by Terry Keys
Even from the plane, I could see how beautiful the area was when it was covered by snow. It was nearing two p.m., which left me plenty of time for some last-minute Christmas shopping.
Being that it was Christmas Day, I knew my options would be limited to Walmart or the likes, but I had no choice.
At this point I think the girls would be happier to have me with them to celebrate rather than worry about what I may or may not have gotten them. On second thought, who was I kidding? I’d better come through or I may as well fly back to Texas.
After my shopping I decided I’d give Uber a shot to the ranch. I’d never missed a Christmas before because of work, and I was excited beyond belief that I wouldn’t have to miss this one either.
The Uber driver turned into the ranch and we started down the long, dusty road. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. I settled my bill and grabbed all my bags.
I’d made it with about an hour to spare before dinner. I knocked on the door and waited. Finally I heard the scampering of feet inside.
“Daddy!” Karen shouted as she opened the door.
“Who’s there, Karen?” Miranda asked from somewhere behind her.
“It’s Daddy, Mommy! Look! It’s Daddy!”
I dropped the bags I was holding and yanked her up into my arms.
“Merry Christmas.” I kissed her on the cheek.
“Merry Christmas to you, Daddy.”
I turned around to find Miranda standing there, arms folded, a half-smile, half-scowl on her face.
She moved her hands to her hips. “You know this is the second time you’ve done this.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I know. And since the case is over, it’ll be the last. Tomorrow we can all go back home. Merry Christmas.”
I pulled Miranda to me and laid a kiss on her.
“Merry Christmas to you too, David Porter.”
As I stepped inside the doorway Hilary came down the staircase and, to my surprise, she looked excited to see me. She sprinted down the last few steps and hugged me. I made it last as long as I could.
“And you came bearing gifts too, huh, Dad?” she said, spying the gift bags I’d dropped in the foyer. “Isn’t that something husbands usually only do when they get into trouble?”
“Well, I’m clearly not in any trouble.” I smiled, looking over at Miranda. “And it’s Christmas, silly. How was I going to show up without gifts?”
“We got you some stuff too, Daddy,” Karen said.
“Oh yeah? I’d love to see it.” I winked at Miranda.
We spent the next thirty minutes getting caught up on everything that’d happened since my first visit. I told them Caleb was gone, but I didn’t go into the details.
Hilary rolled her eyes. “So let me get this straight. Did I hear you say we could go home?”
I laughed. “Yes, tomorrow.”
She squealed and bolted upstairs.
“Guess she’s going to text her friends and let them know she’ll be back tomorrow,” I said.
“Poor kid didn’t even hang around to open her gifts. I guess she’ll get to it eventually,” Miranda said.
“Well, they aren’t going anywhere and neither am I.” I hugged Miranda again.
She pulled my head down so she could whisper in my ear. “I love you, but you don’t look so hot.”
“Yeah, I bet. I’m okay now, but it’s been a roller-coaster year for us all.”
A few seconds later, Hilary came back downstairs.
I followed Miranda into the kitchen and helped her finish the dinner preparations. Everything looked so good. It’d been awhile since I’d been able to eat a meal without worrying about my cell phone blowing up regarding the case.
The four of us sat down at the table.
“Karen, would you like to bless the food?” Miranda said.
She nodded. “God, thank you for your son, Jesus Christ, and for bringing my daddy back to us in one piece. Amen.”
“Great job, Karen. I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I said.
“So, Hilary, how happy are you to be headed back home tomorrow?”
“Best Christmas gift ever!”
We enjoyed a beautiful dinner, but what I enjoyed most was the company of my family. Seeing my girls smile and laugh without a care in the world was the best Christmas gift I could receive.
After dinner, the four of us watched a movie. As I expected, both girls fell asleep before it was over. Miranda and I quietly slipped out and tiptoed upstairs to our bedroom.
She pushed me onto the bed. “Santa told me you’ve been a bad boy.”
I laughed. It felt so damn good to just laugh. “Well, maybe I have been. You gonna teach me a lesson?”
She held up a finger. “You wait right there.”
I waited and waited and waited. Finally, Miranda returned. She had on a sexy cop’s outfit and twirled a pair of cuffs on her fingers.
“So, are you going to place me under arrest?” I asked.
“I think the situation calls for it, don’t you?”
Our little game of Charades didn’t last long. The sexy cop outfit was now strewn across the room. At any given time there were always a million things wrong, but this was always right.
Afterward, Miranda lay with her head buried in my chest.
“So you want to talk about what happened out there?”
“One day, yes. But not today. Not right now. Right now I want to fall asleep just like this.”
Chapter 59
I rolled over in the bed and felt for Miranda. I could smell coffee brewing and the soft hum of Christmas music. I imagined Miranda was somewhere entertaining Karen, as there was no way she was still asleep. I looked over at the clock it read seven fifteen a.m. which confirmed my belief. Hilary on the other hand was a different story. She was still in the I’ll sleep until two p.m. because I stayed up until four a.m. phase of life. She was nearly seventeen now, and I’d learned that’s just the way it was.
