“Oh, he’s the worst about meeting new people. Me, I love it. His girlfriend works here now. He didn’t mind meeting Zoey, did he? See, he’s just too stubborn about the tourism in town.”
Quinn promptly launched into a description of how amazing Zoey was, which Lana could only agree with. Unable to get a word in edgewise, Lana settled in, finishing her tea as Quinn continued her one-person conversation.
“And then I told Mr. Shaw that Zoey—Oh! I almost forgot why I came here instead of calling.” Quinn riffled through her pockets, finally withdrawing a bright orange sticky note. “Mr. Shaw left this note last night. He said to tell you he needs to reschedule your meeting. He has pressing business in town.”
Did he now? Pressing business like snowmobiling out on the lake all day or darting off to New York and not telling anybody.
Lana barely kept from sighing, only because Quinn wouldn’t have understood the reasoning behind it. “Would you be willing to give Jax a message for me?”
When Quinn nodded earnestly, Lana decided on the more pleasant of the two messages she was considering. “Please tell him that I’m happy to meet him in town whenever his pressing business is completed” was far nicer than what she was tempted to say.
Which was: he’d better get his ass in a chair, or she was getting lawyers involved.
This wasn’t the first time he’d ducked her. Lana was far too busy to keep playing his game, which Jax knew and used shamelessly to avoid growing up and actually being a productive member of society. It was his job to work with her on coordinating the condominium construction, to negotiate terms for amenity sharing, and a hundred other details that popped up every day. So far, every time he dodged, Lana had been able to shift and stand in his way. Every time he ducked, she simply aimed lower. Jax was good at running away from his responsibilities, but Lana was much better at sticking her foot out and making him trip.
Hiding out in town was his most recent trick to avoid her.
“Well, I better get back to work,” Quinn said cheerfully. “Hannah won’t like it if she catches me sitting.”
When she reached the door, Quinn hesitated. “Ms. Montgomery? The next time Mr. Shaw is having a late breakfast in the VIP lounge, I can call you. He usually times breakfast for when he knows you’re in a morning meeting.”
That sneaky son of a bitch. Lana wasn’t surprised one bit.
“You’re a treasure, Quinn,” she told the younger woman. “I’ll make sure to mention it to Hannah.”
Quinn blushed beet red at the compliment, then hurried out the door. The young woman was sweet and never seemed to lose her wide-eyed startlement at the guests in her care. Lana didn’t have the heart to tell her that ninety-nine percent of the “special” guests Quinn catered to were selfish, spoiled brats.
“I probably resemble that,” Lana murmured to herself as she made a fresh cup of tea and took it into her bathroom. This mug was made to retain heat for a long time. Better for slowly sipping a drink and for keeping one’s fingers warm. She sat in front of the mirror, opening her makeup kit.
Maybe today, if she focused hard enough, her hands wouldn’t shake. Maybe today, she could be what she wanted to be…a woman with some mascara and without a reputation to maintain. A woman who would face the world with her head held high, who would make good choices for her company, for her family, for her friends, and for the town she loved. A woman who wouldn’t be sitting alone at a bar at the end of the night, trying to shed the stress of her workday, because at least the bartender was someone to talk to. A woman who could catch an uncatchable moose and earn the approval of the people she desperately wanted to accept her.
Three dark smudges on her eyelids later, Lana quietly put her mascara away.
* * *
It had been a horrible death.
Arms crossed over his chest, Rick took a step back from the carnage in front of him. Jonah was made of stern stuff, but even he shifted uncomfortably. They’d been standing there in the snow for a while, taking it all in.
Some things…some things you couldn’t unsee.
“Takes a lot of rage to do something like this,” the officer finally said.
“Or premeditation.” Rick jerked his chin toward the pile of nearly unrecognizable crushed plastic, a red nose still blinking its final death blinks. “Rudolph never stood a chance, did he?”
The destruction was disturbingly familiar. One Christmas display trampled, the sleigh battered and overturned, Santa’s bag of toys launched to the rooftop of the singlewide trailer they stood in front of.
Babbling Brook was a nice name for an empty lot of land down the road from Rick’s place. Highly sought-after rental trailers sat at regular intervals, backed up to the small creek giving the RV park its name. Generally, the trailers housed seasonal workers, but there were a handful of familiar faces who made Babbling Brook their permanent home.
