Yuletide Defender

by Sandra Robbins

  The voice of one of the paramedics caught her attention. He leaned over Matt and spoke into his ear. “Can you hear me?”

  With a groan, Matt moved his arms. “Wh-what happened?”

  “You’ve been hurt. You need to lie still while we check you out.”

  Matt flattened his hands against the pavement and tried to push up. “I’m okay.”

  “Let’s be sure before you move.” The two men gently restrained him.

  Matt closed his eyes, then they flew open. “Rachel? Where’s Rachel?”

  She stepped closer. “I’m here, Matt. I’m not hurt. Now be still and let these men do their job.”

  He gave a weak nod. “Glad you’re okay.”

  Two other paramedics rushed up with a gurney. The one who still knelt by Matt glanced up at Rachel. “We’re going to put him in the ambulance and check him out.”

  She followed as the men rolled Matt toward the vehicle, pushed the gurney into the back and climbed in after it.

  “Get back! The roof’s going!”

  Rachel jumped at the warning yelled by one of the fire-fighters. The building looked like a folding house of cards as it slowly crumbled in a burning heap. She thought of the two men who’d arrived and sat near the front window waiting for a meeting and the man who’d walked by with his lunch box. Had they all died unaware they were counting down the minutes until their deaths?

  From inside the ambulance, Matt moaned again. At least he was alive. The men she’d seen earlier weren’t.

  She stepped around the side of the vehicle and slumped against it. Her head pounded from the aftereffects of the explosion and the events of the night blinked in her mind like they were posted on a theater marquee.

  The question she’d asked her source had troubled her from the beginning, and now it did more than ever. If the Rangers wanted a meeting, why would they come into the Vipers’ neighborhood? Had this been the Rangers way of getting revenge on the Vipers? Or could it be something else—the work of a vigilante hoping to make it appear like Ranger retribution?

  A fireman walked over to the ambulance and stopped at the open back door. Soot covered his jacket and he pulled his helmet off. “How is he?” the fireman asked.

  “Just some cuts. He’ll be awfully sore in the morning, but he’s okay.” Rachel recognized the voice of the first paramedic who’d examined Matt.

  “Good. Wish I could say the same for whoever was inside the bar and the guy on the sidewalk.”

  The emergency responder inside the ambulance hopped to the ground. Rachel inched further away so they wouldn’t see her. “Have you recovered any bodies yet?”

  “Just the man outside. From the looks of things, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the fireman said. “We can’t get to the bodies inside, though. Fire’s too hot. It’ll have to cool off before we can go in. Then it may not matter. Don’t imagine there’s much left.”

  “What happened? A gas leak?”

  “Nope. I guess this’ll be one for the arson squad and the police department. Looks like somebody tossed a Molotov cocktail through the back door.”

  The paramedic let out a low whistle. “You don’t say. Think it was gang related?”

  “Probably. That’s the only kind of violence they have in this neighborhood. If we do find bodies inside, it may be good for everybody. The thugs around here don’t deserve to live, but I sure hate to see another innocent victim again.”

  “You got that right. I’m sick and tired of answering calls to shootings in this area. No telling how many other folks around here have been caught in the cross fire lately. Most of the time we get to the scene before the police do, but we’re under orders not to go in until officers arrive to cover us.” He hesitated. “It’s hard not to charge right in when you know children are in danger, but you can’t because the shooters may still be around.”

  The fireman sighed. “I know. Fire department’s the same way. Maybe these guys will just hurry up and kill each other off.”

  “We should be so lucky.” The two men’s voices drifted away as they ambled in the direction of the fire.

  Rachel shuddered at the words she’d heard. Their statements about the gangs being responsible for the crime in the area were true. Many people probably felt the same way. But there was another side that troubled her. No matter how society would judge a person, Rachel couldn’t bring herself to believe that murdering anyone was right.

  She stepped to the back of the ambulance and peered inside. Matt sat on the side of the gurney. A bandage covered the left side of his forehead from his hairline to his eyebrow. Two paramedics sat across from him. He glanced at her as she stopped. “Are you ready to go?”

  Her eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to the hospital?”

  He shook his head. “These guys tell me I’m going to be mighty sore tomorrow but I don’t have life-threatening injuries. So I think we need to go.”

  One of the paramedics glanced at her. “We’d really like to take him to the hospital to be checked out but we can’t force him.”

  “Doesn’t he need some stitches?”

  The paramedic shook his head. “The cut looked like it was deep because of the blood. That’s typical of wounds around the head. It’ll heal all right without stitches.”

  Matt eased off the gurney and climbed from the ambulance. When he reached the ground, he swayed toward Rachel and grabbed hold of the side of the ambulance. Steadying himself, he smiled, but Rachel spotted the tremor of his lips. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Rachel tilted her head and frowned. “Matt, I really think—”

  He grabbed her arm. “We need to go now.”

  Before she could resist, Matt propelled her down the street in the direction of his car. Rachel stumbled trying to keep pace with his long strides. She was afraid he’d fall if she pulled away from his grasp.

