With as much haste and stealth as she could, Lauren shoved the case onto the shelf, pushed the closet door to without latching it and raced across the room to the bathroom. Snatching up the comb with one hand, she opened the door with the other. “My hair took longer to detangle than I thought it would.”
“Uh-huh. Well, your coffee’s getting cold.” Donna turned and trotted toward the kitchen, her high-heeled mules slapping the bottoms of her feet with a snap on each step.
Lauren followed. Her clothes wet once again, she was cold. Hot coffee helped. She sipped while Chris told Donna what had happened since the night before.
Donna listened, her face impassive, giving nothing away.
“Did you put the skates outside for him?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t have to answer that.” Donna reached for the coffee carafe. “More?”
Lauren was tempted by the warmth and the comfort of remaining in Donna’s house, but she needed something to wear. Donna’s clothes would never do. She was ten pounds lighter and four inches taller than Lauren.
“I need something to wear beside these clothes.” Lauren met Chris’s gaze. “That means I need to go home.”
“We can buy something if there’s a store nearby.” Chris arched one brow.
Lauren nodded. “Then let’s get going.” Lauren turned toward the door. “Thank you for your hospitality, Donna.”
Donna merely grunted and lit a cigarette.
Saber followed them to the door, her head pressed against Chris’s leg.
He bent and scratched her behind one floppy ear. “You take care of your mom, okay?”
Saber wagged her tail.
Chris held the door for Lauren. Saber looked as though she might follow them, but Donna called her and she raced back to the kitchen. Lauren left the deck and began to circle the house toward the Jeep.
“Wait.” Chris moved ahead of her. “Let me make sure everything’s all right.”
“You think Donna’s in danger, don’t you?” Lauren dogged Chris’s heels.
“I told her to get out of here. I hope she listens.”
“Unless those men have found Ryan first.”
“There is that.” Chris peered around the garage, then activated the remote key for the Jeep. It started with a roar. “Let’s find a store where we can find you some warmer clothes and a burner phone.”
“All right, but—”
“Wait until we’re in the Jeep.” Chris opened her door, then skirted the vehicle to climb into the driver’s seat. Once they were both inside and pulling out of the subdivision, he continued, “I called the nearest marshal’s office and told them where we saw Ryan and to keep an eye on his mother.”
“She needs to get out of there.” Lauren snapped on her seat belt, glad of the remote ignition to begin warming up the vehicle before they got in.
“I hope she does, for the sake of that dog, if nothing else.”
Lauren flashed him a grin. “She fell for you in a big way.”
“Dogs like me.”
Females liked him. Donna had even been cordial.
Suddenly, Lauren had the impulse to ask Chris if he had a girlfriend. She opened her mouth, the query on her tongue, then shook her head. It wasn’t any of her business.
She didn’t want to know.
“What did you want to tell me?” Chris changed the subject back to what was important, what was her business at present, and all without realizing he was doing so.
“I found a USB drive in Donna’s guest room.” She fished it from her pocket, still wrapped in the protective tissue, and tossed it into the nearest cup holder. “It was in an empty ice skate case. I mean, empty of skates, that is.”
“I figured she was lying about not seeing him.” Chris pushed the fingers of one hand through his hair, making the waves pop up into curls around the bandage on his scalp.
Lauren clasped her hands to stop herself from reaching over and smoothing the curls down again, rather than to ensure the lump on his head had not grown larger and the wound was healing well. He had the thickest, softest hair. She loved to touch it, make it curl, then flatten it down as much as she could.
Emptiness yawned inside her. She had tried to fill it with work, with making money and buying things over the past five years. None of that had worked. And now she had lost the bulk of her most valued possessions.
“The USB drive could be nothing,” Chris said, “or it could be another copy of the previous one. It might not even be his.” He glanced down. “Good thinking to not touch it.”
She warmed with pleasure over the compliment, which was so much like the reaction of a fourteen-year-old with a crush she wanted to hit herself in the head to get some sense back. Chris. Was. Not. For. Her. He was trying to arrest her brother. Someone would arrest her brother, who had led trouble to her. Chris could not be associated with her for that, if nothing else. She had known this for five years. Nothing had changed. If anything, things were worse.
Just as she’d predicted.
“I think I’ll keep this one until we can look at it,” Chris continued. “Let’s find the nearest superstore.” He picked up his phone, unlocked it and gave it to Lauren.
She found a store that should provide them with everything they needed. “It’s twenty miles to the north.”
Twenty miles more in the car with him.
After three silent miles, she turned on the radio to an all-news station.
“Nine o’clock a.m., December 24.”
Christmas Eve. This was Christmas Eve, and she was stranded in an SUV with her former fiancé with nothing to say to him, while her brother was a fugitive from the law and her father estranged because she wanted nothing to do with someone so far from grace by his own will.
Money is power, Lauren, my girl. Money is what matters. That was her father’s favorite thing to say whenever she mentioned him going to church and turning his life around.
He was wrong.
