Caprice didn’t want to intrude, but Sara held them out to her, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Sara asked rhetorically. “And Trung. He was so dear.”
Caprice studied the photos because it seemed Sara wanted her to. There were about twenty in all, different stages in the life of the woman Chris had loved and their son.
“I wish he would have told me,” Sara said weakly.
Caprice’s heart ached for her.
Next, Sara looked through letters that Kim had written to Chris. They’d been delivered to his lawyer’s office. By that point, Sara’s tears flowed faster as she read a few of them.
Caprice just sat by watching and listening whenever Sara wanted to speak.
Soon Sara reached the bottom of the shoe box. There she found a sheet of paper that had been folded into thirds. It looked like something a computer printer would spew out.
When she opened it, she gasped. “That’s Reed,” she said, looking shocked. She handed over the printout to Caprice. Caprice studied it.
It was a screen shot from a profile page from LetsGetTogether.com. The profile had been set up two years ago. The photo was indeed of Reed. His username? Mustang.
What was Reed doing on LetsGetTogether.com? And why would Chris have tucked this away? Was it something the police should know about? She’d have to investigate further before knowing that.
“What do you think it means?” Sara asked.
“I don’t know. But there’s a reason Chris kept it here. I’ll try to get on the LetsGetTogether website and find Reed’s profile. Then we can go from there. For now, pretend you know nothing about this.”
“That’s going to be hard, especially if I have to go through Christmas dinner knowing he had a profile on this site.”
“Hopefully before then we’ll figure out why Chris kept it. There’s somebody I can call who’s registered on the website. I can get his name and number from Bella.”
Sara looked as if she’d aged ten years from the time they’d driven into the storage facility. Caprice felt so sorry for her. She just hoped this profile of Reed’s wasn’t something else that would bring Sara and Maura heartache.
Chapter Nineteen
Caprice considered what to do next. Turn information over to Brett? But what exactly did she have? Not much. Simply that Reed had once been on LetsGetTogether.com. Still . . .
No, she couldn’t bother him again with nothing concrete. He’d stop trusting her. He’d stop confiding in her. She wanted to call Grant and talk it over with him, but he was spending the afternoon at the courthouse in York. Only one thing left to do—follow her sixth sense, or her gut, or whatever that inside voice Nana always advised her to listen to was telling her to do. She’d text Maura. If she called her, she’d have to explain. She really didn’t want to go into explanations. Not yet, anyway. Not over the phone.
Caprice texted:
I have questions about Reed’s trips out of town over the year. Can we meet to talk?
She wasn’t sure she was right, but Reed’s trips out of town to car auctions or to deliver cars to customers might have been more than that. She didn’t know whether or not to expect a reply right away, but she got one.
Maura texted back:
I have errands in town to pick up Christmas presents. Can you meet me at the park entrance at 8 p.m.?
That made sense to Caprice. If Maura was downtown. Yet the park entrance . . .
Maybe a phone call would be better than the text. She found Maura’s number in her contacts list and pressed the phone icon. But the phone went to voicemail.
All right. She had to be practical about this. Grant said he’d have her back but all she could do was leave him a message. Then she did the next best thing to having Grant as her backup. She phoned her dad.
“I don’t like it,” he told Caprice. “The Santa cabin closes at seven. By eight, nobody’s going to be around. Where’s she picking up Christmas presents?”
“I didn’t ask. Maybe she’s parking in the public lot. It’s right near the park.”
“That’s possible,” he agreed. “Grant’s in York today, isn’t he?”
“Yes, and I don’t know what time he’ll be back. It could be late.”
“I think his appointment after his business at the courthouse has something to do with your Christmas present.”
She wasn’t going to get sidetracked wondering what that was.
Her dad went on, “This is what we’re going to do. Blitz and I are going to meet you at the park before eight o’clock. I’ll take Blitz for a walk, but I’ll be able to keep my eye on you and Maura. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you at the park entrance about seven forty-five. Does that sound good?”
“You just go to the park entrance. I’ll stay out of sight. Text me when you get there.”
“It’s cold, Dad.”
“Blitz won’t mind a bit, and I’ll make sure I wear my earmuffs. Don’t worry about me. I just want to make sure you’re safe. I’m concerned someone might follow you there.”
“I’ll take a circuitous route. I’ll have my mace gun. I know self-defense moves.”
Her father grunted. “Thank goodness you do. Remember, text me when you get there.”
“I won’t forget.”
* * *
At almost 7:45 p.m., Caprice parked in the public lot near the park and glanced around. She didn’t see any other vehicles . . . didn’t even see her dad’s. But he might have purposely parked the car somewhere else to keep it out of sight. She had taken a circuitous route to the park and was sure she hadn’t been followed.
She climbed out of her Camaro, glancing all around. The lights in the parking lot didn’t illuminate much beyond its perimeter. The wind blew through the white pines lining the north side of the lot. It burned Caprice’s cheeks and she wondered again why Maura had suggested meeting there. She specifically said at the entrance to Santa Lane.
Did Maura want to revisit memories of her father? That was quite possible. And it was better to do that when the Santa cabin wasn’t occupied. Still, the temperature was dropping to freezing.
