Holiday Havoc

by Terri Reed

  Maria was quiet for two or three swishes of the waves. “Once you make the announcement, if it’s a coworker wanting your job, this should stop. If it’s a coworker that has developed an unhealthy obsession, it might not. I’ll need their names.”

  She seemed so much bigger than her five-foot-two frame, a look of intense concentration on her face as she watched the people on the beach. One loopy curl bounced over her shoulder in the breeze.

  As he nodded, he realized she hadn’t swapped sides with him because she wanted to be farther from the water, or even because she wanted an excuse to stop holding hands with him. She’d taken the high side because she was putting her body between him and danger.

  The beach no longer seemed like a neutral place to have a serious talk. It seemed like a place where danger was all too easy to overlook. And from the way she’d positioned herself, danger would have to go through her to get to him. He couldn’t let that happen. “Let’s get inside, out of the wind.”

  He hadn’t missed the gun in her hand when she’d come out of her suite this morning in her sweatpants, her hair flying. She’d been thinking of his safety—and then, putting the gun in the high cabinet, she’d been thinking of his son’s.

  When he’d asked her to stay, he’d only been concerned about what it would mean for him if the date weekend fell through. He’d been so focused on getting through the weekend that he hadn’t even thought about her—her safety. He may not think like a cop, but he did think like a man, and right now there was no way he was letting her take a hit for him.

  As they climbed the wooden steps of the boardwalk leading to the resort, Ben reached for Maria’s hand again. “I don’t think we should go through with this.”

  Maria stopped, the question on her face—why the abrupt turnaround?

  Before he could reply, lights flashed on. “Looks like our lucky twosome have been for a walk on the beach this morning. How was it?”

  The cameraman held the microphone to Maria. She stared at it for a second and, just as Ben started to reach for it, she took it and smiled. “I’m sure you can probably tell from my red nose that the beach is cold. The wind is from the north at around fifteen to twenty miles per hour and the temperature is dropping. Probably forties right now, would you say, Ben?”

  The cameraman chuckled as he took the mike back. “I think you should be worried about your job, Ben. She’s a natural. Want to fill us in on the rest of the country?”

  Studying the daily forecast was part of his routine, even when he was away from the office. Despite everything else going on, he could always report the weather. “Maria’s right, here in Northwest Florida temperatures are chilly, mid to low forties, dropping into the upper thirties by this afternoon. Around the country, an early snow is the big weather event. School kids from Colorado all the way to Tennessee are celebrating with a snow day. These storms will be moving toward the eastern seaboard tomorrow.”

  Ben’s easy on-camera smile belied the turmoil he felt inside—the pain of dredging up memories mixed with a growing admiration for Maria. But he’d learned a long time ago that feelings had no place on the air. “And that’s your quick and dirty weather report. I’m Ben Storm in Destin, Florida.”

  The producers would take that short sound bite and put copy around it. The anchors would put it in context, giving the viewing audience a reminder of what Ben and Maria were doing in Desin and a teaser for when they would see them next.

  “We’re clear.” The cameraman high-fived Ben. “See you a little later tonight?”

  “Yep. We’re on the schedule for a pre-event private dinner, I think.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Maria shiver and he put his arm around her.

  “You did great on camera. Not everyone can be natural like that.” Ben turned toward the resort as the camera guys moved on to get some stock footage of the beach.

  He was a natural on camera, but he’d never expected to be anything but an on-air meteorologist, forecasting the weather just like any other one. It had been a shock to start getting attention for his looks. When that magazine had called attention to him, a whole new kind of insanity had begun, with paparazzi following him.

  Maria was quiet as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. He didn’t blame her. His life was a mess and she’d landed squarely in the middle of it.

  Finally she stopped in front of him and held on to the lapels of his coat. “You didn’t get me into this, my coworkers did,” she said. “And now that I’m here, there’s no way I’m letting Caden grow up without a dad if I can help it. Got it?”

  He nodded, a grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  Ben called after her. “See you at five for an early dinner?”

  “Write down the names.” Her eyes were warm and her smile generous, especially when he still knew he didn’t deserve it.

  Maria was dialing her cell phone before she had even opened the door to her suite. When Chloe answered, she filled her in on the two coworkers. “We’ll need to check them out, find out where they were the last couple of days. If either of them is at this conference, we’ll have to get the police to take them in for questioning.”

  “I’ll get on it as soon as you text me the names..”

  “There’s one more thing, Chloe. Ben said the threats started before his wife was killed in a wreck. It was ruled accidental, but…”

  “You want to see the report. Okay, I’ll hunt it down and text you when the fax is headed your way. Is that it?”

  “Yes—no. There’s this dinner thing.”

  Laughter pealed through the cell phone. “Wear the black velvet and the heels with the rhinestone clasp.”

  Maria used the bag of tricks that the ladies in the salon had showed her and ended up with a loose pile of ringlets on her head. The black-velvet sheath dress was devastatingly simple, with a scoop neck and long, narrow sleeves.

  Chloe was a genius.

  Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—the text message she’d been waiting for. Pages began to spew out of the fax machine on the desk in the sitting area.

