CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 50
“That’s so sweet. So the puppy is a success?” Cori asked.
Her mom snorted. “It better be for what you went through to get it.”
Melissa’s facial expression turned to a mixture of embarrassment and regret. “I feel bad enough having called you to vent the night before last. If I wouldn’t have said anything, you’d have driven straight through and none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t go there, Sis. I figure I was supposed to show up exactly when I did.”
“If she hadn’t, those guys still would have robbed the store. The sales clerk’s husband still would have shown up when he did. Chances are, if she hadn’t been there to hide their ammo and help me to keep law enforcement informed, that cop would have lost his wife, along with his partner.”
Cori chewed her lower lip, deep in concentration. “He’s right. You may have saved a life by calling me when you did.”
Luke thought about the obvious. Not to mention that if Cori hadn’t stopped when she did, if she’d had no reason to call 911, I never would have met her . . . and that would be unacceptable.
“And if I hadn’t been there at that time, on that day, to share this experience with Luke . . .”
Luke waited for her to finish; looked up to find her gaze on him—his heart sputtered in his chest.
“I may have named my son something totally lame . . . like Ian or Blanket.”
“Or something that would have gotten him beaten up all his life, like Gaylord or Seaman,” he added.
Cori’s mouth fell open. “I would never name my son Gaylord, and excuse me, but why would anyone name a kid after . . .” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “You know—that’s just nasty.”
Luke grinned at her. “It’s not spelled the same, silly. It’s S-E-A-M-A-N, like a sailor-seaman.”
She frowned, her distaste on full display. “Still, no. Just…no.” She lifted her nose in the air. “And what smells so good? I keep getting a whiff of something sweet, like pastry.”
Dolores straightened. “I nearly forgot! I brought a surprise for Cori.” She pulled a plastic container from a bag.
Luke sidled up to his mother. “Are those your caramel sticky buns?” He groaned when she removed the container’s lid. “You are in for a real treat, Cori.”
Cori lifted her son, as though offering him up as a sacrifice. “Trade ya, Ms. Dolores!”
Dolores laughed and set the container on Cori’s lap before taking the baby. “Sounds like a worthy trade to me.”
Luke spoke to the infant in his mother’s arms. “How do you like that, little man? Sold out for a handful of sticky-buns.” Before Cori could reach for one, he ripped the container out of her hands. “Hold on, it’s not quite ready, yet.” He pulled a birthday candle from his pocket and stuck it in the center of the biggest bun.
“You always walk around with one of those in your pocket?”
“Always prepared.” Truth was he’d sweet-talked the nurses into procuring the candle for him this morning. He waited for his mom to light it before turning around to lead the group in a round of the birthday song.
“Thank y’all! With everything that happened I almost forgot it was my birthday.” Cori blew out the candle, lifted a gooey, caramel covered pastry from the container, and took a bite. “Oh-ma-god, this is so good.” Her eyes rolled in ecstasy as she released a muted groan. “It’s only temporary, baby boy. Mama will steal you back as soon as I’ve emptied this container.”
Luke reached in a hand but paused. “You plan to wolf those down alone, or share them with me?”
She offered the container. “You’ve earned your share.”
He lifted one and bit into it, savoring the sticky goodness. “I missed these so much I tried to bake a batch when I was stationed back stateside. They were decent, but not nearly as good as these.” Luke leaned closer to Cori. “I’m convinced she left something out of my recipe on purpose, so they wouldn’t be as good as hers.”
“I heard that!” Dolores said. “I’ll have you know I gave you the same recipe I’ve used for twenty years. Don’t blame me for your failure to execute.”
Cori laughed. “Well, I’d love this recipe, if you don’t mind, Ms. Dolores. Or better yet, give it to my mom.”
