Deadly Christmas Pretense

FOUR

Liam’s almost brother, retired US marshal Mitch Whitehorse, was not prone to smiling. Liam guessed he wouldn’t be, either, with a serial killer for a sibling. But since Mitch had put Wade back in prison almost a year prior, married Jane and adopted her son Charlie, his demeanor was downright sanguine. He was loping through the living room of the Roughwater Ranch main house with Charlie on his shoulders, the day after the incident with Tammy, doing loop de loops around the giant Christmas tree.

“Playing horsie?” Liam teased. He gave Charlie a high five, reveling in the joy shining in the little boy’s face. He could barely remember life at the ranch before Charlie had arrived, and he didn’t much want to.

Mitch cocked his head, the scar on his cheek catching the winter sunlight streaming through the window. “Nah, I’m a train, of course. Anyone can see that. Charlie’s excited about riding the Train of Lights next Wednesday.”

“Choo choo, Uncle Liam,” crooned the three-year-old. The name came out sounding like “Weeum,” which made Liam grin every single time.

“Ah. Train. How could I have missed that?”

“You missed a cow, too,” Mitch added. “Got her from the lower pasture and returned her to the herd.”

Liam jerked. He wanted to blame it on his disastrous new excuse for a herd dog, but it was purely his own preoccupation. He’d spent the early morning, after the feeding duties were done, searching for Tammy Lofton and going so far as to ride to her trailer to check on her. But there’d been no sign of the woman.

“Something you want to get off your chest?”

Liam realized Mitch was watching him closely. It would be the smartest thing to do to unburden himself to Mitch, get his take on the whole situation with Tammy and the guy chasing her. But she’d asked him not to and he’d respect that—for now. “Nah. I was just being careless. Won’t happen again.”

“Careless is one thing you aren’t, brother.”

No, he wasn’t. It was why he’d earned the nickname Hound Dog from his fellow Green Berets. When he got the whiff of a mission that interested or perplexed him, he’d go after it with methodical zeal and relentless drive.

Aunt Ginny joined them and Mitch hunched down for her to plant a kiss on Charlie’s cheek. She did so and handed him a gingerbread cookie. “Your mama called and said you need your bath.”

When Charlie frowned, Liam gently poked his arm. “Hey, little cowboy. Christmas parade’s tomorrow. Gotta look your best.”

The child brightened and Mitch nodded. “Orders from the conductor. Let’s chug out of here.”

“Choo choo,” Charlie said gleefully, clutching his cookie as they galloped to the door, heading for the small house on the ranch hilltop that Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus had gifted Jane and Mitch for a wedding present.

Ginny had a file of papers tucked under one arm and a laptop under the other. As accountant and joint owner of Roughwater Ranch, she was never far from her paperwork.

“No cookie for me?” Liam said, pulling a mournful pout.

She laughed. “There’s a dozen in the kitchen for you. I didn’t even bother to wrap them up.”

“Too busy?”

“Insanely. Driftwood is swimming in holiday visitors and they all seem to want to stay at the Lodge and tour the ranch while they’re here.”

“Who wouldn’t? Good for business.”

Ginny blew out a breath. “Yes. Thank goodness your sister is a brilliant lodge manager.”

“That she is. Seen her lately? She didn’t return my call this morning.”

“Just busy, I’m sure. Speaking of which, Nan called about her saddle. I told her you’d drop it off at the Chuckwagon today.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that now.”

“And would you take your nutty dog along? He’s been staring through the back door whining because he can’t find you.”

Liam gaped. “I fenced him behind the workshop. How does he keep getting out?”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “The power of unrequited love.”

“Aw, man,” he mumbled, striding through the cozy ranch kitchen.

“Help yourself to...” The rest of her phrase died away. He could hear the merriment in her voice. He edged past yet another Christmas tree nestled near the bank of windows that framed the view of the sprawling property and the ocean beyond. The tree lights were twinkling, regardless of the daytime hour. Aunt Ginny insisted they be lit 24/7. She was as eager for Christmas as Charlie was, and Liam loved that about her.

