Her Christmas Protector

by Geri Krotow

  “No, I don’t know. You probably got to make a big difference as a naval officer. Is Silver Valley going to be enough for you?”

  “More than.” She almost laughed. He suspected her ribs hurt so much she’d stopped herself. He didn’t want to examine why the fact that she seemed so pleased to be settled down in Silver Valley appealed to him.

  “Then why did you agree to do the ride along last night?”

  Silence. He shot a glance at her and she stared straight ahead, her lips pursed in determination or pain, he wasn’t sure.

  “Not talking, Zora?”

  “I can’t, Bryce.”

  She wasn’t the first unknown player who’d shown up during an op to help them bring down a bad guy. That was what bothered Bryce. He’d been a police officer for over a decade, the past five years on the Silver Valley force as a detective. And still, Superintendent Todd wasn’t willing to cut Bryce in on the source of these “part-time” operatives.

  “What made you become a detective?”

  “Life.” He snorted. “I studied criminal justice in college, then did a stint in the marines. After I got out I decided to come back home. I toyed with law school, but my first love is law enforcement. And there’s nowhere else I’d want to live.”

  Did she hear the recrimination in his voice? His resentment that she’d been able to leave Silver Valley without a backward glance? And come back with apparently no regrets?

  “I didn’t realize you were a vet, too. The marines...you probably saw a lot in a short time.”

  “More than I care to ever see again, yes,” he said. “Unfortunately, it can be a war zone here, too, depending on the timing of a heroin shipment and the availability of officers to combat the dealers. Still, I do love Silver Valley.”

  “You always did. Love it here.” Images of them hiking for hours on the Appalachian Trail, or spending time down at Spring Creek, floated across her memory. It had been simpler before they’d each gone on to become the adults that sat in this car.

  Not going there.

  “You once did, too.”

  “I’ve missed Silver Valley since I left.” Her words were succinct, quiet in the closed car.

  “You have an odd way of showing it.”

  “Not everyone has as clean a slate as you do, Bryce.”

  Anger at himself made him want to pull over and call in someone else to finish driving her home. What the heck was he thinking, going all nuts on her when she’d suffered such a grave injury? It wasn’t physically grave—her bruises would heal—but psychologically, mentally, it didn’t get much worse than surviving an attempted murder.

  She would be dead if not for her preparedness and Kevlar vest.

  “I don’t know what you mean by a ‘clean slate.’ Is my life simple? Yes, for the most part. I’m happy here. It’s my hometown. But I’ve had my share of challenges. It’s life, Zora. Life happens.”

  “You sound like you’ve had some challenges since...since...”

  “Since you left?”

  * * *

  “I’m fine, Mom. I just need a day or two to catch my breath.”

  “She needs to take it easy for at least a week.” Bryce spoke from across the room, at the dining table where he and Anna Krasny sat, assessing her health as if she weren’t within earshot. Zora couldn’t have sat at the table if she’d wanted to. She rested against several pillows on her overstuffed chair-and-a-half.

  “Zora, you’re not fine. Not when some crazy person shot at you last night!” Anna would take out the assailant herself, given the chance. Zora loved her mother’s fierce protective streak. “There are at least two police cars parked on your street,” Anna went on. “If SVPD thinks you need protection, you must be in danger.”

  “Mom, stop.”

  Silence blanketed the room but Zora felt her mother’s anxiety. The unspoken fear.

  They’ve come back for you. For revenge.

  “It was taken care of years ago, Mom.”

  “They didn’t catch everyone, Zora. And you know some of their prison sentences are up...”

  Yes, she knew.

  “May I ask what you’re talking about?” Bryce.

  “Surely you told him, Zora, didn’t you? In high school? You were best friends—I assumed, I mean...” Her mom was flustered and Zora wanted to punch Bryce. Not for any particular reason, just because he was there and it was easier to be pissed off at him than have to deal with the reality of her situation.

  That someone who had nothing to do with the Female Preacher Killer had shot her.

  “Told me what, Zora?” Bryce modulated his voice like the professional he was. Cool, clean, with no hint of the anger Zora knew he must be feeling. She doubted he knew about the Trail Hikers, and the fact that she wasn’t willing to tell him anything didn’t help.

  “Nothing. Mom’s just overreacting. You’re watching too much NCIS again, Mom.”

  Anna got the hint and sipped her coffee, but worry was etched in the tired lines around her eyes.

  Zora tried to shoot Bryce a “shut the hell up” look but judging from his unwavering stare, it wasn’t going to work. Not permanently anyway.

  “We haven’t had time to catch up, but now that I know Zora’s back we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Right, Zora?” he said.

  A spark lit in her mother’s eyes and Zora wished she had a little more energy. Not a lot, just enough to slap that grin off Bryce’s too-handsome face.

  He knew she was concerned about her mother, knew she wasn’t going to do anything to upset her.

  Butternut laid her head on Zora’s lap, her tail thumping on the wide-plank pine flooring.

  “You’re such a lady, Butternut, girl.” She stroked the shepherd’s long pointy ears and marveled for the millionth time since she’d rescued her at how intuitive Butternut was.

