FRAME-UP

Someone has framed Darci Tucker for embezzlement—and she’s pretty sure it’s her boss. The real criminal will do anything to make sure she doesn’t talk, from breaking into her home to hacking her computer. Her only hope for regaining control, and protecting her young son from danger, is Conner Stevenson. Desperate for answers about his sister’s sudden disappearance, Conner is determined to uncover why the bookkeeper was named a target. Now Darci and her son have become pawns in a deadly game, and as Conner races to protect them, he finds he wants more than justice. He may want a family for Christmas after all…if they live that long.

Fear overtook her face.

“As much as I don’t want to go back there alone, I have no choice.”

“You’re not alone.”

Conner mentally shook away the crazy thoughts. When Darci decided to let a man back into her life, it would be someone who had what it took to be a father and husband. That someone wasn’t him.

Darci shook her head. “I won’t put you in danger. This is my fight, not yours.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Just who are you?”

“The missing woman is my sister. The night she disappeared she called me. Said she was scared and on her way over.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. If only…

No. Second-guessing himself was wasted energy. All the regrets in the world wouldn’t change anything.

“And?”

He met Darci’s eyes. “She never made it. Your boss apparently got to her first. And from the look of things, he’ll get you next.”

CAROL J. POST writes fun and fast-paced inspirational romantic suspense and lives in sunshiny central Florida. She sings and plays the piano for her church and also enjoys sailing, hiking, camping—almost anything outdoors. Her daughters and grandkids live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of two fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dachshund.

Mistletoe Justice

Carol J. Post

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name. For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations.

—Psalms 100:4–5

As always, I want to thank my family for your encouragement and support. And special thanks to Mom Roberts and Mom Post for promoting me to all your friends!

Thank you to my critique partners, Karen, Dixie and Sabrina. You have a great eye for seeing the things I’ve missed. Your input is invaluable.

Thank you to my editor, Rachel Burkot, and my agent, Nalini Akolekar. I’m so blessed to be working with both of you.

And thank you to my husband, Chris. If I had it to do over again, I’d do it all over again.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Gravel crunched beneath the tires of the old Corolla. Beyond the reaches of its headlights, the darkness was thick. A full moon had begun its ascent, but hidden behind the acres of pine forest, it wasn’t much help. The mine was an eerie place at night.

Darci Tucker rounded the final bend, and the view opened up. The office building stood to the left. Ahead and to the right, mounds of dirt rose in the slanted moonlight, a mini-mountain range against a dimly lit sky.

She turned into the parking lot and tightened her grip on the wheel. Two cars sat in front, a white Mercedes and a silver Lexus. The Lexus wasn’t familiar. The Mercedes was. When she’d left work forty minutes earlier, the place had been deserted. Now her boss was back. Mr. Wiggins wouldn’t appreciate her interrupting his after-hours meeting. But she’d left her phone on her desk and wouldn’t return until Monday.

She circled around the building and stopped at an unmarked door. Maybe she could slip in through the employee break room without bothering anyone. Rupert Wiggins was the chief financial officer of P. T. Aggregates and her direct supervisor. But he had his hands in all the operations. And he was a tyrant. During her five and a half months of employment, she’d never been the recipient of his wrath, but she’d seen him ream out enough others to know she’d rather avoid that temper.

When she stepped from the car, a cool breeze swept her hair into her face. She tucked the strands behind her ear and pulled her jacket more tightly around her. In mid-November, some parts of the country were bracing for a long winter. Not Florida. Its first cold front of the year had lost its bluster before reaching the Georgia-Florida line.

She crept toward the building, key in hand, and peered through the window. The break room was dark, but dim light came from elsewhere, probably the hall that led to six of the offices, hers and Wiggins’s included.

As she stepped inside, murmured words drifted to her. Wiggins and his guest. She tiptoed closer, and when she rounded the last corner, the muscles in her neck and shoulders tightened. Her boss’s office door was open, his light on.

Then an angry shout stopped her in her tracks. Wiggins wasn’t pleased. The other man responded, but she couldn’t make out the words. He was hoarse, as if he had laryngitis.

“You want out?” Wiggins’s voice was still raised. “It’s a little too late for that now.”

She held her breath, straining to hear the stranger’s answer.

“I don’t like the way you’re doing things.”

“Tough.”

After another moment’s hesitation, she spurred herself to action. She wasn’t going through the weekend without a phone, especially after driving forty minutes to get back. She’d almost made it to Cedar Key before she realized it was missing.

She crept down the hall. Wiggins’s office was at the end, but she wouldn’t go that far. Interrupting him when he was angry might have serious consequences.

Wiggins continued, “We had a problem, and I took care of it. I did what had to be done.”

“And you crossed a line that I wouldn’t cross.”

The derisive snort that followed came from Wiggins. “You haven’t complained about the money you’re raking in, so don’t go getting pious on me.”

Darci stepped into her office without turning on the light, her pulse pounding in her ears. That didn’t sound like a disagreement over business practices. Not ethical ones, anyway. If they knew she had overheard, losing her job would be the least of her worries.

Before she could reach her phone, the screen lit up and a drumbeat sounded. She froze just inside her doorway, her heart lodged in her throat. Other instruments joined in, bringing the ringtone to full volume. The conversation at the end of the hall ceased.

The thud of footsteps kicked her body into motion. She flew around her desk and dived under it a nanosecond before bright light filled the room. Both men approached.

She swallowed hard and clenched her fists. Her hands were ice-cold, but perspiration dampened her palms. Dear God, please don’t let them look under the desk. They were standing so close she could have reached out and touched their shoes.

Wiggins gave a dry laugh. “Chill. It’s just her phone. You’re way too jumpy.”

“And you’re not jumpy enough.”

The voice penetrated her spiraling thoughts. Beneath the raspy tone was the hint of something familiar.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. No one’s here but us.”

Several excruciating moments passed before the men moved toward the door. Strength drained from her body, relief tempered with caution. She wasn’t safe yet.

“How much does Darci know?”

