Christmas Peril, page 10
He reached and dragged her the remaining few feet to him. “You mean that? You want to live in Christmas?”
“Yes. I love the town, the people—but especially you.” She peered up into his endearing face, seeing his neutral expression melt into a look of joy.
“Say that again.”
“I love you, Caleb. I know last night we were both exhausted, upset at how close we came to the outcome being different. I want us to trust totally in each other. That takes time. I want to stay and fight for your love.”
He framed her face, burying his fingers in her hair. “You don’t have to fight for my love. You have it already.” He brushed his lips across hers. “You really didn’t do anything wrong last night at church. I think toward the end when everyone was leaving the crime scene I began to figure you had nothing to hold you in Christmas, that you’d want to go back to Florida and pick up your old life. I began to distance myself from you because I didn’t want to be hurt again. I started to come by several times today, but I just couldn’t bring myself to find you packing or for you to tell me you were leaving, so I stayed away.”
“I trust you with my heart. I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled his mouth down onto hers and kissed him.
EPILOGUE
Jayden rushed into Annie and Caleb’s bedroom. “C’mon, Mom. It’s almost time for the celebration to start. We can’t be late. You’re supposed to turn the lights on the Christmas tree tonight.”
When the town council had given her the honor of being the Mistress of the Festival of Lights, she’d been surprised and speechless. Her husband of ten months had accepted before she could get the words out of her mouth. “I’m coming. Where’s Caleb?”
“He went ahead and picked up Miss Sara since you were taking forever.”
Her daughter disappeared, but her pounding footsteps could be heard throughout the house as she went down the stairs. She had grown up so much in the year they had lived in Christmas. Annie pushed herself to her feet, her back hurting. She placed her hand on her rounded stomach and felt the baby kick beneath it. He was going to play soccer or maybe football. Caleb would like that. He’d already bought some sports equipment, but it would be years until their son would be big enough to use any of it.
“It won’t be too much longer. Maybe you’ll be a New Year’s baby. I know your daddy can’t wait.”
As fast as she could she made her way to the front door, grabbed her overcoat and shrugged into it. A minute later she sat in the passenger seat of an SUV that Caleb had recently purchased for his expanding family.
Annie peered in the back and gave Sara a smile. “It’s gonna snow tonight. I feel it in the air.”
“Perfect. A little snow during our opening celebration would add just the right touch.” Sara patted Jayden’s hand on the seat between them. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I love making snowmen.”
“If so, I’ll probably have to work later helping people.” Caleb threw Annie a warm look.
Sara chuckled. “The townspeople aren’t too great driving on snow. Maybe it’ll hold off until everyone’s home for the night.”
When Caleb parked near the town square, where the huge Christmas tree was erected, Jayden thrust open the door, saying, “I see Lisa. Be back in a minute.”
“I don’t think I’ll see her for the rest of the evening,” Annie muttered, watching her child disappearing into the middle of a group of children.
Sara pushed open her door and slowly stood, reaching in for her plate of goodies. “I’ll be at the refreshment table if y’all need me.”
“Mrs. Jackson, we’re finally alone.” Caleb took her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.
“But not for long. Isn’t that the mayor heading for us?”
Caleb scanned the crowd amassing around the square. “I do believe it is.” He tugged Annie toward him. “Let’s give him something to talk about.”
Her husband settled his mouth over hers and kissed her long and hard while the revelry took place around them. When he leaned back slightly, a smile encompassed his whole face.
He smoothed her hair back behind her ears. “I’m thinking the Mistress of the Festival of Lights is now properly charged and ready to do her duty.”
Dear Reader,
It was interesting mixing Christmas and suspense in this story. It wasn’t as easy as I thought at the beginning. When I think of Christmas, I don’t think of dead bodies, villains and crime. Although it was an unexpected challenge, I was glad I was asked to write this novella to go in a book with one by Debby Giusti. I was honored to be paired with Debby. She is a wonderful romantic suspense writer.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at margaretdaley@gmail.com or at P.O. Box 2074 Tulsa, OK 74101. You can also learn more about my books at www.margaretdaley.com. I have a quarterly newsletter that you can sign up for on my Web site or you can enter my monthly drawings by signing my guestbook.
Best wishes,
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Annie thought God had forsaken her because of the mistakes she’d made in the past. Have you felt this way? Why? What happened?
What is your favorite scene? Why?
Trust is an issue for both Annie and Caleb. How important is trust in a relationship to you? Why do you feel that way?
Annie is naive about ways to protect herself against a man like Nick Salvador. Do you feel confident about protecting yourself? Why or why not?
Who is your favorite character? Why?
What lengths would you go to in order to protect your child? A loved one?
Caleb takes care of Sara as a good friend. What are some things we can do to help the elderly in our society?
By investigating Annie, Caleb put her in danger without meaning to. Have you ever done something that put someone in danger or in a situation that was unpleasant for that person? What happened?
YULE DIE
Debby Giusti
To my mother,
Betty Willoughby
With love and gratitude
Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means God is with us.
