Page 7 of This Christmas

Ted’s smile returned, colder than before. He pulled out his checkbook and tapped it against the desk. “You get me proof that she’s unfit in any way, anything that’ll hold up in court, and I’ll double your fee. We’re not talking small change, Mr. Dalton.”

Joe remembered the way the man’s eyes had darkened when he said it. A promise wrapped in poison.

Now, sitting outside the lighthouse with the waves pounding somewhere beyond in the dark, Joe shook off the memory. Money was money, sure. But there was a sour taste in his mouth every time he wrote his reports and emailed them to the man.

So far, Ally Wilson wasn’t giving him much to work with. She was quiet. Routine. The kind of mother most people would point to as steady. He’d seen her walking with her little girl on the beach, holding her hand, when they had first arrived, listening to her chatter about seashells when he’d snuck close enough to them. Nothing reckless, nothing neglectful. Just… normal.

Which made his job complicated.

With a sigh, Joe finally started the engine and turned around at the end of the long driveway. If he was going to keep at this, he’d need a place to stay in town. Somewhere closer, less conspicuous than circling the lighthouse every night like a vulture and sleeping in his car.

Pride wasn’t exactly packed with options, but after a quick search he found a hotel on the outskirts of town. It was small, no-frills, with a neon sign that flickered on and off like it was tired of existing. It suited him perfectly.

The clerk didn’t ask questions when he laid cash on the counter. The woman just slid the keycard across to him.

“How long are you staying?” she asked.

Joe hesitated. That was the problem, he didn’t know. Ally might stay a month, she might leave tomorrow. From the luggage he’d watched her carry in, along with the boxes, he was guessing it was longer than a few days. Either way, he had to be ready.

“A week,” he said finally. It was safer that way since it was long enough to keep watch and short enough not to leave a trail.

He carried the bag he always kept packed in his trunk down the hallway to a room that smelled faintly of bleach. Tossing the bag on the bed, he sat in the chair by the window and stared out at the cars flying by on the dark highway beyond. He doubted his view was as nice as Ally’s up at the house on the hill.

The fact that Ted Garrison had promised him double his normal fee had made him feel like this was a job he’d be able to finish clean. However, with weeks under his belt, the worst thing he’d found against Ally was that she’d forgotten a few items on her grocery list once and, after loading up her car with her purchases, had to haul the kid back inside the store to get the forgotten items.

There was no way this woman was this squeaky clean. Right? If the DA of Portland was spending this much money to find something against her that would hold up in court, surely it meant there was something.

After hitting send on his latest report, he figured he’d do some more digging on his client. It was standard procedure, but his first few looks into the man had come up with nothing bad. He didn’t even have a speeding ticket.

He had grown frustrated at the lack of information now that he was pretty sure that Ally was just a single mother trying to care for her daughter the best she could. So he pulled out his burner phone and scrolled through the numbers. He landed on one that he hadn’t dialed in a few months and hesitated for a second before pressing call.

It rang twice.

“Dalton?” a gruff voice answered, heavy with sleep or, more likely, whiskey.

“Yeah, Clay, it’s me. You still working records?” Joe asked, leaning back in the rickety hotel chair.

Clay Walker had been a sergeant back when Joe wore the badge. He was one of the few guys he halfway trusted. Clay was a man who knew where the skeletons were buried and sometimes who put them there.

“Sometimes,” Clay said slowly. “What’s this about?”

“Ted Garrison. You got anything on him? Anything not scrubbed clean?” he said, watching the car lights flash by outside in the rain.

The line was quiet long enough that Joe thought maybe the call had dropped. Then Clay’s sigh filled his ear.

“Dalton, you like playing with fire, huh? That guy’s untouchable. People who poke around him don’t stay employed for long. Some don’t stay around, period.”

“I know,” Joe muttered. “But I need to know what I’m dealing with. Every time I dig, I come up empty. I’ve got a job from him, and it just doesn’t sit right.”

Another pause, then Clay said, “Give me a few days. No promises. If there’s dirt, it’s buried deep. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll owe you.”

“You already do,” Clay said, and then the line went dead.

Joe tossed the phone on the bed and opened his laptop. If he couldn’t get dirt on Ted yet, maybe he could piece together more about Ally.

It didn’t take long to find the trail of lawsuits she was dealing with. There were fourteen in the last five years. All of them initiated by his client.