The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  He shushed me. “It means that you’re great, but sometimes people hear ‘animal rights activist,’ and they think of crazy people.”

  “I’m not crazy—”

  “I know that. But not everyone does. I wanted my family to meet you, fall in love with you, and then when they hear what you do for a living, it won’t make a difference. We’re in hunting, fishing, and farming country. Out here, animals are animals. It’s a whole different world from yours.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  He rubbed my arms. “It is a vote of confidence. You know how people have preconceived notions about things sometimes. Even you.”

  I gave him a skeptical glance.

  “Admit it. You formed an immediate impression of my family as soon as you heard ‘reindeer farm.’ I’m just trying to play my cards right.”

  He had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it. So, instead, I changed the subject. “And now you want me to track down the person who stole their reindeer. I applaud the person who took those poor creatures out of this environment. Hopefully the thieves took them somewhere they can thrive. Alaska or something!”

  He leaned toward me, softening his voice. “What if they didn’t? What if they took them somewhere to make venison jerky?”

  I gasped so loud that his aunt and uncle turned to look at me. I forced a smile to reassure them before turning back to Chad. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

  “Well, we have no idea where the reindeer are. They could be anywhere, even in the hands of someone . . . nefarious.”

  At once, I had the image of the Grinch, who then morphed into Scrooge. A meat eating Scrooge, at that. I knew I had to help. But something else was bugging me.

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to process everything. “What are you really getting at here, Chad? Because I’ve never known you to actually encourage this behavior in me. You might go along with it. But never do you push me toward it.”

  His eyes softened. “I could help you.”

  I crossed my arms, sensing some ulterior motives lingering beneath the surface. “Why? Why do you want to help me?”

  “Because I support you.” He rubbed my arms again. “So, what do you say? Of course, I’d never want to do anything to put you in danger. If this turns ugly, you’re out and I’m stringing lights. End of story. You’re way more important than any reindeer.”

  I stared at him another moment, trying to read between the lines. “I’ve never seen this side of you.”

  He shrugged again. “What can I say? I’m an open minded kind of guy.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I nodded toward his family. “Let’s go break the news.”

  I had to admit that looking for the reindeer-nappers seemed more appealing than sitting in a house with that stuffed reindeer head staring back at me.

  We made our way back toward Paul and Paula.

  “Chad and I would like to help you find the reindeer,” I started. “If you’d like our help, of course.”

  Paula clapped and let out a long sigh. “Oh, we’d love that, Sierra. Chad said you were an angel. It sounds like he was right.”

  I got the basic information I needed from Paul and Paula. There were twelve reindeer. The last time anyone had seen them was this morning at ten a.m. when Paul went out to feed them. It was now one p.m., so they’d disappeared sometime between then and now. Everyone in town knew about the reindeer and came out in droves at Christmastime to see them. The only people Paul and Paula could possibly think of who didn’t like the reindeer were their neighbors, the Nimbles. They complained to the county every year at Christmas because of the increased traffic on the normally placid mountain road.

  With that said, Chad and I decided to go into town to begin our search and rescue mission. Coincidentally, we also had to pick up some additional extension cords at the hardware store for the light show. I supposed that it was good for Paula to keep her mind occupied with mundane details instead of fretting.

  We headed down the road in Chad’s Vanagon. Yes, his Vanagon. We might be married, but it would always be his vehicle, not mine.

  I glanced over at my husband as he drove, seeing a new side of him now that we were here in his hometown. He’d grown a beard for no-shave November and decided to keep it. He looked a bit like a rugged mountain man instead of a sun-kissed surfer dude. He’d topped his head with a knit hat, wore a flannel jacket, jeans, and work boots, and smelled like the woods.

  In other words, I’d married a lumberjack.

  Other than that fact, I thought he was extremely handsome, as well as kind, caring, and hardworking.

  “So, you want to tell me the real reason why you’re volunteering to help me out now? I’ve never seen you so eager,” I started.

  “Eager? That’s putting it strongly.”

  “No, it’s not. You seem a little too anxious to help me. Are you desperately trying to get out of putting up Christmas lights?”

  He remained stoic a moment before saying, “It’s like this. I know you’re going to get involved, Sierra. I had no doubt in my mind when I heard animals were involved and possibly in peril that you’d want to help. I can’t send you out there alone.”

  “Send me out there alone?” I repeated, feeling like there was some kind of war going on that I didn’t know about.

  He nodded. “I’ve got to look out for you, especially now that you’re having a baby. There’s no way I’m going to let you get in trouble without being by your side to help in case something goes wrong.”

  I wanted to argue, but deep inside, I thought it was sweet. He’d been doting over me ever since he found out we were expecting a couple of months ago. As long as he didn’t make me feel suffocated, I’d let him do his thing.

  We wound down the mountain road and a small town came into sight. “This is right out of a painting,” I said, peering out the window in awe.

  And it was. Main Street was perfect, filled with old timey buildings—most of them three or four stories high—and a quaint streetscape. Candy canes were on the light posts and a lovely view of the mountains surrounded the area. The gray sky seemed to promise that snow could be on the way.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling into a space in front of a drug store.

