Eleven.

Washington, D.C.

G rit Taylor thought he was free and clear of the U.S. Secret Service when he got through security at Reagan National Airport and arrived at the gate for his late-evening flight to Los Angeles.

Except Jo Harper was there.

No Elijah. Just Jo standing by a floor-to-ceiling window with her Special Agent badge and look.

Grit sat on a vinyl chair with his carry-on bag. He was in his dress blues. On his way through the airport, people had thanked him for his service. He'd responded the same every time: "It's a privilege to serve."

Jo just glared at him. "What're you doing, Grit?"

"Getting ready to board a flight to California."

"I like how you say *California.' You're obfuscating the issue."

He grinned at her. "Obfuscate, Jo?"

"You know what it means." She dropped her arms to her sides. She was pretty with her dark copper hair and turquoise eyes, but she was all federal agent right now. "You're flying to Los Angeles. You're supposed to be flying to San Diego."

"Cheaper to fly to L.A. I'm saving the taxpayers." It was the truth, he thought, as far as it went.

Jo continued to glare at him.

"You do that to Elijah?" Grit stretched out his legs, not really noticing his prosthetic. "What does he do, throw you over his shoulder and-"

"Has Charlie Neal been in touch with you?"

Grit wasn't surprised by her question. He'd antic.i.p.ated it the moment he'd spotted her at his gate. "I'm his new role model."

"He's called you on the sly with one of his theories, hasn't he?"

"Why, is he missing?"

"I'm asking the questions."

"Sit down, Agent Harper. We're good. All's well. No worries. Charlie likes to share theories with me. I listen. Sometimes I indulge him. I have a number of reasons to go to California, including navy business. They all coalesced and now I'm going. Coalesced," he added, "is one of those words like obfuscate. It sounds like what it means."

"Onomatopoeia." She seemed more relaxed and sat down, if on the edge of the seat. "Charlie's going to get me fired yet."

"That's not what he's after."

"The fire in the Shenandoah Mountains in October..." She paused, clearly not eager to discuss the matter with Grit. "It wasn't bad but we got it out fast. If it'd spread, it could have killed Marissa. But we went over everything. We brought in all the pros. The ATF. The best people, Grit. Nothing points to a deliberate fire."

"What about the ex-boyfriend in California?"

Jo showed no reaction to his question. "Trent Stevens is an actor and an aspiring screenwriter and director. He didn't want the distraction of dating the daughter of a vice president. He thought it would affect his brand, as well as his work." Jo was silent a moment. "Trent's very serious about his work."

"You keep tabs on him since the breakup?"

"You know I'm not going to answer that."

Grit shrugged. "Have you ever been to Sean Cameron's place in Beverly Hills?"

"I stopped in once when I was out there on a.s.signment."

"Checking out Marissa's ex-boyfriend?"

"You're relentless, Grit. Did you interrogate Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters?"

"That's cla.s.sified."

She gave him a grudging smile. "Have a safe flight. Don't encourage Charlie. Say hi to Sean and Hannah. My sister Beth's out there, too. Say hi to her."

"Should I tell them when the wedding is?"

She unconsciously fingered the engagement ring on her finger that Elijah had bought for her at nineteen. She narrowed her turquoise eyes on Grit. "You do know how to cut to the heart of things."

"You can move into Myrtle's place while I'm in California."

"If that's one of the things that had to *coalesce'..."

"Three's a crowd. I was in one of your cabins at the lake, right under your noses. Now I'm in D.C., down the hall. It's awkward."

"I have my own apartment, Grit. It's not awkward."

"Myrtle's stuck in Vermont. I think she's suffering from Stockholm syndrome or something up there. We might have to mount a rescue mission."

"Maybe she likes Vermont."

"This is what I'm saying. She's identifying with her captors."

Jo scowled and shot to her feet, then glared at him again. "Is obtuse one of those words that sounds like what it means? Because you're being obtuse, Grit."

He crossed his real ankle over his prosthetic ankle and wondered if anyone in the waiting area had guessed he was an injured SEAL, but he realized he didn't care one way or the other. He grinned up at Jo. "We all want to hear wedding bells."

"You'll hear them for Hannah and Sean sooner than you will Elijah and me. Elijah's waited for fifteen years. What's another year or two?"

She didn't wait for Grit to respond-she obviously didn't want him to-and left. Once she was out of sight, he called Elijah: "I think you should buy Myrtle's house and turn the back bedroom into a nursery. A zoo theme would be cute."

Elijah ignored him. "Nick Martini was attacked at Rose's house. He took a snow shovel to the side of the head but he's fine."

"Ouch. That's what he gets for going out there in the dead of winter. Who attacked him?"

