The Heart of Christmas (16 page)

The good news was that he’d never been more caught up. The bad news was that he was growing as bored as Marilyn had predicted he would. Staying busy was what kept him going.

But he wanted to call Scarlet, and he wanted to make a decision on what he’d learned from Mona. Was he hiding for nothing? Now that Scarlet wasn’t coming to town, he felt he might be wasting his time here.

He called Scarlet first. She seemed to be recovering quickly, but she couldn’t talk long. The doctors wanted her to rest. So he hung up and checked his house on the computer again, even though he’d just checked it a few minutes earlier.

Nothing had changed. He stared at the images for a while—then he pulled up the message Mona had sent him and listened to it for probably the hundredth time.

She must have been high when she left him that message, he decided. Enough waffling on his part. He was going home tomorrow, if only to keep from getting too close to Eve. He couldn’t go through the kind of thing he’d been through with Laurel, not again. Not after all the other shit he’d had to deal with. His heart didn’t have any more breaking left in it.

Don’t get attached.
That was his mantra.

Since he was still waiting for dinner, he entered Mona’s name in a search engine on a fluke, just to see if he could pull up some contact information for her. He wanted to actually speak to her if he could. See how convinced she was about what she’d heard. Learn the context. Ask if she knew the bangers who’d said it well enough to ascertain whether or not they were truly committed to his murder—and if they had the balls to go through with it.

He also wanted to convince her to get into a good rehab—although he hadn’t had much success with that when he’d tried in the past.

Several links appeared. He didn’t get the chance to look for contact information, however. What he saw shocked him too badly—and made contacting her a moot point, anyway.

“Oh, my God,” he mumbled as he read “Mona Livingston, thirty-two, found dead in South Central L.A. Shot twice in the back of the head.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. They’d killed her. She didn’t get out when he’d told her to, when he’d offered to help, and it had ended up costing the poor woman her life, just as he’d feared it would.

Damn it, Mona!
He clicked on the excerpt so he could read the rest. The coroner suspected she’d been “executed” last Friday by an unknown assailant.

Rex was willing to bet that assailant wasn’t entirely unknown to
him.
But Mona had died only four days ago, and the timing bothered him as much as the fact that she was gone. Why
now?
Why would she be killed after all these years of managing to survive despite her associates and her addiction?

The obvious answer put a hard lump in Rex’s stomach. Was it because someone inside The Crew had figured out that she’d tipped him off?

17

W
as Scarlet in town?

Eve hadn’t heard from Brent all day, so she assumed he was preoccupied with his sister’s arrival. She was tempted to call him at Mrs. Higgins’s, to see if he and Scarlet had plans for dinner. Thanks to years of experience at the B and B, working with chefs and helping with meals, she felt she was a pretty good cook, and she was looking forward to meeting someone who’d been part of Brent’s life for much longer than she had. Maybe Scarlet would be more forthcoming about the kinds of details he refused to share. At the very least, Eve should be able to find out whether his second brother was named Rex. What she’d heard when she’d made that call to L.A. was so unsettling because she was afraid that woman had been pleading with the man she knew as Brent. It made Eve want to see whatever had gone so wrong in his life put right so he could be reunited with his family.

But she hesitated to invite him and Scarlet over so soon. She’d just been with him this morning. She didn’t want to seem pushy or overeager.

In the end, she decided it would be better to give him time to get his sister situated. He’d call if he wanted to see her.

Now that she had a night on her own, however, Eve found herself at loose ends. What had she done before he came on the scene?

She’d often stayed at the B and B until late if she didn’t have plans with one of her friends, and, as they got older, she had plans with them less and less often. So it was her work that typically filled those extra hours. But work suddenly seemed like a poor substitute for the excitement, pleasure and heady emotion she felt when she was with Brent.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to tackle the remainder of what she’d missed on her days off. She pulled up the website for All About Security again, only this time she jotted down the phone number listed in their contact information. It was after five, so she doubted anyone would answer. But placing a call to this company might connect her with a voice mail system that would let her access a directory of its employees....