He’d come to the ranch almost three years prior, at Helen’s suggestion, after his discharge from the Berets. He’d applied for a position as a ranch hand and Aunt Ginny and Gus had given him the job and folded him immediately into the family, as they’d done for his sister. They’d been more his parents than anyone else and he still pinched himself that God had blessed him so richly.

Grabbing two cookies from the tray, he flung the door open to see Jingles overcome with joy, dancing on his hind legs. “Down, you mutt,” Liam thundered. The dog sat, but all of his parts seemed to vibrate with contained ecstasy. Liam sighed and flung him a gingerbread arm, which Jingles intercepted midair and swallowed, swiping a floppy tongue across his mouth.

“At least you have good taste in cooking.” Liam retrieved the repaired saddle from the workshop and loaded it in the back of the truck. When he opened the driver’s door, Jingles leaped in and scooted to the passenger seat.

Liam fired up the engine and turned on the radio to a news station. He didn’t much care about the chatter but the voices comforted him. The inevitable mental quiz scrolled through his mind. Was the sound fainter? Less distinct? A familiar twist in his stomach started up again. You can still hear it. You’re all right. But how much longer until he couldn’t? The stapedectomy on his left ear had failed to correct the otosclerosis that had forced him to leave the Green Berets. He didn’t blame God for the misfortune; he’d learned as a kid that life was sometimes a rough ride through bad country. The trick was to gather up all the joy along the way and wait it out until the end. Home with God. A perfect home. The kind he’d always envisioned.

Before he coud drive away, he spotted Chad Jaggert hauling a blue spruce out of the truck and hopped out to help. “Hey,” he called, not expecting much of a reply. Younger, leaner, and way quieter than Liam and Mitch, Chad made about as much noise as a mouse wearing slippers. Unless the topic was horses or possibly boats, it was going to be a one-sided conversation. Silent, thoughtful and fiercely loyal, that was Chad, the man Liam considered to be his younger brother.

“Hey,” Chad replied, pulling on a pair of leather gloves and shouldering the tree.

“Hasn’t Aunt Ginny got enough Christmas trees?”

Chad shrugged. “She wanted it. I got it.”

And that about summed up what any of the four—Mitch, Liam, Helen and Chad—would do for Aunt Ginny.

Uncle Gus strode up, accepting his licking from Jingles. “Another tree?” He grinned. “I’m surprised she’s limited herself to five.”

“Six,” Chad said. “Got one for the tower room yesterday.”

Gus laughed outright, pulling off his cowboy hat and scrubbing a hand through his silvered hair. “That woman delights me.”

That woman.

Liam thought for a moment of Tammy Lofton. She’d been zany and impulsive, with a fun-loving outlook, but for some reason they just hadn’t clicked. He’d had other relationships that didn’t work out of course, but when she’d gone, it had left him off balance and uncertain, like a hobbled horse. If he analyzed it, the situation might have affected him especially deeply because the relationship had failed as his hearing loss had accelerated. Good thing he wasn’t prone to self-analysis.

Uncle Gus punched him playfully on the shoulder and he realized he’d not heard the last comment. He thumbed his cowboy hat back and offered a grin, which he figured fit the previous tone of the conversation, a trick that often helped him through.

“Listen, if you see your sister, tell her I’ve got the tables she needed for the festival on Wednesday. I stopped in earlier to see her but she wasn’t available.”

That made Liam take note. Not returning calls, not available at the Lodge. “Okay,” he said. “I’m droppin’ off this saddle at the Chuckwagon and then I’m headed over there. Feed’s been delivered.”

The Roughwater Ranch cattle were grass fed, but years of drought had made it necessary to supplement with hay and alfalfa. Now that they’d gotten some winter rains, the grass was reviving, and the wells and natural springs were also gradually replenishing.

Uncle Gus headed to the kitchen door to open it for Chad. Liam and Jingles headed to the Chuckwagon.

The parking lot was full at half past ten, a sure sign that holiday crowds were building. The two enormous wagon wheels that flanked either side of the wooden doors were twined with tinsel and Christmas music wafted out as he left Jingles in the truck with the window open a few inches.

“Be right back and don’t chew the upholstery.”

Jingles looked hurt, as though offended he wasn’t invited to come along. Liam shouldered the saddle and went inside.

