by Joanna Wayne
Susan turned away at the sight and leaned against the door. That’s when she noticed Gabriel, standing behind her, a wrinkled silk scarf in his hand.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened, Dr. Hornsby?” Jack’s voice was smooth and reassuring.
Susan stared at him, amazed at yet another facet of the impulsive detective. She knew that in the fragile state Gabriel was in, yelling or treating him roughly would only send him further into his shell, but she hadn’t expected Jack to key in on that.
He stepped closer to Gabriel. “Was this scarf used to strangle Sherry?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel handed the multicolored square to Jack. The silk fabric unfolded as the scarf changed hands, releasing the same nauseating scent Susan had detected on the notes. She stepped away, moving to the staircase and clutching the banister for support.
“Sherry’s dead,” Gabriel said in the same monotone he’d used since they’d arrived. “I’ll miss her, but she won’t sleep with other men anymore.” He wiped a hand across his eyes as a tear escaped. “I only wanted her to love me.”
“I’m going to have to take you with me, Gabriel. You’ll need to answer some questions.” Jack read him his rights while Gabriel stared off into space
“He can’t be questioned in this condition,” Susan said. “He needs to be hospitalized.”
“Then he’ll be held in a facility where he can get help until he can talk.”
“He’s my patient. I want a say in where he’s held.”
“You’ll have to take that up with the judge. I’m the lowly detective who digs up the evidence and makes the arrest. After that, it’s out of my hands.”
Jack took the handcuffs from his waist and snapped one bracelet around Gabriel and the other around the banister at the top of the staircase. Gabriel made no move to stop him or to protest.
Susan walked silently out the door and into the brisk December air while Jack called in the crime team. Suddenly, she was consumed with an ache for all the potential for happiness Gabriel and Sherry had lost.
And Jack’s words echoed through her mind. Fun, laughter, children, the little things. Those were the keys to making the world right, to overcoming the bad that surrounded them. Right now she desperately needed a taste of those little things.
As if in answer, a Christmas carol wafted on the air, no doubt carried from a neighbor’s stereo. The chorus rang out, loud and clear, promising peace on earth, good will toward men. Tears burned in Susan’s eyes and she closed them, blotting everything from her mind except a Christmas tree with popcorn and shiny foil ornaments.
And two wide-eyed children singing “Silent Night.”
5:00 p.m.
SUSAN SIGNED her name to the last Christmas card and sealed it before adding it to the stack. The morning’s events still weighed heavily on her mind, but she’d done all she could for Gabriel. She’d talked to the judge and he’d placed him under hospital arrest. The staff psychiatrist had assured her he was getting the best of care
She hadn’t seen Jack since he’d had a policeman escort her home. Her part in the case was nearly over, but she was sure he was busy collecting evidence. She had no doubt he’d tie up the case successfully. In spite of her early misconceptions, he was a competent and dedicated cop. The nightmare could finally come to an end.
She was sorry for Gabriel. Sorry for Sherry. And deeply regretful that in spite of months of therapy, she had not been able to help Gabriel or to see this coming. Her father had told her years ago she didn’t have the psychological makeup for dealing with criminally aggressive psychotics.
She’d taken it as a putdown then. Maybe he’d only been telling her the truth. She’d certainly failed Gabriel.
“Auntie Mom, will you be mad at me if I tell you that I believe Santa Claus is real?” Susan turned to find Rebecca perched on the ottoman by her slippered feet.
“Of course, I won’t be mad at you. I can’t dictate your beliefs to you.”
“What does dictate mean?”
“To dictate means to force someone to do, or believe, what you say.”
Rebecca stood and leaned over the arm of Susan’s chair. “That’s good. I don’t want to disappoint you or anything, but I asked Santa for something very special, and if I don’t believe in him, I won’t get it.”
Susan wrapped an arm around Rebecca’s tiny waist. “Why don’t you tell me what you want? Maybe I could put in a good word for you.”
