Missing Under the Mistletoe Read online

  But Marco continued to play devil’s advocate. “Let’s say we do get out there unnoticed and find a spot to stake out Nathan. What then?”

  “We keep an eye on him,” I answered honestly. “At six o’clock he’s going to be sitting in the sleigh, counting down the lighting of the tree. I guarantee it. That’s what he wanted us to see, so that’s where we need to be. If Nathan does anything suspicious, we’ll alert Reilly.”

  Marco shook his head. “I’m not dressing up like Santa Claus,” he finally said.

  “Fine,” I fired back, “then I’ll spend Christmas Eve without you. Just like last year.”

  My dad wheeled himself out of the parlor and stopped his chair in front of both of us. “You don’t have to decorate your business,” he said to Marco. “You don’t have to play football on the television.” He reached behind him and pulled out the fluffy pillow he used for back support. “But you’re putting on that costume and accompanying my daughter to the celebration.” He threw the pillow into Marco’s arms. “So you might as well look the part.”

  Holding the pillow, Marco said, “I’m not going to leave your daughter alone. I’m just saying there has to be a better way of getting close to Nathan.”

  “Then think of one,” I said.

  I could tell my husband was racking his brain, looking around the room as if something might trigger an idea. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the costumes. He breathed in deeply and blew it out, as he always did when he didn’t want to do something.

  “We have to try, Marco,” I said softly.

  He let out a sharp sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Lottie and Grace wished us luck and left for the Bloomers booth. My mom and dad bundled up and headed for the door, but before my mom could wheel him out, my dad stopped to say, “I’ll try to keep Reilly occupied. Have your phone near you with the volume turned up. I’ll let you know if he leaves the police booth.”

  I thanked my parents again and locked up the door behind them. Outside, the courthouse lawn was swarming with people, and I was beginning to feel thrills of excitement race up my spine. I turned to see Marco holding up the thick black boots we had pulled from my Mom’s travel bag. Jillian had already taken off to change in the bathroom, which left Marco and I all alone. I tried to thank him but he stopped me.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” he said as he began to pull his suit on over his clothes.

  “But I want to thank you. I know you think this is a bad plan.”

  “Not true,” he said and fastened the large buckle around his trim waist. “I think it’s risky and I’m not thrilled with it, but I don’t think it’s a bad plan. It’s our only plan.”

  Wearing my warm woolen sweater and a turtleneck beneath the Mrs. Claus outfit for warmth, I donned the red leggings and matching long red velvet coat dress. “I know you hate Christmas,” I said, zipping up the front of the coat, “yet here I am dragging you into the middle of the celebration, even after our fight. So just let me say thank you.”

  Marco turned around to look at me. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry about today in the car. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. This is a difficult time of the year for me, but I don’t hate Christmas. It’s just not easy for me to talk about it, that’s all.”

  I wanted to ask him more, but it wasn’t the right time. “I’m sorry about what my dad said to you. He’s very adamant about traditions, especially Christmas.”

  “And football,” Marco added. He pushed the pillow into his suit around his mid-section and shifted the black belt around his stomach. He looped the straps of his bushy white beard around his ears, and positioned the fluffy whiskers to cover his lips, chin, and neck.

  I handed him the finishing touch, a floppy red hat with a thick black buckle in front and a fluffy white ball attached to the top. I fixed the ball so it draped appropriately to the side and had to chuckle to myself.

  He gave me a surly expression. “How do I look?”

  I smiled. “Like Santa Claus.” I tied the straps of my red and white bonnet under my chin then hooked the gold-rimmed glasses around my ears, positioning them down the bridge of my nose. “How do I look?”

  A grin lifted one corner of Marco’s white mustache. “Like my wife.”

  Jillian stepped through the curtains and twirled before us, her elf shoes jingling. “I told you I could rock this skirt. I’m not sure about the tights, though.”

  After looking Jillian over, I realized that she was wearing the outfit my mom had made for me. Thank goodness for the tights, though, because the skirt was way too short for her long legs. She was decked out in green and black, with her tights a swirling mixture of the two. Her vest was a little loose, but the skinny green hat and elf ears made up for it. I had to admit that she did look cute.

  Rosa returned with bad news. “I could not find Nathan anywhere. He is not in the sleigh. There are hundreds of people out there. Finding him would be like looking for a needle in a matchbox.”

  “You mean haystack,” said Jillian, the one who rarely got her own words right.

  “It’s almost time for the tree lighting,” I said, looking at my watch. “Thirty minutes, to be exact. Where could Nathan be?”

  “I went into the department store to look, too,” Rosa explained, “but it is too busy. The store has not closed early like the other shops and there are still too many last-minute customers.”

  I glanced at Marco in a panic. “That means he could be anywhere.” Turning to Rosa, I said, “Will you help my mom at her booth? My dad will be keeping Reilly occupied and I want you to watch the area for Nathan. If you see him, call me immediately. I’ll have my phone with me at all times.”

  Rosa opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air. “I will keep my eyes out for him like an eagle.”

  Marco, Jillian, and I stood by the Bloomers front window and gazed out at the sea of people filling the square. I tapped my watch. “It’s now or never, Marco.”

