The Shadows of Christmas Past

to acquire. I get the impression they're involved in some sort of illegal racing circuit. When Sheriff Murchison contacted the track the greyhound was stolen from, she found out that Noel's owner died of a heart attack a week ago. So, then she hunted down the guy's heirs."
    "Who are coming to pick up Noel any minute now?" he asked anxiously. "You aren't going to let her go are you? She deserves a better life than living in a cage."
    His passion on the subject was touching. For all that she agreed with him, Marj had to be practical. "I wouldn't have a choice." His look of disappointment pained her. "Fortunately—well, unfortunately, considering that the man who owned her is dead—we don't have to worry about turning her over to his heirs. They have no interest in racing greyhounds and have already turned his other dogs over to a greyhound rescue group. The sheriff was told that they don't care what we do with Noel."
    Harry bounced up off the desk, looking as happy as if he'd just been given a marvelous Christmas present. "You're going to keep her!"

    Marj rose from her chair. "I didn't say—"
    Just then, a car pulled up outside, and Marj had to go to the door. Karen Montgomery and her two kids got out of the car as Marj came out of her office. Harry followed her out and walked across the yard toward the house.
    Karen Montgomery's gaze followed him for a moment, and she grinned and briefly fanned herself when she turned back to Marj. "Hi," she said. "The kids have decided they want a pet for Christmas. Is that greyhound you had at the Fete available?"
    A proprietary shriek silently went through Marj—both at the question and at the way the woman had looked at Harry. She put a professional smile on her face and briskly stepped forward. "She's not housebroken yet," she said, guiding the family toward the kennel. "Why don't I show you all the well-behaved, adoptable dogs that are available?"
    An hour or so later, the Montgomerys drove away with a happy German shepherd in the back of their SUV, and Marj headed for the house.
    Harry put his arm around her waist when she reached the porch. "I see you didn't give Noel away. You're going to keep her. Taffy will be pleased."
    She relaxed against him. Despite the difference in their sizes, they fit together very well. "I didn't do it just for Taffy." She gave a resigned sigh. "Once I let something into my house, I have trouble letting it go."
    "I'll keep that in mind," he said, then turned her toward the door. "Come on, I have something to show you."

chapter 8
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    "Have you been wolf hunting today?" she asked, as he closed the door behind them.
    "I'm saving that for tonight," Harry answered. "Today I worked on my case. Come on, I'll show you." Keeping his arm around her, he led her down the hall to the living room. Taffy and Noel tagged along behind them.
    When he'd explored the house that morning, he'd found that the living room had a very unlived-in feel to it. In fact, but for the kitchen and Marj's bedroom, the whole place felt abandoned. Everything was clean and neatly in place, but there wasn't any life to this house.
    Maybe it was just too big for one person. Maybe Marj's office and the animal shelter were the places her heart called home.
    "Now, you're going to wonder what relevance what you're about to see has to luring the kids out of the mountains. I'll explain, but first close your eyes."

    He watched to see that she obeyed, then put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the center of the living room. He positioned her so that she'd see the corner between the living room window and the fireplace.
    "Okay. You can look now."
    Her body stiffened beneath his touch when she opened her eyes. He'd suspected that she be briefly annoyed at his presumption, but he hadn't expected such deep anger. Or the almost physical wave of pain and grief that washed over her and into him.
    "Marj?" He pulled her back against him to wrap his arms protectively around her.
    "What have you done?" she demanded. "What right did you have—?"
    "It's Christmas," he pointed out. "A house needs a Christmas tree."
    He'd found the boxes in a closet. One contained the pieces of an eight-foot artificial pine tree.
    Other boxes had held Christmas ornaments, candles, lights, and decorations. He'd spent an hour moving some furniture and assembling the tree in the best place to be seen through the window. He'd placed gold and red candles on the coffee table and mantel, then lit them