If that happened, would there be a Brent Taylor?

She decided to find out.

After she dialed, and it rang three times, she heard the recording of a woman’s voice.

“You’ve reached All About Security, where licensed and trained executive protection specialists are available around the clock to see to all your security needs. If this is an emergency and you’d like to speak to a specialist after hours, press one and leave your number. You will receive a call back within thirty minutes. If you would like to speak with someone tomorrow, during regular business hours, press two. If you would like to learn more about All About Security, feel free to visit our website.”

Eve
had
visited the website. It didn’t tell her what she wanted to know.

She rocked back in her chair as she disconnected. What was she doing? She didn’t want to be the type of woman who’d check up on a love interest behind his back. It just felt...wrong. She’d certainly never done anything like it before. And yet she was so curious about Brent—curious enough to wonder how the woman in Los Angeles would respond if she called again and asked for Scarlet. If that number went to Brent’s brother’s house, and the woman she’d spoken to before was the brother’s wife, she would surely know Scarlet. That would confirm his relationship with Dennis, make Eve feel she was holding one piece of the puzzle that was Brent’s life.

After a few minutes of wrestling with her reluctance, Eve blocked her number and called again.

“Hello?” This time it was a man who answered. Judging by the authority in his voice, Eve guessed it was Dennis himself.

“Doctor?” she said, to be sure.

“Yes?”

She heard a degree of hesitancy in his response. He was probably wondering how one of his patients had managed to get his home number. “Is Scarlet there?”

“Who?”

“Scarlet. Your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister.”

“That’s strange,” she said. “You have a brother who’s an engineer, right?”

“I do, but his wife isn’t named Scarlet. Anyway, how do you know Mike?
Who is this?
”

She gave him the first name that popped into her head. “Jessica.”

“Jessica who?” he asked. “How’d you get my number? It’s not even listed.”

He sounded suspicious and slightly upset, and she couldn’t blame him. “Sorry for bothering you,” she muttered, and hung up. Then she got to her feet so that she could move around, give herself an outlet for the nervous energy that was flowing through her.

“Shit!” Calling Dennis had done anything but put her mind at ease. She was now more confused than she’d been before. He
had
to be Brent’s brother. He had the right name, he was a doctor, he lived in L.A. and his number had come from Noelle’s backseat after Brent had been there.

But if he was Brent’s brother, why didn’t he know Scarlet? And if Mike was the engineer in the family, who was Rex?

* * *

Rex couldn’t sleep. Not after what he’d learned about Mona. He kept thinking of the day he’d watched some worthless john The Crew had prostituted her to toss her in the street like garbage. He’d walked over to find her scraped and bruised and crying. It had been a pathetic sight. But his own situation was pretty bad back then. He’d understood what falling that low was like. Just remembering those days made him grateful he’d somehow found the strength to build a better life, to get away from what he’d settled for during that period of self-hate. He had Virgil to thank for giving him someone to care about and for encouraging him. They’d gotten out together.

Gratitude for his best friend overwhelmed him for a moment. Everyone needed a hand now and then. And he feared he hadn’t been persistent enough in offering that helping hand to Mona. Worse, he feared she wouldn’t have been killed if she hadn’t tried to warn him. The timing was just too coincidental.

But what more could he have done? The day he found her in the road eight years ago, he’d driven her to her sister’s house, hoping the sister would provide a place for her to live until she could dry out and get into rehab. He hadn’t been able to stay with her; his own life had been in jeopardy. But he’d hoped that dragging her away at that pivotal time would give her a new start.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Mona hadn’t been ready. Or maybe she hadn’t been capable. Either way, he couldn’t really fault her. As many battles as he’d fought—in prison, in his family, in the gang, even with Laurel when they were trying to manage a relationship—he’d never fought one tougher than the battle against OxyContin.

