A Forever Christmas(58)

“She doesn’t know you,” Gabe cut in, coming to Angel’s defense. He’d taken an instant dislike to this intruding stranger. “She has amnesia.”

“Amnesia,” the man repeated in a mocking tone. The smile that curved his lips was humorless and cold. “Pretty convenient.”

“Look, mister—” Gabe began, physically turning the man away from Angel.

He could see that the stranger was crowding Angel. Even if she looked at him blankly as if she didn’t know him, on some subconscious level, she had to have recognized him.

Her breathing had gotten slightly audible and definitely labored.

The man shrugged him off and then produced his ID. “That’s ‘Detective Mister,’” the stranger retorted glibly. Flipping open his wallet, his eyes narrowed slightly as he grew serious. “Detective Jake Wynters,” he said, introducing himself. “With the San Antonio Police Department.”

He added the latter for the sharp-featured older woman’s benefit. She looked as if she could take him apart with her talons if he made any missteps.

Wynters doled his information out one piece at a time. “And Dorothy’s my fiancée,” he informed Gabe and the other customers. “My missing fiancée,” he emphasized. “She went missing around the same time that my fifty-thousand-dollar bank account did.” Smirking at her knowingly, he was all but on top of Angel as he uttered rhetorically, “Didn’t you, Dorothy?”

Gabe felt as if someone had punched him straight in the gut. Still, he pulled Wynters back a second time even as Miss Joan put herself between the threatening detective and Angel.

“We didn’t find any money on her,” Gabe informed the outsider.

Wynters looked at the woman he’d come to bring back with him. “She’s a bright girl. Dorothy would have hidden it somewhere so she could get to it later.”

He was lying about the money, but in his experience, nothing turned people against one another more quickly than the hope of recovering hidden money. He wanted to make sure no one would try to get in his way and stop him from bringing her back with him. If they thought she was a thief, his job would be easier.

Miss Joan looked as unconvinced as Gabe felt. “You know him, honey?” she asked Angel.

She had to, Angel thought. Why else did she have this sudden, overwhelming dread rising up within her? The very sound of his voice made her want to shrink back. And yet, she didn’t recognize him, couldn’t connect him to a single event in her life.

Couldn’t remember ever having seen him.

She had no choice but to shake her head. “No, I don’t know him,” she said quietly.

Wynters snorted. “We had an argument just before she took off. She’s just angry, that’s all,” he insisted, reaching for her.

Angel instinctively pulled back and now it was Gabe who stood between her and the San Antonio detective as Miss Joan protectively ushered her behind the counter and stood by her side. Miss Joan glared at Wynters.

“She says she doesn’t know you,” Gabe informed the stranger. “So maybe you should be getting on your way.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Some of the other customers had risen from their seats, their stance silently adding weight to Gabe’s words. For his part, the detective seemed totally unaffected.

“I thought she might try to pull something like this,” Wynters said to Gabe as he took a manila envelope out of the inside of his jacket. Slipping out the contents, he held it in his hand. “Got pictures of the two of us, plus one of her in front of the restaurant where she used to work.” He produced the latter, jabbing a finger at the background. “That’s Slice of Heaven,” he said for the benefit of the people who couldn’t make out the restaurant’s sign. And then he looked at Angel. “Bennett said to tell you that business hasn’t been the same since you left. Your old job’s waiting for you if you decide you want to come. To him,” he added, the silent implication was that in that case she had a choice. As far as coming back to him, she only had one choice. To agree.

With equal skepticism and reluctance, Gabe forced himself to look at the photographs.

It was Angel all right.

His heart suddenly felt like lead in his chest.

“Satisfied?” Wynters asked, putting the photographs back into the envelope before returning the latter to his pocket. “Now, if you don’t have any more objections, I’ll be taking Dorothy home with me.”