A smile tugged at her lips.
She was deep into memories. Fond ones. Which was what he wanted from the start. He wondered if any of those memories included him. The teakettle whistled and he motioned for her to stay put. “I got it.”
“I put the cocoa mix in the mugs already.”
He poured the water into the mugs—not his favorite kind of cocoa but it would do in a pinch. He stirred them and brought them to the couch, sitting beside her.
Nora wrapped her slender fingers around her mug and inhaled.
Curiosity got the best of him. “What were you thinking about just now?”
Nora’s face glowed against the flames of the fireplace. “When I was little, Dad always let me put the angel on the tree. He’d say, ‘Nora, you’re my sweetheart.’ But I haven’t been a sweetheart. I left him when he needed me most. Left Hailey...” Shifting, she faced him. “You...” she whispered. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t pulled away from you after Mom vanished.”
Rush knew exactly what would have happened.
He’d have married her.
* * *
Nora peered into Rush’s warm brown eyes, not sure what she hoped to see or hear from his mouth. They couldn’t go back. Couldn’t change the past, but he brought back her best Christmas memories with her family—decorating the tree by the fireside and drinking hot cocoa while listening to festive music. He did it because that’s who he was. Compassionate, selfless and generous. He was going the extra mile to see to her safety, knowing he might be in jeopardy too. Not to mention, he probably had a life but he’d put it on hold—for her.
Seeing that ceramic hand had only brought back memories of two teenagers dreaming of a future together, when it seemed bright and full of hope, when it was like the white lights. Innocent. Pure. Untainted by mistakes, scandals and Nora’s insecurities.
Rush ran his hand through her hair, brushing it from her face. “I wonder sometimes too.” He held her eyes captive as the wind howled and rattled the windowpanes. The smell of chocolate on his breath reached her as he slowly descended on her lips. “I think we would have made a great life, Nora Beth.”
Would they have? Would Mom’s scandals have hung over them like ice-encased branches, shattering over their happy homemade lives? Would Rush have gotten bored with Nora and cheated? Would Nora have cheated on him?
As his lips met hers, scraping on the roof drew her attention away. She drew back, almost thankful for the distraction. “What was that?”
Rush glanced up. “Probably tree branches.” When he met her eyes, he sighed. “If you weren’t okay with where this was going, Nora, you could have said so.”
She wasn’t using the noise to stop the intended kiss. Prickles ran along her skin. “I wasn’t, but...we can’t let the way we felt about each other in the past trip us up now. We’re...we’ve been over a long time, Rush.”
“Is this about what happened with Ainsley?”
“No.” Maybe. Partly. “I’m leaving after Christmas. I can’t stay here permanently. I don’t want to. And I don’t see you ever leaving. That kinda puts a halt on anything between us, don’t you think?”
“I think—”
Crack!
“Get down,” Rush hollered, and shoved Nora on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
“Was that a gunshot?”
Rush drew his gun and crouched low, moving toward the window in the breakfast area. Nora curled into a fetal position watching, waiting.
Metal outside clanged. Rush turned the knob on the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
Panic raced through her system. “Don’t! Rush, you could get shot!”
He placed his index finger on his lips and slipped out the back door. She threw up a prayer that God would keep Rush safe.
Scraping on the roof continued. Snow fell like curtains of cotton blocking her view into the woods. She couldn’t huddle like a scared rabbit and do nothing! Not when Rush was out there risking his life to keep her safe. Crawling across the living room, she made her way to the back door. The only weapon in her possession had been stolen. She was defenseless against someone with a gun, but Rush could be hurt—could use another pair of eyes at least. As she reached for the knob, the door swung open and a blast of cold air swirled with snow into the kitchen area.
Nora yelped, then realized it was Rush.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I was coming to help you. Is he out there?” she asked and balled her fist to hide her trembling hand.
Rush eased her up to her feet, his nose and cheeks pink, hands icy. He’d hurried out without a coat. “A tree split on the north side of the house. Barely missed the roof. Sounded like a gunshot. But there are footprints out there. Fairly large. Work boots, possibly.” He rubbed his upper arms. “I think the tree splitting scared him off, and he knocked over the garbage can. Must have been crouching behind it.”
Lurking.
Nora shivered.
Rush led her to the fireplace and they sat on the hearth; he might be warming up cold bones from the weather, but no amount of heat could warm up the fear racing through Nora’s.
“I followed the footprints into the woods, but without a flashlight it’s useless. And with the snow coming down this hard, they’ll be covered by the time I can get back out there,” Rush said.
Nora rubbed her clammy hands together. “So the rustling on the roof actually was ice weighing down branches and dragging with the wind?”
He held his hands, palms open to the fire. “I suspect.”
A gust of wind shook the door and whistled in the flue. The lights flickered. Ice, most likely, was encrusting power lines. Whoever was spying must be desperate to come out in this kind of weather. “If he was in work boots, could it be the same attacker from the hotel?”
“I don’t know.” Rush frowned. “When you’re at work, do you keep your cell phone on to hear notifications?”
