Lone Star Santa (22 page)

Mitch left the door open a crack so he could hear Kristen and sat on the floor. He could barely hear her, though.

He stared at the laptop on the credenza. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed Kristen and her father, but seeing it all there on Jeremy’s computer and knowing that Jeremy had played him for at least five years—and maybe from the beginning—hurt. Hurt on a level that was so deep, it affected the core of who he was. Seeing evidence that Jeremy not only was letting him take the blame, but was orchestrating it so he would, had changed Mitch. Sure, life would go on and he’d get past this, but he could never go back to exactly the person he had been.

He no longer trusted his judgment. Who else had fooled him? And for how long?

Applause sounded and the music started again. Kristen was leading a Christmas sing-along.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. Tonight, every man in that room wanted her, including Mitch. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. He loved her.

But did he know her? Who was she? She’d been playing one role or another the entire time they’d been together.

She acted as though she cared about him—but was that all it was? An act?

He needed to think.

Heedless of how much data he’d transferred, Mitch disconnected the laptop, put it back on the nightstand and walked down the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, he could hear the applause as Kristen told everyone good night and to enjoy the parade. She’d be looking for him.

He couldn’t. Not until he got things straight in his head.

So instead of returning to the main party room, Mitch walked out the back door and into the multicolored night.

W
HERE WAS HE
? K
RISTEN
had stalled, she’d vamped, she’d thoroughly alienated Miss Sweetest, and still Mitch hadn’t reappeared.

She absolutely could not stay on the stage a moment longer.

She could, however keep Jeremy from leaving.

After leaving the stage, Kristen paid so much attention to him that his parents probably wondered if they should make an engagement announcement.

Jeremy was intent on making sure all the men
noticed that he was walking off with the prize female. He was so puffed up that if she’d poked him with a pin, he would have collapsed like one of the float balloons.

Kristen endured it for as long as she could, but it was hard to remain in character when the soles of her feet burned and the sexy straps on her sandals cut into her little toes. People were leaving to stake out their spots for the parade, anyway.

“I know a place where we can watch the parade in private.” Jeremy’s hand lowered to her hip.

Kristen adroitly moved out of reach. “I’m meeting someone,” she said, making sure to add regret to her voice.

Something ugly flared in his eyes. “No, you’re not.”

She’d expected him to be difficult after all the time she’d been forced to spend with him. “Well…” She traced the knot in his tie. “Not without making a cell phone call first, I’m not. He’s the son of my parents’ friends. One must be diplomatic.”

“One can use my cell phone.” Jeremy produced it instantly.

“Then caller ID would ruin one’s excuse.” She wiggled her fingers. “I left mine in the car.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Which will result in an awkward encounter with my parents who are waiting for me by the door.” Kristen held up a finger to indicate that they should stick around for her. “You’re wasting time,” she whispered. Turning, she gave him a look of sensual promise over her shoulder—too bad the promise wasn’t for him—and walked toward her parents.

“Get me out of here,” she said through gritted teeth.
Jeremy was only partly the reason. Her aching feet were the other part. Fortunately, their car was parked close to the house in VIP parking.

“What happened with Mitch?” asked her mother as soon as they were out of earshot.

“No idea. I stalled as long as I could.”

“And longer,” her father commented.

Kristen grimaced. “Was I awful?”

“He’s just grumpy because he had to watch his daughter become the object of every man’s sexual fantasy—”

“Barbara.”

“Oh, Dad. Sorry. Ick.” But then she smiled. “That must mean I was really good.”

“You were fabulous!”

“For the
first
twenty minutes.”

“Carl.”

“Believe me, I so didn’t want to lead a sing-along.” Kristen moaned. “I sang
Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer
in
public!
”

Her mother put a sympathetic arm around her waist. “I’m sure Mitch appreciates it.”

“It would be nice to hear it from him,” Kristen grumbled.

“I wonder if we should worry.” Carl unlocked the car.

