Читать книгу Love, Lies and Mistletoe - Jennifer Snow, Jennifer Snow - Страница 12
ОглавлениеJACOB ENTERED THE locker room at the station a few hours later. All afternoon he’d been dying to read the letter from his nephew, but a few emergencies had kept him busy. Pearl Howard, the woman who owned the flower shop on Main Street, had reported a lost cat, and it had taken nearly an hour to locate the tabby—locked accidentally in her coat closet when she’d come home from the supermarket. Unbelievable. In the city, he’d never have answered a missing cat call.
What constituted an emergency in Brookhollow was so different from in New York, and by now Jacob should have learned not to answer the more ridiculous calls. They were making him crazy. Unfortunately, he had to keep up the act.
“Hey, Jake,” Ethan Bishop, Sheriff Bishop’s son and head of the fire department, said as he entered the shared locker room, removing his jacket.
“Hi.” Jacob sat on the bench and removed his boots.
“I heard Mrs. Howard found her cat,” he said, hanging his gear on the hook and reaching for his jeans.
“She sure did.”
Ethan laughed. “I swear she locks him away on purpose to have us stop by for company.”
Pearl had looked slightly disappointed to see Jacob pull up in the squad car instead of the firemen. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” She had invited him to stay for tea and cookies afterward, which he’d refused, so instead she’d asked him to clear her walkway, which he’d done.
“Hey, man—do you ever wish there were real emergency calls around here? A burning shed, at least?” He couldn’t understand how guys like Ethan—young, fit, ambitious and hardworking—could be satisfied with the snail’s pace of life in Brookhollow.
But Ethan shook his head. “Nope. The last time there was a real fire here, it was in my wife’s garage.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it worked out for the best. She wasn’t there, and the garage got rebuilt to code, which I’d been begging her to do for years. But it was still scary.”
“I guess in a small town, a real emergency could mean your own family or friends are involved.” Heck, even in New York, his job had affected the well-being of his family.
“Yeah, that’s why we’re totally fine being bored out of our minds,” Ethan said, grabbing his winter coat from the locker. “Hey, I know some of the guys asked you before, but...here,” he said, taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to him.
Jacob opened it. The bowling league again.
“We need a couple extras for the tournament in a few weeks. If you know how to roll a straight ball even just by fluke, you’re in, if you’re interested,” he said.
“Thanks. I’ll...uh...think about it.”
“Okay. See ya around,” Ethan said as he left.
Alone, Jacob balled the paper and tossed it into the trash can in the corner. Bowling was something he and Kyle used to enjoy together. They’d even joined a family league before Jacob had taken the promotion to undercover agent. The disappointment on Kyle’s face when he’d told him their weekly bowling nights would be suspended for a while had torn a hole through him, and participating in the sport now, without his nephew, would make him feel like crap.
Reaching into the back of the locker, he retrieved the already opened letter from Kyle. The return address had been cut from the corner of the envelope, and for the millionth time, Jacob wondered where they’d been sent. He hoped it was somewhere sunny and warm and fun, at least. He wished he was somewhere warm, sunny and fun. Hiding out on a beach in California surrounded by beautiful women and unlimited cocktails would be easier to swallow. An image of Heather behind the pool hall bar flashed in his mind. Okay, two out of three, but still no beach. And besides, she’d told him earlier she was applying for a job in New York. Pretty soon, the only thing making his time there bearable would be gone.
Unfolding the letter, he read.
Dear Uncle Jacob,
How are you? We are fine. Mom says hello, even though she said she is still mad at you. I’m not. The school here is better than the one in New York, they even have snowboarding lessons.
Snowboarding lessons? Colorado?
Mom says you’re probably lying around on a beach somewhere.
Ha! He wished he’d been able to be honest with his sister about his plan when he’d told her he wasn’t going into the program with her and Kyle—it might have made her a little less angry with him. Maybe.
I’ve made some new friends and I’m ahead of everyone with math and English, so the teacher asked me to be her helper. Isn’t that great?
Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. That was great. For a kid who struggled with Asperger’s and being bullied, it was great to hear he was doing well in this new place. No doubt a small town, where their story wasn’t being questioned as much as his own, and where people were accepting of them as a young single mom and son starting over in a new place.
