Chapter 1

    Commander Martin Prescott cradled the phone against his shoulder. “Just give me an hour to get over to Allaire’s and give her the news before you tell the world, okay? It’s the least you can do,” he said to the Stanfield District Attorney with whom he talked on the phone. “The five o’clock news is a hell of way to find out your ex was whacked and considering what my daughter just went through, I think she deserves a little bit of privacy. The media are going to be all over her like white on rice.”

    The D. A. magnanimously agreed to Martin’s itty-bitty demand and then Martin hung up. He blew out his breath in disgust and said to his empty, uptown bachelor’s apartment, “Crime waits for no one, not even Santa Claus.”

~*~

    Martin Prescott drove his city-issued Crown Vic through the snow-sloppy, metro Stanfield, Michigan. The traffic lights remained on rush hour settings and Commander Prescott cruised through the mostly empty streets with few delays. He noticed the mechanical Santa Clauses, lighted reindeer, and Christmas trees perched in the massive department store windows all seemed to be in an exhausted, Christmas day slumber after the pre-holiday shopping frenzy.

    He exited the downtown and took the freeway to his daughter’s home in the suburbs. Allaire West lived with Devon Mercer and their twin children in a gated community where many of Stanfield’s rich and famous lived. Allaire and Devon Mercer weren’t married, but the name “Mercer” name certainly could be found in the yellow pages under the heading “rich and famous.”

    Leaving behind the cityscape, he enjoyed the snow-covered, rolling hills speckled with farms and small clusters of homes. Windbreak rows of deep green, pine trees in open fields starkly contrasted with the white oaks. Their brown leaves fluttered in the December wind and were reminiscent of Halloween.

    At the Mercer security gate, Martin announced himself and waited for the massive iron grid to slide open. Then, he parked in the horseshoe driveway in front of the stately brownstone mansion.

    Allaire wrapped her thick, holiday sweater more tightly around her slender body. Shivering in the cold, she stood on the
expansive front porch waiting for her father. “Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she said with a happy smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

    Martin gave Allie a kiss on her cheek. “I didn’t either, but unfortunately I’m here on official business.”

    Allie frowned at the remark; her festive mood suddenly deflated. “Come on in. Dev is still recovering from Christmas with young children.”

    In the great room, Devon sprawled out on the soft, black leather couch with his eyes closed and a Bloody Mary propped between his hands. He looked as though he was waiting for his hair-of-the-dog hangover cure to kick in.

    Martin chuckled at the sight, startling Devon, who nearly spilled his half-finished drink all over his stomach.“Rough night, Devon?” Martin teased.

    Devon got to his feet and shook hands, “Merry Christmas, Martin. ‘Rough’ is an interesting way to describe the past few days but I’ll settle for it. Nevertheless, this is a surprise; what brings you here?”

    “I wish I could say I came for an eggnog and a visit with Katy and Kai, but I have some news I need to share with you, Allie, and it couldn’t wait.”

    “What is it Dad? Is it about my kidnapping?” she asked in a nervous voice.

    “Yes and no,” Martin replied.

    Devon cut in, “Can we stop beating around the bush, Martin?”

    Martin gazed into Allie’s troubled eyes. “A man was shot on December twenty-third at the city’s main bus terminal.”

    Allie shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, but what does it have to do with me?”

    “It was Jeff. Someone murdered Jeff after his shift driving a city bus.”

    Allie sank slowly to the couch while confusion and shock took turns on her face. “Oh my god, are you sure? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

    Devon joined Allaire on the couch and put a protective arm around her shoulders. “Martin, what has this to do with Allie?”

    Martin Prescott flipped into his police commander mode, delivering the information unemotionally and factually. “They killed Jeff execution-style just like Tia Marlow and Andrew Stevers. Although we think Cade Benson shot Tia and Andrew on Halloween night, we still don’t know whether Cade and Axe acted alone. I asked the D. A. to keep Jeff’s name out of the news for a couple days so we could begin investigating.”

    Allie eyes welled with tears and she spoke in a halting whisper, “Are you sure it’s Jeff, Dad? There’s no mistake?”

    Martin shook his head. “I’m sorry but there’s no mistake. The D. A. is holding a press conference at four o’clock. I wanted you to hear it from me and give you a little bit of time to prepare. You know the media will want a statement. As a lawyer, Devon, I’m hoping you can help Allie prepare something to say. I’m not saying she needs a lawyer, but I want her to be careful about what she says. Of course, you know this also is an opportunity to ask questions about your kidnapping, Allie. It could get uncomfortable.”

