Christmas at Twilight Read online

  He had survived the ambush, but now he was an embarrassment and they were grasping at anything they could use to get rid of him. Everyone in the room knew it would have been so much better if he’d died up there on the ridge that day with his team.

  But he hadn’t and they wanted him gone.

  “We put a rush on the paperwork so that your family can have you home for Christmas,” Finetti said, like they were doing him a big favor.

  Railroaded. He was being railroaded, slamming him on the caboose and blasting coal to the engine.

  “As of oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow, Captain Hutchinson,” Jenner finished, “you’re a civilian.”

  Twilight, Texas

  December 3

  “When’s Mommy coming home?” Kimmie asked as she did every day when Meredith picked up the little girl and her son, Ben, from their pre-K classroom at Twilight Elementary. Kimmie also asked the same question every morning when she woke up and every evening when she was tucked into bed.

  “I’m not sure,” Meredith answered, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “I bet she’s at the North Pole visiting Santa.” Kimmie’s eyes sparkled. She looked so adorable in a red pinafore and patent leather Mary Janes, honey-colored curls tangling down her back. This North Pole thing was the latest fantasy that Kimmie had dreamed up to explain her mother’s absence. “Like in The Magic Christmas Cookie.”

  The Magic Christmas Cookie was a popular children’s novel written by local author Sadie Cool, the pseudonym for Sarah Walker, a young woman Meredith had met at the local book club she’d joined a couple of weeks ago. The same group that was hosting the Christmas cookie swap that Raylene Pringle had invited her to. Meredith had been reading the story to Kimmie and Ben every night before they went to sleep.

  “I bet she brings me back lotsa toys.” Kimmie sighed hopefully.

  “Do you think she’ll bring a toy for me too?” Ben asked.

  “I think you both will have plenty of toys for Christmas,” Meredith said, helping the children into the back of her minivan.

  She had spent the last few days stewing on what to do about Ashley. She was furious at the woman for abandoning her daughter to run off to Acapulco with a stranger. But ultimately, she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about it. Not yet. If she got the authorities involved it would turn into a big mess, and she didn’t want to get Ashley into trouble with Child Protective Services unnecessarily.

  Of course, if she did report her, she would have to call anonymously. And then say what?

  From what Meredith had seen of Ashley in the six weeks she had lived in the house with the woman, she was a good mother. She had simply allowed this guy’s attention to go to her head and she had made an error in judgment. Kimmie was safe and well fed, and Ashley had made arrangements—albeit last-minute and inconsiderate—for Meredith to watch her.

  Still, was that just a rationalization?

  Ashley had called when she reached Acapulco, but the telephone reception had been pitiful and the service dropped the call after a couple of minutes. Meredith had tried several times to phone her back, but she’d never been able to get through and she hadn’t heard from the woman since then.

  Today, Kimmie and Ben’s teacher, Flynn Calloway, had asked about Ashley.

  “She’s on vacation,” Meredith said.

  “Ah.” A knowing look came into Flynn’s hazel eyes. “Another guy?”

  “She’s had a lot of boyfriends?”

  Flynn held up both hands, curled her fingers into her palms, then flashed them open and closed several more times, indicating Ashley had had many boyfriends.

  That had alarmed her. If Ashley did this all the time, maybe she should mention her disappearance to someone. But to whom?

  The brother Ashley had spoken of?

  Except Meredith had no idea how to contact him or even what his name was. She was respectful of other people’s privacy and would never dream of snooping, but she might be forced to go into Ashley’s bedroom and search for the brother’s contact information.

  She thought about expressing her concerns to Flynn, but then some other mother wandered over and struck up a conversation about the upcoming Christmas play, and the opportunity was lost. But Flynn lived across the street from Ashley’s house. Maybe she would invite Flynn over tonight after the children were in bed and feel her out.

