Christmas Under Fire

by Michelle Karl

  “Do you know where he went?”

  Cally shook her head. “He said he’d call the police as soon as he was far enough away from me. He evidently thinks he’s going to escape quickly, with no one able to follow and catch him. Maybe the airport? That’s the only place I can think of that he’d be able to disappear fast without someone being able to follow, especially if there’s a charter plane waiting for him. I don’t get it. He’s not thinking straight. But I am.”

  Before Aaron could say anything else, before he could protest and tell her that it wouldn’t work out between them, she planted her hands on Aaron’s shoulders, launched herself up to her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his.

  SIXTEEN

  Aaron couldn’t believe this was happening—and he also couldn’t believe it was over so quickly.

  He stared as Cally pulled away, a hint of a smile on her face. “Thank you for coming to rescue me,” she said. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I didn’t,” he said, but his words were breathless and forced. Had she honestly just kissed him? “I...the RCMP set up barriers at the town limits, but I had a funny feeling that if you’d been taken, you’d be past the town limits already. I prayed for God’s guidance, and for whatever reason, I had a sense of peace when I decided to travel the same road to the airport that we’ve taken a few times before. And then I saw you running toward me.”

  He embraced her again, wishing that the whole situation was resolved already so he could stand here and hold her forever—but as he released her, ready to ask her about the kiss, the radio in the patrol car beeped. “I need to check that,” he said. Cally didn’t hesitate; she nodded and followed him to the car.

  They slipped inside, and he opened the channel before he’d even made it all the way into his seat. “Go ahead.”

  “Hey, it’s Leo. I just heard back from the rental place about the snowmobile—actually, I had to track the owner down at the tree lighting. I guess he’s on the volunteer crew, one of the hockey guys, so he’s been tough to get in touch with.”

  Aaron pulled the car onto the road and put the call on speaker, bracing himself for more bad news. “Give it to me.”

  “A man rented the snowmobile and wanted to pay in cash, but that made the owner nervous so he insisted the guy leave a physical address to comply with the permits and so forth. He made a copy of the guy’s class five license, but it wasn’t until after the man left that the owner realized the individual had used a forged ID and given him the address of that cop motel outside of Fort St. Jacob. You know, the one on the highway between St. J’s and Schroeder Lake.”

  “Any video footage?”

  “Nothing useful. Black-and-white and grainy. I saw some stills via cell phone camera, and honestly the guy looks like the one you described after the attack in the grocery store. I’m sending over the image right now, but this might explain why we’re having trouble with the townsfolk giving us any assistance. We’re asking the wrong townsfolk.”

  Aaron wanted to punch the steering wheel. So the person or people responsible—and he wasn’t going to pin this on anyone specific just yet, he didn’t have enough evidence—had stayed outside of town, made lengthy trips up to Fort Mason on a snowmobile and back roads to avoid getting caught, and then...crashed their snowmobile? “Did he only rent one?”

  “No, that’s just it. The guy paid a hefty sum to rent two, but only left one name. And the owner only ever saw one person. Which, yes, also illegal, but we’ll deal with that later.”

  “Thanks, Leo. Keep the channels open. I’m pursuing a lead at the regional airport and it’s entirely possible that—”

  The radio suddenly buzzed with static, as if they’d entered a dead zone for reception—not unusual out on the back roads, especially during the winter. Aaron would simply wait for reception to return so he could continue to update Leo and the rest of the force, until—

  Something slammed into the side of the vehicle.

  Cally screamed as the patrol car slid sideways on the snowy road. Despite having been plowed and salted, there was still plenty of snow and ice on the road underneath the tires, and the car spun as Aaron tried to correct their course. When he managed to get the car reoriented, he saw it. A snowmobile sat in the road in front of them, the front end looking dinged but not much worse for wear. The driver, suited in full black gear, likely hadn’t intended to damage their snowmobile—just make a serious effort to force the patrol car off the road.

  Well, it hadn’t worked. And it wouldn’t. No one was going to scare him away from getting to that airport and, Lord willing, getting some answers. It was time to finish this.

  The snowmobile driver revved his vehicle. His opponent wanted to play chicken on winter roads? Aaron knew how this worked, and he refused to be intimidated.

  He stepped on the gas and the patrol car zoomed forward, directly at the oncoming driver.

  * * *

  Cally braced herself, one hand on the side of her seat and the other on the handle above the door. The instant before impact, the snowmobile driver yanked his wheel and spun the skis of his off-road vehicle, sliding horizontally in front of the patrol car and sending sprays of snow shooting up in front of the windshield.

  Aaron shouted in alarm but slammed on the brakes for a split second before charging ahead.

  In the side mirror, Cally saw the snowmobile slip around to the back of the patrol car, then race up the side. The driver withdrew a long-barreled black handgun and aimed it toward the patrol car.

  “Aaron! He’s going to shoot at us!”

  “I see it. Stay braced, this is going to get wobbly for a minute.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, he pulled the steering wheel to the left ever so slightly, then pushed it to the right just as the snowmobile driver came up parallel to the patrol car’s back wheels, angling the gun as if to fire through the back window.

