Yuletide Jeopardy

by Sandra Robbins

  Grace took a deep breath. “Okay, but how did you get my private cell phone number?”

  “It really doesn’t matter. I called because I think you need to be careful.”

  Grace’s hand tightened on the phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that there are people who don’t want you to get too close to the truth. Leave the past alone. You’ll only end up getting hurt if you dig into Landon’s death.”

  Grace gasped. “That sounds like a threat. Are you trying to scare me?”

  “No, I’m warning you.”

  “Do you have some information about Landon’s death?”

  “Yes.”

  Grace sat up straighter in her chair and pressed her cell phone harder against her ear. “Was he murdered?”

  “Please, Grace, for your own good, let it go.”

  “I can’t let it go. Landon was my friend, and from the way you’re talking, he was your friend, too. Don’t you want people to know the truth?” He didn’t answer for a moment, and she feared he’d disconnected the call. “Are you still there?”

  She heard a heavy sigh. “All right. I tried to persuade you, but you haven’t listened. If you’re determined to continue, I see there’s nothing I can do to discourage you. I have something I want to give you.”

  Grace’s eyes grew wide. “I’ll meet with you. Just tell me where and when.”

  “No, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then mail it to me.”

  “I suppose I could....” His voice trailed off. Then he inhaled. “No, I’ll leave it for you somewhere.”

  She frowned. “Where?”

  “I—I don’t know. Somewhere that no one else would find it unless they were specifically looking for it. I’ll think about it and let you know where to look. I’ll call you again.”

  Grace’s heart beat faster. She couldn’t let him hang up before he’d agreed to give her his information. “Wait, don’t go yet. Tell me where to look, and I’ll do it.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I remember hearing you say once that you are a geocacher.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And you said you like puzzle clues that lead to the hidden cache.”

  Grace frowned. “Yes, but I don’t understand what that—”

  “Has to do with finding Landon’s killer?” Grace’s skin prickled at the sudden change in the caller’s voice. Moments ago it had been soft and reassuring. Suddenly it had become harsh and demanding. “You don’t understand a lot of things, Miss Kincaid. If you want to find Landon’s killer, you’re going to have to solve much more than a geocache puzzle. I’m looking forward to seeing how smart you really are.”

  Grace stood up and gripped the phone tighter. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Anonymous. You may find out I’m a lot smarter than you thought.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Grace chuckled. “I get it now. You didn’t call to warn me off. You wanted me more intrigued with this investigation than ever. If that was your plan, it seems to have worked. No way am I going to give up until I find out the truth.”

  He laughed, and the piercing tone chilled her. “Aren’t you a little afraid of me?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat, and her hand holding the phone shook. “N-no.”

  A laugh echoed in her ear. “Yes, you are. I can hear it in your voice. You’d be wise to be very afraid of me. You have no idea what’s about to come down on you. Look for my instructions. Game on, Miss Kincaid.”

  Before she could ask another question, the call disconnected. She stared at her phone for a moment and debated whether or not she should call Alex. He’d asked her to let him know if she found out anything. So far the only thing she knew was that someone wanted to play some kind of game with evidence he claimed to have about Landon’s death and he wanted her scared of him.

  If her shaking legs were any indication, being afraid of him wasn’t going to be a problem, but she couldn’t give up now. She might have just talked to Landon’s killer. Alex probably wouldn’t agree, though. He would more likely think she’d received a call from some prankster who pretended to have information, but she wasn’t so sure.

  A cold chill ran up her arm at the memory of the voice on the phone. He said he heard her on the broadcast. Maybe she shouldn’t talk about the investigation on the air. From now on, she’d be careful what she said. There were a lot of crazy people in the world, and the last thing she needed was to become the target of one.

  * * *

  Alex tossed the file he’d been studying down in front of him, propped his arms on his desk and buried his face in his hands. What was the matter with him? He’d been tense ever since he came into the office. Maybe he hadn’t gotten over watching a man jump to his death, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t true.

  The main reason he’d been distracted all morning was because he couldn’t quit thinking about Grace. He’d put their past behind him years ago, and now she wanted them to work together to investigate Landon Mitchell’s death. Even though he’d agreed, he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that. They would have to see each other from time to time, and that could stir up a lot of old memories that needed to be forgotten.

  He pushed to his feet, let out a ragged breath and ran his hand through his hair. Maybe some lunch would make him feel better. Before he could turn and leave the office, the door opened, and his partners, Brad Austin and Seth Dawtry, walked into the room. Brad held a sack with the name of Alex’s favorite fast food place printed on the side.

  “Seth and I were downtown and had lunch. We stopped and picked something up for you since you were holding the office down.”

  Alex grinned, reached for the sack and sank back into his chair. “Thanks. I was about to go get something. Now I can eat at my desk.”

