Christmas Confidential Read online

  “Same thing we wanted in Dallas. Her.” That was the man who’d stepped out of the shadows and clipped him on the jaw. He was average height, muscle-bound and ugly as a monkey. The other guy was still grinning, just like that night. “We’d’ve been happy to settle for just her then, but Mr. Garvin said if she led us to anyone else, especially a pretty little blonde who looks just like her, we could take you all.”

  “You’d really risk life in prison for a cut of $110,000?” Dean shook his head. “You’re stupider than you look.”

  The smiling guy snorted. “There’s no risk if you don’t get caught. Besides, we’re getting a hell of a lot more than that.”

  Monkey Guy moved a few slow steps closer. “Let’s talk stupid, Montgomery. First, remember the other night when you told us you were carrying a .45? Give it up. Set it on that table in front of you.”

  Grimly Dean pulled the pistol from its holster and, holding it by two fingers, carefully set it on the table.

  The man shoved the gun into his coat pocket. “Second, you really believe Smith hired you to recover his money, don’t you? With all his millions, he don’t give a damn about what she took. He knew you’d had a thing with her. He knew you was the one she’s most likely to trust. As long as we kept her scared enough to stay with you, we could follow right where she went.” He paused. “And then clean up.”

  “You put a GPS tracker on my car before she was released.” Disgust with himself tasted ugly. He’d helped them keep track of her. He’d led them here, damn it. Some P.I. he was.

  Then a worse realization settled in his gut. “Smith knows who she really is.”

  A soft gasp came from behind him. Miri had thought Smith was clueless about her, that he’d written her off as part of a disastrous practice family, but she’d been wrong. He hadn’t forgotten, and he had far more than money to lose. God, how could he have misjudged the bastard so completely?

  Monkey Guy nodded. “He seen some pictures of her after she was locked up. Didn’t take him long to figure it out.”

  Of course not. Sophy had been six years old the last time she’d seen Miri, but she’d needed only moments to recognize her.

  “A man in his position, he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

  Twenty-four hours ago, Dean had believed the man’s hype. Now he knew Smith was a snake just like these guys. He would do anything to maintain the false image he’d created. Even order his own daughter killed. And if his second daughter and Dean had to die, too, he could live with that, as long as his precious reputation remained intact.

  Monkey Guy shifted his attention to Sophy. “You got a back room to this place?”

  “Y-y-yes.” She raised one trembling hand and pointed to a door half hidden by a hanging quilt.

  “Go on. You two ladies first.”

  Still clutching the bear, Sophy led the way. After a few steps, Miri caught up with her, wrapping her arm around her, murmuring, “I’m so sorry. I never would have come here if I’d known...” And Sophy whispering back, “It’s okay, Ali, it’s okay.”

  The storeroom had originally been the old house’s kitchen. The cupboards remained, but the appliances had been removed, with large cubbies built in their spaces. It offered no weapon, no cover for the women, no island to hide behind, no back door to escape through. Whatever Dean did, he would have to take out both men quickly to minimize danger to Miri and Sophy.

  Once they were all in the room, the three of them against the counter where the sink would have been, the two men just inside the door, Smiley asked, “You got any rope around here?”

  Sophy’s head trembled left to right. Miri scoffed. “It’s a quilt shop, moron. She’s got needles and thread and patterns and fabric.”

  And really sharp scissors, though none were lying around at the moment.

  Monkey Guy nodded, and Smiley began searching cabinets. The best he could come up with was a spool of wide grass-green ribbon dotted with striped Easter eggs. He started with Sophy, pulling her away from the counter, tying her hands behind her back, shoving her to the floor six feet away.

  Miri eased a step closer to Dean, looking up at him, her expression fearful. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I love you.”

  Typical Miri. Admitting something that important when it just might be too late to mean anything. He was about to murmur the words back when a faint sickly smile touched her lips and she mouthed, Get ready.

  Get ready? What the hell was she planning?