  “It reminds me of Mayberry.”

  “Mayberry? Nah. Oldsburgh is better than Mayberry.”

  “I’m surprised you ever left this place if it’s so great.” Chad had lived here before moving to Virginia. Before that he’d been a mortician in Kansas. His dad was military, so his family had moved around quite a bit.

  “There’s not much to do in terms of crime scene cleaning here in Oldsburgh. Plus, it’s really hard to surf around here.”

  “What do people do around here?”

  “They either work here in town, at the factory down by the river, or at the ski resort just up the mountain. Some people drive to the next town over for work. It’s about forty-five minutes away.”

  “I see.” This was a totally different kind of life than where I’d grown up or even where I lived now. I’d never been a small town girl and definitely not a small town mountain girl. The idea had its appeal, however. Except for the hunting, fishing, and farming aspects.

  “I say we start in the coffee shop,” Chad said. “What do you say? Maybe we can grab a hot cup of java in the meantime.”

  I nodded. “Sounds great to me. Hopefully the coffee is free trade.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  He raised his eyebrows comically, and I knew those weren’t his thoughts exactly. I was picky, so I didn’t expect everyone to understand my convictions. I was just happy to have found someone who let me be who I was. That was a rare commodity.

  It was time to find out what everyone had seen, rescue those reindeer, and . . . then what? Place the poor creatures back into captivity?

  I wasn’t sure, but I needed to figure out something soon.

  Certainly there was a win-win in here somewhere, for me and the r
eindeer.

  Chapter Three

  We asked around at several stores in town and even stopped several people we met on the sidewalk. However, no one had seen a trailer loaded with reindeer dashing through the snow today. I mean, really, how did someone take off down the road with twelve reindeer and no witnesses?

  At the hardware store, while picking up those extension cords, I had another idea. Vernon, the owner, had apparently lived here forever and knew everyone. The older man looked so bent over that he could barely stand, yet I had a feeling he’d work at this store until the day he died. He was the perfect person to talk to.

  “Do you know anyone in town who has a trailer big enough to hold twelve reindeer?” I leaned on the nicked up counter of the store, inhaling the faint scent of motor oil and sawdust.

  Vernon paused, as did Chad and the two other employees who’d joined the conversation. Probably because it was such a genius question that everyone was wondering why they hadn’t thought of it first.

  Then chuckles emerged from the crowd. The sound grew in propensity until everyone was downright laughing. Except for Chad, who quickly sobered when he looked at the angled eyebrows of my scowl.

  “Around here everyone has trailers,” Vernon said. “They use them for horses or cattle or sheep going to auction.”

  I frowned and, for no good reason, gave Chad a dirty look like all of this was his fault.

  My dear husband cleared his throat and straightened as if he was a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Unless you’ve lived in a place like this, it’s hard to comprehend what everyday life is like. And with that said, we should be going.”

  “Chad, before you go, I need to order something from your uncle,” Vernon started. “Do you think—?”

  “You should probably call him yourself,” Chad said, pulling me toward the door. “Believe me, I’ll forget before I get back. All I can think about are reindeer and Christmas lights.”

  Vernon smiled. “It’s that time of year. I’ll call him.”

  Well, that was a strange exchange. I shook my head, marking it up to some kind of close-knit community dynamic that I’d probably never understand. Apparently, there was a lot about living here that I’d never understand.

  As we started down the street, I looped my arm through Chad’s. “If I’m understanding all of this correctly, we just narrowed our suspect list down to nearly everyone in town. What’s that? A thousand people?”

  “It was a good try. Now, if you’d asked that question in Norfolk, you really could narrow it down. Out here in mountain country, trailers are as common as toilet paper. People use them for a lot of things.”

  I paused by a bench, pushing aside the feeling that I’d been sucked into a Lifetime holiday movie. Even worse, something about this warm, cozy town made me want to go Christmas shopping . . . and caroling . . . and light a Christmas tree in the town square, which, by the way, even had a gazebo. This place was toying with all of my pent up Christmas fantasies.

  Focus, Sierra. Focus.

  Where did I go to look for stolen reindeer next?

  I remembered the letters that may have been sent to Paul and Paula from an animal rights group. Maybe I could find some leads there. At the least, maybe I could alleviate my anxiety that someone I knew had sent the correspondence.

  “You know what, I need to call my office,” I told Chad, moving out of the way as some Christmas shoppers scurried past with bags in hand. “I want to make sure Paws and Furballs never sent any of those nasty grams to your family. If they did, I should just leave town now.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “What will your family think when they find out the truth about me?”

  He shrugged, pulling his collar up as a brisk wind swept over the sidewalk. “They’re pretty easy going.”

  “Did you hear their voices when they talked about animal rights activists?” I couldn’t get the exchange out of my head. Paula had sounded absolutely disgusted with the person who’d sent it.

  “Maybe . . . .”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to call and either ease or confirm my fears.”

  I pulled out my phone and dialed my office. My assistant answered. “Cindy, it’s Sierra reporting in from Mayberry.”

  “Mayberry?”

