The Heart of Christmas (15 page)

“What’d you find?” she asked Ted.

He held up an envelope. “This.”

“What is it?”

He frowned when she didn’t throw the door open and invite him in the way she normally would. “If you’ll give me a cup of coffee I’ll show you,” he said.

She tightened the belt on her robe. She preferred to deal with this later, but she knew it would seem odd for her to suggest that. He’d assume she wasn’t as curious about his find as she should be, given her interest over the years in solving Little Mary’s murder.

But her hesitation had nothing to do with her interest. She’d just decided that it would be better if the life she normally lived in Whiskey Creek didn’t intersect with her temporary fling. Then, once Brent was gone, she’d pick up where she’d left off.

That meant keeping her friends out of her love life, however, and maintaining a level of privacy she’d never bothered with before.

“Sure. I’ve only got a minute, though. I have to go over to Cheyenne’s this morning.”

He followed her inside and sat at the kitchen table while she put on the coffee.

“So what’s all the excitement about?” Although she had her back to him, she could hear the crinkle of paper and guessed he was flattening whatever he’d removed from the envelope.

“Come take a look.”

Suddenly self-conscious, for fear of some telltale sign or other that she’d just been with a man, she leaned over, careful not to get too close.

“See this?” he said. “It’s a letter from someone named Doug Hatfield to the producers of
Unsolved Mysteries.
”

Eve hadn’t come across that when she’d been searching through the box. It must’ve been among the papers she hadn’t had time to finish. “And? Is he a descendent of John’s?”

“He is.”

“What does Doug say?”

“You can read it. There’s not much there. But he does indicate that his mother’s been deeply involved in genealogy for years and has contact information for the great-granddaughter of Harriett’s sister.”

“Harriett had a sister?”

“She did. A woman by the name of Mabel Cummings. She always lived in South Carolina, never in California, which is probably why no one knew about her.”

“Was there anything from the great-granddaughter in the stuff I gave you?”

“No. And I’ve gone through all of it. But look.” He pointed to the date on Doug’s letter. “This is only a month before
Unsolved Mysteries
came out for the shoot. I’m guessing they either didn’t follow up on his information, or they sent a letter to the great-granddaughter, hoping to confirm his facts, and didn’t hear back.”

“Or they could’ve heard from her after they’d already finished taping, which is why there’s nothing from her in the records they left with me.”

“Exactly. At that point, it probably wasn’t a high enough priority that they’d even bother to forward it to you.”

“So where does this great-granddaughter live?”

“South Carolina.”

Eve skimmed Doug Hatfield’s letter. “You realize she may not know anything.”

“She should be able to tell me where I can find the rest of the family—or at least a few members. Hopefully,
some
pieces of Harriett’s life remain. Previously unpublished pictures, her journal. Anything like that would be great to include in my book. And maybe Harriett told someone in her family—perhaps on her deathbed, if not before—that John killed Mary.”

“Once John died, it’s possible she started speaking again. But if she did make that kind of accusation, it seems odd that no one here heard about it.”

“Communication then wasn’t what it is today,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s true. I guess it’s not like Harriett had any friends in Whiskey Creek. She’d been isolated for too long.” She played with the ends of her belt. “I’m glad you have a fresh lead. That’s more than I was expecting when you decided to write about Little Mary.”

“Me, too.” He slouched in his chair with a satisfied smile. After a few seconds of silence, however, he straightened. “So...are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay.”

He studied her. “You’re acting sort of...remote. Like you might be mad at me. I know you like that Brent dude. And I can see why. Even Sophia says he’s good-looking. But I hope you’ll listen to me and stay away from him.”

She had her own hopes right now—namely, that Brent couldn’t hear them. But she was fairly certain he could. Her house wasn’t that large. “I’m a big girl, Ted. I can take care of myself. Here, let me get your coffee.”

She stood up to grab a mug from the cupboard, but the coffee wasn’t finished brewing.

“Just so you don’t think I was being too hard on him, I did an internet search on landscaping companies in Bakersfield last night,” Ted told her. “His name isn’t attached to any of them.”

She lowered her voice. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he doesn’t have a web presence.”

“I called some of the companies I did find on the Net just before I came here. None of them ever heard of a Brent Taylor. Don’t you think
one
of them would’ve run across the competition at some point?”

