Christmas Conspiracy (16 page)

He was home. Kat
was
his home.

* * *

A
SUDDEN WEIGHT LANDED
on top of Logan, shocking him from sleep. His eyelids flew open and he managed to quell his instinctive defensive reaction in time not to harm the wriggling kid that had jumped on him. He stared at Hayden’s smiling face and laughed, before his son proceeded to climb all over him.

“Get up, Daddy. We’s hungry.”

Lanie looked at him curiously from the bedside. “What are you and Mommy doing?”

Quickly, he looked down, relieved to see he’d tucked the blankets over him and Kat before they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. This situation could still be tricky, but at least there was no necessity for a talk about the birds and the bees with overly curious two-and-a-half-year-olds. “We were sleeping.”

Hayden piped up, “You forgot your jammies!”

Logan grinned at his son. “So I did.”

He grabbed Hayden as the little boy was about to pounce on Kat. “Hey, careful buddy. Mommy’s sleeping.”

Kat lifted her head and peered at them blearily. “Not anymore.” She rolled over and tugged the covers tightly across her body. “Nap time is supposed to be for another half hour.”

Logan forced himself to look at the kids sternly. “What are you doing up?”

Hayden plopped down on Logan’s stomach again. “It’s too noisy outside. Nap time is all done. I want juice.”

“And how about you, sweet girl? You hungry, too?” Kat asked Lanie, her eyes wide and solemn.

Logan reached out and touched her nose. “What’s the matter? You look worried.”

She bit her lip. “I found something shiny,” she said. “It’s in my pocket. Are you going to take it away again?”

Logan’s heart raced. The last thing Lanie had found had been his mother’s locket. “I don’t know, honey. I’ll have to see what it is. Can you show me?”

Silently, Lanie pulled a silver horseshoe from her pocket. “I like it,” she said. “It’s pretty.”

Logan looked at the vintage Christmas ornament clutched in her chubby hand. “Where did you find it?”

“In that box.” Lanie pointed to the shipping trunk.

There was a small keepsake box, full of Christmas ornaments, next to the stationery kit holding his mother’s letter. It seemed to be a day for memories.

He fingered the tattered ribbon that his mother had used to hang the horseshoe ornament on the tree. He’d locked it away after she disappeared. They’d been handed down, generation after generation, as part of the Carmichael legacy. He hadn’t wanted his father to ruin them like he’d ruined everything else. Would she be happy to know her granddaughter seemed to share that same love for her treasures?

Hayden pushed closer, checking out the horseshoe. “Lanie likes shiny things. But she takes them without p’mission. She’s naughty.”

Logan raised his brow. “I seem to remember a certain little boy going outside when he wasn’t supposed to. We’ll have to work more on that permission stuff. Okay, hotshot?”

Logan tickled Hayden, who collapsed in a fit of giggles. Kat smiled.

“Lanie, can I show you something?” Logan placed his palm out toward the little girl.

She nodded, but handed her prize over very reluctantly.

“My great-great-
great
-grandmother believed this land was lucky. She had this horseshoe Christmas ornament made to celebrate when her first baby was born. She believed good luck would always follow the family as long as we stayed on the ranch. That’s why I use a horseshoe as my brand.”

Hayden frowned. “What’s a brand?”

Okay, talking about putting a hot piece of metal on a steer’s rump might be a lot more complicated than Logan wanted to explain.

Lanie saved him. “It’s s’posta go on a Christmas tree?”

Logan nodded. “It certainly does.”

“Our Christmas tree is broken.” Lanie bowed her head. “It fell down and now I can’t find it. I think it’s lost or frowed away.”

Logan tilted his daughter’s chin up and stared into her sad eyes. “Then what do you say we find a new tree to decorate?”

“Can the kitties help us?” Hayden asked. “I didn’t get to play with them today.”

Logan glanced over at Kat, who tried hard not to laugh. “Yeah, sure. Maybe some of the kitties can play in a cardboard box while they watch us.”

He could just hear Gretchen pitching a fit about barn cats in the house. He shook his head. He didn’t care. He had his family. On his ranch. Right where they were supposed to be.

