So This is Christmas: The Adrien English Mysteries

by Josh Lanyon

  I said, “Well, right. Then when Jake and I get back, we’ll figure out…things. Don’t worry. Whatever happens, you’ve got our support.”

  “Yes, you do,” Jake said.

  She smiled—the first real smile I’d seen from her since we’d got back from London.

  * * * * *

  “Why the sudden decision to follow Ivor’s escape route?” I asked.

  Jake and I were on our way back to the house in Porter Ranch to pick up the things we’d need for our impromptu overnight trip. The skies were blue and the freeway relatively empty, which is about as good an omen for travel as you’ll get in this state.

  “I mean, aside from wanting to put space between me and Kevin,” I added.

  Jake’s cheek creased in a not-quite-smile. “Kevin’s taking the alternate route,” he said.

  “Ah. Is that metaphorical or—”

  “He’s driving Ivor’s possible alternate route home.”

  “So you just want my company?”

  “I do want your company, yeah,” he returned quite seriously. “Always. As far as why we’re making this trip? Because the Arbuckles followed my advice and filed a police report, but the cops are not moving aggressively on it. For the very reasons I was afraid of. A guy deciding to take a breather from family and loved ones after a falling-out with said family and loved ones is pretty common. Especially during the holidays. If Ivor still hasn’t turned up next week, they’ll jump into action.”

  “Next week could be too late.”

  “Yes. Today could be too late, frankly.”

  That was a depressing thought. Jake’s profile was stern behind his dark sunglasses.

  “What about accessing his phone records?” I asked.

  “The cops don’t believe they have probable cause. Not at this juncture.”

  “Great. By the time they do, that phone will be dead.”

  And maybe Ivor too.

  Ella Fitzgerald filled in the silence with “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?”

  Here comes the jackpot question in advance…

  Kind of strange—a good strange though—to think that for the first time in recent memory I actually knew who I’d be spending New Year’s Eve with.

  “Also,” Jake said, and his tone was brisk, “I thought Natalie should have some space right now to figure out what she’s doing.”

  “You think I’d try to interfere in her decision-making?”

  He smiled, although the smile seemed to be at his own thoughts. “My greater concern is her guilting you into fighting her battles for her.”

  “Whereas you’d prefer to fight them,” I said dryly.

  “I don’t mind fighting her battles if she really needs help,” Jake said. “I don’t mind fighting your battles. You fight your own battles, though, so I’d have to fight you first.”

  “This is getting complicated.”

  He threw me a sideways look. “Sometimes it is complicated.”

  I smiled out the window, but then remembered my original point. “So now you do think Ivor might have started home and run into trouble?”

  He said slowly, “Did you believe Terrill when he said he had nothing to do with his brother’s disappearance?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “And I believed the parents when they said Ivor came to dinner Christmas Eve and there was an argument. I’ve exhausted every reasonable lead on this end, so I think it’s safe to assume Ivor did decide to skip Christmas with the folks and head back to NorCal. It was late at night, it was raining like hell, and it’s a long drive. There are a lot of lonely stretches where, if he went off the road, it might be a while before anyone noticed.”

  I had a swift, sharp recollection of driving the dark and winding curves of Angeles Crest three Christmases back and thinking something very similar. The bad old days. The bad old nights.

  Hard to believe that I was sitting here next to Jake now.

  Jake said, “And the final reason I asked you along is I really do need your help.” I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but his smile was for real.

  I smiled back.

  Chapter Ten

  Kevin and Ivor lived in the city of Angels Camp, in Calaveras County in the High Sierras, which—depending on the route and traffic—was supposed to be about a six- or seven-hour drive from Pasadena. It took Jake and me six hours just to get to Fresno.

  We checked every rest stop, every truck stop, every service area and scenic overlook. We touched base with local sheriff departments and police stations.

  Kevin was driving the I-5 and making a lot better time than we were on the CA-99.

  “He’s not taking enough time to really check,” Jake commented the last time I got off the phone with Kevin. “He’s just driving the normal route. Maybe checking rest stops. He’s not thinking about what Arbuckle might do if he was too tired to drive, or got lost, or had a flat tire, or needed to stop for coffee, or use the toilet.”

  I understood what he meant. “If he’d had an accident along a major highway, we’d know about it. Even if he’d had to abandon his car for some reason, by now the registration plates would have been run and the family or Kevin would have been notified.”

  “Exactly.” Jake’s glance was approving. “Whatever happened to Arbuckle happened off the main highway, which is why his vehicle hasn’t been discovered. And it most likely happened outside L.A. County.”

  I hid a smile at this blatant bias on behalf of SoCal law enforcement. “Do you think it’s possible he decided to walk away from his life?”

  Jake seemed to think it over. “It does happen. And when it happens, the family is always as surprised as everyone else. Usually there are indicators. They may only be visible in retrospect, but they’re there. I’m not seeing any sign of that here. Granted, it’s still pretty early in the game. The kid’s only been missing four days.”

  “He’s not really a kid. He’s twenty-nine.”

  “He’s a kid to me.” He smiled faintly. “You’re a kid to me.”

  “You must be counting in cop years.”

  “Maybe.”