At the raspy words, relief fled. Dizziness assaulted her, as if some unknown force had sucked the oxygen from the air. She did know the man. At least, he knew her.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“And if she finds out?” The confidence in Wiggins’s voice was lacking in the other man’s.

“She won’t.”

“The other one did.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t talk.”

Dread knotted her insides. Someone flipped the light switch, casting the area into semidarkness, and the men stepped into the hall. Her head was tucked and turned to the side, her neck bent at an awkward angle, her knees pressed into her cheek. But she didn’t move. No matter how long Wiggins’s meeting lasted, she would wait it out.

His office door closed with a soft thud, and footsteps again sounded in the hall. Maybe they were done for the night. Wiggins always kept his door locked. Now she knew why.

The other man spoke from just outside her office. “How many people do you think can disappear before someone suspects something?”

Tension that had just started to ease returned tenfold. Disappear?

“It won’t come to that.” There was a coldness in the words that shot straight to her core. “I have ways of guaranteeing silence. Darci Tucker won’t be a problem.”

“You’d better not hurt her.” A threat lay underneath the tone.

The footsteps moved away. Yes, they were leaving. Wiggins gave another derisive snort. He had condescension down to a science. “Sounds like you’ve still got feelings for my accounting manager.”

The hallway light clicked off, casting her in darkness. The other man’s response didn’t reach her. Wiggins’s next words barely did.

“You’re so used to women falling at your feet, you can’t get over the fact that one told you to take a hike.”

Darci crawled out from under the desk and tiptoed to the doorway. Who was Wiggins talking to? Someone who’d hit on her at some point. But that wasn’t much help. Since starting at P. T., she’d been asked out by several employees, as well as a couple of vendors and customers—the joys of being the only single female in a predominantly male work environment. But with a special-needs four-year-old who required her attention, she wasn’t in the market for any of it.

She emerged from her office and crept toward the front of the building. The entry door opened then closed, and a key turned in the lock. Now alone, she slipped into the lobby, avoiding the soft light spilling in through the two large windows. Outside was Wiggins’s Mercedes. The Lexus was next to it, backed in, but with the angle and heavy shadow, the license plate was obscured.

She couldn’t identify the man, either. He stood at his driver’s door with his back to her, the hood of his lightweight coat flipped over his head. Wiggins gave him a rough pat on the shoulder and moved toward his own vehicle. Then they both drove away into the night. A relieved breath fell from her mouth. They didn’t circle around back, so she could escape unnoticed.

Anxious to be gone, she hurried toward the break room. As she stepped into the damp night air, she heaved a sigh. She could have been at her parents’ house, snuggled up on the couch with Jayden while a Disney movie played on the big-screen TV.

Instead she was sneaking around in the dark like a fugitive. She could have gotten herself killed. And she still didn’t have her phone. But she couldn’t take it now that Wiggins had seen it.

From day one, she’d never liked him. He was overbearing, arrogant and patronizing. And crooked. Though she didn’t know what it was, Rupert Wiggins was involved in something shady. Someone had found out. And at least one person had disappeared.

She slipped her key into the lock and slid the dead bolt over. The other one did. The other what? The other accounting manager? Wiggins had said she’d quit without notice. Maybe she’d found something and didn’t want to be there when it all blew up.

Darci frowned. If she was smart, she would do the same thing.

But that wasn’t an option. She needed her job. The years she ran Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts had been good. But during the summer months, keeping her head above water had been difficult. So she’d sold the shop and applied for several jobs. When she landed the one at P. T. Aggregates, she’d been thrilled. First with the pay. Second with the insurance benefits. Both opened up opportunities for Jayden that she didn’t have as a self-employed store owner. It had almost seemed too good to be true.

Maybe it was. Maybe her dream job would become a nightmare.

A chill that had nothing to do with the cool weather swept over her. She turned and headed toward her car. Tonight’s conversation confirmed what she had suspected all along—Wiggins wasn’t a man to be messed with.

Well, he had nothing to fear from her. She wasn’t a sleuth. She wasn’t even a detective wannabe. Whatever he was involved in, she was content to just do her job and stay blissfully ignorant.

Because if Wiggins even thought that she knew his business, he would deal with her. He had ways of guaranteeing her silence. He would make sure she didn’t talk.

Maybe he would even make her disappear.

Dear God, what have I gotten myself into?

* * *

Conner Stevenson eased to a stop at the entrance to the mine and waited as two vehicles exited the gravel drive. The first was Rupert Wiggins’s Mercedes. The CFO of P. T. Aggregates was well paid. That power and prestige showed in everything he did, from the way he carried himself to how he talked down to those under his command.

But Wiggins could talk to him any way he liked. Conner was right where he wanted to be. After five months of trying to land a job—any job—with P. T. Aggregates, he’d finally succeeded. The glowing recommendation from C. S. Equipment had had a lot to do with it. But nothing that Sandy, his HR person, had said was false. He really did know his stuff. He had years of experience with heavy equipment repair—overseeing, as well as hands-on. Sandy had just failed to mention that he was the owner of the company.

Conner made his way up the gravel drive, a crumpled McDonald’s bag in the seat beside him. He wasn’t finished working, but the trip off-site had been necessary. Not only had he been half-starved himself, but his nephew, Kyle, had needed something to eat. So had the teenage neighbor girl Conner had rooked into helping him after the previous babysitter quit. If he was lucky, she would survive until he found a replacement.

Conner sighed. He’d take it a day at a time. One minigoal had been reached—he now had his foot in the door at P. T. Today completed his first full week as their equipment mechanic. Actually, tonight would complete it. His first week on the job, and he’d almost been whipped by a Caterpillar.

But after cleaning the carburetor, installing a new manifold and changing a couple of hydraulic cylinders, he was on the home stretch. It was a good thing. Wiggins said the backhoe had to be running by the end of the day. He just didn’t say what time.

As he rounded the back of the office building on his way to the equipment area, something moved at the edge of his headlight beams. He drew his brows together. No one should be there. The mine didn’t run a night shift. He turned the wheel left and angled his pickup toward the building.