I’m going to see Santa next week at the mall. I’m going to ask him to make sure the police catch the bad guys wanting to hurt us, so we can all be together again in time for Christmas. You ask for the same thing, too, okay? Maybe if we both ask for it, we’ll get it.
Love you Stinker,
Kyle
Jacob sighed as he folded the letter. If only he still believed in Christmas miracles...but he’d stopped believing in holiday magic a long time ago.
* * *
IT WAS GOING to take a Christmas miracle to get her out of Brookhollow before the holidays, Heather thought as she stared at the returned email notification. Invalid email address was the reason the résumé she’d sent to Mike Ainsley hadn’t been delivered. Almost twelve hours later! Shutting down the email on her phone, she dialed her sister’s number.
“Hello?” Cam’s sleepy voice said after the fourth ring.
“Were you asleep?” She glanced at the beer-can-shaped, neon-rimmed clock above the bar. Her sister was a night owl, so she hadn’t thought twice about calling after ten.
“No. I’m going over some testimonies for court tomorrow, what’s up?”
Cam was a prosecuting attorney for the DA’s office in New York and often brought her work home with her. Heather marveled over her sister’s ability to juggle her important, high-powered career with being a wife and mom. Cameron had inherited their parents’ work ethic and ambition, but had somehow gone above that and developed a work-life balance. Tonight she sounded stressed, though, and Heather almost hesitated before saying, “You gave me the wrong email address for Mike Ainsley.”
“No, I didn’t. You must have written it down wrong.” This was exactly why her sister was so great at her job. She was never wrong and had a way of wording things that made people question their own arguments.
“Maybe,” Heather mumbled. “Either way, the résumé I sent today bounced back.”
“Come on, Heather. One sec...” She heard the sound of shuffling papers. “Okay, write this down...”
After Heather copied the insane email address for the second time, she tucked the paper into her apron pocket. “It’s a wonder any of his emails actually reach him. What’s with this crazy email address anyway? I doubt M Ainsley at Highstone Acquisitions was taken,” she mumbled.
“I don’t know,” Cameron said distractedly. It sounded more like I don’t care. “Send it again now.”
“I can’t. I’m at work. I just checked the email on my phone.”
“Well, leave work and go send it. This is more important.”
Her sister didn’t get that she had responsibilities here that she couldn’t just abandon. “Cam, I’ll send it again in the morning. I have to get back to work. Talk soon,” she said, disconnecting the call as the front door opened and Sheriff Matthews entered.
If I was going to eat with someone, it would be you. Not exactly a charmer, but his earlier words in the diner seemed to almost mean more, coming from him, than the most flowery compliment from anyone else. Niceness was obviously not his forte. “Hello again,” she said as he took his usual seat at the bar.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you put stuff in my drinks?” He removed his leather jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his dark blue crew neck sweater as he sat, revealing several scars on his left forearm. They only enhanced his rugged, manly attractiveness.
He was a great-looking guy. If he could work on his game a little bit, he wouldn’t have any trouble attracting women around town. “Like what—roofies?” She’d never had that much trouble securing a date, she mused.
“No, like spit.”
She laughed so hard her sides hurt, and she bent at the waist. When she looked at him again, his unamused expression made her laugh even harder. “I’m sorry...” She struggled to catch her breath. “Tina and Joey are actually tampering with your food at the diner?” Wow, they must really not like this guy. She almost pitied him. Sure, he was rude, and arrogant, and condescending... Wait—where was she going with that thought?
“Can I get a beer, please?”
She nodded, suppressing another laugh. Reaching into the mini-fridge, she took out a bottle of the brand he usually ordered, twisted off the cap and handed it to him. “Want to start a tab?”
He usually paid cash, and it annoyed her, as she had to constantly ring in his drinks and cash him out each time. But still, she always asked, and that evening, he surprised her.
“Sure.”
She smiled. “Great. ID, please.”
“Really? I’m sitting right here. And I’m a police officer. I’m not going to skip out on the bill.”
“Rules are rules. Aren’t you always going around trying to enforce the rules?” she said, hands on her hips.
