Читать книгу Concealed Identity - Jessica R. Patch - Страница 13
ОглавлениеBlair leaned against the kitchen door, knees quaking, throat tight. Someone had been in her home. Her sanctuary. Nothing was out of place. Whoever had been in here had been doing something else. But what?
Blair rubbed her temples and tried to thwart the headache coming on. Neck muscles coiled, she closed the venetian blinds on her windows, double-checked the locks on the doors and stood in the middle of her living room, staring into nothing. Moments later, she peeked through her blinds.
All was quiet.
A movement through Holt’s sheer curtains caught her attention. Was he watching the house—doing as he promised and standing guard? The idea brought a breath of relief, but not enough for her to let down her defenses.
She tiptoed across her hardwood floor, willing the hairs on her neck to stand down.
Stopping in front of Gigi’s room, Blair heard the shower run, full throttle. Good, Blair needed a few moments alone to process the events of the day and pray. Then she’d confess the whole horrible and humiliating story. She climbed the steep staircase to her bedroom.
She opted for a fresh T-shirt and jeans instead of a shower. If she could work up the nerve later, she needed to inventory today’s purchase. She opened her top drawer and froze.
Inside, lying right on top of her T-shirts, was a white gift box; a red bow had been stuck dead center. She swallowed a lump and hesitated, then took it out. The intruder hadn’t been here to steal something but to deliver a gift—a gift Blair was sure she didn’t want.
Forcing herself to calm down and clear her mind, she slowly opened it. Shrieking, she dropped the lid on the floor and covered her mouth to keep from getting sick.
Inside the box lay a dead rat. Underneath, a slip of paper stole her attention. Eeew. She didn’t want to touch the thing. She hurried to the bathroom, grabbed a pair of latex gloves she used for cleaning and psyched herself up to remove the note.
Don’t be a rat. Go to the police or tell anyone about what happened and people you care about die.
With trembling hands, she placed the note back in the drawer, then closed the lid on the rat. She found a trash bag under her bathroom sink and used it to dispose of the box and its contents. She hurried downstairs and took it out to the big garbage can, then came back inside. Gigi stood in the living room, arms crossed, wet hair hanging over her shoulders.
“Time to talk.”
Blair rubbed her brow. “First of all, let me say that everything I’ve done to keep the truth hidden was to protect you. It was all for your own good.”
Gigi narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like where this is going. I need to sit down.”
Blair waited a beat and then balled her fists to her sides as she paced. “The truth is Mateo was a bad man. I didn’t know it at the time, though. Not really. In hindsight, I guess there were some signs, but I ignored them. I was young and in love. But he had dark secrets.”
Gigi’s eyes widened.
Blair pushed back tears. “He smuggled drugs for his brother, Hector.”
“Hector? Mr. Don Juan himself?”
“Good looks doesn’t mean good person. I learned that the hard way. Hector is ruthless. Evil.” Gigi could easily have been smitten by the man. A shiver ran down Blair’s spine.
Gigi shook her head, then snapped it up. “Is that why you paid for that year I spent in Europe? To keep me away?”
Blair nodded.
“Until you said I could come live with you after Mateo died.”
“I thought it would finally be safe.” Blair had been wrong.
“When you found out the truth, why didn’t you leave? Call Dad?”
Blair smoothed Gigi’s wet hair. “Women don’t leave Salvador men. And Dad might be a marine, but he was no match for a powerful drug cartel. I wanted to, though. Believe me.”
Gigi hugged Blair. “I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified.”
“I was,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t Hector...you know...”
“Kill me?” Blair massaged her aching neck. “Hector is complicated. He was angry when I told him I didn’t want to live on his ranch and let him take care of me. But when I explained I wanted to move here to where Grandma and Grandpa had lived, he changed his tune. Gave me his blessing and offered me money to start up the business and buy a house.”
“Did you accept it?”
