Dear Santa

by Alice Orr

  Katherine didn’t quite grasp what Megan was getting at.

  “I think he may still be watching his younger sister. If he can manage it, anyway. Where is she now?”

  “At Arbor Hill School. I dropped her off there myself this morning.”

  “I’m going to call Stefan Piatka and tell him to be on the alert about this. Coyote may come lurking around there to make sure Sprite’s all right.” Megan got up from the chair. “I’ll make a couple of photocopies of this letter, too. I assume we’re going to give one to the police.”

  “We’re keeping the police out of this for the time being,” Vic said.

  “You haven’t notified the authorities that this boy is missing?”

  “The children’s guardian has asked us to handle this privately for now,” Vic said. “There are special circumstances.”

  He was speaking to Megan but staring at Katherine as he said that. Megan continued to watch them both with obvious curiosity.

  “What circumstances?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you go make those copies, Megan,” Katherine cut in. “And call Stefan Piatka. Mr. Maltese and I need to talk privately for a moment.”

  “Yes, we do,” Vic said in a tone that made Katherine’s knees threaten to buckle again.

  She told herself she had to stay strong and resolved.

  Megan, meanwhile, glanced from Katherine to Vic once more, then walked out the door. She’d be back, of course, with lots more questions to ask. Katherine was sure of that.

  “I SEE YOU were the one who took Coyote’s letter from my place this morning,” Vic said.

  All Vic had found when he finally came to earlier in his living room was the envelope crushed underneath him where he’d collapsed on the couch in the middle of the night.

  “I woke up and you were gone. I had no idea what might have happened to you, or to Sprite either. Whoever got into your apartment yesterday could have come after you again at my house.”

  “Well, they didn’t.”

  She sounded almost belligerent, probably because he was putting her on the defensive, but he didn’t care. She’d given him a scare, and he wanted her to know that.

  “I went over to your place, and nobody was there either. I stopped by Tooley’s. She was the one who told me you and Sprite were okay.” He looked steadily at her and tried to keep his voice just as steady. “You could at least have left me a note.”

  “I probably should have done that.”

  She sounded less belligerent and more apologetic. She was looking down at the desk, so he couldn’t see her face to read her expression. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to let her off the hook.

  “After I’d gone out looking for Coyote, I came back to my place and fell asleep. I’d been on my way upstairs to check on you, but I sat down on the couch and—”

  Katherine’s head shot up. “Check on me?” Her eyes were smoky with anger. “Was that all you were going to do when you came upstairs?”

  Vic could feel the heat of her indignation steaming across the desk at him. He would never have guessed that someone who was usually so cool and reserved could also be this angry.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  “I mean that you shouldn’t have been on your way up there at all. I came to your house last night because I thought Sprite might be in danger, not because I wanted you wandering in and out of my bedroom all night.”

  That had Vic more confused than ever. What the hell was going on here? He didn’t like being yelled at like this, especially when he didn’t understand the reason for it.

  “First of all, that’s my bedroom you were in,” he began.

  “Then you should have had me sleep on the couch. Either way, I was practically unconscious, and you had no right to take liberties.”

  Vic stared at her for an instant while what she’d said sank in. When it did, his temper raged at least as hot as hers appeared to be.

  “Take liberties?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  “Lower your voice,” she said.

  Her own volume was suddenly under control. He hated it when a woman turned the tables on a guy so fast his head felt like it was spinning off. He especially hated that she was right about not shouting here at the center, where anybody who happened to be passing by might hear.

  “What are you talking about?” he repeated in a quieter voice. The effort made him seethe inside. He told himself he had to calm down. “What’s this bull about taking liberties?”

  “I remember—” she hesitated, looking flustered all of a sudden “—things. I just don’t remember how far it went between us.”

  Vic stared into her blue-gray eyes. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He could feel the leash he tried to keep on his temper running out to its end.

  “You think I…” He searched for less corny words but couldn’t think of any, so he spluttered out the corny ones. “You think I took advantage of you?”

  “Did you?”

  At the moment, he couldn’t remember when or why he’d seen softness and warmth in her eyes. They were as cold and hard as flint now. Vic heaved a sigh so explosive he half expected the file folders to fly off her desk in the blast. He told himself to turn and march out of there without favoring her insult with the answer it didn’t deserve, but he was too angry to listen to what was probably very good advice.

  “Let me tell you something, lady. You asked me for that kiss—not that I wasn’t happy to oblige. I don’t know what you’ve dreamed up about what supposedly happened between you and me in my bedroom after that, but I’ll tell you something else, and you can take it to the bank.” He put his hands flat on her desk, crushing a couple of those file folders he’d been thinking about a moment ago. He leaned forward, looking straight into her face. “You’ve got me a thousand percent wrong.”

  He turned abruptly and stormed out of Katherine’s office. Too bad having the last word didn’t feel anywhere near as satisfying as he’d hoped it would.