  Meredith loaded up the children in the minivan and drove around the town square, where volunteers were setting up for the annual Dickens on the Square event she’d been hearing so much about. She wished she could volunteer, but life on the run meant keeping a low profile. Back in Albuquerque, before her grandmother got sick, they’d loved volunteering for holiday events together. Meredith heaved a sigh. So much had been stolen from her.

  Quickly, she shrugged off the sadness and regret. No point in getting depressed over something she could not change. And made a mental note to gather up some canned goods for the local food bank that had been asking for donations. It wasn’t much, but it was all she dared. Going to the book club was risky enough, and she was already wondering if she should drop it. The members seemed far too interested in luring her to their party.

  Workmen constructed stages on all quadrants of the courthouse lawn. Carolers, bundled in warm clothing, practiced their vocal range. Vendors stocked kiosks. A UPS man unloaded boxes. People waved. Nodded. Tooted their car horns at one another in greeting. The busy little tourist town buzzed with enthusiastic holiday activity.

  Built in the late 1800s, the three-story courthouse was constructed of limestone in the elegant style of French Second Empire. It provided a queenly contrast to the surrounding buildings of Old West architecture. The entire town square was listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

  The square was picture-postcard perfect. Longing for something she could never have burned Meredith’s nose. How she wished she could make this adorable town her permanent home.

  It’s not real, she told herself. It’s just a fantasy. Dark secrets hid behind happy façades. She should know. She had a doozy of her own.

  “Mommy!” Ben exclaimed. “Look, look there’s Santa Claus!”

  Meredith braked at the stop sign as Santa, and an entourage of elves handing out candy to the passersby, crossed the street in front of them. From the rearview mirror, she saw Ben undo the buckle on his car seat, pressed his face to the window and holler, “Santa! Santa! Come over, come over. We want candy too.”

  “Ben, sit back down and put your seat belt on,” she cautioned. “Mommy’s driving.”

  But her son had already summoned Santa and he wasn’t sitting down for anything. Resigned, Meredith put down the window so he could talk to Santa.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa exclaimed, holding his plump belly and strolling up to Ben’s side of the minivan. “And who do we have here?”

  “It’s me, Santa.” Ben’s voice wobbled. “Dontcha ’member me? We moveded again.” He leaned over the seat to pat Meredith’s shoulder. “Mommy, you said Santa would still remember me when we moveded.”

  “Of course I remember you,” Santa recovered quickly. “But you’ve grown so big I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Ben wriggled like a happy puppy. “Santa, pwease, pwease, pwease bring me a real Thomas the Train. The kind you ride on. Pwease, pwease, pwease.”

  Meredith winced, prayed that Santa didn’t make any promises she couldn’t back up. The Thomas the Train riding toy Ben wanted cost a hundred dollars. Money she simply didn’t have to spend.

  “Have you been a good boy?” Santa asked.

  Ben’s head bobbed.

  Kimmie undid the buckle of her car seat so that she could lean across Ben. “Where’s my mommy? My mommy is suppossta to be with you. Where is she?”

  Santa shot Meredith a helpless look.

  “Kimmie, sweetie, you and Ben both get back in your car seats,” Meredith said, hoping to derail her.

  “Canna have some candy?” Ben held out a hand.


  “What do you say?” Meredith prompted.

  “Pwease canna have some candy?” Ben pressed palms together like he was praying.

  “Santa, where’s my mommy?” Kimmie wailed.

  “Isn’t that your mommy driving the car?” Santa asked.

  “No,” Ben said. “It’s my mommy.”

  “You two aren’t brother and sister?” Santa teased. “You look so much alike.”

  “No,” Ben said proudly, and hugged Kimmie around the neck. “But we’re twins.”

  Meredith smiled. Lately, they had taken to calling themselves twins and even asked to be dressed alike.

  “Twins, huh?” Santa winked at Meredith. “Well, I think that calls for two pieces of candy apiece.” He produced four fun-sized chocolate bars from his pocket. “But let’s give them to Mommy to keep them until after you’ve had supper.”

