The Cop Who Stole Christmas (Tall, Hot & Texan)

by Christie Craig

  “I . . . your son has . . . He’s nice, but we aren’t . . .”

  “Oh, my!” The older woman shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. She pressed a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. Dr. Brighten is right, I’m acting like a bitch.”

  Savanna met her gaze and found her backbone. “If you’re waiting for me to argue that point, you’re going to be waiting a long time.”

  The woman looked taken aback by Savanna’s honesty. But to her credit she looked more embarrassed than angry. “I’m worried about my son. Do you have any idea how hard it is to know your son is out there chasing murderers? And then to know he’s being suspected of murder?” She paused. “But my therapist said I tend to say things I shouldn’t when I’m upset.”

  “He sounds like a smart guy.” Savanna wasn’t ready to forgive the woman for her rudeness, but she decided it wasn’t her place to call her on it, either. “Maybe you should try to call Mark.”

  “I’ve been calling him since this morning. He won’t take my calls. He never wants to talk to me.”

  I wonder why, Savanna thought, but kept her remark to herself.

  The woman stood there staring, and suddenly Savanna realized she was being rude. “Did you want to come in?”

  “No. I’ll go try to find my son.”

  Savanna recalled Mark saying, Let’s just say dysfunctional comes in all different income levels. Maybe she shouldn’t have told the woman where Mark was. Her heart went out to Mark and she thanked God for the parents she’d had.

  The woman must have read Savanna’s mind or maybe her expression, because she spoke up, “I’m not always this uncouth,” she said. “I love my son. He may not think I do, but I do.” She turned and started back to the street where a limo waited.

  • • •

  Mark found Jake at the Piperville police station sitting out front as if he was waiting on him. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “I didn’t have anything better to do.”

  Mark studied his partner. “Better than stay home with Macy? Is there trouble with your ball-buster wife?” Mark sure as hell hoped not. He personally took credit for getting them together. Their whole relationship got off to a shaky start when Macy’s brother had escaped prison, and ended with Jake making a mistake that cost him the girl. Thanks to Mark’s whole billboard idea, Jake had convinced Macy to forgive him.

  “No trouble,” Jake said. “My lovely ball-busting wife is at Nana’s house helping to cook Sunday supper. I’m meeting her there at five. And, for the record, unlike someone else in the room, I haven’t had my balls busted in months.” His partner got his smartass grin on. “What did you do? Slip a hand where it wasn’t wanted?”

  “It was an accident,” Mark growled. “And I might have slipped a hand where it might have been wanted if you hadn’t shown up.” Even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t have. Too soon after the whole murder mess, but that would change.

  “Now it’s my fault you aren’t getting any.”

  Mark’s phone rang. He’d just turned it on a few minutes ago. If it was his mom, he’d turn it back off. Chances were she was calling about Christmas. He’d already told her he wasn’t coming. He wanted to be alone for the holidays. Or he had until he met Savanna. Hell, maybe she’d come over and they could drink some brandy and sit on his sofa and talk, or maybe by then they might be slipping hands where they were wanted. He’d put up a tree if he knew for sure she’d come over. The idea hit that maybe he should get her a gift. But what kind of gift said, I don’t know where I want us to lead, but I’d like it to lead somewhere?

  His phone rang the fourth time. Not his mom. He took the call.

  “Hey, Bethany, Savanna isn’t here.”

  “This is Savanna.”

  “Oh, hey.” He smiled. “You okay?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Your mom came by.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was in town.”

  “I told her where you were. I hope that wasn’t bad.”

  What was she doing here? “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Yeah . . . Look, since she’s in town I should go—“

  “No,” he said. You can’t cancel our date.

  “I’m sure you need —”

  “I need to have dinner with you.” And it was true. Mark saw Jake frown. Then his mom walked into the room. “She’s here. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Give me a minute,” he told Jake.

  He caught his mom’s arm. “Let’s walk this way.”

  She frowned. “Not even a hello?”