Blair frowned. “Hardly. I wanted freedom. Hector’s gifts are like chains. I’d never ask him for anything. It’s not worth the future debt.”
Gigi laced her fingers with Blair’s. “He didn’t care you changed your name back to Sullivan?”
“Not after I told him I wanted to move to Hope and start fresh. Stay out of the limelight. Honestly, I believe God gave me favor in Hector’s eyes.” What other reason could there be for Hector extending such grace when he wasn’t a gracious man?
Gigi rubbed her chin. “You think what happened today had anything to do with Hector? Have you crossed him somehow? Would he think you’ve crossed him?”
No. Hector wouldn’t have tried to kill her. At least, she didn’t think he would. Unless he thought she’d stolen something from him, but she hadn’t. Confusion’s web spun fast enough to make her dizzy. “I don’t think so. But we can’t go to the police. You see why now.” And after the note and disgusting gift, she didn’t dare.
“Did Mateo have anything to do with Jeremy’s drug problem?”
“No. Unfortunately, Jeremy got into all that long before Mateo entered the picture. I hid it even from Jeremy. I had to.”
“So what do we do?”
That was the question. “Right now you try to rest. Then we’ll watch an old movie and eat some dinner.” And she’d call Jeremy again. This could still be something he had ties to. “From now on, lock the doors. Don’t be so friendly with strangers. And watch your back.”
Gigi nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But no more keeping things from me. Got it?”
Blair pursed her lips. “From this point on.” Meaning what she’d found in the bedroom was off-limits. She had to protect Gigi. She was already terrified enough.
After trying to take their minds off things with TV and a light dinner, Blair changed into a pair of work jeans and boots. Might as well start on unloading the items from the auction before the sun went down. She drove the truck out to the barn and raised the rolling door. A wave of musty heat popped her in the face, sending sweat trickling down her cheeks. She paused at a noise outside the barn and waited. Hairs rose on her arms and she could hardly breathe.
After what seemed like forever, she wrangled herself inside the truck.
She should have taken Holt up on his muscle.
“Hey,” a deep voice sounded from behind.
Blair jumped and shrieked, clasping her hand to her chest. “Holt.” So not telling him that she was just thinking about him. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He swept his dark bangs from his eyes. “Thought I’d check up on you.”
In the barn? Prickles ran up her spine. She wanted to trust him. She honestly did. “Did you see anyone out there?” Or had the noise been Holt?
“No. Why? Did you?”
“No. But I thought I heard something. Must have been you or my neighbor’s horses. I’m jumpy.”
“Understandable.” Holt scanned the barn and cocked his ear, listening. After a moment, he relaxed. “How’s Gigi?”
Blair forced herself to loosen up. “She’s doing all right. I thought I’d come out and work on unloading the truck, take inventory. Get a look at everything I purchased.” As Ronnie Lawson had pointed out, this was her ritual. Just her and all the goods. She would determine what went into the store, and what would stay stocked in the barn, for now. She liked to imagine the previous owners and the stories behind the objects.
“Can I help?” He stood there, all broad shoulders, no danger in his eyes—just tenderness and concern that nearly sent her reeling. Had anyone ever looked at her like that? Mateo at first. But it had all been lies. “I know you have a thing about going through it alone, but I’d really like to help you, Blair. In so many ways.” His whisper clung to her insides, disarming her guard.
A few Appaloosas grazed near the fence. She’d meant to bring them apples. “I’m used to doing things alone.” It was safer than offering her trust only to have it betrayed.
“I get that. And you seem completely capable. But...I’m here and I have two capable hands, too.” He splayed them on his sides, his white T-shirt clinging to rock-solid biceps and chest.
Could she trust him? They were just collectibles, but she did love her routine. She also dreaded some of the heavy lifting.
“All right. Sure.” She didn’t like being out here alone anyway. If she was really alone. It felt as if a million eyes were staring at her.