Joan gave her head an adamant shake and crossed her arms. “I don’t want it. She started on those at 5:00 a.m. You know my rule. I don’t cook anything that takes longer than thirty minutes. Just call Charles and me over. We’ll do the babysitting while you work on your technique.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Cori licked the stickiness from her finger, accepted the damp napkin Luke handed her. “Now I need a good cup of coffee.”
Dolores reached inside her bag and pulled out a thermos. “I brought some. Hospital coffee is never as good as mine.” She filled the disposable cup Cori handed her.
“Thank you.”
“Your birthday gifts from us are at home though, along with the Christmas gifts we were all too freaked to bring after that early morning phone call yesterday.”
“No problem, Sis. I got the only gift I needed this year.”
Melissa smiled at her new nephew. “I have to agree with you.” She cocked her head. “Does that mean I get to keep what I got you? I like it . . . a lot.”
Cori chuckled. “I’ll let you know after I open it.”
Halfway through his second cup Luke addressed Cori’s mom. “So, how’d it go last night, Ms. Joan?”
“We had a wonderful evening. Your parents have opened their home to complete strangers and made us feel welcome and comfortable.” She faced her daughter. “Dolores enjoys sewing as much as I do, and she quilts, too. She’s offered to teach me some things.”
“So, Dad’s not uncomfortable being there?” Cori’s gaze landed on her father and Luke’s dad, deep in a conversation about which NFL team had the best chance of winning the Super Bowl this year.
“Not at all. He and Arthur take turns sitting in the recliner.”
“We’re glad to have you all in our home,” Dolores added. “I swear to you, Arthur hasn’t talked this much without dozing off in years. I don’t know what it is, but we all seem to ‘click’, don’t you agree, Joan?”
Joan responded with a nod. “I know exactly what you mean, Dolores.”
Luke’s gaze landed on Cori. “So do I.”
Chapter 6
9:25 a.m., December 26
Luke knocked before he walked into Cori’s hospital room; found her dressed and fidgeting, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her day nurse, Sherrill, stood close as though offering comfort.
The look they sent his direction put him into instantaneous alert mode. He searched the room for clues. The baby lay sound asleep in his bassinet beside the bed. Cori’s bags were on the couch, packed and ready to go. “What’s wrong? Has the doctor decided not to release you today?”
“The local news just said something about an escaped prisoner.”
He approached, placed a hand on her shoulder. “It could be any prisoner—”
“A prisoner involved in a recent hostage situation resulting in a dead police officer?”
He managed to speak even as his gut tightened in knots. “Did they say anything else?”
“Only that they’ll tell us more after the commercial break,” Sherrill said.
Luke addressed Cori. “Try not to worry, maybe it’s someone else.”
She stopped her fidgeting to stare at him. “Do you really believe that?”
Luke clenched his jaw. No use telling her he’d already suspected it wasn’t over with Jackson. “Let’s just wait and see.”
In seconds, the anchorwoman returned to the screen.
“This just in from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department. One of two men involved in a hostage situation on Christmas Eve, has escaped. The van carrying DaShawn Jackson flipped twice when its tire blew out. The prison official driving the van claimed he heard a pop that sounded like a gun shot before the tire blew out. He lost control of the vehicle and it flipped, knocking out both the driver and the accompanying Sheriff’s deputy. When they came to, Jackson was missing from the van. Authorities are investigating as to whether a gunshot may have caused the tire to blow. Local and state law enforcement units are all involved in the manhunt. Jackson, responsible for the death of Deputy Michael Lawson, has a long list of drug and gang related priors and is considered dangerous. Jackson had been charged formally with first-degree murder, and was en route to the Jefferson County Courthouse to have his case reviewed before a judge.
The incident involving the shooting death of Deputy Michael Lawson took place at Viv’s Toy Emporium in the early morning hours of December twenty-fourth, here in Beaumont. Jackson had taken the clerk, Mrs. Simone Davis, as a hostage, even attempted to rape her before being stopped by Tyrone Jefferson, his partner in crime. Renee Bertrand caught up with Mrs. Davis earlier this morning at the Sheriff’s Department.
