“A big Christmas welcome to you all,” Sheila said.
“So, Sheila, what’s it like out there? Storm letting up? Everyone okay?”
Kat was amazed that her father managed to speak so casually, but then, she was equally amazed she could stand there herself, smiling as if nothing were wrong, while all the time pure panic was racing helter-skelter through her veins.
“Power’s down everywhere,” Sheila told him.
“So we decided we’d just check in on people, make sure no one is freezing or sick and can’t get to a hospital,” Tim said.
He seemed like a nice guy, Kat thought, and prayed that he wouldn’t die tonight. He’d sounded so convincing, too. Could it be true that they really had just happened by?
“Where’s the missus?” Sheila asked David.
“Skyler? Oh, she tired out a while ago. She’s in bed,” David said.
“Well, since I doubt I’ll see her tomorrow, you give her my Christmas regards,” Sheila said.
“Sure thing.”
“What about your youngest?” Sheila asked.
“Jamie? He went to bed a while ago, too.”
“A teenager in bed?” Sheila said skeptically, but she was grinning.
“He believes in Santa,” Kat joked quickly, just in case Sheila was going to push the issue.
“A teenager who still believes in Santa?” Tim asked politely.
Craig squeezed Kat a little too tightly to him and said, “No, what Jamie actually believes in is the prospect of presents.”
“Yeah,” David said. “He knows there’s a new computer under the tree for him. He was ready as hell to go to bed so he can get up and claim it at the crack of dawn.”
“Waking us all up with him,” Frazier groaned.
“We can’t sleep late?” Craig asked Kat.
She forced herself to look up with a lover’s smile—something she found it all too easy to do. “No, darling, I’m afraid we can’t. It’s Christmas.”
“Ah, young love,” Paddy murmured. “Much like what we share, Sheila, me love.”
Sheila just laughed, shaking her head.
“I’ve half a mind to move up here full-time and make an honest woman of ye,” Paddy said to her.
Sheila looked from Scooter to Craig, shaking her head. “He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” She smiled.
“You two don’t look much alike,” Tim said thoughtfully, inclining his head from Craig to Scooter.
“We’re half brothers,” Craig said.
Everything seemed to be going okay, Kat thought, wondering what she could possibly have expected when she sent that text. Quintin had Jamie and her mother hostage, and with Scooter and Craig hovering, there was no way to get information to Sheila and Tim. Now all she wanted was for them to say goodbye and get out, to save themselves.
“I hate to intrude, but…have you got some coffee going by any chance?” Tim asked. “It’s freezing out there, and we could really stand to warm up.”
Kat prayed that the silence that seemed to last an eon was really only a few seconds. “Coffee?” she breathed.
“Have a seat. I’ll throw on a pot,” David said.
“Tim,” Sheila chastised. “We can’t inconvenience the O’Boyles like that.”
“It’s no problem,” Kat said. “I’ll put the coffee on, Dad.” She extricated herself from Craig’s arm. “Be right back.”
“Please,” Craig said softly.
Please…what? she wondered, and knew, as she headed toward the kitchen, that he was watching her go.
In her mind, she could see the look in his eyes, see him looking at her as he had once done. What was it? Why was he here? Had he really saved her from being shot? Was he the world’s best actor? And if he was, who was he playing, her family—or his supposed cohorts?
She pushed open the door to the kitchen, terrified of what she might find. Jamie and her mother were sitting side by side at the table, Quintin standing behind her mother with the nose of his gun pressed against her temple.
Kat’s heart lurched. His finger did indeed look to be twitching, just as he’d said.
“It’s going fine,” she said softly to him. “The young cop just wants a cup of coffee.”
Quintin frowned fiercely. Kat watched his trigger finger, almost afraid to swallow.
“Look, they think Mom and Jamie are in bed. They’ll be gone as soon as they get their coffee. It will be fine,” she whispered quickly.
The gun moved away from her mother’s head for a moment as he indicated the counter. “Do it.”
Skyler stared at her daughter, her hazel eyes wide but steady.
Kat turned and quickly prepared the coffee, then reached under the counter.
“What the hell are you doing?” Quintin demanded in a heated growl.
“Getting a tray. For cups, and cream and sugar,” Kat said, noticing that her mother and Jamie had both hands on the table. As she watched, Skyler took her son’s hand and gently squeezed it.
The swinging door opened slightly. “Sweetheart,” Craig said, “how’s that coffee coming?”
“Almost ready,” she said, thanking God that her mother had one of the new pots that made a full pot in sixty seconds.
“I’ll take a cup, too, babe,” he said.
“Anyone else?” she asked.
“Yeah, your dad.”
The exchange sounded so casual, so easy, she thought. “Okay. It’s coming.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be right out.”
She tried not to shake as she got the creamer and the sugar bowl and set them on the tray. She could feel Quintin’s eyes on her as she poured four cups of coffee. Done, she turned to look at him again.
The gun was once again pressed against her mother’s temple.
Skyler managed to smile at her, then Kat hurried out, her back pushing against the swinging door to open it. She had barely reached the living room before Craig was there to take the tray from her. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, she dared to believe.
