CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 46
“He sure does,” Charles agreed. “He has his cleft chin, though.”
“Yes, I see that now. I hope that’s all he gets from that . . . man.”
From the older couple’s comments, he got the feeling they were somewhat at a loss as to how to feel about their dead son-in-law. “Cori told me about the situation with her husband. Was he a decent kind of guy towards her before he died?”
“James was the academic type. You know the kind—book smart, but not a lot of common sense?”
Charles grunted to agree with his wife. He hefted his grandson higher on his hip. “He was snooty to people without a college education.”
Joan’s face twisted in a grimace. “Well, not so much snooty as . . .”
“The man was a snob, hon. We all know it. I’m not about to pretend I liked him just because he’s dead.” He turned to Luke. “I never liked the SOB. I only put up with him for Cori’s sake.”
“Jim was . . . difficult to get along with at times.”
“Oh come on, hon. Tell the truth.”
“I was taught it wasn’t nice to speak ill of the dead, Charles. Now leave me be, damn it. Darn it!” She added the last after giving her granddaughter a cautious glance.
“Grammy cursed!” Lilly chirped.
“Yes, Grammy did. I’m sorry. ”
“Just the mention of that man’s name makes me want to curse,” Charles added.
Joan gave her head a slow shake while gazing at Luke. “When a man hurts your little girl that way, it doesn’t matter if she’s three or almost thirty. It’s still a hard thing to swallow.”
“Well . . .” Charles sent his wife a one-sided smirk. “Maybe his passenger that night swallowed enough for all of us.”
Luke coughed into his hand as Joan swung around to meet her husband’s gaze, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Charles Granger, you did NOT just say that!” Her agitated hiss accompanied a frantic search for Lilly’s whereabouts.
He shrugged. “I guess I did.”
She wilted with semi-relief, seeing their granddaughter busy playing peek-a-boo with her baby brother. “I hope she didn’t hear you. You know that child repeats anything she hears, whether it’s fit for mixed company, or not. You have to be careful what you say around her.”
He waved off his wife’s concern. “I knew she was occupied, or I wouldn’t have said it.”
“Sometimes she seems occupied, but she hears everything, I’m telling you.”
“Oh, stop being paranoid, hon. She didn’t hear a thing.” Charles crossed his arms and grinned. “Cori won’t say, but I keep hoping Gavin’s passenger bit it off when his car slammed into that tree.”
Joan tightened her lips. Despite her disapproval and shaking head, she couldn’t keep the spark of amusement from her eyes. “You’re a terrible man.”
Charles grinned at Luke. “I guess I should explain—”
Luke raised one hand. “No sir. I know the story, and I admit I hoped the same thing when she told me the story.” He rubbed at his two-day beard growth. “I think it would serve him right to spend eternity without . . . well . . . it.” He gave his throat a gruff clearing and sucked in his breath. “Live by the sword . . . die by the sword.”
The older man chuckled and rested a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You’re okay, man.”
Joan turned her back on both of them, grumbling something about all men being heathens. She pressed her nose close to the window. “Oh, but isn’t he beautiful? I can’t wait for Cori to wake up so she can hold him. Everything will be so much better for her when she does.”
Luke turned his attention back to the baby. “He is a handsome little guy. Guess I’ll have to take your word that he looks like his mom. The only picture I’ve seen of her was from her driver’s license, and it was taken six years ago.”
Cori’s mother faced him again. “Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting that you and our daughter have never met.” She seemed to study him. “Do you have some kind of identification?”
“I do.” He reached for his wallet, waving off her husband’s protest. “She’s right to ask.” He pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to her. As an afterthought he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his dispatcher badge as further proof that he was who he said he was.
After a moment, she handed them back. “I’m sorry. I just needed to be sure.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not possible to be too concerned or too careful. Believe me; I know what I’m talking about.” He tried to suppress a yawn, but failed.
