CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, Christmas Eve, The Gulch was only open for breakfast and shortened lunch hours. Becca handed out her caramels and was delighted with the enthusiastic response. Much to her surprise, several of the regulars had little gifts for her, as well—a box of chocolate mints, a plate of cookies, a mug filled with hot cocoa packets. Donna and Lou left a wrapped gift for her on the shelf above where she hung her purse and coat.
Pine Gulch was a nice town, she thought. People here had gone far out of their way to make her feel welcome and she wouldn’t soon forget it.
Her happy holiday glow lasted until a little after nine when the door opened and the police chief of this nice town walked in. He was wearing a uniform—something fairly unusual for him, and a PGPD parka and Stetson.
Her traitorous insides trembled, and for an instant, she fiercely wished things could be different between them—especially that she had been honest from the day she showed up in town about Gabi and Monica. She had an equally fierce wish that Donna wasn’t tied up in the office right now so Becca didn’t have to deal with him this morning.
“Merry Christmas, Chief. Do you want a table or a booth?”
“Merry Christmas.” He gave her a cool nod. “Neither, actually. I just need a sweet roll and a breakfast wrap to go. I’ve only got a minute before I have to head back on patrol.”
“I guess police officers don’t get Christmas off.”
He shrugged. “I try to give my officers with kids as much time at home as I can during the holidays.”
Donna chose that moment to emerge from the back room, more paper place mats in her hand from the storage closet there. “If I know you, Chief, you’re going to be working double shifts from now until New Year’s.”
He shifted, looking embarrassed. “Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is, Donna. My officers work hard all year. If I can give them a little more time with their families over the holidays, it’s a small enough thing.”
Becca gazed at this strong, honorable man, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. He worked himself into the ground over the holidays, gave up time with his own family, so his officers could be with their children. How could a woman resist a man like that?
She wasn’t in danger of falling in love with him, she realized, shock trembling through her. She was already there. She didn’t know when it had happened—perhaps that day in the diner when he had protected her from the rowdy snowmobilers or perhaps earlier, when he had shown up at their house with a Christmas tree and that rueful smile.
Or maybe she fell in love when she met her grandfather’s dog, Grunt, and discovered Trace was the sort of man who would take in an ugly little dog and give him a home simply because no one else stepped up to do it.
What if she dared tell him the truth? Surely he would understand and forgive her? She had to believe that. After all, she had only been trying to protect her sister.
While Lou fixed Trace’s breakfast burrito, she grabbed one of the diner’s famous cinnamon rolls from the double batch he had prepared that morning and slipped it into a sack. On impulse, she hurried to the back room for the last small gift bag full of caramels. She already knew Trace had a sweet tooth. Maybe a little candy would help make his long shift a little more bearable.
She was heading back to the dining room when her cell phone rang. Though she carried it with her, very few people had the new number she had obtained when she moved to Pine Gulch. A quick glance at her caller ID verified the call was from her mother’s phone. For a moment, she was tempted to shut off the phone and not accept the call. But since Monica was with Gabi, there was always a chance it was some sort of emergency.
“Yes. Hello?” she finally answered, pitching her voice low.
“She’s packing my stuff!”
Instead of her mother’s voice, she heard Gabi’s and the frantic words turned her insides to ice.
“What?” She could only pray she had misunderstood.
“She just went to the bathroom and I sneaked her phone so I could call you. She’s packing all my stuff. I think she’s trying to leave before you get back.”
Panic exploded through her. She had suspected this very thing, damn it. Why hadn’t she brought Gabi to work with her? When would she ever learn that she couldn’t trust Monica for a single second? “It’s Christmas Eve!”
“I know.” Gabi’s voice wobbled. “I tried to tell her that we should wait until after the holidays, but she said we need to go, that she has people waiting in California, a man, and she’s told him all about me. I’ve apparently been away at boarding school and now I get to spend Christmas with them.”
No. No, no, no! She wouldn’t let this happen. What could she do?