Where was this going? “Depends. If I don’t mind interruptions, then yeah, I keep it on. Why?”
“It just hit me. Earlier when Ward got that text... I didn’t hear it. Not even a buzz. The place was loud and noisy. Wouldn’t he have it on to hear the ding?”
Nora’s mind raced. “He checked it, then sent a text... Do you think he faked getting a text so he could send one to whoever attacked me? Let him know where I was? What better alibi than the Chief Deputy?”
“We come in and Ward knows what we’re after. But that also means he’s not working alone—if this speculation is correct.”
At least this time, Rush didn’t apologize for it. But the thought of more than one killer after her—a band or at the very least a pair of killers working in tandem—terrified her. “If he is working with an employee, then we can’t rely on the list he gave us. He could have easily had his accomplice’s name removed.”
“Valid point. If it’s an employee. We don’t know anything concrete, so it’s not like I can subpoena his phone records, texts.” Rush faced the flames, eyes appearing even darker against the firelight. “His information on Marilyn meeting someone at the grill might be a rabbit trail.”
“Best way to find out is to go to Mac’s tomorrow and hope the owner can tell us something—or the manager if he or she still works there,” Nora said. The lights dimmed, flickered and went out, leaving them with only the firelight and the candle she’d purchased earlier.
“Extra candles?” Rush asked.
“I think I saw some tea lights in the nightstand drawer.” She used her cell phone flashlight to guide her into the bedroom. Retrieving the box of tea lights and a lighter, she lit them and scattered them throughout the house. In the living room, Rush peeped out the windows.
“Lights are on at the main house and lodge,” he said.
“Generator. Chalets and cabins don’
t have them. I imagine Guest Services will be getting a boatload of calls tonight.”
Rush’s cell phone rang.
“Hey, Troy,” he said. His face grew stern. “Okay, I’ll be there as quick as I can.” He listened a few moments more, then hung up. “I need to take you up to the main house. Car accident on Route 5. Doesn’t look good.”
Nora’s stomach knotted. “What if he comes back? To the main house?”
Rush laid gentle hands on her shoulders. “I can’t say for certain, but I think you’ll be safe. Between me chasing him off and the weather...”
But he couldn’t say for sure.
“Can I come with you? I’ll stay in the car. Promise.”
Rush rubbed his earlobe—telltale sign he was thinking about it. “The weather is terrible. Let me take you to your father. I’ll come back for you. Three hours tops.”
“Okay.” She slipped into her coat and Rush’s Bronco, then called her dad to let him know she was coming home.
Rush walked her inside and squeezed her hand. He seemed to want to say something more, but instead he motioned a hand to the door.
“Lock this behind me. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”
She simply nodded and closed the door. Dad stood just inside the foyer in his robe and slippers. The backup generator had kept the lights on and the fridge humming. “Everything okay, hon?”
“Yeah. Wreck on Route 5. Rush had to go.” She left out the scare from earlier. “Hailey here?”
“No, she’s up at the lodge. I was going to head that way too, but Dalton’s asleep.”
“I can keep an eye on him.”
“And who will keep an eye on you?”
Point taken. “I’m going to go lie down.” She kissed Dad’s cheek and retired to her old bedroom, but sleep wouldn’t come. An hour later, she tiptoed downstairs for a cup of warm milk. The greenery on the banister poked at her fingers. Hailey had decorated in silver and gold with pops of red. Festive. Elegant. From the kitchen, she studied the tree. White lights like Mom loved. Childhood ornaments along with glass ornaments. Gold ribbon cascaded down the ten-foot tree. Stockings hung on the mantel. Four. Hailey, Nora, Dalton and Dad.
Dad dozed in the recliner, lightly snoring.
She’d rifled through the offices in the lodge, but she never searched Dad’s home office. Tight-lipped meant keeping something hidden. He might be hiding it in his office. Hurrying quietly down the hall, she slipped into Dad’s office and closed the door. The lamplight cast a soft glow over the dark wood. A sliver of guilt niggled at her, but she ignored it.
She rummaged through drawers and filing cabinets. Nothing that raised red flags or held secrets. Could his lack of words and pressing an investigation simply be the way he grieved? Privately? He might be able to let things go, but Nora couldn’t, especially after Ward McKay’s outright admission of guilt. It had lodged like a wet clump of dough in her stomach and grew until she couldn’t find a single drop of peace, but only more questions.
Questions that wouldn’t be answered here.
On her way to the door, she tripped over the area rug, peeling it back to reveal a small exposed bump in the hardwood. Had his flooring been warped? Kneeling to toss back the rug and leave everything as it was, she noticed the board wasn’t uneven, it was raised. Using her thumbs, she pushed the board out of the groove and two more came loose. Underneath lay a small fire safe.
Her heart raced and she quickly pulled the safe from the floor.
No key. She hadn’t seen a key while searching the drawers and cabinets.
Dad’s set hung in the kitchen. Nora put everything back the way it was and carried the fire safe to her room, hiding it before going back down to retrieve Dad’s keys.
