A Christmas Kiss

by Caroline Burnes

  She couldn't tell if he saw her or not. He didn't break the rhythm of his work. Carrying the shotgun in the crook of her arm, she walked closer to him. So close that he had to acknowledge her presence.

  He let the ax fall beside his foot and leaned on it. "You've got a little more color in your face. That's good."

  "I'm okay." She tried to read his expression, but he was careful not to show what he was thinking.

  What had changed between them so suddenly? She was in his arms one moment, and the next...

  "I think if we can get out of here, Laurette will be fine."

  "I think so," she agreed. "And you? Will you be fine?"

  Joey lifted the ax and acted as if he were going to ignore her question and split more wood. Slowly, he lowered it to the ground. "I'm worried about you."

  Emboldened by the tone of his voice, she walked up to him and put her hand on his face. "I'm going to be okay, Joey."

  "Eventually, maybe." He turned away and lifted the ax. "This business with Kit..."

  "I know.'' There was nothing else she could say. She knew that her actions had made her look insane. Standing beside Joey, she didn't believe she'd seen Kit. It had to have been her imagination.

  There was no way he could have survived an alligator attack. Yet... yet she had seen him.

  "No, I don't think you do know. It's not the fact that you think you saw him. It was dark, storming, your eyes could have played tricks on you. I won't say it doesn't concern me, because it does. This obsession you have with Kit Wells concerns me greatly. But the heart of the matter is that you went out after him. A man who tried to kill you. A man who could have killed my sister. You left Laurette unprotected while you chased after the past."

  "Not the past!" Cori needed to make him see. "I had to make certain, Joey. Kit is dead, or he's not.

  I saw him killed, and then I saw him again in the window. Don't you understand? I can't go on having him pop out of every dark corner, peering through every window when the lights are out."

  "I have a lot of concerns. About you. About us. It isn't the past that troubles me, it's the future." He kicked several pieces of wood out of the way. "Maybe when the retrial is over we can see what's between us." That wasn't what he wanted, but Cori was too close to the edge. Way too close. He'd seen it in her face as she stood in the rain in the middle of the woods. Hunting a dead man. The last thing she needed was pressure from him.

  She nodded. So, Joey had come to the conclusion that the night they'd shared together had been a mistake. She was a witness, someone who would testify and then... move on. When they relocated her out-of-state again, there was no telling where she'd end up. Joey would manage to get his job back and his life would resume. With his friends and family, his work.

  Their paths had crossed for one brief period of time. She'd seen the handwriting on the wall; she'd just refused to read it.

  "It's okay," she said, trying to force a smile that would not materialize. "You don't have to think up an explanation. I think I know all the reasons."

  He looked at her. "The reasons?"

  "We're traveling in different directions, et cetera, et cetera. I thought of all that, too." She found a smile, even though it was small and sad. "I guess I just didn't want to accept the truth."

  "So that's what you think." Joey gripped the ax handle, knowing that somewhere Kit Wells played a role in her thoughts, whether she would admit it or not.

  "I've gotten pretty good at accepting some hard facts lately. The man I married set me up and used me and then tried to abduct me so he could kill me. I had to give up the way I wanted the past to be and look at it straight on. I see a lot of things about myself that I don't really like. I was afraid to confront the truth, I think. I never asked Kit the questions I needed to. It was enough that he wanted to marry me. I should have asked why." She looked down at the wood Joey had been chopping. "I went after Kit because I didn't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to hide my head in the sand and hope for the best. I wanted to find him, dead or alive. To be honest, I didn't really care which."

  Joey let the ax fall sideways. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You weren't chasing after him, clinging to some hope that you could follow him back to the past?"

  Cori shook her head. "A life with Kit is the last thing I'd want. I want to live, with a real future, not just a tragic past."

  Joey touched her cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  His touch, the concern for her, blanketed her in what might have been. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring the feel of him. When she opened them, she knew she had really changed. "I'm okay, Joey. I'm fine."

