I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Dawn Stewardson

  She nodded wordlessly, but before he could reach for the phone on Nancy’s desk, Kent appeared in the doorway.

  “Ali? Someone’s just called here asking for you.”

  “A man?” Logan demanded.

  Kent shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t answer the phone. But somebody’s waiting on the line for her.”

  “You can pick it up in here,” Nancy told her.

  Ali looked at the phone. One of its lights was flashing and she watched it blink for a moment, a new feeling of horror washing over her. The man who’d stolen Robbie was on that line. If she answered the phone, she’d hear his voice.

  “It’s him,” she finally whispered. “It has to be him. Who else would be calling me here?”

  Logan scooped Cody up off her lap.

  “Answer it,” he said when she didn’t move.

  Cody wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and Logan hugged him hard. It could as easily have been his son who’d been taken. Even so, he knew he wasn’t coming anywhere near imagining what Ali had to be going through. She was still just staring at the phone, looking so petrified that he’d give anything to get his hands on the creep who had Robbie. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now, at least. Right now, all he could do was try to help.

  He waited another few seconds, then reached for the phone with his free hand and held it out to her. She was deathly pale, her hands shaking so badly he was afraid she’d drop the damned receiver if she did pick it up.

  “Ali?” he murmured. “Ali, try to think calmly. It’s good news that this guy’s phoning you. In fact, it’s terrific. He’s getting in touch with you right away. That means he isn’t just some wacko who goes around grabbing kids for no reason.”

  “Logan’s right,” Kent assured her.

  “He wants something,” Logan went on. “He wants something before he gives Robbie back. So I’m just going to keep holding the phone for you, and you’re going to press that button, then pick up the receiver and find out what it is. You have to be the one to do that part.”

  He held his breath until she slowly and tentatively reached forward.

  “You’ll be fine,” he whispered.

  Terrified of what the man might say, Ali pushed the flashing button, then lifted the receiver and murmured, “Hello?”

  “Hello, Ali,” he said. “Don’t say a word, but it’s me.”

  The sound of his voice started her trembling so hard she had to clutch the receiver with both hands.

  “Robbie’s safe,” he was saying, “so don’t call the police. I need you to do something for me, and once you have you’ll get him back. I want you to go straight home now and wait for me to phone you there. Don’t call the police. And don’t tell anyone you’ve heard from me. You’ve got that?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good. Now—”

  “No, wait! I’ve moved. You don’t have the number. It’s—”

  “I’ve got it. Now go on home.”

  With a quiet click, the phone went dead against her ear. She simply sat holding the receiver, vainly trying to understand what was happening.

  “Ali?” Nancy said.

  “Who was it?” Logan asked.

  “It was...my dead husband.”

  * * *

  LOGAN SHOT a surreptitious glance at Ali as he drove the Cherokee along Harbord. She’d been in no shape to drive her own car home from the clinic, so she’d left it there. That, though, was the only suggestion she’d gone along with.

  Nancy had wanted her to stay right where she was until the shock had worn off a little more, but Ali had been adamant about starting for home the moment Logan finished changing out of his Santa suit—saying she had to be home when her husband phoned again.

  She’d also been adamant about swearing everyone to secrecy until she had Robbie safely back, even though both Nancy and Kent had argued that she should call the police. After all, they’d pointed out, regardless of Bob’s being Robbie’s father, this was a kidnapping. Logan could see their point, but he found it a lot easier to relate to Ali’s.

  “I’ve got to do exactly what Bob said,” she’d insisted. “You’re not even supposed to know it was him. I shouldn’t have let it slip out, and you’ve got to swear not to breathe a word to anyone. We can’t do anything that might cause trouble for Robbie. And that means no one calls the police.”

  Her only concern was getting her son back unharmed, just as Logan’s would be under the same circumstance. But how long would that take? It would depend, he decided, on what it was the guy wanted her to do for him.