He still snoozed in the recliner. She spotted them hanging on the hook by the back door. Without causing too much jingle, she gripped them and raced upstairs, then locked the door.
Chest pounding, she flipped through the keys until she found a small silver one.
It was now or never. She might find nothing but money and valuables, but at least she’d know.
She opened the safe.
Inside was a box lying on one lone manila file folder. She opened the box. Several legal papers were sandwiched inside; she scanned them and gasped.
Her blood ran cold.
SEVEN
Nora’s eyes blurred with tears, as a pain, deep and raw, cut like a jagged blade through her heart. Dad had definitely been hiding something.
Like the fact that Nora wasn’t his biological daughter.
Whose daughter was she? She could hardly breathe as she blinked away the tears and scanned the documents.
One stood out. A legal agreement.
This hereby states that Scott M. Rhodes relinquishes all parental rights for Nora Jane Cotter.
Cotter—her mother’s maiden name.
Scott Rhodes.
Who was this man who fathered her but didn’t want a single thing to do with her? She read on and gaped. No. This wasn’t true. Couldn’t be.
The only dad she’d ever known had paid Scott Rhodes half a million dollars and had agreed to pay him one hundred thousand dollars a year for the rest of Scott’s natural life.
So that’s what it cost to give her away.
Why would Dad even agree to that? Was this Rhodes guy so nefarious that he felt it necessary?
Nora continued to read, realizing that the document had been drawn up by her own father! Not Scott Rhodes. If the contract was breached by Scott, all agreed monies would be cut off and Rhodes’s transgressions would be made public.
What transgressions? Nora? Had to be.
Nora snagged her phone and searched for Scott M. Rhodes.
Gaping at the image before her, a fresh wave of tears fell. She’d always wished for her father’s eyes. Looked like she got her wish after all. She may have Mom’s hair and lips, but her face shape, eyes and nose belonged to Mississippi senator Scott Rhodes.
Married for almost forty years. Three children. All a bit older than Nora.
Mom had said she was twenty-two when she’d had Nora, but according to the dates on the documents, Mom had been eighteen when she’d had Nora. Which meant she’d been lying about her age. Claiming to be older than she was. Was this one of his secrets too?
Nora continued to read the history on Scott Rhodes until her stomach roiled.
A man dedicated to wholesome values. An article about families eating meals together popped up with him sitting around a dining room table with his wife and children—minus Nora, who had been a mistake. Someone to throw away and forget about.
Who did this man think he was? That he could sail through life with Dad’s money as if Nora never existed. Like red-hot bubbles, anger boiled over until Nora saw nothing but rage. Before she knew it, she was grabbing her coat, slipping on her boots and racing out the front door.
She couldn’t handle any more. The walls were closing in on her. She couldn’t breathe.
No one would give her answers. She’d take them.
This man who shared her eyes would look into hers and admit he’d abandoned her. Not even that—but had never even cared.
She drove all the way to airport, white-knuckling the steering wheel as she slipped and slid across the icy roads, hoping flights wouldn’t be too delayed or canceled. Tourists were still making it into town. Surely she could make it out. When she got to the parking garage, she called a journalist friend with the news station she’d worked for to get an address for the great senator who focused on family values.
Nora needed answers. Clearly, she wouldn’t get them from Dad.
But she would get them from her father. She bought the ticket, paced for the entire thirty-minute delay, then boarded the plane to Jackson, Mississippi. She managed to arrive around eleven fifteen. Her friend had texted her t
he address with no questions asked. She also had several missed calls, voice mails and texts from Rush. She ignored every single one. This was something she would do alone. Nora didn’t need Rush standing by and trying to comfort her. She’d lose all resolve. Turn to mush. Maybe even fall apart.
She hailed a cab, climbed inside and rattled off the address. This man would have answers about her mother and if she woke him from sleep, so be it.
As the cab neared Senator Rhodes’s antebellum home, some of the fury dissipated and fear burrowed into its place. This man could have had something to do with Mom being in the lake. She had a camera case full of money. He might have asked for more. Was that where Mom was heading? To take him money?
What if he was the one trying to kill Nora now? That wasn’t possible. Mom’s death would have made Tennessee news, but not national and doubtfully Mississippi. And he hadn’t had time to get to Splendor Pines to spray paint her cabin, but it was possible he knew someone there who had seen the news and called him. But who? That seemed far-fetched.
The cab pulled to the curb and she told the driver to wait. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. She didn’t have a ton of cash to spare. She’d maxed out her last credit card paying for the airfare. She stood at the black iron gates locking her out of stomping to the front porch and banging on the door. Gates would not keep her out.
She pressed a button on the intercom and waited silently.
A rattle filtered through the speaker. “May I help you?”
“Scott Rhodes?”
“Who’s asking? It’s nearly midnight.”
“Your daughter. Nora Livingstone.” That ought to jerk a knot in him.
The line went silent, but in a few moments, a figure appeared rushing toward her. As the man approached, the sight nearly knocked her breath away. Seemed it did the same to him. He stood staring through the bars, blue-green eyes mirroring hers.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
Cold Case Christmas Page 8