She grabbed her work gloves and donned them, her hands instantly turning clammy from the insulation. “I might have an extra pair.” She held up her gloved hands. “Over there on that worktable.”
Holt nodded and rummaged through tools and odds and ends until he found some. “How long have you lived in Hope?”
“Couple of years. My grandparents grew up here. They were happy in Hope. Plus, I love the name of the town and I needed it—hope—when I first settled in.”
“Where are you from originally?” He grabbed a tote from the truck, and Blair motioned for him to stack it near the back wall.
“All over.” She laughed. “Military brat. What about you?”
“I grew up in Memphis. Spent a lot of summers in a town like this. Glory, Mississippi. My grandpa was the sheriff and my grandmother ran a lot of women’s groups...and kept me and my cousin Bryn in line.”
Blair liked the way his eyes lit up as he talked of his grandparents. “My grandpa died when I was very young, but I treasure the memories. Grandma Viola passed shortly after I graduated high school. What about yours?”
“My grandpa died a few years back, but Grandma Mavis is still kickin’ and thinking she’s thirty and not eighty-two. I haven’t seen her since last summer.”
“You should go. See her. You never know how much time you have with someone you love.”
“You’re right.”
Blair heard the heartache in his voice. Who had he lost? That was private and she didn’t want to pry by asking, but she was curious. She focused back on the task at hand. “We can arrange everything in categories. After that, I’ll log each item with a short description, how much I think it’s worth—unless I need an expert. Once I nail down prices, I’ll determine what will go into my store and what will stay in inventory.”
“I know we’re not supposed to covet, but right now I’m coveting your organizational skills. You should help me organize my store.” He continued unloading totes, bags, furniture and garbage sacks full of junk.
Holt lifted a hefty tub and carried it to the housewares piles. “Clearly, you’re in great shape, but some of this is seriously heavy. You never have any help?”
Heat crept into her face, and she brushed the hair sticking to her sweaty cheek with her forearm. “My brother helps out sometimes, after I’ve looked through it. But he’s...unavailable. And Gigi mostly whines, so I don’t even ask. Occasionally, Jace Black from the Black-Eyed Pea helps. Or Mitch Rydell. Have you met him yet? He’s my neighbor. Owns those horses.” She pointed toward the pasture.
“I haven’t met anyone officially.” He sat on the tub, took off his gloves and raked his hands through his damp hair. “Maybe you can introduce me around.”
“Maybe.”
“So, why’s your brother unavailable?” Holt surveyed the barn, taking his sweet time, as if hunting down something. Or maybe she was being paranoid again.
Dread filled her stomach. Sometimes Jeremy liked downtime and took off on his own, but he generally called to check in. “I’m not sure. He’s a loner.”
“He live nearby?”
“Memphis.”
“Cool.”
Holt continued to pepper her with questions. Some she answered; some she dodged. “Okay, enough with the twenty questions.” She wiped her hands on her jeans and surveyed their piles.
“I’m just trying to get to know you, Blair.” Holt threw a dazzling grin her way. In the past, it would have sunk her to her knees. Not anymore. Well, maybe she felt a flutter.
Two hours in, the sun had dipped, but the temperature was still in the lava levels. Blair’s clothing stuck to her skin, stray hairs that had escaped her topknot clung to her cheeks and chin. She headed for an old but working fifties fridge, opened it and handed Holt a bottle of water. She downed hers in record time.
“Not a bad unit.”
No, it wasn’t. She’d overpaid. But sometimes her gut told her it would be worth it—to take the chance. Too bad her gut was always wrong in the romance department.
A turn-of-the-century dresser with intricate piping, a few embroidered decorative pillows and a collection of what appeared to be gorgeous hand-carved wooden ducks—nearly a foot long and several inches wide and deep—still hung in the back of the truck, along with two boxes she hadn’t combed through yet. “I’m wiped out, and I need to check on Gigi. How about we call it a day? I can log these items in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me help.” He scanned the barn again. She’d noticed him poking around a few times. Was he looking for something in particular or was he simply curious?
