Slashing through the sno.., p.14
Slashing Through the Snow, page 14
Until now, maybe.
He disconnected the call, then clung to the phone a moment before returning to the couch.
I set my hand on his arm to let him know I was there. Suddenly concerns about a blonde in an SUV and my Christmas gift seemed incredibly petty and stupid. “Hey. Talk to me.”
Evan grunted, staring blankly for a long beat.
Distress wrinkled the skin around his smart green eyes. “They got him.”
“What?” A smile broke over my face. “Really? That’s good news. Why aren’t you happy?”
“Boston PD wants Libby to testify at his trial. They think he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist if she doesn’t. The case for a maximum sentence hinges on his connection to the death of Libby’s friend, who is being portrayed as an addict and runaway. Someone who was a train wreck all by herself. The rantings in her blog are being chalked up as the nonsense of someone high on drugs, and this guy is saying he barely knew her and hadn’t seen her in weeks before she died.”
“She was an addict because of him, though,” I argued, bristling for the mistreatment of a girl I’d never met. “And Heather didn’t run away. She was moving drugs for him.”
Evan nodded. Of course he knew all this. “The DA thinks Libby’s word will carry weight. She can speak Heather’s truth.” Evan’s skin looked ashen and heading for green. “Testifying will likely cement the charges. But by doing that, she’ll be targeted. Not like now, where if one of these lowlifes sees her, he might hurt her. If she testifies, the guy will put a bounty on her.”
I slumped, resting shoulder to shoulder with Evan, then tipping my head against him. We were silent for a long while.
“Libby will have to go back to Boston for the trial,” he said. “If the DA doesn’t screw this up, the guy goes to jail. Then the DEA—that’s the Drug Enforcement Administration—will use him to start picking apart his network, and Libby can have her life back. That’s a best-case scenario.”
“Then that’s what will happen. And she’ll come back to Mistletoe afterward,” I said, hoping it was true. “She likes it here, and I think she and Ray are getting pretty serious.”
“What if he tries to stop her from reaching the witness stand?”
“Then you’ll be there, right by her side, to stop him,” I said.
Evan’s breath seemed to shudder. “Doing the right thing is going to put my baby sister’s life in danger.”
“Not testifying means nothing changes,” I said quietly. “She can’t go back to the city she loves for fear of being spotted and hurt by one of these guys. She happy here, but it’s a little like witness protection. She can’t leave and no one from her past can know she’s here. This big ugly thing is just hanging over her head, but if you can trust the good guys to do their jobs, it could finally be over for her.”
Evan swiped his phone back to life and sent a text. A moment later, his mouth twitched into a little smile. “I told Libby I need to talk to her, and she told me to put a pin in it.” He shook his head. “She’s watching a movie with Ray.” He turned for a look through my window. “I told her I’d be there in two hours.”
I was thrilled, selfishly, at the promise of two more hours alone with Evan. “What do you want to do until then?” I asked, my cheeks burning childishly at the possibilities.
Evan laughed and all remnants of his pained expression vanished. “How are the jewelry orders coming?”
“I’ll show you. Be right back.” I fetched a box from my office and returned a moment later with a grin. I’d put another sleepless night to good use after the fire was extinguished and Cindy was safely home.
Together we paired the finished products with their matching receipts, then addressed and stuffed the bubble envelopes. We’d gotten the series of tasks down to a perfectly choreographed routine this summer and could pack up an unseemly amount of things in the time it took to watch any movie. Despite the weight of our news from Boston, tonight was no different.
When he left to speak with his sister, Evan took the sealed envelopes along with two bags of unwrapped toys and the necessary trimmings. He said he and Libby could each do some wrapping, and he’d stop by the post office for me in the morning.
I appreciated him more than he knew, and I hated the situation Libby was stuck in. Doing the right thing would put her in mortal danger, and part of me wondered if she should run. Get a new identity and start over somewhere warm and sunny. But I knew Libby, and she and I were the same at our cores. We were just like Evan and Ray, my parents, and Cookie. Libby would do the right thing, regardless of the cost or risk, simply because it was right.