Feeling wild, trapped, she gazed out at the diner trying to formulate a plan and her gaze landed on Trace looking big and solid and reassuring as he stood at the counter talking to Donna. Trace. I hope you know that if you’re ever in any kind of trouble, you can always come to me, he had said to her.
She had to tell him. He was the only one who could help her. How he would do that, she had no idea, but she had to do whatever necessary to protect her sister.
“Stall her. However you can think of, just stall her, okay?”
Gabi was silent for about three seconds. “I’ll try,” she finally said, doubt threading through her voice. She was probably wondering whether she had put her trust in the right person. Becca didn’t blame her for that.
“Hang in there. Whatever you do, don’t let her know you called me. You’ll have to delete the record from her recently dialed calls. Do you know how to do that?”
“I can figure it out.” Gabi sounded terribly young suddenly. Young and frightened. “I don’t want to go, Becca. I like it here with…with you.”
This was a vast outpouring of affection coming from her reserved little sister and Becca had to swallow down tears. “I know, sweetheart. I’m not going to let her do this. Your place is here with me now. Hang on, okay? Just stall her.”
“Okay. I’ve got to go. I just heard the toilet flush.”
Gabi ended the call and Becca drew a deep breath. After the next few moments, everything was going to be different. The time for lies and deception was over. Trace might hate her now but she couldn’t worry about that.
She had to protect her sister, whatever the cost.
* * *
He had to stop coming in here.
He would just have to leave enough time in the mornings so that he could make his own breakfast at home before he left for the day or else somehow force himself to be content with a breakfast sandwich from the fast-food place at the other end of town.
It was too hard to come to The Gulch now with Becca here. Every time he saw her, he had to fight with everything inside him not to pull her into his arms and not let go.
“Here’s your breakfast burrito. I don’t know where Becca has run off to,” Donna said, her dark eyes exasperated. “I swear she was putting a cinnamon roll into a bag for you. Let me just grab you another one.”
“I saw her go to the back room a minute ago,” he said. Of course he hadn’t missed that. He was aware of every move she made, pathetic lovestruck fool that he was.
“I’ll just see what’s going on,” Donna started to say, but before she could move, Becca walked back into the room.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
He saw tension in every line of her body, from the tight set of her shoulders to her clenched fists, and her features were as colorless as they’d been that day her mother came into the diner.
She seemed to take a deep breath and then headed toward him. As she neared, he saw fear in her eyes, stark and cold. He instinctively reached his fingers toward his weapon, hovering there—braced for trouble, despite not knowing its source.
“What’s wrong?”
She let out a shaky breath. “I need your help, Trace.”
“You’ve got it,” he said without hesitation.
She blinked, confusion in her eyes, as if she hadn’t expected such ready willingness. Becca struck him as someone who had been carrying her troubles by herself for entirely too long. Maybe it was time she allowed someone else to lend a shoulder.
Her features softened, her mouth trembling, then she pressed her lips together. “I have to tell you something first. You won’t like it.”
“Sit down first. You look like you’re going to fall over.”
“I can’t. There’s no time. I need to…” She drew in a deep breath, her hands in tight fists at her side. “I just have to come right out and say this. Gabi isn’t really my daughter.”
He stared, the air leaving him a whoosh. He didn’t know what to think, trying to process the shock of this revelation.
“It’s a long story, one I don’t have time to get into right now, but she’s really my younger sister. Half sister, I guess. We share a mother. You met her the other day here at The Gulch.”
Suddenly so much made sense—her protectiveness about Gabi, the vagueness about their past life together, those few times when Becca had seemed completely out of her element when it came to child-rearing.
“You were surprised to see your mother,” he said. He had a thousand questions but that thought seemed to take precedence. “Surprised and not pleased.”
“An understatement.” Becca rubbed a hand over her face. “A few months ago, she dumped Gabi on me in Arizona and took off without a word. I had no idea where she was or how to reach her, which is usually the way I prefer the situation. But here she is again, out of the blue, and she wants to take Gabi away. We have to stop her.”