“You look tired. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
He rubbed his aching neck with one hand. “I guess I should.” He returned his license to his wallet and pulled out a business card. “I already gave my number to Melissa, but you take it also. I’d appreciate a call when she wakes. I’ll turn the ringer off while I’m sleeping, but go ahead and leave me a voice message or a text, and I’ll check it first thing after I wake.”
Joan took the card. “I will, now you go get some sleep. If she wakes up before you get here, we’ll tell her you came to check on her. Do you have another shift later tonight?”
“Thank you, and no ma’am. I started my one-week vacation this morning. I’ll be back later.” He waved before stepping into the elevator.
He was home in ten minutes, shaved and showered in another fifteen, and fell into his bed. His last thoughts before falling into a much-needed deep sleep were of Cori and her new son.
* * * *
Luke woke up six hours later, without the benefit of an alarm, but still feeling fully rested. He checked his phone, released a Texas size whoop of excitement when he opened his messaging app.
Hey Luke, Cori’s awake! We told her you came by and she’s really sorry she missed you. She’s looking forward to meeting you. Mother and baby are fine. Call before you come. They’re talking about moving her to a private room, soon - Melissa Landry
“Thank you, God. That little man needed his mama to hold him.” The second text message was from his mom, asking how his flight had been. “Uh, try non-existent.” He rolled over on his back and hit the number to call her. She answered with her usual exuberance, even though she hadn’t been thrilled with his decision to spend Christmas and New Year’s in Mexico rather than with his family.
“Hey, baby boy! I bet you’re lounging in the sun with an ice cold beer in your hand.”
“Not quite. I didn’t go.”
“You didn’t? What happened?”
He paused, wondering how to answer. He couldn’t use work as an excuse. He’d left the call center in plenty enough time to make the flight. “I—I don’t know, Mom. I guess I wasn’t as into it as I thought I was. I’ll reschedule for a later date.”
“So, you’ll be here this evening for our family Christmas?”
“Yes, ma’am. I will. What time do the festivities start?”
“Well, the neighbor will be by in his Santa costume around 6:30 to pass out the gifts. If you want your photo taken sitting on his lap, I wouldn’t get here any later than 7:00.”
He laughed into the phone. “I don’t think your neighbor would be thrilled to have my two hundred twenty-five pounds resting on his lap.”
She snorted. “I think he’d rather enjoy that.”
“Wait, which neighbor? Old Mr. Miller, or the gay guy on the opposite side of you?”
“The second and his name is David. He’s the sweetest thing.”
“Then I definitely won’t be sitting on his lap. I wouldn’t want to give him false hope.”
“My, but aren’t we full of ourselves today?”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her snarky attitude. His mom was a trip.
“So when can we expect your audacious presence?”
“I’ve got to run a couple of errands first then make a trip to the hospital.” He spared her the panic of jumping to the wrong conclusion. “And no, it’s not for myself. I’m going to visit a . . . an acquaintance.”
“Anyone we know?”
“No ma’am. I’ll explain when I make it to your place. Has my sister made it in yet?”
“Do you hear bickering adults or a whiny child in the background yet?”
“No, it’s rather quiet.”
“Then, no.” Her light-hearted laughter rang in his ear. “I’m expecting them any moment, however. I’m sitting here, enjoying a cinnamon laced cappuccino before the chaos ensues.”
“Speaking to your favorite child.”
“Speaking to my favorite son.”
“I’m your only son.”
“Yes, you are, and so bright, too! Later, my little prince.”
“Later, Mom.”
“Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“All jokes aside, Son. You’ve made my day. I love you.”
He smiled, knowing she spoke the truth. “I love you too, Mom.”
Luke rolled out of bed and dropped for a quick fifty push-ups, finishing up with ten one-arms on each arm. A quick shower to wash the sleep from his eyes and a protein shake for breakfast had him ready to face the day. He started his coffee and flipped on the tube, switched it to a local station, hoping to catch a weather forecast. He reached for the remote to turn off the TV when the local anchor’s next words had him freezing in his tracks.
