Deadly Christmas Secrets

by Shirlee McCoy

  She’d been too emotional for him, too unpredictable.

  Maybe that was why things had ended the way they had.

  “Harper?” Logan’s hand cupped her elbow, as if he thought she might fall over without some support.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I will be okay,” she responded. “Is that better?”

  “It’s more honest, and it’s correct. You will be okay.”

  “And I will go to Gabe’s. I have to talk to him. I want to see the piece of cloth he received in the mail, see if it matches the one I have.”

  “Did you pack that?”

  She nodded. She’d grabbed it first, keeping it in the envelope it had arrived in and stowing it in the bottom of the duffel. She’d thought about packing just that. She didn’t care about preparing for days or weeks or worrying about whether or not she’d have enough to sustain her until she could return. All she wanted to do was talk to her brother-in-law and see if the things they’d been sent matched. If his little piece of blanket was the same as hers, if they’d both been pulled into something neither of them had known anything about.

  Only, she wasn’t certain that Gabe hadn’t known.

  As much as she hadn’t wanted to suspect it, as much as she’d told herself that everything Gabe had done had been to protect his reputation and keep him from losing clients and credibility, she’d always wondered if he’d thrown her under the bus to keep suspicion focused in other directions.

  “What else do you need?” Logan prodded, and she realized she was standing there, the duffel over her shoulder, her heart beating frantically, the tears so close to the surface she was afraid they’d fall.

  “Answers.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go get them, then.”

  “Just like that?”

  “What did you expect?”

  “An argument for your plan?”

  “My plan is to keep you safe and to help you find out the truth about your niece.”

  “I’m not sure that Gabe is going to be happy to have you involved.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be? He hired HEART. He’s the one who got me involved.”

  “He got you involved in finding me, but that doesn’t mean he wants you to stay involved. Gabe likes to be in charge, and he likes things done his way. He won’t be happy if you stir the pot and mess things up.”

  “If he’s not, then it’s because he has something to hide, something that he’d rather not have come to light.”

  “I was thinking that,” she murmured. She was thinking a lot of things, and she wasn’t comfortable with most of them.

  She’d spent four years believing her niece was dead, four years certain that she had no family, no obligations, no need to be anywhere other than where she wanted to be—safe and secure in the cabin.

  If Amelia was alive, everything changed.

  If Amelia was alive, Harper would go back to DC.

  If she was alive, then that was something Harper needed to know, something she desperately needed to find out. Now. Not two days from now or a month from now.

  Her pulse jumped at the thought, the need to find the truth making her want to run straight to Gabe’s place. There was no room for concern about her own safety, no time to think about whether or not she’d put herself in more danger if she visited her brother-in-law.

  “You can’t avoid looking at me forever,” Logan said quietly, and she realized that was exactly what she’d been doing. Avoiding his midnight blue eyes, his handsome face, the truth she knew she’d see in his gaze.

  He had no vested interest in her, but he’d taken a job, and he’d see it through to the end.

  Whatever that end might be.

  She didn’t know how she felt about that, but the room was small, and he was close. If she let herself, she could imagine coming out on the other side of this new problem, this new trial, with someone standing beside her. Someone a little stronger than she was, a little more certain of his place in the world.

  She wouldn’t let herself.

  Shelby women never chose well. Not when it came to men. Harper had made a mistake with Daniel. She’d believed his promises and his lies, and she’d had her heart broken because of it.

  She wouldn’t repeat that mistake. She’d never again allow herself to rely on someone else, to depend on that person.

  That was the way to heartache, and Harper figured she’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

  SEVEN

  They waited for Logan and Stella’s coworker because that made more sense than running off foolishly into the storm.

  By the time Malone Henderson arrived at the cabin, the sky had cleared, moonlight filtered out onto the glistening yard and Harper had studied the picture of the little girl for so long, her eyes hurt and her head ached. All the studying in the world hadn’t given her a clear answer about whether or not the girl was Amelia. She needed to talk to Gabe, to Detective Willard, to the FBI. She wanted to know what law enforcement was thinking. More than anything, she wanted to know the truth.

  She shivered as she walked to Malone’s SUV. Any other night, Harper would have filed away the loveliness of the ice-coated ground, the glittering trees, the moonlight sparkling in the trees. She’d have shoved them deep into that place where she collected images of things she wanted to create—the beauty of the natural world, the vibrant colors of creation. She’d always loved those things. When she’d been a graphic designer in DC, she was known for her bold approach. Rich colors, sharp angles, clean, crisp designs that jumped out at the viewer. Now she preferred subtlety. The soft color of the sky at dawn, the deep oranges and reds of the leaves at the very end of fall, the swirl of wind through trees, the gurgle of water over pebbles—those were the things she tried to capture now.

  “In,” Malone said as he opened the SUV’s door. Just that one word spoken in a gruff and impatient voice. It was enough to get her moving quickly. She slid into the SUV, stopping in the center of the bench seat as Logan urged Picasso into the back of the vehicle and set the kitten in with him.