And I’d never been so afraid for another person in my life.
Chapter Sixteen
I fell asleep with my phone in my hand and Cindy Lou Who at my side. I worried that Libby or Ray might need someone to talk to once the news from Boston had been delivered. Instead, my night was quiet after Evan left, and before midnight I fell into a deep sleep that lasted until after seven. I was thankful for the rest and the fact that I wouldn’t have to wait to intrude on Libby. I was eager to check in on how she was processing her options for testifying against a criminally connected lunatic.
I dressed quickly, then headed into the chilly winter morning. Reindeer Games was the picture of serenity before the crowds arrived. The snow sparkled as sunlight caught on ice crystals, and my breath puffed out before me in tiny white clouds. Thanks to last night’s snowfall, all of yesterday’s footprints and sleigh tracks had been erased, leaving the field between the inn and the guesthouse pristine and unblemished. I almost hated trudging through it, but that couldn’t be helped.
I knocked while I stomped, kicking snow from my boots and making my presence clearly known. Our current lack of official inn guests meant Mom was back on a temporary eleven-to-seven schedule at the Hearth, and Libby had time to visit before getting ready for her day.
The door swept open, and Libby blinked against the light. She raised an arm to shield her eyes. “Holly?”
“I brought maple bacon,” I said by way of greeting, then lifted my small, insulated tote into view as proof.
She stepped back to let me in, and I headed for the kitchen to unpack the bacon before it got cold.
“It’s thick and coated in maple syrup from the farm next door,” I said. “You’re going to love it.”
The doorbell rang, and Libby turned back with a groan before she reached the kitchen.
“I guess I’m not the only one worried about you this morning,” I said when Ray’s smiling face appeared.
He rubbed his palms together in excitement as he reached the kitchen. “Bacon!” He snagged two slices, then passed one to Libby, who was still trying to pry her eyes open.
I smiled. “I’ll make some coffee.”
“How are you doing?” Ray asked her softly as I started the pot to brew.
“I’m tired,” she grouched. “I’m still in my pajamas, wearing no makeup, and my hair looks like a big red haystack while two yoyos are in my kitchen eating bacon and making coffee.” She handed him her slice, and he ate it.
“Didn’t sleep well?” I guessed.
“Didn’t sleep,” she said.
“Are you going to testify?” I asked, cutting to the chase. “You know, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision. Everyone will back you on it and support you however we can.”
Libby hugged her middle, looking small and unsure for the first time since I’d met her. “I’m going to testify,” she said. “What choice do I have? I can’t run or hide and expect to have any kind of life. I’d live in constant fear of being discovered, and what happens if I have a family to worry about one day? Their lives would be in danger too. And even if they stayed safe, how could I expect my husband to explain to our kids that Mommy was abducted by a group of drug dealers?”
I crossed the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her. After a moment, she hugged me back.
Ray joined in, curving his long arms around us both.
We discussed the Boston situation over bacon and coffee, then Libby went to get dressed for her day. She’d held herself together as we talked, but her eyes were puffy when she returned, hair done and makeup on.
“So, basically,” she said, her voice noticeably scratchy, “the trial is set for three days after Christmas, and I’ll be traveling into the city the day before so I can meet with the prosecutor and prepare. Evan’s taking me, so you don’t have to worry. I’ll be fine.”
I exchanged a look with Ray. Three days after Christmas was only eight days from now. And it seemed too soon. We had barely more than a week. “Can we come with you?” I asked. “Will it be a public trial?”
She frowned. “You guys should stay out of Boston during the trial. I’m not convinced these guys won’t blow up the courthouse if that’s what it takes to keep their business running smoothly.”
Ray’s skin paled.
I gave him a meaningful look and a small shake of my head. It sounded as if he and I were going on a covert, post-holiday road trip because there’s no way we wouldn’t be there for Libby.
