Yuletide Defender

by Sandra Robbins

  Rachel watched Matt walk out of her office before she returned to her desk. She picked up the pen lying on the desktop and tapped it on the surface. Even though she’d joked with Matt about him being different, there was an element of truth to it. It wasn’t just his expensive clothes, but rather the ease with which he wore them.

  He’d said their date Saturday night would give them the opportunity to know each other better. She wanted to know more about Matt, but that meant opening up about her background, too. What would he say when he found out about her family? Probably what every other man she’d ever dated said. If so, she’d better enjoy Saturday night because there wouldn’t be a second date.

  In high school, the boys she’d grown up with were content to be friends at school, but not one of them had ever asked her on a date. Not even to prom. She’d made all kinds of excuses to her mother to cover her disappointment—there wasn’t anybody she wanted to go with, spending money on a prom dress was ridiculous, she needed to study for finals. But her excuses thudded like a hammer against her hollow heart.

  College offered a fresh start with people who didn’t know her. She’d fallen in love for the first time, and it had been perfect. Until she took her boyfriend, Justin, home to meet her family. She had thought he was different, that he would be able to accept her sister Cara and her disabilities, but she’d been wrong.

  Cara’s attempts to be friendly with Justin had been met with cold indifference. He wasted no time in telling Rachel that he’d never been comfortable around special-needs individuals and that he wouldn’t have come if he’d realized how bad Cara’s condition was. It came as no surprise when he ended their relationship a week later.

  The worst blow had come, however, when she realized he’d warned all the guys he knew to keep their distance. She often wondered what stories he had told about his visit to her home, but she thought it better that she not know. She didn’t need to add more anger to what she already felt over the hurt her mother and sister had suffered. They didn’t deserve it. That experience did, however, confirm one thing for her. Love and marriage didn’t have a place in her future.

  The ringing of her telephone interrupted her thoughts and she reached for the receiver. “Rachel Long.”

  “I seen the morning paper.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened at the sound of the familiar voice. She sat up straight. “You did?”

  The man didn’t speak for a moment. “So the vigilante got Terrence. He been with the Rangers a long time. Never met that cop but I heard the brothers talkin’ ’bout him.”

  Rachel closed her eyes as the memory of what she’d seen the night before swept over her. “I’ve never seen anyone killed before.”

  “So, now you believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then maybe we can help each other.”

  Rachel reached for a pen and paper. “Do you have anything else you can tell me?”

  “Yeah. Can you meet me again?”

  Rachel’s heart raced. “Where?”

  “Tonight. Same place, same time. How’s that for you?”

  Her fingers tightened around the pen. “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Wait,” Rachel cried out. “Let me give you my cell phone number. You might need it sometime.”

  She recited the number and waited for a response. “Got it. See you tonight.”

  Silence on the other end told her the caller had disconnected. She hung up the phone and sank down in her chair. Her conversation with Matt and Philip replayed in her mind. They wanted her to let them know if her source called again. She reached for the phone, but then she drew her hand back.

  Common sense told her she didn’t need to go to this meeting alone, especially after what had happened last night. But the rendezvous time was over twelve hours away. She could decide later what she needed to do. With a sigh she swiveled her chair so she faced the computer. There were a lot of emails, and she wanted to see what the citizens of Lake City thought about a vigilante in their midst.

  Three hours later, Rachel pulled on her coat and walked out of her office toward the elevator at the other end of the hall. She’d just pushed the down button when the elevator doors opened and her editor, Cal Belmont, stepped out.

  His smile broadened when he saw her. “Good job on your story, Rachel. I’ve had a lot of emails this morning about a vigilante in Lake City.”

  “Thanks, Cal.”

  A man stepped around Rachel and moved into the elevator. She watched the door close and groaned inwardly. A conversation with her long-winded editor could turn into a lengthy chat, and her stomach was already rumbling the message that it was time for lunch.

  Cal’s glasses rested in the mass of gray curls on top of his head. He pulled them off and thumped them on the newspaper he held. “Great job, Rachel. We had the story before anybody. You never did tell me how you got it so fast.”

  “I got a tip that something was going down on that street corner. I thought I’d stake it out.” She shrugged. “I guess it was a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

  “Well, keep up the good work, but not so much that the competition wants to steal you from the Beacon.”

  Rachel reached around Cal and pushed the down button again. “I’m glad you appreciate my work.” The doors slid open and Rachel stepped in before Cal could respond. “I’m on my way to lunch. See you later.”

  She smiled and punched the button for the lobby. Cal waved and turned away as the doors closed. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief to have sidestepped Cal’s questions. With Matt and Philip concerned about her source, she didn’t need to add Cal to the list.

  When the elevator reached the lobby, she stepped to the double front doors and peered outside. The weather forecast for the day had mentioned a chance of snow.

  A woman stopped outside and pushed the front door open. As Rachel moved out of the way for her to enter, she glanced over her shoulder. Across the lobby, a young man leaned against the wall, his stare directed at her. The heavy down jacket he wore looked like many others she’d seen, but it was the bulk of his chest and arms underneath that caught her attention. A wool knit cap covered his head, hiding his hair.