    “Sure Martin, I’ll help her,” Devon replied softly.

    “What does all this mean, Dad? Do you think there is a tie between my kidnapping and Jeff’s murder?”

    Martin didn’t mince words. “We don’t know yet, but it seems too much of a coincidence. Everyone immediately connected with you that night is dead now, except for Devon, of course.”

    Allie’s heart lurched. “Is Devon in danger? Are we going into a crazy state of high alert? We were just starting to breathe again; the kids are finally playing outside.” Allie’s voice trembled as she said to Devon, “I don’t think I can go through all this right now. I’m not feeling strong enough yet.”

    “Darling, please, we’ll figure this out,” Devon calmly replied. “You are safe here and we’re already replacing your bodyguard. Seth says it will be any day now.”

    Martin added, “Listen to Devon, Allie. I don’t think he or the children are in danger. What I meant to say is it seems everyone who met up with Cade or Axe on Halloween night is dead. Unfortunately, Jeff hung out with those two men in prison and they may have crossed paths on the outside. We’ll probably never know what really went down between them. Jeff didn’t say much during our police interviews while you were missing.”

    Allie’s knuckles turned white gripping Devon’s hand. “I just can’t stir all this up right now. I’m not ready.”

    “We don’t have to do anything today, Allaire. We’ll talk to Dr. Kessler first and he can help you sort out the emotional issues.”

    “Dad, do you know when Jeff’s funeral will be?” she asked quietly.

    “They haven’t released his body yet but I don’t think it’ll be long. Are you thinking of going?” Martin asked, still in the cop mode.

    Allie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I was on good terms with Jeff’s folks after the shooting and the divorce. They blamed me, of course, and we never even spoke before his sentencing. However, Jeff and I were once married. I loved him then and I never wanted to hurt him.” She locked into Devon’s gaze and continued, “I never wanted anything like this to happen to him, regardless of how we hurt Jeff, and how he hurt you, Dev.”

    “If Jeff wouldn’t have kept his bloody mouth shut in prison, none of this would have happened,” Devon shot back. The emotions in his voice accentuated his pronounced British accent. “I’ll take you to his funeral if you truly want to go Allie, but I don’t recommend it. Emotionally it could be extremely difficult and the media will be there. They’ll have a field day with you even if you never utter a single word. Who knows how Delia and Thad will take seeing you after all this time.”

    “You need to seriously consider what Devon said, Allie. It could be a disaster if you’re not up to it.” Martin’s tone softened a little, “You’ve been to hell and back.” Martin gazed at Devon with a father’s loving eyes, “Thanks for looking out for my daughter.” He rubbed his neck in an effort to hide his awkwardness. “When you two met, and this nightmare began with the twins’ paternity, and Jeff shot you, and landed in prison, I have to say, I really hated you for causing my daughter such grief. I mean no disrespect but I pegged you for a slimy bastard just like your old man.”

    “No offense taken, Martin, my father can be underhanded and difficult, to say the least.”

    “You put the children first and helped Allaire rebuild her life without pressure.” Martin continued in a husky voice, “When she was kidnapped, you showed me how committed you were to finding her at any cost. You showed me how much you love my daughter, so I am counting on you to help her get through this, too.”

    Devon flinched at the words, “at any cost.” The whereabouts of Allaire’s two million-dollar ransom remained a mystery. Devon knew when the time was right, Wyatt Prescott would call in his mark. He shoved the worry aside. “I’d do anything for her and our children. Anything.”

    Allaire gazed with gratitude at her handsome fiancé. “Thank you.”

    “And just so you know, Martin, I plan to make an honest woman of Allaire. I asked her to marry me last night and she agreed.” Devon smiled proudly about his announcement.

    A broad smile lit up Martin’s face. “Is that so?”

    Allie came forward to show her father her engagement ring. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said while he examined the three-carat, marquis diamond.

    Martin whistled approvingly. “More than a cop could afford.” He gathered Allie into his powerful arms and hugged her. “Congratulations, Allaire, I know Devon makes you happy and you’ve wanted this a long time.”

    “Thank you, Daddy,” she replied softly against his shoulder.

    He extended his hand for Devon to shake. “Congratulations, Devon.”

