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

by Christy Barritt

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it! Okay, I’ve gotta go meet my parents. Bye Santa’s son and hot hooker lady.”

  I glanced at Chad. This was going to be a fun trip.

  Or not.

  Chapter Four

  “What now?” Chad asked, tucking in his stomach. He was still thin, his face just looked more filled out. But he was nowhere close to looking like Santa.

  “Now you take some deep breaths and remember that those remarks came from an innocent, naïve child who didn’t know better.”

  “Okay, hot hooker lady.” He grinned.

  I elbowed him. “Anyway, I say we pay a visit to the neighbors. You said the reindeer are one of the highlights of the show, right? Maybe the Nimbles are hoping that without the reindeer, the show won’t go on.”

  “Maybe. I guess it’s a theory.” He shook his head. “The missing reindeer could devastate my aunt and uncle. They look forward to this all year. You should see it, Sierra. They have cookies and hot chocolate. They have live music, a live Santa, and the reindeer. People come from all over the state. They can only do it for the three days leading up to Christmas, though. It’s just too much of a cash drain to do it for any longer.”

  “You mean, they don’t charge?” I shoved my hands into my pockets as we started toward the Vanagon.

  He shook his head. “They consider this their Christmas gift to the community.”

  “That’s awfully generous of them.”

  “That’s what kind of people they are.”

  I nodded, fully aware that a lot of good people didn’t share my exact viewpoints.

  “It’s just too bad your parents aren’t here,” I said.

  “Yeah, I agree,” he said. “But I know they’re having fun on their cruise. They work hard, so it’s good for them to get away. The Caribbean does sound awfully nice, doesn’t it?”

  Before I climbed into the van, something on the ground caught my eye. I reached down and picked it up. It was a bell, probably an inch and a half wide, with a red ribbon around it. The ends of the ribbon looked frayed, as if it had broken off from something, and the material itself was dirty and old.

  Strange. I couldn’t just throw it back on the ground, so I stuffed it into my pocket and climbed into the van.

  Just as I slammed the door, a man in a sheriff’s uniform paused on the street corner. He stared right at Chad and I, his eyes narrowing.

  “Is that the sheriff?” I asked Chad.

  Chad peered through the window. “Yep, that’s him. Sheriff Orlando.”

  “Sounds like there’s bad blood between him and your family.” I snapped on my seatbelt.

  “Yeah, you could say that. That man knows how to hold onto a grudge.”

  “What happened?”

  “Rumor has it that my Uncle Paul moved to town and swept Paula off her feet. Apparently, the sheriff had his eye on her, and he still feels like Paul ‘stole’ his woman. Ridiculous, huh?”

  Interesting.

  Ten minutes later, after we traveled away from town and back into the heart of the mountains, I pointed to a road with a sign reading “Collards 4 Sale.” It was the driveway before Paul and Paula’s. I’d seen it on my way into town.

  He nodded toward the crooked black mailbox beside the crude-looking sign. “Says the ‘Nimbles.’ Must be the place.”

  We pulled down the narrow, rocky lane, one that was filled with potholes and steep inclines. It had to be difficult to travel this when it snowed. A small, dumpy house stood at the end of the lane.

  It was white clapboard with a small cement porch and clothes strung on the lines between the porch posts. The house itself couldn’t have more than four or five rooms. Junk was strewn around the perimeter, including tires, rocking chairs, and an old tractor.

  I didn’t want to stereotype, but this seemed like the house of someone who was backward, who’d removed themselves from society and its expectations.

  There was an old barn behind the house, but half of it had collapsed. There was also some kind of grain elevator that looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

  I half expected someone with a shotgun to walk onto the porch and demand we tell him why we were here. Unfortunately, in my mind this person was wearing overalls and had a beard similar to Chad’s. Yep, I was pretty much picturing the Clampetts.

  That didn’t happen, though. In fact, we knocked at the door but no one answered.