  KATHERINE WAS STILL staring at the door when Megan appeared on the other side of it. Vic hadn’t actually slammed the door behind him, but he hadn’t exactly shut it gently, either. Besides, they’d both been talking loudly in here before that, and it was well past midmorning so the full center staff would be on board. Katherine could guess what the gossip around the coffee machine would be about for the rest of the day. Thank heaven the kids were in school. She wouldn’t have wanted them to hear her and Vic carrying on like a couple of hotheads instead of two professionals who should know better. She motioned for Megan to come in.

  “Let the interrogation begin,” Katherine said with what she wished sounded more like good humor. She tried to forget the niggling sense of guilt she felt about Vic. Had she completely misjudged him?

  Megan flopped down into the chair in front of Katherine’s desk.

  “Why do you think I would want to interrogate you?” she asked.

  “Because that’s what you head-shrinkers do.”

  “I’m not a psychiatrist. I’m a psychologist. Nor am I a member of a remote Amazonian tribe that specializes in skulls. Therefore, I don’t think the head-shrinker label really fits.”

  Katherine sighed. “Don’t mind me. I’m a little off my stride this morning.”

  “Good. You’re properly humbled. Now the interrogation can begin.”

  Katherine laughed.

  “So, did you get what you wanted out of him?” Megan asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You had to be pushing his buttons like mad to inspire that kind of reaction, even out of Mr. Maltese. When we push somebody’s buttons it’s usually because we’re looking for something in particular.”

  “Good old Megan. Straight for the jugular.”

  Megan didn’t answer.

  Katherine sighed again. “I suppose there’s not going to be any more work done by either of us till I satisfy your not entirely professional curiosity.”

  “You could be
right about that.”

  Katherine settled back in her desk chair. Megan was doing some button-pushing herself right now, and Katherine knew it. She also knew she needed to talk about the confusing things that were going on in her life.

  “I had to find out something from Vic about last night,” she said.

  “Does this have anything to do with your earlier remark about getting up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  Katherine nodded. Megan had a therapist’s memory. She almost never forgot what was said to her.

  “Did he tell you what you had to know?” she asked.

  Katherine thought about that for a moment.

  “Yes, I suppose he did,” she said.

  “Was it what you wanted to hear?”

  Katherine thought again. Unbelievably, she felt both happy and upset about her confrontation with Vic. Happy, because he had not taken advantage of her. Upset, because that fact made her wonder whether he found himself at all attracted to her. She decided to give Megan an honest answer instead of a cautious, non-revealing one.

  “Was it what I wanted to hear?” she repeated. “Yes and no.”

  “Ah, ambivalence,” Megan said with a twinkle in her eye. “One of my personal favorite emotions.”

  “Not one of mine.”

  “Sometimes life is more interesting when one’s ducks aren’t entirely in a row.”

  Katherine knew that sounded right. She wasn’t so sure it felt right, at least not for her. She’d always preferred to keep her ducks, and her life, pretty much in line.

  “I’ll have to think about that,” she said. “For now, let’s change the subject.”

  “Balmy weather we’re having,” Megan quipped with a glance toward the frost-edged window.

  The sun might be out, but the temperatures were still frigid enough to keep frost from melting.

  “Did you call Stefan Piatka about keeping an eye out for Coyote in case he should show up to check on Sprite?” Katherine asked.

  “Not yet. I’ll get on that right now.” Megan was halfway out of the chair when she plopped back down again. “I have an idea.”

  “What could that be?”

  Katherine wasn’t sure she was up to one of Megan’s brainstorms right now.

  “Why don’t we try to smoke Coyote out from wherever he’s hiding?”

  “How do we manage that?”

  “Give him what he’s after, and see if he comes to get it.”

  Megan’s voice had lost its mischievous tone. Whatever she had in mind, she was totally serious about it.

  “What are you suggesting?” Katherine asked, though she was beginning to recognize the track Megan was on.

  “The grant. Give him a Most Needy Cases Fund grant. Announce it in the paper and say he has to come and collect it. Then, all we have to do is wait and see if he does.”

  Katherine didn’t say anything. She was thinking.

  “The Bellaway children certainly fit the requirements for the program,” Megan went on. “Their situation is pretty desperate.”

  “That’s true,” Katherine said slowly.

  “And, there’s that reporter over at the Chronicle. What’s her name?”

  “Mariette Dugan.”

  Katherine’s mind was on the same track as Megan’s now.

  “Right. Mariette Dugan,” Megan said. “She’d be happy to drag this series out one more day, especially if there’s a sob-sister angle to it. I’m sure we could come up with one of those. A real three-hanky story.”

  Katherine didn’t answer. She was already reaching for the phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vic was more angry with himself than he was with Katherine. He should have known better than to get tied up with her from the start. He’d told himself he was going to steer clear of her. He should have listened to that advice. They were from opposite ends of the universe. She’d made it crystal clear she saw that, too. After what had happened in her office this morning, there was no longer a doubt in his mind on the subject of how she felt about him. As far as she was concerned, Vic Maltese was some kind of scum, a lowlife who would put moves on a woman when she was passed out and even do it in his own house, where she’d gone to stay safe.

