Deadly Holiday

by Margaret Daley

  “Are you two partners or something? He was at the hit-and-run scene, my house and now the Nelsons’ wreck.”

  “I never worked with him much until lately.”

  “Did Bart say something to Officer Ward before you got there?”

  “Ward says no, but I saw Nelson’s lips moving. I’d just arrived and came down the ravine. I hurried to hear what he said, but he died seconds before I got to him.”

  Tory sidestepped to allow the sergeant into the house. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I was coming to see you when the call came over the radio about the wreck. I detoured and went to that scene. I thought I had a good chance to be first because I was close. Somehow Officer Ward was there before me. Seems he must’ve been on that road to begin with. I asked him where he came from. He said there’d been a call about hearing gunfire. On the way here to talk to you, I checked with dispatch. There wasn’t any call like that.”

  “You think the officer had something to do with the wreck?” She glanced toward Dutch to make sure he was still in place. She didn’t know what to believe or who to trust.

  “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right about this past week.”

  “What do you mean?” She closed the front door. She knew nothing had been right except a man was killed and she was attacked.

  “Officer Ward took the blood on the road to the lab to be tested. He offered, because I was going to go to the London residence first. I never thought anything about it until I started thinking about your call to 911 when you were attacked. I responded. Officer Ward insisted he should back me up. Again, not strange by itself, but every time something connected with that original call from you about the hit-and-run came in, he’s been nearby. That’s never happened before.” Frowning, he rubbed his nape.

  “I’m innocent of the drug charge. There are only two people who could have planted the drugs in the bathroom—my attacker and Officer Ward.”

  The lines of his scowl deepened. “That’s what I was thinking, if you were innocent like you said. I received a call from a detective in Denver, apparently a friend of Mr. Steele’s, last night. He told me they found the sports car. When I met him at the scene of that accident, he told me you two had found blood on a shrub near the site of the hit-and-run. I guess you heard the blood on the shrub was human.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, we heard that last night.”

  “Well, so this morning I talked with the lab technician who processed the blood on the road. There was an hour gap from when Officer Ward should have been at the lab and when he turned in the evidence. That was odd, since he insisted because we’d run the license plate HOTSHOT and knew it was Peter London’s car that it was necessary to get the blood to the lab right away. Harold London has done a lot for the town and is powerful. He would want answers. Then, on top of all of that, when I called Charles’s brother to see if I could get hold of him, the man answered and told me Charles didn’t go with him this year.”

  “So you finally believe me?”

  “I think so, ma’am. Sorry about...well, all of it.” The sergeant stared at his feet for a moment, seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

  She took a deep breath. “What’s done is done.”

  He looked up and half-smiled. “Thanks.” He peered past her into the living room. “Where’s Mr. Steele? He may be in danger too.”

  Had the sergeant been lying and wanted to make sure Jordan wasn’t here before he did something to her? She backed a few steps toward Dutch. “Why do you think Jordan is in danger?”

  “Like I said, something doesn’t fit. I’m not sure who to trust. I know the chief is a good friend of Harold London. Although I’ve never doubted the chief’s integrity before, I’m not sure what’s going on. But if someone killed the Nelson family because of the hit-and-run, then I would guess you’re a target too. And after you were attacked this week, well, that seems pretty obvious. And since Steele is helping you, he might be making himself a target.”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

  “I don’t blame you. This morning, I did some checking with Nelson’s neighbors. One of them told me the old man walked every day about the time you reported the hit-and-run. Nelson told me his father wouldn’t have been on that road. Another inconsistency in this case.”

  Lord, I’m in Your hands. “Jordan went to the Nelson property to look for Charles Nelson’s grave. We thought Bart might have carried him back there.”

  “If Bart found his father’s body, then why did he lie about his father’s whereabouts?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I was on the way to interview Nelson again when the call about the wreck came in.”

  What if the Nelsons fled because they killed Jordan or hurt him? The man was quick to shoot. Although Jordan had been trained to take care of himself, it’s hard to outrun a bullet. Chills encased her. “Why did the Nelsons leave?”

  “They had a brand new car packed with their belongings. Something might have spooked them.”

  “We need to go to the Nelsons’ place.”

  “I agree. Where’s your son?”

  Until this, she’d never had trouble trusting before. Certainly she’d never doubted people in authority, but after everything that had happened in the previous week, her trust had been stretched beyond the limit.

  But now, with the sergeant on her side, it seemed she’d be able to prove her innocence, and they’d discover what had happened to that poor old man. God hadn’t let her down yet, and she had to believe He was looking out for her. “Morgan, come out. We’re going with Sergeant Bennett.”

  Her son crawled from behind the couch and stood by Jordan’s dog. “Can we take Dutch?”

  “Yes,” she said while the sergeant shook his head. She turned to Sergeant Bennett. “If Jordan is hurt somewhere on that property, Dutch will be able to find him. We’re not going without the dog.”

  “You’re not going with me. I’m going to take you to the station and go alone.”

  “Forget it. You said yourself you don’t know who to trust. We do this together, or I go alone.” She lifted her chin and hoped all her resolve showed in her expression.

