I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Dawn Stewardson

  Yesterday, he knew she wouldn’t have noticed a single thing about the surroundings. And she sure wouldn’t have been making plans for an outing with Robbie and Cody. That phone call had made a world of difference in her. She even looked more relaxed. There was still something nagging at him about it, though, and he wished to hell he could figure out what.

  “You sure that woman’s voice didn’t sound even a little familiar?” he asked.

  She smiled. “You think I’ll magically realize it did—if you keep asking me about it every twenty minutes?”

  “Well...I keep wondering if she was disguising it. What about Vinny’s wife? It sound anything like her?”

  “Mimi? No. Besides, she’s away. Vinny said she was at a spa someplace, remember?”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t exactly rely on anything Vinny said, can we. Hell, for all we know, it’s his wife who’s been taking care of Robbie.”

  Ali smiled again and shook her head. “Mimi would never let herself get stuck in a cottage with a six-year-old. She hates kids, so it would be totally out of character. After I had Robbie, she never invited Bob and me up here again. Go right, up ahead there,” she added after a minute. “You want Muskoka Road 17.”

  Logan eased up on the gas.

  “It’s not too far now,” Ali told him once they’d left the main highway behind.

  Excitement was audible in her voice, and Logan reached over and squeezed her hand. Then he made himself concentrate on his driving. The secondary road was covered in packed snow, and there were probably icy patches. The last thing they needed was to find themselves in the ditch.

  “Turn at that little intersection coming up,” Ali said.

  He turned and they were on a narrow back road. Only a single lane had been plowed, and it wasn’t much wider than the Jeep. If he met a car coming the other way, one of them would be doing a lot of backing up. He was still half thinking about that when something Ali had said struck him. She knew it wouldn’t be Vinny’s wife who was taking care of Robbie because it would be totally out of character.

  Out of character...that was it! That’s what had been bothering him.

  If that phone call this morning had been in a novel, in one of his novels, at least, it would have been Bob who’d phoned. He’d made all the previous calls himself, so having someone else call Ali today had been out of character. But was there any significance to that, or was wondering about it just an example of his writer’s imagination working overtime?

  “There it is,” Ali said. “See that wooden sign ahead? That’s their place.”

  The sign she was pointing to was a cedar one that read Velarde’s Hideout, and the narrow drive it marked had fresh tire tracks in the recent dusting of snow.

  Logan turned in, his adrenaline pumping and his brain clicking over. Velarde’s Hideout. What kind of guy would name his cottage that? One who figured he was a throwback to Jesse James or somebody?

  The idea of an outlaw’s hideout started him thinking about Vinny’s damned innocent routine again. What a crock that had been, right from the word go—from claiming he didn’t know anything about what had happened to Robbie, to saying he’d never known Bob was into smuggling for the mob. Vinny was probably just as much of a criminal as Bob had ever been.

  And wasn’t that just terrific. Those two were the ones calling the shots, and odds were that neither of them could be trusted an inch. Logan glanced at Ali again, praying that Bob and Vinny could at least be trusted when it came to Robbie. Then the drive curved and Velarde’s Hideout was visible ahead of them.

  Logan stopped the Jeep and sat scoping out the scene. The cottage, set in a clearing surrounded by trees and bush, was an expensive-looking log A-frame—a modified design with one side extending out a good fifteen feet more than the other. The longer side had a large window in it, so that was likely the living room.

  There was nobody in sight, but from the looks of things somebody was definitely waiting for them. There was a late-model BMW parked at the end of the drive and smoke was lazily drifting from the chimney.

  “Recognize the car?” he asked Ali.

  She hesitated. “No, not that specific one, but Mimi always drove a Bimmer. So, while she’s away, Vinny could have been letting...whoever use it.”

  Logan nodded. The unknown whoever. Maybe that was his problem, maybe it was not knowing exactly what they were walking into that was making him uneasy. Somebody was in that cottage with Robbie, but it wasn’t necessarily the woman who’d phoned...wasn’t necessarily a woman at all. It could be Vinny. Hell, it could even be Bob.

