Deadly Holiday

by Margaret Daley

  She set down her slice of pizza and leaned toward her son. “Yes, I saw a man on the side of the road hit by a reckless driver after I dropped you off.”

  “I knew it.” Morgan popped the last bite into his mouth.

  “How’s basketball practice been going?” Jordan took several sips of his water.

  Morgan answered and the two began talking about basketball and his latest game, effectively taking her son’s mind off the hit-and-run. She shot Jordan a grateful smile and grabbed another slice of pizza.

  Tory began to relax, and by the end of the meal, she’d managed to eat two slices and even contribute to the conversation about sports. When Morgan pushed back from the table, she said, “Did you finish your homework at Mrs. Scott’s?”

  “No, but I don’t have much. Once I complete it, can I watch TV afterwards?”

  “One show, but I want to look at your homework before you put it up.”

  Morgan hopped to his feet and took his dishes to the counter before leaving the kitchen.

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “Yeah, I see a lot of David in him. They were close.”

  “What happened to your husband?”

  Tory told him about David’s intense battle with cancer. “We were best friends. Losing him knocked the wind out of me. I know what a good marriage is. My parents divorced when I was eleven, and I didn’t see much of my father.” She’d been determined when she’d married to work hard at her marriage, because all she could remember of her parents’ was the arguing.

  Jordan nodded sympathetically. “That must’ve been hard. My parents are happily married and retired. They live in the Bahamas.”

  “That must be a tough job. Right now, the beach sounds wonderful.” She’d love to get away from what was going on in Crystal Creek.

  “I’ve been managing my father’s properties in Colorado as well as my own. When I left the Navy, he retired.” Jordan stood, grabbed both of their dishes, and carried them to the sink.

  She stood and joined him at the counter. “What kind of properties?”

  “Rentals, three resorts, office buildings, tracks of land, and two small shopping centers in Denver.” Over half of what I manage is in Denver, but slowly I’m adding properties around this area.”

  “Why aren’t you in Denver? That’s a ninety-minute commute.” Tory put their dishes in the dishwasher.

  “There was a time I loved living in a big city, but now I relish the quiet and slower pace Crystal Creek offers. Besides, the drive to Denver is always beautiful. You can’t beat the mountains.”

  “That’s what drew me from Baltimore. I love the mountains. Not as fond of snow, but sometimes you have to take them together. This will be my first winter here.”

  “Do you have snow tires on your Jeep? Provisions if you get stuck in a snowstorm?”

  “Yes, to both questions. Remember? When I moved in, you gave me a list of what I should have in my car in case of an emergency.”

  “That’s right. I forgot.”

  She hadn’t forgotten. He’d taken the time to show her his provisions in the rear of his SUV. That was the first day she’d begun to see him more than her landlord. After that, they’d begun to talk more when they were outside. “I hope I never have an emergency to test whether or not I’m prepared, but I appreciated your guidance. I’d never lived on my own before David died. I went from college to being David’s wife.”

  He finished wiping off the table, then hung up the washcloth on edge of the sink. His arm brushed against hers. The contact was brief but electric. She started to back away but stopped when he looked toward her. Less than a foot separated them. His gaze lured her closer. He shifted toward her.

  He fingered her long blond hair behind her ears then framed her face. With his eyes smoldering like that, she felt roped to him, unable to move away even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. She wanted him to kiss her.

  Slowly he bent his head toward her and whispered his lips across hers. Tingles flashed down her. When he covered her mouth with his, she sank against him, her arms winding around him. As he deepened the kiss, she became lost in myriad of sensations—the faint smell of his lime scented aftershave, the roughness of his work-toughened hands, the taste of pizza on his tongue mingling with the coffee he’d had earlier.

  “Mom, I’m finished,” Morgan yelled from the direction of Jordan’s den. “Come check it.”

  She pulled back, reluctantly dropping her arms to her sides. “He seems to feel right at home. Shouting is his personal intercom.”