  His lips turned down at the corners. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. After a moment, he sighed. “Fine, but you need to do what I say. This is against police procedure.”

  “This whole situation seems riddled with procedures that have gone against police policy.”

  For the first time, she glimpsed the sergeant’s grin. “True. And I aim to rectify that. Let’s go.”

  She, Morgan, Sergeant Bennett, and Dutch stepped out of Jordan’s front door. As she turned to make sure it was locked, she breathed a prayer.

  Please let him be alive.

  * * *

  Pain pierced through the haze blanketing Jordan’s mind. He tried to move and couldn’t. He forced his eyes open and shifted to see what was holding him in place. Through the gaps in the debris covering him, Jordan saw a beam had fallen on top of the rubble. Dust clouded the air, and he coughed.

  With his sore body, he shoved at boxes and boards, pushing them off of his body. The effort drained him, and he fell back onto the dirt floor.

  He struggled to breathe as memories of Afghanistan flooded his mind. Hurled back two years, he felt the weight of that distant building pinning him down. He heard the barrage of bullets and cries for help. He smelled the blood, dust and gunpowder. The pressure on his chest threatened to rob him of any air.

  No!

  I’m not going there.

  I’m in Colorado.

  He fixed on the image of Tory with her beautiful smile. She was real.

  God is with me, just like He had been that day.

  One shallow breath grew deeper as he focused on calming himself. Then another. Tory was at his house, waiting for him. Again he pulled much-needed air into his lungs.

  When he had regained control, he heaved the debris off him one pie
ce at a time. One arm was pinned down, but the other was free enough that he could use it to shove the pieces of wood from his chest and legs. He had no choice. The Nelsons could come back. Worse yet, they could go after Tory and Morgan.

  * * *

  “Jordan was going to hike through the woods. He was looking for a possible gravesite for Charles Nelson.” Tory spied Jordan’s SUV through some vegetation along the mountain road. “His car is over there.” She pointed out the side window of the police cruiser.

  Sergeant Bennett pulled onto the shoulder and then across the rough terrain to park. “Let’s go in on foot. Use Dutch. He might be able to follow his owner’s scent.”

  “Mom, can I hold his leash? I won’t let go.”

  “That’s okay with me.” Then to the sergeant she added, “Morgan has walked Dutch some on the leash, so the dog is used to him.”

  “Let’s go. The family is gone so we should be all right. We stay together, and if I tell you to hide or do something, do it, no question.” The officer opened his trunk and took out a shotgun.

  Morgan’s eyes grew round as he eyed the firearm in the man’s holster and the larger gun now propped against his shoulder.

  “Never hurts to be prepared,” Bennett said.

  Tory patted her son’s back. “Stay next to me. And remember to do what Sergeant Bennett says.” On the ride to the Nelsons’ place, her anxiety had eased about trusting the sergeant. Whoever had planted the heroin in her house had meant business, and she was glad the sergeant finally believed her.

  “We’ll let Dutch lead us, so give him a long leash.” The sergeant joined them. “By the way, after all that’s happened, please call me Kevin. I figure we’re in this together.”

  She slanted a smile at him. “Thanks for finally believing me.”

  Dutch must have picked up Jordan’s trail, because the dog crisscrossed through the woods as though searching for something.

  Tory scanned the area for any sign of Jordan. “We believe Bart came to the hit-and-run site and took his dad’s body away.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Not sure. But I know what I saw, and a dead man doesn’t walk, so someone had to take Charles Nelson’s body in that thirty-minute time frame. I didn’t see a car go by me on my way down to the store nor one on the way back up. I kept an eye on the road, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you all. When I went to the restroom for a few minutes, I asked the clerk to watch for me. He told me no one had driven past either way.”

  “He could have lied.”

  “I gave him a tip, and he knew I was watching for the police. The logical answer was that someone came down the road and took the body. It was getting dark and maybe Bart got worried about his father being out on the road. That isn’t a safe place to be in the dark without a flashlight.”

  “From what little I know about Bart Nelson, I would think he’d want justice for his father.”

  “Maybe instead, he blackmailed someone to keep quiet about his father’s death. He could have witnessed it as he came out of his property and knew who was driving. I was too busy looking at the car behind me. I didn’t look at the side of the road. Justice wouldn’t bring his dad back. Money might have allowed Bart to buy that new car. The Nelsons might have used some money to go on a vacation, and that’s where they were going today.” Dutch stopped and sniffed the ground, so Tory paused and waited to see which way the dog would go next.

  “And you still think Peter London was driving?”

  “The guy I saw looks similar to him, but I haven’t seen him in person. In all the pictures I’ve seen of Peter, he has dark hair. The driver was light blond.”

  “When I met with him and his father, Peter had bleached his hair at school. Apparently, he lost a bet the day before.”

  She’d realized hair color could be changed but hadn’t known it had been. The more she thought about it that had been the only thing that had concerned her about the driver. “Then, yes, I think he was driving his car.” As Dutch moved forward, Tory did too.

  When they neared the edge of the forest, Tory glimpsed a movement at far side of the house. “Someone is at the Nelsons’ place, and I don’t think it’s Jordan. Not big enough.”

