Maverick Christmas

by Joanna Wayne

  Jenny marched to the back door, sinking her boots as far as she could into the mounds of snow. Mandy ran over and shoved her small gloved hand in Josh’s much larger one. “I can make snow angels. You wanna watch me?”

  “Of course I do.” He raved over her abilities as she fell to her back and did a repeat of her flapping-arms routine.

  Chrysie worked on staying outwardly calm as she watched the sheriff bond with her young daughter. It seemed a natural thing to do, yet it filled her with dread.

  “I didn’t come to visit,” he said again, “but since I’m here, I sure could use a cup of coffee.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I can make a fresh pot.”

  Josh swooped Mandy onto his shoulders and started toward the back door. Chrysie’s legs felt leaden as she followed them inside.

  JOSH STUDIED CHRYSIE’S every move as she helped the girls out of their snow pants, parkas and boots. They were happy kids. She clearly adored them. Which didn’t mean a damn thing. Danny and Davy’s mother had probably loved them, too, but it hadn’t kept her from living in a world so depraved he didn’t even like to think about it.

  Mandy pulled off her mittens and held her hands out in front of her. “They’re still cold.”

  Chrysie held them in hers for a second. “How about some hot chocolate to warm you up?”

  “With marshmallows?” Mandy asked.

  “Marshmallows and a cookie, just as soon as I get the coffee started.”

  Josh hung his jacket on one of the hooks near the back door. “Actually, the hot chocolate sounds good.”

  “Then it’s hot chocolate all around.”

  Josh had given little thought to how he’d handle this, mostly trusting his instincts to guide the conversation while he asked enough questions to give him a feel for whether or not Chrysie was on the run.

  He watched as she measured cocoa, sugar and milk and dumped the ingredients into a small saucepan. “I didn’t know anyone still made hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.”

  “I don’t always. I have instant on hand, as well.”

  “So what’s the special occasion?”

  “Snow.”

  “I guess you didn’t get much of that back in—where was it you’re from? Texas?”

  “No.” She kept her back to him. “Actually, I’m from Mississippi, but I haven’t lived there since graduating college. My husband and I moved around a lot.”

  “Was that because of his job?”

  “Right.”

  “What kind of business was he in?”

  “He was a helicopter pilot with the Army.”

  “I had some friends who flew helicopters for the Army.”

  He would.

  “Where did your husband do his training?”

  “In…in Alabama. Near Mobile.”

  “Really? I didn’t know there was an Army base there.”

  “No, you’re right. It wasn’t Alabama. It was somewhere in…in south Texas. I don’t know where. It was before we were married.”

  The question had her flustered. He walked to the counter so that he could see her face while she worked. “How long has he been dead?”

  “Almost three years. Mandy was just a baby. Jennifer was only two.” Finally she looked up and met his gaze. “I don’t like talking about this, Sheriff. My husband’s death was a very unhappy time in my life that I’m trying to put behind me.”

  “I can understand that. I’m sorry I asked.” He was—and becoming more disturbed by the second. This wasn’t just about Chrysie. It was about Jenny and Mandy and what would happen to them if their mother wound up in jail. They’d be faced with the same kind of trauma Danny and Davy had dealt with, except there wouldn’t be a father to step in and love them.

  “How many Christmas trees are you going to have?” Mandy asked.

  “One.”

  “We’re going to have two. One for the birds and one with a big star.”

  “Boy, two trees. That’s pretty cool.” So Mandy was three, Jenny was five—exactly the same ages the Harwell girls would be. If Chrysie was on the run, she should have lied about that, but that would have meant having her girls confused about their ages and starting them in school at the wrong age. She was probably too good a mother for that.

  Chrysie filled two cups when the chocolate was little more than lukewarm. She waited until it was steaming to fill the other two colorful pottery mugs. Each cup received two fluffy marshmallows. The girls got a sugar cookie with their drink. He got a piece of nuked pie. He forked a bite when they’d all sat down at the kitchen table, though he’d lost his appetite.

