Christmas At Timberwoods by Fern Michaels

was something that came from the inside out.
    “Lex is going to come home with me,” Summers explained. “I’ve got a connection through the police force with a man by the name of Noel Dayton. I’ve already called him and he’s going to meet me at home. I don’t want to make this official by talking to him in the office or downtown at the station.”
    “Who’s Noel Dayton?” Heather asked.
    “He’s a police psychiatrist from New York City. I’d like him to talk to Angela.”
    Lex wrapped an arm around Heather’s waist and started walking. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll walk you down to your car.” Lex smiled down at her, his concern evident. “We’ll get a fresh start in the morning. And another thing—I don’t want you losing sleep over this,” he added sternly. “We’re going to do our best, and that’s all any of us can do.”
    Heather nodded gratefully. “Will I see you later?” she asked, hoping he would catch her silent invitation.
    “I’ll give you a call,” he said, smiling.
    “Harold, you should be in on this, too.” Summers turned to address the chief. “You will come home with me, won’t you?”
    “Of course. I’m chief of security. I’ll do everything I can.”
    “Thanks for the backup in Richards’s office. If we stand together maybe we can get to the bottom of this.” Summers’s voice was weary. “I don’t know what to believe at this point. All I know is that the bomb threat seemed real and tangible. I could hold that letter in my hand and look at it. This Steinhart thing, well, I just don’t know. But I do know that we’ve got to follow every lead, look into every corner. If Angela knows something, we’ve got to make her tell us. That’s where my concerns lie. I had an old sergeant in the police academy who used to say, ‘No threat is an empty threat.’ I tend to agree.”
    Harold worked his mouth into a smile and patted Summers’s back. “Exactly. And don’t worry about Richards. He’s the moron. I’ll get my coat and meet you by lot number five.”
     
     
    Lex hurried Heather through the cold, windy parking lot to her car.
    “It’s over there,” she said, pointing a gloved hand. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
    “I know, I know. Let’s just say I like to do it. It doesn’t mean I think you’re not capable of getting out to your car by yourself.”
    Heather laughed. Being with Lex was so nice, so easy. In the past two days their relationship had deepened—she’d heard that getting through a crisis made that happen sometimes. It was an awfully thin silver lining, she thought as they kept walking, but it would have to do.
    They stopped at her car. “Here it is,” she said. “Now you hurry over to Lot Number Five. Eric and Harold are probably waiting for you.”
    Lex grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Let them wait. I’ve got something important on my mind.” He rested his hand on the car roof and leaned close to her. His breath was soft and warm on her cheek and his eyes held hers softly.
    Heather lifted her face, offering her lips to his kiss. He gathered her in his arms and held her close, tight against him. “Mmmm,” he sighed into her ear. “I wish I was going home with you rather than Summers.”
    Heather laughed lightly. “I do, too, but you have to get together with Eric and Harold. No way am I going to be responsible for breaking up the three musketeers. On your way, mister.” She gave him a gentle push. “If it’s not too late when you’re through, give me a call.”
    “Will do,” he told her, touching her lips with his once again.
     
     
    Angela scanned the interior of the burger place for an empty booth. The lighting was dim and she found it soothing after the brightness of the mall. Still, she had to peer intently between the tinsel and artificial greenery that hung from the beams overhead.
    She almost wanted to put her hands over her ears and keep them there. God, she was tired of Christmas