Wish Upon a Christmas Star

Her sister shook her head. “No, he’s not. Why would you even say something like that?”

As succinctly as she could, Maria relayed the details of the visit from Caroline Webb. Annalise listened in silence, her expression giving nothing away even though she’d always been the most demonstrative of the four siblings.

“Say something,” Maria said when she’d finished.

“I’m thinking about how to phrase it.” Annalise scratched her head. “On second thought, to hell with tact. I’ll tell you how I really feel. I can’t believe you even let Caroline in the front door. Don’t you remember how she treated Mike?”

“Caroline’s not a high school kid anymore, Annalise,” Maria said. “She’s almost thirty years old.”

“Once a mean girl, always a mean girl,” her sister said heatedly. “Mike never would have dropped out of school if she hadn’t broken up with him in front of all their friends.”

One of the cafeteria workers had later provided their family with the details. Caroline had been cruel, saying she was sick of Mike and adding that he was worthless and stupid. She claimed she already had someone waiting in the wings to take her to the approaching homecoming dance.

Her words had hit the mark. Mike had rushed out of the school building and sped home, sideswiping a parked car on the way. Then he’d had another argument. With Maria.

Afterward, he’d packed a bag and split. Nobody had known where he was until Logan Collier called a few days later from New York City to say Mike was staying at his apartment.

“We don’t know that Mike wouldn’t have dropped out of school, Annalise,” Maria said. “His grades were so bad he barely made it through junior year. Remember how much trouble Mom and Dad had with him?”

“Most of that was because of Caroline,” Annalise said. “If I remember correctly, you thought so, too.”

Maria couldn’t dispute that. Over the years, however, she’d come to realize there were many factors in Mike’s disconnect from the family. That included Maria making it crystal clear she’d disapproved of his girlfriend.

“That’s water under the bridge,” she said. “The important thing now is to find out if Mike’s the one who’s been in contact with Caroline.”

“You said you were doing some online searches when I got here. You ran Mike’s social security number, right? Did anything come up?”

“Well, no,” Maria said. “But nothing would show up if he’s using an alias.”

“An alias?” her sister exclaimed. She shook her head and came forward, laying a hand on Maria’s arm. “Listen to me carefully, Maria. Mike’s dead. You know as well as I do that nobody in the restaurant survived that day.”

The hijacked plane had hit the North Tower a few stories below the Windows on the World complex. The official report was that all the restaurant customers and employees survived the initial attack, only to find the pathways that led below blocked by the impact zone. Everybody died, either of smoke inhalation or in the collapse of the building.

“Mike didn’t call any of us after the plane hit,” Maria said. “What if that was because he wasn’t there?”

“Oh, sweetie. Lots of other reasons make more sense. His phone might have been dead. Or maybe he was looking for a way out and couldn’t take the time to call.”

“His remains were never identified,” Maria reminded her.

“Neither were the remains of more than a thousand other people. That’s about forty percent of the victims,” Annalise said. “The authorities did the best they could, but it was an impossible task.”

“So we can’t completely rule out that Mike wasn’t at the restaurant that day,” Maria said.

“Yes, we can,” she insisted. “If he were alive, wouldn’t he have contacted us in the last eleven years to let us know?”

“I admit that part doesn’t make sense, but Mike was angry at the world when he left for New York. He wasn’t getting along with any of us.” Maria could tell that her arguments weren’t swaying her sister. She tried another tactic. “Don’t you want to know what I found out about the phone number?”

“Sure.” Annalise didn’t sound optimistic.

“The calls came from a prepaid phone, as if whoever made them doesn’t want to be found,” Maria said. “He must be in Key West, though. That’s where the envelope was postmarked.”

“I’ll admit the entire situation is strange,” Annalise said slowly, “but Mike didn’t make those calls or send those photos.”

“Then who did?” Maria asked. “It seems out of character for Mike to have given that nude photo of Caroline away.”

“C’mon, Maria. Someone else might be behind this.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I think it’s worth looking into the possibility it might be Mike.”

Annalise held up a finger and got her cell phone out of her purse. She appeared to be scrolling through a list of numbers before she pushed one.

“Hey, this is Annalise,” she said after a moment and turned away, walking to the other end of the room so it was harder for Maria to hear her.

That was fine with Maria. She already guessed that her sister had Jack on the line. Their surviving brother had moved to Virginia’s Eastern Shore earlier in the year to be with his girlfriend. Maria suspected Annalise was trying to enlist Jack’s help in convincing her she was wasting her time. A part of her didn’t blame her sister for trying to protect her. If Maria raised her hopes too high and came up with nothing, it would be like losing Mike all over again. But if she found him...

She went back to the computer and entered her brother’s name in a search engine. She got quite a few hits, each one of which she’d need to check out. Figuring there was no point to delay in making her airline reservation, she called up another tab and went to a travel site.

“Promise me something.” Annalise suddenly stood beside her, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. Maria hadn’t even realized her sister had gotten off the phone. “Promise me you won’t make that reservation until you talk to him.”

Annalise’s eyes looked tortured. She’d lost a brother, too, Maria reminded herself. All three of them had. If Annalise wanted her to talk to Jack before she started her investigation, it was the least she could do.

“I promise,” she said. “I won’t make the reservation until I talk to Jack.”

“Jack?” Annalise shook her head. “That wasn’t Jack on the phone. It was Logan Collier.”

CHAPTER TWO

LOGAN SPOTTED ANNALISE DiMarco the instant he entered the noisy Italian restaurant, which was decorated for the holidays with strung holly and tiny white lights.

He barely had time to breathe in the scents of spicy tomato sauce and baked bread before she sprang to her feet. After pausing to say something to her dining companion, a black-haired woman with her back to the door—who had to be Maria—rushed to his side.

“Hey, Annalise.” Logan leaned down to kiss her cheek. He’d barely connected when she grabbed his arm and dragged him off to the side of the hostess stand, nearer the exit and the coat rack.

“Hey, Logan,” she said conversationally, as though she hadn’t just hijacked him. “Thanks for coming.”

Annalise had the dark hair and light eyes common to the DiMarcos, except her hair was brown and her eyes green. The oldest sibling, she was also the only one with children. With Logan’s help, she and her husband had invested wisely enough that they should be able to fulfill their goal of paying for their two sons’ college educations.

“For a minute there I thought you were going to push me out the door.” He would have gone through it eagerly if Annalise had changed her mind about what she’d asked of him.

“Nothing like that,” she said. “I was getting you out of Maria’s field of vision. You know, in case she turns around to see if I really went to the restroom.”

He groaned. “I thought Maria knew that I was meeting both of you here.”

Annalise shook her head. “Not exactly. You know how I called and asked if you needed directions to the restaurant?”

“Yeah.” He’d thought that was odd considering Donatelli’s had occupied the same location for twenty years.

“I was supposed to tell you not to come. Maria practically ordered me.”