A SEAL to Save Christmas (3 page)

“I can call you. Write it down.” Tallyhouse nodded his head to the scratch pad on the side. Jason shrugged and jotted his number down.
 

“How long will it take you?”

“A few hours. Maybe longer. I’ll call you in the morning to let you know if I’ve made any progress.”
 

“And you won’t get distracted?”

Tallyhouse smiled crookedly. “Distracted? You’re working for the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t talk to me about distracted.”
 

“Five-year-old boy,” Jason growled. He didn’t necessarily feel the need to protect Helen, but he didn’t need the smarmy nerd to think he could talk to Jason like that.
 

Tallyhouse shrugged. “You going to give me your name?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough,” Jason said casually as he opened the door. “Keep the kid in mind. This is a stealth operation.”
 

He grabbed his gun on the way out and checked his watch. Still on time. That almost wasn’t like him.
 

Climbing back into his Jeep, he glanced casually around. He couldn’t spot a single camera.
 

Smith didn’t disappoint.
 

The parking lot was crammed with Christmas shoppers. As Jason drove through, he started tallying up points in his head.
 

Three points for the man carrying the Victoria Secret bag. Giving a gift that was ultimately for you? Lame. Five points for the mother carrying the toy department bag. No doubt the kid would play with it for a day before tossing it.

Fifty points for the old man carrying the Victoria Secret bag.
 

But running over people for walking down the middle of the deck was still against the law. And Jason was pretty impressed with the last one. The man was hobbling on a cane, for goodness sake.
 

As he passed 4B, he slowed down when he saw the man in a Red Sox hat. Scowling, he slowed and unlocked the door. The man slid into the passenger seat carrying a folder. “You have information on Timothy Myers?” Dan Johnson asked in a horse voice.
 

Rolling his eyes, Jason locked the door and started to speed up. “Hey,” the reporter protested.
 

“I don’t have information,” Jason said tightly. “I need information. And if you keep making this weird, I’m going to do more than ask politely for it.”
 

“Really?” the reporter slumped. “Come on.”

“All you have to do is tell me who your source is in the investigation, and I’ll let you go. That article was way too detailed. You knew something on the inside.”
 

“A good reporter never reveals his source,” the reporter said bravely.
 

“You live on Traverson drive with your wife Monica and your two-year-old daughter. Monica is an accountant, and last weekend, you guys went putt-putting and had dinner at the aquarium. You are a not a hardnosed reporter. You work for the Sun Weekly, and if it weren’t for this case, you’d be reporting on store openings and how to make your gardens grow in winter. Who is you source?”

“How do you know all of that?” Johnson whispered.
 

“You keep a blog, Johnson. You write about every moment of your life. I bet if I went deep enough in your posts, I’d probably read about your source. Now save me the time and give me a name,” Jason said as he took a turn a little too fast.
 

“Shelly Burns,” Johnson said desperately. “Her name is Shelly Burns. She’s a hooker off Ninth Street. She sometimes sleeps with Myers’ partner, Joshua Mines.
 
He told her everything.”
 

“And she came to you?” Jason questioned.

Johnson reddened, and Jason snorted. “Of course not. You’re sleeping with her. I bet that’s a little secret you don’t want Monica to find out.” He slammed on the brakes. “Get out.”
 

“But we’re three blocks from my car,” Johnson whined.
 

“Get. Out.” Jason repeated.
 

“Wait. Wait. Don’t you want to know how to get in touch with Shelly?”

Jason snorted. “Hardly. I’ll just get the information directly from the source. Get out. And leave the files.”

“No!” the man said as he clutched his files.
 

“Do you want Monica to find out about Shelly?” Jason said easily.
 

Johnson rolled out of the car and left the folder behind, and Jason sped out. Turned out that getting information was like taking candy from a baby.

It looked like he needed to have a work with Joshua Mines.
 

*
*
*

As it turned out, getting a hold of Joshua Mines was harder that Jason thought it would be. Not only was he not in the office for the weekend, but his address wasn’t listed, and his email said that he was out of town for the week.
 

Curious.
 

Just before he’d dropped Helen off, he gave her a burner phone. He dialed it now.
 

He was pleased to hear the sound of the shower in the background. “Do you have something?”

“Maybe. Nothing groundbreaking, but it’s only been a few hours. I need to talk to Joshua Mines. Can you get in touch with him?”

“I have his personal number.”

“Great. Tell him it’s an emergency and that you need to meet him tomorrow. Don’t say anything about the kidnapping or about me. Call me back when you’ve gotten in touch with him.”

“Mr. Leonard…”

“Jason,” he interrupted again. He wanted to hear his name on her lips.
 

She didn’t give him the satisfaction. “I know Joshua doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
 

“Maybe. Maybe not. He has information that I need. Please just do it, Ms. Myers.”
 

“Fine,” she said in a frustrated voice and hung up.
 

The sun was setting in Texas. It was about time for him to hit up his favorite watering hole and grab some sleep, but there was something digging at him. Something that didn’t make sense. He couldn’t call it PI instinct because he wasn’t really into the whole detective scene, but it was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch.
 

He bypassed the bar and went straight to his apartment. Just as he was about to unlock his door, his eighty-year-old neighbor hobbled out. Mrs. Sadler was a nosy gossip, but he loved her company.
 

“Coming home alone again?” she cackled as she locked her door.
 

“The night’s still young,” he said with an easy smile. “Maybe you’d like to join me?”

“If I was thirty years younger,” she rasped.
 

That would make her fifty. That was a bit out of his age bracket. Although there had been that one woman… and Jason had a feeling that Mrs. Sadler was probably quite the looker in her day.
 

