Risky Christmas (9 page)

L
eah was able to return home before the girls woke up.

While a team of crime scene investigators from the U.S. Marshals Service processed the evidence outside, she removed her wet clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray ease her overworked muscles.

When she got out, she dressed quickly and took a plate of blueberry muffins to her daughters' room. She drew the curtains closed, insulating them from the violence. For a few minutes she watched them sleep, her eyes wet. Then she covered Alyssa's face with kisses and ruffled Mandy's hair, telling them both to rise and shine.

After breakfast, she called Dominguez. She wanted to go to the hospital to be with Brian. As soon as he gave the okay for them to leave, she packed a bag with snacks and activities, hustling the girls out the door.

They noticed the police cars and CSI vans, of course.

“What happened, Mommy?” Mandy asked.

“Brian got hurt. We're going to visit him.”

Leah knew she was taking a risk by allowing the girls to come with her. If Brian was seriously injured, her daughters would be upset. On the other hand, the hospital was a more appropriate place for children than a murder scene.

The staff at Tri-City Medical wouldn't release any information about Brian because Leah wasn't a relative. So she waited patiently in the lobby while Alyssa colored pictures and Mandy wrote a get-well card. Soon a woman in scrubs called her name.

“I'll be right back,” she told the girls, walking the short distance to the front desk.

“Mrs. Cosgrove?”

“No, I'm Leah. Brian's…girlfriend.”

The woman introduced herself as an E.R. doctor and updated her on Brian's condition. He'd sustained a concussion and needed five staples in his scalp. “The good news is that he had no fluid in his lungs.”

“How can that be?”

“Well, he was probably unconscious before he went under, so that helped to reduce the amount of water he took in. Also, one of the body's natural defense mechanisms is for the larynx to block the airway. This reflex only works during the first few minutes of drowning. He's lucky someone got to him in time.”

Blinking tears from her eyes, she glanced back at her children, who were still coloring. “He's really going to be okay?”

The doctor smiled. “Yes. If he doesn't show any serious symptoms from the concussion, he can go home this evening.”

She grabbed a tissue, sniffling. “When can I see him?”

“As soon as he wakes up.”

Leah thanked her and went back to the waiting area, her spirits soaring. She was alive, her children were fine and Brian was recovering. For the first time in years, she envisioned a happy, hopeful future.

Dabbing at her eyes with the tissue, she sat down between her daughters.

“Is Brian going to die?” Mandy asked.

“No,” she said, giving her a hug. “He'll be just fine. But he's sleeping right now and we have to let him rest.”

Alyssa held up a picture of waves and sunshine. “Do you think he'll like it?”

Leah kissed the top of her sweet head. “He'll love it.”

Her cell phone rang a few minutes later. It was Dominguez, inquiring about Brian. “They think he'll be able to go home tonight,” she said.

“About that…”

“Is it safe?”

“For him, yes. We'll keep his name out of the incident reports. As far as the press is concerned, a deputy marshal lost his life protecting a witness. Anyone who looks into the matter will assume that Stevens killed Felix.”

“Good,” she said, relieved.

“That means no hero medal for Cosgrove.”

“He won't mind.”

“It's in his best interest not to.”

“What about me?”

“We're reassessing your need for protection. As far as we know, Felix was working on his own. His crime boss would never sanction a hit on an innocent woman.
With Felix gone, your level of endangerment is low. He's the only one you could have testified against, so there's no reason for another member to come after you.”

“Why did he attack Brian?”

“He must have spotted Stevens and known he couldn't approach your house. So he set a trap to draw you out.”

She closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. “I almost fell for it.”

“Most people would. Felix probably wanted Cosgrove to look hurt, not dead. Otherwise he'd have just shot him.”

Leah couldn't bear to think about it. “What's next?”

“For now, I'm recommending your transitional placement in WITSEC. As soon as the threat against you is evaluated and cleared, you'll be released from the program. You can go home, Leah.”

She moistened her lips. “What if I don't want to?”

“It's your choice. I don't see any problem with you staying in Oceanside, but not at your current residence.”

They discussed a few more details before she hung up. If she left the program, Leah could see her mom again. The prospect was appealing, but not urgent. She'd like for her daughters to have relationships with their grandparents.

After lunch, Leah was called back to the reception desk. “Mr. Cosgrove is awake and asking for you.”

Pulse pounding with excitement, she grabbed the girls and rushed down the hall, searching for his room. When she found it, she peeked inside. Brian was resting in a hospital bed, his head bandaged. Although he looked tired, he smiled when he saw her, his teeth flashing white against his swarthy complexion.

“I colored you a picture,” Alyssa said.

“Yeah? Let's see it.”

She gave him the sunny seascape. “I drew water 'cause I know you like it.”

“I do like it,” he said, seeming touched by her thoughtfulness. “Thank you. I'm going to save this.”