  “Are you giving me the option?” he asked.

  “No,” I responded. “Now.”

  We left Bloomers and walked quickly past Down the Hatch, taking the long way around the square. The snow was falling softly and consistently, forming a white glistening glaze on the sidewalks and the glowing branches of the trees. We cut through the crowd, mingling with the many shoppers at booths on the southern side of the courthouse lawn, keeping our distance from the police booth. Jillian stopped momentarily to grab a free glass of hot cider and I ushered her along impatiently. Beyond the courthouse on the north lawn we could hear the church choir singing. There was no sign of Nathan.

  We rounded the courthouse and I was overwhelmed by the sight in front of me. Churchill’s department store was completely lit up, every window wrapped in golden light strands. Parents with their children filled almost every inch of space on the sidewalk, taking pictures with the oversized ornaments and larger than life candy canes along the front of the store.

  On the courthouse lawn opposite Churchill’s, outlined with a thick red rope, stood a larger version of Santa’s Village, even down to his miniature workshop at the back. But instead of Santa’s big red and gold chair sitting beside the workshop, a white wooden sleigh trimmed with colorful gold swirls sat there instead, with a path outlined in more red rope leading up to it. Beside the workshop sat the massive, glowing Christmas tree, decorated with at least a mile of multi-colored lights and yards of tinsel.

  I gazed up at the top, where the Christmas star, still unlit, swayed in the gentle evening breeze. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked Marco. I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, standing there with my arm looped through his, sharing that beautiful sight with him, safely hidden amidst all the people filling the area.

  That happy feeling vanished as Marco grabbed Jillian and me and pulled us behind the workshop. “We’ve been spotted.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Marcille came marching around the back of the workshop heading straight for us, carrying her ever-present
clipboard and wearing a thick white coat over her festive red dress. She was heavily out of breath, with her perfectly towering hairdo now hanging in strands around her cheeks. When she realized it was us beneath the costumes she gasped. “You’re not supposed to be here. I have strict orders from Churchill’s attorney to notify him immediately if I see either one of you.”

  How had she recognized us beneath our costumes? I reached up to check my wig and realized some of my bright red hair had escaped the netting underneath. “Okay, before you rush to judgment, Marcille,” I said, hastily tucking in my hair, “let me explain—”

  She cut me off. “I don’t have time for explanations. You’re here, you’re in costume, and I need you now.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said. “

  Marcille slid behind the workshop and checked her watch. She got right up in our faces. “This store has been understaffed for weeks. I have been running around in these heels for ten hours. Churchill is missing and not one employee will step up and take his place, not after what Nathan did to the last one.”

  She blew a loose strand of hair from her eye. “There are over one hundred impatient people standing in that line and if one more person asks me where Santa is, I am going to lose my patience! Now,” she pointed at Marco, “you get your ass up on that sleigh and take pictures with these people or I dial Churchill’s lawyer.” She opened the back door to Santa’s workshop then pulled out her cell phone. “It’s your choice.”

  Before either of us had a chance to respond, Jillian strode straight inside the workshop and stepped out the front door to an overwhelming cheer. Through the open doors I could see her twirl in her little skirt and blow kisses to the crowd. Then she looked back inside and motioned for us to join her.

  “Please, Marco,” I said. “It’ll buy us some time so I can keep a lookout for Nathan.”

  He breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. “Do not leave my side,” he demanded.

  “I won’t.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “I promise.”

  The crowd cheered even louder as Marco made his entrance. Marcille followed him out and pulled open the rope that was keeping the desperate children back. Jillian was near the front of the line and I positioned myself on the opposite side of the sleigh, close to Marco but with a perfect view of the department store and the surrounding area. Marcille gave us a thumbs up. Let the show begin.

  Marcille gave instructions to Jillian and my cousin immediately stepped into the role of Santa’s helper, almost as if she were born to be an elf. One by one, she helped the children climb up onto Santa’s lap while the parents gathered around the sleigh for their photo. Under Jillian’s direction, the children exited on my side of the sleigh and were reunited with their parents a few steps away at the photo booth.

  Everything was operating so smoothly that I began to worry. Number one on my list was why Nathan hadn’t shown up to play Santa, as he’d claimed he was going to do. Only ten minutes remained until the tree lighting ceremony, and people had started to exit Churchill’s department store in anticipation of it. As the crowd grew, so did the knot in my stomach.

  “Hello there, Mrs. Claus,” I heard from behind me.

  I tore my gaze away from the crowd to see Rhondella Saddler standing beside Santa while her son sat on his lap.

  Trying my best to portray a jolly Mrs. Claus I stepped over to her and said, “Merry Christmas to you, dear.”

  “Don’t give me that crap,” she said in a low voice. “I know who you are.”

  Rhondella had recognized me, too? I reached up and found another strand of red hair had come loose. That and my darned freckles had to be giving me away. I’d have to be more careful or Reilly would be the next one to spot me.

  “Listen,” Rhondella said, “how about comping me on the photo? It’s bad enough I have to wait in line all day for it, I have to pay, too?”

  “Take that up with the management,” I whispered.

