Mistletoe Justice

by Carol J. Post

  “A bit shaken up, but fine otherwise.” She squeezed Jayden more tightly.

  “And the little guy’s okay?”

  She returned the deputy’s smile. “He didn’t wake up until you guys got here.”

  He stepped back to let her pass. “We need you to look around and see if anything is missing.”

  She made her way toward the living room. She wouldn’t bother checking her room. If the intruder had come down the hall, she would have heard him. Except for the two bedrooms, the vinyl tile ran throughout the house.

  She stepped into the combined living and dining area. The deputies had turned on the lights. Envelopes lay strewn about the small dining room table. She pointed that direction.

  “They went through my mail.” When she’d laid it there, it had been stacked in one neat pile. But as near as she could tell, they hadn’t taken any of it.

  She circled the kitchen, still holding Jayden. All the cabinet doors and drawers were closed, just as she’d left them. So far, nothing appeared disturbed, other than her mail. She crossed the room to the living area. Six files sat in a stack on the coffee table. Except they weren’t as neat as when she’d gone to bed. It was as if someone had checked the labels, sliding each file over a half inch to see the label beneath.

  She nodded toward the stack. “I think he touched these.”

  “What’s in them?”

  “They’re vendor and customer files, work I brought home with me yesterday.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t press her further.

  Before leaving the office, she’d pulled files for four other customers and two vendors who had asked her out, just in case the mystery man was someone other than Fuller. If Claire had stumbled across Wiggins’s secrets, the proof was likely contained in the paperwork at the mine. But after poring over each file and researching the companies online, she’d come up with nothing.

  And her attempts to call Claire weren’t any more successful. She couldn’t even leave a message. After Claire’s outgoing message, a computerized voice announced that the mailbox was full.

  Darci sighed and met the older deputy’s eyes. “I don’t understand how they got in.”

  “Through the slider.”

  She had guessed that much. “But I had it locked.”

  “It wasn’t very secure.” He led her back through the dining area to the door. “I would recommend getting a Charley-Bar. Or at the least have someone drill a hole and put a pin through here.” He indicated a point several inches from the top, where the frames of the two doors crossed.

  “I’ll do that.” And the sooner the better. She’d never been nervous about staying alone. But knowing someone had come into her house while she and Jayden slept changed everything.

  The deputy moved to unlock the front door. “We’ll dust the slider for prints, along with your dining room table and coffee table. And we’ll see what we can pick up on your mail and files while we’re at it.” He swung the door open and turned back around. “Any idea who might have done this?”

  Her gaze traveled back to the files sitting on the coffee table. Wiggins. He wouldn’t have done it himself, but he was behind it. After slipping the files into her bag, she had glanced up to see him standing in her doorway. She’d hoped he hadn’t seen anything.

  Apparently he had.

  She opened her mouth to say so, then had second thoughts. What if Wiggins had already redirected any trails of wrongdoing to her? What if she got an investigation started and it led to her arrest?

  She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  Guilt pricked her. But she wasn’t lying. She really didn’t know who had broken in to her house.

  The deputy studied her. She’d hesitated too long.

  “If you think of anyone, let us know.”

  She gave him a sharp nod.

  Already it was starting. Wiggins was making sure she didn’t talk. He didn’t have to threaten to make her disappear.

  The thought of going to jail and leaving her parents to raise her child was enough to seal her lips so tightly a crowbar couldn’t pry them open.

  * * *

  Conner followed Kyle up the stairs at Natures Landing Condominiums, pleasantly full from dinner. All week long, he’d hoped for an opportunity to talk to Darci. There was something about her, a sweet innocence that was at odds with the idea that she could be involved in anything sinister. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became—she was in trouble.

  But both times their paths had crossed in the employee break room, Darci had brushed him off and hurried back to her office. He hadn’t followed. Though he’d tried to come up with a plausible reason why the mechanic would need to meet with the accounting manager, he’d drawn a blank.

  Then yesterday, a fellow employee had mentioned that Darci had a son and spent weekends at her parents’ place in Cedar Key. So as soon as he’d gotten off work tonight, he’d packed two bags, loaded up Kyle and embarked on a minivacation.

  Kyle reached the top of the stairs and ran full speed toward their room, excitement bubbling over. In fact, he’d been buzzing with eagerness from the moment they hit Cedar Key. Conner smiled. He would enjoy it while it lasted. All too soon, they would head back home and he’d have the old Kyle back—the sullen boy who found fault with everything anyone did for him.

  But Conner couldn’t blame him. Overnight, he’d been ripped from his home and friends in Crystal River and dragged to Chiefland. No wonder the kid was messed-up. And it was far from over. Next week they had Thanksgiving to get through. Four weeks after that, Christmas. By then, he’d probably be back with his grandparents. That had been the initial plan. But a week after Claire’s disappearance, Conner’s stepdad had had a heart attack, followed by a quadruple bypass, and his mom couldn’t care for both of them.