He felt as if he had missed a step somewhere. There had to be more to this story than a difficult relationship with her mother. He was able to key in on the legalities, however. “You said she’s the girl’s mother. How can you stop her from taking her? Do you have official guardianship of Gabi?”
“No. I told you, she just dumped her on me. I have no formal custody whatsoever, which is why I thought it would be easier when we moved here to just say she was my daughter.” She glanced at her watch. “Custody or not, I have to do something. Gabi doesn’t want to go with Monica. She’s finally got a home and security, friends at school. She’s happy here. If Monica takes her, she’ll…” Her voice trailed off and he sensed this was the crux of the whole situation, though he didn’t know what led him to that conclusion.
“She’ll what?”
She said nothing, looking at the floor, the other customers, the counter—anywhere but at him.
“Help me understand, Becca. What’s so terrible about a mother wanting to be with her own daughter?”
“Monica doesn’t want Gabi.” Bitterness seeped from her words. “She only wants to use her in whatever scheme she’s cooking up now.”
“Scheme?”
She sighed and finally met his gaze, and he saw a lifetime of hurt there. “My mother is a con artist and a thief. She has spent her entire life using everyone around her. I became an emancipated minor when I was sixteen and severed all ties with her because I couldn’t deal with the manipulation and lies anymore. I didn’t even know about Gabi until a few months ago when my mother showed up in Phoenix with her. I hate myself when I think that. Because I refused to have anything to do with Monica, Gabi spent nine years with her. If I’d known, I might have been able to do something to help her get away years earlier.”
She released a long breath. “I wasn’t there for all that time, Trace. But I’m here now and I’ve promised Gabi I won’t let Monica take her. Please, can you help me?”
He couldn’t see a clear way to accomplish that particular job given the legal parameters of his position, but he wasn’t prepared to admit that to her yet. “Can you prove your mother—Monica—is up to something in Pine Gulch?”
“No. Gabi said she’s going to California.” She frowned. “I think she was involved in a job here once. Years ago. She said something about everything going wrong. I don’t see how that can help us, though.”
She checked her watch again. “We have to hurry, Trace. She could be driving away right now. Please, will you help me stop her?”
He had rarely felt so helpless as he considered the best course of action. “Without evidence of wrongdoing, I can’t just storm in and take your sister away from her mother. I wish it were that simple.”
“So you’re not going to help me. She’s going to destroy Gabi’s childhood just like she did…”
“Yours?”
In one short, tense conversation, so many things about Becca seemed vividly clear to him now. She was a series of layers, complex and mysterious. A challenge he found eminently intriguing.
At the core, though, was a woman trying to do the right thing for a young girl. If he could, he vowed he would figure out a way to help her.
“I can stall her,” he finally said. “Maybe take her in for questioning on some open cases we have here while we bring in CPD. You said she was involved in something around here years ago?”
“She wouldn’t talk much about it, only to say it turned violent unexpectedly and she left when she could. She said her part was small. I will say this for my mother, amoral she might be but she abhors violence. Says it’s unnecessary and messy.”
He frowned, a little niggle of unease lodging in his gut. “How long ago?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. I had nothing to do with her for the last dozen years. She did say she was pregnant with Gabi, so that would have been about a decade ago. Somewhere in there. Her job was reconnaissance.”
Was it possible that Becca’s mother had been involved with the men who had killed his parents? He and the local authorities had been convinced more people had been involved than just the two men Caidy had seen shoot his parents and the woman who had been sent to distract him from coming home in the middle of the robbery.
He felt a little stir of anticipation at the possibility of a break in the case, a link to the people who had killed his parents. At the same time, he didn’t miss the irony—he was in love with a woman who just might be the daughter of someone involved in that heinous crime.
He wouldn’t worry about that right now, until he met the woman and had a chance to assess the situation.
“I need to go. I can’t just stand here.” Becca twisted her hands together. “Gabi said Monica is packing her things.”
