A Case of Christmas (6 page)

people out here. Especially back in the ’30s. They made over three hundred films here,

you know. That all changed during the war.”

Hupert meant World War Two. Shane said, “Wasn’t John Wayne involved in trying

to salvage a shipwrecked galleon off the Catalina coast? Something happened with the

US Navy, and they had to abandon the project?”

“It wasn’t the navy that chased him off. Howard Hughes got in there first and

scooped up all the treasure. I can tell you all kinds of stories about this island, if you’re

interested.”

“Did you and Ed ever go diving for treasure?”

Hupert chuckled. It had a strained sound. “When we were younger. Well, that’s what

young men do, isn’t it? Go in search of action and adventure. You do, I know. Dive, I

mean. I’ve seen you leaving the house with your tanks.”

“I do, yeah. Not this trip, unfortunately.”

“No. The weather is pretty bad. Are you interested in…” Hupert seemed to think

better of the question.

“In?”

Hupert finished his whiskey in a quick gulp. He set his glass on the small table and

rose. “Well, I mustn’t take up any more of your time. You’re sure you’re absolutely

unhurt after our collision this morning?”

“No harm done.” Shane also rose.

Hupert moved to the door. “Well, that’s very good. If I don’t see you before

tomorrow, have a Merry Christmas.” He added quickly, “Unless, that is… I hope you’re

not one of these people that minds being wished a Merry Christmas?”

“Nope. Any and all good wishes welcome,” Shane said. He opened the front door.

“Thanks again for the bottle.”

“You’re very welcome. Consider it a belated housewarming gift.” Hupert stepped

outside, flinching a little at the downpour. “Bye-bye now,” he threw rather breathlessly

over his shoulder and departed.

Shane closed the door and locked it. He considered the empty glasses in front of the

unlit fireplace. He glanced at the ship in the bottle sitting on the bookshelf.

“That was interesting,” he commented.

Before he could carry the dirty glasses into the kitchen, there was a brisk
tap-tap-tap

on the door. Fleetingly, he wondered if Linus was back for another round. His heart sped

up in what he hoped was irritation, but what felt uncomfortably like anticipation.

Shane opened the door, and Hupert, pink-cheeked and wild-eyed, burst out, “It just

occurred to me that if you
did
find some of Ed’s notes or maps or…or papers, I’d really

like to finish his book for him. You know, as a kind of tribute.”

“You’re a writer too?” Shane asked.

“Er…no. But I knew Ed better than anyone, and I know he’d like me to finish his

work, if it was possible.”

Shane grinned inwardly. He said, “Okay, Mr. Hupert. I’ll let you know if I find his

notes.”

“Oh, please call me Bradley. And you know, Shane, honestly, I would be happy to

sort through Ed’s papers for you. No need for you to spend your valuable vacation time

sorting through all that old junk.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Shane said. “Let me think about it.”

“Being retired I don’t have that much to do these days. So it would really be a

kindness on your part.”

Shane said firmly, “I understand, and I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” Hupert smiled with hopeful uncertainty. “Well then… I’ll wait to hear from

you.”

“Bye now,” Shane said. He closed the door.

Chapter Three

H
e woke to the sound of a tree branch banging against the side of the house.

Shane pried open his eyes and blinked doubtfully into the darkness. The room was

cold and felt damp. He could smell the sea. Where the hell was he? Not at home and

not—thank God—in the hospital.

He’d been having a weird dream about Norton—weird because he didn’t dream

about Norton much anymore, and weird because in the dream he and Norton had been

walking on a beach, using metal detectors and arguing over their finds. Shane had found

a gold doubloon, and Norton had found a beer can tab which he kept insisting was a

diamond ring.

Catalina
. That was it. He was on Catalina Island.

And that banging against the side of the house? That wasn’t a tree branch. That

sounded more like a battering ram. Over the howl of wind and rain, someone was calling

his name.

“Shane? Shane, are you in there?”

“L.A. County Sheriff’s Department, Mr. Donovan. Can you come to the door?”

What the…? Shane sat up, hastily untangling himself from the cocoon of afghans

and blankets he’d wrapped himself in when he’d lain down on the sofa that morning. He

scrambled for the door, unlocked it, and jerked it open to the almost deafening rush of

rain sheeting from the roof.

A large man in a yellow rain slicker charged past him. Perhaps he had been about to

break down the door. Perhaps he was just overzealous. Whatever propelled him, his boots

slipped on the tile floor, and he skidded toward the fireplace and sat down heavily.

“What the hell is going on in there?” yelled a second man in a hooded black parka.

Shane tore his disbelieving gaze from the sprawled sheriff’s deputy to the second

man. Minus any lights, it was too dark to make out features, but he recognized the voice

as belonging to Linus—Norton in his dreams.

“I’m sleeping. What do you think is going on?” Shane yelled back. He was

thoroughly awake now but thrown off balance by all the commotion.

“For thirty-three hours?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Shane watched the shadowy bulk of the

sheriff’s deputy clambering back to his feet.

“There hasn’t been a light on in this house for nearly two days.” Linus’s voice was

still raised, still agitated.

Two days?

“I’m conserving energy,” Shane snapped. He reached over and flipped on the wall

switch. Tired light illuminated the faded furniture and chagrined face of the deputy.

The clock on the mantel began to chime the hour. Six melodious and leisurely notes.

Clearly it was not six in the morning. Could he really have slept that long?

“Your family contacted us a little while ago, sir, and said they were having trouble

reaching you,” the deputy said.

“They-the-they-the-hell,” Shane began to stutter. “They did
what
?”

“Lieutenant Donovan said you had just been released from the hospital. Then Mr.