  So much for finding some answers.

  I had to admit that someone who had this much trouble managing their yard and their house might have trouble managing to steal a bunch of reindeer without anyone noticing. That didn’t mean they were off my suspect list, though.

  As we climbed back into the van, my cell phone rang. It was Cindy.

  “Sierra, I’ve checked with everyone in the office, and no one said they’ve sent anything to this reindeer farm you mentioned. However, I did find it interesting that Good Day Fishing Hooks are also manufactured there in Oldsburgh. We have talked about sending them correspondence in the past, though I have no record we’ve done anything yet.”

  “Really?” I wondered if that was the factory that Chad had mentioned, the one that employed most of the people in town. “I’m not sure that has anything to do with the reindeer, however.”

  “You want me to draft a letter to them? Maybe you’ll have more influence now that you’re married to someone who has family in the area.”

  I considered it a moment. “Go ahead and draft up something. But don’t send it without my approval.”

  “Got it.”

  “Can you do me one more favor? Can you check to see if there’s anyone in our network of supporters who lives anywhere near Oldsburgh, West Virginia?”

  “Sure thing. I can do that now if you can wait just a minute.”

  I motioned for Chad to stay put.

  “Let’s see. I narrowed it down to West Virginia, now I’m searching through the cities.” Cindy clucked her tongue. “What do you know? We do have one supporter who lives right in Oldsburgh. His name is Sam Bills. Would you like his address?”

  “Would I ever.” I grabbed an old napkin from the floor and a pen from my purse and jotted it down.

  I knew exactly where we needed to head next.

  Sam Bills lived about twenty minutes away on a narrow mountain road that was lined with houses. A small stream trickled behind the homes to my left. Most of the houses were smaller in size and also had clapboard siding, just like the Nimbles. However, some were not well-kept, while others had neat grass and nicely shaped flowerbeds. This area and the diversity here fascinated me. I’d lived in the city. I’d lived in suburbia. But I’d never lived anywhere like this.

  We pulled up to a house that had yellow siding and an economy-sized car parked in the driveway. The car had a Paws and Furballs bumper sticker on the back.

  This had to be the right place.

  “Do you know this Sam Bills?” I asked Chad, chomping at the bit to talk to the man . . . er, I meant feeling anxious to talk to him. Bits in the mouths of horses were inhumane, whether in reality or when used as an expression.

  He shook his head. “He must have moved here after I left.”

  “Let me do the talking then,” I told Chad, stepping from the Vanagon.

  I climbed the steps, knocked on the door, and straightened my shirt as I waited for someone to answer. A moment later, a man who was about my age pulled the door open. He had thinning blonde hair, pale skin, and a slouched stance that only emphasized the solitary collection of weight in his stomach. The scent of . . . was that bacon? . . . drifted from the interior.

  The man stared at me a moment.

  Before I could introduce myself, his face lit up like a . . . uh, well, a Christmas tree.

  “Sierra Nakamura—I mean, Davis?” he said.

  I put my hand down, taken back and thrown off guard. “Do I know you?”

  He shook his head, and I immediately saw it.

  I saw the crazy in his eyes an
d braced myself for whatever happened next.

  Chapter Five

  Sam Bills opened the screen door and stepped closer—a little too close. “You’re one of my idols.”

  I pointed to myself as I scooted back. Chad grasped my elbow as my foot caught the edge of the porch. Thank goodness he was here. “I’m one of your idols?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. I love Paws and Furballs. I follow almost everything you guys do. You all blow my mind.”

  “I’m . . . I’m flattered,” I told him.

  “What are you doing here? Did you come to . . . to recruit me? Oh my goodness. Is this the call? The call? Are there cameras around?” He craned his neck to peek behind me. “Because this would make a great feel good holiday video. You’re making my dreams come true! Of course I’ll work for you!”