“Grab your coat. Let’s go.”
Her eyes widened with a dazed sort of shock as if she hadn’t let herself believe he would truly help her. This only served to reinforce his belief that she had known very few people she could count on in her life. It made him sad, made him want to tuck her against his heart and promise her he would always be there when she needed him.
“I have to tell Donna.”
“I heard, darlin’.” The older woman stood a few feet away.
“All of it?” Becca looked worried, probably certain she would face censure for lying, but Donna stepped forward and squeezed her hands. “You go do what you have to in order to protect that little girl. We’ll be fine. I can handle things here.”
Eyes brimming with tears she didn’t shed, Becca hugged her employer tightly for a moment, then left the room to grab her coat.
“I mean it,” Donna said to him when Becca was out of earshot. “You do whatever you have to, Trace. She loves that girl, daughter or not. It sounds like this mother is a real piece of work. You teach her that in Pine Gulch, we take care of our own.”
Oh, no pressure. Trace sighed. He would do what he could. But right now his options when it came to keeping a mother away from her child seemed pitifully inadequate.
* * *
He was helping her. Some part of her almost couldn’t believe this wasn’t some kind of trick, that he wasn’t going to just take her to the police station and charge her with lying to a police officer or obstruction of justice.
Across the width of the vehicle, Trace watched the road and the tiny snowflakes fluttering down in front of the vehicle. He looked grim and dangerous, his jaw firm and his mouth hard—definitely not a man she would want to mess with under other circumstances. For an instant, she almost felt sorry for Monica for being oblivious as to what havoc was going to rain down on her in a very short time.
She was suddenly very grateful to have Trace Bowman on her side.
He was on her side. He had been from the beginning. She had been so stupid not to trust him from the moment she showed up in Pine Gulch. Most of the time she liked to tell herself her tumultuous childhood hadn’t left any lasting damage. But once in a while she saw with stark clarity how stunted she was in certain areas. A willingness to allow herself to rely on others was right there at the top of the list. She had been on her own for so long—even before she officially severed ties with Monica—that she had a difficult time giving others any opportunity to see past her defenses in order to help her.
She hadn’t expected this sweet, healing relief at knowing someone else was in her corner, helping her fight her own particular dragon.
On impulse, she reached out and touched his arm, feeling the heat and the strength through the thickness of his coat.
“Trace, I shouldn’t have lied to you and everyone else about Gabi being my daughter. I’m sorry. When I tried to register her at school, I realized I didn’t have a birth certificate or anything. It…seemed easier to say I was her mother than to try to explain the whole messy situation and have to admit I wasn’t technically her legal guardian. I was worried the school would have to open an investigation with child protective services. I couldn’t bear to think of her being taken away, going into foster care, not when I’m trying my best to give her a comfortable life. Foster care would have been horrible for her.”
She’d had a few short bouts in foster care during those times Monica had been arrested and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not the sister she loved.
“I wish you had trusted me.”
Her life the last few months would have been so much less stressful if only she hadn’t been so stubbornly independent. “I should have.”
He sent her a quick look across the vehicle, then turned his attention back to the road as they turned onto the street they shared. “Is that the reason you pushed me away? Because I’m a cop and you were afraid to spend more time with me for fear I would figure it out and take Gabi away?”
“I was raised from an infant not to attract the attention of the police. It’s a little hard to break the habit. But yes, that’s the main reason.”
He said nothing but she thought she saw a glint of something unreadable in his green eyes and then they were at her grandfather’s house.
In the driveway, Monica was placing a box in the trunk of her car, which was tricked out with every available luxury.
Trace pulled into the driveway behind her, effectively blocking her escape route. Nicely done, Becca thought, and she watched her mother’s features dissolve into a wild, thwarted fury for only an instant before she wiped them clean again.
By the time they climbed out of the patrol vehicle and headed toward Monica in the cold December air, her mother had turned on what Becca always considered her Distressed Maiden persona.
