Cardwell Christmas Crime Scene

At the airport, he waited on the ground floor by the baggage claim area. There were a half-dozen people standing around holding signs. Dana Savage was one of them. The sign she held up read, CARDWELL RANCH. DJ.

He hung back as the arrivals began coming down from upstairs. On the drive here, he’d told himself there was no way he would be able to recognize DJ. She’d just been a kid of five all those years ago. He’d been a skinny but worn ten.

But the moment he laid eyes on the dark-haired woman at the top of the escalator, he recognized her. Dee Anna Justice. That brown-eyed girl had grown into a striking woman. Her hair was long, pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Burnished strands had come loose and hung around her temples.

Silver flashed at her ears and her wrists and throat. She was wearing jeans, winter leather boots that came up to her knees and a teal blue sweater. She had a leather coat draped over one arm, and there was a carry-on in her hand.

She looked up in his direction as if sensing him staring at her. He quickly looked away. This was not what he expected. DJ didn’t look like a woman on the run. She looked like a woman completely in control of the world around her.

So what was he doing here?

* * *

DJ HAD STILL been upset as the flight attendant announced they would be landing soon. She’d stuffed her purse back under the seat. Out the window, she’d seen nothing but white. Snow blanketed everything. She’d realized with a start that she’d never felt snow. Or had she?

Now she surveyed the small crowd of people waiting on the level below as she rode the escalator down. She knew she was being watched, could feel an intense stare. But when she looked in the direction it came from, she was surprised to see a cowboy.

He stood leaning against the stone wall next to the baggage claim area. He was dressed in jeans, boots and a red-and-black-plaid wool jacket. His dark Stetson was pulled low, his blond hair curling at the neck of his jacket.

As he tilted his head back, she saw the pale blue familiar eyes and felt a shock before he quickly looked away. There had been a moment of...recognition. Or had she just imagined that she knew him? She tried to get a better look at him. Why had she thought she recognized him?

She had no idea.

He was no longer paying any attention to her. She studied his profile. It was strong, very masculine. He held himself in a way that told her he was his own man. He was no urban cowboy. He was the real thing.

She scoffed at the idea that she knew him. She would have remembered a man like that. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off him and was startled when she reached the end of the escalator.

Turning toward the exit, she spotted a woman about her own age holding a sign that said CARDWELL RANCH on it, and in smaller letters, DJ.

The moment her cousin saw her, she beamed with a huge smile. DJ was surprised how that smile affected her. Tears burned her eyes as she was suddenly filled with emotion. She had the crazy feeling that she’d finally come home. Which was ridiculous, since she’d never had a real home life and, as far as she knew, had never been to Montana.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she wound her way through the small crowd to the young woman. “Dana?”

“DJ?”

At her nod, Dana gave her a quick hug. “Welcome to Montana.” She stepped back to stare at DJ. “You don’t look anything like the last Dee Anna Justice.”

DJ heard relief in her cousin’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Dana said, then must have noticed that DJ didn’t know what she was talking about. “Your father did tell you about your former roommate pretending to be you.”

“No, I guess he failed to mention that.”

“Well, it’s water under the bridge... I’m just glad you’re here and I finally get to meet you.”

“Me, too,” DJ said, feeling that well of emotion again.

“We’ll get your luggage—”

“This is all I have.” Traveling light wasn’t the only habit she’d picked up from her father. She had stopped by the bank before she’d left San Diego. She took cash from her safe-deposit box, just in case she might have reason not to use her credit card. But that would mean that she was on the run and needed to hide.

Dana glanced at the overnight bag. “That’s it? Not to worry. We have anything you might need. Ready to see the ranch?”

She was. “I’m looking forward to it.” Again she felt someone watching her and quickly scanned the area. It was an old habit from the years when her father used her as a decoy or a lookout.

“Always watch for anyone who seems a little too interested in you—or the ones who are trying hard not to pay you any mind,” he used to say.

She spotted the cowboy. He had moved from his spot against the wall and now stood as if waiting for his baggage to arrive. Except he hadn’t been on the flight.

“Do you need anything else before we head out?” Dana asked, drawing her attention again.

“No, I’m good,” DJ said and followed Dana toward the exit. She didn’t have to look back to know that the cowboy was watching her. But he wasn’t the only one.

* * *

BEAU WATCHED DJ LEAVE, curious if anyone else was watching her. Through the large window, he could see Dana’s SUV parked outside. DJ was standing next to it, the two seeming to hit it off.

No one seemed to pay her any attention that he could tell. A few people were by the window, several taking photographs. In the distance, the mountains that surrounded the valley were snowcapped against a robin’s-egg-blue sky.

He watched DJ climb into the SUV. As it pulled away, there was the clank of the baggage carousel. The people who’d been standing at the window all turned, pocketing their phones. One man took a moment to send a text before moving to the baggage claim area. Everyone looked suspicious, and no one did.

Beau realized he was flying blind. He had to know why Walter Justice had hired him. He had to know what kind of trouble DJ was in.

Pulling out his phone, he stepped outside into the cold December afternoon. The air smelled of snow. Even with the winter sun shining against the stone wall of the airport, it was still chilly outside.

Beau was glad when the emergency number he’d called was answered. It took a few minutes for Walter to come on the line. He wondered what kind of deal the inmate had made that allowed him such service. Con men always found a way, he thought, remembering his own father.

“Have you seen her?” Walter asked at once.

“I have. But you might recall, I’ve seen her before.”

“She was just a child then.”

“She’s not now,” he said, thinking of the striking woman who’d come down those stairs. “That’s just one reason I need to tell her the truth.”

“No. That would be a mistake. You don’t know her—she doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Whose fault is that?” Beau asked. “If you want me to get close to her, you have to let me do it my way. Tell me what kind of danger she’s in.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

Beau swore under his breath. “You expect me to believe that? I have to know what I’m up against.” Walter knew enough that he’d “hired” Beau.

Silence filled the line for so long, he feared the inmate had hung up. “It could have something to do with her mother.”

“DJ’s mother?”

“Sorry, not DJ’s mother. Carlotta is dead. Her grandmother Marietta is still alive. Marietta might have found DJ.”