Her Christmas Guardian

by Shirlee McCoy

  “We’re talking whatever you like best.”

  “What I like best,” he said quietly, “are blond-haired librarians with staples in their foreheads.”

  That surprised a laugh out of her. “Thank you. I think.”

  “You two done over there?” Jackson called, his tone just shy of being amused. “Because we’ve got some planning to do before the ladies head to the cabin. They don’t get there by five and our guy might get suspicious.”

  “Four,” a dour-looking woman with dark hair and pale green eyes said. Eleanor Finch. He’d seen her at Scout’s house, but he hadn’t thought much of it because she’d had plenty of reason to be there. “He was very specific about that. If I’m not there by then, he’s not going to wait around.”

  “Okay, then,” Jackson responded. “We have even less time, and we have a lot to talk through. How about we get under the tarp and hash things out with the rest of the team?”

  “How about we pretend we did and just come up with our own plan?” Cyrus responded.

  “Great idea except for two things,” Jackson said, rubbing at a lump on the side of his forehead. It was blue and red with a few hints of green and yellow mixed in. Obviously, he’d left a few things out during their phone conversation. “First, I’m not in the frame of mind that’s required to irritate the local police and the FBI all at one time. Second, I’m not in the mood to irritate my brother.”

  “Your brother is always irritated,” Boone pointed out. He liked Chance Miller, enjoyed working for him, had even gone on a couple of hunting trips with the guy. But facts were facts, and the fact was, Chance spent a good portion of his life trying to micromanage the world. It made for a well-run, successful business, but it didn’t do much for the happiness quotient.

  “Yeah, well, seeing as how I got beaned on the head with a brick today, I’m not feeling all that happy, either. So, how about we follow the rules on this? We’ve got a two-year-old child to think about. The more heads we put together to plan the rescue, the better.”

  “Then let’s get to planning.”

  “I’d prefer we not stand out in the rain to do it,” Eleanor grumbled.

  “Not that I care all that much what you prefer,” Jackson said, “but there’s probably room for us under the tarp. Rodriguez and Lamar should be here soon, and we can get this show on the road.”

  “I’d like to get it on the road now,” Scout murmured, but she didn’t protest when Boone pressed a hand to her lower back and urged her across the parking lot. She stayed close as Rodriguez and Lamar arrived, hovering near his elbow as the team formulated a plan, went over every detail again and again and again. He could sense her impatience to get moving, but she didn’t voice it, didn’t try to rush the process.

  That impressed him.

  She impressed him.

  Rather than panic, she focused, and that was going to serve them all well in the next few hours. If they’d been alone, he would have told her that, but they were surrounded by a dozen agents and officers.

  “That’s it,” Special Agent Rodriguez said, her dark gaze settling on Scout. “Are you sure you’re up to this? If you don’t think you can do it, we’ll have an agent step in for you.”

  “I don’t think any of your agents are going to be able to pass for me,” Scout responded.

  “We can find someone,” Rodriguez assured her, but Scout shook her head.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Rodriguez eyed her for a moment and nodded. “Just make sure you do exactly what we’ve discussed. Don’t veer from the plan. If you do, things could go bad really quickly.”

  “I won’t,” Scout assured her.

  Boone wondered if she meant it. She probably thought she meant it.

  The problem was, when it came to love, the heart worked a lot faster than the head.

  “Do we have the frame Amber sent you?” Officer Lamar asked, and Scout shook her head.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look for it yet.”

  “You have the box?”

  “In Eleanor’s car.”

  “Let’s get it. If you’re going to pull this off, you need to have something to bargain with.”

  * * *

  If.

  Scout didn’t much like the word.

  There was too much room in it for error, too much of a chance that the thing she didn’t want would come true. Everything had been explained to her in excruciating detail. Every word she needed to say, every move she needed to make. If she did those things, she might get her daughter back. But she might not, and that was the thing that was killing her.

  She followed Officer Lamar to Eleanor’s car, waiting while Jackson opened the trunk. She felt sick, her head pounding, the cold wind spearing through her coat. Boone had been right about her not being prepared for the weather. She’d been standing outside for an hour, and she felt cold to the bone.

  “There it is,” Jackson said, pointing at the box. The contents were a jumbled mess, strands of lights and shards of colored glass mixed up together.

  “Is the frame in there?” Boone leaned over Scout’s shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair, his warmth seeping through her coat and chasing away some of the chill.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get a chance to look.” She shoved some of the lights aside, lifting out boxes of broken glass balls. The frame had been on the top of the pile before, but if Eleanor had gone through the box, it could be at the bottom.

  “It’s in there,” Eleanor said.

  “And you know this how?” Officer Lamar asked.

  “Here’s the deal,” Eleanor huffed. “I’m cold. I’m wet. And I’m already in more trouble than I want to be. I want to get this over with sooner rather than later. So, I’m just tossing the information out there. I went through the box a couple of weeks ago. I was told to look for journals or letters. There weren’t any in there, but I did see a picture frame.”

  Scout plunged in deeper, nearly falling over in her effort to get to the bottom of the box.

