Murder Under the Mistletoe

by Terri Reed

  He slanted her a glance. “What were you thinking to begin with? You shouldn’t have confronted an intruder. You could have been seriously wounded or killed.”

  From the background search he’d done on Seth and his family, Tyler knew Heather’s husband had been killed in action and they had a young child, who he assumed was upstairs at this very minute unaware of the danger that could have befallen his mother.

  She paled and squared her shoulders. “I had to protect my child. My husband taught me how to take care of myself. I know how to shoot a gun. I know enough self-defense to break a stranglehold. And, as you said, I know how to wield a frying pan.”

  He couldn’t help the little burst of admiration for the gutsy lady.

  Slowly she extracted herself from his side. She moved away when it became apparent he was going to stay upright.

  “You’re still bleeding,” she said. “Come along and let me take care of your head.” She turned and walked away.

  He followed Heather to a large mudroom just off the kitchen, where he washed his hands while Heather grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet over the washing machine and set it on the counter beside the washbasin. Next she dragged a chair in from the dining room.

  He looked at the sturdy lattice-back chair with the pale yellow seat cushion. “I don’t want to ruin any more of your cushions.”

  She found three towels in a drawer and brought them over. After laying one across the chair, she pushed on his shoulder. “Sit. I can’t work with you standing.”

  Even sitting, he was as tall as her petite frame. She stood in front of him. The scent of her skin, a mix of soap and vanilla, teased his senses. Her face was a study in concentration as she unwound the cloth she’d fastened around his head.

  “This is going to hurt,” she warned as she dabbed him with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic.

  The biting pain made him wince. When she finished, he sighed with relief.

  “I think I can use butterfly bandages to close up the wound.” She worked with quick efficiency. “Why come at night? Why not come in the daylight with a search warrant?”

  “Because I didn’t want to alert the bad guys that we’re onto them. I was hoping to get in and out unnoticed.”

  She made a delicate-sounding snort. “But if you’d found the notebook, would its contents be admissible as evidence?”

  “Yes, it would. The person, or persons, involved in the drug ring have no reasonable expectation of privacy on your farm, even if they are staying in one of the cabins. You’re the only one who would be exempt from the rule because you’re the owner. But you’re not involved, so that point is moot.”

  “How can you be sure I’m not?”

  “Seth was adamant you weren’t. Plus, I did a background check on you. You’re clean. I have no reason to believe you’re tangled up in this mess.” Could he be mistaken? His gut tightened. “You aren’t, right?”

  The corners of her mouth quirked, and she shook her head. “I’m not.”

  The last bit of doubt drained away. “Good.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” she said.

  “True. But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

  She frowned, her brow creasing. “Are you the one who called me?”

  He cocked his head. “No, I never called you.”

  “Well, someone did, and they seemed to share your thought that Seth’s death wasn’t just an overdose.”

  A spike of concern sent his blood pressure soaring. “What did the caller say?”

  “That my brother’s death was more than it seemed and I should leave the farm because it’s not safe.”

  Dread punched him in the stomach. “When was this?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  His head pounded a rapid staccato. “All the more reason for me to find the book quickly. We need to put a stop to this fast before anyone else gets hurt.”

  She stepped back and put the first aid kit away, then tossed the soiled towels into the washing machine. “I’ll help you look for the notebook, but first you need some fluids. Follow me.”

  Bemused by her take-charge attitude, he allowed her to lead him out of the mudroom. She stopped in the kitchen and turned on the light over the sink. A large butcher block served as a center island. Long wooden counters and blond oak cabinets with glass doors gave the place a homey feel. The appliances were older but clean. Blue-and-yellow gingham curtains hung over the window behind the sink. The place had a cozy feel that was foreign to Tyler.

  She took a tall glass from a cupboard, filled it with tap water and handed it to him. “Drink.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” He took the glass and drank the cool liquid.

  She dug into a drawer and came up with two over-the-counter painkillers. “Here, these should help.”

  “Thanks.” He popped the tablets and swallowed them with another large gulp of water. When he was finished, he set the glass on the large center island. “Let’s check your brother’s room.”

  In Seth’s room they worked in silence, rummaging through drawers, checking under the mattress, under the bed. In the closet, inside the crawl space in the closet floor. Their search resulted in nothing but frustration.

  Fisting his hands, Tyler glanced around the tidy room, taking in the tall dresser standing in the corner, the desk and chair placed beneath the window and the long twin bed covered in a geometric-patterned quilt.

  Seth had told Tyler he’d kept the journal on the farm; it stood to reason it was in this room. There were many places to hide a notebook in the large farmhouse, but which nook or cranny had Seth used?

  Tyler’s head throbbed and so did his heart. He couldn’t change the past, only hope he could affect the future. Wasn’t that what his gran always told him?

  Next they tackled the living area. It was a large great room that flowed into the dining area with the kitchen around the corner to form an L shape. Tyler searched the well-worn leather couches, while Heather checked the bookshelf, taking the books down, inspecting them and then piling them on the floor.

