Christmas Past

by Mary Burton

Genres: Holiday books; Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

From New York Times bestselling author Mary Burton comes a captivating tale of romantic suspense set in the heart of a rugged winter . . . Photographer Nicole Piper moved to Virginia hoping to put a troubled past behind her and start fresh with her baby daughter. But those hopes are dashed when she receives a very unwelcome Christmas gift—from her late husband. It’s a letter that holds clues to an elusive killer’s identity. The victim had helped save Nicole’s life—and paid with her own. Nicole owes it to her to follow the letter’s trail, and perhaps put to rest the fear that stalks her once and for all. But she can’t do it alone. When Homicide Detective David Ayden first met Nicole, he was looking for a fresh start too. Widowed and raising two teenage boys, Nicole was the only woman who’d stirred his interest—and the attraction was mutual. But that was months ago and she wasn’t ready to trust again. Maybe she still isn’t. All that matters now is that she needs his help—even if it means embarking on a road trip that will take them both into the heart of danger—and desire . . . Praise for the novels of Mary Burton “Will have readers sleeping with the lights on.” —Publishers Weekly on Before She Dies (starred review) “Terrifying . . . this chilling thriller is an engrossing story.” — Library Journal on Merciless

Release date: October 29, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 124

Sample

Richmond, Virginia
Tuesday, December 23, 9:00 A.M.

Nat King Cole crooned on a bargain CD player as Nicole Piper set down her half-eaten peanut butter sandwich and picked up a Baby’s First Christmas snow angel. She moved to a small silver vintage Christmas tree perched on her dinette table. The tree’s aluminum bristles caught the light streaming in the window.

She’d found the Christmas tree at a fall yard sale. The tree’s twenty-dollar price tag had seemed high at the time, but the vendor had assured Nicole the tree was a steal. Still, she’d worried over the extravagance and had negotiated the price down to eighteen dollars. Two dollars was loose change to most, but not for her. Her budding photography business barely brought in enough to support Nicole and her infant daughter.

The tree might have been unnecessary, but she was glad now she’d bought it. Its sparkling branches were not only festive but its bold, quirky style suited her new life.

Nicole hung the angel front and center on the tree, taking a moment to adjust it so it was straight. It was the only ornament on the tree. “So what do you think, Beth?”

Her eleven-month-old daughter lay on a blanket in the small living room just feet from the dining area. Beth’s feet and hands curled around a half full bottle of baby formula. She tossed Nicole a sloppy grin and went back to her bottle.

The child was oblivious to everything but her chubby fingers, which methodically closed and opened around her bottle. Nicole smiled. This was how it should be. It was Nicole’s job to worry, not Beth’s.

Nicole finished off her sandwich and carried her plate to the kitchenette. The apartment was furnished with a blue hand-me-down sofa with a pullout bed, which Nicole used nightly, a few end tables, a TV that only picked up local stations, and a round café table with one chair and a high chair. Near the sofa was Beth’s white crib. Unlike the rest of the room, the crib was not used or hand-me down. It was a stunning piece of furniture that looked as if it had been plucked from a magazine. A gift from Nicole’s friends, the crib indulged the only child she’d ever be able to have because of birth complications.

The third floor walk-up apartment would have looked a bit sad if not for the large photographs on the walls. Nicole had taken the black and white portraits in the last year. The non-traditional images had odd, quirky perspectives that completely captured the likeness and character of her subjects. Nicole made her living taking commercial portraits, but these images were shot during the precious free moments she had. They were also going to be part of a modest January show at the 1864 Gallery.

Nicole picked up a lukewarm cup of tea and sipped it as she stared at the pictures. They represented a huge milestone because they symbolized her return to the art world after almost a three-year absence.

When she’d been married to her late husband she thought she’d never be an artist again. All her energy had gone to surviving her husband’s abuse. Now, the past was behind her and she was creating again. She’d forgotten how exciting and joyous it felt to see her photographs materialize in the developing tray.

To think she’d almost lost her art. To think she’d almost lost her life.

As if sensing her unease, Beth pulled her bottle from her mouth, craned her neck in search of Nicole. Seeing her mother, the baby gurgled.

Nicole grinned back and winked at her child. Satisfied, Beth returned to her bottle.

