Murder Under The Mistletoe

“Madame, call this number.” The man rattled off a ten-digit number. Thankful for the memorization skills she’d learned in college, she put the number to memory. “You can confirm for yourself who I am. Once you have, ring me back.” The man hung up.

Still disbelieving, she input the number into the phone and waited a moment until a woman answered, “Department of Homeland Security, how may I direct your call?”

Surprised, she hesitated, then hung up. Was this for real? Homeland Security? No way.

She quickly called 411 and asked for the main number of the Department of Homeland Security. The automated voice gave her the same number that she’d just dialed.

Stunned but not quite ready to accept that the man sitting on the floor watching her was really law enforcement, she redialed the number for Homeland Security and asked to speak to Deputy Director Moore.

“The deputy director is not in at the moment. Would you care to leave a name and number for when he returns?”

Heather chewed on her bottom lip for a second before she said, “Uh, can you tell me if there is an agent name Tyler Griffin working for the DEA?”

“I’m not at liberty to give out that information. Did you want to leave a message for the deputy director?”

“No, that’s okay.” Heather hung up.

Tyler arched an eyebrow at her.

She narrowed her gaze and redialed Deputy Director Moore’s direct line. He answered on the first ring.

The man confirmed his agent’s identity. The relief was unexpected. At least she didn’t have to fear the agent was there to hurt her.

“Let me speak to Agent Griffin,” the gruff man on the phone demanded.

She squatted down next to Tyler and handed him the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Tyler held the phone to his ear. “Griffin here.”

He listened, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir. The local sheriff is on his way here. Thank you, sir.” He pressed the end button. “My boss will be in contact with the sheriff’s department.” He held out the phone. “Are you satisfied?”

“I suppose.” Her fingers curled around the phone.

His hand clasped around her wrist.

She let out a little yelp and tried to break his hold. His grip was warm, tight, but not painful.

“Not so fast,” he said. His intent gaze held her captive as surely as his hand. “I want my gun back.”

Her heart beat wildly. “It’s in my pocket.” Why did she sound as if she’d run a marathon?

With his free hand, he reached into the pocket of her robe, retrieved his weapon and jammed it into his holster.

“Uh, you can let go of me now.” She stared at the point where his big hand circled her slender wrist. She had no doubt he could break her bones with a quick snap if he chose to.

He let go, holding his hands up, palms out. “Sorry.”

“Tell me what you meant when you said my brother was working with you. And why did he think something would happen to him?”

Tyler scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Your brother informed my office that your family’s tree farm was being used to smuggle cocaine into Canada.”

She dropped from a squat to her knees. “Cocaine?”

The official ruling in her brother’s death flashed in her mind. Overdose of injectable cocaine. She’d had so much trouble accepting the coroner’s findings. Seth had been belonephobic. He abhorred sharp objects, especially needles. He’d snorted, smoked and swallowed his drugs.

Plus he’d promised her he was clean. She’d believed him.

However, the sheriff hadn’t believed her when she’d claimed Seth wouldn’t have injected himself with drugs. She could tell the sheriff had thought she was fooling herself. He’d said junkies would do whatever they could for the high, even overcome a lifelong fear.

Without any evidence to the contrary, she’d had to come to terms with Seth’s death as an accident. But now...?

“Someone here on the farm was involved in drug smuggling?” It didn’t make sense. “That can’t be. Most of our employees have been with us for years. I trust them. I can’t imagine any of them partaking in drugs, let alone using our farm for nefarious purposes.”

“Not all of your employees are long-term, right? You do have some transient workers.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. An anxious flutter started low in her tummy. “True. We do have a few seasonal laborers who come in the fall and stay until Christmas day. Then they travel back to their homes. But those few have been coming for years, as well.”

“You can’t always predict what people will do if given the right motivation.” He slowly stood.

His words sent a shiver of apprehension crawling across the nape of her neck. She rose to face him. “Where is the cocaine coming from?”

“We don’t know the direct route, but we do know the source of the cocaine coming into the US is from Central America. There are many drug cartels in various countries south of the border infiltrating both the US and Canada. And more recently, Australia.”

