predominated. Sunlight didn't hit this part of Cameron Mountain often. Nick moved through the still shadows, the golden retriever taking him over the rough ground he and Rose knew so well, as focused on finding her as Nick was.

He refused to allow his fear to get hold of him. Brett Griffin was house-sitting nearby. His photography work allowed him to go anywhere in Black Falls without anyone thinking twice about running into him. He knew Derek Cutshaw and Robert Feehan, had manipulated them and used their failings to advance his own agenda.

And Brett had killed them.

A disorganized, impulsive arsonist was hard enough to track. An intelligent, patient sociopath who chose and planned his operations with detail and care would be d.a.m.n near impossible.

Ranger paused, looking back at Nick.

Snow on a sheer rock face had been disturbed, as if something had rolled down from the top of the cliff. An icicle had broken off, just its base hanging from a chunk of jutting granite.

Nick didn't breathe. "Find Rose, Ranger," he said quietly. "Find her."

The dog barked again. Nick realized he was missing something.

Then he saw it-a glove in the snow under a hemlock. He picked it up.

A woman's glove.

"Rose," he called. "Where are you?"

She came around the hemlock then, her face red from cold, snow and exertion, her hair wet, dripping as she shivered. "I'm okay," she said. "I'm not hurt-"

Nick caught her in his arms. He didn't want to let her go. Not ever.

She clung to him. "You're so warm," she whispered, but stood back from him. "We have to find Brett before he kills anyone else."

"I know," Nick said.

"He's going after Marissa Neal. I'm sure he is. He plans to do it at winter fest. Maybe he still thinks he can pull it off."

"He knows how to take over someone's ident.i.ty and disappear." Nick ran the tip of his finger under a sc.r.a.pe on Rose's forehead. "Did he hit you?"

"No. It's nothing. I think I took out an icicle when I jumped from up there." She glanced up at the rock cliff. "I didn't have many options. Brett faked a fall to get me to come to him. He didn't admit anything. He'll say I'm being hysterical."

"Is he armed?"

"I don't think so. He didn't have a pack with him. He could have hidden one, though."

"Elijah and Jo are right behind me. They'll have talked to Sean by now. He and Grit Taylor found Trent Stevens, the missing actor."

"Alive?"

Nick nodded. Ranger barked, the ridge of hair on his spine standing up. He growled, uncharacteristically. Nick saw the branches of another hemlock stir and immediately put himself between Rose and whoever was coming around the tree.

"Nick," she said, getting Ranger back to her side.

He eased the mallet out of his pocket. "I see."

Brett Griffin emerged from behind the hemlock, stumbling-pretending to-in the snow. "Rose, thank heaven. Are you all right? What happened?"

"Keep your hands where I can see them, Griffin," Nick said, raising the mallet. He wondered what this murderous pyromaniac had on under his jacket, in his pants, his gloves, his shoes. He'd want to get them close and then make his move. "I'm a real firefighter. I'll nail you in a heartbeat if you so much as breathe wrong."

Brett seemed mystified. "What did Rose tell you? I took a tumble and she was kind enough to come help me. Then she fell and I came down here to help her."

Rose was having none of it. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you came down here to make sure I'd bashed my head against a rock and wouldn't get in your way anymore. Were you going to set me on fire if I wasn't dead?"

Brett straightened, wincing as if he were in pain. "I think I banged my knee pretty good. Rose, yeesh. What's got into you? I thought you were dead. You're d.a.m.n lucky you're not. Was it something I said?"

Nick pointed the mallet at him. "Just stay still."

"Rose is hysterical." Brett sniffled as if he were winded. "I can see now that my friendship with Robert and Derek has finally come back to haunt me. I was afraid it would. I never should have come back to Black Falls."

"You can tell your story to the police," Nick said.

"Fine, I will. I'm not even insulted. Tell them I'll meet them at my house."

Nick couldn't detect any odor of gas in the crisp air. "You're good, Griffin. Jasper said you were. He said you know how fire works."

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Fire moves to find oxygen. It's like it's alive, isn't it?" Out of the corner of his eye, Nick noticed that Ranger had eased off into the woods, back down toward the road, undoubtedly on Rose's command. "To control fire and make it do what you want it to do takes real skill."

"I'm a photographer," Brett said calmly. "I don't know anything about fires. I'm not even that good at lighting a woodstove."

"Jasper Vanderhorn was a friend of mine," Nick said. "He was an arson investigator. You killed him. He was closing in on you, wasn't he? He wasn't just an irritant. He was a threat."