  The answer came quickly enough when Smiley reached for her. As he tried to turn her, she danced away to the side, forcing him to move with her in a struggle to gain control. “Please, don’t tie my hands, please. I spent too much time in handcuffs, I really can’t handle it, please, please—”

  Her last words were drowned by a scream. Not smiling anymore, Smiley spun away in a crouch, cursing, hands over his face and blood streaming over his fingers. The knife she’d lifted from the glove box, its blade bloodied, was in her right hand, the sight almost enough to turn Dean’s stomach before he launched himself at Monkey Guy.

  They both hit the floor hard, and the man’s gun flew from his hand, striking the floor in the shop, discharging once with a thunderous bang before sliding to a stop. Straddling him, Dean fumbled in the guy’s jacket for his own gun, bringing the barrel a scant inch from the sweet spot right between the man’s eyes. “I warned you,” he said softly. “This HK will make your Christmas very unmerry. Don’t even blink.”

  Without taking his gaze from Monkey Guy, he asked, “Miri, you all right?”

  “I am. I’ve got his gun.”

  He grinned. “I warned you about Blondie, too. You don’t want the kind of trouble that she’ll bring.” He risked a glance at her then, bloody knife in one hand, Smiley’s pistol in the other, looking as if she could continue kicking ass all day, and added with certainty, “But I do.”

  * * *

  Christmas Eve was sunny but cold, the snow they’d left behind scheduled to arrive before midnight. Miri hoped it would. A white Christmas would be nice, wouldn’t it? It was cozy here in Sophy’s apartment. More important, she wasn’t alone. Her sister was there, she still loved Miri and she wanted to share their lives. Her first Christmas miracle ever.

  No, the second. Dean was the first.

  She and Sophy had talked until their voices were hoarse. Miri had told her...almost everything. Not the details of the first eight years. If Sophy believed the time when it was just Miri and their mom had been much better than reality, what could it hurt? Dean knew the truth, and that was enough for her.

  It was late afternoon. The shop was closed. The two men who’d threatened them the day before were in the Copper Lake jail, one bearing stitches thanks to Miri’s knife work, and all they’d gotten for Christmas were charges of kidnapping and attempted murder. They’d talked until they were hoarse, too, about their boss and his boss, John W. Smith, and the conspiracy to preserve the great man’s reputation.

  Now she and Sophy sat at opposite ends of the sofa in her living room, a fire blazing, their third round of hot cocoa gone, quiet for the first time in hours. Dean had gone out, but he would be back soon to spend Christmas Eve with Sophy’s parents. Her mother had come over that morning, greeting them like long-lost family.

  Family. That was all Miri had wanted for Christmas. She was the luckiest person in the world.

  Heavy treads sounded on the steps outside, then Dean let himself in. His hair was windblown, his cheeks red and snowflakes dusted his shoulders. He hung his coat on a rack near the door, took a small package from the pocket, then came to kiss the top of her forehead before taking a seat across from them. “Got to open a present before we go to the Marchands’ house,” he said, setting the box in the middle of the coffee table.

  “Oh, good.” Sophy jumped to her feet, disappeared into her bedroom, then returned with a very large box, placing it on the floor near Miri. “Open Dean’s first. It’ll make mine even more
appropriate.”

  Miri’s hand shook as she picked up Dean’s box. It was beautifully wrapped with a shiny gold bow, too small to be anything besides a jeweler’s box. It could be earrings or maybe a pendant, but deep in her heart she knew it was a ring. I plan to be your brother-in-law soon, he’d told Sophy.

  Miri planned to let him.

  She removed the paper carefully—the first time she’d gotten a gift in years—to reveal the deep blue case and opened the lid. The ring inside was beautiful, a pearl set in gold, a diamond on each side. Blinking away tears, she looked up to find Dean watching her intensely.

  “You saved my life. Now it’s yours.”

  “You saved mine right back.” She slid the ring on her fourth finger. “It’s perfect.”

