Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Yuletide Defender

Yuletide Defender
Sandra Robbins


Is a vigilante responsible for the murders of Lake City gang members? According to reporter Rachel Long's anonymous source, yes. The goal is to trigger a gang war–and her investigations lead Rachel to the heart of the battlegrounds. Which is where she finds handsome officer Matthew Franklin.The protective cop wants her out of harm's way. But she needs the raise from a big story to secure care for her special-needs sister. Rachel won't walk away, even though the vigilante is now aiming at a determined reporter–and a tailing cop–for a showdown just in time for Christmas.









“Do you realize you could’ve been killed?” Matt asked.


“I—I’m doing my job. I was following a lead for a story. I just wanted to see what I could find out,” Rachel said.

Matt’s heart beat faster with each word she spoke. He raked his hand through his hair and stared at her. “You should’ve called me right away and told me about this. I warned you about the danger. Whoever shot these guys was shooting at you, too.”

Even in the dim light he could see the fear that flashed in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “He was firing at you, too,” she said.

“His aim would’ve been better if he’d intended to hit me.”

Rachel nodded. “He probably could have hit me, too, if he’d really wanted to kill me. Why do you think he did that?”

Matt shrugged. “Probably just wanted to scare us.”

Well, the shooter had accomplished that much.




SANDRA ROBBINS,


a former teacher and principal in the Tennessee public schools, is a full-time writer for the Christian market. She is married to her college sweetheart, and they have four children and five grandchildren. As a child, Sandra accepted Jesus as her Savior and has depended on Him to guide her throughout her life.

While working as a principal, Sandra came in contact with many individuals who were so burdened with problems that they found it difficult to function in their everyday lives. Her writing ministry grew out of the need for hope that she saw in the lives of those around her.

It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers. Her greatest desire is that many will come to know the peace she draws from her life verse, Isaiah 40:31— “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”




Yuletide Defender

Sandra Robbins







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.

—Psalms 9:10


To Kristi, Marti, Stacey and Scott

The joy you bring me makes every day seem like Christmas.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


Arriving at a murder scene before breakfast wasn’t Rachel Long’s idea of a good way to start the day.

She leaned against the lamppost at the corner of Ninth and Perkins and pulled her coat tighter. The December wind that whistled around the deserted storefronts and run-down apartment buildings lining the street sent a shiver down her spine. Unlike other neighborhoods in Lake City, there were no holiday decorations anywhere in sight. In fact, nothing about her surroundings gave a hint that Christmas was only a few weeks away.

A young man’s lifeless body sprawled twenty feet away spoke volumes about what life was like in this part of the city. Several uniformed policemen stood to the side as crime scene investigators gathered their evidence.

Her stomach rumbled and she pressed her hand against her abdomen to suppress the hunger pains. Coffee would have to come later. As chief investigative reporter for the Lake City Daily Beacon, her job was to cover the news.

One of the policemen backed away, and Rachel caught sight of the victim’s leg twisted underneath him. She made a quick note in her journal of his white canvas tennis shoe with a five-pointed star on the side—one of the identifying marks of the Vipers, the gang that boasted control of this neighborhood.

She pursed her lips and tried to mentally recall how many gang-related deaths she’d reported in the past two months. Four? No, five. This one made the sixth victim.

A car pulled to a stop across the street and Detective Matt Franklin stepped out from the driver’s side. He tugged at the cuffs of a white shirt and they slipped over his wrists from underneath the sleeves of his navy blazer. Even this early in the morning he looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine spread. The wind ruffled his brown hair. He smoothed it into place as he waited for the man who climbed from the passenger side of the car.

“Matt,” Rachel called out.

He stopped in the middle of the street and glanced around. Catching sight of her, he turned and walked toward her. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. He stopped in front of her and tilted his head to one side. “Rachel, how did you find out about this so quickly?”

“My scanner.” She glanced toward the group examining the body. “Another gang killing?”

He sighed and nodded. “Looks like it.”

“I noticed the boy’s tennis shoes. He’s a member of the Vipers. Do you think this is the work of the Rangers?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s too early to know. Some in the department think the Vipers from the north side of the city and the Rangers from the south have decided to declare open war on each other. But so far neither gang is talking.”

“May I quote you on that?”

“You probably would even if I said no.” His mouth curved into the lopsided smile she’d first noticed when they met two months ago at the scene of the first gang member’s death.

Rachel closed the notebook she held and dropped her pen into her bag. “When I was growing up, I never thought we’d someday have two gangs in a town this size. They were in urban areas like New York and Los Angeles, not in a small city in the heart of Illinois.”

Matt nodded. “No town, no matter how small, is safe from the threat of gangs. Pressure from large-city police departments is forcing many gang members from the cities into more rural areas. Once there, they recruit locals into the groups. It’s a growing problem all across the country.”

Rachel glanced back at the body down the street. “So now we have six kids dead. Three Rangers and three Vipers. And because of what? Their neighborhoods aren’t any better because they died. In fact, now it’s worse for the people who live there and want to raise their children in a safe environment.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

Matt regarded her with a steady gaze. “I didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about the fate of these kids.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Of course I do. Most of them don’t have a chance of escaping their lives of poverty. They’re looking to neighborhood gangs to save them and instead they’re ending up dead.”

Matt’s gaze flitted across her face for a moment before he responded. “Once they take that step into the gang life, though, they’re also dangerous. When I saw you standing over here, I thought it might be a good time to give you a friendly warning. You’ve written some hard-hitting articles in the past few weeks since this string of killings started. I’d hate to see you anger the wrong people.”

She shrugged. “I don’t make the news. I only report it.”

Matt nodded. “I know. And I don’t make the crimes. I only try to solve them. All I’m saying is just don’t get in over your head.”

Rachel smiled. “It’s nice of you to worry about my safety, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems. The gang members only know me as a name in the newspaper. I doubt if they even care what I think.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Your picture is right beside your byline. Someone wanting to find you wouldn’t have to look far.”

Rachel had never thought of that, and her skin tingled with a rush of fear. “Don’t try to scare me, Matt. I can’t back off my job. Good reporters follow the facts and print them.”

Matt’s dark eyes clouded. “I know what these gangs are like, Rachel. I deal with them on a daily basis. As a friend, I thought I should warn you. Just be careful.”

She nodded. “I will be. And don’t forget to read my story.” She glanced around at the local residents, some in their pajamas and robes, standing along the sidewalk. “I think I’ll try to get some quotes from a few of the people who live around here. Of course they’ll refuse to give their names, but you can’t blame them. They’re afraid of retaliation from the people who control their streets.”

“We run into that problem all the time. It sure makes catching a killer harder.” Matt glanced over his shoulder at the crime scene. “Well, I’d better get busy. I just wanted to pass along my concern.” He turned to leave but then he faced her again. “By the way, I saw you at church last Sunday with your friend Mindy. You left before I could speak to you.”

Rachel smiled at how surprised she’d been to see Matt there. That day he was dressed in jeans and a knit shirt as he played the drums in the praise band for the worship service. He’d looked so relaxed and completely absorbed in the music. Today he was every inch the professional policeman.

“Mindy has been after me to go with her, so I did.”

“Maybe you’d like to come to our Singles Bible Study. We meet tonight.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. If I have time. My job keeps me busy.”

He looked back at the crime scene. “Mine does, too. I’d better get to work. See you later.”

Rachel watched as Matt jogged back to the officers still beside the body. She’d liked Matt the first time they’d met. Perhaps it was the sorrow she saw in his eyes as he gazed down at the young victim who’d died alone on a dark street. And now a sixth person had also met his end.

She turned her attention to the small crowd of onlookers who’d gathered in front of an apartment building across the street. At the edge of the cluster of residents, a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties gripped the hand of a young boy beside her.

As Rachel watched, the woman spoke to the boy who stared into her face. The child didn’t move as the woman accented her words with gestures toward the body across the street.

Fascinated by the exchange between the two, Rachel ambled toward them until she stood in front of the woman. She smiled. “Good morning, my name is Rachel Long. I’m a reporter for the Lake City Daily Beacon, and I noticed you standing here. I wondered if I might speak with you.”

