Deadly Holiday

by Margaret Daley

  Entering her bedroom, Tory watched the younger officer lead the sergeant into the connecting bathroom. Had the intruder done something in there? Goose bumps shivered up her arms as she moved to the doorway to see what was going on. Right behind her, Jordan clasped her shoulder. It was all she could do not to lean into him.

  “This is where you found that?” Sergeant Bennett asked the other cop as he put on a second latex glove.

  “Yes. I haven’t touched it. It was sitting out on the counter in plain sight. I haven’t had a chance to look around. I started with the bedroom, because she said the window was open. They were both locked. After I looked around, I stepped in here and saw this.”

  The sergeant lifted the suspicious substance—a small zipper bag of white powder.

  Tory gasped, speechless.

  “Could be heroin or coke,” Officer Ward said.

  His words spurred Tory to protest. “That’s not mine. The attacker must have left that. Maybe he was going to hide it, and I interrupted him before he could. Or it isn’t drugs. I don’t do drugs.” Words tumbled from her as skepticism showed on the police officers’ faces.

  Sergeant Bennett confronted her with the packet in his hand. “I need you to go down to the station with me. I’ll have the powder tested while you wait.”

  “Do you want me to search the rest of the house?” the young police officer asked.

  “Wait outside until another officer arrives with a warrant. If this is a drug, I want to make sure we have everything covered.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. Check for fingerprints on that bag. Mine aren’t there. My son is coming home in half an hour.” She was living a nightmare. Maybe she would wake up any moment, and everything would be back to normal.

  When the sergeant pulled out his handcuffs, Jordan stepped into the bathroom doorway. “Is that necessary? That might be powdered sugar for all you know. I don’t see Tory running from you. Why would she have called you and given you permission to check her house if she had drugs in here in plain sight?”

  The sergeant thought a moment, his forehead scrunched, and then proceeded to put the handcuffs on her wrist behind her. “I have to follow procedures. Let’s go.”

  “Jordan, please watch Morgan for me.”

  “Of course. And I’ll call my attorney in Denver. Don’t worry about Morgan. We’ll get this straightened out.”

  As Tory was paraded out of her house, Sergeant Bennett at her side, she feared all the neighbors were peeking out their windows. She was innocent of everything the police thought she had done, and the truth should come out. But in this nightmare, logic didn’t make any difference. It was as if in this world, the laws were turned inside out.

  At the police station, she sat in an interview room with only a table and two chairs while a test was run on the white powder. She prayed that the mess would be straightened out quickly, that she wouldn’t lose her job over this, and that Charles Nelson would turn up, alive or dead. I’m innocent, Lord. Please help me prove it.

  An hour later, the door finally opened, and an older silver-haired man entered the room. “I’m Police Chief Hoffman.”

  Good. Someone in authority who’ll listen to reason.

  After the police chief read the Miranda rights to her, he continued. “Your lawyer is on his way, but why don’t you make it easier on yourself and tell us where you got the heroin? It’s to your benefit to cooperate with us. I’ll make sure the DA knows you have.”

  Heroin? Heroin! Tory couldn’t wrap her mind around the word. “Heroin? You ran the test?”

  “At this moment a thorough search of your house is being conducted. If more is found, you’ll be charged as a drug dealer.”

  “I never touched that bag, let alone put it in my bathroom.”

  “But we found one of your fingerprints on it.”

  “Impossible.” How could that be? Was she going crazy? She actually pinched herself, praying she would wake up from the nightmare.

  But Police Chief Hoffman’s hard stare still bore into her.

  * * *

  After dropping off Morgan at school, Jordan returned to his house and sat down at the computer. He’d been there all morning, tracking down leads to help Tory. Someone—probably Harold London—was discrediting and framing Tory. So Jordan had several options to help prove Tory was innocent. First, that she was right about Charles Nelson’s death. Second, that the man in her house left the drugs to set up a frame. Fingerprints could be planted, if someone were determined enough. The night before the break-in, he and Tory had been at Harold’s house. Maybe she’d touched something and left her fingerprint.

