Page 47 of Christmas Wish
Chapter Thirteen
Harry popped thetab on a Pepsi he’d bought in the gift shop of the Pinewood Springs Hotel and plopped down on a chair in his hotel room before tapping in Bret’s number on his cell phone.
On the third ring, Bret answered. “Any news?”
“Not yet. I’ve scoured this whole damn place but no sign of her or your son. Is your mother-in-law sure that your wife saidPinewood Springs?”
“Yes. Mary’s good at details and she wouldn’t have reached up her ass for that name—meaning, the town fucking exists.” Irritation laced Bret’s voice.
“It’s just strange that there’s no sign of them anywhere.”
“Mary said some dude befriended them, remember?”
“It’s my fucking job to remember.” Heat rose up Harry’s neck as he swallowed a large gulp of soda, letting it slide down his throat and abate his anger.
“Maybe the guy lives outside of Pinewood Springs.” Impatience had replaced irritation in Bret’s tone.
“I know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve been to more damn small neighborhoods and areas, trudging through piles of fucking snow, and I still got zip.” Harry crushed the can in his hand and tossed it in the trash. “There’s a community thing going on tonight. Some tree-lighting ceremony. I’ll check it out and see if I can spot them there.”
“If Savannah’s anywhere near that damn hick town, she’ll be there with Timmy. She’d never let Timmy miss something like that—she’salwaysthinking of the kid and putting him first.” Bret gave a dry laugh.
“Kids like those things.” For a brief second, Harry’s three children filled his mind, and a short jab of pain hit his gut. His wife had walked out on him two years before, and he hadn’t blamed her; he was never home. Harry sighed loudly as he scratched his chin and glanced out the window at people rushing around the streets, many of them carrying Christmas-themed bags. It was during the holidays that losing his family hit him the hardest.
“Are you still with me?” Bret asked.
“Yeah. The phone just faded out a bit. Anyway, I’ll check it out tonight and get back to you. No sense in you coming here if your family’s not here.”
“They’re there. Just fucking find them.”
The phone went dead and Harry clenched his jaw. “If you didn’t pay me so well, you fucking prick, I’d tell you what I really thought of you,” he muttered, slipping the phone in his pocket. Bret’s father was a gentleman. Wayne always treated him with respect and not as if he were a bumbling, incompetent idiot the way Bret did. A large part of him understood why Bret’s wife took off with their son, but it wasn’t his job to judge. Harry’s job was to find them and let the man take it from there. The large sum of money he was paid allowed Harry to push away his contempt for the spoiled asshole and focus on his job.
Just then, his stomach growled.
Harry stood up and grabbed his jacket and the room key, then left.
