Holiday Havoc (12 page)

“No.” Maria watched Caden reach out to touch an ornament on the tree and check himself, looking at his dad. “But if he stays in the suite and his nanny is aware of what's going on, we should be able to minimize the risk.”

Ben's gray eyes were soft with worry as he said, “He's been through so much change lately. It's been rough on him. He'll settle down by this afternoon, I hope. His nanny is in the other adjoining suite, putting his comforter on the bed and setting up some of his things.”

“You have custody?” She wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling her knees in.

“His mom died in a car accident two years ago. It's
been tough. And it's the reason I'm leaving Weather 24 after this weekend.”

She nodded, watching Caden trail his fingers down the long glass expanse, then she snapped her gaze back to Ben's as his words sank in. “You're what?”

“Caden needs a full-time dad. My job with Weather 24 has me on the road constantly. You heard stories last night—I follow weather events all over the world.” He shrugged, his face carved into a mask of resolve. “I can do the weather at six and ten on the local news channel and be home in between to tuck my son into bed.”

Maria nudged one of the cars into line. A small voice piped up beside her. “It doesn't go there.”

She looked into his very serious big blue eyes. “Okay, Mr. Mechanic, where does it go?”

He giggled and plopped on his dad's lap. “Did you hear that, Dad? She called me Mr. Mechanic. Mechanics work on cars.”

Caden chortled some more as he moved the red car she'd put in the line and put a black one in its place. He picked up an orange car and looked at Maria, his little mouth pursed. “You can put this one by the black one.”

Ben's wide eyes told her that she'd passed some kind of major test. She held her hand out for the orange car and very, very carefully placed it next to the black one, making sure the wheels were lined up just right.

When Caden nodded his approval, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was adorable. “You know, Caden, I work in a lab doing experiments. I get really annoyed when people touch my stuff, too.”

His dark eyelashes flipped up and he gave her a suspicious look. “You do science?”

“Yep.”

He picked up the red car and handed it to her. “Are you smart?”

“Yes.” She placed the red car in the line, again being very careful to get it spaced just right. “So are you.”

“Yep.” As he placed the next car in the line, a young woman came out of a door to the right of the living area. Maria hadn't noticed it before, but it was another lockout suite. Apparently, one could rent the penthouse unit they were in now, or the entire floor, if they were all put together.

“Hey, Caden, I got our rooms all set up. Are you ready for some oatmeal?”

“I want pancakes.” His blue eyes went from one care provider to another, testing the water.

Ben ignored Caden's words, instead turning to Maria. “Maria, I'd like for you to meet our most amazing nanny and therapist, Julia. Julia, this is my friend, Maria.

“Pancakes!” Caden's voice was a little louder, a little more frustrated.

Ben lifted his son into his arms as he stood. “Julia fixed oatmeal for breakfast. You can have pancakes when we get home.”

“Want pancakes.” Caden's bottom lip poked out and might even have quivered a little bit. “With blueberries.”

“I know, bud. Let's go have some yummy oatmeal. We'll put some brown sugar in it.” Ben looked at the nanny, who nodded. “Maria?”

“Thanks, but no. I just need coffee.” She was already backing away. Cowardly of her, yes, but watching Ben Storm with his little boy made him all the more human to her.

As Maria poured her cup of coffee, her cell phone rang. She walked back to her suite of rooms, finding the phone beside her bed.

Chloe Rollins didn't waste any words when Maria answered. “I got the lab report this morning on those candies you gave me last night. Someone definitely tried to kill your weatherman. There was a very fine coating of peanut dust on the candies.”

The warmth of the cup did nothing to warm Maria's suddenly chilled fingers. “Thanks, Chloe. I guess that means it's time for me to get some answers.”

Another trip across the large penthouse to the other lockout suite and she was right where she didn't want to be, watching Ben be a daddy to his son.

Maria was out of her element. Kids, great—she had a dozen nieces and nephews she adored. Adults, great. People in danger, she could deal. Put all three together in this appealing package and she was struggling to remember that this—her being a part of this, anyway—wasn't real. She was just one very small, relatively insignificant piece of Ben's plan.