“Not necessarily. Bakersfield isn’t like Whiskey Creek. There’s got to be a quarter of a million people there. Anyway, I appreciate your interest, but have to ask you to butt out, okay?”

He scowled. “Eve, please listen. I know you’re angry with me for what happened last year. I’m sorry we didn’t work out as a couple. I was an asshole for starting what I did, but at least I made an honest mistake. I wasn’t
lying
to you about anything. I wasn’t
using
you, like this guy. I was trying to fall in love with someone I admired and knew would be good for me.”

“But you just couldn’t manage it.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I feel a lot better.”

“Come on. You have so much to offer, but I was already in love and didn’t know it. Anyway, I’ve always cared about you, and I’m worried about you now. You’re saying things you wouldn’t ordinarily say. All that talk about leaving Whiskey Creek to figure out what you want to do with your life. Since when were you so unhappy? Not since you started sleeping with some guy who—”

The sound of her bedroom door hitting the inside wall cut him off. Ted’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows rose when he realized they weren’t alone.

Brent shuffled into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of faded jeans. “Morning.” He gave her a sleepy smile before hooking an arm around her neck and planting a very deliberate kiss on her mouth. “Coffee smells good.” He let go of her and turned to face Ted. “You must be the good friend I’ve heard so much about. You’re some kind of big-deal author, right?”

When Ted’s gaze shifted from him to Eve and back again, Eve wasn’t sure what to do. Normally, she wouldn’t have been afraid that a confrontation like this would erupt in a fight. Ted was a thinker, not a fighter. But Brent was definitely putting Ted on notice to mind his own business, and she’d never seen anyone challenge Ted before. Everyone in Whiskey Creek had too much respect for him.

Ted stood up. “At least I am who I say I am,” he said and walked out.

Brent’s lazy charm fell away as soon as the door slammed. A glower descended, and he turned to stare out the window, apparently watching Ted drive away. “Sorry about that,” he grumbled.

Despite the apology, he remained stiff and defensive. “I should’ve stayed in the bedroom,” he said. “But the shit he was saying—that I’m ruining your life—it was hard to take.”

Eve poured him a cup of coffee. “I’m going to have a shower. Cheyenne’s planning a Christmas party, and I promised we’d make the invitations today. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

“You have no comment on what I said to your ex?” he asked as she moved toward the bedroom.

“I would’ve preferred my friends not know we were still seeing each other. That would have made it a lot easier to step back into my regular life once you leave.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, I blew that.”

“It’s okay. I suppose trying to hide the fact that I’m sleeping with someone is pretty unrealistic in a town this small.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m
not
using you,” he said. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here when I know you’d be better off if I left you alone, but...” He shoved his hands in the pockets of jeans. “It’s not for the reason your friends seem to think.”

“Last night was my decision,” she said. “I’m not holding you accountable for that. Not to sound egocentric, but I don’t think many guys in your situation would’ve refused.”

“It’s not just sex for the sake of sex, Eve. I’ve been with other women since Laurel. Sometimes only something intensely physical can take my mind off other things. But I’ve never been with the same woman more than once. Since Laurel, I’ve never even wanted that. Until now.”

She could’ve pointed out that he’d just mentioned the name of the woman he’d loved, which he hadn’t been willing to give her before. But she was trying to keep this in perspective, and the only way to do that was not to take any of it too seriously. She’d already told herself that. She was available, convenient—and lonely. Eve knew she’d be a fool to get excited about the fact that he’d wanted to be with her more than once. “So are you over her?” she asked, purposely ignoring the more personal implications of what he’d confessed.

“I think so. But it’s not only that. Something about you sets you apart. I don’t want to see you hurt. I want the opposite.”

She waved a hand. “It’s okay. You’re not going to hurt me. You told me—don’t get attached. And I’m not. So you have nothing to worry about, and neither do my friends.”

“You mean that?”

She did. She’d been trying to make her relationship with Brent too important, because she wanted what Cheyenne and her other friends had. But lowering her expectations and accepting what he could offer brought relief. She could stop questioning his feelings and hers, stop hoping and simply enjoy the next three weeks.

