Page 130 of Noel Secrets
“Car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver and killed.” The words still tasted bitter on his tongue. But for once, it didn’t hollow him out.
“I’m so sorry, Clay.”
He didn’t like to think about losing them, since the pain was still too real. But this time, that ache seemed to have dimmed a tiny bit. “Jackie and I were high school sweethearts. We got married right after graduation. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and become a cop. I was away at training camp when the accident occurred. Anyway, after that, I had nothing but work. I applied to join the FBI and when I was accepted, I threw myself into the job.”
“You never remarried?”
He shook his head. Pulled an ornament from the box. Obviously, a child’s handmade photo frame made from popsicle sticks, a photo of a little boy glued inside. He held it up, and she smiled. “David?”
She nodded then took it from him and hug it on the tree. “He made this for me in Sunday school when he was five. I’ve hung it every year. In fact, he made most of my decorations for me.”
“You two are very close.”
“We are. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my child.”
He knew the sentiment. He’d felt the same way about Olivia from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. It still broke him that he couldn’t save her and Jackie. “Tell me about David. What kind of things does he like?”
Her face lit up as she spoke, her voice fuller than before. “He’s eleven. He loves art and drawing and paper-mache. Video games, of course. He’s a bit shy and introverted and he’s grown more into himself since his father’s addiction started causing so much trouble. That’s why I was so thankful when the church offered this Christmas camp. The last thing I wanted for David to do during the break was sit at home and dwell on the terriblethings going on. He and his father used to be close. Brent was a good husband and father once upon a time. The end of our marriage pains me, and I think losing his dad has hurt David as much. At the end, Brent never had time for him. They used to go to ball games and movies and play board games. They had fun together. Gradually, as Brent fell harder and harder into his addiction, all that came to an end. I think David blames himself for that, and I can’t seem to get through to him that he’s not to blame for his dad’s problems or for the divorce.”
“Eleven is a difficult age,” Clay said. “What about the camp? What do they do?”
“It’s at Silver Lake Campground. The church offers it for at-risk children, those without a strong father figure at home, for dysfunctional families and foster kids. They have horseback rides, fishing, obstacle courses, and other outside activities for mild weather. If it’s too cold, they have crafts and games inside. The kids get lots of exercise and a chance to make friends. I was thankful to them for including David, but he’s been struggling with homesickness. His cabin chaperone is worried about him, and he keeps calling, wanting to come home. I thought about bringing him home early until …”
“Until you discovered your life was in danger.”
She nodded then added a handmade snowman ornament to the tree. “He’s safer there for the time being. But soon he’ll come home and back into the mess I’ve made of my life.”
He reached out and touched her arm. “Darby, none of this is your fault.”
“How many people do you know who have an enemies list?”
Actually, a lot of them. But that was from working undercover in organized crime, where making enemies was part of everyday life. He understood what she meant, though. A kind, middle-class single mother shouldn’t be in danger, much lesshave multiple suspects who might be behind the threat. “You’re doing everything you can.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”
He stepped closer. “Darby, you’re doing more than most people would. You’ve held your family together as best you could. That’s saying something.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “My faith and David … they’re the only reasons I haven’t fallen apart.”
Something shifted inside Clay. Something steady and warm. He’d buried his faith with his family. But Darby? She clung to hers with both hands. And he admired her for it. Hefeltsomething for her.
Something real.
A car pulled into the driveway, a glare bouncing off the house and sweeping through the window.
Darby joined him at the curtain. “Sheraton PD,” she whispered. The tension inside her magnified. “What do you think they want?”
“We’ll find out.”
He opened the front door and a young officer greeted him. “Agent Walker, I’m Officer Massey of the Sheraton PD.”
Clay didn’t miss his use of the wordagent. He’d given the officers at the scene of the break-in his name and number, but he hadn’t identified himself as a federal agent. Somehow, the chief must have uncovered his true identity.
“Chief Dean would like you to come in. He wants to ask you some questions.”
“What about?”
The officer shrugged. “He just said to bring you in.”
