Her Christmas Protector

by Geri Krotow

  “I’m Rebecca Flatwood, and this is my daughter, Jess.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Her response was met with a grim smile from Rebecca and a roll of the eyes from Jess.

  “I’m Jess’s only parent as her father took up and left with the whore of a woman who supplied his drugs for him. Meth. Says he’s straight for good this time, as if I’d believe him.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?” She directed her question to Jess, forcing her face to remain neutral even though she inwardly cringed at Rebecca’s tone.

  “She hardly remembers him, and even if he wanted to see her, I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Jess? How old are you, hon?”

  “Twelve going on thirty, or so she thinks.” Again, Rebecca answered.

  “Rebecca, I need to hear Jess’s responses, too.”

  “Sure.” Her insouciant shrug was a clear indication of where Jess’s over-the-top dramatics came from.

  “Jess?”

  “I’m almost twelve. My birthday’s next week, but we don’t do a big celebration because it’s too expensive with Christmas so close. I do remember my dad—he left when I was eight. Sometimes he sends me nice presents.”

  “Do you email him or text him?”

  “Email is for old folks.” She met Zora’s gaze and must have realized how she sounded. “Sorry. I’m not saying you’re old. Yeah, we text sometimes, or do Snapchat.”

  The Trail Hikers training had included proficiency in all forms of the latest social media, including Snapchat. Zora remembered it as a favorite among teens as it didn’t retain the conversations. The adolescents felt freer to write whatever they were really thinking, knowing it wasn’t going to be there “forever.”

  “I hate that damned Snapchat. I can’t go back and see what the bastard wrote her.”

  “Your concern is understandable, Rebecca. Jess, have you ever felt threatened by your father?”

  “No, he’s always nice to me. Except before he left, when he was high, or right after. He could get mean.”

  “Is Jess safe now? Are you safe, Rebecca?”

  Rebecca snorted.

  “Safe? Yeah, we’re safe. Struggling to make ends meet, sometimes skipping the doctor if we don’t need to go or if I don’t have the insurance co-pay, but we’re okay.”

  “So what’s brought you in here today?”

  “I need to know when Jess talks to her father. And if he’s planning to pick her up to go anywhere. She won’t tell me, her mother.”

  “Do you have a court agreement with him?”

  “Court stuff costs money. There’s no extra money for anything, including the guitar lessons Jess is always harping about. If it wasn’t for the church we wouldn’t even have a place for Jess to be after school, away from the crazies in our neighborhood.”

  “I understand.”

  Rebecca shot her a look that indicated her extreme doubt in Zora’s compassion. Like Katherine Pearson, Zora didn’t have any children of her own, but she knew more about young girls than Rebecca could guess at.

  “You know, I might be able to help you with your music lessons. We have two different contemporary music groups here. And there are plenty of instruments in the band room. I’m sure we can find a guitar to lend you, Jess, and there’s bound to be several other teens who’d like to learn. I can put a notice in the church bulletin asking for anyone who has the time to offer beginner lessons.”

  Jess moved her head in a noncommittal gesture.

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Where does her father live?”

  “He’s in the same trailer park we are, on the outskirts of Silver Valley. He moved back last year, and has been bothering Jess more.”

  Zora made a mental note to check the church registry for their address. Bryce would have insight on the area, which might be helpful.

  “He’s not bothering me. He’s being a parent.” Jess’s emphasis on the last syllable of parent made it clear she didn’t feel Rebecca was being the best at her job.

  Rebecca shook her head.

  “You don’t know what a parent is, missy. Sure, your dad can show up and be the hero now, but where the hell was he when you needed your cavities filled from all that...”

  “That’s enough for now. Let’s focus on why you’re here. It sounds to me as if you want Jess to keep you more informed about when she communicates with her father. Jess, I understand that you’re getting older and more independent but your mother has your safety in mind. Whether you’re talking to your dad or a school friend, your mom needs to know if you’re planning to go anywhere, and she has a right to know where you are at all times. Does this make sense to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you realize that your mom can take your phone away if she thinks you’re not obeying her rules, right?” Zora made sure to make eye contact with Rebecca, too.

  “Yeah.”

  Zora wished she’d get more than a monosyllabic response from the preteen but at least they were all talking.

  “Okay, then. Jess, why don’t you go wait in the reception area while your mom and I talk for a bit? Afterward I’ll get that guitar for you, and maybe I can convince you to help out with the Christmas pageant.”

  “I already am—I’m on the stage crew, helping with the lights.”

  “Wonderful. I appreciate you sharing your time and talent.”

  After Jess clicked the door behind her, Zora faced Rebecca with a sternness she didn’t feel.

  “Are you certain she’ll be safe if her father starts spending more time with her?”

  “Yes. He’d never hurt her—he loved her as much as a young boy could. That’s all he was when we met—a boy. I had to grow up faster, having the baby and all.”

  “Where do you work, Rebecca?”

  “I fill in at a grocery store when they can use me, and now I have a good job at the community college. I work there around my classes. I’m getting certified as a paralegal. I couldn’t be away from Jess this long before, and it’s taken me until now to save enough to afford a car and the gas to get back and forth.”