  “She’s not my mommy.” Kimmie sighed.

  “But she’s taking care of you, right?” Santa smiled.

  Kimmie nodded.

  “Thank you,” Meredith told Santa, and accepted the candy. The other drivers behind her had been very patient, but she was holding up traffic. “Get back in your car seats, kids. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can have dinner and the sooner you can have the chocolates for desserts.”

  The kids climbed back into their car seats and they waved good-bye to Santa, and Meredith took off.

  “He never did tell me where my mommy is,” Kimmie murmured sadly.

  She studied the forlorn child in the rearview mirror. Her sweet blue eyes misted with tears, yanking Meredith’s heart right out of her chest. This couldn’t go on for much longer. She was going to have to do something about Ashley’s disappearing act.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben told Kimmie. “I’ll share my mommy with you.”

  The children strained against their seat belts to hug each other.

  Meredith made a fist and laid it across her chest. As soon as she got the kids to bed, she was going looking for Ashley’s brother’s contact information. She’d call Flynn first and ask what his name was and if she knew how to get in touch with him.

  She took Highway 51 and drove north out of town. They lived in a middle-class community snuggled on the banks of the Brazos River. Stately oaks lined the streets, bare of leaves this time of year. The majority of houses were decked out for Christmas. Peppermint candy canes graced walkways. Nativity scenes sprawled across lawns. Painted plywood cutouts of gingerbread houses, snowmen, and Santa Clauses topped roofs

  Ashley’s home was the last house on a street that ended the development. Beyond the neighborhood’s confines, fenced ranchland stretched to the right and the river to the left.

  When Meredith first moved in, she’d been nervous about living on the waterfront with a four-year-old, especially since she had never learned to swim. But it was cold weather and Ben hadn’t shown the slightest interest in the river. They would be gone before summer anyway. In the meantime, she’d lectured him on staying away from the water, and never allowed him to go outside without her.

  The kids were chattering about Santa, and her thoughts wandered back to her dilemma. How would she explain the situation to Ashley’s brother? Obviously, he wasn’t very close to his sister. Ashley had never once mentioned him.

  Preoccupied, she was almost to the house before she spotted the pickup truck parked in the driveway.

  A pickup she did not recognize. It was big and black and shiny new, an aggressive Dodge Ram tandem axle. The silver ram’s head emblem on the tailgate glared at her.

  Meredith gasped and turned quickly, taking the circular road that led her back to the entrance of the housing development, blood sprinting through her veins.

  Was it him?

  She hated to even think his name for fear it would conjure him up, like Beetlejuice. She had been so careful. Moving every six months. Changing her hairstyle and color with every move. How had he found them again?

  Meredith thought about the .40-caliber Colt Defender she kept stashed underneath her bed in a lockbox. Fat lot of good it did now.

  Damn her. She thought she’d finally lost him in the move to Texas. How had she allowed herself to become so complacent? The son of a bitch was as persistent as Michael Myers and twice as mean. She should have killed him when she had the chance.

  Ben whipped his head around. “Hey, Mommy, you passted our house.”

  “We’re taking a little detour, honey.” She struggled to keep the panic from her voice, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles numbed.

  Calm down. She had to calm down. After everything they’d been through, Ben easily picked up on her distress. Thankfully, her son didn’t question her, and he settled back in his car seat.

  What now? Where was she going to go? Not the police. She couldn’t go to the police. There was a warrant out for her arrest.

  Maybe she was overreacting. She’d be the first to admit that her danger receptors were tuned high. What if it wasn’t him? What if it was Ashley back from Acapulco and her boyfriend had given her a ride home? Or what if it was someone else entirely?

  “Mommy, Mom, I’m hungry,” Ben whined.

  “I have to tinkle,” Kimmie said in an urgent tone that meant, Right now.

  Her mind spun in circles, going down the drain. Fight it. She had to fight the panic.