Chapter Eight

Logan walked down the front porch stairs. He’d send a couple of men for a tree, then head over to the well. The crime-scene tape and a raised tarp still protected the area, but the crowd of law enforcement and vehicles had thinned.

Blake came around the edge of the house and intercepted Logan on the way to the barn. “I assume things are going better since you’ve been gone for over an hour and I saw the ghost of a smile on your face a minute ago?”

To Logan’s amazement, his cheeks warmed. “Yeah, things are looking up.”

Blake smiled, but even that was bittersweet. “You deserve something good to happen, my friend. Things have been tough for a while. Maybe today’s a turning point.”

“I hope so.” Logan called over his foreman, then pulled out a bunch of bills from his wallet. “Grab Tim and run into town. Pick up a Christmas tree with all the trimmings.”

The foreman’s hand froze in the process of taking the money, staring at Logan. “Christmas? Here? We haven’t done that since—”

“Since my mother disappeared. I know,” Logan interrupted.

Blake looked at Logan. “Christmas?”

He scuffed his boot in the dirt. “Lanie wants a tree for Christmas, and she’s going to get it.”

“No problem, boss.” The foreman nabbed Tim and the two men jumped into a pickup and barreled toward the front gate.

Blake rocked back on his heels. “Well, I’d say that’s definitely a turning point.”

“Every kid deserves a Christmas.”

“I’m not arguing with you, buddy.”

“Would you…” Logan hesitated, feeling awkward with these unfamiliar urges to act like a real father. “Would you, Amanda and Ethan come over to help us decorate? I might need some moral support.”

“Count on it.” Blake’s voice made it clear he understood the situation all too well.

Logan was happy now, but things could change all too quickly.

He shoved down the tumult of feelings at thinking there would finally be a joyful holiday celebration at the ranch. Christmas, with his family. He never would have believed it possible. He met Blake’s understanding gaze, then looked away. He needed answers. “So, what’s the status with the investigation?”

Shifting into law-enforcement mode, Blake straightened his stance. “Most of the crews are done, but they’re still taking some of the dirt and debris from the bottom of the well to check for forensic evidence that may have been buried over time. They’ll sift through it and maybe we’ll get lucky.”

An eerie feeling suddenly flowed over Logan, almost as if he were being watched. He looked around, trying to account for the unexplained sense of danger. “Excuse me a minute.” He took out his phone and dialed. “Rafe? Assign extra guards around the property, even more than I requested before. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Blake glanced around. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It might just be all these unfamiliar faces on the property. Obviously, I couldn’t vet them all before they came. I upped the security patrols before to make sure none of them came near the house, but my gut is still telling me to watch out.”

“I wouldn’t discount your instincts. They’ve saved you often enough before.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, and gave the land and outbuildings another hard scan before turning back to Blake. “If you don’t want to bring your family tonight, Blake…I’d understand.”

Blake tilted his Stetson. “You’ll still have the patrols up?”

“I’ll make sure you get escorted to and from.”

“I’ve never had reason to doubt you, Logan. We’ll be here.”

“If I get more information, I’ll let you know.”

Blake squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “I know.”

“Have you heard from Deputy Parris yet?” Logan asked.

“He said your mother’s remains made it safely to the morgue. Debra’s there now. She promised to expedite her forensic investigation and get back to you with her findings as soon as possible.”

“What does she think, Blake?”

“What are you asking specifically?”

Logan blew out a breath. “Was my mother’s cause of death obvious? Did my father kill her?”

Kat’s lavender scent wafted over Logan and a moment later, she came up on his right side to stand beside him. She remained silent, but he knew she’d heard his question by the way she rubbed his back gently. Despite his turmoil, her touch comforted him.

“Do you want me to leave so you two can finish?” she asked quietly.

He pulled her closer. “No.” He kept his hand over his gun, just in case his instincts were on the mark. “Blake was just giving me an update.”

Blake rubbed the nape of his neck. “Debra…Dr. Sandoval did a cursory exam on arrival. She said there was significant blunt-force trauma to the back of your mother’s skull, but it could have happened when she fell against that sharp rock on the side of the well, or any time during her descent. There were several broken bones, but no evidence of a weapon. So far, the injuries seem consistent with a fall. We may never know what really happened.”