Chaos. She needed science.

“You changed your mind about organic steel-cut oats?”

Ben's smile faded as he took in her expression. “What's up?”

“We need to talk.”

Ben stood and grabbed a jacket off the counter with a pointed look at Caden. “Let's take a walk.”

Maria hesitated. Ideally, she would want a whole team of trained protection personnel for an outside detail. But as cold as it was, there would be few beachcombers this early, making it easier for her to identify a threat.

Now that she knew the candies had been deliberately tampered with, it was even more vital that she stay alert. Ben's life depended on it.

T
he surf tossed and rolled, the breeze chilly. Ben pulled his windbreaker up around his neck and turned to Maria, who was scanning the resort behind them. “You were really great with Capo this morning. Thanks.”

“I like kids. They mean what they say.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

“He's come a long way. Right after his mother died, I started realizing there was a problem. With autism, early intervention is essential. He does hours of therapy every day, which he mostly thinks is play, thanks to Julia.” He reached for Maria's arm and turned her to face him. “What's going on?”

The wind tossed her hair and she pushed it back with an impatient hand. “We found peanut dust on the candies. It's no longer a possibility that you ate something by accident. Someone tried to kill you. I need you to tell me everything.”

The sudden constriction in his chest had nothing to do with peanut dust and everything to do with the knowledge that someone really was out to get him.

He shook his head and walked away. It wasn't that he wouldn't talk about it. He just didn't know where to start.

Maria stepped into place beside him, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Why don't you tell me about the first contact?”

“The first was a note about two years ago, shortly before my wife's car accident. It was on the back of a black-and-white photo of Lindsay and Caden at the park. All it said was, ‘Are they safe?'”

Her eyebrows drew together, golden-sparked eyes serious. “What did you do?”

“Warned Lindsay, got a monitored alarm system, told security at the network. But her accident wasn't very long after that first contact and, after that, I didn't think about anything but surviving one day at a time with Capo for a long, long time.” He stopped, kicked at the sand.

He could see Maria's wheels turning as she rubbed her hands together. “Did you tell the police who investigated your wife's accident about the note?”

“Yes, her death—” there was still the barest hesitation as he said it “—was ruled accidental. She ran into a tree.”

A small frown appeared at the corner of Maria's mouth. “What next?”

“I was fighting for custody of Capo, trying to keep my job from the vultures who would try to take it every time I had to take a day off or turn down a trip. You can't imagine.” Even now, the memories of that time ran together in a blur.

“Was it your in-laws that wanted Caden?”

“In a sense. He'd just been diagnosed with autism. My brother-in-law and his wife petitioned the court, arguing that an intact and stable family would be better for Caden than living with a grief-stricken father who
traveled most of the time for his job.” Ben scrubbed a hand over his eyes, rubbing the memory away. If only it were really that easy.

“Is that when you hired Julia?”

He nodded. “I needed someone who could help with his therapeutic needs but also give him continuity of care when I travel. It's been so worth it.”

The temperature was dropping quickly, the way it sometimes did this time of year. Maria blew into her hands, a futile attempt at warming them. His gear was made for all weather—he wrapped his warm hands around her cold ones and pulled her in, sheltering her from the wind.

He smiled down into Maria's wide eyes. “I've been dreading this weekend ever since the powers-that-be came up with the idea. But you've made it really easy, despite all the drama. Thanks.”

Her teeth bit into her full lower lip, but she shook her head. “Not a problem.”

She stepped away from him, but he kept one hand as they turned to walk back toward the resort. Small and feminine, her hand completely disappeared into his until she pulled it out to swap sides with him.

“My job is pretty high profile. It's silly, really. I'm a meteorologist, just like a lot of other people who predict the weather on television. But there are those couple of guys who hate my guts and would love to take the job away from me. Do I think one of them would resort to murder? No, but what do I know?” He blew out a frustrated breath.