  “Slow down. For a guy who’s just been hurt, you shouldn’t be moving so fast.”

  The car he’d driven sat at the end of the block and he clicked the automatic door locks as they drew closer. Rachel had barely closed the door when Matt gunned the accelerator. They sped down the street.

  Rachel clutched the seat belt across her body. “What’s the hurry?”

  Matt glanced in the rearview mirror and slowed the car. “I saw two detectives from my department arriving at the scene. I didn’t want them questioning me about what I was doing there.”

  “Was one of them Philip?”

  “No. Neither one of us are on duty this weekend. When he left the office this afternoon, he said he wasn’t feeling well. He thought he had a fever and was planning on going to bed as soon as he got home. No need to disturb him. Those other guys can handle this.” He glanced at her. “But Monday morning I’m going to have to tell Philip and my captain about being there. I think it’s time we took the theory of a vigilante more seriously.”

  Rachel nodded. “Did you hear those firemen talking about a Molotov cocktail?”

  “Yes. I don’t think those guys talking knew we were listening. It won’t take the arson guys long to determine if that was the cause of the explosion. It sure looks like it to me.”

  Another thought struck her. “Did you hear what they said about the gang members deserving to die?”

  Matt’s lips pulled together in a grim line. “I did.”

  “And what do you think about what they said?” Rachel held her breath for Matt’s answer. She had often wondered how police officers could face the violence they did every day and not become hardened in their feelings toward lawbreakers.

  Matt sighed and reached up to touch the bandage on his face. “I understand their frustration, but as a Christian, I have to think of it in a different way. I’m sorry for the victims of the crimes. On the other hand, I can’t condone killing someone, no matter who it is.”

  Rachel smiled. That was the answer she’d wanted. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Matt.”

  Fifteen minutes later Matt stopped at her apartmen
t building entrance. Rachel turned to him. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? It’s the least I can do for you after almost getting you killed tonight.”

  Matt chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’d better get on home. Besides, I’m sure you have a story to write and I wouldn’t want to distract you from that.”

  She smiled. “You’re right about the story. I’ll send it in before I go so bed so that it can make the morning edition.” She leaned forward and studied the bandage on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I’ll be fine by tomorrow night. Don’t forget. We have a date for dinner and the ballet.”

  Her heart raced at the way he stared into her eyes. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never been to a ballet before.”

  “So I’ll see you then.”

  She reached for the handle to open the door but stopped. Turning back to Matt, she took a deep breath and let her gaze travel over the bandage on his forehead. “I’m sorry you were hurt tonight, but I’m glad you were there with me. Thank you for being such a good friend.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m glad we’re friends, Rachel.”

  “Me, too.” She opened the door and hopped out.

  As the car pulled out of the parking lot, the memory of Matt lying in the street returned and she shuddered. She’d never felt such a sense of terror and helplessness at the same time. She remembered screaming his name as she hurried to him. The thought of the sight of his blood on the pavement still sent goose bumps up her spine.

  Since becoming a reporter, she’d witnessed violent crime scenes and accidents that left people injured, but she’d never reacted as she did tonight. The difference was that the person who’d been hurt was Matt, and it had terrified her to see him injured and bleeding. She’d told him she was glad they were friends, but she couldn’t let it go any further.

  All she had to do was concentrate on other things like her job, and now was a good time to start. She had a story to write and a career to build. There was no time for anything else. Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she might even come to believe it.

  EIGHT

  He reached outside his apartment door and picked up the morning newspaper. Carrying it back to the kitchen table, he sat down, picked up his cup of coffee and opened to the front page. He took a sip from his cup and spewed the hot coffee from his mouth at the sight of the Beacon’s headline. Three Die in Fiery Explosion at Bar.

  “Three?” he screamed, then clamped his mouth shut for fear the neighbors would hear.

  He scanned the story quickly, his heart beating faster with each word. When he finished, he hurled the newspaper to the table, stood and began to pace back and forth across the kitchen.

  When he threw that Molotov cocktail into the rear of the building, he knew the two Vipers were there. The innocent man on the sidewalk was a complete surprise. He rubbed his hands over his eyes as he tried to digest what he’d just read.

  This couldn’t be happening. His goal when he’d started his campaign was to alternate his victims between the two gangs. That way they would soon think their rival was the murderer and declare all-out war with each other. Then the police could step in and arrest the remaining members.

  The streets of Lake City would at last be free of the hoodlums who ruled their neighborhoods with fear and violence. With the end of the gangs, he could live in the knowledge that his secret campaign had brought about good. Children could play safely outside their homes and residents could walk without fear on the streets.

  He clenched his fist and banged the kitchen cabinet. Now in his quest he had killed an innocent person—a man returning home from work. He closed his eyes, spread his fingers on either side of his head and groaned. He’d never wanted that. How did this happen?