Babbling Brook was just one of the places that now had a new owner.
Rick passed by every day, twice a day, so he was used to the cars regularly parked in front of the trailers. The squad car was an irregular visitor, so Rick had pulled over to see if Jonah needed any help. Sadly, they’d all been too late to help the poor decorations in the RV park’s front yards. The Santa Moose had struck again.
“You think we should call Lana?” Rick asked Jonah, glancing up at the curious faces peering at them through RV windows. The police officer had already taken everyone’s statements, then asked for them to stay in their homes as he surveyed the moose’s crime scene.
“You think she knows this place is hers?” Jonah asked, scratching beneath his chin. “Not sure she’ll care about a few acts of vandalism.”
Vandalism. Such a mild term for the destruction of an entire community’s Christmas displays. Lights ripped off porches. Elves trampled in the middle of present building. One poor inflatable snowman dragged nearly a hundred feet and torn to pieces.
But the real damage…
“Seems the reindeer were the moose’s primary targets.” Jonah pulled a pad of paper from his inside jacket pocket, then made a few notes. “Can you think of any reason why?”
If someone hadn’t known any better, they would think Jonah took these kinds of reports every day. As for Rick, getting called to help out with an animal relocation was one thing. But identifying the inner psyche of a psychotic moose was beyond his scope of expertise.
“This is out of my wheelhouse. I’m not an animal behavioral expert, Jonah. You’d be better to call Fish and Game on that one.”
“No, but you and yours have been around these parts for a long time. Your daddy was so smart about these animals, he was half moose himself.”
“With the bullheadedness to prove it,” Rick joked. “Drove my momma nuts. Guess that was something we had in common.”
“How are they doing?”
“Florida is working out better for Dad than the cold up here.”
“Yeah, that sounds better and better these days.”
Rick had been an unplanned child, and his parents had been well past the point of thinking they’d have kids when he’d come along. With a father in his late seventies and a mother not far behind, the move to a warmer state had been the right call. Still, Rick wished he had a chance to visit them more or at least help them out a little beyond sending what spare money he could.
“All right, I’ll make up a report and add it to the file.” Jonah scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think there’s any chance the moose will come back to this location? Or will it move on to another target?”
“I’ve never heard of him hitting the same place twice. This guy’s MO is pretty clear. He gets in, does his thing, and gets out without anyone the wiser. You may want to tell everyone to put a curfew on their reindeer until the season is over.”
Jonah raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to cancel Christmas?”
“I’m saying that one of these days, some kid is going to be playing in the yard when this animal comes in looking to do some damage. Better to be safe than sorry.” Rick picked up a plastic cartoon duck dressed as Tiny Tim, which somehow managed to escape the slaughter by hiding beneath Ebenezer Scrooge. “All joking aside, this has been going on too long. We need to catch the Santa Moose and be done with it.”
A spark of humor reached Jonah’s eyes. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait on Ms. Montgomery to catch it, won’t we?”
Rick liked Jonah, but he didn’t love the way the cop’s lazy drawl turned toward amusement.
“You think she won’t?”
“I think there’s a whole lot of us that have tried and failed. If Easton can’t track him, what’s she going to be able to do?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t count her out just yet.”
Jonah chuckled, but Rick deliberately ignored him. He set Tiny Tim back on his feet before brushing the snow off his hands.
“I’ll call you if I think of something.”
* * *
Cartoon moose always looked shiftier in Santa hats.
“Okay. Let’s talk strategy,” Zoey said as she finished drawing arrows pointing at the moose.
Zoey was a tiny thing, and in front of the conference room’s oversize dry erase board, she looked even smaller. But pound for pound, Lana’s best friend had more guts packed in her than any of them.
“I feel like I’ve been talking strategy all year.” Lana leaned back against the conference table behind her as she checked her phone. “I’m sorry my morning ran long. I had to get spiffed up in the salon. I’ve ordered us breakfast.”
Zoey wrinkled her nose. “Is it—?”
“It’s all Zoey friendly, I promise. No trout on toast.”
Which was silly because the resort was world-renowned for their trout on toast. The things one did for their friends.
Lana glanced at her watch. “Okay, we have thirty-five minutes before your shift starts, and I need to go hunt down Jackson Shaw in town, then pick up the cookie decorations for my Christmas party.”