Mandy stepped forward with her card shyly.

“Did you make something, too?”

She nodded, handing it to him.

He read the note out loud. “‘Get well soon so we can swim at your pool again. Love, Mandy and Alyssa.'” When he glanced at Leah, his eyes twinkling with humor, her heart skipped a beat. “This is great. I feel better already.”

Leah sat the girls down on the next bed over, which was empty, and turned on a public television program for them.
Sesame Street
wouldn't hold their attention long, after a quiet morning in the lobby, but it might grant her and Brian a few minutes of privacy. She returned to his side, squeezing his hand.

“I'm glad you're all right.”

“Are
you
okay?” he asked, lowering his voice. “I can't remember anything except being afraid for you.”

“You saved me,” she said simply.

“That's strange. I thought that you saved
me.
”

She smiled. “Whatever.”

“Was there a man in a mask?”

“He's gone now.”

The tension in his face eased and he leaned back against the pillows. “Good. Will you have to leave town?”

“No, but I can't live in the house on Surfrider.”

“Move in with me. I don't have any more renters scheduled. I'd love to have you and the girls at my place.”

She was tempted to accept the offer on the spot. “You might regret it. Alyssa thinks it's fun to have screaming contests.”

“I'm serious.”

Her daughters started fighting over the remote control, proving that they were capable of being noisy and combative. “So am I.”

“Happy houses aren't quiet, Leah.”

Before Brian, she'd never have considered moving in with a man she'd only known a short time. She hadn't thought it was possible to fall in love so quickly, either. But after what they'd been through, the number of days didn't seem important. She felt safe with him. She didn't want to wait to start over.

“I'll have to ask Mandy and Alyssa how they feel,” she said.

He grinned, knowing that her daughters would move in with an ogre if he had a private swimming pool. “It'll work out. I promise.”

She believed him. “I love you, Brian.”

“I love you, too.” He tugged on her wrist, bringing her mouth to his for a tender kiss. “This morning I thought I was going to lose you. Now I feel like the luckiest man in the world. I don't want to let you go.”

Tears blurred her vision as she sank to her knees at his bedside, wrapping her arms around him. “I don't want to let you go, either.” He'd barged into her house, dressed like Santa, but she'd ended up with the best present: him.

He stroked her hair and she rested her head on his chest, feeling blessed. She had a new love, a new life and a wonderful New Year to look forward to.

Jennifer Morey

To my homey. I'm so glad you found me.
And a special thank you goes to Samantha—for always
finding something to do when I write.

C
hloe Bradford finished the mock-up of her latest Christmas card design. Animated, 3-D stockings hung from a white brick fireplace she'd painted. They had furry collars and cheery red-and-green patches, a lot more cheery than she felt. Setting that on top of the other pieces she'd done, she looked up at the darkened window above her desk. City lights twinkled, full of color three days from Christmas. It had been a few years since seeing them made her feel lonely. She almost couldn't look at them right now.

Checking the clock on her five-year-old computer, she stood. Time to go to her day job at the supermarket down the street. She pushed her cheap office chair under the desk and turned to face her purely functional, hand-me-down living room. She kept her desk in here rather than her bedroom so she wouldn't feel so quarantined. Her apartment was beyond small. It was an
oversize closet. There was barely enough room in her bedroom for a queen-size bed. All she had out here was her desk, what may pass as a shabby chic sofa that pulled out into a bed, a TV, and her bistro table in the tiny dining area, just off her cubbyhole of a kitchen.

Home sweet home.

She slipped into her knee-length jacket and stuffed her wallet and keys into her pocket. She had a cell phone but left it home when she went to work. No one would be calling her tonight anyway. She had the late shift with the produce crew and all her friends had plans for Christmas. It was just going to be one of those years. She was stuck alone for Christmas. Top that off with her boyfriend breaking up with her on Thanksgiving and you have a real Scrooge for Christmas.

Stepping out into the bitter cold Chicago night, she saw her breath through a steady peppering of snow along 159th Street. Haphazardly hung Christmas lights blinked from a poorly maintained, single-story house across from her equally run down apartment building. Passing darkened houses, one of them vacant, and another apartment building, she made it to a more commercial section. Cars drove slow over the icy road. A creepy-looking guy walked by her from the opposite direction, carrying a bottle in a bag. The hookers were starting early, too. Across the street, with the flashing lights of a twenty-four-hour pawn shop in the background, a woman in a fake fur coat with boots up to her knees bent over a passenger car window.