  Simple.

  Easy.

  Everything going the way all three HEART members had told her it would. She’d been given a blow-by-blow, minute-by-minute detailed account of how they were going to leave the cabin. She’d followed instructions to a T because she didn’t want to waste time, and because it all made sense—the caution, the procession of armed people guarding her as they walked across the yard. Even Malone made sense. The guy was huge, taking up way more than his fair share of the backseat. The scar that bisected his left cheek and slid toward his jugular only added to the menacing picture he made.

  If she’d seen him on the sidewalk in the middle of broad daylight, she’d have taken a wide path around him.

  If she’d seen him at night, she’d have turned and walked the other way.

  Or run, because the guy was packing heat, and he wasn’t hiding it. His gun was clearly visible, strapped to his chest and announcing that he was ready for whatever might come.

  Nothing did.

  Logan tossed Harper’s bag in with the animals and rounded the car.

  She thought he’d get in the front seat, but he opened her door and slid in beside her.

  “You could sit next to Stella,” she muttered.

  She did not, by any stretch of the imagination, want to be sandwiched between Logan and Malone.

  “It’s a better idea to keep someone between you and whatever might be on the other side of the glass,” Logan said, his fingers brushing her hip as he buckled his seat belt.

  Just a light touch, a fleeting brush of warmth, but it lingered as Stella pulled away from the cabin.

  Harper had turned off all the cabin lights. Everything was dark. She caught a glimpse of t
he studio, the shed glistening in the moonlight.

  It felt final. As if she were saying goodbye for the last time, and she wondered if she’d come back to stay, or if she’d pack up and leave, sell the place and move on. She loved the cabin, the woods, the creeks that splashed through the property. She loved the silence, the solitude, but that had been taken away. Even if she returned, things wouldn’t be the same. She’d been found, and she couldn’t go back to the anonymity that she’d worked so hard for.

  Logan leaned close, his breath ruffling the hair near her ear as he whispered, “Relax.”

  “I am relaxed,” she said, but they both knew she wasn’t. Her muscles were taut, her back ramrod straight. To her left, Malone sat silently, his face turned to the window, his expression unreadable.

  To her right...

  Logan.

  He wasn’t as broad as his coworker, but he was just as packed with muscle, his shoulder and arm pressed against hers. She shifted, then realized she’d moved closer to Malone. He muttered something under his breath, and she shifted again. She was uneasy. Uncomfortable. With the men. With the people. With the tension that seemed to fill the car.

  They were expecting trouble.

  She had no doubt about that.

  Would they get it?

  That was something she wasn’t as certain of.

  She wanted to believe that the person who’d come after her was long gone, that maybe he’d fulfilled his agenda and would leave her alone. She might even be able to convince herself that it was true. Believing a lie never changed anything, though. She’d believed plenty when she was dating Daniel. Mostly because she’d wanted to. Daniel had been handsome and charming. He’d bought her flowers and taken her to art exhibits and symphony concerts. He’d told her that she was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d been asking God for.

  She nearly snorted at the memory.

  She’d been pulled in, hook, line and sinker. Until she’d gone to his apartment to surprise him with a home-cooked meal and found him entertaining another woman.

  The SUV rounded a curve in the road, and her muscles tightened. She did not want to fall into either of the men.

  “If you sit like that the entire trip to DC,” Logan murmured in her ear, “your muscles are going to lock up and you won’t be able to get out of the car.”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” she muttered, because there was no way she planned to lean against him or against his coworker. Her only other option was to just keep on doing what she was—sitting as straight and tense as she could.

  “We’ll have to cross it together, because if you can’t get out, I’m going to have to carry you. That could get a little awkward.”

  “Not much more awkward than sitting between two men I don’t know,” she responded, but she forced herself to relax, to release the tension in her neck and her back.

  He chuckled, his attention on the window or the darkness beyond it.

  Just like Malone. Both of them seemed completely focused and completely relaxed, but the tension was there, filling the silence, pulsing around Harper like a living thing.

  She wanted to talk. Just to fill the silence. But there’d been so many years of being alone, of having no one but herself and God to communicate with, that she wasn’t sure what to say, how to begin.

  “I’ve been thinking about your brother-in-law,” Stella said, breaking the silence and saving Harper from having to do it.

  “What about him?”

  “He was prime suspect in your sister’s murder. And your niece’s. Although if Amelia is alive...” She shrugged, her hair a deep burnished red in the dashboard lights. “I guess he couldn’t be a suspect in that.”

  “He could be a suspect in her disappearance, though,” Malone cut in. “A guy like that...lots of money, lots of women, lots of power. Maybe he got tired of his wife, but she wasn’t tired of him. Maybe he wanted her out of his life for good, but he didn’t have the heart to kill his own kid.”

  “Malone,” Logan said, his voice sharp and a little hard. “Let’s not make presumptions, and let’s remember that this is Harper’s family we’re talking about.”

