Luke
Ten Days Before Christmas (The first one)
One by one, I slapped the photos of all the characters in Isabella’s story down. I paused at Amber. She was a good kid and a credit to Isabella. I slid her photo up, slotting her into a prime spot beside Isabella’s.
Isabella’s parents went beneath Amber and Isabella. Retired and living in Spain. The pissy little boyfriend was barely worth a mention in her life. I slid him to the bottom. My new daughter could do far better.
Her two friends checked out. I placed them above the boyfriend.
I stared at the dead man’s son. Clive Rayne had left some big boots to fill. I was grateful for the man’s diligence with Isabella. I was the first man in her life after five long years of celibacy, and by God, it left her thirsty.
But I was holding back.
Because when I took her, it would be when she was at her most fertile.
I placed the adoptive son’s photo beneath the absent parents before sitting back.
Zachary Rayne.
There was something wrong about him.
Immature? Disturbed?
My eyes rested on Amber. I tapped my fingers on the oak.
I lifted the phone and dialled the private investigator’s number. He’d been a great help when I collated information against the Jezebel I’d recently divorced.
A problem for Isabella or my new daughter was a problem for me.
“Mr. Newbury.”
“Hello, Michael. I have a job for you.”