Deadly Holiday

by Margaret Daley

  He looked toward her and smiled. Her pulse accelerated as she waved and pulled into the garage. Jordan wasn’t classically handsome. He was rugged with an air of self-assurance. Being an ex-Navy Seal, he no doubt could take care of any situation thrown his way, whereas her idea of exercise was making it through a day as a third grade teacher. What would he say about the restraining order? Had he gotten one, too?

  As she climbed from her Jeep, he stepped into her garage and asked, “Something wrong?”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Your scowl and those lines between your eyebrows.”

  She peered at herself in the side mirror. With a deep, composing breath, she relaxed her facial muscles. “Is this better?” She opened the back of the Jeep to retrieve the groceries.

  “Much better.” He grabbed two sacks from the rear of her car.

  “Did you get a restraining order today?”

  “No. Did you?” He walked with her toward the door into the house.

  “From the Nelson family. I obviously terrified them with my menacing presence yesterday.”

  “They moved fast. It’s only been twenty-four hours since we were there, and if anyone was menacing, it was me.” He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and faced her. “I don’t think you know how to look menacing.”

  “I might before this is over, but thank you for saying that. I needed to hear something good today. Even I’m beginning to doubt my sanity. Sergeant Bennett told me he tried Charles’s brother a couple of times, but there was no answer, as though that verified what Bart Nelson had said about the hunting trip.” The headache that had started when she saw the sergeant in her classroom had grown and now was pounding against her skull.

  Jordan put the sacks on the counter and began emptying them. “There’s something fishy going on. I went to Denver and gave Gage the foliage we found. He’ll let me know something as soon as he gets the results. When I got back, I spent a couple hours on my computer digging up information.”

  “What did you discover?”

  “Gage told me who the car was registered to with the license tag HOTSHOT, and I came home to do some research on him.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Peter London.”

  “Any connection to Harold London?”

  “His eldest son. He’s in his second year at Colorado State.”

  Tory whistled. “Harold London owns more than half this town. That fact puts a whole new spin on all of this.”

  “It could, and we need to keep that in mind as we move forward.”

  “We?”

  He leaned against her counter and crossed his arms. “I was in that Jeep when Bart Nelson shot at us. I’m in this, too.”

  “Could Harold London have paid the Nelson family to cover up their father’s death?”

  “It’s possible. Money makes people forget a lot of things, even family members.” Jordan carried some items that needed to be kept cold to the counter by the refrigerator. “I discovered that Peter has been arrested twice for DUI. One of those times he wrecked his car, hitting a parked vehicle and a garage.”

  Tory massaged her temples. “Was anyone hurt?” The whole situation was becoming complicated.

  “When Peter left the party, there was a passenger, Nathan, in the car. Peter and this guy were housemates. The police didn’t indicate anyone on the traffic report, though, but Nathan left college the next day in the middle of the semester. I wonder if Peter’s buddy had been injured, and the London family whisked him out of town then paid him off.”

  “It’s serious when you have one DUI, let alone three if you count Friday’s accident.”

  “With his record of drinking and driving, Peter would have been in serious trouble with vehicular homicide added to a DUI charge.”

  “And I was the only witness.”

  “Looks like it. But it still doesn’t make sense. Where’s the black sports car? If it hit someone, there’ll be evidence on it, not to mention some damage. We need to find it. I’ll ask my friend to put a BOLO out on it. Gage has some connections with the state police.”

  “He won’t get in trouble?”

  “He knows how to work the system. Believe me, this guy hates seeing anyone get away with a crime.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “We grew up together. Even as a child he wanted to be a police officer.”

  “I feel like Gage. I don’t want to see the driver get away with Charles Nelson’s death.” Tory stuck the last of the groceries away then sank against the counter, closing her eyes. It didn’t help the thumping against her skull.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The stress of the past few days is catching up in one killer headache, and my medication doesn’t seem to be touching it.”

  “Sit at the table and let me see if I can help. I know a thing or two about stress headaches.”

  She pulled out a chair and eased down.

  “Relax,” he said.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “I know it’s hard with all that’s happened, but try.”

  With more deep breaths, she managed to ease the tension in her shoulders. Then Jordan’s large hands began to rub the back of her neck, head and shoulders. She wanted to melt. He knew how to give a good massage, but his warm touch affected her beyond that.

  As he worked his fingers into her taut muscles, he said, “Is it helping?”

  “Definitely. Be careful. I might be knocking on your door every day for this.” She sighed. “What I want to know is what kind of airtight alibi Peter London would have had? It’s easy to say the car was stolen.”

  “You’re not very good at relaxing, are you?”

  She tried to ease her stiff shoulders. “I think it’s time we ask the young man where he was on Friday and when he reported his car stolen.”

  The stress began to flow from her, and for a moment, she lost her train of thought, suddenly focusing a lot of energy on the man standing behind her. She forced her mind back to the problem. “I don’t think Peter intentionally killed Charles Nelson, but with his prior DUIs, he needs to be taken off the road. He needs to get help. He obviously has a drinking problem, and it’s dangerous to others. So how do we prove what I saw?”

