Winter Break

  Table of Contents

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Merry Jones

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Even when the. . .

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Merry Jones

  The Harper Jennings Series

  SUMMER SESSION *

  BEHIND THE WALLS *

  WINTER BREAK *

  THE NANNY MURDERS

  THE RIVER KILLINGS

  THE DEADLY NEIGHBORS

  THE BORROWED AND BLUE MURDERS

  * available from Severn House

  WINTER BREAK

  A Harper Jennings Mystery

  Merry Jones

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2012 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

  eBook edition first published in 2012 by Severn House Digital an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited.

  Copyright © 2012 by Merry Jones.

  The right of Merry Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Jones, Merry Bloch.

  Winter break.

  1. Jennings, Harper (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

  2. Women veterans–Fiction. 3. Iraq War, 2003-2011–

  Veterans–Fiction. 4. Post-traumatic stress disorder–

  Patients–Fiction. 5. Pregnant women–Fiction.

  6. Suspense fiction.

  I. Title

  813.6-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-346-4 (epub)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8220-2 (cased)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  To Robin, Baille and Neely

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Heartfelt thanks to:

  My agent, Rebecca Strauss at McIntosh and Otis;

  My editor, Rachel Simpson Hutchens, and the team at Severn House;

  My fellow Liars at the Philadelphia Liars Club, including Jonathan Maberry, Greg Frost, Solomon Jones, Jon McGoran, Kelly Simmons, Marie Lamba, Dennis Tafoya, Don Lafferty, Keith Strunk, Keith DeCandido, Ed Pettit, Steve Susco and Chuck Wendig;

  My family and friends, especially my husband, Robin.

  Even when the second guy walked in, Sebastian Levering didn’t realize he was in trouble. He was deep inside the glowing haze of too many appletinis, and in the middle of a deep, passionate candlelit kiss. In fact, he was fully naked, in bed with a gorgeous, popular, sexy, witty, glib trust-fund baby, someone he’d never imagined would notice, let alone be interested in him. Someone he’d assumed was – and even now couldn’t believe wasn’t – straight. But Evan Lourd had approached him at the bar. Had singled him out and moved in on him suddenly, with disarming directness and irresistible charm.

  ‘I’m here on a bet,’ he’d said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Sebastian had glanced around, not believing Evan could be talking to him. But no one else had been nearby. The bar had been almost empty due to intersession. Finals were over, and most students had left Cornell for the holidays, would be gone until the middle of January. Sebastian had stuck around, partly to hang out with Brad, but mostly to put off going home for as long as possible. He couldn’t delay much longer – Christmas was just five days away. And in four, his family expected him back in Elmira. But they didn’t expect what he had to tell them.

  He’d decided on his own, not because of Brad. He was simply done pretending. Done hiding. Done enduring the slew of blind dates his mother kept setting him up with: Nieces of friends or cousins and daughters of friends of friends. No. He just couldn’t live the lie any more. Finally, in two days, he’d planned to face them with the truth. He was ready.

  But then fucking Brad had come up with his ultimatum. Just because they were renting an apartment together, he’d insisted on meeting Sebastian’s family. As if they were married or something. ‘Take me home with you,’ he’d demanded. ‘Or else.’

  Or else? Seriously? What the fuck did that mean? What gave Brad the idea he could insist on anything, let alone meeting the family? No way Sebastian was going to allow that. None.

  After the fight, Sebastian had stormed out of the apartment, gone for a drink. He’d been sitting at the bar, remembering the sting of his fist as it had made contact with Brad’s jaw. Christ, what had Brad expected? Damn Brad, picking up the phone to call Sebastian’s mother, swearing that he was going to tell her everything. Had he thought Sebastian would just sit there and let him make the call? No, the bitch had asked for it. Brad had definitely crossed a line, had deserved to be knocked out and locked in his big walk-in closet where he couldn’t get to a phone to call his own mommy, let alone Sebastian’s. He’d stay in there until he cooled off and came to his senses.