"Robert Feehan, most likely. Whoever it was got away. The police have been looking for him since Derek Cutshaw's death yesterday. He jumped Rose that morning."

"She didn't get a shovel to the head?"

"He said he wanted to talk to her. Nick showed up, and Feehan took off."

"Lots of places to hide up there in the snow. All right. Thanks for the intel." Grit got up. "When I'm in San Diego, I'll stop at the zoo and buy a stuffed giraffe for the nursery."

But Elijah was gone. Grit heard his seating area called. It was almost a six-hour flight across the continent.

Anything could happen while he was in the air.

Twelve.

Beverly Hills, California B eth Harper took a late-night swim in Sean Cameron's heated pool. The temperature in Beverly Hills was cool by Southern California standards, but by Vermont standards-even in the summer, never mind late February-it was just fine.

She climbed out of the clear azure water and quickly dried off with a large beach towel and pulled on a soft terry-cloth robe. She was alone on the expansive patio, red bougainvillea trailing down a privacy wall.

She didn't mind. Alone, she thought, was good.

She went through French doors into the quiet, spare house, heading into the guest room where she was staying. She thought she just might chuck going back to Vermont and apply for a paramedic's job here.

Except Vermont wasn't the problem.

She changed into a T-shirt and flannel boxers and climbed onto her bed, sitting against the pillows with her knees tucked up under her chin. Late nights were the toughest. That's when she'd obsess about Scott stiffly packing his things and clearing out, the cab he'd called already waiting in the driveway. No warning. No discussion. He'd had enough of Beverly Hills and was going home.

What he'd meant was that he'd had enough of her.

They hadn't talked since. A state detective had called to ask her about Derek Cutshaw's death and Robert Feehan's possible whereabouts, but nothing from Trooper Thorne.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Beth muttered, sniffling back tears as she reached for her cell phone and dialed her sister in D.C.

"Beth, are you okay? What's happened? Did Grit-"

"Everything's fine. Sorry. I forgot about the time change. It's late there."

"It's late in Beverly Hills, too." Jo breathed out in relief. "You scared the h.e.l.l out of me."

Maybe, Beth thought, but Jo didn't scare easily. "Elijah called a couple hours ago and asked Sean to fetch Grit at the airport. He's there now."

No response from Jo. After several beats, she said, "Just as well Grit's not there on his own. Elijah won't admit it, but Grit's potentially out of control. He's had a long recovery from his leg amputation, and he's a Navy SEAL-he's not used to being idle. I'd hoped this new job at the Pentagon would help."

"I'm sure it will," Beth said.

"Anything weird happens, you call me."

"Are you asking me to be a federal informant?"

"I'm not speaking officially. Elijah and Grit are friends. I've become fond of Grit myself. He's...different." Jo changed the subject. "How're you doing out there? Getting in much shopping?"

"Lots of window-shopping." Beth smiled, trying to ease her tension-and her sister's. "I bought socks and underwear on Rodeo Drive."

Jo laughed. "Even that must have set you back. I wish I could be there with you and Hannah."

"I've been thinking about heading home. Jo, you've heard-"

"Yeah. Poor Rose. I'm glad you didn't have to respond to that fire yourself. You could use a break."

"We all could," Beth said.

Jo didn't take the bait. "Did you call just to talk, or is there something on your mind?"

"Why is Grit in California?"

"Navy business, he says."

"You think Charlie Neal's been in touch with him again, don't you?" Beth knew her sister wouldn't give a direct answer and didn't wait for one. "Charlie will be with his family for winter fest at Black Falls Lodge. I guess you know that, though."

"I plan to be there myself." She added, "For fun."

"Are you keeping on top of yesterday's fire? Could Derek have been involved in Lowell's network? Do you think Robert's just frightened-"

"Anything's possible."

Beth heard Sean arriving back at the house and hung up with Jo, then slipped into her robe and headed down the hall to the kitchen, all stainless steel and spotless chrome. It had a masculine feel despite the presence of Hannah's raspberry-colored sweater on the back of a chair and Beth's handbag on the kitchen floor.

Sean, tall and good-looking, walked in from the garage with Grit, black-haired, dark, wiry and relaxed, both men exuding masculinity and restraint.

"Hi, Grit," Beth said cheerfully. "How was your flight?"

"Good. The plane landed."

Beth noticed he moved a little unevenly as he set his bag on a stool at the breakfast bar. She suspected his injured leg had given him trouble on the long flight. It had to be his first since his medical evacuation to Bethesda last April.

He showed no sign of being in pain, or even noticing his difficulties. He glanced around the expensive house. "Not bad, Sean," Grit said. "Life could be worse."

"Help yourself to anything you need," Sean said.