Deadly Holiday

by Margaret Daley

  “Probably a good watch dog, too,” Tory said.

  “That’s an added bonus.” No need to mention that his pastor wouldn’t give up on him until he sought help.

  She slanted a look at him. “I imagine you know how to take care of yourself.”

  “If you’re referring to my military training, then yes, I usually can.” Usually being the key word. Nothing he could do for his comrades when those explosives bombarded them. The shrapnel scars on his left thigh and his terrible memories were all he had left from that day. More than most of the guys, who hadn’t escaped at all.

  He stared out the side window. He thanked God every day that his pastor had cared enough to keep coming back until he’d persuaded him to get help. Last December, he’d moved with Dutch to Crystal Creek for a fresh start.

  When Tory started up the mountain, she glanced at him again. “Thank you for coming. I feel safe with you here.”

  Jordan tried to ignore the warmth those words made him feel.

  “I’m not sure what to expect with the Nelsons,” she continued. “I don’t understand why they told the police Mr. Nelson was out-of-town. There must be an explanation or a misunderstanding.”

  “Or, for some reason, they’re lying.”

  “Why would they lie? Unless the person in the sports car was related to them. The young man I saw was probably no more than twenty.”

  “I’m good with computers. I can look into the Nelson family if you don’t get answers today.”

  “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Why would you lie about something like that? Before I rented that house to you, I checked your references.” And more, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He had a lot of rental properties in Crystal Creek and the surrounding towns, and he did background checks all the time, but since she would be living next door, he went even further.

  “What made you come over yesterday afternoon?”

  “With all that pounding, I wanted to make sure you weren’t tearing down my house.”

  She grinned. “You don’t have that to fear from me. I don’t have a lot of strength in my arms. Maybe I should take up weight lifting.”

  “Exercising is a great stress reliever.” He should know. Hadn’t he spent hours working out in the last couple of years? Just one more technique to keep him sane.

  “And I intend to work it into my schedule—one day.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “In the distant future.”

  “Yep, you’ve got me pegged.” As they climbed the mountain, Jordan noticed Tory stiffening, her grasp on the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were white.

  This whole situation was strange. And intriguing. “I’d like to stop and look at the crime scene.”

  “Checking my story out?”

  “No, but I’ve learned to get the lay of the land before going into battle.”

  “I suppose I do feel like that.” She chuckled. “When I talked with the sergeant yesterday, he said the test results proved the blood on the pavement was from an animal. I’m going to try and get a sample of it. I know it wasn’t an animal, and I intend to have my own lab test run on it.”

  “Oh, yeah? Do you know someone who can do that?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I can find a lab somehow.”

  “I know a police detective in Denver who might be able to get it checked for you.”

  She slowed the Jeep and parked on the shoulder of the two-lane road. As she climbed from the vehicle, she said, “Be careful stepping out. The drop off isn’t too far away.”

  It had been a long time since anyone worried for his well-being. The gesture touched him and softened his war-weary heart. He climbed from the car, peeked past the guardrail, and whistled. “You weren’t kidding. That’d be quite a fall.”

  As he rounded the rear of her Jeep, she kept her head lowered and swept her gaze over the pavement. Her brow wrinkled, and her mouth pinched together.

  “It’s gone. I know this is the right place. Mr. Nelson landed two feet from this rock formation.” Pointing at the place, she looked toward him, her green eyes stormy. “Someone must have cleaned the blood up. Why?”

  Had Tory really witnessed a hit-and-run? Or was she making it up? Or just crazy? But no—all the references he’d checked had given her glowing reports. Full of integrity. Caring. And nothing from their casual conversations had contradicted that. He stepped nearer to her, wanting to erase the concern from her face. “Let’s check for blood splatter on those rocks near the shoulder. If someone did clean up the road, he might not have thought about that.”

  While she went to the pile of stones, he knelt and examined the asphalt. In the service, he’d learned to track using all his senses. A slight odor of bleach teased his keen sense of smell.

  “Nothing,” Tory said with a sigh.

  He rose and inspected the rock formation. Slightly to the right, a small evergreen bush grew. He scrutinized the foliage and found a couple of red drops. “This could be something.” He took out his Swiss Army knife and cut off the branch. “Do you have a sack to put this in?”

  “I have a bag from Christmas shopping yesterday.”

  Jordan accompanied Tory to the rear of her SUV. He carefully inserted the stem with a couple of leaves into the sack. “If a test confirms this is human blood, then it might help you to convince the police something is going on.”

  “Or they’ll dismiss it because there’s no way to tell when it got on the shrub.”

  “It rained last week, so that’ll narrow the timeframe some. Over time, it would have dried and flaked off. This is pretty fresh. And if it’s human, his DNA might be found on it. They’ll have a hard time denying that.”

  “Right.” Tory slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “The address on Mr. Nelson’s driver’s license isn’t far from here.”