  “Careful,” Boone murmured, his hands settling on her waist. He left them there as she pushed aside several ornaments, spotted something pink and glittery near the bottom of the box.

  “Here!” She pulled it out, the picture a colored photo that must have been taken during one of her first playdates with Amber. They’d been young. Maybe eight or nine years old, their hair in pigtails. Even then, Amber had been a rebel, the ends of her ponytails died purple with grape juice. If Scout remembered correctly, Amber’s parents hadn’t been happy about it.

  “Glitzy,” Boone said, touching the edge of the frame.

  “That’s how Amber was. She liked showy things, glittery things. The more it sparkled, the happier she was.” She smiled at the memory.

  “Much as I’m enjoying your trip down memory lane,” Eleanor griped, “I’d like to get this over with. The hike is difficult on the best of days. It’s going to be atrocious today.”

  “Mind if I take a look at that?” Special Agent Rodriguez asked, ignoring Eleanor’s comment.

  Scout handed it to her reluctantly, waited impatiently as she studied the photo and then flipped over the frame.

  “Ever opened it?” she asked.

  “No. I never had a reason to. Amber wrote me a note saying I should switch out the photo and put one of me and Lucy in there, but I loved the one she put in it, so I didn’t bother.”

  “She said you should or could?” Boone asked, his brow furrowed.

  “Should. She mentioned it three or four times in the Christmas card that came with it.”

  “Mind if I open the back?” Special Agent Rodriguez asked, her fingers already working at the tiny clasp on the back. She opened it up. Scout didn’t know what she expected, but there was nothing there but the photo, a few numbers and letters scraw
led on the back. “This mean anything to you?” She handed the photo to Scout.

  Don’t forget to visit.

  J.A.C. 6/02/97

  M.E.C. 11/15/04

  “I don’t...” ...think so was what she was going to say, but then it hit her like a ton of bricks. The letters. The numbers. “My parents,” she said, so surprised the picture almost fell from her hands.

  Boone took it, eyeing it as if it had more secrets to reveal. “Those are their initials?”

  “And the day each of them died. Amber was at both of their funerals. It was just the three of us in my family. No uncles or aunts or grandparents. She stood in as family.”

  “She says you shouldn’t forget to visit,” he pointed out. “Is she speaking about their grave sites?”

  “Probably. They were buried in the family crypt in San Jose. Once a month, Amber and I would place flowers there. When I left San Jose, she promised to continue doing it.”

  “Interesting,” Special Agent Rodriguez said. “I think I’ll send an agent out to check out the grave sites. Can you give me an address?”

  She did as she was asked, feeling almost as if Amber were there, trying to convey some secret message. If only she knew what that message was. “I wish I’d seen that sooner. Maybe...”

  “What?” Boone asked, handing the photo back to her.

  “Maybe it was a cry for help. Maybe she was telling me that I shouldn’t forget to visit her grave site after she died.”

  “I doubt such a flamboyant person would send such a subtle message,” Boone said. “Based on what I’ve read and what you’ve told me, I’d say that if Amber knew she was going to die, she’d have been more likely to send you a bouquet of balloons with her epitaph written on them than a cryptic message.”

  “You’re probably right. Amber always did things in a big way.” Scout’s heart ached as she thought about her friend and the message she’d tried to send. Had she expected Scout to find it before she’d died?

  “It’s possible there is more to the message. She might have left something at the grave site. My people will check things out in San Jose,” Special Agent Rodriguez cut in. “For now, though, we need to focus on Lucy. Let’s put the photo back in the frame and get moving.”

  Scout would have been happy to do it, but her hands were shaking from cold or, maybe, from nerves. No matter how many times she told herself and everyone else that she was prepared to go after Lucy, she wasn’t sure it was true.

  She was terrified that she’d forget what she’d been told, walk into a situation that was nothing like what she was expecting and somehow do something that would cause Lucy to be hurt—or worse. She wanted to make the long trek through the forest and come out an hour or two later with her daughter. She just wasn’t sure she had it in her. She’d spent her entire life playing it safe. The one night she’d done something different, gone out of her comfort zone, played the game by different rules, she’d ended up pregnant and alone, starting her life all over again in a town far away from everything she’d ever known.

  That hadn’t proved anything about her adventurous spirit or her ability to buck the system and play by her own rules. All it had done was prove that she had the ability to make a stupid decision, disappoint herself and disappoint God.

  “Let me,” Boone said, brushing her hands away from the frame and sliding the photo back in. “There you go.”

  “Thanks,” she said, tucking the frame into her coat pocket, her fingers and nose cold, her heart a leaden weight in her chest. She felt sick, her head aching, her stomach churning. She didn’t know how much of that was from her head wound and how much was from nerves, but she really hoped she wouldn’t lose her breakfast in front of a dozen law-enforcement officials.

  “You don’t have to do this, Scout. There are other options.” He cupped her cheek, looked into her eyes. For a moment it was just the two of them, standing in the rain, a thousand promises dancing in the air between them, a thousand dreams just out of reach. She wanted to step into his arms, rest her aching head against his chest, but they weren’t alone, and her daughter was waiting in a cabin just a few miles away.

