Covert Christmas

by Hope White

  “Busted.” She offered a pleasant smile. “I thought, maybe if we talked about your family and childhood it could help you remember other things.”

  “Like why I came to Echo Mountain Resort.”

  “It’s worth a try. Anyway, college?”

  He glanced up ahead, still holding her hand. “I went to community college, then transferred and got my bachelor’s in psychology. I joined the force and became a detective by the time I was thirty.”

  “Impressive. But you don’t think you’re still a cop?”

  “No.” He got a faraway look in his eye, and melancholy creased his brows.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He snapped his attention to her. “For what?”

  “My question made you terribly sad.”

  “I remembered something about a kid being shot, it’s a long story. Anyway, I wasn’t the same after that. I took a leave of absence and...” His voice trailed off.

  “What is it?”

  He hesitated. “I took a job in private security.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last year, I think.”

  “Great, let’s figure out who you work for and maybe they’ll know why you came to Echo Mountain.”

  “No, we can’t contact them.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Headlights pierced through the night fog, aimed directly at Bree and Scott. She realized that although they were close to the resort they were still vulnerable out here in the dark.

  The car seemed to be going a bit fast for the damp and misty conditions.

  “Get behind those trees,” Scott said.

  “But—”

  “Go!”

  “Fiona, heel,” she said and darted toward the cluster of trees. As she pulled out her phone to call for help, Fiona nudged her and the phone dropped on the ground. “Nuts,” she said, running her hands across the damp earth to find it.

  “What are you doing out here?” a worried voice shouted.

  She recognized it. Harvey.

  “It’s okay, Harvey!” she called out. “He’s with me.”

  The resort’s security manager got out of his truck and peered into the trees. “What are you doing?”

  “I saw Scott out here and followed him. He made me take cover when we saw your truck, and now I’ve lost my phone.”

  “We thought you were someone else, so I told her hide,” Scott said.

  “Let’s get you two out of here in case that ‘someone else’ shows up.” Harvey walked over to Bree and pointed the flashlight at the ground. In seconds she found the phone.

  Bree encouraged Fiona to jump into the flatbed, then she, Scott and Harvey got into the front seat. Harvey spun the truck around and headed for the resort’s back entrance closest to Scott’s room.

  “You were driving awfully fast,” Bree said.

  “I was worried about your call.” Harvey glanced at her then back at the road. “I won’t tell Aiden about this.”

  “You’re the best,” Bree said.

  “And you—” Harvey aimed a stern look at Scott “—no more late night walkabouts. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harvey parked and escorted them to the door. The cop assigned to watch Scott got out of a nearby squad car and marched up to them wearing an angry frown. “You shouldn’t have left the room.”

  “I know.” Scott tapped his head with his fingertips. “The cognitive function is still a little—” he glanced at Bree “—wonky.”

  “Let’s get back inside,” the cop said, scanning the property.

  Scott nodded at Bree. “Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She thought the corner of his lips curled into a slight smile. With a nod, he turned and the cop escorted him inside. Fiona rushed the building, wagging her tail and spying through the glass door for Scott.

  “She’s developed an attachment to him,” Bree said.

  “Looks like she’s not the only one,” Harvey said.

  * * *

  The next morning Scott decided he couldn’t continue to live this way, constantly anxious, feeling threatened by the things he didn’t remember and therefore couldn’t see coming. He also couldn’t keep putting Bree at risk. She was the one good thing that had come of this insane situation and he wasn’t about to ruin her life because she’d been nice to him.

  As he reached for his cup of coffee, he glanced at his hand and remembered how she’d held it last night when she’d stopped him from running away. Running didn’t solve problems; it only caused more pain and suffering. Hadn’t his father’s abandonment taught him anything?

  Although it had been Harvey speeding toward them last night, it could have been someone else. Scott was completely vulnerable and helpless until he figured out what had happened during the weeks leading up to his assault in the mountains.

  Glancing out the window, he spotted Bree giving directions to a grounds employee. As her gaze roamed the property, it drifted by Scott’s window and she smiled, offering an enthusiastic wave. He waved back, remarking how beautiful she looked in her pink fleece jacket and jeans, her blond waves sticking out from a resort baseball cap pulled low to shield her eyes from the sun.

  Scott turned away from the window, not wanting to be distracted. He’d awakened this morning with a new goal: piece together his recent past and determine why he’d come to Echo Mountain.

  Bree had been on the right track last night. By asking Scott questions and getting him to talk about himself he’d started accessing a part of his brain that could lead him to answers.

