by Jade Powers
“Ma’am, I’m in love with your daughter. I think you know that,” Bryce swallowed several times. His throat felt like it was crusted with crackers, it was so dry.
Gail’s mom smiled at Bryce, “I do know that.”
“I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage,” Bryce had no idea if this was the appropriate way to proceed. And he was scared to death of the answer.
“She’s got many years ahead for schooling.”
“I won’t get in the way. I’m asking for your blessing because family is important. I promise you that I will do my best to take care of Gail no matter how many hard times we have.” Bryce gulped air. This should have been easy. He liked Gail’s mom well.
“Honey, when you’re ready, ask the question. If Gail says yes, I’ll welcome you with open arms. You’ve already made her happy and that’s the most any mother can ask for.”
That night Bryce and Gail drank hot chocolate and ate popcorn while the family sang Christmas carols. Christmas was technically over, but it was the Langden family tradition going back to Bryce’s grandfather who had made it home Christmas afternoon one year, but the celebration had been saved for him. From that year on, the Langden family added another night to Christmas, singing, eating pie, and playing board games long into the night.
This night, Bryce and Gail sang the Gloria with more joy than grace, but it didn’t matter. Because the whole family was together. And that was what Christmas was all about.
The End
DEAR READER,
Somehow this turned into a Christmas book, or at least a Christmas ending. I hadn’t meant for it to end on Christmas night, but when the last chapter arrived, it felt right. I love Christmas. Not that I go all out and decorate the yard or anything. For me, a low key Christmas with family is a perfect end to the year...and a darn good ending for a book, too.
Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. I hope you are enjoying the series. As for writing, I find myself surprised by how much I loved writing Bryce and Gail. At first I wasn’t sure about writing two college kids in love, but I felt from the beginning that Bryce should have his own story.
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. Authors often depend on reviews for advertising slots. It helps tremendously.
THANK YOU FOR READING,
Jade
Chapter 1
~~ DENVER, CO JUNE 2000 ~~
Wendy flipped the on button to her husband’s computer. She should have done this months ago. The motorcycle accident that took John’s life shattered Wendy’s spirit. For at least three months, she drove to work, drove home, watched an hour of television while eating dinner, usually something from a box, and then fell asleep.
Mourning hibernation. That was what Wendy called it. The mortgage was paid, but the plan to quit her job and become a full time caterer died with her husband. She just didn’t have the energy to devote herself to a new venture. She needed John’s encouragement, his strength, and sometimes his logic.
Yesterday when she finally decided to sort his clothes and donate them to local charity, she found a note buried in his sock and underwear drawer. It was addressed to her.
In the note, he alluded to his death. The note read:
Dear Wendy,
I fear for my life. I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I love you and would not have risked myself except for the horrible things that I saw. If you find this and I am dead, check the file on my computer marked “Vacation Photos”. The password is Windy83???. If you find this and I am not dead, please don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing. I have passed these files to three people: Agent Mack Striker with the FBI, Corin Blythe, you’ve met him, and Carrie Meade, a Captain in the army. If anything happens to me, get in touch with these people. Their lives may also be in danger.
I love you more than words can say.
John
WENDY HAD LEFT JOHN’S home office untouched for months, ever since the policemen stood on her porch and asked if they could come inside. She didn’t even know where to start. At least she was the bill-payer and chief organizer of their financial records. The hole John left didn’t include confusion over who to pay and when.
She didn’t check his email. It would hurt too much to see people asking, “John, where are you?” And then realizing he was never going to answer again.
Instead she went straight for the file. It opened with the password. Wendy’s heart caught in her chest when she read the words, human experimentation. The file included pictures of the site, the technology, top secret files that John had scanned, dates, locations, and names.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Wendy copied the file onto a floppy. Then she copied it again and again until she had seven floppies. The content in that file was damning. The motorcycle accident made a lot more sense now. They said that John had dumped his bike off the road into a bunch of trees. His blood alcohol came back zero and no one could figure out how the accident had occurred. It made sense to Wendy now...someone had murdered her husband.
Wendy’s best friend, Temper Crow worked at Basset’s Bar off of I-70. They had been friends since high school. Temper’s given name was Teresa, but over the course of the last decade, she had remade herself into one tough chick. No one could even believe that sweet Wendy Bartlett was best friends with Temper Crow.
“Hey, Girl, what can I get you?” Temper had jet black hair and almond eyes. Her features were striking. She made a killing in tips, and didn’t even have to schmooze the customers. As a matter of fact, Temper had found that brusque worked just as well.
“Ginger Ale and some of those world-famous jojo’s,” Wendy said. She picked a bar stool at least three seats away from anyone else and wore her wedding ring, not that a clear signal stopped everybody. She added, “What time do you get off? I need to talk to you.”
“You’ve got a long wait. I’m closing the bar tonight.” Temper poured the ginger ale while she spoke, and then grabbed a straw. Her smile was genuine, but Temper had been a little more talkative this past year, checking in at least once a week. Sometimes Wendy couldn’t bear the company and let her phone go to voicemail. Sometimes she didn’t even call back, but Temper took it all in stride.
