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“Wherever my work sends me,” Sara said lightly as she pulled on her mittens. “I’ll spend tomorrow with my mom and Leon for Christmas Eve—maybe even with my brother if he shows up, then I’ll start back to Dallas after Christmas dinner.”
“What about Nathan?”
“What about him? Nothing to tell.”
Absolutely nothing.
After spending Monday and Tuesday at the DEA office in Minneapolis, Sara had driven back to Ryansville this morning. She hadn’t expected any messages from him on her answering machine, and there hadn’t been. All four messages were from her mother.
It was for the best.
So why did she find herself watching for his squad car or wishing she’d catch a glimpse of him sauntering up the sidewalk? He was probably taking care to avoid her, and counting the days until she left town.
Chuckling, Jane waved a hand in front of Sara’s face. “Yoo-hoo, lost in thought, are we? I saw the two of you on Friday when you arrested Robert, and I’d bet my next paycheck that something’s going on there. No two people ignore each other that much if they don’t care.”
“We were in the midst of apprehending suspects,” Sara retorted. “It wasn’t exactly a date.”
Jane dug her car keys from her coat pocket and unlocked her car door. “It’s a mistake for you to leave, you know. You’re throwing away a chance at something good.”
“It never would have worked out.”
“So you say.” Giving a dubious shake of her head, Jane climbed into her car. “Merry Christmas!”
Bright sunshine sparkled across the heavy snow mounded on bushes and tree branches. Colorful decorations twinkled in every shop window, and strains of “Joy to the World” filtered into the street from the loudspeakers in front of the drugstore.
Shoppers laden with packages crowded the sidewalks, greeting one another with best wishes for the holiday season.
Giving Harold a quick hug, Sara untied his leash from the lamppost in front of Bill’s and started for her mother’s place.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
* * * *
“I BROUGHT PIZZA, Mom,” Sara called out as she stamped the snow off her boots and walked in her mother’s front door a few hours later. “Are you here?”
The lights on her Christmas tree twinkled brightly in the darkened living room, and the sweet scents of pine and cinnamon filled the air, but Bernice didn’t answer.
Slipping off her coat and boots, Sara walked through the living room and found her mother sitting at the kitchen table with a haphazard stack of yellowed documents in front of her.
“Mom?”
Bernice shook her head slowly, but didn’t look up.
“Mom—are you okay?” Sara wrapped an arm around her mother’s thin shoulders, then looked down at the papers. “What is this?”
“All this time,” Bernice whispered. “All this time.”
Sara pulled a chair closer and sat down next to her. “What’s wrong? Did you save these clippings from when Dad died?”
“No, poor old Earl did. Leon gave them to Nathan Tuesday night.” Her hands trembling, Bernice brushed her fingertips reverently across the documents. “When Nathan brought them to me, he stayed several hours.”
Sara’s traitorous heart skipped a beat. Apparently he’d come when he was sure that she wouldn’t be there. “Why?”
“To go through all this with me so I would know what really happened. And now...I finally do. The newspaper clippings only tell the story we’ve always heard. It’s Earl’s letter that makes the difference.”
Sara sifted through the documents on the table and found one that had been typed. She scanned both sides, then began to read slowly, word by word.
“Robert killed Frank, and then he framed Dad?” She whispered. “Yet no one ever suspected him.”
