Free Holiday in Stone Creek by Linda Lael Miller Page B

her..."
    Brad shook his head, pulled her inside the house. It was too hot and too crowded and too loud, but Oliviawas determined to make the best of the situation, for her family's sake, if not her own.
    Big John would have wanted it that way.
    She hunted until she found Mac, sitting up in his playpen, and lifted him into her arms. "It smells pretty good in here, big guy," she told him. There was a fragrant fire crackling on the hearth, and Meg had lit some scented candles, and delicious aromas wafted from the direction of the kitchen.
    Out of the corner of her eye Olivia spotted Tanner Quinn standing near Brad's baby grand piano, dressed up in a black suit, holding a bottle of water in one hand and trying hard to look as though he was enjoying himself.
    Seeing his discomfort took Olivia's mind off her own. Still carrying Mac, she started toward him.
    A cell phone went off before she could speak to him-- How the Grinch Stole Christmas --and Tanner immediately reached into his pocket. Flipped open the phone.
    As Olivia watched, she saw the color drain out of his face.
    The water bottle slipped, and he caught it before it fell, though barely.
    "What's wrong?" Olivia asked.
    Mac, perfectly happy a moment before that, threw back his head and wailed for all he was worth.
    "My daughter," Tanner said, standing stock-still. "She's gone."

CHAPTER FIVE
    T HIS WAS THE CALL Tanner had feared since the day Kat died. Sophie, gone missing--or worse. Now that it had actually happened, he seemed to be frozen where he stood, fighting a crazy compulsion to run in all directions at once.
    Olivia handed off the baby to Brad, who'd appeared at her side instantly, and touched Tanner's arm. "What do you mean, she's gone?"
    Before he could answer, the cell ran through its little ditty again.
    He didn't bother checking the caller ID panel. "Sophie?"
    "Jack McCall," his old friend said. "We found Sophie, buddy. She's okay, if a little--make that a lot--disgruntled."
    Relief washed over Tanner like a tidal wave, making him sway on his feet. "She's really all right?" Jack had been there for Tanner when Kat was killed, and if there was a blow coming, he might try to soften it.
    Olivia stood looking up at him, waiting, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, fingers squeezing gently.
    "She's fine, " Jack said easily. "Like I said, she's not real happy about being nabbed, though."
    "Where was she?" Tanner had to feel around insidehis muddled brain for the question, thrust it out with force.
    "Grand Central," Jack answered. "She sneaked away from the school group while they were making their way through the crowds after the parade. Fortunately, one of my guys spotted her right away, and tailed her to the station. She was buying a train ticket west."
    Coming home. Sophie had been trying to come home.
    Brad pulled out the piano bench, and Tanner sat down heavily, tossing his friend a grateful glance.
    "Question of the hour," Jack went on. "What do we do now? She swears she'll run away again if we take her back to school, and I believe her. The kid is serious, Tanner."
    Tanner let out a long sigh. He felt sick, light-headed, imagining all the things that could have happened to Sophie. And very, very glad when Olivia sat down on the bench beside him, her shoulder touching his. "Can you bring her here?" he asked. "To Stone Creek?"
    "I'll come with her as far as Phoenix," Jack said. "I'll have my people there bring her the rest of the way by helicopter. The jet's due in L.A. by six o'clock Pacific time, and it's a government job, high-security south-of-the-border stuff, so I can't get out of the gig."
    Tanner glanced sidelong at Olivia. She took his hand and clasped it. "I appreciate this, Jack," he said into the phone, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Send Sophie home."
    Olivia smiled at that. Brad let out a sigh, grinned and went back to playing host at a family Thanksgiving dinner, taking his son with him. Folks started milling toward the food, laid out