Christmas Past

by Mary Burton

  She nibbled her lip. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Braxton was never honest or predictable and there is no reason why he should start being upfront now.”

  She considered his words. “You’re right. I’m rushing in like a fool.”

  “You’re no fool. You’re trusting and kind. He knew that when he made the tape and he is taking advantage of it.”

  He pressed his hand into the small of her back and guided her out of the office. They moved past the cubicles, down the steps, and out to the parking lot where his dark Crown Vic was parked. A blast of cold air cut across the asphalt making her wince. Her leather coat wasn’t heavy duty and he almost chided her for the choice. He stopped himself. She didn’t need another man telling her how to live her life.

  Ayden opened the door and she slid into the cold interior. He moved around the front of the car, got behind the wheel, and fired up the engine. He turned on the heater but cold air blasted them. “It’ll take a moment to heat up.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your lips are blue.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “It’s the newest shade this season.”

  He grinned, put the car in gear and headed toward the main road. “Pink looks better on you.”

  A silence settled over the car as he maneuvered through the traffic on Parham Road and got onto the interstate. Soon, they were northbound on I-95. “With luck it’ll be less than two hours.”

  The heater finally was pushing out warm air and she held her hands to the vent. Her nails were short and her hands chafed.

  “You’ve been working in the darkroom again.” He kept his gaze on the road ahead but out of the corner of his eye he saw her turn to him.

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Your hands. Looks like you’ve been using developing chemicals. And I remember you saying the commercial stuff is mostly digital now.”

  She curled her fingers as if to hide their rough edges. “I heard you were a good detective.”

  He wanted to keep the conversation light and away from Braxton. “So I’m right.”

  “You are. I’ve got a show opening in January. Nothing huge, but it’s a start.”

  “Congratulations. That’s no small feat. You must be busy.”

  A half smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “Most days I barely have time to brush my hair. Between the baby and the business and the art there’s barely time to breathe, but somehow it’s all coming together.”

  No mention of a man. Good. “You’re still doing mostly portraits?”

  “You remembered?” She sounded shocked.

  He remembered everything about her. “You said something once about not doing landscapes anymore. That people were more your style now.”

  She relaxed when she talked about her work. “That’s right. Something in me changed, so it stands to reason the art would change as well.”

  He fumbled to find more things to talk to her about. “How’s Beth doing?” He’d thought he was over the baby phase in his life and didn’t want more children, but he’d fallen for that little girl as hard as he had for Nicole.

  Nicole’s eyes glistened with pride. “She’s great. She’s crawling now.”

  “Tearing the place up?”

  “Every chance she gets.” She shifted toward him. “How are the boys?”

  “Great. Zane was accepted to Virginia Tech.”

  “Wonderful. And Caleb, he should be looking at college soon.”

  “He wants to go to Tech, but his grades are borderline. We’ll see.”

  If his two teenage sons were in the backseat they’d be busting a gut laughing watching their old man struggle to make conversation. He never lacked for words when it came to them or to work. But with Nicole the sentences did not flow. He wanted to talk about the kiss they’d shared in April and if she was ready for more now. But he didn’t want to push her. So he lapsed into silence and kept his mind on the thickening traffic. At the horizon a thick band of gray clouds promised snow. As awkward as all this was, he’d never have let her go alone.

  As minutes passed, he noticed that Nicole folded and unfolded her fingers a few times. Something was on her mind.

  Finally, she turned in the seat and faced him. “I owe you an apology.”

  That caught him short. “How so?”

  She moistened her lips, hesitating, as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “Back in April. When you kissed me.”

  Her candor surprised him a little. He cleared his throat. “Nothing to apologize for.”

  “I gave you really mixed signals that day.”

  “You had a lot on your plate. It’s okay to not always know what you want.”

  She sighed. “It’s not that simple. I mean, I really liked it when you kissed me. It was a great kiss.”

  “But…”

  “But it felt like everything between us was happening so fast.”

  “You’re right. We were getting close quickly.” He’d welcomed the fast pace.

  She smoothed her hands over her jeans. “My courtship with Richard was very quick. I jumped in without thinking. I swore I’d never do that again.”

  He didn’t like any comparison to Braxton. “I would never hurt you.”

  “I know.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I’m messing this up. I know you would never hurt me.”

  When Ayden’s wife had been alive, they could read each other’s thoughts. With Nicole it was all uncharted territory. Frightening and exciting. “So your point is?”

  “When you kissed me, I hadn’t felt like that in a really long time. It just about knocked me off my feet. And I guess that kind of intensity scared me.”

  “Fair enough.” Gratefully, his voice remained steady.

  She moistened her lips. “I’m not in a position to make any promises or commitments, but if you want to get together again, I’d like that.”

  He gripped the steering wheel, praying he kept the car on the road. “Define together.”

  She didn’t answer right away. “Sex.”

  As much as he wanted her in his bed and his life, he hesitated, “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess that video kinda rattled my world. I mean, the feelings for you have always been there, but the video reminded me we only have today.”