—Matthew 1:23
ONE
“Christmas should be a time of joy, not sorrow,” Callie Evans whispered as she pulled into the parking spot directly behind Lazarus House. The news she’d just heard over the radio made her heart heavy. Reaching for the control knob, she paused to listen to the rest of the report.
“Two of the three gunmen wounded in yesterday’s east Atlanta shootout died during the night,” the announcer said. “Hospital personnel decline to comment on the lone survivor.”
Callie sighed with regret. Turning off the radio, she climbed from the Magnolia Medical van, dropped the keys into the pocket of her lab coat and hustled up the rear steps of the nursing home. Without warning, her mind flashed back fifteen years to another Christmas—the unlatched gate, the swollen pond, her sister’s tiny body.
Stamping her feet to ward off the bitter cold and the memory, Callie opened the back door, stepped inside and hurried toward the narrow front lobby.
Nurse Tamika Bryant’s broad face cracked into a welcoming grin and her eyes twinkled like the lights on the small tree in the corner. “You’re amazing to help us out on Christmas Eve.”
Callie smiled back at the day-shift supervisor. Tamika had a heart big enough to embrace the fifteen men who, without family to love them, found comfort and care under her watchful eye.
“Mr. Petrecelli needs a digoxin level drawn, and we’ve got a new guy in room seven.” Tamika handed her the lab request forms.
Opening the storage cabinet, Callie grabbed the bulky phlebotomy tray and glanced at the slips. “Harry Potter? It’s a joke, right?”
Tamika’s smile faded. “Atlanta Police Department’s idea of humor. They’re trying to keep the guy’s identity under wraps. He was involved in that shootout on Foster Street yesterday.”
Callie had heard the initial report on the television last night. “The news mentioned a lone survivor.”
The nurse nodded. “That’s our guy. He had surgery at Grady Hospital. According to the night-shift supervisor, they transported him here at two this morning when the cops got word his pals wanted to spring him. Rumor has it the Exterminators were involved.”
“But why would the police bring him here?”
“To hide him from his Exterminator buddies.” Tamika pursed her lips. “Look, if you don’t feel comfortable, I can draw his blood.”
Callie shook her head. “No. It’s okay.”
“Offer up one of those prayers you’re famous for. Maybe you can change his heart.”
Callie smiled then glanced around, seeing none of the aides who usually worked the weekend shift. “Where is everyone?”
“Sam called in sick, and Barb got tied up in that holiday parade snaking though the city.”
“Santa and his elves. A little ho-ho-ho on Christmas Eve.”
Tamika lifted her brow. “That invitation still holds. You know we’d love to have you spend Christmas with us.”
“Thanks, but my brother called a few days ago and asked if he could come over.”
The nurse’s eyes widened. “You haven’t seen Robbie in years.”
“Three to be exact. I’m not sure what he wants. He didn’t have time to chat.”
Tamika smiled. “Maybe his sister’s good influence finally rubbed off on him.”
“Either that or he needs money and thinks he can rip me off again.”
“I hear you. Someone who took my credit card and treated himself to a weekend fling wouldn’t find me welcoming him back with open arms.”
But Callie’s arms weren’t open. They were crossed over her chest and her foot was tapping with a “let’s see if you’ve changed” attitude.
Truth was, despite what he’d done, Callie loved her younger brother. Separated as kids when their parents divorced, Callie had drawn the short end of the straw. Not that her mother had been a bad woman, just unforgiving.
Her mother had cut all ties with the male side of the family, changing her last name and Callie’s to spite the husband who’d wronged her. Then, true to her narcissistic nature, she’d heaped the underlying blame on her daughter’s shoulders. Callie accepted the guilt for her sister’s death but not for her parents’ failed marriage.
“I told Robbie to come back when he straightened out his life.” Callie arranged the Vacutainer tubes on her tray. “Maybe he has.”
The head nurse shrugged. “Things don’t work out tomorrow, you come over to my house. You know James and the girls consider you family.”
“I’ve got presents for the kids. I’ll drop them off after church in the morning.”
“You’re spoiling them for sure.” The phone rang and Tamika reached for the receiver as Callie placed the lab slips on her tray and headed down the side corridor.
She’d draw the new guy’s blood first then spend time with Mr. Petrecelli, a cancer patient who could use a visitor, especially on Christmas Eve. Tamika had mentioned an anonymous donor who, unbeknownst to Theo, took care of his medical expenses. The only other person in his life was an estranged brother. She and Theo would pray for his younger sibling as they always did. Please, Lord, bring him back into Theo’s life.
Glancing out the window, Callie noted the string of older homes lining the neighboring residential streets. Someone in the Atlanta PD must have realized the out-of-the-way care facility would be the last place the gang would look for their buddy.
Rounding the corner, Callie saw the officer sitting on a folding chair at the end of the hallway. Face flushed, the guy packed at least twenty pounds of extra weight along with his weapon. Hopefully, he had Christmas off to spend with his family.
The cop stood as she neared. “I’ve gotta check your tray, ma’am.”
