Kidnapped at Christmas

by Maggie K. Black

  Samantha ran for her phone.

  “Get out of my building!” The voice was female, high-pitched and furious.

  Yvonne? Samantha turned back. A glimpse of silver hair and flowing black fabric moved through the empty doorway.

  “Yvonne!” She ran across the landing. “Stop! It’s me, Samantha—”

  The bat swung again. But this time Joshua was ready. He leaped to the side, grabbed the bat with both hands, and yanked before Yvonne had time to even let go. Her landlady’s pencil-thin form tumbled through the doorway. Josh reached out and caught her with one arm before she could hit the floor.

  Yvonne gasped. Long, silver-blond hair tumbled around her back. A black, red-lined winter cape wrapped around her shoulders. The rose-tinted glasses perched on her nose made her irises look almost purple. Samantha had never known how to guess Yvonne’s age, but she was definitely old enough to be somebody’s grandmother.

  “Yvonne, I’m so, so sorry!” Samantha cried. “Joshua! This is my landlady.”

  “Forgive me, ma’am, I mistook you for an intruder.” He carefully set Yvonne to her feet. His right hand hovered behind her back until he was certain she was steady. But still his left hand held the baseball bat. “I can’t apologize enough. This mix-up is entirely my fault.”

  Yvonne straightened her clothes. A scowl turned on bright red lips. “Samantha, who is this man?”

  “Sorry,” Samantha said again, not even certain what she was apologizing for but yet feeling like she couldn’t apologize enough. “This is Joshua. He’s my...” She hesitated as words flitted past her tongue. He’s my bodyguard, my rescuer, my hero...

  “Her friend,” Joshua supplied. “My name is Corporal Joshua Rhodes. I’m serving with the Canadian army, but home for the holidays. In fact, Samantha was just showing me her apartment and telling me how much she likes living here.”

  His tone of voice somehow managed to be conciliatory without leaving any doubt that he was the one in charge of the situation. He was still holding the bat away from Yvonne, but in such a casual way that if someone hadn’t been paying attention they might’ve thought he’d forgotten about it.

  There was something about the way he just stood there, filling Samantha’s tiny landing with this sense of calm and authority that suddenly made her so very aware of his military training. That made her think that maybe, just maybe, here was a man who was even capable of helping her slowly pry back whatever it was that had locked up her heart so tightly she could barely feel it beating. If only he was staying in her life beyond today. If only he saw her as more than just a problem to be fixed and a favor to be sorted.

  “We should all go to my apartment, sit down and talk,” Samantha said. “We’ve all been through a lot. I’ll make some tea.” It was bad enough the horror with the Magpie almost cost her life and job. She wouldn’t let it threaten her apartment too. “Please, Yvonne.”

  Her landlady sniffed and for a moment Samantha thought she was going to argue. But instead she just turned the lock on the back of the damaged doorknob and closed the door. “Come on, then. We might as well talk this out.”

  Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. Yvonne tended to run hot and cold. Samantha would make tea and find some cookies. Joshua would probably be charming and listen to Yvonne’s stories. It was hard to imagine anyone disliking him for long. She led the way into her small, one-bedroom apartment. “Have a seat. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “What kind of trouble are you in exactly?” Yvonne stayed standing. “I don’t appreciate being woken up in the early hours by a phone call from one of my tenants warning me to expect a visit by police.” She cut her eyes at Joshua. He was sitting on the very edge of the armchair and still hadn’t let go of the bat. “Or being attacked by some stranger in my own building.”

  Okay, so apparently Yvonne wasn’t going to bounce back that fast.

  Samantha took a deep breath, and tried to weigh how to tell the landlady the truth, without being too dramatic or telling her more than she needed to know. Figuring out the right words to say was never Samantha’s strength even under the best of circumstances.

  “I was...” Samantha started. Then paused. Kidnapped? Attacked? Waylaid? Abducted? Tied up with Christmas ribbon and left at her boss’s house with an explosive device under the small of her back? “The details are really fuzzy, but I was accosted by someone on my way to work this morning. They forced me into a vehicle, drove me around and dumped me at my boss’s house.”

  Yvonne took in a breath so sharply it was like someone had sucker punched her. Her face blanched.

  “Now, I wasn’t badly hurt, by any means. I wasn’t really hurt at all,” Samantha added quickly. “Fortunately, Joshua was there to help me and he’s agreed to hang around and make sure I’m okay until I catch a train home to see my family.”

  “And the police?” Yvonne’s voice rose. “What do they say? You know they came stomping around here, asking me to let them in to rifle through your apartment.”

  Yes, she’d given the police permission to search her apartment that morning and had told Yvonne to expect them.

  Samantha glanced around. Well, if police had been “stomping” through, certainly nothing looked touched. It was more likely they’d just looked around long enough to confirm it wasn’t a secondary crime scene and left.

