Her Christmas Guardian

by Shirlee McCoy

HEART had plenty of resources and those could be accessed quickly. No bureaucracy, no hoops to jump through. The team decided what needed to be done, and they found a way to do it. Cyrus Mitchell was already working his magic. Lucy’s kidnapper had used a cell phone, and Cyrus thought he could follow the signal and pinpoint a location.

  If so, they could have Lucy well before the midnight deadline.

  He didn’t tell Scout that. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, and he didn’t want her to have any less urgency in the search for whatever it was the kidnapper wanted.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Scout sat silently, her body so tense he thought she might snap in two. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left Raina’s place. Hadn’t asked any questions, hadn’t mentioned hearing her daughter’s voice.

  He let her keep her silence. Asking a bunch of questions she couldn’t answer wasn’t going to help the situation. Stella had filled him in on the conversation and the demands. That was all he needed to know. For now.

  He took a straight shot to Scout’s place. No side roads. No worries about being followed. The kidnapper had made his demands known, and the goal was to make him believe those demands were going to be met. Let him see Scout return to her house, let him watch the police and FBI combing the area. The fact that the guy had made his demands by phone just proved that he didn’t think he could be caught.

  Or maybe he just thought that having a hostage would keep him from being pursued.

  It didn’t matter.

  He’d be caught. HEART had worked cases like this dozens of times. While the FBI and local P.D. went through the proper channels, HEART worked like a well-oiled machine.

  He pulled into Scout’s driveway, parking behind a squad car. There were several unmarked vehicles, as well, and a uniformed officer stood at the door.

  “This should be interesting,” he murmured as he offered Scout a hand out.

  She didn’t take it. Just sat where she was, her face pale, her eyes glassy. She’d been crying, but she’d stopped before he’d arrived at Raina’s house.

  “Scout,” he prodded, touching her fisted hand. “You can’t stay here.”

  “I don’t know what he wants.” She met his eyes, her gaze hollow and filled with the kind of pain most people would never know. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to get out of the car.” He pulled her to her feet, his hands settling on her waist. “You’re going to go inside, and you’re going to search the house until you find whatever it is he wants.”

  “I have never,” she whispered, “been so scared of failing in my life.”

  “You’re not going to fail.”

  “I already did. She was crying for me. She wanted me to come for her, and I couldn’t.” Her voice broke, but she didn’t let any more tears escape.

  “That wasn’t a failure.”

  “To Lucy it was. There has never been a time when she’s needed me that I haven’t been able to be there for her. Until today.”

  “You’ll be with her soon, and she’ll forget that you ever weren’t.”

  “You hope.”

  “I believe. There’s a difference. Come on.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, was surprised when she leaned into him. The subtle shift, the easing of her muscles, the slow melting toward him—it took him by surprise. Since Lana’s death, he hadn’t had much interest in dating. After experiencing married life, having a child, seeing the beauty of family, he hadn’t been interested in playing games. He hadn’t wanted short-term, and he’d been sure that he didn’t want long-term, either. His life was full of work, of friendships, of a passion for something that most people couldn’t understand. He’d dated a few women in the past few years, but he’d known it wouldn’t be fair to offer more than one or two dinners, maybe a trip to the movies. He didn’t just love his job. He was compelled by it, driven by it. He couldn’t not do it. Even if he’d wanted to. That left little time for relationships.

  That had always been fine by him.

  But maybe it wasn’t fine anymore.

  Maybe he wanted more than his empty apartment and his potted plants. Maybe he wanted someone to go home to.

  NINE

  She was slogging through mud.

  At least, that was how it felt to Scout. She tried to match pace with Boone’s long-legged stride, but no matter how much she willed herself to move more quickly, she just couldn’t seem to do it.

  He must have realized it. He slowed his pace, keeping his arm firmly around her waist as he led her toward a uniformed police officer. If she’d felt stronger, she’d have told Boone she could manage just fine on her own. She didn’t. She felt weak and scared. Despite what Boone said, she wasn’t sure she’d find what Lucy’s kidnapper had demanded. She was hoping that it was in one of the library books she’d brought home. If it wasn’t, she had no idea where to look. And if she didn’t find it, what would happen? Would she ever see her daughter again?

  She gritted her teeth to keep from asking the questions. She knew Boone couldn’t give her a definitive answer. He’d said she would be with Lucy soon, said he was believing it rather than hoping it. All the belief in the world couldn’t make something true. She’d learned that the hard way.

  “Good morning, Ms. Cramer,” the officer said, his gaze jumping from Scout to Boone and back again. “Officer Lamar is waiting for you inside. Your friend is going to have to wait out here.”

  The muscles in Boone’s arm tensed, his fingers pressing a little more firmly into her side. He didn’t speak, though, didn’t argue. She could have walked inside and left him where he was. It should have been the easy thing to do. She’d been going it alone for so many years that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone in her corner.