  Aaron’s maneuver sent the front end of the car veering right, cutting off the snowmobile driver and sending his shot wide. Cally ducked out of instinct, and in the side mirror she saw the driver plummet into the ditch and tip sideways. Relief filled her veins as Aaron corrected the patrol car’s trajectory and kept going.

  “Well, I guess that tells us something,” he mumbled, sounding angry.

  “There’s definitely more than one person involved in this,” she said. “I don’t know where my uncle fits in, but we know he only just arrived yesterday, right? His attendance at the conference is traceable. But if there were two snowmobiles rented...that man who attacked at the spa, and...Tricia? I don’t understand how my uncle and Tricia fit together, or what my locket has to do with anything. None of this makes sense. And how does my uncle even think he’s going to take off from the airport, if that’s where he is? It doesn’t operate after four o’clock!”

  “It operated last night by federal order when your uncle headed up here,” he reminded her. “I guess with everything going on, it’s entirely plausible that someone might have posed as law enforcement to get the same thing to happen tonight. Or threw money at an attendant and bribed them to keep the place open. Or they could simply be using the runways unauthorized.”

  Cally swallowed hard on a lump in her throat. Had her uncle been telling the truth, that he’d been trying to protect her from the attackers? But his actions betrayed his words, despite the fear he’d shown.

  The tension in the vehicle ratcheted up as they pulled onto the long road leading into the airport. Cally felt her shoulders creep up around her ears, her neck tightening with unshakable stress as Aaron parked the car thirty meters from the door. He radioed in to his fellow officers, and Cally gasped when she realized that the front door to the airport was open. There appeared to be a light on inside.

  “I’m going in,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt.

  “No, you’re not,” Aaron replied. He climbed out of the car a
nd slammed the door—and locked it.

  Cally tried the door. It didn’t budge. She pounded on the window and shouted at Aaron, but still it remained locked. How could he do this to her? How could he keep her inside? Her uncle was in there, she needed answers—

  Aaron slipped into the airport.

  Seconds later, the car door unlocked.

  She didn’t waste a single second. She burst out of the car and ran at top speed toward the open door.

  SEVENTEEN

  For a moment, Aaron wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. From where he stood inside the doorway, he could see into the waiting room of one of the airport gates. Half of the terminal was still dark, as if someone had only turned on the lights they needed. When Aaron stuck his head around the corner of the waiting area, he saw no one else. The airport felt as empty as the night Cally had been left behind, so he’d unlocked the doors of the patrol car via remote so Cally could come inside instead of wait in the vehicle all alone and risk triggering a terrible flashback to when she’d been by herself and threatened inside the police car two days before.

  Aaron reached the front door at the same moment Cally burst inside.

  “Did you find him? My uncle?” Cally’s gaze darted frantically around the terminal. “I didn’t see a car outside. I should have mentioned, he must have stolen a car to get here, but wouldn’t we see it in the front lot? He might not even be here—”

  A door banged on the other side of the terminal. It came from the direction of the washrooms, and Aaron could have kicked himself—why hadn’t he thought to check there first? This had the potential to be a repeat of Cally’s first incident all over again.

  A familiar voice boomed out of the darkness.

  “Hang on...what is this? Why...?” Uncle Zarek emerged from the washroom, straightening his suit jacket. When he noticed Aaron and Cally, he did a double take right before a look of horror washed over his face. “No...no! You can’t be here! Callandra, I told you to stay away from me. You need to hide, quickly!”

  Aaron’s hands found his Taser. He slid it quietly out of its holster.

  “Sorry, what?” Zarek scurried toward the open front door, but Aaron raised his weapon.

  “Stop right where you are. What’s going on? Why did you kidnap your niece?”

  Zarek turned around slowly, his hands in the air. One of his fists was clenched shut. “Please, listen to me. You need to hide. Go in the washroom or out the back, or in the luggage room. Anywhere, and do it quickly. They’ll be here any second.”

  “Who?” Cally pleaded with her uncle and moved closer to Aaron’s side, and he could almost feel the confusion and fear radiating off her. “Where’s Tricia? What role does she play in all this?”

  Her uncle frowned. “Who’s Tricia?”

  And then Aaron heard it—the buzz of a snowmobile coming closer.

  Zarek’s confusion turned to panic. “You’re too late. They’ll see the patrol car and know you’re here, and I won’t be able to save you. I’ll try.” He looked at Cally with sadness and determination. “I wasn’t lying when I said that’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time. I never meant for things to go this far. Please believe me. That’s why I came. I was going to come anyway, but you gave me an excuse. I—”

  A shot rang out. Cally screamed as her uncle fell face-first onto the ground, and Aaron switched out his weapon and drew his sidearm as a person in white winter gear and a white helmet strode through the open door, gun extended and aimed at the two of them. Aaron had had no time to make a plan, no time to figure out what was going on.

  “Get behind me,” Aaron murmured to Cally. She complied.

