Covert Christmas by Marilyn Pappano Page B

town.
    That whole idea seemed too outrageous to contemplate seriously—even for lost tourists. But then why…?
    Cam looked toward the woods, wishing he could take the time to do a thorough search for survivors. But the storm was getting worse by the minute and he needed to get Chloe off the mountain.
    After tramping his way back to the SUV, he slipped into the driver’s seat without letting in more than a handful of blowing snow. “You okay back there, Chloe?”
    â€œDid you see my angel, Daddy? Was she all right?”
    â€œNo angels. In fact, I didn’t see anyone.”
    Chloe began to whimper and Cam gritted his teeth. “If what you thought you saw was really an angel, she can take care of herself. Maybe she flew up to heaven.”
    â€œDo you think so?”
    â€œI’m sure of it. Now you be a good girl and stay quiet while I call Sheriff Reiner to report the…uh…incident.” In the rearview mirror, he saw Chloe nod and then stare out the window and up at the sky.
    Cam flipped open his cell, only to find it had no bars. The storm must be interfering with reception. Irritated, he stuck the phone on the seat beside him and put the SUV into gear.
    It would take an hour to go the usual twenty-minute distancedown to Juniper in this weather. But he had no choice. He planned to stop every fifteen minutes and check the phone.
    Cam tried to concentrate on his driving. But he couldn’t stand the idea of someone possibly lying in the woods bleeding to death while he could do nothing about it.

Chapter 2
    S tanding in his mother-in-law’s foyer with Stetson in hand, Cam shifted from one foot to the other, fighting to excuse himself and leave as soon as possible. “Jingle Bells” was playing through the sound system. Mistletoe over the door, decorated pine wreaths and the smell of gingerbread left little doubt about which season was being celebrated in this house.
    Christmas was a bigger pain in the ass than ever. The whole thing gave him heartburn.
    He wanted to be on his way back up the mountain before the storm got any worse. Along the route, he planned to check on what the sheriff had turned up at the car wreck scene.
    â€œDaddy, come see!” Chloe had dashed into the great room the minute he’d pulled off her coat and handed it over to her grandmother. Now she was calling him to join her.
    â€œI have to be going, Chloe.” Cam didn’t move but looked helplessly over to Pat, Chloe’s grandmother.
    â€œI happen to agree with your daughter, son. You just got here. You haven’t even taken off your coat yet. At least have a glass of eggnog.”
    Cam stared down at his boots, which were dripping on the gleaming cherrywood floor. “I can’t stay. I have to make sure the animals are okay and meet the sheriff on the mountain road before this storm socks us in.”
    Pat tsked at him. “The sheriff can handle that wreck without your help. And your man Jim Tisdale would never walk away from those lambs and chickens and leave you unprepared to last a week. The animals will be fine for a few hours. You just want to be up there alone on your mountaintop to brood over Christmas.”
    She put her hand on his arm, and lowered her voice. “Amanda’s death was not your fault, Cam. She would’ve died giving birth to Chloe whether you were there with her or not. I miss her, too. Every day. But it’s been four years. You can’t go on living under a rock and blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control. Your daughter needs you, and you need her.”
    He did not want to talk about this. Not now.
    â€œLet’s revisit this discussion in the new year, Pat. I’ve been thinking about making different arrangements for Chloe and I’d like to run them by you then. But right now I really do have to go before the snow piles up too badly on the narrowest part of drive. Jim isn’t there to