  Until Boone had come along, and suddenly she remembered how it felt to stand shoulder to shoulder with another person, to know there was someone to hold her up when she wanted to fall down. She didn’t want to give that up.

  “I’d rather he come with me,” she said, and his fingers caressed her waist, smoothing along the edges of her waistband in a subtle sign of approval.

  “Sorry. That’s not possible.”

  “Why not?” Boone asked without heat or aggression. He might have been asking the time of day or commenting on the weather, for all the emotion in his voice.

  “The house is a crime scene. We’re still processing it.”

  “I don’t think so,” Boone said with a smile that looked more feral than polite. “I was in Officer Lamar’s office earlier this morning. He made it very clear that Scout could return home. Would he have done that if he was still processing the scene?”

  “I don’t—”

  “We both know that he wouldn’t,” Boone continued. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “The FBI is already working with the River Valley P.D. We don’t need a third party involved.”

  “I’m here as Scout’s friend. Are you going to deny a crime victim the support she needs?”

  “We’re doing everything in our power to make this as easy on Ms. Cramer as we can.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Boone pointed out.

  The officer scowled. “Stay here. I’ll check with Lamar. If he says you’re in, you’re in. If he says you stay out, you’re out.”

  He walked inside, closing the door just a little too firmly behind him.

  “Nice guy,” Boone said easily.

  “He probably is. Most days.”

  “Just not today?” Boone asked with a half smile. He seemed distracted, his eyes scanning the yard, the driveway, the copse of trees across the road.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked, and his ocean-blue gaze landed right smack-dab on her face. She’d thought he was handsome the day they’d met, but she hadn’t re
alized how handsome. The angle of his jaw and cheekbones, the firm curve of his lips, the day’s growth of beard on his chin created a picture that nearly stole her breath.

  “Someone affiliated with the guy who took your daughter. He wasn’t working alone. More than one car followed you from the store the night Lucy was taken. I’d say that he’s got someone watching the house, making sure you’re looking for whatever it is he wants.”

  She tensed, the thought of someone watching her, stalking her while she searched, making her skin crawl. “We should tell the police.”

  “They know. The FBI knows. This is something we’ve all done dozens of times. Every kidnapper thinks he’s unique, but most of them are working under the same premise. They want something. They make sure they have something valuable to barter with. In this case, Lucy. Once they have that, they aren’t content to sit and wait. Most of the time, they’re actively keeping tabs on the victim’s family.”

  “Nice.” She shivered, and he shrugged out of his jacket, draped it around her shoulders. It smelled like soap and aftershave, and she burrowed in, letting his warmth seep into her.

  “Predictable is a better word,” he responded. “See the guy in your living room window?” He eased her around so she was facing the house.

  Sure enough, someone was standing in front of the window. “Yes.”

  “He’s doing the same thing I am—looking for someone who’s hanging around watching you.”

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of someone skulking around keeping tabs on me.”

  “The guy who called you is going to want to know that you’re following orders. He’ll be happy to see that things are going exactly the way he wants. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried about him watching me. I’m worried that I won’t be able to find what he wants by the midnight deadline. I have limited time, and I’m standing outside my house waiting.”

  “It’s your house, Scout. If you want to be inside, go inside.”

  “The officer—”

  “Can’t keep you from your property. Lamar cleared it as a crime scene last night. That being the case, he can’t keep you outside.”

  “I’ve never been much of a rebel, Boone. I can’t imagine doing something a police officer told me not to do.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” He reached past her, turned the doorknob. The door swung open, revealing her still-trashed living room and a group of men and women who seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. They went silent as Boone nudged her across the threshold.

  “Sorry to break up the party,” he said. “But we’re on a time crunch here, and Scout is feeling a little stressed about it.”

  “The last thing I want,” Officer Lamar said as he separated himself from the group, “is to cause you any more stress than you’ve already had, Scout. But we really need to conduct this search in an organized manner. The best way to do that is to limit the number of people in the house.” He sent a pointed look in Boone’s direction.

  She ignored it.

  “I’ll make sure not to invite anyone else. If you don’t mind, I’m going to look at the library books I checked out last week.” She grabbed Boone’s hand without thinking, tugging him past the group and into the narrow hall. They made it all the way to her bedroom before he pulled her to a stop.

  “What?” She met his eyes, her cheeks heating when he smiled.

  “I’m impressed, Scout,” he said, his Southern drawl deep and rich. If she heard it every day for the rest of her life, she didn’t think she’d get tired of it. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a conformist rebel quite so well.”

  “I never said I was a conformist.” She tugged away, because heat was shooting up her arm, swirling in her belly, and she didn’t have time to think about what that meant or to decide if she wanted to explore it more.

  “Seems to me that you probably are. You live a quiet life, doing quiet things that don’t bother anyone. I talked to your neighbors, your coworkers, your church family. Not one person had a bad thing to say about you.”

