by Elise Noble
A pause. “Back to the shelter, I guess. My things are still there. And then…somewhere else.”
“Do you need a safe place to stay tonight?”
“Nowhere’s safe. Spencer always finds me.”
“He’s done this before? Forced you into his car?”
“The first time we left, we went to a friend’s house. And stupid, stupid me, he talked me into going back again. He promised he’d change. Stop pushing me around. And I tried to stick it out for Chay because Spencer does love his son, or at least, I thought he did, and…” Valerie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I shouldn’t be speaking about this in front of him.”
“Spencer sounds like my old boyfriend,” Dan told her. She could talk about her past now, but I still heard a wobble in her voice. “They never change. But don’t worry; you can stay at Emmy’s place while we work out what to do next.” Dan turned to me. “Right?”
“As long as you don’t mind a bit of chaos.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Valerie said warily.
“Emmy has, like, twenty spare bedrooms. Not even kidding.”
“But I barely know either of you.”
“If you’re worried, the staff at Crossroads can vouch for us,” Dan said. “I’ve been volunteering there for a decade. And Emmy’s diabolical assistant is responsible for Project Mistletoe. Didn’t you say you wanted to wake up in the mornings and feel safe?”
“Well, yes, but I thought that Christmas tree thing was like a wishing well. You know, toss in a coin and hope for something that’ll never happen?”
“No, it’s real,” I said, trying not to sigh. “Which means we’re contractually obliged to ensure your safety. If you’d rather stay somewhere else, that’s no problem. We can arrange it.”
“I-I can’t stay with you. Spencer knows who you are, doesn’t he? You gave him your details after the accident? It’ll be the second place he looks.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “No, he doesn’t. He was so busy haranguing me, he didn’t check what I wrote down. I told him my name was Kris Myaz and gave him the number for an anger management therapist.”
“You…you what?”
“So he won’t find me. It’s fine. And we actually have twenty-three spare bedrooms at the moment.”
“Do you run a hotel?”
“No, but sometimes it feels that way.”
I watched in the rear-view mirror as Valerie chewed on her lip. She found accepting help difficult, didn’t she? Pride? Or had she been burned in the past the same as Jonah Campbell?
“I-I don’t have much money.”
“I don’t want a cent. You said my place would be the second place Spencer looks—where’s the first? Crossroads?”
“He knows we have to go back. We don’t have much stuff, but it’s all there. Everything.” Valerie closed her eyes and let out a soft groan. “And Chay’s medication is still in Spencer’s car.”
“What kind of medication? Is he okay?”
“The physician thinks he has a stomach ulcer. She prescribed antibiotics and antacids.”
“We can get more of whatever you need, no problem. I know things seem bleak at the moment, but I promise you, it’ll be okay. Impossible requests are my specialty.” Even if they usually involved a little more blood. “We’ll make sure you both enjoy Christmas.”
We’d barely taken two steps through the front door at Riverley Hall when Bradley appeared. He’d dyed his hair red today, presumably to match the light-up nose on his Rudolf Christmas sweater. It was only a matter of time before the white tips appeared. He skidded to a halt halfway across the hall, and my gaze fixed on the seven-foot snowman he was dragging behind himself on a wheeled cart.
“Bradley, I thought we agreed to tone down the decorations this year.”
“And I have.”
“Frosty’s steroid-addicted brother is standing right next to you.”
“Oh, this? It’s a gift from my friend Ishmael. What do you want me to do? Send it back?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t. Watch, watch, you’re gonna love this.”
Bradley twisted the snowman’s nose, and the front popped open. Hidden speakers played a disco mix of “Walking in the Air,” lights flashed, and confetti fired from Frosty’s eyes. Bloody hell. It was the stuff of nightmares. Valerie and Chay both jumped back a foot, and my hand automatically went to the gun on my hip. But then I took a closer look. What were all the bottles?
“See? It’s a Christmas drinks cabinet. Isn’t it fandabidozi? Jingle bell gin, anyone?”