Her ex-boyfriend hadn't liked coming over to her place most of the time. She'd gone to his. This wasn't the best neighborhood so she'd overlooked the prejudice. She supposed she should have paid more attention to that sign. She'd been too enamored with him,
with the two of them as a couple. When he'd told her he loved her, she'd believed him. When they'd talked about marriage, she'd thought he was sincere. She was excited to start a family with him. Turns out he had other plans, though, and they included a girl he'd met where he worked. Another engineer like him. She had to give him credit for telling her, and for assuring her that he hadn't had an affair on her. He was attracted to this woman and wanted to see where it led. He hadn't slept with her or dated her while they were together, only talked to her and asked if she was interested in dating him.

She couldn't even be mad at him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd just discovered he didn't love her and she couldn't make him.

Passing a storefront with cheap tinsel and gaudy flashing lights, she felt a kinship with the display. That's how her life looked right now. Cheap and gaudy. But cheap and gaudy to some people was something beautiful to others. Chloe saw herself that way. She may appear to live cheap and gaudy, but on the inside she was the Grand Canyon. A grand landscape of color and depth. She just wished someone other than herself could see that. Namely, a man.

Next door, someone opened the door to the Streetside Bar. Voices and music from the throng within drifted out into the street. She'd spent a few nights in there after Thanksgiving. Luckily, the survivor in her had pulled her through that phase. Cigarette smoke from three men standing outside floated by her. She ignored them as she passed, feeling them watch her but not afraid. She'd had run-ins with men like that before. They appeared tough but really they were misguided thugs who needed to be shown not everyone could be bullied. She'd made an
example out of a couple of them. They knew to leave her alone.

At the corner she waited for the light and then crossed, walking toward the lights in the busy parking lot of Lawrence Tucker's, the supermarket that paid her paltry rent. Shopping carts were strewn all over the snow and ice-covered lot.

Chloe made her way inside, saying hi to coworkers on her way to the back. George looked at her funny. He managed the bakery.

After putting her coat away in her locker, she turned and saw her manager standing in the doorway, a grim look on her face.
Oh, great. Not again.

“A customer returned some tomatoes earlier today,” she said.

In a flash, Chloe remembered being interrupted when she was changing out the old tomatoes with new ones. Ever since the breakup she'd been doing that a lot at work.

“I'm sorry. Someone asked me where the marsala was and I showed them. I must have gotten sidetracked.”

“It's happened too many times lately.”

“I'm just going through a hard time right now, that's all.”

Her manager shook her head and sighed with resignation. “I know it's almost Christmas, but this is out of my hands now. The customer claims to have gotten sick from one of the tomatoes. My boss told me to fire you.”

A shock wave of disbelief rushed over her. “What?”

“I have to fire you, Chloe. I don't want to. I like you. So does everyone else, but…”

“Your boss told you to fire me. Right.” Chloe took her coat back out of her locker and slipped it on again.
All the while the image of the homeless man carrying a bagged bottle of booze haunted her. She wouldn't make it through the next month.

“I did manage to get you a severance package. It isn't much, but I hope it will get you by until you file for unemployment and start receiving benefits.”

Relief eased her anxiety. She faced her now ex-boss. First an ex-boyfriend, now an ex-boss, who handed her a manila envelope.

Chloe took it. “Thank you, Shirley. I'm sure whatever is in the severance package will help.”

Her ex-boss's regret was palpable, a small consolation. “If there's anything I can do, just call. I'll give you a good reference if you need one. Don't worry about that.”

“Thanks. Take care.” Retracing her steps to the front, she waved to George and he somberly waved back.

Outside, she stopped and watched her breath through the falling snow. Going back home filled her with dread. She didn't want to be alone for Christmas. She was tired of being alone. Maybe her ex-boyfriend's rejection made her more aware of that. She could tell herself she was fine on her own, but the truth was she missed being part of a family. She'd gotten her first real taste of it with her ex-boyfriend, and when he left, he'd taken them away with him.

Maybe she'd take all her money, pack some essentials and get on a bus to anywhere but here. Move. Start over somewhere new. Somewhere prettier than Chicago.

What did she have to lose?

 

Mason Jaffee got out of his Charger and started toward the entrance of Lawrence Tucker's supermarket. A few spaces over, another man got out of his car at
the same time. A quick glance had Mason stopping in his tracks. Axel Grant lit a cigarette as he approached. Not a tall man, or a big one, Axel still managed to appear menacing with his shaved head, thin black mustache and light gray eyes that had a desensitized look to them. He had always been distrustful of Mason, but this seemed out of the ordinary. Had he followed him here? Not good. Mason wasn't supposed to be seen tonight. Axel and his criminal friends thought he'd be gone by now. Knowing a raid was planned for New Year's Eve and his undercover work would finally be over, he'd made his excuses early. He couldn't wait to get out of Chicago.

“Hey, man. What are you doing here?” Mason asked. This could ruin everything.

He blew a stream of smoke into the cold air. “I was just about to ask you the same thing,
Michael.
”

The way Axel said his false name made him wary. He caught sight of a woman walking toward them, bundled up in a brown coat that came to her knees and a hat that kept her hair pressed to her head.