  Logan turned south on Palmerston, wondering what on earth the story was with this Bob character. He didn’t have a clue, but that was hardly surprising when even Ali didn’t know what was happening. All he’d learned, by taking Kent aside for a minute, were the bare-boned details, that Bob Weyden had supposedly been murdered—about eighteen months ago—while on a business trip in Central America.

  Obviously, though, the man wasn’t dead. So maybe he’d actually just been held prisoner down there, or only been injured and spent the eighteen months recuperating. But neither of those possibilities would explain why he hadn’t gotten in touch with Ali in a normal way. Why, instead, he’d pulled this stunt with Robbie.

  Logan swung into her driveway and glanced at her again. “How’re you doing?”

  “Much better.”

  “And what—”

  She silenced him with a shake of her head, then looked pointedly down at Cody who was half-asleep in her arms.

  Logan nodded. She was right. The less they said in Cody’s hearing the better. “You want some company for a while?” he asked.

  “Would you mind?”

  “‘Course not.” Cutting the engine and switching off the headlights, he climbed out into the night. It was clear and starry, but the air was so cold the snow squeaked beneath his feet.

  He started around to the passenger’s side, wishing he could think of a good way to explain things to his son. Cody was still awfully upset that Robbie was gone. And he’d picked up on just enough of the adult conversations to make him totally confused. It was too much for a six-year-old boy to understand. Hell, it was too much for a thirty-three-year-old man to understand.

  “Come on, sport,” he said, lifting Cody off Ali’s lap. “We’re going to go in with Ms. Weyden for a bit.”

  “And wait until the man brings Robbie home?”

  “Well, we’ll see. I’m not quite sure what the plans are for tonight. But we’ll know what’s happening by tomorrow.” He followed Ali onto the porch, hoping to hell they would.

  At least things weren’t as bad as they’d first assumed. At least it hadn’t been some deranged stranger who’d grabbed Robbie. And once the shock of hearing from a dead man had begun to wear off, Ali had clearly been relieved that Robbie was with his father.

  “He’ll be okay,” she’d told Nancy and Kent when they’d insisted that she call the police. “Even though I’ll worry every second until I’ve got him back, there’s no way Bob would ever harm him.”

  Maybe she was right, but Logan wasn’t entirely convinced. After all, what kind of a father played dead for a year and a half? What kind of man practically scared his wife to death by snatching their son? Once inside, Logan fixed Cody a peanut butter sandwich and sat with him at the kitchen table while Ali hovered by the phone.

  “He’s bound to call from a pay phone, isn’t he?” she finally said. “Or a cell phone.”

  “Probably.” Logan glanced at the phone on the counter, knowing exactly what she’d really been saying. She had a caller ID feature on her kitchen phone. The number from a pay phone wouldn’t do them much good, though, and if Bob used a cell phone, only an Unknown would flash on the little screen.

  Fortunately, Cody was too tired to ask any more questions, and by the time he finished his sandwich and a glass of milk he looked as if he was half-asleep again.

  “Do you want to put him to bed upstairs?
” Ali asked quietly.

  Logan shook his head. At the moment, just the thought of letting Cody out of his sight was enough to make him break into a cold sweat. “How about waiting for your call in the living room, and he can curl up in there.”

  “Sure, I’ll get a pillow and quilt.”

  “Ali?” Logan said as she turned to go upstairs.

  “Yes?”

  “Two things—just in case Bob phones before we have a chance to talk. First, he might ask if you told anyone he was your caller. If he does, tell him you didn’t. There’s no point in saying anything that could antagonize him.”

  “Oh, Logan, you don’t really think he’ll ask, do you? I’m not a very convincing liar.”

  “You don’t have to be very good over the phone. And the other thing—tell him you’ll only go along with whatever he wants on one condition. You get to talk to Robbie at least once a day.”