“Do they know that you're leaving?”

He shook his head. “I can't tell anyone until the official announcement. I signed a contract that effectively
binds my hands. I'll announce it tomorrow night, and then do my last weather report Saturday night after the Christmas ball.”

Maria was quiet for two or three swishes of the waves. “Once you make the announcement, if it's a coworker wanting your job, this should stop. If it's a coworker that has developed an unhealthy obsession, it might not. I'll need their names.”

She seemed so much bigger than her five-foot-two frame, a look of intense concentration on her face as she watched the people on the beach. One loopy curl bounced over her shoulder in the breeze.

As he nodded, he realized she hadn't swapped sides with him because she wanted to be farther from the water, or even because she wanted an excuse to stop holding hands with him. She'd taken the high side because she was putting her body between him and danger.

The beach no longer seemed like a neutral place to have a serious talk. It seemed like a place where danger was all too easy to overlook. And from the way she'd positioned herself, danger would have to go through her to get to him. He couldn't let that happen. “Let's get inside, out of the wind.”

He hadn't missed the gun in her hand when she'd come out of her suite this morning in her sweatpants, her hair flying. She'd been thinking of his safety—and then, putting the gun in the high cabinet, she'd been thinking of his son's.

When he'd asked her to stay, he'd only been concerned about what it would mean for him if the date weekend fell through. He'd been so focused on getting through the weekend that he hadn't even thought about
her—her safety. He may not think like a cop, but he did think like a man, and right now there was no way he was letting her take a hit for him.

As they climbed the wooden steps of the boardwalk leading to the resort, Ben reached for Maria's hand again. “I don't think we should go through with this.”

Maria stopped, the question on her face—why the abrupt turnaround?

Before he could reply, lights flashed on. “Looks like our lucky twosome have been for a walk on the beach this morning. How was it?”

The cameraman held the microphone to Maria. She stared at it for a second and, just as Ben started to reach for it, she took it and smiled. “I'm sure you can probably tell from my red nose that the beach is cold. The wind is from the north at around fifteen to twenty miles per hour and the temperature is dropping. Probably forties right now, would you say, Ben?”

The cameraman chuckled as he took the mike back. “I think you should be worried about your job, Ben. She's a natural. Want to fill us in on the rest of the country?”

Studying the daily forecast was part of his routine, even when he was away from the office. Despite everything else going on, he could always report the weather. “Maria's right, here in Northwest Florida temperatures are chilly, mid to low forties, dropping into the upper thirties by this afternoon. Around the country, an early snow is the big weather event. School kids from Colorado all the way to Tennessee are celebrating with a snow day. These storms will be moving toward the eastern seaboard tomorrow.”

Ben's easy on-camera smile belied the turmoil he
felt inside—the pain of dredging up memories mixed with a growing admiration for Maria. But he'd learned a long time ago that feelings had no place on the air. “And that's your quick and dirty weather report. I'm Ben Storm in Destin, Florida.”

The producers would take that short sound bite and put copy around it. The anchors would put it in context, giving the viewing audience a reminder of what Ben and Maria were doing in Desin and a teaser for when they would see them next.

“We're clear.” The cameraman high-fived Ben. “See you a little later tonight?”

“Yep. We're on the schedule for a pre-event private dinner, I think.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Maria shiver and he put his arm around her.

“You did great on camera. Not everyone can be natural like that.” Ben turned toward the resort as the camera guys moved on to get some stock footage of the beach.

He was a natural on camera, but he'd never expected to be anything but an on-air meteorologist, forecasting the weather just like any other one. It had been a shock to start getting attention for his looks. When that magazine had called attention to him, a whole new kind of insanity had begun, with paparazzi following him.

Maria was quiet as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. He didn't blame her. His life was a mess and she'd landed squarely in the middle of it.

Finally she stopped in front of him and held on to the lapels of his coat. “You didn't get me into this, my coworkers did,” she said. “And now that I'm here, there's no way I'm letting Caden grow up without a dad if I can help it. Got it?”