  Mrs. Densmore was standing on the curb taking mail from her letterbox. Dotty Mae was at least eighty, but Meredith knew her from the book club, and she had to get the kids to safety. Now. She pulled up to the elderly woman, and rolled down her window.

  “Good afternoon,” Dotty Mae said brightly.

  “I hate to trouble you, Mrs. Densmore,” Meredith said, peering into the side-view mirrors to make sure the driver of the black Dodge Ram hadn’t come after her. “But I’ve locked myself out of the house and Kimmie needs to go to the bathroom.”

  “Why of course, sweetie, you come on in.” Dotty Mae beamed.

  “Could I also trouble you to keep an eye on them while I wait for the locksmith?” she lied. Almost five years on the run had turned her into a pretty good liar.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much.”

  Meredith killed the engine and helped the kids out, all the while tossing furtive glances over her shoulder. “Go with Mrs. Densmore. She’ll take you to the restroom.”

  “But I’m hungry,” Ben protested.

  Dotty Mae laid a comforting hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry one bit about these little ones. I know what it’s like to be a harried young mother. I’ll give them a snack. Can they have peanut butter?”

  “Peanut butter is fine, yes. Thank you again.”

  Kimmie was hopping around with her knees pressed together. “Tinkle, tinkle!”

  “Right this way.” Putting a palm to each small back, Dotty Mae ushered the children up the walkway into her house.

  Meredith jumped into the minivan and drove around the neighborhood again. Her heart was pushing her blood through her ears so hot and fast she could barely hear. As she neared the house again, she slowed the van to a crawl.

  The black pickup was still there.

  An icy chill licked the back of her neck and her stomach pitched like a skiff in a squall. License number. Memorize the license number.

  And do what with the information?

  She didn’t know, but she had to do something proactive. Just as she passed the house a second time, the front door opened and her heart literally stopped for a full second.

  Omigod, omigod. Same height. Same muscular build. Same dark brown hair.

  But the man coming out onto the porch was not him.

  Instantly, spent adrenaline flooded her body, leaving her shaking so hard she wondered if she was having a seizure. Vaguely, she realized she was still in motion, her front tires had left the pavement, and a white, split-rail wooden fence lay directly in front of her.

  She jammed on the brake just as she hit th
e fence.

  The man looked startled, and came running toward her.

  Desperately, Meredith slammed the minivan into reverse, but he was standing directly behind her. If she backed up, she’d run over him.

  What if he was a hired gun? He looked as if he could be a hired gun. She had to get out of here.

  Back over him if you have to.

  But what if he wasn’t a hired killer? Odds were that he wasn’t.

  She could keep driving forward and crash through the fence, but then she’d end up in the river.

  He was coming up fast on her side of the minivan. Self-preservation warred with common sense. What to do? What to do?

  Meredith slung the van into park, grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, dug through it, and found the canister of pepper spray at the same time he opened her car door.

  She was so jacked up on adrenaline that she couldn’t think straight and there he was, big and looming and dangerous, not saying a single word.

  Without hesitating, she pointed the nozzle in his face and sprayed.

  CHAPTER 3

  For a fraction of a second, Hutch took the pepper spray in the face like the Delta Force operator he was. He grunted mildly, blinked, and planted his feet. After all, he had been through the Confidence Chamber in basic training, where a solider went into the chamber with his classmates and they put on gas masks, and then the drill instructor unleashed a tear-gas tablet. In order to pass the drill, he’d been required to rip off his mask, throw it in a trash can, and recite his full name, rank, and service number.

  But that was tear gas. Compared to this, tear gas was easy as a hot shower. This was something else entirely.

  The inflammatory agent hit him full bore.

  Brilliant pain exploded in his nostrils, singeing his mucous membranes. Vivid red agony stabbed his eyes, instantly swelling them shut. His throat—which he only thought was pretty damn useless lately—seized up. His skin burned as if a million fire ants were stinging him in unison. An overwhelming urge to rub his face gripped him, but he knew that doing so would only make things worse.