“I think so, yes,” Leonard said with a laugh.
Carter and Sullivan appeared behind Leonard. Carter was holding Sullivan upright. “And an ambulance,” Carter said. “Sully is going to go join Darby in the hospital.”
Sullivan looked at Skyler. “Your cop boyfriend shot me in the thigh.”
“I did no such thing,” Leonard said. “It ricocheted when I was shot out the doorknob. And I said I was sorry.”
Sullivan shook his head. “Okay, cool. He apologized. Everything is fine now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The same Santa Fe Police officer who had been on the scene at the twin’s house that Christmas morning responded to the hotel and he was none too happy when he encountered another bleeding Lowery brother and a man tied up with string.
He was a little less gruff—and secretly a little gleeful—when he realized he was about to arrest a suspect that the F.B.I. hadn’t yet tracked down.
After Sullivan and Carter left in an ambulance and Massimo was carted away in handcuffs, Leonard and the women answered the authorities’ questions.
“We’ve attempted to interrogate Emma Wade at the hospital,” the lead officer said, “but that hasn’t gone well. She’s not talking, and she’s requested an attorney. It’s slow going, as you can imagine, since it’s Christmas Day. We haven’t been able to assign representation for her yet. We have no idea what her motivation was to break into the house with Mr. Lowery’s weapon.”
Something sparked in Skyler’s brain and she stepped back from the group and pulled her smartphone out of a pocket. She did a quick Google search for ‘Emma Wade’ and ‘Georgia Reece’ and came up with a New York Times article from the previous December.
“Miss Moore,” the officer said to her as she was slowly walking away from the group while she read the online story. “We’re not done here. And you really should be treated by the paramedics.”
She lowered the phone and put a hand to her forehead. “I’m quite alright, Officer.”
“Are you refusing care, ma’am?”
“Skyler, let the doctors have a look at you,” Leonard said. “You went down hard.”
“In a minute,” she said. She scanned more of the story, then sidled up next to Georgia. “Take a look at this.” She handed her phone to the diva.
Georgia read quickly, saying, “Oh my God,” more than a few times. She then looked up at the officer. “Emma Wade is the step-daughter of the man who died in the car accident that I was involved in last year.”
“You didn’t know that until this moment, Ms. Reece?” he asked.
“Of course not,” Georgia nearly screamed. “I had no idea. Massimo is the one who reached out to the design school to find the young woman to come work on my house.” Her mind was reeling. “Oh my goodness.” She exhaled slowly. She was trembling. “This all…this all makes a weird sort of sense, now.”
“It was a team effort to take you down,” Brenda said. “To scare the living shit out of you. Oh, honey. I am so sorry.”
“It looks that Brenda might be right,” Skyler said, wrapping an arm around the opera singer. “I am so very sorry, Georgia.”
“Well, I brought this on myself,” Georgia said in a defeated tone. She walked backward toward the reception desk for support.
It took a few more hours of questioning and paperwork before they were cleared to leave the hotel. When they were finally released, Leonard locked the front door of the hotel with the keys Carter had given him and then drove the women back to Georgia’s house, where she intended to stay.
“I have a lot of decompressing and processing to do,” the singer said, “and I want to do it alone.”
* * *
At a quarter to six, Leonard, Brenda, and Skyler climbed aboard the small Embraer jet and each took a seat. As the pilot stowed their luggage, Skyler peered out at the darkened ramp. She watched as a group a passengers who were lined up in the cold waiting to board a small commercial jet a few dozen yards away. She thought it was probably a Bombardier CRJ900, but she couldn’t be certain without looking up the tail number. She was about to do just that when Brenda let out a little laugh. “What is it?”
“Carter,” the chef said. “He just texted me. Sullivan’s surgery is complete. He’s going to have to spend the night. They’re keeping Darby a little while longer, too, so they put them in the same room together. Carter says that he’s certain that when he goes back tomorrow morning he’ll find out that they’ve killed each other.”
“I’m sure they’ll all be just fine,” Skyler said. “And Georgia? Have you heard anything else from her?”
“Not yet, but she must be relieved. And she’s finally safe, the poor thing. I bet she’s happy to be back in her own bed tonight. I wonder just how alone Carter’s going to let her be though.”