They walked toward the house. Holt stopped in his tracks and slowly pivoted toward the barn, head tipped.
“What are you—”
“Shhh.” He placed his index finger on his lips.
Blair’s throat tightened.
The horses in the pasture whinnied.
Bullfrogs croaked from the nearby pond.
A feeling of eeriness seemed to creepy-crawl through the humidity.
Holt’s eyes hardened as he surveyed the yard. Woods flanked her pond, and farther back was Mitch’s pastureland. Anyone could be out there. Fear slicked her bones.
“Stay here,” he whispered before jogging toward the barn.
Blair wrapped her arms around her middle and concentrated on seeing beyond the black of night. Even Holt’s silhouette had disappeared, but his voice boomed, “Hey!”
She heard the sound of feet running through the pasture. Blair’s nerves jittered. Adrenaline raced through her veins. “Holt!”
He’d told her to stay put, but what if he was in trouble? She hurried across the yard as a dark figure jumped the barbed-wire fence and plowed into her.
Her vision obscured by utter darkness and the stranger’s hoodie, she couldn’t make out a face, but his gravelly hiss connected with her ear as he clenched her arm in an iron grasp. “Rats die. Remember that. And don’t expect your boyfriend to save you.” He shoved her and she hit the ground, knocking her head. Again.
* * *
Holt rushed to Blair. Kneeling down, he touched her cheek with his left hand as he still gripped a gun in his right. “Blair, are you hurt?”
She groaned. “No more than I was before.”
Glancing up toward the house, he grinded his teeth, reining in his temper. This guy had gotten away. Again. “Give me your hand.” He helped her to her feet, and ran his hand over her head. “No bumps?”
“No.”
Holt put his arm around her waist and helped her to the back door.
Blair shivered against him. “Did you see his face? What do you think he was doing, prowling in Mitch’s pasture?”
“I think he was hiding out. Waiting on us to leave the barn. Blair, I have to ask. Is there anything in your truck or the barn someone might want?” This was now the second attack since the auction.
“No.”
“I saw him grab you. Did he say anything?”
She opened her mouth, then froze. Something brewed in her eyes and Holt knew it right then. The trust he thought he’d been building in the barn had shattered. She backed up a step.
Something the attacker said had her spooked. And it must have to do with Holt. “What is it? I see he scared you. What did he say?”
Blair looked away. “Nothing. He didn’t say anything.”
Holt let out an exasperated sigh and shoved his gun in his waistband. “Let’s get you inside, then I’m going to take a look around. Make sure whoever it was is long gone, okay?” No point pressing her in this state.
Blair nodded and opened the door, stepping inside.
“Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back as soon as I check it out.” He kept his irritation in check. The longer she held out, the worse off it would be for Jeremy and Agent Livingston. But he couldn’t tell her that, because he couldn’t blow his cover.
Several minutes later, Holt knocked on the kitchen door and Blair jumped like a scared rabbit before she opened it.
“I didn’t see anything but headlights down the road. Could have been the guy. Maybe not. Too far to tell.” He scratched the back of his head. “I should stay. In case he comes back.”
Blair’s eyes turned wary. What had that guy said? “You know I carry a gun, too. I’ll lock up and be careful.”
Grinding his jaw, he surveyed the backyard again. “What if I said please?”
“I’d say I appreciate your politeness but we’ll be okay. You’re just across the street. Besides, I don’t want Gigi to worry. She’s had enough to deal with already. I’ll worry for her.”
And Holt would worry for Blair. Maybe he could charm her into letting him stay. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m quick on the draw.” He smirked. “And I run fast, too.”
Her face relaxed and he had her. He hated the way he had to do it, although charming Blair wasn’t all manipulation. He rather enjoyed it. Liked seeing her smile and getting to know her.