  For the second time in the past few days he wished he had a gun. Apparently, there was nothing like getting involved with the criminal element to make you wish you had something that would even things up a little. Reminding himself they’d been told to come here, that they wouldn’t be taking anybody by surprise, he reached for the driver’s door handle.

  “No, you stay here,” he told Ali when she reached for hers.

  She gave him a look that said he’d lost his mind if he thought she would, and opened her door.

  Swearing silently, Logan climbed out his side. If anything unexpected happened, he’d far rather have her back in the car than right beside him.

  “I don’t see Robbie,” she said as they hurried along the drive. “I thought he’d be watching out the window for me.”

  Her stomach full of butterflies, she raced up the steps ahead of Logan and knocked. Then she waited, heart pounding. Any second now, the door would fly open and Robbie would throw himself at her. But the door didn’t open. And she couldn’t hear any sound from inside. She glanced anxiously at Logan.

  He knocked, far more insistently than she had.

  When there was still no answer, the butterflies began to multiply rapidly. Where was her son?

  “Wait here,” Logan said, turning and starting back down the steps.

  Ali stood watching him, shivering a little, her breath visible in the air.

  It was even colder up here than it had been in the city. She’d guess at least twenty below. And when Logan headed across the front of the cottage, toward the living room window, the snow was well over the tops of his cowboy boots. She could practically feel the wet iciness seeping through the legs of his jeans, but he kept plowing doggedly ahead until he reached the window.

  He peered in for a couple of seconds, rapped loudly on the glass, then started back through the snow. “There’s someone in there,” he muttered when he reached the door again. “I think it was a woman but it was hard to tell. She was all bundled up in a quilt or something. And either she’s hard-of-hearing or she was ignoring us.”

  “She’s coming now, though?”

  “Yeah, it’s tougher to ignore a face at your window than a knock on your door.”

  “But you didn’t see Robbie?”

  “No, I guess he must be—”

  The door flew open, but Robbie wasn’t there to throw himself at Ali.

  Instead, Mimi Velarde stood glaring at them, a scarf wrapped around her head, hiding most her face.

  “Mimi,” Ali whispered, not certain whether she was more taken aback by what little she could see of Mimi’s face or by the gun she was pointing at them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan’s shocked gaze was locked on the pistol. He’d never before had a woman answer a door aiming a semiautomatic at his chest. Hell, he’d never before had anyone do it. Mimi, Ali had called her. Which meant she was Vinny’s wife, even though Ali had been sure she wouldn’t be the one with Robbie. When the woman slowly lowered the pistol, he followed it with his eyes—just to make sure it ended up pointed safely at the ground.

  “Sorry,” she was saying, “I didn’t know who was out here and...but what a surprise you are, Ali.”

  Why, Logan wondered, was Mimi surprised? Hadn’t anyone told her they were coming? He forced his eyes from the gun and up to Mimi’s face, hoping to see some answers written on it.

  Instead of answers he got
another shock. Behind that scarf, Mimi’s face was almost as bruised as Vinny’s had been the other day. Her bruises weren’t nearly as fresh, though. In fact, they were well on their way to disappearing. But her skin was still tinged with purple and blue, and liberally spotted with large patches of yellow.

  Fleetingly, he thought that Vinny might not have had a run-in with Nick Sinclair’s muscle at all. Maybe the truth was that Vinny and Mimi were just into real rough stuff. Or maybe Mimi’d had a run-in with Nick Sinclair’s muscle, too. At this point, Logan wouldn’t rule anything out as being beyond belief.

  “I came for Robbie,” Ali was saying uncertainly. Seeing Mimi’s face had obviously thrown her, as well.

  “Robbie?” Mimi repeated. “You mean your Robbie? What on earth would he be doing here?”

  Ali shot Logan a look of total panic and he wrapped his arm securely around her shoulders.

  “Robbie’s not here?” he asked Mimi. “You haven’t seen him?”

  “I haven’t seen him since he was two years old,” she snapped. “And who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Ali’s. And we were told Robbie was here.”

