“I’m glad you’re back with Mom,” she said. “I love you both and I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.” She chuckled as she pulled up at the hospital. “And I promise to get your house back into shape before you get home. Might take a while.”
“Don’t worry about that for now. Just go give the fire chief a big hug and tell him thanks for me.”
“For sure,” she said as she got out of the car.
“I told you Logan McDaniel was a good man,” he said.
“You were right, Dad.” She smiled to herself as she went into the hospital lobby. Logan was a good man. A really good man. And despite the horrifying nightmare she’d been through, she knew she never would’ve gotten to know Logan the way she’d done without it. The big question now was...where did they go from here? They obviously had two very different lives in two different places. Was this amazing interlude with Logan about to end? And, if so, was she willing to let it?
TWENTY-THREE
Logan hadn’t seen Trent Fallows since dragging him into the Myerses’ garage last night. But as he walked down to Trent’s room the following morning, he knew that he’d fared much better than Deputy Fallows. Mallory had assured him of as much last night before she’d gone home.
“According to Griggs, Trent lost a lot of blood,” she’d quietly explained. “He was in bad shape when they brought him in.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Well, he might’ve died if you hadn’t covered him like that,” she said. “Griggs said he was in shock when they found him. Besides hiding him from Brock, that tarp helped to keep him warm.”
“Well, I hope he’ll be okay.” And Logan had meant it. In some ways, despite Trent’s obnoxious ways, his presence at the house last night might’ve helped to save Mallory’s and Logan’s lives. And Logan intended to thank him for it—for both of them.
“Hey, Trent,” Logan said in a friendly tone as he entered the room. “It’s Logan.” Trent’s entire head, including his eyes, was bandaged, as was much of his upper body. “You look like a mess, man.”
“Yeah...pretty much,” Trent mumbled. “Heard you got shot, too.”
“Not nearly as bad as you.” Logan touched the bandage on his shoulder.
“Guess I was wrong about Brock Dennison,” Trent said quietly.
“A lot of folks were.” Logan sat next to him. “And I can admit now that I even had my doubts a few times. A big newsman like Brock Dennison just didn’t seem like a real likely murder suspect.”
“O’Brian was by,” Trent said slowly. “They got a full confession out of Dennison.”
“Hard to say you’re innocent when you get caught red-handed.”
“Yeah...what a mess.”
“So, anyway, Trent, I came by to thank you for being out at the Myerses’ place last night. It occurred to me this morning that your presence might’ve made the difference between life and death for Mallory and me. On behalf of both of us, I want to thank you.”
Trent didn’t say anything.
“And I’m sorry you got shot so bad,” Logan continued.
“That was my own fault,” Trent muttered. “Let my guard down.”
“So did we,” Logan told him. “Brock took us all by surprise.”
“I’m glad they got him.” Trent was clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the girl in college...Amanda Samuels...Brock’s girlfriend that went missing. Real pretty girl. And real nice. I feel certain Brock killed her, too. I told O’Brian about it.”
Logan just sighed.
“Griggs said they’ll question him about that.”
“That’ll be good.”
“Guess it goes to show that you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Brock was always so smooth... I just never guessed what was beneath.”
“Hey, Trent,” a friendly female voice spoke up. “Is this where the party is?”
Logan looked over to see Winnie and Mallory coming into the room. He greeted them both so that Trent would know who had entered.
“I just wanted to come say hello to my favorite deputy.” Winnie went right to Trent’s bedside, taking his hand. “And I found Mallory wandering aimlessly down the hallway.” She chuckled. “Looking like a lost soul.”
Mallory looked sweetly sheepish. “Well, I went to Logan’s room...found his bed empty... I, uh, got a little worried...you know?”
Logan went over to Mallory, looping his good arm around her shoulder. “I was just checking on Trent. Thanking him for being there last night.”
“I want to thank you, too,” Mallory told him. “You put yourself in the line of fire for us, Trent. I really appreciate it. And sorry about your injuries.”
“Sorry I didn’t believe you, Mallory. My mistake.”
“We all make mistakes,” Logan said somberly. “Fortunately you can learn from this one, Trent.”
“Yeah,” Winnie agreed. “From what I heard, you could’ve been dead.”
“We better go...let you rest.” Logan reached over to grasp Trent’s knee. “Get well, buddy.”
“Yeah,” Mallory said. “I’ve been praying for you.”
Trent muttered thanks, and Logan and Mallory made a quick exit, leaving Winnie there to keep Trent company.
“Wow.” Mallory shook her head as they went into Logan’s room. “He looks pretty bad off, huh?”