  Nodding, she turned away before Logan could see she was near tears again. At least once a day. That meant he thought Bob might not give Robbie back to her right away, when she could hardly stand to think about her son being gone another hour, let alone for days. And Logan hadn’t spelled it out, but she knew he wanted her talking to Robbie every day so they’d be sure he was still alive.

  She couldn’t stand thinking about that at all.

  * * *

  WHILE LOGAN settled Cody on the love seat in front of the window, Ali sat on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree. It stood next to the fireplace, its lights flickering away, throwing tiny flashes of color onto the presents below.

  The vast majority of those gifts were for Robbie, and seeing them there almost started her crying again. Christmas was for children, but her child was suddenly gone.

  She pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to hold back the rush of pain that thought caused. Then she clicked on the end table’s lamp, switching it to its dimmest setting so it wouldn’t bother Cody, and got up to turn off the tree lights. Their cheerful twinkling was too depressing to bear.

  When she sat down again she did her best to ignore both the tree and the stockings that already hung on the fireplace. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, Robbie had quoted once they were in place. Remembering that made her throat ache even harder.

  Forcing her eyes from the stockings, she focused on the mantel clock. But watching the minutes tick by, waiting for Bob’s call, did nothing for her state of mind. As much as she didn’t really believe he’d ever hurt his own son, what if...?

  She told herself again that Robbie would be fine. She’d make certain he was by going along with whatever Bob wanted. And the more time she’d had to think, the more she suspected she knew what it was.

  Only one possibility made any sense, and it also explained the previously inexplicable—why he’d increased his life insurance coverage so drastically, leaving her as the beneficiary even though they’d been separated.

  Bob had faked his death, and now he was going to tell her to hand over the insurance money.

  She’d give it to him, of course. To ensure Robbie’s safety, she’d do anything. But how long would it take to turn her investments back into cash? Surely not more than a day. So despite what Logan had implied, she could get Robbie back tomorrow. If she called first thing in the morning...but what if Kent Schiraldi caused a problem?

  Suddenly, she wished she’d hired a stranger to help her invest the policy proceeds. Since Kent knew what had happened to Robbie, he’d realize why she wanted the money. He’d have a fit, probably start insisting again that she call the police, and if anything went wrong in all this... A few stray tears made good their escape. She brushed them away as Logan headed across the room.

  “Cody’s asleep,” he said, sinking onto the couch beside her. “So you want to talk?”

  She hesitated, half wanting to confide in him, half not. “I haven’t really been able to make much sense of things yet,” she said at last.

  “Hey, I write crime fiction, remember? If I knew the whole story, maybe I could help you figure out what’s going on. Ali?” he added after a few seconds. “Next to Cody, Robbie’s my favorite kid in the world. So let me try to help, huh?”

  “All right,” she said slowly. When he put it that way, how could she shut him out? But he did need to know the whole story to understand how things had gotten to where they were, which meant she had to start way back.

  “I guess,” she began, “the first thing I should explain is that Bob and I...” Pausing, she tried to decide if there were some details she could leave out. She really hated admitting what a fool she’d once been.

  “Kent told me your husband was supposedly killed in Central America,” Logan prompted. “About a year and a half ago.”

  “Yes. It happened...I mean it supposedly happened, in Nicaragua. And did he tell you Bob and I were separated at the time?”

  “No.”

  “Well, we were—permanently. I mean, a legal separation agreement, the whole thing.” Ali slowly pushed her hair back from her face, a gesture that told Logan she was feeling uncomfortable with the topic.

  “That happened,” she went on at last, “a couple of years before Bob was killed...supposedly killed. We’d talked about a divorce, but neither of us had filed. Not me, because I wasn’t even seeing anyone else, so there didn’t seem to be any point bothering about it. Not Bob, because...well, that isn’t really relevant to the story.”

  “Ahh,” Logan said, for lack of anything better. So she’d never exactly been a grieving widow after all. It made him wonder what might have happened between them if he’d known that when they’d first met, if he hadn’t spent the past year biding his time. He forced the question from his mind as she continued.