  Vic could feel the bitterness of his thoughts like a harsh echo inside his head. He didn’t like the feeling, especially because he understood all too well where the bitterness came from. He was no dummy, after all. Katherine Fairchild might have him pegged as a bottom-feeder, but—

  Vic chopped that thought off at the knees. He was doing it again, popping off into the ozone as if somebody had pushed his hot button.

  That was just what Katherine had done, and he knew it. She’d pushed his hot button, the one he’d been carrying around since he was fifteen years old, when he’d found out who he really was, what he’d really come from. Ever since, down deep inside he’d known that at least part of him was just what Katherine’s accusation this morning made him out to be. Part of him was something a straight-arrow person like Katherine ought to scrape right off her shoe.

  That was his hot button, no doubt about it. He hadn’t spent all those hours in staff consultation meetings with psychologists for nothing. The Bellaway boy hadn’t come up in any of those discussions because, till now, he’d never appeared to have any special problems. Just being poor wasn’t special all by itself around here. Being poor was the usual thing. Plenty of other kids had problems though, and listening to what the professionals had to say had taught Vic probably as much as a degree at the university could have done. Everything came out of the family. What happened to a kid growing up had an effect on all the years of his life from then on.

  So, he’d worked on himself and his temper. He’d been proud of his progress, too. Too bad he’d let that temper get the best of him in Katherine’s office this morning. He understood why, too. He’d let himself care too much what she thought about him.

  Vic had kept himself very busy since this morning, and he had also kept himself away from Katherine’s end of the building. He’d even gone out through the rear fire exit off the gym to grab some lunch at the diner instead of making himself something in the center’s kitchen like he usually did. Too much chance of running into Katherine there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reenter the building through the fire exit, as it automatically locked behind him.

  He hadn’t seen Katherine on his return, but he did spot Megan as he was hustling toward his office. She had a look on her face as if she wanted to talk about something. He had the definite feeling that something might be Katherine. She and Megan were pretty close friends. His guess was that Megan had matchmaking, or maybe match-mending, on her mind.

  Vic, on the other hand, could hardly have been less in the mood to be either matched or mended right then. He’d headed, like a hunted man searching for refuge, straight to his office and locked the door behind him. He’d spent the rest of the time since then catching up on the part of his job he enjoyed the least—paperwork. Eventually, he’d had about all he could take of shuffling reports and filling out insurance forms. Still, the kids wouldn’t be out of school and pouring in here for another hour or so. He suddenly found himself feeling so restless he had to get out of his office, whether he ran into Katherine or Megan or not.

  Vic was on his way down the hall to the vending machine when he heard a woman’s voice calling his name. He considered the possibility of making a run for it, but that was too undignified. He blew out a heavy sigh as he stopped in his tracks and steeled himself for whatever would come next. Mariette Dugan, that pesky reporter from the Chronicle, was in his face almost the second he turned around. He took a step backward, but he’d seen enough of her before this afternoon not to be surprised. She was the in-your-face type.

  “So, what’s the story on this kid you guys want me to headline?” she asked.

  She was like that, too. She didn’t lead into a thing. She just blasted it right at you without a greeting in front of it.

  “What kid would that be?”


  “This kid with the sister and a mother in the hospital. What’s his name?”

  Mariette thumbed through the small pad she’d pulled out of the pocket of her down coat. He could feel a sneaking suspicion coming on that he wasn’t at all happy with the subject she had on her nosey reporter’s mind.

  “Here it is,” she said. “Coyote Bellaway, and his sister’s name is Sprite. Didn’t they tell you about this? Giving this kid one of your Most Needy Cases Grants, then making a big deal out of it with a spotlight article in the paper and all? Why him, anyway?”

  Vic didn’t like what he was hearing, but the last thing he should do was let Ms. Dugan know that. She was a reporter, and she’d like nothing better than to catch a whiff of conflict. If that happened, she’d be back over at the Chronicle before you could say Lois Lane, cranking out a story about all kinds of controversy over here at the center. Some folks might think any publicity was good publicity, but Vic definitely wasn’t one of those folks.

  If there was going to be public attention focused on the center, he wanted it to be all about what they did here and how much it meant to the community. Stories of squabbles or even features about individual personalities weren’t his idea of what needed to be said about this place. He and a lot of other people put their heart and soul into it every day. All the same, he knew he’d better not get all heated up over protecting it, at least not so this press person with her notepad could see it. She was staring at him a little too closely for comfort already.

  “Coyote and Sprite are very deserving of one of our grants,” he said.

  “More deserving than any of the other people you’re giving the money to?”

  “No, not more deserving. Just appropriate to benefit from the program.”

  A knot of tension made Vic’s teeth grind together. In a second or two, his cheek would start twitching. He had to get away from her before she noticed he was ready to explode. She wasn’t the one he wanted to pop off at, anyway. Whoever had this harebrained idea about putting the Bellaway kids in the paper, that was the one Vic had the itch to get his hands on.