  Another way to access answers could be through his sister. He needed to call her but had put it off for a full hour, fighting the guilt that he hadn’t been there for her, and that somehow her accident had been his fault. Bree had pointed out how implausible that was, but Scott couldn’t shake the dread eating away at his gut.

  The clock read ten, noon in Chicago. He got an outside line and made the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, this is Scott, Emily’s brother. Who’s this?”

  “Cassie Marshall, a friend from work. I stopped by to bring lunch.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Still pretty sore and uncomfortable.”

  He closed his eyes. His fault, this was his fault. He knew it deep in his core. Somehow his business, his choices had put Em at risk.

  “Is she... May I speak with her?”

  “Of course, hang on.”

  He waited a few very long seconds before she came on the line. “Scotty?”

  He squeezed the phone at the weak sound of her voice. “Hey, Em, I called last night but Ashley said you were sleeping. I’m sorry I’m not there.”

  “It’s okay, my friends are taking good care of me.”

  “I should be there.”

  “No, it’s really okay.”

  “I’m so sorry, kid.”

  “It happened two days ago. I left you messages. I thought—” she hesitated “—I thought I’d hear from you sooner.”

  “I lost my phone.”

  “Where are you? Ash called your work and they didn’t even know.”

  “Work?”

  “Global Resources International.”

  Okay, now he knew where he’d been working. He jotted it down on a resort notepad.

  “Or did you change jobs and not tell me?” Emily asked.

  “No, that sounds right.”

  “It sounds right? Scott, what’s going on?”

  “I had a hiking accident, hit my head pretty bad and I’m struggling with a mild case of amnesia.”

  “You’re kidding.”

>   “Wish I were.”

  “Wow, that must be horrible for a control freak like you.”

  “Control freak, huh?”

  “I’m teasing.”

  But he sensed she wasn’t.

  “So what happened?” she asked. “Where were you hiking?”

  “Cascade Mountains in Washington.”

  “Why are you out there?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I can’t remember the accident, or a few months leading up to it. Doctor hopes that will change as the swelling goes down. Anyway, a search-and-rescue team saved me.”

  More like Breanna McBride saved him.

  “Sounds serious if they sent search and rescue to find you. It’s just a concussion?”

  “And bruised ribs.” He didn’t want to worry her by mentioning the bullet wound.

  “That’s a horrible thing to go through by yourself,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without my girlfriends helping me out.”

  “I’m okay,” Scott said. “I’ve made some friends who are looking after me.”

  “Don’t lie, Scott. It doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Why do you think I’m lying?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Em?” he pushed.

  “You don’t do the friend thing, well, except for your partner, Joe. You always said you don’t like needing anyone’s help, that it makes you weak.”

  “Well, I’d be a lot weaker without the help I’ve been getting from the locals.”

  “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” she joked.

  “Very funny. Tell me about your accident.”

  “A totally insane driver cuts into my lane and I swerve to avoid a collision, hit a post and the airbag goes off.”

  “Ouch.”

  “No kidding. And the jerk didn’t even stop. He sped off like he was qualifying for the Indy 500.”

  “Did you get a good look at the car?”

  “A black Lincoln, older model.”

  The hair pricked on the back of Scott’s neck, but he wasn’t sure why.

  “I gave my statement to the Chicago P.D., so hopefully they’ll find the guy. What a jerk. I mean not even stopping to see if I was okay?”

  Which meant the driver didn’t care if she was okay.

  “Scott?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Not sure. Hopefully soon.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “I don’t know, you seemed more intense than usual these past few months, and now you sound—” she paused “—strange.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m a big girl and my friends are totally smothering me.”

  Cassie said something in the background to drive the point home.

  “I’m glad you called,” Emily said. “When you didn’t come by to check on me or call I got worried. I thought...”

  “You thought I’d left, like him.”

  “No, I thought—”

  “It’s okay. I should be there and I’m not.”

  “Scotty—”

  “You should have the number of the resort I’m staying at. Got a piece of paper?”

  “No, but I can have Cassie write it down.”

  “Good. Call if anything changes.”

  “Sure, okay. Here’s Cassie.” Emily passed the phone to her friend and Scott gave her the phone number for the resort and his room number.

  “Cassie, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you guys taking care of my sister.”

  “We’re happy to do it. That’s what friends are for. Bye.”

  Scott hung up and stared at the phone, concern flooding his chest. Whatever he’d been working on caused the hit-and-run accident that hurt his sister. He could feel it in his gut. But what could he do about it from two thousand miles away?

  Friends.

  Scott considered calling the one person who’d been there for him when he was on the job: his partner. He slowly pressed the buttons to call Joe, surprised that he remembered the number since he hadn’t used it in months. He knew his former partner had a thing for Emily, and Scott hoped those feelings would override whatever resentment Joe felt about Scott leaving the force and abandoning his partner.