  Meantime, Sebastian would have a few appletinis, trying to face his trip home and what he’d say to his parents. How to word it. Should he come right out and announce it? Or guide them slowly along, revealing bits of the truth until it finally became apparent? He’d rehearsed both, but couldn’t decide.

  Option one was to be blunt: ‘I have something to tell you.’ He’d pictured their faces, waiting to hear his news, expecting him to announce that he was changing majors. Or getting married. Christ. His hands had been clammy just imagining it. Maybe he’d be better off telling his brothers first. He’d been considering that possibility when, from nowhere, Evan Lourd had appeared, talking to him. Saying he was there on a bet.

  ‘I just went through a particularly bad break-up,’ Evan’s voice had been resonant, deeper than he’d have imagined it. ‘My merciless room-mate bet me that I’d spend intersession all alone, feeling sorry for myself.’

  Sebastian had been speechless, partly because Evan’s Adonis-like good looks had struck him dumb, and partly because he couldn’t figure out why Evan Lourd, a member of Delta Phi Omega, one of the most exclusive, wealthy and notoriously hard partying fraternities on campus, was talking to him, an anonymous engineering student struggling to survive on loans and scholarships. And why was he telling him about his break-up? In fact, what was Evan even doing there? Didn’t he realize this was mostly a gay bar?

  But Evan had moved closer. Actually, too close. Right into Sebastian’s personal space. Sebastian had gulped his drink, stared at the pretzels on the bar. Missed the next thing Evan said. Because it couldn’t have been what he’d thought it was – that he’d asked him to help him win the bet.

  ‘Am I making you nervous?’

  Evan’s breath tickled his cheek.

  ‘Okay. Sorry. I was just . . .’ Suddenly Evan had backed off, shoulders slumped. ‘My mistake. I just thought, since you were here alone – never mind.’

  Sebastian had looked up, seen Evan’s embarrassment. His vulnerability. ‘No worries, man.’ He’d said something stupid like that. ‘It’s okay. I get it. What are you drinking? It’s on me.’

/>   But Evan hadn’t let him buy their drinks. And he’d made moves, brushing his leg as they’d talked, touching his arm. Leaning close. Teasing with his steady blue eyes, his easy grin, his white straight teeth. His wad of cash on the bar.

  At first, Sebastian had been both surprised and flattered that Evan had noticed him, chosen him, approached him when he could have had anybody. Not that there were many guys around. But still. Evan had picked him. After a few drinks, though, Sebastian understood that Evan was truly into him. His confidence had grown, and he’d begun to think more clearly. If things went well, Evan might let him run with his circle of rich frat boys.

  Sebastian drank up, and the more he drank, the better his future looked. Maybe he should dump Brad, who was too possessive. Besides, he barely had the money for his share of the rent. Sebastian’s name wasn’t on the new lease; his furniture wasn’t even moved in there yet. He could still get out of it. If things with Evan worked out, who knew what might be ahead. Life was all about who you knew, wasn’t it?

  So Sebastian hadn’t hesitated to go with Evan to the deserted fraternity house; he’d been encouraged that Evan had wanted more than a simple men’s room encounter. Maybe, after his tough break-up (had it been with a girl?) he was coming out, ready for an honest relationship. Sebastian tried to read Evan’s reactions, to make sure he was having a good time. And, from his breathing and soft moans, he seemed to be.

  Until the second guy came into the room.

  Instantly, Evan pulled away. ‘Shit, Sty,’ he barked. He was on his feet, grabbing his pants.

  ‘What?’ the second guy raised his eyebrows.

  Sebastian froze. Who was this guy? Evan’s old boyfriend? Oh, damn. Would there be a scene? He pulled the sheet up around his neck, looking for his clothes.

  ‘What the hell took you so long?’ Evan hopped into his pants. ‘We’ve been here for like twenty minutes—’

  ‘I know.’ Sty’s eyes twinkled, grin widened.