Suspicion flashed in the woman’s eyes and she gripped the boy’s hand tighter. “What about?”

Rachel glanced at the boy. “Is this your son?”

The woman straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking to him as if you really wanted to impress something on him. It reminded me of how my mother used to talk with me.”

The woman pointed across the street. “I was tellin’ him that he’s all I got in this world, and I don’t aim to see him end up dead on no street corner. That’s what gangs do for you. Promise all kinds of things but they ain’t true.”

Rachel nodded. “You’re a very wise woman. I know it isn’t easy living in a neighborhood where gangs roam the streets.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide and her mouth pulled into a grim line. “Easy? There ain’t nothing easy ’bout life around here, and these hoodlums with their drugs and guns just make it harder for folks like us who workin’ to get by.”

“Do you have something you’d like to say to the people of Lake City or to the police about what the gangs are doing to our city?”

She started to speak but stopped. Fear flashed in her eyes. “You ain’t gonna use my name or tell where I live, are you?”

Rachel shook her head. “I’ll just quote you as a concerned mother.”

“Well, then I guess I’d say to the folks who live in the nice neighborhoods, you ain’t got no idea what it’s like to be afraid of where you live. My son can’t play outside ’cause I’m scared a stray bullet gonna hit him. We don’t get out after dark, just stay inside with all the curtains pulled. And we stay away from the windows. I can’t afford to move nowhere else, so I’m stuck here. When is somebody gonna help us clean up the filth that’s turned what used to be a good neighborhood into a battlefield?”

Rachel had promised herself when she became a reporter that she would keep her personal feelings under control when she was interviewing someone. The anguish in this mother’s eyes, though, made her forget that intention.

Her heart pricked at the predicament of this woman and her child. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and smiled down at the boy. “You have a smart mama. Do what she says and stay safe.”

The boy’s somber brown eyes stared at her. “I will.”

The mother pulled her son closer. “You gonna write how bad it is down here?”

“I am.” She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand that rested on her son’s shoulder. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

With a sigh she headed back across the street. She saw Matt bending over the victim. He straightened and smiled when he saw her. They stared at each other for a moment before they both waved, and Rachel turned down the street to the spot where she’d parked.

When she climbed into her car and cranked the engine, she held her breath. To her relief, the motor purred to life. She really had to do something about a car soon. Hers had already exceeded its life expectancy by a few years. Maybe by this time next year she’d be driving a new vehicle. The Beacon was just the first step to success. If things went as planned, this job would be her springboard to a larger newspaper or even a television station. And stories of rival gangs killing each other just might be the ticket to jump-start the journey.

Rachel thought again of the mother’s fear for her son. Her own mother had dealt with many problems in raising Rachel and her sister, but gangs weren’t something they had to worry about. She couldn’t imagine what life must be like for that woman and her son. Maybe if she dug deeper into the killings, she would find something to help the police.

Matt’s warning drifted through her mind but she shook it away. There were reasons why she wanted to succeed at her job. No, had to succeed. She only had one choice—to go anywhere and talk to anybody to get the story she needed.



Rachel stared at the computer screen and scanned the article she’d just written once more before sending it to the copy editor. “It seems almost like a rewrite of the other murders,” she grumbled aloud.

She leaned back in her chair and tapped the desktop with a pencil. The police might believe gang violence was the reason for the similar killings, but according to what Matt had told her they still couldn’t be sure. With no clues left behind, the police didn’t appear to know where to turn. Gang members weren’t talking, and most residents who lived in the neighborhoods controlled by the groups were too afraid to tell what they knew.

Somebody in Lake City knew what was going on with these killings but so far no one had come forward. She reread the last two lines of the article she’d just completed. “It’s time for every resident of Lake City to say, ‘We will not stand quietly by and let the gangs destroy us.’ Only by joining forces can we safeguard the future and provide a secure way of life for our children and those who will come after us.”

Whether or not her call for unity would work, she didn’t know. All she could do was try to rally the citizens to fight what was happening around them. She sighed and, with a click of the mouse, sent the story on its way to the copy editor.

She picked up her coffee cup and took a drink just as the phone rang. Setting the cup back on the desk, she wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Rachel Long. May I help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can help you.” Rachel’s eyes widened at the curtness in the man’s voice. This was no friendly call. She pushed her cup away, reached for a pencil and slid her notepad across her desk.

“Help me with what?”

“I been reading your stories in the paper.”

Rachel took a deep breath to still her thudding heart. “Which ones?”

“The gang murders.”

Rachel’s fingers flexed and gripped the pencil tighter. “I’m glad. We always like to hear from our readers.”

“I ain’t calling to brag on your writing. I gots a story I want to talk about.”

She poised the pencil above the pad. “And what’s your name?”

A low laugh came over the phone. “That don’t matter. Let’s just say I’m a confidential source. Okay?”

Rachel could almost hear her heart pounding. “That depends on what you have to tell me.”

“Oh, you gonna like this. ’Cause I got a story that’ll rock this city.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that. Now tell me what you’ve got.”

“No way. You ain’t gittin’ this information over the phone. You gonna have to meet me in person.”

The sinister tone of the man’s voice sent chills down her spine. Matt’s warning flashed into her mind. Could this be a gang member? If so, she could be walking straight into trouble if she agreed to meet him.

On the other hand, if she didn’t meet him, she might be giving up the chance at the break she’d been waiting for. A huge story could get her name out there to influential people in the industry. When she weighed the pros and cons of the situation, she knew it was a no-brainer. She hesitated only a moment before she answered.

“Okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

“You know the City Park out on Highway 45?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there at midnight. Go to the picnic tables by the lake and sit on the bench right next to the woods. And come alone. Understand?”

Rachel swallowed. “Yes.”

The caller disconnected with a click. Rachel replaced the phone and stared into space. Somehow she’d known since the first murder that this was the story she’d been waiting for—one that would set her apart as an investigative reporter. And one that would prove she was unafraid to pursue truth, no matter where it took her.

Dangerous or not, she had to go. This could be just what she’d been waiting for—her big break. Or it might be more—the tragic end of a promising career.



The bells in the pavilion tower across the lake chimed the midnight hour as Rachel climbed from the car. The familiar landscape looked very different than it did in the daytime, when families played together in the wide expanse. Rachel shivered at the stillness that enveloped her.

The distant rumble of thunder broke the silence. She glanced up at dark clouds rolling across the sky. The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the darkness deepened. The streetlamps around the lake cast a soft glow of light on the jogging trail that circled it. Tonight, however, there were no runners. She was alone.

She studied the park benches that dotted the grassy area in back of the picnic tables, then trudged toward them and scanned the dark forest beyond for signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she eased onto the bench where he’d instructed her to sit.

The leaves on the trees behind her rustled and she tensed. Was there someone there? She tilted her head to the side and listened. An owl hooted and she shivered.

How long should she give him to show up? She hugged her coat tighter and knew she’d stay until sunrise if she had to.

“Don’t turn around.”

She gasped in surprise as fingers clamped down on her shoulder. Fear oozed through her body and left a blanket of ice in its wake. “W-who a-are y-you?”

“Don’t make no difference what my name is.” His warm breath fanned the back of her neck.

Rachel struggled to breathe. “Then what shall I call you?”

“Like I said, just say I’m your confidential source.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I been readin’ your stories ’bout gang members being killed. You done a good job reportin’ the facts.”

“Do you have some additional information for me?”

“Maybe.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Let’s see now, in that last story, how many you say died?”

When Rachel didn’t answer, his index finger jabbed her. She gulped a big breath of air and sat up straighter. “Five before today. Now there’s six. All of them shot to death. The police think rival gangs are killing each other.”

The man behind her exhaled a long breath. “The popo don’t know nothing.”

Rachel frowned and tilted her head. “You mean the police?”

“Yeah.”

“What makes you think that”

“It ain’t what I think. It’s what I know.” His lips grazed her ear.

His nicotine-scented breath filled her nostrils and she turned her head away. “And what’s that?” Rachel asked.

“They’s two gangs here in Lake City, the Vipers and the Rangers. The Vipers, them are my brothers. We take care of our hood. The Rangers, they on the south side of town, and we don’t mess with them.”