  Jordan moved away from her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m glad he feels comfortable here.”

  “We’d better go home before I find him curled up on your couch asleep.”

  When she started for the hallway, Jordan’s words stopped her in the doorway. “I’m not sorry I kissed you. You are an amazing woman.”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I’m not sorry, either.” As she made her way to Morgan, she hoped she’d schooled her features into a neutral expression, rather than one of a woman who had been thoroughly kissed by an intriguing man.

  * * *

  On Wednesday, Tory pulled into her driveway, tired and counting the days to Christmas break. Two more to go. She’d left school the instant the bell rang rather than staying her usual hour to work.

  Her principal had paid her a visit to tell her there had been a complaint lodged against her by the parent of one of the children in her class. Mrs. Bates had said that she’d ridiculed her son in class the day before, but she hadn’t. She’d asked him to be quiet once, but that was all. Then Mr. Mayne went on to tell her that he’d heard some alarming rumors about her. Apparently, he’d never had a teacher have a restraining order issued against her. Then, in his parting remark, he’d said that if all those rumors about her integrity didn’t die down by the first of the year, more serious action would have to be taken against her. Their teachers were supposed to be above reproach.

  She glanced toward Jordan’s house, needing someone to talk to. His classic Mustang sat near the garage as though he’d been working on it, but he wasn’t around. When had she come to depend on Jordan for his opinion? In five days, their relationship had evolved from acquaintances to friends and even more. She had a few co-workers she was getting to know, but in a short time, she realized Jordan topped the short list.

  Maybe she needed to back off. Things were moving so fast. She hadn’t fallen asleep last night for hours, her thoughts full of his kiss. Even today in class she’d daydreamed about it. She could call her sister or mother. Even though they lived across the country, they had always been there for her. She needed to stop depending on Jordan. She didn’t want to become emotionally involved with anyone, not after her husband’s death.

  She snatched up her bag of papers that needed to be graded along with her purse and trudged toward the door into her kitchen. She would take a long, hot bath and try to relax before Morgan came home from basketball practice.

  To help her wind down, lavender scented salts would be perfect in a bath. She’d make a calming cup of tea, too. Inside, after removing a gift from one of her third grade students, she set her tote on the table to go through later, then immediately filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil.

  She left it and made her way into the living room, where she placed the present under the Christmas tree, joining the other three gifts she’d already received from some of her students. At least it wasn’t too barren. Her son’s presents from her mother were beneath the branches, too. But this year would be a lean holiday. Moving across the country hadn’t been cheap, and this job didn’t pay what her previous one had. David’s life insurance money was for Morgan someday, and she refused to dip into it. If she lost her job because of those nebulous rumors, what would she do?

  The shrill whistle on the kettle startled her, and she gasped, her heart thudding against her ribs. Ever since she’d seen Charles Nelson ru
n down, she’d felt jittery, especially with sudden sounds. And now with the knowledge of rumors about the restraining order flying around town, she had a reason to be concerned. The police not believing her was one thing, but now it was spreading to include her principal and staff at school. She hadn’t told them about the restraining order, so who had?

  She made her way toward the kitchen. If only she hadn’t witnessed…But she had and would never forget the man who had stared up at her. Dead. She shook the image from her mind, the same one that had haunted her the last few nights.

  After taking the water off the burner, she fixed her cup of tea, then headed for her bedroom with it. When she strolled into her room, she noticed the window was open a few inches. A chill flashed up her spine, and she backed a couple of steps toward the hallway. Suddenly her bedroom door rushed toward her as a burly man wearing a brown ski mask emerged from behind it.

  Her gaze fastened onto his steely light blue eyes. Dead eyes. Fear froze her.

  He held a knife in his right hand. The hall light gleamed off the blade.

  Move. Now or never.

  Urgency flooded her. She threw the hot tea in his face, then hurled the mug, too. She whirled around and raced for the front door.