  "When I got to the cabin and you were gone, I was terrified that someone had taken you. Not because it was my job to protect you, but because I've come to care about you. Maybe too much. That's a problem for me, Cori."

  Those words were the warning. Cori recognized them for what they were. She'd been living those words for the past two years. Life had required too much. Too much risk, too much energy, too much desire to live. So she had avoided living. Avoided risk and all of the attendant potential heartbreaks.

  "I was sick with worry about you, too," she said carefully.

  "I know." He let his thumb trace her cheekbone. "Oh, I know." He took another breath. "Anyway, I found that you weren't hurt. That you followed a known killer into the swamps." He hesitated. "I guess it crossed my mind that maybe you'd chosen to go with him, that you were running away from me, and from testifying."

  "Is it that important to you that I testify?"

  Joey dropped his hand. "That's what this is all about. That's why Laurette was shot. They want to prevent you from testifying."

  "And if I decide not to testify?"

  "Then all of this will have been for nothing. But it's your choice."

  "So that's the bottom line. I testify, and you've done your job. I'll be free to assume a new identity."

  He heard the anger, but he didn't understand its source. He was telling her that she had a choice.

  Three days before, he wouldn't have considered giving her one. His job had been to protect her until she was due on the witness stand. A clear-cut job. Her happiness hadn't figured into it.

  "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

  "Nothing." She turned away. "I'll take some of that wood inside." She picked up an armload and walked back to the cabin. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked. She held herself erect and her head high.

  With her arms loaded with wood, the climb up the stairs required some effort, but she managed to kick the door and alert Aaron to open it. She put the wood down in front of the fire and went to the kitchen.

  Aaron paced in the living room area. "Did Joey say anything?"

  "No." Cori had to struggle not to sound sharp. "Nothing about his future plans." She cracked eggs in a bowl and stoked up the fire in the stove. "He'll be in soon. There's not enough wood left to keep him busy much longer."

  Aaron heard the tension and chose not to ask. He returned to cleaning the guns. "I'll do this for you,"

  he said, picking up the shotgun. "Next time, I'll teach you."

  "Let's just hope there isn't a next time."

  The sound of a boat approaching hushed them both.

  "It's fast," Aaron observed. "Nobody I know."

  She took the gun he handed her, loading it with an expertise she'd never suspected she possessed.

  Snapping the breach shut, she went to the window. Joey was coming up the stairs, fast.

  The door burst open and he was inside, checking his own weapons.

  "What's the plan?" Aaron asked.

  "We'll wait it out here. We can look out for one another better from this vantage point."

  Aaron picked up a rifle and took a position in the window opposite Joey. Cori stood backup, her lungs banded by a grip of iron as the boat came closer and closer.

  "Look, there's some guy in the front waving at us." Joey motioned for Aaron and
Cori to lower their guns. "It looks like... Ken Applewhite."

  "Who?" Cori and Aaron asked simultaneously.

  "Ken. He's from my office."

  "Well, damn if it's not the cavalry," Aaron said as he recognized the official lettering on the blue jackets the men wore. "We've been rescued."

  Cori stepped into the boat, taking care not to rock Laurette any more than she had to. She sank down beside the injured woman, taking her head in her lap. "Okay." She looked up at the US. Marshals.

  "We're ready."

  "Take care of Laurette," Aaron said as he waved from the dock. "Me and Joey, we'll be along." He smiled but he couldn't hide the concern. Joey was not on the dock to say goodbye. He was in the cabin plotting the roundup of the killers with the three officers who had remained behind to help him. Aaron would stay also, waiting for another boat to be sent from Henderson.

  Cori looked behind Aaron, hoping that Joey would at least wave to her from the cabin. There was no face at the window, no sign of him in the doorway. He had turned her over to the system. She was now back in custody in the witness protection program.