With a sigh, he cycled through the live feeds of his house, which he’d been doing all night. He felt sick sitting there, thinking about Mona and what a tragic waste her death was while staring at his laptop, wondering when The Crew would turn up in his own life again. Because he was now convinced they would.

He’d sent an email to Virgil, letting him know about Mona, but when he opened his in-box to see if Virgil had answered, the new message waiting for him wasn’t from his best friend.

It was from his brother Dennis.

You okay?

Fine,
he wrote back. He thought that would be the end of it. Their exchanges were usually just that brief and impersonal. But Dennis kept the email chain going.

Do you know a Jessica?

Jessica who?

She didn’t say.

No. Why?

A woman by that name called here this evening. She asked for someone named Scarlet. Said Scarlet was my sister.

Eve. It had to be her. Who else thought he had a sister named Scarlet? No one who would be interested enough—or concerned enough—to follow up. But how the hell did she get his brother’s number?

Shoving back his chair, he got up and went through the pockets of all his pants. He’d written Dennis’s number down when he was in Placerville. Mike had emailed him with it, asked him to check in. He hadn’t done so, but he’d walked around with that number in one pocket or another for several days. Had Eve taken it?

When he couldn’t find it, he could only assume she had.

Shit. It was happening. Real life was barging in, before he could even enjoy his three weeks. He’d been crazy to think he could steal these days, find a brief refuge from what his life had become.

The thought of not seeing her again made him feel worse. But he’d known what his limitations were. He should never have let himself hope for more.

When he returned to his computer, there was another message from Dennis.

I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but she also mentioned Mike, so I checked with him. He has no idea who Scarlet is and doesn’t know a Jessica, either. It all seemed a bit weird. As soon as I pressed her as to how she got my number, she hung up. Made me think you might be in trouble again.

Again. He just
had
to add that. His brother thought he was always in trouble, and he laid the blame for everything that had happened squarely at Rex’s feet.

Rex would be the first to admit he deserved it, but his brother’s unyielding attitude and self-righteous behavior didn’t go very far toward improving their relationship. Dennis didn’t trust that he’d really changed. Dennis assumed his old problems would be gone if he had. But he didn’t understand The Crew, the position Rex had played inside the outlaw organization or why the current members felt such a strong desire for revenge. Gangs had never been part of his privileged existence—other than what he saw on the news reports on TV—and he resented that Rex hadn’t led the same kind of uncomplicated, pristine life. Instead, Rex had made their parents suffer, and Dennis resented him for that, too.

Maybe his brother would have understood, at least slightly, if Rex had ever bothered to fully describe the chain reaction that had been set in place so long ago. But he couldn’t even talk about it because he couldn’t talk about Logan—not to anybody—and that was where it all started.

It was impossible to get close to his brothers without endangering their lives, anyway. So there was little point in putting any effort toward changing their opinion of him. He figured he served them best by staying away, and that was what he tried to do.

That didn’t mean he didn’t miss Dennis and Mike, though—or that it was easy flying solo so much of the time, especially at Christmas when the memories of what once was crowded close and reminded him of all he’d lost. Eve had been such a welcome respite—a gift. He craved her touch, her warmth, her steadiness.

If only he could lose himself in her one more time....

But he couldn’t spend three weeks with her and remain a mystery. She was trying to figure out who he really was. And the more she pressed, the more dangerous things would become—for both of them.

I’m not in trouble,
he wrote to Dennis. But the reality was that he was beginning to think his “trouble” would never end.

A noise in the living room alerted him to the fact that Mrs. Higgins was up, walking the floor. Apparently the sleeping pill hadn’t done its job.

He felt for her. Some nights seemed to last forever. But he couldn’t keep her company.

After closing his laptop, he got up to pack.

18

H
e was gone. He had to be. Eve had driven past Mrs. Higgins’s place a number of times—twice late at night—and had yet to find Brent’s Land Rover. She hadn’t heard from him, either, not in a whole week, which meant the past seven days had passed as slowly for her as any on record. He’d told her not to expect more than three weeks with him, but he hadn’t warned her that it might be much shorter than that.