  “Detective Rush,” he answered.

  “Joey, it’s Scott.”

  Silence.

  “Joe?” Scott pressed.

  “What?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s about Emily.”

  “What about her?”

  “She was in a hit-and-run. I think it was intentional.”

  “Yeah, right, like anyone would want to hurt that sweet girl.”

  “They were trying to send me a message.”

  “Great, what did you get yourself into, Mr. hotshot security goon?”

  “Joey—”

  “I’ve been waiting for this call, the one where you’d admit you were wrong, that you shouldn’t have left the department, but this? You put your sister at risk? What’s the matter with you?”

  “Joe, I—”

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it? The self-judgment, the blame. You act like you’re the only one who was affected by that kid’s death, Scott. Aw, forget it.”

  The line went dead.

  “Joey?”

  Scott sighed. His former partner had hung up on him. Maybe Scott deserved it, but he hoped the resentment Joe felt for him wouldn’t prevent him from checking on Em.

  Scott was banking on the fact that the many years of friendship he’d shared with Joe counted for something, because the thought of someone stalking and hurting Emily...

  “Please, God,” he whispered and caught himself. He wasn’t one to lean on God, yet Bree drew so much strength from her faith. It fascinated him. Right now Scott felt so helpless about both his sister’s situation and his own personal safety.

  He opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the Bible. Turning to a random page, he landed on Psalm 57.

  “Be merciful and gracious to me, O God, be merciful and gracious to me, for my soul takes refuge and finds shelter and confidence in You; yes, in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge and be confident until calamities and destructive storms have passed.”

  Someone knocked on the door, probably Bree coming to check on him. He placed the Bible on the nightstand, went to the door and glanced through the peephole. A resort employee stood outside his door.

  Scott cracked it open. “Yes?”

  “Room service.”

  Scott glanced at two covered plates on the cart. “I didn’t order anything.”

  “A friend ordered for you, sir,” the man said. “She’ll be joining you shortly.”

  Scott smiled to himself. Even when she wasn’t here Bree was taking care of him. He’d be able to dive into his investigation more effectively on a full stomach, so he swung open the door and the employee wheeled the cart inside.

  Scott glanced up and down the hall, wondering what happened to his shadow cop. Truth was he didn’t need full-time surveillance. Like Bree had said, he couldn’t get far without a driver’s license, money or credit cards.

  “Sorry, I don’t have my wallet so I can’t offer a tip,” Scott said, closing the door.

  “That’s okay, sir. I don’t want your money.” The guy pulled the cover off a plate and turned.

  He was pointing a gun at Scott.

  Scott automatically raised his hands.

  “
I’m surprised you let me in,” the man said. He was in his sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and a square jaw. “Although you seemed a little distracted when you were eyeing the hallway. Looking for the cute blonde?”

  Scott glared. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  This must be one of the guys who’d assaulted Scott in the mountains...and was here to finish the job.

  “What do you want?” Scott said.

  “Sit.” He jerked the barrel of the gun sideways.

  Scott sat at the table and lowered his hands.

  “You know what I want,” the guy said. “The water samples.”

  Scott had no idea what he was talking about. Now what? He decided to use the truth as his defense.

  “Guess you haven’t heard, I’m suffering from retrograde amnesia,” Scott said.

  “Right, and I’m Frosty the Snowman.”

  “You said yourself that I should have known better than to let you in. Do I know you? Because if I do, I can’t remember.”

  “No kidding,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. “Okay, I’ll play along. You can call me Rich, although that’s obviously not my real name. So, Scott, how about you tell me where you stashed the water samples and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “I told you, I can’t remember.”

  Someone tapped on the door. “Scott? It’s Bree.”

  Scott tensed, his eyes glancing at the door, then back at his attacker.

  “Maybe she can help you remember,” Rich said with a wicked smile.

  He must have read the fear on Scott’s face.

  “Ask her to join us.”

  “Scott?” She knocked again. “You okay?”

  “Well, go on, lover boy,” Rich said.

  Scott went to the door and placed his hand against the heavy steel. He had to do something to drive her away, and fast.

  “I’m not decent.”

  “But I just saw—”

  “Leave me alone!” he shouted.

  Silence answered him. His heart ached at the thought that her last memory of Scott would be his cruel tone, since his attacker surely wasn’t going to let him live. She disappeared from the peephole. Relief coursed through him.

  Without warning, Rich slugged Scott in his bruised ribs. Scott doubled over and fell to his knees, gasping for breath.