Her mouth went dry. “There’s a drug cartel here?”

“Possibly.” Tyler sank down on the dining room chair. “I’m working with IBETs—Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—we’ve been investigating rumors of drugs crossing the US–Canadian border for months. Two weeks ago Seth reached out to me and my team.”

Pride filled Heather. She could only imagine how scary it had been for Seth to seek help. Going up against a drug cartel was no small feat.

“Apparently last year he’d needed some extra cash,” Tyler continued. “He had allowed a shipment of cocaine to hitch a ride into Canada with a shipment of trees from your farm. He’d thought it was a onetime deal. But when they came back to him this year, he realized he’d gotten in over his head.”

Heather silently groaned. One step forward, two steps back. Seth had always courted trouble with his decision making.

“We—” Tyler grimaced “—I convinced him to find out as much as he could and keep a record of everything he learned, including who, what, where and when.”

Stunned, Heather rocked back on her heels. “Let me get this straight. My brother came to you with information about an illegal drug operation on our farm and you—” A cold sweat broke out on her skin. “He was spying for you?”

A grim expression stole over Tyler’s face. “Yes.”

Heather backed away. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was hearing. It was one thing for Seth to be a whistle-blower and another entirely for him to play the role of spy. “That was a dangerous thing for you to ask of him.”

“Yes, it was.”

She stilled as a thought burned through her brain. Her blood turned to ice. “He didn’t die of an accidental overdose. Someone killed him.”

“That’s what I believe.”

“He’s dead because of you!”

Tyler closed his eyes. When he opened them, the bleakness in his gaze confirmed her accusation. “Yes.”

TWO

Tyler held Heather’s gaze with what he hoped was dispassion and not the swirling maelstrom of guilt laying siege to his psyche. He wouldn’t shirk the responsibility of Seth Larson’s murder.

Despite Seth’s past addictions, Tyler had sensed his sincere need to get out from under the thumb of the drug cartel. Though Tyler may not have injected Seth with the lethal dose of cocaine, he felt responsible. Tyler had no doubt that someone had found out that Seth was keeping an account of the illegal activities going on at the Larson family Christmas tree farm. And that someone then killed Seth. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his head.

Heather stared at him with wide eyes full of flashing anger. “How could you let this happen?”

It was a valid question. One he’d been asking himself for the past five days. One his superiors were asking, as well. “Your brother initially wanted us to raid the farm, but we didn’t know who we were looking for and where the drugs were stashed. And Seth claimed he hadn’t been privy to how the smuggling took place. At least at first. A raid too soon would have only shut down the operation here, not stopped the flow. We needed evidence. We needed facts. Still do. Seth began to gather intel and had thought he had enough to shut the ring down, but then he was killed.”

Her eyes widened even more. “You really do believe he was murdered?”

“I do. Whatever information he had cost him his life.” And now it put Seth’s sister and nephew in danger. They weren’t supposed to be here. Seth had said they lived in Washington State. And now, per Tyler’s boss’s mandate, Tyler and his team were to make sure the widow and her son were protected.

She shook her head. “No, you cost him his life. You pushed him to do something he wasn’t trained to do.”

The sharp tip of her barb hit him squarely in the gut. “A fact I will have to live with,” Tyler stated with more regret than she could possibly know. This wasn’t the first time an informant had lost his life. “But Seth got himself into this mess. Seth came to us. He knew the risks. Believe me—I wish I had done things differently.”

If he could go back, he’d have extracted Seth a week ago. But Tyler had wanted more information. He’d wanted to cut off the head of the ring, not just pull in a few low-level minions. So he’d pushed Seth to keep up the pretense of going along with the drug-smuggling scheme until he knew the identity of the mastermind behind the illegal operation.

Tyler had been doing his job. A job that wasn’t finished. “If I am going to bring his murderers to justice, I need to find the notebook he told me he had.”

“That’s why you broke into the house.”