Had something terrible happened to his sister? Some altercation with her ex? Or had something else come up?

Eve hoped it wasn’t the fact that she’d called Dennis and Dennis had alerted Brent. But that was what the timing suggested. If it was anything other than what she’d done, Brent would’ve called to say goodbye, wouldn’t he? The last time she’d seen him, he’d told her she was the first woman he’d wanted to be with, really be with, since Laurel. A guy didn’t go from that to nothing without
some
trigger.

Maybe, since she’d approached their eventual parting so flippantly that day in her kitchen, he figured she wouldn’t care. But she’d only said those things because she’d thought she’d have more time to cope with his leaving, because she hadn’t wanted to face it right then.

“This sucks,” she muttered as she sat alone at Just Like Mom’s. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing at the restaurant. It was nearly ten, which was when they closed on weeknights, and she’d had supper at home. She just knew that Brent liked this place. He’d said as much the day they’d had breakfast together in Jackson, had asked if she wanted to eat here instead. So Just Like Mom’s felt like somewhere he might go if he ever came back, and then she’d get to see him and possibly learn why she hadn’t heard from him.

“This is crazy, Eve,” she told herself. “What do you think—that he’s going to come strolling through the door at any moment?”

Maybe in a perfect world. But it didn’t happen. Her waitress didn’t appear, either, although Eve had been waiting to pay for her pie and herbal tea for at least ten minutes.

She opened her wallet to see if she had enough to cover the bill so she could leave it on the table and scoot out. But she didn’t have the cash.

“Damn it,” she grumbled—and wanted to swear with even more vigor when Noelle Arnold walked in. Noelle had a friend with her. They were both dressed in the skimpy uniforms they wore at Sexy Sadie’s, so Eve guessed their shift had just ended.

The second Noelle spotted her, Eve wished she could slip under the table—or somehow disappear—but that was impossible, since her waitress hadn’t collected her credit card yet.

“Hey!” Noelle came up with her friend lagging behind by half a step. “How’s it going?”

Eve managed a smile. It was, no doubt, a frail imitation of her usual smile, but the best she could muster under the circumstances. She hadn’t been this depressed in ages. “Fine, thanks.”

“You still seeing that guy you took home a couple of weeks ago? God, he was hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better-looking guy in my life!”

Eve gritted her teeth, trying to control her emotions so she could speak. “No. We were never together. He was just...passing through.” But she could be pregnant with his child. She hadn’t done the test yet. She’d been waiting until she felt she’d be able to rely on the results. But she’d driven halfway to Walnut Creek to purchase a pregnancy test where no one knew her. It was there, waiting, under her sink.

“Bummer!” Noelle cried. “I’m
so
sorry! I could tell you were really into him. You’ve had such bad luck with men lately, haven’t you?”

“I don’t mind being single,” Eve lied. “I’ve hardly missed him. You know how Christmas is at the inn. It’s my favorite time of year.”

Noelle must’ve heard the tears in her voice, because she cocked her head to one side as if the sudden change in pitch surprised her. But before she could follow up, her friend grabbed her hand and started yanking her toward a booth. “Enough socializing. Come on! I’m
starving!
”

“Okay! Okay!” Noelle allowed herself to be led away but turned back to make a parting remark. “At least you got to sleep with him while he was here. The rest of us could only dream about it!”

Was that what she’d been reduced to? Being glad she’d had sex with some guy who didn’t care enough to even let her know he was leaving town?

“Pathetic,” she whispered, and that pertained to her
and
Noelle. She was about to get up and track down her waitress, who was probably cleaning up in the back instead of taking care of her final table, when the bell rang over the door a second time—all the more noticeable since the restaurant was almost empty.

When Eve realized it was Ted and his wife, she nearly groaned aloud. If there was anyone she’d rather not see, other than Noelle, it was Ted. Ted
with
Sophia only made matters worse.