She squirmed, uneasiness settling over her.
“You need a break?” Chris asked.
Lauren shook her head. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
She hesitated before finally admitting, “My father.”
“The almighty and untouchable Richard Delaney.” Chris flicked a glance her way before returning his attention to the road. “So great you won’t use his name.”
“Wexler is my mother’s maiden name. It was my middle name. I just dropped the Delaney.”
“Why? I mean, your mother hasn’t been in your life for—how long?”
“Fifteen years.” Lauren spoke to her hands clasped on her knees. “But as far as I know, she has never done anything illegal.”
“Unlike your father?”
“Drop it, Chris. You know as well as I do that I think my father is now a smuggler of anything he can get into or out of the country. Just none of us has proof.”
“And you wouldn’t give it up if you did.”
The fact he said it rather than asked it set her fingers bunching into fists and her insides coiled tight enough to hurt. “Of course I would. But he keeps his business interests far out of my sight. So, how do you think your career is going?”
“Well.” Chris picked up her conversational change without a hitch. “I travel a great deal, which I enjoy far more than being stuck behind a desk.”
“At least you wouldn’t get shot at behind a desk.”
Chris shrugged. “Part of the job.”
“So your mom and sister can lose you too?”
Lauren regretted the words the instant they were out of her mouth. They might be true, but they were an unkind reminder of his father’s death at the hands of an unknown assassin.
“They’re happy to have me in law enforcement.”
They probably were. His mother and sist
er were two of the kindest people Lauren had ever met.
“Even though you’re missing Christmas?”
“Maybe I won’t, if we can catch Ryan by tonight.”
So Ryan would spend Christmas Eve in prison. And she would spend Christmas Eve...where?
A hotel somewhere.
Once upon a time, she could have spent it with Chris’s family.
Sadness left her unwilling to talk more. Chris didn’t pursue further conversation, so she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. The sonorous voice of the newscaster lulled her into a doze. Happy, feel-good news today. No one wanted death and destruction on the holiday about love and peace on earth.
Lauren would settle for peace in her heart for the moment.
Conversation died. The road, clear of snow beneath a sunny sky, seemed to stretch forever. When they reached the discount department store, the parking lot thronged with vehicles and people on Christmas Eve, last-minute shoppers picking up gifts, wrapping paper and food. Chris pulled the Jeep into a spot about as far from the door as they could be. “Go ahead and get the clothes you need, warm stuff especially, and I’ll get you a phone.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Sure.” Chris slammed his door and rounded the Jeep to open hers. Such courtesy had been lacking in her life—along with Chris.
“Who knows what I can find here.”
“You can manage without your usual high-end stuff?”
“I meant the store will be picked over.”
Chris locked the Jeep and they headed out in silence, weaving between cars and carts and baby strollers with hurrying parents pushing.
Halfway there, he paused beside a pickup truck and faced her. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
“Apology accepted.” She managed a smile. “I do like a bargain, you know.”
Some of her tension eased, and she entered the crowded store with intent. She needed slacks or jeans, a couple of sweaters and sturdier shoes. Though boots seemed unlikely, she managed to find a pair of ankle boots with decent treads. Items chosen, she located the backpack to carry it all. The only one left was bright orange. She shuddered, but added it to the cart, then met Chris, who was already holding a place in the checkout line.
“Do you think I can change here?” she asked him.
“The restrooms are by the door, so probably.”
What she’d give for a shower.
She settled for putting on clean clothes, warmer clothes, and brushing her hair, then applying a touch of lipstick. Feeling more herself, she exited the restroom, but she didn’t see Chris. He, however, must have been watching for her inside the second set of doors, as he met her in moments.
“I think it’s getting colder again,” he said by way of greeting.
He was right. The sun had ducked between a layer of dark clouds and the wind had increased.
“And now the car will be cold.” She rubbed her arms.
The sweater and jacket she now wore surpassed the shirt and blanket she had used for warmth. Still, she shivered.
“I’ll get the car started as soon as we’re within range. It won’t be too bad by the time we get to it.”
Once again, they threaded their way through other shoppers on their way across the parking lot. The crowds and traffic seemed thinner already, people heading home to begin the celebration of the holiday. Halfway there, Chris paused to press the remote starter.
And the world exploded with a flash of light and an earth-shattering boom.
NINE
Chris wrapped his arms around Lauren and drew her to the pavement behind the rack of carts. Beyond their shelter, dozens of car alarms began to honk and shriek. People screamed, shouted, wailed while charging back into the store or around it. Through it all, one word rang in Chris’s head—bomb.
The explosion had been a car bomb. He didn’t need to look to know the vehicle had been his. Pressing the remote starter had triggered the device.
If they hadn’t parked at the far end of the lot, people—children, old folks, holiday shoppers—could have been injured. Or, worse, many could have been killed. A few other cars had been parked back there, people like him wanting to be able to exit quickly. If any of those were on their way to their vehicles, in their vehicles... If he had waited longer to press the starter...