  “Hello.” He guided her outside, stopping by the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’re in trouble?”

  “I’m not in trouble.”

  “You’re a murder suspect.”

  Fury bit hard. “I’m thirty-two years old, Mom. Whoever you have spying on my ass, call ’em off. Do it now, or I swear to God, I’ll sever every tie I have with you and Dad.”

  She tilted her chin up. “You already have. You’re not coming up for Christmas.”

  “I told you I’d come in January for your birthday.”

  She blinked. “Is it a crime to care about my son?”

  Mark’s gut knotted as he was instantly thrown back into his childhood years. “It’s not me you care about. It’s how this will effect Dad’s career.”

  His mom’s eyes rounded. “That’s not true.”

  “Too bad you can’t pay someone to take the fall for this one, too.”

  His mom looked slapped. “It would have hurt your record, too.”

  “It hurt Ricardo’s record more.”

  “He didn’t have to agree to do it.”

  Mark was sure they hadn’t left him much of a choice. But this was the first time she’d admitted doing it. She was slipping. “It wouldn’t have hurt my record, because it wasn’t my pot. And I think deep down you damn well know whose pot it was.”

  “That was over fourteen years ago. Is this worth arguing over?”

  “You’re right. Bye, Mom!” He turned to leave.

  “Mark, please. You’re all I’ve got.”

  He stopped. Why did he care? Goddamn it, he shouldn’t care. But he did. He’d always felt sorry for his mom. She gave everything she had to his dad—so much so that she barely had any left of herself to give to her own son. And his dad gave everything to his career and a few mistresses along the way. Some of them young enough to smoke pot, too.

  He turned around. “Look, I have to talk to some people.”

  “Do you need a lawyer? I’ll hire one.”

  “No.” He raked a hand through his hair. “When I’m done here, I’ll call you. I’ll meet you for a cup of coffee, but I have a date tonight and I’m working tomorrow.” Damn that sounded bad. Sounded like his parents’ son. “You should have called before you came.”

  “I . . . I was so worried.” She hesitated. “Coffee would be good. My plane leaves tonight anyway.”

  He nodded.

  She spoke again. “I went to your house.”

  He turned around. “And you were rude to Savanna, weren’t you?”

  She lowered her eyes. “At first. But I apologized.”

  Damn, his mom never apologized. She was slipping. Or was it . . . “You’re not dying or anything are you?”

  Her mouth dropped. “No.” She blinked. “But thank you for caring. I think.”

  Relief fluttered through him. “Apologizing isn’t like you.”

  “I’m seeing a therapist.” She shrugged. “And . . . I actually liked her, your girlfriend. She has spunk. Is it serious?”

  “She’s not . . . It’s too soon to tell.” He looked back at the station. “I have to go.”

  • • •

  When he walked back in, Jake was talking to the lead detective on the case, Tom Hinkle. They waved him over. “Come on, let’s go in the back and talk.”

  Mark remembered he’d told Savanna he’d ca
ll her back, but it would have to wait.

  Tom wanted Mark to go over the night and seeing the car. But this time the conversation went like three cops talking and not an interrogation.

  “It was either a Ford Fusion or Chevy Malibu,” Mark said. “Dark color. Nine or ten at the latest.”

  Jake leaned in. “Amanda Adams still looking good for this?”

  Tom frowned “The lover alibied her out, even gave the name of the hotel they spent a few hours at. The desk clerk remembers them. She didn’t do it.”

  “So it’s the owner of the restaurant, Juan . . . something,” Mark said.

  “We’re still looking at him. His car didn’t leave his gated community. But Bethany Sinclair, Edwards’ friend, who is actually the vic’s cousin, said Mr. Don Juan said he would hire someone.”

  Mark nodded. “Savanna told me that, too.”

  “My partner is having a chat with him now. Why don’t we go see how it’s going?”

  They walked into the small room with two-way mirrors and Tom hit the switch so they could hear the dialogue.