“I can’t tell. Besides, I think you’re only teasing me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I know you don’t believe in Santa, and I don’t think you’d ask him for anything. And even if you did, it wouldn’t help because you don’t believe.”
Once again, Susan was amazed by Rebecca’s reasoning processes. The only problem was she had no idea how an impossibility like Santa fit into her logical equations. But then she wasn’t six years old.
“How about a hot chocolate and Christmas cookie break?” she said. “We can eat dinner a little later tonight since there’s no school tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Timmy said, jumping up from his toy cars and the road he’d built out of plastic blocks. “I want two cookies and marsh’ellows in my chocolate.”
Both children followed Susan to the kitchen, eager to help. Rebecca took three cups from the counter and put them on the table, and Timmy put two marshmallows in everyone’s cup except his. “I need three marsh’ellows,” he said.
“Three marshmallows and two cookies,” Susan said. “You must be hungry.”
“I’m hungry as a bear.” He made a face and growling noises to prove his point.
Susan pretended to be frightened and Timmy broke into toddler giggles that filled the room. She reached down and gave him a hug, a spontaneous one that surprised even her. He rewarded her with a sloppy kiss. Warmth tickled her senses.
A year ago, she’d never met Timmy or Rebecca. She’d only seen pictures and heard glowing reports about them from their mother. They were a lot like Carrie. She had been so full of life, so exuberant.
And she had taken the quiet Susan McKnight under her wing in college, forced her to meet people, to date, to go to parties. Forced Susan to have fun, whether she wanted to or not.
Now that Susan thought about it, her best friend, Carrie, had been a lot like Jack Carter Perhaps that explained the crazy bond she felt with him. She probably wouldn’t have to worry about that problem anymore. She might never see him again.
She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat and ignored the emptiness that lay heavy in her heart. She might miss the arrogant, sexy detective, but it was for the best. Intimacy had never come easily for her. Neither had openness or flexibility. And they were all trademarks of the gregarious Jack Carter.
Situational attraction. That’s what they’d experienced. And now that the situation was over, the attraction would die. The two of them would never mesh.
“Auntie Mom, do you think Detective Carter could be the real Santa Claus?”
Susan stopped stirring the chocolate. She had to answer this question with care. Believing in Santa was one thing. Believing in Jack Carter was another entirely “Detective Carter is a policeman, Rebecca. He just puts on a Santa Claus suit for fun, but that doesn’t make him Santa Claus”
“But he doesn’t dress like a policeman. He dresses like Santa Claus, at least sometimes he does. And he laughs like Santa.”
“Anyone can say ho, ho, ho.”
“Not like he does. He shakes when he laughs, just like it says in the book, but he’s not fat. I think he went on a diet since they wrote that story about him.”
“‘The Night before Christmas’ was written many years before Jack was born, Rebecca. It isn’t about him.”
“Maybe. But you just never know about Santa Claus. That’s what Missy Sippen says.”
Susan poured the warm chocolate into the mugs and sat at the table with the children. “I say we talk about something besides S
anta and Missy Sippen. Let’s talk about—”
“I know,” Rebecca broke in. “Let’s talk about angels. Miss Lucy says her husband used to be a horn blower, but now he’s an angel. He just sits around in the clouds blowing his horn and watching out for her.”
Susan choked on the sip of chocolate that had just started down her throat. “Why don’t we talk about cats?” she said, desperately seeking a topic she knew something about. “I’ve been thinking we need a cat around here.”
“We can’t get a cat,” Timmy said, sticking his finger into the chocolate and dunking his marshmallows so that he could watch them bob up again. “I already asked Santa for a puppy.”
A puppy. Now that was news. She had no idea Timmy wanted a puppy. The doorbell rang and Susan breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried to the door. Once again she should have known better.
Jack Carter was on her step and a holly-garlanded horse-drawn carriage was parked in the tow-away zone in front of her apartment.