  But how to prove it? He needed to talk to Gage about that.

  Helplessness blanketed Jordan. It was too much like that time he’d been buried under rubble after the bomb had exploded and killed so many of his buddies. He kept trying to free himself, but he was trapped, listening to the cries of pain from others in the same situation.

  Dutch nudged his arm. He rubbed his dog’s fur, and the anxiety began to subside.

  For the first time in two years, he felt needed. Tory needed him, and so did Morgan. He had to keep it together for them.

  Her son had been stunned when Jordan had told him the day before about what happened to his mother. And to make matters worse her arraignment wouldn’t be until the very end of the day, although the lawyer he’d hired for Tory had tried to get that changed.

  Coming up with dead ends on the computer, Jordan decided to explore the area around the original crime scene on the mountain road for a body or a fresh grave. Then he wanted to check out the Nelsons’ land without them knowing. He couldn’t just sit and do nothing while Tory remained in jail.

  He grabbed his keys and Dutch’s leash, called his dog, and headed to his SUV. As he started the engine, his cell phone rang. It was Gage. “Tell me some good news about the red substance on the leaves.”

  “It’s human blood, but there’s not enough to do a DNA test.”

  “Okay, that might help Tory. What did you find out about Harold London?”

  “He and your local police chief, Bob Hoffman, grew up together in Crystal Creek. They were best friends.”

  “So the police chief could be covering for Harold’s son?”

  “A possibility. There’s been some chatter about a few cases in the last few years concerning Crystal Creek that might not have been on the up-and-up concerning the police. Nothing concrete. Most people feel Harold London is an upstanding citizen. He gives a lot of money to worthy causes in Crystal Creek and the surrounding area. With all the property you own there, I’m surprised you haven’t had any dealings with the man.”

  Jordan turned onto the highway that led to the mountain road. “Because I let my lawyer do all the negotiations for me. However, I did meet him Tuesday evening. I haven’t gotten involved much in what goes on in Crystal Creek.”

  “But you are now. Why?”

  “I don’t like people in authority using the system in their favor. Tory doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her. She reported a crime she witnessed, and now she’s the criminal in the eyes of the police. When power is abused, it hurts everyone.”

  “One rotten apple can spoil the whole basket.”

  “A man attacked Tory yesterday. He had a switchblade, and I was able to recover it. I gave it to the sergeant on this case. Tory told me one of her fingerprints was found on the plastic bag with heroin the police discovered in her bathroom on the counter.”

  Gage whistled. “Fingerprints are an important piece of evidence. How well do you know this Tory?”

  Jordan ground his teeth. “First, if she had known about the bag of heroin in her bathroom, she would never have agreed to Officer Ward checking the house. Second, I know her and she wouldn’t do drugs. She didn’t touch the bag. Which leaves me to wonder how can fingerprints be planted.”

  “It’s possible to transfer them if you know how and are careful, but if the lab examines them in detail under a micros
cope, it should be clear they were planted.”

  “Good. I’ll make sure Tory’s lawyer requests that. Any word on the sports car?”

  “Not yet, but your police chief had sent out an alert on the car. I asked the surrounding law enforcement agencies to let me know when they notify him.”

  “Thanks. I’m hoping there’s evidence on the car that proves someone was hit.”

  “Should be. I’ll keep digging, and if I find anything, I’ll let you know. Watch your step, Jordan. Crystal Creek isn’t familiar territory, and if someone is going to the trouble of planting fingerprints, they are serious—and dangerous.”

  Shortly after Jordan disconnected the cell phone, he headed up the north face of the mountain and stopped about fifty yards beyond where the hit-and-run had occurred, parking in a cutout. As he walked along the shoulder on the ravine side, he looked for a way down. Below, the ground leveled out into relatively flat terrain before dropping off again twenty yards away. Remnants of leftover snow from early last week still littered the area, especially under the evergreen trees.