  “I’m telling you, I was joking. I wouldn’t hire a man to kill another man,” the voice, slightly accented, rolled out of the intercom.

  Mark stared at the man on the other side of the glass. Since he knew the guy had a thing for Savanna, he’d been hoping he would be short and fat. No such luck. The tall, muscled guy reminded Mark of a younger version of Antonio Banderas.

  “Prove it,” the cop in the room with the guy said.

  “How can I prove it?” Juan sounded frustrated, but cooperative.

  “Come in for a lie detector test in the morning.”

  Juan paused. This was a deciding moment. “Why not do it now?”

  The cop interviewing him looked shocked. “I have to set it up.”

  “Fine,” Juan said. “Set it up.”

  “Shit,” Tom said. “I don’t think he did it.”

  “Maybe he just thinks he can beat the test,” Jake said.

  Mark exhaled and realized Tom was right. This guy wasn’t coming off like a guy hiding anything. “What about the waiter? Savanna said the waiter was there.”

  Tom shifted. “He pulled a double shift. Worked until after eleven.”

  “Then it has to be one of Savanna’s friends. Shit,” Mark said. “And one of them is with her right now.”

  “Which one?” Tom asked.

  “Bethany Sinclair.” Mark pulled out his phone.

  Tom shrugged. “Sinclair’s not capable of doing this.”

  Mark hesitated. “You’re the cop she dated?”

  Tom looked surprised Mark knew this. “We’re not seeing each other now. And my partner did all the talking with her. All I did was give her Jake’s phone number.”

  “I don’t care about that.” Mark hesitated to call Bethany’s number. “That leaves the other friend, Jennifer Peterson.”

  “Yeah, but she swears she didn’t leave the hotel that night. We’ve got someone going through the hotel cameras to check.”

  “Any evidence at the scene?” Mark asked.

  “Fingerprints are being run, but not on the knife or the sink area. It’s almost as if the perp wore gloves. There were some red fibers snagged on some of the broken window glass, but that’s it.” He groaned. “This looked like such a slam-dunk case.”

  “It is,” Mark said. “It has to be one of the friends.”

  Tom frowned. “The only one with a known motive has alibied out.”

  “Maybe the motive is she was doing it as a favor,” Jake added. “Savanna said she wanted it and they were just giving her what she wanted.”

  “That would mean one of her friends is fucking insane,” Tom said. “I know Bethany personally, and I’ve spoken with the others—including the one who had an affair with the vic. And if one of them is whacko enough to kill without a real motive, they’ve got me fooled. And I don’t fool easy.”

  “Not true.” Jake chuckled. “Haven’t you been divorced twice?”

  “True,” Tom said. “But neither of them were insane. They were just bitches.”

  • • •

  When they left, Mark decided instead of calling Savanna via Bethany’s phone, he’d just drop by the house before he met his mom. He wanted to make sure Savanna was okay. Until they caught this person, all her friends were suspects.

  Tom had handed over Savanna’s phone for Mark to deliver, plus, he had some good news. Tom had said they would probably be finished with her house tomorrow. He kind of hoped she’d decide to just stay at his place. Not that he planned on hitting on her. She could sleep in one of his three extra bedrooms. The image of her naked flashed in his mind and he recalled with clarity how good she’d felt on top of him.

  They were adults. If they ended up spending the evening together, so be it. He wouldn’t push her into something she wasn’t ready for, but he wouldn’t turn the opportunity down if it came.

  He forced his mind back to dinner. Having only consumed donuts, his stomach grumbled. What type of food did she like? The thought of getting to know her intrigued the hell out of him.

  He pulled up at his house. There wasn’t a car out front. Had Bethany come and gone? Eager to see Savanna, he walked inside. The silence seemed too loud. Too lonely. When he shut the door, the sound of it echoed in the too quiet house. He should’ve been used to it. He lived alone and even when entertaining women, he seldom brought them home. But lately the lack of noise in his house bothered him. As if to punctuate his thought, the ice maker spit out ice and clonked in the silence.