  “You’re an amazing woman, Rebecca. I hope you know that. Jess is just being a typical twelve-year-old in many ways. My only concern remains her communication with her father. You’ll keep tabs on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you have any concerns or feel you need the authorities, don’t hesitate. If you won’t make the call, I will. It’s part of my job.”

  “I’ll do that. And, Reverend Hammermill...thank you. You made such a difference with Jess. She was quiet with you but I know she was listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  Chapter 9

  As the week passed in a blur Bryce was impressed at how dedicated Zora was to her undercover role, and how much attention she gave to each detail of the upcoming Christmas pageant and Christmas services.

  He couldn’t help but notice how much he was enjoying his role, too, posing as her husband-to-be. Being able to stop in her office without warning.

  Bryce stood in front of Zora’s desk for a full minute before she looked up from the laptop she worked on. Shirley Mae had been nowhere in sight so he’d let himself into the minister’s office.

  “Bryce!”

  “Reverend Hammermill.” The flirtatious tone of his greeting had the effect he’d hoped it would—she smiled.

  Her smile triggered a protective instinct, followed by a blatantly sexual one. He forced his thoughts away from Zora’s creamy skin and the pink blush rising up her neck, the same kind of rosy hue he’d love to cause in other ways.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” She took off the ridiculously huge black-rimmed glasses and massaged her temples. “These don’t have real lenses but they’re still a pain to look through. They’re all scratched, too.”

  “Want me to find you another pair?”

  “No, that’s fine. This won’t go on forever, right?”

  He sat down.

  “Not if we can help it
.”

  “Right. I’m glad you stopped by. There’s a neighborhood I’d like to know more about, where one of my members lives.”

  “One of ‘your’ members?”

  “Humor me. It’s part of the deal, remember?”

  “Go on.”

  She mentioned the address and he immediately knew the place.

  “It’s a trailer park on the edge of town. Whoever you were speaking to must be having tough times if they live there.” He wasn’t going to tell her he’d been tasked to look at the trailer park for other reasons. Not yet.

  “They are. Is it safe? There’s a preteen girl involved.” She wasn’t going to spill all she knew, either. They were both bound by the code of their respective professions.

  “Honestly? Not so much. But if they keep to themselves, as I’m sure anyone living there must do to survive, they’d be okay.”

  She sighed.

  “I was afraid of that. The mother is working to get them out of there, but it sounds kind of awful.”

  “Poverty is.”

  “Yes, and they exemplify the working poor.” She frowned.

  “You’re not going to fix anyone here, Zora. You’re not going to be here long enough.” He kept his voice low in case anyone walked by the office. They’d think it was simply an engaged couple having a private conversation.

  “I know that, trust me. One of the perils of being a counselor is hoping you can change people, or rescue folks from their lives. It doesn’t work that way—we all have choices to make, paths to walk. Just one time, though, I wish I could wave a wand and make the journey a little easier for them.”

  Bryce liked the sense of common purpose they shared.

  “In that our two professions are similar.”

  “At least you get more immediate results.”

  “A lot of the time, yes. In the midst of a case like this one, not so much.”

  “So I take it you haven’t found anything new?” Her expression, though wary, showed hope that he hated to crush.

  “No, nothing. As expected there were no prints on the note with the flowers and the lab hasn’t gained any more from your first vest.” SVPD had provided her with new Kevlar since they’d had to send off hers for analysis.

  “That’s disappointing. It’s not like the television shows, is it?”

  “How so?”

  “You don’t solve the crime in an hour, with all the latest forensics equipment and law enforcement software in one room.”

  He laughed and she smiled in return. Her smile was the stuff that inspired classic artists. Genuine, warm and highly kissable.

  Down, boy.

  “No, I can’t say I’ve ever had that happen. But we’re pretty damn good, considering how piecemeal some of the parts are.”

  “I’ve been reading up on SVPD and the cases you’ve handled over the past five years or so. It’s getting crazy even here, isn’t it? If it’s not heroin or meth, it’s money laundering, or big-time crime rings sending innocents into the big-box stores in the middle of the night.”

  “You know about that?” He was once again impressed by her abilities.

  She was referring to the high incidence of electronics theft from the stores closest to the interstate, only a mile out of Silver Valley. SVPD worked closely with the treasury department on it, and had been successful at nabbing several perpetrators. But it was an ongoing battle as the crime rings were Jamaican, Russian or Ukrainian run and operated from major hubs that included Philadelphia, Baltimore and New York. SVPD did their part by monitoring events in their jurisdiction and reporting them to Treasury, who worked with the FBI on the bigger picture.

  “Yes, I do read the papers, you know. And of course our mutual employer has access to all of the reports. How’s SVPD doing with this added burden?”

  “We’re stretched thin. But one of the other detectives—Rio Ortego—has taken over my other cases for now, allowing me to give this my full attention.”

  He didn’t mean to allow his voice to drop on “full attention” and he certainly didn’t mean to come off as such a horny bastard. But the heat between them was potent.