“I’ve got an idea. Let’s keep the gin and put Frosty in the dumpster.”
Although I had to admit—this was my kind of Christmas spirit.
“That’s not very festive.”
“No, but it will help me to avoid a migraine. And who’s going to clean up that confetti?”
Rather than answering, Bradley ignored me and beamed at Valerie. If I hadn’t been scheduled to work later, I’d have been straight on the damn sauce. Was that an ice bucket in Frosty’s belly?
“Ooh, you didn’t say you were bringing a guest. Who’s this lovely lady? I’m Bradley. Is this your son?”
“This is Valerie, and she’s having a difficult day, even before the confetti. Do you think you could make yourself useful and get us some drinks?”
Bradley gestured towards the snowman.
“Non-alcoholic drinks. Tea, coffee. And turn that bloody music off.”
He flounced away, and I ignored Dan’s snort of laughter as I turned to Valerie.
“Sorry about that. Like I said, it’s a bit of a madhouse. But security’s pretty good. You saw the guards at the top of the driveway, and we’ve got motion sensors around the perimeter of the estate, contacts on all the doors and windows, pressure sensors on the roof, more motion detectors inside that turn on at night, plus a dog and a rather large cat. You’re not allergic to fur, are you?”
“I don’t think so. We’ve never been able to have a pet. Spencer isn’t fond of animals.”
Which told me everything I needed to know about the man.
“We’ll get a room ready for you. Do you want to share? Or would you prefer one each?”
“We can share.”
“Great. I’ll get Bradley to give you both a tour when he gets back, and then we can chat about the next steps. Have a think over your goals.”
“My goals?”
“Where do you want to be in a year’s time? That’s what we need to aim for.”
Valerie hugged Chay to her side and whispered one word, so quietly I could barely hear her.
“Alive.”
CHAPTER 9
THAT EVENING, DAN and I sat at the long wooden table in the kitchen with Valerie, a bottle of red, and a plate of mince pies. Plus a jug of water. My stint at work had been unproductive, and I was still on call in case any emergencies arose, which meant no drinkies for me.
Earlier, Dan had collected Caleb from school and dropped him off at the recording studio with Ethan, her boyfriend, then she’d retrieved Valerie’s belongings from Crossroads. The poor woman’s entire life fit into a medium-sized suitcase. Dan hadn’t spotted Wallace, but one of the other volunteers said she’d seen a dark green SUV drive past slowly a half hour ago, so there was a good chance he was still around.
How long had the two of them been together? Long enough to age Valerie by a few years, at least. While she fiddled with something in her lap, I took a moment to study her. She couldn’t have been more than thirty, yet telltale worry lines criss-crossed her forehead, and the lack of eye contact seemed to be a default setting. But despite that, she was beautiful. Waves of almost-black hair framed a heart-shaped face, and her eyes were the colour of bourbon. The Hollywood elite would have killed for those cheekbones.
“Drink?” I asked.
She slowly raised her gaze. “I’m not sure…”
“One small glass?”
A single tear rolled down her cheek. “It
’s been years since…since…”
“Since you felt safe enough to let your guard down?”
She nodded, and one tear became a waterfall. Dan passed her a tissue. At least one of us had come prepared. And Bradley had finally cleared up the mess in the hall and made himself useful by taking Chay to the movie theatre at the back of the house. Valerie had been understandably nervous about letting her son out of her sight, but the kid had taken to Bradley for some unfathomable reason. Perhaps it was because Bradley had found an inflatable crocodile for him to play with in the swimming pool. Honestly, I’d never seen a kid so excited. He was ready to jump into the water in his clothes, but thankfully Bradley had dug out a pair of swim shorts that Carmen’s son had forgotten to take home and led Chay off to get changed first.
Which left Dan and me to deal with Valerie. Her tears were bad, but they were also good. She was starting to trust us. And if she trusted us, we could help her.