Nan greeted him over the noisy bustle of diners. “Here for breakfast, Liam?”

“No, ma’am. Just delivering your saddle.”

“Super, since there’s not an empty table in the place. I don’t know what I would have done if Tammy hadn’t showed up.”

“Tammy?”

“Yeah. She came in this morning and I hired her back immediately. She’s been an absolute lifesaver.” Nan shook her head. “Weird. When she was here last, she was a server only, said she couldn’t even boil water, and now it’s like she’s perfectly at home behind the stove. Even baked the pumpkin pies this morning, before her waitressing shift. I don’t know how she doctored the filling, but, man, are they luscious. Why didn’t I know she was a kitchen savant?”

Why indeed? He scanned the diners and servers. “Where is she?”

“I’m sending her over to the Lodge with the order of pies for their lunch service. Think she’s loading up the van right now.”

He thanked her and left the saddle, hurrying back outside. The Chuckwagon van was parked in the back, the rear doors open. Tammy was sliding in the last pastry box, her dark hair draped forward over her eyes. Jeans and a Chuckwagon T-shirt made her look much younger than her thirty-two years—or maybe it was her slender frame and lace-up sneakers.

“Morning,” he said.

She jumped, whirling to face him. “Oh...hi.”

“Understand you’re working here again.”

“Um, yes.” She slammed the back doors and made to edge by him to the driver’s seat. The closer he came, the more the sensation that something was amiss trickled through his gut. “Taking these pies over to the Lodge.”

“Right. Can we talk a minute?”

“No, not right now. Delivering, as I said.”

She reached for the door and he caught her hand in his. Small fingers, strong and pleasantly toughened from hard work, but tiny and delicate. Strange. He remembered her hands being soft as silk.

“Aw,” he said. “You have a half second for one quick question right? For old time’s sake?”

She froze, head angled down so the hair shadowed her face. He let go of her hand and slid a finger under her chin, gently tipping it upward. The eyes that greeted his were familiar, the combined green and brown of summer turning to fall. Familiar, but not completely. A halo of gold edged the irises, molten and vibrant. “Tam, your eyes have kind of a green tint, you know,” he said slowly. “But now I’m looking close, I see a wash of gold there, like the sun setting into the ocean.”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. “Uh...” she managed to finally say. “I have to hurry and get back for the lunch rush.”

He let the smile ease over his face as he leaned a fraction closer until the brim of his cowboy hat shadowed them both. “Just one question,” he murmured.

She tried to look away but again he guided her gaze back to his with the lightest pressure under her chin. The gold was sparked with concern as she stared at him, one lip caught between her teeth.

“Who are you really?” he said.

Caught. Nan and the few patrons who’d assumed she was her sister had asked no questions. Even the man who’d seemed intent on killing her had mistaken her for Tammy. But there was no deceiving the cowboy who stood before her, every inch a stubbled and stubborn man, steely eyed and determined.

She eased back a step, away from the touch of his long, calloused fingers, and folded her arms across her chest, desperately trying to identify an escape route. When she risked a look, he was regarding her from under the brim of his cowboy hat with a half smile that spoke of amusement rather than anger.

“You’re not Tammy. What’s your name?” he asked.

“Maggie,” she mumbled to her shoes.

“A little louder, if you don’t mind,” he said, cocking his head slightly.

Sucking in a breath, she leveled a square look at him, noting that his irises were the color of stonewashed denim.

“My name is Maggie Lofton. I’m Tammy’s twin sister.”

“You don’t say?” Now his smile was wider, as if the information amused him. “Not identical, now that I’m really looking.”

His frank stare did not make her uncomfortable for some reason, just worried that she had already messed up on her impromptu investigation.

“Fraternal,” she said. “I’m the younger one by two minutes.”

He laughed at that and she found herself smiling.

“Tammy told me she had a sister. I don’t recall hearing you were twins.”

It was Maggie’s turn to fix him with a look. “You two dated for four months, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you tell her everything about your life?”

That made him blink and look away for a moment, gaze shifting from her to the winter sky. “No,” he said. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Okay, well I’m glad we talked and I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming right away. I, uh, have a good reason, if that means anything. Um, see you later.”