White light flooded the scene. An older red Corolla sat parked in front of the back door of the break room, picnic tables to one side. A figure stood frozen in his headlight beams, eyes wide. Dark, windblown hair framed a pale face.

It was Darci Tucker, the accounting manager. The same position his sister had held. He hadn’t officially met Tucker, but he’d seen her around and knew who she was. He’d made it a point to find out. Based on what a couple of his coworkers had told him, Tucker had shown up two weeks after his sister had left.

Except Claire hadn’t left. She’d disappeared. Vehicle and all.

The cops investigated, talked to her friends, neighbors and coworkers. After coming up with nothing, they’d finally given up. Maybe they would have stuck it out longer if Claire hadn’t had a habit of disappearing every few years since age sixteen.

But this time was different. She’d been clean for over a year and was working a steady job. And she was finally being a mother to her seven-year-old son, had even started taking him to church.

And there was that phone call, the last time they’d spoken. She’d called to say she was on her way over. Said she’d discovered something and was scared. She never made it. And he never found out what that “something” was.

He eased to a stop but didn’t pull into a parking space. Checking out Claire’s friends and neighbors had led nowhere, so he’d expanded his unofficial investigation to her workplace. It looked as if he was on the right track. Apparently Wiggins’s after-hours meeting had included Tucker. And judging from her deer-caught-in-headlights pose, she hadn’t planned on being seen.

He lowered the window and tilted his head through the opening. “I’m Conner Stevenson, the new mechanic.”

His words jarred her into motion. She swung open her driver’s door.

“Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t introduce herself.

“I have to finish a repair on the backhoe. It’s giving me fits, but I get the impression Wiggins doesn’t entertain excuses.”

“Wiggins can be demanding.” She gave him a slight smile, but still appeared poised to bolt at any second.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just came back to get something.”

His eyes dipped to her hands. One held a set of keys. The other was empty. She wasn’t even carrying a purse. If she had really come back to get something, it was apparently small enough to fit inside the pocket of her lightweight jacket.

“Did you find what you needed?”

She nodded, the motion stiff and jerky. “Yep. Everything’s good.”

That was a lie, if he’d ever heard one. He held up a hand. “Have a nice weekend. Mine starts in about an hour, if the Caterpillar back there will cooperate.”

“Good luck.”

She got into her car and backed from the space. When she pulled forward, she released the clutch too quickly and the car lurched. At the edge of the building, she made a sharp turn onto the drive, and its back fishtailed, slinging gravel.

Conner frowned. Darci Tucker couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

He stepped on the gas and headed into the field. Someone at P. T. Aggregates probably had information about Claire’s disappearance. But he had a Caterpillar to wrestle. And he needed to get it done and get home before Jenna threw in the towel, like the four sitters before her had. No matter what kind of recommendations they came with or how much experience they had, one week with Kyle had put each of his babysitters at the end of her rope.

He could relate. That was exactly where he had been since Kyle stepped over his threshold. And he couldn’t blame the kid. He never knew his dad, and now his mom was missing. He was moody and bitter and angry at the world. And Conner hadn’t the slightest clue how to help him.

He brought his F-150 to a stop next to the service truck that held his mechanics’ tools. He hadn’t signed up for this. He was supposed to be free and single and enjoying life. He was still single. But freedom had flown out the window the moment his sister disappeared. And it had seemed like three forevers since he had enjoyed his life.

He sighed and stepped from the truck. Maybe when he was finished, he would do a little snooping. He dismissed the idea as soon as it came. The incriminating stuff was likely to be inside. What he needed to do was get to know this Darci Tucker, which wouldn’t be an easy task. According to his coworkers, she kept her guard up. As the only young, single woman in the company, she probably felt like a guppy in a tank full of sharks.

But he wasn’t going to hit on her. And not because she wasn’t attractive. She was. She was short—a good eight or nine inches less than his six feet. Her dark hair reached her shoulders, its soft, silky waves begging to be touched. With those expressive blue eyes that sparkled with life and that spontaneous smile that so often lit her face, she possessed a down-to-earth beauty that had piqued his interest from the get-go.

But he had too much on his plate to think about romance, which was a good thing. His prospects had totally dried up over the past six months. Women weren’t looking for men with baggage, especially in the form of a seven-year-old with a stinkin’ attitude and a smart mouth.

He opened the back doors of the service truck, pulled out a set of wrenches and approached the monster backhoe. He would figure out a way to get to Darci Tucker. Because he had no doubt—Claire didn’t just take off. She finally had her life on track. She liked her job. She loved her son. And she’d found the contentment that had always eluded her. She didn’t walk away from it all. At least not by choice.

If Wiggins was involved, he was good at concealing it. Tucker wasn’t. She had guilt written all over her.

Or maybe that wasn’t guilt. Maybe it was fear—not at him having seen her, but of something much more sinister.

The same fear his sister had felt.

* * *

Sharp white light spilled from the fluorescent fixture overhead, chasing the shadows from Darci’s office. She dropped her purse and a small cooler on the floor of the closet then twisted the wand on the miniblinds. Outside, fog blanketed everything. It was a dreary Tuesday.

But the gloominess wouldn’t last. In another hour, the mist would burn off and the sun would continue its ascent, blazing a path upward in a beautiful blue sky. Florida wasn’t called the Sunshine State for nothing.

She slid into the swivel chair behind her desk. She enjoyed her job. Even though she wasn’t a CPA, her bachelor’s degree in accounting and finance, along with her years running Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts, more than qualified her to be the accounting manager at P. T. Unfortunately, none of her courses had included the chapter on dealing with difficult bosses.

She reached into her in-basket and picked up the stack of time cards piled there. Her first task of the day would be running payroll. Then she would work on the October financial statements, along with her staff meeting report, a job she had hoped to finish last Friday.

Friday. The now-familiar disquiet settled over her, and she swallowed hard. She’d come so close to getting caught. If her phone had rung on her way out, when she was sneaking down the hall...or if Wiggins had looked under her desk...

