Maverick Christmas

by Joanna Wayne

  “Fortunately I was able to help a little. One of the cops who I’d worked with in setting up the drug sting let me know what was going on, and I made it back to New Orleans just in time to assist Logan in the boys’ rescue.”

  “I’m quite sure you’re underplaying your role in that.”

  “No, Logan and Rachel were the real heroes of that situation. I owe the boys’ lives to them.”

  “What happened to the man who killed Tess?”

  “He went to jail, along with several other men who were involved in the club’s murderous perversions, including Rachel’s boss. There’s more, but the moral of the story is that I failed the boys when they were young. Now I’m doing my best to make it up to them and see that they have the kind of happiness they deserve.”

  It was over. He’d said it all, and it hadn’t been nearly as hard as he’d feared. Credit Chrysie with that. She was far easier to talk to than any woman he’d ever met.

  “I’m not too hot in the discipline department,” he said, “but with the help of the right child psychologist, I could probably improve.”

  Chrysie wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re a super dad, Josh, and I understand exactly how you feel about the boys. It’s the same for me. I’d give my life for my girls in a heartbeat.”

  Josh turned so that he could look her straight in the eye. “No more talk of giving your life. I mean it, Chrysie. I don’t even want to hear you say that.”

  She snuggled against him and pressed her lips to his. The kiss took his breath away and awakened a swirling rush of need that he had no interest in fighting. They fell back onto the bed together, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs and a hunger that took over his body and soul.

  Like it or not, she was part of him now. And he was not about to lose her to a killer.

  CHRYSIE POURED HER first cup of coffee of the morning and watched a few minutes of the local morning news on Grecco’s small under-the-counter TV before joining Josh and Grecco at the kitchen table. Both men had their laptops out, but they were poring over the same bank statements and deposit slips Josh had scrutinized at her house last night.

  She took the chair next to Josh’s. “Any new thoughts on the subject now that you’ve slept on it?”

  “Not really.” He looked up from the paperwork. “You sound hoarse. Are you sure you feel okay?”

  “It’s just my sinuses.” She looked at Josh’s computer screen. It held what appeared to be a listing of dates and data from Jonathan’s bank accounts. “So the two of you have had your heads together all morning and haven’t come up with any new theories?”

  Both shook their heads, but the look they exchanged made her very suspicious. She was about to question them further when her thoughts were interrupted by the young female broadcaster announcing a late-breaking news bulletin.

  Grecco grabbed the remote and turned up the television’s volume.

  “Two men were found shot to death early this morning in a southeast Houston motel room after other guests reported hearing gunfire. The men have been identified as Mac Buckley and Sean Rogers, both residents of Brownsville, Texas. Police have released no further information on the double murder.”

  “Damn,” Grecco muttered. “That screws my investigation to hell and back.”

  Josh stood and went to get a refill of coffee. “I take it you know the victims.”

  “They’re the black-market baby suspects I was talking about earlier.” Grecco pulled his laptop in front of him and punched a few keys. “Here’s their pictures. Ugly sons of bitches, aren’t they?” He pushed the computer to Chrysie so she could have a look.

  Her heart jumped to her throat. “That’s them! The ones who killed Jonathan.”

  Josh was at her side in an instant. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive. It all adds up with what you said last night. If Jonathan was killed by men involved in the baby ring, then he must have been blackmailing them. It explains the deposits and his murder.”

  Grecco pushed away from the table. “Looks like you may have nailed it, Josh. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ve got to make a couple of very urgent phone calls.”

  Chrysie’s pulse skyrocketed and relief crashed through her like a tidal wave. She stood and grabbed Josh’s hands to anchor herself to reality as much as anything else.

  “It’s over,” she said, finding it hard to believe. “All the fear. All the running. It’s just over.”

  “Not quite,” Josh said. “There’s still the matter of a police investigation.”

  “But I can tell the police the full truth now. Once they realize what I was up against, they’ll understand why I ran. I’ll go in and talk to Detective Hernandez this morning. I am so ready to go on with my life.”

  “Not a good idea. You should let me do the talking for you. It’s always best to feel them out first and get our bargaining chips on the table.”

  “Do we have bargaining chips?”

  “Yes, Dr. Harwell, I believe that we do.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but she’d figure it out later. Right now she only wanted to revel in the knowledge that the men who’d haunted her every nightmare for the past three years were dead and her daughters were safe at last.

  “Handle it however you want, Sheriff McCain, but right now I need a kiss.”

  Josh handled her request to perfection.

  CHRYSIE HATED BEING left at Grecco’s town house while Josh went to visit the HPD and Grecco rushed off to deal with the hoopla and complications involving his dead suspects. She was still so excited she could barely keep from going up on the rooftop and shouting the news to everyone who passed. She felt so free and…young.

  Young. That was the operative word here. She felt as energetic and impetuous as a teenager and just as ready to jump into life. She’d love to go down to the clinic and share her great news with her colleagues, love to go shopping at the Galleria and buy dozens of presents for the girls, huge presents that didn’t have to fit inside her old luggage so that they could be hauled from town to town.