Miranda had given me a gold rope chain with a small angel medallion on it. I gripped it between my fingers and said a quick prayer. I thanked God that he had gotten my family through this turmoil. I slipped on my house shoes and headed over to Hilary’s room to look in on her. To my surprise she wasn’t there.
I made my way downstairs and as I reached the point where I could see onto the couch there sat my three little pieces of heaven. Miranda was in between Karen and Hilary with an old photo album sat on her lap.
“You look funny with an afro, Daddy,” Karen teased me.
I hadn’t even had the chance to wipe the sleep from my eyes and I was already being harassed by my youngest daughter. I didn’t care one bit.
I smiled. “Well, maybe that’s why Daddy no longer has the afro,” I snapped back. “What are you guys doing with that thing anyway?”
“Looking at pictures, silly goose,” Karen said.
“Well, I know that, but how’d it get all the way up here in good ol’ Montany?”
“We look at old Christmas pictures every year. I didn’t want this one to be any different,” Miranda explained.
Of course she didn’t. It was good thinking on her part. Kids needed consistency and familiarity. Adults did too, but we were more hesitant to admit it.
“So is Paul staying in Houston full time now?” Miranda asked.
“Oh yeah. Deluca has him wrapped around her little finger already,” I said.
“So in other words, you and him are just alike? Mom’s always had you wrapped around her finger,” Hilary said, grinning.
I smiled and let out a chuckle. “Well played, Hilary. Very well played. And you know what? I’m more than okay with that.”
I joined them on the couch, and the four of us looked at the pictures together. This was the best Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.
An old photo of my college football-playing days jerked my mind back to the whirlwind of the last two years. I thought about all the lives lost. I thought abou
t my dear friend Captain Wilcrest. He’d been like a father to me, and losing him hurt like hell. I knew there’d always be a place in my heart for him.
Miranda nudged me with her elbow. “Hey, what’s gotten into you, mister?”
I shook myself back to reality. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m positive.” Time to change the subject before I embarrassed myself. “Hey, group. While these pictures have been entertaining, we have three hours before we have to be on a plane . . . unless you just want to stay here in Montana.”
Both of the girls yelled, “Nooo!” which is what I’d guessed would happen.
“Okay. We meet back here in thirty?”
Everyone scurried off to get their belongings together. I had much less to pack, so I decided to write a thank-you note to Mr. Clive. I appreciated everything he’d done for my family. I knew I’d never be able to repay him.
After I finished my letter I found some tape and affixed it to the gift I’d purchased for him.
“Daddy, now that the big case you were working on is over, are you going to come to my practices more?” Karen asked as she trudged down the stairs, dragging three bags behind her.
I kneeled down beside her, at eye-level. “Yes, honey, Daddy will make all of your practices.” I grabbed her bags and deposited them in the foyer.
“Did you catch the bad guys all by yourself?”
“Daddy has a team of people who help me do my job. We all have a part to play, kind of like our family. Does that make sense to you, sweetie?”
“Of course it does, silly.”
I hit myself on the head. “Of course you understand. What was I thinking?”
Her laughter warmed my heart.
We all grabbed our bags and headed for the front porch to wait for our Uber driver. I stood in the doorway for a minute, surveying the scene as my girls gathered there together, smiling and happy. The most tumultuous two years of my life were coming to a close, and I was grateful. I knew I could never thank God enough for all that he’d blessed me with. As I closed the door behind me, a tear rolled down my cheek. Miranda looked back and eased over to me. Before she could get a word in, I pressed a finger to her lips.
I placed my lips on hers and kissed her gently. “Everything is okay. And this?” I said, pointing to the tears on my face. “Just tears of joy. There was a time not too long ago when I didn’t know if I. . . if we would ever be all together again. But here we are.”
“You need to take some time off and decompress. Besides, you do kind of owe us some time, you know.”
“Okay, you talked me into it,” I said. “Girls, your mother wants me to quit my job and stay home with you all day every day. What do you think?”
Miranda smacked me on the chest. “Your dad is making things up again.”
Karen spoke up. “I think that’s a great idea, Daddy!”
“Can we vote?” Hilary added.
Everyone shared a laugh. I felt my heart warm.
I cleared my throat, and in my best Santa voice, I yelled, “Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, everyone. Merry Christmas.”
I hope you enjoyed Games of Guilt and the Hidden Guilt Trilogy.
Please turn the page for a sneak peek at my next book, Death Toll Rising, coming May 2017.
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Death Toll Rising
Prologue
Dry, lung-scarring heat forced Akio Yoshida to take a deeper, harder breathe than he was used to. Japan’s Prime Minister had barely reached the bottom of the private jet’s staircase, and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. If there really was a hell on earth, he’d found it. He had made several trips to the United States but this was his first to Houston. The rumors about the humidity and the unbearable summer climate had proven to be true.
Bush Intercontinental Airport was as busy as ever. A dozen armed U.S. soldiers were already in place around the small plane. A handful of pre-screened journalists and photographers also stood nearby, trying to catch a glimpse of Akio. They all wanted the shot for their paper or website. Thirty or forty onlookers gathered as well.