     “I’ll think about going to Jeff’s funeral,” Allie said, changing the subject. “I don’t think I can just let it pass without some kind of acknowledgement. The media would probably take an equally ugly twist on my silence.”

     “Do what you think is best and let me know. If you need police escorts, I’ll take care of it.”

    “Thanks, Dad.”

    “Now, I’d love a chance to say Merry Christmas to my grandchildren,” Martin said, rubbing his hands together, “but my guess is Katy and Kai are napping. The house is awfully quiet.”

    “Yes, they are Dad.”

    “Thank God,” Devon added. “I’ve never seen them misbehave like they did last night. I can’t apologize enough for their outrageous behavior. Who could imagine a couple of three-year-olds could wreak such havoc? Next year is going to be different,” Devon concluded with a stern glance at Allie.

    She pressed a comforting hand on Devon’s chest and said to her father, “Devon thinks Christmas chaos is reserved just for our children. Please tell him, all kids are pretty much alike at the holidays–unruly, cranky, and generally little monsters.”

    “She’s right. It’s part of the holiday magic, just like my mother told you last night.” Martin chuckled quickly. “Your kids acted just like most other kids at Christmas.”

    Devon sloshed his bloody Mary around the glass and took a big gulp. “Holiday nightmare is more like it.”

    Allie leaned against the heavy oak door, shutting it behind her father. “Devon, I don’t know what to think or feel about Jeff’s murder, except scared to death.”

    Devon drew Allaire into his loving embrace. “Come here,” he said. “I’m right here.”

~*~

    Allie and Devon watched the five o’clock news in his study. Anxiety filled Allaire and she chewed a fingernail while she waited for the clip about Jeff’s murder to come on. As the story opened, it was a downright shock to see Jeff’s mug shot as the primary graphic.

    “Oh my god, Delia and Thad are going to have a fit,” she muttered seeing the picture.

    Devon agreed. “You’d think they could get a nicer picture of Jeff.”

    Allie turned the volume up. “Shhh, I want to hear this.”

    The video showed the city bus terminal where police discovered Jeff’s body. The television anchor droned over it, “West, age 32, was paroled from the Michigan State Penitentiary after serving four years of a seven-year sentence for shooting Stanfield lawyer, Devon Mercer.

    “A scandal broke out when Mercer and West’s wife at the time, Allaire Prescott West, had an affair.” Devon’s picture appeared on the screen now with the “talking head” anchor. “The former Mrs. West became pregnant with Mercer’s twin children and, according to court documents, Jeff West went to Devon Mercer’s home to kill him. Mercer’s bodyguard, Seth O’Carroll, interrupted West’s premeditated attack, but not before West shot Mercer in the back. West pleaded guilty and received seven years for his crime. Devon Mercer agreed to an early parole for West last summer.”

    An old photo of Allaire came on the screen. “Where the heck did they get that picture?” Allie complained. “That was taken years ago, just after I married Jeff.”

    “Recently, Allaire Prescott West was kidnapped and held for a two million-dollar ransom,” the anchor continued. “She was found, but the ransom money is still missing.

    “Stanfield Police Commissioner Martin Prescott admits there is a connection between his daughter’s kidnappers and Jeff West.”

    The video clip cut to Martin Prescott saying, “Jeff West knew the kidnappers in prison and we think that’s how the plan to kidnap Allaire hatched. We don’t know whether Jeff contacted the kidnappers on the outside or if he played a role in her abduction. In our interviews with Mr. West, he vehemently denied any involvement in the kidnapping. The FBI is involved because Jeff’s murder may be connected to Allaire West’s kidnapping.”

    The talking head finished the segment, “West’s ex-wife did not answer our requests for a statement. The funeral for Jeff West is scheduled…”

    Allie flicked the television off. Her face looked ashen. “Devon, you don’t think Jeff had something to do with my kidnapping, do you?” Her eyes narrowed in pain. “You don’t think he would be so vindictive do you?”

    Devon settled Allie against his shoulder and wrapped her quaking body in his strong arms. “I don’t know, darling. It’s possible, of course.”

Chapter 2

    Once the news of Jeff’s murder broke, the Mercer’s phone rang off the hook.

    “We might as well get it over with,” Allie said after they turned off the phone. “So much for a quiet Christmas dinner,” she added with a sour look toward Devon.