  “At least you can’t claim you’re old enough to be my father.” I glanced at him with exaggerated unease. “Can you?”

  His mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I was sexually precocious. I wasn’t that sexually precocious.”

  “Whew!” I mopped my forehead.

  The light was failing by the time we reached Fresno, and Jake called off our search for the night.

  The temperature had dropped to the low fifties, and it was windy and very cold when we finally booked a room—a cabin, to be precise—at a motel called the Rustic Inn. “Rustic” seemed pretty accurate. The place was right off the highway, but surrounded by a wall of Ponderosa pines that created the illusion of remoteness. The mint green paint and peeling white trim looked original 1950s—as did the elderly lady behind the reception desk. But you can’t go by appearances. The motel had earned a four-star rating on my phone app.

  Granted, you can’t always go by phone apps either.

  We’d skipped lunch in an effort to make the best possible time, and we headed straight for the adjoining coffee shop. Giant white and blue snowflakes were painted on the large windows. A ribbon of old-fashioned Christmas lights was strung along the eaves. A handful of customers—most of them looked like locals—were partaking of the evening’s special: turkey meatloaf.

  “I think I’m going for the BLT,” I told Jake. “I don’t trust anyone serving turkey four days after Christmas.”

  “Ah. Bacon. The forbidden fruit. Yeah, BLT sounds good.”

  I gazed at the nearly empty parking lot from beneath the edges of a giant snowflake. “I wonder how Natalie’s doing.”

  She had called a couple of hours earlier to say she had spoken to Bill and Lisa. They were not taking the news well, although neither had tried to argue her out of keeping the baby.

  “She’ll be okay,” Jake said. “I think this might even be good
for her.”

  “An unplanned pregnancy?”

  Blood heated my face as I heard the echo of that. I said, “I mean, I know it happens and it can work out. For the best.”

  Jake replaced his menu in the holder. He said neutrally, “Every situation is different.”

  I nodded. Glanced at him. His expression was closed. I stared back out the window. What had we been talking about before my idiot comment? I was blanking.

  Jake said quietly, “It’s not an off-limits topic.”

  “No, I know.”

  Mercifully, the waitress appeared to take our order. She departed, only to appear again with our soft drinks. When she departed the second time, I said, “What did you and Kate decide about the house?”

  Jake pulled the paper off his straw, rolled it into a pea-size ball. “We’ve accepted the lowball offer. She’s got a new job back East, so she really does need the cash.”

  Now that was news. I stared at him. “A new job? What new job?”

  He laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You know that sheriff’s position I considered taking in Vermont? They hired someone else for the job, but it didn’t work out, so Kate applied.”

  “She got the job?”

  “Yep.” He looked…proud.

  “So she’s moving to Vermont?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s news.” Why did I feel so relieved? It wasn’t like Kate was a difficult and demanding ex. There were no kids to tussle over, and they didn’t squabble over money.

  “How do you feel about that?” I asked.

  “I feel like it’s a good fit for her. She deserves this opportunity. She’ll make a great sheriff. And starting fresh is…smart.”

  I asked—reluctantly, because this was something I really didn’t want to know, “Has it been hard on her?”

  “It’s been hell for her.” His tone was flat.

  I thought that unplanned pregnancy might not be off-limits, but this sure was.

  Jake surprised me, though, by adding, “It helps that Alonzo’s leaving, but it’s not enough. She needs a complete change of scenery.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No. This is all on me. Which is why I want to do anything I can to make life easier for her—without making life harder for you. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “As for Natalie’s pregnancy—it’ll work itself out. Maybe not the way either of us would like, but it’s her life.”

  “I know.”

  “To be honest, I kind of like the idea of a kid being around. I like kids.”

  No news there.

  “You’ll probably be the closest thing that baby will have to a father,” I said. “Given Natalie’s track record with relationships.”

  He snorted. “She might surprise you. Angus might surprise you. Either way, I think you’ll play a significant role in that kid’s life.”

  If he was trying to cheer me up, he was on the wrong track. “I’m not good with kids.”

  “You’re great with kids. Emma idolizes you.”

  “Oh, well, Emma,” I said, which he seemed to find funny.

  The BLTs turned out to be pretty good—and the fresh made pumpkin pie the waitress talked us into after our meal, was even better.

  Jake suggested a walk, and though the night was cold and the moon only a slip of silver crescent behind hazy clouds, we did a couple of laps down a deserted stretch of highway adjacent to the freeway.

  It was still early, but it had been a long day, and I was glad when we finally turned in. Our cabin was a bit chilly, but as clean and Spartan as a monk’s cell. I’m guessing we passed the time a bit differently than most monks.

  Jake had come prepared with a stocking-stuffer lube—I was afraid to ask who’d gifted him that one—called Climax Bubbles. The small “sensation” bubbles popped and snapped as he worked the gel into my hole with those strong, sensitive fingers. A couple of minutes in and I was gasping and squirming in the thin, bleach-scented sheets, trembling on the edge of orgasm from that skillful touch alone.