Jacob reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, then hesitated for a second before handing her his driver’s license.
She took it and glanced at the photo. Then glanced at him. Then back at the photo.
“I was a little heavier then,” he said, gulping his beer.
“A little?” she asked. “And what’s with the bushman’s beard?” The guy in the picture was hardly recognizable as the man sitting in front of her. His brown hair was longer, and his expression was dark, making him look more like a criminal than a cop.
“Do you always criticize people’s ID photos?” he asked, as she tucked it away with the others behind the register.
“Usually not in front of them,” she said with a grin.
She went to grab a food order from the kitchen, and when she returned to gather cutlery and condiments from the bar, she asked, “Is the station entering a float into the Christmas parade?”
“Christmas parade? Really? The only street long enough to accommodate a parade around here is Main Street, and how many floats could a parade here possibly have?” He shrugged before answering her question. “I have no idea.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, adding glasses of beer to the tray. “Our float is going to win anyway. Melody Myers and Brad Monroe are back in town for the holidays, and I’ve convinced them to perform Christmas songs all along the parade route.” She wasn’t sure if Jake had ever heard of the country music stars, but whether he had or not, he nodded.
“What theme are you going with?”
Heather shook her head. “Uh-uh, you’re not getting any more information from me about our entry.”
He sighed. “I was just trying to be polite. It seemed as though you wanted to talk...as usual.”
“I was just wondering if you guys were competing. The float designs every year are a big deal and kept under wraps. We don’t want people stealing each other’s ideas.” She reached for extra napkins and picked up the loaded tray.
“Seriously? It’s a parade float.”
She shot him a look. “Well, our team is not disclosing any information—we know we have a winning design.”
“Team?”
“Yeah. Each float is only allowed to have four people working on it, and their names have to be submitted before construction starts.”
“Wow, this thing is pretty regulated...more than anything else in town.”
Heather laughed. “Christmas is a big deal around here, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said, coming around the side of the bar.
“The house across the street from me looks like it was decorated by Santa’s elves on crack—believe me, I’ve noticed.”
Heather laughed again as she made her way to the bowling alley to deliver the order.
On her way back, she stopped at a corner booth where Lindsay Harper and Noah Parks sat cuddled together on the same side. They’d been together for four months, and it was rare to see one without the other. It was even rarer to see them without five children in tow—they’d recently adopted Lindsay’s nieces and nephews. “Hey, guys. Date night?”
Lindsay nodded “The kids are with Ben and Lily.”
The kids’ godfather had moved to town recently to help Lindsay with the five children who’d been left in her care after the sudden, tragic death of her brother and his wife. And to everyone’s surprise, he’d soon started dating Lindsay’s friend Lily, who owned a clothing store on Main Street.
Families really did come in all shapes and sizes, Heather marveled.
“What can I get you guys?”
“A beer for me and...” Noah glanced at Lindsay.
“A Bloody Mary, please, with extra celery sticks and pickled veggies,” she said.
Noah glanced at her. “Hungry?”
“Twelve-hour shift, remember—I’m starving,” she said, removing her coat to reveal her nurse’s uniform.
“Menus, too, please, Heather,” Noah said, glancing toward the bar. “Oh, great. No one have fun—Sheriff Matthews is here.”
Since Jake had arrived in town, he’d butted heads with no one more so than Noah, a former MMA fighter who ran the at-risk-youth program at the local community center. Both men had the town’s best interest at heart, but they had different ways of dealing with things. Completely opposite ways, in fact.
“He’s easing up a little, I think,” Heather said, not sure why she felt the need to defend Jake, except that he was a nice guy.
Sort of...somewhere deep down...maybe?
“Tell that to my kids at the center. They’re terrified of doing anything wrong. He keeps watching them, waiting for one of them to mess up,” Noah said.
“Maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I haven’t heard about any graffiti problems lately or any of the kids getting hurt,” she reminded him.
“Sorry, Heather. It’s going to take quite a bit of convincing for me to like that guy,” Noah said, his gaze locked on the back of Jake’s head.