She was very good at what she did. It was always a bit of a surprise to watch the transformation. In the thirty seconds it took them to exit Trace’s patrol vehicle, Monica had somehow managed to mess her hair a little like someone flustered and mussed, and transform her features so she looked somehow older, frightened.
“Officer. I’m so glad you’re here. You must help me.”
Trace raised an eyebrow, looking singularly unmoved. “Must I?”
“Yes. My child is being held here against her will.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she pointed at Becca. “She took her away from me and ran off with her. You wouldn’t believe how frantic I’ve been.”
“No doubt.”
“I’ve been looking for her for months and now I’ve finally found her. I’ve just been waiting for my chance to take her.”
“How terrifying for you.”
She studied him, apparently trying to decide if he was sarcastic or not but Trace wore no expression.
“Yes, well, I’ve found her now. We’re together again.” She offered up a quivery sort of smile. “I don’t want to press charges or anything. I just want to take my child and leave your lovely little town.”
“Why?”
That single word seemed to stymie Monica. She stared at him for a moment. “Why?”
“Yes. Why? We police types tend to look for motive. It’s a bad habit.” He gave a self-deprecating little smile that still sent chills down Becca’s spine.
In official cop mode, Trace was nothing short of terrifying. Who would have expected the nice man he seemed to be most of the time to be able to come off as such a badass?
“What reason would Ms. Parsons have to take your daughter away from you and move here to Pine Gulch?”
“Spite. Vengeance. She was angry at me because of…some unfortunate real-estate investments and she struck out at me the one way she knew would hurt the most, by keeping my child away from me.”
Trace nodded as if he sympathized with her, even accepted the hypothesis. For an instant, Becca felt a clutch of fear. What if he bought Monica’s lies? She was extraordinarily good at the con.
No. She reined in the panic. Trace knew her. They were friends—and possibly more. He would never believe she would take Gabi out of spite. She had to trust him.
“Why don’t we all go inside out of the cold and talk about this?” Trace spoke in a calm-the-situation voice. “Where is Gabi now?”
“Inside packing her things. She can’t wait to leave.”
Becca stared at her mother, shocked at such a fervent and blatant lie that would be ridiculously easy to disprove simply by asking Gabi. It was not the sort of mistake Monica would normally make, unless she was completely certain Gabi would back up her story. She wouldn’t, would she? Gabi had called her, begging her to prevent Monica from taking her.
When they walked inside the house, Gabi was sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree Trace had brought them. Though it was only midmorning, all the lights on the tree were blazing here in the overcast gloom. Her sister’s gaze instantly found Becca’s. Instead of her usual cool reserve, Gabi looked frightened.
Becca instantly went to her and pulled her into a hug. This was one of those cherished moments when Gabi didn’t resist; she just threw her arms around her sister.
“Doesn’t look to me as if she can’t wait to leave,” Trace commented.
A hint of fury sparked in Monica’s eyes again but she maintained her Distressed Maiden act. “Tell the police officer, Gabrielle. How Rebecca took you away from me and I couldn’t find you for months. She brought you here and you’ve been miserable and can’t wait to leave. You called me and begged me to come rescue you. Go ahead and tell him.”
Becca felt her sister’s withdrawal. Gabi sat up and moved away from her, her thin features pinched. “I called her,” she whispered.
Her heart sank. What hold did Monica have on Gabi, beyond the helpless love of a child for her mother? Oh, sweetheart.
Trace didn’t reveal a hint of his thoughts in his eyes or his expression and she felt that clutch of fear again. With Gabi’s apparent corroboration, would he believe that she had taken her sister without Monica’s permission?
“Gabi, this is important. I need to know the truth. Do you want to go with your mother?” Trace asked.
The girl’s gaze flickered from him to their homespun Christmas tree then to her mother. She completely avoided looking at Becca. She didn’t speak, however, merely gave a tiny nod that seared through Becca like acid.