But…
Even if he was on their side, what could he do? He didn’t have a gun, which meant Quintin would shoot at least one of them before he could be stopped.
Craig set the tray on the coffee table. Brenda was cuddled up on Frazier’s lap in one of the big armchairs. Her father was seated in the other, while Uncle Paddy had chosen the love seat. He was rolling his cane between his hands, and when his eyes touched hers, they were grave. Then Sheila spoke to him, and he quickly laughed. The show was on, she thought.
Tim and Sheila were on the sofa. Scooter was standing by the fireplace, one elbow resting on the mantel. She could see the bulge of his gun tucked into his waistband beneath his flannel shirt.
Couldn’t the cops see it, too?
But Sheila wasn’t even looking at Scooter. “I’ve been telling Tim how talented all you kids are,” she said. “Would you play something for him, Kat?”
Kat saw that Craig had taken a seat beside Sheila on the sofa. He seemed very calm. Of course he was. He was one of them, after all. Or was he? And what the hell was going on in the kitchen now? Was Quintin hearing this? How could she possibly play the piano? Why didn’t Craig or Scooter say something to stop this farce?
“My mom is the one who can really play,” Kat said.
“You’re good, too, Kat. How about just one song while we finish our coffee?” Sheila suggested.
Frazier lifted Brenda off his lap and joined Kat at the piano. “Let’s do our public servants a Christmas Eve kindness and give them some music with their coffee,” he said. “I’ll sing backup.”
“No, you sing lead, and I’ll take the harmony,” Kat said.
“Sure.”
Her twin’s eyes met hers, and she knew that he was trying to look reassuring, strong. As if help were an actual possibility.
She stared back at him, her smile sad. They both knew that Quintin and the others were counting on them to play it out until the e
nd, and that they were all going to die.
But we’ll pretend until the bitter end, she thought, and looked around the room as she started to play.
Scooter looked almost misty-eyed, as he stared at them from his place by the mantel. Her father’s fingers were clenching the arms of his chair. Craig was leaning toward Sheila, looking as if he’d just finished saying something. And Sheila…
Sheila didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the music. She was watching Scooter with a thoughtful look on her face, as if she were weighing whatever Craig had just said.
Despite herself, Kat felt hope begin to bloom in her heart.
She turned back to the piano, and she and Frazier launched into a song. When they finished, their audience broke into applause. Tim even gave them a standing ovation. “Sheila, you were right. They’re great.”
“Thanks very much,” Frazier said, then walked back to rejoin Brenda in the armchair.
“Well, I guess we’d better be going back out into the cold,” Sheila said with a sigh. She and Tim both rose and started toward the door.
Craig walked casually over to Kat and slipped an arm around her waist. She swallowed. She couldn’t pull away without revealing the pretense behind their relationship, much less turn on him and demand to know the truth.
For the moment she needed to focus on being grateful that he could play his part so well. She needed to thank God that her text message, which had once seemed to be their only hope, hadn’t gone through. She needed to just keep playing her part so Sheila and Tim would leave.
Before they all wound up dead.
Craig led her to the door, where everyone was congregating to say goodbye.
“Have you checked on the other families in the area?” Frazier asked.
Was there a slight hesitation before they answered? Kat wondered. A moment when the two officers looked at each other almost conspiratorially?
“We checked in on everyone we could get to. I was a bit worried about Mrs. Auffen—she’s eighty, you know. But she was fine. Everyone in this area has a generator,” Sheila said.
“I’ve trying to convince Sheila that we can go back to the office and warm up while we wait for the morning crew,” Tim said.
“If they make it in,” Sheila said skeptically. “I have a feeling we’ll be on till afternoon,” she said to Tim, who just shrugged.
“Well, good night, folks. And thanks for the coffee, and the entertainment,” Sheila said.
“Yeah, thank you, guys,” Tim said. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Good night. Take care,” David said.
“Drive safe,” Craig added.
The two cops were almost out the door. Any second they would be in the clear, Kat thought, and she could rush back into the kitchen and see if her mother was all right.
“Hey, wait,” Scooter said suddenly, his voice low, sounding like a growl deep in his throat.
TEN
Craig’s heart froze in his chest. They were in the clear, dammit. The cops were leaving. And they knew. They knew. He’d managed to whisper a few words to Sergeant Polanski, and she had nodded her understanding. They were safe, at least for now, and the cops would come back when they could do something. It was a miracle.
Or so it had seemed. But now…just when they were leaving, Scooter was stopping them. What the hell was going on?
“Wait,” Scooter repeated.
“What?” Craig asked, knowing he must sound almost desperate, as he stared at Scooter.
“We’re forgetting something,” Scooter explained. His narrow face seemed to broaden with his sudden smile. “It’s Christmas!” Scooter exclaimed. “It’s Christmas Day. Merry Christmas!”
Craig thought his sigh of relief was almost as loud as the blizzard that was still raging, although with a little less vehemence than before, just outside the open door.
But Scooter was still grinning, apparently unaware of anything besides his own joy in the holiday. “Come on, everybody. Wish each other Merry Christmas.”
“Right. Merry Christmas,” David gasped in what was clearly relief.
