The Christmas Clue. Delores Fossen
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though he was a prime specimen of a man, Cass didn’t dare let that distract her. Not a chance. This situation could easily get out of hand even more than it already was.
“Well?” he said.
Definitely not a greeting but more like a challenge. It also had a tinge of a Texas drawl and more than a bit of dismissal to it. If he were even remotely concerned about having an armed intruder walk in on him, he didn’t show it.
“I need to talk to you,” Cass managed to say.
He lifted his left eyebrow. “And you thought aiming a tranquilizer gun at me was the easiest way to do that?”
“The safest,” she corrected. “I’m not here to hurt you, only to talk. I couldn’t meet with you at your office. Not with their security measures. And the office, assignments, your city apartment and this house seem to be the only places you ever go. You really don’t have much of a life,” she added in a mumble.
“I suppose this is your idea of getting me a life?”
“In a way. Just think of this as an early Christmas present.” Cass backed out into the hallway, to put some physical distance between them. It didn’t help. Matt Christensen still seemed to be right in her face.
“How did you get into my house?” he asked.
“I picked the lock. It’s a little skill that I’ve unfortunately had to learn to stay alive. It also helped that your security system wasn’t on. I guess this isn’t a high crime area out here. By the way, I’m Cass Harrison—”
“Even with the dye job and the bad haircut, I know who you are,” he interrupted. “Cassandra Leeann Harrison. Age twenty-eight. Last known residence, San Antonio. I’ve seen your pictures at least a dozen times in the newspapers and on wanted flyers.”
She resisted the urge to try to smooth her fingers through what he considered her bad cut. And it was bad. Being on the run from the authorities didn’t leave much time for visits to the hair salon.
“You’re an heiress. Or at least you used to be. Now, you’re a rich fugitive from justice,” he continued. “I know of at least two federal agencies who want to question you.”
“What they want is to put me in prison for something I didn’t do.”
“You didn’t assist your former boyfriend, Dominic Cordova, with his illegal transfer of funds to a South American bank account? And you didn’t murder his business associate when he discovered that illegal transfer?”
There it was. The accusations in a nutshell. A simple cockily delivered summary of something that hadn’t been so simple. It’d been earth-shattering, life altering. It’d felt as if someone had crushed her heart.
“No.” Cass shook her head. “I didn’t have any idea Dominic would set me up to take the fall for those charges. But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is I finally get to clear my name, and you’re going to help me do it.”
He rolled those deep blue eyes. “I have no intention of helping you evade these charges.”
“I think you will, once you hear what I have to say. I believe there’s evidence at Dominic Cordova’s estate in West Texas that will exonerate me.”
“So?” he challenged.
“So, the Justice Department has put Dominic off-limits.” It wasn’t a guess, either. Cass had kept very close tabs on Dominic, and she didn’t care much for the authorities’ change in attitude toward him.
“Political alliances make strange bedfellows,” Christensen countered. “The department considers you the bad guy, Ms. Harrison. Not Dominic Cordova. These days, he’s the man they’re backing to help them bring down criminals that they consider to be a lot worse.”
“There isn’t anyone worse than Dominic. And as I said, there’s evidence at his estate that’ll prove that the Justice Department can’t trust him. I want you to use your training and your contacts to help me get that evidence.”
His mouth quivered, threatening to smile. “I’m a federal agent, not a mercenary. Nor an idiot.”
“I don’t trust idiots or mercenaries. I’ve been burned by a few of the latter who’ve tried to sell me out for the bounty that Dominic has on my head.”
“But you’d trust me?” he fired back.
She huffed, and made sure it conveyed “not on your life.”
Matt Christensen huffed, too. “Let’s get something straight, lady. I’m not going to risk my career, my butt or anything else to help you. In fact, I’m going to call the cops so they can come and get you.”
“You can’t call them.” Cass raced after him, caught on his arm and somehow managed to get him to stop. Touching practically every part of his body, she squeezed past him and into the corridor just off the kitchen so she could step in front of him and meet his gaze head-on.
“Just listen to me,” she bargained. “And at the end of my explanation, if you still want to call the police, then I won’t stop you.”
It was a massive lie. A necessary one designed to buy her some time. She would stop him. Someway, somehow. Because an arrest would almost certainly lead to her death. Dominic or one of his hired guns would see to it that she wasn’t around to accuse him of the things he’d done. In the eleven-and-a-half months she’d been on the run, there’d been almost a half-dozen attempts on her life. In prison she’d be a sitting duck.
Matt Christensen studied her a moment with eyes that were somehow sizzling and cool at the same time. It wasn’t a quick assessment. In the depths of all those shades of blue, Cass could see the battle he was having with himself. A battle about whether or not to listen.
“Start talking,” he ordered.
Cass knew a gift when she saw it, and she didn’t waste time. “For months I’ve been trying to figure out how to prove I’m innocent. I finally got a break from an unexpected source, a former cop named Collena Drake. The police busted an illegal adoption ring, and she’s been going through hundreds of files related to the case. I heard through the grapevine that she’d seen Dominic’s name as an adopter.”
“And this is somehow linked to the evidence that’ll exonerate you?” He couldn’t have possibly sounded more disinterested.
Cass nodded and suddenly wished she’d rehearsed this. “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little…shocking.”
He stared at her.
“Right,” Cass concluded. “You’re not easily shocked.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes. I called Collena Drake, and I pretended to be a servant at Dominic’s estate. I said I was concerned about a child that Dominic had recently adopted. Ms. Drake confirmed that Dominic had indeed adopted one of the babies in question. She’d yet to confirm that the process was illegal, but it was highly suspect. Because, believe me, Dominic wouldn’t qualify for a normal adoption. There are all kinds of skeletons dangling in his closet.”
“A baby,” he repeated. He shrugged. A dismissal sort of gesture that wasn’t as effective as his other brash expressions. Because while his shoulder might have been shrugging off her question, his eyes were demanding more info. “Why would you bring this to me? If you think the adoption was illegal, you should be informing the police.”
Oh, this was about to get messy. Very messy. “Remember Vanessa Jordan?”
Matt Christensen blinked. “Yeah. Of course, I do. It’d be hard to forget my ex-girlfriend. She’s dead. And what could she possibly have to do with you or this visit?”
Cass knew that the woman had everything to do with it. “You didn’t stay in contact after she broke off things with you.”
“No. And it was by mutual agreement.”
She