Covert Christmas

by Hope White

  “You don’t even know him,” Aiden snapped.

  “That doesn’t make his pain any less real,” Bree countered.

  “This isn’t your responsibility.”

  “No one should be so scared and alone.”

  “Are we still talking about that guy or you?” Aiden accused.

  “Aiden, that’s enough,” Mom said.

  He planted his hands on his hips and glanced at the floor, shaking his head.

  “Breanna is right. The stranger has no one.” Mom scanned the group of friends surrounding them. “We have the wonder of love and friendship.” Mom cracked a proud, gentle smile at Bree. “And the Lord would want us to share our gift.”

  * * *

  Surrounded by gray, floating in a mass of nothingness, he couldn’t be sure he heard the voice. Where was he again?

  I’m going to kill you, slowly, painfully.

  An inferno of panic exploded in his chest, the pressure causing him to gasp for air. He wanted to call out but could barely stay focused, much less shout for someone to help him.

  I’ll beat you until you give it up, the voice threatened.

  He struggled to form words, willing his vocal cords to kick into gear. If only he could get his mind to grab on to something other than the paralyzing anxiety coursing through him.

  Then I’ll smother you with a pillow.

  “Can I help you?” a woman’s voice said.

  The blonde woman? Right, because he’d made her promise to stay close. No, please God, this couldn’t be her. If the man threatened to suffocate him with a pillow he’d surely have no problem hurting the woman.

  The woman? Bree. That was her name.

  “Bree,” he gasped, remembering her beautiful green eyes, her grounding smile.

  A hand gripped his fingers and squeezed. “I’m here.”

  No, she shouldn’t be here. His attacker was close, in the room, poised to smother and kill him. Which put Bree in the way because she was tending to him, holding his hand. He tried to pull away, wanting to let her go so she’d be safe.

  “What is it?” she said.

  He opened his eyes and she came into focus, her sparkling emerald eyes and heart-shaped face framed with golden hair.

  “Danger,” he rasped.

  “It’s okay. There’s no danger.”

  “He said...was going to...kill me.”

  “No one’s here but me.” She glanced above him. “And the nurse.”

  He shifted his head to the side and spotted a brown-haired nurse fiddling with a machine beside his bed. She smiled down at him.

  “See, you’re A-okay,” Bree said.

  He turned back to Bree. “He was here.”

  “In your room?”

  He nodded.

  She exchanged a glance with the nurse.

  “I’ll go get the officer,” the nurse said.

  He didn’t take his eyes off Bree. “Officer?”

  “A police officer was assigned to your room last night because I saw one of the shooters.”

  “In my room? You were here when he...?” His voice cracked before he could finish.

  “It’s okay.” She stroked his arm with one hand while still holding onto him with her other. “He passed me in the hallway, that’s all.” She offered a tender smile. “Are you sure you saw him in here?”

  “I heard him.”

  “He threatened you?” she said.

  He nodded.

  “I’m so sorry.” She sighed. “That must have been terrifying.”

  Not as terrifying as the thought of the guy hurting Bree.

  He was suffering a major head injury all right. Why else would he be more concerned with this woman’s well-being than his mission? His mission, which was what again? He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up in the hospital.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, as if she sensed his anxiety.

  “I don’t remember how I got here or, sorry, but I don’t remember how I know you.”

  “You don’t remember being shot?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you remember your name?”

  “Scott.”

  “Nice to meet you, Scott,” she said with a relieved smile.

  He wondered why she cared so much about him.

  A police officer marched up to his bedside. “Ma’am, I should be asking the questions.”

  “Of course, sorry.” She didn’t move, still clinging to Scott’s hand.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” the officer said, and motioned for her to leave.

  “I don’t, go ahead and ask your questions.”

  The cop narrowed his eyes at her in frustration. “Breanna.”

  “Ryan,” she challenged back.

  The cop shook his head, figuring he’d lost this round, and refocused on Scott.

  “Sir, I’m Officer McBride with the Echo Mountain P.D. I’ve been assigned to keep you in protective custody tonight. Would you mind answering some questions to help us with the investigation?”

  “Very professional, A plus,” Bree teased.

  Officer McBride glared at her.

  “Sure,” Scott said, trying to shift up in bed.

  Bree released his hand and adjusted his pillow behind his back. When she sat back down, he automatically reached for her hand, he wasn’t sure why, and she gave it willingly. That got another narrowing of eyes from Officer McBride.

  “Let’s start with your name,” the cop asked, pulling out a small notebook.

  “Scott, Scott...” He hesitated. A voice in his head warned that sharing his last name would put him in more danger. “I don’t know, Scott something.”

  “Age?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “Your occupation?”