Monica must have convinced her to lie somehow. She remembered Gabi’s frightened voice on the phone. I don’t want to go, Becca. I like it here with you.
Triumph flashed in Monica’s perfectly made-up eyes. She smiled at Gabi, who looked even more frightened. “See? I told you! She’s been miserable here. Poor thing. It’s been a nightmare for the girl. She can’t wait to leave!”
She turned on Becca. “I hope you’re ashamed of yourself, trying to keep a child away from her loving mother. I can’t imagine how a child I raised could possibly be so heartless. Now if you don’t mind moving your vehicle, sir, we’ll just be on our way. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do. I believe I understand perfectly.” He smiled and those chills skittered down Becca’s spine again. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave town just yet. I need to make a few phone calls first. I’m sure you understand. Just procedure.”
Monica shifted and her careful mask began to slip. “I don’t understand. What sort of phone calls?”
“Just technicalities. There’s still the matter of your abandonment of your daughter in Arizona.”
“Abandonment? I didn’t abandon anyone. She took her and left town. How was I supposed to find her?”
“You’ll have to forgive me but that’s the point I’m unclear about. Gabi, how long were you with your sister in Phoenix before you moved here?”
Gabi frowned in confusion. “I don’t know. A month, maybe.”
“A month. I see. And where was your mother during that time?”
Gabi looked at Becca then at Monica before meeting Trace’s gaze. “I don’t know. She didn’t say. We were staying with Becca in Arizona. And one morning when I woke up, my mom wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything to me before she left. I waited and waited for her to come back but she never did.”
Her sister sounded forlorn, abject. Becca might have thought it was an act, just another masquerade, but she remembered how torn up Gabi had been after Monica left.
“And Becca.” Trace directed his attention to her. “Did you have any idea where your mother was during that time?”
She felt a tiny glimmer of hope, like a pale sunbeam just barely piercing through clouds. She understood exactly where he was going with this and she couldn’t see at all how Monica could wriggle out. “None whatsoever,” she said firmly. “She didn’t leave a note or email or try to contact us in any way. The only thing she left was a mountain of debts I ended up having to pay. It took me a month to sell my town house and liquidate what was left of my assets in order for us to move here to the house my grandfather gave me.”
Trace gave Monica a long, slow look of appraisal. “Sounds like a fairly cut-and-dried case of child abandonment to me.”
Shock held Monica speechless for a long moment. She looked at the three of them as if trying to figure out just where the game had gone wrong. When she spoke, Distressed Maiden had been kicked to the curb. Monica’s voice was hard, angry. “Well, I’m here now and I want my child. She said herself she wants to go with me.”
“With apologies to Gabi here, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, ma’am. I’m going to have to take you down to the station with me. We don’t deal with this sort of thing very often, so I’m going to have to contact the authorities in Arizona about their particular laws and ordinances. With it being Christmas Eve, that might take longer than normal.” He shrugged, just a Good Old Boy frustrated with the system. Apparently the Parsons women weren’t the only con artists around.
“It’s all going to take time,” Trace went on, “but I’m sure you don’t mind. You probably don’t have anywhere to be for a few days anyway, do you?”
In that moment, Becca realized with startling, joyful clarity that she was fiercely, crazily in love with Trace Bowman. She wanted to run to him and hug him until her arms ached, to tell him just how perfectly he had handled things from the moment they pulled in.
Gabi had sidled closer to her and reached out to grip her knee. Her sister was afraid to hope, she realized. She knew exactly what that felt like. She covered Gabi’s fingers with hers and gave a comforting squeeze.
Monica had apparently decided to try on Angry Power-Broker for size. Her eyes were hard, glittery, her shoulders thrown back. “You are making a serious mistake. You have no idea how much of one. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let some two-bit cop railroad me into some half-assed child abandonment charge that won’t stick anyway. I have an excellent attorney and he’ll have your badge before we’re done with this.”
Trace merely gazed back, unfazed. “I look forward to it, ma’am. I truly do. Now would you please put your hands behind your back?”
