Czytaj książkę: «Holiday Homecoming Secrets»

ONE

Detective Jade Hollis pulled her unmarked SUV into the parking lot of the deserted textile mill and parked. Five minutes ago, a call had come in from someone seeing “strange lights” in the crumbling building. Even though she was off duty, she’d only been half a mile away from the address and had volunteered to stop by.

No doubt Wally Benjamin, one of the small town’s homeless, had decided to seek shelter in the place once again. It seemed to be a favorite of his, and she couldn’t say she blamed him.

December nights were cold—and tonight the forecast called for temperatures in the high twenties with snow. She’d pulled Wally—and a few of his homeless friends—out of the building more than once last winter and taken them to the shelter on the edge of town. Jade blew out a breath and turned off the car. The heater fell silent and she sat for a moment, dreading the idea of trading her warm spot for the frigid wind.

She grimaced. The quicker she took care of this, the quicker she could get home. At least she had a home—one that was finally in the same city as her daughter. She slipped out of the driver’s seat and into the swirling snow. For a brief moment, the wind settled and dead quiet surrounded her. She heard a scraping noise coming from the interior of the old building before the wind whipped her ponytail across her face and shivers wracked her. She grabbed her coat, gloves and hat from the back seat.

After pulling everything on, she made sure she could reach her weapon. She wasn’t terribly concerned about needing it but wasn’t going in unprepared even though she was almost a hundred percent sure it was Wally in there.

But there’d been several drug-related deaths over the past three months and the suppliers were as slippery as eels, moving from one place to the next, never landing long enough for the police to find them and bust them. They always seemed to be one step ahead of law enforcement which was frustrating to everyone involved.

Jade carried the portable radio, ready to call an ambulance if Wally needed medical treatment—should it be Wally in the building. Last year, he’d suffered frostbite as a result of his refusal to go to a shelter on one of the cold nights. She lifted her chin, deciding the man didn’t have a choice tonight. She’d arrest him for...well...something...if she had to. For his own good. A heated holding cell was better than a dirt floor in a freezing cold building that had been declared a danger zone. If it was Wally. She really shouldn’t assume.

The beam of her high-powered flashlight guided her steps to the space where the front door had been. She stepped inside and swept the light over the area, then lifted the radio to call the dispatcher. “Darlene, this is Jade. Did the caller say in what part of the building he saw the lights? This place is huge.”

The radio popped, and Darlene came on. “In the main building where you usually can find Wally. The person called back and said that not only were there were lights, but possibly a small fire. Fire trucks are en route.”

“10-4. Thanks. But you can cancel the trucks. There’s no sign of a fire.” At least not in this part of the building. “Or lights.” Although she did wonder what the noise had been. Rats probably. “If I’m wrong, I’ll call you back.” The trucks could be on site within minutes if needed.

“10-4. Stay safe.”

A fire could be Wally’s attempt to stay warm, but she didn’t smell smoke. Jade cast the beam over the ceiling, noting it looked solid enough. Industrial pipes ran amok in no discernible pattern—at least the ones that were still attached—but the rows of spindles stood neatly as though waiting for someone to put them to work. Debris from the past littered the floor. Mostly broken equipment.

Jade stepped farther inside. Even with the gaping windows, the interior offered a bit of relief from the bite of the wind.

A click, then a scrape sounded somewhere from inside the vast cavern of space, and Jade shivered. This time, the chills had nothing to do with the weather. “Wally? You here?” Her voice echoed. “It’s me, Jade Hollis.”

A soft thud reached her, then silence.

The hairs on her neck spiked and her hand went to her weapon. She palmed it, taking comfort in the solid weight of it, and lifted the radio. “Darlene, send backup to the mill, will you.”

“10-4.” She made the request, then came back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” For now. “Just being cautious. I’m hearing noises but can’t pinpoint where they’re coming from or what’s making them.” Jade backed toward the door, sweeping the light from side to side. When it landed on an old trunk against the far left wall, she walked toward it, noticing the freshly mounded dirt and large pile of bricks next to it. “Weird,” she muttered. She glanced over her shoulder, straining to hear, hoping that backup would soon arrive.

