Page 24 of Christmas Ransom

“Then I want to be part of the investigation,” she said. “I overheard you and James talking about tattoo shops. I want to come along.”

Davy’s first thought was to argue all the reasons she would be safer not to, but he could see that she’d made up her mind and he didn’t like leaving her here alone with everyone out of the office. “Sure, if you’re up to it.”

He saw her visibly relax. He knew she would feel better being involved, but still he worried. The killer was out there. He could be anyone on the street. They wouldn’t know until it was too late.

She was quiet on the drive to the small house she’d bought outside Lonesome. Covered in snow, it looked like a fairy-tale cottage in a snow globe. Davy parked in the unplowed driveway and took in his surroundings. Dark shadows hunkered in the snow-laden pines that sheltered the house on three sides. He was glad he’d talked her into coming back to the office, even though he wasn’t sure how long he could keep her there. But out here at the house, it would be hard to keep her safe unless he moved in, something he really doubted she would allow him to do.

After getting out, they walked through the fresh snow to the front door.No tracks, he thought. But that didn’t mean that someone hadn’t been here, hadn’t checked out the place for when they planned to come back.

Carla unlocked the door and they entered the foyer. They left their snowy boots on the mat by the door, and he followed her through the house. It struck him how much this place reflected her personality. Everything was neat and clean, the colors bright and sunny. There was no clutter. It appeared every furnishing had been handpicked over time to give the place a warm and welcoming feel.

It drew him in more than he wanted to admit. He’d been living out of a camper in his horse trailer all this time. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Carla. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d made a good life for herself.

And yet he knew this wasn’t what she had planned. She’d had higher aspirations, but had to put those on hold to come home to Lonesome and take care of her mother. She’d wanted to make something of herself, while he had just wanted adventure—and her to share in it as his wife.

Davy felt that old ache. He’d wanted her more than his next breath. But he couldn’t give up his dreams any more than she could hers. Still, he found himself wondering what their lives could have been if they’d married in these past ten years. Couldn’t they both have had what they wanted and still found a way to be together?

He scoffed silently at that as he looked around the house. Could he not see that Carla had wanted permanency, security, a place to call home? She’d never wanted his transient lifestyle. For her it wouldn’t have been an adventure at all.

Like she’d said back then, they wanted different things. This house stood as an example of how true that was. Except for one thing. They had wanted each other. Did they still?

She came out of the bedroom with a small bag that warned him she wouldn’t be staying long with him at the office.

“Got everything you need?” He watched her glance around the house before she nodded. She had roots, a home she clearly loved, a career. He would have taken that all from her had she come with him on the road. They’d chosen the trajectory of their lives back then based on what they wanted out of life. Thanks to a robbery and a killer on the loose, those lives had intersected again. But for how long?

Once the killer was caught, Carla would be going back to her life and he’d be going back to his. Even as he thought it, he knew that he wouldn’t come out of this experience unchanged though. But changed enough to find a way to be together? Or again brokenhearted and alone?

He turned his thoughts to finding the killer. With James and Tommy both busy on cases and Willie down at the sheriff’s department as part of his training as deputy, he and Carla would hit tattoo shops with the sketch she’d made.

“I thought we’d start with the local tattoo shop,” he told her once they were back in his pickup. “And if no luck there, branch out.”

Carla said nothing. She was looking in her side mirror as if she thought someone might be following them.

Davy glanced back. All he saw was a delivery truck behind them.

CARLALEANEDBACKand closed her eyes as they drove back into Lonesome. She hadn’t been able to sleep at first when she’d gone upstairs at the agency earlier. She’d felt restless and had found herself moving around the apartment, studying the posters and photographs.

She’d seen them as a teenager when she and Davy had been together. The movie poster was of his great-grandfather Ransom Del Colt, an old Hollywood Westerns star. There were flyers from Davy’s grandfather’s Wild West shows. RD Colt Jr. had traveled the globe ridin’ and ropin’ until late in his life.

Del Colt, the brothers’ father, had only stopped rodeoing because of an injury. He was the one who had started the investigation business. He was also the one who had taught his four sons to ride a horse when they were probably still in diapers.

As she’d moved around the room, she’d seen the Colt family legacy on the walls. Each generation had passed on that love to the next. Rodeo and horses and competition were embedded deep in the brothers’ genes. Had she really thought she could get Davy to give that up? What had made her think she had the right?

Well, he’d made his choice all those years ago and it hadn’t been her. That’s what made this so hard. The past was almost palpable between them. She knew it was why he felt he had to protect her. It wasn’t because of any residual feelings for her, she told herself. Yet she kept thinking about the day he’d come into the bank. Had he wanted to ask her out? If only he had. If only they could have started over then.

Feeling the weight of everything after she’d looked over the posters in the room, she’d finally lain down. As she’d drifted off, her last thought had been how desperately they both needed to get back to their lives before they tried to rewrite history—and got their hearts broken all over again.

JUDFOUNDJESSEwaiting for him when he got home from work the next day. She’d traded schedules with a friend, apparently, so wasn’t working her late shift. She seemed calm after being questioned by the feds about the note on the food tray.

“You think they believed you?” he asked as he joined her on the couch. He didn’t smell anything cooking and wondered if she’d gotten takeout or if he’d misunderstood and had been expected to pick something up.

She shot him a look. “Why wouldn’t they? Do I look like someone who would lie?”

He wasn’t about to touch that. At first glance, no. But he’d gotten to know her. He’d seen below the sweet, shy, blond exterior.

She got right down to business. “We have to assume that they know about the tattoo and will start looking for the person who inked it.” He’d never told her where he’d gone. He’d just come home with a tattoo. She might have thought a friend had done it because the tattoo was so simple. “The question is, how long before they track it back to you?”

Jud scoffed. “How would they do that? I didn’t have it done around here.” He could feel her gaze boring into him. “As many tattoo artists as there are in the state...” He shrugged. “Maybe if it were a unique design...”

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