The Christmas Thief (6 page)

Marc visibly winced when she said the word “hospital.”

Lorena made her way to the door. She peered through the window. “Oh my. That is the biggest mess I’ve ever seen.” She wicked a glance over her shoulder. “Was it like that when we got home?”

Tasha shrugged. “You were practically sleep walking and it was so dark that I just don’t ... wait.” She darted a look at Lorena. “Do you remember me telling you I could hear something?”

Lorena squinted, as if trying to remember back. “Maybe. Like you said, I was so tired that all I could think about was crawling into bed.”

Tasha nodded. “That’s okay. I remember it. I had just put the key into the lock and stopped because I heard something. I asked you, but you weren’t sure. We stood outside for a few seconds longer, but came inside after I didn’t hear it anymore.”

“You’re not making me feel any better, Tasha,” Marc said.

“I’m just trying to pinpoint the time. I think we got back in around 2 a.m.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He sighed and ran a hand through his dark waves then let his arm drop back down to the table. “If you are ever outside again in the middle of the night and hear something that concerns you, promise me you won’t go investigating!”

Lorena chuckled.

Tasha stared back at Marc with a defiant smile. “You worry too much.”

Lorena snorted this time, then chuckled and pointed at Tasha. “Didn’t I just tell you the same thing yesterday?”

Tasha shrugged. “Maybe. Really, it could’ve just been the rustling of a cat.”

“I’m serious,” Marc said.

“You two kids stay here and argue this out,” Lorena said, placing a goodbye pat on Marc’s shoulder. “If it’s all right with you, Tasha, I’d like to take a shower.”

“Of course. I left a blue towel and washcloth on the bathroom counter for you.”

When Lorena had ducked out, Tasha stood, rinsed out her mug, and set it in the sink. A hazy cloud had blown in from the sea, creating a filter over the sun that had woken her this morning. The effect was peaceful and calming. Nothing like the fear-driven tone of Marc’s voice.

She turned and leaned against the sink, her arms folded in front of her. “Maybe we should call the police.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He assessed her. “I’d just ... rather not get anyone else involved.”

She cocked her head to one side, assessing him back. “Protecting someone?”

He stood up, mug in hand, shaking his head. “If I knew who the perpetrator was, I’d do something about it. But getting the police involved—especially in a small town like this—only opens up more ... problems.”

She continued to lean against the sink, considering what Marc might have meant. “Well,” she finally said, “I am concerned about what happened next door last night, but I’m also aware that the wind and rain was much more powerful than I had given it credit for. It’s possible that some crazy kid may have decided on a shortcut only to find out that rain-saturated ground does not make for a nice landing.” She took a breath. “Anyway, I learned my lesson that Northern California storms are not what I’m used to. Next time I’ll be more prepared.”

Marc walked over to the sink. He put his mug on the counter and eyed her. “You and Lorena climbed up to the roof last evening before dark, right?”

“Yes. But it got dark while we were up there.”

He swore under his breath. “I’m not even going to comment on that.”

She laughed. “Good idea.”

“But you went to the hospital right away, and you weren’t back until two. And you heard something suspicious.”

A curl of unease slithered through her. “Yes.”

Marc stood inches from her, his eyes zeroed in on her face. “Promise me you’ll be very careful, Tasha.”

She licked her dry lips. “Why?”

He flickered a glance out the window toward the treacherous sea below before bringing his gaze back to her. “Because I’m concerned that someone may be watching you.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

It had been a snap decision to move to Cottage Grove, a move that surprised her closest friends and family members. Yet Tasha had been far less surprised by her own spontaneity. She’d been to the rustic town twice before, once as a child, and on another occasion before she and Roger had become a couple. The fact that she started over in a place that had been hers, and hers alone, pleased her to the tips of her toes.

When Roger ended their engagement so abruptly, what she thought of first were the trees. Rich green in varying shades as far as her eyes could see and touch. Oh, and the smells that filled her senses, like fresh air after stumbling out of a crowded, smoke-filled bar. That day, as she realized her life as she knew it was over, she had two choices: sink to the depths or figure out a way to struggle her way to the surface and breathe again. So she took a deep breath in—and remembered the scent of the trees.

She thought about this while driving along the winding coast highway, Lorena on the seat beside her chattering about camp meals for the week. Tasha drove Lorena’s pickup and Marc followed behind after insisting that he could give her a ride back to the cabin on his way to his lunch meeting.

Tasha kept one eye on the road and another on those trees, a sociable mix of fast-growing Monterey pines and robust redwoods reaching for the stars. On this stretch, sunlight made only dappled appearances, which alone was more than she expected so close to winter’s official start date. If she didn’t live so near to the ocean, and on the west coast, she might have expected snow. What might this coastal wilderness look like blanketed in white on the days leading up to Christmas? She continued on the twisting road, her window open partway, and breathed in the freshness of pine mixed with the headiness of mature redwood trees after a rain.

A lone hiker along the side of the cliff whisked her from her daydream, and a slow dread took over the momentary joy she had just indulged in. Marc had said he thought someone was watching her. Even if that were true, weren’t they really just making sure that no one—including her—was around so they could commit their crimes? After all, it had been Marc’s property that had been attacked, not hers.

“So as I was saying,” Lorena continued, “these kids need hearty foods. When they’re back at home, they can eat their mama’s quinoa and organic beets, but in my kitchen, they’re going to eat meat and pasta and lots of salad to have the energy they need for tromping around this mountain. Three squares, that’s what my own mama always fed me.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So,” said Lorena, peering at her with inquisitive eyes, “enough about my menu. Want to let me in on the reason you and Marc had your heads so close together today? Or is that too personal?”