  Angry curse words blasted the air. The sound of pounding footsteps followed her, but she didn’t dare look back. It would slow her down.

  Escape, ten feet away.

  Five.

  Her hand grasped the knob, and she jerked the door open. The second her feet hit the porch, she shouted, “Help,” again and again. She bounded down the porch steps.

  Remembering Jordan had been working on his car earlier and might be back outside, she turned toward his house. She took two strides before her attacker tackled her, slamming her into the cold ground.

  The air swooshed from her lungs at the hard impact.

  Chapter Four

  Tory tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat.

  Her assailant’s large bulk pinned her against the brown, prickly lawn, suffocating her with his weight. She couldn’t draw any air into her lungs to call for help again. There was no way she could shove him off her. The trapped, helpless feeling sent panic racing through her body, fueling her resolve to get away. Morgan needed her. She twisted and clawed at her attacker, but he held her tight, his legs gluing her arms to her side.

  A glove-clad hand gripped her neck and squeezed. The world tilted then spun before her eyes. Help, Lord.

  Darkness lurked at the edges of her awareness. Her eyelids slid closed.

  Suddenly the pressure on her chest lifted, and she heard flesh connecting with flesh through the haze of semi-consciousness. The noise penetrated her mind. Air rushed into her lungs, and her eyes bolted open.

  Jordan and her attacker were locked in a bear hug until the man kicked out his leg and threw Jordan on the lawn, falling on him, the knife plunging toward his chest. He grabbed his assailant’s arm, halting the weapon’s downward trajectory.

  When she scrambled to a crouch, lightheadedness assailed her, and she nearly collapsed back to the ground. She inhaled several deep gulps of oxygen-rich air, then focused on the two men wrestling. The knife in her assailant’s hand quivered between the fighters.

  She looked for anything to use against her attacker, but bark from her flowerbed wouldn’t be an effective weapon. Then she remembered the cell phone in her pocket and pulled it out.

  When the 911 operator came on, she reported the assault in progress on her lawn.

  Jordan and her attacker rolled, and her neighbor ended up on top. Jaws clenched, Jordan squeezed the man’s wrist tighter, forcing his arm with the knife out to the side. Then Jordan hammered their clasped hands into the ground. The weapon flew out of the assailant’s grasp and landed a few feet from them. Jordan pounded his fist into the man’s face, but he blocked the second jab and shoved Jordan off him.

  They both pounced for the knife.

  Jordan reached it first and gripped it.

  Her attacker clambered to his feet and ran toward the street. Jordan raced after him, knife in hand.

  The large man dove into a beat up black truck and started it. Jordan yanked on the door, but her assailant must have locked it. After the pickup peeled away from curb, the sound of sirens echoed in the late afternoon.

  Jordan hurried to her. “Are you all right?”

  Tory hugged her arms across her chest, trying to stop shivering. She couldn’t.

  “Tory?”

  She blinked, realizing he was waiting for her to say something. “I’ll be okay. Just a few bruises.” Her words came out as if another person were speaking for her. Tory was here, and yet part of her felt like an observer. Wishful thinking?

  “What happened?” Jordan squatted next to her on the lawn.

  The sound of the sirens grew nearer, and she thought back to that hit-and-run when she’d stood on the deserted highway at dusk waiting for the police to arrive. In fifteen minutes, not another car had come by. She’d hugged her arms that time too, staring at the dark shadows in the woods surrounding her as if someone were staring back at her. The reminder sent a shudder down her spine.

  Jordan clasped her upper arms, drawing her full attention. “What happened?”

  Focus on what Jordan’s asking. I’m safe now. “I don’t know. I came home from school and walked into my bedroom. He was behind the door and came after me with a knife.”

