Twin Threat Christmas

by Rachelle Mccalla

  “Mitch said something when we went outside. He told me not to mess with Dick Edwards—that I don’t want to get in over my head.”

  “In over your head? Because he’s a former captain?”

  “He’s retired now. He doesn’t have any authority over me, other than maybe influence with the current captains and chief.”

  Alyssa continued to bob slowly up and down with the baby, who didn’t seem happy, perhaps because he missed his mother. “How long has Edwards been retired?”

  “Less than a year. Maybe six months.”

  “And these orders go back a few years.” Alyssa looked at the last remaining spreadsheet. “How long has he had a cabin up there?”

  “I didn’t hear anything about it until his retirement, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a vacation home up there, maybe even for years. What are you thinking?”

  “Do you think maybe he knows about the statues and the drugs? Maybe he’s trying to track them down, too.”

  Chris nodded slowly, analyzing the idea with the other facts he knew. “I first saw the story about the statues well over a year ago, before Edwards’s retirement. He surely saw the same story. And you said he’s bought statues from you? When was that?”

  “I can’t remember, exactly. They were cash purchases, so I don’t have a record of the buyer’s information, but it had to have been months ago, at least. Maybe a year or more. Do you think he bought them because he saw the story?”

  “It’s certainly possible.” But Chris wasn’t sure how to reconcile that information with what Mitch had said. “But why would Mitch tell me to stay away from him?”

  Alyssa bobbed silently for a few more minutes, her expression puzzled, offering the baby his pacifier in an attempt to get him to settle down and fall back to sleep. She caught Chris off guard when she asked, “Is there a reward?”

  “Hmm?”

  “For catching the smugglers?”

  “A pretty-good-size reward.”

  “Maybe Mitch is working with Dick Edwards.”

  Chris laughed at the thought. “Mitch and Edwards never got along. In fact, I was pretty relieved when Edwards retired, because those two had snapped at each other so many times, I was afraid they might take a swing at each other.”

  “Hmm.” Alyssa rubbed her eyes with one hand, holding the baby with the other. “Maybe Mitch is working with the smugglers.”

  “What?”

  “You said it had to be a good cover—that it would be someone we wouldn’t expect.”

  But Chris was more concerned with the exhausted circles under Alyssa’s eyes than he was with her theories, at this point. And more than either of those things, he was concerned for her ongoing safety. “You need your sleep. Why don’t I take the baby while you go to bed? If you hurry, you might be able to get a few hours of sleep before morning.”

  Alyssa looked as if she wanted to protest, but when Chris reached for the baby, she handed him over, then rolled her head back. “I was getting a bad kink in my neck. That feels better. But I can’t let you—”

  “Go. Sleep. You’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t get some sleep.”

  “But what about you?”

  “Is that chair a recliner?” He pointed to an aging afghan-covered seat in the corner.

  “Yes.”

  “If the baby will let me sit still, I’ll sleep in the recliner.”

  “I can sleep in the recliner with him. You can go home—”

  “If I go anywhere, it will be out to my Jeep to watch over this place, but I’d rather be inside. The closer I am to you, the better I can protect you. The woods are too thick around here. Somebody could sneak up from any direction.” Chris saw the fear that leaped to Alyssa’s eyes and realized he’d made his explanation a bit too bluntly. “Not that they’re going to, but I don’t want to take any chances.” He hung his head, wondering if he was making things better or worse. “You go get your sleep, okay?”

  When Alyssa finally relented and shuffled off to her room, Chris watched her go. He stared at her closed door a few moments until the baby demanded his attention. Who was this woman who’d been making such art on the edge of town for so long, without his even realizing it? He’d been so worried about what illegal activities she might be engaged in that he hadn’t ever really looked at her, hadn’t ever really seen her.

  Now that he’d met her and gotten to know her, he knew a few things for certain. He should have met her sooner. He should have been watching out for her, protecting her, instead of being suspicious of her. One way or another, he had to keep her safe. The smugglers had to be stopped, locked away where they could never bother Alyssa again.

  And he knew one other thing.

  He didn’t want to go back to not having her in his life.

  EIGHT

  Alyssa awoke when the sun poured through her bedroom window, splashing across her face. The hazy remnants of dreams danced across her consciousness, taunting her. Broken statue. Guns. Drugs. Smugglers.

  A baby. Vanessa was alive.

  Throwing back the covers, Alyssa leaped up, put on her robe and tiptoed for the bathroom. She glanced into the tiny front room just long enough to see Chris asleep in the recliner, her grandmother’s afghan spilled across his legs, the baby drooling all over his shirt. She lingered to watch their chests rise and fall, then she swallowed back a surge of foreign emotion and headed for the shower.

  She emerged fifteen minutes later dressed and clean, ready to start her day. Other than waiting to put her hair in a ponytail, which she preferred not to do until her hair had some time to air-dry, she was ready to work. But first, she needed breakfast.