Caprice had dressed for the cold in her faux fur coat, watch cap, and fleece-lined gloves. Her suede boots were fleece-lined too. Her wool slacks hung over her heavy socks and boots. Closing her car door, she didn’t lock it. What if she had to make a fast get-away? Too many drama-filled thoughts.
Taking out her phone, she texted her dad:
I’m here, heading to Santa Lane.
He texted back:
Eyes on you.
She glanced around, wondering where he could be. But she supposed that didn’t matter. She had the security of knowing he was there. When she reached the entrance to Santa Lane, she walked back and forth. To keep herself warm, she jogged about ten feet down the lane toward the sleigh and then jogged the ten feet back. If Maura was picking up Christmas presents, she could get held up any number of places. Kismet wasn’t used to much traffic, and there was more of it this time of year.
She checked the phone time—8:00. How long should she give Maura to arrive? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a tall, shadowy figure materialized right beside her. Her phone was in her hand. She was lifting it to text her dad when a voice commanded, “Hand me your phone.”
She recognized the voice, and now she recognized the face surrounded by a black hoodie. He wore the hoodie under a fleece coat that he’d left open.
She was about to protest handing over her phone when she looked down his torso to his hands and saw something that changed everything. He had a gun. She snaked her hand toward her pocket and her pepper spray gun.
Before she handed Reed Fitzgee the phone, she asked, “Where’s Maura?” Her fingers fumbled in the lining of her deep pocket where the pepper spray gun lay.
“At home, blissfully unaware of the text you sent her. She isn’t one of those people who
carries her phone everywhere. She leaves it on the dresser in the bedroom. I had the day off and happened to see your text come in. I’m the one who answered it. Now start walking.” He grabbed her phone and ordered, “Keep your hands where I can see them. Now.”
She couldn’t extricate the spray gun without him shooting her or jumping her. Better to stall for time. “Why didn’t you let me meet with Maura?”
Reed slid her phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “Because you’re getting too close. The same thing’s going to happen to you that happened to Chris, but yours will be quicker.”
She snatched another look at the gun, and she saw the tube on the end of it. His gun had a silencer.
She didn’t know what to do. With her glove on, the spray can was too difficult to extricate. Most of all, she didn’t want her father running into the line of Reed’s fire.
The surrounding silence was only punctuated by the sound of her breaths, which were coming quicker. Her mind was racing. What could she do? How could she get away? If she made a run for it, he’d shoot her. But she had to do something before her father got involved.
“Tell me why you did it,” she prompted, hoping he’d brag like some criminals did. “Why did you kill Chris?”
“You talk too much, and you ask too many questions,” he grumbled.
“What does it matter now? If you’re going to kill me anyway, at least give me the satisfaction of knowing why you did it.”
He gave a small shrug. “I was catfishing on LetsGetTogether. I met a couple of women out of town, got them to trust me, got some money from them.”
“And Chris found out?” she guessed.
“Oh, yeah. He was trying to convince me to divorce Maura. He threatened to tell her everything if I didn’t. He always acted so superior . . . always acted like he knew best. He told me he’d never give me another cent. He told me he’d ruin me here, and I wouldn’t be able to get any work. Then he turned away as if the divorce was a done deal, ready to let that dog of his out of the cabin where he’d penned him. That dog never liked me. I didn’t want him out, and I didn’t want Chris ruining my life. I couldn’t let him do that. That candy cane was hardly stuck in the ground. I just pulled it out—”
Like a herald of hope, sleigh bells rang . . . the bells hanging on the sleigh. She and Reed were about ten feet from it and the noise caught Reed’s immediate attention. As he turned toward the jingle, Caprice’s dad emerged from the other side of the sleigh and started running toward her. But before he could reach her, Blitz streaked out ahead of him. Caprice had never heard the dog growl before, but he growled now and he launched himself onto Reed.
The gun went off.
Panic tightening her throat, her heart practically stopping, Caprice feared the shot had hit Blitz or even her dad. Rushing forward, she saw Blitz’s attack on Reed had knocked the gun out of his hand. It had slid under the sleigh.
Blitz growled and pulled on the zipper of Reed’s jacket. His paws pushed down on the man’s chest.
Before Caprice could assimilate what was happening, her father jumped on Reed too, commanded Blitz to stop, and told Reed, “You make one wrong move and I’ll order Blitz to attack.”
Caprice didn’t think Blitz even knew what the word meant, but Reed didn’t know the threat wasn’t authentic.
Running to the sleigh, Caprice pulled the red vinyl ribbon off one of the gold packages and ran to her dad who’d managed to turn Reed over and pull his hands behind his back.
A siren sounded, at first in the distance, but getting closer fast.
Nick De Luca took the ribbon from Caprice, wound it around Reed’s wrists, and tied it tight. “I hit 9-1-1 as soon as I saw Reed appear. They’ll be here any minute.” Reed began to struggle, trying to pull his hands apart. Blitz growled again as Reed attempted to lift his shoulders. Her father pressed Reed down between his shoulder blades and sat on his legs. Who knew her dad was in such good shape? Caprice was thankful he was.
