Grave Christmas Secrets, page 8
“You’re leaving me alone?”
“I’ll lock the doors and return in less than five minutes.”
Keegan exited the SUV and hit the door locks. It wouldn’t take long to clear the lone standing building.
The lack of wind tempered the cold morning. He tugged his coat tighter and made his way through the decrepit barn, leaning heavily to one side. Rotting hay and old equipment filled the space. The farm, like many abandoned rural Nebraska properties, had been sold to a corporate farming agency who didn’t need the outdated equipment.
An engine drew Keegan outside, and he spotted the approaching vehicle. He unlocked the SUV with his key fob while sprinting the short distance and slid behind the wheel.
“Everything okay?” Taya asked.
“Yep. Now remember, whatever you do, don’t move or make a sound. Wanda’s as skittish as a rabbit.”
“Okay.”
Sure enough, the familiar beater made its way down the road. She parked beside him on the passenger side and got out, then climbed into his SUV.
Wanda wore a much too thin jacket, insufficient for the bitter winter cold. She shivered and settled into the seat. “Sorry to text so early, but I’ve got news,” she said.
Keegan turned up the heat, blasting warm air into the SUV. “What’s up?”
“Skull’s dead.”
He worked to evoke a shocked expression. “What? How? I just saw him last night.” None of it a lie.
“That’s all I know.” She wanted something else, but probing her to talk was a delicate operation.
“Keep your ear out and text me if you hear anything else.”
She nodded.
“How’re you doing? Still clean?”
Wanda’s methamphetamine addiction had served as the catalyst for destroying her life. She’d lost custody of her infant daughter and had racked up felony charges to support her habit. Keegan recruited Wanda after confirming her desperate acts weren’t a criminal lifestyle she wanted to continue. Losing her daughter had been the wakeup call she needed.
She knew his true identity and she’d proven herself trustworthy. Serving as his CI helped reduce her sentencing and gave her the slim possibility of regaining custody. The hope of getting her daughter back ensured her cooperation, giving them both a win-win situation.
She shrugged. “Brando says there’s a way to beat the system.”
“Brando’s a liar. The best thing is for you to get sober and find a job. Prove to the judge you can handle being a mom.”
“I make more working for Brando. I can do it without using, too.”
“Wanda, look at me.”
She glanced up slowly, meeting his gaze with her bloodshot, tired brown eyes. Years of drug abuse had aged her twenty-year-old face with lesions and rotted out her teeth.
“You cannot trust Brando. He’s trying to keep you in his grip. You’re doing great by helping me. Where’s your reminder?”
Wanda reached into her jeans pocket and removed a small picture of her daughter.
Keegan pointed to the beautiful child. “Do what’s right for Molly. She needs her mother.”
She looked down and nodded. “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” she quoted.
“Exactly. Rely on Christ’s strength, okay? You’re making progress every day you’re sober.”
A tear slipped down her cheek as she fingered the picture.
“When’s the last time you ate or slept?”
She shrugged.
Keegan glanced at the coffee, sodas and kolaches. He lifted the platter and offered them to her, but she declined with a shake of her head.
“No, thank you.”
“Wanda, I need a favor.”
“What?” Apprehension covered her expression.
“I requested a meeting with Brando, and he said he’d get back to me. But it has to happen today. Can you help me by arranging the details with Brando?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Keegan dug into his pocket and pulled out cash. He placed it in her hand. “Take this. Buy groceries and a get a hotel for a few nights.”
Wanda’s lip quivered. “Thanks. I’m still learning ’bout God, but if He’s anything like you, He must be a good man.”
Her words hit him with the intensity of a grenade. Lord, I’m not worthy. Help me show her Your love.
“I better go.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Keegan promised.
Wanda didn’t reply as she slipped from the SUV. She returned to her car and drove away.
Once she was out of sight, Keegan said, “It’s safe.”
Taya pushed back the blanket, and he caught a shimmer dancing in her crystal blue eyes. “You’re a good man, Keegan Stryker.”
If only Taya understood that no good deed recompensed his failure to protect Patrice.
Nothing he did would ever be enough.
* * *
Taya stared incredulous at the three-story redbrick building that had to be on a historical site list somewhere. The old abandoned school sat on the edge of town and seemed to grow more ominous as they drew closer, even with the morning light reflecting off what remained of the upper-level windows.
Keegan parked on the backside away from the view of the road.
“You want me to hide in there?” Taya sent up a silent prayer that wasn’t the plan.
“Trust me. This is a fortress.”
She didn’t respond.
“It looks worse on the outside than it does on the inside.”
“Even without a personal assessment, I’d say that’s debatable.”
She ignored Keegan’s adorable lopsided grin. He busied himself gathering a pair of binoculars, which he hung around his neck, then grabbed a flashlight from the console. He pushed open the driver’s door and stepped out, slipping his gun into the waistband of his jeans. Last, he tucked his soda bottles into his jacket pockets.
Glued in her seat by dread, Taya didn’t move until Keegan approached the passenger side.
