Christmas Cover-Up. Lynette Eason

she was supposed to meet in less than five minutes. She couldn’t let him walk into a potentially dangerous situation without some warning.

      He answered on the third ring. “Almost there.”

      “Don’t pull in the drive. Someone’s either been in my house or is still there.”

      “Give me thirty seconds.”

      “I’m calling for backup. I’ll be inside. Mariah might be here and need help.”

      Mariah Sims, Katie’s friend and roommate. Mariah usually got home before Katie.

      She hung up on his protests and orders to wait for him. Hesitating, she debated whether or not to call her partner, Gregory Lee, but decided Jordan, a former FBI agent, would be able to handle this just as well as Gregory.

      And he was closer. She dialed 911 and within seconds had backup on the way. Once the address went out, every officer within a ten-mile radius would be on her doorstep.

      She made her way up the porch steps again. Christmas lights lined the railing. Katie stood to the side of the broken door and nudged it open. “Mariah? Are you here?”

      Silence greeted her call.

      Katie whispered up a silent prayer for Mariah’s safety.

      She glanced over her shoulder as Jordan’s car edged to the curb in front of her neighbor’s home. He climbed out, weapon in his hand as he jogged over to stand beside her. She’d hired him through Finding the Lost to locate her missing sister. The Finding the Lost organization, founded by skip-tracer Erica James, specialized in locating missing people. From private investigators to contracted FBI agents to police detectives, a plethora of talented men and woman worked tirelessly to help others reunite with lost loved ones.

      Katie had hired the organization and then had second thoughts about doing so when she discovered who would handle her case. Jordan Gray. She knew him slightly because of her connection to Erica, his boss, but hadn’t realized Neil Gray was his brother. The brother who’d been killed in a jail cell after Katie arrested him for drunk driving.

      Before she had a chance to tell Jordan she’d decided she couldn’t work with him, he’d called fifteen minutes ago to let her know he was on the way to her house.

      He was ambushing her and she hadn’t been able to put him off. Now she was glad for his presence. She gestured to the open door. “Will you cover me?”

      He didn’t waste time chastising her for not waiting on him. “What’s the layout?”

      “Foyer leads straight into the great room. Two bedrooms and a bath to the right, kitchen and dining to the left. My bedroom is also to the left behind the garage.”

      “I’ll go right, you go left.”

      Katie stepped into her house and caught her breath. Chaos greeted her. Cushions pulled off her couch and slashed. Bookcase overturned and coffee table shoved on its side. The Christmas tree she and Mariah had decorated lay on its side, ornaments crushed from one end of the room to the other.

      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.