  “I’m...” He wracked his brain, searching for work or even family-related memories. “I’m a cop,” he said, but it didn’t feel right. “I think.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “No sir.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “A big city. Detroit? Chicago?”

  “What brought you to Echo Mountain?”

  “I needed to...”

  They would die. He needed to save them.

  “I don’t remember.” He closed his eyes.

  He felt Bree squeeze his hand in a supportive gesture, but he couldn’t look at her without feeling the shame of failure. Was she one of the people who would die because he couldn’t see this through to the end?

  “Scott?” the cop said.

  He opened his eyes.

  “What do you remember?”

  An image flashed across his mind of a teenager splayed on the ground clinging to a flashlight.

  “I don’t...” He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Anything could help.”

  “It’s all jumbled.”

  “Do you remember being chased in the mountains?”

  “I think so.”

  He remembered being chased but couldn’t be sure if it was a recent memory or a distant one.

  “Why do you think those men were chasing you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t have any identification on you. Did they take it?”

  “I guess.”

  “You sustained trauma to the torso area. Do you remember them assaulting you?”

  “I...” He caught glimpses, flashes of images.

  “Scott, why did they shoot you?”

  “Enough, Ryan,” Bree snapped. “You’re upsetting him.”

  “It’s my job to get answers, Breanna.”

  “Well, he’s obviously not up to giving you
answers, so back off.”

  “I’m calling the chief.” He turned and walked out.

  “You do that,” she muttered.

  It was like they were ten-year-olds fighting over the last peanut butter cookie. A rush of memories filled his thoughts. Scott cracked a smile. They reminded him of he and Emily when they were kids, always competing with one another.

  “What’s so funny?” she challenged.

  “You guys remind me of me and my sister.”

  “Hey, you remembered something, that’s great.”

  “Yeah, memories from twenty years ago,” he said. “So what’s the deal with you and the cop?”

  “Ryan practically grew up at our house, so he’s more like a brother than a cousin. And one thing I do not need is another overly protective brother-type in my life.”

  “It’s not their fault.”

  She cocked her head in question.

  “There’s something about you that makes us want to take care of you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve taken karate and carry a wicked can of pepper spray in my bag, police grade.” She cocked her chin.

  Yet he sensed trepidation behind her confident words.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No, of course not. I’m just trying to figure out how I got so lucky.”

  “You were shot, sustained a concussion and bruised ribs. What’s so lucky about that?”

  “The fact that a beautiful woman is sitting beside my bed.”

  She blushed and glanced at their hands. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Sorry, it was meant to be a compliment.” Scott didn’t remember a lot, but he knew that most women appreciated compliments.

  Wasn’t it obvious Bree wasn’t “most” women?

  “How’s Mr. Smith?” a doctor said, coming into the room.

  “Actually, he remembered his name,” Bree offered.

  “Excellent.” The doctor extended his hand to Bree. “I’m Dr. Vann and you are who, his girlfriend?”

  “No.” She blushed again. “Just a friend.”

  She looked even more adorable when she blushed. Scott’s chest ached with wanting something he could never have—a gentle, nurturing woman like Bree in his life.

  “Let’s take a look.” Dr. Vann flashed a penlight in Scott’s eyes and examined his head wound. “Head injuries are tricky. I suspect you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia, a condition where a patient forgets the events preceding and immediately following the head injury. The severity of the injury will affect how far back you can remember. Do you recall what happened leading up to your injury?” The doctor jotted something on a clipboard.

  “No, sir,” Scott answered.

  “What is the last thing you do remember?”

  A memory sparked in his mind of he and his partner, Joe, interviewing a witness. “I remember a case I was working on.”

  “And when was that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you know why you’re in the hospital?” the doctor asked.

  “Someone shot me.”

  “So, you remember the shooting?”

  “Not really.”

  Dr. Vann glanced at Scott.

  “I told him what happened,” Bree said.

  “We should probably let him remember on his own,” the doctor said.

  “Oh, okay, sorry.”

  Scott did not want her feeling badly because of him and he knew the sooner he got out of here and away from Bree, the safer she’d be. “How long do I have to stay in the hospital?”

  “Overnight to keep an eye on the head injury.” Dr. Vann glanced at a pager on his belt. “I’ll check in later. The best thing for the patient is rest.” The doctor nodded at Bree and left the room.

  A phone vibrated in Bree’s pocket and she pulled it out, glanced at the text and frowned.

  “You need to go,” Scott said. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not critical. It’s my brother pulling his boss card to get me away from,” she hesitated, “the hospital.”

  “You mean away from me?” He cracked a half smile.

  “Pretty much. Don’t take it personally. The perks of having an overprotective family.”