She reluctantly slid out of the vehicle. Then remembering the two packages of kolaches and her coffee, grabbed them before shutting her door.
He walked to the rear of the SUV and popped the hatchback. “Can you shoot?”
Taya hesitated. Technically, she hadn’t fired a gun in years and the last time had been for fun using targets. How hard could it be? Something akin to riding a bike. Pride kept her from confessing her inadequacies. Besides, with Bear protecting her, she wouldn’t need a gun anyway. “A little.”
Keegan withdrew a pistol and handed it to her. “Only in an emergency and remember, the safety is on.”
She nodded and tucked the gun into her waistband, mimicking him.
Boards covered most of the school’s lower windows, but the remaining few revealed blinds hung askew.
“Local legend says the place is haunted,” Keegan said.
Taya halted and glared at him with what she hoped conveyed her most dubious I-don’t-believe-you-and-I’m-not-going-in-there look.
He laughed and tugged at her non-coffee-bearing arm. “You’re a scientist, right? You don’t buy into that stuff. But I view the legend as a benefit because it keeps intruders away.”
“If you say so.”
Keegan glanced up and gestured toward the structure. “Don’t you love the architecture? And this construction is solid and dependable. Yep, you’ll be safe here while I go to The Camp to meet Brando.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? Taya trailed Keegan to a single side door. A padlock prevented entry.
She paused and studied a long metal tube running from the third floor to the ground. “What’s that? Resembles an antiquated slide.”
“Pretty much. It’s an old fire escape chute,” Keegan said. Inserting a key, he removed the padlock and pushed wide the wooden door.
Taya shook her head. “After you.”
He grinned and ducked under the overhanging cobwebs. Taya followed, gaze roaming the darkness. She jerked when the door slammed behind her, engulfing them in a wave of dust. Keegan flipped on his flashlight and led her through the narrow staff entry into the main hallway. The stuffy air hung thick and their footsteps echoed.
She stayed close beside him. “Why this place?” she whispered.
“Trust me, no one ever comes here. I put the padlock on six months ago. You saw it’s still undisturbed.”
Sweeping the light, Keegan illuminated the first-floor classrooms as they made their way through the hall. Taya hung back, hugging herself, unable to move into the ominous darkness.
Keegan must have sensed her absence because he turned and walked back to her. “Are you okay?”
She glanced up, still frozen. “I hate the dark,” she admitted.
“Want me to carry you? Or would you prefer to hold my hand?” His grin was teasing, but she considered taking him up on both offers.
Instead, she shook her head. “I’m coming.”
“We’re almost there,” Keegan assured, leading her through the blackness.
Gradually, their trek brightened courtesy of two rectangular windows high above the expansive foyer. Keegan moved to the left wall, where a massive wooden staircase cascaded elegantly from the floor above.
Upon closer inspection, Taya noted several broken steps with gaping holes. Her gaze traveled to the second-and third-floor landings that disappeared into the darkness. “Can’t we stay on the main floor? Wouldn’t that be safer?” She placed her hand on his arm to stop him from walking away.
“You’ll have a great visual from the top. Be careful which steps you walk on. Some of them have rotted out but most are intact. Keep to the far sides where the stairs are the strongest. Follow me.” He didn’t wait for her so Taya schlepped behind him, cautious to step in his path to avoid her foot going through the wood.
When they reached the second floor, Taya studied the slivers of sunlight peering between uncovered sections of the tall window. Hallways on either side faded into gradually increasing shades of gray that merged into blackness at the far end.
Keegan led her to the right. “Most of the rooms are bare or filled with junk. There’s no in-between.” He pushed open the first door, groaning in disapproval.
Spears of light filtered in and Keegan shut off the flashlight. Taya studied the classroom, devoid of furniture. The blackboard still displayed the daily assignments in a teacher’s elegant cursive.
They exited and moved farther down the hall but didn’t stop to inspect each room.
Taya imagined children laughing, teachers instructing and the many lives that once filled this building. She detested the lack of sunlight, but couldn’t deny her appreciation for the architecture. Even with the old musty smell, there was an endearing uniqueness to the school.
At the end of the hallway, Keegan turned on his flashlight and entered the last room. The covered windows prohibited sunlight, and his beam bounced off stacks of desks, file cabinets and other assorted junk.
“Why not clean this up and use it for historical purposes? Or repurpose it in some other way?” Taya asked.
Keegan shrugged. “Who knows? A shame, though. I think this old place has many years left to share.”
She studied him, intrigued by his gentle thoughtfulness. The same characteristics had touched her heart as she’d eavesdropped on his conversation with Wanda.
They continued their tour to the third floor—a duplicate of the second—with only the sound of their rhythmic footsteps accompanying them. When at last they reached the top of the stairs, Keegan paused.
Taya’s pulse increased and she strained to see what kept him from proceeding.
Finally, he moved across to a closed door centered in the hallway. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a key and opened the door. “The middle room has the best view.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.” Keegan entered and set his soda bottles on a teacher’s desk at the front of the rectangular room.