  The white-suited figure tilted his head at Aaron and Cally, shaking his weapon and shouting angrily beneath his helmet. Aaron couldn’t make sense of the words—it sounded like their attacker was speaking another language. Before Aaron could protest his lack of understanding, Zarek groaned from the floor. The armed attacker looked down and crouched, weapon still trained on Aaron and Cally.

  He reached for Zarek’s clenched fist and pulled something out of the center—the locket. Weapons at a stalemate, the man then backed out of the airport instead, shutting the door behind him.

  It made sense—Aaron figured he would have done the same thing. If one of them had fired, they’d have both lost.

  But that didn’t mean Aaron was going to let him get away. The instant the door closed, he sprang toward it, trying to shake it open as Cally rushed over to assist her uncle.

  Uncle Zarek moaned. Aaron looked over his shoulder and winced as blood seeped out from under the man’s body. Cally appeared to be dialing 911, and Aaron didn’t have the heart to tell her that help might not arrive in time.

  “What just happened?” Cally cried as she waited for the call to connect.

  Aaron slammed his fists against the door, launching his weight into the crash bar. “There’s something inside the locket. Your uncle has gotten himself mixed up in a very dangerous scheme, Cally. I can almost guarantee it.”

  “But he said he was trying to protect me...and the attacker, he yelled at me, he said...” Her voice trailed off.

  Aaron wasn’t going to stand around and wait for Cally’s attacker to disappear again—he decided to take a page out of the criminal’s book.

  He grabbed one of the chairs in the waiting area and hurled it with all his strength at the front windows. The chair crashed through the nearest pane, providing Aaron with an opening to leap through, weapon drawn. Halfway down the driveway, a black-suited figure revved a snowmobile as the first assailant raced toward it.

  “They’re going to get away!” Cally’s voice filled with dismay behind him.

  “Not if I can help it,” Aaron said. So there were two assailants after all—two people who’d bested him so far, thanks to the element of surprise. But this time, he had the advantage, and an even stronger motivation.

  These villains needed to be served justice for all the suffering and harm they’d done to the woman he loved.

  He dropped into fighting stance, then raised his sidearm—but as the first assailant reached the moving snowmobile and climbed aboard, both he and the snowmobile driver raised their weapons, as well. Two armed assailants against one.

  What do I do, Lord?

  “Aaron! Unbalance them!” Cally shouted behind him.

  Aaron grunted. “You’re absolutely right.”

  Sirens rose in the distance.

  He lowered his aim and took the shot—at the snowmobile’s engine.

  Three rounds slammed into the front of the vehicle. The snowmobile lurched, skidded sideways and pitched onto its side, trapping the passengers underneath.

  Police cars careened into the airport driveway, lights flashing as they sped toward the downed snowmobile. The attackers were trying to pull themselves out from under the heavy vehicle, to make an escape—but it was too late. Officers poured out of the cars with weapons drawn. The snowmobile driver raised his weapon, too, in a last-ditch attempt at resistance.

  Aaron saw it coming before it happened. He spun around and reached through the empty window for Cally, pulling her face into his shoulder as his fellow officers raised their sidearms and multiple bangs split the air.

  The sound echoed into silence and Cally drew back. “Is it over?”

  He nodded, sad for the inevitable loss of life but relieved that the danger to Cally was finally over. “I think so.” Then he glanced back at Uncle Zarek. “But not quite. I’ve got to get these doors braced so the paramedics can come inside.” He struggled with the doors, managing to swing them open and hold them in place with door stoppers. As the paramedics rushed in with a stretcher and equipment, Aaron found Cally standing stock-still, staring at the huddled mass of people around the one relative she’d thought she could trust.

  His heart ached for her.

 
He placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, startled out of her own thoughts. “You should sit down,” he said. “We’ll get our answers, but in the meantime, the paramedics are going to do everything they can. We’re going to get your uncle the medical attention he needs. That comes first. All right?”

  She nodded, clearly in too much shock to speak. It looked like the words kept slipping from her lips every time she tried to shape them, and Aaron wished he knew what to say to make things better—or whether he shouldn’t say anything at all.

  So he tried that first, leaning over to plant a gentle, soft kiss on her waiting mouth.

  When he pulled back, her features had relaxed, but worry still ringed her eyes. And when she spoke his name, the timbre was scratchy and uncertain. “Aaron?”

  “Yes?” He took her hand to encourage her, but her breathing had gone shallow.

  “We have all the answers we need. The guy who yelled at us under his helmet? He was speaking Amaran. Not English. This entire time, it’s had nothing to do with Tricia at all. My uncle must have been using me to move information by hiding it inside my locket—what my uncle said to me earlier makes sense now. When the guy came into the airport yelling at us, he was saying something about me wanting to be cut in on their deal, accusing me of running away to try to delay the information transfer so I could demand more money or blackmail them. That means...that means my uncle has been deceiving me since day one. Since the day of Esai’s memorial. The one family member I thought I could trust has been betraying me this entire time.”

  A sob escaped her lips, the weight of truth visibly bearing down on her.

  “Aaron,” she said, gazing up at him. He’d thought he’d never seen a greater sadness on anyone in his lifetime.

  “Tell me what I can do,” he said. “Anything. How can I help?”