“You are not going to arrest me.”
His smile was lethally sharp. “Watch me.”
Much to Becca’s shock, he moved behind Monica and grabbed one arm. The metallic clink of his handcuffs sliding on pinged through the room. Gabi made a little sound of distress that caught Trace’s attention. He gazed at her younger sister for a long moment, pausing before sliding the other cuff on, then turned back to Monica.
“You know, now that I think about it, there is one more alternative.”
“What?” Monica seized on the possibility.
“You sign a legal document giving Becca guardianship of Gabi.”
“Forget it!”
He reached for her other arm, handcuff at the ready. “Fine. This way means a lot more paperwork, but it’s better than being out in the snow on Christmas Eve anyway. Like I said, it might be a couple of days before I can reach anyone in Arizona but we’ll get this straightened out eventually. We might have a few open cases around here we can talk to you about. Oh, say, something that happened ten years ago right around this time of year.”
Monica’s mouth turned white and she aimed another vicious glare at Becca, looking suddenly years older than her very well–maintained fifty. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He sounded cheerful. “We’ll sort all that out eventually.”
“This isn’t right. Trying to take a child from her mother.”
He glanced toward the couch, where Becca now sat holding Gabi’s hand. “You know, you’re absolutely right. Funny thing is, that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid here. A woman doesn’t necessarily have to give birth to be just the person for the job.”
Tears burned in Becca’s eyes and she held Gabi’s hand more tightly.
The mantel clock chimed ten o’clock. Not even noon and Becca felt as if she’d lived a lifetime since she awoke filled with anticipation for Christmas Eve.
Monica looked at the clock, a hint of panic in her eyes, then she gazed at the sofa at her two daughters. After a long pause, during which Becca could practically see her spinning all the angles, Monica finally released a heavy sigh.
“You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?”
“I believe I gave you a choice,” Trace said calmly. “Child abandonment charges—and whatever else I can find—or you sign custody over to Becca and leave Pine Gulch.”
They all waited, the moments ticking past, until Monica finally frowned. “How am I supposed to sign anything with these stupid cuffs on?”
Gabi hitched in a little breath beside her, her gamine little features a strangely poignant mix of relief and sadness.
“No problem. They weren’t locked anyway.” He pulled the cuffs off and hooked them on his belt again.
“Becca, you’re the attorney. Write up something legally binding that will stand up in court, will you? I can witness as an officer of the court. We still might need to do some maneuvering to dot all the i’s, but I have friends on the bench.”
Monica looked even more furious at this—probably expecting she eventually could figure out a way to wrangle out of any hasty agreement.
“Let’s get this over with, then. I’ve got places to go.”
Fifteen minutes later, it was done. Her quickly composed guardianship transfer was as legally sound as she could make it. Monica signed with short, bitter strokes, then Trace and Gabi unloaded her trunk and backseat. Her mother gave Gabi a tearful hug goodbye, promising to visit as soon as she could. To Becca, Monica only delivered a deep, angry glare, which bothered her not one bit.
Trace backed his patrol car out of the driveway and Monica drove off through the murky December sunlight.
To Becca’s surprise, Trace pulled back into the driveway and climbed out.
“You okay, kiddo?” he asked Gabi, whose chin still tended to wobble as she watched her mother drive away. “You didn’t mean what you said about wanting to go with her, did you?”
“I only said that because she said she would have Becca put in jail for taking me if I didn’t. She’s my mom. I love her, even though sometimes it’s hard. But things have been better since we’ve been here. I like going to school and making friends and having my own bedroom.” She paused, her features uncertain as she looked at Becca. “Are you sure you want me to stay, though? I’ve caused a lot of trouble.”
“Oh, absolutely, my dear.” She hugged her sister close, thinking about how very much her life had changed in a few months. Trace’s words seemed to ring through her head. A woman doesn’t necessarily have to give birth to be just the person for the job.
She hadn’t wanted to be a mother before Gabi came into her life. Now she couldn’t imagine her world without her funny, clever, challenging little sister.
