Advent Calendar Day 18 (Holiday Snippet Sagas - 3)

 

Holiday Snippet Sagas - 3

 

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT????

 

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Adrien English and Jake Riordan

“Thanks for not giving me away today,” I told Chan.

My heart had nearly stopped when I ran into Jake’s former partner at LAPD, Detective Paul Chan, in conversation with Mrs. Andrews at the Christmas Castle business center that morning.  

Chan, to his credit, hadn’t batted an eye as I’d handed Mrs. Andrews the invoicing report.

“Don’t thank me,” Chan said grimly. “I’m pretty sure it was the wrong thing to do.”

“No, it wasn’t. Because you know that anything I find out, I’ll report straight to you. I’m pretty sure we’re looking at industrial espionage.”

Chan looked heavenward—well, ceilingward, since we were in Cloak and Dagger Books—as though seeking strength. “Adrien—”

“Listen, I can be of help. You know I can. I’m not constrained by the—”

“Law?” Chan shook his head. “Yeah. Say no more. Seriously. You’re going to cost me my badge.”

I swallowed the rest of my argument and waited, trying to pushing down my apprehension, because I knew what he was about to tell me.

Chan said, and I could see he wasn’t enjoying it any more than I was, “It’s been four days. You know what that means in a missing person’s case. You know it’s not looking good.”

“I know.”

“Jake would not want you putting yourself in harm’s way. That is the last thing he’d want.”

“Yep.”

Chan studied me, muttered, “I should plug on this undercover op of yours right now. Before you get yourself killed.”

I studied him right back and said, “No, you shouldn’t. Anyway, if it’s still a missing person’s case, what’s a homicide detective doing snooping around the Christmas Castle?”

Chan opened his mouth and then closed it.

 

 

Christopher Holmes and J.X. Moriarity

 

“What took you so long? What happened? Are you hit?” I demanded.

J.X. looked at me in bewilderment as he handed over the hot buttered rum it had taken him seemingly hours to make. “Hit? You mean shot? No. Why would I be shot? No one’s been shot so far.”

“Then where the hell have you been?”

“I was looking for the rum.”

“It took you forty-five minutes to find a bottle of rum?”

“It’s not our house. I don’t know where they keep the rum. Not in the kitchen, that’s for damn sure.”

I rested my face in my hands—I had to juggle my cocktail to do it, but I have experience with these things. “I thought for sure you’d been shot.”

“But why? The deaths have all been disguised to look like accidents. We’ve had one person crushed beneath a falling chandelier, one person impaled on a spiked gate, one person drowned by falling through the ice over the koi pond—”

I raised my head to glare at him. “Because that woman is crazy!”

J.X. eyed me warily. “Which woman? Mrs. Smith?”

“As if that was her real name! But anyway, no, I don’t mean Mrs. Smith! I mean the lunatic writing this…this thing.”

J.X. looked blank, which, to be honest, he often does while I’m busy solving all the crimes that come our way. He said finally, “Kit, honey, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on.” I tried to temper my exasperation. “Have you never noticed how many of her main characters get shot? The art crimes guy, the other FBI guy, both the Diplomatic Security Service guys.”

“Yeah, but the one was just a flesh wound.”

“She even shot Adrien English, for god’s sake—and his boyfriend, the cop!”

“Jake, you mean? He was at our wedding. It’s not like you don’t know his na—”

“My point is that if she’s willing to shoot Adrien English, what chance do we have?”

J.X. was silent for a moment. “Okay, well, nobody actually died, right?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well, yes.”

“I’m telling you, it’s only a matter of time before she plugs one of us…”

 

 

Taylor MacAllister and William Brandt

Where the hell was MacAllister?

Will checked his watch again. Already five minutes past Taylor’s If I’m not back by… Will’s heart sank.  

“Christ, MacAllister,”

This had been a lousy plan from the beginning. He should have shot it down the minute Taylor proposed it. Even if he’d managed to get out with the statue, there was no guarantee—none—that Escobar would be willing to trade a chunk of marble for David Ruiz. The son of an American diplomat was always going to be worth more than stolen artifacts to the people Escobar regularly did business with.

Sweat broke out on Will’s forehead as another minute ticked by.

Come on. Come on.

No way was he leaving MacAllister. The question was only did he continue to wait or did he go in after him?

When was the last time going in after him worked well for either of you?

Pretty much never.

But one of these days Taylor was going to get his over-confident ass in a jam he couldn’t get out of and then… Then he’d still not be grateful Will hadn’t trusted him to get himself out.

 Another excruciating minute ticked by.

Somewhere inside the fortress, a dog began to bark. Then another.

Will whipped the infrared night vision field glasses up and peered at the entrance of the fortress barbican. A dark figure sprinted down the stone walkway.

Taylor was too far away to see Will, though he had to know he was still out there, still waiting.

As Will watched, Taylor raised his head and mouthed something. One word. “Run!”

 

 

 Elliot Mills and Tucker Lance

 

“Is anybody in this damned town not lying to us?” Elliot swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin spiced stout.

The pub was small and cozy and cheerfully decorated for the holidays. Though no one appeared to be paying any attention to them, he couldn’t get over the feeling that their every move was being watched. Not that there had been so many moves, and the moves they had made had all led straight to dead ends.

Tucker wiped foam off his mouth, shook his head. “Nope. I think we can assume they’re all in on it.”

“In on what? No way are you going to convince me that the people of this town are deliberately, knowingly, aiding and abetting a serial killer.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Try again,” Elliot invited.

“Not that, no,” Tucker conceded. “But turning a blind eye, yes.” Elliot opened his mouth to object, but Tucker cut him off. “Yes, because nothing else makes sense.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make sense either.”

“No, and I agree, but at the same time, it’s just not possible that nobody around here has noticed what’s going on.”

Elliot said bleakly, “You realize what you’re suggesting, right? The sheriff has to be involved as well. He would have to be on it.”

“Well? You’re the one who walked out of his office and said, he’s lying.”

“You didn’t agree.”

“I do now.” Tucker’s blue gaze traveled unemotionally around the crowded room. “The question is, what’s their motive? What’s the reason behind the conspiracy of silence? It would have to be pretty damned important.”

Their eyes met in sudden, startled realization.