Beth’s father, Richard Braxton, had been a charming, clever, and violent man. He’d lured Nicole into his life almost five years ago. They’d met in San Francisco when he’d darted out of the rain and into her studio. He’d quickly won her heart and before she thought, she’d married him. Within a year, he’d turned her life into a living hell.

Finally, after three years of marriage, she’d summoned her courage and fled across the country to Virginia. Not realizing she was pregnant, she’d changed her name and gone into hiding, knowing that Richard would kill her for leaving.

Those weeks had been tense and terrifying but Nicole had been determined to rebuild her life, even after she’d discovered she was pregnant.

Braxton, furious when he’d discovered she’d left, had tracked her down to Richmond, ready to kill Nicole and Lindsay O’Neil, the woman who’d sheltered her.

Nicole and Lindsay had been saved, but just the memory of that hot July day had Nicole crossing the room and double-checking the three deadbolt locks on her door. She’d been checking locks a lot lately. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she’d felt that Richard had somehow risen from the dead and was watching her.

That was ridiculous, of course. “The man is dead,” she whispered. “Richard can’t hurt you anymore. The nightmare is over.” Logic did little to quell the sudden knot in her belly that always formed when she thought about Richard.

Turning from the door, she stared down at her daughter, who looked so much like her father. Her dark hair, brown eyes, and long lean hands ensured that there’d be no denying who’d sired the child. And yet despite the physical similarities, Beth was pure light. No darkness. She was the best part of Nicole.

The front doorbell rang, startling Nicole from her thoughts. The baby dropped her bottle and rolled on her stomach to watch her mother move toward the door.

Nicole smiled at Beth and kept her tone light when she said, “Who could it be?”

The baby gurgled.

Nicole peered through the peephole. She smiled when she saw Lindsay O’Neil’s blond hair tied in a trademark ponytail, which accentuated her sharp profile. Lindsay wore a baby front pack, which held her three-month-old son, Jack. She wore a lightweight jacket, red sweater, and jeans. In her hand, she held a brown shopping bag.

Sighing out her tension, Nicole unfastened the lock and opened the door. “Merry Christmas.” Nicole tossed in a big smile, determined to forget her worries about Richard.

Lindsay grinned, leaned forward, and kissed Nicole on the cheek. Jack grunted between them, unhappy about being gently squished, and the women laughed. Lindsay, patting her son on the bottom, came into the apartment.

Nicole closed the door behind her and clicked just one deadbolt into place.

“So what brings you downtown?” Nicole asked. “I thought you’d be helping your mother-in-law with the big party.” Lindsay’s in-laws owned a restaurant called Zola’s and each Christmas they closed their doors to the public and had a huge party for friends and family. Nicole and Beth planned to attend.

“I stopped by Audrey’s early this morning. She’s cooking like there’s no tomorrow. I tried to help but she shooed me out of the kitchen. However, she asked me to drop these few things off with you.” Lindsay set her bag down on the kitchen table by the tree and pulled five to-go tins from the bag. “Nice tree.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s vintage?”

“So I hear. I just liked the way it sparkled.”

Lindsay carried the food into the kitchen and stacked the tins on the counter. “Audrey thinks you’re too thin. There’s enough ziti and bread here to sink a battle ship.”

Nicole laughed. Lindsay’s in-laws, the Kiers, had taken her under their wing when she’d moved into this apartment. They’d given her furniture, rugs, and lamps. “That’s sweet of her.”

“This is your first Christmas with the baby. They worry about you.” Concern darkened her gaze a fraction. “I worry about you.”

Lindsay ran the women’s center and was passionate about stopping domestic abuse.

“We’re doing great.” And that was the truth. “We’re settling in nicely.”

Lindsay held her gaze an extra beat. “You’re sure? You have dark circles under your eyes.”

“That’s actually a good thing. I was up cropping pictures and framing them for the exhibit.” She held up her hands. “Have a look around at my latest.”

Lindsay’s gaze trailed to the images as she moved around the room studying each carefully. She stopped at a black and white portrait of Kendall Shaw, a local news anchorwoman. Kendall and Nicole—the diva and the artist as their friends liked to say—were an unlikely pair but had struck up a close friendship when Nicole was pregnant. “When did you take this?”

“A week a. . .