Brett continued playing his role as the meek, injured, misunderstood photographer. "I'm going home before I come down with hypothermia." He nodded to Rose. "You should, too. We can talk after you've had a chance to calm down. I know how jumpy everyone is around here. I am, too."

"We have you, Griffin," Nick said. "We know you stole Feehan's ident.i.ty."

"You're talking crazy."

"You killed Robert Feehan and Derek Cutshaw. They were fools to you, weren't they? Nuisances who interfered with your plans."

"Just because you're a rich smoke jumper doesn't mean you can bully me."

"I'm not bullying you. I'm telling you. You were in California earlier this week. You killed Portia Martinez. You knew she'd figure out you weren't who you said you were. Had she already? Did she threaten to call the police?"

Brett steadied his gaze on Nick. "I've never heard of Portia Martinez."

"You've been worried about me for a while. Once Trent told Portia I was on my way East, you knew you had to act. But you always knew you'd kill Derek and Robert."

His eyes went cold. "I have work to do. I'm glad Rose is safe. Now leave me alone. I've tried to ignore the paranoia of the people here, but I'm done."

"Uh-uh," Nick said calmly. "Stay right where you are."

Brett turned to Rose. "Tell him, Rose. Tell him you don't suspect me of anything."

"Why did you come back to Black Falls?" she asked.

"I don't know now. It was a stupid move on my part, obviously. I don't recall any of you people asking about me or my life."

"You were here originally to keep an eye on Lowell, but you came back because of the Neals," she said. "How obsessed are you with Marissa? Enough to have pictures of her in your house up the road? I hope so. They'll be all Jo needs."

His eyes settled on her. "Just stay away from me."

She didn't relent. "Were you already a serial arsonist when you hooked up with Lowell? How many fires had you set? How many people had you killed already?"

Brett laughed. "You are such fools." His eyes gleamed. "Do you think I don't have a contingency plan? There's a bomb at the cafe. It's just like the ones I taught Lowell to build. Not in person, of course. He has no idea who his fire and bomb expert is. You let me go about my business and I don't set off the bomb. I let you find it. Be heroes."

Nick stepped toward him. "How do you plan to set it off?"

He held up his left hand. "Dead man's switch in my glove."

Nick knew it was possible. He saw that Rose knew, too. She gulped in a breath. "Nick."

"Don't get too c.o.c.ky, Griffin," Nick said and decided on his own bluff. "Elijah Cameron's at the cafe. He headed straight there after Grit Taylor and Sean reported in about Trent Stevens. Think a Special Forces master sergeant is going to miss your little bomb? Other people know about bombs around here. You're not that special."

He knew that would get Brett. "Trent Stevens is a self-absorbed idiot. He knows nothing about fires. He was happy to brag about Marissa Neal. Her fire was an accident. Jo Harper's heroics saved the day."

"That's how you became obsessed with Marissa Neal," Rose said.

Brett inhaled through his nose. "Don't think you've won."

"What're you going to do," Nick said, "set yourself on fire?"

Brett snapped his elbow against his side. Nick smelled gas and realized Brett had broken open some kind of container under his jacket.

He remembered Jasper's words a year ago: "This guy will want to go out in a blaze of glory. No prison for him."

Moving fast, Nick leaped to Brett just as flames erupted from inside his jacket, flashing brightly against the white and gray landscape. He locked his eyes on Nick in defiance.

Unimpressed, Nick dropped Brett with the mallet and shoved him facedown into the snow, snuffing out the fire in a matter of seconds.

There was no dead man's switch in Brett's glove.

Rose was barely breathing. "You knew he was bluffing."

Nick winked up at her. "Myrtle Smith survived one of this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's fires. She lives above the cafe. Think she doesn't sweep the place for bombs?"

"She told you?"

"Yep."

"That Myrtle," Rose said, just as Ranger reappeared along with her two brothers and Jo Harper, her gun drawn, right behind him.

Twenty-Eight.

Beverly Hills, California T hree days later, Nick was stretched out on a lounge chair at Sean's pool in the Southern California sun. Grit Taylor was there. Sean and Hannah. Beth Harper, still.

Grit stood at the edge of the pool in his cargo pants and lightweight sweatshirt and glanced back at Nick. "The mountains of northern New England call, don't they? You and Rose are a smart and dedicated pair, and you're rich. You'll figure it out."

"What's rich got to do with it?" Nick asked him.

Grit shrugged. "The transcontinental thing. Vermont and California. Long way between them."

"You must have been h.e.l.l on a battlefield."