“I’m going to call him.” Kristen eased into as near a sitting position as she could get and got her cell phone out of her purse.

She had to call him three times before he’d answer. “Are you all right?”

There was a hesitation during which time Kristen’s heart skipped a beat. “I needed to get away. To think.”

Her father hadn’t started the car yet. “Ask him if he got—”

Kristen held up her hand. “What happened?”

“I found a hidden operating system with financial records and instructions to Jeremy for exactly how he was supposed to present this to the FBI on Monday.”

“Oh, Mitch.”
Hidden operating system
she mouthed to her father, who nodded. “Where are you?”

“Kristen… I shouldn’t be around anybody right now.”

An icy dread gripped her. She’d never heard him like this. “Mitch, tell me where you are.”

“Goodbye, Kristen.” He disconnected.

Kristen didn’t bother calling him back because she knew he’d turn off his phone.

She looked up to find both parents watching her. “Jeremy is going to the FBI on Monday. Mitch sounds horrible and he wants to be alone.”

“Which means he shouldn’t be,” her mother said.

“Any ideas where he is?” asked her father.

“Not an idea.” Kristen smiled. “A hunch.”

P
ANTING
, K
RISTEN STOOD
in front of the giant Santa Claus. The whole thing was covered in lights and he rotated while he waved with both arms. Surrounding him were various toys and a huge list with names that curled over the edge of the platform. The four-foot-tall boxy platform had been painted and covered with toys and lights that disguised the fact that there was room for an operator and machinery within. The float actually looked more spectacular from a distance because this close, she could see the wiring and construction details. But it was still impressive. And big. And bright. And
hollow, which made it a pretty good place to hole up and think.

Kristen’s breathing slowed as she recovered from running all the way from the far reaches of the mall parking lot.

Her parents had dropped her off at home where she’d peeled herself out of her dress and body shaper, changed into jeans and a red sweater with holly embroidered around the neck, driven like a mad woman on the side streets, and still managed to beat the parade here. Not by much, though. She could see the glow in the distance and faintly make out the drums from the marching bands.

The crowd was thick on the streets surrounding Town Square because people wanted to see the floats take their place in the Santa’s workshop display. The only reason Kristen had been able to cross the barriers had been because Mitch’s mother had stationed Nora Beckman at the end of the parade to direct them into place. Kristen told her Mitch was operating the Santa and she was bringing him something to eat.

And so now here she stood, shivering slightly as the wind picked up a little. She couldn’t find the surveillance camera, but she knew there was one and she also knew Mitch could see her in all this light. She walked over to the door in the dollhouse, trying not to attract the attention of anyone but Mitch.

Looking up at the Santa, she held out a sack. “I come bearing grease.”

Silence. Or rather silence other than crowd noise, a high school band playing
Deck the Halls
, generators, motors and a car horn or two.

Kristen waved the bag from side to side. “It’s batter-fried fruitcake and it’s still warm. Come on, Mitch. You want some. You know you do.”

She could open the door herself, but she wanted him to. She’d come this far. He had to make the decision to talk with her or not. Holding up the other sack, she said, “Hot chocolate to wash it down. My hands are full. Please open the door.”

She waited and was prepared to wait a very long while, but was glad she didn’t have to as the door to the dollhouse swung inward and Mitch ducked out.

Kristen had forgotten about the shorter, lighter hair. He’d removed his blue contacts, though, and regarded her with dark, pain-filled eyes.

She should have brought tequila.

“So what role are you playing now?”

Kristen actually took a step back at the venom in his voice. Talk about misdirected anger.

“I’m debuting the role of the concerned girlfriend who brings her boyfriend fried fruitcake.”

“Why?”

“A question I asked myself as I bought it. And you know what the answer is?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

Not even a smile.

“May I come in?” she asked.

Again, he shook his head.

“Even if I leave the fruitcake outside?”

“This isn’t something you can tease me out of.”

She knew that. “Remember how you owe me? I’m collecting.”

