Dana Mentink - Deadly Christmas Pretense

A hysterical squeal rose to her lips but she kept it in. The boots came closer, until the cowboy rounded the front fender of her car.

“And you teased me about my driving,” he said. A strong Southern accent colored his words though she could not make out his features, only the hint of a wide chin and a cowboy hat.

What is he talking about? Teased him?

“Tam?” he said. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Tam . The pieces fell into place. This had to be Liam Pike, Tammy’s ex-boyfriend.

She leaned her dog-dampened forehead against the metal. What were the chances she’d hit town, nearly get driven off the road, narrowly avoid being hit by a train and finish up by running into her sister’s ex?

The dog let loose with a howl.

Maggie felt like doing the same.

Liam rested the rifle on his shoulder, frustration and confusion warring inside. Wouldn’t have been prudent or safe to take a shot and risk return fire with his horse nearby, a nutty dog and Tammy in the vicinity. Still, he would have felt a surge of satisfaction at shooting out the guy’s tires. It would’ve been easy; he was an expert marksman. At least he wasn’t losing hold on that.

He reached out a hand and helped her up, her palm freezing cold in his. Tammy Lofton. He’d always admired her impulsivity, the unfettered abandon with which she approached life, but this was sheer recklessness and just plain nuts.

“What in the world are you playing at, Tammy?” Saying her name aloud brought back the anger he’d felt at being unceremoniously dumped for another guy; a computer programmer she’d met when applying for a new job. That stung. “You could have been killed or caused a train wreck.”

He realized she’d backed up, palms half raised as if he was an approaching mountain lion. He stopped, blew out a breath and tried for a calmer tone.

“Tammy, it’s Liam. Sorry if I scared you. Tell me why that guy is after you. Must be something bad to rile you into forgetting there’s a train crossing.”

She didn’t answer, just stood there frozen.

“Liam,” she finally said, almost making it sound like a question. Poor light, scary situation, confusion. Understandable.

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “Glad you remembered my name. Least you can do since we dated for four months. How’s the computer programmer?”

“What?” Her voice was softer than he remembered, or maybe he’d begun to lose another level of hearing.

“Did you hit your head?” He felt a glimmer of alarm creeping in. “Tam? You okay?”

“Yes, of course I am. Why did you jump in the road like that?”

“Why...?” He rubbed a palm over his stubbled chin as he struggled for calm. “’Cuz I thought you were gonna crash into the train, that’s why,” he snapped. “I don’t generally welcome people to Driftwood with a rifle in my hand.”

But she wasn’t even listening. Instead she was inspecting the ruined tire of the Vette. Then she lifted her face to the evening breeze, turning it in the direction of the ocean. She was clearly working out some sort of plan.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply.

Was that all she had said or had he missed some? He wasn’t feeling like asking her to repeat herself. “Sorry doesn’t quite cut it, Tammy. What’s going on?” He eased back on his heels and something bumped his leg. He stumbled, winding up on the ground, staring up into the face of Jingles.

Jingles placed a crooked paw on Liam’s chest.

“Jingles,” Liam yelled. The dog responded by swabbing his face with a warm tongue until Liam finally pushed him off. Jingles sat back, tail skimming the ground in happy lashes. Liam hauled himself to his feet and gathered up the rifle he’d dropped. “Can’t ya see I’m in the middle of a situation here?”

Jingles barked.

Liam ignored him this time and ordered a thunderous, “Stay.”

He turned back, flabbergasted to find that Tammy had gone, headed off into the night, leaving her disabled Corvette behind.

He looked across the field to where she must have headed: the fog-shrouded beach. “What’s gotten into you, Tammy?”

He almost smiled. She should know him well enough to realize she’d piqued both his concern and his curiosity. And Liam Pike had never been one to ignore either.

He whistled once, low and soft, which brought Streak to the fence on quiet hooves. Jingles was on his feet now, too, bottom waggling right along with his tail, apparently convinced his services were needed.

“Just try not to fall off a cliff, okay?”

Jingles barked once and then took up a position behind the horse.

Maggie was grateful there was just enough moonlight glowing through the coastal fog to help her orient herself. She was heading west, toward the beach and the lighthouse. Directly east, near where she’d spun out, must be the vast acreage of the Roughwater Ranch. That explained Liam’s arrival. She’d only heard bits and pieces from Tammy, enough to know that their relationship “had no legs,” whatever that meant. Imagine running into the guy. He, too, thought she was her sister, thanks to the darkness and the car. At least she knew he wasn’t the one Tammy had entrusted her stolen goods with. The poor man sounded as clueless as she felt.

Well, since you’ve stepped into Tammy’s shoes for better or worse, you’re going to rub elbows with her acquaintances . She hoped her rendezvous with her sister at the lighthouse would clear the whole thing up. Didn’t matter. She’d do whatever she could to pull her sister from the hot water.

But this time things were more serious than unpaid bills or romantic troubles. She thought about the train barreling past, inches from the front of the Corvette.

Way more serious.

Whispering a prayer, she picked up her pace. The grass gave way to a rocky black cliff. Reaching the edge, she peered down onto a rugged beach cloaked in fog. Ahead and to the right she could just make out the steep trail that led down to a jutting promontory of rock where the outline of the lighthouse was visible.

It was a historic structure, no longer in use, though there was a string of Christmas lights twined around the gangway and one small beacon at the top. The lights were courtesy of the ranch owners, Gus and Ginny Knightly, Tammy had told her, to honor the men and women who had served in the navy, as had Gus’s father. Maggie had been struck by the story, picturing the couple who believed in honor and respect, two qualities hard to come by these days, it seemed to Maggie.

She picked her way slowly, since the black rock was slippery with condensation and the moonlight partially obscured by fog. The roar of the surf grew louder. They should have met at a café or a gas station, but Tammy always did have a flair for the dramatic. Maggie could never understand it. She could be fully content spending every day bunkered behind a restaurant stove, cooking for patrons like she’d done for years in her parents’ café, gleaning plenty of excitement from managing a kitchen. It pained her that she’d had to walk away from several days’ wages to come to Driftwood. She’d kissed goodbye money that wouldn’t accumulate in her meager bank account, which wouldn’t help her with her goal of reopening her parents’ restaurant.

You’ll get there. The words were stoked with optimism but each year seemed to bring more troubles and financial setbacks. “Eliminate the distractions. Get this thing with Tammy settled and put your nose to the grindstone,” she whispered to herself before the wind snatched the words away.