Three Nights before Christmas (3 page)

“I’ve had lunch. I’ll just get a coffee for Jenna, then I can pitch in and help out.”

“You don’t have to jump right in,” he said.

The hell she didn’t. He needed her help, and she’d needed a job offer to increase her chances of parole. Not for the first time in her life, Sawyer had pulled through for her. This time, she was determined to return the favor. “I want to get back into things. I want to work.”

But she also needed a buffer. She scanned the lot till she found Jenna warming her hands over one of the fire barrels. “Jenna,” she called. “Come meet my brother.”

After an introduction made painfully awkward by Sawyer becoming even less chatty than usual, Lacey suggested they go inside for some coffee. She needed a bit of warmth.

Sawyer had lived alone in the house for a few years, since her parents had moved to Florida, but he hadn’t made any changes. The interior looked just as it had when they were children, all country comfort and hearty welcome, with its cozy nooks, dormer windows and a stone fireplace mantle filled with pictures. Not the biggest or most luxurious house around, but not steel beds and open toilets either. If she closed her eyes she could imagine Grammy Gallagher cooking up a Thanksgiving feast. The memory was so strong she could even smell Grammy’s molasses cookies, a sure sign Christmas was just around the corner.

Needing to feel at home again, she led them into the kitchen and offered Jenna some food, which she turned down. So Lacey did what came naturally and raided the ceramic cookie jar. “What about some cookies? We’ve got chocolate chip and—” She spun to stare at her brother as he measured coffee grounds. “Oh, my God, Sawyer. Did you make molasses cookies?”

He shrugged, the blush spreading across his face the only sign he’d intentionally baked her favorite cookies.

“Thank you,” Lacey whispered, but all she got was another shrug.

Keep trying to change the men in your life, Lace. Good plan. It’s never failed you before. Talk about criminally stupid.
Her shoulders sinking, she put a handful of cookies on a plate. “You have to have one of these cookies, Jenna. They’re Grammy Gallagher’s secret recipe. Not that there’s much secret to the ingredients—sugar, sugar, and more sugar. Oh, and don’t forget the butter.”

Babble, babble, and more babble. And don’t forget the awkward.

Damn, but she needed some fresh air. She drew in a deep breath. “Sawyer, have you thought about offering some of these to the customers?”

His brows crinkled. “Uh, no.”

“We should. Y’know, a special treat just before Thanksgiving. Half of them are probably just scoping out the trees at different farms before deciding where to buy from in December. Why don’t I go sweeten them up?”

She emptied the cookie jar onto another plate and tried not to look like she was fleeing the kitchen. The burble of percolating coffee was the only sound that followed her.

The air outside was so fresh, so crisp, it slapped her cheeks and pulled her attention to the sun dipping below the white-capped mountains to the west of the farm. Okay, so she’d had some expectations about what coming home would be like, and so far reality hadn’t lived up to the fantasy. But when did it ever?

Pasting a smile on her stinging face, she approached a man and woman warming their hands over one of the barrels. Time to start making herself useful. “Hey, there. Anyone want a molasses—”

The man turned, his grin slowly turning to confusion before freezing as her soul did the same. Her breath caught painfully in her chest, and the plate tumbled from her numb fingers.

Officer Austin Wilder, the man who’d sent her to prison and, as if that weren’t punishment enough, haunted her dirtiest dreams.

And just like three years ago, he was wearing his forest service uniform and leveling her with a hard look full of his intent to make her pay for her crimes.

Panic hit her hard.

No. I can’t go back yet. I just got out.

‡

A
ustin had no
doubt the woman standing a few feet away recognized him. The sudden widening of her eyes followed by the softening of her mouth into a horrified “O” triggered a vague memory, but it still took him a few heartbeats to recognize her. He’d grown up in Marietta and worked for the forest service for fifteen years, so he’d met a lot of people, issued a lot of tickets, and rescued a fair number of campers from their own stupidity. But had he terrified any of them enough to make them drop a plate at his feet? His brain failed to draw a connection between the shocked-looking brunette and anyone he knew…until her lips pressed into a long, stubborn line, the same mulish look she’d given him as she’d refused to accept any of the evidence he’d spread in front of her.

Shit.
Lacey Gallagher.

His mouth hardened as his teeth gritted together. So the drug trafficker had gotten out. And no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. When he’d arrested her, she’d been lithe and youthful. Mid-twenties and full of easy smiles, easy tears. Prison was never kind to anyone, but it especially didn’t look like it had been kind to Lacey. She’d certainly gained weight, and not in an
I spent all my time in the prison yard pumping iron
sort of way. Fine lines bracketed her wide mouth, and strands of premature gray hair glittered among the dark brown ones. Her eyebrows were thick and rough, and her gaze grew harder as he stared her down. She’d lost the deer-in-the-headlights look he’d come to associate with her throughout her arrest and trial. Now that the shock of seeing him was wearing off, she looked ready to stand her ground. If her hands hadn’t trembled as she clenched them into fists, he would’ve thought she was preparing to hit him rather than hiding her fear.

“When did you get home?” he asked.

No sense in beating around the bush. Normally, he was an affable man, known for being the most easygoing of his family. Someone had to be, in a family full of smart-mouthed hard-asses. But Lacey had been at the heart of the biggest grow-op ever to desecrate the land he’d sworn to protect. She’d taken the cowardly route and denied involvement, even though the Whitefish police department had CCTV footage of her boarding her train with a suitcase full of pot, and she’d been holding a box full of dirty money when he’d arrested her.

She didn’t deserve a big hug and a
Welcome home, sunshine.