They set their sights on Las Vegas, Carissa Lamb, and much deserved New Year’s Eve revelry as the plane’s engines roared to life and they started speeding down the runway.
Leonard gripped his armrests and closed his eyes.
Skyler and Brenda looked at Leonard then smiled at each other as they each took a long drink from their champagne flutes.
“Onward and upward,” Brenda said.
“Absolutely.”
“Oh, and Merry Christmas,” Brenda added as she raised her glass into the air.
“We’ll see. We still have a few hours left.” Skyler looked out the window at the twinkling lights of Santa Fe as they climbed over the mountains and headed west.
THE END
Skyler Moore and friends will return
for another adventure…in Las Vegas, Nevada.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Many thanks must go to Jonathan Dixon for his invaluable guidance and to Holly Canada Barlow for her thoughtful suggestions—you both set me straight again and again. Thanks also to my sounding boards—my whip-smart sister Laura Wallis and her uber-talented husband (my brother from another mother) Jay Cooper. And last but not least, thank you to Dale Blades, for being the best friend, co-host, and partner-in-crime a guy could have.
I’ve got to thank my parents Richard and Dale Wallis, too, because without them, there would be no me.
I also greatly appreciate my friends Kristin (this book is dedicated to her because she’s my best girlfriend on Earth), her cool cat of a husband Rob; my new in-laws Sherry, Dale, Tracy, Joyce, et. al.; my best cruise buddies Michael, Jim, Marci, and Ally; my German angel Jacqueline; my hero Carlos; plus, Henry, Annie, Catherine, Matthew, Jeri, Marge, Elaine, Joanna, Monica, Melissia, Tracy, Taylor, Brent, Shelene, Carolyn, Susan, Chris, and the many others who continue to support me and enrich my life in so many ways. Thank you all.
A big fat thanks must go to my entire Advance Team who are kind enough to read early versions of my books and provide the feedback every writer needs to improve. I couldn’t do what I do without you all. Go team!
Thanks too, to the good old United States, because I am forever grateful for this great land of ours. She inspires my work every day. From the rocky coast and picturesque lakes of Maine where I spent childhood summers, to the arid deserts and striking mountains surrounding my homes in New Mexico and Nevada, to the majestic wildlife and stunning scenery in Alaska, to the oceans and seas where I am most at home, well, I am in total awe. I will continue to travel throughout the U.S.—and encourage you to get your butt to every state, too—for the pure pleasure of it and to spark my imagination for new fictional adventures to come. (Up next for Skyler—Nevada this fall, Alaska early next year, then California, Virginia, we’ll go back to Maine, and beyond. I love them all!)
And, last but not least, I thank you, dear reader. You’ve helped make my lifelong dream come true by buying reading this book. Because without you, Skyler Moore would be just a bunch of words strung together deep inside my laptop.
— Scott
ABOUT SCOTT
R. Scott Wallis is endlessly inspired by his surroundings and adventures. And he thrives on new chapt
ers and creating unique projects to keep himself out of trouble.
Scott started his working life as an advance person and assistant to a sitting United States Vice President. Later, he served as the creative director for a leading Washington think tank. That led to working directly for one of the richest men on Earth, conceiving and executing exclusive events for his billionaire friends.
Tired of working for the man, Scott ventured out on his own, becoming a celebrity interviewer and pop-culture podcaster in the top 2% of iTunes, while also dabbling in both the worlds of clothing manufacturing (creating his own baby clothes brand that was sold in over 300 stores nationwide) and retail sales, with his own well-received men's clothing store.
Always willing to lend a hand or donate what he can, he's an enthusiastic philanthropist, championing causes such as childhood bullying, suicide prevention, and animal adoption and welfare.
A wide-eyed world traveler, Scott has been to four continents, mostly by sea. While he loves exploring Europe and the Caribbean islands, it's the vast United States that he likes best. He's been to Alaska four times, Hawaii twice, and can't wait to explore the eight states he hasn't been to yet.
Technically a Connecticut Yankee, Scott grew up in historic Williamsburg, Virginia, and lived for 25 years in the Washington, D.C. area, before recently discovering that the American West is where he is most at home. He lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, with his husband and their two rescue dogs.
Learn more at www.rscottwallis.com
Scott in Santa Fe, New Mexico, 2017
The New Mexico Scoundrel Page 29