  “You were home earlier than usual. Maybe you surprised him. Maybe he was just a robber.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It happened so fast. I didn’t see anything out of place…” She closed her eyes and replayed what had happened. Stepping into her bedroom, seeing the man. Her hands trembled, and she clasped her knees against her chest. “The window was opened a few inches. I didn’t do that. It should have been locked.” She finally looked right at Jordan, his dark gaze like melted chocolate. It fixed on her with kindness. He had been here for her. “This definitely hasn’t been my week.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t stay.

  “I have to agree. Here let me help you up. The police are coming.”

  When he supported her as she stood, all she wanted to do was lean into him and forget the past fifteen minutes. Her body protested as though a steamroller had flattened her.

  Two patrol cars parked in front of her house, and she recalled seeing both of those police officers at the scene of the hit-and-run. Moaning, she brushed the dirt and dead grass from her blouse and pants and waited while Sergeant Bennett approached her with Officer Ward, who was speaking on his handheld radio.

  “Twice in a few days, Mrs. Caldwell. Trouble seems to follow you.”

  She stiffened at the condescending tone in the sergeant’s voice. Anger rose to the surface, momentarily pushing all other emotions away. “A man was in my house. He attacked me when I fled. Thank heavens Jordan was home and saved me. At least this time I have a witness who can support what I said.”

  Sergeant Bennett assessed Jordan. “Are you the man who went with Mrs. Caldwell to the Nelsons’ house on Sunday? You fit the description Mr. Nelson gave the police.”

  Jordan stiffened. “I just pulled a large man, probably weighing two hundred-thirty or forty pounds from Mrs. Caldwell. He was built like a linebacker and about six-feet-five. He wore a ski mask and has light blue eyes. He drove away in a black Ford truck with no license plate. And his breath smelled of garlic.”

  Amazed at Jordan’s detailed description, Tory nodded her agreement. All she could remember were those blue eyes.

  Officer Ward approached the sergeant, who turned to him. “I need you to check the premise for signs of forced entry and anything suspicious.” He glanced at Tory. “I assume it’s all right for him to go in and take a look around.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Tory answered, “Yes. I think the guy came in through the window in my bedroom.”

  After the second man left, the sergeant zeroed in on Jordan. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What
does your question have to do with the fact that Mrs. Caldwell was attacked?”

  Sergeant Bennett’s eyes sharpened, and he stepped closer to Jordan. “It matters in another investigation. Is there a reason you’re evading my question?”

  A nerve jerked in Jordan’s cheek. “I accompanied Mrs. Caldwell to see if Charles Nelson was all right, since she witnessed him being hit and thought he was dead. We were told he wasn’t there, and we left. Nothing we did should have prompted Bart Nelson to shoot at the car as Mrs. Caldwell drove away. I was shocked that she received a restraining order. Something is very wrong with the way your department is handling this.” Jordan drilled his look into the sergeant like a laser homing in on a cancerous spot.

  “That’s your story, not Bart Nelson’s or his wife’s.”

  Jordan held up the switchblade knife the intruder had carried. “My fingerprints will be on this, but possibly the assailant’s, too. He brought this with him. I’d call that a solid lead for you to follow and figure out who he was.”

  The sergeant withdrew a latex glove and took the weapon.

  Silence descended as the men measured each other.

  Tory stepped between them. “What did Bart Nelson say took place?”

  “That you threatened his wife who you talked to first and wouldn’t leave until he came out on the porch. Then you threatened him.”

  “You’re kidding! First, we never saw his wife.” Tory shook her head. “Why would I do that? What do I have to gain from all this?”

  The sergeant opened his mouth then snapped it closed, looking up at the porch. “I didn’t take the report, so I can’t tell you any more than what I was told. But—”

  Officer Ward stepped into the front doorway. “Sergeant, I need to show you something.”

  After securing the knife in an evidence bag, the bald-headed man walked toward her house, Tory followed with Jordan at her side. Maybe the intruder had taken something. Everything had happened so fast. She couldn’t be sure of anything.