by Peggy Staggs
“Where are they?” The conversation had gone full circle and I was tired of her ridiculous rantings.
“At the back table.” She spun around and returned to the bar.
Leaving me to wonder if it was snowing in her world, too.
I zigzagged my way through the jovial crowd toward the back table. It’s tucked in a corner where the light bulb mysteriously always needs to be replaced. Lovers use the faint glow seclusion to their advantage.
Jack and Don were intent as they faced each other across the small table. As I drew closer, I heard them talking.
“I’ll tell her everything, Trace. Then, we’ll see what she thinks of you. See how long she stays,” Don said as he leaned forward.
The look on Jack’s face stopped me. His eyes were hard, and I knew he was struggling to control his anger. “She won’t believe you,” he said.
“Maybe not, but it’ll plant a seed of doubt. She’ll start questioning what kind of monster you are.” Don leaned back in his chair. “She questions everything. She’ll start to dig and—”
Jack glanced up. He stood. “Doc, you look great.” He smiled and pulled a chair out for me.
Don stood.
It struck me how much the two men were built alike. Tall and muscular. If the lights were any lower, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.
“Thank you.” I sat next to Jack.
Lacey sauntered over, her eyes locked on Don. “Can I refresh your drink?” The yarn in her bright green sweater strained against her ample chest.
“Please.” He smiled at her. The same practiced smile he’d trained on me a hundred times.
When she left, I asked, “Why are we here?” More precisely, why was I here?
“We’re waiting,” Don said.
I was about to ask the question again when Lacey returned. “That guy.” She turned to point to someone. She had a confused look on her face as the turned back to us. “He was there a second ago.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he wanted me to give this to you.” She held out an envelope.
Jack reached for it, and she snatched it back. “It’s for Don.” Lacey touched Don’s hand as she presented it to him. With an enticing grin, she ran her long red fingernail up his arm and rested her hand on his shoulder.
I thought she was going to hold out for Jack? Now it seemed Don was in her sights. Or was she trying to make Jack jealous? Poor Lacey. She shot Jack a glance to be sure he was watching. He wasn’t.
“Thank you.” Don gave her another smile and squeezed her hand. When we were alone, he ripped open the envelope, then showed it to us.
“It’s empty,” I said. I still had no idea why I was here.
“It’s a go,” Jack said.
As Don took out cash, Jack whispered, “I’ll drive you home.”
He knew as well as I did, I had my car. I’d pick it up later.
As we made our way through the crowd I asked again, “Jack, why am I here?”
“He ordered me to call you. I don’t want you involved in this...situation.” He paused. “None of this feels right.”
I was surprised. Was Don, Jack’s boss? That had to be a toxic combination.
As we walked through the happy crowd, Jack shifted gears and said, “I’m impressed.” We wove through the crowd. “How’d you get in here, without falling, in those shoes, with all this snow? Or is it one of your girl secrets?”
When I’d first arrived in Spirit Springs, I’d had a problem navigating the town’s crumbling sidewalks. “Trade secret.” I slid my hand into his. Touching him always made me feel like I was seventeen, experiencing the thrill of being with my first real boyfriend. Jack is no boy.
He stopped and faced me. “This isn’t what I’d planned for tonight.”
I could tell by the way he’d said he’d be back. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you. It’s classified which makes your presence completely out of line.”
Classified? Interesting. “So why am I here?”
Jack scanned the crowd. For a second his attention settled on Don as he talked to someone at the bar. “Not here.” I felt the muscles in his arm tighten.
I got my bag and jacket from the coat room. He pushed the door open, and we walked out into a wall of large snowflakes. I held fast to his arm.
“I want you safe. I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish, but for tonight he’s calling the shots. This is”—he stopped— “an unusual circumstance.”
Jack told me once Don had saved his life. He’d also said the debt was paid. “I don’t want anything to do with Don.” Then it occurred to me— “Don, isn’t your boss, is he?”
