Christmas in Whitehorn (24 page)

"No. I've been trying to think of anyone who would want to make trouble for me. I haven't even fired anyone. My last few employees left because they wanted to. And Wyatt, my husband, can't think of anyone, either."

Mark didn't like the sound of the calls or the dead bird.

"I'll ask around," he told her. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know. Start keeping a log of your
hangup
calls. If you get more than a couple more, we'll go to the phone company and get a trace put on your line. If anything else strange happens, page me. Don't hesitate, even if it's the middle of the night."

"Okay. Thanks."

Mark rose and left. He'd returned to
Montana
expecting to find life pretty boring. First Darcy had come into his world and now this. Was it possible there was going to be trouble in
Whitehorn
?

Chapter Fourteen

M
ark left Melissa North's house and drove directly to the sheriff's office. Rafe was in, talking on the phone as Mark tapped on his open door. The other man waved him in. Mark took a seat and flipped through his notes until Rafe hung up the phone.

"What's up?" the sheriff asked.

Mark crossed his leg, resting his ankle on his opposite knee.
"A couple of things.
I've been through the backgrounds of every employee at the Hip Hop Café, including that of Janie and Melissa North, who owns the place. I can't come up with a single lead."

Rafe dug through several files on his desk. The dark-haired sheriff pulled one out and opened it. "I have the report back from the forensic accountant. There's a job we should all have," he said with a grin.

"Not me."

"Yeah, I was never a numbers person, either. Anyway she's been through the Hip Hop's books front to back. She came up with nada."

Mark wasn't surprised. "So we're at a dead end."

"Do you think the phone call was a hoax?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know how else to explain it. The problem is, why
do
it in the first place? It's not the sort of thing kids would do. If it's not true, who else would bother?"

Rafe frowned. "I see what you mean. Teenagers tend to go for splashier crimes. It's one thing to steal a car for a joy ride. There's the thrill of breaking the law and showing off to friends. But this isn't their style. So who else had something to gain by sending us on a wild-goose chase?"

"That's what doesn't make sense. Okay, so we wasted a bunch of time. So what? It's not as if there were more pressing crimes that went without an investigation. If this were a bigger city, I would say we'd been had by a crazy person. The only person who fits that description is Homer Gilmore. He talks to himself, but I can't see him doing this, can you?"

"No." Rafe leaned back in his chair. "Well, Mark, it looks like we have ourselves a bona fide mystery. Think we're going to solve it?"

"No. And there's more. I went to see Melissa North today. She wanted to know how the money laundering investigation was going. While I was there she told me that she's been having hang-up calls. Someone also left a dead bird on her doorstep."

Rafe swore. "What the hell is going on here? This is
Whitehorn
. We're not supposed to have serious crime here."

"I don't know if it's serious or not. I told Melissa to keep track of the next few hang-ups. If they continue, we'll need to put a tracer on the phone line." He patted his belt. "I also told her to page me with any information or questions."

Rafe grinned. "About time someone got you out of bed in the middle of the night. The department paid good money for that pager."

"Because
Whitehorn
is so big, you wouldn't know where to find me?"

Rafe's humor faded. "I don't like any of this," he admitted.

"I agree. I've got a bad feeling. Plus I can't help thinking that I'm missing something really important. It's just out of reach."

"Let me know when you figure it out."

"If I do."
Mark rose. "See you tomorrow, boss."

"Later," Rafe said, just as his phone rang.

Mark returned to his office. There weren't that many people around – the week between Christmas and New Year's was traditionally slow. He plowed through pa-
perwork
until his eyes burned, then headed for home.

The duplex was dark when he pulled up. Darcy had a rare dinner shift and wouldn't be home until later. He let himself into his place, only to stand in his empty living room and wish he could be next door with her. He wanted to curl up with her on her sofa, admiring her fat Christmas tree and eating something that she'd baked. He wanted to listen to her laughter, get lost in her conversation and try to talk himself out of making love with her.

Despite the fact that he'd avoided her bed for the past week or so, he hadn't stopped wanting her. In fact he wanted her more than he ever had. But something had changed between them and until he figured out what it was, he planned on staying clear of the sensual playground that was making love with Darcy.

He flicked on lights, then headed for the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Maybe he should have stopped at the Hip Hop for dinner. At least then he could have seen Darcy.

He leaned against the counter and took a long drink. He was home now. Instead of heading back out, he'd wait for her to return. Knowing her, she would probably bring him leftovers. They'd eat them to-
gether
. Then—

He paced restlessly. Then, what? He walked the length of his living room before returning to the dining room. He had too many questions and no answers. Darcy was an amazing woman. She'd managed to keep herself and her brother afloat financially for the past five years. He knew she worried about Dirk. While her brother would eventually be able to be on his own in the world, he would never be a hundred percent self-sufficient. Someone would always need to be nearby. That person was going to be Darcy.

Whoever was in her life would be signing up for more than the usual responsibilities.

Mark turned that thought over in his mind. Was the reality of her situation enough to scare him away, or did he think it wouldn't be such hard duty? He liked Dirk – the kid was a lot of fun. What would it be like when that kid was a forty-year-old man? What about if Dirk wanted to get married and have children?

Mark waited for his gut to tell him to head for the hills. He didn't need that kind of trouble. And yet he knew the restlessness he felt inside had nothing to do with wanting to avoid Darcy and her situation. If anything he felt compelled to offer a strong shoulder. Shared burdens were always easier.

