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“No.”
“I’m not saying that’s what happened,just that it could—”
“No,” she said more firmly. “Someone isnottrying to kill Connelly on our freaking tenth anniversary weekend. That is not happening, Roo.”
“What’s not happening?” Hank asked as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, cradling the empty bottles in his arms.
So much for the sound-deadening properties of running water. Sasha turned off the faucet while Hank dumped the bottles into the recycling bin. Then he turned to face them.
“Aroostine is wondering if maybe Rex was killed by mistake,” Sasha began slowly.
“His sister sure seems convinced it was intentional,” Hank said with a frown.
“Not an accidental killing,” she clarified. “A case of mistaken identity. Rex bore a more-than-passing resemblance to Connelly.”
Hank’s face was smooth and expressionless. But she could tell by the sudden alertness in his eyes that the idea didn’t sound farfetched to him.
“Given that we switched accommodations, if a killer went looking for the tall, dark-haired man in the manager’s house and they saw Rex, they could have mistaken him for Leo,” Aroostine elaborated.
Hank nodded briskly but kept his lips pressed together.
Sasha’s heart drove against her chest wall like a jackhammer. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and forced out the words. “Is there any reason someone would want him dead, Hank?”
“Plenty of people have wanted him dead over the years. You know that as well as I do. Heck, Sasha, plenty of people have wantedyoudead.”
“I think you know that’s not what I’m asking. Does this new agency you and Connelly can’t talk about come with new enemies?”
He lowered his chin and gave her an unamused look over the top of his glasses. “Now, if you know I can’t talk about it, why would you even ask that?”
She met his look with a frosty one of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes. I can’t freaking believe this is happening. Again.”
Hank wisely said nothing.
Aroostine put a warm hand on Sasha’s forearm. “Itmightbe happening. It’s a possibility, that’s all.”
Hank coughed. “But it’s a possibility we should seriously consider.”
“Great. I’m glad we thought of itafterConnelly went traipsing off with the murder victim’s sister and a Buddhist pacifist.” Sasha closed her eyes and took a centering breath.
When she reopened her eyes, Aroostine was zipping up her parka.
“Where are you going?”
“If someone came here to kill Leo, they might be out in those woods somewhere. I’m going to do what I do.”
Sasha blinked at her. “You’re going out in the middle of a blizzard to track a murderer?”
“Look outside. The roads have to be impassable. Odds are, the killer is still on the grounds.”
She glanced through the kitchen window and saw nothing but blinding white. Aroostine was a skilled tracker. Her job was literally finding people—usually in environments harsher and more unforgiving than a suburban estate. Still, they were in the middle of an actual whiteout.
“I can’t believe I’m asking you this. You didn’t ignore my rules and bring a weapon, did you?”
She knew as she asked it that the answer would be ‘no,’ but despite herself, she hoped Aroostine would surprise her.
“Of course not.”
Sasha shrugged. It figured.Thistime, her friends honored her wishes and left their cell phones and firearms at home. She flicked Hank a hopeful look.