“Completely,” she said. “What we’re doing, it’s just short-term fun, right? Three weeks. One Christmas. It’ll end soon enough. There’s no need to overanalyze a sexual attraction. In the end, it’s nothing but a pleasant way to pass the time.” The possibility of a baby was never far from her thoughts, but for the moment, she set it aside.

She left him standing in the kitchen, staring at her as she hurried to her room. Last night had felt like a lot more than nothing. But it was the best things in life that often didn’t last. And now that she’d made her decision, she didn’t want to ruin the time they had by worrying about the time they didn’t.

16

“A
re you really going to have us build gingerbread houses at the party?” Eve asked Cheyenne as they sat at Cheyenne’s dining table, stamping and pasting. Dylan was at the auto body shop he owned with his four younger brothers, so they had the place to themselves. “That’ll be a lot of prep time.”

“But the party’s only two days before Christmas and what could be more Christmassy?” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind one ear. “Maybe we can have a contest with a prize for the most creative.”

“What kind of prize?”

“A stocking full of nuts, fruit and candy, or a box of chocolates—or an ugly Christmas sweater as a badge of honor that could be worn at every future Christmas party. What do you think would be best?”

“Whatever you decide will be great.”

Cheyenne leaned forward. “Hey. Did you even hear the part about the ugly Christmas sweater?”

Eve glanced up. “What ugly sweater?”

“Caught you.” Cheyenne chuckled. “You’re
so
preoccupied. Are you okay?”

She sounded like Ted. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re just not yourself lately. What’s going on?” She lowered her voice for emphasis. “Are you thinking about Brent by any chance?”

As a matter of fact, she had been. She couldn’t forget the way he’d walked up to her this morning and casually kissed her—with Ted watching. He’d looked so fresh-out-of-bed-sexy in nothing but those blue jeans it had made her heart race. And, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she liked the possessiveness of that move, liked that he was bold enough to stand up and show interest in front of her friends.

She just hoped it wouldn’t cause Ted to get their entire group riled up in a protective frenzy. She didn’t want him telling all of them that business about Brent being a bodyguard in the Bay Area and not a landscaper in Bakersfield. There was definitely
something
going on with Brent. She couldn’t question that. But she wasn’t going to press him for answers. She’d already made up her mind to surf the wave she was riding all the way into shore—shore being the moment Brent left Whiskey Creek for good. Yes, she’d crash in the foamy surf. But he wouldn’t be around to see it, and it wasn’t the crash that mattered. It was having the guts to stay on the board.

Eve looked over at the clock. “I’m surprised that we’ve been doing this for an hour and you’ve only mentioned him now.”

“I figured you’d talk about him when you were ready. I was trying to give you time to work up to it.”

“Thanks. But there’s not much to say.”

“You’re still seeing him, though?”

Seeing
him? Certainly not in the traditional sense. She “saw” him at night. But they hadn’t been on a single date—unless she counted the breakfast they’d shared yesterday morning in Jackson.

Eve added the invitation she’d just finished to the stack beside her. “Ted didn’t call you the minute he left my house this morning?”

Cheyenne looked confused. “Ted went to your house? What did he want?”

“He’s writing about Little Mary’s murder. He’s in the process of gathering information.”

“Finally! He’s been meaning to explore that mystery for ages.”

“Right. I just wish it wasn’t now.”

“You’re not happy that he’s gotten around to it? You’ve been curious about Little Mary since your folks bought that place. I’ve been curious about it, too. Maybe he’ll come up with something new.”

“I hope so. But I don’t need him sitting in the front row, watching what’s going on in my life right now.”

“You mean because he doesn’t approve.”

Eve slumped lower in her seat. “No one does.”

“Maybe we don’t like the risks.”

“But it might not be as bad as it seems. Maybe Brent
used
to be a bodyguard but is planning to start a landscaping company in Bakersfield.”

“That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s possible,” she insisted.

“Look, I like Brent. He’s wary of people but...he kind of reminds me of Dylan, so I could be predisposed to give him the benefit of the doubt. From his standoffish behavior, I’m guessing he’s been through a lot. Anyway, have you
asked
Brent about the bodyguard thing?”

“No.”

“Because...”

“If he wanted me to know his situation, he would’ve told me to begin with.”

Cheyenne’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t have a problem with being left in the dark?”

