by Rita Herron
What had happened to her sister?
Was her sister hurt? And what about Stevie?
A siren wailed in the distance, but her nephew’s cries reverberated in her ears. She had to get to him now. She couldn’t wait. Seconds might cost him his life. And Gina’s…
They were her only family. What if something had happened to them?
Panicked, she grabbed her umbrella to use as a weapon, then ran through the rain toward the front door, hunching her face against the bitter cold. She reached for the door handle, expecting it to be locked. Instead the door squeaked open.
She swallowed hard, the hair on the nape of her neck bristling.
Tires screeched in the background and a police car’s twirling blue lights danced across the lawn. Two car doors flew open and a man and woman jumped out, their car’s headlights blinding her.
“Wait!” The male officer ran toward her, his commanding voice booming through the wind and rain.
She froze, her eyes glued to him. Max Malone.
He didn’t seem to notice the icy temperature or weather. Instead he seemed as brooding as the climate.
Black hair framed a chiseled face set in stone. His nose had been broken more than once. His chin was too broad. His shoulders massive. He shouldn’t be so handsome and make her feel things she couldn’t want.
Why had he been the officer to take this call?
Because he was probably one of the few on duty around the clock this time of year. He’d told her once he didn’t believe in Christmas. At the time, she hadn’t realized he hadn’t believed in love, either. Or that that soft tender side she’d thought he might possess was nonexistent.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she struggled to steady her voice and put aside her personal feelings toward Max. “Stevie…he called,” she cried. “Something’s wrong.”
Max yanked her to the end of the porch, in the corner, then pulled her down to a hunched position and whispered, “Go back to the car, Angelica. Detective Simmons and I will search the house.”
The female officer nodded behind him. “I’ll cover you, Malone.”
“No, I have to go inside,” Angelica cried. “Stevie needs me. And my sister—” Her voice broke, and she tried to pull away, but Max latched onto her arm with a firm grip.
“I said stay here, dammit! If there’s an intruder, he might still be inside.”
Battling tears, she gripped the porch rail as Max stood, tiptoed toward the door, then checked the doorknob. It didn’t appear to have been jimmied.
Max’s partner whispered to Angelica, “Trust us. Malone’s the best.”
Angelica pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a comment. She knew Max was a good cop. Fearless. Protective. Larger than life.
He was also the jerk who’d slept with her and left her as if she was nothing but a one-night stand.
But there was no time to think about that now. As long as he saved Gina and Stevie, she didn’t care.
He disappeared into the house and she closed her eyes and prayed her family was all right.
MAX FORCED HIMSELF to banish the sight of Angelica’s terrified face as he inched inside the house. The interior was dark. Eerily silent.
Of course, it was 2:09 a.m. A time when mothers and kids were usually safely tucked in bed.
A dozen scenarios raced through his head, all variations on the same theme. The mother murdered in her sleep. The son slain beside her. Or kidnapped…
His pulse accelerated as he spotted the Christmas tree in the den. It was small and spindly, and toppled on its side. The blinking lights looked macabre in the darkness, their touches of color swirling over shattered ornaments and a Christmas train that had been broken into several pieces. In the midst of the milieu, lay a woman, her white-blond hair swirled on the carpet, her tattered gown soaked in blood illuminated by the Christmas lights.
He glanced back at Sheila and saw her clamp her teeth over her lip as if to stifle a gasp. Praying for a miracle, but knowing the woman was already dead, he knelt to check for a pulse. Nothing.
Sheila’s gaze asked the question that he silently answered with a shake to his head. The gunshot had been to her chest. She hadn’t had a chance.
His adrenaline spiked, he gestured toward the kitchen and staircase. She nodded, heading left to check the kitchen while he edged toward the stairs. He searched the hall closet, the powder bath, then stepped onto the staircase.
The wooden steps creaked. He followed the ancient carpet as it lead his pathway upstairs. A few blood droplets dotted the beige flooring, along with other stains. He braced himself to find the kid dead, too, and bile rose to his throat. No kid deserved to die.
Or to witness his mother being murdered in front of his eyes.
The 9-1-1 call told him that was probably what had happened.
So where was the kid now? Had the caller seen him and taken his life, too?
ANGELICA WAS SHAKING so hard she thought she was going to be ill. She was cold all the way to her bones.
What was taking Max so long? She couldn’t just keep waiting in the wind and cold, not knowing…
Finally he appeared in the doorway, looming so tall and big that she flinched at the harsh set to his jaw. Officer Simmons slipped up behind him, a sad smile on her face, making Angelica’s stomach clench again.
Shivering, she stood and ran toward him. “Max, where’s Gina? Stevie?”