  Her crime scene investigator brain itched to get into that file, but she had other commitments now.

  She opened the door to the penthouse, clutching a black satin evening bag with her weapon tucked inside. Ben met her in the living room, beside the Christmas tree. She smiled as she saw the line of toy cars still in the exact order where Caden had left them earlier.

  Dressed in khaki pants and a blue blazer, Ben was tieless in his crisp white shirt. “I hope you don’t mind. I decided dinner on the balcony might be nicer than a restaurant with the cameras around. They’ll still be in and out to film us, but for the most part we’ll have our privacy.”

  In that short couple of hours, he’d transformed the balcony. Small trees of differing heights twinkled. An exquisite table was set and soft strings played Christmas music in the background.

  “It’s beautiful. But, uh, Ben, shouldn’t a meteorologist be aware that it’s beastly cold outside?”

  “Give it a try.”

  She stepped out the open door into warm air, even warmer than inside the room. Gas patio heaters lined the edge of the balcony. She looked back at Ben. “You score ten for use of heaters.”

  “Thanks. The guys will be here in a minute, but I wanted you to see it first. They’ll get your reaction—again—and tape us being seated and a little cheesy conversation. Then they’ll duck out and we’ll be able to eat dinner in peace. We won’t see the cameras again until dessert. Okay with you?”

  “Sure. This experience hasn’t been nearly as horrifying as I thought it would be.”

  Ben smothered a laugh as he waved in the camera crew.

  After a quick sound bite for the cameras, she and Ben were seated on the balcony. Even sixteen floors up, the soft sounds of the ocean were a soothing and perfect backdrop.

  With the appetizer, Ben asked, “So how does one become a crime scene investigator?”

>   The question brought images like a hundred fast-play slides through her mind. She closed her eyes and prayed for God’s peace—that she could use the skills He’d given her to catch the men and women who did these crimes and put them away, and that she could live with herself when she was done.

  Then the image of Ben’s tattered Bible came to her mind. Maybe he’d been searching for peace, too. She looked into Ben’s eyes and knew that it was time to tell him the truth. Somehow she thought he’d understand.

  “It was part accident, part design, I think. I didn’t have the money to go to college full time, so I worked at the sheriff’s office during the day and went to classes at night. The more I worked with the sheriff’s department, the more I realized there was a real place for science and technology in gathering evidence. So, I decided to major in chemistry and physics. Later I got another degree in criminology.”

  “All on your own? That’s incredible.”

  “My mom died when I was in junior high school. I lived with my aunt, who was great, but she didn’t have any money. I did get some scholarships, but the big one that would’ve sent me to college was won by someone else.”

  He lifted his gaze from his salad to stare at her, his eyes narrowed.

  She took a sip from a water goblet on the fancy table. “I realized recently that it was my own fault. I let my grades slip when things were going on with my family. If I hadn’t, I probably would’ve gotten the scholarship. But you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  “You—you’re Maria Fuentes. High school Maria Fuentes.” His voice held just a hint of accusation.

  “Yes.” Maria poked lettuce with her fork, calmly took a bite.

  When he continued to stare at her, she motioned to his plate. “You can eat now.”

  Ben still didn’t move. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “My aunt had this cross-stitch on her wall. I always thought it was really cheesy, but now—I think it’s true. It said, ‘Wherever God closes a door, he opens a window.’”

  “Your window was crime scene investigation?”

  She smiled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this because I’ve been on my best behavior, but I’m very tenacious. That quality makes me a good fit for CSI. I like my life.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He still hadn’t taken another bite of his salad.

  That was a good question. Why hadn’t she told him? “I remembered losing that scholarship as being so humiliating. I guess it was, to a seventeen-year-old.”

  “And look at you now.”

  She laughed. “Yes, because I always wear velvet and diamonds.”

  Their private dinner passed with quiet conversation, laughter and animated talk of new technologies. For each of them as teenagers, science had been an escape. Now it was common ground.

  As the coffee was served, Ben stood. “I need to go tuck Caden into bed. You can come, if you like.”

  Cops weren’t scared of cute little boys—or their handsome dads.

  Maria followed Ben to Caden’s suite. Like hers, it had a small kitchen and a private sitting room. Unlike hers, there were baskets of toys and little trucks. On the bed was a spread covered with colorful freight trains.

  “Story time, Daddy!” Caden bounced on the bed, his fresh-from-the-bath hair sticking out from his head.

  “One story, Capo, because it’s time for you to go to sleep.” Ben held out his hand. Caden handed him his favorite book.

  As Ben read, using silly voices and making bug-eyed faces, Caden giggled. Then slowly, his eyes got heavy as he played with the floppy ears of his stuffed bunny. He was so adorable, obviously bright. She couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Ben to see that bright light trapped inside Caden’s little body and be afraid he would never be able to communicate.

  They were so blessed.

  As Ben finished the book, Caden held up his arms for a hug. Ben hugged.

  The nanny, Julia, hugged.

  “Her, too.” Caden’s voice, so sleepy seconds ago, piped up from the bed.