“It certainly isn’t personal, if you’re getting at what I think you’re getting at.” She shrugged. “He scared me, though.”

“Scared you? Oh, you mean like you’re scared about how you feel about him.”

Tasha gasped and nearly hit the brakes. “What are you talking about? Wait. Don’t answer that.” She shook her mane of curls. “You don’t know this about me, but not too long ago I was planning my wedding. When my fiancé couldn’t go through with it, I made the move here. I can’t say this strongly enough: I am not interested in a relationship with Marc Shepherd—or anyone. Honestly, I’m surprised that we seem to have come to a place of friendship at all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I must say, that’s a lot of words you just laid out right there.”

“And I meant all of them. I’m still having to come to terms with the fact that the unbuildable and empty lot next to my quiet oasis is actually about to morph into a mansion by the sea.”

“Have you actually seen Marc’s plans?”

“I haven’t studied them, no.”

“Maybe you’ll be pleased then. You have to admit, he’s a very nice man.”

She wouldn’t say this out loud, especially to Lorena, but he had surprised her by his kindness. He’d knocked on her door this morning, discouraged and confused, wondering what she might know about the disaster on his property. She watched his emotions go from frustration to worry when he learned of Lorena’s injury. And then ... he apologized. And it floored her.

Finally, Tasha nodded. “Okay, yes. His personality has made it easier to take the disruption to my, um, dream.”

Lorena gave her a kind smile. “I had a feeling you were running from something.”

Tasha kept her eyes on the road. She swallowed back building emotion. You can’t run from something that you never had. “Yes, well, I try to keep these things to myself. So if you wouldn’t mind ...”

Lorena pantomimed zipping her lips shut.

Tasha flicked a glance out the window to a tiny log cabin flanked by ghost-like alder trees, parts of their white-gray bark covered in lichen and moss. Empty golden pots lined the porch steps as if waiting for a yearly planting of poinsettias to welcome the upcoming holidays.

“You can just pull her into the driveway,” Lorena said. “Thank you again for schlepping me home, dearie.”

Tasha smiled, her brows pulled together. “It’s you who needs all the thanks. I know you don’t want anymore apolog—”

“And I was serious about that!” She hopped out of the truck and shut the door in a hurry. “Now go on,” she said, over her shoulder. “Don’t make our cowboy in shining armor wait a second more!”

Tasha rolled her eyes, tossed Lorena her keys, and watched her disappear into her home. She sighed and spun around. Marc was standing by the passenger side of his truck, holding the door open for her.

She expelled a breath and tucked her chin.
Why must he make it so difficult to hate him?

~~~

On the ride back to the cabin, Marc never once mentioned what he was planning to do when they arrived. They’d made small talk mostly, swapping stories about the weather and the landscape, about camp life and the upcoming holidays. Tasha expected Marc to pull to the side of the road and leave the truck running until she was safely outside. Instead, he parked and hopped out with her.

Three young men stood near the base of that beloved pine near the center of Marc’s lot, the one that reached its way toward heaven. She squelched a sigh. Oh the irony of having to see that beautiful tree removed so close to Christmastime.

“Gentlemen,” Marc called out.

The jeans-clad guys, two of them obviously teens, one older, wore somber expressions.

Andy ran up the gentle incline toward the street. He slid a glance at Tasha then back at Marc. “What the heck happened to this place?”

Marc stayed at the curb, his arms folded. “We’ll try to figure out how those grooves in the ground got there later. Right now I have to head down to an appointment on the Rockler project. Before I go—I have another project for you.” He whistled into the air and waved the other guys over.

Tasha turned to him. “I’ll let you go. Thanks again for all your help today.”

He put a hand out to stop her, but kept his eyes on the guys as they approached.

“Guys, our neighbor has a roof leak and I’d like you to climb up there while the sun’s out and see if you can pinpoint where it’s coming from.”

Tasha shook her head. “No, no ... thank you, but I will call a roofer first thing Monday morning.”

Marc looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “That’s not how we do it around here.” He turned back to the crew, singling out the adult among them. “Bill, I think we’ve got a stack of these same shingles in storage. I’ll leave it up to you to—”

“She said she didn’t want our help,” Andy cut in, a scowl etched deep into his forehead.

Marc’s expression didn’t flinch. “The decision’s been made. As I was saying, Bill, after you all have a chance to climb up and figure out what needs replacing, you and Andy can stay behind to start the tear out while Teddy here goes on back to pick up supplies. Everyone understand?”

Bill nodded once. “Got it.”

Teddy gave him a goofy grin. “Yes, sir.”

Andy lifted a defiant chin at Marc, his eyes blazing.

Tasha tapped Marc on the shoulder. She gestured with her pointer finger for him to follow her.

“Give me a minute, guys,” he said, and followed Tasha around the back of her house until they stood on her deck, out of the crew’s sight.

Tasha crossed her arms tightly in front of her. She gave Marc an unwavering gaze. “I don’t want your guys up on my roof.”

“Really? Why is that?”

She steadied her breath. “Because this is my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

He licked his bottom lip, studying her. “You accepted Lorena’s help last night—”

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to one side, completely annoyed at how frizzy her mane was surely becoming. “Are you really going to chastise me about that again? Don’t you think I regret Lorena’s injury? Has it ever occurred to you that may be the reason I want to hire a bona fide expert to take care of my leaky roof?” She exhaled a sigh in a burst. “The last thing I want to do is have one of my neighbor’s guys fall off my roof!”