Although only five foot five, the Prime Minister exuded the command and presence of a much larger man. Along with his striking looks and charm, the charismatic leader possessed a gift for public speaking. Akio often captivated audiences with his vast array of senseless knowledge on a wide variety of subjects. His Ivy-League-quality education certainly wasn’t lost on anyone either.
Akio was in Houston to attend the world’s first Religious International Summit. The goal of the summit was to bridge the gap between various religions around the globe, repair strained relationships, and start to build peace. The summit would include leaders from Egypt, Austria, Japan, China, Russia, Afghanistan, Turkey, Kuwait, Israel, France, Italy, England, Pakistan, Germany and a handful of African nations. Noticeably left off the list were Iran, Iraq, and Syria. The summit was scheduled to begin in two days. Yoshida was the last of the visiting leaders to arrive in Houston. He still had two days to spare and planned to tour a several places in the highly cultured city. Among his stops would be the Johnson Space Center, the Holocaust Museum, and the USS Texas which interested the man more than it probably should have. The U.S.S. Texas was the last remaining vessel that was active during WW I and WW II and was an amazing part of world history.
Houston also boasted an impressive Chinatown that Yoshida was eager to visit. This, he had decided, would be his first stop. A few drinks and, if it went as planned, some special guests to keep him company.
Rush hour traffic in Houston was legendary for being some of the worst in the nation. It was nearing five p.m., which meant any travel right now would be a nightmare. Yoshida and his team had overlooked this detail when scheduling arrival time. What would typically be a forty-minute drive to Chinatown would now take closer to two hours, Yoshida was informed.
Sergeant Butler, a tall, square-chinned, middle-aged man approached Akio and bowed.
“Konnichiwa, sir,” Butler said.
Akio bowed in return. “Konnichiwa. It is an honor to be here in your country.”
“We are honored to have you, sir.”
Two of Yoshida’s men rushed to his side, and Akio raised his hand to stop them.
Butler glared at the guards. “I want to assure you that every conceivable security measure has been taken. The health and well-being of the Prime Minister will be my number one concern until we put him back on this jet in five days.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Butler. My men are very protective. I have an incredible security team. Please bring them up to speed.”
“Yes, sir. I will do so in short order. The United States military is the finest in the world. If we can’t protect you, no one can.”
Butler caught the beginnings of a wry smile on one of the guard’s faces, but no one replied. Yoshida was escorted to a waiting limousine. Butler and three of Yoshida’s men climbed in behind him.
Yoshida’s team had informed the US of his itinerary, and his first stop, Fu Fu Café in Chinatown, was fully reserved and awaited the Prime Minister’s visit. The restaurant topped many lists as the best place to eat in Houston’s Chinatown, and Yoshida was eager to give it a shot.
Private entertainment had also been arranged and would be provided by a small local band. The restaurant was known for being open well into the wee hours of the morning, which also suited the Japanese leader. His late-night parties were well-documented.
“Sergeant Butler, we have been moving twenty minutes but have only traveled a short distance. Is there a problem with this route?” Yoshida asked with a look of concern on his face.
“It’s rush hour here in Houston, sir. Any route around the city will be equally as bad.”
Yoshida threw his hands up. “So it’s like this every day here?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. And worse if we encounter an accident al
ong the way.”
Yoshida said something in Japanese, and his men erupted in laughter. Butler smiled politely but knew he was the butt of the joke somehow.
Eighty minutes later, the group arrived at the restaurant. A US-led security team had already swept the place twice and given the all clear for the Prime Minister. The team had established a perimeter and stood outside, armed and ready for Akio’s arrival.
As the limousine pulled up, bystanders pushed in closer. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the foreign leader. Cameras were already flashing by the dozens.
As the car came to a stop a few armed guards approached it and opened a rear door. Akio climbed out of the limo, bowed slightly and waved to the crowd before hurrying into the restaurant. The entire waitstaff stood at the restaurant’s front lobby, and each of them greeted Yoshida. The youngest, most attractive of the group escorted Yoshida to his table in a dimly lit back corner of the restaurant.
Both US and Japanese security had the entire restaurant secured. Sergeant Butler had been given direct expectations from the president himself regarding the well-being of Yoshida. His exact words, “Do not fuck this up, Sergeant Butler,” could not have been clearer.
As the hours passed, Akio grew bored with the band. His security had prescreened some adult entertainment to accompany him at his request. Akio told the men to send for the women now.
Fifteen minutes later, three young, tight-bodied, blonde female entertainers stood outside the restaurant’s front entrance.
Sergeant Butler heard his name called over his radio. He pointed to Akio to stay put.
“Butler, here. What’s going on out there, Newman?” he asked one of the officers outside.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but . . . uhh, three strippers—I’m sorry, adult entertainers—just showed up. Said they were called.”
“Who the fuck called them, Newman? And how do you know they’re strippers?”
“Sir, I don’t know who called them. That’s why I’m calling you. And trust me, these skirts ain’t here for wonton soup.”
