Christmas Delivery

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Then, after making sure he was still alone, Simon left the warehouse, resetting the door lock, after which he made for the tree line, ditty bag in hand.

  What the hell should he do with the trophy until they figured out what part it had played in things? he wondered. Too risky to leave it in the back of his truck or to store it in Lexie’s house. Better if he hid it someplace in the open. Someplace where no one would think to look. Like somewhere in the swamp.

  Thinking he’d find a good spot in the area where he’d parked, he started for his truck.

  The wind had picked up, as had the cold. Rather, cold spots. They followed him into the woods. Gusts brought with them fine sprays of snow, though he hadn’t thought it was supposed to snow until later. A shiver raced through Simon and he tried to blame it on his time in the water. But there was something different about the way this felt, as if the air pressure itself had changed. Similar to the way he’d felt the other night. He stopped and peered into the gloom between two trees where he focused on waves of energy that stretched and whirled and morphed into a figure that appeared to be human.

  The ghost had returned.

  “What do you want me to see this time?” Simon whispered, the cold suddenly taking him in its grip.

  He felt an urgency, a force even, pushing him toward the faint apparition that seemed to be taking on substance. The kid appeared in his thin leather coat, the mop of pale hair falling into his face. His dark eyes were sorrowful, his mouth an angry slash in the too-pale face.

  “What is it?”

  The kid seemed agitated as he waved for Simon to follow, then whirled and pressed deeper into the woods, and Simon couldn’t have stopped himself from following the spirit if he’d wanted to. It was as if invisible strings were tugging at him, connecting him to the dead kid, making him subject to the will of someone who didn’t even exist on this plane.

  Instead, he followed a swirl of mist that, to him, seemed to be full of fury.

  Why? Simon wondered.

  Suddenly the kid stopped, twisted around to face Simon as if trying to tell him something. Or show him something. The apparition was losing substance by the second.

  Simon jogged across the short expanse, but the closer he got, the fainter the wraith became. It hovered for a moment, then seemed to dissolve into the blowing snow sweeping through the woods.

  “What the hell?”

  Simon stopped short. Why had the ghost appeared to him again, only to disappear before there was anything to see? Or was something there and he just had to look more closely?

  He stepped forward, putting one foot in front of the other like a robot, unable to stop himself until he was within a yard of where the ghost had disappeared. What now? He turned, examining the trees around him as the fog mysteriously rolled back on all sides, as if framing the suspect area.

  Nothing!

  What the hell?

  About to give up and go back to the truck, Simon felt the earth beneath his foot give a little. He looked down. The ground where he stood had been newly turned. No traces of pine needles or leaves covered it. None of the snow that limned the ground around it, delineating the small area.

  Had something been buried here?

  Wishing he had a shovel, Simon started pushing at some of the soft dirt with his foot. It scooped away easily. A strange feeling shot through him as he gauged the length and width of the patch of nude earth. Hesitating only a second, he put the ditty bag down, got to his knees and started scooping with his hands. Within seconds he uncovered part of what was buried there.

  A man, the side of his head bashed in and bloody, stared up at him through lifeless eyes.

  Simon hadn’t officially met the man, but he recognized him. Ned Perry, the land developer so desperate to get his hands on shoreline land, even one with a mass grave. The man he’d overheard trying to blackmail Brandon Drake.

  His heart thundered as he inspected the wound as best he could without touching the guy. He’d seen fatal wounds like that before—rubble falling on his comrades, cracking open their heads like fragile eggs.

  But this wound hadn’t been caused by rubble, but by a directed strike—he was certain of it. It looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to Perry’s head.

  Or a big metal trophy…

  Simon swore. Had he really been dragging around the murder weapon?

  Opening the ditty bag, he stared at the cup without touching it. No blood, of course, not after being in the water. He didn’t even know if prints would hold up.

  He had a body and undoubtedly the murder weapon.

  What now?

  Could he trust the local cops to get it right?

  Figuring Perry’s death somehow had to do with the human trafficking situation, Simon first called Bray and gave him the scoop, asked him to call that state detective brother-in-law of his and get him down here fast.

  “Just don’t mention my name,” Simon added before hanging up.

  He wiped the ditty bag to get rid of his own fingerprints, then dumped the trophy a short distance from the body—near enough to be found, far enough away not to be obvious—then jogged to the truck. Only when he was in it and on the road away from the site and heading toward Drake House did he call the Jenkins Cove Police and ask for the chief.

  “Hammer here,” came a drawl on the other end.

  “I’d like to report a murder.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Someone who doesn’t want to get involved.” Simon wasn’t about to identify himself—not yet, not before they got more answers.

  “Is this some kind of a joke?” Hammer demanded. “Who put you up to this?”

  “I was taking a walk through the woods and nearly stumbled over the body. It’s near the mass grave.”

  “Another one of them.” Hammer sounded bored.