  “Sounds nice.” And it did, especially since he’d grown up in a single parent household with a mom who had to work two jobs to support Scott and his sister. There had been no extended family, no protective adults to keep an eye on Scott and Emily.

  He suddenly grew tired and couldn’t hold back a yawn.

  “I should let you sleep,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her hand. His eyes drifted shut and his mind wandered, his imagination landing on a peaceful, majestic view of a valley from the top of a mountain.

  And beside him stood the adorable Breanna with the enchanting smile.

  * * *

  Bree decided to spend the night at the hospital. Her family and friends followed Mom’s lead and supported Bree’s decision to help the stranger. Once the police determined the gunman was no longer in the hospital, Bree sent everyone home while she hovered at Scott’s bedside. She was even able to convince Aiden to feed and walk Bree’s dog, Fiona, but not without a lecture.

  At first Bree wasn’t sure hospital staff would let her hang out all night, but Chief Washburn said it was okay and left 24-hour police protection outside Scott’s room. Bree felt safe and was where she needed to be—beside Scott’s bed.

  When they’d come in to check his vitals he’d wake up with a panicked look, asking where he was and what had happened. Bree would tell him he was safe, everything was okay, and he’d drift back to sleep.

  But morning came and Aiden demanded she show up at work by noon or find another job. It was an empty threat, of course, but she respected his position and did as ordered, leaving Scott alone. She hoped he’d sleep most of the day to give his body a chance to heal.

  She didn’t like being away from Scott, but couldn’t rationalize blowing off an entire day of work to babysit a grown man, a stranger. Still, when she thought about the vulnerable look on his face she knew she’d get back to the hospital. She only wished it was earlier than eight in the evening.

  Thanks to big brother Aiden, she had extra holiday lights to string along the split rail fence bordering Resort Drive. No surprise that he’d told the other part-timers to go home at three because he was watching his payroll numbers.

  Truth was, he was doing his best to keep her busy and away from the hospital. Since Aiden was tied up with a guest when it was time for her to leave, she avoided lecture number seven, or was it seventeen?

  Pulling into the hospital lot, she parked near an overhead light and glanced out her window before getting out of the car. She hoped tonight’s staff knew she was on the list of people allowed to come by after visiting hours.

  As she marched across the lot, she started to wonder if everyone was justified in worrying about her attachment to Scott. She didn’t have the best track record with romantic relationships; make that a dismal track record.

  But this wasn’t about romance, it was about helping someone in need, a man she felt a visceral connection to when she looked into his wary eyes.

  She rode the elevator to the second floor and when she got out she noticed the absence of a police officer outside of Scott’s room. She fought the panic ringing in her ears. Perhaps Scott had remembered something and the officer on duty was in his room taking his statement.

  Her pulse quickened as she stepped into the doorway. “Scott?”

  The bed was empty.

  “Can I help you?” a nurse said coming down the ha
ll.

  “Scott’s gone” was all Bree could get out.

  “Are you a relative?”

  “Where is he?”

  “A police officer took him away.”

  “Took him where?”

  “I’m assuming to lockup. He was arrested.”

  FOUR

  “Arrested?” Bree said. “How long ago did they leave?”

  “Maybe ten minutes?”

  “Where were they taking him?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Bree spun around and rushed toward the stairs. As she passed the elevators, the doors opened and her cousin Ryan marched out. Bree hesitated.

  “Why did the police arrest Scott?” she asked.

  “What are you talking about? I was sent to relieve Officer Waters.”

  “Then Waters arrested him?”

  “No one arrested him that I know of.”

  “He’s gone, Ryan. The nurse said he was arrested.”

  “That’s not right.” Ryan motored to the room as if he couldn’t comprehend Bree’s words. When he spotted the empty bed, he shot her a concerned frown and pressed the button on his shoulder radio. “This is Officer McBride. Where did Officer Waters take Scott Smith, over?”

  Bree and Ryan stared at each other, both dreading the response about to come through the radio. Was this a mix-up or had something nefarious happened?

  “Officer Waters said he was relieved twenty minutes ago by a sheriff’s deputy, over.”

  Ryan went to the nurse’s station. “Who authorized the patient in room 214 to be released into police custody?”

  The two nurses turned to the doctor standing behind them.

  “Not me,” the doctor said.

  “Please check the patient’s chart,” Ryan said, calmly.

  The redheaded nurse typed something into the computer. A few nerve-racking seconds passed, then she said, “Dr. Vann released him.”

  “Please page him for me,” Ryan instructed the redheaded nurse.

  Bree turned and headed for the elevators.

  “Where are you going?” Ryan called after her.

  She shook her head, frustrated.

  “Stay out of this, Bree.”

  Man, she was tired of people telling her what to do. Ever since the Thomas trauma people treated her like a fragile doll, breakable by the slightest touch.