by Joanna Wayne
Once she was seated, Josh climbed in beside her and took the reins. A second later the horses were galloping across the snow, their heads high and their manes flowing behind them. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted a scene more picturesque or evocative.
Josh slipped his right arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Are you cold?”
“Freezing.” On the outside. On the inside, the fear had subsided for the moment, leaving a river of molten gold.
IF PEOPLE ARE LUCKY, they have at least one perfect experience in their lives. Moments, sometimes hours, that are wrapped in silver and tied with a shimmering bow. An escapade where time doesn’t exist, when laughter comes easily and hearts spill happiness that flows right down to the soul.
The sleigh ride was that kind of perfection for Chrysie.
The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun turning the snow-covered hills into a canvas of diamonds. But it was not only the exhilarating beauty or even the magic of sitting next to Josh that touched Chrysie’s heart so profoundly. It was due in large part to seeing her daughters so genuinely happy, free, the way children should be.
Rousing choruses of “Frosty the Snowman,” “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph” and “Joy to the World” were interspersed with laughter and ridiculous knock-knock jokes. And when the magnificent ride had stopped and they’d climbed from the sleigh, all four of the youngsters had taken off running through the snow like young fawns, awkward but joyous, fro-licking in a world made just for them.
And, of course, the boundless energy had produced a friendly snowball fight. Well, at least reasonably friendly.
Chrysie had launched one technically perfect aerodynamic missile that had landed right in the middle of Josh’s forehead. He got payback, of course, but that hadn’t lessened her achievement.
And then she’d perched on a huge rock and watched while Josh had chopped down the tree that he’d insisted needed to be thinned from the crush of evergreens anyway.
He had shed his jacket before picking up the ax, and when he’d reared back and swung the tool, his muscles had flexed so that she could see the swell beneath his shirtsleeves. His virility was intoxicating, and she was a bit giddy by the time the tree was ready to be tied to the back of the sleigh.
It was indeed the perfect Christmas tree—for a mansion. It was going to all but push out the windows and jut through the roof of Josh’s cabin, a fact which obviously concerned no one but her.
But the sleigh ride, like all good things, was about to come to an end. The clomping sounds of the hooves slowed as the cabin came into view—the cabin and Josh’s black pickup truck, which hadn’t been there when they’d left. The golden warmth of perfection turned to an icy slush in Chrysie’s veins.
Evelyn and Buck were no doubt returning the truck so that they could pick up their SUV and drive Chrysie, Jenny and Mandy back home. They’d expect her to be feeling well enough to stay on her own by now and, unlike the girls, they would know there were no roof problems and that the cabin wasn’t flooded.
“Relax,” Josh said. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s under control.”
Chrysie leaned close so that she could whisper to Josh without the children hearing. “You didn’t tell the Millers why I’m really staying at your house, did you?”
“An abbreviated version of the truth.”
“You promised you wouldn’t tell a soul.”
Josh took her hand and squeezed it. “All they know is that you need protection. They won’t ask questions. They probably just want to see for themselves that you’re okay.”
Only she wasn’t okay. With everyone who knew about her, the risks multiplied exponentially. Josh should understand that. She grew dizzy, felt as if she were on a spinning roller coaster that propelled her to the top only to plunge her to the depths a second later.
As marvelous as the sleigh ride had been, it was only an illusion in a world gone mad, the same as the kiss had been. The only thing that was real was the danger. She had to find a way to get away from Josh and out of Aohkii before it was too late.
THE MILLERS ONLY stayed a half hour and, as Josh had predicted, they hadn’t asked questions. In fact, they’d delivered some of the toys the children had left in the cabin and assured Chrysie that the house would be waiting for her whenever she was ready to return. The Millers were good people.
When they’d left, the children had clamored to decorate the tree, but Josh had convinced them they should wait until they had purchased decorations. He’d promised they would make the forty-mile drive to the nearest Wal-Mart tomorrow to select their ornaments and then go out for hamburgers and fries before they showed up for Christmas play practice.
That arrangement let him maintain hero status while allowing him to watch the Packers game that afternoon without having to peer through the green needles.
He was stretched out on his worn recliner now, drinking a beer and second-guessing the coaches and officials. Jenny and Mandy were back in the bedroom, playing school. The boys were outside tossing a football around in the snow.
Chrysie had been working on her growing list about Jonathan, and surprisingly it had given her a few additional things to think about. The game broke for a string of commercials, and she put down her pencil. “Can we talk a minute?”
“Sure.” Josh picked up the remote and muted the volume. “How’s the list coming?”
“Now that I’ve thought about it, there were some changes in Jonathan’s behavior over the months prior to his murder.”
“What kind of changes?”
“He was edgier than usual after we moved into the new house.”
“Why did you move?”
“Jonathan had always wanted to build a showplace. He kept at me until I agreed, though I didn’t see how we could afford the house he wanted or the neighborhood.”
“Then he must have been making good money.”
“Yes, he’d struggled for years, but from the moment he’d become partners with Luisa Pellot, his career and income had taken off.”