  Thomas sat there with his little back as straight as a soldier’s, gazing up at Santa with his sweet blue eyes as he listed the presents he wanted to give his older sister and grandparents.

  “What about you, Thomas?” Marco asked. “What would you like for Christmas?”

  The young boy looked at his mom as though asking for her permission to answer.

  “He already received his present,” Rhondella said. “Didn’t you, Thomas?” She turned to me. “Going on all day about some toy he wants when he already received a perfectly good present this morning. Isn’t that right, Thomas?”

  He nodded politely.

  “Go ahead,” Marco said. For the first time I saw a glimmer of happiness in my husband’s eyes. His voice changed slightly. It was deeper and more animated. Whether or not Marco knew it, he was actually embracing the character. “What do you want more than anything in the world? You can tell me. I’m Santa Claus.”

  The photographer snapped their photo just as Thomas leaned over to whisper something in Marco’s ear. Rhondella pasted on a fake smile as one more picture was taken and, then, before Jillian could step up, she lifted Thomas straight off of Marco’s lap and set him on the ground.

  I heard the faint ding of my cell phone coming from the pocket of the long red coat dress, but at that moment Rhondella stopped beside me to sneer, “By the way, I’m not paying for those photographs.”

  I muttered under my breath as she walked away. Rhondella’s behavior had so annoyed me that I turned to Marco to make a comment about her only to notice him wiping tears from his eyes.

  “Abs,” Jillian whispered from the other side of the sleigh, but I was too concerned with my husband to pay attention to what she was trying to tell me. I was just about to lean in close to ask Marco what was wrong when Jillian called, “Mrs. Claus!”

  I looked immediately to where she was pointing and spotted Nathan Churchill weaving his way through the crowd inside Santa’s Village.

  “There he is!” I said to Marco, as Nathan hopped over the rope and ran across the street, heading straight for Churchill’s. Moving as fast as I could in my long coat, I followed, glancing back long enough to see that Marco wasn’t behind me. As Nathan entered the department store’s front doors, I paused at the curb to see what was keeping Marco only to discover that he hadn’t moved off the sleigh. In fact, he wasn’t even looking my way, and neither was Jillian. And then I saw the reason why.

  Standing in front of my husband, blocking the group of waiting children, stood an angry Sergeant Reilly, his hands on his hips. “This way. Let’s go,” he said, motioning to Marco.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Reilly! Stop! You’ve got to help me!” I gestured toward Churchill’s. “It’s Nathan!”

  And then I hiked up the red velvet coat and ran across the street, darting around people still posing for pictures with the giant ornaments and candy canes, and in through Churchill’s main entrance. As I raced down the center aisle, dodging the last few shoppers who hadn’t made it out yet, I heard the loud ding of the old elevator and dashed toward the back of the store. I knew it was Nathan on his way to the third floor. I could feel it in my gut.

  Breathless, I stopped in front of the gold doors to see that the Out of Order sign was still posted, yet the lights above the elevator showed it rising slowly upward. Making a quick assessment, I dashed for the back stairwell hoping I could beat Nathan to the third floor. I hoofed it up three flights of stairs and then held myself against the wall until I caught my breath. Quietly, I pushed open the door and peeked into the hallway.

  Nothing. No sign of Nathan. No loud ding from the elevator. The overhead lights were off; the Christmas music from below had stopped; and the silence around me was eerie. Was he still on the elevator or had I missed him?

  I backed into the stairwell and pulled the door closed with a soft click. I was still feeling light-headed from my mad dash up the stairs, so I took a moment to sit on the steps, catch my breath, and think. Remembering the text message that had come in earlier, I re
ached inside the red velvet coat and pulled my phone out of my pants pocket. I held it up to read the message – a warning from my dad that Reilly was headed our way.

  Quickly, I dialed Marco, resting my elbow on the stairs behind me as it rang. I glanced to my right and then it hit me. There were more stairs going up. But I was already on the top floor. That meant the stairs could only lead to the roof.

  The rooftop! That’s where Levi Churchill was.

  Up On The Rooftop was the song Nathan had been humming during our interview at the jail and then again when he and his lawyer had passed me in the hallway.

  The pieces started to fall into place – Nathan hating his father, not wanting us to miss the big show, so everyone could see, in his words, what Santa Claus looked like on the inside. Then he’d hummed that song, his little joke on us.

  Now I knew what his plan was. He was going to push his father off of the roof of his own department store in front of the entire town.

  Marco answered the phone and immediately asked where I was, but before I could respond, the third-floor door opened and there stood Nathan, gazing at me in surprise. Before I could move, he lunged at me, causing the phone to drop from my hand. I pulled away from him and raced down the stairwell, my heart pounding against my ribs, my feet not even touching every step, almost collapsing at each landing.

  But I couldn’t stop because Nathan was right on my heels. He made a grab for the bonnet still on my head, causing the strings to pull tightly around my neck before giving way. I made it all the way down to the first floor and out of the stairwell before Nathan finally caught me.

  He put his hand around my mouth, and I bit down hard, so hard that he loosened his grip, allowing me to break free. That’s when I spotted the emergency exit and the sign, CAUTION – ALARM WILL SOUND.