When had her instincts deserted her? Until tonight she would have bet her life that Hank Murdock was incapable of murder. Now there was every indication that he had killed not only once, but intended to again. What could have driven this quiet, dedicated man to murder?
If he was involved with Laura, would he have been so incensed by Greg’s moves on her that he finally shot him in a jealous rage? But why wait until almost the end of the picture? Could the timing have been a last desperate attempt to gain recognition as a director by completing the film in Greg’s stead? The motives raced through her mind like film on fast forward, leaving impressions but no conclusions. Obviously Laura possessed some incriminating piece of information that she hadn’t shared with anyone else. Did it have to do with those messages?
“Did you hate Greg?” she asked. “I thought the two of you were best of friends.”
“We were,” he said softly, an unexpected catch in his voice.
Molly seized on that faint hint of emotion. “Then he must have done something to make you very angry that night. What did he do?”
They were almost to the street. She could hear the laughter of a passing couple, the grinding start of a motorcycle. But there was still no response from Hank. The barrel of the gun seemed to tremble against her back. Because he was losing his nerve? Because something she’d said had reminded him that the man who’d died was, in fact, his best friend?
“Did I ever tell you how often Greg spoke of you when we were making plans for this production?” she said. “He respected your work. Maybe even more than you did, he said. He was anxious to see that you got the break you deserved.”
“Bullshit,” he said succinctly. “He was going to force me out.”
“Force you out,” Molly repeated slowly. “Could he do that?”
“Yes,” Laura said with a sigh. “He had the power to do it. You might as well tell her everything, Hank.”
“A few years ago I had some heavy gambling debts,” he said, reminding Molly of his claim that he hadn’t been in the poker game that night because he no longer gambled.
“Greg loaned me the money to pay them off with my share of the company as collateral.”
“But why would he force you out now?”
It was Laura who answered. “The studio had been on him for weeks about cutting overhead. With the picture close to done, they wanted Hank off the payroll. They waved a deal for additional films under his nose if he could streamline the company. That reporter had gotten wind of the studio’s offer. He called Greg.”
“And me,” Hank added. “The son of a bitch called me. That’s how I heard about it. Not from Greg. From some stupid reporter.”
“You confronted him and he confirmed it,” Molly said.
She dared to turn her head to catch a glimpse of him. His face was an expressionless mask, but his eyes were filled with some dark agony. As if he’d guessed what she could read in his eyes, he looked away. At the same time, they reached the street.
Molly used the tiny fraction of a second while Hank’s attention was diverted to wrench free from his grasp and run. She lurched, nearly stumbled, then raced toward Ocean Drive, where she knew there would be more people and safety.
At the corner she ran headlong into Michael. His arms came around her, steel bands of comfort and courage. His gaze locked on hers. “You’re okay?”
“Yes,” she said shakily. “Go or Hank will get away. Laura’s car is at the end of the alley. She’s still with him.”
Instead, he pulled her tight against him, so she could feel the thundering beat of his heart. “So help me God, if you ever, ever do anything that stupid again, I will break every single bone in your body myself,” he swore fervently, adding an impassioned speech in Spanish that she suspected was better left untranslated.
“I’m okay. I swear it. Please, go after Hank.”
“He’s not going anywhere. He’s waiting with Laura right by his car.”
Molly’s head snapped up. She glanced down the block and saw Hank leaning against the front fender, his shoulders slumped. Laura was holding the gun as if it were something distasteful.
“He’s giving up?” she said incredulously.
Michael nodded. “Looks that way,” he said as two other officers went down the block to take Hank into custody. As they passed by on their way back to the police cruisers on Ocean Drive, Molly stopped Laura. “Thank you for coming after me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Laura said bluntly. “I couldn’t let Hank get in any more trouble than he’s already in. It was partly my fault in the first place. If only I’d told him what I suspected, he might have been prepared. I might have been able to make him see that it was purely a business decision, that it had nothing to do with his worth as a director. Instead, when that reporter hit him with it, he felt betrayed, by Greg, by me. Add to that the rumors he had to contend with all the time about Greg and me…” She shrugged. “It’s no wonder he snapped.”
“But the gun,” Molly said. “Where did he get the gun?”
