Page 61 of This Christmas

Chapter Sixteen

For the next few days, the snow came and went. They spent a lot of time outside, playing in it. He got to know the two horses, Stormy and Blaze, and even took Blaze out on a short ride. It had been years since he’d been on a horse’s back. He missed it.

Clay called him less than a week before Christmas and told him he wanted to meet in person. He hated to leave Ally and Charlotte, but he couldn’t put it off. Not if his buddy had details that could help. And Clay had been insistent and hinted that it was too sensitive to discuss over the phone. It was just for one night anyway. He thought of asking Ally and Charlotte to come with him, but he didn’t think they’d want, or deserve, to stay in a Portland hotel for a night.

The roads into the city were slushy, the snow packed tight in the shoulders from the week’s plowing. He parked across from the old diner off Burnside, the kind of place that hadn’t changed its neon sign since the seventies, and spotted Clay through the window. His buddy was sitting in a booth, half hidden behind a mug of coffee and a diner menu.

Joe stepped inside and the bell over the door gave a tired jingle. Clay didn’t bother standing up and shaking his hand. Instead he ran his eyes over him. “You look good,” he said.

“You look like hell,” he joked back, causing Clay to chuckle. “What’ve you got for me?”

Clay flipped open a manila folder, the paper inside smudged and creased from handling. “You were right about Ted Garrison. He’s stepped in it deep.”

Joe leaned forward. “How deep?”

“Federal deep.” Clay’s eyes met his. “Word is there’s a joint task force sniffing around—DOJ, FBI, even someone from Treasury. They’ve been building a case for months. It looks like your boy’s been obstructing a few high-profile investigations, funneling federal grant money through his office, and doing a little evidence cleaning when it suited him.”

Joe frowned. “Obstructing what kind of investigations?”

Clay lowered his voice and glanced around the diner. “Organized crime, mostly. Some of the same crews the Feds have been tracking on the coast for smuggling and fraud. Word is, Garrison’s been protecting a few of them, maybe in exchange for campaign support, maybe because they’ve got something on him. There are also rumors he’s had his ex bugged and watched on the dime of the DA’s office. He’s bypassed rules and the law in several cases against her, which is what you discovered already.”

“Yeah. What about Peterson?” Joe’s stomach tightened.

“That’s the kicker.” Clay pulled another file from the pile sitting beside him on the bench. “It turns out, Peterson was hired by Garrison but not to watch his ex. His secretary claims that there are maps of the lighthouse and some old plans from the city dating back years ago that he was researching. She also swears that one of his checks had a federal stamp on it shortly after Ted hired him, along with some kind of coded payment authorization. She didn’t understand it, but she recognized the insignia.”

“So, Peterson was working for Ted to look into the lighthouse and working for the government?” he asked.

“It looks that way. Maybe that’s why he was in the tunnels? I suppose he could have been undercover. Maybe even internal affairs. Hell, could even be DOJ.” Clay shoved his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whatever it is, Garrison’s being watched very closely. And if you’re anywhere near this when it blows, you could get caught in the fallout.”

Joe sat back, the weight of it pressing hard against his chest. The diner’s hum faded to a dull roar.

He’d suspected Ted was dirty, but this was deeper than he’d imagined. Federal-level corruption, secret investigators, money trails. Ally had no idea what kind of danger could trickle down from something like this. He’d known all about the man using and abusing his power to get to her, but he’d had no idea the guy was this crooked.

He glanced out the window, watching the reflection of passing headlights slide over the glass. “Keep digging,” he said quietly. “Find out who in the government Peterson was working for and why. And see if Ted’s hired anyone new who might come after Ally now.”

Clay nodded. “You think she’s in danger?”

Joe looked him dead in the eye. “If Ted’s desperate enough to cover his tracks? I do. If he hired Peterson to find a way into the house, unnoticed, then yeah.” He felt his stomach turn.

By the time he left the diner, the snow had picked up again. Thick, wet flakes clung to the windshield as he guided the car down the slick streets of the city toward the roadside motel he sometimes stayed in. It had paper-thin walls and beds that sank in the middle, and it smelled of old cigarette smoke. The sign read VACANCY in snowy half-burnt red letters.

Inside his room, the air smelled faintly of bleach and mold. The heater rattled in protest when he turned it on. He tossed his duffel on the bed and sank down onto the creaking mattress. He ran both hands over his face and desperately wished he was awake enough to turn back around and head to Pride.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and called Ally. It only rang once before she answered.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft and sleepy.

“Hey yourself.” He smiled faintly, the sound of her voice warming something deep in his chest. “Are you two doing okay?”

“Yeah. Charlotte wore herself out building snow forts after you left. She’s out cold. Olaf, too.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I miss you already.”

There was a quiet pause, the kind filled with things neither of them were quite ready to say aloud. “We miss you too,” she finally whispered. “Find out anything?”

He debated on how much to tell her, but he didn’t want to keep a single fact from her. She deserved the truth, all of it, no matter how ugly. “Enough to know that Ted’s got bigger problems than we thought.”

For the next five minutes, he filled her in on what Clay had found.