  He came to kiss her, a long, sweet promise, then nudged her so he could sit beside her. “I love you,” he murmured as Sophy moved the big box to the table.

  She smiled tremulously at him before her sister said, “Now it’s my turn.”

  This gift wasn’t wrapped. It was just a large box, the flaps folded to secure the top. Her name was written in marker across one flap, along with a date five years earlier. Inside was a large tissue-wrapped bundle. Laying it on the table, she began unrolling it, finally revealing a large section of an intricate quilt.

  “It’s a Double Wedding Ring,” Sophy said. “I made one for each of us.”

  Five years ago. Even then, her sister had been thinking about her. Even knowing she might never see her again, she’d created this for her. Miri wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I should hang it like a museum piece.”

  Sophy swiped her own eyes. “Oh, hell, no, Ali. I expect you two to conceive my nieces and nephews under it.”

  Miri hugged the quilt. She would never be apart from her sister again, no matter how many miles separated them. The hours of work and skill Sophy had put into the quilt ensured that.

  Clearing her throat, Sophy stood. “I guess we should get going—”

  “Wait.” At Miri’s interruption, she sat down again, but Miri stood. Boo was in a place of honor under the Christmas tree, and she’d seen a pair of scissors in a drawer in the kitchen. She got both, then sat on the coffee table. “Don’t worry,” she said when she saw the concern in her sister’s eyes, then she carefully snipped a dozen stitches from the bear’s side. Once the hole was big enough, she began withdrawing flat packets of money, stacking them neatly, until Boo looked anorexic instead of well-loved and robust.

  “Remember all the child support our father never paid?” She pushed the money toward Sophy. “Merry Christmas, Soph.”

  “Oh, my God. Ali, I can’t take— You should keep— This is—” After a moment she looked up. “Wow.”

  After they restuffed the bear, securing his side with safety pins, Sophy gathered gifts from under the tree while Dean helped Miri into her coat. She pulled the pink hat over her hair, then looked up at him. “Do you still care that I’m not giving back the money?”

  “After your father hired someone to kill you? No way.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you.”

  “You are my gift, Miriam.” His grin, quick and smug and more charming than ever, warmed her. “And I plan to keep unwrapping you for a long, long time.”

  * * * * *

  In memory of my mother, Wanda Strain, and my nephew, Kevin Dillman, who loved the holidays. I know you’re enjoying Christmas in heaven.

  Linda Conrad

  A Chance Reunion

  To my dear mother, who always made Christmas special, even if that meant having spaghetti every Christmas Eve. I can make the spaghetti, Mom, but it’s never the same without you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  That danged statue of a reindeer sitting on the bar nearby grinned at nothing in particular and blinked its red nose in perpetual holiday cheer.

  Gage Chance didn’t know whether to ignore the too-cute decoration or pull his weapon and blast the miserable cheery monstrosity right off its perch. Christmas. To quote a smarter man than he would ever be, “Humbug.”

  Downing the last of his longneck, Gage dropped a few bills on the bar and slid off the stool. Tired and frustrated, he was done—for the night and with this trip.

  The trip had been a long shot, anyway. As a professional investigator, he knew better than to take anonymous tips he couldn’t verify. Yet when the email showed up in his inbox, he’d wanted so bad to believe.

  The person you seek can be found in the Piñon Lake area of California.

  That “person you seek” line had to be referring to his lost little sister. He and his brothers had tried in vain for twenty-one years to get a line on Cami’s whereabouts. Even to this day, the FBI still carried an open case file on her.

  She’d been kidnapped from their ranch in Texas at the age of four by their mother’s sister and apparently sold to the highest bidder in Los Angeles. But that’s where the trail ran cold. The aunt’s body was discovered in the L.A. morgue a few years later, dead of an overdose. His family had been concentrating their search for Cami in the southern California area ever since.