Rachel started to say she knew how the Vipers took care of their neighborhood—drugs, shootings, robberies—but reason told her not to anger him. “I know about the two.”

“If they found out I was talkin’ to you, I’d be dusted by mornin’.” A trace of fear trembled through the man’s words.

“Your friends would kill you? Why?”

A small groan came from behind her. “We ain’t ’posed to talk to nobody ’bout gang business.”

“Oh.”

“The popo think the gangs be fightin’ each other in a war. That ain’t true, but I ’spect somebody wants to start one.” He paused for a moment and Rachel tensed, wondering if he expected her to say something. When she remained silent, he continued, “You ’member the last murder two weeks ago? The Viper that was killed in front of that pizza place on First Street?”

“Yes, I wrote a story about it.”

“Well, what you didn’t write was that there was another guy with the one killed, but the shooter missed him.”

Rachel thought back to the story. No mention had been made by the police about another individual being present. “Who was it?”

“Me. I saw the guy right before he shot and he weren’t no gang member. I ran and he chased me. I hid in a Dumpster, but I seen him.”

“Then you can identify the killer?”

“Naw, but I knows he’s a white guy.”

Rachel’s shoulders sagged. “That just reinforces what the police think. The Rangers are white. It was one of their members.”

“No,” he hissed. “This guy didn’t have no flag.”

Rachel sat up straighter and frowned. “He wasn’t wearing gang colors?”

“No. If he been a Ranger, he would’ve been proud of the hit and woulda been showing ’em off.”

Rachel thought about that for a moment. What he said made sense. “Then who do you think he was?”

“Ain’t got no idea. But like I said, I been thinkin’. The popo ain’t questioned why they so many deaths of gang members in Lake City all of a sudden. They say that just no-goods killin’ each other. What if somebody who ain’t in a gang’d like to see the two go head-to-head in a war? So he starts killin’ Vipers and Rangers, hoping that’ll happen.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “A vigilante? You think there’s one on the loose in Lake City?”

“Now you catchin’ on.”

“But why are you telling me this? Why not go to the police?”

A laugh rumbled in the man’s throat. “I can’t do that ’cause we don’t talk to no popo. They wish we’d all disappear from the face of the earth anyway. I expect they figures if we kill each other off it’ll just make their job easier.”

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. A vigilante? She’d never thought of that. “What do you want me to do?”

He leaned closer, and she could feel him pressing against the back of the bench. “I’m tired of the killin’. I wants you to write a story ’bout what I told you. Then see what happens.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can’t do that just because it’s what you believe. I need some kind of evidence.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an arm appear next to her shoulder. A piece of paper dangled from long brown fingers before it fluttered to the bench beside her. “This here the name of a cop on the take and where he meets up with a Ranger for his payoff. He’ll be there at midnight tomorrow night. Check this out first. See if I’m tellin’ the truth about this. Then maybe you’ll believe me about the vigilante.”

Rachel reached for the paper. “Okay. How do I get in touch with you if this lead proves true?”

The man laughed. “Don’t worry. I be watchin’, and I gonna be callin’ you ’cause there’s somethin’ I want out of this.”

Goose bumps raced up Rachel’s arm. “And what’s that?”

“I wants you to help me get outta town. Start a new life somewheres else.” He was silent for a moment. “I know the gang life ain’t for me no more. I wish things would change, but I done decided ain’t nothin’ gonna change where I live ’til Jesus comes back.”

A gasp escaped Rachel’s throat. “Are you a believer?”

He exhaled a long breath. “My mama taught me lots of stuff. Don’t think she’s too proud of me now, though.”

His words felt like a kick in the stomach. She knew what it was like to disappoint your mother. “If you’re really serious, I’ll help you whether or not the story pans out.”

“I knowed you was a good woman. I be talkin’ to you.”

“Wait! Don’t go!” she said. However she sensed no one stood behind her any longer. She counted to ten before she slowly turned and stared at the tree line behind the bench. Again she was alone in a deserted park.

She grabbed the piece of paper, stuck it in her pocket and ran toward her car. Once inside she locked the door and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Tonight she’d been more scared than at any other time since she had begun working at the newspaper.

She straightened in the seat, pulled the paper from her pocket and stared at it. Walters and Branson. Another street corner on the run-down south side of town.

Her hand shook and she jammed the paper back into her pocket. She had no idea what would happen tomorrow night, but she did know one thing. She’d be there to witness whatever took place.




TWO


Matt Franklin glanced at his watch as he walked down the hallway at the Lake City Youth Center. 1:00 a.m.? Where had the time gone? When he’d dropped by after the Bible study, he’d only meant to stay a few minutes, but he’d soon lost himself in planning next week’s activities for the young boys he mentored. A light in the staff break room caught his attention and he stopped at the door.

David Foreman, the center’s director, sat at the round table in the middle of the room. He sipped from a cup of coffee but looked up and motioned for Matt to enter. “What are you doing here so late? You had a busy day with this latest murder. You must be dead on your feet.”

Matt walked to the table and pulled out the chair across from David. “I didn’t mean to stay so long. I thought you’d already left. I heard you go out the back door several hours ago.”

David nodded toward the counter where the coffeepot sat. “I wanted some coffee and there wasn’t any left in the canister. I went down the street to that all-night market and got some. I knew the staff wouldn’t like it if they didn’t get their fix tomorrow morning.”

Matt couldn’t suppress the yawn that overwhelmed him. He tried to cover his mouth. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. But I’m used to missing sleep. It seems to go with my job.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Matt.” David regarded him for a moment. “Don’t you have a life outside of the police department and the Center? I appreciate your help, but you spend most of your off-duty hours here. Isn’t there some nice woman that you could take out every once in a while?”

Matt chuckled. “I haven’t found one yet. Maybe I will.” He swallowed before he dared voice what he’d wanted to ask David for several days. “I have met an interesting woman, though. Rachel Long. I think you know her.”

David’s eyebrows arched. “Rachel? She’s my goddaughter. I’ve been a friend of her mother’s since we were children. In fact, I helped Rachel get her job at the Beacon. So you’re interested in Rachel?”

Matt straightened in his chair and clasped his hands on top of the table. “I don’t know. She just seems nice. I thought she might come to the Bible study tonight, but she didn’t show up.”

David shook his head. “Sounds like her. She hasn’t gone to church much since she got out from under her mother’s influence. I guess it’s a kind of rebellion for being made to go all the time when she was younger.” David paused and ran his index finger around the rim of the coffee cup. “All she thinks about is work and how she wants to make a name for herself at the paper.”

“I’ve noticed she’s really dedicated to her job.”

David chuckled. “Dedicated is hardly the word for it. Obsessed describes it better.”

Although Matt had talked to Rachel several times, he’d never suspected she might be so driven to succeed. “But why?”

“It has to do with her family.”

Matt nodded. “Oh, I see.”

If there was anything he understood, it was how a family could influence the way a person approached life. He should know. His life was the perfect example of what a dysfunctional family could do to a person. Thankfully, he’d escaped them and found God in the process.

Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “Maybe she’ll get active in the church.”

David picked up the cup and took a sip. As he put it down, he smiled at Matt. “Or make new friends there that will occupy some of her time.”

Matt’s face burned, and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Maybe so. Well, I guess I’d better get on home. I’ll see you later.”

As he walked to the parking lot, Matt thought about what David had said. Maybe Rachel was so involved with her job that she didn’t want anything else.

After they first met, he knew he wanted to know her better. He’d been in the middle of giving the local television station a statement about one of the gang-related murders when she had walked up beside the cameraman and proceeded to write down every word he said.

The sun had sparkled on her shoulder-length blond hair, and she had chewed on her lips in concentration, nodding every once in a while as if she agreed with what he was saying. When she had glanced up, her piercing blue eyes had stared at him with an intensity that made his heart do flip-flops. Then she had smiled, and he couldn’t finish his interview quickly enough. He had to find out more about this willowy blonde who took his breath away.

Now two months later, he still knew very little about her. One of the reasons for going over to her at the crime scene today had been to ask her to go with him to the ballet at the Fox Theater. Instead he’d lost his nerve and they’d discussed the murder.