  ‘Shit. You were watching.’

  ‘Truly, Lourd. I never noticed how cute your pink ass is—’

  ‘Sick fuck.’ Evan zipped his fly. Didn’t seem angry.

  Sebastian didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Quietly, quickly, he got up and was gathering his clothes when, in the candlelight, he noticed something glitter in the second guy’s hand. Something thin. And metallic. And long.

  Oh shit.

  As he fled naked out of the room, down the stairs and out the door into the snow, Sebastian had three distinct thoughts, none of which involved Brad or his confinement in the closet.

  The first thought was that he should have known a guy like Evan Lourd would never have gone for him.

  The second was that it was intersession; no one was around to help him.

  The third was that, unless a miracle happened, he wouldn’t have to worry about coming out to his family.

  Harper Jennings tightened her jaw, picked up her plate. ‘Thanks, Lou. Dinner was great.’

  ‘How would you know? You didn’t eat anything.’ Her mother took hold of Harper’s arm, examined her plate. ‘You left half the liver.’

  Actually, more than half. She’d left all but the two bites she’d deposited in her crumpled napkin.

  ‘You need to eat, Harper. The baby needs the food—’

  ‘I’m fine, Ma. I just don’t want to eat right now.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Vivian’s voice was ragged and deep from years of smoke and drink. It grated. Wouldn’t let up. ‘Lou – make her some tea.’

  ‘Ma—’

  ‘Let her be, Viv. She’s pregnant. Try to remember how it was.’

  Harper bit her lip. Even if he was taking her side, Lou had no business entering a conversation between her and her mother. Then again, Lou had no business being there at all, making himself comfortable in her home, cooking, taking over her kitchen. She hadn’t invited him, didn’t know him, didn’t want to know him.

  ‘So when are you getting your tree?’ Vivian sipped white wine. ‘It’s just a few days till—’

  ‘Ma. We’ve already talked about this.’ Harper stood to take her plate to the sink, took a deep breath. They’d discussed the tree that very morning. She’d explained that, with Hank gone for Christmas, she didn’t feel like bothering with the pine needles and the decorations, the tinsel and the effort.

  ‘But it’s Christmas. I’d like to have a tree.’ Vivian pouted, emphasizing the loosening skin around her mouth. Pouting didn’t flatter her.

  Harper started for the sink, hoping to end the discussion.

  ‘Leave the dishes, Doll.’ Lou changed the subject. ‘We’ll get them later.’

  Doll?

  ‘It’s not Christmas without a tree.’ Vivian followed her. ‘Harper? Why are you being so negative? You wouldn’t even eat.’

  ‘I’m not being negative, Ma. I feel fine. I’m just not hungry.’ Well, actually, she was. Very. But liver? The thought of it made her gag. She wanted a meatball sandwich. Or hot Italian sausage. Or a greasy cheeseburger. Yes, with onions and pickles. With a black and white milkshake.

  But now, Lou was on his feet, following Vivian as she followed Harper, making it a parade.

  ‘So, we’ll save it for you for later. Here – give me your plate.’ Vivian tried to take it. ‘I’ll put it in the—’

  Harper pulled the plate away. ‘No!’ Oh dear. Her voice was too loud, too harsh.

  Her mother froze, wounded, pouting again, her hands still on the dish. Harper sighed, closed her eyes, regaining her composure. She knew the drill. It was the same as it had always been. Her mother, oblivious, was invading her space, hovering, needing Harper to need her. Needing Harper. Needing.

  ‘Let her be, Honey.’ Lou put his arms around Vivian, intervening, giving Harper a half-nod, half-wink. Who the hell was he to intervene? To wink?

  Harper let go, giving in, just at the moment Vivian conceded. The plate fell to the floor, shattering. The liver bounced, landed with a grayish-brown splat.

  Damn. Harper knelt to pick up the mess.

  ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ Vivian yelped, grabbing Harper’s shoulder. ‘Look what you’ve done.’