  Brad nodded. “We thought you might not be in the mood to go out. You’ve had a tough morning.”

  Alex sighed. “Yeah, it’s never easy seeing someone commit suicide.”

  Brad and Seth exchanged glances. “Well, if you need to talk, buddy, we’re here for you.”

  “Thanks, guys, I appreciate it, but I’m okay.”

  Brad opened his mouth to say something but shook his head, walked to his desk and dropped down in his chair. Seth considered Alex for a moment before he ambled over to his desk. When his partners appeared engrossed in what they were doing, Alex relaxed in his chair and pulled the burger and fries from the bag. He picked up a French fry, dredged it in catsup and shoved it in his mouth.

  The thought of the look on Mr. Mitchell’s face as he plummeted toward the river flashed in Alex’s mind, and he frowned. He tried to chew the French fry he’d just put in his mouth, but he might as well have been eating sawdust for all the taste he got out of the piece of potato. He swallowed the fry, picked up the remainder of his lunch and put it back in the bag for later. There was no point in forcing himself to eat when his stomach churned. Maybe he needed to stop by the drugstore on his way home this afternoon and get something for a queasy stomach.

  The problem was he’d had this feeling for years. It recurred every time he saw Grace, and he’d never found any medicine that could cure what ailed him. All he had to do was keep his distance from her, and after a few days he’d feel better.

  After a few minutes he pushed to his feet. “I’m going to the break room for a cup of coffee. Anybody want anything?”

  Brad and Seth shook their heads, and he strode from the room. He’d only taken a few steps down the hall when he heard music drifting from the break room. He stopped, glanced down at his watch and grimaced. Just his luck. It was time for the WKIZ noon news. He hesitated at the door, unsure if he should enter or turn and walk back to his office. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, took a deep breath and walked inside.

  Several officers sat on the couc
h that faced the television, and their gazes were locked on the picture that filled the screen. Grace sat behind the anchor desk and in her usual professional manner related the events of the morning as she looked into the camera.

  He couldn’t move as she switched to the video the cameraman had filmed on the bridge. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaned up against the door frame and watched in fascination as she reported the lead-in story for the newscast. His throat tightened, and his heart thudded as he relived each terrifying moment. Perspiration dotted his forehead, and he reached up to wipe it away.

  One of the officers glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. “Hey, Crowne. That was some rescue you pulled off. I didn’t know you could move that fast.” The officers looked at each other and chuckled.

  Alex pushed to his full height and managed a weak smile. “I just wish I could have saved Mitchell, but at least Grace Kincaid didn’t go over the side, too.”

  He glanced back at the screen as the camera focused on Grace’s face again. Behind her he could see red poinsettias arranged on shelves. As he studied her sitting among the holiday decorations on the set, he was reminded of Christmas their senior year in college. He couldn’t wait for her to get back to Memphis from Philadelphia that year, but it hadn’t turned out to be the happy time he’d anticipated. Instead, it had ended with his heart broken. Every Christmas since then had held little interest for him.

  After a moment he stepped into the room and dropped down in a chair. He sat through the rest of Grace’s newscast, but he didn’t leave when the program was over and the other officers had returned to their desks.

  Suddenly he felt tired. Maybe the morning’s events were just catching up with him. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and drifted on the edge of sleep. The ringing of his phone jerked him awake, and he sat up straight. He had no idea how long he’d been in the break room.

  He sat up and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hello.”

  “Alex, this is Grace. Are you all right? You sound groggy.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over them. “I’m alone in the break room, and I must have nodded off. The phone woke me. Why are you calling?”

  She hesitated a moment. “I don’t know if it means anything or not, but I just had a strange phone call.”

  He sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

  “Someone called and wouldn’t tell me who it was. He said he has something he wants me to see.”

  “So you think he must have some information about Landon’s death?”

  “I do, but as the conversation progressed, he became sinister.”

  Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “Did he say he would call again?”

  “No. He said he was going to hide whatever it is he has and he’ll send me a clue where it is. I thought you should know.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad you called. Did he say anything else?”

  She hesitated a moment. “He said I should be afraid of him.”

  Alex exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of that. Be careful, Grace. Don’t go to the parking lot alone when you leave work, and watch for anybody following you. Let me know if you hear from him again or if you receive anything from him.”

  “I will. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He disconnected the call and sighed. This was what he’d been afraid would happen. The calls were already beginning to come. Whether or not this one was legitimate remained to be seen. But no matter, Grace’s first thought had been to call him, and she’d probably do the same the next time something occurred that might affect the investigation.

  The last thing he needed in his life was to spend time with Grace Kincaid, but it seemed that’s where he’d been headed ever since Timothy Mitchell decided to jump off the bridge. All he could do now was guard against renewing any kind of friendship with Grace. He was determined that wasn’t going to happen.