  His eyes popped open and he lowered his hands. His mouth clenched into a straight line and he gritted his teeth. It was that reporter’s fault. Because of her stories, he’d decided to make a bigger effort in his executions. His initial plan had been to shoot the Vipers down as they got out of their car at the bar but he’d changed his mind after reading Rachel Long’s story about the possibility of a vigilante in Lake City. Pictures of a burning building would look better on the front page. So he’d decided on the firebomb.

  Yes, it was her fault he’d made a mistake. With the gang members’ deaths, he’d found pride. Now he knew he had become no better than they were. He had killed an innocent man. Instead of a hero, he was now a murderer.

  Hatred boiled over in his heart. He grabbed the newspaper from the table and stuffed it in the wastebasket. That reporter would pay for what she’d done. Thanks to her, he was now a murderer. One more victim would make no difference.

  Over the past few years Rachel had come to look forward to the Saturday mornings she and her friend Mindy spent catching up on what had happened during the workweek. This morning she had a lot to tell Mindy.

  Rachel drove through the back entrance of the parking lot at The Coffee Bean and pulled into the only unoccupied space left by the usual 10:00 a.m. Saturday crowd. Climbing from the car, she hurried toward the front of the building. As she rounded the corner, she froze in place. “Not again.”

  The small gasp sounded like a whisper as it left her mouth. A few feet away, next to the entrance to the coffee shop, a Santa, standing beside a kettle, rang a bell for donations. He caught sight of her and gave his bell an extra shake in her direction.

  “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” The Santa’s beard and mustache jiggled as his voice rose above the traffic noise.

  The black belt pulled around the waist of the red suit appeared to strain at his girth. This wasn’t the man who’d stolen her purse. Her rogue Santa had been thinner.

  Rachel pulled out some money, inched closer and dropped it in the kettle. “There you go.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, he winked. “God bless you, and a merry Christmas.”

  Rachel took a step backward and collided with someone behind her. “So you believe in Santa again?”

  Startled, Rachel turned and stared into Matt’s face. The bandage on his forehead sent the events of the night before rushing through her. She blotted the picture of Matt lying in the street from her mind and tried to smile. “You scared me. Why aren’t you home taking it easy this morning?”

  He pointed to the paper tucked under his arm. “I thought I’d grab a cup of coffee while I read your story.”

  Rachel inclined her head toward the coffee shop. “I’m meeting Mindy and brought mine in case she hadn’t read it.”

  Matt nodded. “I know Mindy. She’s in our Bible study class at church.”

  “I know,” Rachel murmured. “She’s been trying to get me to come.”

  Matt tilted his head to one side and smiled. “I believe I invited you, too.”

  “And I’m going to come.”

  “Good.”

  She glanced at the Santa who was now occupied with another donor and heaved a sigh of relief. “You really did scare me.”

  “Sorry. I started inside and couldn’t resist seeing if you’d overcome your fear of Santa Claus.”

  She swatted at his arm and frowned. “With all we’ve been through in the last few days, I think it’s understandable I’d be careful.”

  “You’re right to be careful, Rachel. I hope you’ll remember that.” The laughter in his eyes had been replaced by a serious look. The words and their concerned tone set her heart to racing.

  He grasped the handle of the door and held it open for her to walk inside. She glanced around for Mindy and spotted her at a table in the back. She tossed a wave in Mindy’s direction and stepped to the end of the line of people waiting to place their orders. Matt stopped behind her.

  Laughter and the hum of voices sent a surge of happiness flowing through Rachel. The room radiated a holiday spirit. Bright shopping bags that bulged with wrapped presents sat on the floor at the customers’ feet. The white
lights on the branches of a tall artificial tree blinked in the corner of the room, reminding everyone that Christmas, the most wonderful time of year, would soon be here.

  She pointed to the tree and the packages underneath. “Isn’t that tree beautiful?”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah. I love this time of year.”

  “So do I. I’m sure my sister is getting more excited every day. She loves Christmas morning.”

  “Are you spending Christmas with your family?” Matt asked.

  Rachel’s eyebrows lifted. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. Some families don’t get together. I just wondered about yours.”

  His eyes clouded, and Rachel frowned. “And what about you? Won’t you be with your family?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. My mother is out of the country and my father is too busy with his new wife to wonder where I’ll spend the holidays.”

  Rachel’s heart pricked at his words. For a moment she wished she could put her arms around him and make the hurt she saw in his face disappear. She struggled to find the right thing to say but the person in front of her picked up his order and stepped out of the line.

  The young woman at the cash register smiled. “May I help you?”

  An assortment of muffins and cookies lined trays inside the case next to the cash register. Rachel could almost hear the calorie-filled goodies calling her name and her stomach growled in anticipation.

  “A bear claw or a cream cheese Danish?” Rachel bit her lip and debated the choices. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a big grin on Matt’s face. She gave into her craving. “Oh, give me a bear claw, a cream cheese Danish and a cup of hazelnut coffee.”

  He leaned closer and whispered, “What army are you feeding today?”

  Rachel glanced at the bandage on his head and her holiday spirit dampened. “I’m celebrating the fact that we’re both alive this morning.” Her chin quivered. “I was so scared last night when I saw you unconscious.”