The Christmas Target

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I don’t have an uncle,” Stella replied.

  “Great-uncle. Your grandmother’s brother.”

  “Uncle Larry?” Stella asked.

  Trinity nodded as she pulled a folder out of her oversize bag, thumbed through some papers and pulled one out. “See this?”

  She thrust the paper toward Stella and jabbed at the top of it. “This is your great-grandfather’s last will and testament. When he passed, his wife was already dead. He bequeathed his estate to your grandmother and great-uncle, and he had an executor make sure it was divided equally.”

  “And?” Stella took the paper from Trinity, her brow furrowed as she scanned the document. “As far as I know there was never any conflict between my great-uncle Larry and Beatrice regarding the estate.”

  “I couldn’t find anything to disprove that theory. No legal action. No lawyers. Everything seems to have gone off without a hitch. The thing is, I searched online databases and found the name of your grandfather’s attorney.”

  “William Tate. I could have saved you some effort and given the information to you, if you’d asked.”

  “I was just working off a hunch, and I didn’t want to bother you.” Maybe not, but Trinity must have thought she should have. Her cheeks were bright pink, her gaze lowered as she pulled another sheet from the folder. “Mr. Tate wouldn’t tell me much, but he did say your grandfather was his client. Did you know that your grandmother is not?”

  “The subject never came up,” Stella said wryly.

  “Do you know if your grandmother has a will?”

  “Another subject that never came up.”

  “It needs to.” Trinity held out the second sheet. “See this? It’s an addendum to your great-grandfather’s will. Written about three months before he died. He left the house to your grandmother along with all its contents. She has the legal right to bequeath it to whomever she wants, but if she dies without a will, the house goes to your great-uncle.”

  Stella took the paper and read it, her brow furrowed. She looked intrigued and a little anxious, as if she was worried that there might be something to Trinity’s find.

  Chance was intrigued, too.

  He’d have asked to see the paper, but Stella passed it to him, handing it over before he could.

  “I’ll admit that it looks bad,” she said as he scanned it. “But there is no way my great-uncle would try to kill Beatrice to get the house. He and my great-aunt love Beatrice and were close to my grandfather.”

  “Love of money is the root of all evil,” Trinity said. “And it can motivate people to do some really horrible things. I ran a credit check on Larry, and he’s having some serious trouble paying his bills. He’s three months behind on his car. The boat? He’s behind on that, too. I called a couple of his buddies at the country club and—”

  “Enough.” Chance cut her off before she could go any further. He loved his sister, but she wasn’t thinking about Stella’s feelings. She was thinking about proving herself.

  “There’s plenty more,” she said, her cheeks pink. She obviously knew she’d gone too far, and she glanced at Stella. “I’m sorry, Stell. I should have given you the write-up instead of shouting it to the world.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to help,” Stella said, her face ashen. “Larry is out of town. I don’t think he’s involved in any of this, but I’ll talk to him. See what he has to say.”

  Trinity frowned. “You know your uncle better than any of us. If you don’t think he’s involved, you’re probably right.”

  “I think I’m right. I hope I am, but it still bears checking out. I called Larry earlier to let him know that Beatrice was in the hospital. Hopefully, I’ll hear from him soon.” She stood stiffly, her cheeks gaunt. She hadn’t eaten and the last thing Chance had seen her drink was the few sips of orange juice.

  “Tell you what,” he said, cupping Stella’s elbow and leading her back into the corridor. “How about we go back to the house once your grandmother is finished? You can shower, put on some warmer clothes, get something to eat.”

  “Food,” she muttered, “would not be my friend right now.”

  “Juice, then,” he insisted, and she sighed.

  “Chance, I can take care of myself. I’ve always been able to take care of myself.”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it, Stella? You can always take care of yourself, and you’re never willing to let anyone step in and help out even when you really need it. You don’t want to be vulnerable, but right now, you are. How about you just admit it, and we move on?” The words slipped out, and she frowned.

  “You want me to admit it? Fine. I’m vulnerable right now, and you’ve helped me plenty. We both know it, and I appreciate it, but I can’t leave Beatrice. She’ll—”

  “Be fine, Stella. Boone and Simon know what they’re doing, and they’re not going to let anything happen to her.”

  “Your sister knows what she’s doing, too. She dug up a lot of information very quickly.”

  “My sister has a big mouth and doesn’t know when to keep it shut.”

  “I heard that,” Trinity called as she stepped into the hall. “Sadly, I can’t argue with it. I really am sorry, Stella. I was so excited to have something to share—”

  “You don’t need to apologize.”

  “I do, and I have. Twice, because I feel terrible. And now I’m going to agree with my brother for probably the first time ever. You need to go home for a while. You look like death warmed over.”

  “You were eavesdropping,” Stella accused.