I can’t catch a break
.

“There you are!” he said as he led her replacement in his life over to the table.

“You’ve been looking for
me?
” Eve pretended as if she hadn’t been ducking his calls. She’d been avoiding
all
her friends, except for Cheyenne. She couldn’t avoid someone she worked with. Cheyenne had definitely tried to question her about Brent, but Eve had managed to skim over his sudden absence as if they were still in touch by phone, and she hadn’t given anyone else the chance to discuss it with her. For the second week in a row, she hadn’t attended coffee on Friday and, although she’d received several texts asking where she was, she’d responded to everyone with the same few lines. She was so busy this time of year, just couldn’t make it—that sort of thing.

No one knew she was walking the floor night after night, waiting and hoping Brent would call.

Texting was a godsend when it came to these situations; it allowed her to reassure everyone without having to confront them face-to-face. But she hadn’t sent off the same pat message to Ted. In the text he’d left her, he’d said he had news to share about Little Mary and wanted to talk to her. That suggested he had more to say than he was willing to type into a phone. So she’d put off responding. She’d had to. She was afraid he’d call the second she texted him, because then he’d know she had her phone with her and that it was turned on.

“Have you checked your messages lately?” He gave her a disgruntled look. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call. Just been so busy.”

“Good thing I saw your car out front.”

Yeah. Good thing,
she thought sarcastically. She was interested to hear what he’d learned about Little Mary. But even a conversation that started out on another subject would eventually turn into questions about Brent, and she didn’t want to talk about him, didn’t want to acknowledge that he was already gone and she’d been a fool to get involved with him—just like Ted and everyone else had told her.

“What’s up?”

Sophia gave her a sympathetic look, as if she could see right through her, which didn’t help. Eve didn’t want them feeling sorry for her, any more than she wanted them feeling smug about so clearly being right.

“I got in touch with Mabel Cummings’s great-granddaughter,” Ted announced, obviously proud and excited. He gestured for his wife to slide into the booth so he could, too. “Her name is Emma Wright, and she lives in Virginia.”

Eve sent another glance toward the kitchen, once again cursing her waitress. She was pretty sure she’d been forgotten; no one had come out to greet Noelle and her friend, either, let alone take their food order. The women were getting so impatient and vocal that Eve guessed the noise would bring someone out soon—but not soon enough for her to escape this get-together with Ted and Sophia.

Eve turned her water glass in a circle. “Nice! It’s wonderful that you were able to track her down. What did she have to say?”

“That her great-grandmother’s sister—Harriett—never claimed it was John.”

“So she spoke again?”

“Apparently so. Once she returned to her family in South Carolina, at least. She told her sister that he was innocent and one of the most ‘misunderstood’ people she’d ever met.”

“Then...why did she burn his train set?”

“Who knows? Mable couldn’t answer that, didn’t even remember hearing about a train set. But she said her great-aunt told her grandmother that John wasn’t to blame.”

This captured Eve’s attention in spite of everything else that was going on in her head and her heart. “Then who was?”

“She had no idea.”

“And she claimed John was misunderstood? That’s an interesting way to characterize someone who was so disliked by the people in his community.”

“It certainly doesn’t lead me to believe she blamed him for her daughter’s death.”

“No, but it sounds like she didn’t suggest any other possible culprits. And, blame or no blame, that could be her opinion. Doesn’t mean he was innocent. Maybe she loved him so much she couldn’t bear to consider the possibility that he’d murder their child.”

“I could see that kind of blindness on the part of a wife,” Sophia chimed in.

Because of her great love for Ted, of course. Eve barely resisted making a face. “Did Emma know her great-grandmother’s sister turned into a recluse after Mary’s death?” Eve asked, to distract herself as much as anything else.

“I gather she did,” Ted replied. “She told me that Harriett remained very withdrawn until the day she died.”

“In South Carolina?”

“Yes.”

“Did you mention the neighbor theory?”