  When he reached the scene, he ruled out the mountainside of the road. It shot straight up and, aside from bighorn sheep, no one went in that direction. About ten yards past the crime scene, Jordan found a way down the side of the steep sloop. From the sight of footprints, he wasn’t the first person recently who had used the trail. The only way an injured seventy-two year old man ended up in the ravine was if someone carried him or tossed his body into it. Or he fell.

  He searched the area, hurrying because he didn’t have a lot of time since he had to pick up Morgan at a certain time at school. He set his right foot against a small rock and shifted his weight. The stone broke loose, and Jordan tumbled down the slope, hitting the bottom with a thud. Bruised and cut, he stood and inspected the ground. Ignoring the pain from the fall, he hiked along the small ridge. Nothing. If Charles Nelson fell, he should have found the body or remains of one.

  He made his way back up the slope using roots, rocks, and scrubs to haul himself up to the road. He didn’t think Nelson was down in the ravine. He’d examined all potential hiding places, but Tory had said she was only gone half an hour to find a phone to call the authorities. No one had time to get down the slope, bury the man, and climb back up.

  That meant someone probably came from up the mountain road and took Charles somewhere. He’d go to the top and note where turn offs and houses were. Seeing the time on his clock on the dashboard, he decided he’d have to come back out here tomorrow to investigate the Nelson property.

  Between the crime scene and the top, he saw five houses besides the Nelsons’ and Josh’s family. At the summit, Jordan parked, climbed from his SUV with Dutch and panned the vista. Off to the south, he spied part of the London compound, its high fence a telltale sign. He took out his binoculars and examined it closely. A dirt road led from the back of the property into a dense evergreen forest. Did it come out onto this highway? There must be a way if Peter London were driving the sports car. If there wasn’t a road to connect the London property to this highway, Peter must have been visiting one of the people on the north face.

  But there was no time to do more. He had to pick up Morgan and get to the courthouse for Tory’s arraignment. As he turned around, he glimpsed what he believed might be the exit for the road from the back of the London property. It wasn’t in the best of shape, and he wouldn’t want to drive a sports car over it, but it could be done. He’d find out tomorrow.

  Back in cell phone range, he noticed he had a message. It was the secretary at Morgan’s school. Apparently, the boy had been in a fight and would be waiting in the principal’s office. Jordan sighed and pushed the SUV beyond the speed limit. He made it to the school only a few minutes early, parked and strode into the building. Morgan sat in the area outside Mr. Mayne’s office, slouched in a chair, a frown on his face along with some red, swollen splotches. The kid would have a black eye by tomorrow.

  “What happened?” Jordan took the chair next to Morgan.

  The boy balled his hands. “Someone called my mom a nut and a druggie. She isn’t.”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  Mr. Mayne opened the door and came out. “He is suspended for tomorrow. He can come back when Christmas break is over.” He turned to the boy. “Morgan, if you do this again, you’ll be suspended much longer.”

  “Clay started it.” Morgan rose as Jordan did.

  “I know, and he’s suspended too.”

  Jordan shook the man’s hand. “I’ll let Tory know.”

  Mr. Mayne pinched his lips together as though he wanted to say something. Instead, he returned to his office.

  Jordan clasped Morgan’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Jordan parked the car on the street in front of the imposing red brick building and hurried with Morgan toward the courtroom. When they went inside, Tory stood next to her lawyer in front of the judge and entered a not guilty plea. Her shoulders sagged when the bond amount of ten thousand was announced.

  “Wait here.” Jordan caught the attention of the lawyer, Mark Sutton, and said, “I’ll take care of it. Tell her she’ll be out right away.”

  Mark nodded and went back to talk with Tory before she was led off. The past twenty-four hours had placed a heavy toll on her. He doubted she’d gotten any sleep last night in her cell. All he wanted to do was hold her and let her know she wasn’t alone. His determination to get to the bottom of this strengthened even more. Someone intended to take her down, and he wasn’t going to let him.