But he hadn’t. Although he’d stood less than two feet away, he hadn’t known she was there. Thank You, Lord. As long as it stayed that way, everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, the new mechanic had caught her leaving. Even stopped to introduce himself. Conner something. She remembered him, had seen him in the break room several times that week. He was the kind of guy women noticed—green eyes that sparked with restrained humor, honey-colored hair that always looked casually tousled and a bearing that radiated confidence. Yeah, hard to miss.

Hopefully, he wasn’t much of a talker, because if he said anything to Wiggins about seeing her there...

As she began alphabetizing the time cards, worry gnawed at her. Her chances would be better if she hadn’t acted so guilty. Maybe she should just talk to the mechanic and ask him not to tell anyone about seeing her Friday night. But that would make her look even guiltier. No, she’d better keep her mouth shut and pray the mechanic did the same.

She had just finished payroll when a familiar voice drifted down the hall. And she almost dived under her desk again. Jimmy Fuller owned a large commercial construction company and bought aggregate from P. T. He also insisted on hand delivering his checks. It gave him three or four opportunities a month to hit on her.

Footsteps drew closer and Fuller’s athletic frame filled the doorway. With that deep golden tan and sun-bleached hair, he was used to women throwing themselves at him.

“Hello, beautiful.”

She laid the time cards on her desk. Let the other women have him. Those model looks were wasted on her. So were the pickup lines.

“Hello, Mr. Fuller.” She stayed with the formal address. He wasn’t much older than she was, maybe thirty-five to her twenty-six. But she wouldn’t get too chummy with him.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Come on, Darci. When are you going to start calling me Jimmy?”

“Probably never. I’d only be encouraging bad behavior.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I’m crushed. But I’m not giving up. If I keep coming in here almost every week, I’ll eventually talk you into going out with me.”

“You can tell yourself that if it makes you happy.”

He crossed her office and handed her a windowed envelope with a check inside. “No, what would make me happy is if you finally said yes.”

He started to laugh again, but his laughter turned to coughing. When he was finished, he pulled a cough drop from his pocket. “Excuse me. I’m getting over a bad sore throat. No love ballads today.” He unwrapped the lozenge and put it into his mouth. “I’m just now getting my voice back.”

Realization slammed into her. Fuller had lost his voice. Just like Wiggins’s visitor. She replayed phrases in her mind. The man had a slight Southern accent. So did Fuller. And Fuller had asked her out. Numerous times. Wiggins had said that she’d told him to take a hike. And she had, in so many words.

But did Fuller have feelings for her, like Wiggins claimed? Probably not. With guys like him, love had nothing to do with it. It was all about the thrill of the chase. Once they had what they wanted, the challenge was over and they were soon off on their next adventure.

But what did she know? Having not dated in five years, she was pretty rusty. Fuller was possibly the mystery man. She would try to avoid him. Of course, she’d been doing that for the past five and a half months. Easier said than done.

After Fuller left, she pushed both him and Wiggins from her mind and reached for the mouse. With her October entries made, it was time to print the financial statements. As the sheets fell into her printer tray, she opened the reports folder on her computer. The latest file was the report for September, presented at the October staff meeting.

She drew her brows together. Where was the report she’d created last week? Granted, she hadn’t gotten that far. It was mostly just notes of things she needed to include. But she would rather not have to start over.

Maybe she’d saved it to her local drive instead of clicking through to the server. A few seconds later, she heaved a satisfied sigh. There it was, under My Documents on her C drive...

Right below a folder titled D. Tucker Personal.

What in the world? She hadn’t created that folder. She had no reason to. She didn’t do anything personal at work.

She clicked on the folder and two files appeared. One was labeled Transactions. The other was untitled. They were both created Saturday, 8:58 and 9:01 p.m. She clicked on one, then the other, frowning at the security window that popped up. Both were password protected.

The air whooshed out of her lungs and she flopped back in her chair. There was only one reason for those files to be on her computer. Someone was setting her up.

The man with the raspy voice didn’t want her hurt. But Wiggins didn’t have to hurt her. All he had to do was frame her, making it impossible for her to go to the police without implicating herself.

A weight pressed on her chest, and she struggled in a breath. Burying her head in the sand was no longer an option. Neither was leaving P. T., at least until she made sure that nothing would follow her and eventually land her in jail. The problem was, she had no idea where to start.

The last one did. The words circled through her mind, as disturbing as when she’d first heard them. And her next step became clear—she needed to talk to the prior accounting manager.

She logged on to the payroll program and brought up terminated employees. Claire Blackburn was near the beginning of the list. After pulling a Post-it from the dispenser, she jotted down the address and phone number. She would try to contact her tonight.

And maybe she should check out Jimmy Fuller. She logged on to the Division of Corporations website and did a search for his company name. Nothing strange there. The business address matched what she used for billing. James Fuller was listed as the president. The vice president was...Lori Fuller? Her eyes shot back up to the president information. Same address. Not only was Jimmy Fuller a sleazy womanizer, he was married.

Without warning, Wiggins’s doughy figure filled her doorway. She jumped and clicked off the site. His eyes darkened with suspicion as he stared down at her, eyebrows dipping toward the bridge of his nose, the edges of his mouth turned downward. When he crossed his arms, the gesture wasn’t playful, as when Fuller had assumed the same position a short time earlier. And it wasn’t done to show off rippling biceps, as she always suspected with the younger man. No, Wiggins’s pose was meant to intimidate. It was working.

“Goofing off, are we?”

“No. You startled me.” She held up the small stack of paper. “I just finished printing the financials.”

Wiggins shook his head, his eyes scolding. “I know what you’re doing. You’d best let sleeping dogs lie, or you’ll get bit.” Without giving her an opportunity to respond, he stalked down the hall toward his office. Except Wiggins didn’t stalk. More like swaggered—the cocky gait of a man who thought too much of himself.

What was he, psychic? How did he know she was snooping?

She reached for the mouse and moved her report to the proper location. Wiggins had never been her favorite person. When she’d applied for her job, she’d interviewed with Peter Turlong, the owner, who divided his time between their Florida and Georgia mines. But since acquiring a mine in South Carolina four months ago, he’d left the Florida location in Wiggins’s hands. He might live to regret that decision.