  “Family stands together, man. They don’t break apart when things get tough. Gabe Wilson isn’t family,” Malone commented.

  “Lydia Wilson was,” Logan said firmly, and that was it.

  End of the conversation, but Harper didn’t want it to end. She wanted to hear more about what Stella was thinking, what she’d learned.

  She cleared her throat, tried to get the emotion out and the facts in. “I was a prime suspect, too. I’m sure if you read the police report, you know that. As far as I remember, they weren’t investigating Gabe.”

  “You were a person of interest, and that was only because you were the last person to see your sister and niece alive,” Stella corrected her as they bounced over a deep rut in the road, then stopped at the entrance to the freeway. A few cars crawled by, lights splashing on the wet pavement. It was still icy, still dangerous. Maybe that would keep the killer away.

  “That’s not the way I remember things,” Harper replied.

  “What do you remember?” Logan’s gaze was still focused outside the SUV, his arm and shoulder pressed against hers.

  She could have moved, but it would only have called attention to her discomfort, and there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. They were on their way, heading to Gabe’s and the answers she needed.

  Simple as that.

  Only nothing seemed simple.

  “There were a bunch of newspaper stories about me. I was portrayed as a jealous younger sister who’d wanted everything her sister had.”

  “Was it true?”

  “Maybe from Gabe’s perspective. He told the police that I was jealous of Lydia’s marriage and her happiness.”

  “Were you?” Stella asked as she turned onto the country road that led to town. From there, they’d connect to the interstate and head south toward Maryland.

  “No. I had a great job. Good friends.”

  “And you’d broken up with your boyfriend a couple of months before,” Stella pointed out. As if it mattered. As if that had been a reason for her to be jealous of her sister.

  “Nearly a year before that. Not that it matters,” she said, her back already aching from sitting up straight.

  She wanted to lean back against the seat, but she was afraid the bumpy country road would send her flying into Malone or, worse, Logan.

  “I read the police reports. Your brother-in-law mentioned that to the police. More than once,” Stella continued. “I guess he was trying to make it seem important.”

  “Gabe had his own agenda, I guess.”

  “To get you tossed in jail?” Stella asked.

  “Or to keep himself out of it,” Logan responded.

  “He wasn’t doing a very good job of that,” Stella said. “According to a friend of mine who works for DCPD, Gabe was a few pieces of vital evidence away from being charged with your sister’s murder.”

  “I...had no idea,” Harper admitted. “Gabe told me to get a lawyer. He warned me that I was in deep trouble.”

  “And you believed him?” Malone muttered. “Why? Because he’d proved to be a great husband and father? An upright guy who’d loved his family?”

  “Because I was being questioned by the police on a daily basis. The newspaper stories were everywhere, and people were looking at me as if I was a card-carrying member of the kill club. Clients stopped requesting me. My boss reassigned me to less prestigious projects. Eventually, he said the bad press wasn’t good for his company, and he let me go,” she replied, her voice shakier than she wanted it to be.

  Too many memories. None of them good ones. She’d have preferred now to make the trip in silence, but burying her hea
d in the sand wasn’t going to help her find the truth.

  “It was a tough time,” Logan responded, and she wondered if he really understood just how tough it had been. She’d lost her sister and her niece. Then she’d lost her job, given up the home she’d loved, the few friends she’d had.

  “It was, but I made it through.” She’d make it through this, too. She’d meet with Gabe, see what he had to say, talk to the police, decide on a plan of action. She was going to act. If Amelia was alive, she planned to find her. No matter what danger it put her in. She owed her sister that. She owed Amelia that. She owed it to herself, too. She couldn’t live with not knowing. She couldn’t go back to what she’d been doing and pretend that she didn’t have doubts, that she wasn’t wondering if the young girl in the picture Gabe had sent her was Amelia.

  She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She was done talking about the past. Until she saw Gabe, there wasn’t much more that could be done. Her fingers itched to pull the cell phone from her pocket, scroll through to that photo again. She left the phone where it was, kept her eyes closed. Let Logan think she was asleep, let Stella keep driving and Malone keep staring silently out the window. She had a lot to think about, a lot to plan. One way or another, she had to find the truth. She’d risk anything for that. Even her life.

  * * *

  Harper was a loose cannon.

  Logan had dealt with his fair share of them over the years. Hostages who thought they knew better than the team member who was trying to rescue them, desperate families willing to risk anything to have a loved one returned, men and women who thought they had a better plan, a better idea, a more secure way of getting things done than HEART. They’d all been wrong, and they’d all caused plenty of trouble. Generally, things worked out okay because HEART members were well trained and professional. They knew how to prepare for any eventuality, and they never went into a situation without more than one method of getting out.

  That didn’t mean he liked dealing with the mavericks. They made things difficult. Unless he missed his guess, Harper was going to do the same. Eyes closed, every muscle tense, she sat silently as Stella drove through Snowy Vista.