“God, no. This whole thing has a—” He struggled with what to say as we stopped beside to his truck. He brushed a flake from my face. “I want this over with and him gone.” He kissed me.
Jack knows his kisses distract me because I’ve told him so. From the smile on his face when I told him...let’s just say he is more than happy to divert my attention, and I’m eager to let him. “You’re asserting your unfair advantage.”
“If I had a choice—” He shook his head as he opened the truck door for me.
The five-minute ride to my house was silent. I wasn’t sure if Jack was concentrating on the snow-slick road or the upcoming mission. I sat next to him wishing I had the power to send Don back to Washington or Mars. It would be the best Christmas present ever. I wasn’t going to let this go. I wanted answers.
We stopped under the porte-cochere, and I put my hand on his arm. “Tell me what’s going on.” Don’s words still echoed through my mind. “I’m telling her everything.”
Jack pressed his lips together. “It’s classified.” He isn’t only the sheriff, he’s ex-Delta Force. Every now and then he vanishes for a few days. So, I’m not sure if he’s ex or not. I’ve often wondered where people think he went on those sudden trips. I asked Phyllis once, she’d expertly dodged the question.
Jack helped me out of the truck. He wrapped me in his arms and his warm citrus aftershave filled my senses.
“Come in,” I whispered. “I’ll make a fire.”
He kissed me again. “Tomorrow night.” He hesitated as if to say something more. Instead, he kissed me one more time and got back in his truck.
I watched as he pulled out onto the street and vanished behind a wall of snow.
Tomorrow night. The words echoed in my head.
Chapter Two
I climbed the stairs up to my bedroom. I kicked off my shoes and left them where they landed. I always put my shoes away. Tonight, I didn’t care.
One of my coping mechanisms is list making. I find they help me focus on the problem facing me, and checking things off gives me a feeling of accomplishment. Since I had no idea what was going on, I wouldn’t be checking things off this list. No, wait. I could write Don’s name a hundred times, then invent different ways to obliterate it. Okay, that would only work if I was fourteen. I sat on my bed, I had to fit the pieces together.
At the top of the sheet I wrote:
Things I don’t like. This could take two pages.
Don being here. I underlined it three times.
The way things were headed. Well, no kidding.
The conversation I’d overheard in the bar. A couple more underlines.
Jack going along with it. Whatever it was. Underline, exclamation point. It was a good thing I was using a pen, I would have broken a pencil in half by now.
The fact it happened the night before Christmas Eve.
What was with Don? Why was he here? Why did he think it was okay to kiss me? I added those to the list. I’d given him back his engagement ring right before I’d showed him the picture of him and his other woman. I’d explained—as calmly as I could—how I found his behavior unacceptable. I’d told him I never wanted to see him, ever. Twice. Once in person, and once on the phone after my dad’s death. I’d deleted his number from my phone. Okay, the last one hadn’t affected him at all. It had made me feel
better.
I asked myself, why Jack? Don has lots of men under him. CIA Agents. And by the way, what was this thing he was having Jack do? I added those to the list, too.
I laid down. The puffy floral comforter rose to welcome me. The cats were snuggled in next to me. Sometimes, I think it belongs to them, and they let me share it.
I still marveled at this feeling of being home, of the belonging. At first, I thought it was because Spirit Springs was where my dad had settled. That wasn’t it. I’d been here several times to visit. I’d stayed in this very room. I’d picked out the duvet and curtains. The books on the shelves were mine.
It had to be the people. Jack made me happy. I couldn’t help the smile I felt on my lips. He’d included me in his life. I even kept his dog, Lois, when he left town. I felt important to him. I glanced at the chandelier above.
The problem came with my lousy track record with men. My nearly yearlong relationship with Don was front and center. He’d seemed like a good guy in the beginning, too. Jack was different...he had to be. He just had to be.