  “Are you going to Mississippi to see your grandparents for Christmas, Jenny, or are you going to stay up here and have a white Christmas with us?”

  “My grandma and grandpa are in heaven with my dad,” Jenny said, “so we can’t visit them.”

  Josh wondered if the grandparents were really dead or if that was part of the altered reality of a woman on the run.

  “You were great with the boys yesterday,” Josh said, deciding to take a different path with his questioning. “You would have made a great teacher.”

  “I doubt I have the patience for that.”

  “What was your major?”

  “My major?”

  “Yeah, in college. You said you didn’t leave Mississippi until after you got your degree.”

  She hesitated way too long, and her hands tightened on her cup as if she thought it might jump off the table if she didn’t hold it down. She was saved by Mandy when she accidentally knocked over her drink, sending a river of chocolate across the table.

  “It’s okay,” Chrysie said as she jumped up to get a handful of paper towels. “Accidents happen.”

  “Some gotted on my pants,” Mandy said.

  “And all over my hands,” Jenny said.

  “Okay, everybody to the bathroom. Will you excuse us, Sheriff?”

  “Absolutely.” Josh waited until they were out of sight before walking to the counter and using two fingers to pick up the measuring cup Chrysie had used for the milk. He’d watched and knew it would have a good set of fingerprints and figured she’d be less likely to miss it than one of her pretty cups. Careful not to smudge the prints, he slipped it into the plastic zip bag he’d brought with him.

  He stashed it in the pocket of his jacket and went back to his pie and chocolate. When Chrysie returned, it was just to stick her head in the doorway.

  “I hate to be a terrible hostess, but I need to get these clothes off to soak before the stains become permanent.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her deep blue eyes. When he stared into their smoky depths, he saw the same vulnerability that had gotten to him last night.

  “That’s okay. I need to get a move on myself. Thanks for the pie and chocolate.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He couldn’t actually feel the weight of the cup in his pocket as he left, but he was intensely aware of it as he climbed behind the wheel of his truck. He hoped to hell the prints were not those of Cassandra Harwell.

  Yet he was almost certain that they were. And just as certain that arresting her might top his list of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

  CHRYSIE’S HEART WAS pounding like mad as she watched the truck disappear down the road, not toward the Millers but back to the highway.

  He knew. She was sure of it.

  The references to Texas. The questions about her husband’s helicopter training, her parents and her education. And the missing measuring cup. He’d probably though she wouldn’t notice. He was wrong. She hadn’t avoided capture for three years by letting anything go unnoticed.

  He had her fingerprints, and as soon as he had them tested, he’d be back to arrest her. She had to move quickly, had only hours, maybe minutes, to throw what she could into the car. Only moments to tear the girls away from the place they already thought of as home.

  Tears burned at the back of her eyelids as she hurried to her bedroom and
pulled the battered suitcases from the top shelf of the closet. She carried two to the girls’ room. Her hands flew as she packed their socks, undies and pajamas, hoping to finish before they wandered in and saw what she was doing.

  Better to get them in the car and on the road without their knowing what was going on. That way they couldn’t say anything to anyone when they stopped at a service station for fuel or at a fast-food restaurant for a bite to eat.

  She had no idea where they’d go now. Before, she’d always known, but this time she hadn’t been able to make herself think of that next move. Aohkii had seemed so perfect.

  She took the suitcases to the back door, then went to the living room, where the girls were watching cartoons and coloring pictures in their new drawing pads. “I have a surprise for you,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “We’re going on a little trip.”

  Mandy jumped off the couch. “Are we going to get a heighted Christmas tree?”

  “Not heighted, tall,” Jenny corrected. “Are we, Mommy?”

  “Not yet, but we’ll have fun. We’ll be riding in the car for a while, so I want you to go to your room and pick out five toys you want to take with you.”