  “Since you have the license plate of the sports car, why don’t I check with my friend in Denver to see who owns the sports car?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure. I’ll call Gage this evening. No reason not to check the whereabouts of that car and the driver. I’m particularly interested in where they were Friday afternoon.”

  “Sergeant Bennett told me the owner had an airtight alibi. And get this—the sports car was reported stolen.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t share much with me.”

  “And he didn’t tell you who owned it and what the alibi was?”

  She shook her head and turned left down a gravel road leading to a large, once white house about five hundred yards from the highway. As she stopped in front of the rundown abode, a huge man with a full dark beard came out onto the slanting porch, pointed his rifle and glared.

  Chapter Two

  Paralyzed behind the steering wheel, Tory turned wide eyes on Jordan. “This isn’t a good sign.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the right place.”

  “I saw Nelson painted on the mailbox. This has to be the place. What should we do?”

  Instead of answering, Jordan opened the door and climbed out, his arms spread out to indicate he wasn’t carrying a weapon. “We must be lost. Can you help us?”

  The landowner chewed something for a moment, his sharp eyes assessing them, then spit out of the side of his mouth. “Who are ya looking for? We don’t git too many visitors here.”

  “Charles Nelson. Do you know where he is?”

  The man lowered his rifle. “Nope. He’s been gone fer a while.”

  “When will he be home?”

  The large man shrugged, but as Tory exited the car, the man’s attention turned to her, his hands tightening on his weapon. “You best be goin’.”

  “But Charles Nelson does live here?” Her voice was squeaky on the last word, and she had to force herself not to look at the rifle.

  “Who are ya?” The big man’s stiff stance eased a little.

  “Tory Caldwell.”

  “Why do ya want him?”
/>
  “It’s a personal matter.” A brisk wind coming off the mountain shivered down Tory’s length.

  “Personal with ya?” The landowner cackled. “No way. More likely a bill collector.”

  “No, I’m not.” She stepped forward a few paces. “Then he is here?”

  “Dinna ya hear, Lady? I said he ain’t here. Git off my property. Now.” Tensing, the giant clutched the gun in front of his barrel chest, his stance threatening, the weapon aimed at her.

  She threw a glance at Jordan, wanting answers but not sure how to get them.

  He backed up toward the passenger door, his arms raised as though he were being arrested. “We’re leaving.”

  Shaking, Tory followed, climbed in, and put the car in reverse. As soon as the doors both closed, she backed away.

  When she turned around in the yard, Jordan said, “Floor it.”

  She glanced out the rearview mirror. The giant fixed his sight on her Jeep. Tory stomped on the accelerator, gravel spewing everywhere.

  A shot reverberated through the clearing. Scenes from her past flashed across her mind—David playing Frisbee with Morgan, David helping her make breakfast, her husband pulling her into his arms…

  A shudder whipped down her. She waited for the impact of a bullet, a window to shatter. She pressed down on the pedal even more. The rear end fishtailed, but she didn’t let up. When she turned onto the highway, she inhaled a decent breath and blew it out. Trembling set in.

  “Hey, are you all right? Why don’t I drive?”

  She pulled over but didn’t move from the driver’s seat. “What happened back there?”

  “We were shot at. I don’t think he wanted us on his property.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Good question and one I intend to find the answer to. I don’t take kindly to being shot at.”

  A steel thread ran through Jordan’s voice, but when she twisted toward him, she saw an ashen cast to his face. It probably mirrored her own expression. “I think we hit a touchy subject.”

  “I think you’re right, which makes me wonder why.” Jordan plowed his fingers through his short black hair. “Maybe he’s hiding something.”

  She reached out and clasped his arm. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. If anything had happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. You’re only here because of me.”

  He glanced at her hand then into her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t come alone. Promise me you’ll stay far away from that guy.”

  “I have a son who lost his father two years ago.” The trembling increased as she considered what could have just happened to her, to Morgan. She swallowed hard, tears blurring her eyes. She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “I’m all he has, so I don’t plan on doing anything stupid, especially after that.”

  “Good.” One corner of his mouth tilted in a grin. “You’re the kind of tenant a landowner wants, and I’d hate to lose you.”

  For just a second, she wanted to read more into that statement. Ridiculous. She barely knew Jordan. And no one could replace David.

  She put the Jeep into drive and continued to ascend the mountain. “I’m late picking up Morgan. I’m going to have to tell him about what I saw Friday. I grew up in a small town, and I know how fast news can make the rounds.”

  “So do you want me to dig into information about the Nelsons?”

  “Yes, if you would. And call your friend in Denver about that car. Something’s not right here. It looks like Charles Nelson didn’t have much money, but he deserves a proper burial. No telling where his body is.” She pulled into the driveway of Morgan’s friend’s house. “And I know what I saw. A man died on that road Friday afternoon.”

  “I’ll do it if you promise me you won’t do anything without letting me know. If something is wrong here, I don’t want you putting yourself in danger. As you said, you have a son who depends on you.”