His dark eyes met hers, filled with haunting answers. “I’m sorry, Angel…” He reached for her, but she shook her head, the cold horror of what lay in his eyes, in his tone, skating over her like ice.
“No.” Latching onto denial, she started past him into the house, imagining the night was a mistake, that her sister and Stevie would come running down the steps any minute. They had to be in there. She had to see them.
He grabbed her arm instead of allowing her entry. “You don’t want to go in there, Angel.”
“I—I have to.” She jerked her arm away, her mind screaming that he was wrong. This couldn’t be happening.
“Miss North, we have to preserve the crime scene.” Officer Simmons reached for her, too, but Angelica gave her a sharp look. “My sister’s in there and her son. I have to see them.”
She shoved the female officer aside and ran into the house. Max caught her around the waist before she entered the den.
Her heart pitched as she spotted her sister’s lifeless, bloody body beside the shattered Christmas tree. Shock and horror immobilized her. Poor Gina. She was so young. Had her whole life ahead of her. That blond hair, perfectly tanned face—her eyes looked so glassy and empty. Remembering Stevie, she tore her gaze away and quickly scanned the room for her nephew.
“Angel, I’m sorry,” Max murmured behind her.
“Where’s Stevie?” She swung around and clutched at his arms. “Where is he, Max? I have to see him!”
“I don’t know,” Max said gruffly. “He’s not here, Angel.”
“What do you mean, he’s not here. You didn’t find his b—” She couldn’t say it.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I called his name and searched the house, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.”
Chapter Two
Horror roared in Angelica’s ears. Gina was dead. And Stevie was gone.
No, it wasn’t possible.
Her head swirled as an emptiness engulfed her. “Maybe he ran to a neighbor’s or he’s still here, Max. He might be hiding.”
Max and his partner exchanged worried looks.
“I checked all inside, Angel,” Max said.
“But he called me!” she insisted. “He can’t be gone, Max, he just c…an’t.” That meant a killer had him. That he was in danger. Or—no, she couldn’t think like that. Gina might be gone, but Stevie had to be here! “Please check again.”
Officer Simmons cleared her throat. “I’ll call the station, get a crime scene and the M.E. out here, and some backup to canvass the neighborhood.”
Max nodded. “What does Stevie look
like, Angelica?”
“He’s five, has wavy brown hair, brown eyes.” Angelica removed a small photo from her wallet and handed it to Max.
Angelica gripped Max’s arm tighter. “Please, Max,” Angelica pleaded. “Let me help you check the house again. He might be afraid to come out.”
Unease flickered in his eyes, but she must have convinced him because he nodded. “Just don’t touch anything, Angel. We can’t contaminate the evidence.”
Taking one more agonized look at her sister’s dead body, Angelica summoned her courage and silently said another prayer as she and Max climbed the stairs. Careful not to touch the stair rail, she listened for any sounds from above. But her own breathing rattled the quiet.
If her nephew was somewhere in the house, he was afraid, or he might be hurt. She repeatedly called his name to soothe him. “Stevie, it’s Angelica. Are you here, honey?”
She and Max tiptoed into her sister’s room first, then checked under the bed, the bathroom, the walk-in closet. She shook her head, then motioned toward the hallway and called Stevie’s name again. “Honey, if you’re here, it’s okay to come out now. It’s just me, Angelica. The bad man’s gone.”
Nothing.
She crossed the hall to Stevie’s room, her heart squeezing at the sight of the dinosaur border and comforter she’d bought for his fifth birthday. Stevie had been so excited that day. Had hugged her neck and whispered that he loved her. She loved him, too.
He couldn’t be gone.
Max checked beneath the bunk bed, and she stepped into the closet. “Stevie, honey, are you here somewhere? Please let me know where you are so I can find you.”
A low keening suddenly echoed through the room. Angelica’s heart thudded in her chest. “Max! I think he’s in here.”
Max knelt and opened the big wooden toy chest, but trucks, a toy fire engine and stuffed dinosaurs filled the box.
Remembering the storage crawl space at the back of the closet, she pushed through the toys on the floor and found the door. “Stevie! I’m here now, it’s going to be all right.”
Max yanked at the door to the storage space and Angelica crawled through the opening. The keening grew louder. Although it was pitch-black, Max switched on the light in the closet and a dim glow flowed through the door to the inside. Shadows flickered across the room.
Several boxes and bags of clothes were stacked in one corner. In the other, she spotted Stevie hunched against the wall in his Spider-Man pajamas. He’d pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and was rocking back and forth, crying, his little body shaking. Angelica called his name again and he lifted his head and stared at her with big tear-stained eyes.
Seconds later she hugged him in her arms, crying with him.
