Wish Upon a Christmas Star (2 page)

“Tell me again why we’re putting up a tree two days before your
trip.” Logan wasn’t out of breath, but neither was he breathing easy. He needed
to take the time from his busy schedule to hit the gym more than just two or
three times a week.

“We’ve got to make the most of what little time we have
together, honey.” She always called him that. In his early teens, it used to bug
Logan until he’d found out she’d had two miscarriages before he was born and one
afterward.

He ripped open the duct tape somebody—probably Dad—had used
last year to bind the box, then pulled up the cardboard flaps to reveal the tree
branches.

“You’re trying to make me feel guilty about not spending
Christmas with you and Dad, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Maybe a little,” his mother admitted.

“Not gonna work,” Logan said. “Not when you’ll both be cruising
the Caribbean.”

His parents would leave for the trip this Wednesday, six days
before Christmas. Logan had made the travel arrangements to coincide with his
own return to New York City.

“If you didn’t feel guilty, honey, you wouldn’t have bought us
the tickets.” Mom stood back while he set up the base of the tree and got the
lower portion in place. “You don’t have to keep treating us to trips, you
know.”

Actually, he did. Because his mother had battled diabetes and
other health problems for years, his parents had made do on his father’s salary
while Logan was growing up. Dad earned enough as a forklift operator in a
warehouse to cover necessities but not extras. In recent years Mom had been
healthy enough to work part-time as a cashier at a grocery store, but Logan had
a sense they still struggled.

“Don’t take away my fun, Mom,” he said. “I like treating
you.”

“Then I don’t understand why you can’t come with us,” she
retorted.

Logan got down on his knees and started plumping the branches.
“I told you why. I have to work.”

“You always have to work.” She positioned herself beside him
and grabbed a limb, shaping one of the flexible plastic branches to achieve
maximum fullness.

“Dad’s at work right now,” he pointed out.

“Today is only December 17,” she said. “Your father has
Christmas week off like normal people.”

“The holidays are a great time to network.” Logan had been
employed by a financial planning service in New York City ever since he’d moved
there. He’d steadily climbed the ranks, in large part because he understood what
it took to get ahead. “We’ve got a lot going on for our clients next week.
Parties. Dinners. A suite at the Knicks game. I have to be there.”

“I’m glad you have a good job,” his mother began. Logan got
ready for the “but,” certain he already knew what she’d say.

“But don’t you think you should spend your money on the woman
you’re going to marry instead of on me and Dad?” she finished.

He straightened, went to the box and withdrew more of the tree.
He got another piece in place before answering. “That woman doesn’t exist, Mom.
I’m not engaged.”

“You’re thirty-three years old, honey. That’s not so young
anymore.” She sounded as though she was breaking a difficult truth to him. “Are
you at least dating someone?”

“Occasionally.” He dated off and on, when he had the time, but
rarely went out with a woman for more than two or three dates.

“Anyone special?” She asked the same questions every time he
visited Kentucky or he flew her and Dad up to see him in New York. He was used
to it by now. He even had a strategy to deflect the inquisition: say as little
as possible.

“Nope,” he said.

After a few moments of silence, his mother changed the subject.
They talked companionably of inconsequential things for the next hour while they
decorated the tree with the ornaments and lights Logan brought up from the
basement.

After Logan topped the tree with the traditional gilded angel
that had been handed down from his grandmother, they stood back and admired
their handiwork. With the afternoon sun streaming through the picture windows in
the living room, the tree’s tiny white lights mimicked flakes of snow. His
mother favored an artificial tree because of the risk of fire associated with a
real one. Since she’d started putting pine-scented potpourri underneath the
tree, he couldn’t tell the difference.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day,” his mother
said conversationally, her voice sounding too innocent to be true. “Maria
DiMarco.”

Yep. Logan was right. His mother had an agenda.

“Maria looked great. She’s such a pretty girl, with that black
hair, those blue eyes and the pale skin.” His mom paused. When he said nothing,
she added, “She’s single again, you know.”