The camera switched to the same woman who’d interviewed them two days earlier.
“I’m here with Simone Davis, the woman taken hostage by DaShawn Jackson. Mrs. Davis, is there anything you’d like to say to our listeners?”
Cori pointed at the TV screen as the camera focused on a second woman. “That’s her! That’s the woman I saw in the store.”
“DaShawn Jackson is an animal. If anyone sees him or hears rumors of where he may be hiding out, please call the local police or the Sheriff’s Department.” She pointed to the ugly bruise on her face. “He did this with no provocation. A few minutes later that monster tried to rape me; I’m convinced he would have had Tyrone Jefferson not stopped him when he did. The man is psychotic and dangerous. Do not help him. Do not hide him. I heard him say over and over he was prepared to die rather than go back to prison. I heard him threaten his own partner on several occasions. I’m convinced that if Jefferson hadn’t been shot in the crossfire, that DaShawn Jackson would have killed the man himself. May God forgive me, but Beaumont will be a much safer place when that animal is gone from this earth.”
Renee turned back to the camera. “A desperate plea from a brave woman, one of two involved in the early morning robbery turned hostage situation. Back to you, Bridget.”
Sherrill gave Cori’s arm a reassuring pat. “I’m going to alert security.”
Cori waited until Sherrill had left the room to break down. “Oh, God. He’s out, Luke! He’s out, and he knows who I am, where I am, and that I have a newborn son. He knows everything!” She placed a shaky hand over her heart, her eyes wide with terror.
“Relax, hon. He’d be crazy to make any attempt to get to you here.”
She pointed to the TV again. “Were you listening? She called him psychotic. He’s not only crazy, he’s evil. How difficult would it be for him to look up my address back home in Louisiana?”
“He’s not going to get his hands on you.”
“You can’t possibly know that!”
“The hell I don’t. I’m telling you I won’t let him.”
“You can’t just say things like that to placate me, Luke. They’re only words, and words won’t help a thing in this situation.” She placed her palms on her chest. “Oh, God. I can’t breathe. I think I’m hyperventilating . . .”
He turned her to face him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Stop, Cori. I want you to listen to me. He won’t get to you because I’m not letting you out of my sight until he’s either back in custody or dead. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m quite capable of carrying out that second scenario.”
“But you can’t—”
“I can—and I will.” He placed his hands on her cheeks, wrapped his fingers around her skull to pull her closer. “Do you trust me, Cori?”
“Luke . . .”
“Answer me. Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know. Can I?”
“Did you trust me enough to listen to me when you were in that stock room?”
“Yes . . .”
He nodded. “That’s right, you did. I’m asking you to trust me again.”
Cori closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She raised her face to his and opened her eyes again. “All right, but before we leave here, I have to know. What’s your plan?”
“I think you should go to my parent’s home. Jackson and his friends can find your place, and my place without much effort, but he doesn’t know who my parents are.”
Her eyes widened with panic. “His friends? You think he has friends out there?”
“His priors mentioned gang related activity. I’m thinking they’re the ones who ambushed the van—shot the tire.”
“Oh . . . God.”
“My parents live in a gated community with a security system, and they have plenty of room.”
Worry lines marred her forehead. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe your folks would extend their stay so you’d be more comfortable.”
“But your parents—”
“Won’t mind a bit, and you’ve seen them together. They get along fine. Hell, my dad’s a talker now. He’s a retired cop. He’s still got friends in the Beaumont PD. More importantly, I’ve got my own friends, Marines who’ll be glad to step in if I need an extra hand or two.”
Cori covered his hands with hers and pulled them from her face. She stepped away from him, turned to gaze at her sleeping son. “Why are you doing this?”