His tight expression eased a fraction, and I suspected he knew what I was thinking.
“How are the wedding plans coming?” I asked, changing the subject before she sensed our unspoken intention and tried to stop us.
Ray set his joined hands on the kitchen table. “My part is nearly done, I think. Your family is taking over soon. You, with the ladies moving to the inn on the big day, and your mom, making all the ceremony and reception arrangements.”
Fay and Pierce had chosen to wed in my family’s barn, a massive, renovated structure on our property, used for events, most notably the annual fundraiser known as the Christmas Tree Ball. Sponsors bought and decorated trees, and Mom decked the barn to the rafters in holiday cheer and used the trees as decoration. The trees were raffled off, fully decorated, to the lucky winners. This year, the ball had been held early in the season so the barn could be prepared for Fay and Pierce’s wedding. As it turned out, they wanted a winter wonderland theme, so there wasn’t any need to redecorate.
Ray snapped his finger. “I almost forgot again.” Ray’s grin widened. “Mom wants me to ask you if you’ll make matching jewelry pieces for her bridesmaids. She wants to give them each something special to commemorate the day. Preferably something they can wear again, because they’re definitely never wearing those big froufrou dresses again. Unless a Bo Peep conference comes through town.”
I laughed. “I would love to make the jewelry for your mom’s bridesmaids. I’ll work on some designs tonight. Also, who do I need to talk to about getting a Bo Peep convention in Mistletoe? Because the sheep alone would be worth the trouble.”
Libby swiped her thumb along the corner of her eye. “I wouldn’t have believed it a year ago, but I really like this town.” She sniffed. “I mean, obviously you’re all nuts, but I think you might be my kind of nuts.” Her Boston accent sounded thicker as she fought back her emotions. She cleared her throat and forced a weary smile. “If I survive this trial, I’m going to find out if there is such a thing as a Bo Peep convention, and I’m going to get it here to celebrate this wonderful, silly place I love.”
“You’re going to be fine,” I said, willing the words to be true. “You’re going to safely give your testimony, and the DEA will handle the rest. Justice shall prevail, and you’ll be back in Mistletoe in no time. Safe and sound forever.”
“To clarify,” Ray said, “will you be dressing as Bo Peep for this convention?”
Libby laughed and wiped her eyes. “It’s either me or you, babe,” she said.
I snorted as an image of Ray in pantaloons and a bonnet flashed into mind.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll flip you for it.”
“Stop,” I said, choking on laughter. “You’re both cuckoo. A match made by Mother Goose.”
Ray’s expression went soft as he looked into her eyes. “You’re definitely coming back? You’re not planning to resume your life in Boston after the trial?”
She bit into her lip, then shook her head. “No.”
He pulled her into a hug.
“Evan’s going to be elated,” I said, feeling my chest tighten with emotions of my own.
Libby pulled out of the hug. “Don’t tell him.” She smiled. “I want to tell him on Christmas. It’s my gift to him this year. He adores this weird little town, and I want to make it my town too.”
Ray twined his fingers with hers.
I grinned. “It already is.”
* * *
I walked to the Hearth for lunch a few hours later, after carrying another bag of toys into my office from the porch. At the rate donations were arriving and the speed they were being wrapped, I’d need a Christmas miracle to finish before Christopher came to collect them. I made a mental note to ask Cookie if she wanted to work on it with me tonight. She hadn’t been in her room when I went to invite her to lunch.
The dining area wasn’t crowded, and I was thrilled to see Ray, his mom, and her fiancé already there.
“Holly!” Fay called, greeting me with a tight hug. “Ray said you don’t mind making the bridesmaid’s jewelry, and I’m so excited! I’ve been meaning to ask you personally for months, but life has gotten away from me, and there’s nothing more authentically Mistletoe than Holly White’s handmade treasures.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s so kind and it’s no trouble. Why don’t you stop by sometime, or take a look at my online store, then let me know your favorite pieces. I’ll use those concepts as inspiration on something unique for your ladies. And I will pinky promise never to recreate those items for anyone other than you—custom designs for your special day.”
