Cold Case Christmas. Jessica R. Patch

link. A mask. “A man was in the car that night?”

      “Seems like.” His eyes were shifty.

      “What are you keeping from me?”

      “Nothing pertinent to the case.”

      “Promise?”

      “Nora, trust me.”

      She laughed humorlessly. “Last time I trusted you, Rush, you broke two women’s hearts and made me look cheap. I’m sure the whole town thinks it.” Ainsley surely spread it all over the world.

      “No one thinks that, Nora, and you’d have known that if you hadn’t gotten out of Dodge at world-record speed. But that’s what you do.” He shoved a hand on his hip and heaved a breath.

      Nora’s temperature rose a few degrees. “And cheating on women. That’s what you do?”

      Rush’s jaw ticked. “We were kids. And I was going to tell you.”

      “We were twenty-one. And you didn’t. You gave the town a new tale to spin.” But fighting about it was pointless, and Nora was cold and exhausted. “Can you find prints on the cuff link?”

      Rush inhaled and rubbed his chin, then exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. “Doubtful. But I’ll try. I’ll try everything.” He held her gaze and she fidgeted. Angry at him or not, she wasn’t blind. The man was attractive. Always had been.

      “How did you find the car?” It had been seventeen years. Why now?

      “You remember Brandon Deerborn?”

      Few years ahead of them. “Yeah.”

      “His son was doing a project using Google maps and our town. Found the lake and noticed something in it. Like a shimmer, he said. He went out there, climbed a pine to check it out—fell out of the tree by the way and broke his arm...also he’s grounded for leaving without asking—and Brandon called me. Put the divers in and we hauled it out. Water was too murky to notice it at ground level.”

      “Google maps. Invasive yet...” She shrugged. “He might be grounded but he’ll be a town hero.” Or maybe not. If what people said about Mom was true, there’d be a few who wouldn’t be too thrilled the Deerborn kid had found her.

      Rush didn’t say anything and kept his eyes on the sky. “Storm’s coming in. But I guess you know this already.” He smirked.

      She grinned, then sobered. “I’m serious about investigating. I want answers before I leave here, and I won’t bring up our past again. Better if we leave things on the personal side alone. Focus on the case.”

      “We don’t have a case. Yet.” The freezing rain slacked up.

      “Never hurts to ask questions.”

      “Yes, it does. Sometimes.” Rush shoved his gloved hands in his pockets. “Go home. Be with your family. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

      He was right. Nothing she could do tonight. She walked back to her car, opened the door when Rush called out. “Nora Beth, be careful. The roads are slick. Watch for deer.”

      Her middle name was Jane, but Rush had never once used it. A little nod to Little House on the Prairie. In high school, she’d forced him to watch reruns, but there hadn’t been much Rush wouldn’t have done for her. Manly called Laura Beth. Only him. Rush had started that at fifteen. It warmed the chill seeping into Nora’s bones. “Will do.”

      She climbed inside and blasted the heat. She’d regretted pushing Rush away after Mom vanished. She’d been hurt. Wanted a fresh start, to pretend she lived in a town where gossip about Mom hadn’t abounded. Where she didn’t feel shame. But coming home after college—she’d missed Rush so much it ached—she thought he might be willing to give it another chance, and if so she’d stay. And he’d done the one thing she’d worked hard to avoid—made her the subject of ugly rumors.

      She drove carefully through the winding roads and spotted Mom’s favorite café. Charlee, the owner, might know a thing or two. Inside, Charlee met her with a wave. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.” Her face paled. “Sorry. Bad use of words. I heard about your mama. I’m so sorry.” She poured a steaming cup of coffee and slid it to Nora as she sat on the bar stool.

      “Thanks. Did you know anything about that night? Why my mom might be heading out of town or be near the lake?”

      “I wish I did, hon. I loved Marilyn, but she only let one get so close before she distanced herself.”

      Nora sipped the brew and talked with Charlee until the weather picked up. “I better get on back. If anything comes to mind, call me.”

      Charlee nodded. “Be safe, Nora.”

      Nora inched along the roads until, almost thirty minutes later, her father’s vast lodge peeped out from the evergreens. A wintry, dark sky overhead seemed to close in on the structure that housed two hundred and fifty-two guests. Nestled in the mountains behind were fifty chalets. Every room, every wooden cottage would be occupied, except the guest chalet where she liked to stay.

      White lights clinked in the trees as gusts of wind barreled through the pines. The smell of evergreen, wood smoke and cinnamon wafted into her car—the smell of home. She stepped out of the car, pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaled deeply and trudged up the walk; someone had plowed the drive for her. Fresh snow hadn’t quite blanketed it again. Something stole her nose’s attention. She sniffed. Was that paint? She followed the scent to the side of the chalet and gasped.

      In the moonlight, she made out one of her two most hated words to call women along with a note painted underneath telling her to die like her mother. Shock sucked the breath from her, and then she caught sight of a shadow moving toward her. She had only seconds to block the blow and failed.

      A meaty fist covered in camouflage gloves connected with her face, knocking her into two feet of snow. White spots popped in front of her eyes and her head spun.

      “Take the warning and take a hike,” the masked man growled. “Or you’ll regret it.”

      His feet crunched along the snow.

      Buzzing whizzed in her ears and then silence.

      When her eyes fluttered open, a man had her. Panic shot through her system and she flailed, scratched and punched.

      “Hey, hey! Nora. It’s me. It’s Rush. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

      Rush. Rush punched her? No. Her head was fuzzy and aching. Rush had her in his arms. It felt familiar, but also strangely new and wonderfully safe and warm. Her stomach dipped and as if he could feel her thoughts, he nestled her closer against him.

      “I got hit,” she croaked.

      His grip tightened. “And I’ll be sure to return the favor when I find the guy.” His tone was raw steel. She laid her head against his chest, heard the staccato beat of his heart. “Did you see him?”

      “No. Just the writing on the wall, and then he stuck it to me and knocked me out.” Her limbs were numb and stiff. Her teeth chattered. Rush carried her up the porch steps.

      “Do you need a doctor?”

      “No. It’s no worse than when I got bucked off that horse that time.”

      “You had a mild concussion then, Nora Beth.” Rush chuckled and swung open the front door and stepped inside, then flipped on a lamp on the side table.

      “Right. Not the best comparison. Well, I’m fine. Honest. Just sore.” She peered into his rich eyes and nearly got lost. Certainly got choked up.

      He laid her on the soft leather sofa and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll get your bags. You need to get into dry, warm clothes and I’ll start a fire for extra heat.” He stepped outside before she could speak, brought in her luggage and carried it to her bedroom, then returned. “Make some coffee. Yeah?”

      She