  She’d never seen him in the building before. As his gaze met hers, he pushed away from the wall and took a step toward her.

  Fear rushed through Rachel’s body and she backed toward the door. She could see his face better now. She was positive she’d never seen him before. He stuck his hand in his coat pocket as he advanced toward her. Her throat went dry. Was he reaching for something inside? A gun?

  Rachel turned and bolted through the front door. The parking lot at the side of the building where she’d left her rental car this morning looked as if it were a mile away. She glanced over her shoulder. The man had followed her onto the sidewalk. He took a step in her direction before he halted, turned and ran across the street.

  Rachel slowed her step and watched him climb into a red car. She had no idea the make of the automobile, so she concentrated on trying to remember how it looked. A dent creased the back fender and patches of chipped paint covered the trunk. The motor roared to life and the wheels squealed as the car shot into traffic.

  Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. She had to quit thinking about the bullet striking the bricks above her head and the two dead bodies on the street last night. If she didn’t, she’d end up suspecting everyone she came in contact with was out to kill her.

  A bell clanged and Rachel whirled in the direction of the parking lot. A Santa Claus, the bell in his hand pealing out a familiar holiday sound, stood at the corner, his kettle ready for donations from passersby. The reminder of a time-honored Christmas tradition calmed the fear she’d experienced a few minutes earlier. Since she was a child, she’d looked forward to seeing the Santas who dotted the streets of Lake City each December—their mission to see underprivileged children have a happy holiday.

  Inhaling the
cold air, she smiled and strode forward. The memory of how her mother struggled to provide a good Christmas for her two daughters had caused her to vow she would never pass a Santa’s kettle without dropping in some money. A vigilante and murders across the city weren’t going to take away her yuletide spirit.

  She stopped in front of the Santa and tried to suppress a smile. He wasn’t as chubby as others she’d seen in the past, but that didn’t matter. It was the size of one’s heart that really described a person. To her way of thinking, anyone who would dress up in a Santa suit and stand on a street ringing a bell for donations had to have a heart the size of the whole state.

  She grasped the strap of her purse and pulled it from her shoulder. “Let me get some money for you.”

  The Santa adjusted his beard, bent down and set his bell on the sidewalk. “Thank you.”

  Rachel grasped the bag in both hands and unzipped the purse. “I’m glad to help—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, the Santa grabbed her purse and pulled it from her hands. Clutching it tightly, he bolted across the street.

  Speechless, Rachel gaped at the disappearing figure in the fur-trimmed red suit running as if his life depended on it. After a few seconds she regained her senses enough to realize she’d just been the victim of a robbery. She dashed into the street in pursuit and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Stop! Thief!”

  A car horn honked and brakes squealed. Rachel glanced around to see a delivery truck bearing down on her. She jumped backward and groaned when the vehicle blocked her view of the retreating figure. When it passed, the Santa had disappeared.

  The despair she felt at having been robbed turned to anger. In the last two days she had been brought face-to-face with crime in Lake City. Maybe a purse snatching didn’t rank as high as murder on the worst crime scale, but she felt violated.

  She mentally listed the contents of her purse—a wallet containing thirty dollars, a credit card that was almost maxed out, her driver’s license, cell phone, a necklace her mother had given her and makeup. The only thing she couldn’t replace was the necklace, which had been a gift when she graduated college. She’d intended to get the clasp repaired today.

  Rachel clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. How could she have been so careless? But then who would ever suspect Santa Claus of being a thief? She hoped he had a good time with her few possessions.

  With a sigh she turned back to the newspaper office. She had to make a report to the police. Even if she never saw her purse again, she didn’t want other people in Lake City to be robbed by a thief posing as Kriss Kringle.

  She stopped before she entered the building and thought of Matt. What would he say? The memory of his words earlier returned, and an uneasy feeling crept over her. Maybe she should tell him about her meeting with the source tonight. Her instincts told her she could trust the person she’d met with and talked to on the phone. On the other hand, she thought she could trust Santa Claus and she’d been wrong about that.

  Rachel straightened her shoulders and walked to the elevator. She knew what she had to do. Getting a story that would boost one up the ladder to success didn’t mean a thing if you were dead. She was going to call Matt and tell him about her next meeting with the source.

  He entered his apartment and dropped the sack containing the Santa Claus suit on the floor. When he’d run back to his car, it had only taken a minute to discard the outfit and stuff it in the sack before he drove away. It was a good thing he knew the neighborhood around the Beacon building. He’d had the perfect spot to park his car and change clothes undetected.

  With a smile he spread the morning newspaper on the kitchen table and dumped the contents of Rachel Long’s purse on it. He chuckled at the assortment of articles that tumbled out. There were the items you’d expect to find in any woman’s purse—wallet, keys, makeup. But the other things told the story of the woman who had written about him in the morning edition.