  Judging by the way Zora bit her lower lip and clasped her hands as if holding on to a lifeline, she was fighting it, too.

  “You feel it as much as I do, don’t you?”

  “It’s the consequence of our shared history and the close confines of this intense case.” She looked like an old-time principal with her hands on the desk and her expression serious.

  “How many times have you practiced that in front of your bathroom mirror?”

  She had the grace to appear speechless.

  “You’re playing dirty, Detective.”

  “No, I’m not, but I want to be dirty with you, Reverend.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver from his and he knew that with the tiniest push he’d gladly allow himself to be controlled by his lust for her.

  Is it only lust?

  “Is that appropriate for this setting?”

  He stood and leaned over the desk, putting his face close to hers.

  “I left ‘appropriate’ behind me a long time ago, Zora.”

  He fought the urge to grab her and crush her lips to his. She had to come to him first. He needed to know that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  A fleeting smile crossed her lips and her eyes lowered to his mouth. They were so close he swore he tasted her minty breath, a by-product of her obsession with ginger mints.

  “Excuse me, Colleen.” Shirley Mae knocked as she spoke, opening the door and clearing her throat. Zora sprang back from the desk, her wheeled chair nearly hitting the wall behind her. Bryce took his time in straightening and looked over his shoulder at the receptionist.

  They were supposedly engaged, so he wasn’t going to act as if he’d been doing anything but leaning in for a quick kiss.

  And he didn’t want Shirley Mae to see the front of his trousers. It was enough that Zora knew how hard she’d made him.

  “Yes, what is it?” Zora had the gift of quick recovery, he’d give her that.

  “Here’s the map to the Christmas gala, downtown tomorrow night. You and Detective Campbell need to be there by five thirty.”

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  As he loaded the garbage into the Dumpster in back of the sprawling complex that was Silver Valley Community Church, Ernie realized how stupid women could be. Not his mother, of course, but women who thought they could take a man’s career.

  A career that the word of God was pretty clear about.

  He’d pretended to be surprised that Reverend Hammermill was at his church when Shirley Mae introduced them earlier. Only a week ago he’d seen her give that awful prayer at the football field. It seemed following her home that night hadn’t been necessary after all. Snooping in the office to find her address was easy after-hours.

  He’d outsmarted the cops and beaten them to her place by following her home from the police station. She’d never seen him, since he’d taken the farm roads, parallel to her route on the main highway, with his lights off. Once he’d figured out which house she was headed toward, he’d ran the rest of the way with his handgun, ready to shoot her.

  It still bothered him that he’d missed her heart.

  He thought his flowers would have scared her enough to lie low. He had no idea which congregation she was from originally—she’d just shown up at the football game, and now at Silver Valley Community Church.

  He still hoped to take out Reverend Pearson. Until she returned, he’d have to come up with a new plan for his Christmas message to the women in Silver Valley who thought they could wear the holy cloth of God. And anyone who supported women in the holy robes. Robes were meant for men.

  The wind grabbed two large corrugated cardboard boxes off the second pallet he’d pulled out and he wound up chasing them across the parking lot. As he flattened the boxes he imagined putting bullets into the hearts of both reverends, Hammermill and Pearson.
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br />   At least he wouldn’t have to chase Reverend Hammermill down at her house—that dog of hers was a problem, plus the police car was still there when he drove by her house. He was careful not to drive the same car twice; he used his mother’s old Buick that he didn’t have the heart to get rid of, and the later-model pickup he liked to use when he went hunting. His everyday car was a small sedan.

  He took a long drag on the cigarette he enjoyed over his break. He’d have preferred to take out Reverend Pearson at the big Christmas Eve service, but killing Reverend Hammermill would send Silver Valley the message loud and clear.

  Women didn’t belong in the pulpit.

  * * *

  “Campbell, my office. Rio, go wrap up everything with that florist. And have her call us the minute she gets anything similar to what she delivered to Reverend Hammermill’s.”

  Colt Todd issued orders in rapid fire as he walked in front of Bryce through the police station. He paused to tell the receptionist to get the doughnuts a grateful citizen had dropped off out of his sight “before I eat them.”

  Colt Todd was on a roll and Bryce wasn’t going to argue with him, no matter how pressed for time he was. He had to pick up Zora within the hour, and he still needed to get his tuxedo.

  “Shut the door.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bryce complied and turned to face his boss. Well, one of his bosses. Or was Claudia in charge of SVPD, too? Sometimes he wondered about the true role of the Trail Hikers.

  “Sit down. Tell me what you’ve got so far on the Female Preacher Killer, and the trailer park.”

  Bryce filled him in without delay. “That part about the church family living there—that could open up some leads for us.”

  “I agree, but I don’t want to pursue it until after we get the Female Preacher Killer in custody.” Or dead. Bryce couldn’t guarantee anything with a psycho—they’d bring him in alive if at all possible, but if he had to be taken out to protect innocents, they would do it. The one part he hated but accepted about his job.

  Superintendent Todd ran his hands over his short-cropped silver hair.