He reached his car and climbed inside. Weariness surged through his body. He hoped he wouldn’t be called out tonight for the murder of another kid. This last one had been younger than the others, not much over sixteen. It troubled him to think of the wasted lives he’d seen in the past few weeks. Gang violence in Lake City was escalating out of control and he had to help the department find a way of stopping it.

There had to be a solution, but what it was he didn’t know yet.



The next morning, Rachel strode down the hallway of the Lake City Police Department toward the open office door a uniformed officer had pointed out. She peered inside at Matt Franklin. He looked tired this morning. His dark eyes, usually filled with excitement, appeared bloodshot.

The pencil he held dropped to the pile of papers in front of him. He yawned, rubbed his hands across his eyes and then ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. She knocked on the door frame. “Good morning. Are you up to having a visitor?”

His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” He rose and came around his desk.

She laughed, dropped her briefcase on the floor and shrugged out of her coat. “You look tired this morning. Did you work last night?”

He shook his head. “No, I went to the Bible study at church, then dropped by the Youth Center to do some work.” He took her coat, hung it on the rack and pulled out a chair for her. Walking behind his desk, he sat down and folded his hands on the top. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Lake City’s favorite investigative reporter so early in the morning?”

Rachel chuckled. “Favorite reporter? I don’t know about that. You should see some of the emails I get. You might change your mind.”

Matt’s tired eyes twinkled. “If they’re anything like mine, I completely understand. If we don’t solve a crime, we’re wasting the taxpayers’ money. If we do make an arrest, the jailed person’s friends think we’re persecuting him. Sometimes it’s a no-win situation.”

Rachel nodded. “I guess we have something in common.”

Matt smiled. “So tell me, what brings you to the station this early in the morning?”

Rachel took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday about being careful about the stories I write.”

“Good. I’m glad you listened. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I don’t either, but I have a job to do. I have to tell the stories of the gang killings and how their presence in the neighborhoods is a danger to the people there. This may mean I have to dig a little deeper into the gang culture. I thought you might be able to give me some pointers about how I should proceed.”

Matt frowned and leaned forward. “These are dangerous people, Rachel. They don’t appreciate attention. I’m not about to give you advice that might get you killed.”

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. “So far I haven’t focused on them other than to report what the police have told me about the murders.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “But the facts are that at least six gang members have been murdered in the past few weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to the story.”

Matt’s hair tumbled across his forehead and he brushed at it. “What do you mean?”

She got up and closed the door. Returning to his desk, she planted her hands on the top and leaned forward. “I talked to a mother at that murder scene yesterday. She’s scared for her son to leave the house. I feel a responsibility to the people who’re living in the shadow of these bullies.”

He jumped to his feet. “They’re more than just bullies, Rachel. They’re dangerous. You need to stay away from them.”

Rachel straightened and crossed her arms. “I’m not looking for trouble. I just need to know how to talk to them. You probably encounter them on a daily basis in your job, and I know you volunteer at the Youth Center. So you deal with the kids who live in the neighborhoods controlled by them.”

Matt walked around the desk, stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his pocket. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. And I see what it does to their lives. They live in a violent world.”

Rachel thought about the whispered words she’d heard the night before from someone wanting to escape that environment. To help him she needed to understand it. “That’s why I came to you. I know all about the Center’s success record with these inner-city kids. You can help me understand what it’s like for them.”

He pulled a hand from his pocket and raked it through his hair. With a sigh he returned to his chair. He sat in deep thought before he looked up. “I can’t even imagine the terror they feel each night. Afraid that at any time a stray bullet could sail through their window and kill one of their family members like it did Carlos’s baby brother last month. I was the detective who questioned the family after the shooting.”

Rachel swallowed and eased into her chair. “That must have been difficult.”

His eyes took on a faraway look. “Can you imagine what it’s like to tell a mother there was no reason for her baby to die? Or to calm down a teenage brother when he’s ranting that he’s going to find whoever shot into their house and kill him? And all the while the mother’s begging him to be quiet, she doesn’t want to lose another son.”

A bitter taste flowed into Rachel’s mouth. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was, but the sad thing is it only seems to be getting worse. When morning comes, I don’t know how the kids gather their courage and go to school where they know at least half the students are carrying concealed weapons.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “How do children survive in such surroundings?”

The concern she saw in Matt’s eyes pricked Rachel’s heart. “These kids are lucky to have people like you who care.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been fighting the effects of these criminals ever since I came to Lake City five years ago, and I’m mystified by what I see. No matter how bad it gets, too many kids long to be like the guys who are destroying their neighborhoods. Wannabes, I call them. They hang around the fringe of the gangs just waiting until they’re old enough to throw their lot in.”

“Surely there are some success stories.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Yeah, there are some. I’d like to have more, though.”

Guilt coursed through her. “David’s asked me several times to volunteer at the Center but I’ve always put him off. Maybe it’s time I did my duty and helped out more.”

Matt smiled. “He’d like that. We can always use extra help.”

Rachel nodded and stood. “I’ll talk to him about it. This might help me to understand better what I’ve been writing about.”

Matt walked around the desk, pulled her coat from the rack and held it for her. “The gang members tend to stay away from the Center, but there’s one thing you need to remember. With them, it’s all about respect. They see themselves as the most respected individuals in their neighborhood. If you ever come in contact with them, be courteous. They’ll respond to you in the same way. They leave the Center alone because of the way David treats them.” He chuckled. “He told me once that it’s because a lot of them are kids he didn’t save.”

She turned to face Matt. “I’ll remember everything you’ve said.”

Concern flickered in his eyes again. “Remember what I told you yesterday. You need to be careful with your stories. I don’t want to answer a call that you’ve been hurt.”

The warmth of his voice flowed over her and her breath caught in her throat. “I will be. But you’re the one out on the streets. You take care of yourself, too. Thanks for seeing me, Matt.”

He stared at her for a moment before he backed away. “Drop by anytime, Rachel.”

Rachel glanced at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. See you later.”

With a wave, she headed into the hallway. Before she exited the building, she looked over her shoulder. Matt stood in his office doorway watching her. She was relieved they had gotten on the subject of her volunteering at the Youth Center. At least he hadn’t seen how his warnings about the gangs scared her.

She wondered what he would say if he knew what she intended to do tonight. A chill raced up her spine at the thought. Dangerous or not, she had to find out if her source was telling the truth.

She glanced at her watch and swallowed. Rendezvous time was a little over twelve hours away. If she was lucky, she might have a good story. She chuckled and shook her head. No. In the words of her confidential source, she might have a story that would rock this city.



Matt’s words of warning rang in Rachel’s head as she pulled her car to the curb a little before midnight, turned off the motor and stared at the dark streets. Her skin prickled with fear. A city park one night and a slum the next. At least she was becoming familiar with new areas of the city.

She stepped from the car and started toward the meeting place two blocks away. In the glow from a streetlight, she glanced at her watch. Eleven forty-five—fifteen minutes until showtime. She’d have to hurry if she was going to find a vantage point for watching. She pulled her coat tighter and hurried through the night.

Rounding the corner at Walters and Branson, she looked around for a hiding place. The stores still in business on the street were deserted, having closed hours ago and pulled iron gates across their fronts. Others sat like ghosts in the darkness with their doors and windows covered with boards.

Pondering which side would afford the best view, she crossed the street and walked several feet to a narrow alley that ran between two of the deserted stores. She flattened herself in the shadows against the brick exterior of one of the buildings and hoped that she was hidden from sight.

Her heart beat in her ears with a deafening thud. She pressed her hands to her chest and breathed deeply. No matter what happened, she had to keep control of her senses and observe every detail accurately.

The thumping in her chest slowed and she relaxed. Careful not to make a sound, she scrunched against the wall and waited.



From his position at the second-floor window of an abandoned building, he watched her slip into the alley across the street. “Well, Rachel Long. What are you doing here? If you’re looking for a story, maybe I can oblige.”

He had to hand it to her—she had spunk. Not many women would put themselves in danger by coming into this neighborhood at night, not even for the promise of a sensational story.