“At least he’s alive.”
“So, how are you this morning?” Mallory asked brightly.
“Getting ready to check out of this place.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Go home and get some actual rest.”
“Yeah, you must be exhausted.”
“How about you?” he asked. “Did you really go back to your parents’ last night like you said you’d do?”
“Yep. Started cleaning the place up. Swept up the glass. Cleaned up most of the blood. Griggs has got a glass guy coming in to fix the window tomorrow. And I’ll call a janitorial service to go over the whole place before my parents get back.”
“You’re still going to Portland today?”
“I have to go. I promised Detective Doyle I’d be there on Monday.”
“Even though they’ve got Brock in custody? I hear they’re getting a full confession.”
“Yeah, Griggs told me about that.” She shook her head. “Even though I knew it was true—at least, I thought it was true—it’s still hard to believe.” She sighed. “It’s a pretty big story.”
“Is that why you’re going back to Portland?” Logan asked. “To return to work, to write this big story?”
She frowned. “Well, I need to take care of things. Talk to the police. Check in with the news station. Figure out my apartment. Visit Kestra’s parents...her grave.”
“Yeah.” He looked toward the door where an elderly man was slowly moving a walker down the hallway with what appeared to be his wife by his side. There was a long pause now. Neither of them spoke. But everything in Logan wanted to beg her to forget about Portland, to just stay here, to continue this amazing relationship. But he knew that was selfish. He knew how much she’d loved her newswriting job, living in the city. How could he ask her to leave all that?
“I know we’ve only spent a few days together,” she said quietly. “But I’m really going to miss you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“I wish you could come with me,” she murmured.
“Come with you?” He studied her carefully. “You mean leave Clover? Give up my job? Everything?”
She looked surprised. “No. Of course not. I mean just go to Portland with me. While I get stuff figured out.”
He felt a wave of relief. “Well, I am going to be off work for at least a week. How about I go to Portland with you? Help you get things straightened out
.”
She brightened. “Really? You’d do that?”
He smiled at her. “Oh, Mallory, don’t you know by now that I’d go to the ends of the earth for you?”
She laughed. “You mean as long as it didn’t involve leaving Clover or your job?”
He got serious now. “Truth is, I would probably give that all up, too. But it wouldn’t be easy.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?” She stood now, coming over to stand closer to him. “Do you mean that?”
“Mallory, I’ve been holding back, telling myself that it’s too soon—too much, too fast—but the truth is, I love you. I’ve known it almost since that night when I tackled you in the mud.”
She placed her hand on his cheek. “Really? Well, did you know that I love you, too?” she asked.
“You do?”
She nodded shyly. “I’ve known it for a while.”
He stood and gathered her into his arms. Kissing her with all the passion he’d been holding back since yesterday, back when he’d nearly given up on them being together. And she returned the kiss with just as much passion—until they both stepped away and just looked at each other. Mallory was wide-eyed and breathless, but she was smiling happily.
“Mallory,” he said slowly. “I know this might be premature...maybe I’m jumping the gun. But we had so many close calls, so many times I thought I could lose you...and then my fear that you were leaving for good. You asked me if I would go to Portland with you... Now I want to know if you would stay in Clover for me.”
“What do you mean?” She kept her eyes locked on his. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I love you, Mallory. I want to marry you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.” He waited hopefully. “What do you say?”
She seemed to study him carefully, but without saying a word. He suddenly wondered if he’d blown it completely. “And forget what I said about staying in Clover,” he said quickly. “If you want, we can live in Portland—or anywhere—as long as we’re together.”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been rethinking living in the big city, Logan. I’m just not sure I can do that anymore.”
“Well, you don’t have to decide about that today.” He reached for her hand. “But I’ll repeat my question. Mallory Myers, will you marry me?”
She broke into a big smile. “Yes!” She threw her arms around him. “Yes, yes and yes!”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS UNDERCOVER by Hope White.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your willingness to go on this new journey with me. Or maybe you weren’t aware that Perfect Alibi was my first venture into writing romantic suspense. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for this genre at first, but as soon as I dipped my toe into the waters, I was eager to jump in. And I totally enjoyed the entire process—and even plan to create more stories like this!
My first clue that I might fit into the world of romantic suspense was my longtime love of Alfred Hitchcock stories. Also, I’ve always enjoyed writing stories with some elements of mystery. And, being a bit of a romantic at heart, love stories seem to come fairly naturally to me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story and I hope you’ll be game to read the one I’m working on now.