  “It’s impressive how she doesn’t even try to jump on you.” Bryce walked across the room and sat on the small sofa across from her. Butternut’s gaze followed him but otherwise she made no movement toward Bryce.

  “She’s always been empathic. I picked her out of a litter of five at the animal shelter. They were rescued from a puppy mill.” Puppy mills were a dark side of their bucolic surroundings in central Pennsylvania. “I wish I could have taken all of her brothers and sisters, but she was the one who showed the most interest in me.”

  Bryce stretched his long legs in front of him and leaned back into the sofa.

  “You must have a lot of paperwork from last night.” She stroked Butternut and kept her focus on the dog. Looking at Bryce required more emotional stamina than her injury and pain meds afforded her at the moment.

  “No, the officers on the scene recorded everything. I finished my report while you were still in the ER.”

  Of course he had.

  “Any idea who the shooter was?”

  “No. We didn’t come up with anything from the description you gave us of the suspicious vendor, unfortunately.”

  “He wasn’t a normal spectator.” She’d bet he was definitely involved, even if only posing as a decoy to see how the law enforcement agents would act last night.

  “Maybe not, but he didn’t show a weapon. He could be any crackpot.”

  “Zora, I’ll be in the guest room. Bryce, call me when you leave, will you?” Anna wasn’t interested in police business.

  “Mom, you don’t have to leave.”

  “No, I do. I need a quick catnap, and you need to have some privacy to discuss your work.” Anna left the room, taking her mug with her.

  Bryce waited until they heard the guest bedroom door click shut before he looked at Zora again.

  “Last chance,” he said. “Want to give me a clue as to who you think wants you dead?”

  * * *

  He knew he was pressing it to expect Zora to spill her guts so soon after the shooting. But a killer was on the loose—Zora’s aching chest had to take a backseat.

  “How can we be sure it wasn’t the same guy I saw at th
e football game?”

  “We can’t. But neither you nor I saw anyone tailing you back here. The fact that you were shot, when you live here as Zora and not Chaplain Hammermill, tells me it could be more personal.” He knew not to ask her who she worked for and why she’d been the one sent to pose as a female minister. Superintendent Todd had been explicit in his orders for Bryce to mind his own business.

  “No one wants to kill me. The only work I’ve ever done has been with the navy, and that’s nothing that would bring a killer to Silver Valley.”

  “What about your work downrange, during the war?”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth to reply, then winced.

  “Sorry. I keep forgetting that I need to breathe shallowly.”

  “No, you need to take deep breaths so that you don’t get pneumonia.”

  “What, are you a medical professional, too? My tours to Iraq and Afghanistan had me mostly behind the scenes, providing intelligence.”

  He tried not to glare at her.

  Not that she wasn’t beautiful to watch. If he hadn’t known her before, he would have described her as a redheaded Sofia Vergara, although even slimmer. But he saw beyond her physical features to the sharp intelligence behind her eyes, the keen wit that had drawn him to her during his own nerd days. They’d been perfect as friends. Neither of them had particularly cared about hanging out with other teenagers, not when the talk revolved around the opposite sex, booze and, too often, drugs. They were both academics at heart. He’d studied biology with a vengeance, convinced he was going to discover a cure for cancer. The same cancer that had taken his little sister when she was a toddler and left his family forever changed.

  Zora had mirrored his studious nature. She was passionate to the point of obsession about anything that had to do with science, particularly astronomy and physics.

  “I didn’t go into medicine, in case you haven’t figured that out yet,” he said.

  “What made you change your mind? I thought you’d be a top research doctor by now.”

  “I didn’t have the brains for the chemistry. Organic chemistry was a killer. But I loved the lab work that parlayed into forensics. I majored in criminal justice.”

  She nodded.

  “That makes sense.”

  “What about you, Zora? You were going to be an astronomer like Jodie Foster’s character in Contact.” They’d watched the movie together one autumn night, forgoing their homecoming dance. He’d imagined being her best friend for life. More, if she’d let him.

  Instead, they had barely made it through senior year.

  “I wanted to go far away. The navy made sense to me. I found out about the academy at the last minute—I didn’t get in right away, remember? I was put on a wait list.”

  “You left two days after you found out. That’s what your mother told me.”

  “About that...I’m sorry, Bryce. We were kids, and I realize you probably don’t even remember much about it, but the way I left—it was chicken shit.”

  “Yes, it was. And no apology necessary. You’re right. We’re different people now. Certified grown-ups. That was a lifetime ago.”

  * * *

  Zora thought that living back in town for two years meant she’d dealt with all of her memories arriving in Silver Valley as a little girl. At first coming back home to where she’d found shelter after leaving the cult had stirred up all kinds of memories, and she’d been able to utilize her counseling classes and training to work through them. Even her memories of Bryce—she hadn’t needed to see him to exorcise his ghost from her mind.

  Yet since last night, it was as though he’d never left her life. As if they could go back to being friends again.

  “I’m taking too much of your time, Bryce. You’re free to go, you know.”

  “Showing me the door already?” His grin was easy but it didn’t reach his eyes, which looked wary.