“I did. Mable liked the idea. She’d rather not think Harriett’s husband did the deed. But she’s never heard anything about the neighbors being involved, so if one of them was to blame, Harriett probably didn’t know it.”

“Are you going to try and track down the names of the boys? Follow up with their families?”

He pursed his lips. “Eventually. But I’m going to look in what I think is a more fertile area first. I still have so many of Harriett’s relatives to approach. Emma gave me a whole list, including another of Harriett’s nieces who’s almost a hundred years old. I think my time is better spent finding out what she might know.”

“Wow! A centenarian? Does she still have her memory?”

“According to Emma, she’s as sharp as ever.”

“That’s fabulous!” Eve felt some genuine excitement. This was more information than anyone else had dug up. Ted was actually talking to people who’d been alive when Harriett was! “Now I can see why you’re happy. When will you get to talk to her?”

“She’s in assisted living. Emma’s going to set up an appointment for me to see her.”

“Where does she live?”

“Alabama.”

“You’re really going to fly clear across the country? Can’t you...Skype or something?”

“She doesn’t own a computer. It’ll be easier for me to communicate in person. That way I’ll get to see any memorabilia she still has, too.”

Eve nodded.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“Yes, except I can’t leave the inn right now. Not at Christmas. And I’m sure you don’t want to put it off until after.”

“I’d rather not wait.”

“Then go. You’re doing a thorough job. You can update me when you get back.”

“If you’ll answer your phone.”

When she offered him a sheepish smile, he winked at her. “That wasn’t so painful, was it?”

“Ted, stop,” Sophia chided him, but Ted had known Eve his whole life and wasn’t about to let his wife dictate how he interacted with her.

“It wasn’t
too
painful,” Eve said, “as long as it ends there.”

His eyebrows rose. “So you don’t want me to tell you what I know about Brent?”

The waitress finally appeared, looking flustered. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then she lifted a finger to indicate she’d be right over and hurried to take Noelle’s order first, a wise decision given that Noelle was ready to storm out.

“You don’t know anything about Brent,” Eve said.

“Then maybe that was someone else I followed out of town.”

This took her aback. “You followed him?
Why?
”

“Because it was three in the morning, and I found it strange that he’d be out and about.”

Eve folded her arms. “No stranger than
you
being out and about.”

“Except that I have a stepdaughter who was having such painful cramps she was in tears and needed some ibuprofen.”

“Yet you took the time to follow Brent.”

“I thought you might thank me.”

She couldn’t deny that she was curious. “What night was this?”

“Last Monday.”

“Where’d he go?”

“I tailed him to Jackson. Had to drive that far to find a store that was open, anyway.”

“And then?”

“It looked as if he got a room at that B and B on the edge of town. I can’t remember the name.” He looked to Sophia for help.

“You said it was the one that’s painted blue,” she reminded him.

Eve broke in so they wouldn’t belabor that small detail. “I know which one it is,” she said. How could she not? It was the place they’d stayed when they went to Jackson together.

“Right. Anyway, his car was there when I headed past on my way back about fifteen minutes later, so I can only guess that he stayed the night,” Ted said.

Was he still there? Eve wondered. So close?

But she knew chances of that were slim. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

At the impatient tone of her voice, Ted brought a hand to his chest. “You’re kidding, right? How many of my messages have you ignored?”

Seeing that the waitress was on her way over, Eve grabbed her purse and stood before handing her the credit card. “You know where I work.”

“I wasn’t all that eager for you to have the information, to be honest,” he admitted.

“Then why tell me now?”

“Because Cheyenne feels you two have unfinished business. She mentioned that he didn’t say goodbye. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve the chance to confront him about that, especially if he’s going to act all possessive while I’m at your kitchen table, as if I have no right, as one of your best friends, to warn you about him.”

“So this is a pissing contest?”

“I’m trying to hold him accountable for his words and his actions.” He got to his feet, too, and so did Sophia, but something—probably Eve’s sense of purpose—made him narrow his eyes. “Where are you going?”