“I didn’t break in. As I said, Seth gave me a key. He’d said if anything happened to him that I’d find what I needed here at the farm. I didn’t mean to scare you. I had thought you and your son lived in Washington and would have returned there after Seth’s burial. Otherwise I would have arranged to meet you away from the farm.”

A contemplative expression crossed her face. “Ah. That’s why Seth offered to pay for our plane tickets to Florida for the upcoming holiday—so we wouldn’t come here.” A sad light entered her eyes. “My late husband’s parents live in a nursing facility there. Seth had insisted we should spend Thanksgiving with the Randalls. I declined Seth’s offer.” She gave a little shrug. “The Randalls barely know us, and we wouldn’t be able to stay with them. I didn’t want to spend the holiday in a motel.”

Her words resonated with him. He spent most holidays in motels or on stakeouts. It was a lonely way to celebrate.

“And now we’ll be spending the holiday here alone, without Seth.”

Guilt burned at her words. He had nothing to say to soothe her hurt.

Visibly pulling herself together, she asked crisply, “What does this notebook look like?”

“I wish I knew. All Seth had told me was to get the notebook if anything happened to him.” Tyler planted his feet beneath him and slowly rose. The world tilted. He swayed. He braced his feet wide, forcing back the dim shadows creeping in at the edges of his mind.

Heather rushed forward to steady him. “Take it easy. You probably have a concussion. You should go to urgent care. You might need stitches.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I find what I came for.” But he would lean on her for the moment, to keep from embarrassing himself again by falling flat on his face a second time. “You know how to handle a frying pan.”

“If I’d had Ken’s service weapon handy, I’d have used that,” she retorted drily. “But it’s locked in a safety deposit box at the bank in town.”

He slanted her a glance. “What were you thinking to begin with? You shouldn’t have confronted an intruder. You could have been seriously wounded or killed.”

From the background search he’d done on Seth and his family, Tyler knew Heather’s husband had been killed in action and they had a young child, who he assumed was upstairs at this very minute unaware of the danger that could have befallen his mother.

She paled and squared her shoulders. “I had to protect my child. My husband taught me how to take care of myself. I know how to shoot a gun. I know enough self-defense to break a stranglehold. And, as you said, I know how to wield a frying pan.”

He couldn’t help the little burst of admiration for the gutsy lady.

Slowly she extracted herself from his side. She moved away when it became apparent he was going to stay upright.

“You’re still bleeding,” she said. “Come along and let me take care of your head.” She turned and walked away.

He followed Heather to a large mudroom just off the kitchen, where he washed his hands while Heather grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet over the washing machine and set it on the counter beside the washbasin. Next she dragged a chair in from the dining room.

He looked at the sturdy lattice-back chair with the pale yellow seat cushion. “I don’t want to ruin any more of your cushions.”

She found three towels in a drawer and brought them over. After laying one across the chair, she pushed on his shoulder. “Sit. I can’t work with you standing.”

Even sitting, he was as tall as her petite frame. She stood in front of him. The scent of her skin, a mix of soap and vanilla, teased his senses. Her face was a study in concentration as she unwound the cloth she’d fastened around his head.

“This is going to hurt,” she warned as she dabbed him with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic.

The biting pain made him wince. When she finished, he sighed with relief.

“I think I can use butterfly bandages to close up the wound.” She worked with quick efficiency. “Why come at night? Why not come in the daylight with a search warrant?”

“Because I didn’t want to alert the bad guys that we’re onto them. I was hoping to get in and out unnoticed.”

She made a delicate-sounding snort. “But if you’d found the notebook, would its contents be admissible as evidence?”

“Yes, it would. The person, or persons, involved in the drug ring have no reasonable expectation of privacy on your farm, even if they are staying in one of the cabins. You’re the only one who would be exempt from the rule because you’re the owner. But you’re not involved, so that point is moot.”

“How can you be sure I’m not?”

“Seth was adamant you weren’t. Plus, I did a background check on you. You’re clean. I have no reason to believe you’re tangled up in this mess.” Could he be mistaken? His gut tightened. “You aren’t, right?”