He picked up the sniper rifle lying beside him and stroked the weapon. Never had he seen a better barrel contour than this masterpiece exhibited.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope. Rachel’s image came into his sights. It would be so simple. The paper might offer a reward for information leading to the arrest of the gang member who killed a crusading reporter.

His index finger hovered over the trigger. So simple.

The roar of an engine shattered his focus. He watched as a black sedan with tinted windows pulled to a stop, just over ten feet from Rachel.

He frowned as he studied the vehicle. He knew the owner, Terrence Cooper, well. Tonight was shaping up to be a fun-filled outing. Terrence might not think so if he knew what was about to happen.

Within moments, another car drove up and parked behind the sedan. A man jumped out and hurried toward Terrence’s car. Even in the shadows he recognized Tom Carr.

A movement from the alley caught his attention and he swung the rifle to his shoulder. Evidently Rachel wanted a better view. He grasped the rifle tighter. The stock felt cool against his cheek and sent a thrill coursing through his body.

He peered through the scope at Rachel’s magnified figure and then focused on the man on the sidewalk. Terrence, who had an envelope in his hand, emerged from the car and appeared in the scope’s crosshairs. Three people who had no idea of the danger around them. He wavered back and forth. Who should be first? Tom reached for the envelope and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

There really was no choice. It was time for retribution. He held his breath and pulled the trigger.




THREE


The sharp crack of a rifle ricocheted off the brick buildings. Rachel slammed backward into the recesses of the alley. With the second shot, she fell to her knees and covered her head with her arms. Panting for breath, she waited for another report. When a third didn’t follow, she pushed to her feet and inched toward the sidewalk.

The black sedan, its motor idling and its windshield shattered, hadn’t moved. Beside it, a man with blood pouring from his head lay on the sidewalk. Another man sprawled next to him.

Afraid to expose her position, Rachel debated on whether or not to go to their aid. A third shot hit bricks on the front of the building. She screamed and jumped backward.

Yanking her cell phone from her pocket, she called 911.

The operator’s voice crackled in her ear. “What is your emergency?”

“There’s been a shooting at Walters and Branson. Two men are lying on the sidewalk and the shooter is firing at me.”

“Help is on the way, ma’am. What’s your position?”

“In an alley. Please tell them to hurry.” She flipped the phone closed before the woman could ask more questions.

Footsteps pounded on the asphalt street. Rachel peeked out. A man sprinted from the shadows of a building across from her. Zigzagging as he ran, the shadowy figure headed toward the two lying next to the car.

Rachel’s chest pounded with fear. Could he be the shooter? As if in answer to her question another shot rang out. The runner dived to the pavement behind the car as the bullet hit the back window.

Her chest heaved in panic as she looked around for an escape route. She took a step backward and her foot struck a tin can. As its clatter echoed in the alley, the man next to the bodies cocked his head to one side and pushed into a crouching position. His gaze locked on the alley.

Cold fear crept through Rachel’s body. She had to get out of there. A streetlight burned at the far end of the alley. Willing her unresponsive body to move, Rachel turned and ran toward it as fast as she could. Behind her, footfalls echoed on the concrete.

“Police! Stop!”

The words registered in her mind, but the voice from behind only served as a command for her feet to move faster. How could the police have gotten here so quickly? It had to be the shooter chasing her. If she could get to the next street, maybe she could find a place to hide from him.

“I said stop!”

The light came closer and she pushed harder. Just a few more feet and she would—

Something blocked her path. Before she realized what was happening, she plowed into a rusted garbage can that sat in the middle of the alley.

She clawed at empty air as she fell forward. With a scream, she landed facedown on the hard concrete.

A hand clamped around her left arm and pulled. Pushing to her feet, Rachel straightened, whirled to face her pursuer and stared into the barrel of a gun. She shook free of the restraining hand. “Get away from me.”

A loud gasp sounded and the hand released her arm. “Rachel?” The surprised croak bounced off the brick walls.

Shaking, she inched backward. Her attacker took a step forward into the light filtering into the alley. Rachel’s knees almost buckled and she staggered even farther away.

She tried to speak but her vocal cords felt useless. She shook her head in denial. “Matt? What are you doing here?”



Matt blinked in disbelief and lowered the gun he held. He didn’t know if he was more surprised at the two bodies lying on the pavement behind him or Rachel’s presence at the scene of a murder. He rammed his revolver back in the holster and advanced on her with fists clenched.

Every expletive he’d ever heard came to mind. With a shake of his head he tried to banish old habits from the days before he turned his life over to God. Besides, if David had been right about Rachel’s commitment to her job, nothing he said would faze her.

“What am I doing here? I’m a policeman doing my job. Do you realize you could’ve been killed?”

Her chin quivered. “I—I’m doing my job, too. I w-was following a lead for a story.”

Matt leaned forward. He could smell the perfume he’d come to associate with her presence. The familiar reminder calmed his racing heart. “And did you just happen to pick this spot out of all the other streets in town?”

“No, of course not.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Tell me now, or so help me, I’ll call your editor and tell him you’ve just interfered with a police stakeout. I don’t think he’ll like that too much.”

At the end of the alley, police cruisers screeched to a stop and their blue lights bounced off the brick walls. Voices rang out as the officers converged on the shooting scene and shouted commands to search the buildings for the shooter.

Her shoulders slumped and she released a long breath. “All right. If you must know, there was a call to the office yesterday. The man said he wanted to meet with a reporter. We met last night and he told me there was a policeman taking payoffs from a Ranger. He said their meetings take place on this corner. I just wanted to see what I could find out.”

His heart beat faster with each word she spoke. He raked his hand through his hair and stared at her. “You should’ve called me right away and told me about this. I warned you about the danger. Whoever shot these guys was shooting at you, too.”

Even in the dim light he could see the fear that flashed in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “He was firing at you, too.”

“His aim would’ve been better if he’d intended to hit me.”

Rachel nodded. “He probably could have hit me, too, if he’d really wanted to kill me. Why do you think he did that?”

Matt shrugged. “Probably just wanted to scare us.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. Matt took her by the shoulders. “Did you call the police?” She nodded.

“Oh, great. Now we have other officers pulled off patrol to join the ones already here.”

Her lips curled into a sneer. “Well, excuse me for trying to report a crime. I thought that was the right thing to do.”

If she thought the mocking tone of her voice would anger him, she was wrong. He’d observed her fiery temperament and her competitive spirit at the other crime scenes. In fact, they were what had attracted him to her the first time he saw her. As much as he hated to admit it, she fascinated him.

“It was. But as I tried to tell you earlier today, I don’t want you to end up dead right.”

Several more police cars screeched to a halt at the entrance to the alley. Rachel tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, took a deep breath and hugged her purse against her body. “I suppose I’d better go talk to them.”

Matt stepped aside and made a sweeping bow. “After you. I think it’s time you met my partner.”



Rachel hesitated a moment before she stepped from the alley. Several policemen were bending over the bodies. She could hear them talking but her mind was on Matt and how shocked she’d been when she stared at the gun pointed at her.

An unmarked police car stopped at the curb, and the man Rachel had seen with Matt at the shooting scene the day before climbed out. Matt led her over to where the man stood and stopped beside him. “Philip, this is Rachel Long, a reporter with the Beacon. Rachel, this is my partner, Detective Philip Nolan.”

The man smiled and held out his hand. “I’ve seen Miss Long at some of the crime scenes before but we’ve never been introduced. It’s good to finally meet you. I read all your stories. But how did the Beacon get a reporter down here so quickly?”

Matt glanced at Rachel. “Actually, she was here when it happened.”

The detective pursed his lips and looked over at the bodies on the sidewalk. “Since Miss Long was here, why don’t you get her statement and I’ll talk to the first responders?”

Matt nodded, took her arm and led her down the sidewalk away from the bodies. “Now tell me about this call you got yesterday.”

“I’ve told you all I know. I was just following the lead I was given.”

Matt leaned against the brick front of a boarded up café. “Did you get a look at the informant?”

“No, he wouldn’t let me turn around. He told me to refer to him as my confidential source.” Rachel glanced up and down the street. “Where were you standing? I didn’t see you until you ran to the car.”

