Missing Under the Mistletoe Read online

  “We can’t do that, Nathan. You know the police will keep looking for him, and once word gets out, this whole town will be looking for him.”

  “Of course they will. Everyone loves jolly old Saint Churchill.” He began to laugh, his eyes still brimming with tears. “This town doesn’t even know the real man. On the outside he might seem like a warm, caring Santa, but on the inside he’s a cold, heartless bastard.”

  I think it’s time you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I said.

  “No,” he responded. His breathing slowed. He wiped his eyes and sharpened them on me. “I think it’s time you see what Santa Claus really looks like…on the inside.”

  Then Nathan’s gaze drifted away and he smiled to himself, humming a Christmas song, the name of which escaped me. He seemed suddenly content, so at peace that it frightened me. I glanced at Marco for help, but he merely sat there silently observing the young man with a distant look in his own eyes. I had no choice but to continue without him.

  “I understand your frustration with your father,” I said, “but that sounded like a threat. Are you planning on harming him?”

  Nathan stopped humming and gave me a cold glare. “You can’t possibly understand my frustration.”

  At that, Marco put his hand on my shoulder. “He’s right, Abby. You don’t understand.” He gave the back of my shoulder a light squeeze, which usually meant to follow along with what he said. Marco was an expert at reading people. I trusted his judgement, so I sat back and let him take over.

  Marco put his elbows on the table and continued, “It sounds like your father is a bad guy. I can see why you’re upset with him.”

  Nathan pursed his lips and shook his head. “You don’t get it either,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I think anymore. This town doesn’t see him as a bad guy, but they should. Maybe after tonight they will.”

  Marco tried to reason with him. “I see your point, but you can’t hurt him. That makes you the bad guy.”

  “If you had a father like mine,” Nathan leaned in, “you would want to hurt him, too.”

  Marco leaned in even closer and stared straight into Nathan’s eyes. “I did have a father like yours.”

  I looked at Marco in shock, and so did Nathan. His gaze shifted between Marco and me, as though he was confused, then he sat back in his chair and folded his arms, a smug look on his pale face. “What is this, good cop, bad florist?”

  “Hey,” I fired back. “I’m an excellent florist.”

  Marco put his hand on my shoulder again and leaned close to say, “Let me talk to him.”

  “Talk away,” I said.

  “In private,” Marco added.

  I stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. We were within spitting distance of our prime suspect, who had just clearly stated his intentions to harm his father, and Marco was asking me to step away?

  “Trust me,” Marco said finally.

  I pushed myself from the table and stood. I was buzzed out and ended up on a wooden bench in a hallway just beyond the central office. I sat down, thoughts swirling inside my head like snowflakes in a windstorm. And just like those snowflakes, each thought was unique, making them hard to collect. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of it all.

  Was Marco serious about his father or was he using that as an excuse to get closer to Nathan? How would I know? Marco refused to talk about his father.

  I checked my watch. The sun was about to set; the celebration would begin soon; and we were no closer to finding Santa Claus than we were before we’d arrived at the station.

  As I stood up to stretch my legs I saw a thin, silver-haired man in a navy pin-stripe suit walking up the long hall toward me. Beside him was Sergeant Reilly.

  My heart dropped into my stomach as our gazes locked. I had known Sergeant Sean Reilly for a very long time and he had never before given me such a disappointed look.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  My first instinct was to hide, as foolish as that sounded, but I quickly realized that even if I could have squeezed in behind the water cooler, Marco was still in the conference room with Nathan. I couldn’t very well abandon him. So I clasped my hands together and took a deep breath as the men approached me.

  Surprisingly, Reilly was being dressed down by the man in the suit, who was saying, “Sergeant, you should know better than to have my client interviewed before I arrived, not to mention his being interviewed by a private detective. I could have your badge for that.”

