“Cornelius wants to head back with us,” Doc said. “He’s anxious to check his video recordings to see what Jane’s ghost has been up to while he was gone.”
Of course he was. “What about Harvey?”
“He’s in limbo. Your mom asked him to teach her how to cook Yorkshire pudding and a couple of his other dishes she’d heard about from your aunt.”
“You think Aunt Zoe will be happy or sad that Reid is leaving?”
“They seem to be getting along at the moment.”
“Yeah, but she keeps watching him with narrowed eyes when he’s not looking. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”
“Me either. You Parker women don’t make it easy on a poor guy.”
“Give me a break. I roll over and show you my belly at a mere eyebrow wiggle.”
“And a sexy belly it is.” Doc came over and sat down next to me. “There’s one other thing I need to talk to you about before we head back out with everyone else.”
“What?”
He took my hand and dropped something in my palm. I looked down and laughed. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I held up the mistletoe that he’d plucked from Susan’s decapitated snowman.
“I believe the instruction manual said something about holding it over your head and puckering your lips.”
“Are you sure I’m not supposed to stick it down the front of my pants again?”
His grin was positively wicked. “We’ll try that later.” He took my hand with the mistletoe and lifted it high between us. “For now, give me those lips, Boots.”
I licked them, closed my eyes, and waited for my last Christmas present of the day.
Doc delivered it and then some.
Chapter Nineteen
December 27th
Two days later on the road back to Deadwood …
I’d stayed an extra day at my parents’ place, enjoying some time with my brother. Quint had hung around with us the day after Christmas until he’d had to catch a return flight back to the great white north to wrap up his photojournalist gig up there. Truth be told we were plenty white in South Dakota still, even though the sun had come out in full force and begun the long slow melt.
Aunt Zoe and Harvey had headed for Deadwood in her pickup last evening after Quint had taken off, leaving the kids and me to enjoy some alone time with my parents. The Twister game came out after supper. It turned out my mom’s yoga exercises were good for more than relaxation and sex.
This morning, Doc had driven down in my SUV and picked me up. I had to meet with my out-of-town clients again later this afternoon and show them some more houses, which meant vacation was over.
After saying our good-byes to my kids and parents, we climbed into my SUV and headed into the hills the same way we’d come down in the snowcat. I wanted to see how much snow had piled up between Deadwood and Rapid City, so he was driving.
“How long are the kids staying?” he asked as we passed the trail to Buzzard’s Roost on our way up into the hills on Highway 44.
“Dad will bring them home on New Year’s Eve. He and Mom have a party to go to that night that’s for adults only.”
We drove for a mile or two without talking. The snow grew deeper on the side of the road as we climbed. The radio started playing the Rolling Stones’ hit “Wild Horses,” as the DJ counted down to New Year’s Day with what the station considered to be the top five hundred rock songs of all time. I leaned back in my warm seat, enjoying the gorgeous scenery alongside Doc, whose spicy cologne made my SUV smell wonderful.
“How was your brother?” Doc broke the silence.
“He was good. Although he seemed distracted. When I badgered him about what was going on, he asked me what I remembered about Dr. Hughes disappearing.”
“Who’s Dr. Hughes?”
“The father of Quint’s best friend since childhood, Jeff Hughes.”
“What do you remember?”
The road sign for Norris Peak Road had snow piled up around the post from the plows. It must have been almost four feet high.
“Not much,” I told him. “Just that Dr. Hughes was an archaeologist, and that he went on a dig down in Mexico and never came back.”
“Did you ask him why he was wondering about Dr. Hughes?”
“Yeah. He said he might try to look into Dr. Hughes’ disappearance while he’s down in Mexico on his next job.” I shielded my eyes as the road turned and a ray of sun ricocheted off the snow, blinding me for a couple of seconds. “It kind of makes me nervous for him.”
“Why’s that?” Doc extended the visor to block the sun.
“I don’t know. The Mexican jungle is not the safest place to go digging for dirt on a missing person.”
“Maybe so, but the Black Hills have turned out to be a bit troublesome, too.”
I snickered. “That’s how the cow ate the cabbage.”
He glanced my way. “You’ve been hanging around Harvey too much.”
“I can’t help it. He lures me in with his cooking and then fills my head with his sayings.”
Several minutes of listening and driving later, Doc slowed as we approached US Highway 385. “Did you get a chance to tell Quint about being an Executioner?”
“No. Between the kids, my parents, and Aunt Zoe wanting time with him, we weren’t alone much.” And when we were, the time never seemed right.
He turned, heading for Deadwood. “You’re dragging your feet.”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure where to start with this whole Executioner business.” I scowled out the window at the snow-coated pine trees. “And part of me doesn’t want him to know I’m a killer.”
“You think that will bother him?”
“He’s never been much for violence. An offshoot of our flower-child mother’s philosophy, I