  For a moment his hatred for Rachel flashed through him like a raging fire. She’d called him a vigilante, a rogue killer who endangered everyone by his disregard for the law. He laughed. The only law he lived by was an eye for an eye. Why couldn’t she see the service he was doing the citizens of Lake City by taking criminals off the street?

  He took a deep breath and willed his heart to resume its normal beat. He couldn’t let his dislike for the Beacon’s hot-shot investigative reporter overshadow his goal. There was too much at stake. He’d take care of her when the time was right.

  He directed his attention back to the items from her purse. A sterling silver cross on a chain caught his eye, and he held it up. Stones he assumed to be diamonds covered the surface of the cross. A close examination revealed that the clasp was broken.

  “Oh, too bad, Miss Long.” He laid the necklace at the edge of the table. “I’ll put this away for safekeeping. It might come in handy later on.”

  He picked up a receipt from a supermarket and glanced down the list of items she’d purchased. Yogurt, cereal, bananas, coffee. Breakfast items for someone on the go. Receipts from restaurants told him she didn’t cook much at home.

  Several envelopes lay on top of the pile of items and he picked them up. One contained her November paycheck stub. He smiled at her salary. She wasn’t getting rich but she made enough to live comfortably.

  The deductions caught his eye and he frowned. Over half her paycheck had been deposited into a savings account. She was paying all her bills and living on only half of her income. He wondered what that was all about. Maybe he could find the answer to his question.

  He smiled and picked up her cell phone. It seemed only a few years ago that cell phones were unheard of. Now they were a link to everything and everybody in a person’s life. And Rachel’s phone was about to give him the answers he needed to put an end to the nosy reporter.

  He reached for a box on the kitchen cabinet and sat down at the table. Opening the box, he read the instructions. When he’d finished, he picked up Rachel’s cell phone and began the process of downloading spyware to her phone. When he was finished, he would have access to every conversation, text and email she received or sent.

  There were still a few details he had to take care of before the fun could begin. He had to toss the purse in a Dumpster and then call the police to report seeing a Santa Claus throwing a woman’s bag into the garbage bin. After that, he’d know every move Rachel Long made.

  She had no idea what was about to happen to her.

  FIVE

  Matt Franklin swallowed the last bite of his hamburger and washed it down with a soft drink. Eating lunch at his desk was getting to be a habit, but he didn’t mind. He’d never cared much for joining the guys on the force at the crowded diner down the street from the station. He always felt out of place with all the good-natured laughter and joking that went on with his colleagues.

  That feeling of insecurity probably came from all the time he spent alone growing up. He’d just never learned to fit in. Quiet times—like candlelit dinners and walks along the lakeshore—appealed to him more. He wondered if Rachel Long enjoyed things like that. He kept telling himself not to get his hopes up too high about their date on Saturday night but he couldn’t help it.

  From the first time he’d seen her, there was something about her that drew him to her. And yet he was afraid to get better acquainted. He’d been disappointed too many times before.

  One of the things he liked about Rachel was that she had a reserved quality about her that made him want to know her better. She accepted him as just another police officer she’d met at crime scenes and never plied him with questions about his personal life. Most women he’d known in the past weren’t like that. Their main interests centered on his family.

  He’d been a little uncomfortable this morning when Rachel had mentioned her family to Philip. Although he dreaded telling her about his, he really wanted to know more about what it was like for her growing up.

  The ring of the phone on his
desk interrupted his thoughts. “Detective Matt Franklin. May I help you?”

  “Matt, this is Rachel.”

  His heartbeat quickened at the sound of her voice. “Rachel, to what do I owe the pleasure of a call from you?”

  A long sigh echoed in his ear. “I wanted you to know I’ve learned two things today.”

  Puzzled, he frowned. “And what would those be?”

  “Well, for one I’ve learned what a BOLO means.”

  His frown turned into a grin. “That’s what the police use now instead of APB, all-points bulletin.”

  “I know.”

  “And what does a ‘be on the lookout’ have to do with what else you’ve learned?”

  “Because the second thing I know is that you can’t trust Santa Claus. The police have a BOLO out for him.”

  He sat up straight and gripped the phone tighter. “Rachel, what are you talking about?”

  Matt listened as she told him about the purse snatching. “I’ve reported the incident to the police, but I wanted you to know that today isn’t much better than last night. There is one good thing, though. At least Santa didn’t shoot at me.”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t like this, Rachel. There are too many things happening to you at once.”

  “But I don’t think the two could be related. I can’t imagine a Ranger or a Viper dressing up like Santa just to steal my purse. And why would the sniper want it? If he wanted to do something to me, he could have shot me last night.”

  “Still, it could be related.” He paused a moment. “Maybe patrol can spot something this afternoon. I’ll check on it and let you know if they find anything.”

  “Thanks, Matt. I appreciate that. Also there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My source called again right after you and Philip left.”

  “And?”

  “He wants me to meet him again tonight.”

  “Did you tell him that Philip and I want to meet him?”