  Now I understood the reason for Reilly’s look. That man was the Churchill family lawyer, and because of us, Reilly could be in serious trouble. The door buzzed and Matron Patty let them into the conference room.

  Several long, agonizing minutes passed before Marco finally stepped out. I grabbed his hand, expecting him to usher me out of the building. But instead he kept a tight hold of my hand and said, “Stay here, Sunshine.”

  The door opened again and to my complete surprise out walked Nathan Churchill followed by his attorney. Reilly came out last, stone-faced and tense.

  The lawyer stopped in front of us to say, “I have already informed Sergeant Reilly, and now I’m telling you. If either of you come anywhere near my client or Churchill’s department store, I will come after you. I’ll file so many charges against you that your heads will spin.” And with that he strutted away.

  Humming the same Christmas song I’d heard earlier, Nathan gave me a secretive smile as he followed his attorney up the hallway. The tune kept echoing in my head as Reilly pointed toward the conference room. “Inside. Both of you. We’re going to have a little chat.”

  “Let me explain,” I blurted, as I pulled out a chair and sat down. “I was the one doing most of the questioning, not Marco. He was only trying to calm Nathan down.”

  Marco put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Sunshine. You don’t need to protect me. I’ve already told Sean that we were both talking to Nathan.”

  “Against my orders to stay out of it,” Reilly snapped.

  “I’m telling you, Reilly,” I said, “Nathan knows where his dad is. I can feel it in my gut. Please don’t release him yet. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” Reilly said, “but we don’t have enough evidence to hold him, and anyway, I’m not going to risk my badge because of your gut feeling.”

  “But Mrs. Guilford even heard Nathan fighting with Churchill moments before he disappeared.”

  “And in fact,” Reilly said, “she’s giving her statement to the detectives right now, but it’s still not enough to hold Nathan. He’ll be released on bond soon. Now calm down and go enjoy the celebration. We’ll find Churchill. It’ll just take some time.”

  “What kind of time?” I shot back. “Days? Weeks? Nathan has something planned for tonight, Reilly. He basically told us so.”

  Reilly folded his arms across his shirt front. “Okay, what’s he planning?”

  I turned to Marco, hoping that maybe he had extracted at least one clue after I’d left, but Marco said, “He wouldn’t tell us, Sean, but I agree with Abby. The clock is ticking and your detectives need all the help they can get. We’re already involved. Why not let us help?”

  “You heard the attorney’s threat,” Reilly said. “Now I’m telling you for the last time, stay out of it, because he isn’t kidding. He’ll come after you with everything he’s got. The only thing I can do for you right now is to make sure you don’t get yourselves into any more trouble, so if I see either of you snooping around Churchill’s this evening, you’ll have me to deal with.”

  The air was growing colder and the first few flakes of snow came tumbling out of the sky as Marco and I walked back to the town square. We passed groups of families on their way to the courthouse lawn, bundled up and laughing together. The electrified decorations illuminated the storefronts and the lamp posts came on as darkness settled around us. The Christmas Eve celebration on New Chapel’s town square had always been one of my most beloved memories,
but as we walked back in silence I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last one.

  Despite its deserted décor, Down the Hatch was busting at the seams with revelers, which wasn’t surprising. Being one of the only establishments on the square that was still open before the celebration began, Marco’s bar didn’t need help attracting customers.

  He let go of my hand and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Is this the first time Team Salvare fails their mission?” I asked. “On Christmas Eve?”

  He wrapped his arms around me, blocking a brisk burst of flurries swirling down the sidewalk. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, I do. We need to locate Nathan and track his movements so I can keep my promise to Hailey to find her father.”

  “Sweetheart, I want to find Churchill as badly as you do, but I think we need to trust Reilly with this one. I don’t want to have my private investigator’s licenses revoked, or worse, both of us end up being sued.”

  “I don’t care what you or Reilly or even Nathan’s fancy attorney says, there has to be a way to save Churchill without any of that happening. I’m not going to let Hailey or the town down. So with or without you, I’m going to find Nathan.”