  “Well, thank you for letting them in,” she said. “I’m sure all they were trying to do was eliminate this as a possible crime scene.” And certainly she didn’t see anything out of place. “But we’re pretty sure what’s going on is totally related to my work and nothing personal. Someone’s unhappy with my newspaper, for whatever reason, and I happened to be a staff person they could threaten. A couple of intruders broke into my office too. I’m sure it’s absolutely nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Your job. Of course.” Yvonne snorted. It was a disdain-filled sound that seemed to emanate from the back of her throat. Then she turned to Joshua as if suddenly deciding he was a potential ally. “This girl works too much. Too hard and too much for that tiny little newspaper. I come up the stairs at night and all I hear is tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. You know, a few days ago I saw a nice young man come in here, in a good suit, carrying a big shopping bag. He tells me he’s here to bring her cat food and cook her lunch. Then a few minutes later I see him walk back down the stairs. He tells me she’s too busy for lunch. Too busy for lunch on a Saturday, with a handsome young man who has a good job.” She rolled her eyes. Her finger jabbed the air toward Samantha. “This one likes her job so much she turns down a man like that? It’s like she has no heart beating in her chest. None. She will end up old, bitter and alone.”

  Samantha winced. She should be used to Yvonne’s ranting by now. After all, she was probably doing nothing more than projecting her own pains and disappointments onto Samantha. Yet something about her sharp words stung deeper than she liked to admit. Was her heart faulty? Was she even capable of making a connection with someone like Joshua?

  “Do you often come up here to the top floor at night?” Joshua asked.

  Yvonne’s mouth parted slightly. Then it snapped shut like she’d just been caught out.

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I get noise complaints about the tapping.”

  “You received a noise complaint about Samantha’s typing from Bella across the hall, before she moved out?” Joshua wasn’t letting it rest.

  Yvonne crossed her arms in front of her chest and didn’t even bother answering. Something cold and stubborn flickered behind her rose-colored lenses.

  “You mentioned a young man coming by to invite Samantha for lunch,” he pressed.

  “That would be my friend Eric,” Samantha said. “The one who used to date Bella. He dropped off some cat food last Saturday and offered to make me lunch. I told him I was busy.”

  But Joshua barely glanced at her. Instead he leaned forward, as if he found Yvonne’s complaints fascinating.

  “Do you often question your tenants’ visitors ab
out who they are and what they’re doing in the building?” he asked. Again, his voice was so calm it was almost unnerving. Was he trying to get information out of Yvonne? Did he think he was being helpful?

  “Shouldn’t I protect myself from strange men roaming around in my building?”

  “Have you had a problem with intruders before?”

  Yvonne crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe you didn’t,” he said. “Maybe you just like bullying your tenants and take it for granted they’d rather move out than challenge you or take you to landlord tenant tribunal for wrongful eviction?”

  Just like that the darks of Yvonne’s eyes snapped from ice to fire. “You’re wrong. You don’t know anything. Maybe I am tired of some creepy man wandering around outside at night, taking pictures, trying doors, spying on me!”

  “What creepy man?” Joshua stood up and Samantha could practically hear the hackles rising at the back of his neck. “Are you saying you called the police about someone spying on this building?”

  “The police? Bah! What would the police do? I warned my tenants! I saw someone spying on my tenants, I caught a man trying to break into the building, so I put up flyers, telling them not to let any unidentified people into the building!”

  Samantha could feel her jaw drop. “You did what?”

  But Yvonne had already turned on her heels and stomped out of the apartment. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs.

  “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” Joshua asked.

  “No.” Samantha shook her head. “I mean, maybe I saw something about watching for strangers. But she does that all the time. It’s hard to explain Yvonne. She latches onto things. She’s a bit paranoid. She puts up flyers for everything.”

  Joshua sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually trying to upset her. I was hoping that if I pushed her a bit something would click and we’d get somewhere helpful. You never want to discount a potential ally. But, you really need to move out of here and find a new apartment.”

  Before, that tone of confidence and authority in his voice had been reassuring. Now it rubbed her exactly the wrong way.

  “I like my apartment. Despite Yvonne’s ranting it’s probably safer than a lot of buildings. I can afford the rent. I can live here on my own. It’s walking distance from my work, which is nearly impossible to find in the city—”

  “Here!” Yvonne strode back into the room, waving a torn blue notice in her hand that looked like it had been stuck to the wall under several subsequent pieces of paper. “I told you I’d warned the people who lived in my building that somebody was sneaking around!”

  She slapped the flyer down on the coffee table. Samantha looked down at the photocopied face of the snoop who’d broken into Torchlight and tried to steal her tablet.

  SEVEN

  The picture was grainy, like someone had taken it hastily from a distance and then enlarged it with a photocopier. The man’s eyes were hidden under the low brim of a baseball cap. His face was partially turned away from the camera. And yet, somehow Joshua still knew what Samantha was thinking before he even felt her fingers brush his sleeve. He raised his hand slightly in her direction, just enough that he hoped she’d understand he was asking her to hold the thought.

  “Is this the only photo you took of this man?” he asked.

  Yvonne scowled. “The only one where you can see his face. He’s sneaky.”

  “Do you mind if we keep this?”

  “Take it.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t care. Take it and get out. I don’t want men like you in my building.” She slammed the door so hard behind her that the whole room seemed to rattle.

  “I suspect I know what you’re going to say,” Joshua said.