  Whether she was going to testify or not was an issue she had not come to a clear determination on.

  The fact that she had been lied to about Kit's fate nagged at her. What other facts had been withheld?

  She felt manipulated and used, and at this point, she wasn't certain who was the mastermind behind it. It could be the legal system as well as the men who'd hired Kit to kill her.

  And Kit. No matter how she tried to convince herself that she'd imagined his face at the window, she still believed he was somewhere on that tiny little patch of land that contained the cabin. Joey and the deputies would find him soon. And then? The questions that had burned in her a week ago no longer seemed important.

  Would Kit's answers help her decision about testifying and rejoining the witness protection program?

  Whatever she decided, she couldn't allow herself to be influenced by the hurt she felt at the thought of Joey. He'd turned her over to his associates without batting an eye, almost as if it were a relief to be rid of his responsibility for her. He had not asked them where they would take her. He had not asked if he could see her. The exchange had been silent. No one viewed her as a creature with needs and emotions. She was a witness, plain and simple. A regurgitator of facts.

  The boat motored through the swamp, guided by a fisherman who knew Joey, Laurette and Aaron.

  The old man kept casting worried looks at Laurette. Each time she moaned, he notched the throttle a tiny bit higher until Cori finally put aside her tormenting thoughts and concentrated on keeping perfectly still in the boat. One slight movement might tip them all over.

  When the boat pulled into the landing at Henderson, Cori was met with the flashing light of an ambulance. The siren was blessedly silent, but the attendants were on the dock with a stretcher, waiting for Laurette. As Cori started to climb into the ambulance with her, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  "We're going back to New Orleans."

  She shook off his hand. "I'm going to the hospital with Laurette. She's alone. Her brother is still out in the swamp, doing his job. Laurette needs me."

  "Her family has been notified. Her husband is flying in from Atlanta." The grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Ms. St. John, but you have to come with us."

  The flat voice held the tone of an arresting officer. Ken Applewhite had not a flicker of personality.

  And Cori suspected that he was not a friend of Joey's.

  "I don't have to do a damn thing." She put a foot in the ambulance and started in.

  Applewhite's hand jerked her backward and spun her so that she was facing the side of the ambulance, his hand on the back of her neck.

  "Sorry it has to be this way, Ms. St. John, but you've caused enough trouble." He clicked the cuffs into place. "Now, we have a patrol car waiting for you. You're going to get in the back seat, and you're going to ride back to New Orleans without making trouble, is that understood?"

  She gritted her teeth. "You had better take your hand off me."

  "You forget, Ms. St. John, you're not in the business of giving orders here."

  "I am a protected witness."

  "Not anymore. You are a witness in protective custody. That puts you about one rung higher than an arrested criminal." He pulled her away from the ambulance and twisted her so that she faced him. His teeth were clenched together and his green eyes were hard as unpolished stone. "You've caused enough trouble. People are getting hurt because of you, and I for one have had enough of handling you with kid gloves. You're about to see the other side of law enforcement."

  "Believe me, I've seen it." Cori felt a tidal wave of fury, but she knew she had to keep her cool.

  "Can I simply ride to the hospital with Laurette?"

  "No."

  "Then let me tell her goodbye."

  Applewhite led her to the back of the ambulance. "Make it fast."

  With her hands cuffed behind her, Cori couldn't climb into the ambulance. "Laurette, I've got to go back to New Orleans. Joey will be here soon. And your husband is on the way."

  "I'll be okay." Laurette's voice was weak, but she managed to lift her head. "Are you okay?"

  "Fine," Cori reassured her. "I'll be fine."

  "That's it," Applewhite said. "We've got to head out."

  Cori forced herself not to resist as the marshal led her to the waiting patrol car.

  Most OF the way back to New Orleans, Cori dozed in the back seat. Applewhite had released her hands when she'd offered no resistance. There were a million questions to ask, but she knew there was no point in asking him. She'd wait until Joey got back.