  “Well, he isn’t. Why on earth would somebody...who said he was?”

  “Mrs. Velarde,” Logan said quietly, “Robbie was kidnapped a few days ago.”

  The anger disappeared from Mimi’s expression, leaving only confusion. “Kidnapped?” she repeated. “And someone said he was here?”

  Logan nodded.

  “My God... Oh, Ali, I’m sorry. This is the first I’ve heard about it. But please, come in,” she added, taking Ali’s arm. “Come and sit down. Tell me what’s happened.”

  It took Logan all of two seconds to realize that Bob’s throwing them a curve had catapulted Ali into the depths of despair. So, when they sat down, he filled Mimi in on the basics of what had been going on.

  “And that’s about it,” he said, reaching the end. He leaned back beside Ali, trying to read Mimi’s reactions. Thus far, he hadn’t been able to decide whether this was really the first she’d heard of Robbie’s disappearance or not. She was sitting on the other side of the fireplace from them, on the couch facing theirs—her scarf discarded, her discolored face no longer concealed.

  The cause of her bruises had turned out to be far more mundane than he’d speculated. She’d simply had a face-lift and was hiding out while the scars healed. The bit about going to a spa had been a cover.

  She had been out of town for a couple of weeks, though—seeing Vinny only when he came to the cottage on the weekends. So possibly she really hadn’t known anything. On the other hand, she might just be playing innocent.

  “Sunday,” she finally murmured. “You said this happened Sunday. You mean, while Vinny and I were sitting here in front of the fire, poor little Robbie...”

  Had Vinny been sitting here, though? Logan wondered. Or had he been the one behind those panels in the clinic, waiting to grab his partner’s son.

  “But why,” Mimi went on, “would that woman tell you Robbie was here?”

  “We have no idea. And now that we know he isn’t...” Logan covered Ali’s hand with his. Now they were back to square one.

  “This is unbelievable,” Mimi said. “I mean, the whole thing is unbelievable—Bob not really being dead, taking Robbie. My God, Ali, you must be absolutely frantic, but I’m sure everything will turn out fine. I mean, as awful as it is for you, you know Bob would take good care of his own son. I mean...he would, wouldn’t he?”

  “We’re counting on that,” Logan said. He only wished he believed they could count on it.

  “So it’s going to be fine in the end. But it’s all so...well, I know I’m being repetitious, but unbelievable is the only word. Vinny must have been shocked out of his mind when you told him. But why on earth didn’t he tell me? He phones every night.”

  Neither Logan nor Ali offered a possible explanation for that, so Mimi came up with one of her own. “I guess he didn’t want me worrying about Robbie. That must have been it.”

  “Mmm,” Logan said noncommittally. He was certain that wasn’t it at all, but damned if he had a clue what the real reason might be—assuming Mimi had been in the dark until now.

  “Yes, that must have been it,” she said again. “The doctor warned me to avoid stress while I was recovering from the surgery, so I guess Vinny was thinking about that.

  “But what I really can’t figure out is that phone call. You said the woman told you her message was from Bob?”

  When Logan nodded, Mimi pushed herself up from the couch and paced across the room. She stopped in front of a desk in the corner and stood drumming her fingernails on it. “Why on earth,” she asked at last, “would Bob have wanted you to come here?”

  “Well...we assumed Vinny had offered Bob the use of the cottage.”

  “What?” Mimi said incredulously. “You mean you thought Vinny knew what Bob was up to?”

  Logan shrugged. “We figured Bob might have asked him for help. After all, they were partners for a long time,” he added, trying not to sound as if he was blaming Vinny. It wouldn’t get them anywhere to say they’d suspected her husband had been in on things all along.

  “Oh, no,” she was saying firmly. “Oh, no, I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do, but Vinny would never be part of something like this. Besides, I’ve been up here for two weeks. So this is the last place Vinny would have suggested—if he’d wanted to help Bob, which I know he wouldn’t have.”