“I’m going to start putting my things away,” Gabi said. “Do you think maybe I could get some posters to hang on the wall?”
Becca fought tears. Gabi wanted to decorate her room, finally, after nearly a month here. “I think that would be just perfect.”
With the resiliency of the young, Gabi hurried up the stairs, leaving Trace and Becca alone in her grandfather’s living room.
She was suddenly fiercely aware of him, his solid strength and comfort. She remembered the heat of his mouth on hers and the sweet peace she found in his arms.
She swallowed, choosing to focus on the events of the morning instead of those handful of dangerous moments she replayed over and over in her mind.
“Thank you for everything. I can’t believe you just let Monica leave like that, without arresting her. What about the old case?”
“The whole point was to convince her to sign the guardianship papers, not to pursue a hazy link to a ten-year-old crime she probably could never be prosecuted for. I would have liked to question her to see if she could lead us to someone else involved, but maybe I can still eventually pursue that.”
She stared at him, the pieces falling together finally. Ten years. Pine Gulch. Christmas. A job that went violently wrong. “Your parents. Oh, dear heavens. Do you think she might have been involved with your parents’ murders?”
He looked more distant than he had all morning. “Possibly. A woman claiming to be an art student showed up at the house out of the blue a few days before the murders, asking to see the collection. My mother was the only one home. Caidy said my mother told her about it and said she felt sorry for the woman because she was quite pregnant, without a ring on her finger, and seemed tired and down. That’s the sort of thing my mother would have worried about. She thought the artwork would cheer her up, so she let her inside to see the collection and take pictures. My mother told Caidy she was quite charming.”
Nausea churned in her stomach. “You think that might have been Monica?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“All the more reason you should have arrested her!”
“I have no proof. Nothing to definitely connect her except a ten-year-old hearsay account of an encounter that may or may not have taken place. It’s a starting point, though. A lead I didn’t have yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “You’re not responsible for something your mother may or may not have done.”
He was absolutely right. She had spent far too much time in her life apologizing for Monica. In Phoenix, she had basically cleaned out her assets to pay Monica’s debts. Someone else might have walked away and left the victims to suffer, but that wasn’t in her nature. She might not have committed the crimes, but Monica had used Becca’s connections in the real-estate world, which left her tangentially responsible.
Trace glanced at the mantel clock. “I should go. We’re shorthanded from the holidays and I should be out on patrol.”
“Of course. Thank you, again. You’ve given me a precious gift for Christmas. Peace of mind is better than anything else I could find under the tree.”
“I’m glad.” He smiled, and for a moment she was lost in the green of his eyes, like new leaves unfurling in the springtime….
She jerked herself back to reality. “I hate to ask but I wondered if I could have one more favor.”
“Absolutely.”
His immediate willingness sent more warmth to nestle near her heart. “Are you still serious about finding another home for your dog?”
He blinked. “I don’t want to give him away,” he said slowly. “But I have to think he would be happier where he’s not alone all the time.”
Wouldn’t we all? she thought. “In that case, I think Gabi would love to add Grunt to our family. She’s never had a pet before.”
“Great! I think you’re going to make a dog very happy. And a girl, for that matter. Do you want me to bring him over later so you can give him to her for Christmas morning?”
“What a wonderful idea! I never thought of that.”
“I’m on until eleven. Would it be too late for me to bring him over after my shift?”
“Not at all. Are you sure you’re okay with giving him away?”
“It will be better for Grunt. He’ll be happy to be back here, the place that was the only home he knew. I’ll miss his ugly little face but I can always visit, right?”
For some ridiculous reason, she could feel herself blush. “Yes. Anytime you’d like.”
“Good to know.” He smiled warmly and her blush spread.
“Merry Christmas. I’ll stop by later tonight with Grunt.”
She nodded and held the door open. Because of him, her Christmas suddenly seemed wonderfully bright—in no small part because she knew she would see him again in a few hours.