The corners of her mouth quirked, and she shook her head. “I’m not.”

The last bit of doubt drained away. “Good.”

“You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” she said.

“True. But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

She frowned, her brow creasing. “Are you the one who called me?”

He cocked his head. “No, I never called you.”

“Well, someone did, and they seemed to share your thought that Seth’s death wasn’t just an overdose.”

A spike of concern sent his blood pressure soaring. “What did the caller say?”

“That my brother’s death was more than it seemed and I should leave the farm because it’s not safe.”

Dread punched him in the stomach. “When was this?”

“A few hours ago.”

His head pounded a rapid staccato. “All the more reason for me to find the book quickly. We need to put a stop to this fast before anyone else gets hurt.”

She stepped back and put the first aid kit away, then tossed the soiled towels into the washing machine. “I’ll help you look for the notebook, but first you need some fluids. Follow me.”

Bemused by her take-charge attitude, he allowed her to lead him out of the mudroom. She stopped in the kitchen and turned on the light over the sink. A large butcher block served as a center island. Long wooden counters and blond oak cabinets with glass doors gave the place a homey feel. The appliances were older but clean. Blue-and-yellow gingham curtains hung over the window behind the sink. The place had a cozy feel that was foreign to Tyler.

She took a tall glass from a cupboard, filled it with tap water and handed it to him. “Drink.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He took the glass and drank the cool liquid.

She dug into a drawer and came up with two over-the-counter painkillers. “Here, these should help.”

“Thanks.” He popped the tablets and swallowed them with another large gulp of water. When he was finished, he set the glass on the large center island. “Let’s check your brother’s room.”

In Seth’s room they worked in silence, rummaging through drawers, checking under the mattress, under the bed. In the closet, inside the crawl space in the closet floor. Their search resulted in nothing but frustration.

Fisting his hands, Tyler glanced around the tidy room, taking in the tall dresser standing in the corner, the desk and chair placed beneath the window and the long twin bed covered in a geometric-patterned quilt.

Seth had told Tyler he’d kept the journal on the farm; it stood to reason it was in this room. There were many places to hide a notebook in the large farmhouse, but which nook or cranny had Seth used?

Tyler’s head throbbed and so did his heart. He couldn’t change the past, only hope he could affect the future. Wasn’t that what his gran always told him?

Next they tackled the living area. It was a large great room that flowed into the dining area with the kitchen around the corner to form an L shape. Tyler searched the well-worn leather couches, while Heather checked the bookshelf, taking the books down, inspecting them and then piling them on the floor.

Tyler even checked under the large throw rug covering the hardwood in the living room. No secret compartments. No secret hiding places. He moved on to the dining room while Heather continued her slow but steady pace through the bookshelf.

The large rectangular table had no drawers or hidden slots in which to stash a notebook.

“Mommy?” A small boy stood at the bottom of the stairs staring at Tyler with wide eyes beneath a fringe of dark brown bangs. He wore footie pajamas with rockets all over them. A plush dinosaur dangled from one tiny hand.

Tyler untucked his shirt and quickly pulled it over his hip holster, hoping the boy hadn’t noticed his firearm. No need to frighten the child.

“Colin, honey.” Heather rushed to her son’s side. “What are you doing up?”

Keeping his eyes on Tyler, the child said, “I heard a noise.”

She picked him up, hugging him close. “It was just me and...” She looked at Tyler as if she weren’t sure how to introduce him.

Tyler stepped closer. “I’m Tyler. A friend of your uncle Seth.”

“Uncle Seth is with Daddy now,” Colin replied gravely.

“Yes, he is,” Tyler said. He gave the boy a sad smile. “I’m sure they are both watching over you and your mommy.”

Colin scrunched up his nose. “What happened to your head?”

Heather grimaced.

“I had an accident,” Tyler said, touching the bandage on his head. “With a frying pan.”

Heather’s eyes widened, and a pink blush stained her cheeks. He grinned at her. She flushed a deeper shade of red.