  “I was, and it didn’t make me agree any less.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” Stella murmured, her gaze on the radiology department doors. Maybe she thought if she stared long enough, they’d open.

  “Notes don’t do squat if we don’t learn from them,” Trinity responded, and for the first time in a long time, Chance wanted her to just keep on doing what she was doing, because he needed the break, too.

  He needed a few minutes away from the hospital and the bright lights and the people. He needed to look into Stella’s eyes, make sure that she really was okay before he decided whether or not to let her stay involved in the investigation.

  Sure, it was her problem and her trouble, but she was emotionally invested. That could be dangerous for all of them. If he thought she couldn’t handle it, if he thought she was going to get herself or someone else hurt, he’d put her under armed protection until the team figured things out. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d allow it.

  He knew she would. For her grandmother’s sake.

  Stella was pragmatic. She understood how easily emotion could sway judgment.

  She was also hard-core and determined, willing to do anything to achieve a goal.

  That came with a price.

  It wore a person down, made him want to hide away for a while, sit in solitude and replenish the stores that had been depleted.

  He frowned.

  Yeah. He knew that feeling. He’d been there a lot lately.

  Maybe Stella knew it, because she touched his wrist, cool fingers against his warm skin.

  Nothing else.

  No words.

  No arguments.

  No concern that Trinity was a few steps away, watching them both.

  He didn’t care, either.

  Everyone on the team knew that he and Stella had dated. Everyone on the team thought they belonged together.

  In his opinion, everyone on the team was right.

  All he had to do was convince Stella of that.

  He captured her hand when she would have pulled away, linking their fingers and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She seemed surprised, but she didn’t pull away.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “It’s a promise,” he responded, “that everything is going to be okay.”

  And then the double doors swung open and Beatrice was wheeled out.

  SEVEN

  Stella waited in Beatrice’s room until the X-ray results were in and her grandmother was sound asleep, her raspy breath filling the room. Pneumonia. That was the verdict the doctor had given. He’d put Beatrice on an antibiotic and upped her oxygen. In a few days, he hoped to wean her off that and get her out of the ICU.

  A few days.

  That seemed like a lifetime to Stella. She wanted to bring Beatrice home now, back to the familiarity of her bed and her bedroom, fix her favorite tea and feed her one of the fancy chocolates she loved so much.

  Since she couldn’t do that, she’d go home, get her grandmother’s robe and her spare slippers, maybe even one of the pretty nightgowns Beatrice loved so much. Then she’d grab the brush Beatrice kept on her nightstand, the loose powder that she liked to pat on her cheeks, the well-worn Bible that sat on the rocking chair. Beatrice might not be able to use any of those things, but it would make her feel better to have them nearby.

  That was all Stella cared about.

  That and figuring out what was going on and how to stop it.

  And then there was Chance. The kiss on her knuckles that she could still feel. Those whispered words—It’s a promise that everything is going to be okay.

  She’d been trying to put both out of her mind, but of course, she couldn’t. Because she could never put Chance out of her mind. He was always there. The one guy who could be everything to her if she let him.

  She grabbed her purse and tossed her phone into it. The battery was dead, and it was useless. She’d grab the charger when she went home.

  “You going somewhere?” Trinity asked, looking up from the book she’d been reading. She’d taken position near the window, the oversize chair she was sitting in squeaking every time she moved. She looked tired and she looked young.

  Stella could understand why Chance wanted her to return home.

  She could also understand why Trinity had refused.

  She’d been begging to take a more active part in HEART rescues, but neither of her brothers would allow it. She probably thought this was the perfect opportunity to prove her mettle. No need to get a visa, no need for pre-planning or travel approval. Just hop in a car and drive to a small town, bring information that might prove valuable, take part in the investigation on the ground rather than in the corner office at HEART headquarters.

  If Stella had been in Trinity’s shoes, she’d probably have done the same.

  “I’m going back to the house. I want to get a few things for my grandmother.”

  Trinity set the book down and stood. “Does my brother know?”

  “He will.” He and Boone had gone to look at security footage obtained by the sheriff’s department. If she hadn’t been worried sick about Beatrice, Stella would have insisted on going with them.

  “You know you can’t go by yourself, right?”

  “Seeing as I don’t have a ride, yes.”

  “Even if you had a ride, it wouldn’t be smart.”

  “I know, Trinity.”

  “So what are you going to do if Chance is still at the sheriff’s office?”

  “Find another ride.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “It wasn’t a good idea for you to come here, but you did it anyway.”

  “I’m not the one who was nearly killed.” She returned to the chair, picked up the book. “But you’re an adult. You can make your own decisions.”

  “And you’re going to text Chance as soon as I walk out the door.”

  “Something like that.” Trinity smiled. “As a matter of fact, I may as well do it now.” She pulled the phone from her pocket. “Or you can call and see if he’s finished yet.”

