Dangerous Christmas Memories

by Sarah Hamaker

  Sarah Hamaker

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  Sworn to Protect

  by Shirlee McCoy

  ONE

  Once upon a time, Katie Jameson could have sprinted up two flights of stairs, raced down a hall and corralled twenty-five fifth graders with ease. She could have finished her workday, gone to the gym, worked out, made dinner and had a smile on her face when her husband returned home. Once upon a time—when Jordan had been alive and Katie had not been nine months pregnant—she had been energetic, enthusiastic and filled with hope.

  Now, she was just tired.

  Her mother-in-law’s constant chatter wasn’t making her any less so. Katie loved Ivy. She appreciated how much she and her husband, Alexander, had done since Jordan’s death. But, she had not been sleeping well these past few weeks. The pregnancy was nearing its end. She felt huge and unwieldy, her body uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

  And, Jordan was gone. Murdered. The reason for it was as shocking as his death had been. Martin Fisher, a man Katie had gone out with twice before she had begun dating Jordan, had become obsessed with her and decided that getting Jordan out of the way would clear a path to the relationship he longed for.

  The guilt Katie felt over that was almost overwhelming.

  No matter how many people told her that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t blame herself for Martin’s insane bid to win her love, she couldn’t help thinking that if she had turned down his invitation when he had asked her out to lunch a few years ago, Jordan would still be alive.

  She swallowed down tears, refusing to let her mother-in-law see her sorrow. Ivy had lost her son. That grief had to be almost unbearable. Somehow, though, she had managed to pull herself together and focus on her three remaining sons, her granddaughter and, of course, Katie and the impending baby.

  Ivy had done everything she could to make certain Katie didn’t feel alone during the pregnancy. If she had not been able to attend obstetric visits with her, Ivy had one of Jordan’s brothers go. Someone was always there, sitting in the waiting room.

  But, no amount of in-law love could make up for the fact that Jordan was gone. Over seven months now.

  She missed him every day.

  Today, she missed him even more.

  They should have been at home, checking the hospital bag to make sure everything was packed for the big day. They should have been putting the finishing touches on the nursery, putting away baby diapers and bibs, and making certain that their daughter’s home would be warm, welcoming and ready.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Ivy asked, her voice echoing through the quiet corridor of the medical center. Unlike other obstetric patients, Katie had not been ushered to an exam room. She was being taken to Dr. Ritter’s office—a corner room in the far reaches of the medical building. This wasn’t a normal appointment. This was an appointment designed to put Katie at ease, to make sure she felt comfortable and confident as she reached her due date.

  “Just a little tired,” she replied.

  “Are you sure? Alex and I both feel that you’ve been pensive these last few days. More quiet than usual. We don’t want to pry, but we also don’t want to miss cues that you need more help.”

  “You’ve given me plenty of help, and I’m fine. The baby is getting big, and I’m getting uncomfortable. That’s all there is to my pensiveness.” She kept her voice light and offered a quick smile.

  “We thought maybe...”

  “What?”

  “I hate to even bring it up.” Ivy glanced at the nurse who was leading them down the hall, her voice little more than a whisper as she continued. “But, Martin Fisher’s escape from the psychiatric hospital has to have put you on edge.”

  “It has. I’m not going to lie. I feel nervous, but the police and K-9 team are working hard to find him. They aren’t going to let him get to me. And, God is still in control.” The last one was what she was clinging to. Knowing that God was in charge. That He had a plan. That no matter what, He would work things out for His good.

  “Yes. He is. And, you’re right—the NYPD is doing everything in its power to bring Martin in. I just... I don’t want you to worry. Not now. Now, with the baby’s birth so close.”

  “I’m trying not to,” she said, pasting on another phony smile. She wanted to relax and enjoy the last days and weeks before the baby arrived, but how could she not worry? Martin Fisher was out there somewhere. So far, he had stayed away, but she knew that might not last forever. He might be biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to come after her. She was the object of his obsession, the reason he had killed Jordan and, maybe, the purpose behind his escape. If he did come after her, there were three possible outcomes.

  He could kidnap her and hide her somewhere she’d never be found. In his twisted mind, the baby would be his.

  He could kill her—in the classic “if I can’t have you, no one can” scenario.

  He could try either of the above, and the NYPD would get to him first.

  She was counting on the third option. Jordan had been the chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit. His three brothers were all cops. They were committed to apprehending Martin before he could cause more harm.

  She would be safe. Her baby would be safe. Katie had to be believe that.