  Jordan stopped and sat in the chair catty-cornered from Tory, concern darkening his brown eyes. “Let me see what I can discover about the car and what we hear from Gage. I don’t want you doing anything until we have some hard evidence. You’re probably right about Peter London. The guy might be guilty of killing someone and covering it up, but he’s not somebody you want to mess with.”

  “I’d understand if you don’t want to get involved anymore.”

  “I’m already involved. When I start something, I finish it. Give me some time. No investigating without me. Okay?”

  As she stared into his eyes, his look drew her in, as if he’d wrapped his arms around her and held her close, keeping her safe. “You’ll let me know what you find?”

  “Yes.”

  The front door banged open. “Mom, I’m home.” Morgan called out.

  “I’m in the kitchen.” She turned to Jordan. “He has basketball practice right after school on Monday and Wednesday, and Josh’s mother drops him off.”

  Morgan stepped into the room, shed his coat, and hung it up on a peg near the door to the garage. “I’m starving. When is dinner?”

  Tory laughed, pushing away the stress from the sergeant’s visit to school. “In an hour. I have to make it first, and it’s only five o’clock.”

  Her son went to the refrigerator and withdrew the orange juice. “Jordan, we have an hour to kill. Want to play some basketball?”

  “You aren’t sick of it after practice?” Tory rose, part of her missing the bond with Jordan she’d experienced a minute ago. But her cautious side realized it was probably a good thing her son had come home when he did. She’d just begun to put her life together, and now with witnessing the hit-and-run, she had more than enough problems to deal
with.

  “Never, Mom. I want to play basketball professionally. I’ve got to practice a lot.”

  Jordan stood. “I’m up for some basketball.”

  Her son grinned from ear to ear and headed out of the kitchen. “We’ll be back right before dinner.”

  After Morgan left with Jordan, Tory began fixing spaghetti, trying to put the hit-and-run from her mind for the time being. But she couldn’t dismiss what she and Jordan had discussed earlier. Something was wrong, and she intended to find out what. If the police wouldn’t look further into it, she would. She saw the man get hit. That was not a hallucination.

  * * *

  The sun disappeared behind the mountains to the west of Crystal Creek. The view from the top was spectacular but with dusk setting in, Tory could barely see the lake south of town.

  “I’m glad your neighbor could watch Morgan on such short notice.” Jordan passed through the iron gates onto the London’s property.

  “I can’t believe you called Harold London this morning and set up a meeting so fast.”

  “Well, you seemed adamant yesterday, and I’m just as curious as you are.”

  “That’s because Sergeant Bennett thinks I’m seeing things, and it certainly didn’t help that the blood test came back saying it was an animal. If I didn’t know what I saw, I’d say I was crazy too.”

  “Let’s hope the test on the foliage comes back human blood.”

  “If it comes back as animal blood, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  As they neared the London mansion, Tory closed her eyes and thought about her tranquil place that always calmed her when her nerves were stretched to the snapping point. In her mind she saw Christ in a mountain meadow with thousands of wildflowers blooming. He stood with his arms wide, welcoming her into his embrace, giving her the comfort she needed—the serenity she sought.

  “Don’t worry about that until it happens.” Jordan parked his SUV in front of the house. “I didn’t mention to Harold London that I was bringing you. I don’t know if he knows about our friendship or not.”

  “And he agreed to see you out of the blue like this?”

  “He’s wanted to meet with me for months, so when I called, he saw his opportunity. I have a piece of land he wants to buy.”

  “I wonder if he knows what I look like.”

  “I bet he does. You’ve implicated his son’s car in a hit-and-run.”

  “When I dropped off Morgan, good thing I told Mrs. Scott where we were going, in case something happens.”

  Jordan lifted his hand and cupped the side of her face, his eyes warm as they took in her features. “London is a renowned Colorado businessman. I doubt he would be that blatant.”

  Tory smiled, the feel of his fingers against her cheek tempting her to forget why they were sitting in front of Harold London’s mansion. “Okay, that may have been a bit melodramatic, but this time last week, I would never have dreamed what was going to happen. This has all been surreal.”

  “Let’s hope we get some answers. Ready?” His hand slipped away, and he opened his door.

  For a few wild seconds, she thought of grabbing him and keeping him in the car, but she needed those answers, especially after today at school. Her principal, Mr. Mayne, had stopped by her class twice unexpectedly, as though he were keeping an eye on her. What else could have prompted that? Someone must have called him about her.

  She climbed from the SUV and walked with Jordan to the massive front doors, carved with an intricate wildlife scene.

  The man who let them into the house didn’t look like a butler but a bodyguard. Big and muscular with a gun in a holster at his waist. She gulped at the sight of the weapon.

  They were left alone in a formal living room—elegant, richly–appointed, and cold. She made a full circle, taking in all the artwork hanging on the walls. She paused at one photograph of a couple and Peter. She’d looked at a picture on the Internet of Peter London. This photo confirmed the similarities, except for the hair color, between whom she saw driving the car and Peter. She knew hair color could be changed, but the picture on his Facebook page had been taken the week before and his hair had been dark brown then. Was she wrong about Peter?

