Christmas Undercover

by Hope White

  TEN

  “That’s not true,” Sara said, her face heating with anger. Why couldn’t Bonner support her and admit she had been working on a case?

  “Sara, what’s going on?” Will said with a puzzled frown.

  “It’s easy, Will,” Nate said. “Your friend here has been lying to us and manipulating us this whole time.”

  Will studied her with such pain in his eyes. “You’ve been lying to me?”

  Regret coursed through her. No, she had good intentions, even if her execution was off.

  “Will.” She leaned forward. “I’m sorry, truly. But I’m doing the right thing here. My boss probably threw me under the bus because he’s tired of me hounding him about tough cases, the criminals that get away.” She glanced over her shoulder at Nate. “You worked in a big city—you know what I’m talking about.”

  Nate didn’t answer, so she continued, redirecting her attention to Will, wanting him to know everything.

  “LaRouche and Harrington were trying to convince David Price to go along with their plan to distribute a dangerous drug that could kill people. Because of who they are and their influence and who knows what else, they’re going to get away with it. That’s why LaRouche shoved David Price off the cliff—because he was going to walk away from the company, which would have raised suspicion and tanked their stock. So yes, I came out here because I didn’t have enough evidence, and I decided to find more. Call me nuts, call me rogue, I don’t care, as long as I put these guys away before they kill anybody.” She glanced at Nate once more. “Didn’t you ever watch a suspect walk away with a cocky smirk on his face when he should have been in cuffs?”

  Nate tapped a pen against his open palm and studied her. “How do you know the drug is dangerous?”

  At least he was listening to her. Now if she could get Will to forgive her for lying.

  “They were arguing about an anomaly in the test results,” she explained to Nate. “David Price said it wasn’t right, that it could kill people. I recorded it on my phone, which was damaged in my fall. I was hoping a tech could still retrieve the video. That’s my nail in their coffin.”

  “What motivated you to follow them into the mountains?” Nate asked.

  “An email exchange between LaRouche and the drug testing company. I printed them out. My supervisor said it wasn’t enough.”

  “Why not?” Nate said.

  “It was too—” she made quote marks with her fingers “—vague.”

  She glanced at Will, who still looked like a man who’d just met her for the first time. As if he didn’t recognize her. Shame burned her insides, both for having lied to him, and for putting him in danger.

  She shifted in her chair and waited for more questions from Nate.

  “He said once you got your teeth into something, you weren’t giving it up,” Nate said. “Even if there was no basis for an investigation.”

  “Nice,” she muttered.

  “He told you to let this one go,” Nate continued.

  “Well, I couldn’t.”

  “You ignored a direct order.”

  “He ordered me to take vacation time—”

  “Because you hadn’t taken time off in five years.”

  “I didn’t have any reason to.”

  “But you had reason to go against a direct order and pursue this case?”

  “If it could save lives, yes,” she countered. “I can’t believe you’ve never done the same.”

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and why you’re so tenacious. Your boss said—”

  “What, that I’m an aggressive head case because I hid in a closet while a random home invader broke in, killed my father and made me and my little brother orphans? As if we hadn’t been through enough after Mom died.”

  Sara shook her head in frustration and stared at the gray laminate table. Silence filled the room. There, she’d said it, what everyone who knew her, and knew about her past, thought whenever she did anything off book.

  Someone knocked on the door and a secretary poked her head inside. “The chief wants to see you, Nate. It’s important.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Nate followed the secretary out of the room and shut the door, leaving Sara and Will alone.

  With her shame spread out on the table, exposed for him to see.

  She clenched her jaw, wishing she could be anywhere else, be anyone else at this moment. Will’s opinion of her mattered more than it should.

  “Sara?” he said.

  She couldn’t look at him. He pushed back his chair and came to her side of the table. He knelt beside her, reached for one of her hands and gently clasped it between his.

  “I am so sorry about your father,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Oh, honey.” He pulled her against his chest and stroked her back.

  She almost started crying and stopped herself. It would only prove that they were right about her: that she was weak and fragile, and had no business in law enforcement.

  “Don’t.” She pushed away and stood, pacing to the opposite side of the room. “I appreciate your compassion, but it only makes me feel worse.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated. Never in her life had she confided in anyone about Dad’s death, not even her uncle. Right now, in this conference room, she ached to talk about it with Will. He wouldn’t think her weak or damaged, would he? Knowing Will, he’d offer to hug her again.

  She’d gone a lot of years without hugs. Maybe she should appreciate them while she could. Besides, once this case was done she’d leave town and never see Will again, never see the look of pity on his face because he knew the truth about Sara failing her dad.

  “I guess,” she started, “I don’t deserve your compassion.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? I lied to you.”