A scuffle against the dirt swung her attention to the left. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“This is Detective Jade Hollis. Show yourself!”

Movement caught the corner of her eye, and Jade spun, only to be greeted with a glancing blow to the side of her head and a hard shove that sent her stumbling backward against the empty spindles. Pain shot through her as pounding footsteps faded.

With a groan, Jade rolled and fumbled for her radio.

Private investigator Bryce Kingsley hadn’t planned to be in the patrol car when the call came in. He’d planned to return to Cedar Canyon and open his own PI business—an idea his sister and therapist had wholeheartedly approved of.

But when his high school buddy and journalist, Frank Shipman, had asked him to put the PI business on hold for a short time in order to help him with a story he was looking into, Bryce hadn’t been able to say no.

“What’s going on?” he’d asked when Frank had presented him with the idea.

“There are crooked cops on the force protecting those manufacturing and dealing drugs. I need your help to figure out which cops.”

According to Frank’s sources, there’d been two attempted stings. The first place had been emptied out before they got there. The second time was an ambush. One DEA agent, Cooper Peterson, had been killed during the second sting.

“People know you in this town,” Frank had said. “They know you disappeared for a while, so when you come back, they’re going to be curious, but they won’t expect you to be undercover.”

Bryce got it.

“Cops don’t trust reporters. I’m not saying they don’t have good reasons for that, but truly, I’m not trying to hurt the honest cops. I want to take down the dirty one—or ones. Just pretend like you’re trying to decide if you want to be a cop, and no one’s going to protest you riding along with them.”

The truth was, he’d love to be a cop, but with part of his leg missing, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Frank—” He’d stopped. It could work. No one would know about his prosthesis unless he told them—or lost his balance doing something stupid. “That’s not why I’m coming home. I...have amends to make.” Jade’s pretty face had flashed to the forefront of his mind. And then his sister’s.

“All I’m asking is that you arrange for the ride-alongs and see if you notice anything suspicious. If not, fine, but something’s going on with the police and a local drug ring, and I need help figuring out what—and who—is involved.”

“Well, I—”

“Seriously, your job would be to keep your eyes and ears open. Make note of anything that looks suspicious. That’s it.”

Bryce had given up trying to argue. The truth was, his adrenaline had started to flow at the thought of the new challenge.

And so here he was. Fake leg and all. The lower half of his left leg just below the knee sported a high-tech prosthesis thanks to an IED he’d run into six months after he’d deployed. He’d finally accepted it as part of who he was now. Finally. Most days.

Bryce shook his head even as Officer Dylan Fitzgerald spun the wheel and turned in to the parking lot of the old mill. The headlights cast two strips of light onto the building, and he shivered. It was as spooky as he remembered from his teen years. Wipers battled the snow falling, and Bryce thought they were having a harder time of clearing the windshield than they had just ten minutes ago.

From his seat, he peered at the mill. The place should have been demolished years ago. However, the historical society members had screeched at the top of their lungs about wanting to have the building placed on the registry for historical landmarks. He had no idea whether they’d done that or not, and frankly, didn’t care. At the moment, his only concern was the fact that his former friend, Jade Hollis, had called for backup. Former friend? No, she’d been more. Much more. Only he’d discovered it too late to do anything about it. Two weeks before he’d deployed overseas, he’d gone to tell his sister goodbye at her college. Jade had been Kristy’s roommate and her grandmother had passed away that day. He’d found her crying, meant to comfort her and had wound up sharing one unintentional night they both regretted the next morning. But it was then he’d realized just how much Jade meant to him. Too late. “Is she all right?” he asked, reaching for the door handle and shoving aside the memories.

“I’m going to find out,” Dylan said. He pointed at Bryce. “You stay put.”

“We’ve been over this. I’ve got training. I can handle myself.” Bryce had signed a waiver absolving the department of any harm he might come to, so instead of arguing, Dylan rolled his eyes.

