Page 26 of Christmas Ransom

“I did a little research on my phone,” she said without looking at him.

Big John considered the two of them before he took the sketch and held it up to the light. Stepping over to a tray next to his chair, he picked up a large magnifying glass and studied the sketch more closely. He nodded and handed the paper back.

“You’re right. It could be a trademark sign. If so, then I know the so-called artist. An embarrassment to our craft. Bad for business, you know,” he said, giving Carla a nod.

“What’s inside the tiny black heart?” Davy asked.

“Up close with a magnifying glass on the tattoo itself it could be a tiny broken heart with anSin it,” Big John said. “Some artists put a little of themselves into every tattoo they do, kind of like a signature at the bottom of a canvas.”

He handed back the sketch. “So let’s talk about a tattoo for you, Davy Colt. I could do a bucking horse.”

“I see enough of those, but thanks.”

“Still afraid of needles, huh? Your girlfriend here wasn’t afraid.”

Davy didn’t think Carla could surprise him more. “You got a tattoo?” Her face flamed.

“You haven’t seen it yet, huh?” Big John laughed and winked at Carla. “He’s in for a surprise, huh.”

“Can you tell us where we can find the tattoo artist who might have done the tattoo?” she asked, clearly anxious to change the subject.

“If I’m right, Butte,” Big John said with a sigh. “The name of the shop is Sam’s Pit. Get it?”

“After the Berkeley Pit,” Davy said. A former open-pit copper mine, The Pit, as it was known, was a mile long and a half mile wide and held fifty billion gallons of toxic water. It was a lasting symbol of mining gone wrong. Only 19 percent of cities were more dangerous as a place to live because of the toxic pit.

“Sam is really Samantha Elliot,” Big John said with a chuckle. “You’ll find her rather interesting. You might want to take a sidearm just in case she doesn’t like the looks of you. Or take Carla here with you.” His belly laugh followed them out the door.

“IDON’TWANTto talk about it,” Carla said the moment they were outside Big John’s tattoo parlor.

Davy glanced over at her as they walked back to where he’d parked the pickup. She knew that grin. She also recognized the curiosity in those blue eyes of his. He was dying to know about the tattoo along with what and where it was. She should have known Big John would say something.

Holding up both hands in surrender, Davy said, “I won’t mention your tattoo again.” But that wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it, she thought, feeling her cheeks redden again.

“So when do we go to Butte?” she asked, hating that he could get under her skin so easily.

“We can go today. I need to stop by the office and see if James is back. He might have heard something from the hospital,” Davy said as they climbed into his pickup. “I’m anxious to find out the name of the blonde aide who brought you your dinner tray—and then took it away.”

Carla knew she’d messed up by not keeping the note. She wanted to blame her concussion and that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. That probably had played a part in it since she’d been feeling so vulnerable. But she knew it had also been fear. Just the thought that the person who’d hurt her could get to her even in the hospital...

“It’s not your fault,” Davy said as they drove the few blocks to the Colt Brothers Investigation building. Fortunately, there was parking in the back alley. “You were recovering from a head injury and you were scared.”

She wished he would stop reading her mind. It had always been like this between them. She had thought it would have changed in all the time they’d been apart. “Maybe the feds could have gotten fingerprints or—”

“Not likely.”

“But it would have been proof,” she cried.

Davy glanced at her. “Or the agent would have suspected you wrote it yourself.”

She groaned. He was right. She had to let it go. They now had a lead on the tattoo. Once they had J’s full name...

AFTERDAVYLEFTCarla’s overnight bag upstairs in her room, they went down to the office to find James sitting behind the large desk. “Good news,” he announced when he saw them. “I just got the list of hospital personnel and information about who’s nearing retirement and vacation schedules.”

Davy quickly moved to look over his brother’s shoulder at the computer screen. It didn’t take long to sort the names by the initialJ. Carla joined him.

There was one Jennifer and one Jane. Jane worked in medical records and was about to retire. Jennifer was a young nurse’s aide who was on Christmas vacation all week in Mexico.

Disappointed, Davy said, “Did you get the name of the blonde aide? She not only brought Carla’s dinner tray, but also took it away.”

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