Colorado Christmas Magic

by Caitlin McKenna

  Paul put his glasses back on and pulled up the town’s website. “It’s right here. ‘Welcome to St. Nicholas, Colorado, home of the famous Scrooge Legend, where any Scrooge who enters the town will end up loving Christmas as much as Santa.’”

  Charley exploded with a laugh. “Ridiculous.”

  Paul arched a brow. “Prove it.”

  Chapter Two

  In downtown Denver, Detective Jack Brody sat at his desk in front of his computer, staring at a twenty-year-old photo of his uncle Bill. The man looked very similar to how Jack looked now—a solid build, thick dark hair, and sharp blue-gray eyes. The picture had been taken when Bill Brody was thirty-five, right before he disappeared without a trace.

  Jack, an only child, had been extremely close to his uncle. He had just turned ten at the time of his uncle’s disappearance. Back then, his parents clocked long hours at the office. Since his uncle worked in construction, he was able to pick Jack up from school and look after him until his parents got off work. They often passed the time by building model trains together or carving sailboats out of wood. His uncle had become like a big brother. When he vanished that Christmas Eve, it had devastated Jack.

  The authorities had presumed Bill Brody dead, but Jack did not. He knew his uncle was out there somewhere, but when he was a kid, he couldn’t get anyone to listen to him. After college, he sought out a career in law enforcement. Now he was a police detective with all the state-of-the art investigative tools at his fingertips, and yet he still couldn’t find him. Uncle Bill was alive. Jack felt it in his bones; he knew it in his heart, and one day he would find him.

  Jack’s fingers flew over the keyboard, then hit Enter. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for his uncle’s image to go through a twenty-year age progression. When the new photo emerged, he stared at the aged image as if he were burning it into his brain. “Where are you, Uncle Bill?” Would he ever get a solid lead on his whereabouts? “Please, help me find you.” He hit Print and while he waited for the printer to spit out a copy of the aged photo, he noticed that none of the other detectives were in the bullpen. He rose to see what was going on.

  Walter, one of the older detectives, called to him from the doorway. “Hey, Jack, can you help me with that darn coffeemaker? I’m at my wits’ end.”

  Walter might have been pushing past retirement age, but the man knew how to work every coffeemaker known to man. Why would he be asking for help? And then it dawned on him.

  “Sure.” Jack suppressed a smile. “I’ll be right there.”

  He seized his empty coffee cup and proceeded toward the break room, where Walter abruptly darted inside. Carla, a vice detective, was peering out the break room window, obviously the designated lookout. Jack pretended not to see her, and when he got a little closer, she sounded the alarm. The lights flicked off and he had to squelch a laugh as he listened to ten of Denver’s finest trying to hide while being quiet. They’ll never make the SWAT team with their lack of stealth.

  Jack walked in, feigned confusion that the lights were off, then acted surprised as everyone popped up from underneath the tables and yelled, “Happy Birthday!”

  He cracked a smile, shaking his head. “I don’t believe you guys.”

  Carla stepped forward, holding a cake in the shape of a police badge. The top was ablaze with thirty lit candles. “Happy thirtieth, Jack. Make a wish and make it count.”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Let’s see.”

  “Need some help there, buddy?” Adam brought over paper plates and plastic forks. “Wish for a raise, and make it for the entire department!”

  Everyone cheered. Jack loved having Adam as his partner. Whenever he started taking life too seriously, he could count on him to liven things up.

  “Forget these guys.” Carla waved them off. “Make it a good one. From the heart.”

  The rest of the detectives ridiculed her “from the heart” comment, but Jack took her advice. Thinking about his uncle and praying he’d find him someday soon, he closed his eyes and blew out the candles.

  “Now that was a real wish,” she whispered to him as a round of cheers broke out in the room.

  “Cut him a real big piece,” Adam instructed. “He’s making the rest of us look bad with that gladiator body of his.” He laughed like a chipmunk, patting his growing belly.

  Captain Wollin maneuvered around Adam, staying out of the limelight. “Happy birthday, Detective Brody.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Carla handed the first piece to Jack before she offered a slice to Captain Wollin.

  “I better pass if I want to get into my tuxedo next month.”

  “Fair enough,” Carla said and gave the slice to Adam.

  Wollin threw out his stale morning coffee, then refilled his mug with fresh brew. “So, Jack, are you still itching to get out of Denver for a few days?”

  He nodded, swallowing a bite of cake. “I already put in for a week off at Christmas.”

  “What about working out of town right now?” he asked, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. “I’ve got something that needs looking into.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jack set down the cake, his interest piqued.

  “You remember Tony Braca?”

  “How can I forget The Leech?”

  “Well, it seems Tony managed to get himself a free vacation—one week in this town up in the mountains called St. Nicholas. You ever heard of it?”

  He pondered the name. “That’s the town that celebrates Christmas all year round. Don’t tell me Braca traveled up there and swindled a bunch of nice folks out of their money.”

