Page 2 of Christmas in the Shadows

What if the manwasin trouble? Was that why he’d called Tex here? So Tex could protect him?

Nowthatwas a theory that made sense.

Tex’s gun was tucked into a holster at his waistband. He’d developed the habit first in the military and then through working with the Shadow Agency. When a person worked the missions he’d worked, they were always on guard, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Without saying anything, Tex quietly nudged the door open.

It didn’t even creak as it swung on its hinges.

From the threshold, he scanned the place, which was dark other than some ambient lighting.

The dining room lay to his right and the formal living room—complete with a lit Christmas tree—to his left. A wooden staircase stretched in front of him, leading up to the bedroomson the second floor. A garland was strung on the banister, and the place looked clean and tidy.

Nothing had changed since he’d been here last, other than the seasonal decorations.

So far, he saw no one.

He took a quiet step forward. He was good at being a ghost. It was what he’d been trained to do.

He walked across the wood floor of the dark hallway, being sure to avoid the one loose board that always creaked. It was two slats from the stairway, right in front of the HVAC vent.

Tex reached the next doorway. The kitchen. The light over the sink cast a soft glow in the room.

It looked just as he remembered with its olive-green cabinets, white countertops, and dark wood finishes.

He thought he should feel something. A rush of nostalgia.

But he felt nothing, not even a hint of warmth or fondness.

He turned, heading to the other side of the hallway, where the living room was located.

The living room with the wooden beams across the ceiling and a red brick fireplace on the opposite wall. Gilbert had set up a tree in the corner, decorated with white lights and generic red and green ornaments. Nothing personal.

But Gilbert was nowhere to be seen.

Tex wasn’t ready to let down his guard yet.

He headed through the living room to a room just off the side. An old sunroom there had been converted into an office. When Tex was in high school, Gilbert had sports memorabilia all over the walls—autographed posters, flags, a framed jersey.

In Tex’s opinion, the room had always seemed a weird place to have an office. But he supposed Gilbert was just trying to make the most of the space here in the historic home located in a small town.

Tex paused at the office doorway.

Someone was inside, he realized.

And it wasn’t Gilbert.

This person wore all black, all the way up to his stocking hat. The intruder’s figure was smaller than Gilbert’s robust one.

The man stood with his back toward Tex, thumbing through the desk drawers.

Tex bristled and drew himself up to full height. “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?”

Then he waited for a response.

Chelsea Lennox froze at the deep voice.

No one was supposed to be here.

---