  ‘Ma, it’s just a plate—’

  ‘No.’ Lou stooped, grabbing her hand as she reached for a shard. ‘We’ll take care of it. Go. You’re supposed to rest, aren’t you?’

  Harper met his eyes and saw a spark. It was familiar; she recognized it, had seen the same spark before, in Iraq. In the eyes of a woman, Sameh – just before she’d set off an explosive device. So what was that spark doing in Lou’s eyes? Did it mean danger? Was it a warning? Oh God. Harper smelled fire, heard screams, saw a flash of white heat, felt herself flying – NO. She pressed a piece of broken stoneware into her palm, grounding herself with pain. Sent the flashback away. Reminded herself: she wasn’t in Iraq any more. She was home. The spark in Lou’s eyes was just that: a spark. Not a warning. Not defiance. She was safe in her own kitchen. Staring too long and too hard at her mother’s boyfriend.

  In fact, both her mother and Lou were crouched beside her; her mother yammering about how difficult and stubborn Harper was being, lamenting the waste of food, the mess Harper had made, the broken plate. But Lou was silent, still watching her. The glimmering spark was gone. But she’d seen it, for sure. Who was this man?

  He reached out to help her to her feet. ‘Come on, Doll.’

  Doll again. What was that about? Couldn’t he remember her name?

  ‘Go lie down a while. Your mother and I will clean up.’

  Really? Her mother would clean? He must not know her very well. But Harper didn’t argue. She didn’t take his hand, either; she simply stood. ‘Thanks,’ she breathed. ‘I think I will.’

  And Harper dashed away, overhearing them as she fled.

  ‘No Christmas tree? Why is she so miserable? Can’t she see how it upsets me – she makes me want to start smoking again.’

  ‘Babe. She’s pregnant. She’s gonna be haywire. Cut her so
me slack.’

  Harper flew up the stairs, down the hall to her room. Closing the door, finally alone, she let out a breath. Hank had been gone less than a week; would be away at least three more. No way she could survive all that time with those two. Just the sound of her mother’s gravelly tobacco-cured voice grated her nerves. Scraped them raw.

  Harper ran a hand through her close-cropped hair. She walked across the bedroom to the window, then back to the door, then to the bathroom, then to the window again. Why was she so jumpy? She needed to calm down, ached for a Scotch, but couldn’t even think about it. Not for another five months. Five whole months? God. If only she could get on her Ninja and ride, but it was too cold out, too icy. She turned away from the window, surveyed the bedroom. Stared at Hank’s pillow. Felt a pang. Looked away, back outside. Damn, she was turning into a first-class wimp, needed to buck up. After all, she was Army. She’d survived the Iraq war. Not to mention Hank’s accident, a drug conspiracy, a psychotic student, a rogue soldier, a gang of artifact smugglers – if she’d gotten through all that, she should be able to survive a visit from her mother. Maybe.

  Harper checked her watch. Almost eight. Another three hours until Hank would call to say goodnight. She stared at the phone on the nightstand, willing it to ring. Lord. Why had she let Hank persuade her to let her mother stay with her? She would have been perfectly fine on her own.

  ‘Rest.’ She could hear him insist. ‘Docta said for. Next. Whole trimesta.’ He’d manage to articulate trimester; his speech was improving.

  ‘I’ll be fine on my own,’ she’d insisted. ‘I can take care of myself.’ After all, she was a trained, experienced combat officer. And, despite her war-damaged left leg, she was in good shape.

  ‘Hoppa. I won’t go. If you’re alone.’ He’d been adamant. Had crossed his arms and steeled his jaw.

  And he’d won. She couldn’t have allowed Hank to stay home and pass up his opportunity. For the first time since the accident that had damaged his brain and caused his aphasia, he’d had a chance to work in his profession. His friend Trent Manning had offered him a position assisting on a month-long geologic survey in South Texas. For a thousand reasons, it had been essential that he take it.