Suddenly, a new resolve formed in her eyes. “You can watch me lock the door again.”
What happened? He blew a resigned breath and pointed to the door. “Get locking.”
He’d have to watch from across the street or take up vigil in her front yard. Not to mention, he needed access to that barn. Something had to be of value inside, and later tonight, he was going to do some sneaking around of his own.
* * *
Holt’s hunt inside Blair’s barn had been a bust last night. She’d padlocked the truck and he hadn’t found anything he considered valuable in the actual storage areas. Of course, she might have put money, drugs or other questionable items in a hiding place before Holt had arrived to help her unload.
Now it was Sunday afternoon and Holt had to pretend to build a fake store under his cover. Blair and Gigi had gone to church this morning, which made it even harder to believe that Blair was directly tied to anything illicit. With each moment, Holt became more convinced she’d been targeted. Possibly from what Jeremy had found out and wanted to divulge to Holt. Possibly over something Hector had done—or not done.
This morning, he’d eaten breakfast at the Magnolia Inn and done a little surveillance, since Agent Livingston had stayed a couple of nights. He’d had lunch at the Black-Eyed Pea, hoping to hear some gossip that might help him somehow. All dead ends. He’d called his handler. No news in Memphis, either. Jeremy’s disappearance was still being looked into and Holt had called his cousin, FBI agent Bryn Hale, to have her pull FBI data. Bryn had put her husband, Eric, an MPD homicide detective, on it locally. Just some unofficial snooping by his friends.
So far, crickets. Where had Jeremy gone? He’d asked Holt to meet him about some information he’d gathered—against Holt’s wishes—but he’d never shown up to the meeting. That was over a week ago.
The door opened to his store.
“We’re not ready for business yet.” He turned to see Gigi holding two cups of coffee.
“Just peeking in on my neighbor. How’s it coming along?”
“Hopelessly.” Story of his life. “I need a vision.”
“You didn’t already have that?”
No. He had a budget from the DEA to make it look real and that was about all. But he had to confess, he’d enjoyed hanging fishing equipment and scouring a few pawn shops for items while doing a little subtle investigating. “You have any outdoor equipment you’d want to sell?”
Gigi shrugged. “You’d have to ask Blair. Didn’t you see anything in the barn last night?”
“Not really.”
“She just opened up. Sunday afternoons are popular with the tourists.” She studied the store. “I could help you, you know.”
“With Blair?” Holt raised an eyebrow.
A slow grin spread and Gigi waggled a finger at him. “With inventory for your business.”
He took the coffee she presented and thought about it. He might have found a way to get closer to Blair. “You say Blair’s next door?”
“She is.”
He stepped outside, Gigi right behind him, into the summer heat and stared at Blair’s window display. A winter wonderland. “What’s up with your sister and Christmas?” From the store’s name, to the Christmas tree on the side of the truck and the Christmas window display...in June, there had to be something to it.
“Ask her.” She opened the door; the bell tinkled. “An angel just got some wings, sis.” She motioned for him to enter. “I’m running over to Felicity’s for a green tea.”
He darted his sight to the bell and shook his head. Blair stood at the counter, handing a stack of mail to a woman with long black hair, olive skin and raven-colored eyes.
“Thanks so much for this. I didn’t mean to be gone as long as I was. I owe you one, Blair.”
“You get a lot of mail, Lola.”
“Mostly boutique stuff.”
Ah. She must run the uppity-looking Bless Her Heart Boutique near Aurora Daniels’s law office. Aurora owned the coffee shop Sufficient Grounds, too.
“Where were you again?” Blair asked.
“Visiting family. Out of state.” She tossed her hair behind her back and shoved the stack of mail in her purse.
Wonder where she’d been traveling? He cleared his throat overzealously. Blair’s gaze skittered over him. “Hey, Holt.”
The boutique owner approached him with a seductive smile. “Lola Medina. We haven’t been formally introduced, but I saw you at the Black-Eyed Pea yesterday when I got into town.”