“Could you tell us more about what went on today? The staff at Crossroads said Spencer took you from the parking lot? What happened before that?”
Dan had asked around when she dropped by the centre, but Valerie had been staying there for less than a week and she’d barely spoken to anyone during that time. Shell-shocked, that was how the centre’s director described her. She’d mostly hidden in her room with Chay. Dan said that usually happened with the really bad cases.
“Spencer says that when I married him, I became his.” They were married? Well, shit. “And that he’s got a right to see his son. That a boy needs his father and I can’t keep Chay from him. And I tried to do as he wished. I tried because Spencer was a doting dad. They drove to the park every Saturday to play soccer, and they watched movies together, and Spencer was so proud of Chay. So proud. For years, I coped with the kicks and the punches and prayed I’d survive until Chay turned eighteen, but then one night…one night…”
“It’s okay,” Dan said, squeezing Valerie’s hand. “Spencer can’t get to you here.”
Valerie gave a shuddering sniffle. “One night, we had another fight, a bad one, and Chay woke up and came downstairs. Until then, Spencer had never laid a hand on him, but when Chay started crying, Spencer slapped him. And that was how it started with me too. One slap, and then the rest followed. We couldn’t stay any longer. We couldn’t.”
“You did the right thing, and that took a lot of guts. You were thinking of your son.”
“But I acted too late, don’t you see? Once we’d left, Chay told me Spencer had been snapping at him, pushing him around on those trips to the park. And I’d missed the signs. Now that I look back, I see he’d gotten quieter, tried to avoid being alone with Spencer, but I pushed him to go because if Spencer was at the park with Chay, then he wasn’t with me. I’m a terrible mother.”
Valerie burst into great racking sobs as Dan pulled her into a hug, and I sincerely wished that I’d driven the Cayenne right over Spencer earlier. Then reversed and flattened him again.
“Even now, I can’t keep us safe. Spencer has money. He’ll always catch up with us, wherever we run.”
“What does he do? Hire investigators?”
“This time, he did. I’m sure he did.” Valerie closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I made a mistake. A huge mistake. The organisers of the Roots conference asked me to present a session, and I really needed the money. Six months had gone by, and I thought… I hoped… I screwed up.”
“He showed up there? What’s the Roots conference? Something about plants?”
“Oh, no, not plants.” Valerie cracked a smile for the first time. “Genealogy. It’s the biggest genealogy conference in the eastern United States. For networking, for picking up new clients. I don’t think Spencer attended himself, at least I didn’t see him there, but when I was speaking, I got that prickly feeling on the back of my neck, you know? Like someone was a little too interested. And three days later, Spencer showed up at our new place. I tried to be so careful. The organisers didn’t put my name on the website, or in the program, nowhere. They just listed me as ‘guest speaker.’”
“Were all the other speakers listed by their names?” Dan asked.
“Yes. I think so, yes.” Valerie’s amber eyes widened in horror. “You think that gave it away?”
“I’m a private investigator myself, and if I saw that listing, it would certainly have warranted another look. And presumably you have a specialist subject you went to speak about?”
Valerie nodded. “I’m a genetic genealogist. It’s quite a niche area, which is why it was so vital for me to go to the conference. At the moment, few people understand how powerful genetics can be when it comes to researching your family tree.”
My ears pricked up. Family tree?
“Tell me more.”
“About Spencer?”
“Yes, but first I’d like to know about this family tree research. Could you find, say, the birth family of a woman who was adopted as a child?”
“If a relative has DNA in one of the public databases, then there’s an excellent chance. That’s where genetic genealogy has an advantage over the more traditional techniques. Many adoption records are sealed, and sometimes, relatives don’t even realise a sibling was placed with another family. But mitochondrial DNA gets passed down through generations, as do Y chromosomes, and… You probably don’t need to know all the details, do you?”
Holy fuck. Had two of my tarnished stars finally aligned?