As a military kid, I’d moved, it seemed like every year. Transferring from one duty station to the next taught me one thing above all, nothing is permanent. I’d never experienced this sensation of being home anywhere else. This place, these people... I felt too comfortable, too happy. I even had cats now. I glanced over at Mason, the big male stopped snoring as he rolled over on his back.
Jane had become a great friend. Uncle Stan’s visits completed our happy makeshift family. The one thing missing was Soph and her family.
Family. A blast of anxiety rattled through me. Too much, too soon. I had to slow down, give things a chance to play out in real time, not let this rush of emotions overwhelmed me. I shivered. Jack hadn’t pressured me for anything more than the pleasure of his company and his kisses. He was and wasn’t the problem. It was everything coming at me too fast. I’ve always heard relationships based on intense situations never work. I started another list.
How long would it be before time robbed me of this place and these people—loved ones?
Neither the ceiling nor the delicate crystal chandelier hanging from it were giving me any answers. I needed to talk to Jack. I know it sounds crazy since he was the main reason I needed to apply the brakes. But there it was. I tell him things I don’t tell anyone else. Not even my best friend Soph. Fear spread through me...again. If things ended badly this time, I wasn’t sure there’d be a road back for me.
I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Jack was probably asleep. The only thing I’d been able to get out of him earlier was it began in the morning.
Perfect. Christmas Eve.
Instead of being considerate, I called Jack.
“Hi,” he answered.
“I don’t like this thing Don has you doing. I don’t want you hurt again. I know you’re healed from the bullet wound in October, but tomorrow...today is Christmas Eve, and you’re going off to do who knows what. You can’t, Uncle Stan will be here—” I was pretty sure I’d just slipped off the sanity rail— “and I don’t want any more turmoil, and I want Don gone. I don’t want you involved in anything that has to do with him. I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I. this is a simple exchange, I’ll be back before dinner.”
I heard a noise on his end of the phone.
“I’ll call you right back.”
“No, wait.” Too late.
I shouldn’t have called. Jack needed rest for this simple thing tomorrow. If Don was involved it was a sure bet, nothing would be easy about it. Jack had just gotten back from another outing. One I’m sure has nothing to do with being sheriff.
I got up and walked to the window. In the glow of the porch light below, I could see the snow as it sauntered down to meet what had already fallen. It was as if the flakes were unsure if they wanted to call this town home.
All the experts tell you not to make any major decisions for a year after a traumatic event. I wondered if I should count each situation individually, or lump them all together. I lumped them. I didn’t want to put the next seven or eight years of my life on hold. I hoped tonight wouldn’t add to my total.
I took a deep breath, and said to the cats, “I need a reliable stress relief system. Maybe a combination of running, yoga and meditation. I can’t run in the snow. Maybe I should get a treadmill. No, I hate those things.”
Jack brought a whole different dimension to my anxiety level. We’d met the first night I was in town. He’d pulled a gun on me, but the situation was desperate. He thought I’d shot my dad. It was a reasonable assumption since he lay dead on the ground behind me. In full discloser, I’d pointed my gun at him first.
I held up my cell phone. Twenty minutes had passed.
I imagine I have a half-full optimism in my head. Right now, it was bone dry. Uncle Stan would be here tomorrow—I glanced at the clock—tonight. His arrival would make Jane happy. Me, too. Even though he wasn’t my real uncle, I loved him as if he were.
The plan was to spend Christmas Eve together at Jack’s. I wouldn’t be making a drunken pass at him tonight. Too much wine, too much chaos, and no self-control had led to an unforced error on my part in October. I didn’t need the wine now. I couldn’t help but smile. I was content with his kisses and to hold him. For now.
“Slow down,” I said out loud. I sighed and let my gaze wander around my room. The gifts I still needed to wrap were lined up on the window seat. One of the toys I’d gotten Lois, Jack’s Spinone, had fallen to the floor. No doubt, Mason’s handy work. “Crazy cat.”