  “None of them are as good,” she said, because it was true. They’d discussed every option during the hour-long planning session. None of them made as much sense as the one she’d agreed to—she and Eleanor walking to the cabin escorted by Boone until they were a quarter mile away. The remainder of the team spreading out in the woods, surrounding the cabin before Scout and Eleanor arrived. Everyone moving silently and stealthily, giving Lucy’s kidnapper no indication that they were there. If everything went as planned, Scout and Eleanor would be allowed to leave with Lucy once the frame was delivered.

  Barring that, Scout would take Lucy into one of the cabin bedrooms, signal by opening a window that they were away from the kidnapper and wait for their rescue.

  Everyone involved in the planning had admitted that it wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was their best option for a good outcome for Lucy.

  That was all Scout cared about.

  “No,” Boone admitted, his hand dropping to her nape, his fingers warm and a little rough against her skin. “But there are good-enough options.”

  “Would good enough work for you if this were Kendal?”

  His eyes darkened, and he shook his head. “No, and that’s the only reason why I’m not fighting tooth and nail against this plan.”

  “You could fight it with more than that and it would still be what it is,” Cyrus cut in, impatience in his voice and on his face. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who liked to wait around, and he’d been pacing the edges of the group almost from the moment the planning had begun. “So, how about we get going? Four o’clock will be here soon, and if Lucy is moved, we’re going to have to spend a long night hunting these woods for her.”

  The thought was enough to get Scout going.

  She moved away from Boone, shrugging into a black parka someone offered, the vinyl-like material doing nothing to warm her chilled skin. Her feet were soaked through her tennis shoes, her jeans clinging to her legs.

  It didn’t matter.

  Nothing did.

  Except finding Lucy and bringing her home.

  FOURTEEN

  The storm whipped itself into a wild frenzy as Boone led Scout and Eleanor into the woods. Marked paths had once shown the way from the lodge to the rental cabins and ski areas. Time and neglect had hidden them. Aside from a few painted arrows on tree trunks, there was no indication that large groups of people had once vacationed in the area.

  “Which way?” he asked Eleanor. He had the coordinates she’d provided, and his GPS was pointing the way. He wanted to test her, though. See how helpful she planned to be.

  “South. Just keep heading in that direction until we hit the creek. Then we turn east. It’s about a half mile from there. It usually takes me a little over an hour. It’s going to take longer today.” She pulled her hood up over her hair, buttoned her coat. She’d worn thin-looking black slacks and black hiking boots. She’d have been better off in jeans. She’d been offered a parka and refused, claiming that her boss would get suspicious if she and Scout showed up wearing the same thing.

  She had a point.

  She also had more explaining to do. No one believed her claim that she didn’t know the man who had hired her. He was someone within her sphere of influence, and that relationship had led to her involvement. Eventually, the truth would come out. For now, he’d pretend he believed every word Eleanor said if that meant accomplishing the goal and completing the mission.

  The wind picked up, the rain mixing with sleet as they climbed a steep hill and headed down the other side. Already, they were cut off from civilization, the view of the lodge hidden by the slope they were descending.

  Scout slipped, and he caught her arm just in t
ime to keep her from sliding down the last hundred yards of the slope.

  “Careful,” he said, keeping his hand on her elbow as they picked their way down the last several yards. “You break an ankle and we’re in trouble.”

  “I’m sure if that happened, your friends would find a solution to the problem,” Eleanor muttered, holding on to sapling trees as she made her way down ahead of them. “Must be nice to have so many people fighting for you. Me? I’ve got no one. My no-good husband dumped me the day I turned forty. Left me with a mortgage and a debt that I didn’t think I was ever going to pay off. No kids. Thank goodness! The last thing I need are a few of his brats trying to spend every bit of the money I’ve managed to scrape together over the past ten years.”

  “She’s just a little bitter,” Scout whispered, slipping again, her fingers grasping on to his shirt as she tried to maintain her balance. “And I am really regretting my decision to wear tennis shoes this morning.”

  “There isn’t enough tread in the world to keep someone from slipping on this stuff,” he responded, keeping his gaze on Eleanor. She was increasing her pace, and he had a feeling she was going to make a break for it.

  Maybe she thought she could get to the cabin, convince her boss to give her the plane ticket and money she really seemed to believe he had for her, before the dragnet they’d created closed in.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Boone didn’t bother telling her that.

  She wouldn’t have believed it.

  He kept an eye on her progress as he helped Scout over a fallen log. “Looks like your landlady is trying to ditch us.”

  “You can run up ahead and stop her, if you want. I’ll catch up as quickly as I can.”

  “There’s no point. She gets too far ahead and someone will grab her and hold her for us.”

  “What if they don’t?” she asked, picking up her pace so that she was nearly jogging.

  “Do you really think they’re going to let her get to the cabin before you?” He ducked under a low-hanging pine bough, tugging her under behind him.