  The crayon Jenny was using slipped from her fingers and rolled along the table before falling to the floor. She stared at Chrysie questioningly. “What about the Christmas play? We have to go to practice.”

  “The next practice isn’t until Monday. We’ll be back by then.” She hated lying to Jenny. Hated that she had to let her believe they’d be coming back when they never would. But she simply couldn’t take a chance on Jenny saying anything until they were far away from Aohkii.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Chrysie settled on the couch beside Jenny and put her arm around her thin shoulders. “It will be okay, sweetheart. I promise you we’ll have fun.” She touched her lips to the top of Jenny’s head and felt the wispy strands of hair against her face.

  “I don’t want to move again, Mommy. I like it in Aohkii.”

  Chrysie pulled her close. “We don’t have a lot of time, Jenny. Just go to your room and pick out five toys. I’ll explain everything later.”

  Chrysie wanted to hate Josh McCain, wanted to blame him for all this unhappiness and pain, but she couldn’t. Her own mistakes had caused this. Mistakes that she could never undo.

  All she could do now was hope to outrun the killers and the law.

  CHRYSIE WAS TWENTY miles east of Aohkii when she heard the approaching police siren. Impulsively she pressed her foot onto the accelerator.

  Seconds later, the car hit an icy spot and started to skid. The back end of the car fishtailed to the right. Chrysie fought the wheel to straighten the car, but they were going sideways now, skidding toward the ditch and a cluster of pine trees just off the road.

  The girls started to scream. She started to pray. But the horrifying siren just kept wailing right through the deafening crash.

  Chapter Four

  Josh hit the brakes and jumped from his truck, cursing the snow that slowed his steps as he rushed to the wrecked car. Panic and guilt whirled in a rush of adrenaline. This was his fault. He should have handled the situation better, should have confronted Chrysie at the house instead of waiting to catch her when she made a run for it.

  He could hear crying as he approached the car. He jerked open the back door. Mandy was still in her car seat but sobbing. Jenny was unbuckling her own seat belt while trying to comfort her little sister.

  “Don’t cry, Mandy. We’re okay.”

  Mandy’s sobs slowed to a whimper at the sight of Josh. The girls appeared to be unhurt. Chrysie was a different story. She wasn’t moving, and her head was leaning against the blood-smeared side window.

  “It’s okay, girls,” Josh said. “I’m here and I’ll take care of everything.” He didn’t feel nearly that confi dent as he tried to open the front door of the car only to find it so jammed from the wreck that it didn’t budge. He raced around the car to the passenger-side door, and Chrysie groaned and opened her eyes as he slid in beside her.

  “Mandy and Jenny?”

  “They’re fine,” he said.

  Chrysie twisted to see for herself. Both girls were out of their car seats now and leaning against the front seat.

  “You’re bleeding, Mommy.” Jenny’s small voice quivered, and that sent another shot of guilt straight to Josh’s heart. Not only could he have killed them all in a stupid car chase, he was still about to rip their mother from them.

  “I’m okay, sweetie.” Chrysie’s voice was slurred, and when she turned back to Josh her eyes were clouded with confusion.

  A trickle of blood ran down her right temple and dripped onto her shirt. She reached up and ran her fingers across a knot just above her ear that had already swelled to the size of golf ball.

  “I was…” Reality apparently kicked in, halting her words. She started to shake. “Don’t do this, Josh.”

  His throat went dry. Arresting her shouldn’t be this damn hard.

  “It’s not what it seems,” she whispered. “It’s not.” She looked back at the girls, and he could have sworn he could hear the splintering sounds of her heart breaking.

  “I’m sorry, Chrysie, but you’re under…” He looked into her eyes. They seemed to be miles deep, all mist and pain—and pleading.

  “I didn’t do it. Just let us go and I’ll be out of your life and out of your county.”

  She made it sound so simple. It wasn’t. “It’s out of my hands.”

  “No. It’s in your hands. We’re in your hands—me and Jenny and Mandy.”