“Of course I do. It’s just...we’re attracted to each other. That’s all. It’s not like we’re planning to get married.”

Cheyenne straightened the pile of envelopes. “I thought you
wanted
to get married.”

“I do. When I find the right man. But I think we can agree that a man who can’t tell me what he really does for a living isn’t the right man.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. But it begs another question.”

“And that is...”

“Are you sure you want to risk your heart on someone who can’t or won’t give you the happily-ever-after you’ve been waiting for?”

Eve eyed her friend’s big belly. “Maybe he’s not a candidate for marriage, but he can give me...other things.”

Cheyenne’s hands froze as she was about to glue another red “berry” button on the card she was making. “Sex?”

Eve drew a deep breath. “There’s a chance I could be pregnant, Chey.”

“No...”

“Yes.”

Cheyenne dropped the button, then wiped the glue off her fingers. “Raising a child alone isn’t easy, Eve.”

“You think I don’t know that? It wasn’t a risk we planned to take.”

“So it was an accident.”

“If you call getting too drunk to take the proper precautions an accident.”

“That’s too bad,” Cheyenne murmured.

“Why is it too bad?” Eve asked. “I know it’s...not how things are normally done. But if you can use your brother-in-law to have a child, I guess I can have a baby out of wedlock and raise it myself.”

A blush suffused Cheyenne’s cheeks. “Please don’t ever mention that again, or...allude to it or anything else. As far as I’m concerned—and Aaron, too—this baby belongs to Dylan.”

“Would Dylan feel that way if he learned it was really his brother’s child?”

“I hope so,” she said quietly, and Eve sensed that she was afraid to put a voice to the truth. “But I don’t see why he ever has to learn, which is why I don’t want to talk about it. He’s been through enough hardships in his life, given so much, protected all those he can. Why would I make him suffer because of this, too? So what if I decided to shield
him,
for a change? To ensure that he got what he wanted without making him feel he’s less of a man because he can’t get his wife pregnant? I didn’t
sleep
with Aaron. It was an artificial insemination performed by my sister—legit in every way, except that Dylan doesn’t know it required someone else’s genetic material. To me, that part doesn’t matter. We’re the ones who’ll love the baby and care for it. Aaron doesn’t even want to be reminded of his...donation.”

Eve felt terrible for bringing it up. She wasn’t sure why she had, other than to make herself feel better about her own situation. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t ever mention it again.”

Cheyenne reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Eve, I know you’ve felt a bit lost since things didn’t work out with Ted. It couldn’t have been easy watching him get married, especially when he expected you to be such a big part of the wedding, as a friend, like the rest of us. Somehow you managed that. You stood tall and smiled through the whole thing. I’ve been proud of you for bearing up under the disappointment. But don’t let that tempt you into screwing up your life.”

“You think having a baby will screw up my life?”

“I think falling in love with the wrong man can
definitely
do that—and having his baby will only make it harder to get over him.”

“I’m not falling in love with Brent,” she said.

Cheyenne didn’t respond. She just sat there, looking at her.

“What?”
Eve snapped.

“Then why are you making so many compromises?”

* * *

Rex was waiting for a call from his sergeant friend, Eddie, in the San Francisco police department regarding Scarlet’s case. He sat at the small desk in his room at Mrs. Higgins’s and clicked through the various feeds on the cameras he’d installed in his house. There was no change from the last time he’d checked, which was good, but it also made him believe that he’d banished himself to Whiskey Creek for no reason. The longer he went with no sign that The Crew planned to make a move on his life, the more he began to wonder if Mona had been mistaken. He’d emailed her back, hoping for confirmation, but...so far, nothing.

She was probably on another drug binge.

“Damn it, Mona,” he grumbled. Should he quit playing hide-and-seek and return to work?

He was sorely tempted. He couldn’t bug out at every false alarm. Already his past was affecting his present far more than he wanted. But being in California required an added amount of caution, especially when the person warning him had warned him before—and been 100 percent accurate about the danger he was in.

His phone rang. “At last,” he breathed, and answered, anxious to hear what the police had found while searching Scarlet’s former boyfriend’s apartment.

“Her panties were there,” Eddie confirmed. “Stuffed between the box springs and the mattress of the bed.”