  “Here we are,” the nurse said, pushing open a door at the end of the hall. Young, with a bright smile and eyes the color of dark chocolate, she knew why Katie was being seen in the doctor’s office rather than an exam room. Everyone who worked at the clinic was aware of the circumstances surrounding the pregnancy—that the baby’s father had been murdered, that he had been one of New York’s finest.

  What they didn’t know—what they couldn’t—was how loved Jordan had been. How kind. How good of a father he had planned to be.

  “Thank you,” Katie murmured, blinking back tears.

  She hated crying in public.

  Just like she hated the pity she could see in the nurse’s eyes.

  “Is there anything I can get you while you’re waiting?” the nurse asked.

  “I’m good.” Katie stepped into the doctor’s office, took a seat on one of the leather chairs that faced his desk and dropped her purse on the floor near her feet. She had been in this room before. Just a week after Jordan had died, she had attended her first prenatal appointment. Dr. Ritter had met with her here before taking her to the exam room.

  “Okay. You let me know if you change your mind. Dr. Ritter will be with you shortly. He’s just delivered a baby, but he’ll arrive at the clinic soon. Your next prenatal exam is scheduled for next week, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who knows?” The nurse smiled. “Maybe the baby will be here before then.”

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely!” Ivy exclaimed, her cheerfulness a little too bright and a little too brittle. The previous day, she had been talking excitedly about the Thanksgiving meal she was planning. Ivy was the consummate hostess. She loved to cook and entertain, and she had invited a dozen people to join the family for Thanksgiving.

  The house would be full.

  But, one Jordan-sized space would remain empty.

  Ivy was as aware of that as Katie.

  The nurse smiled again and departed.

  For a moment, the room was silent except f
or the soft hum of the heat blowing through the floor vents.

  Ivy cleared her throat and settled into the chair next to Katie. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.

  “I know,” Katie lied.

  She didn’t know.

  No matter how much she wanted to trust God’s plan, she couldn’t stop worrying that she wouldn’t be enough for the child she was carrying. Good enough. Smart enough. Strong enough. Loving enough. Parent enough to make up for the fact that the baby didn’t have a father.

  This wasn’t the plan, God.

  This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

  How am I going to do this alone?

  How many times had she prayed those words since Jordan had died?

  Too many.

  And, there was never any answer. Never any clear direction as to how she could be all of the things the baby would need.

  “You don’t look like you know it,” Ivy replied. She had aged since Jordan’s death; lines that had not been there before bracketed her mouth and fanned out from her eyes. She was a beautiful woman. Strong. Determined. But, losing her son had cost her.

  “Like I said, I’m tired. It’s hard to sleep with this one kicking me in the ribs all night.” She patted her belly. No fake smile this time. She was too tired to try.

  “I remember those days,” Ivy said with a soft smile. “Jordan was especially prone to keeping me up. It’s not surprising that his child is the same.” She reached out and laid her hand on the swell of Katie’s abdomen.

  When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. “He would have loved this.”

  “Yes, he would have.”

  “And, he would have been a great father. He was always so good with children.”

  “The kids at school loved him,” Katie agreed.

  Jordan had been born and raised in Queens, and he had had a passion for mentoring the youth there. He had often visited schools with his K-9 partner, Snapper. He had also taught self-defense classes at the local YMCA. He had been Katie’s instructor when she had moved to New York and taken a self-defense class. Just in case.

  A year later, he had visited the school where she was teaching. They’d bumped into each other in the hall. The rest had happened fast. Long conversations. Walks in the park. Jokes. Laughter.

  Love.

  Marriage.

  They should have had their happily-ever-after.

  Instead, Katie was alone. Getting ready to give birth to their baby.

  “I wish I’d asked the nurse to bring me something to drink,” she murmured, her throat tight with emotion.

  “They have water in the waiting room. And, coffee. Would you like me to bring you something?” Ivy offered.

  “Would you mind? I’d love a cup of water.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind. Should you stay here alone, though? The boys would have my head if they thought I’d left you unattended even for a minute.”

  “I’ll be fine, Ivy,” Katie assured her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be back in five seconds.”

  Ivy looked unsure, but then stood and hurried from the room.

  Just as Katie had hoped she would. She didn’t want to talk about Jordan. Not now. Not when she felt exhausted and emotional. She wanted to keep focused on the birthing plan, on staying safe, on making sure she did what her brothers-in-law and the police asked her to. Since Martin’s escape, the Jameson brothers had been escorting her almost everywhere. Today, though, they were attending a training seminar in Manhattan. They’d asked fellow K-9 officer Tony Knight to run patrols past the medical clinic. They’d told her to be careful and aware. To stay close to their mother. To listen to her gut.