  Raking a hand through his hair and resettling his Stetson, he walked toward the door and the too-festive twinkle lights beyond on the street. Even though he’d tried for twenty-four hours after that message came in to find an original IP address for the sender, the internet trail petered out in a maze of international switchbacks and phony addresses. He should’ve guessed it was a gag. Or worse, that it could’ve been someone who wanted to get him out of Chance for a few days.

  Stepping out the door into the lightly falling snow, he pulled his satellite phone from his jacket’s pocket. Better call one of his brothers back at the ranch and make sure everything was okay.

  Travis answered at the main house. “It’s a little late, bro. Remember the time difference? We have a kid in the house and just got her back in bed.” Travis’s yawn came through loud and clear.

  Gage figured it was more a case of his older brother’s new bride waiting for him in bed. But he wasn’t in the mood at the moment to rib Travis about his nonsleeping, newlywed habits.

  Travis came to the point first. “Have you found anything that leads to Cami?”

  “Sorry about the hour,” Gage mumbled. It was only eight-thirty in Piñon Lake and holiday tourists were still shopping along the quaint village streets, making it seem much earlier. “I’ve found zip here. Two days of walking around the town and resorts and showing Cami’s age-enhanced photo to everyone I meet has brought me exactly nothing. No one recognizes her. I’ve had it. I’m planning on flying back to the Bar-C tomorrow.”

  “Good. Not that we need that plane you’re flying anytime soon, but it’s only a week to Christmas and the family wants you back on the ranch to join in the celebrations.”

  Gage was never in the mood for Christmas. Even talking about it depressed him. But he didn’t say anything to upset his brother. Instead, he checked with Travis to be sure his P.I. office in the little town of Chance was secure and then bid his brother good-night.

  As he pocketed the phone, laughter rang out like tinkling bells on the sidewalk up ahead. Couples and small groups of young people tromped down the town’s streets past evergreen and ivy that shimmered with thousands of tiny white lights. They seemed to be doing last-minute Christmas shopping and trying to stay warm by stopping at every bar on the strip. It was only a three-block walk back to his hotel, but Gage would rather take a taxi than have to face this much gaiety.

  Still, taxis were nonexistent at the moment and few cars could be seen on the streets. Some shops were already closed for the night and others would shut down soon. With this much
drinking going on, he imagined everyone walking the sidewalks now must be staying over in the town’s hotel like he was. Or maybe they were already registered at the ski resorts located out near the slopes and planned on taking a shuttle bus back later tonight. Probably a lot more partying would be going on at the resorts. Something he could definitely do without.

  Setting his chin and tugging the brim of his hat lower on his forehead, he started out down the street. As he passed along in front of the few still-open retail stores, he glanced in the windows, trying to decide whether he had the energy or the wherewithal to stop in each one and ask after his sister.

  He didn’t. This much Christmas cheer was getting him down.

  When was the last time he’d actually celebrated Christmas? Had to be at least six years ago. He knew that because five years ago he’d lost all interest in Christmas—and in just about everything else, for that matter.

  Up ahead of him by a few yards, a young man and woman stood arm in arm, gazing into a bridal shop window with rapture on their faces. Gage’s stomach turned. Didn’t they know that life was far too fragile to pin their hopes on love and romance? They shouldn’t let the holiday season overtake their better judgment. If they had to get married, better that they do it in the dead heat of summer when their thinking would be clearer. When ice and snow and good cheer could not mess with their hearts and forever leave them adrift in the cold.

  He’d succumbed to the fantasy of love and marriage one snowy Christmas himself. And before the next Christmas rolled around, he was single again and doubled over in the worst kind of grief imaginable.

  Sticking his hands in his coat pockets, Gage drew in a frosty breath and walked around the starry-eyed couple. Okay, so his two older brothers had managed their spring and summer weddings during the past year. And so far so good for them. He wished them both long and happily married lives.

  Forcing back some of the gloom that had been his constant companion, he reminded himself that his family would be celebrating Christmas even if he wasn’t in the mood. The love of his brothers was all that had gotten him through the worst of times. The bumpy road that had been the past five years. All the grief and despair. What would’ve become of him without his family?