Logan swallowed a fresh surge of grief, and Kat pressed tight against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her cheek lay against him and he grasped her hand like a lifeline. “Okay. Thanks for the information.”

Logan gestured toward the well. “How much longer will they be here?”

He wanted his ranch back. He wanted to be with Kat and his kids. For a few moments.

“They should be finished in a half hour or so. I’ve ordered them to cap the well. I hear your little boy is a lively one.”

“Hayden has no fear. And that scares the hell out of me. Plus, with the kittens out by the well, it’s a big draw to that area.”

“The mother cat moved the kittens under the house. She was carrying one under the entrance for the wood box. All the noise and commotion probably scared her.”

“That’s not going to be much quieter when we refill it with wood for the fireplace,” said Logan. He held out his hand to Blake. “Thanks for being here. Thanks for everything.”

Blake shook off the compliment. “That’s what we do in Carder, Texas. Right? We take care of our own.” His cell phone rang and he checked the number. He held up his finger then placed the phone at his ear. “What’s up, darlin’?”

While Blake spoke to Amanda, Logan turned in Kat’s arms. “Thank you, too.”

She shrugged. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

He kissed her nose. “You’ve done more than you know.” He wrapped her tight in his arms, rested his chin on her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. He was in deep. For a blessed moment the ugliness of his world disappeared and he just held her.

Blake shoved the cell phone back in its holder. “Well, I’m headed home to handle the latest crisis on the home front. Ethan evidently decided he wanted to ride the tractor again…without his mother’s permission. Now, I get to give him what for, to back up his mom.” Blake sighed. “Kids. They sure keep things from getting boring.”

Logan smiled at long last. “I know what you mean.”

* * *

D
ANIEL CAME TO,
facedown on the filthy stone floor of the dungeon, unable to believe he wasn’t dead. God, he’d prayed often enough for it. Grit pressed into his cheek and the smell of his own blood lent a coppery tang to the fetid air. With great effort he tried to move, but searing pain pierced his sides. Damn, how many ribs had they broken?

If he was still alive, he’d somehow missed having a punctured lung. That was probably the only part of his body still intact.

A clang echoed through the stone hallways like a death toll, and his prison door swung open. Feigning unconsciousness, Daniel peered through nearly swollen closed eyelids to see who would do the honors of beating on him next. Someone new had entered his cell carrying the swill they called food. Beyond him, Daniel could barely make out two guards transporting a man’s unmoving body past the open doorway. Blood and bruises mottled every exposed part of the poor guy’s skin.

Daniel had lost count of how many people the duke had sadistically tortured and watched die. Sick bastard.

Only one prisoner remained at that end of the hallway. The only one to have survived longer than Daniel. He didn’t know how the duke had dared keep the man alive so long.

Daniel waited for the final sound of his own door slamming shut.

Silence.

His stomach roiled. Did the duke intend to come back to finish the job? Daniel had told them nothing they didn’t already know.

An older man in a guard’s uniform stood there with a plate, watching Daniel and listening to the noises in the dungeon. The guard pushed the cell door nearly shut and ventured closer. His steps frightened away the rats that had begun circling Daniel. The man knelt next to him, and he pressed two fingers against Daniel’s neck, looking for a pulse.

“I’ll kill you,” Daniel growled as he grabbed the man by the throat, then collapsed in horrific agony as his shattered body failed him.

“Stop! I’m here to help you,” the man whispered. “They mustn’t hear.”

The guard’s words reached Daniel through the threatening darkness.

“How?” he asked, forcing the words through cracked lips.

“The Falcon knows you’re here.”

Noah?
Daniel gasped as he struggled for a breath.
Had Logan sent him?

“Can you walk?”

He stared into the man’s sympathetic eyes. “I don’t know.”

The guard nodded. “If you’re alive in twenty-four hours, there might be a way out. Be ready.”

A man’s heavy footsteps marched on the stone walkway.

The guard cursed and rose. Before he could leave the cell, the duke blocked the doorway.

“What are you doing with this prisoner?” he snapped.

“I—I brought his food in,” the man stuttered, “but I thought he was dead, your Grace. I was checking for a pulse.”