To learn more about me or the other books I’ve written (more than 200) stop by my website, www.melodycarlson.com. Or you can drop me a note at [email protected]. Or say “hey” on my author page on Facebook.
Thanks Again,
Melody Carlson
http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience
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Christmas Undercover
by Hope White
ONE
FBI agent Sara Vaughn awoke with a start, her heart pounding against her chest. Darkness surrounded her and it took a second for her eyes to adjust.
Panic took hold. No, she was beyond that. She’d outgrown it.
She counted to three, taking a deep breath, then exhaled. She clicked on her headlamp. Tall, majestic evergreen trees stretched up toward the starlit sky.
The mountains. She was in the Cascade Mountains following a lead that her supervisor, Greg Bonner, said was a waste of time.
Sara knew better.
The sound of deep male voices echoed from beyond a cluster of trees to her left.
“Be reasonable, David!” a man shouted.
David Price was one of the three business partners who were on this mountain getaway. The other men were Victor LaRouche and Ted Harrington, and together they owned the drug company LHP, Inc.
Sara made her way toward the sound of raised voices.
She was proud of herself for managing to get on the trail guide team hired to lead them up Echo Mountain. This isolated spot in the Cascade Mountains of Washington would surely give the men the privacy they needed to solidify their plan.
Getting a dangerous drug into the hands of unsuspecting consumers.
“Why do you have to make this so hard?”
She recognized Vic LaRouche’s voice because of its Southern twang.
She stayed off the main trail, not wanting to alert them to her presence, and made her way through the brush. Edging around a large boulder, she stepped over a fallen branch in silence. She needed to stay invisible, hidden. Something she was good at.
The men were no doubt having this discussion a safe distance away from the lead guide, Ned, so as not to wake him. It didn’t take much to wake Sara. Even in sleep, she was always on alert.
“It’s not right and you both know it,” David said.
“It was an anomaly, a mistake,” Ted Harrington said.
“A mistake that could kill people.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” LaRouche said.
This was it—the evidence she’d been looking for.
She pulled out her phone, hoping to record some of their conversation. If she could catch them admitting to their plan, it would go a long way to proving she was right, that she wasn’t just an “overzealous” agent trying to prove something.
She crept closer, shielding herself behind a towering western hemlock. Digging her fingers into the bark, she peeked around the tree. The three men hovered beside a small campfire, the flames illuminating their faces. LaRouche and Harrington were tall, middle-aged men, older than David Price by at least ten years.
“I’m not in business to hurt people,” David said.
“We’re helping people, sport,” Harrington said, slapping David’s shoulder. “Letting them sleep like they never have before.”
“And they don’t wake up.”
“That hasn’t been irrefutably proved,” Harrington said.
“Even one death is too many.”
LaRouche, a tall, regal-looking man, jumped into the conversation. It grew into a shouting match, giving Sara the chance to sneak even closer. She darted to another tree, only ten feet from the men.
She clicked off her headlamp.
Hit the video record button on her phone.
And held her breath.
“I didn’t sign on for this!” David said.
“Majority rules,” Harrington countered.
“Then, I’m out. I’ll sell you my share of the company.”
Harrington threw up his hands and paced a few steps away.
“If you leave, stock prices go down,” LaRouche said calmly.
“I don’t care. Some things are more important than money.”
“Like your family?” LaRouche taunted.
“Is that a threat?” David said.
“Sure, why not?”
David lunged at LaRouche. Harrington dived in between them. “Enough!”
The two men split apart, David glaring at his partners.
“Calm down. Let’s talk this through,” Harrington said.
“Talk? You mean threaten me?” David said.
“I like to think of it as persuading you, David,” LaRouche countered.
“No, I’m done.” David started to walk away.
It seemed as if the conversation was over.
Then LaRouche darted around the fire, grabbed David’s arm and flung him...
Over the edge of the trail.
The chilling sound of a man crying out echoed across the mountains.
Sara gasped and took a step backward.
A twig snapped beneath her boot.
LaRouche and Harrington whipped their heads around and spotted her. They looked as stunned as she felt. The three of them stared at each other.
No one moved. She didn’t breathe.
Heart racing, she watched the expression on LaRouche’s face change from stunned to something far worse: the look of a murderer who was hungry for more.
“It was an accident,” Harrington said.
LaRouche reached into his jacket, no doubt for a weapon.
In that millisecond, her only conscious thought was survival.
Sara clicked on her headlamp and took off, retracing her steps over the rugged terrain. She was outnumbered and couldn’t retrieve her off-duty piece quick enough. She had to get safe and preserve the video evidence against them.
Perfect Alibi Page 20