Rex drummed his fingers on the desk as he continued to gaze at his living room via a live feed. “But was it Tom or Tara who took them?”

“I can’t believe
she’d
do it. She’s consumed with jealousy as it is.”

“Did she say that?”

“As you know, I’m not on the case. And from what I heard, she lawyered up pretty fast. But Detective Rollins indicated that she said it in so many words before she stopped talking. Like you, he thinks Tom’s our man. But we’ll do the homework—make sure it’s his DNA on the letters and not Tara’s. That should clinch it.”

“And if Tom used gloves?”

“Rollins will find physical evidence somewhere. They haven’t had a chance to go through the bastard’s computer yet. But there’s that, too. If that penis picture was sent from an account he created, it’ll make for a solid case.”

“Don’t forget the bedsheet he urinated on. I had Scarlet save it.”

“I know. She turned it in.”

“That should have some DNA.”

“No doubt it’ll have his. Have you ever heard of a woman trying to pee on something like that? She’d need a shower afterward,” he said with a chuckle.

“That’s a little more than I’d like to imagine, but good point.”

The sergeant laughed again.

From what Rex could tell, Scarlet was in good hands. At least he could breathe easier about
her
welfare. “By the way, has anyone established why there was such a long break between when she was being tormented before and when this started up again?”

“Until the bastard admits it and tells us, which he may never do, we won’t be able to explain that gap. But whoever was doing those things before has to be the person who was doing it more recently.”

“I agree. Still, it would be nice to have more to rely on than our gut instinct.”

“We’ve learned he was seeing a psychologist during that time,” his friend said. “That could account for it. Maybe she was helping him control his behavior and obsessions.”

“He’s not going to her anymore?”

“No. He quit just a few weeks before Scarlet started being harassed again.”

“Why?”

“Psychologist says his girlfriend kept nagging him about the money. She was pushing him to get married, get a house, have a family. The pressure could have set him off. About the same time, he nearly lost his job for making sexual innuendoes to a coworker, and he got into a fight with his sister over a piece of furniture he felt he should have received when his grandparents died. I’m guessing it just all came together.”

“Sounds plausible to me. Okay, I’ll hope for the best. Let me know how it goes.”

“Of course.”

A soft knock sounded at his door as Rex ended the call. “Yes?”

Mrs. Higgins poked her head into the room. “Something smells like it’s burning out here. I’m afraid there might be a short in the lights on the tree—and as dry as those poor needles are, that’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“You just bought that tree a week ago, didn’t you?”

“I did, but they cut them down so early these days they’re dead before you can even drag them into your house,” she complained. “That tree’s already dropping its needles. Anyway, would you mind checking to see if you can smell it, too?”

When Rex had rented this room, he hadn’t planned on helping his elderly landlord decorate for Christmas. He hadn’t planned on eating gingerbread cookies with her so she could feel appreciated. And he hadn’t planned on becoming the “go to” guy for anything that might need fixing. But she had no one else. And it brought him an odd sort of pleasure.

“Sure. I’ll be out in a sec,” he told her.

“Thanks.” She seemed genuinely relieved. “Oh, I wanted to ask if you’ll be here for dinner. I’m making my chicken and crescent rolls with mushroom gravy. Any chance you’d like to join me?”

It was probably hard for her to eat alone every day. “You bet. Sounds delicious.”

She smiled as he passed her on his way to look at the tree, then followed him into the living room.

“Do you smell it?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied.

“Are you sure?”

He bent closer and checked to make sure there wasn’t an obvious short. “Positive. These lights seem fine. But we can unplug them for a bit if you’re worried.”

“No, that’s okay. It must’ve been my imagination.”

Or her desire to have a good reason to interrupt him....

“We’ll eat in a couple of hours,” she said and patted his shoulder.

“That’ll be great. I have a few things I need to do on my computer, so just call me when it’s ready.”

“I will. Get your work done so you can relax.”

She seemed so grateful for his company that he couldn’t help being glad he’d agreed. He returned to his room so that he wouldn’t have to entertain her for longer than the hour or so it would take to have dinner. He didn’t want to create too many ties here. But he really didn’t have much to do. Since he couldn’t take on any protection jobs, and he couldn’t train the new guy or manage the others, he was left to the paperwork side of All About Security, and he’d been taking care of that for over a week.