“But I’ve got a date. If you hear the walls shaking, don’t bother checking in on me,” she laughed as she hobbled down the hall.
 

Jason shuddered and entered his apartment. Grabbing the files, the tossed them on the table and went into the kitchen. After heating up a microwave dinner, he sat down to enjoy the cardboard meatloaf and whatever that side item was. It sure was hell wasn’t mashed potatoes.
 

He flipped through the papers. It was an account of Timothy’s life from the conception of Myers Enterprise and before. It was just too much of a coincidence that Davis was taken just months after the father’s disappearance. If someone was just after money, they could have done it while Timothy was alive. There was something else about this.
 

Jason read and reread the reporter’s research until he thought his eyes would bleed. He threw away the meal tray and regrouped by doing a rigorous routine of sit-ups and pull-ups. When his muscles were screaming for relief, he went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face.
 

After a moment, he stripped off his shirt and turned to study the tattoo on his shoulder. There were no specific identifying tattoos for military units, but he and his unit had all gotten matching tattoos. Rather than getting a tattoo that would easily identify them as seals, they’d gotten American flag tattoos. Only their flags were actually comprised of words that seemed to make no sense.
 

But it made sense to them. It didn’t depict missions or military secrets. It just said the same coded phrase over and over again.
 

Brothers in arms. Brothers at sea. Forever bound we will be. Take one down, you’ll face us all. Brothers for life as we stand tall.
 

Briefly, he wondered if that still applied to him.
 

He hadn’t left the military to start up his own company. He’d started up his own company because he’d left the military.
 

He wanted to feel like he was actually making a difference.
 

Start up a company.
 

Jason frowned. That was it. That was the odd link that he was missing.
 

His phone rang, and he smiled. “What do you have for me, Ms. Myers?”

“This is ridiculous,” Helen hissed for the third time. She adjusted herself in the seat and picked at her ear.
 

“Leave it alone,” Jason growled as the static nearly burst his eardrum. He sat outside the restaurant with his dodgy audio equipment and frowned. If she kept picking at it, she was libel to break it. And while it was one of the cheaper ones on the market, it still cost him quite a bit of money.
 

“Why can’t you ask the questions?” she grumbled as she looked around.
 

“If Joshua is involved…”

“He’s not.”
 

“If he’s involved,” Jason ignored her. “We don’t want him to know that I’m involved. He’s walking in now.”
 
He watched as the man in the ridiculously expensive suit ran into the restaurant.
 

There was concern written all over his face as he sat down. He seemed genuinely concerned for her.
 

“Helen, I’m been worried all night. What is going on?”

“Tell him that you’re investigating your husband’s disappearance, and you have some questions.”
 

Helen complied, and Joshua pulled back. “Helen, I want him to still be alive as much as you do. Timothy was my best friend. But I don’t know that it’s healthy for you to keep looking for him.”

“Ask him about the weapon in the hotel room.”
 

Helen visibly snapped her head up, but she didn’t say anything. “Joshua, what do you know about the weapon found in the hotel room?

“How do you know about that,” he hissed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Helen said quickly. “Just be straight with me.”
 

Joshua bowed his head. “I hired a private investigator. I didn’t want to tell you and get your hopes up, but the police just gave up so quickly. There was a knife found in the room, and it did have Timothy’s blood on it, but it was kept out of the reports. I think they did it to use it against any suspects. Filter out any fake confessions from the crazy people using tragedy to gain notoriety.”

So there was a knife. But there wasn’t enough blood in the room to indicate that anyone died there. Jason cocked his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but Helen was already ahead of him.
 

“Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t they tell me that they’ve investigated a murder? Why aren’t they still investigating a murder?” she asked frantically.
 

“Whoa. Calm down, Helen,” Jason said quickly. The use of her first name seemed to quiet her.
 

“I asked them the same thing,” Joshua said. “They told me that the only prints on the knife were Timothy’s. They couldn’t rule it a suicide without a body, but that’s what they think happened.”
 

“Nope. Not possible. Someone would have had to drag the body out of the hotel room. Tim didn’t know anyone in the Cayman Islands. At least, no one who would agree to hide his body.”
 

Joshua hung his head. “I asked them not to, Helen. I wanted you to get the insurance. You and Davis. I’m so sorry I kept it from you.”
 

He wasn’t lying. He seemed to truly believe that Timothy killed himself. Jason rolled his eyes. “Ask him how much money he loaned Timothy in the beginning to start up his company.”
 

“He didn’t kill himself,” Helen said instead. “He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t do it to Davis. We didn’t need the insurance money. Surely you know that!”
 

“I thought maybe there was something else going on that I didn’t know about,” Joshua said. “I’m so sorry Helen.”
 

“Stick to the plan, Ms. Myers. Ask about the money.”
 

He watched as Helen took a deep breath. “How much money did you loan Timothy in the beginning?” she asked dully.

Joshua looked up in surprise. “Nearly half a million. Why do you ask?”

“And how much did he put in?” Jason asked. Helen repeated the question.

“None. Timothy was flat broke.”
 

Flat broke, huh? Wasn’t that interesting. “That’s all I need. Thanks Helen.”
 

“Why would he kill himself, Joshua? You have to know something!”

Joshua reached over and took her hand. “He drank a lot at the office, Helen. You were his shining light, but when he wasn’t with you, he seemed absolutely disgusted with himself. The more money he made, the more down he seemed. I don’t know what it was, but something was eating away at him. I just figured that whatever it was, he couldn’t handle it anymore.”
 

This case just got more and more interesting. Jason’s phone buzzed, and he grabbed it out of his pocket.
 

It was Tallyhouse. And it was an address.