  I shook my head, trying to cut that thought off quickly before he ran with it. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I could say that. But I have something you could help me with.”

  His smile turned into a frown and then the next second his hopeful expression returned. “Anything. I’m on it. Is it about the fishermen out here? I’ve never been a big fan of the sport myself. It’s not as bad as crabbing, though. Did you know that people boil crabs alive—?”

  “It’s not about fishing, Sam. Or crabbing,” I told him. I stole a glance at Chad. He looked thoroughly entertained.

  “Then it’s about hunting? People hunt around here like some people watch TV. They live for it. I don’t care what anyone says about controlling the animal population—”

  I shook my head. “That’s not it either.”

  “That recent oil spill up north that affected the river and killed wildlife?”

  I shook my head again, fascinated by everything he was saying but trying to stay focused. “I’m sorry, Sam. It’s actually about the reindeer farm here in town.”

  His lips parted. “Oh, the reindeer farm. Over at the Davis’ place? Of course. What about it?”

  I tried to think of a less in-your-face way to approach this. The man did seem over-the-top. I didn’t want his emotions to spike to the other side, plunging into the depths of anger instead of excitement. “Do you know of anyone who’d want to free those reindeer?”

  “Free the reindeer? Were they not being treated well? I should have known. That Paul Davis, he may be a nice man, but he’s always talking about hunting. He loves killing animals for his own enjoyment. How can someone who loves to eat deer have pet deer? Because that’s essentially what reindeer are.”

  I reached behind me and squeezed Chad’s arm, hoping he wasn’t offended. Knowing Chad, Mr. Laidback himself, he was simply enjoying this. Crazy people were immensely entertaining. That’s what he’d told me once. “Anyone else around here share your sentiments?”

  He looked toward the sky and sighed. “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “Do you know anyone who would steal them?” I asked. I had a feeling this man didn’t have the gumption to do it himself.

  “Steal them?” He snorted.

  When he saw my face, he turned serious again.

  “I mean, I guess someone might want to steal them. But exactly how would they do that? Wouldn’t they need a sleigh or something?” He snorted again as if this was some kind of bad Christmas joke.

  He must have noticed that I didn’t appreciate his humor, because his laugh abruptly stopped. “I mean, no, I really don’t know of anyone in particular who would steal the reindeer.”

  I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes like a prosecutor about to do a killer cross-examination. “How about you? Would you do it?”

  His eyes widened, and he stepped back, nearly tripping over the door jamb.

  Was that a look of guilt in his eyes?

  Maybe I’d underestimated the man.

  “You’ve got to believe me. I’m an all talk kind of guy,” he insisted, panic fluttering in his gaze and shaking his voice.

  I crossed my arms. “What does that mean?”

  “It just means that I like to talk a lot, to say a lot without really saying anything. But I very rarely put any action behind my words. Call it hypocritical, but that’s what I do.” His words came out fast, rushed.

  “So, you’ve made threats. Is that what I’m understanding?”

  “I . . . may have sent the family a couple of letters.”

  “Really?”

  He cringed. “And I may have lain like a dead fish outside of Good Day Fishing Hooks with a sign saying, ‘Fish Have Feelings Too.’”

  “You didn’t claim to be with Paws and Furballs, did you?”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe I did throw it in there. I do support the organization.”

  “That doesn’t give you a right to use their name, you know.” I felt like a mom scolding a toddler, which only renewed my parental fears, especially when I saw Sam’s bottom lip droop with remorse.

  “I know. I just wanted to make a difference. It’s my dream to work for you guys.”

  “What do you do?” Something about the man didn’t sit right with me.

  “I’m a . . .” He tugged at his collar. “A driver.”

  “For what company?”

  He cringed, suddenly sweating. “For one of the logging companies the next town over.”

  “So you want to save the animals but ruin the environment?” It was hypocrisy at its finest.

  “A man can only have so many passions.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But you did have access to some large trucks. Trucks that may hold reindeer.”