Matt pointed to a deserted building that had once housed a grocery store. “That doorway over there. I saw someone cross the street and go down the alley, but in the dark I didn’t realize it was you. I thought it was one of the neighborhood residents taking a shortcut through the alley to the apartments on the next street. If I had recognized you, I would have gotten you out of here before anything happened.”

She shook her head. “You couldn’t have stopped me. I was determined to follow that lead. I just never expected to see two men killed.” She glanced back at the crime scene. “Do you know who they are?”

“I can’t release their names until their families have been notified.”

Matt’s reserved tone warned her that he didn’t want to discuss the situation with her. Maybe her source had been right. If a policeman and a gang member had met for a scheduled payoff, someone had put a halt to their plans.

A cold wind blew down the street and Rachel pulled her coat tighter. “How long do you think I’ll have to stay here?”

“You’ll be able to leave soon.”

Philip Nolan, who’d been talking with two of the crime scene investigators, turned and walked toward them. He stopped next to Matt and stared at Rachel.

“Miss Long?”

Her heart pounded as she nodded.

The man smiled and nodded in Matt’s direction. “I know Matt has your statement but is there anything else you didn’t tell him that might be important? We’ve got two dead bodies here, and we need something to help us find a killer.”

Briefly, Rachel recounted the events of the previous night and continued until she ended with the arrival of the police at the shooting scene. “I never saw the shooter but I think he must have been in an upstairs window of one of the buildings across the street.”

Matt’s eyebrows arched. “That so? You didn’t tell me that before.”

She shrugged and pointed to a building across the street. “I just now thought of it. The sound seemed to come from that direction.”

Reaching into his pocket, Philip handed her a card. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.” He shoved the notepad in his pocket and turned to walk back toward the crime scene. Suddenly he stopped and spun around. “One more thing about this anonymous source. Be careful, Miss Long. I’d hate to see you get caught up in something dangerous.”

Rachel smiled. “Matt’s warned me about that. I thank you for your concern, also.”

Philip studied her before he and Matt returned to the crime scene.

Rachel turned her back on the two bodies lying on the sidewalk and tried to direct her attention across the street to the building where she believed the killer had hidden. As she squinted into the distance, two uniformed policemen walked by.

The one nearer her looked at the other officer and shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Tom Carr taking payoffs. He was almost ready to retire. Why would he get mixed up with a gang?”

The other man shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you see the wad of money they pulled out of that envelope in his pocket? The press is going to have a field day with this. I can see the headlines now. Corrupt detective killed taking payoff from a gang member.”

The men glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time, but she gave no indication she noticed them. Her mind raced with the information that confirmed what her source had said. Her stakeout had paid off. She had the headline for tomorrow’s newspaper.

Rachel straightened as Matt walked back to where she stood. “You can go now.” He stared up the street. “Where’s your car?”

Rachel pointed in the direction she’d parked. “About two blocks down.”

Matt took her by the arm. “Mine’s around the corner. Since I’ve got to go to the police station, I’ll drive you to your car. Then I’m going to follow you home. Just want to make sure you get there safely.”

The thought of walking back to her car, especially with a killer on the loose, had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since the shooting. Matt’s suggestion put her mind at ease.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

With a final wave at the officers, Matt steered her around the corner and down the block to where his police car was parked.

Several minutes later he stopped beside her vehicle. She turned to thank him but he was staring past her. “Oh, Rachel,” he murmured.

She twisted in her seat to follow his gaze, and her eyes flared. “Wh-what happened?”

He shifted the car into Park and reached for the door handle. “It looks like you just got a welcome to the neighborhood.”

Her legs felt like limp spaghetti as she climbed out and walked over to her car. The window on the driver’s side had been broken, and the door stood slightly ajar. She could see the contents of the glove compartment scattered across the front seat. The case holding all her CDs was missing.

She glanced at Matt, who knelt beside one of the tires. He pushed to his feet and brushed his hands together. “All four tires are slashed and the hubcaps are gone.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she gazed across the dented hood and broken windshield. “It looks like they used a baseball bat on it.”

He nodded. “Yeah, or something like that.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but this isn’t unusual for this neighborhood.”

She blinked the tears away and took a deep breath. “Well, you did warn me.”

“Yeah, but being right doesn’t make me feel any better.”

A nearby streetlight lit his face. There was no mistaking the look of concern he directed at her. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I guess I’d better call a tow truck to take my car to a garage.”

“Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

Relief flowed through her. “Would you, Matt? I have to admit I don’t have a clue who to call.”

He laughed. “Then get back in the car and I’ll call the guy we use at the station.”

She scrambled back inside the police car and watched as Matt placed a call. After speaking for a few minutes, he nodded and ended the call. Opening the driver’s side door, he climbed in and smiled. “No problem. He’ll come get your car right away and take it to his shop on Cedar Street. You can talk to him in the morning.”

“Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate that.” She hesitated a moment. “And thank you for being concerned about my safety. You’re a good friend.”

He turned the ignition and cleared his throat. “Would you like for me to pick you up for work in the morning?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll call my insurance company and get a rental until my car is fixed. Although I wish I could junk the car.”

He glanced at her and then back at the road. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s old and about ready to die. The only problem is I can’t afford a new one yet. Maybe these stories will change that.”

“How so?”

Rachel settled back in the seat and stared out the window. “My job at the Beacon is just a stopover on my way up the ladder of success. If I do a good job with these stories, maybe I’ll get noticed by a TV station that needs an investigative reporter or a big-city newspaper. I’d settle for anything that pays more money than I’m making now.”

When Matt didn’t say anything, she glanced at him. His mouth had drawn into a grim line and he appeared to be concentrating on his driving. For the remainder of the trip he didn’t speak except to ask directions. When they stopped at the entrance of her apartment building, she unbuckled her seat belt and turned to him.

“Thanks for everything tonight, Matt.”

His fingers gripped the steering wheel. “Glad I could be of help.” He hesitated a moment before he swallowed and licked at his lips. “There is one more thing, though.”

“Another question about the shooting?”

“No, something else.”

Matt turned to face her and his gaze flitted across her face. A ripple of pleasure coursed through her. She noticed for the first time the dark eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. Her cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t break the contact with his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to ask if you’d go with me to the Fox Theater Saturday night.”

Rachel opened her mouth to say no, but she couldn’t find the words. She’d passed the elegant old theater many times, but she’d never been able to afford a ticket for a performance. “The Fox Theater?”

Matt rubbed his hand around the steering wheel rim. “Well, you see, I have these two tickets to the Christmas production of The Nutcracker that the Lake City Ballet is doing and I don’t want to go alone. It’d be nice if you could join me. We could grab a bite of dinner before and then go to the theater.”

“Dinner and the ballet?”

What was the matter with her? She shouldn’t even think about going. She’d promised herself nothing would interfere with her plans. Something warned her Matt could become a distraction. But what harm could one night cause?

“I’d love to go.”

A big breath escaped his mouth. “Good. I’ll call you later with a time.”

“That will be fine.”

He smiled and reached across her to open the door. “If you change your mind about a ride to work in the morning, let me know.”

She smiled and stepped from the car. “I will.”

Rachel watched until the taillights of Matt’s car disappeared in the distance before she walked into the apartment building lobby. She breathed a sigh of relief to be back on familiar ground. When she’d left earlier, she had no idea what awaited her on that dark neighborhood street.

She’d gone expecting to see a policeman take a bribe or maybe a drug deal going down. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected to see two men murdered. On top of that, she couldn’t have guessed that Matt Franklin would chase her down an alley.

The most unbelievable of all, however, might have been her agreeing to a date with Matt. One date didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like she intended to begin a romantic relationship with him. She had more sense than that. Romance was the last thing on her mind. She’d certainly told herself that enough times.

Loneliness washed over her and she bit down on her lip. Where did this feeling she didn’t understand come from? No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, at times she couldn’t. She might have trouble understanding her emotions, but tonight had made her positive about one thing—there was a vigilante in Lake City.