  “Okay.” He could barely process this. “Are you sure this isn’t about getting back at Braxton?”

  She thought for a moment. “No, it’s not.”

  He believed her. “Okay.”

  “I’ll warn you. It’s been a while and I might not be any good at it anymore.”

  “I doubt that’s true.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The way you kissed me in April.”

  “Oh.” A frown creased her forehead. “That was good?”

  “Yeah.”

  She tugged at a loose thread on her cuff. “Just remember I can’t make a commitment.”

  “What makes you think I want one?”

  She blinked. “Because that’s the kind of guy you are. Rock solid. The marrying kind. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry again.”

  She was right. He did want her long term. But if this was all she could give him, then so be it. “All right.”

  “All right, what?”

  “I accept your terms. Sex with no commitment.”

  Surprise widened her eyes a fraction. “I don’t believe you.”

  He glanced at her and held her gaze just for a moment. “I’m fine with that.”

  Nicole blushed. “Oh.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Well, yeah.” She shook her head.

  “What’s the term? Friends with benefits?”

  She laughed. “Yeah.”

  “We’re still friends, I hope?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, then we’ll work the benefits out.”

  She shoved her fingers through her hair. “Okay.”

  He was glad to see he wasn’t t
he only one who was nervous. Unsure of what else to say, he sunk into a silence and kept his attention on the I-95 traffic. Snow had started to fall and it was getting harder and harder to see. The traffic was beyond thick now and cars were bumper to bumper the last few miles.

  Soon they took the eastern side of the beltway around the Washington, D.C., metro area and took the Old Towne Alexandria exit. They wound their way through snowy cobblestone streets until they reached the law offices of Wellington and James. Ayden parked the car in the firm’s lot.

  “This weather isn’t looking so good,” he said.

  The clouds were gray and plump with moisture. “Do you think we’ll be able to get back tonight?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll know better when we get a look at the roads after this meeting.”

  “Maybe it’ll go quickly?”

  He wasn’t optimistic. “Let’s hope.”

  They got out of the car and he met her on her side. Nicole was very aware of him—his scent, the way he towered over her, and the firm pressure of his hand on the small of her back. A jolt of energy shot up her arm.

  He guided her into the law offices of Wellington and James. The building was located on Union Street and was at least a hundred years old. It had a brick facade and steps and black wrought iron railing. The front door was painted a bright red and a brass knocker hung in the center. A full lush green wreath with a velvet crimson bow hung from the door.

  Ayden pushed open the door and they entered the lobby. The reception area was small but nicely decorated. It wasn’t to her tastes—very colonial and very old Virginia. But it was nice. A Chippendale couch and chair hugged the exterior walls and an Oriental rug warmed the floor. A mahogany desk with a state of the art phone sat across from them. It all looked antique and expensive.

  “This would have been the kind of place Richard would have chosen,” she said. “It would have suited his ego to know he had an old firm that was well connected. He always insisted on the best.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Despite the wreath on the outside door, no Christmas decorations adorned the interior. And no one sat at the receptionist desk to greet them. They stood there for a couple of minutes before Ayden cleared his throat. Seconds later they heard quick, purposeful footsteps in the back hallway.

  A woman appeared. She was dressed in a sleek dark suit, white shirt, and tasteful pearls. Rich, full, auburn hair hung around her shoulders and framed an oval face. A high slash of cheekbones made her look like a model.

  Nicole shifted her stance when she got a good look at the lawyer. This woman would have been Richard’s type. He liked polish and sophistication. The bastard had tried to ingrain that same sleekness in her. On their first date he’d suggested that a change in her eye shadow would enhance her eyes. And like a fool she’d changed the shade for him.

  Nicole glanced at her faded jeans, old sweater, and scuffed leather jacket. She took a perverse satisfaction in her disheveled appearance, knowing Richard would have been appalled.

  “May I help you?” The woman’s voice was as cultured as her appearance.

  “I’m Nicole Piper,” she said clearly. “I received a package from your office. You have something for me.”

  “I’m Sergeant David Ayden. I called earlier,” Ayden added.

  The woman lifted a brow as her gaze settled on Ayden. “You called about Christina Braxton.”

  “I no longer use that name,” Nicole said.

  The woman’s gaze flickered to her, but she showed no reaction to the comment. She was clearly accustomed to hiding her thoughts. “My name is Charlotte Wellington.” She extended a manicured hand. She possessed a surprisingly strong grip. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Ms. Wellington released her hand and took Ayden’s. She held his hand an extra beat, a subtle appreciation glowing in her eyes.

  Nicole felt a pang of jealousy but tamped it down. Ayden wasn’t hers. She had no holds on him.

  Amusement flickered in Ms. Wellington’s eyes when she looked at Nicole. “If you two will follow me into the conference room, I will get your file.”

  The two followed Ms. Wellington down a short hall. Off to the side was a small conference room with a round table. The walls were painted cream and paintings of various English hunt scenes decorated the walls.