Meanwhile, everyone was forced to put up with Wiggins. He didn’t just run a tight ship. He micromanaged every employee there. And she was no exception. Every report she did, he went over with a fine-tooth comb.

But when he’d stood in her doorway glaring down at her, he hadn’t been concerned about her work performance. He’d been afraid she was snooping. A man with secrets had every reason to be afraid.

Wiggins was making a big mistake. She had her hands too full with her own issues to worry about the business of other people. But now that he had involved her, he’d left her with no choice.

First she would try to talk to Claire Blackburn. Then she would go to Cedar Key police officer Hunter Kingston, not in an official capacity, but as a friend.

And she would pray like crazy that she could find a way to escape the noose that was tightening around her neck.

TWO

Darci’s eyes shot open, and she lay tense and alert, the remnants of a nightmare still holding her in its grasp. In her dream, she’d discovered something important, although she couldn’t remember now what it was. She had looked up to see Wiggins watching her and she had run. She was still running when she awoke.

But it wasn’t the nightmare that had awoken her. It was something else. Every instinct she possessed seemed to warn her of impending danger.

She waited in the darkness, but there was nothing. Just a lingering sense of unrest, as if somewhere beyond her awareness, something evil had penetrated the security of her world.

Then a soft shhh pierced the silence, and her senses shot to full alert. Had the sliding glass door just moved back in its track? Muffled footsteps sounded on the vinyl tile floor, confirming her fears.

She thrust the covers back and sprang from the bed, ignoring the panic showering down on her. Her son lay sleeping in the next room, twenty feet from whatever menace had just entered their haven. She snatched her phone from the nightstand and paused at the doorway to peer down the hall. A flashlight beam made wide sweeps of her living and dining area. As long as he didn’t shine it down the hall... God, please protect us.

As she crept toward Jayden’s room, her heart pounded against her ribs, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Once inside, she silently closed the door and turned the lock. A night-light cast its dim glow through the room, over the sleeping form of her precious little boy. She needed to call 911 without alerting the intruder or awakening Jayden. Maybe from inside the closet.

Nestled between his clothes and a stack of toy-filled crates, she touched the three numbers. Moments later, a soothing voice came through the phone, and the panic she had managed to hold at bay broke through its bounds. Her words tumbled out in a harsh whisper, and she began to shake.

“Help me, please. Someone’s in my house.”

After verifying the address and promising that help was on the way, the dispatcher stayed on the line offering words of encouragement. They did nothing to still her pounding heart or calm her frayed nerves.

When she emerged from the closet, Jayden stirred, and she moved to the side of his bed. If he woke up, she would have to keep him quiet. He didn’t talk unless prompted, but he sometimes cried. As she watched, he drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh, then returned to the rhythmic breathing of sleep.

“Are you still there?” The dispatcher’s question cut across her thoughts.

“Yes.” She spoke in the softest whisper.

“The police should be there any minute.”

She swallowed past the lump of fear that had congealed in her throat and mentally ticked through the items in Jayden’s room. If only she had something she could use to defend them.

Jayden had a bat and a baseball. Unfortunately, they were made of plastic. And he had a pistol, but it shot foam Nerf balls. Her best bet was to pray that the intruder didn’t kick down the door before the police arrived.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and she sagged against the wall. A few more minutes. Actually, the intruder had likely already run out the back door.

The squeal grew louder then died. Law enforcement was out front. She released a pent-up breath. Once the officers were inside and she knew for sure the intruder was gone, she would open the bedroom door.

Jayden sat up suddenly and climbed from the bed. She circled around and caught him before he reached the door.

“Sweetheart?”

He turned toward her, his eyes wide in the dim glow of the night-light.

“Mommy’s right here.” She picked him up and held him against her chest. Little arms went around her neck, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in the berry scent of his shampoo.

In another part of the house, the sliding glass door slid back farther in its track and footsteps sounded against the vinyl floor, multiple sets this time.

The last of the tension fled. She thanked the dispatcher and ended the call. A few minutes later, a knock on Jayden’s door accompanied a deep male voice.

“Levy County Sheriff’s. Everything’s clear. It’s all right to come out.”

When she emerged from the room, two deputies stood in the hall. The older one smiled down at her. “Are you all right?”

“A bit shaken up, but fine otherwise.” She squeezed Jayden more tightly.

“And the little guy’s okay?”

She returned the deputy’s smile. “He didn’t wake up until you guys got here.”

He stepped back to let her pass. “We need you to look around and see if anything is missing.”

She made her way toward the living room. She wouldn’t bother checking her room. If the intruder had come down the hall, she would have heard him. Except for the two bedrooms, the vinyl tile ran throughout the house.

She stepped into the combined living and dining area. The deputies had turned on the lights. Envelopes lay strewn about the small dining room table. She pointed that direction.

“They went through my mail.” When she’d laid it there, it had been stacked in one neat pile. But as near as she could tell, they hadn’t taken any of it.

She circled the kitchen, still holding Jayden. All the cabinet doors and drawers were closed, just as she’d left them. So far, nothing appeared disturbed, other than her mail. She crossed the room to the living area. Six files sat in a stack on the coffee table. Except they weren’t as neat as when she’d gone to bed. It was as if someone had checked the labels, sliding each file over a half inch to see the label beneath.

She nodded toward the stack. “I think he touched these.”

“What’s in them?”

“They’re vendor and customer files, work I brought home with me yesterday.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t press her further.

Before leaving the office, she’d pulled files for four other customers and two vendors who had asked her out, just in case the mystery man was someone other than Fuller. If Claire had stumbled across Wiggins’s secrets, the proof was likely contained in the paperwork at the mine. But after poring over each file and researching the companies online, she’d come up with nothing.

And her attempts to call Claire weren’t any more successful. She couldn’t even leave a message. After Claire’s outgoing message, a computerized voice announced that the mailbox was full.