Norton showed up and said there hadn’t been any sign of you since you were involved in

a hit-and-run yesterday morning.”

“What?”
Shane’s voice hit a note that no FBI agent, male or female, was ever

supposed to reach.

“I knocked on the door three times!” Linus said.

“I was asleep!”

“Nobody sleeps that deeply.”

“I do!” No, he didn’t. Not usually. But he had certainly been out for the count

yesterday. And last night. And today. “Why the hell didn’t they phone?”

“They did.” The deputy rubbed his tailbone.

Shane felt his pockets, looked around for his phone. “Shit.” He’d left his cell on

vibrate. In the kitchen.

He could feel his face turning red—not that anyone could tell. In this lighting they all

looked sinister and hollow-eyed.

“I didn’t hear it,” Shane began to Linus. Wait. Why was he explaining to
him
? He

turned to the deputy. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Officer. I didn’t hear the

phone.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?” the deputy inquired doubtfully. “That’s quite a

nap for anybody to take.”

“I think I overdid it the morning I arrived,” Shane admitted. “But yeah, I feel fine

now. Embarrassed about the false alarm and for dragging you out on a night like this.”

“I was already out,” the deputy said. “Anyway, that’s what we’re paid for. False

alarms are good news in my business.”

He wished Shane a good night and went out into the rain, nodding briefly in passing

to Linus.

A moment later a jeep engine roared into life.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Linus asked over the slap and splash of the rain that

filled the silence left by the departing jeep.

Shane nodded. He said grudgingly, “Thanks for…you know.” He wasn’t exactly sure

what he was thanking Linus for. Thanks for being a busybody? No. Not fair. Thanks for

caring? Well,
caring
was probably too strong. Thanks for being a good citizen? That was

more like it.

Linus hesitated. “Okay. Well, if you’re sure…?”

“Yep. Positive. I apologize again.”

“No apology necessary.” Linus continued to stand there while rain pelted his hood

and shoulders.

Was he waiting to be asked inside? No. They had called a truce, but that didn’t mean

they were friends. Shane did not want friendship. He didn’t want anything from Linus.

Every time he saw him he was painfully reminded of what a fool he’d been. He hoped

Linus had no clue how close he’d been to falling in love with him.

God. Falling in love with someone who had never even existed.

Linus said, “If you do need anything, I’m…” He gestured to his cottage, red lights

twinkling through the wind and rain. Like Shane might have forgotten the scene of the

crime?

“Thanks. Good-night,” Shane said and shut the door.

He had a busy half an hour while he dealt with the pressing needs of nature, attended

to his wound which seemed to be healing nicely without any help from him, caught up on

his meds, and began returning his anxious family’s phone calls.

It was not a swift process. Thirty messages in total. They’d been calling nearly every

hour. He couldn’t blame his loved ones for being concerned at his lack of response.

“I promise I’m absolutely fine,” Shane reassured his mother first.

His mom, being Mom, tried to look on the bright side. “Well, you must have needed

the rest, dear.”

“I think I did. I do feel a lot better.”

“Well, that’s good.” Her tone was still doubtful. “But are you sure you couldn’t rest

here just as well?”

“I was telling Syd maybe I’d fly up the day after Christmas.”

“That would be nice. It’s going to be so strange not to have you here Christmas

morning, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. But it’s not the first Christmas morning I couldn’t be

home.”

No, it wasn’t, and the fact that she was so understanding and sweet about his

defection made him feel worse. But that was what made her a four-star Mom and not just

any rank and file mother.

Shiloh was next, and he did not mince words. “Do you have any idea what you put

Mom and Syd through? I was twenty minutes from boarding a goddamned plane.”

“That would have been a damned silly thing to do without knowing what the

situation down here was.”

“Not knowing what the situation was is
why
I was boarding the goddamned plane!”

“Which is crazy, since I’m perfectly fine!”

“Nobody who sleeps that long is perfectly fine. That goddamned hospital should

never have released you.”

“I wasn’t being held prisoner. They released me because I was ready to be released.”

“You need to get your butt on that boat and hop on a plane—”

“Listen, even if I agreed with you, that’s not possible. The ferry isn’t making any

crossings tonight. The sea is too rough. And I’m guessing flights out of LAX are

grounded as well. But more to the point, I
don’t
agree with you, and I’m not going

anywhere until I’m good and goddamned ready!”

They yelled at each for a few minutes and felt a little better for it, and then Shiloh

handed the phone over to Sydney, and Shane got to go through it all once more, though

with less swearing.

When Sydney also failed to make headway, she proved yet again that females were

the deadlier of the species by pulling the ultimate weapon and putting Shane’s eighteen-

month-old niece on the phone.

“You should feel very guilty about not coming for Christmas, Uncle Shane,” Lucy

said. Well, that was the gist of it, though the actual words were in garbled baby talk.

Message delivered and received.

“Okay, sweetheart, see you Saturday,” Shane told his niece as she continued to coo

and babble in his ear. She was a baby, for God’s sake. She probably thought he
was
there.

Penance complete, Shane drank a couple of glasses of water and then watered his

thirsty little Christmas tree and placed it in the windowsill over the kitchen sink. So now

what?

Having successfully gotten rid of any chance of company on this cold and rainy

night, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He would not be going to bed

anytime soon, that was for sure. He felt wide awake and restless.

Also hungry.

The house creaked. Outside the window, the night seemed to be shaking loose in the

force of those gusts.

Why not cook dinner? He had steak, mushrooms, potatoes, a nice bottle of wine, and

a couple of good books—everything he needed for that pleasant meal for one he’d been