Well, the two men could agree to disagree. It wasn’t her problem. She wouldn’t be in town much longer anyway, she hoped. “I’ll go get your drinks,” she said, going back behind the bar.
Opening the beer for Noah and mixing Lindsay’s drink a moment later, she said, “Hey, I was just talking to Noah...”
Jake groaned, casting a glance over his shoulder toward their table.
Okay, so the feelings were mutual between the two men.
“And I was thinking maybe you should try easing up a little on the surveillance around the community center.”
He laughed. “Has everyone in town voted you the person to ‘deal’ with me...talk me down a bit?”
She was starting to think so herself. “I’m just saying those kids are not that bad. Noah’s on them like white on rice—you can ease up a little. Maybe even offer to help out at the center or something.” Putting in a few hours with at-risk kids would be a better way to get involved in the community, instead of making enemies out of everyone.
“I don’t think so. And trust me, this cute, quaint little town may not be as safe as everyone wants to believe. False sense of security is common in places like this, where you all feel as though you know one another. But just because nothing bad has ever happened here, doesn’t mean nothing ever will.” He reached for his coat and tossed several bills onto the bar.
Retrieving his ID, she handed it to him.
“Nighty-night, Talks-a-lot,” he said with a wink as he headed toward the door.
* * *
“JAKE—PERFECT TIMING,” Sheriff Bishop said as he entered the station the next morning.
Crap. That sentence was never followed by something good. “What’s up?” he asked, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair before wiping the snow from his dark hair.
“We just got a call from Darlene Dawson. She’s in charge of town events...and she said they still need several more floats for the Christmas parade.”
“Okay...”
“So we’ve decided to enter one this year,” he said.
Why did he get the feeling that he would somehow get roped into helping? He sighed. “I still can’t believe a town this small even has a parade,” he mumbled, pouring a cup of weak coffee.
“It’s for the kids,” Sheriff Bishop said. “My daughter and her sons live in Nashville now, but they’ll be home soon for the holidays, and I know my grandsons would just love to ride on the float.”
Fantastic. Jacob still didn’t know what any of it had to do with him. If he had his way, he would sleep away the holiday. He’d all but given up on the idea that he could be back in the city by Christmas, so he’d accepted the fact that it would be another lonely one for him.
“Anyway, I just thought you might want to take on the project.”
What on earth would give the older man that idea? His holly, jolly demeanor? He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Jake, I know you’re hoping to get back...home...someday,” he said, lowering his voice. “But you’re here now—why not try to make the best of the situation, get involved with the community, get to know people better? You might actually like it here.”
Doubtful. “Sorry, Sheriff Bishop—Christmas just isn’t my favorite time of year, and I’d rather leave float-building and other holiday events to the people who enjoy them.” They couldn’t force him to participate, after all.
Sheriff Bishop frowned but then nodded. “Okay, I understand.”
It didn’t sound as if he did, but Jacob wasn’t about to explain that he’d spent the past two Christmases alone in a dingy hotel room, and that the one before that he’d put his own father in jail. Prior to the Lorenzo case, he’d been investigating corporate fraud cases, and his father’s company had been found guilty on several counts. Nope, this time of year wasn’t exactly a good one for him.
“Well, I’ll need you to stick around for a while this afternoon,” Sheriff Bishop was saying. “I need to drive to Newark to pick up the flatbed trailer for the float.”
Jacob’s ears perked. “Newark?”
Sheriff Bishop nodded, printing off the information for the rental place.
He cleared his throat. “You know, I could go pick it up for you.” The perfect opportunity to sneak off to Newark to meet Emilio at the dock without anyone questioning him.
He frowned. “But you just said you weren’t interested.”
Jacob sighed. Like it or not, he’d just agreed to help with the float. He shrugged. “It’s for the kids, right?”
Sheriff Bishop grinned, handing him the printout and his truck keys. “Tell Ted at Xtra Lease to send the invoice to the station.”
“He’ll be okay with that? He’ll know who I am?” he asked, reaching for his jacket. He wasn’t thrilled about taking care of the rental, but he was eager to check in with Emilio. Make sure the man hadn’t changed his mind about helping him.
“I told him to expect you,” Sheriff Bishop said with a grin.