“Not really, but I’d like to hire you for a job.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m trying to find somebody, and if you can assist, it’d save me a whole lot of trouble.”
“A relative?”
“No, no, nothing to do with my family.” By a freakish twist of fate, I’d already found my own missing half-sister and father a year ago. Some you win, some you lose. “It’s related to another Project Mistletoe wish. The requester wants to find a sister who may or may not exist. Yeah, yeah, I know it might be impossible, but I’m happy to pay an hourly rate and you’d be doing me a huge favour.”
I laid it on a bit thick. I’d gladly give Valerie money to help her get back on her feet, but I got the impression that accepting charity didn’t sit comfortably with her. If she felt as though she’d earned it…
“Really? Well, of course I could take a look, but I wouldn’t charge anything, not after everything you’ve done for Chay and me.”
“You can, and you will. And you’re welcome to stay here while you’re working.”
“That’s too much. This place, it’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful? Have you seen the gargoyles? Look, it’s massive, and right now, it’s just me and my husband living here.” And Black was still stuck in Africa because something had come up in Morocco and he needed to do some actual work. Surely there had to be karma at play? “And Bradley’s staying here most nights because he’s determined to take over the world with tinsel. As I said, we can arrange alternative accommodation if you prefer, but Riverley’s safer than any hotel.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Positive. Now, back to Spencer—what happened at your old place? Did he try the same trick? Force you into his car?”
“He tried, but my landlady came home and threatened to call the cops, and when that didn’t stop him, she started waving her Colt .45 around. Holy crap, it was terrifying. Dottie’s a real sweetheart, but her eyesight’s awful. She nearly ran me over in the driveway once.”
“Look on the bright side—you lived to tell the tale.”
Valerie blew out a long breath. “Yes, and she did take me to Crossroads. We’ll both miss her. It was the first place in years where I’d felt hope for the future.”
“What about your family?”
“My family… It’s complicated. I don’t have close family, not anymore. I lost my mom and dad in a car crash when I was young, and my paternal grandma raised me.” Honestly, I wished I hadn’t asked. Surely Valerie would run out of tears soon? “But she pa
ssed soon after my eighteenth birthday. And then I met Spencer, and I wish with all my heart that I hadn’t.”
“What about your mom’s side of the family?” Dan piped up.
For crying out loud… Couldn’t she let this subject die a death?
“That’s the complicated part. My mom was Sioux, but she moved to Des Moines before I was born. And she never mentioned her family, at least, not that I remember, so I started wondering where I’d come from. That was how I got into genealogy. To try and find my own relatives.”
“And did you find them?”
“Yes, and then I realised why my mom left the reservation. I have a cousin who’s nice, and I made friends with some of Mom’s old neighbours, but my uncles really aren’t the kind of people I’d want Chay to spend time around.” Valerie shrugged and tried another smile, but it didn’t reach her blotchy eyes. “I’d hoped to find a family, but I ended up with a career instead.”
“So genealogy is to a family what bricks are to a home,” I mused.
“Exactly! I always warn my clients that the outcome might not be the fairy tale they wished for.”
“The lady we’re trying to help is getting on in years. What if this backfires?”
“That’s possible, but what if it doesn’t? The only thing worse than a hard truth is never finding the answers.”
True. And if the search looked as though it was leading down a dark path, we could always abort mission.
“So, what do we do now? For the search?”
“To start with? We need a DNA sample.”
CHAPTER 10
“OPEN WIDE. WIDER.”
Gwendolyn did as Dan asked, gripping the arms of her recliner as Dan swabbed the inside of her cheek with an oversized cotton bud. It was a degree or two warmer today, thank goodness, which meant my breath wasn’t steaming inside. Gwendolyn was the only resident in the sunroom again. I kind of saw the attraction—the frost lacing the bare shrubs and trees outside gave the garden an ethereal air, and there was a fully laden bird table for entertainment. But on balance, I’d still have picked a good book, a roaring fire, and a mug of cocoa if I’d been in her position.