“How long had they been partners?”
“Only two years.”
“Tell me about Luisa.”
“She’s one of the city’s grand old dames. Her grandfather made and lost a couple of fortunes in his day, but Luisa made it on her own. Had it not been for her class and flair, she’d have been known as an ambulance chaser, but instead she was on every socialite’s party list.”
“A little stuffy, huh?”
“But in a nice sort of way. She was always terrific to me. I have to say, I liked her.”
“How did she and Jonathan get along?”
“They had different styles as attorneys, so they sometimes disagreed over how to handle a particular case, but Jonathan loved the association he’d formed with her and he took advantage of all the social opportunities it provided. Overall, I’d say they had a pretty amiable working relationship.”
“Was Jonathan on any kind of prescription drugs that might account for his edginess?”
“No. He never took so much as an aspirin. He was always on a health kick, worrying about eliminating sweets and carbs from his diet and working out religiously. Most likely his bad moods were the result of my asking for a divorce a few weeks before Mandy was born.”
Josh dropped the remote to the table by his chair and turned to face her, his gaze boring into hers. “You never mentioned that you’d asked for a divorce.”
Chrysie pulled one leg up onto the sofa with her, tucking it under her. She hadn’t mentioned it because it was just one more thing that made her look guilty. Judging from Josh’s reaction, it had probably been a mistake to mention it now. “It had no bearing on anything,” she said, still skirting the issue.
“The police probably didn’t see it that way.”
“I didn’t tell them.”
“No, but I’m sure someone they questioned did. His secretary girlfriend. Maybe his partner. So what’s the story?”
“The marriage wasn’t
working. Actually, it never had. We had too much going against us from the very first.”
“So why did you get married?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’d only known him a couple of weeks when we flew together to Vegas for a psychologist’s conference. I was infatuated with Jonathan, probably because he was so different from me. He was boisterous and outgoing where I was quiet and inhibited.”
Josh nodded. “They say opposites attract.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean they can live together in harmony, especially if the values and backgrounds are also opposite.”
“What was your background?” Josh asked.
“It doesn’t really matter does it?”
“It could.”
Chrysie knotted and unknotted her hands, feeling the pressure build inside her the way it always did when she ventured too far into her past.
“My mother died when I was ten, and I went to live with a very rich uncle whose wife hated having me around. I tried, but nothing I ever did suited her.”
“Where was your father?”
“Never had one. My mother was a free spirit. A nymphomaniac, according to my aunt. Anyway, all I knew officially was that he was never part of our lives.”
“That’s tough. It could be that your mother never told him about you.”
“That’s quite possible. I remember her boyfriends coming to the house, but I don’t remember any of them staying in the picture for very long.”
“What was Jonathan’s background?”
“He was one of six children. His father was a truck driver until he wrecked his rig and banged up his knee so badly that he couldn’t drive the distances anymore. His wife picked that time to jump ship, taking her two daughters with her. Jonathan was left with three younger brothers and his alcoholic father.”
“Sounds as if you both had it rough growing up.”
“But it affected us differently. I chose a career in psychology—an effort to figure out myself, I’m sure. Jonathan’s goal in life was to make as much money as he could as fast as he could and then impress the hell out of people who couldn’t have cared less.”
“When did you decide the infatuation wasn’t enough?”
“About the time I got pregnant with Mandy. That was four years into the marriage. I’m not blaming Jonathan for the marriage not working. It’s just the infatuation died, and there wasn’t any real love to hold the marriage together.”
The game was back on TV, but Jonathan wasn’t watching it. He raked his hair off his forehead, then pulled his recliner to an upright position. “I’d like to take a look at the additions to your list,” he said.
“There’s not much there other than what I’ve already told you.” She handed him the notebook but wasn’t ready to let the conversation go. “You don’t think the break-in or the murder were random acts, do you?”
“I think there’s a good chance they weren’t, but I need a lot more information before I can prove that.”
“There is no more information.”
“Oh, it’s out there. We just don’t have it yet.”
“What’s our next move?”
“I’m gathering some mug shots of Houston criminals for you to take a look at and I’m going to Houston to do a little investigating on my own.”
She swallowed hard, sure she couldn’t have heard him right. But the determined jut of his chin and the hard lines in his face assured her she had. “How long do you think it will be before the cops show up at this door once the Houston police find out that you’re there?”
“They won’t find out.”
“Why are you doing this, Josh? You’re the sheriff. Why risk your job for me when you hardly know me?”
“I like living on the edge.” He scooted back in his chair and took a long sip of his beer. “And you make good pancakes.”
CHRYSIE’S NERVES WERE rattling like ghost chains in a haunted house by midmorning on Monday, though thankfully Josh wasn’t flying to Houston until the following morning. She had no idea what he was doing today, except that he’d driven Jenny, Davy and Danny to the consolidated elementary school in the borrowed SUV, leaving Chrysie and Mandy on the ranch with Cougar to keep them company.