  Having always had more time than money, she was used to doing most of her cooking from scratch. Besides, baking always brought back memories of her grandmother. And the freezer was full of blueberries from the bushes that grew behind the cottage. It didn’t take long to stir together a batch of muffins.

  When she pulled them from the oven, a movement in the front room caught her eye. Chris had awakened but was still pinned to the recliner by her sleeping nephew. He waved one hand at her and mouthed, Are those blueberry muffins?

  She nodded.

  “Can you bring me one?”

  “Do you want butter?”

  He shook his head, and Alyssa brought him a muffin on a plate. “Careful, it’s hot,” she whispered. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Milk?”

  By the time she returned with the glass, he’d swallowed half the muffin. “These are real blueberries.” He looked impressed. “Did you make this from scratch?”

  She nodded. “It’s a lot like mixing up cement.”

  “The muffins don’t turn out as hard.” He grinned at her.

  Alyssa giggled, realizing only after a few moments that she was staring, perhaps a bit too obviously, at the handsome police officer. She directed her gaze to the baby instead and hoped Chris would think she’d been aiming the adoring look at her nephew the whole time. “Did he sleep all right?”

  “Sure, once he finally filled his diaper. I think that was what was making him fussy.”

  “Oh. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

  “It comes with the territory. I personally think babies are worth the unpleasant side effects.”

  She would have been in danger of giggling and gazing a bit too long again except she had more urgent concerns on her mind. “I want to go to Wisconsin to Lake Geneva.”

  Chris nearly choked on a bite of muffin. “What?” He chewed quickly, his expression concerned. “When?”

  “Today. As soon as possible.” She explained while he washed down his mouthful of muffin with milk, “I figure I can either wait around to see if these guys are coming back, or I can do something about what’s happening. If these smugglers ha
ve been using my statues for years, I don’t want to wait—”

  But Chris interrupted her. “It’s dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than sitting quietly by while guys with guns hide their drugs in my statues?”

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. Alyssa thought for sure he was going to protest further, but instead he asked, “Can you be back by two?”

  “I imagine so. Why?”

  “That’s when my shift starts. If you’re determined to do this—”

  “I am determined to do this.”

  “What are you looking for, anyway?”

  “For one thing, I want my lamb molds back that the guys stole last night. They’re an original design, but besides that, a lot of expensive materials went into those.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  Alyssa had made a valiant effort to keep her surging emotions buried, but when Chris met her eyes with challenge and informed her he was coming, she felt gratitude and affection well up inside her. She knew she couldn’t keep it from showing on her face. Nor could she trust her voice. Instead, she turned and hurried back to the kitchen.

  After all, she hadn’t had a muffin yet.

  * * *

  Chris watched Alyssa disappear in silence into the kitchen and wondered if he’d offended her. Even if he had, that wouldn’t change his stance. If she was going anywhere near Lake Geneva, he was going to go with her. In fact, ever since he’d noticed the cluster of orders on her spreadsheet, he’d been curious to drive up there and check things out. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for or what he might find, but as Alyssa had pointed out, the smugglers had stolen her concrete molds. They had to be somewhere.

  At the same time, though, he hoped he hadn’t offended her. He wished he could go back in time and try again to make a better first impression on her. But since he couldn’t, he figured the best thing he could do at this point was to keep her safe, to help her recover her stolen property and maybe even catch the smugglers.

  And if he really wanted to earn her affection, he could help her find her sister, too. While it had always bothered him that the case had never been solved, now that there was evidence that Vanessa was still alive, he considered it unconscionable that they still hadn’t found her. He owed it to Alyssa. He couldn’t go back and change all the years the twins had been apart, but if he could help reunite them, maybe he wouldn’t feel so guilty for not helping to solve the case years before.

  More than that, maybe he wouldn’t feel like such an imposter, helping out with the child when he’d failed to find the baby’s mother. Other than those reservations, holding the child felt natural. It had been a long time since Chris had taken the night shift with a baby, at least since his youngest niece was old enough to sleep through the night. He missed the family scene.

  Maybe it was time for a family of his own. The idea seemed to come from out of nowhere, and yet, it felt like the natural conclusion to reach while snuggled under an afghan with a sleeping baby. He couldn’t help wondering what Alyssa’s thoughts on the matter might be. But then, he was in no position to ask her. She’d stomped off to the kitchen in silence, and he couldn’t help fearing that she was upset with him for insisting he accompany her to Wisconsin.

  The baby awakened while Alyssa cleaned up in the kitchen, and Chris eased himself out of the chair and joined her just as she finished hand-washing her muffin tins.

  “Do you suppose he’s hungry?” Alyssa asked. “Do you think it would be okay to feed him oatmeal again—at least until I can get to the store?”

  “That should be okay. Do you mind if I use your computer while you make it?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  Chris sat with the baby on his lap and searched for an address for Dick Edwards. Granted, he could have probably called around to his fellow officers until he found someone who had it, but he didn’t want to tip off anyone to what he was up to. He already wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything to Mitch earlier. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t know much of anything about Mitch—and what he did know didn’t help matters.