The next hour rolled by in excruciating seconds. Max ushered Angelica and her nephew down the stairs and outside, trying to calm them both. Although what comforting words could he offer?
The truth of the situation was bleak. Gina North had been murdered in her home, quite possibly while her son watched. Either scenario had traumatized the boy and he wasn’t talking.
Another shattered holiday rose from Max’s past to haunt him. His own family torn apart by violence.
The very reason he didn’t celebrate with good cheer. The other reason he always offered to take double duty during Christmastime.
The ambulance arrived and Angelica hovered close to Stevie while the paramedics examined him. She was in shock herself, but no one would know it. Instead of falling apart, she was a pillar of strength for the boy who kept a firm grip around her neck as if she, too, might disappear any second.
Max’s partner watched the two of them together with tears in her eyes. The case hit too close to home for her, and she was emotional.
Another reason he had to keep his own feelings bottled.
He took notes as the CSI officer collected evidence.
“It looks as if she died of a single gunshot wound to the chest,” the M.E. said.
Max nodded. “I checked all the windows and doors. There was no forced entry. She must have known the perp.”
“We’ll have to question Angelica,” Sheila said.
He nodded. “I’ll do it. You can go on home if you want.”
She gave him a watery smile. “You’re too close to her, Max. You two dated.”
“That was in the past,” Max snapped. “Besides, when have I ever let my feelings get in the way?”
She glared at him. “I was thinking about her, Max. I know you don’t give a damn about anybody.”
She turned and walked away with a huff, moving toward one of the outside techs who was searching for footprints on the muddy ground.
He frowned and glanced at Angelica, wondering if Shelia was right—if having him around would make things more difficult for Angelica.
He had been a jerk and left her without any explanation. She deserved someone better than him.
But Shelia was wrong about one thing. He hadn’t left Angelica because he hadn’t cared. Angelica had felt too good in his arms. Too tempting. Too…right.
Their relationship wouldn’t have lasted though, not any more than his own parents’ had. So he’d done her a favor by saving her the pain of getting any more invested in their relationship.
But now…now, he couldn’t walk away. Not until he caught her sister’s killer and made sure she and the little boy were safe. After all, if Stevie had witnessed the murder, he might be able to identify the killer.
And if the killer had seen Stevie…then he might come after the child.
ANGELICA BREATHED A sigh of relief to see that Stevie hadn’t been physically injured, although he hadn’t spoken a word since she’d found him. She wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders as they huddled in the back of the ambulance in the driveway, and he drifted into an exhausted sleep. Her heart clenched at the very thought that he’d witnessed his mother’s murder. What kind of effect would that have on him the rest of his life?
He twitched and moaned, unable to rest. She desperately wanted to shield him from this scene, but she had to talk to Max first, see if they had any clues as to who had killed Gina.
The rain had dwindled, but the heavy wind still tossed tree branches against the window panes. When she’d dropped Stevie off earlier, the house had been lit with Christmas lights and looked so welcoming. Now it seemed like a ghost house, grief and sorrow spilling out.
She glanced at the crime scene tape cordoning off the area, silently searching for Max. Once he’d turned her over to the paramedics, he’d rushed back inside the house to search for evidence. She’d told herself that was fine, that she didn’t need baby-sitting.
Still, she silently wished he’d come back and fold her in his arms. Lie to her and assure her everything would be all right.
Tears pricked her eyelids again as an image of her sister flashed in her mind. Guilt quickly followed. She’d been so annoyed with Gina lately, had fussed at her just yesterday about taking better care of Stevie and advising her not to date half a dozen men.
Now, she’d give anything to recant those words. To have Gina alive again, even if they didn’t always get along. Gina had been fun and spontaneous, the looker of the two. She could charm any man in sight. Meanwhile Angelica had been the big sister and covered for Gina’s irresponsible mood swings and propensity to live on the wild side.
Gina had known that she loved her, hadn’t she?
Max appeared in the front door, towering over another officer as he stopped to ask him something. Then he lifted his head, his dark eyes flickering with regret as he strode toward her.
The breeze blew his hair across his forehead as he stopped in front of her. She braced herself for the tingle of attraction and need that raced through her. Why had she fallen for this man? He hadn’t done anything to lead her on. But something in his eyes had speared her. A kind of loneliness he’d never admit.
She’d wanted to love him and make that darkness disappear.
A foolish endeavor when he’d wanted nothing but a night of hot sex.
And they’d had that, too.
God, how could she be thinking such selfish thoughts when her sister lay dead?
Mortified at her own behavior, she glanced down at Stevie, brushing back his damp brown hair. Stevie was all that mattered now. She had to protect him and take care of him.