  “Not that I know of, but I suspect something else is going on there.” Wollin looked around, then lowered his voice. “When Braca came back...well, he’s not the same guy.”

  Jack pushed his brows together. “What do you mean?”

  Wollin scratched the back of his head, then set his gaze directly on Jack. “Mr. Leech is now Mr. Boy Scout.”

  “You sure you’re talking about the right Tony?”

  “Yeah. Get this, he’s now volunteering at a church, and he’s holding down two jobs to make good on his debts. He’s even back with his wife.”

  Jack blew out a breath, remembering the violent fights Tony and his wife used to have. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “When I first heard about his attitude adjustment, I didn’t believe it, either.” The captain paused, seeming to consider his words. “But now the same thing has happened to my own brother.”

  “You mean he got a free week or that he came back a changed man?”

  “Both. When he came home after a free week at some B&B up there, I almost didn’t recognize him.”

  Jack eyed the captain with concern. “How so?”

  “Luke used to be angry all the time and pessimistic about everything. Now he’s Mr. Sunshine.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “No, but what concerns me is that Luke came into some money, and then boom, he gets invited to a town that instantly changes his way of thinking?” Wollin shook his head. “Something shady is going on there—a cult or a con game. I don’t know. Seems too good to be true.”

  The captain never jumped to conclusions, and it bothered Jack to see how worried he was. “You want me to check it out quietly since we don’t have jurisdiction up there?”

  “I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I closed a case this morning, so I can go as soon as you say the word.”

  “Thanks, Jack.” Relief washed over Wollin’s features. “I’ll get you set up at the same B&B where my brother stayed. That might be a good place to start. If anything feels off, even a little, I want you to remain in St. Nicholas and take all the time you need.”

  “Will do, Cap. I’ll get to the bottom of whatever is going on there.�
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  Chapter Three

  Joe Carroll teetered into the kitchen with an armload of firewood, shutting the back door with his foot. His wife, Mary, was humming along to “Good King Wenceslas” playing on her iPad while she decorated another batch of sugar cookies for their bed-and-breakfast guests.

  Joe sniffed the air. “Something smells good.” After passing through the kitchen to drop off the wood in the living room, he returned, looking for any handouts his wife would allow him.

  “You may have one,” she said. “The rest are for our guests.”

  He eyed all the cookies cooling on the rack and his mouth began to water. Even though he was nearly sixty, stepping foot in Mary’s kitchen made him feel like a kid again and, like a kid, he chose the biggest cookie of all—a sugar cookie in the shape of a fat snowman.

  He bit into it, savoring the familiar buttery, sugary taste that always brought on good memories of every Christmas past. His wife’s sugar cookies were superior to all others because she added nutmeg and vanilla to her recipe. “Mmm. I think you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

  She bubbled with a small laugh. “Oh, Joe, you say that every day.”

  “And every day I’m right.” He gave his wife of thirty-five years a quick kiss before he shoved half of the cookie into his mouth.

  “For that, you can have two.” Without hesitation, he reached for another before she changed her mind.

  “Any details on our special guest?” he asked around a mouthful of snowman cookie.

  “Our boss is sending us a young woman who has lost the Christmas spirit because she’s given up on love. Her name is Charley Dawson and you can read all about her.” Mary motioned to an ornate silver-and-gold metallic tube sitting at the end of the counter.

  He popped off the end of the tube and dumped out a small ivory scroll. Uncurling it, he started reading as he reflexively reached for a third cookie. He bit into it, then let out a short chuckle. “Miss Scrooge. Her nickname is Miss Scrooge! When’s she due to arrive?”

  “Tomorrow, but we’ve got other guests coming in tonight.”

  Joe grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator and poured himself a small glass. “Guess I better get to fixing that towel bar in room two and the shower leak in six.”

  “Or you could call Mike and have him do the fixing,” she suggested with a raise of her brow.

  “Are you saying I’m not a good handyman?”

  “I’m saying Mike is the professional.” Her mouth twitched with amusement.

  “I can fix both with my eyes closed. You’ll see.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mary turned her back on him to slide another tray of cookie dough into the oven, and he took that as an opportunity to steal another one from the cooling rack.

  “Well, I better get crackin’,” he announced, thinking he got away with it.

  “I saw that.” Mary pressed her lips together, holding back a smile.

  Joe offered a sheepish grin. “I guess women really do have eyes in the back of their head.”

  His wife’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, we do.”

  * * *

  Jack sat opposite the woman he’d been dating for the past few months and wondered why they were fighting so much. Lisa was a friend of a friend he’d met at a football game, and his first impression of her had been that she was smart, pretty, and very outgoing. She was so outgoing that she’d been the one to ask him out.

  At first, he hadn’t bit. There was something about her he couldn’t put his finger on—something that wouldn’t work long term. His friend Owen complained that it was his jaded detective sense getting in the way of a possibly great relationship. Owen not only pointed out how pretty Lisa was, but that her bubbly, friendly, assertive manner meant she’d pick up the slack at social functions when Jack didn’t feel like making small talk with complete strangers. Jack knew Owen was right, so when Lisa suggested coffee for the third time, he finally took her up on it.