The boy snuggled into the crook of his mother’s neck. She kissed the top of his head. The sight of Heather and her son made a touching picture. Tyler’s chest grew tight.

“I’ll be right back,” Heather said and carried Colin upstairs.

Something shifted and constricted inside Tyler as he watched them go. Heather’s love for her son was obvious in the tender way she treated him. Tyler had never known that kind of love.

Certainly not from his mother. She’d been too busy scoring her next high or lost in a haze of drugs to bother with affection. Her only son had been a means to gain the weekly welfare check, nothing more.

After Heather and her son disappeared from Tyler’s sight, an unfamiliar ache of longing lingered. He wasn’t even sure what he longed for, but he was determined to keep Heather and her son safe.

He could only pray he didn’t fail them like he had Seth.

* * *

Heather tucked Colin back into bed. “You need your sleep, big guy. Tomorrow we’re helping Rob change out the village lights.”

Rob Zane lived in one of the houses on the property. Her parents had offered him the job of caretaker for the farm’s Christmas Village after he’d recovered from a house fire that had taken his own family nearly fifteen years earlier. A fire that some whispered he’d started. Her parents had stood by him through the arson investigation. And even though the fire had been deemed an accident, many in the area weren’t convinced. He’d been kind and generous to her family in return for her parents’ loyalty.

“And the decorations,” Colin said, the thrum of excitement in his tone. “Rob said I could help him with Santa’s house.”

“That will be fun.” This coming weekend they would open the farm up to the public to come enjoy the village and sleigh rides and to cut their own trees to take home. But first Heather had to get through Thanksgiving. The day wouldn’t be anything like she’d hoped, but she’d do her best to make it special for Colin, despite her sorrow over her brother’s death. Murder. She shuddered.

Careful to keep her expression from betraying the quiver of fear, she kissed Colin’s forehead. “You need to get some sleep so you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a tail, Mommy,” Colin admonished her with a grin.

She laughed, thankful for his sweet innocence, and smoothed back a lock of hair, her chest crowding with a mother’s love. “No, you don’t, sweetie.”

Heather left Colin’s room and ducked into her own bedroom to change into comfortable sweatpants and a pullover hoodie. When she went back downstairs, she found Tyler had turned off all the lights except one lamp by the couch.

He stood looking at the family photos lining the mantel with his back to her. His feet were braced apart. He had wide shoulders and a slim waist. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. With anger? Frustration? Perhaps both. The bandage she’d put on his head glowed in bright contrast to his short-cropped dark hair.

Part of her was so angry with Tyler for putting Seth in danger. And yet she was angry with Seth for not telling her what was going on and getting himself involved in something so dangerous. She might have been able to help him. Or at the very least talk some sense into him.

Tyler turned around. She glimpsed the tortured expression on his handsome face before he quickly settled his features into a shuttered look that hardened the line of his jaw. She resisted the empathy flooding her veins. What did he have to be tortured about? It was her brother who’d died because Tyler and his team couldn’t protect him.

Could she trust him to protect her and Colin?

What choice did she have but to put her life and that of her child into his keeping? “The only way you’ll get access to the farm is if you’re here on my say-so.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

“That we do this my way.”

“What’s your way?”

“I’ll hire you as the new foreman to take over for Seth. That way you could stay on the farm. I assume you have your team nearby. They could hire on as part of our seasonal labor.” They hadn’t hired enough people, and she hadn’t been able to think about the shortage the past few days as she dealt first with Seth’s death, then his burial.

He cocked his head to the side and appeared to consider her offer. “Only problem is I know nothing about tree farming. Anyone would see right through that.”

She thought for a moment. “An investor?”

“A business partner,” he countered.

“That would work. Then we’ll scour the farm until we discover where my brother hid the book.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” Tyler held out his hand. “Partners.”

After a brief hesitation—did she really want to partner with this man?—she slipped her hand into his larger one and repeated the word, answering her own question. “Partners.”

His fingers curled over hers, causing a riot of sparks to shoot up her arm. Disconcerted by the odd effect of his touch, she extracted her hand. “I’ll make the arrangements in the morning.”