  When Conner got to the door, Kyle was still struggling with the lock, so he reached up to help him. Five seconds later, Kyle burst into their rented condo. Conner sighed. Too bad kids didn’t come with troubleshooting guides, because this one needed fixing, and he didn’t have the manual, tools or experience to do it. He’d never planned to be in this position. His determination to keep his relationships casual had guaranteed that he would never have to take on the role of husband or father. Until now.

  With his stepdad’s heart attack, Kyle’s care had fallen on him—the least qualified man on the planet. His own father had been loud and abusive. The stepdads that followed hadn’t been any better. Once his newest stepdad fully recovered, Conner could give Kyle back. Meanwhile, he’d be saddled with an angry, rebellious kid, and Kyle would be stuck with the world’s sorriest excuse for a father.

  By the time Conner closed the door, Kyle had settled himself on the nearest bed and snatched the remote from the nightstand. Bursts of sound filled the room as he advanced through the channels.

  “Get your pajamas on and your teeth brushed first.”

  With a groan of protest, Kyle flung himself to his feet, then lifted the Avengers duffel bag onto the bed. “Then can I watch whatever I want?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did your mother let you watch anything you wanted?”

  Kyle fished through the bag and pulled out a pair of pajamas. “No.”

  “Then I won’t, either.”

  “Is that so she won’t be mad at you if she comes back?”

  If she comes back. “Yeah, something like that.”

  At first it was when. Now, six months later, it was if. At seven years old, the kid was already facing reality.

  Kyle disappeared into the bathroom and came back out two minutes later, dressed in his pajamas, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. The clothes he took off were probably on the bathroom floor, and his teeth were likely not as clean as they should be. But tonight, Conner chose to let it go
.

  Once Kyle had settled himself back on the bed and resumed his channel search, Conner picked up the duffel, then shook his head. The entire bag was now a wadded, twisted mess. If he left it like that till morning, the kid would go through the weekend looking as if he’d just crawled out of bed.

  Conner pulled out a shirt and folded it, then removed a pair of shorts. When he reached for another item, he hesitated. He had uncovered the corner of a book.

  He glanced at his nephew. Kyle wasn’t a reader. He knew how to read, but he didn’t do it for pleasure. And since school was out all next week, he’d told Kyle his homework could wait till later. No way was he getting a jump on it. He was a major procrastinator, unless it involved video games.

  Conner pulled out the book, then drew his brows together. Kyle with a diary? It was hard enough to get him to do his assignments. He’d never keep a journal.

  Which meant the book had probably belonged to Claire.

  Anticipation surged through him. During that quick phone call the night she disappeared, all she’d told him was that she’d found something. She hadn’t given him much to go on. Maybe the details he needed were in her diary.

  He opened it to the first page. Definitely Claire’s handwriting.

  “No!” Kyle’s scream reverberated through the room. Before Conner had a chance to prepare, Kyle leaped up and slammed into him, knocking him onto the bed. “That’s Mommy’s. You can’t have it.” He snatched the book and held it to his chest as tears welled up in his eyes.

  “It’s okay, buddy.” Conner kept his voice low, soothing. “I was just straightening your clothes.” He lifted a hand and smoothed back Kyle’s hair. “I won’t take it without your permission.”

  Kyle calmed, then swiped at his eyes, as if embarrassed to be seen crying. “You promise?”

  He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. But I’ll read it to you, if you’d like.”

  Kyle shook his head. “I don’t need you to read it. I can read it myself. We’re learning cursive.”

  Conner frowned. He wasn’t surprised. The private school he’d put Kyle in had a good reputation. And his sister’s handwriting was impeccable. He’d have to try another tack.

  “Will you let me read it? Mommy wouldn’t mind. She was my sister, you know.”

  He cringed at his choice of verbs. No matter how he tried to cling to the hope that Claire would one day walk back into their lives, he still found himself thinking of her in the past tense.

  Kyle didn’t seem to notice. “No, it’s a special book. Just me and Mommy can read it.”

  Without waiting for a response, Kyle climbed back into bed and slipped the diary under his pillow.

  Conner sighed. If he was going to get a look at what Claire had written, it was going to have to be after Kyle went to sleep. Unfortunately, tonight Kyle would probably outlast him.

  For the next hour, Conner drifted in and out while Kyle watched TV. Then he awoke with a start. He’d fallen into a heavier sleep, even started to dream. He sat up and looked over at Kyle. The bedside light was on and the TV still played, but Kyle was fast asleep.

  He stood and circled around to the other side of Kyle’s bed. He was sprawled out in the middle, his head between the two pillows. The scowl that usually marred his face during his waking hours was gone in sleep. He looked at peace, as if his biggest worry was whether Santa would bring him that favorite toy for Christmas. As if heartache hadn’t so recently touched his young life.

  When Conner started to slide his hand under the pillow, guilt pricked him, and he pulled back. Kyle had made him promise he wouldn’t take it. Well, he wasn’t taking it. He was just borrowing it.

  But if Kyle caught him, he would never trust him again. He would probably even hate him, at least temporarily. Conner frowned. He’d be less likely to get caught if he could slip another book under the pillow in its place. He had only one with him, a spy thriller he’d thrown in at the last minute. It was close to the same size as Claire’s diary, just a little thicker. It was even a hardback.