He walked to the window and stared out at the lightly falling snow. At one time he would have reminded himself that he'd already been down this road and it was way too dangerous to tread. But he'd learned his lesson. Darcy wasn't Sylvia. She never had been. Darcy was the most honest, trustworthy person he knew.

He'd made one really big mistake. Both he and Sylvia had paid for it. Maybe it was time to let the past go. The future was far more important. Darcy was more important.

In his previous relationship, he'd felt a flash of emotion. Something hot and immediate had convinced him Sylvia was the one. He hadn't felt that with Darcy. Oh, there'd been plenty of sexual combustion, but his heart had been slower to engage.

His feelings had grown slowly.
Cautious liking, turning to respect and affection.
And now…

Now he didn't know. He cared about Darcy a lot. He wanted her in his life. Did that make his feelings real? Did he love her? Did he want forever?

*

Darcy arrived home with a bag full of leftovers and sore feet. She hadn't been scheduled to go in until two, but one of the waitresses had called in sick, so she'd been at the Hip Hop since eight that morning. A thirteen-hour shift wasn't her idea of a good time.

As she pulled into her carport, she saw lights on in Mark's place and his silhouette in the front window. Before she'd done more than turn off the engine, he was at her door, opening it and pulling her into a hug.

"I missed you," he said, then kissed her with an intensity that left her breathless.

She responded, hoping that she could persuade him to take her to bed. She wasn't the least bit sleepy, but she could sure do with an hour or two of incredible lovemaking. But instead of taking the hint, he took a step back and inhaled.

"Do I smell fried chicken?"

"Absolutely.
It was the special tonight. I brought mashed potatoes and green beans, too." She gave him a mock glare to cover her disappointment that once again he wasn't interested in physical intimacy.

"I can't wait." He leaned over and grabbed the bags on the passenger seat, then closed the door and put his arm around her. They walked into her apartment.

Twenty minutes later they'd eaten most of the chicken and potatoes. Darcy pushed the container of green beans toward Mark.

"Two tablespoons' worth isn't a serving."

"It is to me."

"You'll get scurvy."

"I take a multivitamin every morning."

"Is this before or after you clog your arteries with your heart-attack-inducing breakfast?"

"Before."
He gave her a smile that showed no remorse. "I'm changing the subject. How was your day?"

"Long. Janie called me in at eight because they were shorthanded. My feet hurt."

"I'll bet. I didn't know you'd been there that long."

"The good news is that I got overtime today. Janie felt so bad that I don't have to go in until ten, but she'll pay me for my usual time. So that will help." Darcy nibbled on a piece of chicken. "I really like my job. The people are good and the tips add up. But I hate working nights. I'm glad it's not my regular shift. Closing up a restaurant takes a lot of time. I'd much rather open."

"Were you the last one there?"

She nodded. "One of the busboys was supposed to stay and help me, but he had a hot date so I let him go early."

"I think I've just been insulted," Mark told her.

Darcy didn't get it.
"How?"

"You let that other
guy go
early because he had a hot date. What am I? Chopped liver?"

She forced herself to smile because that's what he expected.
Great joke.
Life was a laugh a minute. But suddenly she felt like crying. Logic told her that she and Mark hadn't been together for very long. Neither of them was willing to define their relationship, so she didn't know if they were still friends or had moved on to something more. If she was the least bit brave, she would ask. The thing was – she didn't want to hear the answer. Not if it was bad.

"You're completely hot," she said at last. "However, we're older and I figured we would have the patience to wait to see each other."

She shifted in her seat. Everything hurt. Part of her wanted to ask Mark for a massage. However the thought of his hands on her body sent her thoughts in a direction that was far from medicinal. Besides, if he wasn't interested in her that way, she was hardly going to force things. Maybe he was getting tired of her. Maybe—

She shook her head to clear it of all those negative thoughts. "I've been cooped up inside for too long," she said impulsively. "Do you want to take a drive? It's still snowing, but there are patches of clearing and the stars look amazing tonight."

"Great idea.
You bundle up and I'll go warm the truck cab."

He helped her clear the table, then left. Darcy quickly changed into jeans and a warm sweater,
then
pulled on her parka. Mark had parked in front of her place and was waiting when she closed and locked her front door.

"Where to?" he asked as she slid onto the bench seat.

"It's your town. You pick."

He grinned. "I know a great lookout place. We used to go park there in high school."

"Is the view nice?"

"Darcy, no one cares about the view."

Was he suggesting something? She sucked in a breath. Lord, she hated being so conflicted about a man. "It sounds like fun," she said lightly.

"I'll take you to the best spot," he promised.

The light snow slowed as more patches of sky were visible in the parting clouds. There was a hint of moon and dozens of stars. She huddled in her jacket, waiting for the truck's heater to warm the cab.

"What are you doing for New Year's Eve?" he asked, speaking into the quiet.

"Gee, I usually have a party in
Paris
for a couple dozen of my closest friends. We fly over in a chartered jet and ring in the New Year with caviar and champagne."

He glanced at her.
"Really?
Have you ever tasted caviar? I did once. It's really salty."

"Mark!"

"Okay. So you don't have plans. Want to do something with me?"

"Yes."

She pressed her lips together. There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that he'd become very important to her. She wanted to ask him why he'd stopped making love with her and did he know that it was slowly killing her inside. She wanted to admit that she loved him and find out if there was a chance that he might have feelings for her as well. If he wasn't completely over Sylvia, she would wait – as long as there was a chance for them.