I’m Bridget Leger. Around 4:00 a.m. this morning, two men, DaShawn Jackson and Tyrone Jefferson, entered Viv’s Toy Emporium in Beaumont and attempted to rob the store. The store’s salesclerk, Simone Davis, wife of Sheriff’s Deputy Shemar Davis, was being held by Jackson and Jefferson when her on-duty husband, Deputy Davis, and his partner, Deputy Michael Lawson, stopped by for a routine security check, thereby interrupting the robbery. When Lawson picked up his radio to call for backup, Jackson shot him in the chest. Deputy Lawson was taken immediately in for emergency surgery. He has since lost his life, a direct result of the wound. Our hearts and prayers go out to Deputy Lawson’s family, including his wife, Jaqueline, and two young sons, Michael, Jr. and James, ages five and three.
Jackson had been released earlier this week from the Jefferson County Correctional Facility when the star witness for the prosecution failed to appear to testify against him in court. Mrs. Denita Lewis alleged she’d been beaten, raped repeatedly, and held hostage by Jackson for several hours back in October before her husband came home unexpectedly and overpowered Jackson, then held him at gunpoint until authorities arrived. Jackson, who denied the allegations and plead not guilty, has a long list of priors, many connected to gang activity in the Port Arthur area. But hold up, there’s an unexpected twist to this story. Stay tuned, and we’ll tell you more when we return.
“Well, how can I resist when you make it sound so intriguing?” Luke used the time to blend his breakfast protein shake. He’d nearly finished it by the time the anchor returned to the screen.
We promised you more on the sad story of the officer shooting and hostage situation in Viv’s Toy Emporium. Here’s Renee Bertrand, on location at Christus St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, here in Beaumont.
A woman appeared on the screen, standing in front of the hospital.
“When eight and a half month pregnant Corrine Ritter entered Viv’s Toy Emporium early Christmas Eve, she had no idea things were about to turn ugly. She approached the back of the store to find the clerk, but before she could speak to her, two men entered with guns. When she realized what was happening, she slipped into the stockroom situated at the far back of the store and hid herself in order to call 911 to report the incident. The dispatcher worked with her to coordinate police activity. At some point, Jefferson deposited a bag loaded with ammunition for the two guns in his and Jackson’s possession. Mrs. Ritter snuck out of her hiding place long enough to retrieve the bag and hide it from the robbers, thereby hindering their capability to reload their weapons. Even after going into labor she aided law enforcement. After they obtained a key to the back door from the store manager, they cut out the door lock with a laser torch and passed the key to Ritter through the hole. She used the key to remove the padlock on the loading area doors, enabling officers to enter the store from the rear and control the situation. Police credit Mrs. Ritter’s quick thinking, as well as her collaboration with the 911 dispatcher for helping to end the situation before the clerk, Simone Davis, was hurt, or worse. Late in the situation, Mrs. Ritter began to hemorrhage, collapsing as soon as the officers gained entry to the store. I spoke to Doctor Tina Reed earlier about the condition of Mrs. Ritter.
The camera broke to video of a woman wearing green scrubs, and with a microphone stuck in her face.
“Doctor Reed, what can you tell our viewers about Mrs. Ritter’s condition?”
“The patient arrived here comatose from severe hemorrhaging. We performed an emergency Caesarian section to deliver the child, a healthy little boy, while giving his mother multiple units of blood. After a six-hour coma, the patient has since awakened. She’s in an extremely weakened state, but she’s healthy, and will no doubt, make a quick recovery.”
Renee spoke into the mic. “And can you tell us if she’s seen her new son yet?”
The doctor beamed into the camera. “Yes she has. The baby boy is in the room with his mother as we speak, along with several of Mrs. Ritter’s family members. It’s our own little Christmas miracle here at St. Elizabeth’s.”
“Has she named the baby yet?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Thank you doctor.” The anchor pulled the mic back and stepped in front of the camera. “A sad note to the story is that Mrs. Ritter became a widow about seven months ago after losing her husband in a car accident. Although Baby Ritter is meeting his mother right now, he’ll never have the opportunity to meet his father. I’m Renee Bertrand, reporting live. Back to you, Bridget.”