She’d tried to think of an excuse to keep Jenny home from school today just in case she found the opportunity to make a run for it but decided Josh would see right through the ruse. Better to wait until tomorrow, after he’d left for Houston and the children had returned from school.
Chrysie poured another cup of coffee. Cougar lumbered in from the den, where he’d been watching cable news for the last half hour.
“It’s started to snow and there’s lots more on the way,” he commented.
“Did you catch a weather forecast?”
“Nope. Don’t need ’em. My bones are a better forecaster anyway. They always know when a storm’s a-movin’ in. Wouldn’t surprise me none to have blizzard conditions by morning.”
It would be her first major winter storm, and the timing couldn’t be worse. “Do they cancel flights when there’s a blizzard?”
“If it’s bad enough, they cancel everything.”
That was good and bad. She couldn’t leave, but neither could Josh, so he wouldn’t be stirring up trouble in Houston. She stared out the window. It was overcast and glum but barely snowing. If a blizzard was in the forecast, she was pretty sure Josh would cancel their shopping trip. The play rehearsal might be cancelled, as well, though she’d already learned that people in Montana didn’t like canceling anything due to snow.
It was going to be a long day if she didn’t find something to keep her busy. She rummaged through the cupboards to see if Josh had the ingredients for homemade cookies. Dr. Cassandra Harwell had never baked. Chrysie Atwater had become pretty good at it. She located the necessities and discovered she even had choices.
“What’s your preference, Cougar, oatmeal-raisin, sugar or peanut-butter cookies?”
“Homemade?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Only store-bought around my house.”
“Then this is your lucky day.”
“’Bout time I had one of those.” He grinned. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat any of ’em, but oatmeal and peanut butter are my favorite.”
“Maybe I’ll bake both.”
In minutes she was elbow-deep in cookie dough and her black sweatshirt was sprinkled with flour. Cougar’s cell phone made a tinkling sound that reminded her of the ice-cream truck that had gone through their neighborhood back before her mother had died. He yelled a hello into it, then stepped out onto the back porch to spit and get a better connection. The heat from the oven blasted into Chrysie’s face as she pushed the first filled cookie sheet onto the top shelf.
When she closed it, a draft of cold air hit her from behind. She turned to see if Cougar had come in and left the back door open. It was closed tight, and Cougar was still on the phone. From the looks of his red face, he was having an argument with the caller.
Wind fluttered the newspaper Cougar had left on the kitchen table. Cougar must have opened a window somewhere. She went to check it out.
The front door was wide-open. Chrysie called for Mandy. There was no answer. Panic swelled to suffocating proportions before Chrysie caught a glimpse of her young daughter, outside and nearly to the garage, stamping about in Chrysie’s boots that were sizes too big for her.
Mandy had pulled on her jacket but not the hood, and snow was sticking to her blond hair and giving her the appearance of one of those snow angels they sold in the Christmas stores.
Chrysie grabbed her own jacket and pushed through the front door. She was greeted by a bracing gust of wind. She hugged herself, made a megaphone of her right hand and yelled. “Mandy. Maaaandy!”
Mandy either didn’t hear the call in the wind or pretended not to. Chrysie stuck her feet into the boots Cougar had left on the front porch and went sloshing through the snow to get her daughter.
When she
caught up with her, she took her hand. “You know you’re not supposed to go outside without my permission.”
“I want to see the sleigh.”
“That’s no reason for coming outside without permission.”
“Can we go see it, please?”
“Not now. I have cookies in the oven. When they’re done, we’ll come outside for a few minutes.”
Chrysie turned back, expecting to see Cougar tramping through the snow after them. Instead she saw a black car heading down the hilly tree-lined road to the house. She’d only gotten a glimpse before the car disappeared in a curve in the road, but she’d seen enough to know it wasn’t the truck.”
Apprehension burned in her chest, and impulsively she swooped Mandy into her arms and took cover inside the garage. It was a neighbor, she told herself, just someone stopping by to see Josh. But the fear persisted, swelling with every second of waiting.
She left the door open a crack so that a slanted line of light crept into the damp space. She watched through the opening as the car reappeared and jerked to a stop right at the end of the driveway.
“I’m cold. Let’s go get cookies, Mommy.”
“In a minute.” But her words felt as icy as the vapor that escaped her lips as she watched two men climb from the vehicle. The first turned toward her before starting up the walk. It had been three years, but recognition was immediate and sure.
Jonathan’s killers had come calling again.
Chapter Nine
Chrysie felt as if she were caught in an avalanche, careening down a mountain with nothing to grab hold of to break the fall. Crushing Mandy to her chest, she fell against the inside wall of the beamed garage.
Mandy squirmed and tried to wiggle from her arms. Chrysie held her all the tighter. Her assumption that the contemptible thugs wanted her for a scapegoat was obviously flawed. They wanted her dead. Why else would they be here?
The answer slammed into her overwrought brain: they’d needed her alive then, but they didn’t need her alive now. The police were already firmly convinced that she was Jonathan’s killer, and if she showed up dead on some ranch in Montana, it would just allow them to consider the case closed.
