Page 89 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

Ethan

It took us a while and a few favors pulled from former Army buddies, but we found Laurel Buchanan. She’s working at a pizza restaurant, bussing tables, and making considerably less money, but she looks at peace from where I’m sitting—which is the passenger seat of Colton’s truck.

“It’s her,” I confirm, taking another look at the photo we have of her.

Colton follows my gaze, using a pair of binoculars. “She’s a redhead now.”

“Spoke to one of her colleagues. She goes by a different name these days.”

“Which is?”

I didn’t get much out of the pizza cook when I interviewed him an hour ago, but what I did get does qualify as useful information. “Melissa,” I say. “Melissa Hancock.”

“That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?”

“The audacity is something,” I grumble. “How do we do this?”

Colton thinks about it for a moment. “We can’t arrest her. We don’t have the authority. We can’t spook her either. But we do want to bring her in for Kavanaugh to put just enough pressure on her to get her to confess.”

“Look at her,” I tell my brother. “She switched up her whole life to keep distance between herself and Jake Miller and the Esparza cartel. The moment she realizes who we are, Laurel’s gonna run for the hills. We’ll lose her.”

“We can’t afford to lose her.”

“We need to entice her with something,” I say. “Otherwise, she won’t tell the truth.”

Colton nods slowly. We need a smart approach if we’re to convince her to testify under oath again.

Colton’s phone rings. He picks up while I keep an eye on Laurel.

“Hey, Darla, what’s up?”

I hear her frantic voice, but I can’t make out the words. At the same time, Laurel carries a large pizza over to a table, then refills their coffee mugs with a flat, lifeless smile plastered across her face.

“Whoa… Darla, deep breath. Where are you?” Colton asks.

He has my full attention.

“Stay there, we’re on our way. And call the sheriff,” Colton says, then hangs up and starts the engine. “We need to get back to Long Pine right now.”

“What about Laurel?”

“She’s not going anywhere. She doesn’t know we were here,” he replies, then gives me a look I haven’t seen in a very long time. He’s scared, the blue in his eyes darkening with concern. “Melissa’s been taken.”

I thought I could weather any storm, any blizzard. I could take on an entire cartel of bloodthirsty Colombians and a thousand Jake Millers. I fought insurgents and terrorists, craven lunatics and warmongers. I stared death in the eyes, more times than I could count, yet all I ever had to do was take a deep breath, count to ten, and then let the monster inside me take over.

This time, however, I’m lost.

As Colton races toward Long Pine, the town rising ahead with its gloomy greys and white roofs, I realize I wasn’t prepared for this, for the real possibility that we might lose Melissa. She’s gone, and we don’t know what happened. Colton doesn’t have much information either. Darla was too frantic over the phone.

“There they are,” Colton says, pulling up outside the Cavalier.

Sammy is present, talking to his niece Louisa, while Kavanaugh pulls Darla away from the crying girl. The sheriff’s car is parked right in front of the diner’s massive doors, red and blue lights flashing, while curious onlookers try to hang around to find out what’s going on. Kavanaugh waves them away.

“Move it along, folks, nothin’ to see here!” he barks.

“I’ll smash her face!” Darla snaps, and the sheriff has to literally position himself between her and Louisa, aided by an equally befuddled Sammy.

“Thank God you’re here,” Sammy says upon noticing us. “Get her under control,” he adds, pointing at Darla.

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