  Marco gazed down at me and sighed. “There’s no way I’m going to talk you out of this, is there?”

  “Nope.”

  He thought it over for a moment then said, “I’ll go check in with Rafe to make sure he’s not overwhelmed at the bar, then I’ll meet you at Bloomers to figure out our next move.”

  I laid my cheek against his coat and gave him a fierce hug. “Thank you, Marco.” Then, while still in his arms I dared to ask, “Will you tell me what you said to Nathan about your father?”

  He held me at arms-length and gave me his sexy, dismissive smile I knew all too well. “Let’s focus on our next move first.” He gave me a kiss and left me there wondering.

  I turned around and saw Mom and Jillian just leaving their booth, their arms loaded with empty boxes and extra decorations as they headed toward Bloomers. I unlocked the front door for them and we were immediately announced by the jingling bells. We were reunited with Lottie and Rosa, who were warming up in the candlelit tea parlor with my dad and Grace.

  Most of the lights in Bloomers were off, but there was plenty of light streaming in the big open windows facing the square. This would normally have been my favorite part of the evening: the booths outside were all set up; the trees surrounding the courthouse glowed with colored lights; the carolers were singing, their voices carrying around the square; and even the snow was making its fateful first appearance.

  Any minute now the big bell in the courthouse steeple would ring out to signal Santa’s arrival to his sleigh. The booths would open and the celebration would begin. Then, at six o’clock, Santa would stand and count down the lighting of the star on top of the tree. But it wouldn’t be Churchill out in that sleigh. It would be Nathan. I felt detached from it all, worried about our missing Santa, and saddened by my husband’s secret burden.

  “After you and Marco left,” Dad said, “I filled everyone in on your plan to question Nathan. So how did it go?”

  “Not good,” I answered, dropping into a chair in the parlor. “We didn’t have enough time to get any real information before his lawyer showed up and got him bonded out.”

  “Do you still think he kidnapped his father?” Lottie asked.

  “I’m more sure of it than ever,” I answered. “Nathan wouldn’t admit to anything, but I could tell by his behavior that he has something bad planned for his dad tonight.” I looked at the gang seated across from me, giving me sympathetic stares, and sighed. “I just can’t put the pieces together.”

  “How can you be sure?” Rosa asked.

  I watched the single candle flame dance inside the glass bell jar on my table. “I can’t explain it. I just know.”

  Grace finished pouring fresh cups of coffee for my mom and Jillian who had just sat down at the table next to mine. She placed a cup at my elbows and began to pour. “If at first you don’t succeed,” she stared.

  “I’ve tried, Grace,” I said solemnly, “and I’ve tried again, but I seem to have only made things worse. Now Nathan’s lawyer is threatening us with a lawsuit if we go anywhere near Nathan or even Churchill’s store, which basically means the entire east side of the courthouse square. On top of that, Reilly said he’ll be keeping his eye out for us.”

  “Maybe the situation’s not as bad as you think,” my dad said, trying to cheer me up. He pushed away from the table and rolled himself closer to face me. “I can’t imagine any son wanting to harm his own father on Christmas Eve.”

  “You should have seen the look in his eyes,” I explained, “the hatred in his voice. He wants his father to suffer. I just wish we had more time. We were so close to making him talk.”

  “Come on over to the booth with us tonight,” Lottie offered. “Hand out some flowers. Make some people happy. Try to enjoy yourself.”

  “I don’t know,” I said despondently. “With Churchill missing and Marco hating the holiday, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to enjoy myself, especially with Nathan running the show.”

  My mom lifted herself from her seat and stood behind me. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “We don’t have to attend the celebration tonight, sweetheart. We can stay here with you.”

  “Yes,” Rosa said and raised her coffee cup. “Who needs the large celebration. We will have Christmas Eve right here at Bloomers.”

