Cold Case Christmas. Jessica R. Patch

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       ONE

      A country a version of “Holly Jolly Christmas” played inside Chief Deputy Sheriff Rush Buchanan’s Bronco. His coffee steamed from the insulated thermos and sleet pelted his windshield. Blue lights flashed and cast eerie shadows over Shepherd Rock Lake. Wind jostled his vehicle as he slid his hands into his lambskin gloves. Nothing about this moment was “holly” or “jolly.”

      He opened the door and braved the nasty weather. East Tennessee had its perks, though. Splendor Pines was the gateway to the gorgeous Smoky Mountains, capped in white at the moment. But now, in the darkness, with the mountains shadowing the horizon, everything appeared sinister, especially with the headlights shining on the rusted and mud-caked car they’d dragged from the lake.

      The crunching of tires on gravel turned Rush’s attention from the car and the pit in his gut. Sherriff Troy Parsons parked beside him and climbed out. He frowned and flipped his collar over his ears. “Well?” he asked in his gruff voice.

      “It’s a Jaguar. Deputy Tate ran the plates. It’s hers.”

      Troy grunted. Rush didn’t need to expound. Marilyn Livingstone had driven a Jaguar and she’d been missing since Christmas Eve seventeen years СКАЧАТЬ