CA 35 Christmas Past

           
CHRISTMAS PAST

           
Debra Webb

           
To the loyal fans of the Colby
Agency: Enjoy!

           
CHAPTER ONE

Colby Agency, Chicago
 
Four Days before Christmas

           
VICTORIA COLBY-CAMP
STOOD at her window and admired the snow drifting to the city streets below.
She hoped it would stay for Christmas. Her granddaughter was so excited about
the coming holiday. A lovely blanket of white for Christmas morning would be perfect.

           
“Victoria.”

           
Turning at the sound of
her personal assistant’s voice, Victoria shifted her thoughts from her
granddaughter to the business of running her agency. “Yes, Mildred?”

           
“Mr. Harris is here.”

           
“Thank you. Send him
in.” Victoria moved to her desk and waited for the famed NASCAR team owner to
make his entrance. She had met Alonzo Harris for the first time two weeks ago
when he came to Chicago looking for her agency’s help with a somewhat personal
matter for which he needed the utmost discretion. With a strategy in place, the
news that he would visit again this morning had come as somewhat of a surprise.

           
Texas born and raised,
Alonzo Harris swaggered into Victoria’s office. The corners of his eyes creased
as a broad smile stretched across his face. “I don’t know how you folks survive
in this cold.” He’d already removed his coat and hat and left both with
Mildred.

           
“The cold winters forge
character, Mr.
Harris,
much like those scorching West
Texas summers give a gentleman grit.” He was every bit the charismatic man he
was purported to be by the media. His love of racing ran deep in his bones.

           
Harris chuckled.
“Touché, ma’am.”
He thrust his broad hand across her desk.
“I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to see me this morning. I realize
my visit was a bit impromptu.”

           
Victoria gave his hand
a firm shake
. “When a man flies all the way from Texas on a
snowy winter day, I can always make time. Please, have a seat, Mr. Harris.”

           
Being the Southern
gentleman he was, he waited until Victoria had settled into her chair before
lowering his tall frame into one of the wingback chairs flanking her wide,
mahogany desk.

           
“As you’re aware—”
Victoria cut right to the chase “—I have assigned Molly Clark to your case.
She’s an experienced climber and grew up in Colorado. She’ll be right at home
in Aspen.”

           
Harris nodded. “I’m
pleased for the most part with your choice. I read her dossier and she seems
quite capable.”

           
Something else Victoria
liked about the man, he also preferred to get straight to the point. “She is
very capable.”

           
“My concern,” he said,
relaxing into his chair, “I suppose, is more her lack of experience with your
agency. She’s new, isn’t she?”

           
Victoria smiled.
“Brand-new.
However, rest
assured,
no one is brought on board at the Colby Agency without undergoing rigorous
reviews. Our hiring guidelines are unmatched in the business of private
investigations. Molly Clark met every stringent requirement. And though she has
no field experience per se, she has years of experience in mountain rescue and
recovery. That makes her an invaluable asset under the circumstances.”

           
Harris gave due
consideration to her reasoning, then went on with his. “You understand that
Jason isn’t your typical celebrity. He closes himself off, particularly since
the accident. I fear that Ms. Clark will have a difficult time getting close to
him. He won’t make it easy. She’ll need a surprise attack, so to speak, or
he’ll cut her off at the pass.”

           
Jason
Fewell
was the team’s celebrated driver. His winning record
had put him at the very top of the NASCAR prestigious list of drivers. But a
mountain-climbing tragedy three years ago had sent his personal life into a
tailspin. Though he managed to perform to his usual standards on the track,
according to Mr. Harris, behind closed doors the driver grew more and more
withdrawn. Two weeks ago
Fewell
had announced that he
was going back to the scene of the tragedy to face his fears once and for all.
Harris, as well as the entire Texas Thunder team, was concerned for his safety,
since
Fewell
refused to allow anyone to accompany
him.

           
The past was haunting
Fewell
. No one knew better how painful that could be than
Victoria.

           
Harris’s fears were
legitimate, of course, two weeks ago and now. But he did not know Molly Clark.
Once her sights were set on a target, she would not stop until the job was
done. She would find the crack in
Fewell’s
armor of
self-exile and find a way in. Ensuring his safety would be her top priority.

           
“Trust me, Mr. Harris,”
Victoria assured him, “if anyone can get close to Jason
Fewell
,
it’s
Molly. She’s the younger sister of four brothers,
all extremely competitive young men. Molly learned at a tender age how to hold
her own with both difficult and determined men. You needn’t worry about her
ability to handle the situation.”

           
Harris braced his
elbows on the chair arms, laced his fingers and leaned forward. “I didn’t come
here to question your judgment, Victoria. Truly I didn’t. But Jason is like a
son to me. If anything happened to that boy, I don’t think I could bear it.
He’s suffered so.” Harris shook his head. “The counseling didn’t do the trick.
I’ll be the first to admit that, just as I can understand he feels he has to do
this. He needs to find peace.
Soon.
But I’m worried
sick he’ll get himself hurt…or worse.”