  As they made their way into the busy city, Cori watched the familiar landmarks pass and wondered where they would take her. City jail? If she was in custody, that seemed the obvious answer. The thought was scary, but she was determined not to show that she was afraid.

  As they pulled into the building that housed the federal officers, she tried to compose herself. At least there would be word of Joey. And Kit. They would have found him by now.

  "Let's go." Applewhite opened the door and helped her out. "Clayton Bascombe wants to see you."

  She didn't bother to ask why. She knew. She'd violated the agreement she'd made and now she was in big trouble. Clayton Bascombe had been the marshal who'd worked with her when she'd first entered the WP program.

  She followed Applewhite inside and took a seat in a waiting room. Another officer stood at the door. Making sure she didn't make a run for it, she supposed.

  Her wait was short. The door opened, and she was ushered into the room she remembered from two years before. Clayton Bascombe was a balding man with a patient smile.

  "You're not injured are you, Ms. Wells?"

  For a split second, Cori had forgotten that he'd known her as Brently Gleason Wells. "I've adapted to Cori St. John," she told him, "and I'm not hurt. I'm just very tired."

  "Ken has given me an update." Bascombe frowned. "The question now is what to do with you. You realize that you can be called to testify against your will. As a material witness, you don't have a choice."

  "I know that."

  "Ben DeCarlo's retrial is only weeks way. We can hold you in protective custody until that time."

  "I'm aware of that." Cori felt Bascombe took no pleasure in wielding his authority over her. He was stating the facts, and she was already aware of her limited range of choice now.

  "We can detain you in jail, which I am loathe to do."

  She waited. She'd never been in the city lockup, but she'd heard about the crowded conditions, the violence.

  "Or we can put you in a safe house. It's up to you. One requires your cooperation. The other..." He didn't finish.

  "Right now, I'd like a bath or shower and some clean clothes."

  "That can be arranged." He picked up a folder. "What is your attitude about testifying?"

  "I came to New Orleans to find my husba
nd. I suppose you've been told that Kit was alive, and that he found me."

  Bascombe nodded. "We were led to believe that he was dead, Ms___St. John. Needless to say, we would have notified you if we'd had the slightest inkling that Detective Wells was still alive." A puzzled look crossed his face. "I expect Mr. Tio will be able to clarify some of these issues when he comes in."

  "Have you captured Kit?"

  Bascombe tapped the file against his palm. "I hesitate to tell you, but I think you have a right to know. No, he was not taken. We have two men in custody. Kit Wells and another of the men escaped."

  Cori didn't believe it for a moment. They'd lied to her before, knowingly or not. Information that was supposed to be secret—such as her identity and location in Houston—had been somehow leaked. She had no reason to trust the man who stood before her.

  "I don't believe you," she said, rising. "There was no way for Kit to escape. If you didn't capture him, then he's dead. And you wouldn't tell me the truth if he were dead. The entire time I've been involved in this mess I've been lied to by someone. Don't take it personally, but I don't trust anyone.

  Now, if I could go to that house you were talking about."

  Bascombe rose, too. "I assure you, Ms. St. John, Kit Wells was not killed by the marshals or any of the other law enforcement officials on the scene. Two men were taken into custody. Neither of them was Kit Wells."

  Cori felt bone weary.

  "We'll keep a twenty-four-hour guard on you. No one should be able to find the house. And the time before the trial will pass quickly. Someone from the prosecutor's office will be in touch with you in a couple of days."

  "Of course."

  "Ms. St. John." He came around the desk. "I know you feel betrayed. Please don't let that color the truth when you take the witness stand. Keep in mind that Ben DeCarlo is a very dangerous man. He committed an atrocious act. He deserves to be punished.''

  "And I was deliberately set up as a witness to that act." Cori couldn't help her anger. "You're damn right I feel betrayed. By everyone involved in this. What happens to me after the trial?"