  Jordan’s concern made her feel she wasn’t so alone now without David. That first year after his death had been the most difficult time of her life. She wouldn’t have gotten through it without the Lord. The way she’d found her teaching job at Crystal Creek Elementary, stumbling into the perfect house to rent—those had God’s hand all over them. And for the past four months, she and Morgan had been doing a lot better. Until Friday.

  “I promise. I only want to ask some questions. Maybe the Nelsons found the body and got rid of it for some reason. They didn’t commit the crime. Believe me. That sports car was expensive. Not something they could afford from the looks of their property.”

  “If I can’t come up with anything concrete, will you let it go?”

  What else could she do? “Yes.”

  Morgan came out of the house and hurried toward the Jeep. When he saw Jordan sitting in the front seat, he climbed into the back. “Hi, Jordan. I didn’t expect to see you here with Mom.”

  “I figure we might have some time to get in a basketball game before it gets dark. I didn’t get a chance to run today, and I need some exercise.”

  “You two play basketball together?” Tory headed for the road.

  “Yep. I told you, Mom, that me and Josh played with Jordan and some other guys on the court down the street. Jordan is really good. He’s been giving me some pointers.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember you saying something a couple of weeks ago.” She must be more rattled than she realized.

  “Where’s Dutch?” her son asked.

  Jordan glanced back at Morgan. “He’s at home.”

  “When are you going to start working on your Mustang?”

  “This week. You can help if you want.”

  “Really! Mom, can I?”

  “If Jordan says it’s okay, then it’s fine with me. I know how much you love cars.” Tory tensed as she neared the spot where the hit-and-run had occurred.

  “What male doesn’t,” Jordan said with a laugh.

  “She’s a girl. To Mom a car is for taking you places. That’s all.”

  They passed the spot, and Tory forced lightness into her voice. “What do you boys think a car is?”

  “The right car is a work of art. Its sleek lines, the way it moves.” Jordan angled toward Morgan. “Right?”

  “Yeah. A Mustang is a classic.”

  Tory chuckled. “You two are hopeless.”

  As Jordan and Morgan discussed restoring the ’65 Mustang in his garage, she realized her son had adjusted to life in Crystal Creek better than she had in the four months they’d lived there. With the move, then teaching a different grade at a new school, she’d been so focused on her work, she’d let other things slip.

  Christmas was a good time to reach out to others, starting with Jordan. Anyone who was willing to help her with the hit-and-run and reach out to her son was worth knowing.

  * * *

  At school Monday, Tory sat at her desk and ate her lunch while she worked on a few special activities for the last week before Christmas break. Her third graders were counting down until Friday. She was no better, though. She was counting the minutes until school was out, because she’d invited Jordan over for dinner. She put her Christmas activities aside and started on a grocery list for tonight.

  Morgan was excited Jordan had agreed to come. Her son needed a male role model. He and David had spent so much time together, playing basketball and wrestling in the yard. Watching Morgan’s hope whither while David’s cancer rapidly got worse had broken her heart. Morgan took his father’s death harder than she had. Until she’d seen her son and Jordan playing basketball at the park yesterday, she hadn’t realized how much Morgan needed a man in his life to do activities like that.

  Her classroom door opened. Too early for the children to be returning to class from lunch and recess, Tory looked up and clenched her hands. Why was he here? On Saturday over the phone, Sergeant Bennett had implied again that she must be loco.

  She stayed at her desk, making him come to her across the room. “Have you discovered something new? Like Charles Nel
son’s body?”

  The police officer frowned, his bushy eyebrows slashing almost together. “What body?”

  “The one you can’t find. Did you call Charles Nelson’s brother to see if he was there like his son said?”

  The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. Like the man’s son said, no one answered because they’re on their yearly hunting trip, which I’ve seen pictures of on the wall at the Nelsons’ place. I’ve left several messages to call me as soon as possible. Nothing so far.”

  She felt as if she lived in a parallel universe where all the laws of nature were different. None of this made sense. “Thank you for letting me know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do before the children return.”

  “I have one more piece of business.” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and laid it on the desk near her.

  “What’s that?”

  “A restraining order.”

  Chapter Three

  Tory held her emotions inside while she finished teaching for the day, but her blood boiled at the gall of the Nelson family. Charles’s son, Bart, was the one who’d shot at her and Jordan. If anyone had a right to get a restraining order against someone, it was she.

  Her hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel so tightly as she drove to the grocery store and then home. She’d wanted to vent to the police sergeant, but her class came back early. Maybe that short rain at noon had kept her from saying something she would have regretted.

  Exhausted, Tory drove into her driveway, spying Jordan working on his car next door. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans, his muscular biceps visible for her enjoyment, although the December temperature was in the forties. Cold didn’t seem to bother him. Not like her—she was chilly on a sunny day in the low sixties.