“Uh-uh. You owe me an explanation.” The soft drawl in his voice did not lessen the intensity of his command.

She wanted to tell him she owed him nothing, but she recalled the feel of his muscles struggling to haul her up over the lighthouse railing. In fact, she owed him her life. The reality of that made her want to sprint away into the tall green grass that edged the parking area.

“I...” she started to say when his phone rang, too loud. She figured he had it turned up so that he could hear it.

“Hang on one minute, ma’am,” he said.

She sighed. “First off, now that you know my real name, you can knock off the ma’am thing. Second, I’m not waiting. I have to go.”

But he was already answering the phone. The genial inquisitiveness in his expression turned to concern. “I’m on my way,” he told the caller.

She took it as her reprieve until he shoved the phone into the rear pocket of his faded jeans.

“That was my sister, Helen. She asked me to come ASAP to discuss a situation.”

“Sounds serious. You should go.”

He was silent for a moment, drawing out his keys. He whirled the key ring around his finger, expression calculating in a way that made her squirm. She’d just decided to forget the debt she owed Liam, get into the van and put as much distance as she could between the two of them when he spoke again.

“Helen said she called over here to the Chuckwagon just now and heard I was chatting with you, so she told me to bring you along. That will suit, since you’re headed there anyway, right—” he added after a pause “—Maggie?”

FIVE

There seemed to be no choice at all, so Maggie, in the van, followed Liam to the Lodge, wondering the entire ten-mile journey why Liam’s sister had summoned her. Tammy had mentioned Helen a few times—they were friends—but Maggie could not imagine what Helen wanted.

At least it had bought her some time to avoid Liam’s questions. He’d busted her right and proper. So far she had discovered nothing about whom her sister might have entrusted with the jewelry Virgil Salvador sought so desperately or where her sister might possibly be staying. How much longer would it be before she heard from her?

Tammy, where are you? Tension knotted her already taut muscles even tighter. And something else zinged along her nerves: a strange buzz that had started up when she’d looked into Liam’s face as he’d described her eyes... A wash of gold there, like the sun setting into the ocean.

Tammy had always been the one to whom men paid attention...her outgoing, bubbly spirit, the long, fashionable hair and trendy outfits. It was just the way things were and it had never caused Maggie a moment of angst. She wasn’t the belle of the ball, more like the star of the stove, which suited her just fine. Liam’s scrutiny unsettled her. That was all. Who wouldn’t be rattled with the current situation?

There was no more time to mull it over as she pulled the van up at her destination. She marveled at the rich wood exterior and peaked roof of the rustic building. Enormous Christmas trees, glittering with ornaments, flanked either side of the substantial front doors. The porch itself housed cozy cushioned benches and pots of crimson poinsettias. Liam caught up to her, Jingles’s nails scrabbling on the flagstones in hot pursuit.

He stepped ahead and pulled open the heavy oak door for her. Though his smile was pleasant, concern pinched the corners of his mouth.

“Jingles, you stay out—” Liam didn’t finish his sentence before the dog trotted right into the pine-scented lobby.

Giggling, Maggie sailed in, too, leaving Liam grumbling along behind her. The lobby was as glorious as the exterior, all dark woods and comfy seating areas, illuminated by a massive chandelier formed from a collection of antlers. Cheerful clusters of people sipped cider and hot chocolate. The stone fireplace dwarfed the space, the mantel artistically decorated with greenery, crystal icicles and a white porcelain Nativity scene. Yet another Christmas tree, this one decorated with gold and silver balls, stood sentry near the front desk.

A woman with auburn hair twisted into a neat chignon, despite the pencil skewered through the elegant twist, hurried out to meet them. She blinked when she saw Maggie before she extended a manicured hand. “I’m Helen, Liam’s sister.”

Liam didn’t waste time on the niceties. “What’s wrong? Why did you need to see us both? How did you know she was Maggie, not Tammy?”

“Stand down, soldier,” she said. “Come with me.” She led them behind the front desk, nodding pleasantly to the couple checking in with the young employee. “Welcome to Roughwater Lodge,” she called out before they entered a quiet hallway and climbed a narrow flight of stairs.