FOUR


Rachel set her cup of coffee on her office desk, dropped into the chair at her computer and unfolded the newspaper’s morning edition she’d picked up when she entered the Lake City Daily Beacon lobby. Just as she thought, her story had claimed the headline spot this morning. It wasn’t often that a decorated police officer was killed while taking an alleged—as she’d carefully worded it—payoff from a gang member.

She skimmed the story that she’d filed soon after returning home the night before and smiled. Her presence at the crime scene lent credibility to her hinted allegations. It was the question of whether or not a vigilante was stalking the streets of Lake City that she read with interest. Such a declaration couldn’t help but get her noticed, and according to the messages in her in-box this morning, this was exactly what had happened with her readers. It shouldn’t take long for others in the media to follow.

Lost in thought about her story, she jumped when a knock sounded at the open door to her office. She glanced up to see Matt and Philip Nolan standing in the hall.

Even with the tired lines around Matt’s eyes, she had to admit he was just about the best-looking guy she’d met in a long time. There was something different about the image he projected and the other policemen she’d seen at the gang-related murder scenes. Although she knew little about his background, one thing she did know—he was comfortable with who he was. She liked that about him.

She smiled and stood. “Good morning. Come on in.” They walked into her office and stopped in front of her desk. The serious expressions on their faces told her this wasn’t a social visit. “What are you doing here so early?”

Matt’s dark eyes flickered across her face before he pointed to the newspaper lying on her desk. “We read your story.”

The barbed tone of his words told her he was less than pleased. She raised her chin and stared at him. “What did you think?”

Before Matt could answer, Philip spoke up, “Needless to say, we were a little concerned. Where did you get the idea a police officer was one of the victims at last night’s shooting?”

She motioned to the chairs across from her desk and sat down. When the two detectives were settled, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on her desk. “I heard two police officers talking. Although they mentioned Detective Carr’s name, I didn’t reveal his identity. I had no idea if his family had been notified of his death. Once we’ve established that they know, I’ll print it. The citizens of Lake City have a right to know if one of our trusted police officers is really a crook who takes bribes.” She looked from Matt to Philip. “It may cause your department some problems, but that’s not my concern.”

Anger flashed on Matt’s face and he started to speak. Philip laid a restraining hand on his arm. “We understand your position, Miss Long, and we’re not asking you for preferential treatment. However, we’re just now getting to the bottom of this. When we have proof of any wrongdoing, the Chief will hold a press conference.”

Rachel smiled. “I’ll be in the front row.”

Matt leaned forward, his elbows on the chair arms and his hands clasped in front of him. “We just want to make sure that you don’t do anything that will hamper our investigation.”

She stared into his somber eyes. “I have no intention of interfering with the police.”

He didn’t break eye contact with her. “Then you’ll cooperate with us?”

“I’ve always done that.”

Matt’s eyebrow arched. “From the calls the station is getting this morning, I don’t think our captain would agree with that.”

“What do you mean?”

Philip leaned forward. His eyebrows pulled down over his hawklike nose. His dark eyes bored into her. “Your story about a vigilante in Lake City has upset a lot of citizens. The phone has rung all morning from people wanting to know what the police are going to do about it.”

There was no mistaking the annoyance in Matt’s and Philip’s eyes. Rachel bit back the retort hovering on her lips and considered their point of view. They were the ones who risked their lives every day to keep the citizens of Lake City safe.

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “There’s no one in this town who respects the police more than I do. But you need to understand that the press has a responsibility to keep the people informed. I hope you catch this guy soon so I can write the ending to this story.”

Matt smiled. “So does that mean you’ll help us?”

“Of course.”

“By telling us what you learn from your source?”

Rachel glanced from Matt to Philip, a frown on her face. “You know I can’t reveal a confidential source.”

Philip shook his head. “We have a duty to protect the citizens of this city. If your informant knows something that can help our investigation, we need to know what it is.”

Matt’s forehead wrinkled and he stared at her. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re capable of dealing with these people. They’re dangerous, Rachel.”

There was no avoiding the concern she saw in Matt’s eyes. The memory of a bullet striking the bricks above her head the night before sent a tremor through her. Perhaps in her haste to get a story she hadn’t been careful enough.

She nodded. “I know the gangs pose a threat to everybody around them. If my source calls again and he agrees that I can tell you what he tells me, I’ll let you know.”

Philip’s mouth crooked into a smile. “Well, until that time, how about not staking out any lonely street corners by yourself?”

Rachel chuckled. “Okay.”

Matt stood. “We don’t want anything to happen to you, Rachel.”

Rachel glanced from Matt to Philip. “I appreciate that.”

Philip let out a big breath, pushed to his feet and extended his hand. “It was nice to see you again, Miss Long.”

“Please call me Rachel.” She smiled and grasped his hand but pulled away when his ring pressed into her finger. “Ouch.”

Philip’s eyes grew wide and he released her hand. “I’m sorry. Did my ring hurt your finger?”

She rubbed her hand and gaped at the gold ring Philip wore. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful ring. It must be a family heirloom.”

Philip smiled and held it out for Rachel to get a better look at the unusual design. The gold ring featured two hands that encircled the finger and met in the front to hold a crown perched atop a heart. “It’s been passed down in my family for generations. Originally it was given to my great-great-grandmother when she married. It was a symbol of the love and faithfulness that she was promised. It’s made its way through the family and was given to my father. When he died, it passed to my brother.”

Rachel frowned. “Then how did you get it?”

Philip gazed down at the ring for a moment before he replied. “My brother died. Since he wasn’t married, he wanted me to have the ring.”

The sadness that flickered in his eyes pricked Rachel’s heart. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you. I have a sister and I don’t know what I would do if she was taken from me.”

He smiled and straightened his shoulders. “Then don’t take the time you have with her for granted. You never know what tomorrow will bring.”

Rachel glanced at Matt. His eyebrows drew down across his nose, and she wondered what he was thinking. Philip’s smile wavered as he glanced at Matt. He backed away from Rachel and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a few calls to make. I’ll meet you at the car, Matt.”

With a nod in Rachel’s direction he turned and headed out the door. When he’d disappeared from view, Rachel tilted her head and crossed her arms. “You look tired this morning, Matt. What time did you get home last night?”

He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was at the station until three o’clock.”

Rachel stepped closer. “Is there something else wrong? The look you gave me when I was talking with Philip struck me as odd.”

He hesitated a moment before he spoke. “I’ve known you for several months now and you never told me you have a sister. You only met Philip last night and you felt comfortable talking about your family.”

Rachel opened her mouth in surprise and then laughed. “I can’t believe you said that. For your information, Mr. All-Business Policeman, I don’t think we’ve had a personal conversation until last night. I know nothing about you or where you grew up.” She let her gaze drift over him. “I can tell from the expensive clothes you wear that there’s something different about you from any detective I’ve ever known.” She inched forward and lowered her voice. “So, tell me, do you have deep, dark secrets you’re keeping? For all I know, yours could be worse than a sister.”

Matt’s face turned crimson and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “I guess we don’t know much about each other. Maybe we can take care of that when we go out Saturday night.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’d better find Philip. I have a feeling he didn’t have any calls to make and just wanted to give me some time to talk with you. I told him I was taking you out this weekend.”

“And I need to get back to work. See you later.”

Rachel watched Matt walk out of her office before she returned to her desk. She picked up the pen lying on the desktop and tapped it on the surface. Even though she’d joked with Matt about him being different, there was an element of truth to it. It wasn’t just his expensive clothes, but rather the ease with which he wore them.

He’d said their date Saturday night would give them the opportunity to know each other better. She wanted to know more about Matt, but that meant opening up about her background, too. What would he say when he found out about her family? Probably what every other man she’d ever dated said. If so, she’d better enjoy Saturday night because there wouldn’t be a second date.

In high school, the boys she’d grown up with were content to be friends at school, but not one of them had ever asked her on a date. Not even to prom. She’d made all kinds of excuses to her mother to cover her disappointment—there wasn’t anybody she wanted to go with, spending money on a prom dress was ridiculous, she needed to study for finals. But her excuses thudded like a hammer against her hollow heart.

College offered a fresh start with people who didn’t know her. She’d fallen in love for the first time, and it had been perfect. Until she took her boyfriend, Justin, home to meet her family. She had thought he was different, that he would be able to accept her sister Cara and her disabilities, but she’d been wrong.