  He ran a hand through his thin hair, causing a wisp of it to stand on end. “I didn’t steal any reindeer. Like I said, I talk the talk but don’t walk the walk. I eat meat, for goodness sakes! Check my freezer.”

  I didn’t have to. I definitely smelled bacon in the background. It was an unmistakable scent. If I wasn’t a vegan, I might even call it mouthwatering.

  I stared at the man, unable to believe my ears. I wanted to tell him that he made animal lovers look bad, but I bit my tongue.

  “Mr. Bills, where were you between 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. today?”

  “I was at the hardware store in town all morning, trying to get something to fix my washing machine. I just got home about two hours ago. Ask anyone. They’ll confirm it.”

  “I think I’ll do that.” With that, I turned on my heel and stomped back to the van.

  “Can I have your autograph?” Sam yelled behind me, obviously not dissuaded by my disgruntled scowl.

  I didn’t say anything, just climbed into the van and locked the door behind me.

  “You’re like a celebrity in the animal rights world, aren’t you?” Chad said, cranking the engine. Blissfully warm air flooded through the vents.

  “No, I’m not a celebrity. But I do lead a great group of people. It’s quite possibly the best job ever.”

  “Happy wife, happy life. That’s what my dad always taught me.”

  “But a woman is only as happy as her man.” I reached over and kissed his furry cheek. “Funny the way that works, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful, actually.” He squeezed my hand before pulling onto the road. “So, what do you want to do now?”

  I leaned back, trying to think clearly. Chad’s family had high hopes that we would find some answers, and I hated to disappoint them. But, as the sun began to set, my options were becoming limited.

  “It’s getting dark. I’m not sure how much more we can do tonight,” I started. “What do you say we get back and see if your aunt and uncle have heard anything?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  We cruised along for several minutes in silence, the only sound was that of the Beach Boys singing Christmas classics. The road was winding and thick with trees on either side of it.

  Chad cleared his throat and glanced over at me. “Look, before we go back, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

  I wrinkled my forehead, eyebrows drawn together. “Okay.”

  “It’s about my uncle. He—”<
br />
  Before Chad had a chance to finish his sentence, a deer appeared in the middle of the road.

  Or was it a . . . reindeer?

  I didn’t have time to contemplate.

  Chad slammed on the brakes.

  I prepared myself for the worst.

  Chapter Six

  As if in slow motion, the van skidded.

  Rubber burned.

  Tires screeched.

  The deer froze, his gaze piercing us.

  My hands went to the dashboard, waiting for impact.

  My future flashed before my eyes.

  Specifically, the future of my dear, sweet baby.

  What if something happened to my unborn child? I couldn’t stand the thought of it. My heart clutched with grief at the notion.

  Oh God, please help!

  Finally, the van stopped.

  My heart pounded into my rib cage as I tried to absorb what had happened.

  Had we hit the deer? Was anyone hurt? Chad? Me?

  Bambi still stood there, staring at us. He blinked once and then darted back into the woods as if this was a game and he’d just scored a point.

  “Are you okay?” Chad asked, worry lacing his eyes.

  I nodded, feeling numb and shaky. “Yeah, I think so. We’re . . . we’re okay. Right?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Chad asked. His gaze went to my stomach. “And the baby. Is the baby okay? I’m taking you to the hospital. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Really, I’m fine.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “I’m just shaken, Chad. If I start feeling bad, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

  He stared at me another moment, and I wondered if he’d take off toward the hospital despite my protests. “These reindeer games are starting to get to me. We’re going back home for the night, and you’re taking it easy. I insist.”

  I nodded, not in the mood to argue. “It’s a plan.”

  Everyone was still busy stringing Christmas lights as we pulled up to the house. This certainly would be a winter wonderland. I was still trembling from our near accident, and I wasn’t going to argue with Chad about staying put for the rest of the night. I needed my heart to slow down some.