  I crossed my free arm across my stomach and leaned against the store behind me. It was a toy shop boasting a train and Christmas village in its picture window. “Or you could call it the world’s happiest town where Christmas saturates every fiber of its being. Seriously. Its citizens, its buildings, and probably even its air traffic control flight pattern are consumed with this holiday at this time of year.”

  “Sounds nice. Just like the kind of place I’d like to be.”

  Something deep inside me wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. This place was pretty perfect.

  “Either way, I have a question. Has anyone from Paws and Furballs ever started a campaign against something called Mountain Christmas Light Magic?”

  “It doesn’t sound familiar to me.”

  “Me either, but that doesn’t mean that someone from the organization didn’t take initiative to send them a letter. The, uh . . . organizers . . . have reindeer that are used at Christmas activities in the areas.”

  “They sound despicable, using those poor animals to promote their own agendas.”

  I remembered Paula and Paul’s smiling faces. My intuitive agreement dissipated. “Not despicable. But it’s important that I know if there’s anything there.”

  “One second,” Cindy said. Computer keys tapped in the background.

  “Merry Christmas!” A woman with rosy cheeks stuffed something into my hand as she passed. She wore an old timey dress, complete with a bonnet and cape, and carried a basket full of treats, courtesy of the town of Oldsburgh, if I had to guess.

  I saw that she’d given me a candy cane. Maybe the peppermint would calm down my stomach some. It hadn’t been right since I found out I was pregnant.

  “Nothing’s coming up through my computer search. I can ask around, though, just to be sure someone wasn’t acting as a lone ranger,” Cindy said.

  “That would be great. I need to know ASAP. And let’s keep this quiet, okay? I don’t want anyone at Paws and Furballs to know I’m connected with it. Not now, at least.”

  “Oh, sounds mysterious. I’ll call you back today.”

  I joined Chad on the sidewalk. Every time the wind blew, it cut all the way through to my bones, even though I wore a puffy red vest and turtleneck. My nose even felt frozen; I only hoped it didn’t look as red as Rudolph’s.

  I gave Chad the update.

  “So what now?” I asked, glancing around.

  The same woman who’d given me the candy cane now stood on the corner, belting out “Silver Bells” in a high soprano. Other people shopped or chatted with friends while strolling through town. A couple people browsed the Christmas tree stand on the corner. However, there were no reindeer to be seen.

  “Good question,” Chad said.

  “So far, we’ve not only narrowed the culprit down to nearly the whole town, but it seems like everyone loves your family and their light show. So, everyone has means but no one has motive.”

  “Except their neighbors,” Chad added.

  That was right. The neighbors hated the Christmas light show. We definitely needed to talk to them. Since I had no other good ideas, they were the logical ones to approach next.

  Just then, a little boy who looked like he was around six years old, walked up to me and tugged at my vest. He had dark hair and brown eyes. Instantly, I had visions of my own child. What would he or she look like? Maybe he’d have Chad’s sandy colored hair. Or would she have my dark hair and Asian features? Would the child be laidback like Chad or zealous like me?

  Warm fuzzies filled me at the thought. Life at this time next year would be very different than life right now.

  “Can I help you?” I asked the boy. I
glanced around. Where was the boy’s mom? Even in Oldsburgh, it seemed like a good idea to have a parent or guardian around.

  The boy pointed at me. “I love hot hookers.”

  My mouth dropped open. I looked down at myself. Nothing about the jeans and sensible clothes I wore screamed prostitute. Who was this boy? He no longer seemed quite as cute and innocent.

  He pointed to my hands and licked his lips. “Hot hookers.”

  I held up the card I’d been given on the sidewalk, beginning to piece things together. “You mean, candy canes?”

  He frowned. “They’re hot and hooked. And I can never remember . . . what are they called again?”

  “Candy canes,” I told him.

  “Right, candy canes. Do you want that, ma’am?”

  I handed my peppermint treat to him. “It’s all yours.”

  I glanced at Chad and saw a smile tugging at his lips. “Interesting terminology, kid.”

  He turned to Chad, his eyes widening. “And you—are you Santa’s son?”

  Chad’s smile disappeared and his shoulders visibly tightened. “What was that?”

  The boy pointed to Chad’s beard, his high-pitched voice and slight lips making him hard to get angry with. “If your beard was white, you’d look just like Santa.”

  “Except I’m thinner,” Chad said slowly, offense creeping into his voice. “Right?”

  Chad had gained about ten pounds since we’d been married, and he was feeling self-conscious. So far this kid had managed to insult both of us. It was quite a talent he had.

  “If you say so, Mister.” The boy stepped closer, his face turning serious. “Listen, can you give Santa a message from me? There’s something I really want to talk to him about.”

  Chad squatted down. “Maybe I can. Or you could go talk to Santa yourself at the light show tomorrow night.”

  The boy’s eyes lit. “I love that show! It’s my favorite.”

  “Are you coming this year?” I continued, determined to prove I was good with kids. I had my doubts. Make that fears. What if I wasn’t a good mother? And how would I ever really know that for sure until I became a mother? By then, my child would be stuck with me, and I’d ruin him or her for life.