  As Nicole shrugged off her dark jacket, Ayden moved behind her and reached for it. This close, his scent enveloped her and his fingertips brushed her bare skin at the nape of her neck as he pulled the jacket from her. The innocent touch set her nerves on fire.

  Ayden seemed unmoved as he draped it over an empty chair. Her heart was racing. He shrugged off his own coat, laid it over hers and took the seat beside her. Broad shoulders brushed hers.

  “This should be interesting,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t even close to okay. “I just want this over with.”

  “It will be soon.”

  Ms. Wellington returned and sat at the head of the table. “Please excuse the lack of staff today. I let everyone go early for the holidays.”

  “Thank you for staying to see us,” Ayden said.

  “Are the roads as bad as I think?” she said easily.

  “Not too bad yet, but they’ll be a mess soon enough,” Ayden said.

  Ms. Wellington nodded. “They’re calling for five inches.”

  Nicole tempered her rising temper. She’d lost all patience for polite conversation since she’d left Richard. “Can you tell me what Richard left me?”

  “Yes.” She removed an unopened manila envelope from her folder. “Mr. Braxton retained my services about eighteen months ago.”

  “In July?” Ayden asked.

  “Yes. He stopped by only briefly and appeared to be in a rush.”

  Nicole’s insides tightened with anger. Her husband had been in a rush to get to Richmond, so that he could kill her. “May I see the envelope?”

  Ms. Wellington pressed long fingers over the folder. “First I will need to see identification.”

  “That may be a problem,” Nicole said. “As I said, I have changed my name.”

  The woman lifted a brow. “Do you have anything that identifies you as Christina Braxton?”

  “No. I didn’t bring anything with that name on it when I left California. My driver’s license says Nicole Piper. And you addressed the envelope to Nicole Piper.”

  Ms. Wellington pursed her lips. “But I’m to give this information only to Christina Braxton. Unless you have identification, I cannot release the information to you. Mr. Braxton was very specific. He only wanted me to give the envelope to Christina Braxton.”

  Frustration ate at Nicole. Everywhere she turned Richard was screwing with her life. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Can you give me your social security number?” the attorney asked.

  Nicole drew in a breath. She rattled off the number.

  Ms. Wellington raised an eyebrow and nodded. “And your home address in California?”

  Nicole held a tart remark. “Twenty-three Pacific Breeze.”

  “Correct again.”

  Nicole leaned forward. “And just to save you the trouble of asking, Richard’s middle name was Alonzo. His mother’s maiden name was Rodriguez and his birthday was May second.”

  Ms. Wellington met her gaze and held it a moment. “You’ve made your point.”

  “May I see the folder?” Her patience was ready to snap.

  “Just sign here. It’s simply a statement that shows you’ve accepted responsibility for the contents.”

  Nicole took the pen and paper. “Which name should I sign?”

  “Christina Braxton.”

  Aware that Ayden was watching her she signed her old name, adding flourish to the C and B as she’d done in the old days. She pushed the paper back toward the attorney, grateful to have it away from her.

  “I will leave you two alone,” Ms. Wellington said. She tucked the
paper in a file and rose. “Just let me know when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks.” Nicole didn’t raise her gaze from the envelope. When the attorney had closed the door behind her Nicole looked at Ayden. Suddenly she was afraid. “I can’t open it.”

  She knew Richard. He had brought her up here to terrorize her. That’s what he liked to do best.

  Seeming to understand her hesitation, Ayden nodded. Grimfaced, he ripped open the sealed edge with his thumb and glanced at the contents. “Damn it to hell.”

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday, December 23, 1:00 P.M.

  “What is it?” Nicole felt her throat tighten with dread.

  Ayden laid the pages face down. “Pictures.”

  Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest. “What kind of pictures?”

  His jaw tightened and released. “Pictures of a murder scene. Claire Carmichael’s murder scene.”

  She felt sick. “Taken by the police?”

  “No. The killer.” He laid his hands on the pictures, clearly unwilling to let her see them.

  She blew out a breath. “How do you know that?”

  Ayden tapped his thumb on the table. A small muscle pulsed in his tight jaw. “She’s still alive.”

  Nicole raised a shaking hand to her lips. She didn’t want to picture her friend at the mercy of a killer, but dark, frightening images flashed in her head. Nicole knew Claire’s face had been cut dozens of times with a razor.

  Smoothing unsteady hands over her thighs she tamped down the fear that clawed at her. She was so glad that Ayden was here now. “Is there anything that tells us who the killer is?”

  “Not at first glance, but forensics and the San Francisco police need to go over these.” He glanced in the envelope. “There’s also a key on the bottom.”

  “A key?”

  He pulled the key out and handed it to her. She picked it up and studied it.

  “A safety deposit box key?”

  “That’s my guess.” He fished in the envelope again. “There’s a card in here as well. It gives the name of a bank.”

  Bitter anger roiled inside her. “So he’s sending us on a scavenger hunt?”

  A hunter’s intensity radiated from Ayden. “It appears so.”