  THREE

  Grace pulled her car into her reserved parking spot at the television station and turned off the engine, but for some reason, she couldn’t make herself get out. She didn’t know if it was driving through the heavy morning traffic or her lack of sleep the night before that had left her feeling exhausted. She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to blot out the picture that had flashed in her mind during her sleepless night. Every time she’d closed her eyes, the scene on the bridge had popped into her mind. She saw herself grasping the bridge railing and staring down into Mr. Mitchell’s wild eyes.

  Her wrist throbbed, and she massaged it. A shiver went up her spine. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t dispel the fear that flowed through her every time she thought of that moment.

  She shook her head, took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. Thinking about what might have been was doing her no good. Today she would be thankful she was alive. She said a quick prayer of thanks as she headed into the building and down the hallway to her small office.

  The minute she walked in the door she spotted the small box wrapped in brown paper on her desk. Her name and the address of the station were on the mailing label, but there were no stamps on the package. This had not come through the mail.

  She was about to pick it up when a voice at the door startled her. “I see you found your delivery.”

  Grace whirled to see Julie Colter, a new employee, standing in the doorway. “Good morning, Julie. Did you see who delivered this?”

  “Yes, it was a private messenger service. The guy asked if I would give it to you and I said I would.”

  Grace frowned. “Did you sign that you’d received the delivery?”

  Julie shook her head. “No, he was gone before I had a chance to ask him.”

  Grace sighed. “Do you know the name of the messenger service?”

  Julie thought for a moment before she shook her head again. “No, he just said it was a special delivery for you. I guess I assumed he was from a service.” Julie’s eyebrows rose, and her face turned red. “Did I do something wrong, Miss Kincaid?”

  Grace hesitated before she answered. “Sometimes our newscasts can upset some people. We don’t know who might send something harmful to us. We just need to be careful when accepting deliveries.”

  Tears welled in Julie’s eyes, and she bit down on her lip. “Oh, Miss Kincaid, please don’t tell the station manager I did anything wrong. I need this job. If he fired me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Grace reached out and patted Julie’s arm. “Now, now. Don’t get upset. Nobody’s going to get fired. You just need to be more careful in the future.”

  Julie nodded. “I will. I promise. Now, is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Julie eased toward the door. “Then I’ll get back to work, and I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Grace nodded and didn’t speak as the girl left the room. How many mistakes had Julie made since she was hired? It seemed the subject of Julie and her mishaps came up in the conversation no matter who you talked to at the station. She probably wouldn’t make it much longer if her work didn’t improve.

  After a moment Grace turned her attention back to the package on her desk. Did it contain the clue her anonymous caller had told her about the day before? She leaned closer and studied the name and address on the mailing label. They had been typed, not handwritten, and there were no strings tied around the box, just tape to hold the paper.

  Should she open it or not? Only a year ago a Memphis accountant had been injured when he opened an package that contained a bomb. Perhaps she should have Alex take a look at it or even dust it for fingerprints, but she would feel foolish if there was nothing threatening inside the envelope.

  She pulled the tape loose and stepped back, then chuckled. If the box contained a bomb, a few steps away from the desk
wouldn’t be enough distance to offer any protection. She eased back to the desk and loosened the package’s paper. It fell away to reveal a square box that looked to be about eight inches on each side.

  Her heart pounded as she lifted the top of the box and peered inside. A folded piece of paper lay atop something wrapped in tissue paper. Frowning, she pulled the note out and unfolded it.

  Dear Miss Kincaid,

  I enjoyed our chat yesterday, and I have done as I promised. I have enclosed directions inside this box for the first stop on your journey. For a knowledgeable geocacher like you the puzzle should be no problem. Solve it, and you will find what I have left for you somewhere in the city. I will be watching to see if you are successful. I’m looking forward to our journey together as you find out the truth about Landon’s death.

  Your Anonymous Friend

  The words made Grace’s skin prickle, and she read the note several times before she reached in the box and pulled out the tissue-wrapped object. She tore the paper away and blinked her eyes in surprise at the six-sided puzzle cube she held. She slowly turned it and studied the twisty puzzle’s mixture of white, red, blue, orange, green and yellow squares. Someone had turned the faces many times to make sure the colors were thoroughly mixed over every surface.

  Something written on one of the white squares caught her eye, and she stared closer at it. Her breath hitched in her throat. A quick glance over the other surfaces told her that more white squares had markings. GPS coordinates! Her caller had just sent her a challenge. Solve the puzzle by arranging all the white cubes on one side and she would have a location where she would find a clue about Landon’s killer.

  She dropped down in her desk chair and began to twist the faces of the puzzle in an attempt to get all the white-colored surfaces on one side. After twenty minutes she was ready to throw the toy in the trash can. She’d played with these puzzles when she was growing up and never had mastered the art of getting all the sides back in order. She doubted if she could do it now.