    Allie and Devon spent the next few hours talking with Allie’s psychiatrist, Dr. Kessler, and writing a media statement. While facing this event could be therapeutic, Dr. Kessler cautioned Allaire the questions specifically about her kidnapping, might be disastrous. He wanted Devon to steer the questions into safe waters for Allaire and keep them there.

    “If you start feeling anxious, Allaire, shut it down,” Dr. Kessler said. “I don’t want to alarm you, but the wrong questions or too much pressure could trigger a psychotic event. The media is anxious to know what happened to you and how you and Devon are coping with the aftermath of your captivity.”

    “I don’t want anyone to think the kidnappers broke me,” Allie replied to Dr. Kessler while Devon listened on the conference call.

    Dr. Kessler continued to explain, “But the reality, is it significantly affected you mentally and physically. You’ve made tremendous progress, but the peyote flashbacks could haunt you the rest of your life. This happened too recently to say it’s behind you by any stretch of the imagination.”

    “We understand the somewhat precarious state of Allaire’s health, Dr. Kessler,” Devon interjected. “We’re taking Allie’s recovery very seriously.”

~*~

    Allaire decided not to make Jeff’s funeral a media circus by attending. She would give a statement this afternoon and answer a few questions to give Jeff’s parents space to grieve without her.

    Butterflies filled her stomach. Allie sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair, hoping the mundane activity would help settle her nerves. She studied her reflection and decided her bob haircut looked good on her. Maybe she should get highlights. Maybe she’d let it grow long again. The horrifying memories of Cade hacking off her long, blonde hair with his knife zipped through Allie’s mind, temporarily paralyzing her hand in mid-stroke. Her pale reflection stared back at her from the center mirror on her dressing table.

    The sounds of slamming doors, equipment sliding on the marble foyer floor, convoluted chatter, and sporadic sound tests climbed the stairs and whispered in Allaire’s ears. She paced in her bedroom, worried she made the wrong decision about speaking to the media. Allaire filled her lungs deeply and again focused on her reflection in the mirror. She let out her breath slowly. “You can do this, Allie,” she firmly said.

    Devon walked into their bedroom dressed in a black, lightweight wool suit with a wine-red shirt, open at the collar. A perfectly-folded, matching red, silk handkerchief peaked out of his breast pocket. Stunningly handsome as always, Allaire gazed at her British husband with a flicker of lust in her eyes. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are, Devon Mercer?” Shocks of Devon’s wavy, chocolate brown hair fell onto his forehead and Allie brushed them backwards.

 
    He took her into his arms. “Sexy, you say?” His lips met hers for a soft kiss. “Just sexy? Not heart-stoppingly gorgeous?” His tongue played on her lips and Allie giggled as he continued teasing her. “Is there someone else?” Devon kissed Allie hard then, his demanding tongue powerfully sapping every other thought from her mind.

    Allie sagged against Devon; his sudden onslaught left her weak-kneed. “What was that for?” she breathlessly asked.

“Because I love you.” Devon kissed Allaire again, more gently this time. “I am so proud of you. You are a strong woman and I can’t wait until you’re my wife.”

    Allaire caressed Devon’s scruffy cheek with her small hand. “Thank you, Dev. I can get through this with you by my side.”

    “Day and night, that’s where you’ll find me, darling,” he easily replied and swept her into another amorous kiss.

    “Ah-hem.” The nervous twitter of their nanny, Lucy, interrupted the couple. The tall, green-eyed, brunette stood in the doorway with a look on her face matching her eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Carl said everyone is ready downstairs.”

    Allie remained in Devon’s arms while she asked Lucy, “The twins are upstairs, and you’ll keep them there until we’re finished?”

    “Yes, and other security members are stationed at the stairs and around the house to prevent anyone from getting access the twins, or photographing them through a window.”

    Allaire’s relationship with Lucy remained tenuous. Their talented nanny with a license to kill put the moves on Devon after Allie was kidnapped. In her mind, the jury was still out on whether Lucy really gave up on Devon.

    Devon gazed into Allie’s blue eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

    Allie squeezed his hand and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

~*~

    Due to the cold winter temperatures, the media set up in the great room. It was a coup for the information-hungry crowd always kept on the opposite side of the locked front gate or relegated to an answering service.

    Allaire and Devon came down the grand staircase hand-in-hand. Allaire chose to wear a gray, fitted skirt with a matching ribbed, angora sweater. Supple, black leather, knee-high boots hid her healing legs and ankles. Diamond-studded earrings winked to those below as she turned her blonde head toward the flashing cameras and bright lights awaiting them.