After replacing it, I went downstairs for a drink of water. As I passed through the entry, I thought I saw a wisp of light and shadow sweep through the library.
I shivered. Jane’s nephew had died about where I was standing, murdered by the man intent on killing me. “Probably one of the resident ghosts I keep hearing about.” The scientist part of my brain rationalized it was more likely the reflections of headlights from the main road filtering through the trees.
I smiled. Ghosts. Jane’s Nana was going to clear the house of spirits on New Year’s Day. Nana—everyone just calls her Nana—assured me it was the best time. I wondered how she was going to banish the spirits. Jane said it wouldn’t hurt after all the deaths in the house. I was sure it wasn’t necessary. I figured our spirits have better thing to do after we die than hang around righting perceived wrongs or scaring the bejesus out of the living. Still, I liked Nana, there was something mysterious about her.
I hoped the banishment didn’t involve hanging garlic in the windows. No, garlic was for vampires. A séance would be interesting. Maybe not. When they have them in old movies, it leads to more ghosts, and inevitably someone dying. My thoughts had come full circle. Damn it. I didn’t want any more dead anyone or anything.
I rubbed my bare arms. I’d bought this negligee for Don. Not only why was I wearing it, why did I still have it? The still-having-it part was most likely because it cost two-hundred dollars. It was going in the trash the minute I got back upstairs.
I tossed the pink lace garment in the trash. “On second thought.” I retrieved it. It’s pretty. I’d donate it. Someone else will like it. I put on different nightwear.
Thirty minutes had passed. He’d call, I thought as I went in and brushed my teeth, again.
I left the bathroom and informed the cats, “He’s had long enough.” I picked up my phone and dialed Jack’s number.
No answer. “He must be busy. Had Don moved up the mission?”
No. Jack would have called.
I waited.
At one a.m., I decided something was wrong, and got dressed. On the stairs, I stopped before I reached the entry. “This is absolute insanity. He’ll call.”
I knew I wouldn’t sleep if I didn’t do something. “Shit. This man is so much trouble.” I’m not much of a wait-and-see person. Besides, I couldn’t deny the apprehension that was swarming around me like a mass of mosquitoes. I do
n’t have ESP, it comes down to Jack being a man of his word. There was a valid reason he hadn’t called. I knew I should wait, but again—not great at waiting.
Jack had brought me home, so I didn’t have a car. It would take me fifteen minutes or more in this snow to walk back to the bar and grill. I’d borrow Jane’s truck. I hurried to the house behind the old stables.
I knocked.
A light came through an upstairs window. A minute later, the porch light blinked on clear and bright. As soon as the door opened, I started talking. “Jane, I need to borrow your truck. Jack’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s probably asleep like a person should be.” She yawned.
“No. I was talking to him. That was over an hour ago, he said he’d call me right back. Now he isn’t answering his phone.”
“I’ll get dressed.”
“No. I need to use your truck.”
“Keys are in it.”
I ran for the truck.
“Call me. I’ll worry,” Jane shouted through the falling snow. Two inches now covered the truck, and it was coming down harder.
Starting Jane’s oxidized red heap is hit-and-miss on a warm day. It’s older than I am. I’m not sure it isn’t older than she is. I prayed it would start. To sweeten the deal, I promised it new seat covers if it started. To my surprise, the bribe worked. I drove past the B&B. Don’s rental car sat near the front of the building. So, I couldn’t blame him this time.
»§«
A burst of sanity hit me as I pulled to a stop in front of Jack’s. This was crazy. Anything might be keeping him from calling. I backed up. “I should go home and–
I slammed on the breaks, killed the engine and jumped out.
Jack’s front door stood open. The Christmas wreath gone.
In Idaho, in the mountains, in December, you don’t leave your door open. I grab my .38 from my purse.
I took the front steps two at a time and ran for the front door.
Maybe he was outside. “Jack?”
Nothing.
Only the gentle sound of snow falling on snow.