He stared at her back, wondered how to answer. Truth is, he didn’t come up with this plan when he heard that report. He’d been planning it since Jackson had been taken into custody . . . just in case that nagging feeling turned out to be more than paranoia. As to why? He couldn’t say for sure. “Because I can’t stand the thought of you, either of you, being in danger. Seeing you afraid makes me crazy.”
She turned on him. “But why, Luke?”
He tried to focus on the question, found himself shaking his head. “I don’t know why, not yet, anyway. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
Her gaze raked over him, from his forehead down to his belt buckle, or somewhere in that area. Cori tore her gaze away, blushed when she found him watching her. She started to turn away from him.
He placed his hands on her arms before she could escape. “Don’t.”
She looked at the window, at the heating unit below it, anywhere but at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t pull away from me.”
Her blush deepened. “Jesus! How can you expect me not to be embarrassed when you specifically ask me not to be?”
He smiled at her discomfort. Truth was, it’d been too damn long since he’d seen a woman blush. That didn’t say much for the company he’d kept of late. He lifted a knuckle and brushed one heated cheek. “You look good in pink, hon.”
A knock at the door had them pulling away from each other like a couple of guilty teenagers. He looked up as the doctor entered the room.
“Looks like you’re all packed and ready to go. I guess I’m late to the party.”
“Yes, Ma’am. We’re ready to get out of here.”
Dr. Reed looked at Luke. “Did you park yourself, or did you valet?”
“I valet parked. If you’re here to release her I’ll call them right now.” He pulled the ticket from his pocket and made the necessary call to the number listed, while keeping an ear open to hear the doctor’s instructions.
“Okay, Ms. Ritter, you’ve received instructions from your lactation specialist, correct?”
“Yes, she was in here earlier.”
“And the pediatrician spoke to you about bringing the baby either here or to your own pediatrician in two weeks for a circumcision?”
“Yes, she did. I’ve already made an appointment with her.”
Dr. Reed gave her a quick run-down of what she could and could not do in her condition. Several minutes later, she swiped the electronic pad. “And I see you’ve already submitted the insurance information with billing and paid the deductible, even. You’re way ahead of the game, Ms. Ritter. It looks like all you’re waiting on is this release packet.” She handed a packet of paper to Cori. “Good luck with everything.”
Cori accepted the papers and slipped them into her purse before thanking her.
Luke looped the straps of her bags over his shoulders, and carried the flower arrangement and stuffed bear. He walked into the hallway while Sherrill eased Cori into a wheelchair and placed the baby in her lap. As predicted, by the time the group reached the exit, his parent’s car sat waiting for them just outside the sliding electric doors. He pointed to the white Chevy parked in front. “This one.”
“What about a car seat for the baby?”
“It’s in there. Your mom showed me which one to get online and I picked it up on the way over here. I installed it in the parking lot.”
He stepped into the cold, damp December air and gave the area a once over before opening the rear door. Luke helped Cori into the back seat of the car while Sherrill buckled the baby into the brand new car seat. She stepped away and waved, wishing them luck.
In under a minute, Luke pulled away from the Hospital entrance’s covered awning. He flipped on the wipers to clear the droplets of mist settling over the windshield.
“Is this your car?”
“No, it’s my mom’s. I figured you’d be more comfortable than my truck.”
“I gave Melissa my car keys. Is my car still parked at the toy store?”
“Roland and Joe picked it up yesterday.”
“My car seat is in the trunk. One more thing I put off until the last minute.”
“Now you have two. You can leave one with Ms. Joan or bring yours back to the store. Consider this one a gift.”
“Where’s my family?”
“They’re all waiting at my mom and dad’s place. I hope you don’t mind but the ladies wanted to make sure you got to experience Christmas outside of a hospital room, and my folks asked to be a part of it. The plan was for everyone to have lunch at my parents before Charles and Joan brought you and the baby home with them.” He checked out her reflection in the mirror. No way in hell would he let that happen now. “I think Roland and Melissa have to go home this evening. I know Joe and Lee do. They all have to work tomorrow.”