 
    “Good afternoon,” she began from the makeshift podium. “I am deeply saddened and upset over the murder of my ex-husband, Jeff, and I offer my sincere condolences to his parents, Delia and Thad.”Allaire faced the cameras dead on and said, “Jeff West was a decent man and a loving son. The FBI already established Jeff knew the two men who kidnapped me last October. However, I firmly believe Jeff would not have instigated or become involved in my kidnapping. As far as Devon and I are concerned, what happened between the three of us was settled several years ago. I don’t believe Jeff harbored so much hatred and anger that he would deliberately put me in harm’s way. He knew how much being a mother meant to me and I know he would not have done anything to take me away from my children.

“Devon and I are cooperating with the FBI and local police to help solve this horrible crime. We want Jeff’s killer found and brought to justice.”

    Reporters clamored to ask their questions and Allie selected the first person.

    “Did you speak to Jeff West after his parole or to his parents since his murder?” the reporter asked.

    “No to both questions,” Allie replied. “In fact, I haven’t spoken to Jeff’s parents since he went to jail. My father, Commander Prescott, told us about the murder yesterday.”

    “Will you tell us about your kidnapping?” shouted another.

    Allie gulped. Quietly she said to Devon who stood behind her, “That didn’t take long.”

    “Take your time, darling. Answer what you are comfortable with and step away the second you are not.”

    Allie cleared her throat self-consciously. “Two men kept me mostly in solitary confinement, in abandoned warehouses and office spaces. The men were ex-convicts, drug addicts, and both are dead.”

    “Is it true you nearly died in captivity?” shouted a reporter in the back of the crowd.

    “Yes.”

    “We heard you suffered a miscarriage after you were rescued. Who was the father?”

    Allaire tensed. “I’m not going to answer those questions.”

    “Did you come here on Halloween night, the night you were kidnapped, and seduce Devon Mercer in this very room?” pressed the same reporter.

    Devon came to the microphones. “What happened that evening between Allaire and me is a private matter.”

    An eagle-eyed reporter called out, “I see a large diamond on your hand, Ms. West. Are you and Mr. Mercer engaged?”

    Allaire gave Devon a gentle smile that rose into her china blue eyes. “Yes, Devon and I are engaged.”

    “When is the wedding; what are your plans?” asked a front-row reporter.

    Allie replied. “We have not made any wedding plans.”

    A tall, older reporter got back to her kidnapping by asking, “Are you in psychiatric care? Rumor is you need significant cosmetic surgery to repair the injuries to your body caused by frostbite and dehydration?”

    Allaire closed her eyes and commanded her heart to slow down. “Being kidnapped is a traumatic event. I can’t imagine anyone going through it and not needing some counseling. I suffered significant physical injuries, especially to my feet and legs, and my body is still healing.”

    Another said boldly, “We were told you also were addicted to drugs while you were in captivity – heroine and peyote.”

    “I think that is enough,” Devon interjected.

    “Isn’t it true that you suffer from hallucinations and flashbacks from the peyote?” shouted back the same reporter trying to get some juicy tidbits.

    “I said that’s enough.” Devon’s sharp reply brooked no further arguments. “We have answered all the questions we are going to today.” Devon signaled to Carl, the head of his personal security detail, to clear the room.

    Carl approached Devon and Allaire with a stranger. “Allaire, I’d like to introduce you to Xavier Braun,” said Carl. “I think Xavier is an excellent choice as your new bodyguard. Of course, no one can replace Andrew, however Xavier comes highly recommended.”

    Allaire extended her hand to Xavier. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Xavier.” Allie glanced at Devon and then said to Carl, “I think we should talk privately later today and get to know each other before we decide. No offense,” she said to Xavier, “but the choice for bodyguard is very personal and we should both feel like it’s a good fit.”

    They tabled the discussion while Carl, Xavier, and the other security officers cleared the premises of the media.

Allaire watched the jackals leave and rubbed her arms while imaginary shivers ran through her. “How would they know about the drugs or the baby unless they got inside information?” Allaire asked Devon quietly.

    “I’ll have Carl check into it. Nothing is sacred when you’re a Mercer.” “He kissed Allaire’s cheek softly. “Or soon to be a Mercer.”

    A camera flashed, capturing the private moment.

    Devon let loose a low, frustrated, growl. “Carl, take care of that,” he commanded, pointing out the offender.