“Then bring that flashlight. We might need it,” the man said.

Bryce grabbed the light and followed Dylan to the door just as a noise from the end of the building caught his attention. A figure dove out of a broken window, rolled to his feet and sprinted into the wooded area behind the mill.

“You see that?” Bryce asked.

“I did.” He took off after the person. “Check on Jade! And watch your back!”

Bryce bolted toward the opening and stepped inside, keeping one hand on the weapon at his side. He flipped the light on and swept it around the interior. “Jade?”

“Back here.” Her voice reached him, sounding weak, shaky.

He hurried to her, keeping an eye on the surrounding area in case the person who’d run had company. Bryce rounded the end of the spindle row to see Jade on the floor, holding her head. Blood smeared a short path down her cheek. “You’re hurt!” For a moment, she simply stared up at him, complete shock written across her features. “Jade? Hello?” He waved a hand in front of her eyes.

She blinked. “Bryce?”

“Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder, then swung the beam of the flashlight over the rest of the interior. When he didn’t see anyone else, he focused back on Jade. The shock hadn’t faded.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah. This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to let you know I was coming home, but—”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we discuss that later? Let’s focus on you and the fact you’re bleeding from a head wound.”

“I... I’m all right. It was a glancing blow, but it made me see stars for a few seconds.”

“Did you get a look at who it was?”

“No. I thought you were in Afghanistan. Or dead. Or something.”

“Nope. None of the above.” He paused. “Well, the ‘or something’ might be accurate.” He could understand her shock. It had been six years since they’d seen each other—and that hadn’t gone exactly well. “Anyone else here?”

“I don’t think so.”

A car door slammed. Blue lights whirled through the broken windows and bounced off the concrete-and-brick walls. Bryce helped her to her feet. “Let’s get that head looked at.”

“Wait.” He could see her pulling herself together, the shock of his appearance fading. “I need to take a look at something.”

He frowned. “Okay.” She slipped away from him and went to the old trunk next to the wall. He stayed with her, and when she went still, he let his gaze follow hers. “What is it?”

“The person who hit me was very interested in whatever was over here.”

Bryce nodded to the shovel and disturbed dirt in front of the trunk. “Looks like he was trying to dig something up.” Footsteps sounded behind them and Bryce whirled, pulling his weapon and aiming the flashlight.

“It’s just me,” Dylan said, raising his hands and turning his head from the full force of the light. When Bryce lowered the gun, Dylan swiped an arm across his forehead and blew out a breath that was visible in the beam.

Bryce slid the weapon into his shoulder holster. “You catch him?”

“Afraid not. He had too much of a head start.” Dylan stepped forward, brows together over the bridge of his nose. “You okay, Jade?”

“I’m fine.” Her low voice pulled Bryce’s attention back to her. With the shovel, she’d moved dirt from in front of the trunk. “What does this look like to you?”

“Looks like someone’s been digging.”

“Yes, but why? What could they possibly be looking for out here?”

“Who knows?” Bryce studied the pile of dirt and the bricks. “Actually, I don’t think they were looking for anything. I think they were in the middle of burying something.”

Bryce was here. Bryce. Bryce. The father of her child. The child he didn’t know about. Six years ago, Bryce had shown up at her college to tell his sister, Kristy, goodbye before leaving for army boot camp. Jade remembered that day like it was yesterday. Just before he was supposed to leave, she’d received word her grandmother had died. Bryce had offered comfort. Then kissed her. A kiss that had led to them going too far and making a mistake that had resulted in Mia. She’d never regret having Mia, but that one impulsive action had been completely out of character for both her—and Bryce. Since then, she’d kept men at arm’s length.

Jade kept her face as blank as possible, raised a brow and took another look at the scene in an attempt to gather her composure. “I think you’re right,” she said slowly, doing her best to ignore the pounding in her skull and the rush of memories she’d had tucked away for so long. “But what? It’s not big enough for a grave.” He grimaced, and she shrugged. “Just an observation.”