Cara’s attempts to be friendly with Justin had been met with cold indifference. He wasted no time in telling Rachel that he’d never been comfortable around special-needs individuals and that he wouldn’t have come if he’d realized how bad Cara’s condition was. It came as no surprise when he ended their relationship a week later.

The worst blow had come, however, when she realized he’d warned all the guys he knew to keep their distance. She often wondered what stories he had told about his visit to her home, but she thought it better that she not know. She didn’t need to add more anger to what she already felt over the hurt her mother and sister had suffered. They didn’t deserve it. That experience did, however, confirm one thing for her. Love and marriage didn’t have a place in her future.

The ringing of her telephone interrupted her thoughts and she reached for the receiver. “Rachel Long.”

“I seen the morning paper.”

Rachel’s eyes widened at the sound of the familiar voice. She sat up straight. “You did?”

The man didn’t speak for a moment. “So the vigilante got Terrence. He been with the Rangers a long time. Never met that cop but I heard the brothers talkin’ ’bout him.”

Rachel closed her eyes as the memory of what she’d seen the night before swept over her. “I’ve never seen anyone killed before.”

“So, now you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then maybe we can help each other.”

Rachel reached for a pen and paper. “Do you have anything else you can tell me?”

“Yeah. Can you meet me again?”

Rachel’s heart raced. “Where?”

“Tonight. Same place, same time. How’s that for you?”

Her fingers tightened around the pen. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Wait,” Rachel cried out. “Let me give you my cell phone number. You might need it sometime.”

She recited the number and waited for a response. “Got it. See you tonight.”

Silence on the other end told her the caller had disconnected. She hung up the phone and sank down in her chair. Her conversation with Matt and Philip replayed in her mind. They wanted her to let them know if her source called again. She reached for the phone, but then she drew her hand back.

Common sense told her she didn’t need to go to this meeting alone, especially after what had happened last night. But the rendezvous time was over twelve hours away. She could decide later what she needed to do. With a sigh she swiveled her chair so she faced the computer. There were a lot of emails, and she wanted to see what the citizens of Lake City thought about a vigilante in their midst.



Three hours later, Rachel pulled on her coat and walked out of her office toward the elevator at the other end of the hall. She’d just pushed the down button when the elevator doors opened and her editor, Cal Belmont, stepped out.

His smile broadened when he saw her. “Good job on your story, Rachel. I’ve had a lot of emails this morning about a vigilante in Lake City.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

A man stepped around Rachel and moved into the elevator. She watched the door close and groaned inwardly. A conversation with her long-winded editor could turn into a lengthy chat, and her stomach was already rumbling the message that it was time for lunch.

Cal’s glasses rested in the mass of gray curls on top of his head. He pulled them off and thumped them on the newspaper he held. “Great job, Rachel. We had the story before anybody. You never did tell me how you got it so fast.”

“I got a tip that something was going down on that street corner. I thought I’d stake it out.” She shrugged. “I guess it was a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

“Well, keep up the good work, but not so much that the competition wants to steal you from the Beacon.”

Rachel reached around Cal and pushed the down button again. “I’m glad you appreciate my work.” The doors slid open and Rachel stepped in before Cal could respond. “I’m on my way to lunch. See you later.”

She smiled and punched the button for the lobby. Cal waved and turned away as the doors closed. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief to have sidestepped Cal’s questions. With Matt and Philip concerned about her source, she didn’t need to add Cal to the list.

When the elevator reached the lobby, she stepped to the double front doors and peered outside. The weather forecast for the day had mentioned a chance of snow.

A woman stopped outside and pushed the front door open. As Rachel moved out of the way for her to enter, she glanced over her shoulder. Across the lobby, a young man leaned against the wall, his stare directed at her. The heavy down jacket he wore looked like many others she’d seen, but it was the bulk of his chest and arms underneath that caught her attention. A wool knit cap covered his head, hiding his hair.

She’d never seen him in the building before. As his gaze met hers, he pushed away from the wall and took a step toward her.

Fear rushed through Rachel’s body and she backed toward the door. She could see his face better now. She was positive she’d never seen him before. He stuck his hand in his coat pocket as he advanced toward her. Her throat went dry. Was he reaching for something inside? A gun?

Rachel turned and bolted through the front door. The parking lot at the side of the building where she’d left her rental car this morning looked as if it were a mile away. She glanced over her shoulder. The man had followed her onto the sidewalk. He took a step in her direction before he halted, turned and ran across the street.

Rachel slowed her step and watched him climb into a red car. She had no idea the make of the automobile, so she concentrated on trying to remember how it looked. A dent creased the back fender and patches of chipped paint covered the trunk. The motor roared to life and the wheels squealed as the car shot into traffic.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. She had to quit thinking about the bullet striking the bricks above her head and the two dead bodies on the street last night. If she didn’t, she’d end up suspecting everyone she came in contact with was out to kill her.

A bell clanged and Rachel whirled in the direction of the parking lot. A Santa Claus, the bell in his hand pealing out a familiar holiday sound, stood at the corner, his kettle ready for donations from passersby. The reminder of a time-honored Christmas tradition calmed the fear she’d experienced a few minutes earlier. Since she was a child, she’d looked forward to seeing the Santas who dotted the streets of Lake City each December—their mission to see underprivileged children have a happy holiday.

Inhaling the cold air, she smiled and strode forward. The memory of how her mother struggled to provide a good Christmas for her two daughters had caused her to vow she would never pass a Santa’s kettle without dropping in some money. A vigilante and murders across the city weren’t going to take away her yuletide spirit.

She stopped in front of the Santa and tried to suppress a smile. He wasn’t as chubby as others she’d seen in the past, but that didn’t matter. It was the size of one’s heart that really described a person. To her way of thinking, anyone who would dress up in a Santa suit and stand on a street ringing a bell for donations had to have a heart the size of the whole state.

She grasped the strap of her purse and pulled it from her shoulder. “Let me get some money for you.”

The Santa adjusted his beard, bent down and set his bell on the sidewalk. “Thank you.”

Rachel grasped the bag in both hands and unzipped the purse. “I’m glad to help—”

Before she could finish her sentence, the Santa grabbed her purse and pulled it from her hands. Clutching it tightly, he bolted across the street.

Speechless, Rachel gaped at the disappearing figure in the fur-trimmed red suit running as if his life depended on it. After a few seconds she regained her senses enough to realize she’d just been the victim of a robbery. She dashed into the street in pursuit and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Stop! Thief!”

A car horn honked and brakes squealed. Rachel glanced around to see a delivery truck bearing down on her. She jumped backward and groaned when the vehicle blocked her view of the retreating figure. When it passed, the Santa had disappeared.

The despair she felt at having been robbed turned to anger. In the last two days she had been brought face-to-face with crime in Lake City. Maybe a purse snatching didn’t rank as high as murder on the worst crime scale, but she felt violated.

She mentally listed the contents of her purse—a wallet containing thirty dollars, a credit card that was almost maxed out, her driver’s license, cell phone, a necklace her mother had given her and makeup. The only thing she couldn’t replace was the necklace, which had been a gift when she graduated college. She’d intended to get the clasp repaired today.

Rachel clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. How could she have been so careless? But then who would ever suspect Santa Claus of being a thief? She hoped he had a good time with her few possessions.

With a sigh she turned back to the newspaper office. She had to make a report to the police. Even if she never saw her purse again, she didn’t want other people in Lake City to be robbed by a thief posing as Kriss Kringle.

She stopped before she entered the building and thought of Matt. What would he say? The memory of his words earlier returned, and an uneasy feeling crept over her. Maybe she should tell him about her meeting with the source tonight. Her instincts told her she could trust the person she’d met with and talked to on the phone. On the other hand, she thought she could trust Santa Claus and she’d been wrong about that.

Rachel straightened her shoulders and walked to the elevator. She knew what she had to do. Getting a story that would boost one up the ladder to success didn’t mean a thing if you were dead. She was going to call Matt and tell him about her next meeting with the source.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/sandra-robbins/yuletide-defender/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.