He nodded, a grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good.”

Ben called after her. “See you at five for an early dinner?”

“Write down the names.” Her eyes were warm and her smile generous, especially when he still knew he didn't deserve it.

 

Maria was dialing her cell phone before she had even opened the door to her suite. When Chloe answered, she filled her in on the two coworkers. “We'll need to check them out, find out where they were the last couple of days. If either of them is at this conference, we'll have to get the police to take them in for questioning.”

“I'll get on it as soon as you text me the names..”

“There's one more thing, Chloe. Ben said the threats started before his wife was killed in a wreck. It was ruled accidental, but…”

“You want to see the report. Okay, I'll hunt it down and text you when the fax is headed your way. Is that it?”

“Yes—no. There's this dinner thing.”

Laughter pealed through the cell phone. “Wear the black velvet and the heels with the rhinestone clasp.”

 

Maria used the bag of tricks that the ladies in the salon had showed her and ended up with a loose pile of ringlets on her head. The black-velvet sheath dress was devastatingly simple, with a scoop neck and long, narrow sleeves.

Chloe was a genius.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—the text
message she'd been waiting for. Pages began to spew out of the fax machine on the desk in the sitting area.

Her crime scene investigator brain itched to get into that file, but she had other commitments now.

She opened the door to the penthouse, clutching a black satin evening bag with her weapon tucked inside. Ben met her in the living room, beside the Christmas tree. She smiled as she saw the line of toy cars still in the exact order where Caden had left them earlier.

Dressed in khaki pants and a blue blazer, Ben was tieless in his crisp white shirt. “I hope you don't mind. I decided dinner on the balcony might be nicer than a restaurant with the cameras around. They'll still be in and out to film us, but for the most part we'll have our privacy.”

In that short couple of hours, he'd transformed the balcony. Small trees of differing heights twinkled. An exquisite table was set and soft strings played Christmas music in the background.

“It's beautiful. But, uh, Ben, shouldn't a meteorologist be aware that it's beastly cold outside?”

“Give it a try.”

She stepped out the open door into warm air, even warmer than inside the room. Gas patio heaters lined the edge of the balcony. She looked back at Ben. “You score ten for use of heaters.”

“Thanks. The guys will be here in a minute, but I wanted you to see it first. They'll get your reaction—again—and tape us being seated and a little cheesy conversation. Then they'll duck out and we'll be able to eat dinner in peace. We won't see the cameras again until dessert. Okay with you?”

“Sure. This experience hasn't been nearly as horrifying as I thought it would be.”

Ben smothered a laugh as he waved in the camera crew.

After a quick sound bite for the cameras, she and Ben were seated on the balcony. Even sixteen floors up, the soft sounds of the ocean were a soothing and perfect backdrop.

With the appetizer, Ben asked, “So how does one become a crime scene investigator?”

The question brought images like a hundred fast-play slides through her mind. She closed her eyes and prayed for God's peace—that she could use the skills He'd given her to catch the men and women who did these crimes and put them away, and that she could live with herself when she was done.

Then the image of Ben's tattered Bible came to her mind. Maybe he'd been searching for peace, too. She looked into Ben's eyes and knew that it was time to tell him the truth. Somehow she thought he'd understand.

“It was part accident, part design, I think. I didn't have the money to go to college full time, so I worked at the sheriff's office during the day and went to classes at night. The more I worked with the sheriff's department, the more I realized there was a real place for science and technology in gathering evidence. So, I decided to major in chemistry and physics. Later I got another degree in criminology.”

“All on your own? That's incredible.”

“My mom died when I was in junior high school. I lived with my aunt, who was great, but she didn't have any money. I did get some scholarships, but the big one
that would've sent me to college was won by someone else.”

He lifted his gaze from his salad to stare at her, his eyes narrowed.

She took a sip from a water goblet on the fancy table. “I realized recently that it was my own fault. I let my grades slip when things were going on with my family. If I hadn't, I probably would've gotten the scholarship. But you wouldn't be sitting here.”