  “I’m safe, Bryce. Buttercup is the best security system out there. And as you know, I’m armed.”

  “And on pain meds, nursing bruised ribs and sore muscles.”

  “There’s that.”

  “We’re going to place surveillance on your house starting when I leave today.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Superintendent Todd and I beg to differ.”

  “You don’t think the shooter will come back here, do you?”

  “Actually, no, I don’t. If it was the man you saw at the game, he’ll be too afraid to get caught. He’ll see the patrol car—we’re not going to do anything covert here. And if he still wants to target female ministers, he’ll do anything to stay out of jail.”

  “I should have taken him out last night.”

  “At the game? Get real. You never saw a weapon.”

  “No, but you have to trust me—I saw him ready to pull it on me. But it was as if he was testing, to see...”

  “To see if you were for real.” Bryce ran his fingers over his chin. “I think we messed up with that op, Zora. It was too coincidental for the holiday festival to have an invocation that was publicly announced and advertised for the entire week before. We were too obvious.”

  “I agree. When I heard the local rock station announce the prayer and moment of silence was going to be dedicated to the two slain ministers, I hoped the killer was stupid.”

  “He—or she—obviously isn’t.”

  “No.”

  “I hate to put you on the spot again, Zora, but I’d really like to know what you were doing in the patrol car last night. Why you, why now?”

  “I’ve told you—I can’t tell you.”

  She hated not being able to open up to him, especially in light of how shabbily she’d treated him in the past. No matter what his words said, she felt his judgment with each glance he shot her.

  And she found her attraction to him was real and adult. Nothing like the schoolgirl crush she’d had on him throughout high school. Back then she’d buried it, not wanting anything to threaten their friendship. After the daily terror of living in a religious cult, she’d needed stability and calm, relationships without drama.

  Besides her adoptive parents, Bryce had been part of that safety net.

  “Fine. I’ll talk to Superintendent Holt about it. In the meantime, it looks as though we’ll be working together for a bit longer, until we nab the killer. And if you work with me, you have to accept that I’m not going to let you put yourself in harm’s way unnecessarily.”

  “And you need to know that while I may not have the same level of experience that you do, I have the training I need to handle myself. I won’t let you down, Bryce.”

  He got to his feet.

  “I’m sure you won’t. Rest up and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  He walked to the bottom of the stairs and called for her mother.

  She hoped they’d catch the killer soon. Holding back her feelings for Bryce wasn’t going to be easy.

  Chapter 4

  “You did the right thing, Zora. It’s not your job to inform Detective Bryce Campbell or anyone about your background. If you feel a need to tell him about your past, that’s your call. I don’t see how it has any relevance to the current mission, however.” Claudia looked out over the farmland surrounding Zora’s home as she spoke. She’d come out to see Zora on a Sunday morning, underscoring Claudia’s dedication to her role as head of the Trail Hikers. Anna had excused herself to go for a walk around the property, giving them privacy. Zora was grateful for the patrol cars Bryce had ordered to specific points around her place, so that her mother could walk in peace.

  “I appreciate that you came to visit, Claudia. As you can see, I’m okay.”

  “You could have been killed! That’s not something I’ll ever take lightly.” Claudia’s eyes sparked with anger and concern as she faced Zora.

  She was a formidable woman, Claudia.

  Her sable chin-length bob was thick and shot through with streaks of silver. On anyone else the gray would be aging but
Claudia could have a second career as a cover model. She certainly didn’t look like the chief of operations for a government shadow agency, apart from her exceptional height and obviously pristine physical condition.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Cool it on the ma’am. I told you, I’m Claudia, you’re Zora. We’re all on a first-name basis no matter how long we’ve been with the Trail Hikers. This isn’t a ranked organization, nor is it military. It’s barely government.” Claudia grinned and Zora caught a glimpse of the woman she must have been years ago, before the responsibilities of the Marine Corps and now Trail Hikers weighed on her.

  “Sorry—it’s a reflex.” Zora suspected that Claudia had participated in her share of covert ops before she’d become a high-ranking military official but wasn’t about to ask.

  “I know.” Claudia tapped her foot impatiently. “Just as it’s reflexive for me to want to nail the scum who shot you, preferably between the eyes.”

  “That’s not very PC, Claudia.” Political correctness wasn’t something Zora missed from her military days.

  “I see your pain meds won’t be needed much longer.”

  They both laughed.

  Claudia sat on the ottoman across from Zora. Claudia had insisted Zora stay on the couch through their meeting.

  “I’m relieved that you’re doing so well. I must admit, I had my doubts when I first spoke to your attending doctor.”

  “He was rather old-school. Plus he has no idea what we do, what we’re trained for.”

  “But he is a doctor and you have to listen to him. I need you to heal quickly enough to be of help to the op.” Claudia’s no-nonsense expression was back.

  “Yes, ma—Claudia.”

  Claudia patted her knee.

  “That’s my gal. Now, let’s try to figure out how the man you saw on the football field could have made it here in time to be waiting for you when you drove up.”

  “If he knew that I lived here ahead of time, then he knew I was undercover. That means there’s someone on the inside of the Trail Hikers who’s leaked the information, doesn’t it?”