The Holiday Secret. Kathryn Springer

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       Chapter One

      A line from one of his daughter’s favorite picture books popped into Carter Bristow’s head when he rounded the corner and spotted a car parked on the side of the road.

       There’s something here that looks out of place.

      Hmm. Tough call. Especially when Carter had to choose between a red Lexus that stood out like a cluster of winterberry against the snow-covered landscape and the woman standing next to it, pointing her cell phone at the sky.

      Even with her back to him, Carter doubted she was a local. Her paper-thin leather coat and spiked-heel boots looked about as suitable for a Michigan winter as the vehicle she drove.

      He pulled onto the shoulder and parked a few yards behind her. The only traffic this late in the day tended to be the four-footed kind, but Carter followed protocol and flipped on the light bar before exiting the squad car.

      “Ma’am? Is everything all right?”

      The woman whirled around to face him, and Carter’s heart bumped against his Kevlar vest.

      Definitely not a local. If they’d met before, he would have remembered. Her sleek, chin-length cap of espresso-brown hair had been strategically cut to emphasize sculpted cheekbones and a pair of eyes that Carter would have been hard-pressed to describe in a report. Not quite blue, not quite green, but a stunning combination of the two that instantly resurrected memories of the sea surrounding the Greek islands Carter had visited once while on leave.

      And the flash of surprise in those eyes told Carter she hadn’t realized she was no longer alone.

      “I... Yes.” Wind-kissed cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “Everything is fine, Deputy.”

      That ruled out engine trouble. But a young woman on a deserted stretch of road at dusk, with the snow beginning to fall as rapidly as the temperature? Not exactly Carter’s definition of fine.

      “Having problems with your GPS?” He turned his attention to the cell phone clutched in the woman’s hand. It wouldn’t be the first time Carter had stumbled upon a traveler trying to find their way out of the maze of backroads that wound through Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

      “No. I was...taking a picture.”

      “A picture.”

      “Of him.” She pointed to an enormous bird perched on one of the upper branches of a towering red pine.

      The sight of a bald eagle surveying its kingdom was so commonplace here that Carter wouldn’t have given it a second glance, let alone stop to take a photograph. It wasn’t the explanation that caught him off guard, though. It was the smile that accompanied it.

      Two tours in the Navy had taught Carter to look for potential danger in the most innocent of places. His brief but disastrous marriage had made him equally wary of the ones hiding behind a woman’s smile.

      Even a smile warm enough, bright enough, to steal some of the chill from the air.

      As if aware it had drawn an audience, the eagle took flight and performed an elegant figure-eight above their heads before it glided away.

      The woman raised her cell phone again. Snapped another photo before it disappeared into the forest. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

       Beautiful.

      Carter tore his gaze away, not from the eagle, but from a single gossamer snowflake that had gotten tangled in her sable lashes and cast a pointed glance at the darkening sky.

      “He also knows when it’s time to go home.”

      The smile instantly faded, but Carter refused to feel guilty for his abrupt tone—or the suggestion that she follow the eagle’s example and do the same.

      The individual snowflakes that appeared as harmless as thistledown were bonding together as they reached the ground, creating a thin but potentially hazardous film on the road.

      Carter was nearing the end of his shift, but now he was duty-bound to make sure the woman ended up safely back on the main highway instead of in the ditch. Factor in the time he would spend entering reports and tying up the loose ends that inevitably happened at shift change and the chances of making it home before Bea’s bedtime were fading as quickly as the daylight.

      This impulsive photo op had put them both at risk. And all because she’d wanted to...to what? Draw a flurry of attention from her followers on social media?

      Old memories rushed in, leaving a bitter taste in Carter’s mouth.

      His ex-wife had been the same way. Jennifer had done what she’d wanted, when she’d wanted, indifferent to the effects her decisions had on anyone else.

      And if Carter was ever tempted to forget what those decisions had cost their family, all he had to do was picture the little girl patiently waiting at home for her daddy to read her a bedtime story.

      The one who—thanks to the woman with the aquamarine eyes and designer sports car—would no doubt be sound asleep by the time Carter got home.