  “Jesus, Jake,” I panted. “I can’t hold out…”

  His voice was hot against my ear. “Surrender, baby.” And his fingers did a little twist that sent tingles shooting through every molecule in my body. I arched up into his arms and came so hot, so hard, it was practically an explosion.

  I collapsed against him, moaning, “What the… I think I lost brain cells that time.”

  His chuckle was deep and sexy. “I’m sure your family thinks you’ve been losing brain cells since you met me.”

  Yeah. Which was nothing to what his family probably thought of our brain power combined. However, I wasn’t about to ruin the mood—if you could call erotic reverie a mood.

  “Got your breath back?” he teased after a few playful minutes of tweaking my almost painfully sensitive nipples.

  I shifted at the nudge of his cock, and his arm locked around my waist, lifting me and then settling me dead center on the head of his shaft. “Oh, Christ.” His voice was deep, guttural as his hips thrust up, neatly impaling me.

  A helpless sound of pleasure escaped me. My body was so used to accommodating his now. We were a perfect fit. Like a powerful hand reaching into a well-worn glove, smoothing out the kinks and creases, stroking the rough patches till they were silky soft and soothed.

  Better to give than receive? Maybe not. Not when receiving was this good.

  “I can’t help it,” he muttered, thrusting into me. “I just…want you…all the time…”

  “Jake. Jesus. Jake.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. That’s it.”

  I pushed back into those brisk, rhythmic strokes, contracting muscles, working for it together.

  The bed was jerking so hard the wooden floor squeaked loudly beneath. Sort of comical, in a distant way. The shade on the lamp was bobbing back and forth, a gray shadow in the firelight.

  Memories to be squirreled away for later. Already so many memories.

  So. Good. So. Good. So. Fucking. Good.

  I bore down hard and felt his body seize. He began to come hard, hot wet seed flooding my channel. The sweaty, sticky, sweet messiness of sex. Of love.

  He pulled me to him. I wrapped my arms around him.

  Not a “big” night. Not a night of “firsts”. Every kiss, every caress didn’t stand out in my recollection. Nothing memorable was said. Just a regular old ordinary night—I was looking forward to a lifetime of them.

  * * * * *

  We were having breakfast at a place called the Nickel and Diner when Jake’s cell phone rang.

  We were expecting to hear from Kevin, so I don’t think he even looked before he clicked to answer.

  “Riordan.”

  I could tell at once from the way his expression went from businesslike to stony that it wasn’t Kevin. He put down his fork.

  “Uh-huh.”

  What seemed to me to be a very long silence followed. I put down my fork too. He met my eyes once, then looked away, and my heart seemed to squeeze at the darkness I saw there. It wasn’t all anger. There was a lot of pain—genuine hurt—in that bleak gaze.

  I swallowed my coffee and stared out the picture window at the pine trees and mint green cabins.

  “Saturday,” Jake said. “What time?”

  Silence.

  “And this includes Adrien?” He met my gaze again, but this time I couldn’t read anything.

  “We’re in Northern California right now. I can’t say for sure. I appreciate the invitation, though.”

  The pause that followed was shorter. “Yeah,” Jake said. “Love to Mom.”

  He clicked off.

  “Was that—”

  “That was my father. We’re invited to New Year’s Eve at my parents’.”

  “Oh,” I said, because nothing else came to me. I thought this was probably a very big deal. If Jake had spoken to anyone but his mother since he’d come out to his f
amily, I was unaware of it.

  He didn’t look like it was a big deal. He looked cold and withdrawn. Zero emotion now.

  “Are we going?” I asked.

  His gaze, hard and shiny as agate, met mine and seemed to soften. He even gave a twisted kind of smile. “Don’t we have plans?”

  “Well, not really. We have a number of options. I haven’t committed to anything. I was kind of thinking we might play it by ear.”

  He shook his head.

  Which was a relief. I had no desire to meet Jake’s former loved ones. Wasn’t sure how polite I could be with the people who had convinced him for forty years that he was sick and perverted—who undoubtedly viewed me as sick and perverted—who were a big part of what had fucked him up so thoroughly.

  Except.

  They weren’t Jake’s former loved ones.

  He still loved them. I couldn’t unsee the hurt and anger that had been in his eyes while he’d been speaking with his father. Nobody has the power to destroy you like people you love.

  I said, “The thing is, this is an olive branch. They’re reaching out to you.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yeah, Jake. They are. They don’t want to start the New Year at war with their oldest son. Or their big brother. I think that’s…good.” What I actually said was “guh.” I’d been trying for something more enthusiastic, but “admirable” stuck in my craw and came out as a guh.

  ’Cause, yeah. Guh was how I really felt.

  But this wasn’t about what I felt. It was about what Jake felt, what he needed. And he needed them. Not all the time, and not in all ways, but a part of him did need something from them.

  And they deserved…a second chance.

  Everyone deserves a second chance.

  He continued to eye me in that grim, sort of pained way. “It’s not a real party. It’s just family. They’re not like your family,” he said.

  “So there’s a point in their favor.”

  He didn’t smile. “I’m serious. They’re not… You’re not going to have anything in common with them.”

  “I have you in common with them. And who cares? We’re not moving in with them. Anyway, you really do underestimate me. I can be very charming when I need to be.”