“Don’t bother.” Callie pointed to a bookcase in the nearby alcove. “I’ll grab what I need and leave everything else out here.” She shoved a needle and three Vacutainer collection tubes into the pocket of her lab coat along with a tourniquet, alcohol swab and a bandage. After placing the metal tray on the bookshelf, she stepped through the door the cop held open for her.
Closed venetian blinds covered the window, throwing the room into shadow. The patient lay under a pile of blankets, face to the wall, his chest rising and falling in sync with the labored pull of air through his lungs.
“Sir?” Nearing the bed, she touched his arm. “I need to draw your blood.”
The patient groaned then shifted and turned toward her.
Callie’s heart hydroplaned against her chest.
“Robbie?”
TWO
Joe Petrecelli drew in a lungful of cold December air and checked his watch. He’d run the two miles from his condo in fourteen minutes. Not his personal best, but decent and a strong indication he’d max the annual PT test again this year. Unless some dirtbag perpetrator decided to do a little target practice with Joe in his sights.
Seven years on the force, and he’d been lucky. A flesh wound to the shoulder and a broken collarbone. Not bad, when he considered the odds.
Joe had the holiday weekend off, but he’d be back at his desk by 9:00 a.m. after he jogged home to shower and change out of his sweats. Not that anyone expected him at work.
He glanced up and down the street. Quiet. No traffic. He’d been right. Lazarus House was a safe hideaway. God willing, the Exterminators wouldn’t find their man here. Not that the Lord had much control over the gang of extortionists ravaging Joe’s part of the metro area. Still, he wouldn’t turn down help no matter where it originated, even from a God he’d shoved aside years ago.
Pulling open the front door and stepping into the warm interior, Joe made a mental note to call headquarters for more security. The nursing home was out of the way, but he wouldn’t underestimate the Exterminators.
One nurse on duty. Joe flashed his badge, and the woman pointed him toward the side corridor, not realizing he’d been there in the middle of the night when the patient transported over from Grady.
Joe’s footsteps sounded on the polished hardwood. He spied Phil Rogers, pulling duty at the end of the hallway. Glancing beyond the cop to room 10, Joe’s gut tightened. Theo’s room.
He still couldn’t forgive his older brother. Joe had been thirteen when their parents died. He’d expected Theo—twenty-one and living on his own—to be his guardian. Instead, Theo had moved on with his life of carousing and drunkenness and abandoned Joe when he’d needed his brother the most. Forced into foster care, Joe had vowed to cut all ties with his self-centered sibling, and to this day, the two brothers had never met face-to-face again.
Acknowledging the officer on duty, Joe stepped into the patient’s room and closed the door behind him. Movement caught his eye. He turned.
A woman stood in the shadows. White lab coat, swarm of black curls, alabaster skin. Troubled blue eyes captured his gaze.
Joe’s gut tightened and warmth flooded over him. He spied the tourniquet in her clenched fist and tried to override the conflicting signals pinging against his heart.
Glancing at the patient, he asked, “Is the kid okay?”
“He…he appears stable.” She stepped into the light.
Pretty, in a fresh, wholesome way, the woman stared back at him with an intensity that made his world shift.
Instantly aware of his own less-than-stellar appearance, he glanced down at his sweats, wishing he’d already showered and shaved. Needing to introduce himself, Joe pulled out the leather case he carried on his waistband in lieu of a wallet and held out his badge and police identification.
“Atlanta PD,” he said, as if that would explain the reason he’d ventured into the patient’s room.
She took the case.
A name tag hung from her lab coat. Callie Evans, MT(ASCP). Magnolia Medical.
Atlanta’s state-of-the-art laboratory complex. Joe hadn’t expected their techs to work at the home.
“Joseph X. Petrecelli.” She read his name off the ID then glanced up as if seeing him clearly for the first time. Her eyes appeared almost turquoise.
“Joseph Xavier Petrecelli?” Her forehead wrinkled. “You’re Theo’s baby brother?”
Now Joe was the one to furrow his brow.
“Room ten,” she continued. “Three doors down on the left.”
Before Joe could respond, a scuffle sounded in the hallway. Joe hesitated for a second too long. The door crashed open.
Callie’s eyes widened and the badge fell from her fingers and slipped under the bed.
Joe stepped in front of her. His hand searched for the service revolver he’d left back at his condo. Stupid mistake. Dropping to the floor, he pulled Callie down with him and reached for the .38 strapped to his calf.
Not fast enough.
Three men stormed into the room armed with automatics. Black ski masks covered their faces. Latex gloves encased their hands.
The tallest of the three kicked Joe beneath the eye.
“Augh!” Thrown off balance, the gun flew from his grasp. Joe grabbed the bedrail, pulled himself upright and lunged, crashing into the torso of the lanky guy who belonged to the boot. He followed with a fist to the guy’s gut.
Callie screamed. The shortest of the three men wrapped his arm across her chest and jammed an automatic to her head.
“Let her go.” Joe went for the gun.
A stocky guy slammed the butt of his pistol into Joe’s neck.
Callie’s mouth opened, but the ringing in his ears muffled her screams. Joe gasped for air.