  Ben’s gray eyes were apologetic, asking for her understanding. “You don’t have to—but it’s sort of a ritual now. Hugs from everyone before bed.”

  “It’s fine, Ben. I’ve got at least a dozen nieces and nephews—I’m familiar with bedtime rituals.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “’Night, Caden. I’ll see you in the morning?”

  He nodded. “Sing?”

  She looked at Ben, who shrugged. So this was a departure from the ritual. “I have a niece about your age who comes to stay with me sometimes. She likes to hear ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ before she goes to sleep.”

  “Sing,” Caden commanded.

  “All right, Captain Caden. You lay your head on the pillow and I’ll sing you a song.”

  Maria sang the words to the simple nursery rhyme. In a few seconds, she felt a warm hand nestle into hers. She was having a little trouble catching her breath as she squeezed the little hand.

  She looked at Ben, whose eyes were wide, and thought, God, I could really use some air about now. Do You think You could open a window?

  FIVE

  Coffee on the terrace with the film crew was less than stellar for Ben. It was a little hard to keep his mind on saying the right thing when his insides were all jumbled up. He kept replaying in his head that single moment when his four-year-old had put his chubby little hand in Maria’s.

  For a normal kid, maybe that wasn’t such a big thing, but for a kid like Caden—it was huge. It hadn’t been so long ago when doctors were warning him it might be unrealistic to expect affection from Caden. The reality was that Caden was not only capable of showing affection, he did—often. But usually only with family, which made those moments with Maria all the more remarkable.

  As the film crew packed up and left, he joined Maria at the balcony rail. The breeze was stiff, yet she leaned into it, her eyes closed, lashes a lacy semicircle on her cheeks.

  She shivered.

  Ben pulled off his sport coat and draped it around her shoulders, pulling her close into his side. “You’re an incredible woman, Maria Fuentes.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “That’s just it. There are no other girls.” Yeah, he said it out loud and he probably should have been embarrassed, but he wasn’t. It was freeing to have her know him—and she did. She knew his past and she most definitely knew his present. He wasn’t sure about the future yet, but now that he’d found her he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of her.

  She laughed softly. “I bet you say that to all the girls, too.”

  “You know what I find the most incredible? You’ve seen me at my absolute worst. Literally gasping for air. You’ve seen what my life is like, how hard we have to work every day just to achieve a little bit of normal. And yet, you didn’t run screaming from the building.” He tugged her closer to see what she would do. She didn’t move away. Maybe she snuggled a little closer.

  “And my hair’s not on fire and I’m not in need of medication. Contrary to what you might think, Ben, your life is not that weird compared to what I see on a regular basis.”

  He turned her to face him, searching her beautiful golden-brown eyes. “Are you still sorry your coworkers sent your name in for this contest?”

  Maria made a face, contemplating her answer—and his stomach twisted. “They’re still going to pay. But how could I be sorry?”

  Sliding his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, he cupped her face in his hands. He kept forgetting how small she was, how beautiful. It snuck up on him. He placed his lips at her hairline by the temple and felt her tremble.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, just holding her.

  His phone beeped in his pocket. He sighed. “I have to go.”

  She stepped out of his arms and slid his coat off her shoulders. “I’ll be here when you get back. And Ben, I know I can’t go with you to this one, but please—be careful.”

  With Ben at a meeting,
Maria changed into flannel PJs and pulled the file from the fax machine. Evidence was empirical—it made sense, even when people’s actions didn’t.

  She sipped her cup of coffee and tried not to think about how long it would take Ben to get back from his meeting of weather forecasters. He’d decided to go it alone rather than call attention to himself by having her along. She still wasn’t sure she agreed that it was the safest action to take.

  From her first cursory glance at the reports, Ben’s wife’s car wreck looked like an accident. She’d been on her way home from an out-of-town meeting. Her power steering had failed as she went too fast around a curve. Unable to keep the car on the road, she hit a tree before she could adequately slow down. The car exploded on impact.

  The accident had taken place on a back road in Georgia and was investigated by the local cops, who had documented the scene. Pictures had low resolution over a fax, but as she studied the pages, what happened that night became more and more clear.

  The elevator chimed softly. Ben stepped off, his navy sport coat draped over his arm. Even tired and worried, he was so handsome it was ridiculous. When he caught sight of her on the sofa, he smiled.

  The slow spread across his face started an equal spread of warmth in her belly. She leaned into the cushions, wrapping her old gray sweater tighter around her. She hadn’t often felt in danger—she’d been taught from an early age to defend herself, but how did a girl defend herself from that smile?

  “Work?” He dropped onto the couch beside her and gestured at the papers on the coffee table.

  She drew in a breath, not sure how to tell him what she suspected. “Not exactly.”

  “Those are evidence reports, right?” He reached for the papers on the table, then stopped with his hand in mid-air. “May I?”

  “It’s your wife’s accident report.”

  His hand dropped to his knee. “What?”

  She shrugged, the warmth replaced by a queasy insecurity. “After we talked earlier, I wanted to check it out, make sure the investigators didn’t miss anything.”