  Tyler even checked under the large throw rug covering the hardwood in the living room. No secret compartments. No secret hiding places. He moved on to the dining room while Heather continued her slow but steady pace through the bookshelf.

  The large rectangular table had no drawers or hidden slots in which to stash a notebook.

  “Mommy?” A small boy stood at the bottom of the stairs staring at Tyler with wide eyes beneath a fringe of dark brown bangs. He wore footie pajamas with rockets all over them. A plush dinosaur dangled from one tiny hand.

  Tyler untucked his shirt and quickly pulled it over his hip holster, hoping the boy hadn’t noticed his firearm. No need to frighten the child.

  “Colin, honey.” Heather rushed to her son’s side. “What are you doing up?”

  Keeping his eyes on Tyler, the child said, “I heard a noise.”

  She picked him up, hugging him close. “It was just me and...” She looked at Tyler as if she weren’t sure how to introduce him.

  Tyler stepped closer. “I’m Tyler. A friend of your uncle Seth.”

  “Uncle Seth is with Daddy now,” Colin replied gravely.

  “Yes, he is,” Tyler said. He gave the boy a sad smile. “I’m sure they are both watching over you and your mommy.”

  Colin scrunched up his nose. “What happened to your head?”

  Heather grimaced.

  “I had an accident,” Tyler said, touching the bandage on his head. “With a frying pan.”

  Heather’s eyes widened, and a pink blush stained her cheeks. He grinned at her. She flushed a deeper shade of red.

  The boy snuggled into the crook of his mother’s neck. She kissed the top of his head. The sight of Heather and her son m
ade a touching picture. Tyler’s chest grew tight.

  “I’ll be right back,” Heather said and carried Colin upstairs.

  Something shifted and constricted inside Tyler as he watched them go. Heather’s love for her son was obvious in the tender way she treated him. Tyler had never known that kind of love.

  Certainly not from his mother. She’d been too busy scoring her next high or lost in a haze of drugs to bother with affection. Her only son had been a means to gain the weekly welfare check, nothing more.

  After Heather and her son disappeared from Tyler’s sight, an unfamiliar ache of longing lingered. He wasn’t even sure what he longed for, but he was determined to keep Heather and her son safe.

  He could only pray he didn’t fail them like he had Seth.

  * * *

  Heather tucked Colin back into bed. “You need your sleep, big guy. Tomorrow we’re helping Rob change out the village lights.”

  Rob Zane lived in one of the houses on the property. Her parents had offered him the job of caretaker for the farm’s Christmas Village after he’d recovered from a house fire that had taken his own family nearly fifteen years earlier. A fire that some whispered he’d started. Her parents had stood by him through the arson investigation. And even though the fire had been deemed an accident, many in the area weren’t convinced. He’d been kind and generous to her family in return for her parents’ loyalty.

  “And the decorations,” Colin said, the thrum of excitement in his tone. “Rob said I could help him with Santa’s house.”

  “That will be fun.” This coming weekend they would open the farm up to the public to come enjoy the village and sleigh rides and to cut their own trees to take home. But first Heather had to get through Thanksgiving. The day wouldn’t be anything like she’d hoped, but she’d do her best to make it special for Colin, despite her sorrow over her brother’s death. Murder. She shuddered.

  Careful to keep her expression from betraying the quiver of fear, she kissed Colin’s forehead. “You need to get some sleep so you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.”

  “I don’t have a tail, Mommy,” Colin admonished her with a grin.

  She laughed, thankful for his sweet innocence, and smoothed back a lock of hair, her chest crowding with a mother’s love. “No, you don’t, sweetie.”

  Heather left Colin’s room and ducked into her own bedroom to change into comfortable sweatpants and a pullover hoodie. When she went back downstairs, she found Tyler had turned off all the lights except one lamp by the couch.

  He stood looking at the family photos lining the mantel with his back to her. His feet were braced apart. He had wide shoulders and a slim waist. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. With anger? Frustration? Perhaps both. The bandage she’d put on his head glowed in bright contrast to his short-cropped dark hair.

  Part of her was so angry with Tyler for putting Seth in danger. And yet she was angry with Seth for not telling her what was going on and getting himself involved in something so dangerous. She might have been able to help him. Or at the very least talk some sense into him.

  Tyler turned around. She glimpsed the tortured expression on his handsome face before he quickly settled his features into a shuttered look that hardened the line of his jaw. She resisted the empathy flooding her veins. What did he have to be tortured about? It was her brother who’d died because Tyler and his team couldn’t protect him.

  Could she trust him to protect her and Colin?

  What choice did she have but to put her life and that of her child into his keeping? “The only way you’ll get access to the farm is if you’re here on my say-so.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

  “That we do this my way.”

  “What’s your way?”

  “I’ll hire you as the new foreman to take over for Seth. That way you could stay on the farm. I assume you have your team nearby. They could hire on as part of our seasonal labor.” They hadn’t hired enough people, and she hadn’t been able to think about the shortage the past few days as she dealt first with Seth’s death, then his burial.