“Holt Renard. How long have you been on vacation? I could use one already.” And a solid lead.
Lola’s smile was clearly forced. Why wouldn’t she want to tell him where she’d been? Was she hiding something?
“If you’re looking for good vacation spots, Tijuana has an amazing nightlife. You look like you might be interested in that. And Tecate has a fabulous brewery and an even more fabulous spa.” Her earlier smile eased into a suggestive one. “If you ever need a personal tour guide...”
“I’ll let you know. That’s all in Mexico, right? Baja?”
“It is. You ever been to Mexico?”
Not on the record. “Cancun. Puerta Vallarta.”
“I knew you liked nightlife.” She leaned forward. “It’s in the eyes. I’m good at reading people.”
He leaned in as well, until he was in her personal space. “Me, too.”
After a lingering grin, Lola tossed Blair a glance. “Thanks again, friend. I missed being home...and the scenery.”
Holt caught Blair’s frown.
The bell tinkled as Lola breezed out the door and a guy several years younger than Holt entered.
“Hey, Manny. What can I do for you?” Blair asked, and wiped her hands on her jeans.
“It’s what I can do for you.” He set a cake container on the counter. “Sophia made her famous double-chocolate cake. Three layers.”
“Oh. My.” Blair touched her throat. “Tell her she didn’t have to do that.”
“You’ll be sharing that with your new neighbor, right?” Holt asked.
Manny turned and nodded. “Manny Menendez.”
“He’s Sophie’s brother. She works for the Drummonds,” Blair offered, then did what Holt wanted to do. Slid her finger into the icing and closed her eyes to savor it. “This is amazing.”
“I know,” Manny said.
Holt stopped gawking at Blair’s display and faced Manny. “Holt Renard.”
Manny gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Well, Mitch has me shoveling hay today, so I’ll see you later.”
Blair waved her goodbye and turned to Holt. “What brings you in? You know I was getting cake?”
“What’s the deal with that little saying?” He quirked his thumb toward the bell above the door.
“Haven’t you ever seen It’s a Wonderful Life? It’s a classic Christmas movie. Bell rings. An angel gets its wings.”
This woman was adorably strange and confusing. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” Holt scoped out the place. Decorated Christmas trees in every corner, merchandise underneath as if they were Christmas gifts. Even an old mantel had been secured to the wall complete with stockings hanging.
Colored lights ran the length of the walls and hung from the ceiling. “So...what’s up with this?” He twirled his finger around the store.
“I like Christmas.”
Holt feigned shock. “Really? I had no idea.”
Blair tossed him a flat look, but he spotted a fair amount of amusement in her eyes. Hopefully, he could regain the ground he’d lost last night when she suddenly turned wary again. He hated to admit he really liked her.
“Everything in here represents a life lived. Those bowls.” She pointed. “Someone may have mixed dough to make a Christmas pie or to throw together a birthday cake.” She motioned toward an old club chair and ottoman. “A dad might have read his child bedtime stories sitting there, maybe The Night Before Christmas. Somewhere along the line, those memories were tossed out. Not wanted. I find that sad.”
But what did it have to do with Christmas 24/7? Holt perused old books, hutches, curio cabinets, coins, knives, dolls and various stuffed toys.
He understood the concept. He’d kept some of Trina’s belongings for years, then couldn’t bear the memories and had given them away. He jabbed a thumb toward a kiddie tea set. “A little girl had a tea party and invited some of those stuffed animals.”
Blair beamed. The first real smile he’d seen. It lit him up brighter than the window display. “Yes, maybe. And over there a grandfather taught his grandson how to play chess.” Excitement laced her voice. She enjoyed this—imagining, pretending...dreaming.