“Merry Christmas, Bren,” Frazier said, then smiled down at his tiny girlfriend and lightly kissed her lips.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Kat said, and turned to her father.
Of course, Craig told himself, trying to tamp down what he knew was an irrational sense of disappointment.
“Sheila, me love.” Paddy laughed, and hugged the deputy.
“Merry Christmas, bro,” Scooter said, and shot Craig a warning look before hugging him.
Brother? Craig thought. Oh, no. Not in any way. But he couldn’t allow himself to show his revulsion—his horror at how this night was turning out.
He’d known all along that Quintin and Scooter were thieves, he just hadn’t realized how much could be stolen. Not just property, but sanity. Love. Christmas spirit.
Lives.
He drew away from Scooter, trying to maintain a cheerful expression as he watched the others. They had gone from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day, a time to offer love and the olive branch of peace to family and friends.
Under Scooter’s encouraging eye, Kat gave her brother a hug. Then Paddy and Brenda and even Tim and Sheila.
And then him.
He tried. He tried so hard with his eyes, to explain everything he had never been able to tell her. To somehow make her understand that he’d never intended to be here tonight, to bring danger to her family’s door. That he hadn’t shared the truth before because the truth had been too painful, and because, at the time, he’d believed that even if she knew the truth, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—love him.
He lifted her chin and said softly, “Merry Christmas, Kat. And many, many more,” he added, even more softly, then lightly kissed her lips.
And she didn’t pull away.
She stared hard at him when he finally lifted his head. She’d always had the most beautiful eyes. Irish eyes, green cat eyes to fit her name.
Sheila cleared her throat. “We’d really better go. The best to you all. Good night.”
“Merry Christmas,” Tim said.
And then, finally, the door closed behind them, and Craig was able to let out a silent sigh of relief at last. The cops were gone. It was Christmas Day. And he’d already witnessed a miracle.
No one here had died, and finally they had hope.
“They’re gone,” Craig announced, pushing his way through the swinging door. “They’re gone, Quintin, and the O’Boyles played it just like pros.”
The sound of the opening door had made Skyler jump. Actually, any movement made her jump. And that wasn’t particularly smart, because every time she started, she felt the touch of the gun. One of these times she would startle Quintin, and without even thinking, he would pull the trigger.
“I probably should have killed them,” Quintin said thoughtfully, almost as if he weren’t still standing behind her, his words casual—as if he didn’t still have a gun pressed against her temple.
“Quintin, no,” Craig argued. “You don’t want to kill cops. It makes other cops crazy. They’ve been here, and now they’re gone, and they’re not suspicious of anything. Think about it. It’s the best thing that could have happened.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Quintin said, but there was no conviction in his voice.
Skyler didn’t like the other man’s tone. He sounded more on edge than ever.
“Quintin, I’m telling you the truth,” Craig said.
Skyler didn’t like the curl of Quintin’s lips. The man was sneering. Quintin didn’t like Craig, really didn’t like Craig. And Quintin was the one who called the shots.
While Craig…
Scooter had boasted that the man had been the one to catch Kat. Maybe so, but just looking at him, and then at Kat, she was certain there was more to the story. Something was going on between the two of them. It was as if they knew each other. Certainly they were close enough in age for it to be a possibility, but Frazier didn’t seem t
o know him.
And what the hell difference did it make whether he and Kat knew each other or not?
A lot. Because things might come to a point when the only thing that mattered was whether Craig was with them…or against them.
Scooter came barging through the swinging door, herding the rest of the family in front of them. “It’s Christmas,” he said happily. “Merry Christmas, Quintin!”
“Merry Christmas, Scooter,” Quintin said, but he didn’t move. At Skyler’s side, neither did Jamie. It felt as if a week had gone by, as if the three of them had been frozen there forever.
She squeezed her son’s hand. Giving false encouragement? she taunted herself. But maybe it wasn’t false.
And wasn’t it a parent’s job to teach hope against all odds?
She dared to turn her head away from the muzzle of the gun and face her son. “Well, we made it through another crisis,” she said, and forced a smile. She released his hand and looked up at Quintin. “May I turn the coffeepot off?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
She rose, and David ignored their captors and strode straight over to her, then slipped his arms around her, turning her to face him. She frowned slightly, wondering how the cops had come and gone without noticing that both Frazier and David had darkening bruises on their faces.
“Merry Christmas, Skyler,” David said, and he kissed her.
She kissed him back, forgetting for a few seconds that they had an audience and pouring all her love for him and her relief that they had made it this far and were still alive into the kiss.
“Get a room,” Frazier teased.
“We have a room,” David said, grinning slightly and not looking away from his wife.
“Yeah, they have a room, they’re just not going to be using it tonight,” Quintin said.
“But would it be okay to get some sleep?” Jamie asked.
“Sure. Anyone who wants to can drift off right in the living room,” Quintin said.
“I could never sleep,” Skyler said with conviction.
“How about you just try to rest?” David suggested.
“You’d better rest. You have to cook that turkey in the morning,” Scooter said.
Skyler nodded, suddenly exhausted. “All right, I’ll try.”
The Last Noel Page 12