  To his surprise, their first few dates were great. They laughed a lot, discovered local bands together, tried new restaurants. But he frequently got called into work, which ruined some of Lisa’s plans. She’d take it so personally that he’d feel obligated to make it up to her. Being guilted into buying her flowers or some small gift for every missed date had sent the wrong message. She thought he was much more serious about their relationship than he’d intended.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t go with you,” Lisa argued, “especially if you’re going to a romantic B&B.”

  “I have no idea if it’s romantic or not,” he said. “I’m staying there to do an investigation. More than likely it’s a run-down home off the interstate that’s calling itself a B&B.” He took a swallow of his wine, certain the image he painted for her would end their present topic of conversation.

  Lisa pushed the vegetables around on her plate, then set her gaze back on him with renewed vigor. “But it’s your birthday. You wouldn’t let me throw you a big party, so let’s celebrate it with a week away.”

  He released a weary sigh, realizing just how little she knew him. The only reason he had agreed to dinner at a stuffy suit-and-tie restaurant was so she would promise not to cram his condo with a bunch of people he barely knew. “You know I’m not big on celebrating my birthday, and even if I were, this investigation isn’t a vacation. The department’s paying for my stay, which means I’m not allowed to bring guests.”

  “So don’t tell them.” She shrugged. “I know you have to work, and I’m fine with that. I just want to see more of you, Jack. Not less.”

  He wished he felt the same way, but the divide between them was getting to be too great. She loved being the center of attention, going to parties, living on social media, and he did not. He was methodical and cautious while she was uninhibited and spontaneous. She wanted to be on the go all the time, while he preferred to take a night off, stay home and relax. Truth be told, he was surprised she hadn’t dumped him already.

  “I’m sorry I can’t take you.” He reached for her hand. “But there’s nothing I can do.” Only there was something he could do. He could do them both a favor and call it quits.

  “Okay,” she finally said with a constrained smile, brushing off her disappointment. “But when you get back, I think we need to have a serious talk about our relationship.”

  “Aren’t we having a serious talk?”

  “Hardly.” She laughed. “We’re having a talk that’s serious, not a serious talk.”

  Jack worked in fraud and financial crimes. As a detective, it was his job to get inside a scam artist’s head to figure out his or her motivation. When he first began dating Lisa, he’d been intrigued by her thought process. She knew how to get someone to agree to something without them knowing it. She knew how to put someone on the defensive. She knew how to phrase questions to corner someone a heck of a lot better than he did. Now, nearly three months later, he was exhausted by it.

  “Besides, I don’t want to ruin your birthday,” she added.

  “You won’t.” Every year, he’d start off his birthday by updating his missing uncle’s photo, so there wasn’t anything she could say or do that would make his day worse.

  She sat back and eyed Jack. “I feel like our relationship has...stalled, and we need to address that.”

  Finally, they were on the same page. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “You do?” She gave him a surprised look. “You think we should move on?”

  He nodded. “I want you to be happy.”

  “Oh, Jack.” She leaned forward, smiling, almost giddy with excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening. If we had moved on a month ago, we could have avoided weeks of disagreements.” She beamed a bright smile. “I don’t want to ruin anything you have planned for the big ring reveal, but I only ask that you invite—”

  “Wait a minute.” He put his hand up. “What are you tal
king about?”

  “Getting engaged,” she said as if it was obvious. “Moving our relationship on to the next level.”

  Jack’s eyes popped wide. “What?”

  “Isn’t that what you were talking about?”

  “No. Not even close.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “Jack, if your car stalls, you give it your full attention. You put everything you’ve got into it, and when it starts up again, you drive down the road together, happily ever after.”

  “Or you push it to the side of the street because it’s completely dead.”

  Confusion filtered through her eyes, followed by an understanding of the misinterpretation. “Oh. I see.” She slumped back in her chair. “For the record, I interpret the phrase moving on as moving on together because, after all, we’re still together. If we were broken up, then it would mean moving on separately as in, ‘Yeah, we broke up, but I’m not ready to move on.’ Got it?”

  “Noted.” How did they not have the same vocabulary? He was five years her senior but sometimes it felt like fifteen.

  “Moving on.” She intently focused on him. “Are you saying you don’t want to get married now?”

  “Correct. We’ve only been dating for a few months. I don’t see how marriage could be considered the next level.”

  “What else would it be? You know I’m against living together.”

  “Actually, I didn’t know that because we’ve never discussed it.”

  “It’s on my Facebook page. Everybody knows that.”

  Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d never understand why so many chose to post intimate details about themselves on a worldwide bulletin board.

  “I’m sensing you’re not ready to move on to the next level,” she voiced with disappointment.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She looked dejected, and after a long moment of silence she said, “It’s not ideal, but I can wait. How long do you think you’ll need?”

  Jack frowned. Their miscommunication was far more serious than he realized. “Lisa.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We’re so different on just about every level.”