That wasn’t news to Logan. By his estimation, Maria had been
divorced for four years and two months.

“Real subtle, Mom,” he said wryly.

“But you haven’t even brought home a girl to meet me since you
and Maria broke up,” she said.

“Maria and I were over in high school,” he answered. “I haven’t
seen her in years.”

More than eleven years, to be exact. The last time their paths
had crossed was at Mike’s memorial service. With her then-husband by her side,
Maria hadn’t said more than a few words to Logan. He hadn’t expected her to, not
when her brother wouldn’t have been at the Windows on the World restaurant at
all if it hadn’t been for him. He was amazed that her sister, Annalise, still
used him as an investment advisor.

“You two used to be so in love,” his mother continued as if he
hadn’t spoken. “What would it hurt to see if the spark is still there?”

“Maria married somebody else,” he reminded her.

“Only because she was confused. She wouldn’t have even looked
at another man if you hadn’t—”

“Drop it, Mom,” he interrupted, more sharply than he’d
intended. It had taken him a long time to get over Maria DiMarco, but get over
her he had. “I’m not going to see her.”

“Not even though it’s almost Christmas?” his mother asked in a
small voice.

He knew without saying that she considered it a magical season
when anything could happen. No doubt because she was always watching those sappy
holiday movies on the Lifetime channel. Real life didn’t work that way.

“Not even at Christmas,” he said.

* * *

T
HE
POUNDING
ON
THE
locked door of her office sounded heavy enough
to break the thick, tempered glass. Maria’s head jerked up from her computer
screen to make sure the closed sign was still in place. Beyond it, her older
sister peered in at her.

Maria sucked in a breath through her teeth, not ready to deal
with anyone in her family and itching to get back to her work. She’d just run
her brother’s social security number. Even though she hadn’t been able to find
any activity on it since 2001, there was more she could do. Using Google to
search for his name and variations of his name, for starters. Followed by a
thorough social networking investigation. If Maria pretended not to notice her,
maybe Annalise would go away.

The pounding got louder.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” She got up from her chair and crossed
the office, deciding not to say anything to Annalise about Mike. Not until she
had hard evidence that he was alive. She composed her features and unlocked the
door.

Her sister pushed it open, barely giving Maria enough time to
back away. A blast of chilled air followed Annalise inside, and she rubbed her
bare hands together. She was dressed more for fashion than function, in the
black leather jacket she’d gotten from her husband for her birthday a few weeks
before.

“I was freezing to death out there.” Her teeth were chattering.
“For a minute I thought you weren’t going to let me in.”

“I was caught up in something, is all.” Maria maneuvered past
her and relocked the door.

“You’re ready to go, though, right?” she asked. “I thought we
could hit the electronics store before we go to the mall. That way, you can get
your presents for Alex and Billy out of the way.”

How could Maria have forgotten? Annalise had offered to help
her pick out Christmas gifts for her teenage nephews. They’d also planned to
search for presents for their parents, their brother Jack and his girlfriend,
Tara, before ending the evening at Annalise’s favorite restaurant.

Maria glanced back at the computer. Caroline Webb had left only
forty-five minutes ago, not nearly enough time to make headway on finding out
whether Mike could be alive. “I’m sorry, Annalise. I can’t go, after all.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She waved her index finger. “You don’t get
to back out after I went to the trouble of getting a babysitter and dressing up.
I even put on makeup!”

Maria’s naturally pretty sister always looked nice. She’d gone
the extra mile tonight, letting her brown hair down from its usual ponytail and
pairing her leather jacket with black dress slacks and heels instead of jeans
and sneakers.

“I’m sorry,” Maria said. “Something’s come up and I need to
work.”

“This close to Christmas? You said you were taking some time
off, like you always do over the holidays.”

Maria glanced at the computer again. It seemed to be beckoning
to her. Once she finished her searches, regardless of what she found, she
intended to make an airline reservation to Florida.