Of course he had.
* * *
WITH THE TRAILER attached to Sheriff Bishop’s Ford F-350, Jacob drove to the Port Newark Container Terminal. Emilio worked as a container inspector, and the inside man had allowed more than ten containers of illegal drugs and contraband to pass through clearance in the two years that Jacob had been undercover. When the man had announced that he wanted to get out of the cartel business, his life had been in jeopardy, but Jacob had offered him another solution. Working for the good team, Emilio had agreed to let him know when the next shipment was arriving in the port. It had been the backup plan in case the original bust had gone wrong—which it had.
Of course, no one knew about plan B except the two men.
Turning onto the yard, Jacob parked the truck near the empty container stacks in the storage facility and jumped down. He raised the collar of his coat to shield his face against the blowing snow and made his way toward Emilio’s office at the far end of the yard.
An eerie sense of déjà vu made him shiver as he recalled the last time he’d visited the man here. Gun loaded, his mind racing and his heart thundering, he’d been there to “take care” of the older man. With one of Lorenzo’s goons at his side, he’d had no idea how he was going to get out of shooting the man without blowing his cover. Luckily, the other young man had had an even weaker stomach for murder, and he’d disappeared behind the containers, puking long enough for Jacob to make his pitch to Emilio, fire off his weapon and meet the guy as he was returning—looking more than a little relieved that Jacob had “taken care of things” without him.
Knocking on the office door, he scanned the area. Containers were being unloaded at the port terminal, and the place was full of people. He’d never been here during the day before, and he hoped no one questioned his presence. Though his sheriff’s badge in his pocket gave him a much stronger sense of peace than the illegal gun he’d carried the last time he was there.
Emilio opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, his frown indicating that he didn’t recognize the forty-pound-lighter, clean-shaven cop.
“Emilio, it’s me,” he said, lowering the collar. “Jake.”
Still, the man hesitated, holding the door open just a fraction. “Jake who?”
Jacob held out his hand to reveal the knife-wound scar he’d suffered from the guy before he’d had a chance to explain that he was undercover and was trying to save his life. “The man you stabbed.”
Emilio’s eyes widened. “Jake?” He opened the door wider and ushered him inside. “You look so different.”
“More handsome, I hope,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Well, you’re no Channing Tatum,” Emilio said. “You’re also not supposed to be here.” He lowered his voice. “I heard your cover was blown, and the bust was...a bust.”
Jacob nodded. He really shouldn’t be there, but not hearing anything from the man was starting to make him feel nervous. He was placing his fate in the hands of a guy who’d been playing for the other side for a long time, and with Jacob gone, he might feel as if his only choice was to shift his loyalty back to the cartel. Being there was an opportunity to feel the guy out and reassure him that he was still on the case. “I just wanted to stop in and see if there was any word on the baby?” he asked loudly, glancing around the office trailer and taking inventory of the security cameras. Everything at the docks was monitored.
Emilio looked nervous as he caught the code word. “Nothing yet. In fact, it’s about a week overdue.”
Jacob smiled, patting the man on the back. To anyone watching, he was just an old friend stopping by for a visit. One who expertly turned his face away from all camera angles. “Well, they always come when they’re ready. Be sure to let me know as soon as he or she arrives,” he said.
“Jake, are you sure about this?” Emilio sat behind his desk, and Jacob could see his hands shaking.
Reaching casually for the volume button on the stereo, the sound of “Jingle Bell Rock” drowning out his words, he leaned closer as he said, “Yes. I’m sure. And this is your way out once and for all, Emilio. Call the number I gave you immediately as soon as you know anything.”
“He’s coming here himself,” the man mumbled.
Jacob forced his voice to sound worry-free as he said, “I know. And that’s why I need to be here, too.” As soon as he could arrest the man in action, accepting his cargo, the faster Emilio could be free of his involvement, the court case could be over, and his sister and nephew could go home...he could go home.
The man swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Jacob touched his shoulder. “Emilio, we both need this.” This shot at redemption was the only way either of them could move on with their lives.
“I know, Jake. I won’t let you down.”
He nodded. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Emilio he was worried about.