  “No, this one’s fresh. The victim is Ned Perry. You’d better get down here, Hammer, if you want to keep your job. The state police have already been informed, and Detective Rand McClellan is already on his way.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why are we leaving now?” Phil asked, when Lexie insisted they stop for the day. “We still need to finish the last couple strings of outside lights.”

  “The sun is already down. It’ll be dark soon,” she said by way of a plausible excuse. “They can wait until tomorrow morning. I’ve already told Marie we’re heading out.”Lexie chose to leave it at that, not embellish. The fancier the story, the more likely it would raise suspicions.

  Phil shrugged and got behind the wheel of the truck and pulled down the drive. Though she looked for Simon’s truck near the gate, Lexie didn’t see it until they were on the road and she caught a glimpse of it in the sideview mirror.

  His call had at first relieved her—she’d begun to fear the worst, that something terrible had happened to him—then had made her tense. Ned Perry dead. He’d been obnoxious, but that wasn’t enough reason for someone to want to murder him. What had he been up to?

  The plan was to go back to the shop, get her SUV and then rendezvous with Simon at her place.

  But as they headed for town, two local police cars and one unmarked police car, all with lights flashing, were cutting onto a gravel road that led into the woods not far from the mass gravesite.

  “Hey, something’s up. Let’s see what’s going on,” Phil said, following before she could stop him.

  She threw an apprehensive look over her shoulder. This wasn’t part of the plan. What would Simon do?

  He kept going on the main road.

  Now she was really anxious. Why in the heck had Phil done that?

  Suddenly she realized that the police cars ahead had been abandoned, along with several other state vehicles and an ambulance. Uniformed and plainclothes officers were on foot, gathering around a spot a hundred yards away.

  Phil pulled over. “Something big must be going on. Let’s go see.”

  Again, before she could object, he acted. He flew out of the truck and
jogged through the trees. What did he think he was doing? The police weren’t going to let him anywhere near the crime scene.

  Lexie stayed behind and used her cell to call Simon. When he answered, she asked, “Where are you?”

  “Down the road on the other side of the grave. What happened?”

  “Phil took things in his own hands. Literally.”

  “Get in as close as they let you, see what you can overhear. I’ll be around, but out of sight.”

  Wishing they could be together, that she could feel Simon’s supportive arm around her, Lexie approached the knot of officials, but didn’t want to get too close, even if they let her. She didn’t want to see Ned Perry with his head bashed in.

  Chief Hammer was consulting with the state detective, Rand McClellan, whom Lexie had seen before but not met. A crime scene investigator, a couple of EMTs, and a few reporters were on the spot, too. She figured it wouldn’t be long before a television news crew showed up.

  Phil Cardon was nowhere to be found, making her wonder where he’d disappeared to, why he’d been so hell-bent on following the police cars to a crime scene, only to disappear.

  Still looking for him, Lexie hung back, not wanting anyone to notice her and make a big deal about her being where she didn’t belong.

  “Looks like he was murdered sometime last night,” came a deep male voice from the knot of people. “Struck with an unusually shaped object…could be something round.”

  “Start looking for anything that might be the weapon,” McClellan told the uniformed officers.

  Lexie backed off, circled the investigation team and quietly wandered off in the direction Simon might be hiding. The woods were gloomy. It would soon be dark. She wished things didn’t have to be like this, that Simon could be out in the open, that she could be seen with him rather than sneaking around to find him.

  A “psst” got her attention and she looked to her right.

  Standing in the shelter of a tree, Simon indicated they should move farther into the woods, away from the activity. She quickly complied and they backed off another dozen yards.

  “So what did you hear?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Only that Perry was probably killed last night. The question is why.”

  “Considering how I found him, I would guess it has something to do with the human trafficking operation.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “It was the kid again, the one I saw murdered. He led me right to the grave.”

  The ghost again. Simon was a rational man. Marie and Chelsea were both rational, too, and yet they’d both had experiences with the afterlife. And what about Bray? His touching the key had led them to Anna Bencek. If Simon thought he saw a ghost, Lexie believed it.

  “But Ned Perry?” she murmured. “I mean if he was involved in the trafficking, he should have been well-off. He was so desperate to make money he was even willing to buy land that had been a mass grave.”

  “I didn’t say he was directly involved. But he could have found out something. Maybe something about that land. What if he was blackmailing the wrong person?”

  “You mean Brandon,” Lexie said, remembering the conversation between the two men that Simon had overheard. “I don’t believe that, either.”

  “You don’t want to believe it. And you’re probably correct,” he conceded.

  Simon told her about his morning’s activities, about Doug Heller’s connection to Hans Zanko, about finding Cliff’s racing trophy, which the men obviously had been searching for.

  “Zanko tried to kill us, and he was looking for the trophy that was undoubtedly the murder weapon used on Perry. And right after I found it, the ghost led me to his body. It all has to be connected.”

  “The trophy…I heard them say Ned was struck by a round object.”

  “I dumped it in the area for them to find. Are you familiar with it?”

  “I’ve seen it. Cliff kept it on Drake’s Passage,” she admitted, then hastily added, “which doesn’t mean Cliff did it.”