  A kitchen set and a bed for Mandy’s doll. A bike for Jenny. And a puppy. This was going to be one terrific Christmas.

  Only she couldn’t go shopping or to the clinic just yet. She’d promised to stay at the condo until she heard from Josh. But she could at least go outside. She wouldn’t even need a jacket. It was a balmy eighty-two degrees in Houston. Coming home had been the right thing to do after all.

  Chrysie pocketed her cell phone and a few dollars just in case she came across a vending machine. There was not one diet soda in Grecco’s fridge. How did men live on milk and beer alone?

  The complex was bigger than she’d realized, and the location was terrific for a city dweller. There was a Mexican restaurant on the corner and a gourmet coffee shop across the street, the two staples of Houston life.

  Chrysie took the stone path that led to the center of the complex and a lavishly landscaped swimming pool. It was hard to believe she’d gone from a freezing and very frightening snowmobile ride to this in a matter of two days.

  She slipped out of her sneakers and dipped one big toe into the water. It was amazingly warm. In fact, too inviting to resist. So she rolled up her pants legs, took a seat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the clear blue water.

  She hadn’t felt so safe and free in years, except that as soon as she started to totally relax, her mind drifted back to the sordid tale Josh had told her about his sons’ mother.

  One day Chrysie would face that same kind of situation with Mandy and Jenny. Eventually they’d ask about their father, and she’d have to tell them that Jonathan had been murdered because of his involvement with blackmail and the likes of Mac Buckley and Sean Rogers.

  She only hoped that when all the facts were in they’d discover that he wasn’t quite as morally corrupt as he appeared now. Which made her wonder what Luisa had been referring to last night when she’d told Josh that she had new information about
Jonathan.

  Josh had been too intrigued with the blackmail angle to give Luisa’s comment much attention, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important. Chrysie couldn’t go to Luisa’s home or office, as she’d suggested, but there was no reason she couldn’t call her.

  Josh had taken Luisa’s business card with him this morning, but he’d left it on the dressing table last night with everything else from his pockets, and Chrysie had made a mental note of the number. The area code and prefix were the same as her cell number had been when she’d lived in Houston. And the last four numbers were 3399. Who could forget that?

  She pulled her feet from the water and found a lounge chair in the shade before punching in the number. Luisa answered on the second ring.

  Chrysie hesitated. This would be the first person she’d talked to from her old life. But the fear was finally over. It was time to move on.

  “Hello, Luisa. This is Cassandra Harwell.”

  “Cassandra, what a delightful surprise.”

  Cassandra. The name made her feel like an imposter. Somewhere along the way she’d become a different person, and Chrysie fit her much better than her former name. She might just keep it.

  “It’s good to talk to you, too, Luisa.”

  “I’ve been worried sick about you and the girls. Are Mandy and Jenny okay?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Tell me you’re in town. I have so much to tell you.”

  “You can tell me on the phone.”

  The pause seemed to last forever. “I’d rather talk to you in person. And, actually, I know you’re in town, Cassandra. I heard a rumor that your were returning and I saw the two freshly washed glasses on the counter at your house last night.

  Chrysie saw no real reason to argue the issue when everyone would know soon. She’d either be in custody of the police while they finished the investigation or she’d be a free woman. Either way, she was through running.

  “Perhaps we can get together tomorrow,” Chrysie said.

  “I’m leaving for the west coast this afternoon and I won’t be back until after the Christmas holidays. I really don’t think we should wait that long to talk. Can’t we at least meet for coffee?”

  A simple enough request if Chrysie hadn’t promised Josh she wouldn’t leave the complex. But then, just walking across the street wasn’t actually leaving the complex. “How about meeting at a coffee shop in the Montrose area?”

  “That would be ideal,” Luisa said. “Just give me an address and about twenty minutes to get there.”

  Chrysie didn’t know the address, but she gave Luisa directions.

  “I know exactly where that is. I’ll tell you what—if you get there first, order me a plain coffee and meet me on their side patio. We’ll have more privacy that way. And I can promise you that what I have to tell will come as a complete surprise.”

  LUISA FLEW OUT OF her house five minutes later, briefcase in hand. She was halfway out of the garage when she noticed that the door that led from the back of her garage to the side garden was ajar. She was about to stop and close it, then realized that Manuel would have left it open. He was probably already weeding away at his chores.

  She reached over and patted the briefcase again, assuring herself that she had what she needed. She hadn’t lied. Cassandra would indeed be surprised.

  CHRYSIE TRIED TO CALL Josh but got a busy signal. She could just leave a message, but she really wanted to talk to him and hear how things were going with the HPD. She’d call him back when she got to the coffee shop.

  Chrysie had taken time to change into a clean pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. She felt a little underdressed even for coffee. Luisa was always dressed as if she were about to be photographed for a fashion magazine.

  Luisa was waiting for her at one of the outside umbrella-covered tables. She looked right past Chrysie as she approached, obviously not recognizing her as a blonde.

  Chrysie stopped at the table. “Hello, Luisa. It’s been a while.”