  As she finished speaking, Mimi glanced into the mirror hanging behind the desk and muttered something to herself. Then she looked back across the room, saying, “God, what a wreck I am, eh? I was supposed to have recovered entirely in a couple of weeks, but I turned out to be a slow healer. And now I’ve had to cancel out on a bunch of Christmas parties.

  “Oh...sorry, that was an awfully insensitive thing to say, wasn’t it, Ali. But when I saw myself in the mirror...you’ve got this trouble, though, and my problems are the last thing you want to hear about. So, look, tell me what I can do to help. Do you want me to phone Vinny? Right now? He’s out of the office a lot, so I can’t always reach him during the day, but I can try—just make certain he hasn’t heard anything from Bob.”

  “No,” Logan said. “No, I’m sure you’re right. Vinny doesn’t know anything.” Actually, the only thing he was sure of was that Mimi’s phoning would get them nowhere. If she did reach Vinny, he’d say whatever suited him.

  “Well, look, take the number here. In case you change your minds or anything. If you want me to try to get him before tonight, I will.” She rummaged in the desk for a piece of paper, scribbled the number on it and handed it to Logan.

  “Bob’s sending you up here, though...that’s still what I can’t figure out. It just doesn’t make any sense, does it. I mean, it was nothing but a wild-goose chase.”

  Suddenly, Logan felt like a prize idiot. Why hadn’t that occurred to him right off the bat?

  He turned to Ali, saying, “Bob wanted you out of the house. That’s why we’re here. Because he wanted to make sure you’d be gone for a few hours.”

  “But why?” she whispered.

  Logan sat rubbing his jaw. Damned if he knew. But he’d bet they were going to find out when they got home.

  * * *

  ALI CLASPED HER HANDS tightly in her lap as Logan turned off Bloor and started down Palmerston. She’d spent the entire drive back wishing they could get home faster. But now that they were almost there, she was scared to death about what they’d find. Or, to be accurate, about what they wouldn’t find.

  They’d only managed to come up with one possible explanation for Bob’s having sent them on what had been, as Mimi had so rightly called it, a wild-goose chase. The single reason that seemed logical was that he’d arranged for someone to drop Robbie safely off at home and had wanted her out of the house so she wouldn’t see anything she could tell the police later. She’d been trying not even to let herself hope that was it, tho
ugh, because she didn’t know what she’d do if Robbie wasn’t there waiting for her.

  Logan stopped at the intersection of Harbord, then proceeded across. She still couldn’t see the house, but in only another block—

  “Dammit to hell,” he muttered, sharply hitting the brakes.

  Her eyes flashed to him.

  He was staring straight ahead, and when her gaze followed his her heart began to pound.

  Nick Sinclair was casually standing in their path. His coat was open to the cold and he’d obviously just stepped out of the Caddy. It was tucked in between two other parked cars, the driver’s door wide open.

  “That’s Sinclair?” Logan asked.

  She nodded, too frightened to speak. Now what was happening?

  “I’ll talk to him,” Logan said, reaching for the door handle. “You stay where you are.”

  “No! You stay here with me! I’m the one he wants to talk to.”

  Logan muttered something under his breath, but sat where he was while Nick Sinclair sauntered over to her side of the Jeep.

  When he tapped on the window she opened it, her hand trembling.

  “What do you want?” Logan demanded, leaning halfway across her.

  “You’ve been gone a long time, Mrs. Weyden,” Sinclair said, ignoring both Logan and his question. “We’ve been waiting to talk to you about something.”

  Ali glanced anxiously at the Caddy again, expecting the human gorilla to have materialized from inside.

  “Nah, I’m on my own,” Sinclair said. “Gonzalez is parked down on College. We didn’t know which way you’d be coming and we wanted to talk to you before you got home. You might have some people dropping by who I don’t wanna run into.”

  She shook her head, not understanding what he was talking about. He’d definitely been waiting for her, though. That much was clear. “You wanted to talk to me about what?” she finally managed.

  “About your kid.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” she whispered.

  “Hey, don’t go getting hysterical on me, huh? The kid’s fine. I just wanna help you make sure he stays that way.”