  He cocked his head to the side and appeared to consider her offer. “Only problem is I know nothing about tree farming. Anyone would see right through that.”

  She thought for a moment. “An investor?”

  “A business partner,” he countered.

  “That would work. Then we’ll scour the farm until we discover where my brother hid the book.”

  “Sounds like a great plan.” Tyler held out his hand. “Partners.”

  After a brief hesitation—did she really want to partner with this man?—she slipped her hand into his larger one and repeated the word, answering her own question. “Partners.”

  His fingers curled over hers, causing a riot of sparks to shoot up her arm. Disconcerted by the odd effect of his touch, she extracted her hand. “I’ll make the arrangements in the morning.”

  He held her gaze. “I’d appreciate it. I’ll help you put the bookshelf back together.”

  She glanced at the stacks of books on the floor. “I’ll take you up on the offer.” Only because she knew she wouldn’t get any sleep now anyway, not because she felt safer with him here.

  Needing the calming properties of some herbal tea, she asked, “Would you like some tea?”

  “Sure. I’ll try some.”

  They moved into the kitchen. After taking two mugs from the cupboard, she dropped an herbal tea bag into each mug. Then she set the electric kettle to boil. “How are they smuggling the cocaine? And how do we stop it?”

  “I don’t know.” Tyler leaned against the counter. “I’m confident Seth’s notes will give us all the necessary details.”

  She poured hot water in the mugs, then slid one to him. “Hopefully this nightmare will end soon so no one else will pay the price Seth did.”

  Unable to continue looking at him, she stared out the window over the sink. The back of the house faced the large horse barn to the left. And farther out to the right was the processing yard where the cut trees were fed into balers and stacked, ready to be loaded onto trucks for transport.

  Within the next few days, hundreds of trees would leave the farm on trucks bound for destinations all over the country and up into Canada. Not to mention all the townsfolk who would come out to take a tree home and visit the Christmas Village, eat homemade donuts, drink hot cocoa and take a sleigh ride. The busyness would take her mind off her grief. But with so many people on the property, would the danger increase?

  A shadow flickered near one of the balers and stole her breath. She leaned forward, straining to see. Was she imagining the movement? She’d dismissed what she’d seen earlier as paranoia, but now...

  “Heather, what is it?”

  No. She hadn’t imagined what she’d seen. There was definitely someone skulking around the balers. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Someone is out there.”

  THREE

  Adrenaline saturated Tyler’s veins at the prospect of an intruder lurking outside Heather’s farmhouse. He quickly set his mug down and gripped Heather by the elbow to draw her away from the window. “Turn all the lights off and go upstairs. Don’t come down until I tell you it’s clear.”

  She blinked up at him with wide, stunned eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  “Find out what’s going on.” Maybe this was his chance to capture those involved in the drug ring. If he could catch them in the act of hiding the drugs, then Heather and her son would be safe and he could move on to the next assignment. This one had grown exponentially more problematic. He’d rather be chasing down drug-pushing thugs than dealing with a protective mom.

  He released Heather’s elbow and sent her up the stairs. Once she reached the top landing, he slipped out the back door, leading with his
gun in a two-handed grip. The moon provided enough light for him to navigate his way through the yard toward the three hulking pieces of machinery where Heather said she’d seen someone. He paused with his back against the side of a baler and listened.

  A breeze had kicked up, and it rustled through the trees. The howl of some creature sent a shiver down Tyler’s spine. Too close for his peace of mind. Had it been a wild animal Heather had seen?

  Noise near the barn drew his attention. The barn’s door sliding open and then closing?

  He ran in a low crouch toward the large structure. Pressing his back against the side of the barn, he peered around the edge. No one there. From inside the barn, one of the draft horses used to pull the sleigh nickered. Inching his way to the barn door, he kept an eye out for any signs of life.

  He eased the barn door open as soundlessly as he could. The pungent scent of hay and horse made his nose twitch. He ducked inside and hid in a pocket of shadow, waiting, listening.

  A horse whinnied. The sound of metal scraping against metal raised the fine hairs on Tyler’s arm. The scuff of a shoe on the dirt floor jolted through him. There was definitely someone in the barn.

  Keeping low, he crept toward the rear part of the barn, where a pen had been constructed to house the smaller animals of the farm’s petting zoo. He bumped into a pail, momentarily losing his balance in the dark. The noise spooked the horse to his left. Tyler reached out for the edge of the stall to steady himself just as someone bolted past him for the barn door.

  “Hey!” Tyler shouted, barely making out the silhouette of a man as he yanked the door open wider and ran through.

  Tyler chased after him. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark figure disappearing into the inky shadows of the tree crop. For a moment Tyler contemplated giving pursuit, but the prospect of getting lost among the hundreds of trees disabused him of that thought. Heather and her son needed Tyler to stand guard, in case the man decided to approach the house from another direction.