Darci sighed and met the older deputy’s eyes. “I don’t understand how they got in.”

“Through the slider.”

She had guessed that much. “But I had it locked.”

“It wasn’t very secure.” He led her back through the dining area to the door. “I would recommend getting a Charley-Bar. Or at the least have someone drill a hole and put a pin through here.” He indicated a point several inches from the top, where the frames of the two doors crossed.

“I’ll do that.” And the sooner the better. She’d never been nervous about staying alone. But knowing someone had come into her house while she and Jayden slept changed everything.

The deputy moved to unlock the front door. “We’ll dust the slider for prints, along with your dining room table and coffee table. And we’ll see what we can pick up on your mail and files while we’re at it.” He swung the door open and turned back around. “Any idea who might have done this?”

Her gaze traveled back to the files sitting on the coffee table. Wiggins. He wouldn’t have done it himself, but he was behind it. After slipping the files into her bag, she had glanced up to see him standing in her doorway. She’d hoped he hadn’t seen anything.

Apparently he had.

She opened her mouth to say so, then had second thoughts. What if Wiggins had already redirected any trails of wrongdoing to her? What if she got an investigation started and it led to her arrest?

She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

Guilt pricked her. But she wasn’t lying. She really didn’t know who had broken in to her house.

The deputy studied her. She’d hesitated too long.

“If you think of anyone, let us know.”

She gave him a sharp nod.

Already it was starting. Wiggins was making sure she didn’t talk. He didn’t have to threaten to make her disappear.

The thought of going to jail and leaving her parents to raise her child was enough to seal her lips so tightly a crowbar couldn’t pry them open.

* * *

Conner followed Kyle up the stairs at Natures Landing Condominiums, pleasantly full from dinner. All week long, he’d hoped for an opportunity to talk to Darci. There was something about her, a sweet innocence that was at odds with the idea that she could be involved in anything sinister. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became—she was in trouble.

But both times their paths had crossed in the employee break room, Darci had brushed him off and hurried back to her office. He hadn’t followed. Though he’d tried to come up with a plausible reason why the mechanic would need to meet with the accounting manager, he’d drawn a blank.

Then yesterday, a fellow employee had mentioned that Darci had a son and spent weekends at her parents’ place in Cedar Key. So as soon as he’d gotten off work tonight, he’d packed two bags, loaded up Kyle and embarked on a minivacation.

Kyle reached the top of the stairs and ran full speed toward their room, excitement bubbling over. In fact, he’d been buzzing with eagerness from the moment they hit Cedar Key. Conner smiled. He would enjoy it while it lasted. All too soon, they would head back home and he’d have the old Kyle back—the sullen boy who found fault with everything anyone did for him.

But Conner couldn’t blame him. Overnight, he’d been ripped from his home and friends in Crystal River and dragged to Chiefland. No wonder the kid was messed-up. And it was far from over. Next week they had Thanksgiving to get through. Four weeks after that, Christmas. By then, he’d probably be back with his grandparents. That had been the initial plan. But a week after Claire’s disappearance, Conner’s stepdad had had a heart attack, followed by a quadruple bypass, and his mom couldn’t care for both of them.

When Conner got to the door, Kyle was still struggling with the lock, so he reached up to help him. Five seconds later, Kyle burst into their rented condo. Conner sighed. Too bad kids didn’t come with troubleshooting guides, because this one needed fixing, and he didn’t have the manual, tools or experience to do it. He’d never planned to be in this position. His determination to keep his relationships casual had guaranteed that he would never have to take on the role of husband or father. Until now.

With his stepdad’s heart attack, Kyle’s care had fallen on him—the least qualified man on the planet. His own father had been loud and abusive. The stepdads that followed hadn’t been any better. Once his newest stepdad fully recovered, Conner could give Kyle back. Meanwhile, he’d be saddled with an angry, rebellious kid, and Kyle would be stuck with the world’s sorriest excuse for a father.

By the time Conner closed the door, Kyle had settled himself on the nearest bed and snatched the remote from the nightstand. Bursts of sound filled the room as he advanced through the channels.

“Get your pajamas on and your teeth brushed first.”

With a groan of protest, Kyle flung himself to his feet, then lifted the Avengers duffel bag onto the bed. “Then can I watch whatever I want?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Did your mother let you watch anything you wanted?”

Kyle fished through the bag and pulled out a pair of pajamas. “No.”

“Then I won’t, either.”

“Is that so she won’t be mad at you if she comes back?”

If she comes back. “Yeah, something like that.”

At first it was when. Now, six months later, it was if. At seven years old, the kid was already facing reality.

Kyle disappeared into the bathroom and came back out two minutes later, dressed in his pajamas, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. The clothes he took off were probably on the bathroom floor, and his teeth were likely not as clean as they should be. But tonight, Conner chose to let it go.

Once Kyle had settled himself back on the bed and resumed his channel search, Conner picked up the duffel, then shook his head. The entire bag was now a wadded, twisted mess. If he left it like that till morning, the kid would go through the weekend looking as if he’d just crawled out of bed.

Conner pulled out a shirt and folded it, then removed a pair of shorts. When he reached for another item, he hesitated. He had uncovered the corner of a book.

He glanced at his nephew. Kyle wasn’t a reader. He knew how to read, but he didn’t do it for pleasure. And since school was out all next week, he’d told Kyle his homework could wait till later. No way was he getting a jump on it. He was a major procrastinator, unless it involved video games.

Conner pulled out the book, then drew his brows together. Kyle with a diary? It was hard enough to get him to do his assignments. He’d never keep a journal.

Which meant the book had probably belonged to Claire.

Anticipation surged through him. During that quick phone call the night she disappeared, all she’d told him was that she’d found something. She hadn’t given him much to go on. Maybe the details he needed were in her diary.

He opened it to the first page. Definitely Claire’s handwriting.

“No!” Kyle’s scream reverberated through the room. Before Conner had a chance to prepare, Kyle leaped up and slammed into him, knocking him onto the bed. “That’s Mommy’s. You can’t have it.” He snatched the book and held it to his chest as tears welled up in his eyes.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Conner kept his voice low, soothing. “I was just straightening your clothes.” He lifted a hand and smoothed back Kyle’s hair. “I won’t take it without your permission.”