  “I think he knows I was coming. Most people in a business situation wouldn’t welcome a person with a gun.”

  “The camera at the front gate would have shown him who was in the car. If he hadn’t known before then, he does now. And I understand the man has two bodyguards with him at all times.”

  “Is that normal for businessmen?”

  “It can be.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “To live like that, in fear all the time that someone will come after you.” Tory glimpsed Harold London in the entrance.

  “But as you see, Mrs. Caldwell, I don’t have the bodyguards with me now, so that must tell you I’m not afraid of you.”

  The underlying threat hung in the air between them. Tory straightened, squaring her shoulders. “That’s good to know, considering you have no reason to be afraid of me.”

  Harold smiled, but it was strained and cold. He turned to Jordan and shook his hand. “I was informed you brought a companion to our meeting, so I’m guessing this isn’t going to be a discussion about that piece of land.”

  “No, but I would like to set up another time to talk to you about it, if you’re still interested.”

  “I am. Have a seat.” Harold sat and gestured toward the chairs across from him. “So why are you here?”

  Before Jordan could say anything, Tory said, “I understand your son owns a black sports car with HOTSHOT tags. I witnessed a hit-and-run with that car last Friday. When was the car stolen?”

  Harold’s dark eyes glinted with a hard edge. “I’ve already talked with the police. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “I realize that, Mr. London, but an old man was killed, and I want some answers for his family. If it happened around the time that I saw the man get hit, I might be a witness to help you find who stole the car.”

  “Until Sergeant Bennett showed up at my house Friday night, I didn’t even realize it had been stolen, but when I went to show the police officer the car, it wasn’t there. My son had been inside all evening. He’s home for Christmas break. My wife and I saw him several times that afternoon, and two of my employees did, too. So if you’re thinking he was involved, he wasn’t.” The tall, distinguished man rose and turned his attention to Jordan. “If you alone decide to have a meeting about your property, make an appointment with my secretary. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have a family commitment tonight, and I need to get ready. Bruce will show you two out.”

  As Harold left, the man who opened the front door earlier came to the entrance. Silent and menacing.

  While they were escorted from the house, Jordan scanned the living room and the foyer. Bruce stayed on the deck, watching as they climbed into Jordan’s SUV. When they passed through the gates, another large man stood at the side of the gate, a rifle cradled in his arms—much like Bart Nelson’s had on Sunday.

  Tory shuddered. “Since there’s a chance someone stole the car and ran Charles Nelson down, I thought I worded the question as if that was what we were thinking.”

  “I can’t imagine that car being stolen. This place is a fortress. If someone wanted to steal the sports car, why did they wait until he came home, when I’m sure it would have been easier to take it while he was at college? I know he has an expensive car, but there are easier targets out there than Peter’s.”

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” Did she have the wrong guy?

  “We learned a couple of things tonight. First, Sergeant Bennett believed you enough to come and ask Harold London about the car. Plus, we discovered the approximate time the car was stolen as well as the alibi. I’ll check around and see when Peter left school for the holidays.”

  “Could one of the employees have been driving?”

  He shrug
ged. “I suppose. But you saw a young guy in the car.”

  “I’m not sure it was Peter. Last night after you left, I looked on the Internet for a photograph of him and found one. The driver looked similar, but the hair isn’t right. What if I’m wrong?”

  “Don’t start doubting yourself. Harold has learned to intimidate people with a look or his tone of voice. I’m going to talk with Gage and see what’s going on about finding the sports car. There could still be evidence of the hit-and-run on it.”

  “I guess first we have to prove there was a hit-and-run before the authorities will investigate. And the only reason the good sergeant probably looked into Friday night was because he didn’t have the test back on the blood on the road.”

  Jordan stopped at the light at the bottom of the mountain. “Let’s get a pizza and try to forget the accident. What kind does Morgan like?”

  She laughed. “The better question is, what kind doesn’t he like? The answer is nothing.”

  “How about you?”

  “Except for anchovies, I’m game for anything, so order your favorite.”

  “Then everything except anchovies. Thin crust okay?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Twenty minutes later when they arrived at Jordan’s with an extra large supreme pizza, Tory crossed the street to get Morgan while Jordan set the table at his house.

  When they were all seated, Tory blessed the food. She’d barely finished the amen before her son dug into the pizza.

  “I’m starved. This is delicious.” Morgan savored the next bite of his slice. “I thought you were gonna be gone longer.”

  “We got the information about the car right off.” Tory poured a glass of milk for her son while she and Jordan drank water.

  “Did it help you prove a man was killed?”

  Her son knew she’d witnessed a wreck, but she hadn’t gone into too much detail when she told him Sunday night. Every time she thought of Charles Nelson, she revisited the scene when she’d checked to see if he was alive—laying her fingers against his neck.

  “A kid at school said you were seeing things. That there wasn’t a wreck. I told him if you said there was one, then there was. He told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. But I do, don’t I?”