Lynette Eason - Christmas Cover-Up

A thud from the back of the house caused her to stiffen and shoot a glance at Jordan. “You hear that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Where’d it come from?” He kept his voice low.

“I don’t know.”

“Is your roommate here?”

“She usually parks in the garage, but I don’t know if her car’s in there or not.” She would have checked before entering the house, but the windows for the garage had blinds on them. And they were closed.

Katie moved farther inside, sidestepping the mess. Jordan went right, weapon in front of him.

Katie passed the open-area kitchen on her left, rounded the breakfast bar and stepped into the hallway. To her left was the utility room, to the right the half bath and the exit to the back porch that ran the length of the house.

The half bath sat empty. All that was left was her room and bath. Her room looked like the great room area: destroyed.

She ignored the anger at the invasion and headed back to join Jordan.

“Freeze! FBI!”

Katie did for a brief second before she realized the yell wasn’t aimed at her.

A crash. Running footsteps.

A dark-clothed figure raced past the doorway where she stood and into Mariah’s bedroom, with Jordan on his heels. Katie bolted after them.

The intruder leaped over the bed and wrenched the French doors open. Jordan followed and Katie turned to race from the bedroom, back into the great room and out onto the back porch.

The French doors swung open and the figure halted when he realized Katie had him cut off. She pointed her weapon. “Freeze! Police!”

He obeyed for a millisecond, then vaulted over the railing. Again Jordan followed while Katie spun and took the steps two at a time to the yard, where Jordan tackled the man. Sirens screaming, three cruisers pulled up to the curb.

* * *

Jordan ducked as a fist swung around toward his face. As the intruder’s punch met air, Jordan pulled back his right arm and let his knuckles crunch against the guy’s jaw. Dazed, the fight drained from the man, and he lay on his back panting, glaring as the sting of the hit faded.

With her gun in her right hand, Katie used her left to toss a pair of handcuffs to Jordan.

“Let us know if you need help.”

Jordan looked up to see three officers, guns drawn, ready to jump in. He sucked in a lungful of air. “I think we got it.”

Katie walked over and continued to cover the man until Jordan had him on his stomach, hands cuffed behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent...” Katie read him his rights as Jordan patted the man down. Finding no weapon, he rose to his feet.

When she was finished, she looked at the officers. “This will just take a minute, then he’s all yours. She shoved her intruder over to the steps of the porch. “Sit.”

Jordan watched the man obey. Reluctantly and with narrowed green eyes that glinted with anger.

Katie looked at Jordan. “You’re not FBI. Why’d you identify yourself as such?”

He felt a flush start at the base of his neck. Then gave a small shrug even as the shadows danced across his mind. He pushed them away. “I am again as of last month. Simply doing some consulting work with them.”

“Oh.”

He spread his hands, palms up. “They asked.”

“Right. Well, that should make my lieutenant happier.” Jordan knew her lieutenant hadn’t been too keen on Katie having access to her sister’s files, but he had finally caved, especially when she’d explained that she was hiring an outside organization to help. He’d been intrigued by the idea and finally agreed as long as she kept him updated. And worked the case on her own time. As far as Jordan could tell, she’d kept to that promise.

She stared at him a moment longer, then turned her frown at her intruder. “Who are you, and what were you doing in my house?”

His gaze lowered to the badge on her belt. “You’re a cop?”

“I am.”

“And you’re FBI?” He directed his question to Jordan, who gave a sharp nod.

“Figures.” He clamped his lips and looked away. Jordan decided the guy was younger than he’d originally thought. Maybe in his mid-twenties.

“Your name?” Katie demanded.

“Wesley Wray.”

“What were you looking for, Mr. Wray?” Jordan asked.

Wesley shrugged. “Whatever I could find. Jewelry, cash, whatever.”

Katie snapped his picture with her iPhone and emailed it directly to her office with instructions to find out everything possible about this man. “So this was just a random thing? You picked my house out of all the ones in this subdivision?”

“Yeah, I guess. It looked like an easy hit.” He shook his head and muttered, “Didn’t know you were a cop.”

Jordan saw skepticism skitter across Katie’s face and knew she wasn’t buying the guy’s story. Jordan hauled the man to his feet. “Come on, you can tell the rest of this sad tale downtown.”

As he stood, Wesley’s gaze landed on Katie’s briefcase sitting on the front porch. “Your laptop in there?”

She frowned. “It is. Why?”

“Nothing.”

Jordan led Wesley to a waiting police cruiser. Jordan recognized Chris Jiles as one of the officers. Chris locked his hand around Wray’s upper arm and looked at Katie. “You all right?”

“Never better.”

“Right.” He helped Jordan get Mr. Wray secured in the back of the cruiser. She walked over and shook hands with Chris. “I’ll be down to the station shortly to fill out a report. Stick him in one of the interrogation rooms and let him sit for a bit.”

“Will do. You need a crime scene unit?”

“Why? We caught him red-handed and he confessed. Let’s not waste lab dollars on a simple B & E.”

He shrugged. “Your call.”

Chris drove off with his prisoner, followed by the other officers who’d shown up. Katie turned to Jordan.

Dressed in pressed khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt, she had her straight blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a plain band. Her light brown eyes still glinted steel. A faint dusting of freckles and no makeup would make a lot of women look plain. Katie, however, was a natural beauty.

He ignored the zing of attraction he always seemed to get around her and followed her up the front porch steps.

Romance, attraction, whatever it was he felt when he spent time with her was not an option. Katie Randall had killed his brother—at least in his parents’ eyes—and while he’d work with her on this case, getting personal was out of the question. And besides, she’d gone out her way to avoid him ever since she’d learned he would be the one handling the case.

They stepped back inside and the destruction greeted them.

Even though she’d already seen it, he heard her suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full cleaning this up.”

She sighed. “Looks like. Fifteen days until Christmas and this. Lovely. Just what I wanted to come home to.” She grimaced. “Okay, I’ll stop whining now. Sorry.”

He gave a short laugh. “I’ll help.”

Really? And why was he offering to spend more time with her than necessary? She lifted a brow. “I’ll probably call a cleaning crew, but thanks.”

Relieved—yet strangely disappointed—he nodded and looked around. “Mariah’s not here, obviously.”

“No.” She walked into the kitchen and looked out the window into the garage. “Her car’s not here. She either stayed late at work or stopped somewhere on her way home.”

Jordan tilted his head toward the back of the house. “Your office is trashed, too.”

Katie spun on her heel and walked to her office. Trashed was a kind word. “He asked about my laptop. Do you find that strange?”