“Today.”

That explained a few things, at least. His office usually got word of offenders who’d been released into the local community, but with the holidays coming up the juggernaut of justice was probably slowing down.

“Hi, Lacey.” His mom’s soft voice resonated with compassion as she leaned around Austin, laying a gentle hand on his forearm as if warning him to call off the dogs. Of course she would feel something for Lacey. She’d gone to high school with Lacey’s mom—and she’d been stuck in her own kind of prison for most of her adult life.

“Hi, ma’am. I, uh, I was just bringing some cookies out.” Lacey gestured helplessly toward the jagged pieces of broken plate scattered around her feet. Returning her focus to Austin, she said in a tone bordering on belligerent, “That’s all I’ve done, so unless you’re planning to arrest me for crimes against crockery, you’re shit out of luck.”

“Damn,” he said. “Guess I won’t meet my quota of drug traffickers today, then.”

Lacey’s nostrils twitched but she stayed otherwise completely still. His mom hissed his name, and a twinge of regret fizzed through him. His mom’s censure always had that effect. Swallowing the questions he wanted to ask, he forced himself to back down. “Look, we’re here to pick out a tree. That’s all.”

Her gaze flicked down his body, he assumed taking in his uniform, not admiring how he filled it out. He didn’t owe her an explan—

“Austin came straight from work to pick me up,” his mom said.

Damn it, Mom.
He managed to keep from rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t contain a defeated sigh. Lacey’s shoulders seemed to relax incrementally, some of the defensiveness easing from her face. She cleared her throat and seemed to force words out. “In that case, feel free to let Sawyer know if you need anything. ’Scuze me.”

Her legs carried her swiftly toward the barn, pausing only long enough for her to say something to a man in a Gallagher’s Christmas Tree Farm jacket, and a minute later the guy was sweeping up the broken plate.

“That poor girl,” his mom murmured, and his indignation sparked into a full-fledged wildfire.

“You’re kidding, right? Mom, she committed a pretty damn big crime.”

His mom shrugged. “It was pot. Who hasn’t toked a doobie or two in their lives?”

He raised his hand. “Me, hippie.”

Her eyes bugged out. “Really? Not even in high school?”

“I knew I wanted to go into law enforcement. They ask questions about stuff like that, and you know what a bad liar I am. Why are you surprised? I thought mothers knew everything their kids did.”

“We say that to scare you. Truth is, most of us assume you’re experimenting with drugs and sex, and we just pray you won’t get hurt.” She shook her head in confusion. “Never? Really?”

“I hope you’re not asking about sex because I’m not answering that question. But drugs, no. Never. Sorry if that makes me uncool.”

“Huh.” Her gaze went all unfocused, as though she were close to solving a puzzle. She didn’t rush to reassure him that he
was
cool, he noticed. “What about the others?”

He assumed she meant his brothers and sister. “You can’t pay me enough to get me to narc on them.”

Her eyes sharpening with humor, she said, “I thought part of your job was encouraging people to narc on each other.”

He snorted. “Doesn’t mean
I’m
going to do it. You know what they would do to me? I have to live in this family, you know.”

She smiled a little but still looked troubled as she watched the barn Lacey had disappeared into.

“Mom, this is more than smoking a joint.” In fact, Lacey had tested negative for everything, but he didn’t feel the need to share that. “She was transporting thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs. She was a critical part of the operation. Even her own boyfriend testified that it was her idea to use her train as a cover for smuggling weed that had been grown on public land—land you and I and everyone else in this community own.”

“I understand that. Really, I do. But I know Lacey—”

“No, you know the Lacey her mom told you about, the good girl who would never do something like this. But that Lacey doesn’t exist. Mrs. Gallagher wasn’t like you, assuming we all had a little of the devil in us. Just the opposite. She assumed her daughter was a saint, and she turned a blind eye to what she was really capable of.”

“Don’t interrupt me, kiddo,” she said, and suddenly he was no longer a grown-ass, thirty-five-year-old man in an NFS law enforcement uniform but a ten-year-old decked out in Boy Scout badges. His mom had that talent. “I was going to say that I know Lacey was in a bad relationship with that Dave Dugger boy, and she wouldn’t be the first woman whose heart led her to make terrible mistakes.”

Shit.
It didn’t matter that over three decades had passed since his parents’ marriage had broken down; his mom still traveled down this road every holiday season. He and his brothers—and their sister, Camila, whenever she was back from California—did everything they could to make the holidays sweet for her. She’d been laughing and teasing him when Lacey had approached. Now sadness and memories had leeched some of the color from her face, and Austin wanted to kick the nearest Gallagher-owned tree that what should’ve been a fun day out had ended up hurting her.

Lacey Gallagher had done time, and he wouldn’t question the parole board’s decision to let her out early instead of forcing her to serve her full eight-to-ten-year sentence. People went to prison, then they got out, then they usually went back in—that was the way life worked. He didn’t exactly enjoy running into people he’d arrested, but it happened. Awkward, but kind of unavoidable. As long as she didn’t make trouble on NFS land, she wasn’t his problem anymore.

He assumed she would be living and working on the tree farm, since other employers wouldn’t exactly jump at the chance to hire a convicted felon straight out of prison. If she stayed busy here, there was little chance of her having time to restart her criminal activities in the forest.

Slinging his arm around his mom’s shoulders, he gave her a squeeze. “Let’s find you the perfect tree, huh?”

She pasted on an obviously fake smile and nodded.

Damn Lacey Gallagher for blighting his mom’s happy day.

*