  “You thought you were doing the right thing.”

  “Oh, Will. I’m not worthy of your compassion. I failed Dad and I keep failing victims who depend on me to protect them.”

  He took a few steps closer. “What victims?”

  “People like the Williamsons, whose daughter was killed by members of a drug gang. She went missing and we were called in to find her. I was this close.” She pinched her fingers. “Bonner, my supervisor, took me off the case. He said we’d invested too many man-hours in the investigation. Local police in Detroit found the girl’s dead body a week later. I could have found her, Will. I know I could have.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, sorry is for losers.” She snapped her attention to him, afraid she’d hurt his feelings again. Surprisingly, he shared a look of understanding.

  “No,” he said. “Being sorry is a way to share a friend’s burden. I’d like to share yours.”

  “Why?”

  “I feel as if we’ve become friends. I wish you’d stop trying to push me away.”

  “But I lied to you about who I was.”

  “Because you were working a case. I get it, even if I’m disappointed that you felt you couldn’t completely trust me.”

  “Stop being nice to me.”

  Will leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Now it’s my turn to counter—toss that chip off your shoulder and get on with your life.”

  “What life?” she muttered.

  “So it’s really all about work for you?” Will said.

  “You wouldn’t understand. You have a family.”

  “And friends, and a church community,” he added.

  “Rub it in, why
don’t ya,” she said teasingly.

  He didn’t smile. “My point is, there are many dimensions to life, not just work or family. Maybe, while you’re in Echo Mountain, you could experience some of those other things.”

  “My goal is to not only nail LaRouche and Harrington, but also to keep my distance from people so I don’t put them in jeopardy.”

  People, meaning Will. From the disappointed look on his face, he obviously got the message.

  The door popped open and Nate came into the room. “I spoke with our chief. We think it best if you stay undercover for the time being to continue the investigation of LaRouche and Harrington.”

  “You believe me?”

  “Yes, I do,” Nate said. “Although I don’t appreciate you lying to me. The chief and I also realize we have a bigger problem.” He looked at Will. “You’ve become a target, my friend.”

  “Because Petrellis came after me?” Will said. “No, I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”

  “Let’s assume Petrellis is working for LaRouche and Harrington, that they hired him to find Sara, find out what she told authorities. He knows the two of you are connected, which means he can get to her through you. And possibly get to you through your girls.”

  Sara’s heart ached. She’d done this. She’d dragged two adorable little girls into the ugliness of her work.

  “Will, I’m so—”

  “What do you recommend, Nate?” He cut Sara off.

  “We’ll put police protection on the house tonight while we look for a place to relocate you and the girls,” Nate said.

  “Where to?” Will asked.

  “How about the resort?”

  “They were booked last time I checked,” Will said.

  “Maybe the resort’s had some no-shows,” Sara offered, trying to be both helpful and hopeful.

  An emotion so foreign to her, yet she’d embrace hope if it might help the girls. Help Will.

  “How about Bree’s cottage at Echo Mountain Resort?” Nate suggested. “She’s got an extra room upstairs, and a state-of-the-art security system. Plus, with everyone around for the festival, Petrellis wouldn’t be foolish enough to try anything.”

  “I’d hate to impose on her like that,” Will said.

  “Come on, buddy, you know Bree. She’d be offended if we didn’t ask for her help.”

  Will nodded. “True.”

  “Why don’t you call her, Will?” Sara said.

  “It’s settled,” Nate said. “You call Bree and I’ll send Sara’s phone to the lab in Seattle to see if they can pull the recording off it.”

  “How long will that take?” she said.

  “Depends how backed up they are.”

  “Or we could take it to Zack Carter at the resort,” Will said. “He’s an amazing tech specialist.”

  “Can’t. It’s a chain of evidence thing,” Nate explained. “I take it from Sara and it goes directly to the lab. Otherwise, once this goes to court they could challenge the third-party intervention.”

  “Oh, right,” Will said.

  Nate extended his hand for Sara’s phone. She hesitated. “No offense, but this is not just a recording. It’s my life.”

  “I understand,” Nate said. “I’ll make sure it gets into the right hands. I’ll put a rush on it.”

  Will shot her an encouraging nod.

  Sara handed Nate the phone, trying to process this new feeling—this feeling of genuine trust.

  “I’ll set up police protection for tonight,” Nate said. “Tomorrow we’ll covertly relocate you and the girls.”

  “We have church in the morning,” Will said.

  “I’ll assign myself to that detail and keep watch outside. Sara, I’d advise you to stay in the loft until further notice.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Excuse me?” Nate said.

  “I’m responsible for Will and his girls being in danger. I want to be close enough that I can be part of your protective detail.”