  He retrieved it from his bag, then crossed the room to again stand beside Kyle’s bed. His heart pounded as he pulled Claire’s diary from under the pillow and slid the thriller in in its place.

  After tiptoeing around to his own bed, he arranged the pillows behind his back. Claire disappeared May 20. There was probably no reason to go back to the beginning of January. He put his thumb at the one quarter point and opened the book. His gaze fell on the left side, April 1.

  Claire’s perfect handwriting filled the page. She was upbeat, happy. Wiggins hadn’t come in to work that day. And she had spent the evening planning Kyle’s birthday parties. Two of them. Saturday would be the party with his friends at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Then Sunday would be dinner with Mom and Tony and Uncle Conner. She ended the entry with “My sweet baby boy—he’s the joy of my life.”

  Conner’s heart twisted. No wonder the book was so precious to Kyle. Even though everyone believed his mother had walked away from him, the proof that she loved him was right here in black and white.

  He continued to read, flipping page after page. Claire struggled with depression. That was no secret. She’d taken the brunt of the abuse from each of the men who had occupied their home, as well as the perverted affections of father number two. The latter, she’d kept buried until a few weeks before she disappeared.

  But she was doing well, even though she was working for a tyrant who got some sick thrill from humiliating her. In reading her journal entries, it seemed two things were keeping her going—her love for her son and her hatred for Wiggins.

  Throughout April, there was no hint of what she’d found that put her life in danger. Finally, he came to an entry that made him sit up a little straighter. May 5, two weeks before she disappeared, an irregularity showed up on the bank statement. She didn’t go into detail, but it involved a large cashier’s check for the supposed purchase of a piece of equipment, money she was sure ultimately went to Wiggins.

  Between May 5 and May 20 were several more entries about how she was spying on Wiggins, listening outside his door, even sneaking back after closing to eavesdrop on meetings. Her last entry was on May 19. Something was going down the following night. Then she’d have everything she needed to have Wiggins put away.

  That was the last entry. May 20, she never made it home.

  He closed the diary and slid from the bed. Kyle suddenly turned on his side, slipping his hand under the pillow. A soft word escaped his mouth—“Mommy.”

  Conner froze, afraid to breathe. But Kyle didn’t wake up. Several minutes passed before Conner was ready to try to switch out the two books.

  Once finished, he made his way back toward his own bed with a sigh. Kyle was going to have to part with the diary. The evidence inside wasn’t much, but maybe it would be enough to warrant an investigation into the accounting records of P. T. Aggregates and Rupert Wiggins personally.

  After changing into some gym shorts, he slipped into bed and turned off the light. He didn’t know much more than he had before. He didn’t have details. And he didn’t have any proof.

  But one thing was certain. Something happened the night of May 20. Claire witnessed it.

  And it likely got her killed.

  * * *

  Darci tipped back her head, letting the sunshine warm her face. Voices filled the air, shouts and squeals of happy children. Jayden’s wasn’t among them. She drew her gaze back to the cluster of playground equipment. Children of all sizes swarmed over its surface. Her own little guy was climbing the stairs to one of the slides, silent as always.

  She sighed and turned toward Hunter Kingston, who sat next to her on the bench. For the past several minutes, he had listened without commenting as she told him everything that had transpired over the past eight days. As of last night, she had another bit of information to
add. After trying for two days to get ahold of Claire Blackburn, she’d finally made the trip to the address in Crystal River and knocked on the door of apartment number twelve. It was occupied by a young couple with a baby. They had lived there four months. Claire was gone.

  Talking to neighbors had provided even worse news. Claire hadn’t just moved away. She’d disappeared. It was even investigated by the police. Did she leave willingly? Or had she uncovered something crooked and Wiggins—or someone—needed to shut her up?

  When her gaze met Hunter’s, he was frowning.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some Levy County detectives on this?”

  “I’m positive.” She didn’t want to make an official report. What she needed was advice. Or maybe she just needed someone to listen, to let her know that she wasn’t alone. Because frankly, she was scared.

  Her eyes dropped to her hands, now folded in her lap. “I’m so afraid that if the authorities check into this, I’ll be the one who gets charged. Wiggins’s partner won’t let him hurt me, at least for the time being. Short of killing me, the best way to guarantee my silence is to frame me. Judging from those password-protected files on my computer, I’d say he’s done exactly that.”

  Hunter’s frown deepened. “I don’t like it. You need law enforcement on your side.”

  “If I was sure they would be on my side, I’d be all for it. At this point, I’m more likely to be looked on as a suspect than a victim.” She crossed her arms and again sought out Jayden. He’d reached the bottom of the slide and was circling around to do it again.

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine someone seriously thinking you’re wrapped up in anything shady. There’s usually money involved. No offense, but you’re not exactly living in the lap of luxury.”

  Maybe Hunter was right. She drove an older car and lived in a small rented house. Her bank balance was nothing to get excited about, either. But she had no idea what kind of evidence Wiggins had compiled against her.

  She heaved a sigh. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, maybe you can check out Wiggins.”