“I had it. Since I had to deal with large amounts of money occasionally, I got it for protection. He knew where I kept it.”
“But you didn’t know he’d taken it?”
“No. Not until tonight when everything started to add up.” She glanced at Michael. “You knew, didn’t you?”
At Michael’s nod, Molly regarded them both with surprise. “When?” she said to Michael.
“Otis Jenkins had a talk with the studio. They told him about cutting Hank loose. He also found out that Laura had a permit for the gun. I tried to call you in the suite twice to warn you to be careful if he was around.”
“I only heard the phone ring once,” Molly said.
“Hank took the second call,” Laura said. “I heard enough to guess what was happening. That’s when I came after you.”
“Thank you again.”
“Can I go to the police station with Hank?” Laura asked Michael.
“No, but I’ll give you a lift over there. I have to get over to headquarters and wrap this up. Just give me a couple of minutes with Molly.”
Laura nodded and walked away.
“Can you get home okay?” he said, his fingers splayed against her cheek.
“Sure,” she said. She’d finally stopped shaking at least five minutes back. “There’s one more thing I don’t understand.”
“What’s that?”
“On the night Jeffrey pushed Veronica, was there really a shot?”
“Yes. Hank thought she’d seen him coming out of Greg’s trailer that night.”
“But when the first shot missed, he never tried to kill her again.”
“Probably because he knew by then that Veronica hadn’t seen him.”
“I wonder how she’s doing?”
“Why don’t you go up and see her? She’d probably be glad to have a friend around, now that her son’s killer has been caught.”
Molly touched his cheek. “That’s what I love about you. For a tough cop, you’re a real softie.”
He grinned. “Don’t let it get around. It’ll ruin me on the streets.”
She had started into the hotel, when he said, “Molly.”
She turned back.
“I’ll give you a call about Sunday.”
When Molly regarded him blankly, he said, “The dinner at Tio Pedro’s. You aren’t going to chicken out on me, are you?”
“Not a chance,” she said bravely. After tonight meeting Michael’s family would have to be a piece of cake.
* * * * *
In a small, snowbound town, a young woman fights to save her family’s charity that brings Christmas to families in need, and a stranded millionaire loses his heart and finds the true meaning of Christmas.
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Christmas from the Heart,
fr
om USA TODAY bestselling author Sheila Roberts!
CHAPTER 1
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 2-14-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Holiday Joy
Dear Ms. Thompson,
Happy Valentine’s Day to you! I’m following up our January newsletter with a special greeting as this is, of course, the month for love. Love for our sweethearts, our family and friends, and for those in need. As you could see from the newsletter, we put the money our loyal supporters donated to us to good use. So many families benefited from your generous donation to Christmas from the Heart last year and I just wanted to remind you that, even though the holidays seem far away they will be here before we know it. I hope we can count on Hightower Enterprises again this year. We have such a history together. Let’s keep up the good work!
Warmly,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date 2-14-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Subject: Holiday Joy
Dear Ms. Berg,
Thanks for reaching out. Our fiscal year is just ending and I haven’t yet received word as to how our charitable donations will be dispersed this year. I will keep you apprised.
Best,
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date 2-14-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Holiday Joy
Thank you so much. Looking forward to hearing from you!
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date 5-1-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Happy May Day!
Dear Ms. Thompson, just wanted to wish you a happy May Day. The flowers here in Pine River are now in full bloom, and our organization has been busy helping people make their dreams bloom as well. As you know, while our focus is primarily the holidays, Christmas from the Heart tries to help people all year round when needs arise. Of course, Christmas is our big thrust, and as there is no other organization working in this area, we are much needed. As are your kind contributions. I still haven’t heard and I do hope we can count on you.
Warmly,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking
Reaching out again in case my last email went astray. I’m wondering if you have any news for me regarding Hightower’s involvement with our cause for this coming year.
Thanks!
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date 5-5-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg
Subject: Just checking
Ms. Berg, sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you sooner. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. It appears that the company is going to be scaling back on their charitable giving this year and funds have already been budgeted for other causes. I’m aware of the fact that in the past we’ve donated to your organization and I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you. I do wish you all the best in your search for other funding.