  In fact, Alyssa’s idea that Mitch might be working with the smugglers made all too much sense. He’d come to their tiny town from the big city, supposedly to get away from it all, but he didn’t have any connections to the area. That alone made his choice suspicious. Factoring in his cryptic warning not to get involved with Dick and the way he’d carried off the spreadsheets, Chris didn’t figure he ought to trust Mitch at all.

  It didn’t take him long to find Dick’s Lake Geneva address, then to find it on a map amid clusters of other acreages and resort-style cabins. It looked like a pricey area, and Chris was a little surprised that the retired public servant had been able to afford a place in the exclusive region.

  He added the location to the map he’d been compiling of the addresses from Alyssa’s spreadsheet. He printed off the map and handed over the baby to Alyssa, who’d finished preparing a bottle and oatmeal.

  “Mind if I take a look around outside now that it’s daylight?”

  “That’s a great idea. Just be careful.”

  “I will.” Chris stepped outside, still wondering at Alyssa’s response to him. She didn’t sound upset. She’d sounded grateful for his help and concerned for his safety. Was that a good sign?

  He went outside and circled around to the woods behind the cottage. The narrow ravine with its stretch of trees didn’t belong to Alyssa. Chris was pretty sure the property belonged to a man who kept a second home outside of town and used the wooded land for hunting. Only this tip of the ravine was inside the city limits. The rest stretched beyond into the country.

  Chris crossed the ravine, headed for the gravel road just beyond the ridge on the other side. But as he looked for a decent place to clamber up the other side, he spotted something that looked familiar but terribly out of place.

  One of Alyssa’s lamb molds lay dented and muddy amid the underbrush. Drying cement spilled forth from it, but there wasn’t any sign of the heroin inside. Chris carefully picked his way over, but didn’t see any footprints as he approached. Scanning the area, he caught sight of a bunch of scrambling tracks etched into the side of the ravine about ten feet away.

  So, the smugglers had fled on foot through the woods, run down the ravine and then realized the two of them couldn’t carry five molds up the bank, so they’d fished the drugs from one and pitched it to the side, then clambered up and away.

  Rather than risk messing up footprints that might be used as evidence, Chris headed back the other direction, found a decent place to climb up and then followed the top of the ridge back toward the spot where the smugglers had climbed out.

  The road passed close to the woods, and Chris hurried over to inspect the tracks embedded in its surface. He didn’t have to get close before he realized exactly what he was looking at.

  Not only had Chris studied car tracks at the law-enforcement academy, but he’d also made it a point to note the distinctive traits of tread marks whenever he encountered them. Even if he hadn’t, though, Chris would have had no trouble recognizing the tracks that topped the others on the rarely used gravel road. He saw the same tread marks every day in the alley behind the police station.

  They belonged to the police cruisers.

  * * *

  Alyssa changed the baby’s diaper and dressed him in a clean outfit before adding his clothes from the day before to the load of laundry she’d been planning to wash that day. Considering that she didn’t have many clothes for him, she figured she ought to keep the ones she had fresh and clean.

  Chris burst in the back door just as she came carried the baby up the basement steps from starting the load of wash. He panted slightly, as though he’d run all the way to her door from some distance.

  “What’s wrong?”

/>   “I need to run by the station before we head out of town. Will that be okay?”

  “No problem. What’s up?”

  Chris drew in a big breath. “I found one of your molds in the ravine. No drugs. Footprints go up the ravine toward the road. There are tire tracks that come to a stop near the footprints, then continue on down the road.”

  “Wow.”

  “There’s more. The tracks belong to a police cruiser.”

  “Is that a good sign?”

  “That road isn’t inside the city. It’s outside police jurisdiction. That doesn’t mean an officer shouldn’t be driving out there, just that he’d have no good reason.”

  “And you say the footprints—”

  “I kept my distance because I didn’t want to mess up any evidence, but yeah, the footprints lead right to where the car stopped.”

  “So, that Mitch guy from last night—”

  “Could have stopped and picked up the smugglers.” Chris filled in the words Alyssa had hesitated to speak. Then he explained, “That’s why I want to swing by the station before we leave town. That road has a lot of yellow clay. The city streets are all paved. If the car Mitch drove last night has yellow clay on the tires, it will mean he most likely drove down that road and made the tracks.”

  “The baby and I are ready to leave whenever you are. Want us to come with you now? We can head to the police station first. It would be right on our way out of town.”

  “Sounds perfect. I just want to hurry before anybody drives the mud off the tires or, worse yet, washes the car. We can take my Jeep.”

  Alyssa appreciated the offer, since her old truck didn’t do well on the highway. It sputtered and backfired at high speeds. She needed a new vehicle, but every time she saved up for a down payment, the money got eaten up by more urgent expenses.

  They were halfway to the police station when the baby began to fuss, and Alyssa realized she’d left both pacifiers back at her house.

  “Want me to turn around and go back for them?” Chris offered.