  Right now, her gut was saying she was exhausted. That she needed to sleep. That she didn’t want to think about the danger or the tragedy.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” she called, bracing herself for the meeting with Dr. Ritter.

  The door swung open and a man in a white lab coat stepped in, holding her chart close to his face.

  Only, he was not the doctor she was expecting.

  Dr. Ritter was in his early sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and enough extra weight to fill out his lab coat. The doctor who was moving toward her had dark hair and a muscular build. His scuffed shoes and baggy lab coat made her wonder if he were a resident at the hospital where she would be giving birth.

  “Good morning,” she said, feeling unsettled. She had been meeting with Dr. Ritter since the beginning of the pregnancy. He understood her feelings about the birth. He probably suspected a lot of the fear and trepidation she tried to hide. She never had to say much at her appointments, and that was the way she liked it. Talking about the fact that Jordan wouldn’t be around for his daughter’s birth, her childhood, her life always brought Katie close to the tears she despised.

  “Morning,” he mumbled.

  She could see his forehead and his brows but not much else. That seemed strange. Usually, doctors looked up from the charts when they entered the exam rooms.

  “Is Dr. Ritter running late?” she asked, uneasiness joining the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “He won’t be able to make it,” the man said, lowering the charts and grinning.

  She went cold with terror.

  She knew the hazel eyes, the lopsided grin, the high forehead. “Martin,” she stammered, jumping to her feet.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get to you, sweetheart. I had to watch from a distance until I was certain we could be alone.”

  “Watch?” she repeated.

  “They wanted to keep me in the hospital, but our love is too strong to be denied. I escaped for you. For us. And, I’ve been so close to you these past few weeks. It’s been torture.” He lifted a hand, and if she had not jerked back, his fingers would have brushed her cheek.

  He scowled. “Have they brainwashed you? Have they turned you against me?”

  “You did that yourself when you murdered my husband,” she responded and regretted it immediately.

  He grabbed her arm and dragged her the few feet to his side. “We’re leaving here, Katie. We’re going to a quiet place where we can be together.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied, trying to yank her arm away, but his grip was firm, his fingers digging through the soft knit fabric of her sweater.

  “Katie? I brought juice and water.” Ivy appeared in the doorway, a paper cup in each hand.

  Her eyes widened as she saw Martin, her gaze dropping to his hand, then jumping to Katie’s face. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Martin responded, pulling a gun from beneath the lab coat.

  The cups dropped from Ivy’s hands, water and juice spilling onto the tile floor, her screams spilling into the hall.

  “Shut up!” Martin screamed, yanking Katie forward as he slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Ivy’s head. She went down hard, her body limp, eyes closed.

  Katie clawed at Martin’s hand, trying to free herself and get to her mother-in-law. She had taken self-defense classes. She should know how to do this, but panic and pregnancy made her movements clumsy and slow.

  “Stop!” he said. One word. Uttered with cold deliberation. The barrel was suddenly pressed into her stomach. She could feel the baby wiggling and turning.

  She froze.

  Just like he had commanded. Everything in her focused on keeping the baby alive.

  “That’s better. You wouldn’t want the baby to get hurt in the scuffle,” he growled, yanking her away from the office. Several nurses were racing toward them, one of them yelling into a cell phone. A doctor barreled around the corner, eyes wide with shock as she saw what the commotion was about.

  “Everyone just stay cool,” Martin said, the gun still pressed into Katie’s abdomen
. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m just here for my wife.”

  She stiffened at the word but was too afraid to argue.

  “I’ve called the police,” the nurse with the cell phone said. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Good for them,” Martin responded. “Everyone get out of our way.” He pushed open the stairwell door and dragged Katie down two flights of steps. She was stumbling, trying to keep her feet under her, terrified that she’d fall and hurt the baby, that the gun would go off, that he’d get her outside and take her wherever he intended.

  “Stop.” She gasped, panicking as they rushed into the lobby on the lower level of the building. “I can’t breathe.”

  “You’re breathing just fine, my love,” he murmured, smiling tenderly into her face as he pressed the gun more deeply into her stomach.

  “Martin, really. I can’t.”

  There were people all around, shocked, afraid. Watching but not intervening, and she couldn’t blame them. Martin was armed and obviously dangerous, his eyes gleaming with the fire of his delusions.

  “Hey! You! Let her go!” A security guard raced toward them. No gun. Nothing but a radio and a desire to help.

  Martin moved the gun, and Katie had seconds to shove him sideways, to try to ruin his aim, save the guard and free herself.

  The bullet slammed into the wall, and a woman shrieked.

  For a split second, Katie was free, running back to the stairwell, clawing at the doorknob, trying to get back up the stairs and away from Martin.