Best,
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking
There must be some sort of misunderstanding! Hightower has always donated to Christmas from the Heart. The company’s founder, Elias Hightower, was my great-grandmother’s first contributor, and he promised her that Hightower would always be there for this organization. This is a company tradition! Please speak to your director.
Hopefully,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date 5-5-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg
Subject: Just checking
I’m sorry. The decision is out of my hands.
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking
Then please tell me who I need to talk to. Who’s your CFO?
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date 5-5-19
Subject: Just checking
Our CFO is Guy Hightower, and his email is [email protected]
Good luck!
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date 5-5-19
To: Guy Hightower, CFO, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Please reconsider
Dear Mr. Hightower, I understand from your corporate social resources director that Hightower isn’t planning on making any donation to Christmas from the Heart this year. There must be some mistake! Surely you’re aware of the long-standing relationship between your company and our organization. I’m sure I can count on you for some small amount.
Best,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference
Guy Hightower frowned when he saw the email from Olivia Berg in his in-box. Marla Thompson had been forwarding her emails to him, keeping him abreast of Olivia Berg’s varied begging tactics, and had finally even come into his office, trying to dump the load of guilt the woman had laid on her from her shoulders to his.
“Don’t open it,” he told himself. He opened it anyway. Then he read it and swore.
Actually, he’d been swearing ever since meeting with his brothers to discuss the budget back in December. If either of them had listened to him three years ago, they wouldn’t be having to pull the company belt so tight now. This was the problem with being the youngest. It didn’t matter how many degrees you had, how smart you were or what your job title was. Big brothers never listened.
Hard to listen when you were going through your third divorce.
That was Mike’s excuse. What was Bryan’s? Oh yeah. He was a wuss. He always agreed with Mike, no matter what. And Mike hadn’t wanted to change directions. Never mind that the company was struggling, keep on doing the same thing. The definition of insanity.
Sorry, little Miss Christmas. Times were tough all over. Hightower had kept its commitment to the more visible causes and turned the little fish loose. And that was how it worked in the corporate world.
He typed his reply.
Dear Ms. Berg, I regret that Hightower can’t help you this year. We’ve had to reassess our commitments to various causes. I’m sure you’ll understand.
Then he signed off with the time-honored adios: Respectfully, Guy Hightower.
And if she didn’t understand, well, not his problem. He had his hands full trying to keep the family company afloat. Maybe now Mike would be ready to take his advice and diversify.
Olivia Berg—Livi to her family and friends—read the email from Guy Hightower a second time. Yes, the message was the
same. Really? Really? Who was this man, Ebenezer Scrooge the Second?
She plowed her fingers through her hair, the birthstone ring Morris had given her for her birthday catching in the curls. She was so angry she barely noticed.
With a snarl, she began to type.
You should be ashamed. Your great grandfather is probably turning in his grave right now. What’s the matter with you, anyway, you selfish bastard?
She pulled her fingers off the keyboard with a gasp. What was she thinking? Was this any way to get someone to contribute to her cause? And what kind of language was this? Her great-grandmother would be turning in her grave right now, along with Elias. Adelaide Brimwell had been a lady through and through. So had Livi’s grandmother, Olivia, as well as Livi’s mom.
The thought of her mother made her tear up. How she wished Mom was still around to advise her. They’d always planned that Livi would take over running the organization one day, but neither had dreamed that day would come so soon. Her mother’s heart attack had struck like lightning. Livi’s brother had left town, moving to Seattle, which was just far enough south to keep the memories at bay. Livi had stayed put, holding on to every single one, weaving them together into a lifeline to cling to as she kept Christmas from the Heart afloat.
Oh, Mom. What should I do?
Try again came the answer.
Yes, her mother never gave up. She’d chased one potential donor for two years before he finally came through. Livi still remembered the day her mom left the house, clad in a Mrs. Santa costume she’d created—requisite white wig along with a frilly white blouse and a red skirt topped with a red-striped apron. She’d taken with her a batch of home-baked cookies nestled in a red basket and returned home with a check for five hundred dollars. The man had been a loyal contributor ever since. Livi still took him cookies every year.
“Persistence pays,” she told herself as she deleted what she’d typed.
She started over.
I’m asking you to reconsider. Your company is our major donor, and without you so many people will have little joy this Christmas. Any amount you can give will be greatly appreciated.
Seaside Lies Page 18