           
Victoria knew firsthand
that the need to find peace could drive a person to a point well beyond reason.
Jason felt responsible for his girlfriend’s death, though the investigation
into the tragic accident had clearly shown equipment failure as the cause. His
guilt and fear of again failing someone he cared about were eating him alive.

           
“I can’t guarantee Mr.
Fewell
will find the peace he’s so desperately seeking,”
Victoria allowed. “That part is up to him. But I can guarantee without
reservation that Molly Clark will ensure his safety. And, if she can reach past
those barriers of fear and guilt, she’ll do all within her power to help him
see the truth of what really happened three years ago. Perhaps recognizing the
truth will be enough to set him on the right course.”

           
Harris gave a
thoughtful nod. “I suppose that’s all I can hope for.
That or
a miracle.”

           
Victoria smiled, hoping
to reassure him. “It’s almost Christmas, Mr. Harris. Miracles have been known
to happen.”

           
CHAPTER TWO

           
Aspen, Colorado

           
THE SNOW VALLEY LODGE
was packed with ski enthusiasts, but Molly had already spotted her target among
the mostly young and remarkably stylish crowd.

           
Five o’clock on the
dot. Jason
Fewell
had arrived, surprisingly, without
the fanfare she’d fully expected. No
starstruck
chicks right on his heels. No bodyguards. And only two bags.

           
Wow. He traveled pretty
light for a celebrity.

           
She kept an eye out for
a bellhop to show up pushing a cart with the rest of his luggage. But her
primary attention remained on the man.

           
Even from across the
room, he appeared taller than she’d gauged by his photographs and video shots.
She’d watched several press coverage videos of his racing triumphs. He charmed
the crowd, as well as the cameras. The man was a natural. Blond hair, blue eyes—though
the latter couldn’t be seen just now behind those designer sunglasses he wore.
The all-American heartthrob.
Born in West Texas, Jason
Fewell
had grown up dirt-poor. The proverbial
rags-to-riches story that people from all walks of life loved to embrace.

           
But Molly wasn’t
fooled. She knew the type.
All sweet talk and smiles for the
public and the paparazzi.
Turn off the cameras and close the
doors,
and he would no doubt turn demanding and
unreasonable.

           
Spoiled
by his stardom.

           
And that was the thing
that annoyed her about her first field assignment with the Colby Agency. She
had waited five months for it to come and then the assignment was
this.

           
A
babysitting job.

           
No mystery. No nasty
villains to track down.

           
Just
a rich guy who couldn’t cope with loss.

           
Not fair, Mol.
She sighed.
Gave herself a mental kick for her lack of
sympathy for
Fewell’s
tragic loss.
His
girlfriend had been killed in that accident. It was a crying shame, no doubt
about that. But a man with the physical and mental capacity to endure the
rigors of his
sport,
should have the wherewithal to
pull himself back together. That was the part she couldn’t comprehend. Molly
Clark was a survivor, as were the other members of her family.

           
When you got knocked
down, you pulled yourself up by the bootstraps and went at it again.

           
Maybe dealing with the
loss of her father at such a young age, and then her mother only a couple of
years ago, had made her a bit less than sympathetic on the subject. But she
wasn’t one to wallow and had no patience for those who did.

           
Life was unfair
sometimes. But you couldn’t stop living just because it hurt. You sucked it up,
and got on with it.

           
Fewell
didn’t seem to be able to do that. He continued to be a winner and to give his
fans what they wanted, but according to the owner of his team, he’d grown more
and more withdrawn on a personal level. He kept the world at a distance.

           
For Molly that meant
one thing—drastic measures would be required if she was going to accomplish her
goal. She’d also been forewarned about how difficult it would be to get
anywhere near the guy.

           
She had a foolproof
plan for that, too.

           
Fewell
accepted his room key from the clerk.

           
Time
for her to set phase one of her strategy in motion.

           
She couldn’t use the
usual tactics; those took time. Time was a luxury she didn’t have. Molly had
decided to limit
Fewell’s
options to only one.

           
She smiled as she
double-timed it up the stairs.

           
No way was this hotshot
going to outmaneuver Molly Clark. Four older brothers had tried repeatedly and
failed.

           
Babysitting job or not,
she intended to not only get the job done, but to impress her employer.

           
That way maybe the next
case she was assigned would be one she could sink her teeth into.

           
JASON CONSIDERED the stairs,
but opted for the elevator. He’d stuffed his clothes and his gear into only two
bags, making for a heavy load. The line at the elevator made him wish he’d gone
for the stairs, but the lack of sleep the past few days had exhausted his usual
endurance level.

           
He was dead on his
feet.