  “Good idea.” She took the phone, dialed Chance’s number.

  He picked up immediately.

  “Trinity, we’re not discussing anything unless it’s you going home,” he growled.

  “It’s Stella, and home is exactly where I was planning to go. That’s why I’m calling. Are you still with Cooper?”

  The door opened, and Chance walked in, tucking his phone away. “We just got back.”

  “And?” she asked, relieved that Chance was there and surprised by the feeling. She’d never needed Daniel. Not ever. Not when they’d met. Not when they’d married. Not when she’d spent long nights alone. She’d been happy when he’d returned, but she’d never been relieved, never felt the weight of responsibility, the burden of it, lifting as he walked through the door.

  She’d felt that when Chance walked in. Felt it even more when he crossed the room and stood beside her.

  “The perp must have known exactly where the cameras were. He kept his face hidden. No prints on the knife. No ID on the vehicle.”

  “That’s not what I was hoping for.”

  “Me, neither.” His gaze cut to Trinity who was studiously looking at her book. “We both know you’re listening to every word. How about you don’t pretend otherwise?”

  “I was trying to avoid your wrath.” She set the book on the window ledge and stood, taking her phone from Stella’s hand. “But if you want to go head-to-head in front of Stella, that’s fine.”

  “There’s no need. I’ve already called Jackson. We agree that you should stay.”

  “Really?” She looked surprised and doubtful.

  “As long as you follow instructions and do your part, yes.”

  “What, exactly, is my part going to be?”

  “Sit with Beatrice when Stella can’t be here.”

  “Fine,” she agreed.

  “That was a little too easy,” Chance muttered.

  “You give me what I want, I make your life easy. This is a good lesson for both of us,” Trinity said solemnly. “Now you two go on and have fun. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “Are you sure—” Stella began, because she was worried about her grandmother, terrified that she’d wake up and be confused and scared.

  “I won’t leave her side,” Trinity promised.

  “Okay.” Stella touched her grandmother’s cheek, remembering all the times Beatrice had done the same for her. Remembering those long, painful days and nights after the accident when the only thing that had kept her from giving up was her grandmother’s soft hand against her cheek, her quiet words, her fervent prayers.

  “God be with you,” she whispered in her grandmother’s ear, remembering the words she’d heard so many times, “when I cannot. God give you strength when mine is not enough for both of us. God give you hope when we both feel hopeless, and when I am gone, may He give you love that stretches beyond this world and into the next.”

  She kissed Beatrice’s temple, told herself she wasn’t going to cry.

  “That was beautiful,” Trinity said quietly.

  Chance didn’t say a thing. Just took her arm and led her out of the room, down the hall, into the elevator. And she was still trying not to cry. Still telling herself that she had nothing to cry about.

  The first tear fell as they stepped outside.

  The second one fell as she slid into the passenger seat of Chance’s SUV.

  He still didn’t say a word. Just rounded the side of the vehicle and got in, turning on the engine and the heat.

  She sniffed back more tears. Annoyed. Irritated.

  Broken.

  Because she was more tired than she’d ever been before. Because her head hurt and her stomach churned and the one man who could always make her feel better was sitting right beside her, and she wouldn’t reach for him because she was too much of a chicken.

  “I don’t cry,” she felt the need
to say.

  “Everyone cries sometimes, Stella. Even me.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  “You’ve never seen me stand at the hospital bed of someone I love, either.” He leaned toward her, his lips brushing her temple, her cheek, her lips.

  She should have told him to stop, but she wanted more. Of him. Of this.

  When he backed away, she wanted to follow, wanted to cling to his solid strength.

  “Are you going to ask me what that was for?” he asked, his voice raspy and rough.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “It’s a promise, Stella, that I’m not walking away from you. Not again.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot, the silence thick and filled with a dozen protests she could have made.

  Didn’t make, because she didn’t want him to walk away.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “I asked the sheriff about your uncle.”

  “And?”

  “He said that Larry is a good guy who seems to really love his family. Including his sister and you.”

  “I agree.”

  “Sometimes people aren’t what they seem.”

  “I agree with that, too.”

  “Did Larry return your call?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you think that’s odd?”

  “He might have his phone turned off. People do that at night.”

  “Some people do, but would he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want me to have some people track him down?”

  “If he doesn’t call tomorrow, we’re not going to have a choice.”

  “Do you have any idea where he was going?”

  “His property in Florida. He heard the storm was coming in, and he and Aunt Patty wanted to avoid it.”

  “When did he make the plans?”

  “The first I heard of it was a week ago. Aunt Patty mentioned it when she came to visit. She was excited. Usually, they don’t go until after Christmas.”

  “That’s what she said?”

  “Yes.”

  “And a sudden winter storm changed all that, huh?” He turned into the snow-covered driveway, headlights splashing across tracks left from dozens of other vehicles.