  “I know I kind of gave people the wrong impression when I moved here,” she said quietly. “By just saying I was a widow, I mean.”

  “Well...yes, kind of.”

  “It was the truth, though. At least I thought it was until tonight. And it was easier for me not to mention the separated part.”

  “I guess that sort of thing isn’t really anybody else’s business, is it.”

  “No...but that’s not why I left it out. It was because, before, whenever I had to explain that my marriage had broken up, I’d always felt like a failure. I know that sounds silly in the nineties, but you understand what I mean?”

  “Yeah...yeah, I do. After my wife told me she wanted a divorce, I had the same feeling, even though... Well, there’s nothing rational about it, is there. Relationships just don’t always work.”

  She gave him a tiny smile that started a tingling in his groin—which made him feel like a total jerk. Right now, when it came to emotional control, Ali had to be hanging on by her fingernails. So he should be giving all his attention to her problem. This was neither the time nor place to be thinking about how kissable that wan little smile made her look.

  “My parents separated when I was little,” she was saying. “I almost never saw my father while I was growing up. Now I’m lucky if I ever hear from him. At any rate, I always said I’d do whatever it took to make my marriage work when the time came. But then it didn’t work, and Robbie didn’t see any more of Bob than I did of my father. Ironic, isn’t it.”

  “Like I said, relationships just don’t always work.”

  “I guess. And it’s obvious now that Bob and I should never have gotten married in the first place. I was too young—only twenty—and he was almost forty.”

  “A cradle-robber.”

  “That’s exactly what my mother called him. Oh, Logan, if she was still alive...if she knew what he’d done tonight...she told me I was making a big mistake, but I wouldn’t listen.”

  “Nobody listens to their parents when they’re twenty. We’ll have to remember that when Robbie and Cody are older.”

  Ali’s eyes filled with tears, making Logan wish he’d bitten his tongue before the words slipped out. She didn’t start crying, though, just wiped her eyes and continued.

 
; “Compared to anyone else I’d ever dated, Bob was a mature, successful man. At least, that’s how I saw him at the time. And I was bored with my classes and so darned flattered that someone like him was interested in me. So instead of going back to university for my final undergraduate year... You’re right, you know, Logan. There are a lot of things we should remember for when the boys are older. I was so dumb. I could be a practicing psychologist right now. Instead, I’m not even in grad school yet. But the bottom line is that I should have known better than to marry Bob.”

  “If he was almost forty, I’d say he’s the one who should have known better.”

  She managed another tiny smile. “What I meant by my knowing better, was that I knew Bob’s first wife walked out on him. And if I hadn’t been so naive, I’d have realized he was marrying me partly to prove a point. But that’s all water under the bridge. Tonight, though...taking Robbie the way he did...oh, Logan, he should have known better than to do that.”

  This time, she did begin crying, and if Logan had ever been with a woman who desperately needed a hug, it was her. He pulled her close, wishing he could shut out the world with his arms. She felt incredibly soft and warm, and she smelled of the craziest combination of scents imaginable—chocolate chip cookies and forbidden desire.

  He tried to ignore it, but it was so tantalizing, that was impossible. So then he tried telling himself he was being absurd. Desire wasn’t a scent. But there was something about being close to Ali that turned on all his senses.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, drawing away and digging some tissues from her pocket. “I am sure that Robbie will be safe with Bob, so crying is—”

  Tensing, she stopped midsentence when the phone in the kitchen rang.

  Chapter Three

  Ali reached the phone by the third ring, Logan on her heels. Even though she’d expected it, seeing the little Unknown flashing on the screen sent a stab of disappointment through her. She grabbed the phone from the counter and said hello before she had the receiver halfway to her ear.

  “Let me talk to Robbie,” she demanded the moment she heard Bob’s voice.

  “I can’t,” he said. “He’s not with me.”