Page 47 of Cowboy Stolen Kiss for Christmas

Dean hung back, instead, to address the fellow he’d actually come looking for. “You alright there, Mr. ah…?” He leaned over Brex’s table, pretending to get a closer look at his name tag. “Morrison.”

Brex gave him a weak nod, not quite meeting his eye.

“Though we haven’t formally met, I’m sure you heard me introduce myself to Mr. Burgess. So I’ll get right to the point. Would you like to press charges against him?”

Brex blinked in surprise. No small amount of horror bloomed in his expression. “No way! You heard him. It was an accident.”

Dean studied the gypsy craftsman thoughtfully, more than a little surprised by his response. It was as if he was afraid of the other guy. Or at least intimidated.

He tried a different tactic. “Sorry about the damage to your products.” He angled his head at the broken nutcracker.

Brex gave a strained chuckle. “It happens more often than you’d think. You know…with all the kids running around and such.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. Morrison, especially after the rough evening you had yesterday.”

Brex’s swarthy features paled. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Dean slapped a hand against his forehead. “Here I am yammering on and on without explaining myself.” He pinned him with a bland look. “Here’s what’s going on. Someone reported a guy meeting your description to the medical team last night. I’m here to apologize that our paramedics failed to make it to you before you left the event. I’m also here to ensure that you’re alright.”

A wave of heat chased away the pallor of Brex’s features. “Oh, yeah. Perfectly alright.”

“Are you sure?” Dean frowned. “I heard you fell to the ground and experienced something like a seizure.”

Brex stared at him for a few seconds before giving another affected laugh. “I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this, but I’d just found out that the woman I care for is dating someone else.” He waved a hand dismissively. “We used to date. I was hoping to reconcile. Guess that ship has sailed.” Two angry red spots appeared on his cheeks.

Used to date? Well, that was one way of describing a broken engagement. “Sorry to hear it, Mr. Morrison.” That might be stretching the truth a little, but Dean was doing everything he could to increase his chances of extracting information. He started to turn away, purposely making it look like he was preparing to leave. Then he abruptly spun back in Brex’s direction. “Any chance you have a pilot’s license?”

Brex gaped at him. “Come again, sir?”

“A pilot’s license. Do you have one?”

“No.” Brex shifted nervously from one foot to the next. “Why?”

The sheriff took his time responding, rocking back on his heels to let the guy stew in his juice for a bit. “I don’t normally discuss an ongoing case,” he drawled, “but there was an incident at the hangar last night.”

Brex continued to look uncertain. “I’m not following you, sir.”

Oh, I think you are, Mr. Morrison. “Someone roughly meeting your description was witnessed coming out of the hangar.” He didn’t specify when, purposely keeping his fictitious story vague. “As it turns out, a fuel tank on one of the planes was tampered with.”

The gypsy vendor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “That’s impossible,” he rasped.

“What’s impossible, Mr. Morrison?”

“About anyone seeing me near the hangar. I’ve never been there. I’m not even sure how to get there.” Though his words rang with sincerity, his body language suggested that he might know something about the tampering incident. Something he wasn’t being very forthcoming about.

“Guess that clears your name.” Dean cheerfully tipped the visor of his service cap at him. “It’s always nice getting to cross another name off my list of suspects.” He was doing nothing of the sort since his gut told him Brex Morrison was very much involved. Dean would just have to do a little more digging into the man’s background to determine the link between him and Trent Burgess. And maybe to Trent’s son, Oak.

Unfortunately, there were no security cameras mounted in the remote mountain hangar, so there was no documented evidence of who’d tinkered with the compromised airplane. The owners of the hangar had already assured him that was about to change.

He moseyed his way back to his patrol car and put in a call to the next person on his list.

Laura Lee answered right away. “Hello?” Her voice sounded hesitant.

“Thank you for taking my call, ma’am.” Dean knew a lot of folks were uncomfortable with giving information out over the phone, so he got right to the point. “This is Sheriff Dean Skelton from Pinetop, trying to get to the bottom of what happened to the Carson brothers’ plane last night. Are you rested up enough after your part in the ordeal to answer a few questions?”

“I am, sir.” She sounded relieved to hear from him. “I’ll do anything I can to help with the case.”

“Wasn’t your inclusion in the trip to Dallas a bit on the last-minute side?” He was still piecing together the whole story.

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