  I patted my mom’s arm and looked over at Rosa. “That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be fine. Go and enjoy yourselves. I’ll wait for Marco and see what he wants to do.”

  Just then the courthouse bell began to ring, echoing throughout the town square.

  “That’s your cue,” I said.

  Jillian put down her coffee cup and turned to my mom. “Is it time?”

  “It’s time.” My mom gave me one last kiss on the cheek and started out of the parlor. “I’ll go get our costumes. And Jeffery,” she said to my dad, catching him as he quietly wheeled himself back towards the television, “don’t get too comfortable.”

  With my chin in my hands I watched as my team and family prepared for the night’s celebration, buzzing around inside the flower shop with the same excitement that I used to feel.

  Lottie pulled out a basket of pruning supplies from behind the counter. “Grab the ribbons, Rosa.”

  Grace began slipping on an extra pair of mittens. “Don’t forget to layer,” she announced. “It will be quite chilly out there.”

  My mom came out of the workroom with three full-length costumes draped over her arms and a large travel bag in her hands. Jillian grabbed the bag and opened it while my mom lay the suits on out on the counter. I joined them.

  “Abs, look at all of this stuff!” Jillian said.

  “Once I started making the costumes I just couldn’t seem to stop,” Mom said. She pulled out elf slippers and white wigs, a Santa’s mustache and beard, and thick bushy white eyebrows. There was also rouge for the cheeks and little round gold glasses for Mrs. Claus.

  “Mom, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” I said, as she took out a red hat with a fuzzy white ball on top.

  “I did, didn’t I?” she replied. “Once we’re fully dressed, you won’t even recognize us anymore.”

  A sliver of a smile spread across my face. “Is that so?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Marco knocked on Bloomers’ front door. Fairly dancing with excitement, I let him in, took his hand, and led him straight to the costumes and accessories spread out across the counter. “Marco, I have an idea.”

  He glanced from the costumes to my mom and Jillian, who were just as clueless as he was. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “I already don’t like it.”

  “Just hear me out,” I said. By that time, Lottie, Grace, and Rosa had grouped around the counter to listen. “We know Nathan is going to be a
t that celebration at some point, but we aren’t allowed to go near him. Right?”

  Marco nodded.

  “And we’re almost certain that Churchill is still somewhere in that building, but we can’t get in without the risk of getting caught. Right?”

  “He might be in the building,” Marco cautioned, “but if you think I’m getting into a Santa costume and sneaking into Churchill’s department store, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “No,” I corrected. “We don’t sneak in. We blend in. The square is going to be jammed with people, some wearing Christmas costumes. Reilly will be looking for Abby and Marco, not Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

  “Or their cute helper elf!” Jillian exclaimed.

  “I’m not keen on the idea of dressing up like Santa Claus,” Marco said stubbornly.

  “Just listen,” I said. “Nathan wants to take over for his father, which means he could be sitting out in that sleigh right now.”

  “Then I will go check,” Rosa announced, tossing the end of her scarf over her shoulder. “No one will be looking for me.” Before I could stop her, she left the shop and hurried across the street.

  “It’s still too risky,” Marco said. “You heard what Reilly told us. We have to take him seriously.”

  “I know, Marco, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Churchill tonight and we did nothing to save him. Would you?”

  “Excuse me,” Mom interjected. “If I’m understanding this correctly, your whole premise revolves around using the costumes I’ve spent hours crafting in my spare time.”

  That stopped me. I hadn’t even considered that my plan was not only risky, but incredibly selfish, too. “I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. These costumes are your creation and you should use them as they were intended, to run your booth.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” Mom said. “Do you realize that this is the first art project I’ve ever made that you have been truly excited about?” She held out her arms and I stepped into them. “It’s my Christmas miracle,” she whispered in my ear as she hugged me. Stepping back with tears in her eyes she said, “I’m happy to let you use them. Go find our missing Santa.”