  Luisa pulled off her sunglasses. “Cassandra?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Wow! You look fabulous!”

  “Thanks. You look great, too, as always.”

  Luisa stood and kissed Chrysie’s cheek, lightly so as not to muss her lipstick.

  “I took the liberty of ordering iced lattes for both of us,” she said, pointing at two condensation-soaked glasses in front of her. “It’s quite warm today, and I thought the cold drinks would be more refreshing.”

  “I agree.” Chrysie took a sip of the coffee. It had a tangy sweetness she hadn’t expected. “What’s the flavor?”

  “Toffee-nut. The signboard said it was their flavor of the day, and the girl behind the counter recommended it. If you don’t like it, we can send yours back and you can choose something else.”

  “No, it’s fine, just different.”

  They tried to make small talk while they drank their lattes, but the attempt fell flat. Their relationship had always been based on Jonathan’s partnership with Luisa, and with that off the table, there was really nothing left.

  About halfway through the coffee Chrysie found it difficult to even concentrate on what Luisa was saying. In fact, she was feeling a bit woozy, and the sun’s glare seemed almost blinding. Worse, her throat was feeling drier by the second.

  She took a big gulp of the drink. “I have to get back,” she lied, “so what is it you wanted to tell me?”

  “I have a photograph that’s truly worth a thousand words. Walk over to the car with me and I’ll show it to you.”

  She had trouble following what Luisa was saying. Maybe it was the drastic difference in climate between Montana and Houston that was making her feel so groggy. Or it could be those cold pills she’d taken this morning. She’d love to just put her head on the table and take a nap, but the sun was so bright.

  Luisa hovered over her, tugging her arm. “Come with me, dear. This will only take a minute, and then I think I’d best drive you home. You’re starting to look quite flushed.”

  Chrysie’s feet dragged along the pavement until she found herself leaning against a black sedan. Luisa opened the back door of the car. “Get in, Cassandra. People are starting to stare. You don’t want them to see you drunk in public.”

  “No, I’m not drunk. It’s just…”

  “Get in so that I can show you the picture.”

  “No.” Chrysie tried to push away from the car but fell forward instead. Things were really fuzzy now, and Luisa’s head seemed to be floating in space.

  “Josh said…”

  She didn’t remember what Josh had said. She should call him. Only when she tried to take her phone from her pocket, her fingers just slid over it. She’d call him later. She had to lie down now. She fell to the seat of the car.

  The car door slammed shut. She closed her eyes. She was cold and incredibly tired. She’d have to call Josh later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Josh had gotten the runaround all morning from Juan Hernandez, and he was about to tell the detective what he could do with his threats and blustering when Hernandez finally agreed to bring his partner and his supervisor into the discussion.

  The meeting was in the supervisor’s office, a room three times the size of Hernandez’s crowded space, with chairs that weren’t piled with overflowing files. Hernandez had excused himself to go nuke a cup of stale coffee while they waited for his partner, Angela Martina, to finish a phone call.

  Angela arrived before Hernandez returned. Josh had the fleeting sensation that he’d met her before, but he couldn’t imagine where that might have been. After the introductions, she walked over to a handsomely framed magazine-size photograph of a boy and a dog that hung over the file cabinet.

  “My wife loves the picture,” the supervisor said. “She wants to know when you’re going to take one of my son and his dog.”

  “Anytime. But you should get my stepsister to photograph them. Luisa’s the expert, especially at mergi
ng images the way I did with the girl and the cat. I’m still in the learning stages.”

  A female homicide detective with a stepsister named Luisa—had to be Luisa Pellot. No wonder Angela looked familiar. But they were stepsisters, not sisters, which could explain the vast age difference between the two.

  And Luisa was an expert at merging images—like putting Jonathan’s and Vanessa’s faces on other people’s bodies. That definitely added credence to his and Grecco’s theory that she could have been the one Jonathan was blackmailing.

  But still they lacked any real evidence. If Luisa Pellot had ever had anything to do with the baby black market or paid killers, she’d covered her tracks very well.

  That could all change very soon. Grecco was on the situation like ketchup on fries, and he had the authority and technical equipment to take care of business.

  Hernandez finally joined them, and Josh laid his cards on the table. He presented his findings, including the information Grecco had provided on this morning’s motel victims. Bottom line, there was con siderable evidence to indicate that while Cassandra Harwell may have run, she was not guilty of killing her husband.

  Josh’s cell phone rang just as he finished his spiel. The caller ID gave Chrysie’s number. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I have to take this.”

  He stepped into the hall. “What’s up?”

  Her response was muffled, as if she were a long way from the handset. “Speak up, Chrysie. I can’t understand you.” He could hear talking, but the reception was poor.

  He walked a few yards down the hall and did the standard can-you-hear-me-now routine. Still indistinct. “We have a bad signal,” he said. “I’ll hang up and you call me back.”

  The response was still indistinguishable, but he’d almost swear he’d heard the word blackmail.

  “Chrysie! Chrysie! Are you there?”

  If she was, she wasn’t talking. A cold dread knotted in his chest. He shouldn’t have left her alone.