She opened the door and Jack bowed low, his bright red Santa hat in hand. “I’m here to escort the lovely Dr. McKnight and her two charming charges to Jackson Square for a night of caroling by candlelight.”
Rebecca skipped into the room, Timmy right behind her, a half-eaten cookie squeezed in his hand, dropping crumbs every step of the way. He was the first to spot the horses.
“Wow! Horses! Can we ride in the sleigh?”
“It’s a carriage, not a sleigh, but if Auntie Mom says it’s all right, you can ride in it all the way to Jackson Square.”
Rebecca pushed through the door and stood on the stoop. “Oh, boy. White horses. Wait until I tell Missy Sippen about this.”
“So what do you say, Auntie Mom? Is it a go?” Jack shot her the familiar persuasive look, his smile devastating, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
A hundred reasons why it shouldn’t be a “go” ran through Susan’s head. But how could she say no to Rebecca and Timmy now that they’d seen the horses? Still, she glared at Jack. “You promised no more surprises.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
“I can’t imagine why. I love surprises. It’s going to be the perfect night. Clear as a bell and the temperature’s still in the sixties. If we leave now we’ll have time to walk around a bit, then grab a quick bite and still make it back to the square before the caroling starts at seven.”
“While you were making all those plans you might have called and asked me if I wanted to go.”
“No, I couldn’t have.” He placed his lips close to her ear, his breath fanning her cheek. “If I had, you would have said no, and I can’t deal with disappointment, not on the Sunday before Christmas.”
“So can we go, Auntie Mom, pleeeease?” Rebecca dropped to her knees and pleaded, her big eyes directed upward. Susan had no idea where she’d learned that maneuver.
“Pleeeeease,” Timmy squealed, trying to climb on Rebecca’s back while she was down. She knocked him off and he fell to the floor laughing.
“Okay.” She didn’t get a chance to say more. Both kids squealed their delight and went tearing off to get their sweaters.
“Don’t forget to potty,” Jack called after them. “The French Quarter’s short on bathrooms.”
Susan opened the hall closet and pulled out a gray cardigan. Jack held it for her while she slid her arms inside. His hands rested on her shoulders, his right thumb tangling with a curl that had escaped her topknot. Susan’s skin prickled, and the crazy tingle his touch always produced started again. This time it danced up and down her nerve endings like a firefly in a windstorm.
“I’m glad you agreed to go,” he said, turning her around to face him.
“Why? Is this another of your attempts to combat missing your family at Christmas?”
“No.” He leaned closer. “It was an unabashed attempt to see you again.”
The room grew warm, and Susan struggled for breath and for control. Situational attraction. She made a mantra of the words, determined to keep everything in its proper perspective. The only problem was her pounding heart did not appear to be heeding her warning.
6:45 p.m.
INSIDE THE WROUGHT iron gates, Jackson Square had been transformed into a glittering sea of holidaybedecked carolers and candlelight. People from all over the surrounding area had made their annual trek into the city to celebrate the season by joining in the citizens’ choir that numbered in the thousands.
“When does the singing start?” Rebecca asked, as soon as they’d made it through the gates.
“When the archbishop arrives,” Susan explained. “When six o’clock mass is over, he’ll lead a procession from Saint Louis Cathedral onto the stage they have set up in the center of the square. That signals the official beginning of the caroling.”
“Will that be a long time from now?”
“About ten minutes,” Jack answered. “Can you wait that long?”
“If I have to.” She looked at her song sheet and picked out the words she could read. Timmy made a plane out of his, flying it up and down and in between Jack and Susan.
“Look, Auntie Mom. There’s Lucy.”
“It certainly is.”
“Are you by yourself tonight?” Jack asked, after the initial greetings “If you are, we could use another caroler.”
“I was supposed to meet my friend John in front of La Madeline’s, but he never showed up. I guess he got held up somewhere or else I missed him in the crowd.”
“Go find Mr. John. He might be lost,” Timmy countered, with the unarguable logic of a three-year-old.