Disaster.
Chris held on to Lauren more tightly. She was shaking. He was shaking. Lauren’s fingers gripped his shoulders hard enough to hurt. He welcomed the discomfort. It helped him focus, think, plan.
They should stick around and make a police report. He should tell the local authorities the exploded vehicle was his. If they were fortunate, the sheriff’s office would take Chris and Lauren to the station for questioning, to a safe place.
If they even were safe with law enforcement. Chris never liked thinking cops or other deputy US marshals were corrupt, but he knew it happened. Maybe Ryan had run because he knew of danger within law enforcement.
Even if the local sheriff’s department was on the up-and-up, Chris couldn’t get Lauren to them soon enough. The crowd was too dense, too panicked. By the time Chris was able to get through to officers and show his credentials and make a report, the press would have arrived. This was too juicy a story for any newsperson to pass up, even on Christmas Eve. Cars just didn’t explode in discount store parking lots in small towns without some sensation lying behind it. And when the press arrived with their cameras and live feeds, Chris and Lauren’s faces would be all over the news. Those who had planted the bomb would know they had been unsuccessful in killing them.
“We have to get out of here.” Chris spoke into Lauren’s ear, taking just a second to enjoy the softness of her hair against his face.
Lauren nodded and released her hold on him, then lifted her head to touch her lips to his ear. “Where to?”
That touch had oddly felt like a kiss, her lips surprisingly warm against his cold earlobe.
Chris shivered, momentarily forgetting the question.
“Chris?” She spoke his name, that one syllable on her tongue warming, soothing, steadying.
“Away from here for the moment. We’ll decide where after that.” He rose, drawing her to her feet with him.
Hand in hand, though gloves made the touch impersonal, they joined the throng reentering the store. Several employees stood inside the entry encouraging people, “Walk, don’t run,” like hall monitors in an elementary school. Heads down, Chris and Lauren crept past the employees, following the crowd.
It grew thinner and quieter as everyone moved deeper into the store. Chris edged them to an outside wall, seeking another exit. With one hand, he held Lauren as though he needed to keep her afloat with his grip. With the other, he fished his wallet and his credentials out of his pocket.
For a moment, guilt seized him over his intention to use his deputy US marshal credentials to leave the scene. But they couldn’t stay in the vicinity. Doing so was simply unsafe for both of them.
Behind the sporting goods, they found the employees’ entrance. Two men of Chris’s height, but bulkier, blocked the doorway. “You can’t go in there, buddy,” one of them said, holding up his arms.
“We need to be outside and this is the closest exit.” Chris held up his wallet.
The men exchanged a look, then stepped aside. “You got here fast.”
“I was in the area.” Chris nodded to the men and he and Lauren walked past, through a break room with tables and chairs and vending machines, then to a storage room nearly as cold as the outdoors. Beyond that, two more men blocked the entry to a loading dock. These men were smaller, the space they guarded wider. No one was trying to climb onto the concrete slab to enter the store. No trucks were making deliveries on Christmas Eve. A long drive flanked by a small parking lot, probably for employees, stretched before them.
; “I’ll help you down.” Chris released Lauren’s hand long enough to jump to the ground, then he lifted her to the drive.
“Now what?” She scanned the bleak scene. “We won’t get far on foot.”
“I hope we don’t have to. But let’s get out of sight of those fellows at the door.”
They skirted the side of the building, then Chris led them between two salt-encrusted pickup trucks and across a narrow access road—where a fence blocked their way.
To the left lay the highway and chaos. To the right the fence skirted the lot of another business. Chris tried to remember what that business was. He was usually more observant, was trained to be more observant. He had been distracted on the way into the department store, watching Lauren, hurting as he hadn’t in years.
“It’s a restaurant,” Lauren said. “An all-you-can-eat buffet, I think.”
Chris started to ask how in the world she knew that, but heard the shriek of a siren flying toward them along the access road. “Let’s go,” he said instead.
They darted between the pickup trucks again and waited for the police car to streak past. If the occupants saw Chris and Lauren, he hoped they would think they were simply getting into their vehicle. The SUV didn’t stop, so he figured they were clear from being taken to where not only the sheriff’s people could talk to them, but reporters and their cameras could reach them.
“We’ll go around the fence in the back,” Chris said once the coast was clear.
Easier said than done. Though the woods had been cut far back from the fenced lot, brush had filled in. Piled with snow, it made tough going. Not as tough as tramping through the woods in moccasins had been the night before.
Only the night before. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Fortunately, the lot wasn’t large. Snow-clad to their knees, they reached the other side of the fence and another access road, another parking lot, another restaurant. This was an anonymous fast-food place with a line of cars stretching from the drive-through window to the highway, but a nearly empty parking lot. Chris and Lauren entered by the front door. He wouldn’t normally eat at a place like this, but at that moment even the oil from the kitchen smelled good, and he realized they hadn’t eaten for far too long.
Perilous Christmas Reunion Page 10