Taya placed the kolaches, her coffee and the pistol beside his drinks. She walked the length of the area to the only window not covered by boards. “I’m still baffled at why we’re hiding here. Why not a hotel?”
“We need to be invisible. Hotels have too many people.”
She returned to the teacher’s desk and wiped off a corner before sitting. “How do you know we’re safe?”
Keegan joined her. “Sometimes I come here to relax and conduct surveillance. I have a great view of Brando’s Camp from that window.” He passed her the variety kolache platter. “However, if you’ve got a better idea I’m listening.”
Taya shook her head. “Wish I did. What are the flavors?” She took the plate from him, diverting from his comment.
“Apricot, cream cheese and prune. The other package has raspberry ones.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Prune?”
“Best ones. Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“You can have the raspberry ones. Not my favorite flavor, but the bakery clerk insisted and I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.” Taya withdrew an apricot pastry.
“I’m not a raspberry fan, either.” He took a prune kolache. “Last chance. There’s only one.”
“No, thanks. Help yourself.”
He slid off the desk and moved to the farthest window and, using the binoculars still hanging around his neck, peered out the broken glass covered in cobwebs and dust.
“Anything interesting?” Taya asked.
“No. It’s too early. Brando’s men don’t move before noon. Which is why I meet Wanda in the mornings.”
Taya considered asking her hundred and one questions about his confidential informant, but didn’t want to be appear nosy. She’d only heard Wanda’s voice and pictured an older woman based on the deep, raspy tone. “What does she look like?”
Keegan walked to her and withdrew his phone. He swiped at the screen and passed the device to her.
The woman staring back at Taya was nothing like she’d envisioned. The mug shot—which was never flattering anyway—took her aback. Long, scraggly dirty blond hair framed her gaunt and sunken face. Dark rings encircled her shadowed brown eyes and lesions covered her cheeks and forehead. A sadness seemed to hang over Wanda.
“She’s had a hard life,” Keegan said, taking his phone back. “I met her when I first went undercover in Brando’s group. She lost her infant daughter after she almost OD’d on meth.” He studied the phone. “I don’t know. Something about her tore at my heart. I found a way to help her as long as she’d become my CI. She’s done a great job staying clean even with Brando pushing her to use again.”
“Does that happen often?”
“What?”
“Being moved by a troubled soul like Wanda.”
Keegan shook his head. “That’s the thing with law enforcement. It’s a fine balance between discerning liars and cons to helping victims. I don’t think rehabilitation works for everyone. But Wanda has a chance. She’s got something to fight for and that makes a big difference.”
Taya nodded. Keegan continued to impress and confuse her. Worse, he was tearing at her hard-hearted assumptions regarding cops. She bit into the kolache, surprised at the buttery crust and sweet fruit combination. “This is scrumptious.”
“Glad you like them.” He withdrew a second—cream cheese this time—and took a bite. “Dr. Taya McGill, we’ve got time to kill. Tell me about you.”
“I’d prefer not use the term ‘kill’ if it’s all the same.”
“Sorry.”
She shrugged. “No offense, Keegan, but I’d rather not chitchat. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re right. We need to recoup.” He walked to a cabinet and retrieved a rolled sleeping bag. “Not fancy, but beats lying on the floor.”
“You keep supplies?”
“Told you, I stay here and do surveillance sometimes,” he said, unrolling it. Keegan whistled a familiar Christmas song.
“Hardly seems possible it’s almost Christmas.” Taya dropped onto the sleeping bag and leaned against the wall.
“Have a big wish list?”
She snorted. “Nope. I prefer to survive the holidays unscathed. However, I look forward to a new year.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you a resolution person?” He took a swig of his cola.
“No. I like beginnings, though. Fresh starts.”
“Christmas was always a big deal in our house. My dad dressed up as Santa Claus when I was young. Later, my stepmother, Ione, decorated every room and we had a massive tree.”
“That must’ve been fun.” Taya averted her gaze, not wanting Keegan to see her jealousy. Christmas festivities lost their appeal at the McGill home after the incident. She shook off the painful memories.
Keegan stared past her at the chipped blackboard across the room. “I haven’t celebrated with my family in two years.”
“Because of your job?”
“Yeah.” A sadness lingered in his reply. “I’ll be glad to go home.”
Did someone wait for Keegan’s return?
Why did it matter?
The perplexing answer consumed her thoughts. Keegan had drawn out a braveness she never knew she possessed. The glimpses of his tenderness for others morphed her view of law enforcement officers. Worse, he’d awakened her heart and that terrified her.
Asking questions about him would only solidify his departure and invite discussion about her personal life. And she wasn’t willing to go there.
SEVEN
Keegan startled at his phone’s chime and silenced the device before reading the text from Wanda. Meeting postponed.
What did that mean? He slid off the desk and walked toward the window where bright sunlight filled the room with warmth.
Soft rhythmic breaths carried from where Taya lay curled on the sleeping bag, one hand tucked under her cheek. He studied her youthful features, her pursed rosebud lips and small nose. Long blond hair cascading in waves to the middle of her back. Cute as a button, Grandma Stryker would say.