Holt eyed the old table with a wooden chessboard arranged on top. Something about seeing her thrilled and happy set off a spark in him, and he played along to keep that smile on her face, the childlike wonder in her eyes. “And he went on to win the national championship to make his grandpa proud, but Grandpa died before he saw it and so the boy couldn’t stand to play chess again. And he gave his memories away,” he murmured. Just like Holt.
Running her slender finger down the chessboard, Blair slowly nodded. “Perhaps. People discard memories in the form of objects for all sorts of reasons. I like to think I’m giving someone a chance to make new memories.”
Holt understood more than he wished to.
“You play pretend well.” Blair gave him a nod of approval.
If she only knew how well.
Blair cleared her throat and rubbed her nose, reminding him of Jeremy’s habit. Guilt ate at Holt. For keeping the fact that he knew Jeremy from Blair and because Jeremy’s disappearance might be Holt’s fault.
If something happened to him, how would he look Blair in the eye and explain?
“So, what did you need?” Blair tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“My store needs equipment. I’m working on building my inventory, but it’s sparse. I guess I could set up a few undecorated Christmas trees and call it a forest.”
Blair laughed.
“Gigi said she’d help me. I’m gonna take her up on it.” If his intuition was right and Blair was as protective as he thought, she wouldn’t want Gigi alone with him. She might be laughing and sharing a bit about her business, but being polite was a far cry from trusting someone. She wouldn’t even let him in the house for the night when an intruder had been prowling, which meant Holt didn’t have her solid trust. Yet.
Besides, he didn’t want Gigi helping him. He wanted Blair. Which unsettled him.
Blair scurried behind the counter. “Gigi can’t,” she said, worrying her lip. I’ve—I’ve got her doing a lot of inventory and prepping for the launch of our online store. But...but I can. I’ll do it.” Obviously, she didn’t want to, but would say anything to get Gigi off the hook. He wasn’t proud of manipulating her, but she might be able to help Holt find Jeremy. And it kept him close in case whoever tried to kill her made another attempt. Regardless of why someone had come after her, he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let her be harmed.
“Great. Where do we start?”
“Naming the store for one.”
“I’m all imagined out.”
Waving him off, she rounded the counter. “My store is It’s a Wonderful Life. Because, one, I love the movie. It’s the last thing I watched with my mother before she died. We watched it Christmas night. The next morning she went out shopping and died in a car accident.”
That explained Christmas all year round. Blair was keeping her mother alive through the store. An ache throbbed in his chest.
Blair looked lovingly at her merchandise. “I never want to forget the memories of Christmas with her. How I felt. And it’s also perfect for my store. The little girl who snatches up a princess doll knows in her heart that life got a little better. A hunter finds the blade he’s been searching everywhere for and his Saturday mornings have turned—”
“Wonderful. Not just wonderful but wonder-full.”
Blair squinted at him, nodding. “See? Use your perception and imagination. You’ll have a name before you know it.”
Holt grunted. What was the point of using so much imagination for a store that wasn’t going to ever open.
Blair straightened a stack of old books. “I need to make a trip to Memphis in the morning. There’s a little shop about thirty miles away. A huge junk store. We can use my truck if you want and see if we can’t find some goods there.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh, do you think you could help me unload that dresser from yesterday’s auction? I’m not in a big hurry, but we’ll need it cleared out before we leave tomorrow.” Blair waved to a woman and young daughter as they entered the store, the mother threatening the child with no ice cream if she touched a single thing. Why bring little kids to places they couldn’t explore? Never made sense to Holt.
“You got it.” Holt had seen into Blair’s heart a little today, and he couldn’t find a single way that, with her sweet spirit and sentimentality, she could be knee-deep in criminal activity.
So why spend all that money on that one storage shed last Saturday? Ronnie Lawson said his truck had broken down. Holt wondered if that had been sabotage or coincidental. No way. Blair Sullivan wasn’t a saboteur. She wasn’t directly involved in drug trafficking.
At least not willingly.
Holt’s gut twisted. He had to know the truth. Just what had Blair gotten herself into?