  Simon nodded. “It’s looking like Heller is our man. Now we just have to prove it, get our hands on those files before he decides to destroy the evidence. His prints are probably all over them.”

  “We just have to find the cabinet the key unlocks,” Lexie said. “Which means we have to get into Drake Enterprises.” Though she was reluctant to leave him, Lexie said, “I’d better get back, before Phil comes looking for me.”

  Simon whipped her against him for a quick kiss that left Lexie breathless.

  “I’ll be watching you,” he promised.

  Reminded of the way he’d been watching her the night before, Lexie flushed as she made her way back to the crime scene. Simon was becoming more and more real to her, and she was less and less willing to give him up. What could she do to keep him? To satisfy the part of him that had changed? To keep him from carrying the justice thing too far?

  Halfway to the crime scene, she noticed a furtive movement ahead in the descending dark and slipped into the shadow of a large tree to see what was going on.

  Phil Cardon was skulking away from the crime scene, something bulky under his jacket. About to confront him, she stopped when she realized he was being followed.

  “Cardon, what do you think you’re doing there?” Chief Hammer caught up to the man, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Let me see what you’re hiding.”

  Hammer didn’t wait for Phil to cooperate, but opened Phil’s jacket and pulled a large bag free from where the other man held it to his chest.

  “Hey, you can’t do that!” Phil said.

  “I just did.” Hammer opened the bag. He reached inside and hauled out the trophy. Then a look of comprehension colored his expression. “What the hell are you doing with this?”

  “Hey, I found it. I figured it was worth something at a pawnshop. You can’t blame a guy for trying to make a few extra bucks where he can, especially during the holidays.”

  Hammer grabbed Phil’s arm and whirled him back toward the crime scene, saying, “We need to have a little chat.”

  Lexie stepped into a clearing and watched Phil try to squirm his way out of going with Hammer. The police chief had him in a tight hold and didn’t seem about to let go.

  What had Phil been doing with the trophy, undoubtedly the murder weapon? Why had he been trying to remove it from the scene of the crime?

  By the time she got back to the crime scene, Ned’s body was bagged and being carried to the ambulance. One of the officers was pushing Phil into a squad car. No doubt they were taking him in for questioning.

  Did he have something to do with the murder? With the human trafficking?

  Lexie didn’t know what to think, but everything was coming to a head. They needed to find those files.

  Before she could slip away, a man stepped in front of her. She stared at the finely cut overcoat for a few seconds before lifting her gaze to that of Detective Rand McClellan.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I was hijacked,” she said, her stomach doing a fast twirl. Thinking Bray Sloane had told his brother-in-law about Simon and her, she was tempted for a moment to confide in the state lawman. She wanted nothing more than for the state authorities to take over the investigation. “One of my seasonal workers was driving the truck. We were on our way back to the garden center when he saw the squads and decided to follow them.”

  “So where is this guy?”

  “Chief Hammer has him.”

  A look of understanding crossed his face. “Ah.”

  “I’m Lexie Thornton,” she said. When he didn’t react, she realized Bray hadn’t said anything to him. And she knew she couldn’t, either. If she did, she would betray Simon. Disappointed, she asked, “Can I go now?”

  McClellan nodded. “Sure.”

  Getting into the truck, Lexie sped away from the crime scene as fast as she dared. Once on the main road, she headed for town and looked for Simon, but he did
n’t seem to be following, probably because some of the police cars were heading out, as well.

  She called him. “I’m heading for the garden center to pick up my SUV.”

  “I’ll meet you at your place. Don’t go inside until I get there to go in with you.”

  “You’ll be there ahead of me. I’m going to pick up dinner.”

  “Lexie—”

  “Unless you want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

  “Don’t take any chances.”

  Lexie called in to a local café and ordered a couple of the blue plate specials—meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green beans—so they’d be ready by the time she got there.

  Thornton Garden Center was already closed for the night and Carole was gone. Lexie traded the truck for her SUV and headed for home.

  Waiting for her, Simon led the way inside, checking to make sure there hadn’t been a break-in, before they sat down to eat at the kitchen table.

  Lexie told him about Phil Cardon.

  “He could be an accomplice,” Simon said, “trying to get rid of evidence.”

  “Something I was wondering myself,” Lexie said. She even wondered if Phil could have attacked her, but fearing Simon’s reaction, she didn’t voice the question. “If he’s not arrested, I’m not sure I want him working for me.”

  “Does he have to work for you? Legally, I mean?”

  “He’s seasonal. I guess after we finish Drake House tomorrow morning, I can let him go. But what if his story about wanting to hock the trophy is true?”

  “You are too trusting.”

  At least he didn’t say naive.

  “Drake Enterprises is officially locked up until Monday morning,” Lexie said. “So how do we get in?”

  “Leave that to me. No problem.”

  Another reminder of Simon’s past. The mouthful of food nearly stuck in Lexie’s throat and she washed it down with half a glass of water. Would Simon ever be satisfied living a normal life again? She couldn’t imagine it.