“You said you were going to Florida for Christmas,” Axel said.

“I am. I was just delayed.”

“Uh huh.” He took a drag on his cigarette. “What delayed you?”

The woman drew closer, noticing them now.

This was a bad time to be caught in a lie. Why was Axel here? He had to come up with a convincing answer to his question. Quick.

Acting on impulse, he slipped his arm around the woman as she was about to pass and drew her close to him. “Hey, baby. Sorry I'm late.” Feeling her resist, he caught sight of a Lawrence Tucker's name tag peeking
through her partially open jacket and looked at Axel. “Chloe had to work tonight. We're leaving to spend Christmas with my sister the day after tomorrow.”

He prayed the woman would play along for a little while. Right now she stared up at him with a blank look, the manila envelope she held smashed between them. She was about six inches shy of his six-two frame and fit against him nicely.

Axel stared at the woman before turning to Mason. “I never understood why Donovan liked you. If it were up to me, I'd have gotten rid of you a long time ago.” He parted his leather jacket to reveal his gun.

Chloe inhaled a sharp breath.

“She really your girl?” Axel gave Mason a drilling look.

“Yeah, man. Just met her a month ago. She got called into work tonight, right, baby?”

Numbly, the woman nodded. Good, she was at least street smart. Living in this neighborhood, you had to be.

“Marcus said he saw you at the gas station earlier today. I stopped by your place to see what you were still doing here and followed you here.” Axel glanced over at Chloe. “He didn't mention a woman.”

“Chloe wasn't with me this morning.”

Axel took another drag off his cigarette, his obvious suspicion unnerving. “Why are you keeping her a secret?”

“I didn't know my girlfriends were part of the business.”

With hard, emotionless eyes, Axel contemplated him a moment, blowing smoke out. Mason couldn't tell if he'd decided to believe him or not.

“You and Frankie are good friends,” he finally said. “Ain't that right?”

Frankie. Tanner Sullivan. He was the other agent who'd been working undercover with him. Why was Axel bringing him up now? His bad feeling got bigger.

“I know him.” Mason wouldn't make the stretch and call them good friends, but they did work together.

“Did you know he was a fed?”

Was.
Mason feigned surprise while the magnitude of that sank in. They knew Tanner was an agent. “Frankie was FBI? You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Another eerie moment of contemplation passed. “You a fed, too,
Michael?
”

Mason gave out a grunt of false cynicism. “That's funny, Axel. You got any more jokes for me tonight?”

“You see me laughing?”

Why was Axel asking if he was an agent? Why play cat and mouse? Why not come right out and say he knew he was a fed. Maybe because he didn't know. Mason hoped that was the case. He hoped Tanner hadn't talked. Not so close to the raid.

“How'd you find out?”

“Heard him talking to his wife. Frankie told us he wasn't married. We found his badge when we stopped by to ask him about his mysterious phone calls. But even that wasn't enough to make him talk.”

They'd bugged his phone? How had Tanner missed that? Mason checked his apartment every day and only used his FBI-issued cell phone for correspondence with anyone outside his undercover work, and he was always careful about when and where he made the call.

“He wouldn't say why he was here?”

“No.”

“Where is he now?”

Axel drew on his cigarette again and then blew out, watching Mason closely. “Feeding the fish in the Chicago River by now.”

They'd killed him. Mason stamped down his exploding fury. So close to the raid, Tanner got caught. “Problem solved, then.”

“Maybe.”

Mason didn't respond. Axel was only taunting him. He wouldn't have said anything if he fully believed he was an agent. His conundrum stemmed from his jealousy over Mason's relationship with Donovan. As long as Mason was careful, he could still pull off this investigation. And now that Tanner was dead, he had more motivation than ever to take every single one of these sleazy bastards down.

Axel's gaze drifted over Chloe and then back to Mason. “Bring her to Donovan's tomorrow night. He's going to want to meet her…and talk to you about Frankie. Now that your trip was delayed, that shouldn't be too much of a problem…right,
Michael?
”

Why would Donovan want to talk to him about Frankie? Because they'd appeared to be friends? Or was he beginning to listen to Axel?

Mason nodded, glancing at the woman he didn't know. “Yeah, sure. We can manage that. You don't have to work tomorrow night, do you, baby?”

Chloe shook her head.

Tossing his cigarette to the ground, Axel took in the exchange. “If she ain't your girlfriend and I find out you've been lying to us, you're a dead man…and so is she. You follow me?”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” Mason turned, guiding Chloe to the blue Charger the agency had leased for him. “Get in.” And then quieter, “Please.”

She met his eyes and hesitated. Glancing fearfully back at Axel, she got into the passenger side.

“See you at the party,” Axel said.

Mason ignored him and got into the car himself, shutting the door. Seeing Axel get back into his own car, he swore.