  “Savanna?” he called, hoping he was wrong.

  No answer came back.

  He looked around for her cat. No cat. . . He glanced in the kitchen and the donuts and coffee mugs they had left out had been put away. Had she left? Disappointment, loneliness washed over him.

  To confirm, he went to see if the litter box had been taken. When he walked into the room, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Chapter Nine

  Mark’s breath caught with relief. On her side, she laid with her blond hair scattered across the pillow she was sharing with her gray cat. Savanna didn’t stir, but the cat raised his head and stared at him as if to say, hey, buddy, we’re napping.

  Mark ignored the cat and continued to study her. She wore some of the clothes she’d brought over with her. Jeans, worn enough that the material had long learned the shape of her body. A soft looking pink sweater hugged her, not tight enough to be purposely provocative, but just the right size that it didn’t hide her curves.

  His gaze traveled to her legs. Barefoot, her toenails were painted the same light pink as her fingernails. She obviously didn’t go for flashy or bold. She went for soft and subtle, and it looked so damn good on her.

  Happiness chased off the earlier disappointment. She hadn’t run off. The question hit. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly? Hell, it wasn’t quick. He’d been fascinated, and fantasized about her since he first laid eyes on her over four months ago mowing her yard. Then he met her and realized she was wittier, prettier and more genuine than he’d ever envisioned. How could a man not fall hard for a woman who surpassed his own fantasy?

  The cat meowed. Mark debated waking Savanna up. No, let her rest. He’d run and have coffee with his mom. He walked out and found paper and a pen.

  Hey . . .

  I found you asleep, and since I needed to run to see my mom for a few minutes, I decided to let you rest. I got your phone for you. Call me when you wake up.

  Mark

  He started to put down the pen, but he decided what the hell.

  P.S. You’re pretty when you sleep. Think about what you want for dinner. My treat.

  He eased back into the room and set the note on the bedside table beside her phone. Glancing down, the temptation to brush a strand of hair off her cheek hit strong. He poked his hands into his jean pockets and walked out. He couldn’t rush this. Whatever it was.

  But what did he want it to be?

 
; Was he ready for something real again?

  Hell, he’d better start figuring that out. And quick. Because that’s where it felt like it was going.

  • • •

  Mark was about to end the visit with his mom. He’d set his phone on the table so he wouldn’t miss Savanna’s call.

  “So you’re definitely coming down for my birthday?” his mom asked.

  “Yeah.” He glanced at his phone, wishing it would ring.

  “Are you bringing your girlfriend?”

  Mark frowned. “She’s not . . . It’s new. ”

  “But you like her, right?”

  “Yeah.” A hell of a lot.

  “It’s not that new. She was wearing your robe.” Her eyebrows rose.

  His jaw clenched. “That was because . . . We haven’t even had a real date yet.”

  She nodded. “But you’re going out tonight, right?”

  He frowned. “Yes, but . . . Can we change the subject?”

  “Why?” she asked, sounding hurt.

  “Do I really have to answer that one?” He cut her a hard look.

  She fidgeted with the skinny vanilla latte she’d barely sipped. “I just . . . You haven’t dated in a while. It’s not normal for a man your age not to have . . . sex. You’re not gay, are you?”

  His head spun.. “No!”

  “My therapist says that your father’s and my relationship could be the reason that you don’t see women.”

  “You discuss . . . me with your therapist?”

  “No. I mean, not . . . Only when it pertains to how I feel about something.”

  “Well, stop feeling something about my sex life, would you?”

  “I just want you to be happy, Mark.”

  He took a calming breath. “Believe it or not, right now, I’m happy.” And it had a lot to do with the blonde sleeping in his extra bedroom who wasn’t calling him. Much to his delight, his phone finally rang. He snatched it up. He didn’t recognize the number. It had to be her.

  “Excuse me,” he said and pushed back from the table.

  • • •