Darlene Gardner - Wish Upon a Christmas Star

“Oh, sweetie. Lots of other reasons make more sense. His phone might have been dead. Or maybe he was looking for a way out and couldn’t take the time to call.”

“His remains were never identified,” Maria reminded her.

“Neither were the remains of more than a thousand other people. That’s about forty percent of the victims,” Annalise said. “The authorities did the best they could, but it was an impossible task.”

“So we can’t completely rule out that Mike wasn’t at the restaurant that day,” Maria said.

“Yes, we can,” she insisted. “If he were alive, wouldn’t he have contacted us in the last eleven years to let us know?”

“I admit that part doesn’t make sense, but Mike was angry at the world when he left for New York. He wasn’t getting along with any of us.” Maria could tell that her arguments weren’t swaying her sister. She tried another tactic. “Don’t you want to know what I found out about the phone number?”

“Sure.” Annalise didn’t sound optimistic.

“The calls came from a prepaid phone, as if whoever made them doesn’t want to be found,” Maria said. “He must be in Key West, though. That’s where the envelope was postmarked.”

“I’ll admit the entire situation is strange,” Annalise said slowly, “but Mike didn’t make those calls or send those photos.”

“Then who did?” Maria asked. “It seems out of character for Mike to have given that nude photo of Caroline away.”

“C’mon, Maria. Someone else might be behind this.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I think it’s worth looking into the possibility it might be Mike.”

Annalise held up a finger and got her cell phone out of her purse. She appeared to be scrolling through a list of numbers before she pushed one.

“Hey, this is Annalise,” she said after a moment and turned away, walking to the other end of the room so it was harder for Maria to hear her.

That was fine with Maria. She already guessed that her sister had Jack on the line. Their surviving brother had moved to Virginia’s Eastern Shore earlier in the year to be with his girlfriend. Maria suspected Annalise was trying to enlist Jack’s help in convincing her she was wasting her time. A part of her didn’t blame her sister for trying to protect her. If Maria raised her hopes too high and came up with nothing, it would be like losing Mike all over again. But if she found him...

She went back to the computer and entered her brother’s name in a search engine. She got quite a few hits, each one of which she’d need to check out. Figuring there was no point to delay in making her airline reservation, she called up another tab and went to a travel site.

“Promise me something.” Annalise suddenly stood beside her, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. Maria hadn’t even realized her sister had gotten off the phone. “Promise me you won’t make that reservation until you talk to him.”

Annalise’s eyes looked tortured. She’d lost a brother, too, Maria reminded herself. All three of them had. If Annalise wanted her to talk to Jack before she started her investigation, it was the least she could do.

“I promise,” she said. “I won’t make the reservation until I talk to Jack.”

“Jack?” Annalise shook her head. “That wasn’t Jack on the phone. It was Logan Collier.”

CHAPTER TWO

LOGAN SPOTTED ANNALISE DiMarco the instant he entered the noisy Italian restaurant, which was decorated for the holidays with strung holly and tiny white lights.

He barely had time to breathe in the scents of spicy tomato sauce and baked bread before she sprang to her feet. After pausing to say something to her dining companion, a black-haired woman with her back to the door—who had to be Maria—rushed to his side.

“Hey, Annalise.” Logan leaned down to kiss her cheek. He’d barely connected when she grabbed his arm and dragged him off to the side of the hostess stand, nearer the exit and the coat rack.

“Hey, Logan,” she said conversationally, as though she hadn’t just hijacked him. “Thanks for coming.”

Annalise had the dark hair and light eyes common to the DiMarcos, except her hair was brown and her eyes green. The oldest sibling, she was also the only one with children. With Logan’s help, she and her husband had invested wisely enough that they should be able to fulfill their goal of paying for their two sons’ college educations.

“For a minute there I thought you were going to push me out the door.” He would have gone through it eagerly if Annalise had changed her mind about what she’d asked of him.

“Nothing like that,” she said. “I was getting you out of Maria’s field of vision. You know, in case she turns around to see if I really went to the restroom.”

He groaned. “I thought Maria knew that I was meeting both of you here.”

Annalise shook her head. “Not exactly. You know how I called and asked if you needed directions to the restaurant?”

“Yeah.” He’d thought that was odd considering Donatelli’s had occupied the same location for twenty years.

“I was supposed to tell you not to come. Maria practically ordered me.”

“Ordered you? That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not good,” she confessed. “Her exact words were something like, ‘No way in hell am I talking to him.’”

Logan winced. He should have anticipated that. The days were long gone when Maria would jump into his arms and kiss him whenever more than twenty-four hours went by without them seeing each other.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Annalise said. “Maria doesn’t want to talk to me about this, either. She hasn’t changed, you know. She’s still hardheaded when she makes up her mind about something.”

Logan cleared his throat, preparing to ask the question that had been uppermost in his mind since Annalise had phoned him. “Does she really believe Mike’s alive?”

His voice broke on Mike’s name. Logan hadn’t spoken the youngest DiMarco’s name aloud in years. He’d thought about him, though, especially when the anniversary of 9/11 rolled around. On those dates, Logan was consumed by memories of Mike DiMarco.

A teenage couple entered the restaurant hand in hand, their eyes locked on each other, the corners of their mouths lifted in smiles. It wasn’t only the girl’s long, straight black hair that reminded Logan of Maria. It was the way she looked at her boyfriend.

“She’s a private investigator,” Annalise said. “She has to know there could be another explanation. And the way she was talking, it sounds like she’s leaning that way.”

He nodded once, fully understanding why Annalise had phoned him. Mike DiMarco was dead. Period. Nothing but pain lay ahead for Maria if she let herself believe otherwise.

“Okay. I’ll do my best to convince her she’s on the wrong track.” He swept a hand to indicate Annalise should precede him into the dining room, where the young couple was following a hostess to a table. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Oh, I’m not going back in there.” Annalise walked past him to the coat rack and rummaged through a number of winter garments before pulling out a black leather one. “I left my jacket over here so I could sneak out.”

Everything inside Logan went still. “Maria won’t like that.”

“Maria hasn’t liked anything I’ve said to her for the past hour,” her sister said. “She wouldn’t have come to dinner if she hadn’t promised to treat me. If I stay, it’ll seem like we’re ganging up on her.”

“If you go,” Logan said slowly, “I won’t like it, either.”

“Thanks for coming to help out,” Annalise said, shrugging into her jacket, which looked too thin to keep her warm. She headed for the exit but turned before she reached it. “Almost forgot to tell you, I drove. Maria’s car is at her office. You can take her back, right? Thanks!”