Cold Pursuit by Carla Neggers Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t let anyone or anything spoil her life with Thomas. Not his daughter—and not Kyle Rigby.
    He walked past the restaurant window without making eye contact with her.
    “Don’t get in my way,” Melanie whispered.
    It was as if her partner in killing heard her through the window. He paused suddenly, took a half step back and smirked at her.
    She pretended not to see him and ate the blueberry.
     
     
     

Chapter Five
     
     
    Jo unzipped her fleece jacket as she entered the breakfast-lunch café that her sister owned with two of her friends. They called it Three Sisters, in honor of their tight friendship. It was located across from the village green on the first floor of a graceful 1835 brick house owned by Sean Cameron, arguably the most charming of the Cameron siblings. Not, Jo thought, that it took that much to be more charming than A.J. or Elijah—or even Rose. And since Sean was a multimillionaire developer in southern California these days, Jo suspected he was as exacting in his own way as his siblings, just with smoother edges.
    The café wasn’t crowded. It was late for breakfast and early for lunch. Jo was meeting her sister there after their five-mile run that morning, Beth griping every inch of the way. They’d gone along the lake road past Elijah’s house, then doubled back out to the main road. Jo had enjoyed the run. Her airsoft welts had calmed down and didn’t ache as much, and she and Beth had encountered deer, wild turkeys, squirrels, chipmunks, crows, chickadees and one woodpecker.
    She nodded to Scott Thorne, a state trooper Beth was dating, as he added cream to his coffee-to-go, but he pretended not to see her as he headed for a riverside table on the back wall. So she called to him. “Hey, Scott.”
    He sighed. “Jo.”
    Her sister rolled her eyes as she slipped on an apron in dark evergreen—the café’s signature color—behind the glass case. She was a paramedic as well as co-owner of the café, two years younger and slightly taller than Jo, and the copper highlights in her dark hair were natural. “Don’t pick on Scott,” she said cheerfully. “What’s your pleasure, Agent Harper?”
    Jo surveyed the tempting array of treats and pointed at a plate of buttermilk-currant scones. “I want one of those. I know I should go for the nuts-and-seeds bread, but we ran five miles this morning.”
    “
You
ran five miles. I slogged.”
    But when she reached into the case, Beth grabbed two scones—one for Jo, one for herself—and set them on small evergreen-colored plates. Jo got mugs and filled them at the coffee bar.
    They joined Scott at his table overlooking the river. He was in uniform, and Jo recognized the prestigious silver ram’s horns insignia that identified him as a member of the Vermont State Police search-and-rescue team. He gave Jo a quick glance, then got up and addressed Beth. “I have to run.”
    Beth didn’t look the least bit offended. “Dominique’s making leek-and-goat-cheese tarts,” she said, referring to Dominique Belair, one of the three “sisters.” Beth grinned. “I can snag one for dinner—”
    “That’s okay,” Scott said with the barest flicker of a smile. “I’ll see you later, though.”
    Once he was back on the street, Jo sighed. “Looks as if I ran off your trooper boyfriend.”
    “Scott,” Beth said. “His name is Scott. I guess he could have been nicer to you, huh?”
    “Nah. He did what I’d have done in his position—be polite and scoot.”
    “He’ll like you once things settle down with you and that Internet flap. But he really is good-looking, isn’t he?”
    “Very. I think I saw dimples when he smiled at you.”
    “Don’t tell him he has dimples. He’ll never warm up to you.”
    Jo laughed, relishing her sister’s company. How long had it been since they’d had lazy days to spend together? “Fresh scones, hot coffee and a nice view. Life in exile’s not too bad.”
    Beth snorted. “For you. It’s killing me.