  “Besides the fact I’m aware my landlady doesn’t actually have the right to dictate who her tenants’ friends are?” Samantha asked. She sighed and dropped down onto the couch. “Yeah, that’s the intruder in the hat I saw snooping around Olivia’s office, who tried to grab my tablet and then tailed us when we left. That’s where I saw him before. It all just clicked.” She dropped her head into her hands. “So, this is what it’s like to suddenly remember something you’d forgotten. It feels like it should’ve always been obvious. But to be honest, with the number of flyers she puts up you just kind of stop noticing them after a while.”

  He sat down beside her. His hand touched her shoulder with the same kind of comforting tap he might give a fellow soldier heading out to battle. But then, instead of pulling away, he found himself running his hand across her back to rest in that gentle dip where her neck met her shoulders. “How are you doing?”

  “Badly?” She tilted her head and looked at him sideways. Her jaw brushed against his forearm. “How do I ever begin to make sense of the fact that this man, whoever he is, didn’t just break into my work but was also sneaking around my home? Does that mean what happened to me today wasn’t just some crime of opportunity? It was actually planned?”

  “I don’t know.” This man could’ve been watching Samantha for weeks before she was grabbed, and the only person who’d noticed him snooping around didn’t even tell the police. Now that was a terrifying thought. This is why armies weren’t loosely organized bunches of well-meaning people. “Once you’ve grabbed your stuff, we’ll take this to the police.”

  “Yvonne will kill me if I send the police to question her,” she said. “She hates cops. It’s amazing she even let them into my space. She told me once she used to read all the files of the young people she worked with and told me this one story about how she was like a hero to these kids because the police came to arrest one, and she kicked up a fuss and refused to let them in. Maybe it stems back to whatever damage her ex-husband did to her. It sounds like he was pretty brutal. But for whatever reason, she bristles around anyone in uniform.”

  “A lot of people feel that way,” he said. “I mean, a huge number of people really respect the uniform too. But there’ve certainly been missions where it would’ve been easier to deal with certain people if I’d been wearing jeans and my leather jacket.”

  The jacket was still hung on a hook by her door. And somehow it saddened him, just a very little bit, to think that she wouldn’t be wearing it when they left.

  She stood up, reached into her bag, and pulled out the tablet. “I’m going to open a specific story file in the ATHENA on everything we know about what’s happened—just like I would for any other big investigation. I’ve got pictures of the graffiti, a picture of Hermes I shot from the balcony and this picture of whoever this guy was. Plus I’ll type up everything I can remember. Maybe it will connect to other crimes elsewhere. We can only hope.”

  She took a picture of the flyer. Then she folded it carefully and slid it into her skirt pocket. It was the same pocket that held the wrapped box that had been waiting for her when she got home. Was it from the same guy who’d invited her to lunch? And how come she didn’t want to talk about it?

  He could feel the questions building in his mind like a pressure headache.

  “Also, I think I will call Theresa and tell her I will come see her today, if she’s got time. Her place is called Palm Branches?”

  “Palm Branches Counseling,” he confirmed. “It’s about thirty minutes north of here up the 404. Daniel said either today at four or tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “Today works.” She glanced at the wooden clock hanging on the wall. “It might help to talk everything out with someone who’s not involved in any of this. At the very least getting my own mind straight could help me with researching.” She started for the bedroom. “I’m going to finish packing and get changed. I won’t be long. Just make yourself at home. There’s coffee in the cupboard and some milk in the fridge. If anything happens...go ahead and take care of it.”

  The bedroom door closed behind her. The lock clicked. He leaned back onto the couch and prayed. God, please help me protect her.

  He opened his eyes again and found him
self looking at her small Christmas tree and realized with a start that it was still alive. He sat up and took a better look. The tree was about three feet tall and potted in the earth of a festive clay pot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen an indoor Christmas tree that was still growing. He ran his fingers along the branches, feeling the needles prick the pads of his fingers and the supple springiness of branches that were still full of life. Every decoration from the popcorn strings, to the knitted sheep, to the ugly painted bird peeking out from deep in the branches, seemed handmade. He’d gone through more than one Christmas overseas and so gotten used to plastic trees and fake snow. But that didn’t mean he’d liked them. Artificial things had always rubbed him the wrong way. Artificial people had too.

  The realness of the tree suited Samantha. Her home was full of antique things, secondhand things and things that she’d made or that someone had made for her. Things he’d imagined that she’d selected carefully and wouldn’t let go of easily. No wonder she’d seemed so sad about her one-of-a-kind coat.

  Her cell phone started to ring, rattling its way across the canoe table.

  He leaped up. “Your phone is ringing.”

  The phone slipped off the table and clattered onto the floor. The ringing stopped. He bent down and picked it up.

  “Samantha? Hey? You there?” A voice filled the room. It was male, young and charming. Either the call had connected when the phone had hit the floor or he’d accidentally answered it when he picked it up. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Hey,” Joshua said. The call display showed a local Toronto number but no name. Yet something about the voice sounded oddly familiar. He held the phone to his ear. “I’m very sorry. This isn’t Samantha. I’ll go see if she’s free—”

  “Who is this?” The charm was gone. Now the voice was suspicious.