She hugged me again, and I squeezed her back.
Libby arrived with trays of warm cookies and cocoas, then hustled away as a new set of customers arrived.
“’Scuse me, miss.” A small hunchback with a fur hat and duck-head cane stopped beside us at the counter, using her free hand to clutch a ratty wool cape at her collarbone. “Might I ’ave a scrap a bread fer me tum-tum.” Cookie’s terrible English accent warbled from the little figure.
“What are you doing?” I asked, weirdly amused and moving out of Fay’s embrace. “Who are you supposed to be now? Oliver Twist?”
Cookie snickered, then hoisted herself onto a lollipop at the counter beside Ray and Pierce. “Pretty good disguise, right?”
“Kind of,” I said. “Why are you in disguise again anyway? And where have you been all day?”
Cookie leaned over the counter, waving to Ray, Fay, and Pierce, then at Libby across the dining area. “Hello,” she said before turning to me with a wicked, storytelling grin. “I’ve been on an adventure. I’m calling it that so I don’t panic. I moved to the inn so I could stick with you, and the first time I went out on my own—BAM!” She set her cane down and clapped her hands together. “Followed.”
“You were followed?” I asked, heart rate jumping at the thought. “Where?”
“I went home to put out my trash bins. It’s pickup day, and living with a goat makes a lot of mess, if you know what I mean. I can’t afford to miss a week. I thought I’d stick around until the trucks came to empty them, then roll them back into the garage and call it a day. But once I got the bins to the curb, I could tell I was being watched, so there was a change of plans.” She paused dramatically to be sure we were all engaged.
I wasn’t sure we were all breathing.
“What then?” Pierce asked, leaning over Ray’s shoulder, pulled into Cookie’s tale.
“Well”—she straightened, clearly satisfied—“I abandoned the bins on the curb, and I ditched the stalker by ducking between houses and cutting across my neighborhood to the church on Frankincense Drive. I borrowed a few props from the closet of cold-weather gear left open for anyone in need, because today I was in need. And I scored all this great stuff.” She wiggled her cane, then pulled the furry hat off her head, revealing a smashed version of her normally puffy white hair. “I feel like a magician in this getup.”
Ray’s frown deepened. “You were followed to your home?”
“I think so,” she said, her confident expression wavering.
“Did you see who it was this time?” I asked.
“Nope, but that’ll teach me not to go home, I guess. I just didn’t want things to back up. You can’t keep bins of goat mess for too long before it’s a problem. So, now that’s taken care of, but the home owner association is going to be on my back if I don’t roll those bins back inside once the trucks empty them. I live next door to the president, and that guy’s a real drag.”
Ray stood. “I can go to your place and bring the bins back.”
“Will you get my slippers from beside the back door?” she asked, brightening.
“Sure.” Ray smiled. “Make a list of anything you want, and I’ll grab it while I’m there.”
Cookie pulled a pen from her purse and started writing on her napkin. “I think I saw that tattletale woman from the inn in my neighborhood when I was on my way home,” she said.
“Meg?” I asked, my skin pebbling into gooseflesh. “Are you sure?” How long was she planning to stay in Mistletoe?
Cookie shrugged. “She was wearing a parka with the hood up, but I’d recognize that teddy bear bag she carries everywhere. Who else would have one of those? I’m still mad at her. Why on earth would she have repeated something she overheard, out of context, while eavesdropping? She’s caused me a lot of trouble.”
I wanted to argue that getting her fingerprints all over a murder weapon was the bigger problem, but she was right. Meg shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through my recent contacts. “I’m going to tell Evan you saw her. It could be significant.”
Ray’s brow furrowed, puzzling. “Is there any chance that this woman is the one who’s been following you?”
Cookie’s jaw dropped. “Maybe,” she said. “I’ve never gotten a good look.”