  Kevin stared to the left of the home. “Yeah, and I see another one. I recognize that guy. He works for Harold London. It looks like him and his buddy are breaking into the house. You two stay back while I secure them. Don’t come out until I tell you. If something happens to me, get help.” He handed her the keys to his car.

  After the sergeant left, Tory put her son behind her against a tree and held onto Dutch’s leash. She peeked around the tree to watch just as Kevin glanced into the front window. He went around back and disappeared. Every nerve was stretched taut in the silence of the forest. She wished she’d left Morgan with Mrs. Scott, but she had been so worried whoever was behind all of this would come after her and her son. Were the men looking for the dead body? Or something else?

  Jordan’s dog emitted a low growl that sent goose bumps up her arms.

  “Quiet, Dutch. We can’t let them know we’re here.”

  Pacing, the dog growled louder and louder. Tory began a sweep of the area, but before she could scout the woods behind her, Dutch charged in that direction, straining against the leash, a ferocious look on his face.

  Tory held the leash and peered around the trunk of the tree. Two men, armed, stalked toward them. One aimed his gun toward the dog while the other pointed his revolver at her.

  “Lady, if you don’t control that animal, I’ll kill it.”

  The savagery in his voice and those piercing blue eyes—she would never forget them. Nor would she forget the feel of that man’s hands cutting off her air just a few days earlier. He would kill her—kill her son, too, if she didn’t do as he said. She gripped the leash until her hand hurt, tugging the hundred-pound German shepherd toward her.

  “Tie him to the tree.” Blue Eyes indicated one about five yards away.

  “You’re such a softie when it comes to dogs.” His partner chuckled.

  “If we shoot him, it’ll alert that guy we saw going into the house. We need to surprise him.”

  Once Tory had the dog tied up, she knelt by the German shepherd and said, “Please boy. Stay quiet. If you make any noise, they’ll shoot you.”

  When she rose, Blue Eyes gestured for her to join them. His partner plastered Morgan against his front and held a gun to his head. With all that had happened lately, this was the worst. The terror on her son’s face pained her more than anything. They had only come to find Jordan and a safe place to hide until the sergeant tracked down some leads. How could she have known these men would show up at the Nelsons’ place? All she’d wanted was to keep Morgan safe, and now her precious child had a gun to his head. With the couple dead from the car accident, the Nelsons weren’t a threat anymore to whoever was behind all of this. Would she end up like them?

  “Morgan, do as they say.”

  “Smart lady.” Blue eyes yanked her toward him and captured her against him. The feel of his hands, the scent of his skin, only amplified the memories of that terrifying attack. Her pulse rate kicked up a notch, and sweat popped out on her forehead.

  The men hauled Tory and her son toward the house.

  Where was Jordan? She scanned the yard and noticed that part of the shed had collapsed since they’d visited the Nelsons on Sunday. Was Jordan searching another part of the property? He was their only chance—assuming he wasn’t hurt or worse.

  * * *

  Sore and bruised, but free to move around, Jordan lay hidden among the shed debris. He’d seen the sergeant enter the Nelsons’ house and hadn’t revealed his location. Why was he here? Helping those two men inside?

  Jordan needed to leave before the three decided to check the shed. He could get Tory and Morgan and take them to Denver. Gage could help him, because if the sergeant was in on this, then he didn’t know whom to trust on the local police force. Certainly no
t the chief, who could be behind everything to help protect his friend. Jordan prayed Tory and Morgan were safe.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement at the edge of the forest. Two large goons were holding Tory and Morgan captive, guns to their heads. Rage flashed down Jordan’s body. He imagined running toward them to free them. He forced himself to stop, take a deep breath. Patience could be the best strategy for a warrior in certain circumstances. He’d have to pick them off one by one.

  When the four disappeared inside by the back door, Jordan dashed to the side of the house and stopped under a window to try and see what was going on in there. He peered into what must be the living room.

  Two men sat on the couch with their arms behind their backs. Standing in front of them, the sergeant glanced toward the rear of the house and frowned. It looked like the sergeant had taken the first two men captive. Maybe he wasn’t working for whoever was behind this whole mess.

  Sergeant Bennett stepped back, dropped his gun, and raised his hands. The two men came into the room, pushing Tory and Morgan in front of them, still holding guns to their heads. The boy was crying, tears streaking down his face. Although a pasty white, Tory looked furious.

  While the sergeant started freeing the guys on the couch, Jordan hurried around the side of the house to the door, hoping it wasn’t locked. He inched it open and squeezed through the gap into the kitchen.

  “You two continue your search of the woods,” one of the men said. “Once these three are tied up, we’ll finish looking in here, then the shed. Maybe Nelson buried his father under all that rubble.”

  Another asked, “Why not shoot them now?”

  Jordan tensed.

  “Not without the boss’s okay,” the first guy replied. “Let’s do the job we came for. That’s our priority. We don’t know where Steele is.”

  The sound of the front door opening and closing drew Jordan into the hallway. Two-to-one were good odds for him. After he took care of these two, he’d go after the others.