He hit the power button on his remote, cutting off any further comment. “Hm, not as sad a note as you might think, Renee.” He downed the rest of his shake and grabbed his coat. In minutes, he was on his way.
After making a quick trip to the nearest Walmart, Luke stepped out of the elevator, loaded down with a two-foot-tall stuffed bear, and a Christmas flower arrangement. He approached room 325 and paused, listening to the chattering inside the room. Taking one deep breath to calm a rare case of nerves, he raised one hand to knock on the door. Roland opened it and grinned as he waved him into the room.
Luke took a hesitant step inside, then another into the room humming with chatter.
“How is she?”
The crowd quieted perceptibly as three adults stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the woman lying in bed holding a bundle of blue. Her big, blue-eyed gaze locked onto him, wide with curiosity. Her full lips parted, with just a hint of a smile. Gone was the blond, pixie-cut hairstyle, replaced with shoulder length waves, soft, golden-brown, and framing her beautiful, heart-shaped face.
“Luke?”
He nodded. “It’s me. How are you, Cori?”
Her face broke into a smile, even as her eyes flooded with tears. “We’re fine, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything special.” He jutted his chin forward. “Looks like you did all the difficult work.” He remembered the gifts he carried, held up the arrangement. “These are for you. I figured since you’d be spending your Christmas in the hospital, you’d need something festive in your room.”
“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” One silent glance at her sister had Melissa moving to take the flowers from his hands.
He approached the bed and lifted the stuffed bear. “And this is for the big guy, there. I hear he’s nearly eight pounds. Not too shabby for being two weeks early. You did good, Cori.”
She stared at her baby, brushed away a tear that had trailed down her face and threatened to drip from her chin. “Thank you. For . . . for . . .” Her face crumbled and her shoulders shook as she broke into soft sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
He placed the bear at the foot of her bed and fought the strongest urge to wrap his arms around her—find some way to comfort her. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to fall apart after what you’ve been through, especially when you were so strong for the duration.” He leaned in closer, so that his face was nearer to hers. “If anyone in this room knows how strong you were, I do.” Unable to resist touching her any longer, he extended his hand. “Luke Oliver—it’s a real pleasure to meet you face to face.”
She adjusted her hold on the baby and reached out to grasp his hand. “Corrine Ritter, and it’s a pleasure to meet you also.”
Luke held her hand an instant longer than necessary, hating to break the contact. He couldn’t say why, since he barely knew the woman. Although, he did know something about her that no one else did, if she’d spoken the truth about her planned suicide. The thought of this beautiful young woman coming so damn close to taking her own life sent a chill through him. His gaze landed on the infant, the baby boy with so many of his mother’s traits, and he couldn’t help but smile.
This child had saved his mother’s life by revealing his existence when it mattered most, and that made him special in Luke’s opinion.
“Would you like to hold him?”
“I would.” He reached out and took the infant in his arms. Adjusting the bundle to see him better, he pulled back the blanket to see baby Ritter’s face better.
“Hey, little man. You’re an armful already, you know that? Has your mom given you a name yet?”
* * * *
The room grew even quieter as Cori cleared her throat. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that first.” She studied Luke’s handsome face, the strong jawline, straight nose, and just-full-enough lips.
“Why’s that?” He lifted his gaze to meet hers.
She’d noticed his eyes as soon as she’d seen him—one blue, one green—just like Officer Gary Hallet’s eyes in “Practical Magic”. A condition called heterochromia—complete heterochromia iridis in his case, since each iris was a different color. Striking—and in that handsome face—even more so. He hadn’t lied about that nor his height or hair color. Even from her bed, she could see he was over six feet tall, and the weight he carried was indeed, all muscle. His light brown hair, just a tad longer than a military cut, its texture indicating it would indeed curl if he let it grow. She caught herself thinking if she ever saw that, she’d be tempted to run her fingers through his hair. She pushed all those sex-starved thoughts aside and returned to her present condition of post-baby delivery with a patched up uterus and stitches in her lower abdomen.