“Darn. I was hoping to talk to you. What about brunch tomorrow at eleven o’clock? I’ll buy.” Wendy sipped her ginger ale. The cool fizz calmed her frazzled nerves, although it would also rev her up. Wendy probably wouldn’t sleep tonight, not after a soda.
“You’ll do no such thing. I can pay my own way, thank you very much,” Temper said. The guy at the end of the bar waved at Temper. Switching gears with hardly a stutter, Temper poured the man another rum and coke, grabbed Wendy’s jojo’s from the cook’s counter, and with a smile said, “Eleven o’clock it is. Thanks for letting me sleep in.”
It was a joke between the two. Back when Temper was first working the job, she and Wendy would plan on Sunday breakfast at eight. But then Temper would get off work at two or three and end up severely regretting her plans. When Wendy married, their friendship faded. It didn’t weaken...it was just put on temporary hold. Instead of meeting weekly, the friends met every six months.
“No problem. I’d like to show you something at my house after. I know it’s a bit of a drive, but it’s really important.” Wendy wanted to tell Temper about the file. Even though Temper was working, even though half a dozen people sat in close enough proximity to hear what she might say, the knowledge that her husband was murdered sat on the tip of her tongue waiting to be released. Wendy held it back by sheer force of will. It burned her soul like a cattle brand.
But not tonight.
Temper groaned a little at the twenty minute drive and said, “If it’s that important, you know I’ll be there.”
“It is.”
“So...no hint? You’re being awfully mysterious here.” Temper teased.
“It’s not something I feel comfortable talking about in a crowd like this,” Wendy said. She could just see Temper guessing and discar
ding guesses in her head.
Finally Temper sighed, “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
Wendy ate her jojos. Back when John was alive, she had cooked dinner for him on weekdays. He had kitchen duty on Saturday and Sunday. Back then, she ate healthy, got lots of fruits and veggies, and their meals were well-rounded. Now she could barely bring herself to grab a bag of chips out of the cupboard. Nothing tasted good. She could sit hungry and somehow the pain of losing John superceded hunger.
When she finished, Wendy gave Temper a great tip and said, “See you tomorrow.”
TEMPER SLID INTO THE booth. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail and there were circles under her eyes. Once they had both ordered and the waitress was out of hearing shot, Temper leaned forward and said, “There’s no one around. Can you tell me what this is about? It’s driving me batty.”
Wendy glanced around. No one would overhear. In a low tone she said, “John has files that implicate at least a dozen high profile people in human trafficking and experimentation. I think someone had him killed.”
“Holy schnauzers,” Temper’s mouth dropped open and she looked a little wild. If anyone could help Wendy navigate the dangers of this treacherous discovery, it would be Temper. She closed her mouth, and her eyes bore a touch of pity and a hint of anger. Temper said, “We need to do this right. Get this in front of as many eyes as possible before they figure out you have the information.”
Wendy felt a lump of fear hovering at her breast bone. She said, “I thought if I took it to the officer who investigated John’s death, and maybe sent a few copies around, I’d be okay.”
A couple came in and the waitress sat them a couple of booths away. Temper shook her head and leaned in with a whisper, “This is huge. You’re talking about the biggest scandal of the century.”
Wendy felt sick. She said, “I know.”
Temper was known for plans. She liked to make long lists and outlines, color coded and in meticulous detail. Half the time, she didn’t even use them. The other half of the time, she went off plan anyway. But Wendy needed all the help she could get.
Grabbing a notebook out of her purse, Temper started a list. In a quiet voice she said, “Okay, first, who did John trust?”
Wendy gave Temper the three names in John’s note. She said, “He worked for McFarland, but he was close to Drake Ward and Carson Nichols. They both came to the funeral. He liked Bill over at the auto shop, but I don’t think we should involve him in something like this. Plus, Drake just got married. I’ll just send it around to all of the law enforcement agencies.”
“Probably the safest route,” Temper bit her nail while she scribbled out Bill’s name. She added the FBI, Department of Justice, Attorney General, local police, and the Department of Defense to her list. With a sigh, she said, “Maybe we could hire an attorney to send this on our behalf, kind of like an intermediary.”
“And if the attorney I pick sells us out, then no one will ever hear of this. They’ll scrub it and hush it up and kill me in the process.” Wendy loved the idea of shuffling this off to someone else. But she couldn’t risk the chance that something this big would fall through the cracks. She frowned at the three names. She said, “John’s friends didn’t do anything with this information. I mean, wouldn’t we have heard it on the news or something?”
Temper scribbled the thought and said, “You’re right. I’ll research that angle. In the meantime, do you want to send copies of your findings to everyone on the list? It should happen fast. When you do this, it will be like juggling live grenades.”
“That’s a visual I don’t need,” Wendy said. She smiled ruefully.
“It has to be all at once. Otherwise, someone might target you. You should call the people you think John trusted,” Temper said.
“If John’s death was truly murder, then they will target me once I open this up again. No question.” Wendy rubbed her forehead, feeling older than her thirty-five years. She was too old to start over and too young for her life to be finished.
The waitress brought their breakfasts. Temper and Wendy ate with gusto, temporarily shelving their discussion. Wendy was about to double down on the bet that killed her husband, and she wasn’t feeling too confident.