  “First, you make that sound like a bad thing. Second, I’m not all that happy about the fact that you were talking to people I know.”

  “You were unconscious and your daughter was missing. Would you rather I waited until you came to to figure out if you might have had someone in your life who was capable of taking Lucy?”

  “I’d rather none of this had happened,” she responded, stepping into her room.

  It looked the same as it had the day before, the mess somehow magnified in the watery light that streamed through the window. She walked to the bookshelf that usually housed the library books she brought home for the week. All ten of the books were on the floor, jackets torn off, spines broken. She’d have to pay for them, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they’d already been searched. She could see that. Should have thought of it before.

  Deflated, she knelt beside them, lifting the one closest to her. The pages were bent, the cover torn off and ripped apart. “The books have already been searched.”

  “Did you hang your hat on the idea that you’d find something in one of them?” Boone picked up another book, flipped through the pages several times.

  “Stella thought maybe that’s how I’d got whatever it is the kidnapper wanted. She said I might have brought it home in a library book.”

  “It was a good idea,” he said gently, taking the book from her hand and setting both on the shelf. “But sometimes even the best ideas don’t work out.”

  “I...” ...just wanted to think that it would. She lifted another book, shook it out and set it with the others, her heart too heavy to continue. She hadn’t hung her hat on the idea, but she’d wanted so badly to walk in and find what she’d been looking for. “Don’t know where else to look.”

  “Did you buy anything recently? Furniture? Computer? Something used that someone might have hidden something in?”

  “No. I was waiting until after Christmas to do my shopping. Lucy has grown so much this year, and she needs new everything.” Her voice wobbled and she knew that if she didn’t do something, she was going to cry again. She stood, walked to her closet and the file cabinet. It had been emptied, of course, and she sifted through the tax documents and receipts, looking for the letters Amber had sent. They weren’t there.

  She frowned, lifting the cabinet and looking under it.

  “Are you looking for Amber’s letters?” Boone asked as he grabbed the mattress and tossed it back on the bed.

  “They aren’t here.”

  “You’re sure?” He stopped, both of her pillows under his arms. It looked as if he was trying to make up the bed, and for some reason, that touched her heart.

  “They’re not with the rest of the things that were in here, but there’s stuff strewn all over the room, so maybe I just haven’t found them yet.”

  He frowned, tossing the slashed pillows on top of the mattress. “I need to know for sure. If those letters were taken, that provides a direct link to the Schoepflin family.”

  “What does?” Officer Lamar walked in, a woman in a dark suit following him.

  “I got some letters from Amber Schoepflin before she died. They’re missing.”

  “Interesting,” the woman said. “I’m Special Agent Lynette Rodriguez. My team and I are working with Officer Lamar to bring Lucy home. We’ve already sent an agent to talk to Christopher Schoepflin. He’s denied any involvement in this but will be flying in from California tomorrow to meet with us.”

  She nodded, because she didn’t know what to say.

  There was nothing to say. When Christopher arrived, she’d have to explain to him. At that moment, she couldn’t make herself care. All she wanted was to have Lucy back. Everything else could be worked out after that. Whatever mistakes s
he’d made, she could rectify them. Whatever wrongs she’d committed, she could apologize for. She couldn’t go back in time and change her decision, but she could make better ones in the future.

  If she had the chance. If Christopher hadn’t been involved in kidnapping Lucy.

  “What we’d like to do today,” Agent Rodriguez continued, “is look for two things. The letters you’ve said are missing and whatever it is the kidnapper wants.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” she admitted, and the agent nodded.

  “Let’s go sit in the kitchen. We’ll make a list of possibilities.”

  She didn’t like the idea, especially because Officer Lamar had pulled Boone aside and was speaking quietly to him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, and that bothered her. It was as if they had a secret they were trying to keep from her.

  Boone must have sensed her hesitation. He met her eyes. “Go ahead. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll fill you in on what we discuss.”

  She didn’t normally take someone’s word on blind faith. Not anymore. Darren had told her that they’d get married, have a family and build a life together. He’d ended up running off with his sister’s best friend. Christopher had whispered a thousand sweet promises in her ear. He’d told her that she was beautiful and sweet and that he’d never realized just how much he was missing out on. He’d promised that they wouldn’t just have one night, that every night would be special. By the next day, he’d decided that he’d made a mistake, that Rachel really was the woman he wanted.

  Scout had been devastated. Again.

  She didn’t plan to repeat the mistake. She wasn’t going to put her trust in someone who wasn’t trustworthy.

  But Boone? She believed him. Maybe she even believed in him, because she trusted that he’d do everything he could, spend every hour he had available trying to bring Lucy home.

  “Scout,” the agent urged. “We really do need to get this list made. In cases like yours, time is of the essence.”

  “Right,” she said, turning away from Boone and following Agent Rodriguez into the kitchen.