Jessica R. Patch - Cold Case Christmas

Rush brushed a strand of blond hair from her face and tucked it safely behind her ear. His gaze locked on hers and he couldn’t quite make out what swam in her watery blue-greens—relief but something else.

“I was so scared I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing calling, then locking yourself in here.” More than ever they needed those photos. Rush needed to find all the Phantom of the Opera masked men. One of them had answers or could be the one trying to hurt Nora. “Let’s find your phone, get these and you somewhere safe.” He grabbed the box.

Troy wouldn’t want him exhausting his energy on this. As far as he was concerned, it was a closed case. He’d agreed with Rush that someone wasn’t happy about Nora turning over rocks and they should be looking into that. But after two attacks and being followed, Rush wasn’t so sure it was all about a possible scandal. People had killed for less, though.

The only place he knew the photos would be safe was under his care, at his house. He wasn’t sure he wanted Nora there permeating it with her sweet cherry blossom scent and intensifying his loneliness when she left.

Rush led Nora to his vehicle and opened the door for her, then put the photos in the backseat. He hurried inside, cranked the heat and sighed. “You okay with going to my place?”

“Sure.” Her cheeks turned pink and she gazed out the window. “I heard you built a house on the mountain.”

“About four years ago. Still needs some work, but I’m only one man.”

“Who’s saved me twice. Thank you.” She rubbed her palms together.

Rush pointed all the vents toward her. “You’d think tourists would stop pouring in. This keeps up and flights won’t only be delayed, they’ll be canceled.”

“People pay good money to be here on the holidays. They don’t care about the weather. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to nothing but the camera.”

Rush switched his wipers on to knock away the ice pelting the windshield. The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. He turned onto a long drive that cut up through a thick forest of evergreens. His two-story A-frame log cabin with a deck wrapped around the entire second story came into view. He loved having coffee out there and seeing the mountains for miles. It was peaceful and quiet.

And empty.

“Wow, Rush. I love how it’s covered in windows. So much natural light, and what a view from up here.” Nora gaped and took it all in. He felt that way every day.

He parked out front, grabbed the box and they went inside. Nora studied the cedar beams and walls. The kitchen was open to the living room. Leather furniture. Rugs for warmth on the knotty pine flooring.

“I love what you’ve done with it.” She frowned. “Where’s your Christmas tree?”

“I didn’t put one up this year.” One tree decorated for one man? Seemed silly.

She gasped. “Rush!”

“Did you put a tree up at your place in Knoxville?”

She collapsed on the couch. “No, but I haven’t put a tree up since Mom disappeared...died.” Tears leaked from her eyes, and she wiped them away with her sweater sleeves that hung over her fingertips. “You have no reason not to.”

“Neither do you,” he said delicately. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to stop loving and celebrating your favorite holiday. Besides you’re celebrating Christ’s birth.”

“Which doesn’t call for a tree.”

“You put up a nativity?”

“No. Make me some coffee and let’s go through photos.” She grinned and headed for the box on the kitchen counter.

“You’re bossy.”

“You ought to know.” She slid the lid off the box. “Hey, Rush?”

“Hmm...?” He opened a bin and took a K-Cup for the Keurig.

“Nothing.” Fear pulsed in her eyes. Whatever she was about to open up and say, she’d bit back.

“You can talk to me, you know. Like you used to.” Before her world crumbled and she closed herself off.

“It’s nothing.”

Frustration knotted his neck and shoulder muscles. He gave her a cup of coffee how she liked it, with cream and sugar, and started combing through photos. He searched for men in Phantom of the Opera masks. “Do you know where there might be other photos? Not every single person is going to turn up in this box.” Hundreds of people attended each Christmas. Several hundred of them local, and nearly three hundred tourists. This was a needle in a haystack job.

“Tourist center might have some put away. Locals probably have personal scrapbooks. What are we even looking for?” Nora asked, and thumbed through the photos.

“The mask in the car was a partial of the Phantom of the Opera. Look for men wearing that.” He left out the other reason it was important. How did one tell an ex-girlfriend he’d seen her mom kissing the Phantom? She’d been through so much already. “And someone with silver cuff links.”

“My dad wore cuff links but not like those.” She held up a photo. “Look, it’s you and Dan in those ridiculous masks with whisker-like things growing out of the sides.” She laughed, but he heard the bittersweet tone.

“Good times.” Rush couldn’t manage much more. That was the night his dream shattered. He found two photos of two different men in Phantom masks. One seemed like it might be Ward McKay. He owned McKay Construction and was divorced. Could Marilyn be the rift that caused it? “Did you ever hear talk about Ward McKay and your mom?”

Nora paused perusing. “I steered clear of talk if I could.”

“His wife moved away with their son. He might have been pretty mad over that even though it would have been his fault. Anger brings irrational behavior and thoughts sometimes.” He couldn’t believe he said that. He had no facts to support that theory. “I’m speculating and really I shouldn’t be.”

“No,” Nora said. “That makes sense.”

If Ward was the Phantom kissing Marilyn three months after he had separated from his wife, he might have wanted a more permanent relationship with Marilyn. If she rejected that, after he lost his family for her, that could have sent him over the edge. She might have been escaping him. Or something more sinister.

But they didn’t have proof that Marilyn’s car in the lake was intentional. And he was only speculating again. “If the car wreck was an accident, then all we’re doing is meddling in people’s lives to give you some comfort.” A lot of damage could be done. “Is that fair?”

Nora jutted her chin toward him and glared. “What if it was your mother?”

He didn’t know. Before his dad falsely accused a man of soliciting a prostitute, which ended up causing the man to commit suicide, he’d have said yes. But now? Now he wasn’t so sure he’d go around prying.

“We have to question Ward, Rush. Evidence or not. What’s he got to lose now?” Nora asked.

“If your mom’s death wasn’t an accident, then a lot.”

The winter storm had slacked off, leaving a foot of fresh powdered snow and temperatures in the low twenties. But it wasn’t keeping tourists and locals away from Main Street. Carolers dressed in Victorian clothing wassailed along singing inside the shops that were lit with candles and twinkling lights. Nora loved the candle store best with its cranberry, pine and cinnamon scents that wafted through the air. She’d be buying one of the candles when they got there. Small stations were set up for tourists to relax and revel with mulled cider or cocoa. With red noses and wrapped head to toe like mummies in winter garb and bags loading them down, people were having a ball.

Road crews had done a good job of clearing the roads and sidewalks. Nora and Hailey walked with Dalton, his lips coated in chocolate and whipped cream. Nora had missed so much of his growing up by only visiting once a year. She’d forgotten how much she loved these pre-Christmas festivities. They’d bumped into several people Nora had grown up with, and there had been no narrowed eyes or questions about Mom, but Nora couldn’t help but feel gawked at. Rush had been called away due to shoplifters, and being here in public, Nora didn’t think anyone would try something. She hoped anyway. She had her sister and Dalton with her.