  “Absolutely not,” Nate said. “You’re a trouble magnet.”

  “Nate,” Will admonished.

  Sara didn’t let the comment affect her. “No one will know I’m there. I’ll change my appearance, whatever is necessary, but I won’t abandon Will and his girls.”

  “Even if that could prove dangerous for them?” Nate said.

  “Then, we find Petrellis first. We’ll use me as bait to catch him.”

  “Sara, no,” Will said.

  “I will not keep looking over my shoulder,” Sara said. “And I certainly don’t want him terrorizing your family, Will.” She redirected her attention to Nate. “How about it?”

  “Okay, let’s get Will and the girls settled, then we’ll cast a line for Petrellis.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Will said to Sara.

  “This is my job. On a normal day I’m pretty good at it.”

  “But you’re hurt—”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She’d do whatever was necessary to make sure Will and his girls were out of danger.

  * * *

  Sara sipped her hot tea as she sat at the counter in the town’s most popular diner. It was a long shot, but the best plan they could come up with on short notice.

  Nate waited outside with another officer in an unmarked car. The agreement was Sara would text them when Petrellis showed up. Surely someone in this crowded restaurant knew Petrellis, and many of them had heard of her—the strange woman who’d been rescued from the mountains. She could tell from their expressions, from their curious frowns as they passed by.

  But somehow she was going to disguise herself when she joined the protective detail for Will and the girls? Who was she kidding? She was probably the town’s biggest celebrity.

  Which she hoped worked in her favor right now. Hopefully her diner visit would start a buzz about the mysterious lady who fell off the mountain and had been rescued by the local bachelor. Sara was under the impression locals were not only protective of Will, but also wanted to find him a suitable mate.

  Sara was not at the top of that list, even on her best day. Will was about compassion and raising his girls in a healthy environment. Sara was about...well, you wouldn’t call her lifestyle necessarily healthy.

  For the first time in years, she caught a glimpse of her obsessive nature, a nature that turned people off, especially her superiors at work. And now she was so obsessed with keeping Will and his girls safe that she was putting herself in danger. Yeah, obsessive was a good word to describe her current decision. It was part of the job, a job Will would never truly understand.

  The restaurant wall clock read nine fifteen. She wondered what Will was serving his girls for dinner. Probably something healthier than the cheeseburger and fries sitting on the counter in front of her. Would Will read Claire and Marissa a bedtime story? Work on their Christmas lists?

  The waitress, a middle-aged woman with black hair pulled back, came by with a water pitcher. “How was the burger?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  “Need more water?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Can I ask you something? I mean, if I’m being rude just tell me.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Are you her? The woman who fell off the mountain and was rescued by Will Rankin?”

  Success! Word had spread. They knew who she was.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Ah, so hiking was a new experience for you.”

  Sara shrugged. She’d hiked plenty as a kid.

  “Good thing Will happened to be out there,” the waitress offered.

  “Yep.”<
br />
  But not so good in Sara’s book. Finding Sara had sent Will’s life into a tailspin of trouble.

  “Will’s a nice man,” the waitress said.

  “Exceptionally nice.”

  “He’s been through a lot.”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “So you know about his wife?”

  “Yes, Will and I have become friends.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed. A customer caught her eye and she walked away.

  Sara’s phone buzzed with a text. It was from Will.

  You okay?

  She responded.

  All is well. How are the girls?

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the door. The waitress stood beside a table of customers, three elderly couples who seemed to be glaring at Sara.

  Oh, boy. Her friendship with Will was causing her to be the most disliked person in town. She redirected her attention to her phone. Will hadn’t responded. She didn’t want to look back at the locals in the corner. Their message was clear. “You should be ashamed of yourself for involving Will.”

  Oh, she was very ashamed of herself for putting him in danger. Yet, she kept hearing Will’s voice: I wish you’d stop trying to push me away.

  He appreciated their friendship, or whatever you could call what was developing between them. Every time she tried drawing a boundary line, he’d reach right across and hold on tighter. What kind of man did that?

  A compassionate, generous man.

  One who deserved better than a damaged friend like Sara Vaughn in his life.

  The waitress returned and placed the check on the counter. A hint that Sara had overstayed her welcome?

  “Thanks,” Sara said.

  With a nod, the waitress walked away. Sara flipped over the check, and noticed a message written in ink: “Meet me out back.”

  She scanned the restaurant. A few people still stared at her, but chances were none of them had written the message. She placed cash in the bill sleeve and shifted off the barstool. Cradling her sprained wrist against her stomach, she went down the hall leading to the bathroom. At the end of the hall was a bright red exit sign over a back door.