His chest, encased in creamy soft cashmere, rose and fell. He ducked back inside. “Bring the fruitcake.”

Smiling to herself, she followed him.

They had to bend over for a few feet while they walked beneath the platform, but when they reached the center, where an opening had been cut to allow easier access to the mechanics, they could stand up because they were actually inside the base of the hollow Santa Claus.

The lights shined through the thin skin. They were mostly the pinky red of the Santa statue and a multicolored glow from the pile of toys next to it.

“It’s like being inside a kaleidoscope,” Kristen whispered.

“I guess,” Mitch allowed.

So he was going to be difficult. Looking around, Kristen saw the control area and the video monitors at one end beneath the toy pile. Mitch had been sitting on a folding chair and using the packing quilt for cushioning.

Kristen retrieved the quilt and spread it on the grass beneath the Santa Claus. Sitting, she patted the area beside her and set out the two cups of hot chocolate.

Mitch didn’t move.

Kristen flattened one of the white paper bags and set the two cardboard sleeves containing the fried fruitcake on top.

Mitch didn’t move.

She pried the lid off a cup of hot chocolate and took a sip. It had cooled to really warm. She swirled it around to mix the chocolate that had separated on the bottom and took another sip.

“Okay, Mitch.” He stood slightly behind her and
she didn’t turn her head. “This is my best shot. I’ve got nothing else.”

The silence continued. Kristen couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. He’d already known Jeremy and his father were guilty and, yes, that would take a while to get over. But why was Mitch shutting everyone out? Especially when they’d all worked so hard? Especially when
she’d
worked so hard?

“How can I get you to talk to me?” she mused aloud. After another sip of warm chocolate, she said, “I know. I’ll tell you all about how I put up with Jeremy’s insufferable arrogance and need for approval, his insolent remarks and crude suggestions, not to mention his wandering hands, for over an hour so you would be undisturbed. Or if that doesn’t do it for you, think of your worried parents who had to leave the party early so they could get the parade started on time. Think of them wondering why they hadn’t heard anything and if that meant you’d been caught.”

Mitch sat heavily. Kristen had to grab his cup to keep it from falling over. She took the opportunity to mix up the cocoa a little.

“Jeremy was my friend,” he began quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it and I genuinely believe he was my friend. And that makes what he’s done worse.”

Kristen took off the lid and handed him his chocolate.

He sipped it and went on, “We lived together. We went to school together. We studied together. We started our own business and lived together again until we could afford our own places. We knew each other as well as any two human beings can. He was the closest
I had to a brother. Yeah, I knew that he had faults, but so do I.” He sipped at the chocolate again. “I know you told me what was going on, but I wanted to believe that Jeremy didn’t know what he was doing. That maybe his father had forced him into it, somehow, or that it was an occasional thing.” Staring at nothing, Mitch shook his head. “I thought I couldn’t be that wrong about someone. But he’s just evil. Accepting that changed me. I’m not the same person I was.” He met her eyes. “I won’t
ever
be that person again.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re evil for trusting him.”

“But it means my judgment of people is skewed. Why couldn’t I sense that he’s completely amoral?”

“He never showed that side to you. Think about it. You brought out the good in him because you expect people to be good. His father obviously brought out the bad in him. Jeremy is weak. He waits for others to define him. Their opinion of him becomes his opinion of himself.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, but Kristen could tell he was listening. “You expected him to be honest and aboveboard in his dealings with people, especially with you. To you, it’s a given. That’s the way you are. You certainly weren’t going to say ‘Jeremy, you were honest in this transaction. That’s great. I really admire you for that.’ But that constant praise is what he needs. I’m sure his father knows that and exploited it. Jeremy wants his father’s approval. It’s not too much of a leap to figure out what happened.”

Kristen waited so Mitch could make the leap for himself.

And he did, as she’d known he would. “The extra
money bought him the cars and clothes and women to get even more approval.”