A patrol car swerved into Santa Lane, lights flashing. Two officers jumped out and came running toward them. A few minutes later amid Reed’s protests, Caprice and her father told the officers what had happened, pointed to the gun, explained Reed had shot at them, that he had admitted to killing Chris Merriweather, and that he’d planned to kill Caprice.
The officers took over, read Reed his rights, and then took him into custody. As they seated him in the patrol car, Caprice’s dad’s arm went around her and he caught her into a huge hug.
She felt something wet on her hand. It was Blitz’s nose as he nuzzled her fingers. “Thank you,” she murmured to her father and then bent to stroke Blitz’s head. “Thank you,” she whispered to the dog. “Tonight you weren’t just my dad’s best friend, you were mine too.”
“Santa Lane will be safe now,” her father said, his voice husky.
“And I’ll remember the beautiful sound of sleigh bells for the rest of my life,” she assured him.
Epilogue
Christmas carols played softly from a boom box in the De Luca kitchen as Caprice slid a rigatoni casserole into the oven beside the ham baking there. Nana sliced homemade bread, as her mom diced carrots to toss into the large wooden salad bowl. Caprice’s dad had stepped outside to plug in the Christmas lights.
When Grant appeared in the kitchen doorway, Lady, Patches, and Blitz followed him because of the great smells emanating from the kitchen.
“Are you busy?” he asked. “Or can I steal you for a few minutes?”
Caprice’s mom sent a smile to Grant. “You can steal her. Everyone will be arriving soon, and there will be so many people in here we’ll trip over each other.”
Nana looked up from the bread she was wrapping in tinfoil and gave Caprice a knowing smile, as if she were a conspirator in whatever Grant wanted to show her.
“Where are we going?” Caprice asked Grant as he took her hand and pulled her into the dining room.
“To the library.”
“Can I ask why?”
Through the dining room and into the foyer now, they turned right into the living room as the dogs followed them. Then suddenly Lady, Patches, and Blitz raced ahead as if they knew exactly where Grant was leading her.
“I want to give you your Christmas present,” he said.
She stopped and held his arm, looking up at him with all the loving feelings in her heart. “You already gave me a present last night—pink sapphire earrings to match my engagement ring.” She pointed to them, thrilled with them. She wasn’t wearing red today, but rather a rose dress in a fifties style with a round neck, cap sleeves, fitted waist, and full skirt. It went perfectly with the ring and her earrings.
Wrapping his arm around her, he guided her toward the doorway to the library. “This is an additional present.”
Once in the library doorway, she noticed the dogs nosing around a card table that Grant had set up. As they walked toward it, Caprice could see architectural plans. For a moment, her heart sank. She didn’t want to confront this issue now, not on Christmas Day.
“Come look,” Grant commanded her, not giving anything away.
She had to look. He was excited about it, that was obvious. They could figure out where they were going to live. If these were new house plans, she would open her mind to the possibility—
But then her gaze fell on the layout. She recognized it. That was the layout of her house, except . . . there was an addition drawn onto it.
Grant ran his hand along the perimeter of the house plan, and then he gazed directly into her eyes. “I know how much you love your house. That was obvious when you didn’t want to talk about where we were going to live. I knew you were holding back because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or rock the boat.”
“Grant, I’m open to whatever you want to do.”
“I knew you’d say that. So, I thought about it . . . a lot. I like your house too. It’s terrific. It shows all the care you’ve put into it. So, I had an architect draw up two different versions of an a
ddition that could be my home office. We can either add it onto the garage side of the house or onto the back and eliminate the back porch. What do you think?” He lifted the top plan to show her one underneath.
But she wasn’t looking at the plans. She threw her arms around him. “I think . . . and I know . . . I love you.”
They were still kissing when the front door opened and bursts of laughter and conversation floated in. Family and friends had arrived, caught up in hugs and conversations and lots of Merry Christmases.
Forty-five minutes later, everyone was seated around the long mahogany dining room table. The group had taken seats randomly. Grant was beside Caprice, and Caprice was beside Brett with Nikki next to him.
After her dad had said grace and they’d started passing around the serving plates, Caprice said to Brett, “I have some interesting news.”
“Your news is always interesting,” he admitted wryly. “What’s up now?”
“Sara Merriweather and her son Ryan are flying to Vietnam to meet Trung.”
“That is interesting news. Good news, too, for them. Maybe it will ease some of their heartache.”
“I’m glad Reed confessed to you about killing Chris, then the family won’t have to go through a long, drawn-out trial.”
“His arraignment will happen this week, after Christmas,” Brett explained. “The charges are public record: second-degree murder, terroristic threats for the note he left on your car, and two counts of criminal attempt homicide for his attack on you and your dad.”
“Sara and Maura told us you managed to piece the whole story together,” Caprice said. She and her dad had visited Sara and Maura yesterday. Since she and her father had been in danger from Reed, they’d wanted to fill them in.
“Maura helped immensely,” Brett said. “And that had to be hard for her. Thanks to our best techie, we were able to access Reed’s deleted profile and his messaging page on LetsGetTogether.”
Slay Bells Ring Page 24