  She moaned softly and her head fell against his shoulder. She jerked it away only to let it fall to the back of the seat. Her eyes were rolling about in her head now and she was incredibly pale.

  “My mommy’s hurt,” Jenny said. “She needs to go see the doctor. You have to help her.”

  From the mouths of babes. “You’re right. She needs a doctor.” He slipped his arm around Chrysie’s shoulders while he called for an ambulance. He didn’t have a doubt in the world at this point that she’d lied about who she was. She was Cassandra Harwell, a wanted woman.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to cuff her in front of the girls, especially not in her condition. She’d been on the run for three years. Another few hours wasn’t going to make that much difference.

  “If she goes to the hospital, who’s going to take care of us?” Mandy asked.

  “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got everything under control,” he lied.

  Mandy reached over from the backseat, stretched her short arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his ear. “Thank you, Mr. Sheriff.”

  Yeah, Sheriff Judas, saying all the right things while he made plans to ruin their lives in the name of the law. But then, what choice did he have?

  IT TOOK TWELVE stitches to close the wound in Chrysie’s head. It hadn’t been all that deep, but it had stretched from an inch or two inside the hairline down the temple, apparently caused by one of the girls’ toys that had flown into the front seat and gotten caught between Chrysie’s head and the window during the wild skidding.

  Cougar, Josh’s friend and sometimes deputy, had checked out the scene of the wreck. He’d reported that the vehicle had been slowed by the mounds of snow left by the plow that morning, easing the impact and likely saving the occupants’ lives.

  Josh hadn’t left the hospital, hadn’t even left Chrysie’s bedside except when they’d taken the patient for X-rays and when the nurse had sent him out so she could undress Chrysie and get her into a hospital gown.

  She’d given her name as Chrysie Atwater when she’d checked in. He hadn’t protested. Truth was, he still thought of her that way, almost as if his emotions were overriding his mind. And therein lay most of his problems.

  The consensus of medical opinion was that she had a mild concussion but that there were no serious external or internal injuries. A couple of days’ rest and she should be as good as n
ew. The bruises on her arms and legs would take a little longer to disappear.

  Josh had called Evelyn Miller, and she’d come to stay with the girls while they were examined. Once they had been declared in good shape, Evelyn had insisted that she take the girls and his sons home with her for the night.

  Chrysie moved her arms from beneath the covers. He had the crazy urge to take her hand. He fought it for a second, then gave in when she moaned as if in pain.

  She opened her eyes, blinked a few times and squinted as she turned to face him. “Where are my girls?”

  “With Evelyn. They’re fine.”

  “Are you sure they’re okay?”

  “They both had thorough examinations, and the doctor said there were no injuries, not even minor ones.”

  “Did you tell Evelyn about me?”

  “I haven’t told anyone.”

  She ran her tongue over her dry lips. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher by her bed, then slipped his right arm beneath her shoulders to help her raise enough to sip from the straw.

  She drank, then let her head fall back to the pillow. “I didn’t kill him, Josh.”

  He hadn’t planned to get into this so soon, but there wasn’t much way to avoid it now that she’d brought it up. “If you were innocent, why did you run?”

  “To save them.”

  “To save who?”

  “Jenny and Mandy.” Her eyes seemed haunted, as if they were mirroring an unspeakable horror. “He would have killed them.”

  The intensity of her fear filled the room. He hated to even think what the man might have done to instill a terror that had remained this intense for three years. “He’s dead, Chrysie. Your husband is dead. He can’t hurt you or the girls anymore.”

  “Jonathan’s dead, but his killer isn’t.”

  The nurse knocked once and then came into the room. Josh stood and walked to the window, staring out into the brilliance of Montana sunlight on a frosted world while the nurse checked Chrysie’s pulse and temperature. Old memories claimed his mind, going back to his days in New Orleans. He’d never played by the rules back then, never lived by anyone’s code but his own.