  Chapter Five

  Tory sat at Jordan’s kitchen table and sipped her hot tea, relishing its soothing taste and a moment of quiet after the twenty-four hours she’d spent at the jail. She still couldn’t believe it—arrested for possession of heroin. She didn’t drink alcohol, let alone take drugs not prescribed for her. If only she could hide and forget that she faced a charge of possession of an illegal drug.

  “I’m glad you decided to stay here tonight.” Jordan sat beside her. He’d spent an hour clearing out his spare bedroom and blowing up an air mattress while Tory watched him silently. Morgan had already crashed, and Tory would join him soon.

  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though that would warm her. She’d felt chilled to the bone ever since the man had attacked her, and sleeping in a cell had proved impossible. Every groan, cry, and noise she’d heard amplified her fear—until she began reciting Psalm Twenty-Three. She knew the Lord was with her the whole time, protecting her. “I love my little house. I’d really come to feel at home there. But after yesterday, I don’t know if I can go back. At least not until we find out what’s going on and that man is caught.”

  Jordan covered her hand with his. “You can stay as long as you need. I feel better that you’re here. Dutch and I will protect you two.”

  The steel in Jordan’s voice reassured Tory. In jail last night, she’d felt so alone. But knowing God was with her and what Jordan had done so far for her had given her peace to at least relax in the early hours of a new day.

  “Thank you for putting up my bail. I can’t believe it was so much. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be there. I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Which makes me wonder if someone knew that and tried to keep you locked up.” Jordan sipped his coffee. “What did Mr. Mayne tell you when you called?”

  “Nothing will be done until after the Christmas break, but it doesn’t sound good for me. There have been lots of comments from concerned parents, but at the end, he told me quite a few of the parents with children in my class called to show their support. That took the sting out of it. Remind me after this is over never to witness another crime.”

  “I have a feeling if you did, you’d still do the right thing, even after all of this. You’re that kind of person.”

  His words filled her with a sense of validation and left a glow in its wake. “That’s a compliment I appreciate after the horrendous day I’ve had.”

&nbs
p; “Tomorrow, I’m going to scout out the Nelsons’ place and then check out a dirt road at the top of the mountain that I discovered. I think it leads to the back of the London property. I didn’t have time to follow it today because I needed to pick up Morgan.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  “No. I don’t want to have to worry about keeping you or Morgan safe.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t let you do all the work when I’m the one trying to prove my innocence.”

  “We need to dig into the backgrounds of the residents who live on the northern face. My gut tells me someone up the mountain took Charles Nelson’s body. You can do that on my computer while I’m gone.”

  “Josh’s mother, Alana, might be able to help with that. She works from home, and they’ve lived there for years.”

  “Any tie to London or the police chief? Does Josh’s dad work for either one?”

  “No, Luke commutes to Denver.”

  “Good, that might be to our benefit. Call and talk to her about it tomorrow.”

  She stared at her cup of tea, the color reminding her of Jordan’s eyes. What if she hadn’t known him? She would have been dealing with all of this alone. She could have managed it, but it felt good to have a person care. With a long sigh, she lifted her mug and finished the rest of the warm tea. “I should go to bed. I hope I can sleep, because my brain is barely functioning. I need rest.”

  “Sleep in. I’ll probably be gone by the time you get up.”

  Tory rose and took her cup to the sink. “Sleeping in sounds wonderful, but I don’t think I’ll be doing much of that until this ordeal is over with.”

  He pushed to his feet. “We had one piece of good news. The blood on the shrub at the crime scene was human. I hope tomorrow to find Charles Nelson’s body, and maybe we’ll hear something about the fingerprints on your attacker’s knife.”

  “If there were any.” Tory strolled toward the hallway, stopped halfway there, and swept around. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get my description of the driver down on paper.” Her feeble attempts had produced nothing recognizable. “Alana writes children stories, and she draws beautiful pictures for them. She might be able to draw the driver. The photos of Peter I’ve seen look similar, but something doesn’t fit.”