“Maybe it’s the start of a grave,” Dylan said, pulling on blue vinyl gloves. He passed a pair to Jade, and she slid off her warm thermal ones to don the others. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Dylan shone his light into the hole in the ground and grunted. “Looks like there’s something in there.”

A wave of light-headedness hit Jade, and she stumbled backward. Bryce grabbed her arm. “Whoa. Come on. We can deal with this later. Right now, you need medical attention.”

Dylan eyed her with concern.

She waved a hand. “It’ll pass. I want to know what was so important that someone was willing to attack me over it.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Bryce said.

“I learned from watching you and Frank.” The retort rolled off her tongue effortlessly. Some habits were hard to break.

“I think you have that backward,” he muttered.

This time it was Dylan who rolled his eyes. “You two sound just like you did back in high school—like an old married couple.”

Bryce coughed.

Heat invaded Jade’s cheeks at the taunt.

“Not quite,” Jade snapped then drew in a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about the fact that Bryce was back. Here. In Cedar Canyon. One of her best friends turned...what? Turned into the biggest mistake of her life?

No. She couldn’t think that. She’d do it all over again for Mia. “You never called,” she said softly, her stomach knotted. “Six years and I never heard from you.”

Bryce snagged her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry. Right.”

So, her messages to him sent through Frank had meant nothing. He’d ignored her requests for him to get in touch with her, to call, write, send homing pigeons. Whatever he had to do, she needed to hear from him. And he’d blown her off. That hurt.

He frowned. “I was undercover a lot. On missions that...” He shook his head. “Without going into detail, communication was spotty at best most of the time.”

“Of course.” But he’d had no trouble staying in touch with Frank.

Dylan snapped his fingers and she jumped. “Anyone remember we have a possible crime scene here?” He glared at Bryce. “One you shouldn’t be privy to.”

“I have training. I was with the Criminal Investigative Division, CID, remember? And Captain Colson gave me permission. Good PR for the force and all that. So let’s focus, shall we?”

Dylan’s scowl stayed firmly put. Jade ignored him, stepped up to the edge of the hole and looked down. “It’s clothing. Only reason to bury clothing is to hide something. Let’s find out what.” She looked at Dylan. “You got a bag?”

“In the cruiser,” Dylan said. “Hold tight and I’ll get it. While I’m out there, I’ll put the paramedics on alert that you need attention.”

She started to argue, but the pounding in her skull had increased to the point that she wouldn’t mind some ibuprofen. “Fine.”

Bryce’s head snapped up. “It’s hurting that bad?”

“Bad enough. The sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner I can find an ice pack.”

He nodded, all traces of annoyance gone. In its place, worry peered at her. She swallowed and looked away. So many memories were attached to those eyes. That face...

Bryce aimed the beam of the flashlight to the hole in the ground and sucked in a breath.

“What is it?” Jade asked. Dylan returned with the bag, and she took it from him. He also handed her a water bottle and four little orange pills. “Thanks.” She downed them and turned her attention back to Bryce, who was on his knees, his face pale. “Bryce?”

“That looks like Frank’s jersey.”

Jade dropped beside him and squinted. She reached in, snagged the shirt and pulled it from the dirt. The Panthers jersey was achingly familiar. “Well, he has one like this, but so do a lot of other people. Doesn’t mean it’s his.” Number nine. Frank’s favorite kicker.

“Look at the left sleeve,” Bryce said, his voice low and tight. “Frank’s was autographed.”

She inspected the sleeve and bit her lip. “Yeah, it’s autographed.”

“Then it’s his.”

She turned it over and sucked in hard. “No. Oh no.”

“What?”

She swallowed. “Holes.”

“What kind of holes?” Bryce narrowed his eyes and drew back.

“Bullet holes, I think,” she croaked. “Two of them. In the chest. And...” Her tight throat wouldn’t allow any more words to pass.

“And?” Dylan and Bryce nearly shouted the words as one voice.

“And,” she said, “the front is soaked in blood. It’s dry, but it’s blood.”