“Things have changed,” she said. “I have to go out of town for
a few days.”

“What? We have tickets tomorrow night to
The Nutcracker,
” Annalise protested. “And you said you’d help me out
the rest of the week at the Christmas tree sale.”

The yearly sale benefited her youngest son’s baseball league.
Annalise was one of the organizers.

“You’ll have to find someone else to take my place,” Maria told
her. “This is important.”

“Where are you going?” Annalise demanded. It would have been
difficult to tell that Maria was the only one in the room with training in
interrogation. Then again, the two sisters were close. They never kept secrets
from each other.

“Key West,” Maria said.

“Florida? I don’t ever remember you going that far for a case
before,” Annalise said. “You’ll be back in time for Christmas, right?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Her sister narrowed her eyes, propped her hands on her hips and
demanded, “What’s going on?”

Maria’s instincts told her to remain mum. However, that wasn’t
realistic. If Annalise was reacting this badly to her possible absence at
Christmas, other family members would, too. Maria needed somebody to smooth the
waters and support her alibi.

“You’d better sit down,” she said.

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Then promise you won’t freak out.”

“You’re freaking me out by acting like this,” Annalise
declared. “Just spit it out.”

Maria forced the words through her lips. “I think Mike might
still be alive.”

Her sister shook her head. “No, he’s not. Why would you even
say something like that?”

As succinctly as she could, Maria relayed the details of the
visit from Caroline Webb. Annalise listened in silence, her expression giving
nothing away even though she’d always been the most demonstrative of the four
siblings.

“Say something,” Maria said when she’d finished.

“I’m thinking about how to phrase it.” Annalise scratched her
head. “On second thought, to hell with tact. I’ll tell you how I really feel. I
can’t believe you even let Caroline in the front door. Don’t you remember how
she treated Mike?”

“Caroline’s not a high school kid anymore, Annalise,” Maria
said. “She’s almost thirty years old.”

“Once a mean girl, always a mean girl,” her sister said
heatedly. “Mike never would have dropped out of school if she hadn’t broken up
with him in front of all their friends.”

One of the cafeteria workers had later provided their family
with the details. Caroline had been cruel, saying she was sick of Mike and
adding that he was worthless and stupid. She claimed she already had someone
waiting in the wings to take her to the approaching homecoming dance.

Her words had hit the mark. Mike had rushed out of the school
building and sped home, sideswiping a parked car on the way. Then he’d had
another argument. With Maria.

Afterward, he’d packed a bag and split. Nobody had known where
he was until Logan Collier called a few days later from New York City to say
Mike was staying at his apartment.

“We don’t know that Mike wouldn’t have dropped out of school,
Annalise,” Maria said. “His grades were so bad he barely made it through junior
year. Remember how much trouble Mom and Dad had with him?”

“Most of that was because of Caroline,” Annalise said. “If I
remember correctly, you thought so, too.”

Maria couldn’t dispute that. Over the years, however, she’d
come to realize there were many factors in Mike’s disconnect from the family.
That included Maria making it crystal clear she’d disapproved of his
girlfriend.

“That’s water under the bridge,” she said. “The important thing
now is to find out if Mike’s the one who’s been in contact with Caroline.”

“You said you were doing some online searches when I got here.
You ran Mike’s social security number, right? Did anything come up?”

“Well, no,” Maria said. “But nothing would show up if he’s
using an alias.”

“An alias?” her sister exclaimed. She shook her head and came
forward, laying a hand on Maria’s arm. “Listen to me carefully, Maria. Mike’s
dead. You know as well as I do that nobody in the restaurant survived that
day.”

The hijacked plane had hit the North Tower a few stories below
the Windows on the World complex. The official report was that all the
restaurant customers and employees survived the initial attack, only to find the
pathways that led below blocked by the impact zone. Everybody died, either of
smoke inhalation or in the collapse of the building.