Kyle calmed, then swiped at his eyes, as if embarrassed to be seen crying. “You promise?”

He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. But I’ll read it to you, if you’d like.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t need you to read it. I can read it myself. We’re learning cursive.”

Conner frowned. He wasn’t surprised. The private school he’d put Kyle in had a good reputation. And his sister’s handwriting was impeccable. He’d have to try another tack.

“Will you let me read it? Mommy wouldn’t mind. She was my sister, you know.”

He cringed at his choice of verbs. No matter how he tried to cling to the hope that Claire would one day walk back into their lives, he still found himself thinking of her in the past tense.

Kyle didn’t seem to notice. “No, it’s a special book. Just me and Mommy can read it.”

Without waiting for a response, Kyle climbed back into bed and slipped the diary under his pillow.

Conner sighed. If he was going to get a look at what Claire had written, it was going to have to be after Kyle went to sleep. Unfortunately, tonight Kyle would probably outlast him.

For the next hour, Conner drifted in and out while Kyle watched TV. Then he awoke with a start. He’d fallen into a heavier sleep, even started to dream. He sat up and looked over at Kyle. The bedside light was on and the TV still played, but Kyle was fast asleep.

He stood and circled around to the other side of Kyle’s bed. He was sprawled out in the middle, his head between the two pillows. The scowl that usually marred his face during his waking hours was gone in sleep. He looked at peace, as if his biggest worry was whether Santa would bring him that favorite toy for Christmas. As if heartache hadn’t so recently touched his young life.

When Conner started to slide his hand under the pillow, guilt pricked him, and he pulled back. Kyle had made him promise he wouldn’t take it. Well, he wasn’t taking it. He was just borrowing it.

But if Kyle caught him, he would never trust him again. He would probably even hate him, at least temporarily. Conner frowned. He’d be less likely to get caught if he could slip another book under the pillow in its place. He had only one with him, a spy thriller he’d thrown in at the last minute. It was close to the same size as Claire’s diary, just a little thicker. It was even a hardback.

He retrieved it from his bag, then crossed the room to again stand beside Kyle’s bed. His heart pounded as he pulled Claire’s diary from under the pillow and slid the thriller in in its place.

After tiptoeing around to his own bed, he arranged the pillows behind his back. Claire disappeared May 20. There was probably no reason to go back to the beginning of January. He put his thumb at the one quarter point and opened the book. His gaze fell on the left side, April 1.

Claire’s perfect handwriting filled the page. She was upbeat, happy. Wiggins hadn’t come in to work that day. And she had spent the evening planning Kyle’s birthday parties. Two of them. Saturday would be the party with his friends at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Then Sunday would be dinner with Mom and Tony and Uncle Conner. She ended the entry with “My sweet baby boy—he’s the joy of my life.”

Conner’s heart twisted. No wonder the book was so precious to Kyle. Even though everyone believed his mother had walked away from him, the proof that she loved him was right here in black and white.

He continued to read, flipping page after page. Claire struggled with depression. That was no secret. She’d taken the brunt of the abuse from each of the men who had occupied their home, as well as the perverted affections of father number two. The latter, she’d kept buried until a few weeks before she disappeared.

But she was doing well, even though she was working for a tyrant who got some sick thrill from humiliating her. In reading her journal entries, it seemed two things were keeping her going—her love for her son and her hatred for Wiggins.

Throughout April, there was no hint of what she’d found that put her life in danger. Finally, he came to an entry that made him sit up a little straighter. May 5, two weeks before she disappeared, an irregularity showed up on the bank statement. She didn’t go into detail, but it involved a large cashier’s check for the supposed purchase of a piece of equipment, money she was sure ultimately went to Wiggins.

Between May 5 and May 20 were several more entries about how she was spying on Wiggins, listening outside his door, even sneaking back after closing to eavesdrop on meetings. Her last entry was on May 19. Something was going down the following night. Then she’d have everything she needed to have Wiggins put away.

That was the last entry. May 20, she never made it home.

He closed the diary and slid from the bed. Kyle suddenly turned on his side, slipping his hand under the pillow. A soft word escaped his mouth—“Mommy.”

Conner froze, afraid to breathe. But Kyle didn’t wake up. Several minutes passed before Conner was ready to try to switch out the two books.

Once finished, he made his way back toward his own bed with a sigh. Kyle was going to have to part with the diary. The evidence inside wasn’t much, but maybe it would be enough to warrant an investigation into the accounting records of P. T. Aggregates and Rupert Wiggins personally.

After changing into some gym shorts, he slipped into bed and turned off the light. He didn’t know much more than he had before. He didn’t have details. And he didn’t have any proof.

But one thing was certain. Something happened the night of May 20. Claire witnessed it.

And it likely got her killed.

* * *

Darci tipped back her head, letting the sunshine warm her face. Voices filled the air, shouts and squeals of happy children. Jayden’s wasn’t among them. She drew her gaze back to the cluster of playground equipment. Children of all sizes swarmed over its surface. Her own little guy was climbing the stairs to one of the slides, silent as always.

She sighed and turned toward Hunter Kingston, who sat next to her on the bench. For the past several minutes, he had listened without commenting as she told him everything that had transpired over the past eight days. As of last night, she had another bit of information to add. After trying for two days to get ahold of Claire Blackburn, she’d finally made the trip to the address in Crystal River and knocked on the door of apartment number twelve. It was occupied by a young couple with a baby. They had lived there four months. Claire was gone.

Talking to neighbors had provided even worse news. Claire hadn’t just moved away. She’d disappeared. It was even investigated by the police. Did she leave willingly? Or had she uncovered something crooked and Wiggins—or someone—needed to shut her up?

When her gaze met Hunter’s, he was frowning.

“Are you sure you don’t want some Levy County detectives on this?”

