Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(18)

“The bathroom is through there,” he added. “Just a shower and toilet.”

“Is this your bed?” Laurel set down her duffel. “It’s fine, but where will you sleep?”

Garrett hesitated. He glanced down at Molly. “Which side of the bed do you want, sugar?”

Molly grinned. “I’m gonna sleep in that big bed?” She ran over and bounced on the side. “When my brother and sister get here, all three of us can fit.”

Laurel averted her gaze from Molly, landing on Garrett. A glimmer of sympathy laced his expression.

“I’m going to show your aunt Laurel something. Okay?”

Molly nodded, hugged her lion and started a conversation with the beast.

Laurel took one last look at Molly and followed Garrett into the great room. “I don’t know how to explain it to her.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It won’t be easy, but she has you. Molly will be okay, eventually. There’s going to be a fall when she recognizes that her family is gone. Believe me, I know.”

Laurel stilled and took in Garrett’s features. Strain lined his eyes and a darkness had settled over his face. She reached out her hand and touched his arm. “I can see that.”

He looked down at her hand touching him. “I’ll show you my setup here. You may need it.”

A step away had her clutching at air. He’d fled her touch. She didn’t know why she’d reached out to him, but something in his expression called to her, made her want to comfort him, even as her own heart was breaking.

He unlocked the door leading into the second room in the cabin. She gasped. High-tech equipment she recognized from her job at the CIA lined two walls. Monitoring equipment—a secure phone and a very top secret computer system. A world map hung on one wall. Several pegs dotted some of the more sensitive countries. Below the map, a cot with a pillow and a rumpled blanket seemed to speak volumes.

The bedroom he’d given to her and Molly wasn’t where he slept. When he visited this ranch house, he slept here.

“And I was worried I didn’t have cell service,” she said. “You could contact anyone anywhere in the world from here.”

“Hand me your phone,” Garrett said.

“It’s powered off.” She handed it to him.

“Good. They shouldn’t be able to trace it to you since it’s prepaid, but we can’t afford to take chances. It still pings a cell tower.” He removed the battery and GPS chip. “Pop in the battery if you have to use it,” he said, tossing the GPS in the trash.

“You could track my father with this equipment,” Laurel said, moving into the room.

“Maybe.” Garrett sat down in one of the chairs and nodded his head at Laurel to take the other seat. “You have to understand, I promised James I’d stay out of the investigation. I have. For his sake.”

“But—”

Garrett raised his hand to interrupt her argument. “I get it. Things have changed. We’re taking a huge risk, though. I could make his situation worse. You have to understand that, Laurel.”

How much worse could it get?

Laurel couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth. Her father could already be dead. But if he wasn’t, what if this decision caused him to lose his life? Her mind whirled with confusion. The analytical part of her brain didn’t like the missing data.

She lifted her gaze to him before taking her seat again. “If your father were missing, what would you do?”

“If my father were still alive, I’d do whatever it took to find him.”

“And live with the consequences?”

“In this situation, yes. The alternative is worse,” Garrett said. “Your father has made a lot of enemies over the years, but more than that, if we don’t discover who is behind your sister’s murder, you and Molly will never be safe. Those men will never stop coming after you.”

“Oh, a big kitty! Come here, kitty, kitty.” Molly’s voice rang out from outside the cabin.

Laurel jumped to her feet at the same time as Garrett. “What kind of cats—?”

“Not domestic.”





Chapter Four

Garrett pulled the Beretta from its holster and slammed through the front door of the ranch house. Laurel’s footsteps thundered behind him.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Molly stood about ten feet from the porch, across a clearing. Her hand reached out toward a large cougar, its long, thick tail swinging to and fro.

“Good kitty,” Molly sang out, stepping forward.

The cat crouched, hissing.

“Molly,” Garrett said, his tone firm with what his daughter had called his mean voice.

The little girl froze. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He guessed the mean voice still worked, but the memory also returned that horrible helplessness that he never experienced when facing his own death—or even the death of another agent.

Only a child’s death could evoke the fear that seeped through his very soul.

Without hesitation, Garrett aimed his weapon at the animal, cursing inside for the animal to stop moving. As it was, it was going to be an impossible shot.

“Molly.” Garrett forced his voice to remain calm. “That’s not a kitty cat. I need you to stay very, very still, sugar. Don’t move. I’m going to shoot a gun.”