Lucy patted him on the head. “If I run into him, I’ll tell him you were looking for him,” she said. “But I don’t think he’ll get so lost he can’t find his way home.”
Rebecca took Lucy’s hand. “We came in a carriage pulled by white horses. Just like Cinderella at the ball.”
“You did!” Lucy looked duly impressed.
“Detective Santa brought them.”
“Is that right? Well, if I see John I’ll tell him what he missed. If he’d been here on time, he might have seen you climb down from your chariot.”
“We would like to meet him if he shows up,” Susan said. “We’ve heard so much about him.”
“We already met him,” Rebecca boasted.
“Really, when was that?”
“He’s been by the house a couple of times when I was sitting with the children,” Lucy explained. “I hope you don’t mind. He was only there a minute or two each time. I didn’t let it keep me from watching the children.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Susan consoled. “I just didn’t realize he’d been there. Anyway, I would like to meet him just because he’s a friend of yours.”
“I’ll tell him that. He’ll be delighted. He’s always asking questions about you. I think he’s impressed I work for Doctor Susan McKnight.”
“I doubt that he’d ever heard of me before he met you.”
“Oh, no. He’d heard of you, all right. He perked right up and got interested as soon as I mentioned your name the first time.”
Susan talked a few minutes with Lucy before Lucy dragged Jack into a discussion about recent changes in the New Orleans Police Department. Then Lucy saw someone else she knew and hurried off to chat some more.
“A nice woman,” Jack said.
“Because she agreed with you about the changes?”
“No. It’s her eyes. They’re clear and trusting. And she looks right at you when she talks. People with something to hide always look away when they’re talking to a police officer, even one out of uniform.”
“Always a cop,” she said.
He snaked an arm around her and pulled her close. “Not always.”
Susan trembled, fighting urges too strong to ignore. She tilted her head upward, and he touched his lips to hers, feather-soft and quick, but her pulse soared.
Situational attraction. It sounded great in theory. Her mind understood it. So why didn’t her
body? Especially now that the situation was gearing down for closure.
The bells of the cathedral rang, and the crowds pushed in tighter. Jack reached down and picked up Timmy, hoisting him to his shoulders for a bird’s-eye view as the procession led by altar boys in white robes and the archbishop made its way through the waiting carolers and into Jackson Square.
Minutes later, the singing began. Susan sang all the verses of “Silent Night,” her soprano blending with Jack’s deep baritone. And when Jack reached over and took her hand for “White Christmas,” she didn’t pull away.
The night was beautiful, lit by flickering candles, stars and the glow from multicolored Christmas lights on the balconies of the Pontalba Apartments—balconies that had stood vigil over the square since 1850.
For the first time in days, Susan let the tight cords of worry slip from her mind. Maybe they really would have a merry Christmas.
“SO WHO WANTS ice cream?” Jack offered, when the last song was over and they’d followed the crowd out of the park and into the street in front of the cathedral. He wasn’t hungry, but that never stopped him from eating ice cream. Besides, he was in no hurry for the evening to end.
Rebecca and Timmy jumped up and down, voicing their approval loudly. And this time Susan gave in without a fight.
Jack took Rebecca’s hand. “We have to walk two blocks to get it.”
“Can I ride your shoulder?” Timmy asked, tugging on Jack’s pant leg.
Jack swooped him up in his arms. He’d grown attached to the little tyke. Rebecca, too. He knew they gave Susan fits at times, but they were good kids. He’d miss them, now that the case was hopefully over and done with, at least as far as Susan was concerned. Maybe that was why he’d sprung the money for the ride to the park tonight, made his invitation so appealing Susan couldn’t say no.
He looked down at Susan, watched the sway of her hips as she walked, the loose curls bouncing around her neck, the way she tilted her head just so when she talked to Rebecca. No. It wasn’t the kids that had brought him around tonight.
He started across the street, but Susan tugged at his elbow. “Let’s walk down Royal Street. I love looking in the shops this time of the year. The displays look so tempting.”