“I’m positive.” She didn’t want to make an official report. What she needed was advice. Or maybe she just needed someone to listen, to let her know that she wasn’t alone. Because frankly, she was scared.

Her eyes dropped to her hands, now folded in her lap. “I’m so afraid that if the authorities check into this, I’ll be the one who gets charged. Wiggins’s partner won’t let him hurt me, at least for the time being. Short of killing me, the best way to guarantee my silence is to frame me. Judging from those password-protected files on my computer, I’d say he’s done exactly that.”

Hunter’s frown deepened. “I don’t like it. You need law enforcement on your side.”

“If I was sure they would be on my side, I’d be all for it. At this point, I’m more likely to be looked on as a suspect than a victim.” She crossed her arms and again sought out Jayden. He’d reached the bottom of the slide and was circling around to do it again.

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine someone seriously thinking you’re wrapped up in anything shady. There’s usually money involved. No offense, but you’re not exactly living in the lap of luxury.”

Maybe Hunter was right. She drove an older car and lived in a small rented house. Her bank balance was nothing to get excited about, either. But she had no idea what kind of evidence Wiggins had compiled against her.

She heaved a sigh. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, maybe you can check out Wiggins.”

He pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket. “Full name?”

“Rupert Wiggins.”

“Do you have a social or at least a date of birth?”

“I can get both. They’re in my payroll program. I’ve just got to look it up without getting caught.” Worry knitted her brows, kick-starting the beginnings of a headache. “Wiggins has always watched me. That’s the way he is, with everyone. But now it’s different. It’s as if he knows I’m onto something.”

Hunter shook his head, his eyes heavy with concern. “Get me his info, and I’ll find out what I can. But don’t take any unnecessary chances. I really don’t like it that someone came into your house.”

“Trust me, I don’t, either.”

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me create a case and get an official investigation under way.”

“The mine isn’t in your jurisdiction.”

“Cedar Key has a reciprocating agreement with Levy County. I think they’d let me be involved. I’d rather be helping you beat trumped-up charges than attending your funeral.”

He had a point. But hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do either. “Let me find out how big of a mess I’m in first.”

Hunter tucked the notepad back into his pocket and rose from the bench. “All right. But be careful.”

“I will.” She forced a smile, then watched him walk away. Maybe she was crazy talking to a cop. But Hunter wasn’t just a cop. He was one of her closest friends. He knew her well enough to believe that she would never be involved in anything illegal, no matter how guilty she looked. But if Wiggins planted enough evidence against her, it would be out of Hunter’s hands.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time. Another fifteen minutes, and she would head home for lunch. By then, Jayden would be sufficiently worn-out. Not for a nap—he’d outgrown naps some time ago—but one of his videos would entertain him while she chatted with her mom.

“Mind if I join you?”

Darci started at the male voice next to her. When her eyes met familiar green ones, her stomach lurched. “Conner.”

He’d traded his mechanics’ coveralls for khaki cargo shorts and an olive-colored polo shirt that he filled out rather nicely. The fact that she noticed bothered her. When he grinned, the fact that he noticed that she noticed bothered her even more.

“What are you doing here?”

“We decided to take a minivacation.”

We? She followed his gaze to where a blond-haired boy stood at the top of one of the slides. The boy waved, and Conner waved back.

She raised her brows. Conner didn’t strike her as the fatherly type. The possibility piqued her interest, even though she didn’t want it to. “Is he yours?”

He watched him come down the slide, then turned his gaze on her. “Yes and no. He’s my sister’s, but she’s...gone.” He hesitated on the last word. “So I guess you can say he’s mine.”

She nodded. What did he mean, gone? Had she passed away or abandoned her son? He didn’t offer, and she wasn’t going to ask. “Have you been to Cedar Key before?”

“Several times. First time with Kyle, though.”

She let out a relieved sigh, shaking the ridiculous notion that he’d somehow followed her here. He had a history with Cedar Key, like so many other people in the area. It was a favorite tourist spot, quaint, artsy and so different from the usual overbuilt, congested vacation destinations in Florida.

“Have a seat.” She angled her head toward the other end of the bench. Since she had never said he could join her, he was still standing.

He sat next to her. “Thanks. How about you? Are you vacationing, or do you live here?”

“Neither. I grew up here, and my parents still live here. So Jayden and I come back and spend our weekends with them.” Maybe that was more than she should have told him. But he didn’t seem the stalker type. Jimmy Fuller could learn a thing or two from him.

“So which one is yours?”

She inclined her head toward the slide. Jayden was on his hands and knees in front of it, the momentum having toppled him forward.

“The one in the red shirt at the bottom of the slide.”

As she watched, another boy slid down and fell on top of him.

Conner cringed. “Is he all right?”

She stood and watched as the boy rolled to the side and Jayden pushed himself to his feet. He shook his hands, then patted them together, trying to get rid of the sand. The playground was mulched, but too many feet had scattered it.

“He’s all right. He’s a pretty tough little boy. Doesn’t cry much.” Doesn’t talk much, either.

He approached her then, palms up, and after tucking her water bottle under her arm, she brushed off his hands. Sand bothered him. A lot of things bothered him.

When she was finished, he reached for her water bottle.

She shook her head. “What do you say?”

He stretched higher, and she repeated her question, still holding the bottle out of his reach.

He dropped his arms. “Wawa, peas.”

She handed him the bottle and turned to Conner. “We need to go. Mom’s putting lunch on the table at one o’clock sharp.”

“Then you’d better not be late. Kyle and I will be here through tomorrow. Hopefully, our paths will cross again.”

The smile he gave her made her stomach flip-flop. She was usually immune to charming men, no matter how good-looking. But seeing Conner play the father role had a completely unexpected effect on her. He had to be a pretty caring, unselfish guy to take on the responsibility of his sister’s kid. There were a lot of men out there who didn’t even take responsibility for their own. She knew that firsthand.

After waving farewell, she walked with Jayden to her car. Chances were good that Conner would get his wish. Cedar Key wasn’t that big. Their paths likely would cross again.

The jury was still out on whether that would be a good or a bad thing.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.